#she’s whispering something about stuffing a mattress idk
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Feeling wicked 😏
#fiyeraba#wicked#elphaba thropp#fiyero tigelaar#my art#wicked fanart#she’s whispering something about stuffing a mattress idk#(unless you want it to be bookverse then she’s whispering ’viva la france’)#really stretching the limits of procreate abilities with this one but I am SO happy with how it turned out#(thank you former roommate for all the pose books they’re really coming in clutch hahaha)#this is what 8hrs of CME gets you
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thinking so fucking hard about loser/stoner eren and popular/mean girl reader............ how she'll tease him and bully him at school but when they're fucking its always the opposite way around........ he has such a grip on her and shes so whipped for him that the pent up teasing just comes out during sex and he is just being so mean to her
This is a different au from the other loser eren asks — aiming more towards stoner!eren x popular!reader!! Also this got really long?? It’s a mix of headcanons and drabbles so hold on
warnings: smut, dirty talk, mean dom eren, rough sex, crying, creampie, multiple rounds, spanking, hair pulling, mentions of drugs (weed), degradation, use of “bitch”, “slut”, “whore”, “cocksleeve”, no prep, ass play, size kink, dumbification, mentions of spitting, dubcon (just to be sure)
No but imagine... Eren is this outcast, unbothered type of guy that doesn’t give a fuck about the social hierarchy of college or whatever. For some sick and twisted reason, you are particularly interested in him — there’s something about his baggy clothes, long hair under his cap/beanie and his “fuck everything” attitude that gets you going. But you can’t really show that you’re attracted to a complete loser like him, it would ruin your reputation, so you have to pretend as if you love teasing him, mocking him. Which, like, it’s totally funny.
It works for some time, until you are alone in a room with him. It happens in some weird college party that you almost didn’t go to, when you decide to take a break from dealing with your drunk friends and find shelter in a bedroom somewhere. It takes you some time to find one that it’s not locked or... being used, but eventually you open the door to find Eren, just scrolling through his phone with a blunt hanging from his lips. This time, considering it’s just you and him, you skip the provocations and ask him what he’s doing alone in there, you sit next to him in bed and listen as he complains about some friend that dragged him to that obnoxious party.
“I was just passing some time before I found an excuse to leave,” he says, locking his phone and putting it on the nightstand. The smell of weed is filling the stuffed air, and Eren takes another hit before putting his blunt out. “And what are you doing here? Got tired of ruining everyone’s night and decided to ruin mine?”
“It’s always more fun with you.” You smile, one hand landing on his shoulder. Eren tenses under your touch, bright green eyes trying to see if you’re just making fun of him again. Still, there’s something else burning at the bottom of your irises that he has never seen before, something that makes his stomach clench in anticipation. “Besides… now I have you all to myself.”
“What are you getting at?” He asks, but his voice sounds lower, eyebrows furrowed in doubt. You two are close, so much closer than ever before, and he can feel your gentle breathing on his lips when you lean closer. His heart picks up, and his hands are fighting to touch your body. “If this is some sort of prank, I swear—“
“It’s not a prank,” you whisper, looking down at his lips. Eren swallows dry — it’s funny: even after months of teasing, this is the clearer reaction you’ve ever received from him. “Can I kiss you?”
Eren has never heard you ask for anything — especially from him. It takes him some time to warm up to the idea (and to make sure you’re not just fucking with him again), his cock stirring awake in his baggy pants, before he gives you a curt nod. You smile, leaning in and joining your lips in a heated kiss.
And you swear you have the upper hand for some time. You sit on his lap, run your fingers through his hair and watch as he becomes pudding under your touches — just groaning and sighing against your lips as his rough hands squeeze your ass, making you grind your pussy down against his hard cock until you’re soaking through the fabric. But then something in the air suddenly switches and Eren is turning you around, trapping you beneath his large body as his lips eagerly move down to your neck, hands practically tearing your top open so he can suck on your tits.
You whimper and ask him to slow down, but he’s not really listening at this point — if you’re giving yourself to him, he’s going to make good use of his time. Especially when he thinks you should learn one thing or two about how to properly behave, about not always getting what you want, but what you deserve after teasing him for so long. All those months of pent-up frustration are getting to his head, turning into a power trip as he notices that he’s so much stronger than you, that he can do whatever he wants and you’ll just have to take it. And he’s gonna make sure you’ll take it all.
In no time, you’re completely naked, clothes mindlessly thrown around the room and Eren is looking at your body like he can eat you whole. He asks you to “Turn around,” as he takes off his own clothes, and your surprised at the eagerness in which you follow his command. You don’t know what’s going on with you — all those bitter comments you’d throw at him are now long gone, barely a ghost at the back of your mind when you feel him shuffle closer to you. Eren pulls your hips upwards, presses your face down against the mattress and spanks your ass so hard you swear you see stars.
“Eren!” You cry out, both from pleasure and surprise. “What are you—“
“Shut up.” His hands come down against your ass once more, making you whine. “You never fucking stop talking, such an annoying bitch.” Your skin burns as he lays down more hits against your ass cheeks, your hands helplessly holding onto the bedsheets. “This is what you wanted, uh? Wanted me to snap, to treat you like the needy whore you are.”
“Y-Yes,” you stutter. Your pussy is so aroused that you just feel yourself dripping down your thighs, the coldness of the air making you shiver. You never needed someone as much as you needed him. “Eren, fuck me,” you sob.
His large figure leans over you, one hand yanking your hair back as his face stops next to yours. You can feel his cock — huge, throbbing, heavy — in between your sensitive ass cheeks, and the notion that he’s about to stretch you out so wide makes you whine. “Didn’t fucking listen, why don’t you get some fucking manners and try again?”
“Please, Eren, f-fuck me,” you utter, arching your back against his cock. You never noticed how big and strong he is, but now that he’s towering over you, you have no choice but to feel yourself shrinking beneath him. “Please, please.”
He scoffs. “Needy bitch,” but he releases your hair and pushes your face down against the mattress, using his free hand to align himself with your dripping cunt. “Not so fucking chatty now, are you?” You barely have time to answer before he’s pressing his cockhead against your pussy, your hole fluttering around his length as he continues to push in. Eren is huge, definitely the biggest you’ve ever had, and the lack of prep only makes you feel the stretch even more. ��Shit, look at this tight fucking cunt,” he breathes out. His hands are squeezing your ass so hard you just know it’ll be sore in the morning, but you don’t care. “Can’t believe you kept this from me for so fucking long.”
You have half the thought of apologizing, but you can’t do it when he bottoms out. By the time that his cock is fully inside you, you can barely utter out an incomprehensible string of “S-So huge, E-Eren— too much— fuck, so big, I can’t take it, I can’t...” before he’s moving his cock in and out of you.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” He asks, spanking your ass once again. The noise is so much louder this time, your moan following it shortly. “Fucking annoyed me for months just because you wanted to milk my cock like a desperate little whore,” he seethes, grabbing your ass forcefully as he drills into your soaking cunt. Eren is going hard and fast, so much so that you feel as if your brain is rattling inside your head, tits bouncing against the mattress as he continues his unforgiving pace. “Always knew you were a slut, I just didn’t know you’d be so fucking— shit — so fucking insufferable.”
“I’m s-sorry,” you whine, tears streaming down your face because of how good it all feels.
He scoffs. “Not yet. But you’ll be sorry.”
And boy how sorry you are. You had no idea that Eren would have that ridiculous amount of stamina, but you don’t even know how many times you’ve cum by the end of the night. Eren fucks you full of his cum again and again, spanking you and pulling your hair every time you misbehave and can’t keep it in like he tells you to — because “you’re such a dumb bitch, can’t even listen when you’re full of cock”.
He makes you cum on his fingers, on his cock, on his tongue, even makes you desperately grind against his thigh to get yourself off just because he likes how dumb you look. He fills every whole he can — spits in your mouth, fucks your throat, fingers your ass as he’s fucking you from the back and promises that next time it’ll be his cock. He’s just so mean, so revengeful of every time you annoyed him that he can’t be nice even if he tried. It’s just too good to have almighty little you turned into a stupid slut for his cock, crying and begging for him to fill you up one more time.
“Listen to me,” he hisses, making you turn your head to look at him. Your eyes are glazed over, barely able to find his with your orgasm building up again. “This is all you’re fucking good for,” he says, and his cock throbs inside you. Eren’s cum is seeping down your thighs, coating his length and making his slide easier as he continues to pound inside your abused cunt. “You’re made to be a cocksleeve, this pussy is made to take my cock. Do you understand?” You agree with a whiny yes. “Gonna stop fucking annoying me now? You can just ask and I’ll fuck you whenever you want, okay?” You nod, only half there, and for the first time that night he calls you “Good girl,” before stuffing you full of his cum again.”
Anyways???? Idk what came over me but yeah. Popular girl reader that is a complete slut for loser eren when theyre fucking. I rest my case.
#eren smut#eren jaeger x you#eren yaeger headcanons#eren yeager smut#eren jaeger smut#eren x reader#eren x you#eren headcanons#aot smut#snk amut#attack on titan smut
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Can you do Felix and Mc getting into a fight
My angst brain need some
You got it bb <3 Idk if this is really that much of a fight, but I couldn't make the MC too mean to Felix. Also, I’m aware this paints baby in a bad light. I had to make them fight about something okay :’( I don’t think he’d do this in canon.
Title: A bit Bitter
Pairing: Felix Escellun x GN!MC (Last Legacy)
Words: 2564
Tags: @demon-paradise @themohawkhelmet @cactus-hoodie @aomiyeon @piningmaybeanartist @another-confused-gay @uselessbeanies @nomnomcupcakesworld @druwuuwu @frozen-daydream @kirakiratears @margitartist @crowtrinkets @fanfic-about-fictif Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed.
“Tell me the truth, Felix.”
His gray eyes dart upwards from his textbooks as I storm into the room. When he sees what I hold clutched in my hands, he swallows, the bob of his throat visible even from the doorway.
I continue in a voice that is simultaneously weak and as strong as I can manage. “Is this really how you feel?”
“W-why do you have that, love?”
I frown. His nervousness sends guilt shooting through me, but I stamp it out. I’ve bent over backwards for months in an attempt to make him comfortable, and did so gladly. But this? I can only withstand so much.
I set the notebook down on the edge of his desk with a heavy thud. Felix winces.
“The things you wrote in here, about me…” I shake my head, then look away. I can feel my eyes sting, and I bite my tongue to hold back from crying. “Felix-“
“That’s private! You don’t have the right to go snooping through my possessions.”
I sigh. Yeah, I’m nosy and read his journal, and normally I would be ashamed. I shouldn’t have done it, but… “I don’t think that’s important right now.”
“Of course it’s important!” Felix gasps, standing out of his desk chair to snatch up the journal. He meets my eyes with a fragile sort of vulnerability, then pulls the journal defensively to his chest. “I’m not privy to every thought you have. You can’t judge me for mine.”
“I would never think these things of you!” My voice raises until it edges on a shout, and I frantically rush to reign it in. “I would never.”
“That’s not-“ Felix whispers with a shake of his head. “That’s not fair.”
“No. What’s not fair is this.” I reach forward and pull the leather journal from his hands, flipping forward a few weathered pages until I find what I’m looking for.
“‘Not nearly comparable to Rime’s beauty, nor do they possess his talent with magic. They’re candlelight to his radiant sun. I’ve quelled whatever feeling has stirred in my chest and decided that I won’t settle for them. Not while my love is still hurting. And I do miss him so.”
Felix is biting at his lip as I lower the book once more, his eyes watery, wide circles. “That’s old,” he chokes out. “I swear. I don’t feel that way. I love you.”
He looks like he wants to touch me, so I step away. I shake my head. “But you did feel that way.”
“I- why does it matter? That’s private. How- how much else have you read to convince yourself my feelings for you are disingenuous? You were never meant to see any of it.” He’s wrapped arms around his thin frame, now, squeezing his eyes shut as if he wishes this all would simply go away.
“I’ve read enough.”
Felix’s eyes go wide, then dart to the journal in my hand. “Why?” I ask. “Worried there’s something worse left for me to uncover?”
“N-no.” He runs his hand over his face. “Why couldn’t you stay out of my things? That was personal! It was none of your business!” Felix hisses the last words, as close to angry as I’ve ever seen him with me. His eyes are filled with tears, but his expression if one of a rage I’ve never been in the receiving end of.
“Fuck you,” I spit out, watching him hiccup as if the words were a physical blow. “You’re a liar, Felix.” Then I simply can’t help myself but to add, “Maybe you do deserve to be alone.”
I know as soon as I say it that I’ve gone too far, and the look on his face- fuck. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the broken, hurt expression that flashes across his features out of my head. Yes, the words he’d written in that journal had stung, but I don’t feel any satisfaction from hurting him just as badly. If anything, it makes me feel worse.
All I feel is lost. My psyche weighs heavy with guilt, as well as hatred for myself for letting my patience slip. Before it can all come crumbling down on me, I turn on my heel and rush out the door, slamming it behind me with an echo that rings much to hollow to make me feel any better.
✦✧✦✧
I had frantically stuffed my few belongings into a bag and rushed to the nearest inn, flopping onto a rickety bed and crying myself to exhaustion. That had been two days ago, now, and I haven’t spoken to Felix since.
On the bright side, sending drunk texts is much more difficult to do when one doesn’t possess a cellphone.
Each night my dreams are filled with memories of his face, his smile. I can feel him in my arms, see the distinct colour of his blush each time I call him “baby” or “my sweet”. I wonder if I was over-dramatic in my reaction, but then remember the words in that journal. To think, the passage I had read aloud had only been one of many.
No. I was right to be upset.
I keep wondering if maybe the things he wrote in there were true. Yet, it’s so confusing- Felix has always had the upmost respect for me. And he’s not exactly great at hiding his emotions.
I’ve met with Anisa and Sage, both of whom seemed relatively stunned at the news. Anisa had offered exercise as a way to take my mind off it, and Sage had offered… another form of physical activity altogether, which didn’t really surprise me.
“A fight? Really? You two have always seemed like such a sappy married couple…”
I sigh. “Thanks, Sage. Really. It wasn’t even a fight, to be honest.”
“Married couples do fight, Sage.” Anisa pats my hand. “Felix is just dramatic. It will be fine! Whatever he did, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He just gets a little… jumbled up sometimes. But his intentions are pure. At least, I believe so. You can never tell with Felix.” She smiles. “Give him some time to mope and he’ll apologize.”
“If it helps,” Sage interjects, “he fought all the time with deer boy, and they were apparently a thing. I’m sure he’s used to it.”
I refrain from telling Sage that his oh-so-helpful comment is far from helpful; in fact, it highlights exactly what I’m worried about.
Tonight, thunder strikes outside in heavy, booming claps. The room I’ve rented is lowly lit by a single candle, but the flashes of lightning outside the window often light up the entire space. Rain pelts the roof and the wind howls mournfully, as if in empathy of my crushed spirit.
I’m just in the middle of pretending I’m in a sad music video when I hear an unsteady knock at the door. At first, I think it might be a tree branch outside, being as it’s so soft, but then I hear the sound again.
I fling the wool blankets over my head with a huff and shuffle towards the door, then unceremoniously fling it open.
I should have expected it would be my necromancer boyfriend looking like a drenched cat.
Felix is sopping wet, his hair plastered to his forehead and clothes so soaked I can see his tanned skin underneath. As soon as the door opens, his eyes go wide, and he immediately looks as if he’s attempting to say something, but he can’t seem to spit it out. His teeth are chattering so forcefully he can’t speak, and the wind has whipped the wet strands of hair into his mouth.
He is so stupid. I immediately can’t help but think that I love him. I am definitely morosexual.
I blink dazedly at him for a moment, before grabbing his elbows and hastily pulling him inside.
“I’m s-sorry,” he sobs as I grab a blanket off the bed and hastily wrap it around his shoulders. I can’t tell if he’s shaking from crying or the cold, can’t tell if the wetness on his face is from his tears or the rain. “I’m so sorry.”
“Felix, it’s fine. Come here, you’re going to get hypothermia.”
I grab a towel from the bathroom and begin using it to dry his hair. He shakes his head as he pushes it away, sending droplets of water flying. “No! Listen, please, I am sorry, I am. I wish to explain myself. You deserve that much, at least.”
I sigh, then stand back and nod. I sit down on the edge of the bed. The mattress groans, as do I. “Fine.”
Felix pauses as if he didn’t expect that answer.
Then he picks at the frayed strings of the blanket around him. He shivers as he tugs it tighter around his shoulders. He licks his lips. “I wasn’t in a good place when we met.”
I nod. It was obvious then, and it’s even more so now. “I know.”
“It wasn’t healthy. I know that it wasn’t, but-” he cuts off as the thunder outside rumbles, lightning illuminating the haunted look in his eyes. “I loved Rime. More than that, I obsessed over him.”
That much I had guessed, but the confirmation does still twist my stomach.
“I was still in love with him when we met. Desperately so. I clung to the very idea of him for years. Rime adored how I idolized him, he encouraged it-“ he looks out the window as if lost in thought, then sighs. “It wasn’t you. I would’ve compared anyone to him. I did.”
Felix sniffs, then delicately kneels at my feet. “I am so sorry. I promise I didn’t truly think those things, my dear. I just felt so guilty, every time I felt anything for you. I had made myself think that he was perfect, that I could enforce my love for him through some strange sort of self-discipline.” He cringes, as if he knows how awful that sounds. “It seemed reasonable. I owed him my life.”
Apparently having said what he needed, Felix goes quiet. His eyes are red-rimmed, dark circles underneath, as if he’s been crying instead of sleeping ever since I left him.
“You are so incredibly lovely,” he whispers, choking. “I could see it even then. I was scared of what it would do to me to admit it.”
I swallow. I’m honestly not sure whether to believe him, but the look in his eyes is so earnest. Felix is many things, but he’s not one to hide his feelings, nor is he a good actor. I know deep down that he’s not faking his love for me, despite how my heart convinced me otherwise.
“If- If you’re still angry with me, I understand,” Felix stammers, though the tears in his eyes make it seem like that isn’t true. “M-maybe I should leave-“
The rain pounds harder against the windows. The wind whistles through the surrounding cracks. I grab his wrist.
“Come here, my sweet.”
Felix’s eyes widen at my use of my pet name for him, a timid look of disbelief in his eyes as he takes my hand and allows me to pull him onto the bed. I lie down on my back and guide to lay against my chest.
