#sorry this is so long- I just REALLY wanted to avoid you being misconstrued and harassed over it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mxvladdy · 4 years ago

Note

THE WAY YOU FILLED YOUR FIRST REQUEST SHOOK ME?!?!?!? YOU BLESSED US!? Would you mind also imagining how Mammon, Luci and Belphie would feel with a MC who's guarded with themselves and their feelings to avoid hurt, so they try to keep these brothers at a friendly arm's length as they don't believe the brothers don't really care about them? It would make me so happy, thank you so much!

EEEEK! Sorry for the wait. It took forever and a day to get enough time to seat uninterrupted and then try to edit ;.;

I hope you like it! Apologies if I didn’t get the prompt just right!

Mammon

He didn’t hide his disdain for his human protection duty when you first met. The fact that you kept him at an arm's length was a devil’s blessing. Good! He is a busy demon after all, he doesn’t have time for some human. At first.

Then he caught the feels and it’s all downhill for him at his ‘cool devil’ act. Not that you ever NOTICED.

He tries to flirt with you. Before you, he thought he was good at it too.

He’s never had someone so civil with his advances. You smile and laugh politely at whatever complement he throws at you. You might even give him a few back in a teasing, but clearly friendly manner.

You stress it heavily whenever he comes on too heavy with his advances. You stamp down whatever feelings he evokes and try to keep your line clean and precise in the shifting sand of your relationship.

He takes you out one evening after school, determined to get an actual answer from you over some made up snack he lied about. You don’t think anything of it, happy for an excuse to hang out. You walk and talk, not taking notice of his steadily reddening face as he keeps making swipes at your hand each time it brushes his.

You make an off-handed (get it) remark about the closeness and offer to walk behind this was bothering him.

He is miffed and throws out all semblance of “coolness”. Just flat out confess. Face flaming hot from embarrassment and sweaty palms now shoved into his jacket.

It was a blink and you’d miss it kind of moment. Mammon’s cheeks start to heat gradually. A staunch look of panic growing behind his eyes.

The words just slip off his tongue. His lips forming a sentence you were dreading. You didn’t quite catch it all; his declaration lost in the wind of the open market. You try to catch his gaze, to make him repeat himself clearly, for what purpose you didn’t know. You don't particularly want to hear it again, yet it would give you time to compose some kind of response.

He refuses to look at you. No matter which way you bob and weave beneath him, he dances around you. His face always looking in the opposite direction of yours. His gaze permanently pointing at his feet. The uneven cobblestone beneath his scuffed boots was suddenly very interesting it seemed. "I'm sorry? I didn't catch that." You ask once more, grabbing on to the crook of his elbow.

He buries himself deeper into the flipped collar of his coat and whispers it again. "I-I like ya, ok? Like like like ya know?" He stumbles over his thoughts.

Now how in the hells were you supposed to dodge this? It had been easier to evade his blatant affections when even he wasn't admitting to them. "No, you don't." You step away with a dry chuckle. "Don't be silly." You back away shaking your head in denial. You were sure Mammon could feel your heart rate picking up. You need some space, more space than the street could give you. Somewhere away from your tall, sweet, white-haired problem.

"Oi!" He makes a grab for you as you turn to flee. He spins you around leaning down to meet with you face to face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We are friends Mammon," You try to wiggle out of his strong, yet gentle grip. "You're just mixing up the feelings." Bullshit. With him touching you, your joint pack acted like an amplifier. You very much felt what he thought of you. The yearning from his newfound mental clarity mixes with the panic of your rejection. It makes a bittersweet taste bloom in your mouth, so hopefully yet reserved.

He was not so lucky. Your feelings felt like ash on his tongue, a sour tang of fear and self-doubt building on his sense. You were afraid of the inevitable, or what you presumed to be the inevitable.

You were supposed to be friends then disappear forever once the school year was up. Him, down here, and you back to being just another nameless soul in the human realm. No need to get the storyline all tangled. "Hey-hey," Mammon speaks in a rush. "It ain't like that, really." He coos shuffling you closer till you are wrapped tightly in his soft leather jacket. He pours more of himself into the pack, opening himself up in ways he never thought capable of from his demonic form.

"I'm stupid." You speak into his chest. The warm reassurance of his unspoken pledge soothing you. It lessens the tight feeling of uncertainty that you had grown accustomed to.

"Ah- now, ain't that supposed to be my job?" The taste in his mouth dissipates slightly as you let out an indignant huff. He flinches as you poke his side hard between his rib cage.

"Told you to stop talking down on yourself Mammon."

The demon hums noncommittally keeping you close. He rocks you both from side to side, oblivious to the throngs of other pedestrians forced to walk around you two. "Guess I forgot. Maybe you could remind me? O-on a date?"

He smiles down at the little sliver of your face and eyes peeking up from the darkness of his jacket. He could damn near feel the smile trying to break from your forced scowl. "Just one?"

"Heh- don't bet on it."

Lucifer

Welcome to the ultimate game of pleasantry chicken. The two of you know this dance by heart, but your footwork isn't synching up.

