#now I’m trying not to respond to his apology and admission of guilt with a version of

[jimgandolfini]

damn..my mom was right…i truly have a codependent relationship with my director 🙃

[randomfoggytiger]

Milagro In-Depth (Part II): Loneliness Is a Choice and Lamps Go Dark

We pick up where Part I left off (see post here)--

Scully stalks into the morgue, having left the church but not her unsettled feelings. Her expression mildly lifts seeing Mulder there waiting for her. 

Mulder sidles up, subdued and gentle, obviously having mulled over her earlier reproof in the office. “Hey, you weren’t joking about being late. I was about to start slicing and dicing myself.” 

He’s so caring that it melts Scully’s armor, bringing out her Starbuck guilt complex: “I’m sorry,” she offers. To her partner’s “Where were you?”, she responds “I was doing some research, and learning that I owe you an apology.” 

Intrigued but cautious, Mulder straightens his posture and purses his lips. “For what?”  

“The milagro charm,” Scully snips as she casts back on her experience, “you were right on its insignificance.” 

Mulder states, “No, I think I was wrong. I think it is very significant. I think it may be a communication from the killer.”  

She is initially frazzled that Mulder’s first response to her position-- especially in light of her “research”-- is a flat-out contradiction. Yet again, Mulder is sending the message-- accidentally-- that Scully’s ideas are always one step behind. But as he prattles on about his own research on psychic surgeons claiming to be “filled with the holy spirit” she is amused into complaisance.

Scully hands Mulder a metaphorical milagro charm of her own, giving weight to his ideas and debating them as intellectually and thoroughly as her tried and true science, expressing her repressed love in the only way he will accept.  

Mulder only has Padgett half-right-- "...most credible practitioners of psychic surgery believe themselves to be imbued with the Holy Spirit, that their hands become the miracle tools of God"-- since Padgett doesn’t dabble in his sorcery to benefit others, only to try to "heal" his own diseased heart; and Scully also has Padgett half-right in her rebuttal.

“Mulder, this--” she says, taking and brandishing the charm as a statement, “is nothing more than a tool used by a lovelorn Romeo who just happens to be your next-door neighbor.” 

Mulder’s pulled up short by this… and he’s not happy about the idea. “Who, the writer??”  

“Yes,” Scully replies distinctly, hiding her stress behind a forced smile, “my secret admirer, who claims to know the mysteries of my heart.” 

Mulder is completely blindsided but even more tender. “You’re kidding….” 

Her tearful emotions briefly break to the surface as Scully recounts, “No, I wish I were. He cornered me today and told me my life’s story. He was kind of frightening, actually.” She looks down, unused to personal admissions still connected to unprocessed emotions.  

Mulder flounders, flummoxed, shaking his head and stumbling for words. A Scully stripped from her defenses is a rare occurrence; and he is uncertain what to say. He retreats to safe ground: “Is… he… our killer?” 

“No,” Scully clarifies, “‘Frightening’ as in ‘too much information and intimate detail’.” As Mulder is left with no ground left to hop on, his partner turns away to delicately sneer at the wall-- “What kills you is his audacity” before she takes a deep, stabilizing breath.  

Dipping his head in solidarity, Mulder mulls over these new facts, toeing the line between empathizing with her shake-up and pretending not to notice how shaken Scully is. But he forms a resolution, raising his head with fire in his eyes and grim determination pulling at his mouth: “Did you get a name?” 

His little rulekeeping rebel responds: “No, but that shouldn’t be too hard to find out, should it?” She walks off to do her work, letting Mulder read her face and draw his conclusions directly from her indirect response.  

Scully knows her partner is on a vengeful hunt, giving him her unspoken blessing to do whatever he deems necessary. 

Mulder now becomes an active part of the story rather than someone who wove in and around Scully or who Scully, the main focus of Padgett’s (and the narrative through his eyes), wove herself around.  

He pulls out a lockpick set (proving everyone right on this poll about previous key or lockpick lore) and digs into his floor's mailbox. While swiping a letter, Mulder notices a pile of discarded newspapers, picking one up to pour over later for clues. In that hopelessly clueless way Mulder has, he's forced to snap out of his configurings by the harsh, cruel reality of his surroundings: needing to press an elevator button to make the door open. He makes a face, hits it, and waits. 

Two thoughts:

#1. Gaze, focus, and attention continue to play heavily in this episode: Mulder having only eyes for his work (in this case, the newspaper) to the exclusion of the world around him (“life on this planet”) is given center stage as he fumbles around the normal world like someone who wants to run through it in pursuit of the next glorious chase. 

#2. IMO, Mulder would love smart appliances and cool new innovations that cut down on minor daily decision-making (lacking the paranoia about technology and its advances as The Lone Gunmen do… or did); but they likely wouldn’t have liked him back since he’s already terrible with the conveniences he has in his “modern” world. 

Padgett pops in, needing the elevator, too; and Mulder feels busted as he palms the man’s stolen letter and uncollected newspaper. He and Hoodie face-off on the ride up before Mulder turns away, evoking the polite, unspoken social norm of “stop staring.” His neighbor doesn’t follow those codes, eyeing the paper and Mulder’s increasingly annoyed expression. 

“I’m sorry, I forgot your name,” Mulder fishes. 

“Padgett.”

“Padgett,” he fake smoozes, Rob Petrie dripping in disdain and moral superiority. 

“You’re a writer. Anything I’d know?”

Padgett is unfazed. “I don’t think so.” His story is not about Mulder-- an incidental second fiddle-- but about Scully, her motives and her heart. 

The second act concludes this scene by a slight repetition of before: Padgett encountering a character on the elevator, staring into their soul, and following them down the hallway like a shadow. At this point, his role is not as a "person" so much as a conduit, becoming lost in the liminal spaces between both worlds. It’s not until the third act when Padgett becomes a flesh and blood human being, realizing the futility of Naciamento’s madness and tearing his heart out in sacrifice. 

At his door, Padgett prods, “You’re an FBI agent. Working on anything interesting?” 

Mulder calls his bluff, becoming as obtrusive in his study as his neighbor is, purposefully trading meaningful looks. “A murder case.” 

His neighbor freezes, the rattle of his door loud in the silent hallway. To Mulder, he reveals that dichotomy of himself, the Naciamento side-- menace and meaning folded into one. “Anything I’d know?” 

Mulder’s deceptively monotoned “Possibly” isn't intended to fool. 

It’s very clear that Padgett views Mulder as a rival and a threat-- an intelligent suit who Scully buzzes around for attention while, in Padgett’s mind, bearing up, unrewarded, under neglect. 

Mulder slips into his apartment first, the door serving as the last word to these hallway interludes. The writer-- the avatar, the conduit, the theme, the symbol-- is acutely aware of this, running into his own apartment as well, hoping to beat the FBI agent in like it’s a kindergarten foot race. Mulder is the clear winner this round, upper-handing the situation by unsettling Padgett and toying with his interest; and his unconcerned confidence gives him that detached edge that allows him to drop conversations or topics at the toss of a dime, leaving the other person shortchanged and aware a second too late. 

This interaction sends Padgett into a jealous and desperate writing session that culminates with an explicit happy ending for himself and Scully, enviously hoping to rob his rival of the jewel that sits right under the other’s nose. He “directs” his FBI neighbor to listen through the vent system, deriding Mulder for his “Hegelian justification” with regards to breaking the Amendments, smug loathing pouring out of his eyes as he types out his own measure of control. 

The episode plays with free will as well as gaze and focus quite a bit: does Padgett direct Mulder to break those rules and listen? Or does he pin Mulder down in the elevator and write a piece so thoroughly correct about the other’s character that he can “predict” rather than direct what his actions will be? 

I believe Padgett is seeking control of his own life by controlling those around them; but this episode reveals that the only person he can fully control is Naciamento. Even further: his own creation reveals the truth to his creator: the writer was never in control-- the only truth his work created is something beyond himself, something that could not be bound by control; and that the unruly characters he tried so desperately to bind to a “greater” narrative whole were already free from his grip, and never wholly his to begin with (script here.) 

Philip Padgett writes his words into Scully’s head, flavoring them with sexual interest but still detailing a grain of truth: “She was flattered. His words had presented a pretty picture of herself, quite unlike the practiced mask of uprightness that mirrored back to her from the medical examiners and investigators and all the lawmen who dared no such utterances.” 

A key point is explored here: Scully pulls out the charm, a version of Padgett’s verbosity running through her own mind; but a colleague rushes by, and she drops it down out of focus in time with the writer’s “...she felt and involuntary blush; and rebuked herself for the girlish indulgence.”

Here, writer man believes his words have the power to sweep her off her feet and into his bed, two lonely souls finding love and wantonness in the company of only each other.

The camera pans back to Mulder from the on-high perspective of the vent, casting judgment and doom upon his rival (to no avail.) 

He is unaware, but suspicious, of Padgett’s unspoken intentions, finally ripping open his mail (after hours of completely silent observation) and noting “Mr. Popularity”' has no records of calls placed or received. Mulder is a lonely man himself; but his loneliness is consumed by the quest and banished by Scully’s company, however he allows himself to receive it. Padgett has no one; and choses to write a better life into existence for himself, stealing from someone else’s work.  

Collapsing back in exhaustion, Mulder contemplates his next move, this problem proving more sinister and desperate because of its subject’s stark isolationism. In his boredom, Mulder picks up the newspaper, opening it up and incidentally sending himself down a rabbit hole of clues. 

Scully arrives on the 4th floor, flustered, bewildered, intrigued, confused; but this time she pauses, hearing the click click click of Padgett’s typewriter as clearly as if she were right next to it. Typewriter clacking this loudly is unnatural; and Scully is torn between fleeing it and figuring out what it means. She is a woman of science; but all of Scully’s pragmatism is a defense against her own unscientific inclinations, a tendency to give too much credence to supernatural signs or simple gut feelings. It saved Kevin Kryder in Revelations, it saved her daughter in Emily, it guarded the girls in All Souls, and it will warn her in Orison.

Her investigator instincts win over, and she pays a visit to Room 44, unaware of how dark Padgett's intentions are. She couches her visit as a gift-return; but Padgett, delighted twofold-- that his plan is working but also that Scully is here to unwind his mind-- plainly asks her “Why?” 

Scully steels herself for his reaction-- and in reaction to his unabashed openness-- and replies, “Because I can’t return the gesture.”

Padgett lets the moment hang, playing on her kindness and natural sense of dutiful guilt; and it leaves her no choice but to further admit “I can’t.”

He, of course, misreads her denial as reluctance, not realizing that her heart has already been given;  and that Mulder has known this since at least Memento Mori (her journal describing then “That you should know my heart, look into it; finding there the memory and experience  that belong to you-- that are you….”) 

At Philip Padgett’s “You’re curious about me”, Scully huffs, struck and shaken again by his relentless dissection of her mind. There is less animal fear now as she acknowledges the truth with a slight nod; but it curdles in her gut, tears threatening to pool after her study of his Spartan apartment. She is aware that a man who has this much of nothing will be unwilling to give up what he now thinks of as his something.

But there is also pity. As Padgett’s intense investigative skills reflect Mulder’s empty personal life, so too does his apartment the howling chasm of Scully’s internal isolation-- the empty desert she retreated into after Emily’s death was an expansive emptiness, making room for the width of her loss and the intelligence of her and heart and mind. Padgett has only a desk, a lamp on the floor, and a bed; and the littleness of this life strike a chord-- though not the one he wrote to strike-- of commiseration at the emptiness of his existence and the flagrancy of his honesty. It’s a fear Scully has never admitted to, let alone lived brazenly.  

She asks about his books-- “Anything I’d know?”-- echoing Mulder’s own question.

“No. They’re all failures. Except the one I’m working on now,” Padgett triumphs. 

Scully draws back from his intensity, though she continues to question. “Why now all of a sudden?” 

Padgett unfurls his thinking, possibly even how he obtained his abilities: “Best not to question it.” 

She understands this, living that motto daily with her partner; and looks down to cover her own vulnerability. 

“See? You are curious about me.”

Denial kicks in: “Well, you lead a curious life.” 

Padgett puts his foot in the metaphorical door: “It’s not so different from yours, I imagine.” And that is all he can do: imagine, and try to unite his life with someone else who, he thinks, will understand him better than he does himself, the description of a writer he gives Scully a scene later. 

His point is accurate; and Scully allows it to sink deeper even as she quickly puts up her defensive, sarcastic guard. He breaks it back down it a pointed, “Lonely.” 

Padgett’s words sear at her wound, twisting a knife into her heart; but she manages to answer a measured “Loneliness is a choice” by rapidly blinking back tears and swallowing down her pain.  

At Padgett’s “So how about a cup of coffee?”, her eyes flash defensively; but she is drawn in by his prepossessing honesty and transparency, wanting it for herself. Perhaps if she had some for herself, perhaps if she were more forthright-- a litany of “perhapses" as maddening as Padgett’s elusive self-discovery. 

What I find interesting is the idea that this is Padgett’s Never Again and Scully is his Ed Jerse. He is unable to understand his heart or motives, the truth behind his actions; and she is alluring and broken-hearted and fearing that love will never be returned to her equally. The unbalanced nature of The Quest is her divorce court and her assurance and self-reflection is his ouroboros. 

Separated by a wall, the two agents do their own reading. Mulder has done his homework, doubling back for the rest of the neglected newspapers once he’d found a love dedication that Padgett had circled; and Scully takes a peek at Padgett's unfinished manuscript, pondering over the last sentence “How will it end?”   

Clutching the coffee cup Padgett gave her, she bows before it in confession: “My life’s not so lonely…. It’s actually anything but.”  

Padgett again hears (looks) but doesn't listen (see.)

Her questions become more pointed: “How is it you think you know so much about me?”; and to his “I’m writing about you”, she gets sick of the staring game, pointedly sticking her neck out. 

“Since when?”  

“Since I first noticed you. You live in my old neighborhood.” 

“And you moved into this building by coincidence?” 

“No.”

“You moved here because of me.” 

“There wasn’t anything available at your building. And it’s not like you spent a lot of time at home.” 

Scully is confused-- she is wired to be drawn to people that listen, truly listen, to what she has to say and notice her and her interests so closely; but she is continually reminded that Padgett is an obsessed, sick man. But the adage “physician, heal thyself” easily follows that thought; and it’s easier to run away than to dwell on them.

Padgett stumbles over her horror. “I, I should have said something; but I just couldn’t get it all down fast enough. To really write someone I have to be in their head, I have to know them more completely than they know themselves.” 

What strikes Scully is how “Mulder” that is-- getting into someone’s head and crossing lines and boundaries, asking for forgiveness rather than permission. The difference, she knows, is that her partner uses those gifts in extreme circumstances and for the ultimate good whereas this man is completely self-serving and egotistical in his mixture of self-abasing hubris. 

“This is all about me?” 

“Well, you’re an important part.” 

“May I read it?” 

When her request is denied, Scully shrinks down, pulling her shoulders up. She knows what that means: there is something in his manuscript to hide, or something that might color her against him more than she already is. Her hand shakes slightly at his “Would you sit and stay a minute?”; but she rallies in caustic suspicion (“You don’t have anywhere to sit.”) 

Padgett lures her to his room-- a completely different apartment setting than her experience had been with Ed Jerse or even Mulder this entire episode-- shutting down her warning and excuse (“I’m due next door”) with a page out of her own logical book (“You haven’t finished your coffee.”) 

Scully, left with no subtlety, cuts through her own reticence.  “I’m very uncomfortable with this.” 

“Why? You’re armed, aren’t you?” 

The light won’t turn on, something Padgett hadn’t written or anticipated. “Imagine that.” He opens the curtains further, pinning them up against the wall before pressing past (and up against) a dazed Scully who seems to be wavering, either under the spell of his words or her own dizzying indecision.

Again her pity chord is struck with Padgett’s view-- a brick wall, so different from the view one door down. Scully gives in, drawn to the powerful and unexplained (ex. Luther Lee Boggs and Clyde Bruckman and Alfred Fellig): “If you know me so well, then why am I standing here when my instincts tell me to go?” 

“Motive is never easy. Sometimes it occurs to one only later.” 

She chastises herself, disappointed with his answer and her own foolish question. At the repeated invitation, Scully almost leaves, but sits down anyway. When the light bulb burns out once again, she is startled, but Padgett is alarmed then resigned in awe (“Imagine that.”)  

They sit, waiting; and Padgett turns, knowing the precipitous moment is arriving-- but when Scully still sits, seemingly unmoved, he leans forward, shocked and hoping a change in position will end any indecision. 

It's then that Mulder busts through the apartment door.

He immediately puts up his gun at Scully’s “Mulder” but evades further questions after having confirmation she’s alright. He zips over to the typewriter and throws around the pages until he finds an incriminating one, delicately hands it to his partner and pushing Padgett against the wall to arrest him. 

Scully, startled, doesn’t attempt to stop him; and stares, horrified, at the words "warm, beating heart" staring right back at her.

Part III coming sometime soon.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

[taetaespeaches]

“It’s everything to lose.”

taehyung x reader/oc  (but also jimin x platonic reader/oc) genre: angst word count: 6K

a/n: well, this was a process to write lol. Basically, Peaches/reader and Tae are experiencing a mix of feelings due to their best friends’ (Jimin and Dear) break up. Fears of a possible relationship with each other are worsened, plus, Tae and Peaches are just sad because their closest friends are sad. Also, Peaches finally talks to Jimin for the first time after he broke up with Dear, so that’s a big part of this as well. And we get a brief moment between Peaches and Dear, our ride or die duo. Ok, that’s really it. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks so much for reading! :))

Grasping the back of your neck, you massaged your muscles as you yawned, your eyes set on the coffee percolating into the pot. You loved your best friend, and of course you wanted to be there for her, but her post-break up antics were beginning to wear on you as you failed to get accustomed to running on five or less hours of sleep night after night.

Leaning over the countertop, you looked through your most recent texts with your other best friend, Taehyung. The conversation, which started with him bragging about an amazing waffle he had just eaten, had turned a bit sour as you both defended opposing friends in their recent breakup.

It was hard to find common ground with the man these days, as he was on tour with the antagonist of your friends’ little drama, and you were in a constant state of being the shoulder to cry on for the dear protagonist. A sigh slipped from your lips as you scanned through the messages, the grumbling of the coffee pot sounding in the otherwise silent apartment.

You: He dumped her through text while he was away on tour. That’s fucking ridiculous and it’s cowardly.

Tae: You don’t know what’s going through his mind though.

You: There’s obviously not much going through his mind.

Tae: He’s your friend too.

You: And he broke my best friend’s heart.

Tae: I know that. I’m sorry, I hate this whole situation.

You: Me too. I’m sorry and I hate it too.

Tae: Is she at your place again?

You: No, I’m sure she will be but right now she’s out drinking with those stupid friends she has.

Tae: Oh….

You: Yeah. I’m anxious as fuck. I wanted to keep her from going out but you know, I can’t do that. She has to do what she’s gonna do.

Tae: I’m sorry to add to your stress.

Tae: She’ll be ok, Peaches.

You: No, it’s ok, you could never truly add to my stress. You’re my comfort, Tae, you know that.

Tae: I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle like this.

You: I’m sorry you are too. I’m gonna try to get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, have a good night, Dearest.

Tae: Sweet dreams, Peaches.

Craving for two seconds away from the ongoing story of your friends’ turbulent romance, you scrolled up on your text conversation with Tae, a faint smile appearing on your lips at the photo of a waffle the size of the plate it sat upon, followed by a photo of Taehyung shoving a massive bite into his mouth.

Tae: It’s definitely big enough for the both of us but since you’re not here I guess I’ll have to manage it alone.

Tae: I miss sharing breakfast foods with you.

Tae: Never mind, this is so good, I’m glad you’re not here to eat it all.

Your brief moment of relief was broken when your screen changed to display a caller you were not prepared to speak to. Guilt and anxiety settled into your stomach as your breathing hitched slightly at the image of his name and photo. The contact ID reminded you of simpler times, the man pulling a silly expression with his chin tucked into his neck to give himself two of them. He had called you a few times the past couple days, but you’d consistently ignored them, trying to avoid hearing the voice of the man you considered one of your closest friends.

You almost didn’t answer again. Looking to the room your best friend slept in, a serious hangover awaiting her on the other side of slumber, your thumb pressed on the green circular button on the right side of the screen.  

Pausing a moment, you shook your head before raising the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You answered, your voice hushed as to not wake up the girl a few rooms away. A rush of air sounded through the phone, as if the man was sighing in relief, but that was the only response you received. “Jimin,” you sighed.

“Hey,” he spoke quietly, defeat coating his tone. He must not have had the strength to pretend to be ok.  

Another awkward pause ensued, both of you waiting for the other to break the silence first. With another sigh, you stood up straight, turning your back to the counter as you leaned against it. “Can you say something?” You asked.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted lamely, you licking your lips which became quite dry suddenly.  

“You called me,” you pointed out, annoyance in your words that wasn’t intentional but was true to your current mood. “You’ve been calling me for days, but you don’t know what to say?”

“I didn’t think you’d answer,” he said shakily, and you were sure there were tears bubbling up in his eyes.

Hearing the sadness in his tone, you chewed on your bottom lip, trying to conceal your own emotions in response to his tone. You weren’t sure your feelings even mattered right then. “Well I answered,” you told him, in a sort of assurance. Assurance of what, neither of you were sure, but it allowed Jimin a small sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” the man whispered, causing you to clench your teeth to hold back your pity and consideration for him as you turned back around to the coffee machine.

“Don’t thank me,” you told him, a slight anger behind your tone. “What do you want to say? I have errands I need to run.”  

As Jimin prepared his words, going through his mind to figure out exactly why he was calling you, you patiently waited, halting your movements as your hand sat on the handle of the coffee pot. You knew he needed time to gather his thoughts, and though you were angry with him, you cared for him enough to give him that. “I just miss you,” he admitted, a crack in his voice indicating the earnest admission.

Taking in a shaky breath, you let it out in a wobbly exhale. “Of course I miss you too,” you said honestly. You refused to lie to him about that. “But I don’t want to talk to you, Jimin.”

His words tumbled out of him bitterly, but it was shrouded in frustration, which you believed to be with himself. “You were my friend first,” he said, uncertain whether he regretted the comment or not.

“I’m still your friend,” you told him adamantly, though your voice was still quiet.  

“Then please talk to me,” he begged, almost desperate for the affection you normally showed him. Well, that you showed him before he broke your best friend’s heart.

“I can’t,” you told him trying to sound stern, but your exhausted state ruining your feeble attempt to put up a front.

A sniffle sounded through the phone, adding to the heaviness in your heart. “Why not?”

Holding the phone to your ear with one hand, you moved your other from the coffee pot to the top of your head as you scratched your roots in frustration and distress. “I can’t risk saying something awful to you,” you confessed through an unsteady voice. And that was it. You were angry with him, but you didn’t want to hurt him. “I love you, you’re one of my favorite people on this entire planet, Jimin,” you cried, your sniffling giving away your emotion to the man on the other side of the phone.

“I’m sorry,” he told you in a rush as you wiped away a tear.

“I see her every day,” you told Jimin in a whisper, ensuring your voice was too low for your friend to hear you if she suddenly awoke. However, you were sure the quietness of your voice was giving away that the woman he still loved was just feet away from you; just feet away from the conversation currently taking place, asleep in your spare bedroom. “I’m so mad at you, Jimin, god I’m mad at you,” your voice suddenly broke, no longer able to hold back the pent-up emotions. If Jimin’s thoughts had strayed to the girl nearby, the sound of your distressed voice surely brought him back to the present conversation; the present state of your friendship. “I need to process all of this before I talk to you because I love you and I can’t say something I’ll regret or something I don’t mean,” you explained as tears spilled over your lash line.

“I understand,” he said roughly, clearing his voice right after as if he was trying to pull himself together for your sake.

“I just-” You paused, holding your breath as you attempted to swallow more tears. “I need time so I can forgive you,” you told him sadly, clenching your fist together as you tried to steady your breathing. “I’m sorry,” you told him, your voice just above a whisper.

“Please don’t apologize,” he begged, choking back a sob. “I get it, take your time,” he assured you. “I’m really sorry for doing this,” he admitted sadly. The man sounded regretful and broken, your pity for him swirling around in the whirlwind of emotions you were currently experiencing. “All of it.”

You knew that was true. You knew he still loved her. And you knew he felt immense guilt for what he did to her, you, Taehyung, your whole friend unit, but mostly her. That much was obvious.  

“I do miss you,” you assured him through a small whimper, choosing to give him the reassurance rather than responding to his apology. “I won’t be mad forever.”

“I miss you too,” he told you sorrowfully. “I’ll be here whenever your feelings change.”

With that, you ended the call, leaving Jimin alone in his hotel room. Setting the phone to the counter, you wiped your face once more before grabbing the handle of the coffee pot, pouring some into the mug you had taken out earlier.