“I forgive you.” I almost can’t believe the words myself, but I know that it’s the only option I could ever consider. I love him. It’s a simple as it is complex.
“You needn’t-“
“I do. It wasn’t right of you to say those things, but it was also unfair of me to get so angry with you over something you wrote a long time ago. I know your old relationship really took a toll on you. Besides, I said some awful things to you too, Felix,” I continue, reaching up to brush his bangs back from his forehead. He trembles, leaning slightly into my touch. “You don’t deserve to be alone. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me, and I shouldn’t have. Okay?” I wait until he finally nods to continue. “And I’m sorry for going through your things. I betrayed your trust, and you were right to be upset.”
Felix goes a little slack-jawed before he finally breathes out, “O-of course I forgive you.”
“I’m glad, because I don’t think I could live without you.”
He stares at me for a moment longer before he lurches forward and kisses me, desperate and wanting, full to the brim with both apology and forgiveness. It tastes if the salt of his tears and the cold rainwater that runs over his cheeks. He’s shaking the whole time, and I tug him tighter to my chest. I can feel his heart racing through the fabric of our clothes.
“I love you, sweet.”
“I love you too,” Felix hiccups, “so much.”
We spend a bit longer like that, tangled up in the bedsheets with Felix soaking through both our clothes. Eventually, I pull back.
“Did you really wait until it was storming to show up and apologize?”
A sheepish laugh as he flushes. “I had t-thought it would be romantic. Like in my novels. I didn’t realize it was pouring quite so hard.”
His cheeks are a flaming red and he looks away like he expects me to be upset. I sigh to hide my fond smile. All I can do is kiss him again.
“I’ve brought you something,” Felix murmurs, his lips so close to mine that they brush, his eyelashes wet against my cheeks. He reaches back and takes the leather notebook, the stupid source of all our fighting, out of his coat pocket. It’s surprisingly dry.
I can’t help but want to smack that stupid book out of his hand. “Felix, why would you do that?”
He rolls his eyes, then gets up and stands off to the side of the bed. The room lights up green as his entire hand, the journal with it, are suddenly engulfed in flames, until nothing but ashes sift through his fingertips, drifting down to settle against the wooden floor.
“You’re my future.”
He’s so dramatic. I love him to pieces.
I grab his waist and all but tackle him back onto the bed, delighting in his surprised squeak.
“Stop!” Felix yelps as he falls back against the mattress, only to be assaulted by my cuddles, “I’m positively soaked; I’ll drench the sheets.”
I can’t really say that I care. We have a lot of making up to do; I’m not spending a second without him by my side for the rest of the night. Felix grumbles a final complaint and then sighs. He wraps his arms around me and presses his cheek into my chest, and I can’t help but think he feels the same.
“I didn’t enjoy that,” he mumbles, turning his face into me to hide his expression. “Being apart from you, it- hurt. I missed you.”
“I missed you too, baby.” I’m just realizing how much. His scent and the feel of his hair against my skin, his voice. He’s invaded my senses once more, and it feels like coming back to life.
He turns to look up at me. His cheeks are rosy and his hair mussed, droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes and temples. God, he’s so adorable- I don’t know how I could ever stand to be angry with him. “I don’t want to be at odds with you anymore. I love you too much.”
I boop his perfect nose. “Deal.”
#felix escellun#fictif last legacy#last legacy#last legacy felix#fictif felix#sage lesath#anisa anka#felix iskandar escellun#fictif#rime solano varela#fictif fanfic#alexa plays last legacy#alexa writes#last legacy fanfiction#felix x mc#felix escellun x mc#Fictif Sage#interactive fiction#interactive game#Fictif anisa
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Between Bars (Spencer Reid x OC)
Summary: Spencer is wrongfully arrested for murder and placed in Millburn Correctional Facility awaiting trial. While he attempts to survive until his friends can prove his innocence, his cellmate Oscar has an unexpected effect on Spencer during their time inside together.
AN: Thank you to @april-14-blog, @zhuzhubii, and @imagining-in-the-margins for your unwavering attention and support while writing this.
I’m writing another post-prison Spencer fic but idk when it’s coming out. I’m still caring for my dad and prepping for my nan’s funeral.
To the anon who asked for an Emily Prentiss x Trans!Male reader smut, it’s in the works I promise!!
Word count: 11k words
Content warning: Usual criminal minds violence, character death, spoilers for season 12, threats of violence, stabbing, PTSD, mentions of battery, mentions of panic attacks. Let me know if I’ve missed anything.
Masterlist // AO3 Link
“My last roommate got shanked.”
Spencer struggled for a second to keep his composure. The cell door slid shut with a loud buzzer and a clank of hollow metal.
His cellmate, in that identical grey jumpsuit, was tucked up on the bottom bunk with a book in one hand and a green crayon in the other. He was underlining something. Once he was done, his eye lifted off the page. They just as devoid of emotion as his opener was. That scared Spencer more, that this man had clearly spent a long time in here being dehumanised to the point where he held about the emotional range of a mannequin.
But at least he wasn’t violent. Yet.
Spencer approached the foot of his bed. His hands, one of them still sore from the cut on the palm, placed his belongings there. A tremble ran through them when his cellmate moved out of his line of sight; the sudden thought of being stabbed through the underside of his bunk kept him standing for now.
“I’m not gonna shank you.”
Spencer’s shoulders squared, “Ok.”
“Name’s Oscar.”
“Spencer Reid.”
“Welcome to hell, Spencer Reid.”
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
His chore was laundry. It was somewhere without sharp objects, which meant inmates brought their own. Spencer was doing his best to walk the balance between standing his ground and not making himself a target. But apparently there was no such line to follow and no help from his cellmate, sifting through his own cart of laundry on the other side of the room.
That was until the inmates began taunting Spencer over his belongings.
“Excuse me.”
The crowd immediately parted to make way for Oscar, whose unflinching gaze pushed them further back.
“Thank you,” he said in the same empty tone. His very deliberate stare landed on Spencer as he passed and collected a pile of towels from the table at the room’s centre. The group around them dispersed and remained so even as Oscar returned to his station.
Oscar’s hands weren’t shaking before then. Now, certainly, as he stuffed bedsheets into the giant machine, a tremble ran through his arms and stuck in his wrists.
Spencer didn’t comment, not even that evening as he climbed onto his bunk, his back pressed hard against the wall. His knees pulled close acted as a desk for his journal. His pen scribbled away long after lights out, putting down his thoughts, his innocence, trapping his worries onto the paper. It was too long until his next evaluation. His notebook was his only confidant now.
A creak beneath him stilled his hand, and he felt himself freeze as the shadow of Oscar rose up from his bunk. One of his hands was behind his back. Spencer’s feet dug into the mattress and forced him hard against the concrete. His eyes flinched shut as Oscar brought his hand out. But they opened as soon as they were closed and they were met with surprise.
In Oscar’s palm sat a red crayon.
“You’ll wanna swap to this,” He said with such a softness that Spencer spent the next ten seconds processing it. His incessant blinking did nothing to clear up what was happening.
Eventually he said an equally quiet voice, “Why?”
Oscar’s shoulders shrugged an inch, the tension he held in them inflexible, “Worst you can get from this is a bruise.”
Slowly, Spencer accepted the crayon with his left hand and rolled the pencil around in the right. “What should I do with this?”
“Hide it.” And Oscar disappeared from view.
Spencer ran his finger over the tip of the crayon before he dragged it across the paper. It would suffice for now. Maybe he could ask one of his friends to send some his way in their next letter. If they weren’t too busy trying to solve his case.
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
JJ’s presence was the most welcomed part of Spencer’s life here. But he almost hated it.
Opposite him, always several inches between them as well as a divider, JJ holding up one of Henry’s drawings but unable to hand it over to him, it drove him insane. The constant reminders on the walls – and often barked by guards – not to touch coated their conversation. JJ didn’t ask about the bruises from his most recent beating. She answered Spencer’s queries, updating him on his case.
Spencer tried very hard not to sound so eager about getting out. His hopes were already dashed to pieces; the fragments were just holding on. He needed that hope to survive but if it grew too strong, it would destroy him.
For half a second, his attention was drawn out of the goodbye to see Oscar nearby. He was standing before another visitor’s table and a young woman who had the same nose as him on the other side.
He missed JJ’s hugs. He longed for one long after she had disappeared from view, shuffling along with the rest of them towards the refectory.
A commotion erupted up ahead. Spencer watched with masked reverence and the rest of the line as Oscar remained unflinching in the volume of the guard’s shouting. Even when he got right up in Oscar’s face, Oscar was stoic as spittle sprayed across his face. Moment after the guard walked away, Oscar wiped his face clean, a terrifyingly neutral expression held together.
Once lunch was done, Spencer re-joined with his new friend Luis in the laundry room, who was still not over Spencer’s injuries. There was something else that Spencer wanted to talk about.
“Do you know much about…” Spencer dropped his voice to barely a whisper, “Oscar?”
Luis looked at Oscar with the subtlety of an elephant seal then back to Spencer to deliver his answer, “He’s gone after people in the prison, but nothing ever gets tied to him.”
And Luis proved his point when Oscar pressed his hands against the stab wound in Luis’ neck, a futile attempt to save his life after Frazier and Duerson’s failed recruiting of Spencer. Oscar fled the scene without consequence, leaving Spencer in the pool of blood, and he never once tripped on his alibi or took off his armour. Not even when Spencer spoke at him about it before lights out.
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
But Spencer found a chink in the armour.
Oscar’s sleeping problems were apparent throughout the night. If his offering of a crayon earlier hadn’t been enough evidence, the yawning and tossing about the bottom bunk. Spencer knew why Oscar was awake too. He wasn’t the type to stay awake to ensure his continued survival. Insomnia was a symptom that Spencer was starting to show too. He had been struggling to rest while he gathered the aforementioned evidence. For some reason, it brought him a slither of comfort, because it made Oscar more human.
Another was the letters he had in his pillow case – the most obvious place to hide something, therefore the least obvious? Reverse psychology aside, some nights featured the rustling of paper
Work in the laundry room continued as if there wasn’t a man murdered in it just days before. Oscar was reinforcing the contrast between yesterday and now with a faint hum. He was clearly a little more comfortable since it was just him and Spencer in the room.
Spencer’s mind pulled up Howl’s Moving Castle which he watched with Penelope. Oh, Penelope. With her bright colours and optimism. It was not a film he pictured Oscar to be a fan of. But he hardly knew him, and he wanted to.
“What song is that?”
Oscar shrugged. A huff forced itself out of his nose. “Don’t remember.”
“It sounds nice.”
He huffed again, clearly closing the conversation. Spencer counted in items he tossed into the machine, flinching still at the marks on the bedsheets. His eye avoided them but landed on the dark patch of concrete where Luis had bled out.
“Oscar, why did you defend me last week?” Spencer asked.
“I don’t know.” The irritable edge in his voice prevailed the more he spoke, “But you owe me so consider this: don’t be a mule for them.”
It was an almost anger that Spencer felt at this request. Surely Oscar would understand, of all people, after being in here that:
“They’ll kill me if I don’t.”
Oscar sighed and turned his back to Spencer, no longer humming. Spencer felt a twang in his gut pluck away at his rage. But he also felt satisfaction in the fact that he had gotten Oscar to crack again. Not in a malevolent way, he felt like he was getting Oscar to open up more and more.
“I’m doing what I need to survive,” Spencer added. For his sake, maybe, but he knew it was a little more reassurance for Oscar.
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
“I am innocent.”
“You’re gonna get killed if you keep saying that so loud.”
Spencer stopped speaking, but he kept moving about the floor space of the cell. The worst part was the walk up to the bars. But, with his notebook confiscated, he had no other outlet and he made sure that Oscar knew this as well.
“It keeps me grounded, reminds me of who I am.”
Oscar didn’t say anything about Spencer’s incessant pacing, simply turning a page in his new book, “That must be nice.”
With a deep breath of stale prison air, Spencer’s speed grew erratic until he very nearly kicked at the bars in frustration. He stopped himself just as the instruction reached the surgery scars on his knee. It stung as he jumped up into his bunk and squeezed his knees to his chest, his arms shaking with the pressure he put on them.
“How many years do you have to go?” He said quietly.
“Half a year until an appeal, six years if I serve the rest of my sentence. You?”
“My trial has been postponed. I was offered a plea deal. But-” Spencer stopped to swallow, a pitiful attempt against the absolute Sahara that was his mouth “- But I didn’t do it.”
His hand pushed the heel of his palm into his eye. The other screwed itself shut as his mind zeroed in on his actions. When Spencer’s hand lifted away, Oscar was standing up in front of him. His white shirt was on show, the top half of his jumpsuit rolled down with the arms tied around his waist. He was stretching his arms up, and his head was tilted a few inches to the left as he watched Spencer with a blank face.
No, not blank.
Open.
Then his stoicism clouded over and Oscar dropped his arms. “Nice rehearsal for the jury.”
Spencer’s irritation became inflamed, “That kind of attitude might get you a badge of honour here-”
“This kind of attitude,” Oscar interrupted, and immediately Spencer regretted his words, “Has helped me survive here. I suggest you stop running your mouth if you wanna do the same.”
The burst of anger fizzled out fast like a firework, and Spencer watched Oscar disappear out of sight with a dull thud on his mattress. But before he could, Spencer had noticed that Oscar’s hands were shaking again, just like he hadn’t seen since the fight in the laundry room – the first one.
Spencer’s hands gripping his shins, he worried that he had lost another… friend? Ally? He didn’t really know what to use as a description for their relationship but Spencer knew what he wanted. Least of all, he wanted Oscar to be upset with him.
“Oscar?”
Nothing. Spencer slipped off the bed and pressed his back against the wall, sinking down until he was on the ground. His eyes were on Oscar, who was staring without seeing Spencer opposite him. Nevertheless, Spencer stayed in his sight and asked a tentative question.
“What’s the first thing you want to do when you get out?”
Oscar blinked and his gaze shifted a millimetre to Spencer and his peace offering. Then Spencer saw it. A quiver of Oscar’s bottom lip, then it shifted and Spencer noticed that Oscar was biting the inside to stop his reaction taking over any more of himself.
When his mouth opened, it released a sigh before he spoke. “Hug my mom.”
Spencer nodded, the stuffiness of his throat returning as he fought to keep back tears, “Me too.”
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
It was an attempt to get Frazier and Duerson off Spencer’s back. Maybe to stop him from taking the drugs himself. The temptation was certainly lingering stronger, with the promise of a temporary respite.
But now the prison was locked down. Shaw, along with four other inmates, were isolated in the infirmary. These were far from innocent men but God that didn’t mean what he had done was right.
He’d done it to survive, but it was still all his fault.
“What’s up with you?”
The gate to their cell sliding shut behind Oscar. He stared at Spencer sat in the bottom bunk, his head in his hands. Footsteps echoed down the corridor before another buzzer and another gate opened then shut again. They were far from alone, the concrete providing an illusion that there wasn’t an endless tunnel with two men per cage.
“Spencer.”
He stood up, dropping the grip from his hair. His ears tuned into the noise from other prisoners. What he wouldn’t give for some silence right now.
“The poisonings were my fault.”
All air sucked from Spencer’s lungs as Oscar was suddenly upon him. He was smacked against the wall, Oscar’s hand over his mouth, his forearm pinning him into place. Spencer let out a cross between a gulp and a sob, caught into his throat as Oscar harshly shushed him. Spencer’s eyes looked around Oscar terrified, he struggled against him.
Oscar’s voice rasped with a spitting disgust, “You’re really fucking stupid!”
And he slammed his weight against Spencer again, his breathing heavy, his pupils dilated, “Don’t you fucking dare repeat that to anyone.”
Spencer’s head knocked against the resolute wall when Oscar shoved him once more, stepping back and creating distance between them. With the ache at the back of his skull, Spencer stared dazedly at his cellmate.
Oscar’s voice matched his haggard appearance when he said, “You’re a dead man, Spencer.”
The intimacy of his name striking right at his heart, Spencer worried that he would join Oscar in tears. But there was no time; a guard rattled his baton against the bars.
“What’s going on in there?” He bellowed into the cell.
Oscar clenched his jaw, “Nothing.”
Then he reclaimed his bunk and faced the wall.
“Into bed, inmate!”
Sparing a glance to the vulnerable position Oscar was laying in, unable to receive the look of gratitude, Spencer got into his bunk. The silence he wished for enveloped him and he longed for it to vanish.
He pressed his palm against his lips. It wasn’t the same as when Oscar did it.
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
His second meeting with Dr. Tara Lewis revealed that Spencer had manufactured his own memory and that he had been coerced. But the BAU needed proof of his innocence, and Spencer resumed his waiting game in the yard.
Oscar was taking a new route around the edge of the wire fencing as opposed to spending his free time in the gym. His shoes scuffed in the dirt, no doubt rubbing a blister into his heel (based on his gait), and his step weaved around the groups to avoid interacting with anyone. Wordlessly, Spencer joined him. Oscar looked at him but didn’t speak.
Spencer’s session with Tara had brought forward a question he had considered asking before. Tara had spoken about his mother, how life was before prison. Spencer missed being known, knowing someone. The rawness of that need hung off his frame with his jumpsuit. Oscar was probably still pissed off with him. But God, Spencer needed to cease this withdrawal from human contact more than anything.
“What did you do, Oscar?” He asked under his breath, “To get into prison?”
“I knew a guy; he was the worst kind of person to get caught up with. He did some things to me. So I beat him up, and I cut his pecker off.”
It all sounded so very rehearsed, and Spencer wondered if Oscar had been planning what to say since they first met. The two men continued to walk in step until eventually Oscar broke the silence.
“Yours isn’t on my to-do list.” The left corner of his mouth twitched as he spoke
Spencer lifted his stare from Oscar’s mouth, hoping the heat around them would mask his blush, “Did he die?”
“No,” Oscar ironed his lips back into a straight line, “Unfortunately.”
“You don’t regret it.”
“No.”
“Thank you for not telling the guard what I did.”
“What did I say about repeating it?”
Spencer pressed his chin into his chest, forcing his mouth shut. It naturally deflected the glares that were aimed in his direction from other prisoners as he and Oscar sat down at an empty table.
“It seems I only give you grief.”
But Spencer’s pity was cut short by that touch of a smile on Oscar’s face returning, “Your company somewhat makes up for it.”
The distractions ended. Spencer was once again aware that there was very little he could do in this place. He restrained his yearning to hold Oscar’s hand across the table, to feel his tender palm again, until he was back in his bunk with an entire night to think about what it might be like in a situation where Oscar wasn’t threatening him into silence.