Lucifer is trying to keep this whole debacle as professional as possible. You are an esteemed guest and pact holder for all of his brothers and himself. This should be business as usual. He totally has his emotions and growing frustration at your lack of interest in him in check.

Yup. He's fine. He's great; glad you two have such an unspoken understanding of your standing in his company and in the house. The same book, same chapter, same bloody page.

You are a good friend. Just. A. Very. Good. Friend.

He breaks first. Not that he will admit it. But the weekly coffee breaks become a bi-daily thing as he tries to court you. He draws these evenings out now. Have you finished your schoolwork? No, allow me to tutor you. Perhaps you would like to listen to this new vinyl with me tonight? It is a complete demon rendition of Wagner's Die Meistersinger. A classic, you’ll love it.

You take it all in stride. Thanking him innocently enough and going along with it. You buffer every little turn of phrase and slightly off-color hint of what he wanted from you with grace. So tactfully done he begins to doubt himself. You couldn’t be misconstruing his intentions right? He hasn’t doubted himself like this in a long time.

Diavolo catches on quickly to the kicked puppy look Lucifer tots around in your presence. He’ll tease, but try to help. He’s a decent wingman truth be told. “How has Lucifer been treating you? I haven’t seen him this happy in ages. He is a great friend to have, yes?” Kinda backfires when you agree that he is indeed a good friend. Oops.

He’ll crack one night over a glass (or bottle) of something strong he pulled from his study. You had slipped into his room unannounced asking for a quiet place to read before bed. The interruption to his musings leads to him running his mouth and pile driving his pride into the ground.

He can’t say no to you anymore. He really should. You were hell bent on keeping him at an arm's length, so he should too. Lucifer watches you like a hawk from behind his desk. His ungloved fingers swirling the dregs of his drink. The cognac inside of it looking up at him, his scowl reflecting in the rich red liquor. Don’t judge me. He scoffs at himself, was he that far gone that he was arguing with his glassware? Should have switched to the bottle hours ago.

“Luci?” You say again waving a hand in his face. “You forget to sleep again this week?” Your smile was warm, a little twinkle in your eye drawing a heat to his collar that had nothing to do with the spirits. You sit on the edge of his desk in your sleepwear. The baggy shirt and sweats reeked of his brothers.

“No.” He lies pushing his desk chair away. “Did you need something?”

You shrug hopping off the desk. “Not really. Wasn’t feeling movie night. You ok if I hang out here? It’s nice and quiet.” You slink off to the couch in front of the fire before he could answer.

“You could not do this in your room?” Lucifer snips. He tosses back the rest of his drink and rises to his feet. He grimaces at the burn spreading across his throat. “I’m sure it is quiet in there too.” He catches your eyes looking over the back of the lounge. While everything lower than the bridge of your nose was blocked by the black velvet he could feel the frown growing on your face.

“Well, yes. But I still want some friendly company. Just not rowdy company, I thought you wouldn’t mind...”

Devils. There was that word again. "You assume to know me?" He cannot hide the venom lacing his words. The liquor had dulled his senses enough that he could not hide his rancor.

“I’m-” You leave the chair coming around it to give him your full attention. This wasn’t like him. Not anymore at least. But you were used to the odd mood swings that plagued your companions. "I don’t assume anything about you Luci. But if you want to talk-"

“I don’t want to have some idle friendly chit chat.” He could feel the tantrum coming. “Have I not proven myself capable of-” His jaw snaps shut with an audible click that echoes across the spacious chamber.

“Of?”

A noticeable blush grows on his pale cheeks. “More.” He sighs deeply, he feels light-headed at the admission. Whether it was from the drinks or from going against his nature and swallowing his pride he couldn’t tell. “Am I not enough to be more than a friend to you?”

That takes you by surprise. You had speculated that he harbored feelings for you. Diavolo all but cementing the idea in your mind. But, this was Lucifer. It felt like just yesterday you were at each other's throats, before he recognized you as something other than a threat to his family. You wanted to respect that little bit of trust he had given you. “It’s not like I never thought about it.”

“But?” He perks up slightly hearing the unspoken word in your inflection. He could see your apprehension yet there was a shimmer of something else underneath. Something he could work with.

“I was- I am scared.”

“Finally, a reasonable response from being around demons.” Lucifer snorts.

“Hey! You know that’s not what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. Explain it to me.” He invades your space waiting to see what you would do. Run or stay. He would have his answer either way. You don’t move, instead, you wrap your arms around yourself. Guarding yourself yet standing firm. One of the many reasons why he admired you.

“I feel like we just became friends. I didn’t think you felt the same and I didn’t want to mess this all up.” You confess. “I just thought it would be easier this way.”

Lucifer absorbs your words quietly, nodding at the logic behind them. “Messes are not something I generally like true, but," He reaches for you, careful of your defensive stature to lead you back to the couch. “If you are willing to iron out the bumps with me I’d like to see what we can make of it.”

If it meant he could have you he would take as much time as you needed.

Belphegor

It takes him the longest to notice that you were trying to keep him at arm's length emotionally. It was hard for him to see at first since you still readily accepted his invitations to snuggle and hang out.