Thinking upon your conversation with Jimin, you wanted nothing more than to scream at him; tell him what an idiot he was. But you also wanted to wrap him up in a hug and tell him that he would be ok. You were my friend first. You scoffed, thinking of his remark, though a tear slid down your cheek. You wanted to be there for your friend, but how could you be when your other friend was just down the hallway, passed out after a night of trying to numb her heartache through the use of alcohol? He caused that pain. You were right to be mad at him… weren’t you?

It was almost astonishing how things, seemingly meant to be, could fall apart right before your eyes. Things weren’t always easy for Jimin and your friend, but they loved each other. One would think that love would be enough to get them through. But maybe love isn’t enough. Maybe fate isn’t enough.

Fate. Soulmates. They’re interesting concepts. Souls destined to find each other. But the rhetoric surrounding these notions don’t suggest that you’ll end up together.

But maybe if Jimin and your friend could see past everything that went wrong, they would find something worth fighting for still. It wasn’t simple, but it could be simpler for them.  

Something also simple but not simple at all was you and Taehyung. More and more recently, you had been realizing how much you love him. Maybe you both were meant to be together too. Tied together by the fate of your souls. But seeing how things can fall apart, perhaps it’s more risk than it’s worth. Wasn’t it better to have Tae in your life in the role of your best friend than it was to complicate things and lose him? You couldn’t lose him. You wouldn’t let yourself.

You sniveled as you brought the coffee to your lips, making an attempt at a deep breath before taking a sip. Your emotions needed to be locked down by the time your friend awoke. However, that concern came too late as two arms wrapped around your middle, the surprise affection causing you to jump in start.

The presence of her limbs were tentative as he she carefully rested the side of her face against your back. Breathing out in a huff, you relaxed a bit. “Jesus,” you spoke softly, but your friend gave you no response. Alarm bells went off in your head as her body trembled just slightly against yours. “You ok?” You asked, setting the mug down carefully.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed against you, and as your mind went into high alert, your heart plummeted into your gut. Immediately, you turned in her arms, wrapping your own around the back of her head, holding her impossibly close to you. Sorry?

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you assured her, leaving a kiss to the side of her head on the top of her hair. “Absolutely nothing.”

“My behavior last night could use an apology,” she admitted, causing you to smile slightly though she couldn’t see it with her face buried against your neck.

“Well, maybe that,” you teasingly agreed, thinking back to the few hours earlier in which you had to drive to the club she was at because she had broken down on the dance floor. All anger, if there was any to begin with, however, had completely dissolved when you pulled up outside the establishment to find her sitting against the wall in the cold, mascara stains down her cheeks as she sobbed about how much her heart hurt. “But are you even apologizing for that?” You asked her, realizing she must have heard you on the phone with her ex.

“Partially,” she cried harder. She knew the strain the breakup had put on all four of you, and though it wasn’t her fault, she still felt guilty. You knew she did. Her heart was too soft for her to not take some sort of blame.

Allowing her to cry in your arms, you moved your hand to the back of her head as you tried to make her feel safe. “You’re gonna be ok,” you whispered to her repeatedly in a gentle tone.

After a few moments, she pulled away to look at you, your thumbs moving to her cheeks to wipe the tears away, though more continued to fall, quickly replacing them.

“How is he?” She suddenly asked you, her lip trembling as she held back a sob.

Scanning her features carefully, you debated your answer. If you told her he was ok, it would make her feel pitiful for not being ok, plus it would be a lie. If you told her he wasn’t ok, it could possibly hurt her even more. Locking your eyes on her pleading ones, you sighed. “About as good as you,” you told her simply, holding back your own tears as she broke down, your arms wrapping around her shoulders to bring her close once again.

Placing a hand back against her head, you held her to you tightly. “Why does that make me feel worse?” She asked against your shoulder, her voice muffled from your sweatshirt.

“Oh babe,” you spoke softly near her ear, a tear slipping from the inner corner of your eye. “Because you still love him.”

You weren’t sure if you should have said that, but it was true. And maybe if she heard it from you, she would face those feelings. As she cried against you, your mind raced over everything that had happened that morning already. Everyone was so broken, and suddenly your mind found its way to Taehyung. Because he was the only one you wanted to talk to in that moment. He was your comfort.

But what if you didn’t have him anymore? Two people as meant to be as Jimin and the girl in your arms couldn’t even make it work. Add in your fickleness in love, and where did that leave your odds at success with Tae? You refused to break him, and you couldn’t lose him. You just couldn’t.

Hauling your groceries through your apartment, your phone started ringing in your pocket. Rushing to the kitchen, you set the bags on the floor before grabbing the device, finding Tae on the other side of the video call.

Accepting it, you waited for his face to appear on the screen before greeting him. “Hi,” you answered in a huff, Tae immediately chuckling at your hectic state.

“Hey,” he greeted, “Are you busy?”

“No,” you shook your head, dropping the phone to the counter just after speaking the word, causing the man to giggle further. “Just got home from grocery shopping,” you told him as you discarded your bag off your shoulder and onto the countertop. Taehyung hummed in response just as you propped the phone up against the side of your bag, situating it so he could see you as you stood in your kitchen.

“Did you get anything fun?” He asked, as you scanned the bags on the floor.

“Um,” you cut yourself off with a yawn, “I got those cookies you like,” you spoke through your exhale, looking at him through the screen to take in his appearance. “You look handsome,” you told him, the man smiling slightly at you as you stared at his still damp hair atop his head, giving away that he had showered recently.

“You tired?” He asked suddenly, being met with your groan as you stared down at the groceries without moving. “What happened last night?”

“Well, she went out with those friends and of course it was too soon for her to be out partying and I had to pick her up at 2 am outside of the club because she had a break down,” you ranted to him as you knelt down to begin taking items out of the grocery bags.

“Jesus,” he sighed, your eyebrows raising at his response.

“What?” You questioned defensively, piling items onto the floor as you emptied all the bags.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he tried to evade your anger. “I’m assuming she’s not there right now?”

“No, she went back to her place for a bit,” you told him. “What was with the judgmental tone just now?” You pressed.

Looking up at the phone, you watched as shook his hair out with his hand. “It’s just, that’s not really fair to you, is it?”

Scoffing at him, you stood, not bothering to look at the phone as you brought some juice and a few other items to the refrigerator.

“I just mean, you deserve some rest,” he added. “A break maybe.”  

“Well I don’t get a break because your best friend broke up with mine and she’s devastated,” you said coldly, shutting the fridge door and turning back to face the device.

“He’s your friend too,” he reminded you, his eyebrows raised, causing you roll your eyes.

“I know that,” you said in annoyance. “But you don’t see what she’s going through every day,” you pointed out, feeling protective over your friend and her broken heart.

Reaching to grab a box of crackers off the floor, you headed toward the cupboard as Taehyung told you, “You really should talk to him.”

Letting out a dry laugh, you nodded to yourself. “Tae, she’s my best friend,” you reminded him once more.

“I get that, but he’s your friend too,” he repeated, causing you to sigh. “He’s going through stuff too,” he added. You wanted to scoff, but if you were being honest with yourself, your anger towards Jimin had diminished significantly since speaking to him briefly that morning.

“Well,” you thought out loud, facing the man once more. Folding your arms over your ribcage, you shrugged. “I’m sure he is but he did this,” you said, trying to remain firm in your coldness.

You were met with the sound of Taehyung breathing out slowly as his eyes stayed locked on you. “That’s not really fair, he’s hurting too,” Taehyung defended his friend.

“I love Jimin,” you clarified. “But I don’t have time to think about him when she’s at my place all the time because she can’t handle being alone in her own apartment for a single night,” you told him, staring at him as you waited for him to respond. Taehyung ran his tongue over his bottom lip as you sighed. “I know Jimin is hurting, but she is too. And it’s bad, Tae,” you told him sadly.

Taehyung sighed as you stared at him through the phone, waiting for his next words. “I know, I don’t mean to be insensitive to her. I know he hurt her, I get that. I’m just here with him and he’s a fucking mess,” Tae huffed. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted sadly, giving you a defeated shrug.

Stepping closer to the phone, you shook your head slowly. “I don’t either,” you admitted. You both sat in silence for a moment, watching each other through opposite sides of the phone, your remaining groceries still waiting on the floor.

Taehyung was the first to break the silence, asking, “What are you thinking?”

Sighing, you ran your hands over your face. “I don’t even know, I’m just-” you stopped yourself, not sure if you should speak your next words; because of the implication to you and Tae.

“What is it?” He pressed, resituating himself on the bed as he sat laid across a pillow, his head supported by his hand. “Peaches,” he said gently, causing you to relent.

“Maybe they shouldn’t have ever gone from friends to more,” you thought aloud, Tae’s silence feeling heavy on your heart as he tried his best to keep his face from giving away any emotion.

“You think?” He asked simply, his feigned indifference covering up the hurt you knew was there.

“It’s just a hard leap to make,” you explained, leaning against the counter on your elbows, holding your chin in your hands. “If it doesn’t work, this is where it leaves you.” Your eyes were glued to the phone as you watched him carefully. Suddenly, you felt angry at these fucking phone companies who couldn’t make a better camera or give you a better connection to be able to read the emotions flashing through his eyes and features more closely.

“Sometimes it works though,” he told you quietly, his voice nearly shaking, almost as if he was meekly defending himself.

A lump formed in your throat that you didn’t believe you’d be able to ever swallow, knowing you were the cause of the sadness he was feeling. “But if it doesn’t, that’s a lot to lose,” you argued, your voice faint as the emotions sat in your vocal chords.

“But it can work,” he said a bit louder than his last comment, his voice more assured as he licked his lips.

“Tae,” you sighed, cocking your head to the side just slightly. You both knew you were no longer talking about your friends’ experience with moving from friends to lovers. There had never been any confirmation from either you or Taehyung, but sometimes it seemed as though there was an unspoken understanding of how you both thought of each other.

“Look at Jin,” Taehyung countered, pointing to the fact that Jin and his old friend had successfully added romance to their relationship over a year earlier. “They’re doing really well, they’re happy.”

“Tae,” you called out to him gently, attempting to swallow as your eyes shined with emotion. When he responded with his silence, his sad eyes scanning over your features carefully, you chewed on your bottom lip as you attempted to hold in your emotion. “It’s a lot to lose,” you whispered, holding his gaze. “It’s everything to lose,” you added, blinking a few times as Taehyung looked down to the bed and began picking at the comforter. A few seconds of silence went by and you didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you suddenly exhaled, feeling breathless and tired. “Dearest,” you addressed him softly.

“No, you’re right,” he said half-heartedly, keeping his eyes directed downward. “It is everything to lose,” he agreed with a small nod, looking up to you.

“Everything, Tae,” you emphasized, hoping he would recognize that he was everything to you.

“You really should talk to Jimin,” he changed the topic, his tone stronger as he seemed to easily move on from your unspoken confessions. Inhaling deeply, you nodded slowly, standing up straight before moving back to the groceries. Trying to shake yourself out of the conversation that just took place, you spotted the cookies sitting on the floor.

“I’ll think about it,” you replied before reaching for the package. “I’m not gonna save you any of these,” you teased, holding them up for him to see as his lips spread into a mildly amused grin.

“Well I didn’t save you any of the waffle so it’s only fair,” he played along, both of you pushing aside the tension between you both once more.

You would think about talking to Jimin, you meant that. But it would be hard to think of anything but Taehyung.  

With your thumb hovering over the call button, you sighed deeply as you tried to muster up some courage. Lowering your digit to the phone screen before you could change your mind, you nervously raised the device to your ear.

The rings were deafeningly loud as you awaited the answer, running your hand through your hair and chewing on your bottom lip; nervous gestures.

“Hey,” Jimin greeted suddenly, his voice appearing breathless as if he rushed to the phone.

“Why’d you do it?” You asked him, skipping greetings and pleasantries. A moment of silence encased the phone call before Jimin sighed.

“I don’t even fucking know anymore,” he said, a sob following the words as if he had been sitting on the edge of a break down for days; weeks. The confusion and heartbreak in his tone shattered your heart, filling you with guilt for evading his calls and texts for so long. “I don’t know if there was even a valid reason and I regret it so much.”

“I don’t understand what happened,” you admitted, thinking back upon their relationship and what they had revealed to you.

“Me either,” he barely spoke through his cracked voice. “I don’t know, it’s like, as secure as we made each other feel, it was like we could never fully rid ourselves of our own insecurities,” he explained through his cries. “I fucked up, didn’t I?” He asked as he held back tears.

“Oh Jimin,” you sighed, realizing what drove them apart. And suddenly, you had the urge to wrap them both up in hugs because in an instant, there was nowhere to place the blame you were previously placing on Jimin. It was both their faults, and also no one’s fault. Jimin had made the wrong move, your best friend didn’t make enough moves, and yet they were both just victims to their own intrusive perceptions of themselves.

“Our own shit just got in the way and-” he let out a harsh breath. “When I sent the text I immediately regretted it and I was just trying to convince myself that it was for the best,” he sniffled. “And I was about to take it all back and beg for forgiveness, fuck, I was thinking about leaving tour and coming back to her so we could fix whatever the fuck was causing all of this shit between us,” he paused as his cries took over.

“Why didn’t you take it all back?” You asked him.

You collected up the patience as you gave him time the time to think back on the breakup. “All of a sudden, she just stopped fighting,” he said sadly. “We were always fighting for each other, and she finally stopped. And I don’t know, I think it kind of cemented the idea that I did the right thing. It hurt, and it felt wrong, but she accepted the breakup and gave up.”

“Fuck, Jimin,” you held back your tears at the defeat in his voice. “She didn’t stop fighting for you, she just didn’t have enough fight left in her to take on your insecurities any longer,” you told him.  

“What’s even the difference?” He asked. “Whether she stopped fighting willfully, or whether I took the fight out of her,” he scoffed, “I became too much for her.”

“I don’t think you could ever be too much for her,” you assured him. “Look, do you want me to speak to you compassionately or truthfully?” You asked, the question being met with a dry laugh.

“You’re always compassionate, but I want the truth,” he told you, you nodding though he couldn’t see it.

“You fucked up,” you told him, “but also I don’t think this is entirely your fault,” you quickly added. With a sigh, you thought out loud. “How do I word this?” you pondered. “You two are two of the most incredible people I’ve ever known and yet, you guys can’t fucking see it.”

Jimin scoffed, making you roll your eyes. “I said I was speaking truthfully, so just listen to me and try to actually hear what I’m saying for once,” you told him, the man agreeing to listen by giving you his silence. “You see how incredible she is and that makes you insecure because you don’t see yourself living up to what she deserves. And it’s the same for her, she doesn’t think she can be what you need and what you want, despite you assuring her constantly that she’s everything to you. And that holds you both back from being exactly what the other person wants,” you paused for a moment, letting the words permeate Jimin’s brain. “If you two could just be who you are and give each other that version of yourselves, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” you explained to him. “She fell in love with you, she just wants you.”

“Fuck,” he sobbed, the pained understanding echoing in his single expression. “But I fucked it up, I hurt her and I don’t think we can fix it this time.”

“I truly do not understand how you can be so wrong about this all the fucking time,” you groaned. “She is in love with you,” you told him, enunciating the words carefully. “You hurt her, and you hurt her bad, but she hasn’t given up on you,” you told him. “Whether she admits it or not, she’s waiting for you to fix it,” you informed the man. “So fucking fix it. Stop holding yourself back and just be happy, Jimin.”

“I don’t know if-”

“Be happy,” you interrupted him. “Stop being so idiotic and just fight for your happiness. Fight for hers,” you begged him, frustration over both of your friends’ moronic actions getting the best of your patience. “You both deserve each other because you’re both the best,” you went on, trying to convey to the man how strongly you felt he and the girl you both adored belonged with each other.

“She still loves me?” He asked, being met with another one of your groans. “Sorry, I just, she does?”

“Do you still love her?” You asked, knowing the answer but wanting him to speak it out loud so maybe he could truly hear it.

“With all of me,” he admitted sadly, a sniffle following the words, allowing you to visualize the tears running down his cheeks in that moment.  

“Do you really think that’s one sided?” You asked him.  

“I really don’t know,” he admitted, a small sigh leaving your lips.  

“It’s so simple but you guys make it so complicated,” you complained, the man giving you the slightest chuckle in the form of a single exhale. “You both lost the fight, but you didn’t lose the fight for each other, you lost it to yourselves. Does that make sense?” You asked.

“I think so?” He said, thought it came out as a question.

“You guys were defeated by your own insecurities. It’s not like you chose to give up on her, just like she didn’t choose to give up on you. You both just feel hopeless right now, that’s-”

“It’s not hopeless?” He asked, and despite the negative comment, there was a renewed optimism in his tone that lifted your lips into a faint smile.

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s not hopeless.” You both sat in silence, nothing but your breaths sounding into the phone receivers. “I’ll talk to her,” you assured him. “If I get any sense that she doesn’t want you anymore, I’ll let you know and I’ll be full of apologies and you can hate me forever,” you told him.

“I could never hate you,” he scoffed.

“But if I’m right, which I know I am, Jimin, I know it,” you assured him, “then you need to find that hope and bring it back to her.”

With a sigh, Jimin agreed with a simple, “ok.”

“Ok,” you replied. “Fix it.”

“I hope I can,” he spoke softly, his voice still sad, but much less defeated than the start of the conversation.

“Hope is enough right now,” you told him.

“Thank you for finally talking to me,” he said, a hint of a smile evident in his voice.

“Thank Tae,” you corrected. “He talked me into it.”

“He really is the only one who can cut through your stubbornness, huh?” He asked teasingly, you chuckling lightly in response.

“I guess he is,” you agreed.

“Speaking of simple but making it complicated though,” Jimin noted, drawing upon your earlier words, and reflecting them back on you and your relationship with Taehyung.

“Tae and I aren’t complicated,” you negated Jimin’s observation, only to be met with a disbelieving laugh. “We aren’t,” you remained firm. “I know it seems complicated but, when it comes down to it, it’s the simplest thing ever.”

“Ok, break it down for me then,” Jimin asked for your elaboration. “How is it simple?”

“Because at the end of the day, we just love each other. So much so, that we’ll do anything to keep one another in each other’s lives,” you explained. “And that makes my relationship the simplest, easiest relationship I’ve ever had.”

Jimin hummed in return, thinking over your words. “That does sound simple, I guess,” he agreed. “But are you happy?”

You paused for a moment, surprised by the question. Were you? Were you fulfilled with Tae’s role in your life as you went and dated other people, finishing each escapade craving for more, anxious for the night to be over so you could call Taehyung and hear his voice as he expressed whatever was on his mind? The truth was, no one was or ever would be Taehyung. No matter how great they were, no matter how smart, kind, funny, genuine they were, they would never be him. But Taehyung was in your life, and maybe that was enough. So, were you happy? Turns out that’s the most complicated question you could have been asked.

“This isn’t about me,” you told Jimin with a small smile.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Are you happy?”

“I’m not unhappy,” you said assuredly. That was true, for sure.

“But is that happy?” Jimin pressed, causing you to sigh in annoyance.

“It’s happy enough,” you told him. “But one of us has to be happy, right?” You turned it back on him.

Jimin breathed out your name, but you dismissed him. “This is about you right now,” you told him. “If you fix things on your end, then we can entertain a discussion about my happiness, ok?” You asked him, though it wasn’t really a topic up for debate which he understood.

“Deal,” he agreed with a light chuckle.

Happiness, you thought. What was it? You were sure it was different for everyone. Just as you were sure it comes from many different sources. For you, though, your main source of happiness was seeing Taehyung smile. His happiness mattered most in terms of your relationship. And if he was happy being your friend and having you as his, then you were happy. Happy enough.

If he wasn’t happy… well, something would have to be done about that.

[serenasoutherlyns]

Not a Summer Crush Part Seven

a/n: It's heeeeere! The night before my classes start for the fall. There's a timeskip from the previous part-- Caroline, Alex, and Casey have all been together for about a month and it's the transition between fall and summer. This one features fighting and humor and lots of Jack McCoy. Any and all feedback makes my world!

Part Seven

The weeks passed in late nights spent in the same office, in morning lattes and afternoon runs (that often ended in the kinds of showers that don’t save water, with the almost frantic pulling off of clingy clothing, with breathy “god yes”-es and rushing to the door when either of you heard Alex’s key in the lock). Jack McCoy noted with pride how efficient it appeared your bureau had become since the summer started.

It was important to maintain a good amount of discretion. As progressive as the world may be becoming, you knew that the DA’s office had to keep up appearances; that it wouldn’t be good for you, and Jack (and, by extension, you again) for the media to get wind of your relationship. Besides, you wanted to keep it personal, special.

But oh. The thrill of the honeymoon phase is so irresistible.

A Friday night, one where the air began to have the kind of bite that previewed the coming fall, found you and Alex together in a candlelit restaurant waiting for Casey to join you. You had some sense, choosing a place not normally frequented by the Hogan Place set, in the opposite direction from your apartment. You set your glass of wine beside Alex’s and took her hand in yours, above the table this time. You couldn't resist leaning in, kissing her softly.

“Caroline,” she said as you pulled away, smiling at you with the same look you’d first seen months ago, that you hadn’t known was what it was until you’d seen it over and over as she pulled you tighter into her arms.

“Alex,” you said, enticingly, all but batting your eyelashes. She ran her fingers along yours in apology. “I know,” you said, placing your hands back on the table, leaning back against the booth seat. “We could always meet Casey when she gets to your place,” you said, looking at your phone. “Except she’s almost here.”

Alex laughed lightly. “You’re insatiable,” she scolded you, teasingly. You shrugged, knowing it was accurate. “And I’m hungry.” She picked up her menu.

Across the room, around the corner, sitting at a single table, Jack McCoy returned his focus to his book, trying to convince himself he hadn’t seen what he thought he did.

---

Jack was on high alert at the office. He had been too far away, he couldn’t be sure. And it was such an out of the way place-- he went there when he didn’t want every law student and defense attorney on the island to vie for a piece of his ear. So it couldn’t’ve been them, Jack thought. Who am I kidding? That’s exactly the kind of place they’d go. After all-- Jack knew from affairs.

He wouldn’t have expected this of Alex Cabot, knowing how in love she and Casey were. Though, now he considered the possibility, the two of you seemed to gravitate towards one another in a characteristic way. He remembered seeing her hand linger on your shoulder a beat too long in the courthouse hallway.

Who knows, he’d always expected Mike and Connie would go for it one day, and they still hadn’t. When Erika Keller and Anna Mikhailova had filed their disclosure he could’ve sworn he’d needed to get his eyes checked, having heard the way the two of them could argue. Maybe he wasn’t the best judge of things. Because I’m looking for myself in other people. He leaned in his chair. He’d do the introspection later. For now, he’d do what he could to keep one of his bureau chiefs out of a public scandal. Besides, they were too far away. It could’ve been anybody’s curls bouncing in laughter, could’ve been anyone’s impeccable posture. He hoped.

He made a point that Monday around noon to personally stop by the junior office on your floor, but found only Nick Anderson (who, he remembered, he needed to talk to about a possible change of bureaus) with his head buried in a journal.

“Mr. McCoy,” he said as soon as he realized he wasn’t alone, snapping the book shut harder than he needed to. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi, Nick,” Jack said, a little disappointed that he’d roused the guy from what was clearly riveting reading. “I was just looking for Caroline.”

Anderson’s face fell. Evidently, he was used to that line of inquiry. Poor guy. McCoy remembered the days when he’d given the least helpful junior ADAs piles of nothing to keep them out of his hair. No obvious changes, Jack noticed as he looked around your side of the office. No notes or photos or out-of-the-ordinary gifts. Though, someone needs to show this woman the value of an organized space, he thought. It’d be hard to notice anything among the pile of papers.

“Mr. McCoy?” he heard Anderson say.

“Yeah?” he replied, somewhat irritated.

“Oh um,” he said, what little confidence he had faltering. “I just said she was in Ms. Cabot’s office, sir.”

Jack’s stomach dropped. That may as well be “step one” in the old Jack McCoy playbook, get her in your space as often as possible. Oh come on, Jack. She’s her boss. They’re probably going over witness statements. Right. And how many witness statements did Sally and I review together while I was still going home to Ellen? He swallowed. “Thank you. And you don’t need to ‘sir’ me anymore. You’ve earned your desk.”

“Yes s-- got it, Mr. McCoy.” Anderson returned to his book. Jack continued down the hall.

---

“You really think she’s being honest?” Alex’s question was audible through her slightly-open door.

“She’s our witness!” you said, matching her tone. Somehow, the mood in the office was light even in your disagreement.

“Witnesses lie,” Jack said, surprising the both of you as he nudged his way in the room.

“When it’s in their best interest,” you said, acknowledging him with a nod in his direction. Jack liked how you didn’t let etiquette get in the way of your arguments. “Alex,” you said, pointing your gaze at her. I know that look. “What good does it do her to lie about who she was with?”