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
It was going to be another sleepless night.
Spencer reached his arm out of his foetal position and over the edge of his bunk. Oscar was likely still awake; Spencer was hoping that Oscar would ask him about what was up, like he usually did. Like he already had after Spencer’s mother had visited with her new care assistant.
As he waited, Spencer sniffed back his tears. He didn’t want anyone to see him cry, even if tears were supposed to be good for the skin – God knows his skin needed it after all that Dial soap. The red eyes were already hard enough to hide without the addition of damp cheeks. Grief weighed down his eyelids, but fear kept opening them – just in case.
Then five calloused fingertips touched the back of his hand. Spencer gripped the air, his wrist bringing his hand an inch in. But as the fingertips spread across his skin, he allowed them to continue. Oscar’s mattress groaned below him and his fingers linked with Spencer’s. The thumb wrapped around to press into Spencer’s palm.
Spencer almost whined when Oscar snatched his hand away, but a split second later his stomach dropped at the sound of a clatter down the hall.
Minutes passed like hours before the bottom bunk let out a familiar creak of Oscar rising from it. He rested his forearms against Spencer’s mattress, right beside Spencer’s outstretched arm. Goosebumps rose and the hairs stood on end, coaxing Oscar closer.
With a quick glance at the bars, Oscar whispered, “Your friends will get you out. They’ll help your mom.”
Spencer sniffed, “What happened to being a dead man?”
“I don’t think you – or your friends - are going to let that happen.”
“What about you?”
“I guess I could fall under ‘ally’ for once.”
“What if I wanted you to be something else?” Spencer’s arm shifted and his hand brushed their knuckles against Oscar’s stubbly cheek.
Oscar hinted at tilting his head against him, and Spencer couldn’t help but press a little firmer as Oscar said, “You should sleep.”
“I can’t.”
Oscar’s finger stretching out to brush the crook of Spencer’s elbow, “Me neither.”
Nevertheless, Oscar let Spencer go and got back down into his bunk just moments later.
Both men pretended to sleep until the fantasy became real. The whole time, Spencer was thinking about how hearing faith in his team from someone who had never met them – or even displayed an ounce of hope within his entire relationship with him – meant so much.
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
Spencer had a new wall to force his back against. His left leg was not in a state to keep him taut against it, the throbbing ache a poor disturbance from his thoughts. Time, time, all he had was time to think and do nothing else.
About how his occupation in the government was leaked to what felt like the entire prison population.
How the note with the promise of invading solitary confinement lay screwed up by the door.
How Shaw had threatened him before bawling like a baby when the guards tackled him for stabbing Spencer.
How Oscar, with his jaw slack and eyes glassy, was outlined in Spencer’s blurring vision.
Oh, Oscar. Shoved back by inmates in the scuffle before he disappeared from view. He was only there because Shaw had made the first move. Spencer had seen Oscar reach into his pocket as he crept behind Shaw. No regard for his own safety. That was when Spencer grabbed Shaw’s hand and manipulated it into plunging his shiv into his leg and arm.
The night before, Oscar had been quiet, and Spencer figured that he had learnt that Spencer was an FBI agent. No chat before bed, Oscar just curled up under his blanket and read until lights out.
Spencer was patient. He waited long into the night before bringing out his toothbrush. There was no time for resting now; he scrapped the end of the brush against the edge of the bunk frame. Flakes of plastic snowed down onto the concrete floor, but he didn’t get out to sweep them beneath the beds just yet. That was a job for the morning – if it came.
Suddenly Oscar popped into his field of view.
“It’s better if you do it like this,” He said, taking Spencer’s hand in his and demonstrating the direction with which to carve his shiv, “And make sure you – never mind.”
“What?”
“Forget it. You’re a fed. They probably trained you with this shit.”
He took himself away and Spencer swallowed hard, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“I’m not. Means you’re learning to protect yourself. I’m more grateful for that.”
Spencer’s hand still tingled from the way Oscar held it. The simplest of touches grounded him, and it was almost as if Oscar knew that. When they were called to lunch by the alarm, filing out of the laundry room, Oscar had gone out of his way to walk by Spencer and brush their hands together. Not a single break in his stride, the touch was brief but it breathed a sigh of courage into Spencer’s lungs and he went into the refectory calmer.
He bit the inside of his cheek, willing away the stinging of tears with his head leaning back against the wall.
His palms flattened against his legs as he heard the key turn in the door. His eyes watched it creak open, revealing a guard
“Get up.”
Wincing, Spencer moved off the pathetic excuse for a bed, “Where am I going?”
No answer.
Spencer shuffled through the hallway with dread weighing each step down. The last fragment of hope was waning, but he clung to it as he was shoved into an empty room. Even as the guard closed the door behind him and his ever-vigilant eye was stuck on the glass of the window, Spencer held that hope close as he waited for someone to come in. While not necessarily a believer, he called to anyone - who might hear a sinner’s prayer - that he could touch Oscar once more before he was killed.
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
It had been a long time since Spencer had sat on this side of the table. On the job, visiting a suspect or informant in a case, but now his entire perspective had shifted.
He wondered if any of the guards recognised him now that he had a suit, a visitor’s badge, and a few extra pounds around his middle.
An instinct, he flinched at the buzzer. The memory had tormented him for weeks and hearing it fresh and raw against his eardrums was worse. Steps sloped into the room in a dull out-of-sync march. The prisoners found their allotted tables one by one, some with enthusiasm and others without.
Oscar dragged the chair across the floor before taking his place opposite Spencer.
“Hello.”
Spencer was completely torn between smiling at his presence – his voice – and keeping a composure so as not to draw attention from other prisoners. “Hello.”
Oscar wrapped his arms in each other, elbows pointed on the table, “Did you get to hug your mom?”
It was hard to forget the grip on Diana’s frail body, the relief seeping through Spencer’s body at her safe recovery.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Good. I’m glad she’s ok.”
“She’s in a facility now, being taken care of full time. Did you get my letters?”
“I did, thank you. And did you get mine?”
“Yes. How is your new cellmate?”
“Some dipshit in for possession. Nothing to worry about.”
Oscar’s fingers tapped on the table, and Spencer could see them trembling still. He nodded; his mouth pressed into a line. He couldn’t think of what else to say despite his many rehearsals beforehand. It felt wrong to talk about being out of prison, like dangling a bit of bacon in front of a dog before popping it into one’s mouth.
So he went straight for the jugular, “I’m getting you out, Oscar.”
Oscar frowned, looking almost offended. “Don’t say that.”
But Spencer continued, “I’ve spoken with your lawyer, Zoe; she’s got all this stuff ready for your appeal.”
“Spencer.”
“Your family completely support what we’re doing. I’ve spoken to them over the phone.”
“They wanna meet with me and your lawyer, properly coordinate. We can do this!”
“Spencer, stop!”
Said person stopped relaying his grand plans for the future. Oscar had barely raised his voice but he caught the attention of the nearby guards, already reaching for their belts. Oscar’s nostrils flared as he exhaled, his eyes not even crossing the threshold that separated him from Spencer.
His voice caught in his throat, “Stop it now. Don’t give me hope.”
Spencer blinked. A second time, a third, then he frowned right back at Oscar bewildered.
“Why won’t you let me fight for you?”
He didn’t get an answer immediately, so he kept talking.
“You fought for me, Oscar. You kept me alive in here. Let me do the same, get you out. You can’t stay here!”
It started subtle. But Spencer saw Oscar shaking his head at his words. He refused Spencer any more eye contact, not even when Spencer begged Oscar to look at him so that they could talk more about the upcoming appeal.
The buzzer sounded again and Spencer began to panic as Oscar rose from his seat. No way was their time up already. An urge to reach across, grab Oscar’s hand, make him stay, shot through him. It only stopped because he didn’t want some desperate grab to be the last touch between them. He tried to call after him, but his voice stuck in his throat at the sight of a baton being used to force Oscar into the queue.
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
Spencer had walked the paths of the bullpen thrice now: once to get coffee, second to “get the right form”, and the last time he didn’t say why to his curious colleagues. Clearly none of those were the true reason but they left him alone. That was their problem. They never spoke to each other about what was wrong until it was too late.
The second his phone rang, he lunged for it. His slim fingers scrabbled to slide across the answer button and bring it up to his ear.
“Hello!” Instantaneously, his shoulders slumped and he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Sorry for shouting. Look, I’m waiting on an important call, can I ring you back?”
Before the caller had time to respond, Spencer slammed the phone face down and began his route again, leaving it on the desk so that he wasn’t constantly checking the screen.
“Have you ever seen him so attached to a piece of technology?” Luke grinned at JJ.
“Never.”
“This con must be something.”
The phone went off again when Spencer was getting another mug of coffee. Its ringtone was loud but not loud enough to reach the break room.
Simmons raised his voice ever so slightly, “Spencer! Phone!”
A ceramic clashed with a sideboard, and Spencer appeared, his hip clipping Luke’s desk on the way over. In his frenzy, he found the wherewithal to check the caller ID before he answered, “Tony?”
Spencer had already begun powerwalking out of the bullpen, but he stopped when he heard a cry from Eliza in the background.
His friends and co-workers watched his expression falter from focus to frustration.
“I’m sorry.” His voice failed him, clearing it, “I’m sorry, Tony, for you and your family. Can I call you back?”
This time, he waited for confirmation and he stayed on the phone for half a minute longer to reassure the Dunnagan family on the other end that he would not give up. Once the call dropped, the phone did too – against the desk. Spencer folded his arms in on himself. His fingers were bent into claws, digging into the creases of his elbows. Upon realising what they were doing, he covered his face as if to weep, but there were no tears.
“Spencer.” JJ touched his shoulder
“The appeal didn’t even have the chance to be unsuccessful,” He dragged his hands across his face into prayer, “Oscar cancelled the hearing this morning without telling us.”
He swallowed back the lump in his throat, “I don’t think I can be alone right now. Can I stay at yours and Will’s tonight?”
“Of course,” JJ’s hand smoothed out a wrinkle on his suit jacket.
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
Upon entering the attorney’s office, Spencer was embraced by Dakota. Eliza kissed both his cheeks, Tony shook his hand, and Zoe gestured for him to sit in the final empty chair.
Together, they discussed the plan for the appeal. It was to be fool proof. There was the added benefit of a recent sessions with a therapist; Spencer was still willing to go and talk about how Oscar had saved his life in prison. But Spencer was also fighting this disgusting urge to say that “none of that matters because an appeal panel won’t see him at all if Oscar keeps withdrawing”. He kept pushing it down to simmer in his stomach, away from his vocal chords.
He was almost glad when his phone began ringing, “Excuse me, it’s my boss.” Stepping out of the office, Spencer narrowly avoided another lawyer walking along the stripes of the carpet. “Hey Emily.”
“Hey. I know it’s one of your days off. I just wanted to see how you’re doing?”
“We’re just going over Oscar’s appeal.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Wow, he really walked into that one.
“I just keep thinking about how he sabotaged himself. I mean, doesn’t he want to get out? Why doesn’t he want to get out and be with me?!” Spencer swallowed back the lump in his throat, “And I know none of the team approve of him.”
“Spencer,” Emily had her parent voice on. An expert voice for someone who didn’t even have kids yet.
But Spencer just carried on in spite of it, “He’s a convicted batterer, not exactly the best option for a boyfriend and especially for an FBI agent, but do any of you know why he did it?”
His agitation was muzzled when Zoe poked her head around the door and Spencer softened his tone to apologise, to assure he would be back inside shortly. He waited until the door closed before he spoke again.
“Emily, Oscar is the only person who knows what I’m going through right now. He’s a good man, I truly believe that, or else he wouldn’t have helped me. And I need him to get out. I can’t stand knowing he’s in there for why he did what he did. Knowing he’s not getting the help he needs.”
It was then that Spencer realised, even as they were interrupted, that Emily had been waiting patiently for him to finish. She was now letting his words sit between the phone lines, likely mulling over what to say next. Spencer really fucking hated waiting.
Thankfully his patience did not need to wear itself thin, this one time:
“I do know why he did it. I had Garcia pull up his file when you went to visit him for the first time. Spencer, I’m glad this man has you on his side. Let me know how the meeting goes.”
“Thanks, Emily.”
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
As Oscar placed himself down opposite Spencer, he flinched in the plastic chair. Spencer fought his own wince at the sight of so much swelling, so many bruises, so many cuts, littering his face.
But he gave the tiniest of smiles in spite of the state of his face, “How did you know, Spencer?”
“Your mom told me. She’s a lovely woman.” Spencer flexed his fingers before linking them again, “I wish I had a proper gift to give you, but I was scared the guards would just confiscate it.”
“The card was more than enough.”
A bright blue card with balloons on it was tucked into Oscar’s pillowcase. Inside were as many notes on what he needed to say for the appeal as Spencer could fit around the “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” already printed into the card.
“I forwarded them and the rest onto your lawyer. She should go through it with you.”
Oscar’s smile tainted by hesitation as it crawled off his face, “I don’t know.”
Spencer could see him withdrawing, hiding in his jumpsuit. But even then, Oscar’s expression wore his melancholy like a veil. It blocked out any semblance of neutrality from when he had first met Spencer. The state his protection was in, he wouldn’t last long at all.
“Before prison, I was really sensitive to touch, germs. But now-” Spencer stopped, his voice so quiet he nearly couldn’t hear himself as he finished, “I can’t wait to touch you again.”
Oscar shivered. His eyes screwed shut as if to protect him from what was being said. But Spencer persisted.
“What would you like to do for your birthday? If you could do anything.”
“Picnic in the park,” said Oscar after some thought, “Uh, a real big Cuban sandwich, with roast pork, Swiss cheese, lettuce, pickles, and ham. And chocolate covered strawberries.”
“What, in the sandwich as well?”
“Yes.” Oscar rolled his eyes, misty and threatening to spill, and Spencer felt a rush of panic. More emotion was only good for him. Oscar, left behind in his cell, this could be disastrous. But he couldn’t get enough of it, and he selfishly persevered.
“When you get out, would you let me hold you?” The buzzer went off, but Spencer spoke over it as he stood, “Please, Oscar, consider this appeal.”
“Ok, Spencer.”
From his place at the table, Spencer watched Oscar try to cover his emotions, but there was still a glimmer of a tear retreating as he joined the queue of prisoners heading back to their cells.
Before he stepped out the prison, Spencer slipped his sunglasses back over his eyes to hide how red they were from the guards.
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
Stood in the shallow shade of Eliza’s range rover, Spencer switched the bouquet of sage flowers from one hand to the other. Dakota had suggested them; she said her brother liked the colour most. Spencer wiped his free hand down his trousers before checking the time. He’d done that four times already. He hoped no one was giving him odd looks from the other side of the fence.
Utter relief was not usually how he would describe hearing that buzzer. But for the first and last time, he did feel a sense of respite knowing he would likely never be coming back here for such a taxing visit.
Then he remembered what that sound actually meant. His back straightened right up; his hand brushed through his hair and checked his breath once more.
Tony led the way out of the prison. He was clearly trying to remain casual but the glee seeping out of his body was just palpable. He had an arm around Dakota, kissing his daughter’s head so vigorously that her half-up hair was messed up. Clearly Dakota didn’t care though. Her hand was behind her and she turned to see the person holding it.
It was Oscar, arm looped with Eliza who clung to him like a crutch. Their eyes matched each other, shining brown like horse chestnuts.
Spencer found that he could no longer look away from Oscar. A breeze rustled through his hair. His face was alive with tear tracks and a grin that ached on his rosy cheeks. An old suit, one clearly meant for court and court alone, slouched on his shoulders. But for that short moment where he breathed fresh air and leaned his head on his mother’s, there was no weight to him.
Then Oscar found Spencer, fidgeting with his tie and his grip slacking on the bouquet, and all the emotion he had repressed for five years in prison custody were exploding into a supernova.
Oscar forgot Eliza’s arm, dashing around his family to run for Spencer. Spencer found himself matching the pace and the destination. His feet carried him quick until he and Oscar collided. A fierce hug crushed them. Oscar’s hand was constantly adjusting its grip on the back of Spencer’s head, and Spencer’s free one fisted at Oscar’s suit jacket, trying to bury themselves in his ribcage. Neither missed Oscar’s shaking, his sobbing. Spencer curled into Oscar, wrestling with his instinct to pull away. Lindsey and Cat, they ruined so much for him already; they couldn’t take Oscar too.
When they heard the footsteps of the Dunnagan family stop nearby, the men drew apart – only about a foot or so. Oscar’s cheeks were wet behind his wide smile and Spencer saw that one of his front two teeth was a little crooked.
Spencer then presented his gift in the small space between them, “For you.”
Oscar gently clasped the bouquet on the white ribbon that wrapped around the stalks, “No one’s got me flowers before.”
Spencer then vowed to buy flowers as often as he could for Oscar, and especially sage. He looked so good with purple.
The ride to Danny’s Food Truck had Oscar sat in the little middle seat, his sister on one side, Spencer on the other, and he held both their hands. His bouquet was cradled in his lap. The wet ends of the stalks dripped twice onto his suit trousers, just before his bouncing knee.
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
Once again, Spencer had lost himself in his work. When he was interrupted just an hour before, Oscar was there. He had waved a hand into Spencer’s peripherals but Spencer still jumped at it. He hated that his skittish behaviour was still prevalent, returning just as Oscar had started appearing in his personal life. In his apartment.
“Sorry, Spencer,” Oscar had said in a gravelly voice, “I just wanted to ask if you were ok with Randy’s for dinner tonight.”
It was two hours before they were due to have dinner.
“Of course, it’s your turn.”
“How’s the work going?”
“It’s good,” and Spencer showed him the notes he’d written so far.
Oscar had taken them into his hands and read over them. Meanwhile Spencer watched his micro expressions. The huff of air through his nose, the corners of his mouth wriggling about as if to smile before flattening themselves out, all seemed positive as Oscar offered the papers back.
“Nice joke!”
“Right, joke…” Spencer accepted his notes back, “Where?”
“There,” Oscar leant over Spencer’s shoulder and tapped the second line of the first paragraph. Spencer noted that he smelt nice. So much better now the Dial soap was out of their care routine.
And it was now that Spencer found himself missing that smell. It was a nice distraction. Burying himself in his work was not a good distraction anymore.
He stood away from his desk and took his mug out to the kitchen sink. Despite trying not to look at the pieces of a vase half-wrapped in newspaper, Oscar’s wailing at the very start of their day together punctured its way into Spencer’s head. One particular thought posited that Spencer should keep one of those jagged pieces – just in case. Just in case of what?