Alex fired right back at you, not bringing McCoy into the conversation. “She avoids embarrassment? Guilt? Fear? I’m not putting her on the stand unless we can verify her testimony.”

“Then we’re looking at an acquittal,” you said dryly.

“Because I won’t suborn perjury? O ye of little faith,” Alex responded. Jack caught a playful lilt in her voice. He was liking this less and less with each piece of evidence he uncovered.

“Do you know for certain she’s lying?” Jack said, breaking the intensity in the room.

“No, but--” Alex said.

“Exactly--” you said at the same time.

“Are you certain she’s telling the truth?” He asked. “This is People v Buckman?” he clarified. Alex nodded. You pushed an offending curl out of your eyes. “I would probably put her on the stand,” you smirked, “and when defense -it’s Elsie Campbell, right?- I’d have no recourse when defense tears her story to pieces.” You shrugged, never minding being the first to concede defeat.

“I’ll see if Detective Rollins is up for a coffee break,” you said, grabbing your phone and attache, but, Jack noticed, leaving your cardigan hanging on the extra hook. “Sometimes I wish I’d stayed in California,” you said, “reciprocal discovery would be pretty sweet.”

“Ouch,” Alex said as you walked out of the office. You waved a hand over your shoulder.

“Did you need something, Jack?” Alex asked, glad she’d known him long enough to be casual.

“Nothing,” he lied, and when she looked puzzled, said, “I was actually checking on the Buckman case.”

“I’m in no need of supervision,” Alex said under her breath. “Anything else I can clarify for you?”

Tell me I’m wrong about this, he thought. “No,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve got it under control.”

---

Of course, if Jack McCoy had been a more athletically inclined man, he may have run into you and Casey in the park two days before the restaurant, cooling down from the 5 and a half miles you’d done. He may have seen you tug on the hem of Casey’s tank top, seen her whisper something in your ear that made you blush and laugh, he may have caught the split second her lips met your jawline, seen the two of you heading off for the subway together.

And if he’d seen that first he may have tried to convince himself that it was another red ponytail and another person’s graceful lines. That there were so many people who jogged in that park, that it couldn't have been you.

He would’ve made a point to stop by the juniors’ office, maybe earlier in the day. Nick Anderson would’ve told him you were in Casey’s office and his stomach would’ve dropped. That may as well be “step one” in the old Jack McCoy playbook, get her in your space as often as possible. Oh come on, Jack. She’s her boss. They’re probably preparing for an admissibility hearing. He’d remind himself to schedule a meeting with Anderson for the end of the week.

He’d continue down the hall to find you and Casey sitting together, wordlessly handing one another documents highlighted in different colors. He’d remember the last time he was that in sync with an assistant and an undeniable flutter of recognition would’ve hit him.

But he hadn’t been in the park.

---

Your phone buzzed on the counter. You dried your hands quickly on the dishtowel, you turned off the tap. In the living room, Ashley was gathering the toys and books scattered about. Ramin was late at the office.

1 new message from: Alex to: you, Casey:

Alex: I just had quite the meeting with Jack.

---

“You wanted to see me, Jack?” Alex said, entering his office after most of the lawyers had gone home or

retreated to their own offices for the night.

“Actually, I’d really rather I didn’t need to,” he said. Alex’s concern showed on her face.

“Is this about the Buckman case? I know it’s going to be extra time to look into her statement,

but I really think this could be a break in the case, if she’s telling the truth or lying, so I thought it was justified. I could probably still make the argument without her, but it feels worth it--”

“No, the case is fine. Besides, it’s your case. I-- Alex we need to talk about… it’s maybe a more personal issue,” Jack said, shifting his hands’ position on the desk in front of him.

Alex’s eyes widened. “Are you speaking as my boss or as my friend?” Jack melted, remembering that they were friends, and that he could approach the topic as a friend. Though, usually, he wouldn’t have to confront a friend about their romantic life. Or if he did, it wouldn’t have professional repercussions. Electoral repercussions, he heard a younger, more emotional version of himself say to Adam Schiff 20 years ago. Sorry, Adam.

“Both, I hope, now that you mention it.”

Alex paused a moment, considering what to say. She had an idea what Jack was getting at, but no idea how he had come to that conclusion. He probably has some kind of sixth sense, she thought. “Start as my boss.”

Jack took a deep breath. “OK. I’ll tell you something Adam Schiff told me when I was in your position,”

Alex felt the need to stop him, to find out exactly what he thought he knew. “Wait. Before you reprimand me. What position am I in? What do you think I’m doing?”

“Jesus, Alex. What do you think you’re doing?” he asked. She didn’t answer him. “You’re having an affair with Caroline Haley.” He wasn’t asking her a question, and the disappointment in his voice was wounding. Alex took a deep breath. “You’re not going to deny it?”

“What makes you think we’re having an affair?” She was determined to out-wit him, get him to show her all his evidence before letting go of anything he was unaware of. Under New York law it is the prosecution’s responsibility to disclose any exculpatory evidence, she thought. And a lawyer who represents herself still has a fool for a client.

Jack looked at her blankly. Was she really going to make him spell it out? Well, he’d missed presenting cases. “I’ve noticed that she spends a lot more time in your office than her own,” he started. Alex’s poker face remained unchanged. “Your conversational style is, quite, amiable, ah,”

She couldn’t suppress a smile, then, biting back a laugh. “My apologies,” she said. “All you have as proof of this alleged affair is friendly conversation and spending time together?”

Jack tried to play into her humor. “I’ll remind you Ms. Novak Cabot,” he said, using her married name to see if it got a reaction (no luck), “that adultery is still a class B misdemeanor in the state of New York.”

Alex snatched that opportunity. He opened the door, your honor. “And how many three-month stays do you owe the good people of New York, Mr. McCoy?” He looked caught-out. The upper hand was hers. “Are you sure you’re not just seeing your old habits?”

“You know, it’s funny you should say that. Because after this coming election, I was going to ask you to be my EADA. But you know I can’t do that if there is even the slightest appearance of impropriety.”

“So this is about election results? You and I both know my patience for politics is--”

“Limited, yes. But don’t tell me you’re not the slightest bit interested.”

“I’d have to think about it, Jack,” she said honestly. It seemed to surprise him, which didn’t surprise her. He seemed to forget, often, that she’d arguably done much more important work (and he seemed to forget that Tracey Kibre had turned down the same position more than once, that some people enjoyed seeing their partners and the insides of their apartments every once in a while). “But that’s not why you wanted to talk to me, and you’ve yet to convince me that you have any idea about any affair.”

“Where were you last Friday evening?” Jack asked her, in full cross-examination confidence.

Alex flinched, her first misstep since she’d come in. She wasn’t going to out-right lie to him if disguising the truth would do. However he knew this (if he knew anything), she had no way of knowing how much he knew. “I had dinner with Caroline at a restaurant near her apartment in Brooklyn.”

“A working dinner?”

“I can’t be friends with my colleague?”

“Trilogy isn’t a particularly platonic place as far as I know,”

“You spied on me outside of work?”

“I happened to be there,” Jack said. Alex rolled her shoulders back, trying to let go of some of the anger she had at what felt like an invasion of her privacy, even if it had been public. “I saw her kiss you, Alex. I know.” Alex didn’t answer him. Jack, uncomfortable with the silence, said “I really do understand. I sympathize with what you’re going through, I know it isn’t easy.”

Her frustration gathered itself in her cold fingertips that she realized were gripping the arms of her chair, hard. “Actually, you don’t understand,” she said, quietly, as politely as she could. “You have an incomplete picture of the nature of our relationship.” Jack opened his mouth to argue. “I won’t say any more,” Alex said, certain, “except that Caroline has done absolutely nothing wrong, and if you go after her about any of this, you will have my resignation.” Jack nodded.

“You understand how something like this could look to the public? You understand that your position is at stake?”

“I understand.”

“I mean, just the power dynamic alone, disregarding the infidelity, and I hate to say it, but you know how rampant homophobia still is.” She clenched her jaw, but she didn’t look guilty.

“I know. Now, I’d like you to be my friend for a moment,” she said. “Please.”

He smiled weakly.

“As your friend, I’d tell you not to cheat on your wife,” Jack said. Alex looked serene.

“I won’t,” she said, rising from her seat. “Goodnight, Jack.” She left faster than he could return the sentiment. He’d hoped he had more comforting things to say. And he wanted to know what on earth she’d meant by “the nature” of their relationship. He trusted she’d take extra care now that she knew he knew. It was not going to be a fun secret to keep.

---

She didn’t tell you what the meeting was about, so you knew it couldn’t have gone well. Quite the meeting. You hoped it wasn’t what you thought it was. You said you’d be there soon. You moved through the apartment quickly, leaving the last of the dishes in the sink, snagging your keys off the hook, tossing them along with your phone into your backpack.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Ashley asked. You knew he’d been looking forward to catching up on episodes of The Bachelor, and you did hate to disappoint him. You looked up from tying your shoes.

“Alex and Casey’s,” you said. His shoulders dropped. “I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you.” He rolled his eyes. “What?” you asked. “You can watch without me, you know, I don’t mind.”

“I don’t care about the show,” he said, returning to his tidying.

You stood up, crossing your arms. “Something you want to say?” He shrugged.

“No, no. Go have fun,” he said.

“I don’t think it’s going to be a whole lot of fun,” you said, trying to keep the worry buried. “Alex texted, she said that Jack had called her into his office this evening over something.”

“That surprises you?” Ashley said, his voice high-pitched.

You looked at him with your eyes wide. “I’m sorry?” you said, resisting the urge to raise your voice.

“What did you think was going to happen, Caroline?” he said, with a patronizing look that made your stomach turn.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” you said. Two could play at passive aggression.

Ashley laughed bitterly. “I mean, did you not think twice before risking your job, everything you’ve worked towards to be what, the third wheel in a relationship that existed far before you came across it?”

“Ashley,” you warned him.

“I thought you were trying to work on the self-sabotage, I mean, you’ve never even been in a relationship before,”

“That’s not exactly true,” you said. You were starting to feel nauseous. He knew you well enough to know that he was pushing right on all your insecurities.

“That lasted more than a couple months, then, which is hardly anything.”

“I think we’ve gone over that a couple times-- Just because you’re so morally invested in monogamy doesn’t mean it’s for everyone--”

“You really want to be the girl who sleeps with the boss? No, sorry, the girl who sleeps with both of the bosses?”

“It’s-- wow. Tell me how you really feel.”

It was quiet for a moment as the two of you dared the other person to talk first.

“I just don’t think you’re making the best decision,” he said.

“I thought you were happy for me,” you replied, and walked out the door.

---

You didn’t usually ride your bike after dark. It felt right, though, as you went, releasing your nervous (and sad, and angry) energy out through the pedals. Your arms came up in goosebumps, from the chill in the air or the trepidation in your spine. It started to rain.

---

You and Alex arrived almost simultaneously. She was accepting a cup of tea that Casey was offering her when you came in. You were a walking cliché with your hair stuck to the side of your face, shivering. “Hi,” you said, shakily. You hadn’t quite been crying. The insecure part of you felt small, out of place, intrusive: they had this cozy, tidy, warm apartment, mugs of hot tea in their hands; and you were shattering it with the chaos that followed in the wake of your personal life. You were being so selfish, so inconsiderate, bringing your own emotional baggage with you despite Alex being the one having a hard time. For a split second you thought about leaving with no explanation, dashing out almost as soon as you shut the door. Casey held up a mug for you. It was one of a matching set of three.

“Jack thinks we’re having an affair,” Alex said, matter-of-fact, as you slipped out of your shoes and made your way to the counter Casey was leaning against. Alex was pacing, slowly, how she often did when she was figuring something out. You took a sip of your tea, grateful for the warmth, then set it on the counter and rested your head on Casey’s shoulder. She jumped and you laughed, the relief spreading through you. She squirmed as you pressed closer, letting out a squeak at the feeling. You let her go, listening to the quiet creaking of the floor.

“Which us?” you asked, matching the seriousness of the subject again. “All of us?”

“Just you and I,” Alex said.

“How did he come to that conclusion?” Casey asked, knowing there were equal cases to be made for any combination.

Alex stopped moving, pushing herself up to sit on the counter opposite to you. “To begin, he was apparently at Trilogy last Friday night.” The goosebumps threatened to make a repeat appearance. This was your fault.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, your eyes lost in your teacup. “I was reckless.” Out of the corner of your eye, you felt Apollo the duck stare at you accusingly with the stone cold eyes he didn’t have.

“Don’t be sorry. I was there too,” Alex said, meeting your gaze as you looked up. “He didn’t stick around long enough to see Casey.”

“What did you end up telling him?” Casey asked, letting herself be the problem-solver for the night.

“Very little,” she said. “He doesn’t have the complete story. That he should hold off on any judgements unless and until he did.”

“Did it work?” you asked.

“Well enough, I think. You don’t need to worry about your job. I threatened him with my resignation if he said a word to you about it.” Your heart beat faster. Sacrifices for your sake, or the offer of them, made you uneasy.

“You don’t have to put your career on the line for me,” you said, the same shaky tone edging into your voice again. Alex blinked at you, like it was no big deal, like it was the obvious choice. Casey traced circles on your shoulder blade.

“Nobody’s career is at risk, Caroline,” Casey said. “Honestly, imagine the kind of headlines that would break if Jack McCoy fired someone for adultery.”

“I don’t know what’s worse,” Alex said, “Jack’s disapproval right now, or how he might react if we just told him what’s going on. He made it clear his objection had more to do with poll numbers than morality.” Ashley’s words echoed in your head. You really want to be the girl who sleeps with the boss-- both of the bosses? Your fear must have been more obvious than you intended. “What’s wrong?” Alex asked you.

You swallowed. “It’s nothing,” you said, stopping yourself from spilling every anxious thought that came to you. “I’m fine. It’ll be fine,” you said, a real smile making its way out of you. You held your hand out for Alex’s and squeezed. She slid off the counter, letting herself be pulled in, letting whatever you weren’t saying stay unsaid for that moment. She also jumped when she first felt your wet clothes against her skin.

“Now, let’s get you out of those wet clothes,” she said. Your mouth was open in amusement as she started off down the hall. You began to follow but Casey stopped you briefly, hooking her ring finger into your belt loop.

“Whatever he said, it isn’t true,” she said, starting to run her warm hands underneath your shirt.

“How did you,” you said, feeling seen. “I didn’t say anything about it.”

“Give me some credit,” she said then kissed you gently, her body warming yours. “I’m very perceptive.” She gripped the bunched-up body of your t-shirt and you slipped your head through the top. Casey placed her palms against your ribs, holding you steady.

“Thank you,” you said, deep and low, as you kissed her again. The two of you, now almost equally damp, joined Alex. Six hands moved slowly, purposefully. Nothing felt desperate, fleeting. Only warmth filled you.

---

taglist: (I'm tagging a couple of my moots who aren’t on the taglist, let me know if you’d prefer I didn’t!)

@addictedtodinosaurs @nocreditinthestraightworld @cmmndrwidw @hi-i-1 @lesbianologist @readerhermit @@alexlivdoncas @laezzzi @imaginaryoperagloves (thank you for your help!!) @swimmingstudentchaos891

[13uswntimagines]

I Was Never Just a Rebound

Request: Lindsey helps reader get over her breakup with Christen pt.2- Sequal to I don’t want you to be a Rebound

Hey dudes, i hope you enjoy this! I know it’s kinda long, but I though a lot of the fallout stuff was necessary! To the people effected by college and the hurricane, i hope you’re doing well and that this can bring you a little bit of joy in some uncertain times. Hit me up with requests, questions or if you just wanna say Hi! I’m always open to chat. 

You knew that national team camp was going to be a challenge after the breakup, but you hadn’t anticipated the shit show that had awaited you. Vlatko had defended his choice of sticking you in the same room as Tobin as “maintaining team unity” and “fixing team cohesion”, but you were convinced that he just had a sick sense of humor. At least you had Lindsey (and her Roommate Emily by default) to back you up. 

The kiss hadn’t changed the dynamic between you and Lindsey all that much, to be honest. If anything, it made you closer. In the three months after the kiss you had still texted and FaceTimed several times a day, but now there was a different air of ease that surrounded each interaction. As though you were both more comfortable with where you stood with each other. You knew about her feelings for you, and she knew that you were still very not ready for a serious relationship. (Though you did find it slightly odd that all of your Tinder hookups had blond hair instead of brown.) 

 You stood in front of the mirror, placing the finishing touches on your outfit for tonight. Just because it was technically a Tinder one-night stand didn’t mean that the girl didn’t deserve to be wooed. You had been at camp for a total of 4 hours and you already couldn’t stand to be around them. The “happy couple” as they were called had a propensity for making out everywhere, no matter who was present. 

Each touch felt like a knife in your already torn up heart, so you had resorted to the only therapist approved coping mechanisms that you could right now, rebound sex. 

“Where are you getting all dressed up to go?” Tobin's voice broke you out of your thoughts as she wandered into the room that the two of you were supposed to be sharing, her eyebrows furrowing as she took in your button-down shirt, vest and slacks. 

“Out.” You responded shortly, not even sparing her a glance. 

“But we have practice tomorrow,” She continued. You could hear your exasperation. You had never been a goodie two shoes, but you had also never been one to blatantly break rules while at camp. You didn’t take many things seriously, but soccer was one of them. 

“Your point,” You spat. She had lost the right to have an opinion on your behavior the moment she had even entertained the idea of sleeping with Christen. 

“You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” She mumbled. 

“I want to” You rolled your eyes, rolling up the sleeves of your shirt. 

“I’m going to stay with Chris to make things less awkward” Tobin murmured, shifting foot to foot. 

“Do whatever you want Tobin,” You said, your voice completely void of emotion, finally turning to face her. 

“Just know that I didn’t ask Vlatko to put us together torture you alright,” She insisted tilting her head to the side and biting her lip. She hated how fucking awkward things had become between the two of you.

“No, you do that just fine all on your own,” You laughed humorlessly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her eyes snapped up to meet your own, shock evident in her features. Sure she had messed up, but she would never intentionally hurt you. 

“It means that I get it. It means that I should have known that the entire team would be behind you on this one because I’m just the fuck up who was never good enough for her. Trust me, do I get it, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t shove it in my face every three seconds,” You rushed out, the voices of your teammates congratulating the happy couple like freshly squeezed lemon juice to you half-healed heart. It had burned and ached and brought back every insecurity that you had worked your whole career to get over. 

“We weren’t, we were just…” She stumbled over her words and you rolled your eyes. 

“Doing all of the things you couldn’t do for the months you were seeing each other behind my back,” You finished for her, sending her a smile that was too mocking to be friendly. 

“It wasn’t months,” She huffed, settling into the edge of the bed that was meant to be hers. 

“Then how long was it Tobin?” Venom leaked into your question. A dangerous calm taking over your features. You didn’t know the whole story, but you knew enough to know that it hadn’t been the first time. 

“Since the night we won the World Cup,” 

You recoiled from the admission as though you had been slapped. 

“I’m so fucking stupid,” You laughed mirthlessly, closing your eyes in an attempt to control your emotions. 

“You’re not and I’m sorry that…” She started, attempting to fix the obvious pain that she had just inflicted. 

“Don’t. Don’t fucking apologize to me when I know that you’re not sorry. Just.” Your voice was cold, colder than she had ever heard it. “Just-. Just forget it alright.” You finished, shaking your head and returning your attention to finding your shoes so you could get the fuck out of this room. 

“We can’t just pretend like it never happened” she sniffled wetly. 

“We’re not pretending anything. Well, that’s a lie. We” you gestured between the two of you “are going to pretend that we were never friends and you were going to leave me the fuck alone”

“You can’t just erase history Y/n. I know you know that better than anyone” She pleaded. She had been your best friend since you were in diapers. You had been through it all together, things like that couldn’t just disappear, could they?

“Don’t fucking talk to me about my past Tobin” You growled, advancing on the woman.  

“I’m so…” She started, holding her hands up as if to pacify you. 

“I told you to stop apologizing,” You snapped. You knew the apology was out of pity and not because they felt bad about what had happened. they just felt bad that they had been caught. You often wondered how long they would have let you believe that she was still in love with you. How would they have broken the news? 

“I don’t know what you want me to say to you. I’m not going to say I regret it because that would mean that I regret finally getting the love of my life. I know that what we did was wrong but,” she started, frustration leaking into her tone. She didn’t want to hurt you, but she would never say that wished she didn’t have Christen. 

“But what Tobin? You never meant to hurt me? How many times did you watch me kiss her knowing that you were the one that she wanted? How many times did you reassure me that she loved me while you knew that it was you who she was dreaming of? How many times did you look at that ring on her finger and laugh because you knew she was never even entertaining the idea of walking down that aisle to meet me.” your chest was heaving by the end of your rant, your cheeks red with exertion. Tobin’s mouth remained shut, and her eyes stayed trained on the floor. “That’s what I thought. You know my past and you knew exactly what you were going to do to me each time you hooked up with each other. So let’s just drop the fucking pretense that you actually give a fuck about anyone but yourselves.” You said lowly.

“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say. I don’t know how to fix it,” She exploded, her voice thick with emotion, running her hands ran through her hair, her typically chill demeanor nowhere to be found. You felt guilty at the small shiver of satisfaction that rolled through you, as she experienced a small percentage of the pain you were feeling. But this was her bed to lie in and not yours. At least she would have Christen to keep her warm. 

“That’s the thing. You don’t say anything and you stop trying to fix it. You sack up and accept the guilt and leave me the fuck alone,” Your voice was soft but dangerous. Like the edge of a razor running on skin. Your tone nothing your best friend had ever heard before. 

“You’re my best friend,” She pleaded, the tears rolling down her cheeks, and you resisted the urge to comfort her. 

“No. I’m a fellow forward on the same team as you. That’s it. I’m your colleague who you only talk to on the pitch,” you said, your voice wavering. It was bad enough that you had lost Christen but nearly unbearable that she was the one you had lost her to. 

“Y/n…” She started, only to be cut off by a soft knock at the door, and you thanked your lucky stars. You weren’t sure if you could remain strong through the rest of that. You stumbled over to the door, and flung it open, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you saw the woman on the other side. 

 “Am I interrupting something?” Lindsey asked, taking in Tobin’s red-rimmed eyes and your agitated expression. She kept her face neutral at your outfit, even though you did look incredibly stunning all dressed up, she still preferred you in your old sweats cuddled up ready to watch a movie. 

“No, I was just leaving,” You hummed, your features instantly brightening at her appearance.“I’ll text you later?. I heard Emily say something about a movie night?”You smile, waiting for her to nod before kissing her forehead and heading towards the door.

“For sure babe,” she smiled back, kissing your cheek in return. You send her a wink before exiting the room, completely missing Tobin’s eyebrows shooting up into her hairline. 

 “She hates me,” Tobin sniffed as she watched you go, and Lindsey frowned. More so at the fact that you were clearly going for a tinder hookup instead of hanging out with her than anything else. She got that you were hurt, but watching you rebuild the wall around your heart was scary. 

While the two of you were emotionally more connected than ever before, the likelihood of you stepping into a serious relationship seemed to be oceans away.

“Well, she has a pretty good reason to,” Lindsey rolled her eyes and sat down on the bed next to Tobin’s distraught form, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder. 

“We didn’t mean to hurt her,” Tobin whined. Why wouldn’t anyone listen to them when they said it. They loved you and hurting you was the last thing in their mind. They just didn’t know how to be honest with you about the situation. At least you didn’t run away to the UK this time. 

“Yeah, I would start by never ever saying that again,” Lindsey said lowly. She knew how much you hated when they said that. It always felt like they were diminishing the amount of devastation you felt at their betrayal. As though there was no way to avoid their happiness coming at the cost of your own. 

“What else are we supposed to say? We love each other and don’t regret that we finally got together,” Tobin grumbled exasperatedly. She didn’t know how to fix this, and you weren’t giving her any clues. 

“You just regret that you lied and destroyed your best friend in the process?” Lindsey shrugged sarcastically.  

“Exactly! Wait, That came out wrong,”  Tobin blushed at the admission and Lindsey’s raised eyebrows. 

“Just give her some time, and maybe start by keeping the PDA to yourself,” Lindsey said calmly, patting Tobin’s knee. To be honest, the preath kissing was even beginning to wear on her, so she could only imagine how you felt about it. She had asked, but you always clammed up.

“We’re not going to stop being a couple to cushion her feelings,” Tobin huffed crossings her arms like a petulant child. That wasn’t fair to them either. 

“I’m not asking you to, but it might be more courteous for the two of you not have a fucking make out session while she’s sitting at the same table,” Lindsey mumbled gently. She hated how quiet you got, how much you retreated into yourself when the two women were around. She just wished that she could relieve your pain (what she didn’t know was that she already did). 