Shaking his head, Spencer went and found the source of his chills: his living room windows were wide open, the curtains lifting gracefully in the breeze. Rain pattered against the world outside, some of its drops reaching the carpet. The smell of the rain was light in the room. It was almost drowned out by the sound.
He found Oscar passed out on the couch, his bare feet poking out from under the throw. His head was resting between his folded arms, one hand under the pillow. His headphones askew and playing “The Flower Garden (Extended Version)” by Joe Hisaishi.
Kneeling next to Oscar, Spencer touched his arm, “Do you want me to order for you?”
Oscar nodded, stretched out, then promptly fell back asleep. He would have trouble later tonight. But Spencer was glad that he finally found some respite. His seemingly endless apologies for breaking the bowl were over.
That was where the good news ended though. Spencer looked closer at Oscar’s hand, now unmasked. A medium piece from the broken vase rested in his loose grip. After some moments deliberating, Spencer eased it out and placed it with the rest of the vase. Then he went to his phone and dialled.
“Hey JJ. I hope it’s not too late, but,” Spencer tapped his nails against the plastic handset, “Would you mind coming over? Oscar is here, but I don’t know if he’s ready to help me through this.”
He smiled at the flowers he’d bought that day standing awkwardly in a jug before hanging up. He and Oscar really should move in together. Or at least he should invest in a sofa bed.
Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the front door, and Oscar was up on his feet. The sofa’s throw clung to him.
“I invited someone over,” Spencer said quickly, “Sorry I should have told you, but I didn’t want to wake you again. Do you want to wait in my room?”
Oscar stayed in place and shook his head, so Spencer went ahead to open his front door.
Two days apart was far too long. JJ embraced Spencer tight, rubbing his back as she rested her chin on his shoulder. She gave the best hugs. Maybe rivalled by Oscar, but Spencer would never tell her that.
“Can I get you anything to drink?”
“A coffee would be great,” JJ shrugged off her jacket
He pivoted in a half circle, “Oscar?”
“No, I’m good, thank you.”
Spencer wasn’t really sure what happened in his absence – besides his stomach turning itself over and over. When he returned with two mugs, the only information he could garner was that Oscar had dropped the throw back onto the sofa that stood between them and JJ had inched a little closer
“Here!”
Oscar twitched at Spencer’s loud entrance, visibly relaxing by the time JJ had her mug of coffee in her hands. He adjusted the throw until it was back to its original position then crept towards the door.
Spencer frowned, ruining the quiet exit as he said, “Where are you going?”
Oscar thumbed in his direction of travel. “Bathroom.”
“Oh,” Spencer felt his cheeks heat up, “Good luck.”
He saw Oscar rolling his eyes but there was a flash of a grin and a tiny wave to JJ before he disappeared from view. Spencer’s stomach steadied itself, busying itself with sloshing his coffee about instead. His grip around his mug adjusted as he turned to JJ.
“He’s not what I was expecting,” JJ said. There was nothing malicious in her tone. In fact, if there was anything, she seemed pleased that Oscar had subverted her anticipations.
Spencer nodded, his mouth turning up a little smile, “That’s what I thought too. Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“It’s ok, anytime.”
They sat together on the sofa, leaving the armchair free just in case Oscar wanted to join them again.
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
Moving in together was supposed to solve everything.
Neither Spencer nor Oscar explicitly said or thought that. But when their triggers persisted and their behaviour shifted dramatically still, they couldn’t help but be a little disappointed.
Spencer had another nightmare last night and woke Oscar up at around half past three. They couldn’t cuddle each other, but their hands would brush and the two men would avoid looking at the matching scars on their thighs – and Oscar’s on his stomach, Spencer’s on his arm.
“Would you have killed Shaw, if I hadn’t done anything?”
“Yes.” “Does that scare you?”
In the dark, he could hear the fear in Oscar’s voice
“No, because I think I would have done the same.”
Carried on as if he hadn’t heard, still scared of himself, “I wouldn’t do something like that now.”
Oscar spent the rest of the night on the couch, so he wouldn’t touch Spencer in his sleep. Words of his therapist spun around his head: “Prison twists and warps people until they’re worse than they were before. We can’t speak now for what we would have done then.”
It was a quiet day as a result of the restless night. Quiet was nice sometimes; it was something new for them to experience together. Spencer and Oscar had breakfast together, washed and dressed, before they went down to the communal laundrette together. Washing and drying clothes was too big a task to do alone, even now, and Oscar needed his shirt to be clean for his job interview in a few days. The nightmare Spencer had faded into the background as he tried to focus on something else.
Without realising, he said aloud to Oscar, “I wanted to kiss you in the laundry room.”
Oscar stopped stretching his damp pyjama shirt out, and it was clear that he had joined Spencer in reminiscing about their job in prison.
“Which time?”
“Every time.”
Spencer watched as Oscar let out a quiet “heh”, a shy smile playing on his lips. But Oscar cut it off quick before either of them could enjoy it, and he reset his expression to blank. The silence that followed swallowed them both whole.
“Oscar,” Spencer moved next to Oscar and, in clear view, touched him on the arm, “It’s ok. You can laugh.”
“I know.”
“You can smile if you want to,”
“I can smile,” Oscar repeated, his words grounding him next to Spencer, his hands flattened atop the dryer as it rumbled into life. His lungs took in a few more breaths to spread a thin layer of calm over him and he looked back at Spencer, “I can also kiss you if I want to, if you want.”
Checking the laundrette door, Spencer’s hand moved from Oscar’s arm to Oscar’s cheek, guiding him home. Their lips met in messy perfection. Short and sweet, with a sigh shared between them, Spencer was pleased to see the smile returned to Oscar by the time they separated. As tense as Oscar felt in his arms, even with the smile soon fading, Spencer could feel the tiniest slack in his shoulders now.
With the most burdensome chore out of the way, the two men returned to the flat. Spencer helped Oscar compose another covering letter to ship off to another job opening before they called Oscar’s family for lunch.
Facetiming was always a trip when they were calling the Dunnagans. Tony had a similar understanding of “technology” as Spencer, so when he answered the call, it was a close up of a nostril or a frowning muted face that greeted Oscar and Spencer on the laptop screen. Eventually Eliza saved them from an eternal farce. She brought them into her kitchen, bringing Dakota and her partner Ellis in on the call when it was time to prep for lunch.
Dakota led the way with a recipe from her restaurant, “If any of you dare share this with anyone, I’ll knock you out.”
Her laugh only sang one note before she slapped her hand over it and looked down at her screen with a face full of guilt. Oscar laughed it off, maybe a little forced, then he swiped at the nearest conversation topic – the world’s hottest pepper.
“Maybe you could stick in in your next recipe. Do a competition where if you eat all the spicy stuff, you get your name on the wall and get half off or something.”
And the call continued for a little longer.
Spencer was just testing out the new spices acquired in their online shop – because according to Dakota there was nothing is worse than being able to actually taste the chicken – when the screen froze. A tiny widget popped up to inform the men that the signal was too poor to continue the call.
Oscar wiggled the mouse, “Oh, God, your connection’s gone again. You mind if I try and find us a better provider?”
“Go for it.”
They clinked their wine glasses together, sipping with questionable responses to it. Oscar dared another sip while Spencer was satisfied with just the one, deciding instead to check on the chicken.
“Spencer?”
“Yeah?”
Oscar placed his wine down. “Are we boyfriends?”
In all their time together, Spencer realised they never once spoke about their relationship status. They just sort of… moved in together, shared a bed, held hands and kissed occasionally – without discussing what was going on.
He said with relative boldness, “I’d like to be.”
“I’d like to be too,” Oscar bit his lip, the smile distorting but still charming as ever. His arms swayed a little. “Can I hug you please?”
With a renewed sense of vigour, Spencer said, “Yes please.”
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
Spencer’s mind needed a rest; perhaps returning to the geographic profile after some time apart would garner a new connection. This case was driving everyone nuts, not just him, and it was only the third day in. he plucked his mug and headed over to the coffee pot for a top-up.
Whilst pouring his third cup of the morning, Spencer took note of his phone’s weight in his trouser pocket. He decided to lessen it, his hand reaching in and dialling for Oscar.
The call clicked after three rings then a boisterous laugh erupted from the speaker.
“Sorry, Spencer! This little one keeps jumping up at me! She barely reaches my knees!” Oscar’s voice was playful. Little claws clicked on a hard floor followed by a tiny yet indignant yip that was echoed by several much deeper barks. Spencer assumed this little one was a ring leader at the dog kennel, the one Oscar was trying to sweet talk.
“That’s ok. You sound like you’re having a good time.”
“It’s brilliant! They let me take four dogs out on a walk at a time!”
The ache in Spencer’s left shoulder from sleeping in an odd position alleviated just a touch. “Yeah?”
“I think I might try to get my licence back, so I can maybe drive them out to the countryside.”
“That’s brilliant news.”
“How’s the case?”
“I’m just taking a break.” Spencer sipped his coffee, burning the back of his throat. As he flinched, he caught sight of Luke’s hand, waving him back over to the conference room. “Sorry, Oscar, I have to get back to the profile.”
“I really like how you say ‘Oscar’.”
“I’m just saying your name.”
“I know,” and Spencer could very clearly hear Oscar’s smile in his voice – even over the constant din from the dogs he was caring for.
“I like how you say my name. See you later?”
“Hopefully. Take care of yourself.”
What a delight to see Oscar, after a rush of evidence flooding in and the pieces slotting together in a now-obvious profile. That evening in fact, Spencer made it back to his apartment at the same time as Oscar. He was carrying a plastic bag to mirror Spencer’s satchel. He didn’t feel like cooking and knew that Spencer wouldn’t be in the mood either; it was a few microwaved meals from the local store in his bag.
They ate dinner in the sitting room on trays - as a treat – and they partook in a very one-sided conversation about Star Trek. Oscar didn’t seem to mind, and honestly Spencer liked the freedom that came with talking here. It was like a hint of who he was before was bleeding through. Every so often though, Oscar would remind him that his food was going to get cold. Spencer would take a moment to eat before the next interesting factoid was inspired from the episode on the TV.
At the start of the next episode, his plate empty, Spencer noticed that Oscar’s gaze was a little restless as he finished his dinner.
“Is something bothering you?” He asked, adjusting his position on the sofa.
Oscar shrugged as he put his cushioned lap tray onto the carpet, “Not bothering me. I’m just curious about something.”
Naturally, Spencer said, “Ask me.” Maybe it was the difference between Vulcans and Romulans again.
“When you stabbed yourself while looking at me, before you got out, was that a substitution for sex?”
Spencer blinked several times. He could feel pinstripes forming on his forehead. He cleared his throat, took a sip of his water, cleared his throat again.
“No, no. I… um.”
Then he stopped because he realised he didn’t quite have an answer yet. His mind was busy straying back to that moment: the flare of pain in his leg and arm, the roaring of inmates around his head, and Oscar - an island of frozen calm amidst the chaos of Spencer’s actions. Eventually, Spencer found a semblance of a reply and he delivered it.
“I was just looking around, and I found you. I think I was looking for comfort.”
Seemingly accepting of this, Oscar’s attention moved back to the TV. His hands occupied themselves with each other. However, Spencer was not quite ready to let the subject go; he’d been thinking about this a lot lately.
“I’m sorry we haven’t…”
Oscar picked up what he was putting down, “Don’t be sorry, Spencer. Don’t ever, ever be sorry for that. I didn’t ask to guilt you. It was in the lesson you taught last week. I listened to it on my break today.”
The image of his Dictaphone on the desk at college - and another of it hanging out of Oscar’s rucksack’s front pocket – recalled itself in Spencer’s head.
“I probably could have asked you a bit nicer,” Oscar altered his position on the couch to bring his knees up to his chest.
“Probably.”
“I’m sorry, Spencer.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“Could you tell me more about the Romulans please?”
As Spencer restarted his speech, albeit with less enthusiasm than before, Oscar brought out his notepad from his backpack. His fingers pinched around the blue crayon as he scrawled Spencer’s facts, putting the differences into a roughly drawn table.
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
Seeing Oscar standing in the bullpen with a visitor’s badge was not what Spencer expected to see today. He certainly didn’t expect to see him sipping tea with Penelope and chatting away at Spencer’s empty desk. Oscar had clearly just arrived, still bundled up in his coat. The flowers Oscar had sent to the office that morning stood gorgeously arranged beside his oft-neglected computer desktop.
“Hi!” Spencer power-walked up to them, almost reaching a jog. Oscar met him halfway, but his pace decreased the closer he got to Spencer. It was the sound of the team drawing through the glass double doors that told Spencer what was going through his head.
He turned to his family, already gesturing behind him where Oscar stood, “Everyone, this is my boyfriend Oscar.”
Waving, Oscar had his other hand stuck deep in his pocket as he spoke, “Penelope gave me the rundown of your names. Nice to meet you.”
The team was rather tired from the case and obviously a little caught off guard by the fact that the felon Spencer had fallen for was just hanging around in their bullpen. But Spencer was relieved when they all greeted Oscar with a fairly warm manner, wished Spencer "happy birthday" again, before they shuffled off to their respective desks and offices. Penelope bid her farewell to Oscar with the promise of a movie night some time in the future. Then she hugged her Boy Wonder and returned to her batcave.
“Sorry,” Oscar said quietly, “I wanted to travel home with you. Kinda forgot that I would be running into your whole team.”
“I don’t mind. In fact, I wanted you to meet them.”
Spencer’s hand stayed in Oscar’s for the entire walk back to Oscar’s new car in the lot. While they parted momentarily en route, they found each other again when Oscar had to pull over during the drive home. The car that had swerved and cut in front of them became two red lights in the far distance, the sound of its engine and screeching tires muted by Oscar’s heavy breathing.
Oscar released the steering wheel and clung to Spencer’s hand, but Spencer could feel that Oscar was holding back, trying not to crush his fingers. He rubbed over Oscar’s knuckles.
“In, two, three, four,” Spencer counted, “Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”
He repeated this five times and Oscar leant back in his seat.
“I was doing so well,” He said, his voice cracking in its quietness.
“You still are. We both are.” Spencer kissed the back of Oscar’s hand, “Come on, I’ll drive us the rest of the way.”
Two blocks later and they were about to enter their apartment.
Oscar stopped them though, just before Spencer’s key met the lock, “Could you wait out here? Just for a minute, please?”
Spencer complied, a countdown in his head clicking off the seconds as soon as his front door was closed to him. A smile crept onto his face as he heard Oscar clattering about the apartment. He wasn’t exactly being subtle; Spencer wouldn’t have it any other way.
Once Spencer was finally allowed in, he was greeted by a low-lit scene. Oscar was holding a match to the last candle at the table. He’d taken off his long coat to revealing a freshly ironed floral pattern. The stereo speakers were already humming Mozart. The crumpled takeaway paper bag by the pedal bin didn’t go unnoticed, but Spencer decided to focus instead on how the food was arranged on the plates - either side of a delightful floral arrangement.
“Oh Oscar, you already got me so much this morning,” Spencer said sheepishly, with the knowledge that he had avoided looking up the prices of his gifts so he could calculate just how much of Oscar’s third paycheque went into his birthday.
“I know, but I wanted your birthday to be perfect,” Oscar opened up one of the tubs, a wave of steam lifting gently with the lid, “It’s from the new Thai place down the road.”
Spencer hung up his satchel on his its hook, “I suppose I have been wanting to try their green curry for a while now.”
Once he had changed into something more comfortable (plus a hint of smartness), Spencer sat down with Oscar for dinner. Both men found that he was not immune to the romanticism of a candlelit dinner with his boyfriend, and Spencer more so. The effort behind it, the aroma of the lavender candle with the spiced food, the glow around his Oscar’s face as he went over the day behind them, it was all getting to him.
Of course, Oscar offered to clean up once they were done eating and talking – for now at least. Spencer still helped though. Any time with Oscar was time well spent. Even loading the dishwasher. Except now Oscar was staring at Spencer’s face, gaze fidgeting between his eyes and his mouth, and Spencer was worrying about it.
Christ, what was he meant to do to let Oscar know he wanted to kiss him without saying so? Pout?
“Are you ok?” Oscar’s brow creased.
Fuck.
“Yes,” Spencer said, quickly removing the pout from his lips, “I’m good.”
“Good.” Oscar swung their linked hands between them thrice. Then he let go of one to thumb across the corner of Spencer’s jaw and he closed the gap between them. Spencer felt Oscar’s recently applied lip balm on his chapped lips, those stupid lips that Spencer spent too much time thinking about. They felt so much better against Spencer’s and smiling with reckless abandon. So reckless, in fact, that the smile grew into a laugh, buzzing against Spencer and tickling him more than his facial hair.
Oscar pulled away, still giggling and apologising, “Sorry, sorry, I’m not laughing at you.”
“I know you’re not. You’d never laugh at me.”
---> ---> ---> ---> --->
A chorus of “hello!” harmonised in the doorway as the Dunnagans’ entered Spencer and Oscar’s apartment. Laden with gifts and food offerings, Tony, Eliza, and Dakota kissed and hugged their way into the sitting room.
Oscar and Dakota were the ones in charge, everyone else on some kind of prep duty while they ordered them about in the politest manner. Spencer was trying to be a good prep boy but Eliza was just better and faster, so he stuck to cleaning as they went. Oscar kissed his cheek while passing by; Tony had hung up a sprig of mistletoe just over their heads. Ducking away to avoid kissing his potential father-in-law, Spencer chased the sound of his phone ringing. He even ducked under it as if lowering his torso would avoid the mistletoe above him.
All five swayed ever so slightly out of sync as they bellowed the classics and groaned over the pop renditions. Spencer’s new watch hugged his wrist and ticked away each pleasant second.
“No, don’t hide your hair!” Eliza ripped off the Santa hat Spencer’s head and pulled up flattened tufts of his hair until it resumed its usual messy state.
“There! Never get a haircut, you’re too handsome for that.” She patted his cheek before taking another swig of her red wine – the same shade as her Christmas jumper and Spencer’s cheeks. Spencer looked to Oscar, not to protest but to see if he had Oscar witnessed this.
Oscar merely shrugged, “I mean she’s not wrong.” He finished off peeling the sprouts, handing them over to Tony for chopping, “I have to admit, it was one of the things that drew me to you when we met.”
“Really?”
Another nod in response, Oscar drew nearer, closing the conversation to everyone but Spencer, “You and your Bambi eyes and your hair and your perfect mouth.”