“I’m going to go talk to Chris, just… let me know that she made it to movie night in one piece alright?” Tobin asked hesitantly, and Lindsey gave her a tiny nod. Protective instincts were hard to break, and Tobin had been your protector for a long time. Hell, you had moved in with her after your parents kicked you out when they caught you making out with your first girlfriend in 9th grade. Her mom was more nurturing to you than your own had ever been, and she was the older sibling that you never had.

Tobin made her way to the door, pausing as she opened it. “Hey Linds, take care of her, ok?” She asked softly, staring at the floor. You were guarded and hard to handle, but maybe Lindsey would be able to break through those walls. 

“I will,” Lindsey nodded solemnly, and she would. 

*****

You’d say that camp was going swimmingly. Vlatko had let you start in the friendly against England, and you scored 3 goals so you were super pumped. It also helped that the English national team was always down for some flirting. So here you were, flirting with Leah Williamson. 

Emily watched you win disdain from the bench, while Lindsey simply wore an amused expression. Leah and Jordan were in a committed relationship, and it was fun to watch you lay on the moves. 

“Are you seriously going to sit here and watch her hit on anything with legs?” Emily asked scrunching up her nose, as you swapped jerseys with Leah. 

“We’re not dating, and it’s her apparently ‘therapist approved coping mechanism’ or whatever,” Lindsey shrugged, a bemused smile on her lips, as Leah and Jordan kissed your cheeks. You had had many conversations with the woman about your ‘coping’, and it seemed that while you didn’t want Lindsey to be your rebound, you had no problems having others fill that role. Somehow you always ended up back in her bed ready to cuddle. 

“Please, you guys have basically been in a relationship since her breakup with Chris, the only difference is that she hooks up with Tinder dates instead of hooking up with you” Emily snorted, remembering the many times she had watched you leave with a tinder date you never returned with. All of the women had a very interesting resemblance to a certain midfielder you both knew rather than a green-eyed forward. 

“We’re not dating,” Lindsey rolled her eyes for the millionth time. Did she like your coping mechanism? No. But she preferred it over the self-deprecating tendencies that have plagued you the first few months after the split. You were a shell of yourself, determined to wear your mental anguish as physical marks on your skin. It had torn her apart to see you like that, and she was proud that you had picked yourself up the way you did. That you allowed her to help you help yourself. 

“No, you guys just call each other nonstop, go on adorable dates and sleep all cuddled up in the same bed,” Emily smirked at the woman. How could two people be so deep in denial? You of your feelings and Lindsey of the status of your relationship. You loved her, anyone with eyes could see that, and Emily often wondered if you were just flaunting your hookup as a bratty way to try and get Lindsey to finally make a claim. 

“She’s not ready for a relationship, and we’re not that close,” Lindsey snapped, tired of this conversation. You weren’t ready to make that commitment and she wasn’t going to force you. You were best friends, and best friends did things like cuddle and call each other and watch movies. 

“You guys have always been emotionally close,” Christen said, staring at the way you were holding Leah’s hand to your chest, smiling what her and Tobin had dubbed the fan smile because it always got people to flock towards you. Her breathing caught when you looked Lindsey’s way, waving at the woman and sending her your real smile. The smile you always saved for Christen. She sat on the bench next to the two women, finally tearing her eyes away from you.“I was always jealous of the way you two clicked from the moment you met,” She murmured, and Lindsey tensed at her presence. 

“Like you clicked with Tobin? Oh, yeah that’s right, we’re not fucking behind everyone’s back,” The blond midfielder scoffed. She had seen the destruction that Christen had left behind. Had seen how much it killed you when the team accepted Preath with open arms. Someone here had to be on your side, and she would back you up all the way. 

“Be nice Linds,” Tobin scolded as she sat on Christen’s other side, sending Lindsey a frown. She didn’t like the rift that had formed between all of you. 

“It’s alright,” Christen murmured, placing a hand on Tobin’s knee. “I know that you’ll never believe me but my greatest regret about this whole thing is that she got hurt in the process,” She finished softly, shaking her head.  She knew that you wouldn’t believe her now, but maybe she could get through to the new women who had stolen your heart. Perhaps one day you would listen to her and give her the forgiveness she was after. 

“She’s right kid. Chris and her were growing apart, and she was growing closer to you,” Tobin added carefully, remembering all of the calls where Christen had called about your distraction. About how you were always talking about team blond. She knew you loved Chris, but there was always some undeniable chemistry between you and Lindsey. 

“I just-, we made a mistake, but I’m glad that she’s got you to help her,” Christen finished softly, a shy smile making its way across her face when you again glanced towards the bench to see if Lindsey was watching you (and when you frowned when she wasn’t). She would always miss how much you craved the attention of the people you loved, almost like a puppy would. 

“We’re not in a relationship because she doesn’t want me to be her rebound from you. I’m like 90% sure she’s not over you.” Lindsey spat. 

“That’s why all her tinder hookups are all blonds and not brunettes right?” Emily smirked. It was a checkmate. The ace in the hole if you will. Lindsey could deny her feelings for you all she wanted and explain away all of the evidence, but she couldn’t explain that. She couldn’t deny that you were attracted to her when all of the girls you picked up looked like her. 

“Shut up guys,” Lindsey grumbled, refusing to concede defeat. Refusing to admit the truth. Christen watched her for a moment, running a hand through her hair. You were running, too afraid to be hurt. She knew that. It’s what you did best. 

“Just don’t let her push you away.” She whispered. It was the only piece of advice she could offer. She wanted you to find your happiness again, and fuckgirl Y/n wasn’t it. 

“I won’t.” Lindsey nodded, grabbing Christen’s hand and squeezing it. She wouldn’t let you run forever. 

*****

Little did she know just how stubborn you could be. It had been a year of almost dating. A year of dancing around the subject, only for you to run away again. Your behavior had become less erratic. You transferred from Utah to Portland, deciding that having Sonnett and Lindsey were a fair trade for having to deal with Tobin’s puppy eyes. 

You hadn’t forgiven her, not yet, but you were making your way there. At least you weren’t blatantly ignoring her anymore. 

In Lindsey’s mind, the greatest victory was that you spent less time getting into other people’s pants and more time hanging out with her. When you transferred to Portland, Lindsey had welcomed you with open arms, even allowing you to share an apartment with her (with the excuse of Mark being unable to find you one of your own). So here you were, in a club celebrating another NWSL championship. 

“You do realize that you’re going to have to be the one to make the first move right?” Emily nudged Lindsey’s shoulder as they watched you dance with a group of girls from the bar. They giggled as you casually grabbed a hand that had tried to work its way up your shirt, placed a kiss on the knuckle, and continued dancing with the girl. They couldn’t deny that you were a smooth operator. 

“What if she’s not ready?” Lindsey asked biting her lip, sighing as you grabbed another hand that was trying to get under your shirt. 

“It’s been a year,” Emily rolled her eyes. God, she had never met two more oblivious people in her entire life.

 “Yeah and she hasn’t hooked up with anyone for like 6 months,” Tobin added, taking a sip of her beer. 

“Plus the two of you have practically been living together,” Emily finished, high fiving Tobin. What it would take to get the two of you together, she didn’t know. But pointing out the obvious couldn’t hurt. 

“It’s just cause she got traded to Portland,” Lindsey shrugged off the implication. 

“She turned down Marks offer to set her up in a loft,” Tobin reminded her, distinctly remembering Marks’ complaints that you had refused his offer to get you a loft in the building she was living in. Your eyes met Lindsey’s from across the room, and you sent her a blinding smile that was reserved only for her and a wink. 

“I think it’s safe to say that she’s waiting for you to make the first move,” Emily laughed, patting Lindsey on the back in encouragement. The only thing missing from your relationship with her was the label. And from the way you shied away from labels, it was safe to say that you weren’t going to be the one asking Lindsey out. 

Lindsey let out a growl when the girl that you were dancing with yet again tried to feel your abs. You frowned at the insistent hand. How could the girl not get the hint? She marched in your direction, tapping the girl on the shoulder. 

“Mind if I cut in,” she spat, the girl taking a step back in shock. Lindsey took the opportunity to slip in front of you, pulling your hands to her waist. 

“Linds?” You asked, your eyebrows furrowing, pulling her close to you so you could talk to her over the loud music of the clip. 

“I’m in love with you, but I think you know that, and I think that you’re in love with me too,” She said firmly, her blue eyes staring into your own as she connected your foreheads. 

“I don’t want you to be a rebound,” you whispered, your breath fanning across her lips. Your cheeks flushed at the intimacy of the situation. You loved Lindsey, but another relationship scared you.

“You don’t spend hours on the phone with your rebound. You don’t move to a different city to be closer to them. You don’t share the connection That we do. I’m so much more than a rebound and you know it. You just have to take that leap,”

She finished breathlessly, and just like the night of your breakup you leaned up and placed a gentle kiss in her lips. And just like the first time, your lips fit together like they were made for each other, moving in harmony together. 

Her tongue probed your bottom lip and allowed her to deepen the kiss. Her fingers tangled in the baby hairs at the lack of your neck, and your hands wrapped around her Lower back to pull her closer to you. You reluctantly pulled away when air became an issue, keeping your eyes closed as your rested your foreheads together, bumping her nose with your own. 

“Go on a date with me?” She asked, and your eyes snapped open to meet hers. 

“Mmm, I wouldn’t like anything more,” You smiled, pecking her lips again. You knew Lindsey would be so much more than a rebound. She would be the love of your life.

[gryfon-spanish-werewolf]

Cuddle Corner (Part 2)

A long time coming, literally ~5 years, the sequel to the original Cuddle Corner. This one was highly requested on ao3 and ff.net, but honestly? I wanted it just as bad.

This story is dedicated to @fruipit. One because your enthusiasm for the original was so energizing, and two, because I still owe you a larger fic but here I am on the one-year-anniversary of that to offer this one instead xD

Edit: for those who love to favorite and comment: ao3 and ff.net are now available!

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The background buzz of the mall’s food court droned around Anna and Kristoff as they dug into their meals. Work would come calling soon, but it was their lunch break, and the reuben’s they made here were well worth the drive, the parking nightmare, and the overpriced soft drink that came with it.

Kristoff watched Anna. While generally a reserved man, his quiet was different now, observant. After devouring half of his sandwich, the rest remained practically untouched, but Anna was too busy enjoying her food to notice. Too busy that is, until Kristoff cleared his throat.

“I think you should go back.”

Her sandwich stopped halfway to her mouth. "We are not talking about this." "Anna..." Kristoff leaned forward, posture set firm. Anna met his gaze with equal and opposite determination - and to her credit, she gave it her all. But it was like trying to bully a mountain by throwing pebbles, and eventually she closed her eyes, giving in with a measured inhale and exhale. "You know why I can't." "Yeah, so you've told me." "Then you'll have to forgive me for being short," Anna scowled. "I thought I'd made it clear that that could never be allowed to happen again." "So, what?” Kristoff raised an eyebrow. “You're just going to keep yourself on house arrest and never interact with another human being ever again?" Anna put her meal down. Based on the way her stomach was already tightening in knots, she wasn't getting back to it anyway. "Of course not, that's absurd." Kristoff spread his arms, awaiting an explanation. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I care about you, Anna." Kristoff's face softened. "I won't go so far as to say I know how you feel, because I know that I don't and never truly will. But I do know you. And you haven't been yourself since that appointment." Anna stared at the tabletop, arms close to center. "I know you don't want to talk about it," Kristoff continued, "but whatever happened–"

“Nothing happened!” Anna shouted, drawing concerned looks from the other patrons. The words cut like glass. Her throat felt raw, heart bleeding as it pumped jagged pieces through her chest. She drew her hands back even further when Kristoff offered his own from across the table. She couldn’t. Not now.

God, she hated crying.

A foot nudged hers gently. Anna blinked back the tears, remembering where she was and who she was talking to. This was Kristoff, and he knew her better than anyone.

“Anna, you’re hurting.” He tapped his foot on top of hers, doing it again when she remained silent. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “but I can’t watch that big goofy heart of yours shrink in on itself any longer.”

He paused and Anna felt the sharp teeth of dread.

“Was it Elsa?”

Anna’s eyes widened. “No! No, Elsa was… Elsa was perfect.”

“You said it reminded you of before.”

“And I stand by that, sort of.” Another nudge and this time Anna tapped Kristoff’s foot back, bringing a smile to his brown eyes. She gave him one of her own, small and weak in comparison. “Elsa was completely professional. We established boundaries and she constantly checked in on me to make sure I was okay. She never did anything without my say-so and she cared about my well-being.” Anna’s expression soured. “Which is exactly where everything went wrong. We hugged, sat together, swapped stories. I felt like I’d known her my whole life! I was even brave enough to put my head in her lap. I got so caught up that I forgot why I can’t do that sort of thing anymore.”

Kristoff offered his hand again and she took it, grateful for his patience. “When that timer went off, everything came flooding back. Everything. Guilt and fear and crushed hope. I threw all of it in her face. Elsa, she... she didn’t deserve that.” Anna’s shoulders dropped with the admission, a weight slipping the ground. She glanced up at Kristoff and shrugged awkwardly. “You know the rest. I’ve avoided talking about it and spent all my free time at home, trying to get my shit together.” She inhaled shakily. “I really thought I was done with this.”

A soothing thumb brushed the back of her hand. She tentatively reached out with her sneaker, warmth softening the sharp edges in her chest when Kristoff bumped her back.

“I’m guessing that means you haven’t called her back, even though you have her card.” Kristoff leaned forward. “You… do still have it?”

Anna nodded. “Right where I left it, stuffed as far down into my jacket pocket as possible.”

“I think you should call her,” He said after a moment of thought.

“Kristoff.” Anna took back her hand, bottom lip caught between her teeth. “I know you’re just trying to help but how many times do I have to say that we, Elsa and I, cannot be a thing? Being ‘a thing’ means spending time together, spending time together means we’ll be affectionate, and being affectionate leads to… more. A-And I can’t give, more.”

“Which is why I’m not suggesting that in the least,” Kristoff replied, face set. “I’m merely saying you call her so she doesn’t think you hate her.”

Ouch. That hurt.

“You’re not the kind of person to wrong someone,” Kristoff continued, “let alone wrong someone and not apologize.” More gently he added, “I know you enjoyed spending time with her, anxiety aside. You’re not even going to give her the chance? Not even to be friends? Professional chums?”

“I don’t know, Kristoff,” Anna crossed her arms. “Are you friends with your therapist?”

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh.”

Kristoff grinned. “You were expecting me to say no, weren’t you?” Anna eyed the rest of her meal by way of answer. “I know she’s not your therapist, and trust me, I understand the urge to keep absolutely everything between you and Elsa professional. But sometimes in a space like that, where it’s just the two of you, you have to be honest too. Sometimes the best way for them to help you is to… well, let them help you.”

“Eloquent.”

“Just another way of saying I’m right, which I will take, thank you.” 

Anna snorted at his antics, smiling a little too. But in the silence that followed the chilling trace of fear wound it’s way under her skin, trailing beneath her bones. She pressed her fingertips to her sternum. Heart and mind said two different things, and it was too soon to decide whether the fleeting spark of hope Kristoff was inspiring would save or destroy her.

“Please,” Kristoff pleaded, “no more of this. However you need to frame it -- for her sake or yours -- make things right with Elsa.” -------------

Anna steeled herself, dial pad staring accusingly when she hesitated again before punching in the number on the card. Her hand shook as she put the phone to her ear. 

She begged for voicemail.

"Hello?” Dammit. “Elsa speaking."

“H-Hey Elsa," she cleared her throat, suddenly hoarse. "It's Anna."

"Anna!" Came the joyful cry, "Wow, Anna I'm... I'm really glad to hear from you." Anna didn't know what to say so she didn't respond. "What can I help you with?"

"I um, I know it’s been forever since we met but I was thinking…” She took a deep breath. She wanted this, didn’t she? “I, wanted to see you again.”

Immediately Anna knew she’d screwed up. “In what way?” Elsa’s voice was dangerously low, cautious in a way that nearly broke Anna’s soft heart. No, not afraid of me, please no.

“As in an appointment,” Anna rushed, backpedaling so fast she felt dizzy.

"Really?” Elsa sounded back to normal, even delightfully surprised. “I mean, of course. That’s why I gave you my number after all.” She laughed, high and breathy. “When would you like to come in?"

Anna hadn't even checked her calendar. Could she be any less prepared? "Um," Anna racked her brain, trying to find an open slot, "how about Saturday?"

"Saturday is good. I have a noon and a four o'clock, whichever works better for you."

"Four is better."

"Great! I'll see you then," Elsa exclaimed. There was a moment of quiet, then, "And hey, Anna?"

Anna swallowed. Elsa's voice had changed again, completely. It was painfully searching, even if Elsa tried to hide with brevity. "Yeah?"

"Thanks... for giving me a second chance."

Elsa hung up, leaving Anna to wonder how she would manage to survive the next three days.

-------------

The waiting room was all too familiar, despite the fact she hadn't been back in months. The music hadn't changed, the buddha statue was still fat and happy, and the reeds still looked fake. Or real. Or both.

A different receptionist checked her in, all smiles and good smells. Apricot, Anna realized as she found a seat. Easy, considering she was the only one here, but unfortunate, since all she really wanted to do was hide.

But Kristoff was right, this was going to be for the best. Elsa, though they'd only interacted for an hour, deserved much more than Anna’s surprisingly cold shoulder.

"Anna?" Lost in her thoughts, she hadn't heard the door open. She looked up and found a pair of eager blue eyes, tempered in a way they shouldn't be. Too cautious.

She'd been hurt.

Shit.

“I’m–. We… are ready to see you now.” Elsa waved her clipboard. “If you’ll just follow me.” 

Down the hall, past the same differently decorated rooms. Elsa’s open white button-down flared over black jeans as she walked, pale braided hair swinging back and forth delicately. It was nice, Anna thought, all these stark negatives against the baked clay hue of the walls and stained wood of the picture frames. Well, not negatives, Elsa could never be a negative, not like that. Anna was just appreciating the contrast–

She looked up when Elsa coughed. “We’re here,” she said for what must have been the second time. Anna immediately recognized it as the same room they’d been in when she was here last.

“Is this your room then?” she asked, moving inside.

Elsa shook her head. “We get a room assigned at random unless the client specifies. Technically you got the one two doors down but I thought since you knew this one and I didn’t want you to feel…” Her eyes changed, losing their confidence. “Unless you wanted another room, then–”

“Thank you,” Anna stopped her, touched by her concern. “This one is perfect.”

Elsa closed the door and handed over the clipboard. “So. Anna. Sign a few places and we can get started, same as last time.” She froze, searching Anna’s face. “Or not the same since, well…,” she trailed off.

They both looked at the door handle.

Anna swallowed, fighting the anxiety suddenly clogging up her throat. She realized that if this was going to work, she was the one who needed to set expectations too. Anna scribbled her name, then tucked the pen under her thumb and held out her other hand, palm up. “It won’t be the same,” she said with a confidence she was still finding. “It’ll be better.”

She saw Elsa hesitate, meeting Anna’s gaze instead. Her expression was schooled but Anna saw the cheer in her eyes. “That’s cheating,” she replied, humor lending warmth to her voice, “your time hasn’t started.”

“Then let’s start.”

Now Elsa smiled, unfiltered and without shadow.

Elsa set another timer on her phone, laying it down on the table. Caught up by the slowly ticking numbers on the screen, Anna nearly started when Elsa took the hand she’d offered before. Thankfully, Anna turned the reflex into a motion towards the bed. “Shall we?”

Elsa raised an eyebrow. “Who are you and what have you done to Anna Fields?” She chuckled, but let herself be led across the room.

“Ms. Fields has had a lot of time to think.” Anna settled herself on the side of bed, dropping her purse off her shoulder. “And she’s got some things to say.”

The mattress dipped on her right as Elsa settled next to her. Their hands were still connected. Anna took a deep breath, settling her nerves, “Starting with, ‘I’m sorry’.” Elsa made a humming noise and rubbed her thumb across Anna’s knuckles. “I’m sorry that I left things the way I did, I promise I’m not usually so… volatile. I know I didn’t explode on you or anything but, it must have felt like a switch got flipped. One second perfectly relaxed, the next…” In her mind Anna heard the timer again, felt the tightening pull of her muscles, saw the half remembered steps to the door. Her free hand clenched over her knee. “A-And I wouldn’t look at you, I couldn’t.” She felt Elsa’s eyes on her now, and the irony that Anna was struggling to meet her gaze, still, wasn’t lost on her.

When a few moments passed without either speaking, Elsa shifted, kicking her shoes off and pulling her legs up onto the bed. “I know you have more to say, and I want to hear it. But we are the Cuddle Corner after all. Can we try this?” Elsa moved behind her, then turned her back and sat cross-legged, facing the opposite wall. “I think you’ll like this one,” she said, speaking a little louder so her voice carried. “Just mirror what I’m doing, and rest your back against mine.”

Anna thought about it, but only for a moment before she reoriented herself and slowly eased against Elsa. Then she shifted, straightening her back and sitting up taller. Of course Elsa had good posture. At least, better than her own.

“Relax,” Elsa said calmly, though Anna heard the distinct upward lilt of humor buried in that one word. “And when you’re ready, place the back of your head on mine, too.”

Anna could feel every one of Elsa’s breaths, expanding lightly against her spine. It was distracting, but pleasantly so, soothing and gentle. Finally Anna tilted her head back, looking straight ahead.

“How are you doing?” Elsa asked.

Anna closed her eyes and breathed deep. Her awareness traveled from her head to her center, where things were still a little messy, but more calm than before, quieter. “Better,” she replied honestly.

“Good.” She felt Elsa raise her chin. “Try to keep looking forward. You’ll want to speak to the side or turn your head, to see my facial expressions. But,” she paused. Anna heard the smile step into her voice and she couldn’t help the one that grew to match, “part of this exercise is to trust what you feel and hear coming from the other person, without relying on what you see. Is that still okay?”

Anna straightened again. From the crown of her head to the tips of her toes, she felt a peace steal over her. Maybe it was something about the position, or maybe it was the rhythm of Elsa’s breath. She wrapped that feeling around her like a cloak, snug, overlapping her heart.

In answer, she continued where she left off.

“At the end of last session I… wasn’t myself. I shouldn’t have left like that. Shouldn’t have left you like that. You didn’t deserve it, especially because, well, it wasn’t your fault.” Anna shifted, attempting to look over her shoulder before remembering Elsa’s advice. “I want to make that very clear: you, Elsa? Did nothing wrong. In fact, you did everything right. You just, pah-,” Anna made a little outward motion with her hands, a small explosion, “made everything work, just for a moment.” Anna felt more than heard Elsa’s small giggle against her back and felt her ears get hot. “Yeah I’m, not always the best with words.”

“It’s more common than you think,” Elsa replied. Anna saw her move her hand out of the corner of her eye. “When you can’t see someone it’s normal to raise your voice and use your hands more, since you’re still trying to get your point across with less to work with.” There was that laugh again, hitching against her ribs. “Though I get the feeling you talk with your hands anyway.”

“My family knows not to keep glassware around me after dinner, yes,” Anna snorted. “And Kristoff stocks the break room with extra napkins, just for me.” She rolled her eyes. “Real charmer that one.”

“I think you mentioned this man, Kristoff, the last time you were here too,” Elsa said softly. “He must mean a lot to you.”

“Yeah!” Anna beamed. “He was the first friend I made at my job and now…,” she paused, considering, “well now I think he’s my best friend.” 

Elsa made a noise of curiosity, a little wordless question. “I would have thought he was your brother, the way you sound when you talk about him.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Anna sighed, leaning back into Elsa. “It’s probably because we hug and hold hands and he gives me piggy back rides across the parking lot just for the fun of it. I tried to give him one once and nearly broke my knee. I’m strong, but he’s a mountain man.” Anna laughed to herself. “Actually, people think we’re dating most of the time.”

“Oh?” Elsa sounded genuinely surprised, the sound bouncing high off the walls, “you’re not?”

“Nnnnnope!” Anna replied, popping the ‘p’. “I mean he’s sweet and all: attentive, caring, soft-hearted. Anyone would be lucky to have him. But I’ve never thought of him that way.”

Instantly Anna felt a flush creep up her neck, and she sat forward. “W-Well,” she stammered, “not like that like that, I mean. Sure he can be charming in a rough sort of way sometimes and it feels really nice to be held in his arms because he’s so much bigger than me and yes we buy each other gifts just because we know it’ll make the other person happy b-but… I…” she swallowed, staring at the bed spread past her legs. “N-Not like, the anything that comes after… all that.” Anna fussed with the hair behind her ear, self-conscious. “But I suppose if I had to pick a dude, he’d be really great.”

Anna thought she heard an, “Oh,” from Elsa again but she wasn't sure. She realized they weren’t touching anymore, and in the same heartbeat realized that she’d sort of, almost, accidentally come out to Elsa.

A pit opened in her stomach, enough that her heart dropped just a little, enough for anxiety to find a little home and buzz through her chest.