Spencer suddenly found himself unable to look directly at Oscar, as if he were the sun. An outsider looking in might infer that it was the gaudy red of his horrendous Christmas jumper that made his cheeks seem so pink. They would be wrong.
Spencer burst out, “It was Rossi on the phone. He wants to know if you’re still coming tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’m not backing out. If I start to, I need you behind me and pushing me through the door.” Oscar’s shoulders twitched with his laugh.
“I don’t know, feels like you could toss me over your shoulder if you wanted.”
“I could. Technically.”
Spencer’s cheeks went scarlet at the thought of Oscar carrying him down Rossi’s driveway in such a way. But before he could ask Oscar to slow the flow of compliments, Dakota called to them across the room: “Aw, Oscar, you’ve got your own stocking?”
“Yeah, Spencer bought it for me, early gift!” It hung proudly on the bookshelf beside Spencer’s.
The table had already been set for the family. Dakota brought her own crackers, informing them that the snap had been removed. Terrible paper crown and horrendous jokes were passed around the five people before they dished up their Christmas dinner. Comically small in his hands, Oscar cradled the box of the primary coloured crayons in his palm and frisbeed the ruler with the shapes cut out over to Eliza.
The pigs in blankets were a little burnt, the nut roast barely touched, and there was so much left over that they would be eating ham and turkey sandwiches for days to come.
Spencer was so full of food and joy that it would be impossible to be carried on his boyfriend���s shoulder. He settled instead for being held in Oscar’s lap as they squished into the armchair, the rest of the family on the couch to watch the garbage Christmas specials. Dozing on his shoulder with a close-lipped smile, Oscar looked content. His yellow paper crown was crushed near the front, slipping down his left temple.
Oh, Spencer was grateful for his dedicated memory. He could match and topple all those memories of them in prison with times like these forever – and he planned on doing just that.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x oc#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds x oc#my writing#r: male#wc: 10k+
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Idk if anyone has asked you this but I was watching josh’s live yesterday and all the faces he makes when he sings are adorable anyways I was wondering if you could write something where he doesn’t like the faces that he makes and he gets self conscious about them but you reassure him that they are cute and that you adore the faces he makes.
livestream ☆ joshua bassett
joshua finally lets y/n stay with him while he does a livestream, but she tends to distract him without her even knowing it
warnings: fluff, shorter than what i usually write
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
“Please, Josh, I promise I won’t do anything bad.”
“No, because I’m going to be in the middle of talking to my fans or singing a song and then you’re going to do something that catches my attention and suddenly I have to explain to everyone who I’m looking at, again.” Josh argued.
You pouted, slouching on his soft bed. You reached for Franklin, his teddy bear, and cuddled it close to you as you plopped back on the bed. You sighed loudly, making sure to let him know your despair.
Josh watched you overreact on the blankets he left messy on the mattress. He was sat at the same chair in front of his desk that he always sat at when he does live videos. He thought you looked adorable at how you begged to be with him.
He remembered the first time he allowed you to stay with him during a live video. You were on his bed and admiring him from far away as he sung. Every time he sang a song or engaged with his fans, you could tell how happy he was. After he sang a Bruno Mars song, you felt giddy inside, so you silently clapped your hands together as to not make a sound. Josh noticed you and blushed while he stared at you. This erupted thousands of comments on both his live and his Instagram posts about who he was with and if he had a girlfriend. Of course, he didn’t get mad at you, but it was hard to convince everyone that it wasn’t you and only a friend, since you were often questioned on social media if you were Josh’s “mystery girl.” It’s also why you were not allowed to be with him anymore during his livestreams, just to be sure he wouldn’t have to do any other clarifying.
As for your relationship with each other, it was somewhat complicated. You both knew you have some sort of feelings for each other. You went on a couple of dates, a lot of them staying over at one’s house and watching movies. Neither of you had made anything official, your guess was that he wanted to take things slow. However, it didn’t dawn upon you how slow he liked to be.
You sat up and gently placed Franklin on his pillow before you stood up and walked over to Josh. He raised his eyebrows at you, wondering what you were about to do. You motioned for him to move his hands from his lap so you could sit. Once he held his hands up, you sat down on his lap and held your arms around his neck while he held you at your waist.
“Please?” You begged one last time, taking off the hat he wore under his hoodie and throwing it on the wooden surface next to him.
Finally, Josh groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can stay in my room, but no distractions.”
You smiled widely, tightening your arms around him for a hug. You heard a small laugh escape his lips as you stuffed your face into his neck. You pulled away and took a glimpse at his red lips, noticing how much softer they looked today. The room was silent, as if everything stopped. You gazed at each other for what seemed like years, just you two. All you could think of was how nice it would be to have your lips on his, holding onto his body tightly.
As if he read your mind, Josh slowly leaned up, hesitantly reaching for your lips. You both tried inching closer, but it was clear how nervous you were. Your lips were still somewhat far, but it didn’t stop the anxiousness you felt the more the space between you closed. You had never kissed anyone yet, so the feeling you felt as his breath fanned over your lips sent shivers down your spine.
The alarm on Josh’s phone went off, making you both jump slightly. You tapped the screen to check the time, seeing it was only five minutes before he said he would go live.
You turned back to him and patted his chest. “You should get ready.”
Josh sat there, silently frustrated at himself for not making the move. You stood up and threw yourself on his bed, reflecting on the past two minutes that you could have changed.
➢➣ ➢➣
Halfway through Josh’s livestream, you stopped paying attention to him. You loved listening to him and sing, you could listen to him forever, but the memory of your possible first kiss engulfed your brain every time you even heard his voice.
Now you were lying down on your back, holding your phone up high above your head with your headphones plugged into your ears as you blocked out Josh’s voice as best as you could. Usually his livestreams don’t last too long, but it felt like it’s been an hour already.
Clearly you were lost into thought, too busy scrolling through Twitter, that you didn’t even notice when the mattress sank down by your legs. Josh crawled over the bed, resting his hands on either side of your head and his knees between yours. Soon your screen was covered when a curly-haired boy shoved his head between your arms, forcing you to wrap your hands around his head. His face expressed worry the more you stared at him without talking.
“You’re less talkative than you usually are, what happened?” Josh wondered.
You shrugged, not letting out a single noise. He huffed, lightly blowing some of the curls away from his head, and plopped himself down next to you on his bed. You let him rest his head on your arm once he went to cuddle your torso, leaving your other hand to mess with your own hair. Instantly, the warmth of his body clutching yours overcame the uneasy feelings you had earlier.
“What were you looking at?”
Josh took your phone from the other side of your hip and tapped in the passcode, the day of your first date. The Twitter app opened, showing your timeline of tweets from the people you followed.
“Some of your fans are already posting screenshots from your live.” You murmured as you see the first screen recording of Josh.
A silent groan escaped his lips the more he watched the clip. He sang “Say You Won’t Let Go” by James Arthur, one of your favorite songs. You giggled as you watch him struggle hitting the lower notes, scrunching up his nose and his repeated use of the word “yikes.”
Josh had enough of watching that clip and exited the app. He went to the Instagram app and typed in his username, then going to his tags. Numerous screen recordings and photos of his livestream were being posted by the minute. Curious, he tapped the most recent one of him singing yet another song.
You stopped paying attention to the video, now only watching his face in disgust as he watched himself. You pouted, using your free hand to remove your phone away from his grasp and pushed aside some of the hair still framing his forehead.
“What ails you, dear?” You ask, holding back a laugh from your choice of words.
He raised an eyebrow at you, grinning for a second before sighing. “I make the stupidest faces when I sing.”
You pushed yourself up, using your arm to hold you up. Josh still lying down, he covered his face with his hands.
“Why do you think that?”
“Look at me!” He reached for your phone and quickly finding a clip to show you. “Why do I look like that?”
“I think it’s cute.” You argue, pushing his hands off his head.
Josh grumbled, almost ripping out the locks of his hair. “But I feel like I look like an idiot. I’m always making those dumb faces, like I can’t even sing normally. I hate seeing myself sing because then I just get self-conscious.”
“Joshua, you’re being so overdramatic. You look perfectly fine. If anything, your fans love the cute little movements you make.” You reassure.
He studied your face for any hints of deceit. You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks the more he watched you.
Josh finally sat up, your faces now inches apart. The tingling feeling you felt in your stomach a while ago came back. His fingers crept onto your cheek, pushing aside some of the hair by your eyebrow.
“You shouldn’t have to feel insecure about how you look, Josh. You’re literally the cutest guy in the world.”
Your whisper set off a sudden new confidence in him, something that he had been trying to discover since your first date.
“I am?” He wondered with little bits of disbelief from your comment.
The tips of your noses touched, and you hitched your breath. This has been the closest you two have ever gotten. You were not going to chicken out of this one, not again, at least.
You pushed your lips onto his, leaving a short peck on his lips. The new feeling of someone kissing someone set fire to your body. Once you pulled away, your eyes grew wide at Josh’s surprised expression. His mouth was slightly agape, eyes still wide open.
The corners of his lips curved upwards, forming his familiar smile. “Why’d you pull back?”
That phrase barely left you enough time to think about what just happened, as Josh crashed his lips back to yours. Your eyes widened at his sudden move, but you soon relaxed as the feeling of his lips on yours became more important than anything.
You reached up behind his head and clutched his hair, making Josh let out a soft moan. His hands snaked your waist as he pushed you back down on the bed, hovering over you again.
It wasn’t the most experienced kiss at first, but you quickly found your way. Nothing between you two has ever felt more passionate. Your lips moved slowly, still captivated by the thought of you being with each other.
Josh pulled away, lingering one last kiss on your swollen lips. Your eyes blissfully fluttered open, soon looking up at his red, smiling face.
“If I knew that talking about my insecurities meant you would finally kiss me, I would have done it much sooner.” He joked, reaching down to capture your lips on his once more.
A/N - sorry this is short and late i was finishing up with some online school work but now im on spring break so hopefully i can get another post this saturday !! also another sorry for the person who requested this , i was trying to finish my other drafts before i started requests , i hope u like it (: next post is the second part to twenty-dollar baby so be on the lookout <3 love y’all xx
#ricky bowen imagine#ricky bowen x reader#ricky bowen#ricky bowen blurbs#ricky bowen fluff#ricky bowen angst#ricky bowen oneshot#joshua bassett x reader#joshua bassett imagine#joshua bassett#joshua bassett oneshot#joshua bassett blurbs#joshua bassett fluff#joshua bassett angst#hsmtmts#hsmtmts imagine
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Rise of the Renegades (Chapter 3)
Summary: Heroes come from the most unexpected places. Heroes sometimes feel a little too different, a little too scared, a little too alone. But heroes also know when enough is enough, and that before saving the world, they need to save themselves. And they cannot do it alone.
They were going to be the hope of the world. They were going to call themselves the Renegades. Even if they didn’t know it yet.
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26246812/chapters/64645693
Enough of the gays, let’s see what the girls had been up to (? ah, and Evander lol. Uh... this is the first time I don’t have anything to say. Likes and reblogs are appreciated as always, I love y’all, and idk i send you, person reading this, good mexican vibes (?
Tag list: @nodrianbcyes @healing-winston-pratt @lethughandsimonkiss @cerenoya @cindersnightmare @itsalittlebitchilly @ohmyskies
A golden medallion, a golden cage
Please picture me in the weeds before I learned civility.
I used to scream ferociously any time I wanted.
Sweet tea in the summer,
cross my heart, won’t tell no other.
Tamaya
When she first arrived at that abandoned store, she thought it would take years for it to feel like home. There were many empty boxes, rats, dust, and rusty pipes. Also, Tamaya had never cleaned in her life. The prospect of having to deal with this mess on her own was not the least bit appealing to her.
However, the idea of going home was even less so.
The first night was uncomfortable. She couldn't sleep at all. Luckily, she had brought a flashlight with her and started to cover all the windows with loose wood and old cardboard. Then, with some chains and furniture, she blocked the entrances. She looked up at the ceiling and realized there was a light catcher.
Tamaya smiled. She wasn’t gonna block it.
She had overestimated how long it would take to clean the whole place. It turns out that when there was nothing else to do, one can work remarkably fast, even without help. Rats were the least of her problems. She wasn't disgusted when she grabbed them, stuffed them into a box, and released them a few blocks further at night. Georgia was so shocked by it that the first thing she did the next day was giving her an antibacterial gel. A luxury item in those times.
Tamaya preferred when Georgia brought her food. She didn’t like that much the fact she was living off the garbage from the place next door.
On the eighth night, she looked at her reflection in the dirty mirror at the back of the room. The candlelight was the only thing that illuminated her. Molly was sitting on her lap. She noticed that her once flawless green dress had tiny spots of an unknown substance.
But Tamaya looked even worse. Clothes had never mattered much to her and her wings were fine. What worried her the most was her hair. It had always been long. She had tried to convince her parents for years to let her cut it off, but they never let her. Why? Her hair was the prettiest thing she had.
It was at that moment, that Tamaya realized that she no longer needed to look pretty to anyone. Beauty was overrated.
She took a pair of scissors and cut her hair.
Her head and soul felt lighter.
The sun hadn't quite risen yet when Georgia entered through the light trap. For a few seconds, Tamaya could see the firmament was as pink as only sunrises could be. Under her arm, Georgia carried a cloth bag.
Tamaya rubbed her eyes wearily. She had been waiting for her sitting on an old chair for a long time.
“Honey, I’m home!” Georgia exclaimed gracefully coming down.
She always made the same joke. And Tamaya always had to pretend she didn’t find it funny.
“Oh, but I haven’t prepared breakfast yet,” she muttered.
Georgia looked at Molly and tossed the cloth bag at her. “Molly, catch it!”
Obviously, Molly didn't catch it. Georgia pretended to smash a cup of glass against the wall and raised herself a few feet off the ground to appear taller than Tamaya. “Tamaya, I want more children. Molly is too lazy and ugly.”
Tamaya put her hand to her mouth and faked a sob. “How can you say that in front of your daughter, Georgia?—” She waved at Molly. “—In front of your daughter!”
Then her friend grunted and lunged at Tamaya, knocking them down onto the mattress. “No! She is not a worthy heir to my wealth!” she exclaimed, sitting on her lap. “Her head is made of plastic! And she’s white! Tamaya, I'm not white! Who is the father?!”
“Of course she's your daughter!” Tamaya replied “You know how I know she’s yours? Because she’s a little piece of shit too!”
Georgia's jaw dropped. She closed her eyes, sighed, and with a dreamy smile, whispered, “A little piece of shit… That's my daughter,” and kissed her on the cheek.
Tamaya had never received kisses in her life. If her parents ever did, she had been too young to remember. But she liked it when Georgia did it because it was like...
Well, as if a sister did it. Or a mom. Or a real friend.
“That was the magic kiss that makes babies, by the—” Suddenly, Georgia dropped to the ground holding her belly. “Oh no, the baby is coming! The baby is coming! “ and, amid false screams worthy of a woman in labor, she took out of her jacket pocket a blue cardboard box with pink details. “Oh… Oh, Tamaya, dear,” she muttered, standing up. “She's beautiful,” and she put it in her arms.
Tamaya looked at it. They were tampons.
She didn't know where she was getting the strength not to laugh.
“Tampons Rae,” she whispered, stroking what would be the cheek of the box.
“Molly will be so jealous…”
“Molly will love her new sister. I'm sure.”
Georgia finally laughed and lay down next to Tamaya. It amazed her that lying on such a small, old mattress didn't bother her. She had never been to her room, but in her head, Tamaya had the image of her friend lying on a bed that could easily fit six people, wearing pajamas worthy of a princess and with the room smelling like vanilla and strawberries. Nothing to do with where they were now.
She looked at the box of tampons more closely. It felt a little lighter than expected, so she assumed Georgia had kept a few for her personal use, which honestly didn’t bother her. Then, she took out what was inside the bag. A bar of soap, a bottle of apple soda, and two bags of walnuts about to expire.
There were fewer supplies than last time.
She arranged them in a loose drawer next to the mattress. There was still an energy bar left that Georgia had brought her a couple of days ago. She took it and handed it to her.
“No, you eat, Tamaya,” Georgia said with a smile. “I have plenty at my house.”
“Okey,” she replied with a shrug. Tamaya took a small bite. It tasted weird. “Has your mom got a job yet?”
“No,” she muttered. “But she is already an older woman. Maybe that's why nobody wants to hire her. And it's not like many people have money to pay one more employee anyways. Also, she may have been an excellent lawyer at the time, but I'm not so sure if she's a good housekeeper or waitress.”
Tamaya nodded. She shouldn't have asked.
“I'm thinking about looking for a job too—”
“She won't let you.”
“So what?” Georgia said challengingly. “That thing about staying at home, reading and embroidering, doesn't suit me.” She crossed her arms. “I'm nineteen years old, I think it's time for me to start making my own decisions.”
Decisions. What a strange word.
Because that implied that she had options.
And Tamaya had already gotten used to not having them.
The good thing is that she was fully aware of it.
Georgia bit her lower lip and stood up. “I guess I should go. You know… to keep looking for a job.”
“Yes,” Tamaya said. "I guess you should.”
Her friend took the cloth bag. Tamaya walked with her until they were just below the light catcher. She should go out in the sun for a bit before people started to go outside.
“I'll come back tomorrow,” Georgia assured her, taking her hand. “I promise.”
She had promised that before and she had not always kept her word. However, Tamaya had already learned that promises were very easy to break and she didn't take it personally.
“I’ll wait for you.”
And she left.
And Tamaya was left alone. Again.
She waited a couple of minutes before sticking her head out of the light trap. She looked up at the morning sky, cold and clear, with the smell of garbage and pollution that characterized it at all hours. There was still no one on the streets, but the lady from the Chinese food place next door was taking out the trash from the day before, like every morning.
Breakfast.
Unlike Tamaya, she never looked up at the sky.
Nobody did. If they did, they would be aware of her presence. But people were too into their own thing that they didn't even bother to see something beyond their noses. Just thinking of themselves and their wishes. Of course, now that there was no longer someone to punish those who disrespected the thin line there was between good and evil, they had taken the opportunity to bring out the most primitive and selfish part of their beings.
Tamaya had spent a lot of her time thinking about it, and she still didn't understand the reason behind it.
Maybe it was that Tamaya would never understand the world of normal people.
Yes. That was probably it.
She waited for the woman to return inside to completely leave her lair. Tamaya was ready to go down to look for her food when a small and slim figure came out from behind some wooden boxes and ran towards the garbage bags.