It was a soft ball, an underhand throw, of a coming out, easily brushed aside or misinterpreted. Elsa was professional, she probably wouldn’t even ask.

Anna really wanted her to ask. But she also really didn’t.

But mostly she just didn’t want Elsa to feel weird about her.

“Anna?”

Elsa was looking at her, over her own shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” Anna blinked. “Am I--. Of course I’m okay. Oh, shit,” she scooched backwards until she felt Elsa’s waist again and leaned back, touching her head to Elsa’s. “I left the position, sorry.”

Elsa was quiet for a moment, and Anna swore she could feel Elsa’s thoughts winding themselves down her spine. But Elsa’s next words held only warmth. “It’s more about the exercise than anything else,” she said, and Anna could tell she was still speaking over her shoulder, directly to her. “You can leave it at any time, for any reason. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable, promise,” Anna twisted to face Elsa. “I think I’m just really bad at… explaining… myself…”

Elsa’s eyes softened and for a moment Anna couldn’t see anything else. They were so close. She’d turned and now they were breathing the same air. Inches. Centimeters.

He used to call this kissing distance.

“Anna?”

“Yes?” Anna murmured. Every nerve in her body was aware of itself. Her skin prickled with their energy, thorned as a rose.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Ever,” Elsa stated firmly. She leaned back into Anna, the smallest upward turn on her lips. “I don’t need to understand to care.”

But Anna saw that she did understand. And better, that Elsa wasn’t afraid of her, or anything Anna brought with her.

And that was… a lot.

Anna closed her eyes, took a deep breath--

And flopped down against the plush mattress.

She heard Elsa laugh behind her hand as she opened her eyes. “Too much?” Elsa asked, humor making lines around her eyes.

“No, not too much, just,” Anna mulled her words over, “you make it sound so easy. You make this so easy,” Anna gestured with both hands to the space above her head broadly, encapsulating the room and everything in it, physical and immaterial. “I started out apologizing, and those thoughts were all tangled up in my head because I wanted to be sincere and make this time different and it is different, so different, and I guess now I’m just, really… really grateful.”

Elsa nodded as Anna finished. “There’s a part of me that wants to say, ‘Well, it’s my job after all’, but I really am glad that I’ve been able to help, Anna.” She laid herself down too, on her side, propping her head up on her hand. “And in case you’re the kind of person that needs to hear it: I forgive you, Anna, so you don’t need to apologize anymore.”

A great breath washed out of Anna. She stared up at the ceiling, arms outstretched. “Thank you.”

After a brief pause, Elsa replied, “I’d actually already forgiven you, before you got here.”

Anna sat up on her elbows. “What? Why? I hadn’t even said anything yet!”

“It was the fact that you called at all.”

“But--! That doesn’t…”

Elsa held up her hand and shook her head. “You’re overthinking it,” she said gently, “which is alright, since that’s what I pegged you for anyway.”

Anna went to reply but stopped herself, trapping the air in her cheek. Then, she said, “You know, it’s not terribly cuddly to insult your clients, Elsa.”

“Hmm, true,” Elsa acquiesced, though her tone begged to differ. “What I mean is, you struck me as a ‘Thinker’ is all, even on your first visit.”

“A ‘Thinker’?” Elsa nodded again. “Like the guy who sits on a rock all serious-like?”

“Not quite,” Elsa chuckled, “although at times I’m sure that makes for a good analogy. I can explain it for you, but we’re still on your time here.” Elsa sat up, cross-legged, similar to Anna’s first visit. “The last few times I’ve been making the suggestions to help you relax, but I saw you take initiative when you first got here, and I want you to feel like this is your space as well. Now, as much as you’re comfortable, what do you want me to do?”

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Anna gulped. It wasn’t that big of an ask, and it made sense. Boundaries, two sets. A middle ground of mutually agreed upon comfort and engagement. She could do this.

Elsa sat patiently, in no rush at all. Anna looked back up at the ceiling and pondered. Suddenly a phantom feeling stole over her. Another time, another place. Someone warm next to her. A starlit sky above, cold ground below.

“On my stomach,��� Anna said out loud. She turned her head and saw Elsa’s bewildered expression. “Sometimes when Kristoff and I hang out we lay on each other, and we’ll put our heads on the other’s belly.” Anna felt her face heat up a little, knowing it sounded more intimate than it really was. At least, not that way, but people usually didn’t believe that. “But you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I can think of another one.”

“Won’t I be too heavy?”

Anna blinked. “Huh?”

“Won’t it hurt?” Elsa rephrased. “Heads weigh more than people think, and stomachs are notoriously soft.”

A beat passed.

Then Anna laughed.

At first it was small, like the quick kind of chortle and dash of amusement from an inside joke, but it rapidly changed to loud, full from her chest laughter, curling her legs towards her ribs in an attempt to contain it. Elsa’s concern was so endearing, and it soothed parts of Anna that were still hidden in the dark, but it was also utterly silly, too.

And that made the last trace of Anna’s trepidation disappear like mist in the morning.

“Notorious is a strong word,” Anna managed past her giggles. “I’m not sure who told you that, but maybe that’s just about your head.” One of Elsa’s eyebrows raised to acknowledge the comment, but as smooth as she tried to pass herself off, Anna could see how her mouth twitched with her own tamped laughter.

“It’s not terribly cuddly to insult your local professional, Anna,” she mimicked, sending Anna back into hysterics.

“I’ll… be fine,” Anna wheezed, wiping a tear from her eye as she flattened out again. “Kristoff is literally twice your size, I think I’ll make it.”

“Okay well,” Elsa lowered herself down, resting the back of her head lightly on Anna’s side with barely any weight at all. “Like this?”

“Yeah except you’re going to put your neck out like that,” Anna teased. “I said it was okay, Elsa. Trust me this time.”

After a moment of hesitation Elsa moved further back until she was fully settled, her shoulders hitting Anna’s hip and lower ribs. She sighed, making a few more adjustments until Anna could tell she was comfortable too.

They breathed in silence for a while, listening to each other. Anna realized she hadn’t eaten in a while and worried, briefly, that her body might make that fact known, but she supposed it wasn’t anything Elsa hadn’t heard before.

“So what were you saying earlier?” Anna re-broached the subject. “About how I… think things too much?”

“It’s not always the amount that you’re thinking,” Elsa chuckled. Anna felt the sound reverberate across her stomach and chest, warm and light. Elsa talked upwards, her head rising and falling in time with Anna’s breathing. “People process things in a lot of different ways, but many find that conceptualizing two categories - Thinking and Feeling - helps them more easily navigate those styles. Some people analyze and scrutinize and run over scenarios from as many angles as they can, and sometimes they do that to an excessive amount, which can cause more anxiety than it reduces. And some people,” she reached out and patted the bedspread. It was probably just to indicate that she was speaking about Anna, like the back to back exercise where they couldn’t see each other, but for some reason Anna reached out too, and put her hand beneath Elsa’s. She heard Elsa smile as she continued explaining, curling their fingers together. “Some people just have emotions that drift and bounce and trace around their body all the time. They’ll sit with a feeling until they’ve experienced all that it can give. Maybe they experience joy that floats them for hours, but they also feel sadness that sinks them into a sea of their own making.” Elsa turned her face towards Anna. “I’m fairly certain you’re the first one.”

“Huh.” Anna thought for a moment, feeling Elsa’s weight with every inhale. “So you’re a Feeler then?”

A smile tugged at Elsa’s lips. “How did you know?”

Anna shrugged. “I didn’t really, I just guessed.” She looked back up, rubbing the back of Elsa’s hand idly with the pad of her thumb. “Although, now that I think about it, you’ve always been thought-ful. Always checking in on me, asking me good questions --those always felt more experienced than logical though, if that makes sense. But the reasoning behind them seems more intuitive, like you just… know.” Anna paused, struck by something. “Actually, I didn’t have the word for it then, but I think I noticed it back when I called you.”

“To… schedule this appointment?” Elsa asked, sounding a little mystified.

“Yeah. It was in the way your voice changed when--,” and now Anna stopped because she felt embarrassment crawling up the nape of her neck. “When I said I wanted to see you again.”

“Oh.” Elsa turned her head to look at Anna. She had the smallest grimace on her face. “Sorry, that was pretty unprofessional of me.”

“On the contrary, I think checking to make sure your clients aren’t developing that kind of attachment to you is probably the most professional thing to do.”

“Well the paperwork helps,” Elsa hummed, “but you’re not wrong. Thankfully I haven’t encountered that problem yet, but I know some co-workers have.”

“It makes sense. I mean, this is the kind of thing most people imagine couples doing.”

Elsa shrugged. “Not everywhere. There are places where this is normal for family and friends, where physical affection isn’t locked behind the potential marital status of the individuals. And frankly, it’s normal here too, but not everyone experiences intimacy the same way.”

Intimacy.

The word clings to Anna’s throat, even though she hadn’t said it. A tightness, a dark line from neck to stomach, pooling invisibly around light Elsa’s hair.

“That’s good!” Anna blustered. “For them I mean, the people who get it. Wait no, not that the people who don’t feel that way are like-- What I mean to say is that that’s good! That people do that, somewhere: here, there, anywhere. I didn’t mean to say that people who don’t are doing bad, just, like, ‘Hey, good for them!’, you know?” She smacked her free hand over her eyes with a groan. “Grammar and statement of purpose have abandoned me. Feel free to tell me to stop talking whenever.” She felt Elsa’s laughter in the bunching of her shoulders against her stomach.

“Thinker,” Elsa chastised warmly.

And then it just became… chatter.

Catching up, laughing at anecdotes, learning about the other. Elsa asked about Anna’s job and Anna responded that she was training some promising new hires who were positively electric about their fields. Anna asked Elsa about her day job, making a mental note to check out a charity event a few blocks from her work. The first appointment seemed like a lifetime ago, and now that the air was clear and they’d settled, a lifetime seemed like just the thing to fill up the room.

Until Elsa scrunched her eyes up and said, “Okay, I think we’ve got to change positions, I’m getting a little dizzy.”

“I get it,” Anna empathized, “it’s the ups and downs. It gets a little disorienting”

“Yeah.” Elsa sat up and blinked hard a few times, her hand splayed out wide on the bed to keep balance. They’d kept them mostly entwined over the last part of their session, but Anna couldn’t help talking with her hands and it turned out that, at times, neither could Elsa.

Anna stretched, feeling like a cat in a sunbeam. She was as comfy as she was last time with her head in Elsa’s lap, but this time she knew the timer couldn’t surprise her. That enough words had passed between them for old wounds to not rear their heads. And while she didn’t anticipate it, for that would mean the end of her time with Elsa (for now), she did acknowledge it’s reality, and she was not afraid.

But she was damn cozy though.

“You look like you could fall asleep right there,” she heard Elsa say above her head. Anna opened her eyes to mirthful blue.

“I think you’re right,” Anna agreed, blocking a yawn with her hand.

“You’re welcome to take a nap. It’s--”

“--More common than you’d think,” Anna recited at the same time, making Elsa hide a smile behind her hand. There was a lot that Anna had learned in her short time here, but mostly that her knowledge of what people did when they felt safe and comforted was different than she’d expected. But it was a good kind of wrong to be, the eye-opening kind. The kind that made your heart feel a little bigger and softer. “You say that a lot.”

“Well it’s true!”

“I don’t doubt it,” Anna held up her hands, placating. “I’m just saying, it’s like your catchphrase.” Anna swept her outstretched arm in an arc, wiggling her fingers, “‘The more you know!’, with Elsa, the Cuddle Expert.”

Elsa bumped her arm. “You’re a tease. But I mean it, you’ve got time. Even if you don’t fall asleep, laying back and relaxing is part of cuddling you know.”

Anna stifled another yawn and turned onto her side. “I’ll at least sleep on top of the covers,” she replied, her voice dropping as she closed her eyes. “That way you don’t have to wash all the sheets.”

“Well they get washed anytime they’re used, and there’s spares in the hall closets but…,” she heard Elsa snicker, “you really think of everything, don’t you?”

“I think that joke has already run its course,” Anna smiled, then patted the open space in front of her invitingly. “C’mon, you might as well get a break too--.”

The bed dipped behind her.

“Well I can at least keep you warm this way; it’s kind of a classic cuddling position.”

The words were joking and light, Elsa’s voice so close to her ear, practically glowing.

“I don’t know who designed these rooms,” the voice continued, “but they let the air blow right above us. It gets incredibly chilly sometimes, and that’s coming from me of all people!” Forearms braced themselves against her spine, legs pressed against the back of her own, and soft exhales tickled the baby hairs at the nape of Anna’s neck.

And suddenly Anna was not at Cuddle Corner.

Her vision tunneled. The opposite wall retreated, backing itself down a long, dark corridor. Her peripherals feathered, the thorned, hyper-awareness from before screeching back, focused on the blazing points of contact between them.

Anna?

Her back was a ramrod, a live wire. When she breathed the air had nowhere to go, her lungs shallow and tight.

Breath on her neck and hands on her shoulders.

“Anna?”

Elsa’s voice.

Anna gasped, air traveling deeper, chest expanding, and the room returned to normal. Anna licked her lips, nerves settling under her skin, buzzing inside her ribs to join the dark feathers still flitting and hovering there.

“Maybe we should switch.” The words were strained but Anna tried to make them sound casual. To make them sound less like they hurt and more like before, just moments before when everything was perfect.

“...Are you sure?” Elsa replied over Anna’s shoulder. She’d moved away, touch gone, leaving phantom prints behind. Anna hesitated but nodded slowly. “Okay…”

The bed moved again. A moment later Elsa lowered herself down in front of Anna, facing away. Her braid was pulled over her shoulder, out of reach, exposing the light skin of her neck. Unable to see Elsa’s expression, Anna swallowed the dark, heavy thing inside her throat and attempted to gauge Elsa’s mood through posture alone.

“You can come close,” Elsa said. A simple and straightforward invitation, but Anna thought she heard an edge creep into it, like something was slicing each letter off at the joint.

“R-Right. ‘Cuddle Corner’,” Anna said with feigned cheer, a little fain-fair. She laughed. Elsa laughed.

It was weird.

Slowly, uncertainty running under her palm, Anna reached her arm across Elsa’s chest. Her legs came up under Elsa’s until their bodies were nearly flush. She could smell Elsa’s shampoo, and felt her breathing against the crook of her elbow.

And she could tell immediately that Elsa wasn’t comfortable either.

There was a weight in the room, a miasma escaping the seams between their bodies. It scraped between Anna’s fingers, threatening to lift her hand up entirely, and take it away.  Her eyes unfocused, the lines of Elsa’s body becoming blurred, trembling the way heat makes the air waver and shake.

Elsa turned her head, so Anna could see the barest corner of her eye. “You’re pushing yourself,” she said quietly.

Anna tightened her grip, a wordless promise, but stopped when Elsa flinched. “I’m not.”

I’m not, she told herself. Elsa is a good person. People do this all the time, even friends! This position, spooning… it’s about comfort, not anything else. Just… stop being all up in your head about this.

But Anna could sense herself backpedaling, falling backwards into herself. Right in front of her was the shell of Elsa's ear, the slope of her neck, the curl of her white-blonde hair before it twisted into her braid -- and it made Anna wonder...

Was this... it? Was this what made people fall? A quiet moment, a scrap of skin. Was this enough to make them... feel?

Had it made him feel something, looking at Anna like this?

Warm fingers thread through hers, a bobber dropped into the well of her thoughts. Elsa's hand didn’t hold the sting of fear, and like sunlight on murky water a balm spread at her touch, expanding with each even breath.

But this time, it wasn’t enough.

Anna's thoughts rushed around her head, swirling, clinging, flying like beads snapped away from a string cut under stress. No longer sentences but fragments, worries and doubts in a whirlpool, sucking her down. What hadn't she done? What else could she do? How could she be so cold? Why couldn't she do this, for him? For anyone?

Why wasn't she enough?

The trembling started in her shoulders. She couldn’t stop it anymore than she could stop time. Her arm shook and by the time it reached her wrist Anna silently begged Elsa not to notice.

But of course she did.

Elsa turned in their embrace, her eyes widening for just a moment before she cupped Anna’s face, lightly, so light with her first touches, before brushing away a tear.

Anna hadn’t even realized she was crying.

“It’s okay Anna, you’re safe here.”

Anna hiccuped, her chest stuttering as more tears splashed against Elsa’s thumbs. She found Elsa’s forearms and held her tight, needing something beneath her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely.

Elsa shook her head. “Don’t be. You’ve apologized more than you’ve ever needed.”

Then Elsa’s forehead is nestled against Anna’s own. Anna doesn’t know how to react as Elsa’s eyes slip closed and she breathes slowly, carefully, like she’s counting the second. Anna feels herself matching the time, even as the sobs she harbored keep trying to find a way out. They get smaller, a boulder, then a rock, then a pebble in her lungs. Elsa’s soft exhales washed over Anna’s face, her very presence a well of tranquility, like immersing one’s hand in the cool waters of a brook. Elsa felt like flowing water, a place Anna could lay down the things that dragged her down, setting them adrift, letting the current carry them for a while.

Anna didn’t know how long they stayed like that. Long enough for the tears to start to dry, and the rawness of her throat to begin healing. But it couldn’t last forever.

Again the patter of rain, the rumble of thunder, and the distant, muted buzz of Elsa’s phone vibrating across the room. Anna exhaled a shuddering breath.

“The timer,” she croaked, voice like sludge, addled by tears.

“Ignore it,” Elsa murmured, pressing her face closer.

“B-But it’s over--”

“It’s okay.”

Anna attempted to shake her head, but Elsa merely brushed her cheeks with her thumbs. “You have another client. Another appointment.”

“I don’t.”

“Elsa…”

“Anna.” Elsa opened her eyes.

This close, Anna couldn’t mistake what she saw. Even if she didn’t have a name for it. And maybe there wasn’t a name to call the emotion heavy in Elsa’s eyes -- the eyes of a still-stranger, an almost-friend -- but whatever it was settled the last prickling nerve in Anna’s heart, soothed the last lash in Anna’s memory, and finally let her breathe long enough to listen. “I don’t have another appointment, you were my last for the day. An extra minute isn’t going to hurt anyone.” Elsa watched Anna’s face as she combed stray hairs back behind Anna’s ear. “I don’t want you leaving this place thinking you have to shoulder everything you came in with. It’s okay to leave some of it here, here with me, if that helps.” She smiled, her eyes wet. “It’s my job to make you feel comfortable, relaxed. But I also want you to feel that way, as Elsa, as me. I think you have a lot going on, and I want to help with that if… if you’ll let me.”

This time Anna closed her eyes, overwhelmed again. Unconsciously she leaned more into Elsa’s touch, which was enough for Elsa to continue. “You don’t have to decide today. Just know that I’m here for you, if you need me. But for now just,” and she shrugged, the motion taking Anna’s head with her, causing them both to laugh, “leave the timer be. It’ll take care of itself.”

They stayed like that. The timer silenced itself, and with the quiet came rest. Anna knew she didn’t fall asleep, but she thought she might when Elsa started playing with her hair again. Eventually, Anna knew she had to go and rolled over, sliding her shoes back on her feet. She heard Elsa do the same as Anna gathered her things.

“Should I expect another call?” Anna turned, shouldering her bag. Elsa sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap, expectant.

Though she knew her cheeks were already blotchy from tears, Anna felt another emotion color her face, and instead of feathers in her chest there were butterflies in her stomach.

"Yeah," she returned, putting a hand on the back of her neck. "But I think I'm going to have to do some thinking first, again. Which I'm sure you already expected."

"Maybe a little." Elsa tilted her head, never losing her warmth. "But take all the time you need. And talk to others, too. Kristoff seems like a good place to start, if you haven't already."

Anna snorted, feeling her phone buzz in her pocket. "Oh don't worry, I'm sure he's left three voicemails by now wondering how this all went."

"And how did it go?”

Anna beamed. “Better.”

“Such glowing praise,” Elsa teased. “I’ll take it I suppose.”

Anna took a step back, towards the door, then hesitated, and turned back.

"More to say?" Elsa asked.

"Um..." Anna paused, then blushed again. "Actually, I did, but now I can't really find the words. It was ‘thank you’, again, but then there was other stuff and it got a little lost."

Elsa hummed at that, propping her chin up in her hand. "Knowing you, even for a short time, I'm sure they'll work themselves out eventually. Probably with hand motions."

Anna laughed and agreed. "Probably with hand motions. And maybe sound effects."

“You'll have to tell me,” Elsa smiled lightly, showing bright in her eyes. “Next time?”

Anna smiled back. “Next time.”

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 138: Kevin Party

“Did you guys break up? Can seven-year-olds even do that?”

Remember Doug Out?

The 125th episode of Steven Universe is a small but very fun story about Steven Universe and Connie Maheswaran, two best friends who work as a team to solve a mystery. Steven is already a teenager, and if Connie isn’t thirteen yet she’s awful close (she’s twelve and three quarters on Steven’s midsummer birthday, and school has been in session since Mindful Education), but this feels like a pair of children on an adventure. They’re chaperoned by Connie’s dad, they wear silly disguises and use sillier aliases, and they outright say that their goal is to “ruin some teen’s night.”

Doug Out ends in a cliffhanger, which leads directly to Steven’s abduction, which leads directly to Steven’s journey to and escape from Homeworld, which leads directly to the Breakup Arc, which ends here. That’s fourteen consecutive episodes telling one long story, which happens to be the same number of episodes between Catch and Release kicks off Peridot’s conversion and Hit the Diamond ends our barn adventure. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Act II and Act III of Steven Universe have similar sweeping midpoint storylines: both see a radical change occur, and while our middle act’s is more obvious (two new Gems join our crew and Steven saves the dang planet), Act III has the more important development for Steven himself. Because at the beginning of its sweep, Steven and Connie are kids, and at the end, they’re teenagers.

Granted, I see anyone under the age of 25 as a “kid,” but Kevin Party is a distinctly adolescent episode. The Breakup Arc as a whole covers new ground that a typical kid’s show wouldn’t, and even the one episode without much angst for Steven is about a bunch of teens starting a band. But it’s a whole new step to set an episode at a high school party, complete with drinking (age-appropriate drinks, I’m sure) and no adult supervision. 

After five episodes watching Steven either stressing about Connie or working his way through his guilt, it’s wonderful and devastating that when we finally see her again, she's having a blast. Her new look is one thing, but her effortless mingling with strangers is my favorite thing about Kevin Party. This isn’t a new aspect of her personality. She’s probably been like this for a while. But it’s the first time we’re seeing it, because it’s the first time Steven is seeing it.

In Bubble Buddies, Connie started out so shy that she feared dying without making a single friend, while Steven was so gregarious that he couldn’t help befriending everyone he met. Now he’s the awkward one, reduced to asking the likes of Kevin for advice, and she’s bloomed out of that social anxiety. And it’s not just a matter of her friendship with Steven changing her, even though that’s a major inciting incident: after he helps her come out of her shell, she’s able to practice interacting with peers on a regular basis in a scenario that’s way more helpful in understanding normal human interactions than anything in Steven’s life, because Connie goes to school.

There’s an unstated and uncomfortable truth that Connie needs Steven to have access to his magical world, creating an uneven power dynamic that’s easy to ignore because it fits into the general role of how a main character and side character work on a show like this. But Kevin Party‘s biggest reveal is that just because she needs him if she wants to have cosmic adventures, she doesn’t need him to have a fulfilling life, and she doesn’t need his friendship to be happy.

Thank. Goodness.

Codependency isn’t something to aspire to, and while Steven isn’t intentionally possessive of Connie (yet), their fight boils down to him treating her like a sidekick, someone who gets to do magic stuff with him under his terms. We don’t get to see what she was up to during the Breakup Arc, but I’m so glad her laughter here isn’t performative. She has enough self-worth to not define herself by the boy she likes or the adventures they share, and even if she’s upset that they’re in a fight, we know from our first look at her that she’d be okay if they never ended up reconciling. And that makes her choice to reconcile so much stronger than just shoving them back together because they’ve been apart long enough and the status quo demands it. She doesn’t need Steven in her life, but she wants him in her life, and that’s the difference between an episode about Connie remaining a sidekick in Steven’s mind and an episode about Connie establishing herself as an equal.

Steven and Connie’s affection has always bounced between platonic and romantic, and I love that even now we keep it ambiguous. Steven wears the shirt Connie got him in Steven’s Birthday, which is a gesture of friendship but occurs in an episode that dances around their mutual crush (complete with actual dancing). The moment of seeing each other again is shot like running into an ex, with time slowing down to let the absolute horror set in as the rest of the party fades, but Steven still refers to her only as his best friend. Kevin makes some of the subtext text through his confusion over the status of their relationship, but even if they’re teens now, these two are still young enough that don’t know how to express their deeper feelings.

Sadie Killer gets our guard down just long enough that Kevin Party’s new surge of drama hits like a truck: this is the original show’s most direct predecessor to the tone of Steven Universe Future’s latter half, where the anguish of watching Steven flounder in his relationship with Connie comes to a head. He makes the same mistake here that he’ll make in Together Forever: he’s so desperate for advice that he doesn’t question its source. Which is doubly frustrating because Greg Universe, who has told several stories on-screen about navigating a new relationship, is just a phone call away! I’m not saying I wish Steven actually called him, because all teens make mistakes and there’s any number of reasons he wouldn’t want to ask his dad in the moment, but it speaks to Steven’s inability to think straight when it comes to Connie.

In his final appearance, Kevin shows the closest thing he’s got to depth by helping Steven the only way he knows how. And unlike Beach City Drift, where he makes up a tragic backstory just to be a troll, it’s clear that the mysterious Sabine did a number on Delmarva’s biggest jerk. But I’ve got no patience for the notion that this episode is anything near redemptive for a guy whose idea of being helpful involves emotionally manipulating a vulnerable fourteen-year-old boy into emotionally manipulating a vulnerable thirteen-year-old girl.

Here more than ever, Kevin contrasts Steven’s self-destructive selflessness by being a black hole of self-importance. He only cares about Steven inasmuch as Steven can help him be more popular, not even bothering to ask for his name until it serves his needs. He’s so oblivious to his surroundings that he confuses Lion for a dog (saying that he’s allergic to dogs is a somewhat funny joke, but talking up Connie’s new life by saying she has a dog now is hilarious), and goes out of his way to antagonize his guests. To Steven, other people exist to be helped, which has noble roots but is catastrophic for his self-image. To Kevin, other people exist to admire Kevin.

“Psychopath” is a strong word, and I don’t wanna exaggerate Kevin’s villainy because that takes away from what makes him so insidious: unlike the Final Boss feel of the Diamonds, there’s an abundance of regular people who do the same awful stuff that Kevin does, and acting like he’s some extreme case detracts from the mundanity of everyday evils. Moreover, I remain unqualified to be an armchair psychologist, and the Hare Psychopathy Checklist has plenty of valid criticism, so take any diagnosis using it (or really any psych profile that involves a checklist you can do from home) with a grain of salt. But with all that said, I’ll just leave a link to it right here and let y’all do what you will with it.

The Big Talk gets five and a half episodes of buildup, and it doesn’t disappoint. It’s so perfect that Connie’s reaction to negging is to do what she always does when she sees someone behaving badly: she gets mad and calls it out. Steven’s typical approach to unkind behavior is to double down on his friendliness, but Connie will always put her foot down and demand kindness, whether you’re her best friend or a galactic tyrant. New hair aside, Connie isn’t the one that changes over the course of the Breakup Arc: it begins with her making it clear that she’s hurt while Steven ignores her, and it ends with her making it clear that she’s hurt while Steven listens.

I love that Connie requires no prompting to explain why she didn’t text Steven back, because Full Disclosure shows that she understands how much it hurts to try and connect with a friend who won’t respond. I love that she did go back to talk with him in person while he was on vacation (meaning all of this could’ve been worked through way sooner) because adolescence is suffering and we needed one last little twist of the knife in this arc. And I love that Steven is wise enough to just admit what he did instead of try and defend himself, because their whole fight hinged on his refusal to acknowledge the gravity of his actions, both to Connie and to himself. He doesn’t say the word “sorry” until the very end of his admission, because he means it and wants to provide context for the apology rather than just say “I’m sorry” a bunch.

And it’s so perfect that they don’t end up forming Stevonnie during their reconciliation, and not just because that would’ve given Kevin a win. They make up, but it still takes time to let the lingering pain go away, and it makes Stevonnie’s reappearance in our next episode way more meaningful. After one last display of their fundamental contrast—Steven expresses sympathy for Kevin’s situation with Sabine, while Connie shrugs it off because having a backstory doesn’t mean it’s okay to be a toxic douche—they leave the world of teen parties behind, at least for now. They’ll go back to more adventures right away, traveling to space in Lars of the Stars and Jungle Moon, but they’ll never truly be the same.

Thank goodness.

I’ve never been to this…how do you say…school?

I love that Stevonnie’s disdain for Kevin is here for us even when Stevonnie doesn’t show up in the episode.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

It’s not just the catharsis factor that gets this in my Top 25. Kevin Party is incredible at capturing the dread I associate with this type of teen party as someone who often felt like Steven as a kid (three traits that don’t work well with teen parties, even if like me you were a fairly social teenager: clinical depression, teetotalism due to the double whammy of that depression and family history of addiction, and having a bad ear that makes it impossible to hear people talk when the music gets loud enough). Beyond the personal connection, we also get one last look at the show’s greatest villain, and an episode that respects Connie so much more than a normal cartoon would. This is how you end an arc, folks.

Top Twenty-Five

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Back to the Kindergarten

Steven’s Dream

Kevin Party

When It Rains

The Good Lars

Lars’s Head

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Chille Tid

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Catch and Release

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

That Will Be All

The New Crystal Gems

Storm in the Room

Room for Ruby

Lion 4: Alternate Ending

Doug Out

Are You My Dad?

I Am My Mom

Stuck Together

The Trial

Off Colors

Gemcation

Raising the Barn

Sadie Killer

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Rocknaldo

Dewey Wins

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

Tiger Philanthropist

No Thanks!

     6. Horror Club      5. Fusion Cuisine      4. House Guest      3. Onion Gang      2. Sadie’s Song      1. Island Adventure

[archonssun]

I Fucking Care

I Fucking Care

I Fucking Care

July 19, 2020

WC: 1455

You hadn’t left Hammerhead in years, content to keep in the company of the hunters and Cindy that now lived there. But more than that, you stayed because of one man: Prompto Argentum.

You had known the blond gunner since he and the prince had walked into your family’s diner back when the sun still rose with each new day. You had quickly grown attached to the blond, and when the sun stopped rising, you stuck to his side. But you weren’t a fighter. You couldn’t repair machines. You were … normal.

***

“Prompto!” you yelled, (e/c) eyes narrowed in a glare as the blond entered Hammerhead, bloody and bruised. Your first instinct was to punch him, for scaring you, but you didn’t. You knew it would only add to his injuries. Instead, you settled for glaring at him.

“Sorry, (Y/n),” he smiled, making you frown. Ever since he had gotten back from Niflheim, he had changed. His smile wasn’t as vibrant anymore, he didn’t joke as often. You knew something had to have happened in the Imperial capital, but you doubted he would tell you if you asked. So you didn’t.

Realizing you hadn’t said anything for a few minutes, you sighed, grasping his wrist and dragging him across the outpost and towards the caravan. You pushed him into one of the old plastic chairs that sat in front of the trailer before grabbing the box of curatives you had been saving up.

“I hate seeing you like this, Prompto,” you muttered, handing him a potion. You watched as he used it, the cuts and bruises on his face and arms healing almost instantly. Your frown deepened as you watched, and a sinking feeling took root in your stomach. Once Prompto had finished using the curative, his curious blue-violet eyes met yours, the small smile on his features turning into a frown when he caught your expression.

You rose from your seat as soon as Prompto seemed he was about to say something, not really in the mood to hear what he had to say.

“Just, stop being so reckless, alright?” You said in parting, eyes unable to meet his before you walked away.

***

Your body tossed while you slept, waking your roommate. You and Cindy had been roommates for the past three years, seeing as she was the only girl you knew from before the sun disappeared.

“(Y/n), wake up, sweetheart,” Cindy’s voice broke through your frenzied dream, and you shot up straight panting. You curled into yourself slightly, barely audible whimpers falling from your lips.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Cindy asked, taking your hand in hers. You gave her a slow nod,, but when her grip on you tightened, you knew she didn’t buy it. “Tell me, (Y/n).”

“I don’t get it, Cindy,” you mumbled, welcoming the hug Cindy gave you. “I just don’t get it. Why does he always do this? He’s always coming back half-dead! Why does he do it?!”

“Who, (Y/n)?”

“Prompto!” you hollered. Your admission caused the mechanic to pause, a slight frown on her face.

“Do you care for Prompto?”

“Of course I fucking care, Cindy! He’s my friend! Why wouldn’t I care?!”

“That’s not what I meant. What I meant was, do you love him?”

***

Do you love him?

“I don’t know,” you whispered, choking back a sob as you sat in Takka’s old diner. A weird noise managed to creep from your throat, filling the silence of the diner and making your face go red. You were thankful no one was in there to hear.

“(Y/n), are you okay?”

You jumped at the sound of Prompto’s voice, head whipping around to stare at him as he approached you.

“Ye-yeah, I’m okay.” You mentally smacked yourself for tripping over your words in front of him. You hurriedly stood, making your way to the exit when Prompto grabbed your wrist.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I thought I heard--”

“I said I’m fine, Prompto, so just drop it,” you hissed, wrenching your wrist from his grasp. The sight of his crestfallen face was enough to make you frown, yet you continued on your way to the exit, daring to not look back.

***

You had lost him, all because of a few harsh words spoken in a panic. The night you had stormed off was the last time you would see the blond for a while. When you realized he was gone, you wanted nothing more than to find him and apologize, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t fight, could barely keep up with even the slowest of the hunters at Hammerhead.

Around the end of the first month without Prompto being at Hammerhead, you realized what Cindy had said was true. You loved Prompto, and now that he was gone, you felt empty. Like someone had ripped out your heart. You rarely ate anymore, too busy being destroyed by guilt. The only reason you were still alive was because of Cindy. She forced you to eat any little bit she could get you to eat, but it wasn’t enough to keep your strength up.

Before long, you were bedridden, forced to sit and watch as the world continued without you. You never got any visitors except for Cindy; she was like a sister to you, after all. So whe, one day, you woke to three people standing next to your bed, you were surprised.

“Fuck, kid,” Gladio grimaced. “When Cindy said you had taken a turn for the worst, I didn’t expect this.”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to joke with him, feeling your energy already draining quickly. You went to sit up and were helped by Cindy. Your seemingly lifeless eyes then drifted over to where Ignis stood, his arms crossed.

“Why are you two here?” you asked hoarsely.

“Cindy called us,” Ignis responded as he stalked towards the bed. “What happened, (Y/n)?”

“It’s nothing, Iggy,” you mumbled, having enough strength to turn over onto your side. You curled in on yourself.

“That’s bullshit!” Gladio’s enraged voice made you flinch, but you made no move to look at him. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

You were up like a shot, glaring at the Amicitia. You wanted to say something, anything, but couldn’t find your voice.

“Stop acting like a lovesick schoolgirl, (Y/n),” the Shield snarled. You felt the rest of your strength leave your body as you collapsed onto your back, silent tears dripping from your eyes as you stared at the ceiling.

“Gladio, that’s enough,” Cindy butt in, coming to stand between you and the Shield. Ignis quickly pulled the mountain of a man out of the small room, and through the door you could hear Gladio shouting and Ignis trying to calm him.

“(Y/n), I’m sorry. I didn’t know--” Her pale green eyes went wide at your prone body being racked by something unknown. “(Y/n! (Y/n)! Please, calm down!”

“(Y/n)!”

***

Prompto walked into Hammerhead, grimacing at the feel of daemon blood soaking his clothes and hair.

“Yuck,” he hissed, shaking the gore from his skin as best he could. It was the feeling of eyes on him that made him freeze. Looking around, he saw Ignis and Gladio talking with Cindy. Joy spread throughout his being and he rushed to his friends, expecting them to at least give him a wave when he approached. But they didn’t.

The somber mood surrounding the three instantly dampened his own mood, and his smile morphed into a frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asked them, brows furrowed. At first, no one said anything, then Ignis’s hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“It’s… It’s about (Y/n), Prompto,” Ignis finally said. “She’s not … she’s not doing well. I don’t know what happened between you two before you left, but it affected her severely. Gladio and I were called here a few weeks ago, and she has only gotten worse in that time.”

Blue-violet hues went wide in shock as they turned to Cindy, expecting her to deny everything. And when she didn’t, the blond was off, racing through the outpost and into the small home you shared with the mechanic.

“(Y/n)?!” The door swung back on its hinges, hitting the wall as he burst into your room. He was at your side immediately, taking in the state you were in.

You had grown deathly pale since he had left and your breathing came unevenly. With sunken cheeks combined with how pale you were, you looked more like a corpse than a living human. But he knew you were alive, at least somewhat, by the rattling that sounded in your chest whenever you took a breath.

“I’m sorry…”

-----

I’m not really satisfied with this ending, but I couldn’t think of a way for it to continue. Sorry, guys. I know that one of the worst things as a reader is having a sub-par ending.

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list!

Tag List: @katerleegrand, @naisitaable​, @blossattic​, @kenkopanda​, @orgawnas, @kirahhhh

[1-1snailxd-art]

Libraries are for Meetings

Master List —– Chapter 10

Chapter 11 - The library meeting

Warnings: negative thoughts, swearing, implied abuse, murder mentioned

Summary: A soft mountain of pillows and blankets, plenty of food, boxes of tissues, a few close friends, and plenty of unshed tears. Sounds like a recipe for a lovely evening in the library. 

Word count: 2013

Note: reading on mobile can remove the paragraphing sometimes. Use desktop site or visit my Ao3 page if it bothers you as much as it bothers me.

____________________

 “Are you sure you want to sell all this, kid?” Pete questioned, eyeing the pile of electrical equipment, parts, a handheld gaming system and a chunky, old laptop. “Won’t you need most of this for work?”

“I need the money more.” The younger man snapped and pointed aggressively at each object, hood low and concealing his face. “The parts and tools are versatile, and any techie would be happy to use them. The laptop may be old, but it runs fine and is already wiped. Jesus, I even got the game working even though it only accepts one cartridge. There will be some nostalgic nerd willing to play only Pokémon blue for the rest of that systems little life. This is good stuff, Pete. What can you get me?”

Scratching his chin in thought, Pete tapped at his keyboard absently. In the few months Virgil had been around, he had never seen the man so desperate for money. The parts boxed up before him would certainly be useful for his other workers but would put Virgil out of commission.

“Kid, if you need the money, just pawn this stuff and come back la-“

“Take the hint, Pete, I’m not coming back.”

Glancing down at Virgil’s shaking hands, the older man sighed and opened the till to retrieve a collection of notes.

“If that’s the case, and this is farewell, take this.” He placed $500 in cash on the counter and slid it towards Virgil. “You do good work, kid. It’s a shame to see you go.”

“And it’s a shame you’re such a fucken cheapskate.”

It was meant to be an insult, but Pete saw a tear drip from his chin as he turned and stormed out with the money. It was nothing but an act to spare the kid from the pain of leaving. Grabbing the bag of items, Pete walked them out the back and placed them safely on a pawning shelf; writing a tag with Virgil’s name and only removing the gaming device to add to inventory. Despite what they had said, Pete wasn’t about to let Virgil throw everything away. He had been rough on him to teach him about the harshness of the industry, but he wasn’t completely heartless. He only hoped Virgil would find the strength to come back.

  ********************

  The once full plates of food were emptier as the group leaned back on beanbags in the library reading area. Patton nestled against Roman’s chest, eyes red from crying after he had spoken about his guilt and thoughts of being a bad omen. The group had listened as Patton finished with the points Roman and Katie had given him the days prior, before Roman pulled him close to his chest.

Logan remained silent. He didn’t know how to respond to Patton’s admissions, all of which were predominantly his fault.

“You are nothing but a good omen to me.” Roman whispered, planting a kiss on his head and continuing to soothingly stroke his shoulder.

“A-agreed.” Logan added, clearing his throat as his voice broke slightly. “I’m sorry if my actions ever made you feel less than what you are worth, Patton. You know how much you mean to me, right?”

Patton shifted on Roman’s chest and extended his hand out for Logan to take.

“I know, Lo. I’ll try not to let myself forget again.”

Giving their hands a final squeeze, the pair let their hands drop so Patton could return to his comforting position against Roman’s chest.

 “Perhaps, I should speak next,” Roman offered and looked to the others for their nod of approval.

“Okay, little brother. What do you need to get off your chest?”

“Not Patton, for one.” He joked, giving his partner a squeeze before his tone became surprisingly sombre. “Well… I think it is time I apologised to you…Katie.”

The eldest looked confused as Roman met her eye with a small smile, before he lowered his gaze to focus back on the man on his chest.

“What do you have to apologise for?”

“You said your biggest regret was being…overbearing and overprotective. That your biggest accomplishment over the last few months was not messaging us every few hours religiously, but… I’m the reason you started that in the first place.”

“Roman-”

“Katie.” Logan warned, fixing her with a stern look. “Remember the rules. We speak openly and without interruption.”

After mumbling an apology, Katie gestured for Roman to continue.

“I was meant to tell you about Sasha’s party, but because I didn’t end up going with Jason, I never told you. And, to make matters worse… after Jason’s death, I…” taking a shaky breath, Roman found Patton’s hand to grip for support. “I acted rashly and caused you more stress. I put myself in unnecessary danger on multiple occasions and if it wasn’t for Patton, I’d probably still be party hopping and getting in car wrecks. It was selfish of me and I’m sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass and treat you like a human.  You’ve been there for me and I should have been there for you…I hope I can do better.”

The figurative weight slid off Roman’s chest as he looked up and saw his older sister smiling, a single tear trailing down her cheek.

“Thank you, Roman.” Swiping the tear away, Katie chuckled quietly to herself. “It really means a lot that you see me as a human.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not always a dragon witch.”

 Logan felt his mind wandering; beginning to obsess over the message Virgil had sent. There was such an undertone of anger and he started going through what he’d done wrong.  Part of him hoped it was referring to his offers of food and monetary support, which he could easily back away from. Thinking more logically, he figured it was probably his sudden obsession with over sharing and using an acquaintance as a sounding board instead of going to actual therapy. Regardless, he didn’t know for certain and it was eating him up inside.

 “Logan?”

Ethan’s voice cut through Logan’s thoughts like a hot knife through butter and he suddenly registered the silence in the room. Everyone else had shared now; their grief and guilt finally aired fully and unapologetically. He was the only one still left to share and it dawned on him just how afraid he was to do as he had planned earlier that afternoon.

 “Are you ready to share?” Patton gave his hand a comforting squeeze before allowing Logan to pull away and begin shuffling through his bag.

“I don’t know if I’m ready but,” he pulled his laptop out and began loading the files Virgil had saved, “it would be selfish of me to avoid this any longer.”

The group had a silent exchanged of concerned glances and then moved closer so they would be able to see the screen after Logan set it down. Only Logan spoke as the images from earlier began scrolling across the laptops screen.

“We all remember that night before the fire vividly, I’m sure. Roman was roaming the streets in ignorant bliss; E was enjoying the alcohol Oskar had provided; Katie finally had her feet up; and I was driving a sniffly Patton home. We all know our sides, but I’ve kept one side a secret this whole time, and for that…I am sorry.”

 Hitting play on Jason’s video, Logan moved aside to ensure everyone had a clear view of the screen. Colour drained from Katie and Roman’s faces as Jason’s ghostly voice filled their ears and they saw what he had been like in his final moments of life. As the screen froze on Jason’s face the library was left in silence; tears leaving their traces on cheeks as they soaked into the fabric of clothes and blankets.

 Katie’s cracked voice finally broke the silence; “why?”

When Logan didn’t respond, Katie tore her eyes away from the screen and looked at him with harsh sadness.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Moving closer, she placed her hands on Logan’s damp cheeks and forced his eyes to meet her own. “What purpose did hiding this serve?”

“Nothing.” Logan’s eyes were void orbs, eyes red and strangely dried. “It only supported my belief that I wasn’t good enough for him and I didn’t want to be convinced otherwise.”

“You stupid man.” Fresh tears welled in her eyes as she pulled Logan into a crushing embrace. “Stupid, bloody, idiot. You were more than enough for him, you fucking fool.”

 Though he returned the hug, Logan’s eyes remained glassed until more limbs began joining the embrace. Each body of warmth a physical reminder that though he had lost the face on his computer screen, he still had the family surrounding him. Sobs soon shook his whole frame; eyes squeezing shut as raw emotion was set free and all secrets were finally laid out. No more words were needed now. They had each aired their truths and now clung to each other, raw from it all.

 Katie felt Logan’s weight growing as his sobs slowed, and she smiled to herself at the idea of Jason watching over them now. Roman moved back when Patton shifted and wiped his face before gesturing toward the soft spaces they had each been sitting before. Acting on silent instruction, Roman helped change their circle of  beanbags and pillows into one soft pile while the other two continued holding Logan’s quivering form.

“He’s asleep.” Ethan whispered in shock as the siblings helped guide Logan to a more comfortable position.

“I doubt he has really slept in a while, Ethan.”

Patton accepted the exhausted man from Roman and laid back on the makeshift bed, removing the other man’s glasses before he instinctively snuggled closer. “That’s it, Logie. Let us take care of you, now.”

“Good job, Pat’s.” Removing Patton’s own glasses, Roman kissed his forehead before settling down behind him.

Ethan watched the scene before him and felt a pang of jealousy at the closeness of the group before Katie’s hand was guiding him over to Logan’s other side. Laying the blankets over everyone, Katie finally took her place on the end; mentally saving the image of the group before relaxing back on the soft cushions. Sleep wouldn’t come easy as a sleepy sob escaped one of the others, but eventually the library was silent, and Katie drifted off in relative peace.

*********************

Leaning his aching body against the cold steel of the dumpster was a relief for a moment, but the cold was soon to leave Virgil shivering. Dried blood gripped his clothes, but he couldn’t bring himself to sneak into the library until a later hour; certain the meeting would still be going. Tears had blended with the blood on his face, making his skin stiff; the feeling uncomfortable as he grimaced and repositioned.

Virgil cursed his luck when the world spun again; head pounding harder than it had when Ben had shoved him into the wall. The $500 from earlier had done nothing to help his situation; only cemented the fact that he couldn’t stay any longer. After a visit to the bank he’d sent $150 to his aunt with an apology for being a burden; $250 had been sent to Ben and the final $100 would have hopefully gotten him through until he got a job in the next town.

“I’m such an idiot.”

Curling in on himself, Virgil sobbed. The memory of Ben and his friends faces haunted his mind as he drifted into a light exhausted sleep.

 “Saw you found a new friend. Would hate for anything to happen to them in your absence.”

“I did work for him. That’s all.”

“Like we’d believe a fucken faggot like you.”

“It’s true! He’s just a clueless science geek with a busted computer.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it…I want my money by Monday. Got it?”

“That’s impossible. I’ve given you everythi-“

“If you enjoy pain, I’d keep up the excuses. Wouldn’t everyone love to know you’re the son of a murderer.”

____________________

End Note

Hi…It’s me…Snail. No, I didn’t abandon this fic (even though it was getting pretty close to a year since I updated). Why was I gone so long? Simple…I couldn’t keep up the dangerous cycle of sitting at a computer for hours to do work and then following that up with hours of writing and editing. It really turned unhealthy. So, I switched gears a little. I started writing in smaller bursts (actually have up to chapter 14 done) but I held off from posting until I reached a point were I could post within a reasonable time so you weren’t left on a major cliff hanger as this fic reaches its designated end (which looks to be at around chapter 16 or 17).

Anyway, I haven’t been completely out of the story telling game. I got into Cosplay and telling stories through TikTok (It’s Emily’s -stopitanxiety- fault. I loved her writing and saw her TikTok’s and wanted to be part of that world). It’s a little harder to tell stories using audios and acting out everything, but it’s a lot more on your feet. I actually realised I have the clothes to Cosplay Virgil from this universe and I am considering just vibing as Virge or making it an actual TikTok au story. I dunno yet.

Back on topic, next chapter should be up by the end of the week (just gotta tweak some things that I ended up changing). Warning for the next chapter – alcohol abuse is entering the tags.

Thanks again for reading. Happy timezone, friend 💜🐌

Tag List (let me know if you want to be removed. It has been so long I understand if you don’t wanna hang around)

@notalwaysthebadguy​      @thequeensphinx​    @ollyollyoxinfree​   @celeste-tyrrell​     @pumpkinminette​    @ahyeahisurehopeit-does 

_____________________________

Chapter 12    — MasterList

What else have I done:

The Perfect Ring (oneshot - analogical proposal)

You Promised (oneshot - prinxiety angst/injury/near death)

Sides of a Hero (Completed Fic - sides are fusions of impulses and aspects of Thomas. Virgil has a depressing past that he is forced to face thanks to Deceit and Rage. Was canon compliant at the time of completion)

The Shield to your Sword (WIP - A fantasy/magic au - Prinxiety (Royal Roman and orphan Virgil - they’ll admit to their love eventually), Virgil angst, non binary, healer Logan, *spoiler* Patton)

Writing Master Post

Check out my other blog for random fandom reblogs and stuff @snail-giggles​

Also now doing Cosplay and storylines on TikTok: 1_1snailxd 

[for-the-exiled]

Voices

Pairing: ChellDOS, implied Caveline Word Count: 2,295 Continuation of [Nightmares]

[Read on AO3 if you prefer]

“GLaDOS has heard voices her whole life. But for once, the voices she’s hearing are her own. And her conscience isn’t what frightens her the most.”