She was going to take her breakfast.
Tamaya wasn't going to make it so easy for her.
That was what happened when people did not look up to the sky.
Kasumi
She wasn't looking in the trash for food, no. Kasumi was collecting the ingredients for the royal breakfast, which would take place in the most beautiful Chinese garden in the kingdom. It would be held that morning. They would be sitting by the river's edge, on a soft white blanket. She and Evander were going to eat like the monarchs that they were. There would be hard-boiled eggs, fresh plums, strawberries and cream, pancakes, waffles covered with jam, and cookie milkshakes. They would be able to eat whatever they wanted without getting sick to their stomachs. And if they did, they would only have to sing a song to the waters of the river and it would become the sweetest and most effective stomach ache remedy of all.
It was going to be the best feast there could have been.
But first, she had to find the ingredients.
She held her breath as she rummaged through the remains of rotten vegetables and sticky noodles. Think, think, think.
Kasumi was holding her breath because... the ingredients came from a magical bush. They had flowers that gave off a foul odor to scare off intruders. However, when they realized that Kasumi was pure of heart, they would reveal their true scent of grapes and rays of the sun.
Then, among all that mess, she found a box of white foam. She carefully removed a few pieces of grated carrot and tore it open with trembling hands.
Fried rice. A delicious plate of fried rice. And it actually looked edible.
She hugged the box with a lump in her throat. Oh, Evander was going to love this—
“That's mine.”
Kasumi froze.
It was the coldest and most terrifying voice she had ever heard. Hoarse and stern, it rumbled in her head like thunder in a storm.
A tear rolled down her cheek. God, Evander was so hungry. She was so hungry...
“Give it to me. Now.”
Kasumi rubbed her eyes and turned around. She put the foam box on the floor. and was about to look up, when the voice commanded, “Don't look at me.”
She obeyed. The mysterious voice took the box.
“I didn't mean to steal your food,” she muttered. “Sorry.”
A feather fell in front of her. Kasumi was slightly startled. Her head completely forgot what the voice had commanded, and she shone her flashlight.
It was a woman. She had shoulder-length hair and an aquiline nose. That, along with her amber eyes and huge black wings, Kasumi was sure she was seeing a bird. A lady.
A Ladybird.
Ladybird, are you the one who protects the magic bushes?
Ladybird did not like the light on her face. She hissed and slapped the flashlight from Kasumi’s hand. “I told you not to look at me!” she yelled.
At that moment, a flash caught Kasumi's attention. A flash of gold that came from a broken medallion hanging from Ladybird's neck.
She reached into the back pocket of her pants and felt between her fingers the half of that same locket that belonged to her.
Kasumi was wrong. Ladybird did not protect the magic bushes. Ladybird was a thief. Not only had she taken her and Evander's food, but she had also taken Mr. Holbrook's locket.
How delusional of her to believe that there were still people who protected something other than themselves.
Ladybird spread her wings, ready to take off when Kasumi lunged at her and tried to yank the locket from her. She pulled and pulled but the old chain wouldn't give up and Ladybird wouldn't stop yelling, “What the hell?! Let go of me!”
She took her by her long braid and threw her to the ground. However, the adrenaline rush allowed her to jump up and grab onto Ladybird's ankle. “That is not yours!” cried Kasumi. “Thief!”
“IT'S MY FOOD, BITCH!”
“IT'S NOT YOUR MEDALLION!”
The door to the store opened. Kasumi became so flustered that she accidentally let go of Ladybird's ankle and fell backward against the concrete. The lady started yelling rude words at her in an accent Kasumi could barely understand. She got to her feet, dodged the lady's broom, and ran as fast as her legs would allow her.
Regardless, Kasumi wished that Ladybird had escaped in time before the lady saw her. Something told her that she was not going to be nicer to her than she was to Kasumi.
She carefully pushed the rusty trash can. That, and the piece of wood that they put over that hole in the wall, made it impossible for someone unfamiliar with the area to know there was a secret entrance. Kasumi wondered how they would enter when they grew up. She herself sometimes had a little difficulty entering. But surely it was just her imagination. Besides, it wasn't like that wall was especially difficult to pull down.
From the looks of it, that place used to be an apartment complex. All the main entrances had been blocked with rubble and there was not a single window that was not broken. Kasumi and Evander had settled on the third floor. It was a dangerous thing to walk those increasingly unstable stairs, but it would be more dangerous for someone to remove the rubble, enter and see them. On the third floor, they would at least have a little time to escape.
Luckily, it hadn't been necessary yet.
She entered her small apartment and found Evander coloring the wall with pieces of chalk they had found in the park. When he saw her, his dirty freckled face lit up as much as the fireworks that came from his hands. “Kasumi!” he screeched. “Did you bring breakfast? Tell me you brought breakfast!”
Heartbroken, Kasumi swallowed the lump in her throat and clasped her hands behind her back. “Today I brought our favorite food, Vandy…”
Evander smiled even more. Kasumi opened an imaginary box and whispered, “Stardust cookies.”
Her friend's smile twisted a little in an almost imperceptible way. “Stardust cookies!" he exclaimed, taking one. Kasumi moistened her hands with her powers and wiped his face. Now, Evander didn’t look that dirty anymore. “Let me guess, these were cooked by—” he scratched his chin thoughtfully “—Your Mr. Dad!”
“No, it was your Mr. Dad,” Kasumi replied. They sat right in front of the window to eat their stardust cookies. There was still a star left in the sky. Perfect . “Hello Mr. Wade, thanks for the cookies. Evander, don't be rude. Thank to your Mr. Dad.”
Evander put his pieces of chalk in his pockets. He kept a pink one and gave Kasumi the blue one. “Thanks, Dad!” and proceeded to color a flower in the window frame.
Kasumi took a stardust cookie and chewed it. She always imagined stardust cookies as if they were vanilla cookies with pieces of almonds and white chocolates, so soft they left puffs all over the place.
Hopefully one day she could taste some real stardust cookies.
She decided to draw fishes.
“Don’t you think that today's cookies were a bit burnt?” Evander whispered.
“No, they were delicious,” she replied. “Your Mr. Dad showed off. Who do you think cooks better, your Mr. Dad or my Dad?”
“Mom Bertha.”
Kasumi giggled underneath. “You’re right, Vandy.”
They kept coloring.
They had always drawn on the walls. Their drawings, pretty cans, curious rocks, and bunches of sticks that hung from the corded rafters were the only decorations they had. However, lately, they had chosen to draw on the window frame during the early hours of the day.
Maybe it was because there was something romantic about drawing in the light of dawn. Or maybe it was because she liked to think that their parents could see what they were drawing from the stars.
Or both.
“I don't know if I can bear the same breakfast tomorrow,” Evander murmured. “We've been eating stardust cookies for almost two days.”
Don't cry, Kasumi, don't cry.
“And what do you want to eat then?” she asked. “What a pretty flower, by the way.”
Evander shook his head. “No, tell me what you want. And I'll get it myself today.”
Kasumi pursed her lips and scratched her head, pretending to seriously consider her answer. “I would like…” she muttered. “Oh, I know, a giant chocolate cake.”
“No, Kasumi, something easy!” Evander squealed, nudging her slightly. “A giant chocolate cake will crush me!” He threw himself to the ground and pretended to be crushed by a huge chocolate cake. “I'll be like this, dead…”
“How awful!” she exclaimed. “So… maybe a small chocolate cake?”
“Now that sounds a lot more reasonable,” he replied, sitting down again. “At least that one isn't going to crush me.”
“I don't feel comfortable speaking ill about your Mr. Dad’s food in front of him,” Kasumi said. “He's going to say I'm a bad influence and he won't let me hang out with you.”
“Dad, Kasumi is not a bad influence!” Evander yelled to the sky, “I swear!”
Mr. Wade looked at her from above, annoyed.
Kasumi didn't feel bad. She deserved it.
“Look at my flower,” Evander said, pulling her out of her thoughts. He pointed to a pink flower with triangular petals and huge circular leaves. “I just created it, it is a new species. Do you know how I'm going to name it?”
She ran her fingers over the drawing. If she concentrated enough, she could imagine that she was touching those velvety petals and not the hard concrete. “How?”
“Kasumi. Like you.”
Kasumi sighed.
Mrs. Moon, how do I explain that I am not worthy of having such a beautiful flower named in my honor?
Probably Mrs. Moon was upset with her too because she flatly refused to answer her question. She was also hungry. She was also mad at Kasumi for not trying a little more.
“Are you telling me that because you want me to give you the last stardust cookie?” she asked.
“Will you?”
Kasumi rolled her eyes in fake annoyance and handed him the last cookie. Evander almost snatched it from her hands. He went back to his drawing as he chewed it happily, moving to the beat of a song inside his head.
Imaginary music. Imaginary food.
Was he imaginary?
Am I imaginary?
She toyed with his red locks and realized she left traces of blue chalk in his hair. “Oh, sorry,” she mumbled.
Evander turned to see her, confused. “Why?”
Kasumi wanted to answer that she was sorry she had messed his hair.
But actually, she was sorry for everything.
#renegades#archenemies#supernova#renegades trilogy#fic#ao3#OG renegades#tamaya rae#georgia rawles#kasumi hasegawa#evander wade#rise of the renegades#yes tamaya called a thirteen year old a bitch#she has no regrets#and honestly#neither do i
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hi aly !! only do this if u want to but ive been having a rough day and i want a small lil fluffy thing abt jawn to read :'( u dont have to though !! love u
idk how fluffy this is, but its sweet and i hope you like it!!
---
Jawn stopped sniffling as soon as he heard Awsten’s sheets crinkle. He stilled completely, hoping that Awsten was just getting up to go to the bathroom, but Awsten’s footsteps came right up to the edge of Jawn’s bed.
“Here,” Awsten whispered.
Jawn kept pretending to be asleep.
“Dude. I know you’re up. Don’t make me tuck him in with you,” Awsten sighed.
Jawn wiped at his cheeks and then glanced over his shoulder; Awsten was holding his stupid stuffed frog out. Hesitantly, Jawn took it. It was still warm from Awsten’s body heat.
“He’s good if you need to hug something,” Awsten mumbled, and then he turned and walked away.
It was too dark to see the frog clearly, but Jawn used one of his fingertips to draw a line over where the animal’s little, embroidered smile was. “Obrigado,” Jawn murmured without thinking.
“That means ‘thank you,’ right?” Awsten asked. He dropped back onto his mattress and slipped under the covers.
“Yeah.”
“How do you say ‘you’re welcome’?”
“We don’t say that, really. We say... it’s kind of like how in English, you’d say, ‘it’s nothing.’ De nada.”
“Of nothing,” Awsten translated.
“Yeah.”
“That’s the same as Spanish.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, de nada, then.”
Experimentally, Jawn gave the dumb frog a squeeze. If Awsten saw, he didn’t comment. Jawn wiped at his cheeks again and gave the frog another hug.
“Are you okay?” Awsten asked quietly. “I can get Lucas if you want. I don’t mind.”
“I’m fine.”
There was an awkward pause.
“Okay,” Awsten said right as Jawn confessed, “I just miss my mom kinda bad.”
Awsten laid down and pulled the covers up to his chin. “I miss my mom kinda bad, too.”
Jawn’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”
“Yeah, dude,” Awsten said with a sad laugh. “Every damn day.”
“I always feel stupid.”
“Nah, you’re not stupid for missing your mom. I know you love her a lot.”
“Tell me about yours,” Jawn prompted.
“You’ve met her.”
“No, I’ve never even seen her up close.”
“She’s come here, like, three times!”
“Yeah, well...” Jawn adjusted the stuffed animal in his arms.
“Okay, um. She’s great. Her hands are always cool but not cold, so when she brushes your hair back, it feels really good.”
Jawn had to comment, “My mom’s hands are really warm.”
“And she wears this perfume that comes in this pretty bottle. I don’t know what it’s called, but she’s worn it since before I even met her. So whenever I smell it, it reminds me of her. It smells really good. I don’t like perfume, but I like hers.”
Jawn smiled a little. “Does her hair always look like that?”
It was Awsten’s turn to smile. “Yeah. She sleeps in curlers most of the time. And she likes to cook, and she gives really good hugs... I don’t know.” He was quiet for a bit. “She has all these high heels and dresses and necklaces and skirts, and when me and Otto were really little, we used to try them on. Mostly just the shoes and the necklaces.”
Jawn chuckled. “That’s gay.”
“Oh, tell me you never tried on your mom’s high heels.”
“I don’t remember, but I guess I probably did.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“She has two pairs,” Jawn murmured. “They’re both black, but they look really different.”
“She’s pretty,” Awsten supplied. “Your art is like looking at a picture, so I know.”
Jawn smiled at the compliment about his drawings. “Your mom’s pretty, too.”
“Thanks,” Awsten replied. He adjusted in his bed.
“Hey...” Jawn began slowly, “I wanted to say sorry. For - for when I said she wasn’t your real mom.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. So... I’m sorry.”
Awsten hesitated. “Thanks.”
“Yeah. Thanks for Oliver.”
“Just for tonight,” came Awsten’s sharp response.
“Yeah, I know.”
They were quiet for a long time. Eventually, Awsten curled up on his side and relaxed into his pillow. Jawn kept hugging Oliver and thinking about Mamãe and staring at the ceiling.
“You know,” Jawn finally said, “sometimes I think we could actually be friends.”
There was no response.
“Awsten?” Jawn turned over and sat up a little, peering at Awsten’s still form for several seconds.
Yeah, he was definitely asleep.
Jawn laid back down. He stared at the ceiling again, but he didn’t feel as sad as he expected to. To Oliver, he murmured, “Sometimes I think Awsten and me could actually be friends.”
#if i could use jawn's pov in mia i would legit add this scene#jawn#awsten#extras#thank you anon this was so much fun to write!!!#anon#ask Aly
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Idk if you’re still taking prompts but I have one for Wayhaught, like Waverly finding out about the promise Wynonna made to Nicole in the hospital
Sorry this took a hot second! Enjoy
Though I Walk Through the Valley
G rating
Nicole liked these mornings best. She knew by now, with an Earp for agirlfriend that they would probably be few and far between. With demons and revenants around nearly everycorner of the Ghost River Triangle, the redhead had come to appreciate the timeafter the shit storm. The Widow sisterswere dead and most everything seemed to be taken care of, besides. They had all deserved a quiet time before theinevitable next round of whatever was to come. Especially Wynonna.
An ample amount of snow had fallen in the night. It left sparse trees by her house heavy,limbs drooping with a white blanket of snow and ice on them. Sometimes the branches snapped under theweight and Nicole liked to listen to the distant cracks come from outside asshe sat by the window. A steaming mug ofhot cocoa was nestled in her hands, a knitted blanket around hershoulders. There was a fire going in thewood stove, heating the house. She hadstuffed it full this morning.
Waverly was still asleep in the bedroom, peaceful foronce. Nicole thought she could be araging ball of fire sometimes, for someone so small, but it was one of the manythings she loved about her. Embarrassingas it was, sometimes Nicole would just watch Waverly sleep. She had done so this morning before comingdownstairs to re-heat the house.
One elbow propped against the mattress, hand on the side ofher head, Nicole has just looked down at the brunette, snuggled under animpossible amount of extra blankets. There was half a smile on her face, as Waverly dreamed of something shewould probably tell Nicole about later. She had been having such a rough time dealing with Wynonna aftereverything that Nicole was glad to see her finally getting some rest.
Wynonna wanted to be left alone. Nicole couldn’t imagine how she felt, eventhough Waverly told her everything. Itwas weird for the redhead to see the older Earp sister act so unlike herselfthat it even had Waverly anxious over her 24/7.
Nicole had been fully ready and willing to give up her ownlife, and almost had, but to give up a life she had created and loved andnurtured and gave birth to? Nicolecouldn’t fathom it. Wynonna was incharge of everyone. She was basicallythe really “dysfunctional whiskey mom” who made a decision and it somehowalways worked out for everyone. Nicolefelt a little guilty about laying on the added pressure of choosing to let herdie, if it came to that.
Luckily it hadn’t, and the topic hadn’t come up again muchto Nicole’s content. Everything was overand done so there was no need to cause anymore strife between her andWaverly. It had been a hell of a gorecently but things between them were in the best possible place now. Nicole didn’t want to ruin it.
“Any particular reason you aren’t in bed, baby?”
A warm pair of arms, fresh from under warm blankets, wrappedaround Nicole from behind and it made the redhead smile and lean back into thechair. Warmth on Nicole’s cheek signaleda kiss and soon Nicole was pulling Waverly into her lap.
“I needed to start the fire, otherwise you’d never get outof bed. It would be too cold. Your little toes would shrivel up once theyhit the floor,” She giggled and moved her head when Waverly wrapped her armsaround her neck again to hold on.
“I guess I canforgive you then,” Waverly relented and gave Nicole another kiss, this time onher nose.
One of her hands came free from around Nicole’s shoulders totake up the redhead’s cup of hot chocolate and she took a sip.
“Hey now—”
“What’s yours is mine,” Waverly quipped with a satisfiedgrin and drank another sip, appreciating the warmth it gave off, before she setit back down.
For a few minutes, the two women just looked outside,watching the tail end of the snow storm drop a few last flakes on the ground,covering the already blanketed area.
“How’s Wynonna?”
Nicole knew it was a sensitive topic these days, but sincethe woman had asked to be left alone, Waverly had been staying with her thepast couple days and not at the homestead.
“I texted her this morning…and then called before I camedown, but nothing yet,” Waverly gave a shrug and a sigh. Nicole didn’t even have to see her face toknow those eyebrows were furrowed in worry.
“Hey, she’ll be alright. This is just something that’s going to take some time.”
Waverly hated to admit it, but she nodded. Nicole was right. So much had happened, to all of them, thatWaverly wasn’t sure how they could ever be the same again. She had been possessed by a demon, thenkidnapped by a psycho. She had almostlost Nicole.
Nicole felt Waverly’s grip around her tighten a little more,so the redhead angled her head forward and kissed her arm. The shorter woman was upset, it was easy totell. Waverly was always so loose andfree. Right now she felt rigid.
“What is it, baby? Don’t you believe me?”
“I do,” Was Waverly’s quick answer, but the quiet afterwardlet Nicole know there was more coming.
“It’s just…so much has happened, you know? We got sworn in to a secret government agencythat doesn’t even exist anymore. Wenearly lost Dolls. I’m friends…well, exfriends I guess, with a revenant. We putthe beat down on some black widow bitches. I kind of almost lost my hand but didn’t because I was possessed by ademon. I’m not even an Earp. Wynonna and Doc had to give up theirbaby. And I almost lost you. It’s all just been a lot.”