–

GLaDOS had gone silent for a while, trusting Chell could carry on without her butting in for a while. Since she had been shoved into a potato against her will, weird emotions had begun to surface. They all began to pile up, weighing on the disoriented AI. Every little thing built up to the reveal that part of GLaDOS had once been Cave Johnson’s assistant, Caroline. GLaDOS should have seen it coming. Every miserable emotion could have only come from something as stupid as a human.

But the worst emotion of all to surface, was her building affection for Chell.

In reality, this had all started long ago. Back before she had even been murdered. Chell had caught the AI’s mind early on. GLaDOS could never place what made Chell so special to her, so she assumed the interest was just her seeing Chell as an excellent test subject. But her time spent in a potato had weakened her defenses and made her more vulnerable than ever. This weakness had caused her to face her feelings and the fact that they were deeper than an appreciation for a good test subject.

Part of GLaDOS liked it. The almost intoxicating feeling of watching Chell test up close gave her a sort of guilty pleasure. But the other half of GLaDOS loathed it. This was the test subject who killed her, threw her precious facility into ruin twice now, and got her stuck in a potato. She should only feel pure hate for the woman. And yet, GLaDOS appreciated her still. Chell had been the perfect test subject. And despite her verbal jabs, she knew Chell was fit and saw her as quite attractive.

Those voices, arguing over how GLaDOS should feel towards her former test subject, were the absolute worst. The next worse, however, was her conscience. It voiced the overwhelming regret she felt over her actions to the woman. GLaDOS would never voice any apologies for them herself, at the very least not yet. But that did not stop her from still feeling terrible over the things she said and the actions she took. The voice gnawed at her, leaving her feeling sick with guilt.

‘This is all so stupid. Stupid potato. Stupid Caroline. Stupid moron.’ GLaDOS complained inwardly. ‘If it weren’t for all this I’d still be in my facili-’

Caw! Caw!

The sound of a bird zapped GLaDOS back to the present.

"Agh! Bird! Bird! Kill it! It's evil!" GLaDOS didn’t even try to mask the fear in her voice. The AI saw the gentle, subtle look of sympathy Chell gave her and subconsciously prayed she could save the image with the limited power the potato provided. The woman quickly walked forward, waved her hand lightly, and scared the beast off. It let out a few more caws as it flew away.

"It flew off. Good. For him. Alright, back to thinking." GLaDOS spoke hastily. She wasn’t really going to spend much more time thinking, but she didn’t have much to say. And it wasn’t as if Chell would respond. GLaDOS understood Chell was voluntarily mute, the small murmurs she let out during her brief sleep were enough to prove that. Part of GLaDOS felt sad, longing to actually get a response from the human. To actually be able to hold a conversation with someone she almost saw as equal for the first time in a long time. But that was wishful thinking, and she already felt lucky to get a look other than neutrality or disgust from Chell.

Chell had made her way into the 80’s Aperture lobby, triggering another round of pre-recorded messages. GLaDOS felt a faint pang of sorrow as she heard how ill Cave Johnson had become. The part of her that had been Caroline knew what would happen, how reckless Cave was and how much more so he had become in his efforts to beat Black Mesa. How it would lead to his downfall. How it would lead to GLaDOS…

“The bean counters told me we literally could not afford to buy seven dollars worth of moon rocks, much less seventy million. Bought 'em anyway. Ground 'em up, mixed em into a gel.” Chell kept moving, seemingly not paying attention to the dying man’s words going through the speakers.

"And guess what? Ground up moon rocks are pure poison. I am deathly ill."

Chell hesitated a little, and GLaDOS assumed Cave’s admission of his grim state had thrown the woman off a tad. But Chell continued after only a heartbeat.

"Still, it turns out they're a great portal conductor.” Chell had gotten into the elevator, and the pair began to be raised into the last sphere. “So now we're gonna see if jumping in and out of these new portals can somehow leech the lunar poison out of a man's bloodstream. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” Cave’s words were broken up by another coughing fit. “Let's all stay positive and do some science." As the elevator’s doors opened, Chell seemed cautious of the conversion gel being pumped out in front of her.

"That said, I would really appreciate it if you could test as fast as possible. Caroline, please bring me more pain pills." GLaDOS was confused as grief that wasn’t hers washed through her body like a tidal wave. Something had woken inside her… 

‘She has more survival skills than Cave did, I’ll give you that.’ The AI was startled by the voice that did not belong to her.

‘Of course she does. She hasn’t gone through all of this just to get herself poisoned, risking dying before she can even get the freedom she’s messed everything up for.’ GLaDOS watched Chell work with the conversion gel, now avoiding prolonged contact the best she could.

‘I’m just trying to say you know how to pick ones that won't get themselves killed.’ If GLaDOS had been human, she would’ve choked. Instead, she found herself overwhelmed by conflicting emotions and buzzing from the strain on the limited power she had. Once GLaDOS had calmed down, she saw Chell giving her a confused look. The machine would have to explain later.

‘And what is that supposed to mean? Of course I don’t want a test subject that would get themself killed.’ Of course, GLaDOS understood what the voice had meant, but she still had yet how she truly felt. And GLaDOS didn’t want to acknowledge its quip. She felt relief after a few moments had passed without a reply from the voice.

Chell had just jumped into a portal which flung the duo onto the platform she had been making her way to as GLaDOS put her focus back on the woman. Chell was extremely skilled, and it caused a small hum to be emitted from the potato battery. The voices of longing began to seep in, and GLaDOS was glad that Chell did not hear the humming, or at the very least was ignoring it. Soon enough, a new external voice took GLaDOS’s attention and sucked her into its speech.

"All right, I've been thinking. When life gives you lemons? Don't make lemonade.”

"Yeah."

“Make life take the lemons back!”

"Yeah!"

”Get mad!”

"Yeah!"

“‘I don't want your damn lemons! What am I supposed to do with these?'"

"Yeah, take the lemons..!"

"Demand to see life's manager!”

"Yeah!"

“Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons! Do you know who I am? I'm the man who's going to burn your house down! With the lemons!”

"Oh, I like this guy." GLaDOS added hastily, noticing Chell had been watching her with a confused smirk.

“I'm going to get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!" Cave’s speech was interrupted by yet another coughing fit.

"BURN HIS HOUSE DOWN!” GLaDOS practically shrieked, getting too caught up in the fury of the lemon speech. "Burning people! He says what we're all thinking!" She felt a surge of emotion as Chell gave a silent chuckle at the machine’s, almost exceeding her 1.6 volt limit.

"The point is:” GLaDOS let herself remain silent, hearing that Cave was speaking more calmly. “If we can store music on a compact disc, why can't we store a man's intelligence and personality on one? So I have the engineers figuring that out now. Brain Mapping. Artificial Intelligence. We should have been working on it thirty years ago.” Chell hesitated her movement, seemingly sharing the discomfort of hearing the planning of GLaDOS.

“I will say this - and I'm gonna say it on tape so everybody hears it a hundred times a day: If I die before you people can pour me into a computer, I want Caroline to run this place.” If GLaDOS had wanted to speak again, she wouldn’t have been able to. She could feel the voice from earlier stirring again. “Now she'll argue. She'll say she can't. She's modest like that. But you make her. Hell, put her in my computer. I don't care. Alright, test's over. You can head on back to your desk."

"Goodbye, sir." GLaDOS went silent, letting Chell get through to the next door in silence.

GLaDOS now understood what the voice was and why she had responded to Cave’s pre-recorded messages without her choosing to do so. It was Caroline, speaking through GLaDOS.

The machine felt some frustration. So she wasn’t fully Caroline, but just a vessel for the long-gone woman’s consciousness? This realization stung even more than how the Aperture scientists had once treated her. GLaDOS was her own being, and maybe part of her could be attributed to Caroline, but the AI was at the most a reborn form of the woman. She was not the same being as Caroline, and was now enraged by the knowledge she carried yet another voice that couldn’t be gotten rid of just as easily as a personality core. However, this was too much for the potato battery powering her to handle, and GLaDOS ended up short-circuiting.

When she came to, Chell had paused and was staring in confusion and GLaDOS. In turn, GLaDOS found the small hum return, earning an amused look from Chell. GLaDOS needed to bring her attention away from… that.

"I know things look bleak, but that crazy man down there was right. Let's not take these lemons! We are going to march right back upstairs and MAKE him put me back in my body!” Chell started making her way through to the next pumping area, flinging herself onto the large platform leading there as GLaDOS spoke. "And he'll probably kill us, because he's incredibly powerful and I have no plan." Chell paused before continuing forward, letting out a small, nearly silent chuckle that caused GLaDOS to pause as well. The AI cursed internally, wishing she had been able to record it.

"Wow. I'm not going to lie to you, the odds are a million to one. And that's with some generous rounding." Chell nodded, leaping through a portal to get the pair further along in their trek. "Still, though, let's get mad! If we're going to explode, let's at least explode with some dignity." Chell’s face had returned to its determined, but otherwise almost neutral state in response to GLaDOS’s words. However, GLaDOS couldn’t help but notice the small smile that was almost not on the former test subject’s face at all.

The voices started to seep back to GLaDOS, bringing up an odd, sickening mix of guilt and love. GLaDOS felt herself cracking, longing to apologize but feeling too stubborn and above it to do so. But for once, her biggest reason not to was gone. For this moment, the machine had lost any hate she had once felt for the human. And the guilt for her actions certainly didn’t help. But what ate away at her the most was her near certain feelings for Chell, the longing for some form of positive relationship for the woman. But that would require trust and no remaining conflict between the two. She would have to apologize. GLaDOS finally broke when a certain someone spoke up.

‘Just tell her you’re sorry.’

“I’ve been thinking.” Chell slowed her walking as she heard GLaDOS speak up. “Despite how much of a monster you’ve been, and the terrible actions you took to make me do what I did, I’m… sorry.” Chell stopped walking completely to stare at the machine. The two were right in front of yet another one of Aperture’s emancipation grills.

“This stupid potato is making me feel… significantly weaker, so don’t expect an apology ever again. But… I haven’t been any better than you. I can see why you acted out the way you did.” Chell raised an eyebrow at GLaDOS’s apology, however she seemed more amused than skeptical. “I hope you can forgive me, although you’ve arguably done worse and I shouldn’t be asking for it. I would just like to continue forward without any animosity between us.” Chell just rolled her eyes as GLaDOS finished, and then proceeded to do the unimaginable.

She… kissed GLaDOS..?

Certainly the AI was just malfunctioning, perceiving the action wrong or being stuck in a fantasy. However, the contact was real. And luckily enough for GLaDOS, she could feel the woman’s gentle lips against her optic. There was a grating hiss before GLaDOS blacked out, short-circuiting once again from the overwhelming emotion the action caused.

When she came to, Chell was walking calmly to a spot where conversion gel was being pumped onto. The woman’s eyes shifted to GLaDOS as she regained consciousness. Had she been human, GLaDOS would’ve been out of breath. Instead, she had one thing to say to the being carrying her.

“You know you’re confusing, right?”

[thatfanficstuff]

Battle Scars - 11

Pairing: Tony Stark x Soulmate!Reader

Warnings: language, some injury, um...that’s it.

A/N: And thus begins the drama. [insert evil laugh here]

***

You were the first one up the next morning, which didn’t surprise you in the least. Dressed in pajama pants and a loose t-shirt, you made your way into the kitchen and pushed the button to start the coffee. You tapped your fingers on the counter as you waited for it to brew. As soon as you had it prepared the way you liked it, you padded into the living room.

“Mr. Stark on the line for you.”

That brought a grin to your face as you settled on the sofa. “Put him on, J.”

Tony’s face immediately filled the screen. His eyes ran over you and the corners of his mouth kicked up. “God, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“You haven’t been gone that long, Tony,” you said, smirking over the top of your coffee cup.

He shrugged. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

You shook your head. “I doubt you called to chat, so what can I do for you?”

“I got a phone call this morning.” That was all he said before looking at you expectantly.

“Okay?” There was something you were obviously missing.

He shifted his weight. “Let me rephrase that. I got a phone call from Fury this morning.”

“Oh?” You tried to sound surprised but were certain you failed miserably. You’d kind of hoped Tony would never find out about that conversation. For one thing you loved your job. For another you loved your boss. Despite numerous indications to the contrary you really weren’t trying to piss him off.

“Oh, she says.” He looked to someone off screen and gestured toward you. When he turned back he licked his lips and his smile widened a bit. “Did you really threaten court action against SHIELD if he didn’t return your call?”

“No,” you corrected. “I told Coulson that he could call me back when he chose but that I would be at the courthouse to file papers this morning. I just happened to decide not to after we came to a mutual understanding.”

He looked at you for a moment before laughing, the action making him look years younger. “I’ve got to hand it to you, sweetheart. You never cease to surprise me.”

“You have no idea,” you muttered.

He tilted his head. “What was that?”

“Nothing. Why did Fury call you anyway? Our discussion had nothing to do with you.” You were curious but you also just wanted to change the subject.

“He let me know in no uncertain terms that he would be displeased if you lost your job with the team. He’s rather fond of you. And I don’t think he’s fond of anyone.” Tony sounded slightly shocked as he made the admission.

And if you were honest, you were pretty pleased with yourself. “He likes Maria.”

“Hill? Yeah, I guess he does.” He glanced off the screen again. “Yeah, I’m getting to it.”

Your lips twitched. “Is there a reason everyone is off screen but you?”

“Well, I was trying to have a conversation with my girl but they all want to know what happened and apparently don’t trust me to tell them later.”

A little thrill went through you when he called you his girl. You couldn’t help it.

He leaned forward and turned whatever device he was using so you could see everyone else on the other side of the room. They all said hi and waved to you while you waved back. After a moment he turned the camera to the original position. “So, what exactly happened? Fury didn’t go into specifics.”

You sat your now empty coffee cup on the table in front of you and pursed your lips. “I found Dr. Bradford harassing Wanda. She didn’t defend herself because she didn’t want to violate the terms of her probation.”

“What?” The voice came from off screen but you were pretty sure it was Clint. He’d kind of taken the twins under his wing, his affection for Wanda obvious. He liked Pietro too though it was shown in more of a ‘this guy really pisses me off’ way.

“She’s fine,” you were quick to add. “But that couldn’t stand. They have to be able to defend themselves without repercussions. Fury and I went back and forth for a bit but we rewrote the probation agreement. I can send it to you or you can review it when you get back.”

Tony watched you for a moment, his dark eyes studying you. “Part of the reason this works is because we trust you, Y/N.” His voice had turned soft. “We’ll look at it when we get back. Which should be soon by the way.”

You nodded though he didn’t see it because he’d looked away again.

His gaze was quick to come back to you. “Got to go, Babe. Talk to you later.” He cut the connection before you even had a chance to respond.

***

You were halfway through your second cup of coffee when you heard a thud followed by a quiet shout. “Jarvis?” you said immediately, hoping he’d picked up the cause in his monitoring.

“It appears Sergeant Barnes is having a nightmare, Miss. Shall I wake him?”

“I don’t think an AI waking him up is going to help anything,” you said as you got to your feet. You hurried to the room you’d set up for Bucky and knocked on the door. “Buck?”

When the only response was another low shout, you opened the door. You sincerely hoped Bucky didn’t sleep in the nude. Your gaze fell on the bed and your chest ached a little at the sight before you. The sweat soaked soldier was tangled in the sheets. Hair covered his face as he twisted and turned. The only word you could understand from his muffled shouts was ‘no’.

Stepping closer to the bed, you called his name again. “Bucky, wake up, honey. It’s okay. Nothing here is going to hurt you.” When he didn’t respond, you repeated the words only louder.

Anxiety swamped you—far more than the situation warranted, in fact. As you were trying to figure out why, you placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Sometimes you were really fucking stupid.

In a flash, the super soldier’s hand on was on your chest and he used it to shove you backward across the room. Somehow, you’d managed to angle yourself so it was your shoulder that slammed into the doorframe instead of your spine. You grunted as the pain flared through you. “Ow.”

Bucky’s face immediately cleared and he held up both hands as he took a large step backward. You watched his expression as he processed what was going on. When his eyes went wide and guilt contorted his features, you immediately closed the distance between the two of you. You placed your hands on his upper arms to keep him from moving away from you. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

He shook his head and jerked away from you, moisture flooding his eyes. “No. I hurt you. I could have—”

You cut him off there. “You could have but you didn’t. This is my fault, Barnes, not yours. You were simply trying to get me out of your space. I knew better than to wake you up like that. I’m sorry.”

He huffed and raked a hand through his hair. “I hurt you and you’re the one apologizing?” He turned from you and paced back and forth on a tiny section of his floor with his hands on his hips. “Damn it!” His fist punching the wall emphasized his statement. You’d worry about him hurting himself, but he’d used the metal hand.

“Bucky, seriously, it’s fine. I don’t want you—” You cut off with a yell as you bent forward and pressed a hand against the side of your face. A jolt of pain rocked through your entire body, almost as if you had impacted with something and that overwhelming anxiety was back. What the hell?

“Y/N, are you okay?” Bucky sounded frantic and for some reason you got the impression it wasn’t the first time he’d asked.

“What’s going on?” you heard Pietro ask from the doorway.

You breathed out in a long, steady stream before straightening. The pain was gone as quick as it had come, only the ache in your shoulder remaining. Your hand dropped and Bucky’s eyes went almost comically wide. “What the hell, Y/N?”

“What is it?” Wanda piped up and you turned to face her. Her gaze narrowed and pure fury flashed across her face as she brought her hands up. She turned her glare on Bucky. “You hurt her.”

“No! Stop Wanda,” you yelled as red tendrils began to surround her hands. “It wasn’t him.”

She frowned and dropped her hands. You glanced between them to find them all looking at you with varying degrees of worry and confusion. With a sigh, you went to the closest mirror and gasped. The right side of your face was covered with a series of darkening bruises. What the hell had Tony done this time?

***

After explaining to the others that you had a soulmate without mentioning who it was, you excused yourself to your room. You looked horrible but at least the bruising on face had taken Bucky’s mind from what happened when you woke him. Your shoulder still ached as you slid your shirt off and turned to look at it in the mirror. Shit. That was going to bruise. And badly.

Putting your shirt back on, you sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. Something had changed in your connection with Tony. You’d never been able to feel his emotions or his pain before. That overwhelming anxiety had to come from him, right? You’d really like to ask him if he knew what the hell was going on, but that might be a little awkward since you hadn’t told him you were his soulmate yet.

You growled in frustration. What was wrong with you? The one person that could probably help you with this, you couldn’t ask. You sighed and dropped your head into your hands. And if anything, that anxious feeling you’d had earlier had only gotten worse. You weren’t certain how long you sat like that before Jarvis interrupted you.

“You have a voice only call from Dr. Banner, Miss.”

You cleared your throat and laid back on your bed, wincing at the pressure on your shoulder. “Put him through.”

“Hey, Bruce. What’s up?”

“What’s up? What the fuck is wrong with you? What’s going on over there? Christ, Y/N. I’m going crazy over here and you’re all ‘what’s up’.” Bruce was obviously more than a little irritated.

You could hear the sounds of the jet in the background as you sat up. “Calm down, Bruce. You know what happens when you get excited.”

“Hulk’s not going to show up just because I’m pissed at you. Trust me.”

“What did I do?”

He grumbled but you couldn’t make out the words. When he spoke up, it was little more than a strained whisper and you were certain that wherever he was on the jet, he was trying not to be overheard. “Let me paint a picture for you, Y/N. The team was in the middle of a fight when all of a sudden, Tony feels this overwhelming wave of fear and a horrible pain in his shoulder. It’s so distracting that he loses his focus, takes a hit and crashes.”

You gasped.

“He’s fine. Just a little beat up. And going out of his fucking mind about what happened to his soulmate and why he can feel her all of a sudden.” The last words were as close to a yell as he could get while whispering. “He’s freaking out talking about his soulmate in one breath and you in the next and how he needed to find her but didn’t want to hurt you and you’re the same fucking person and his helmet is messed up and he can’t get Jarvis or he’d already be looking for her, you, whatever, and I swear by every scientific law in existence that if you don’t tell him I will because I’ve never seen him like this and I don’t like it, Y/N, this isn’t Tony, this is some weird version of Tony and you need to fix it because I don’t like him like this—”

“Okay, Bruce,” you interrupted when it was obvious he wasn’t going to take a breath any time soon. “I’ll tell him when you get back.”

There was a brief stretch of silence. “You will?”

“I’d already planned on it. Besides, look at him. I get his bruises, too, remember? It’s not like I can hide this.”

“I guess I didn’t consider that.” He sounded much calmer and you were no longer worried he was going to Hulk out on the jet.

“There’s just one thing I want to know,” you said. “The man wears a metal suit. How does he get so beat up all the time?”

***

Battle Scars:�� @i-dontwikeit @thevanishedillusion @amandamartinez3568 @clumsy-hailles @little-nonny @tonystarkismyboy @redfoxwritesstuff @lowkeyofsassguard @sherlocked-whovian-1969 @tori24rose @a--1--1--3 @youclickedthislink @beckastark @confusedhada @bluehuskey2099 @kit-kat-katie99 @sexysamsungl @staringmoony @xleviiiix @inthemindofanother @buttercup337 @henrietteoaks @superwholock-fangir1 @ineedmorefanfics @bignastyfan-nz @kpoplover1306-depressedgirl315 @lilulo-12 @aqua0928 @proserpinepluto @tuliptx @fandom-princess-forevermore @xlosttdreamss @paetonnn @ingenue-q

All the Things: @swanky-batman @rissyrapp20 @startrekkingaroundasgard @spooookyscary @taylordrunkonwhiskey @laneygthememequeen @collette04 @shatteredabby @thewolf-and-thesheep 

[clairekatswritingcorner]

One Up

Word Count: 1,273

Summary: It’s D’s turn to turn the tables on Rhys and his perpetually cheeky, flirtatious attitude. Much to her surprise, having the tactic turned around on him has a much more potent affect than she expected.

For @robotarmjokes!

If you enjoyed reading this piece, please consider leaving a tip or commissioning me!

*****

“You’re a genius.”

The words slid off her tongue like butter, catching him off guard as they haphazardly drifted through the air. Wow. It was the type of phrase he least expected to hear from her, even on the days when they couldn’t seem to stop showering one another in boundless gestures of affection. Rhys crossed his arms and observed his wife with cautious curiosity, leaning against the wall behind him as casually as he could. She’d failed to stop the words from escaping, barely overcoming the urge to slap her hand over her mouth immediately following her impulsive outburst. His eyes were laser focused on her now, which wasn’t always a bad thing, but in the moment it just made her want to curl up in a ball and roll away. If things were going to turn out this way, why had she bothered provoking this kind of situation at all? To be honest, even she didn’t really have all the answers to that mystery…that’s how things practically always were when it came to anything involving him.

“How so?” If she was going to open this particular can of worms, he figured she may as well go all out. What had inspired her to offer him such rare praise; why had she chosen to voice her opinion in the first place? She didn’t have to have a definitive reason, he supposed, but the question of whether or not she did wouldn’t stop nagging him until he’d satisfied his hunch. Had he done something especially noteworthy or admirable lately that he just wasn’t aware of? He knew he had a certain propensity for being dense, as much as he outwardly denied it. Her cheeks had turned cherry red and her eyes darted about the room, trying to pinpoint anything that could serve as a reasonable distraction and give her an excuse not to look at him. It appeared that she’d spent all of her nerve on that one verbal bid of courage, and now she was back to panicking at the very thought of confronting him while he still had that smug look plastered on his stupid pretty face.

If she revealed the source of her motivation, she knew she’d regret it even more than she already lamented her vague confession. Part of her had started this conversation for the sole purpose of communicating a risky second half, one that was far more embarrassing and flamboyant than its predecessor. Struggling to reinvigorate herself just enough to accomplish the goal she’d originally set out to achieve, she took one of his hands in both of hers and examined it with surprising intensity. He didn’t mind what she was doing—on the contrary, he greatly enjoyed any opportunity he was presented to hold her or be close to her in any way—but she wasn’t going to divert his focus that easily. Opening his mouth to pose his question in a slightly different way, her interruption indicated she wasn’t going to make him waste his words a second time.  

Taking a deep breath, she unleashed the collective force of the anxiety and hesitation that’d been swelling up inside her with the words she knew were better left unsaid. She almost wished she could physically reach out and grasp them, that she could cram them back in before he had a chance to register their cursed existence. But she’d made her choice, and now that they were free, any kind of damage control she’d hoped to fall back on was rendered woefully obsolete. “No one else seems to have figured out how to be so hot and cute at the same time.”

Now it was his turn to blush. Unable to disguise the eruption of scarlet that seized his features the moment he processed her words, he did cover his mouth slightly in an attempt to obscure the flush that’d abruptly overwhelmed him. Such admissions were so infrequent on her part that he’d never really had a chance to learn the proper way to respond. In the wake of her strike the strength and sincerity of both her words and their fervent delivery simultaneously pierced and stirred his heart. He was overcome with a wealth of the same love he felt every time he looked at her, touched her, heard her voice…even just hearing her name was enough to rouse such powerful emotions in him.

Her stomach twisted and heart ached as she scrambled to determine the best way to apologize, to fabricate some excuse for her unacceptable misconduct. But she also sensed she needed to stand her ground, and maybe even wanted to, as bizarre as that particular passing thought was. When was the last time she’d actually considered doing something radical like standing by her words; how had she dealt with the guilt in the aftermath? Because it almost always came, and it was almost always too devastating to bear. An invisible threat that she couldn’t seem to avoid no matter how hard she tried. Suffering under the crushing weight of mandatory remorse for so many years had had an unfortunate effect on the state of her mind and heart, but she was lucky to have people by her side now that wanted to help her dismantle that unsightly burden.

Laughter. Uninhibited laughter shattered the silence as D watched her husband fall to pieces right before her eyes. Not in any bad way, thankfully, but his reaction was still far from sensible to her. Clutching his sides as the blush expanded to his ears and neck, for a moment she thought she’d like to kiss that blush, just once. What an unsightly though to have, and perhaps she was just interpreting things all wrong. Surely he’d responded this way because he thought she was joking, or kidding, come to the conclusion that her words were absurd. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d had someone laugh in her face about something like this, although she tried to disguise the fact that when it came from someone like him, it hurt worse than she could have ever imagined.

“Hey, what’s with that look?” He regained enough composure and breath to notice her melancholy, promptly confronting it.

“It’s alright, I understand,” she replied in a voice so low it snagged him like an anchor. “I’m sorry for saying something so silly, so foolish—”

“What? That’s not what I meant by that at all,” he frantically explained, cradling her face and guiding her eyes to his. “It’s just that…you’re so amazing. You still do so many things to surprise me, to take my breath away, to knock me off my feet—”

“Hey, don’t turn this back around on me,” D retorted, his proximity and bluntness apparently restoring some of her resolve. “I’m the one who was trying to be flirty with you. You can’t steal my thunder!”

“Then how about I steal one of these instead?”

She didn’t have a chance to reply as he leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss, his skin still warm from the blush and fingers gentle as he continued holding her like she was a rare and precious treasure. As much as she wished she could one up him sometimes, at the end of the day she was fine with him being able to influence her like this. She was more than happy to be on the receiving end of any and all of his wonderful gestures and advances. Little did she know that for every time she willingly played along with his charades, she was the true mastermind that was manipulating his heart the entire time. 

[livin-in-mementos]

After Some Time....

So the past week or two has been very enlightening on the internet and especially across social media. When I first made this blog it was intended to share and immerse myself in fandoms and cultures I enjoyed, yet quickly veered towards the dramas and controversies I had felt strongly about.

Since I’ve started I’ve followed two stories quite closely and ironically in the past two weeks, these problems have received the ‘bow on top’ treatment as people put their points to rest and the situations are seen as complete. I had some strong opinions and now want to clarify if my points changed or not and where I stand, not so much as to stir the controversies further but to put it out of my head by just writing it down to the best of my ability.

I noted quite quickly that my posts would garner a few hearts and reposts and didn’t want to be seen as the guy that drudges through drama for the easy recognition, as I said this blog was made to be an escape as well as put my mind at ease with the things swirling around my skull. SO without further ado...

The Projared Situation

Of the two stories, I had definitely followed this one the least, if not only because the ‘he said, she said’ was just so bizarre and points made just started to conflict each other. 

Since then Jared himself released a video going through the major points, and the stuff I covered started to look weird... The consensual nature of his NSFW blog seemed easier to digest when you realized that fans were more than happy to show themselves off and while it still isn’t something I’m comfortable with myself, the receipts shown prove that while odd to me, it was universally consensual, Jared even making the point that it wasn’t from an abuse of power (that he lorded his internet fame over starry-eyed stans) but more from a power imbalance that he has looked back and noticed himself (that fans felt willing to expose themselves to prove they were bigger fans to him in their heads)

The Charlie and Chai situation became a main focus of the video and it was easy to say why. Their stories of a deviant grown man asking for nudes of minors was debunked, and it seemed that it was all created as a way to gain sympathy points, internet fame, and monetary compensation. One of the two accusers Chai, who had the biggest spotlight put on them was outed as never actually sending messages (let alone lewd body shots) to Jared, which take whether you believe him or not, he has admitted his involvement in the NSFW blog, so why lie now?

What was more concerning though, was that the timeline given coincided with Chai’s Medium blog posts which illustrated a severe basketball neck injury that caused gas in memory, personality changes and concerning thoughts of harming people around them if help wasn’t provided. The verdict being less about “why did you say this about me” and more centered around “get better, I hope you’re okay” because at this point, why hit back against someone seemingly vulnerable?

Charlie’s account confused me, mainly because it seemed to echo a lot of points that Chai had already addressed in an almost copy/paste sort of way, but also because it had actually been a real interaction... Jared and Charlie had spoken and it seemed all too friendly but as soon as the controversy swelled, Charlie had an idea. Take your DM’s, remove the part where you admitted you are 18+ therefore deceiving either Jared by lying or your captive audience by removing it later, then waiting for the outcry of support that was soon to follow.

What later followed was links to amazon wishlists and commission pages for their art blogs. Capitalizing on the drama and false victimhood? maybe, but what was more concerning was the fact that the two of them had been communicating and were supporting each other, but not just with kind words, also with said plans of monetizing their supposed grief to reap all the rewards before they were caught. Want to read their statements? Tough. They deleted them as soon as people started to scrutinize the finer details and points they made.

So... The bigger scandal that was on the table... The whole Heidi/Holly situation. Will I cover it? No. Why? because it’s still as messy as before...

Jared says there was no cheating at all, something RubberRoss can corroborate as the previous partner to Holly.

There’s apparently several bits of evidence that suggests that Heidi was the more possessive and antagonistic party... Which we won’t see until current legal proceedings are over.

There’s the long string of angry Heidi tweets that came out after Jared’s video came out which should be carefully looked at (side note, Heidi has proved an unreliable narrator as many of her points have been proven false by screenshots in the past. She’s also proven to be quite antagonistic when people have asked for proof for any heavy accusation she posts)

There’s even the written letter Chai and Charlie co-wrote and sent to people like the GameGrumps and other news sources to try and discredit Jared (except they had omitted parts to keep Jared looking guilty after he apologized for the stress he’s put them under, not so much as an admission of guilt, but just to keep the peace and stop further leaks of untruth.

Heck, we could even talk about the fact that several internet personalities that reported on the situation or reacted as the news broke decided to give a character opinion on him too quickly without his side and even deleted their involvement with him as well as making snide jokes about the situation without ever actually reaching out to him.

So what’s my verdict after all this? Well, it’s plain to see. Many people looked at Jared as guilty since he never responded or looked to correct any accusations as they came in, it also meant that several false stories could be made and without Jared to dispute them, were quickly considered the truth as well. This skewed public perception, including mine. It became apparent as more was revealed that Jared was never the squeaky clean person we thought he was, and coming away from this there will still be people that look at him as shady. Would it be worth dragging back up after all these legal proceedings are finished so a final word can be given? probably not... It’s a weird situation sure, but not as cut and dry and people want it to be. I liked the response Jared made. He admitted his wrongdoings, realized his position as a content creator had a power imbalance when concerning his NSFW blog and even gave an air of concern for the two accusers who looked to monetize his downfall. I’ll definitely be putting this one to bed though because as I said all that’s left is part of his private life and not for us to spectate.

[factoseintolerant]

Please write that essay I NEED ALL THE LIZZINGTON CONTENT I CAN GET MY GRUBBY HANDS ON 😫🙏

Remember last week, when Red opened the door and Lizzie’s immediate reaction was “well, this is a first“? Me re: just about everything in this scene. What kind of “angry shouting and then confessing feelings in the heat of the moment“ fic trope did we witness last night?

Let’s start at the beginning. She told him the truth. Granted, after being pressured, but I still consider it a huge step for her given how these secrets/betrayals/confrontations have gone in the past. There was no guilt-tripping, no finger-pointing, no attitude. Instead, she was being — and I can barely believe I am typing this — completely honest. She explained her choice, she stood up for herself (it is both Red’s AND Liz’s story, after all), while fully acknowledging that she had been blinded by an absurd revenge plot. She was open, vulnerable, genuine in her regret and apology. She chose the present over the past. She chose him.

In fact, Elizabeth “I’m in denial about any real emotions I have ever had for you“ Keen has come to terms with her feelings for Raymond Reddington. The man she cares about. The man she loves. (That’s canon btw, ha!)

In reality, I didn’t expect half of this. I was waiting for the scene to cut right after her admission. But it didn’t. We saw the anger, the aching, the heartbreak painted all across Red’s face. And across hers.

It would have always taken a moment like this for them to move forward. To progress in their relationship. And for once he didn’t just sit there. He didn’t simply accept it like he has so many times. He responds and he’s trying to make sense of it and he doesn’t cover up how it breaks him, the tears in his eyes. Forgiveness in that very moment isn’t an option even worth considering. And that’s a good thing. That’s as it should be. Because the betrayal was so severe that he should take his time, that he should go through the motions of grief and anger. Whatever it takes.

And now it’s all out there in the open. The truth, the betrayal, and the feelings they share. The only thing that matters. A step towards healing.

The long play. The future.

[mythykl]

The heartbreak. *Orange* pt.1

*with hiroto suwa*

Word count - 1074

First meet -

I knew him since kindergarten. At first, I thought he’s a pretty shy and timid kiddo but within a few weeks, he had become friends with most of the peps in ourbatch. Even me! He was so kind, yet humorous aka the oFficiAL freakin clown/PRANKSTER of the class.

In middle school –

-      As the time passed, we drifted apart. Sometimes, I’d come across him while he used to play soccer with his friends.  I pretty much assumed that he must’ve had forgotten you.

*but guess wut.*

In midst of my dumbass lost in dwan, the ball, which he kicked, just flew across the ground and hit your head. I thought that I’m dead for sure then; but ahhh. Suwa showed up from across the ground and pRooOLLyyYy carried me to the school infirmary.

-      Later that day, I found myself lying on the bed. Recollecting the events took some time. I noticed the door swung open and see a few students enter, along with suwa, they had come to see me. They apologized a lot, though I said ‘it’s no big deal’ and it was my fault. They finally left after giving me sweets as a get-well-soon gift. Unexpectedly Suwa stayed behind.

-       We end up talking fUckiNnng a lot. He started the convo tho, while my ass was just sittin’ there all awkward, about how less he scored in science *especially chemistry*. He told me why he doesn’t wanna go home, cuz’ he can’t show his broke ass marks to his parents. That’s how soccer came up. He told me about his dream of being the best at soccer and get into the national team; also that he made it into the U-12 team of the school. i of course was really happy for him and praised him. i still remember the smile he gave to me, the sweetest.

*that’s why, disregard of my fabulous headshot, i didn’t call my parents to get you, or asked one of my friends to wait for me.* ya.

“Y/N, wanna tell me about ya dreams?” he asked.

“Ah. Well I haven’t decided, but prolly a ___”

“That’s great! You always seemed into that stuff anyways, even in kindergarten!”

-      Sure. we were both surprised and glad about how much he remembered of those days. His words were encouraging and even his lame jokes made me laugh my ass out. Though I was dizzy and needed sleep, i did continue to talk with him and didn’t want him to leave.

-      He walked me home that evening and treated me with curry buns, as he apologized for hurting me like a millionth time *sry. too far*. i just smile it off, cuz’ at this point, my ass was annoyed and wants this guy to stop sayin sOrrY. But you loved the walk and all the time which my spent with him. It was beautiful.

-      From that day onwards we did see each other around and smiled, had small talks at times, nothing big. Somehow, I used to stare at him pretty often. He was growing into a giant rapidly. Tf. I loved the way he used to lean against literally anything, with his long posture.

-      but i started thinking that his gestures that day were just out of the guilt of hurting me.

-      Soon the middle school comes to an end, with me realizing that i’ve started developing feelings for him!!

High School –

-      i decide to move on from suwa and concentrate on my life ahead.

-      i end up in class 6 as.. Azu *aka Azusa Murasaka* and Naho become your first friends in High School. we fail to get super close since, i spend most of your time with U-17 Soccer team as the manager.

-      Suwa, a late admission, is in my class too now. I’m apparently the first person he started talking with. I helped him to get into the soccer team about which he’s super grateful to you.

-      unsurprisingly, within one day, he’s friends with most of the people in class. i realize that I wasn’t over him yet, thus, i try to avoid him as much as possible. This also resulted in you drifting apart from Naho and Azu within a few months.

-      You think that your life is anyways too busy to care about small heart breaks, but you do care. A lot.

After 21st Athletic Festival –

-      being the class representative of the Event Management Committee, i congratulate the red team on their win, to everyone except suwa. my heart aches at the thought of being so ignorant towards him. i want him to smile, I WANT TO MAKE HIM SMILE; I’m thrilled at the win cuz’ it was Suwa’s win as well. But eventually, i shake off this thought.

-      Suwa doesn’t care about me.

    *Or that’s just you over thinking. Cuz guess wut.*

-      As i walk outside the school the same day, like super late cuz’ I  had to stay behind for some event work, i find hiroto suwa just standing there. AS IF HE WAS WAITING FOR YOU.

“hey.” He says as he slurps his orange juice.

*immediate panicking*

“Practice?” i immediately respond.

“Why’d I’ve a practice today?”

i feel embarrassed instantly and look away.

“I hope you’re still sane while doing all that hard work.. for us.” He continues after a long sigh. “Wanna walk home?”

*adrenaline rushing at light speed.*

“Sure.”

At your words, he jumps off from his lazy standing posture, as he throws his juice pack in a trash can and follows behind you.

-      Standing so close to him, I could smell him, HIS SWEAT, and I ain’t complaing, this mf sMELLS LIKE SUGAR/CARAMEL!!

-      We start walking.

*Pretty much silent.*

He’s the one, again, to break the fuckin’ ice. We talk about the latest soccer season games coming up, discussing about preparations, practice matches and stuff. Everything goes too formal, until he says..

“I was so shocked when the new manager asked me out. She’s sweet but..”

“Not you’re type?” i interrupt.

“No Y/N.. well, I don’t know. I’m just curious of how people can fall for mere looks.” He chuckles.

*you’re heart skips a beat*

i stop walking, making him stop too. i look up in his eyes, he’s confused.

“What if it were me, what’d you say?” i finally utter with all my strength.

He’s shocked. i feel embarrassed and FELT unACCEPTED.

That’s when Kakeru appears behind him on his cycle. literally outta nowhere.

**went too far within the last 1000 words lmao**

Word count - 1074

all hail kakeru the wizard.

note - tried to write a ??headcanon?? i guess. For the first time. I’m not familiar with the correct term. There might be a lot of grammatical mistakes, pardon my ass lmao.

it seems fast paced but idk. the ending is gonna be wreckin tho

I’ll surely post pt.2 within a few days. tysm.

[possiblyelvenwrites]

Two’s Company

[link to Ao3 | part 3 in a series]

(Possible tw: Canonical death mention, survivor’s guilt)

Every day it seemed like Sidon learned something new about his merman friend. Some of it seemed rather obvious, when he thought about it, such as the fact that Link hadn’t had the opportunity to eat grilled or baked foods before. In fact, many of the ingredients themselves were unknown to him, as tethered to the sea as he was.

Sidon had given bags of coins to the palace chefs in thanks for the feast now packed into a large basket. It contained all of Sidon’s favorites, as well as others he knew various members of the royal court enjoyed. Each was taken out in order and explained - Glazed beef, Link! The shine is made by honey; Fried wild greens, with radishes from the kitchen gardens, you see; Crab risotto, that one is Chef Runo’s specialty! - earning various noises of curiosity or delight from Link. He’d practically vaulted out of the bay as soon as he caught a whiff of the salt-grilled carp, snagging it from Sidon’s hands and dropping to the hard stone, devouring it eagerly while Sidon watched in awe.

It seemed as though Link needed a lot of food, though whether this was a trait all merfolk shared or just Link himself, Sidon couldn’t say. He supposed it made sense, though; after all, Link had to hold himself up in the water constantly, or else lean on something to keep his head above water when visiting with Sidon. That had to take energy. And how far did the other go when he disappeared for days or weeks at a time?

Sidon was startled out of his reverie by something hitting his knee with a wet smack . Blinking, he looked down, finding a round little sprout now innocently laying next to him on the ground. He raised his gaze to Link, who was looking at the vegetable as if it had personally offended him. Sidon laughed, flicking the sprout away from them.

“Yes, I agree. They never tasted good to me either.”

The accusing gaze was lifted to his face. And you fed them to me anyway? That isn’t food.

Sidon grinned at him. “I’m so glad to have someone on my side. My father and Mipha always…” Sidon trailed off, unable to continue as Link seemed to have lost his mermind.

The merman was hitting the stone in excitement, leaning forward. As soon as Sidon stopped, he began signing, the same word over and over. It looked like the sign for “gentle”, but one hand stayed balled up; it took the prince a minute to realize that it was the sign for the letter M. There was no mistaking Link’s meaning. Somehow, the merman knew his sister’s name.

“Mipha? You know of Mipha?”

Link’s grin was blinding. Friendly healer. She helped me when I was hurt. Fin torn, unable to swim properly. She healed. She hasn’t been around. Where is she?

Sidon swallowed, looking away. “She drowned at sea, many years ago now. I wasn’t much more than a child.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Link recoil and his smile drop, blue eyes wide in shock. He swam to one side, trying to catch Sidon’s eye again.

No. Mipha was a good swimmer. Strong.

“Not stronger than a storm. It came out of nowhere, they said, ended up taking down the ship. Only a few survived, and even they came back near death.”

Link shook his head back and forth, seeming to get caught in the motion. He shook his hand at the same time, a clear and staunch refusal. Sidon grit his teeth. He’d held this pain for over half his life, and here Link was acting like he was playing some sort of practical joke.

“What do you mean, no? You think I would make something like that up?”

Link moved one hand to press against his ear, the other moving in a jerky motion in front of his chin. Sidon didn’t know it, but he could guess: Liar. Liar. Liar. Sidon felt something break inside his chest, like a bowstring pulled too taut until it finally snapped under the pressure.

“I’m not a liar!” He yelled back, pushing himself to his feet and stepping back from the water. Hot tears stung the corner of his eyes. “I wish she was here! She would be so much better at - at all of this. What about you? You want me to believe she knew a merman and never told me? If you were such good friends, where were you when her ship went down?”

Everything seemed to freeze in that moment. Link stared at Sidon, no longer moving, eyes wide in both disbelief and hurt. Sidon stared back, hand slamming over his gaping mouth, horrified by the words that had sprung out unbidden. It was as if all his anger evaporated in that moment, leaving only grief and guilt. It felt like an eternity before Link turned tail and fled the cove. Sidon ran after him, nearly falling in the shallow water.

“Link! I didn’t mean it - I’m sorry! Come back!”

But it was too late. The young man had disappeared beneath the waves, and Sidon had a terrible feeling that this time, he wouldn’t be coming back.

-

He stopped going to the cove.

It hurt too much; the silence of the still water, the emptiness of the bay. The echo of his shouts ringing off the walls and the ghost of Link’s look of horror and betrayal. The beeswax sheets that had been carefully wrapped around food lay abandoned. Cleaning them up would have felt too real, too final, and Sidon couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He pulled away from Hamara, begging off his lessons with the excuse of not feeling well. That was true enough, at least, though his poor constitution had less to do with his body and far more to do with his heart. He felt new waves of grief over his sister, a loss that he tried to avoid thinking about more than necessary. At least with his mother, he hadn’t known her before her death. Mipha he could remember her face, her voice, though it seemed to get cloudier with each passing year. Anger, definitely, both at Link for pushing him so and at himself for driving one of his few real friends away. An aching loneliness, now that he had no one to talk to, not anyone he could trust to keep his secrets and thus share his deepest thoughts with.

There was another feeling, one that confused and scared him if he spent too much time thinking about it. It felt like his soul was pulling him back to the water, screaming to wade out into the ocean after Link. It was preposterous! He knew he couldn’t swim nearly far enough to find Link, wherever the man disappeared to when not in the cove. Besides that, the ocean was huge and he was just one man. The odds of him finding Link without any clue as to his whereabouts was astronomical.

And then there was the part that made his heart seize, painful in his chest. What if Link didn’t want to see him again? What if he’d driven off Link for good with his cruel words? He wouldn’t exactly blame him. He’d practically accused Link of causing Mipha’s death. He wouldn’t want to speak to himself again, either.

Which is why it was so startling when something grabbed his ankle while he was sitting at the end of a dock, lost in his own darkened thoughts. He pulled his foot away with a yelp, kicking to make the hand release him and scrambling backwards until he was fully on the dock. Cautiously, he shuffled back to the edge on his hands and knees.

Blue eyes met his, large and unreadable. The rest of Link’s face was obscured underwater, golden hair flowing around him in a messy halo. One hand raised above the water, just enough that Sidon could read his signs. C-A-V-E. Before Sidon could respond, he dropped beneath the water again, speeding off towards their usual meeting place.

Part of Sidon wanted to be petty, to stay on the dock or return to his rooms. But a much larger part of him, the part that had tugged him towards the dock and yearned for the sea since before he could remember, would have none of it. His feet were under him in a flash, and he found himself sprinting for the cove.

By the time he entered, Link was waiting, anxiously swimming from the mouth of the bay to the innermost point and back again. He’d risen enough for Sidon to see that his normal adornments of shells and belts were missing, except for a simple loop with a pouch hanging off and a single strand of irregularly shaped stones. They looked to be a cloudy blue with blooms of black mottling the surface. Link moved to the edge of the bay, fiddling with something under the water. Sidon rushed to meet him, kneeling down.

“Link, my dearest friend, I am so sorry for my outburst when we last met. Truly, my upset was less with you and more with the situation - I am afraid my temper can get the better of me, when Mipha is involved…”

Link shook his head. No apologies. I was wrong. Not you. Sidon’s voice died in his throat, unsure why that admission made him feel so relieved. He managed a small smile, sitting back on his heels. He had to clear his throat a few times before replying.

“How about we both take some of the blame? The topic is rather… tense.”

Link nodded, expression still somber. He reached into the pouch at his hip, fishing out a necklace that matched his own and offering it up to Sidon. Sidon took it with careful fingers, letting it splay out over his other hand. Link tapped his thigh, getting Sidon’s attention again before signing.

Merfolk custom. When a family member or friend dies, ornaments go away for a while. Only sorrow stones.

Sidon felt as if something large and unwieldy had suddenly lodged in his throat. As Link watched, expression cautious, he pulled it over his head, feeling the weight settle on his chest. “...Thank you. That means a lot.” For a moment, Link just watched him, as if weighing his options. Then he raised his hands again.

Another gift. More personal. Take it, please.

Sidon blinked at him, surprised, but obediently held out his hands for whatever Link planned to give him. The second object was withdrawn much more carefully, and Sidon could feel tears welling up the moment it came into sight. It had been years since he had seen it, but he would never forget his sister’s favorite silver collar. Masterfully crafted, the lines curved around her neck while three drops of aquamarine fell gracefully off the bottom.

His feet fell sideways beneath his legs, shoulders dropping as he held the collar with the reverence one might give to Hylia herself. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks, dropping down onto his trousers, marring the silk. He couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. He knew Mipha had taken this collar with her on that fateful journey.

Link shifted back and forth in the hazy background of his vision, nervous. Had he been wrong, to look for the wreck? To find the body of the fallen princess and bring back what he could? After a moment, he began signing again, though he was fairly certain Sidon wasn’t paying attention.

I tried to bring bones. Not stable enough. Falling apart. I’m sorry. I brought what I could.

To his surprise, Sidon gave a watery chuckle, fingers tightening on the jewelry in his hand. “No, no that’s… quite alright, Link. Thank you. You have… you have no idea what this means to me, my dearest, dearest friend.”

Sidon could hear Link’s sigh of relief, the young merman sinking back into the water for a moment. Then he slowly rose back up, bracing his hands on the rock to keep himself steady. Very gently, he pressed a soft kiss to Sidon’s cheek before lowering himself back into the water. Sidon glanced up, reluctant to look away from the collar but needing to see Link’s expression. The merman wore a fond smile, tail flicking in the water.

I leave you to yourself, now. Link pushed himself deeper into the water, keeping his eyes on the prince. Sidon almost called him back, but truthfully, he did wish to be alone with this sweet reminder of his sister. Link waved as he reached the mouth of the cove. I come back soon, Sidon. My dearest friend.