“I know, baby,” Nicole let go of her mug to run a handthrough Waverly’s hair and push it out of her eyes. She tucked a strand behind her ears and gavea smile at the bashful one she got in return.
“That was one of the worst days of my life, for sure. I didn’t even know what to do. I betrayed Wynonna for you.”
Apparently the memories were getting to be a little too muchbecause suddenly, Nicole felt Waverly sobbing into her neck. The officer immediately released her mug andwrapped both of her hands around her girlfriend’s torso and kissed at the sideof her face affectionately.
“Hey, hey, baby. It’sover and done with,” Nicole whispered it between kisses, pushing back some ofWaverly’s hair to get to her cheeks. Then her ear. Then she kissed thetop of her head.
“Baby…baby, look at me,” Nicole used a gentle finger to findWaverly’s chin and lifted her face up so their eyes could meet. Waverly’s cheeks had wet streaks going down,dripping to her chin and off into Nicole’s lap.
“Wave…everything is alright. It’s going to be alright. Wynonnais just dealing with some hard stuff right now, but she’s got you. I know she’ll get through it, because you’rean amazing helper. How do I know? Because I’m here, aren’t I? I got through it,and so will she, because of you.”
Nicole connected their lips and although Waverly felt likecrying some more, she relaxed into it and let their foreheads just rest againstthe other.
“I…I was so scared.”
“Me too, Wave.”
“I don’t think I could have…i-if we didn’t find a way…”Waverly sniffled and Nicole just shook her head and rubbed at the girl’s backto soothe her.
“You wouldn’t have had too, Waverly. Besides, Shae showed up. Even if she hadn’t, I had a bit of acontingency plan for that,” Nicole confessed and before she even looked at thebrunette she could feel her pull back some.
“A contingency plan?”
Waverly had that look in her eyes that Nicole knew meant shecould either be really mad or just overly passionate. She was hoping for latter.
“I…well, I uhm…I told Wynonna what I wanted,” Nicoleconfessed.
Waverly’s eyebrow shifted up some so Nicole decided tocontinue quickly, “If something happened, I didn’t want to be plugged up to amachine forever. That’s not what I want,and Wynonna was there…so I asked her. Iasked her if she would pull it for me. Icouldn’t put that on you Waves, I couldn’t bear it. I knew you’d never forgive yourself…”
Waverly’s eyes were starting to water again and her featureshad softened. Nicole hated to see herlike this, but they didn’t need any more secrets between them.
“I knew you’d never forgive yourself, or anyone else…or evenme for dying in the first place, but there is one person you’d forgive…”
“Wynonna…” Waverly sighed. A sad smile spread on her lips and Nicole mirrored it.
“Baby, I love you. So much,” Nicole cooed and gently pulledat Waverly’s hands till the girl was closer in her lap again, “I trust you withmy life. And lucky for me, too, becausehere I am!” Nicole smiled a little wider and the sight of it made Waverly relaxa little more and extend her smile too.
“I know what I signed up for with you, Waverly Earp. And I’m down for it, no matter how crazy orsupernatural shit gets.”
“I love you too,” Waverly shook her head and rolled hereyes, but she kissed Nicole which such fervor the redhead almost consideredtaking them back upstairs.
“You know we’re going to need to have a conversationlater? Your ex doesn’t need to fly inevery time you’re hospitalized,” Waverly quipped.
“I know, I know, but for now, how about we just have breakfast?”
“Make it waffles, and I think I can settle,” Waverly held aplayful grin and Nicole had to jiggle her legs to get the smaller woman to getup.
“Pancakes?” Nicole teased.
“Pancakes are just ugly waffles, Nicole!”
“Fine, waffles,” Nicole rolled her eyes this time, but shehad a smile on her face a she got up and moved over to the kitchen. The ginger cat walked over her feet andcurled herself around her legs, rubbing to be pet, but Nicole ignored her andopened a cabinet to reach for the mix.
“Okay fine, Waffles.”
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On Sight ch 2
[ch1]
A/N I love writing these two IDK WHYYY I’m always so mean to them...
Approximately 24 hours earlier:
“Are you sure Luke is fine with me crashing here?” Ava adjusted the duffle bag slung over her shoulder as they walked down the brightly lit hallway to Sam and Luke’s apartment.
“For the millionth time: it’s fine. Chill. If you bribe him with some of your homemade cookies, he’ll probably even help you move into your new place.” He stopped in front of a plain white door.
Ava leaned against the wall next to Sam’s door as he fumbled for his keys. “Don’t tell me you left them in the cab.”
Sam stuck his tongue out at her as he finally fished his keys from his jeans. “I haven’t done that in months!” He kicked the door open and walked in before Ava could comment on how much he had stuffed in his pockets. “Hey Lu- uhh.”
Ava peered over his shoulder. Danny was on Luke’s lap, his arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Hey guys. We interrupting something?”
Danny rolled off of Luke, “Uh. So -”
Luke jumped in, “We were watching a horror movie and Sam bursting in made us jump!”
Sam sighed and moved to stand behind the couch, glancing at the television. “Brooklyn 99? That’s not even a movie. And is that the new episode? Luke! You promised you’d wait!”
Ava raised an eyebrow at the couple on the couch and tossed her bag against the wall. “You two can cut the act. It’s been what, a month now?”
“What?” Sam blinked. “Really?”
Ava rolled her eyes at Sam, “You’re nearly as oblivious as Peter. Anyways, congrats guys. It’s about time.”
Sam muttered under his breath and begrudgingly handed Ava a five dollar bill out of sight from Luke and Danny. “I’ll go get the air mattress set up for you.”
When Ava turned back to the couch, Danny was leaning against Luke. She smiled softly at them“Sorry… if you’re not ready for everyone to know I can probably beat Sam into silence.”
“No, no,” Luke wrapped his arm around Danny’s shoulders. “We were going to tell everyone soon, but we didn’t want to take away from your celebration.”
“Celebration? It’s school. You two finally getting together is the real celebration.”
Danny smiled and peered over the couch before whispering conspiratorially, “Were we as obvious as Sam and Peter?”
“More. You two figured it out without an outside push. Those two are so oblivious they could kiss and it still not click”
After a second of silence, the three of them burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Sam walked towards them with the air mattress pump in one hand. When no one answered, Sam rolled his eyes and assumed it was about him anyway. “Hey, Luke, any idea how to work this?” He held up the air pump.
“Uh, yea. I’ll be right back.” He nudged Danny, who sat up and stretched.
“I should get going.” Danny stood from the couch and turned to offer Luke his hand, pulling his boyfriend from the couch. Luke walked him to the door, and after a brief discussion about breakfast with Peter and MJ, they kissed softly before Danny left for the night.
In anticipation of the bar being crowded, Sam and Ava arrived early to secure a table large enough for their group. Sure enough, it was already busy when they arrived, but luck was on their side and they scored two tables quickly. After they pushed them together, Sam tossed his jacket on a chair and sunk down.
“Well, guess now we wait?”
Ava glanced towards the bar, “How about we get a pitcher? By the time we get through the line, Luke and Danny should be getting here.”
Sam nodded and stood back up, hoping his jacket would be enough to hold their table- but he would be able to see it from the bar and intervene if someone got grabby. Ava took point, squeezing into the open space at the bar while Sam waited behind her, ready to help carry the drinks back to the table.
“Hey, so have you talked to Peter lately?” Ava was turned half towards him as she kept an eye on the bartender.
Sam puffed his cheeks. When was the last time he actually talked with Peter? They’d both been at MJ’s journalism award ceremony last month, but Peter had taken a seat down from him. They’d said hello and goodbye, and not much else. A week before that was Luke’s birthday, a quiet night at Danny’s condo playing board games and eating pizza. But had he and Peter really talked?
Now that he thought about it, whenever they were in the same room Peter seemed to avoid him. No, that couldn’t be right? But, when was the last time they had hung out just the two of them? Sam sifted through his memories, eventually concluding it had been several months ago when MJ and Ava had cancelled on them last minute and they’d spent the evening at Peter’s watching bad movies and cracking jokes- everything had seemed fine. Better than fine.
Sam blushed when he remembered poking Peter’s cheek after he’d fallen asleep on his shoulder.
“It’s been a while,” he answered Ava’s question.
He listened to the thrum of music and conversations, trying to focus on anything to take his mind off of Peter.
“Aw, come on baby, don’t be like that.” The sleazy drawl pulled Sam back to the present.
He looked up to see Ava about to square off with some guy with too much hair product and, thinking quickly, slid next to Ava. He noted their order was ready as he slid an arm around her waist, “Come on sweetie,” he pulled her against his side, praying she wouldn’t turn her fury on him. Then, quietly so only she could hear he added, “How about we don’t get into a fight and get kicked out?” As much as he’d have enjoyed seeing Ava deck the guy, they did have an evening planned with their friends.
Sam let fo Ava and grabbed the pitcher, waiting for Ava to pick up the tray of cups before walking back to their table.
As soon as he was free of the crowd around the bar, he spotted Peter taking a seat. He noted how Peter selected a seat away from his, and clenched the handle of the pitcher tighter. So, his earlier suspicions seemed correct, Peter was avoiding him.
Sam forced his uncertainty away as he sat the pitcher in the middle of the table. Peter barely glanced at him. “Hey, what a surprise, webs isn’t just on time- he’s early!”
Ava laughed as she sat the glasses down, “A first time for everything.” She fell into the chair next to Sam and winked at Peter. “It’s okay, I won’t tell MJ how early you were. Wouldn’t want her to know you’re capable of it.”
Peter laughed, still not looking at Sam. “She’s aware. I’ve been known to be on time on occasion.”
Sam rolled his eyes, smiling despite the growing pit in his stomach. “Only if there is food involved.”
Danny appeared from the crowd, and must have heard some of their conversation. “That’s just not true, he was late for FREE brunch this morning.”
Sam shrugged, “Okay- he’s on time for food if it’s after noon.”
“Hey now!” Peter stuck out his bottom lip in a mock pout.
Luke slid in next to Danny. “Truth is truth, no matter how much you pretend.”
“Oh come on!” Sam waved an arm across the table to Luke, “You can’t start talking like Danny too!” He shot them a cheeky grin.
They settled easily into familiar jokes, though Sam couldn’t stop himself from noticing Peter didn’t engage with him. He responded to everyone else like normal, but, to Sam, he gave minimal effort when Sam asked a question or made an inside joke.
Sam couldn’t help but steal glances at Peter, but wasn’t sure what he hoped to see. Those familiar eyes meeting his in a private joke? A fond look after he answered Ava’s random triv correctly? A smirk when he said something stupid?
But there was nothing. No acknowledgement Peter was much aware of Sam’s presence or that he cared one way or another. For a few minutes, Peter tuned everyone out, staring at an empty space on the table while they continued to chat.
MJ asked Peter a question, and when he didn’t respond she leaned towards him. He snapped his attention to her, blinking rapidly.
“Oh, ignore him MJ, he’s been staring off for a few minutes now.” Sam was about to roll his eyes when Peter stuck his tongue out at him. It was the most personal -most real- reaction he’d had from Peter lately, and it sent his heart pounding in his chest.
The conversation picked back up, Ava telling them about the program she would be starting.
Several hours later, they began to wind down. Ava yawned and nudged him with her shoulder, “Ready?”
Sam nodded and followed her out after saying their farewells. Luke would be staying at Danny’s that night, so he and Ava shared a cab back to his apartment.
“What time can you pick up the keys to your new place tomorrow?”
Ava shrugged, “Anytime after ten, but I’ll probably go after lunch. I can’t pick up my van reservation until two anyway.”
Sam snorted. He’d offered to move everything for her, it wouldn’t be a problem with his helmet after all, but she had a thing about ‘not spooking her new neighbors with hero activity’.
“Sooo,” Ava said hesitantly when they were still several blocks from his apartment. “What did you mean when you said Peter is avoiding you?”
Sam shrugged, “He just hasn’t said much to me. Always has an excuse… It’s almost like back when we first met, just not as hostile. Like he just tolerates me now.” He sighed and pushed his forehead against the cool glass of the window. “Has he said anything? Did I do something?”
What could he have done? He did still have those comics Peter let him borrow- was he angry he hadn’t returned them yet?
“He hasn’t said anything to me. But I can press MJ for some insight.”
“Don’t bother,” he sighed again. If Peter didn’t want to be friends, there wasn’t any point in pushing him. He probably had his reasons.
“Well, too bad, I. I’m going to bother. Or did that crush of yours just disappear all of a sudden?”
Sam grit his teeth. “We both know friends was all I could hope for. If he doesn’t even want that…?”
Ava kicked him with as much force as the small space allowed. “You are both hopeless idiots who can’t communicate one damn bit.” She growled then added, “Okay, sorry - I know this is upsetting you. How about we watch movies and eat all the ice cream in your freezer?”
Sam perked up, “As long as I can blame you for eating Luke’s birthday cake ice cream.”
“Sure, just wait 'till after he helps me move.’
TBC
Thank you for reading! I should have the last chapter up soon- and check back to the blog next week for a prompt event thing!
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ONLY FOREVER ➝ CHLOIYANA.
TAGGING ➝ Chloe Harper, Aliyana Lopez.
LOCATION ➝ Aliyana’s house.
TIME FRAME ➝ 11/24, afternoon.
WARNINGS ➝ They’re making out and getting a lil handsy here and there, but I wouldn’t call it nsfw?? Idk.
NOTES ➝ After checking on her family, CeCe goes to Aliyana’s house.
CeCe had to make sure her sister was okay, that was her main priority. Even though she’d spoken to her via text and phone call already, she had to see it for herself that Kenzie was alive and well, and it had lifted a huge weight once she finally had. However, there were other weights still heavy on top of her, and one of them had been screaming at her ever since she’d wound up in that stupid diner that life was too short. That she had to make things right with the people she cared about, one of which had been on her mind the entire time. So much so that, without even setting out to do so, CeCe had ended up writing a whole song about her, all inspired by the thought of that stupid, ugly jacket that she slept with under her pillow every night. The one that, disgustingly enough, she’d taken from the trash when she’d been collecting her belongings from what had been she and Aliyana’s house. The house outside of which she was currently parking her car, and tugging that very same old, oversized jacket tightly around herself as she climbed out and headed for the door. She didn’t even know if Ali was home, she could’ve very well been with her siblings or her parents, but CeCe selfishly hoped that she wasn’t, because she wanted to see her. No, she needed to see her. Stuffing her hand into the jacket pocket and making sure the song lyrics she’d been carrying around with her were tucked safely inside of it—she had no intention of singing to Ali, the song just held a lot of meaning to her, so she wanted to keep it close—she reached up to the doorbell, ringing it once. Just walking in didn’t seem right anymore, but hopefully Ali would answer soon, because the need she had for her wasn’t lessening at all. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Aliyana had never been so relieved to get back home. The second the storm was over, the first thing she did was check on her family. She had received some texts during the storm, but that did very little to comfort her. The only thing that would make it okay was to see them for herself. Even her parents, who insisted they were okay, though that didn’t stop her from going by to see it for herself. She must have cried in her father’s arms for twenty minutes straight. It felt a lot like being a kid again; when you have a nightmare and the only ones who could comfort you were your parents. She didn’t care if she was a grown woman, that’s what she needed. By the time she got home, she felt a lot more relaxed. The only one she hadn’t checked on was the person she was dying to see the most. Ali knew that her relationship with CeCe was complicated. She also knew that was her fault, but she would do anything to fix it. As long as that’s what her ex wanted. Seeing those texts from CeCe made sitting through the storm worth it. It was literally the only thing that made her smile while she was stuck in that damn school. She planned on talking to her about them at some point, she just didn’t know if now was a good time. She was sure her ex was checking up on all the people she loved too, right? She had planned on giving her time, but maybe she already took all the time she needed, because there was someone at her door and only one person it could be. Or one person she wanted it to be. When she opened the door, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling if she wanted to. It was like the biggest weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "You’re okay.” She said, feeling the best she’s felt in awhile.
CeCe had been thinking over all of the things she wanted to say to Aliyana. It wasn’t like she’d been able to do much else, considering all of the time she’d had to think while stuck in the diner. Even the other people in there weren’t exactly a distraction to her, not really. She’d been thinking of all of the things she wanted to say during the car ride over here, like how she didn’t care about what’d happened between them, and that she forgave Ali. All she cared about was that they were both safe from what was a potentially dangerous situation, and now they had to take their second chance, because if anyone deserved one, it was them. She’d only been standing at the door a matter of seconds, but they were the longest few seconds of her life, before she heard the sound of footsteps from the other side of the door, followed by it finally opening up. CeCe’s eyes landed on her ex, her heart racing as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Against her own will, tears begun to pool in her eyes, and she nodded in response. “I’m okay. And you’re okay,” she said, taking a step into the house, therefore a step closer to the other girl, and threw her arms around her. “You’re okay,” she whispered again, holding her tightly, “I love you so much.” Without hesitation, CeCe pulled back, but only enough so that she could press her lips to the other girl’s, her arms tightening around her and her eyes closing, the tears that’d been pooling finally spilling over her lids. CeCe had no intention of pulling away anytime soon, and instead begun backing Ali further into the house, using her foot to kick the door closed behind them. Her arms unwrapped from around her ex, and instead her hands moved down her body, her fingers hooking over the material of her pants, fingers playing with the button as she pulled back just enough to look up at Ali through her wet lashes once they’d reached the bottom of the stairs. Glancing up a floor, eyes landing on the closed bedroom door, then back on Ali, CeCe licked her lips. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Aliyana didn’t know what to expect when she saw CeCe again. If their texts were anything to go by, she could at least expect a long talk between the two of them. To say they had been through a lot felt like an understatement, but she couldn’t think of another way to describe it. No matter what they’ve been through, though; whether it was good or bad, they always found their way back to each other. It was like they couldn’t stay away from each other. The second her ex wrapped her arms around her, she knew that they never would. Ali was fooling herself before, when she tried telling herself to move on. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Or maybe it felt like her only option, but she knew now that wasn’t true. You can’t tell your heart who to love, and no matter how much she thought she could, her heart had always belonged to CeCe. And it always will. She didn’t even need to think twice before kissing back, although she was unaware that they were even moving until she reached the steps. It was like she had been mesmerized by the other girl’s lips. The same lips she had kissed countless times before, yet they never lost the ability to made her weak. She almost didn’t process what her ex was saying, mostly because she hadn’t been kissing her anymore. It took her a moment before nodding her head, although she would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little confused. She wasn’t about to put a stop to a good thing, but for obvious reasons, they avoided going up there after getting back together. She couldn’t blame her ex, since that was where Ali fucked up the most. At least she changed the sheets and the mattress, but it felt almost.... haunted. Like being there was forbidden. “Te amo, mi vida.” She said softly, taking her ex by the hand and leading her upstairs. Ideally, they would have kept kissing, but trying to do that and walk upstairs would have been a disaster. However, if CeCe was thinking what Ali was, that was far from over.
CeCe knew it was stupid, but ever since her birthday party, she’d been almost afraid of Aliyana’s bedroom. It used to be somewhere she felt safe, somewhere that was their own, like it was sacred to them or something. But then Ali had done what she’d done, and suddenly the room didn’t hold any good memories for her anymore. Her ex’s actions had erased all of them, and replaced them with something she never wanted to think about again, but couldn’t help replaying in her mind over and over. She didn’t want to think about that anymore, though. This past week, where she’d been without Aliyana and everybody else she cared about, had made CeCe think. It’d been like some kind of clarity for her, and had told her not to hold onto bad energy anymore. She wanted to make new memories, ones that could erase the bad ones. She knew it was probably confusing that she wanted to go in that room now, especially given where this all was obviously leading, but she was glad Ali didn’t question her. She didn’t want to explain herself, she wanted to let her actions speak for her, and gladly took the other girl’s hand, letting her take the lead. “I love you, too,” she said in just as soft a voice as she walked up the stairs closely behind her. The closer they got to the bedroom, the more CeCe’s heart raced, but she wasn’t about to stop. She didn’t want to be afraid of a damn room anymore, so rather than give herself the chance to, she tugged Ali back gently once they’d reached the door, spinning her around and pressing their lips together again. Once more, she begun to back the other girl up, this time reaching out to open the door, her other hand settled on her ex’s hip, and carefully backed her into the room, her foot closing the door for them again. Pulling back, her chest moving a little faster, she looked up at the other girl, forcing herself not to look at the bed. She just looked up at Ali, not saying anything, just looking at her. This was their room, their sacred space. Not the room Aliyana had fucked someone else in.
Aliyana felt like she was in a daze. All she could focus on as they walked up the stairs was the feeling of CeCe’s hand in hers. She held onto it tightly, almost as if she would fly away if she didn’t. There was a lump forming in her throat and suddenly, she could really use a drink of water. Maybe she was being dramatic, but she knew why she didn’t want to go in there before. She had every reason not to. In fact, she had every reason to not be with Ali at all. What if she changed her mind when they got up there? What if she remembered what happened in there and left? Ali would have given anything for her ex to just show up here like this. She couldn’t even imagine what she would feel if she decided to leave now. She needed her. That’s something she knew already, but this last week only proved it more. It wasn’t until CeCe said she loved her that Ali was able to relax. It wasn’t even the first time she said it since she got there, but it made her feel better nonetheless. Her throat didn’t feel so dry anymore, and when she was being turned around and kissed again, she could practically feel her nerves melting away. It was so easy to get lost in the other girl. All she had to do was wrap her arms around CeCe’s neck and she was a goner. She pressed herself against CeCe, wanting no space between them as she lead them inside. As they entered the room, all she could do was hope they could continue what they were doing. Apparently, her ex had a different idea. Instead, CeCe was just staring at Ali. Almost as if she couldn’t look anywhere else. “Hey. Mírame, por favor.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper as she cupped her cheek. She didn’t know why she asked her to look at her, as if she wasn’t already. All she knew is that she wanted her to focus on this. On them. Nothing else mattered now. “It’s only me and you here, okay? Just us. I love you so much. I need you here with me.” Again, her voice was soft. It was as if she would scare CeCe away if she dared to speak any louder. “Please stay here with me.”
CeCe had been able to feel her heart racing from the moment she’d arrived at the house, but by now, it felt like it was about to escape right the way out of her chest. The image that’d been ingrained in her mind of Aliyana and Dave both naked in bed together, the bed that was only a few feet away from her now, was desperately fighting to get to the front of her mind, but CeCe wouldn’t let it. With her eyes fixed on her ex’s face, it was surprisingly easy to stop it. She didn’t need Ali to tell her to look at her, since she already was, but the sound of her voice was a comfort, and her words were reassuring. Gaze flickering against her will over to the bed, she immediately forced it back up to Ali’s face instead, and nodded her head at the other girl’s words, her mouth dry. “I love you so much, too,” she finally whispered, moving her hands away from her ex and instead reaching to take off her jacket. Well, Aliyana’s jacket… but now it was CeCe’s. She refused to pull her gaze from her ex’s face again, and kept it trained on her as she removed the garment, letting it fall from her hands and onto the floor beside her. “I want you to make new memories with me here, okay?” She said in a soft, small voice, finally daring herself to look at the bed once more. “I want this to be ours again,” she took a small step forward, reaching up to wrap her arms around Ali’s neck, “I want you to be mine again.” With one arm still draped around her, she moved the other to rest her hand on the back of her neck, fingers tangling gently in her hair. “You know I never stopped wanting you, right? Not ever. I want you now, I wanted you yesterday, I wanted you a week ago, a month ago… I never stopped wanting you, Aliyana, and I never, ever stopped loving you. I never could, and I never will.”
Aliyana had tried her best to be understanding. As hard as things were for her, she couldn't imagine what CeCe was feeling most of the time. That had never been a problem before. She was usually good at knowing exactly how she felt, but things between them had been such a mystery since her ex's birthday. Just when Ali thinks she has her all figured out, she does something that proves otherwise. One thing that had always been clear was how much they needed each other. Ali couldn't be sure if things were good between them, but she never once questioned if they loved each other. She could feel it when they kissed. Even if she had done something horrible, that most people would consider unforgivable, she knew that CeCe still loved her. If someone asked her exactly what she did that night, she couldn't even tell them. She knew what she was thinking, but it was honestly a blur. A big, angry blur. Only that night, she was angry at CeCe. Ever since then, she had been angry at herself. This room had been haunted for her, too. Just like it had been for CeCe. The difference is, she was able to deal with those feelings long ago. CeCe hadn't. That's why she was okay with avoiding the room while they were together. She would avoid going upstairs completely if that's what it took, even if she really didn't want to. It was a huge relief when it seemed like CeCe was okay with being there. She had been so worried that she didn't even notice the jacket CeCe was wearing. Not until she had taken it off. She glanced down at it and raised her brow before looking back at her ex. How did she not notice that before? "I want that, too." She smiled, wrapping her arm around CeCe's waist, deciding to ask about the jacket later. "To make new memories, I mean. I've always been yours. Even when I wasn't.... I was." Even though Ali knew everything CeCe was saying, that didn't stop her eyes from watering at her words. It just felt really good to hear. Ali didn't feel like she deserved them. She didn't even think she deserved them when they were together, but that was her own insecurities. Not because she had been unfaithful. She wasn't going to think about that, though. She couldn't. All she could think about was being with CeCe again, in the room that once belonged to them. "We don't have to do this here if you don't want to." She said as they reached the bed, looking back at it. The selfish part of Ali wanted to do this here, but she also didn't want to make CeCe uncomfortable in any way. Her feelings had to come before Ali's. Even if she wasn't the best at doing that before, she was going to do it now.
CeCe knew this was an emotional time for both of them. Hell, the last four months had been emotional for them, so it didn’t surprise her that she’d started crying as soon as her eyes had landed on Ali, or that the other woman was showing signs of tearing at her words. “I’ve always been yours, too. I don’t want to be anyone else’s,” she whispered, not wanting to speak too loudly because she didn’t want to break the atmosphere around them. All she cared to do was focus on Aliyana. She wanted to show her how serious she was about this, about them. Quietly, she considered Ali’s statement for a moment. They could walk right back out of here as easily as they’d walked in, but that would feel like taking a step back... both physically and metaphorically. CeCe wasn’t willing to do that. Finally, she responded in a soft, quiet voice, gently shaking her head, “I know we don’t.” It didn’t stop her from turning with her back to the bed, her arms unwrapping from around the taller girl, and her hands capturing hers as she slowly sat down on the bed, fingers lacing with Ali’s. Scooting back, she pulled her ex down to her level, letting go of one hand to cup the other girl’s cheek, her fingers softly stroking the skin beneath them. Leaning up a little, she pressed her lips gently to Ali’s, pulling back just enough to speak again, though her lips brushed against her ex’s as she did. “Make new memories with me,” she whispered, pressing their lips together again and gently pulling her down on top of her.
Aliyana couldn't hold back her tears if she wanted to. It was like she was hearing all the things she's wanted to here for the past four months. Things she didn't even feel like she had deserved, but she wasn't too worried about that. Not when they were both getting exactly what they wanted here. She had read those texts from CeCe over and over that they were burned into her memory at this point. She said that she wanted to fix them. It was no secret that Ali had wanted that, too. It may seem dramatic, even for her, but she felt like whether they stayed or left decided if they were actually working on that. Whether they were together or not, she had always considered this place their home. It was just as much CeCe's as it was hers. They lived together there, they were starting a life together. Maybe they weren't going to be engaged again, but they were still going to have a life together. Ali knew that they could. Watching the other girl scoot back was like a huge relief to her. It was like confirmation that they were going to be okay. Ali kissed her passionately, smiling against her lips when she pulled her on top of her. Instead of giving her a verbal reply, she placed one hand on her ex's hip and used the other to cup her face. All she wanted was to feel the other girl. To show her how much she loves and appreciates her. Her past actions may have suggested otherwise, and she knew that, but she was going to use this chance to prove otherwise. And any other chance she was going to give her. CeCe deserved to feel the way she made Ali feel. Safe and loved. "Do you even know how much I love you?" She whispered, her lips making her way down her jaw to her neck.
CeCe hated coming to this house, because somewhere that once felt safe to her had begun to feel terrifying, and somewhere she just didn’t want to be. That wasn’t the case today, though. Sure, the drive over here had been kind of scary, and walking up to the door was intimidating. Nothing was more terrifying to her than walking into the bedroom, though. But now that she was laying on the bed, and had brought Aliyana down with her, CeCe was back to feeling safe again. With the other girl’s lips pressed to her own, she could focus on just the two of them, and how they were the only ones in the room, just like they were supposed to be. The feeling of Ali’s lips was as intoxicating as ever, and CeCe couldn’t help but let her hands begin to wander, fingertips trailing lightly down her ex’s back as their lips worked against one another’s, with CeCe kissing back just as passionately. It felt like it’d been so long since she’d been this close to the other girl, and CeCe just wanted to touch her. She wanted to explore every part of her body, and was letting her hands roam wherever they could reach, eyes closing as Ali begun to trail her lips down her jaw. “Show me,” she responded softly, her fingertips slipping under the material of the other girl’s shirt.
Aliyana wanted more than anything for CeCe to feel safe with her. As much as she wanted their relationship to work before, she knew there was something in the way. Her girlfriend didn't trust her. Not that Ali could even blame her for that, because that's what she deserved. At no point did she do anything to earn back her trust. She talked a big game, sure, but that's all she really did. She promised to change, she swore she would never hurt her again; she just didn't know if she really proved that. After what she had done, how do you prove it? How do you make someone feel safe, like they're your only one? She did it before. Before everything was so screwed up, she made her feel safe and loved. Their relationship was far from perfect, but she could at least do that. Of course that went away when she did what she had done. Not the love, that was always there, but that sense of security was gone. And that wasn't fair. Ali still felt safe and secure. Well, at times. Her insecurities are what made her doubt it, though, not CeCe. If she felt like she was losing her, all she had to do was tell her that she wasn't. Ali could remember countless times when she had done that. Told her she wasn't going anywhere, because it was Ali who thought she was. She still didn't know what was wrong with her, only that she meant it when she said she wanted to change. Starting right now. "Anything for you, Mi vida." She whispered against her skin, following the other girl's lead and slipping her hands into her shirt. How surprised was she not to find a bra under there? Not at all. Her hands stopped right beneath her breasts, not because she was afraid to touch, but because she was allowing herself to really feel her. Not once did she stop kissing her neck, as if she ever wanted to stop. She could stay in this position right here, just feeling and kissing CeCe for hours. "I missed touching you like this." It's not like it had been forever since they've done this, but when you're in love with someone and can't be with them, each day might as well be a lifetime.
CeCe may have gone off the rails a little bit following she and Ali’s breakup, then even more so after her parents had found out and kicked her out of their home and their lives, and sure, she may have thought it would be a good idea to hook up with random people, because they could help her to feel something. Anything that wasn’t the whirlpool of negativity inside of her, something a normally chipper, bubbly CeCe hadn’t been used to. But no matter how good of a distraction it’d been to crawl into bed with someone, that was all it was: A distraction. And once it was all over, CeCe had felt so empty all over again. She’d felt dirty, like she was somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be, because no matter what was going on between she and her ex, even with the knowledge that Aliyana had literally cheated on her, her heart still belonged to her, and CeCe was sure it always would. Laying here with the other woman was the first time she’d felt actually, genuinely safe in the longest time. She liked to think of herself as an independent person, but Ali had become such a huge part of her life that it was hard to feel like herself without her, and maybe that wasn’t healthy, but CeCe had accepted it, and she was okay with it. Especially now that she could literally feel her. Her hands on her body, the sound of her voice, the way her lips pressed to her skin, they were all things CeCe had missed, and it felt so good to have it all back now. “I missed it, too,” she mumbled, letting one hand continue to trail up the other girl’s back under her shirt, while the other moved so that CeCe could take Ali’s chin gently between her finger and thumb and lift her face towards her. She loved the way she was kissing her, but craved the feeling of her lips against her own more, so pressed their lips together once again. “I missed you so much, I don’t ever want to be without you again,” she muttered against her lips.
Aliyana knew that she wasn't the easiest person to love. She lacked so much confidence in herself that she literally made up lies to make herself look interesting. That's something she can't imagine most people do, yet she's done that pretty much her entire life. If you asked five different people who Ali was, they would probably give you five different answers. There were very few people who could give an honest answer. People who could see through her lies, or people she tried not to lie to at all. Like CeCe. When they were apart, she may have lied about being okay, and she couldn't even stick to that lie. She also created a fake account on a dating app, so anything she said there was a lie, but she considered that an act of desperation. When they were together like this, just the two of them and no one else, she could completely be herself. Her materialistic, sometimes shallow, but genuinely good self. And for some reason, CeCe loved her, anyway. That's only one of the many things she missed about her. Lying came naturally to Aliyana. It was almost like she needed it to get through the day, which she knew for a fact wasn't normal or healthy. It was, however, exhausting. One lie always leads to another, until she's made up an entire story that even she herself found believable. And despite all of that, one thing she could never lie about was how much she loved CeCe. She couldn't deny it no matter how hard she tried. She needed to be here like this with her. During the storm, this was all she could think about. Being with the person she loved more than anything else, hearing her say that she loved her. She also wanted to keep kissing her neck, but when she moved her head to kiss her lips, she sure wasn't going to stop it. She couldn't if she wanted to. "Never again." She mumbled between kisses, wanting to talk, but also wanting to feel her kiss as much as she can. "I'm yours for as long as you'll have me." As she said the words, she knew that's not exactly what she wanted to say. What she really wanted to say is that she would be hers forever, but there was that small hint of doubt in the back of her mind. The one that never went away no matter how hard she tried, telling her this wasn't certain. She should really do something about that in the future, but for now, she was able to ignore it and focus on what she was doing. It was hard to focus on anything else when she was with CeCe like this, anyway.
CeCe was glad Ali hadn’t pulled away from the kiss and gone back to kissing her neck, as much as she’d liked that feeling. When she’d first suggested they go upstairs, it was obvious what was on her mind. She hadn’t come over here to hook up, but with her lips pressed to Ali’s, she’d been overcome by that feeling of wanting so much more of her. No, needingmore. Now that they were here, though, laying on the bed they used to share, the bed that felt like their bed all over again, CeCe was overcome with a different feeling. Even with the other girl’s hand under her shirt, just inches from her chest, she suddenly wasn’t trying so hard to go down that same route anymore. Even less so when they were both talking. It didn’t kill the mood. If anything, it only made it better, but definitely changed the direction, and CeCe liked it even more. “Ali,” she mumbled against the other woman’s lips, her arm slipping around her neck and her other hand coming back down from inside her shirt. CeCe pulled back just a little, but kept holding Aliyana close, her now free hand brushing a chunk of hair behind the other girl’s ear as she looked up at her. Her heart was racing in the most familiar way, and she knew that no matter how unsure she’d been about this the last time, she wasn’t anymore. Her eyes studied her ex’s face, fingers still brushing gently through her hair, until her gaze met with the other girl’s. Her voice was soft as she whispered, “Can I be your girlfriend again?”
Aliyana hadn't been in a ton of relationships, but she had been in enough to know the difference between loving someone and being in love with them. She had always been jealous and possessive of the people she dated. That was nothing new. It may have destroyed more relationships than she'd like to admit, but there difference between them and CeCe is she could accept losing all of them. It hurt every time she went through a break up, she wasn't a monster; she just healed over time. Until this happened with CeCe, Ali truly believed that time healed a broken heart. That all it really took was some retail therapy and a good cry, then you were ready to move onto the next one. That didn't work with CeCe. Plenty of time has gone by since their first breakup, yet Ali still felt the same way as the day it happened. Just as in love and desperate to have her back. She always knew she had a problem when it came to relationship; she was just never willing to change before. She always thought everyone got insecure and jealous. It happened in all relationships, right? Then she fell in love with CeCe and saw someone who was so secure, it was like the word jealousy didn't even exist to her. Admittedly, that drove Ali crazy before, but now she wanted her to feel that way. She wanted her to know that she was it for her. Never would she ever cheat again and she knew that for a fact. She would get any help she needed; she would change anything she needed to, even if she knew that wasn't what CeCe wanted. It wasn't about changing who she was, it was about getting help for her insecurities. And she would do it. She wouldn't have done it for anyone else, but she would do it for CeCe. That's what she was about to tell her, as the two of them kissed like they couldn't stop. She would have begged her if that's what it took, but when she looked at CeCe, and heard what she said, she could see that's not what it would take. She closed her eyes, having felt the tears forming in them against her will. The last thing she wanted to do was cry, but at least these weren't sad tears. They were anything but. "Yes." She whispered, opening her eyes to let one tear roll down her cheek. "There is absolutely nothing that would make me happier."
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