He thought he was very blatant with his desire for you and your affections. The head pats and evening is the planetarium or his attic.

The fact that he had apologized for that little murder mishap. He thought that was a big bright neon sign. Yet you always seemed to try to invite someone else along to chill or leave quickly after an hour or so. As much as he loved his twin and tolerated his other brothers he was trying to get you ALONE.

He starts trying to see you outside the house now too. Lunch in the cafeteria? Pffft. You are going to eat and nap with him in the courtyard. After School activities? Could you help him with some council stuff instead?

Yes, he will go out of his way to do work if you are involved.

You are still too closed off though. You act around him like you do around any of the other brothers and it drives him crazy. You are just so friendly and cordial with everyone. How come he is the only one that becomes a flushing mess now?

He becomes your second shadow, almost as bad as Mammon. You start to get an inkling of his intentions when he starts wanting to sleep in your bedroom at night instead of his or the attic. You let him but offer up the couch or split the bed with a pillow.

He snoops when he gets desperate. Did you like someone else? Was that why you were constantly acting like his advances were just him being overly friendly? He doesn’t find anything, you act like this around everyone else too.

He gives up. Stops interacting with you entirely. He is 99% sure he can sleep through the next century without being bothered. Maybe he’ll get over you by then.

“Belphie? You up here?” The demon in question opens a bleary eye to his locked door. He should stay quiet, leave you hanging. Give himself some vindictive pleasure in snubbing you.

“Hai~” He rises from his nest of blankets and pillows. “Hold on.” Unlocking the door he opens it ajar. You smile around the large stack of books and binders in your arms. “What is that?” Please don’t say homework.

“Work you’ve missed sulking up here.” You confirm his worst fear. “Satan and I thought we would spot you a bit though.” Belphegor watches you struggle for a second to pull a folded piece of paper out from the middle of the stack. “We got most of the answers done for you. Now you just have to fill the worksheets in with your handwriting.” You wave the paper expectantly.

Hearing his brother’s name makes him sour immediately. How long had you been hanging out with him now? “Thanks, leave them at the door then.” He goes to shut the door and return to his dreamless slumber but it’s blocked by your foot.

“Ouch.” You wince hopping back on one foot.

“Idiot! Are you hurt?” He wrenches the door open crouching down to take a look at your sock-covered foot.

“Nothing I can’t walk off. Though my arms are getting sore- weak human muscles an’ all.” You hint wiggling the stack in your arms. He takes the work this time, still eyeing your foot. “Relax, I’ve stubbed my toe with more force than that before.” You whisk by him, using his brief moment of distraction to slip by.

“Did I invite you in?” Belphegor eyes you with a frown. He kicks his door close and dumps the pile of papers on his already over-encumbered desk. Hmm. How many days had he missed?

You ignore him plopping down on the still warm sheets. “Nope!” You pop the ‘p’ with a grin. “But that has never stopped you from sneaking into my room. So fair trade all around.” You pat at the bed, clearing inviting him to join you. “Come on. I’ll help you finish that work then we can chill.”

Oh, now you want to hang out. He felt a rush of bitterness wash over him. “Don’t you have something better to do?” If this keeps up he’ll need another nap, alone preferably. “Doesn’t Asmo need a shopping buddy or something?”

“What’s gotten you all worked up?” You frown, hurt by his accusatory tone.

Belphie shoots you a wounded look. "We never hang out anymore." He sulks. "Alone, I mean. I'm tired of you always inviting Beel or someone else with us."

He glances over to you idly thumbing at one of the books on his desk. It's frustrating. This game of touch and go he accidentally got himself into. Ugh- why did this have to be so hard. "I want to spend more time with you. Just us, so why are you always avoiding that?"

"I.” You look down at your feet dangling off the side of his mattress. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I just felt like- like things were going off the rails between us.” You weren't oblivious to his advances.

He cocks his head in confusion. "Mmm? What are you afraid of?" You read a flicker in his eyes, a haunting memory of cruel fingers around your neck darken his gaze. "Ah-"

"No! No that's not it!" You panic waving your hands up. Of course, he would immediately go to that. "I'm just worried. I know you like me, and-just what if things don't work out? What if you realize what a mistake this could be?"

Your admission gives him pause. So you knew this whole time? Not surprising; he wouldn't fall for someone stupid. "So, are you admitting to liking me back?" He feels giddy when you nod, covering your heating face with your hands. " Well then, what’s the problem? It’s not a mistake if we both are making it.” He grins slyly. “How can it not work out if the feelings are mutual.”

“But what if you are mistaken?” He wraps you up into his arms, flopping you both over onto his messy bed. He takes one of your hands and places it on the top of his head all while burying his nose in your neck.

“Please,” He yawns, feeling his body grow heavy. “I don’t waste my energy on ‘mistakes��.”

#obey me fandom #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me belphegor #prompts! yay

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temilyrights · 4 years ago

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resisting you was always impossible (temily)

Summary: Tara Lewis x Emily Prentiss. Emily and Tara are forced to spend the night in a motel when a storm hits. (oh no there’s only one bed).

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This is my first fic that doesn't include a reader and I'm proud. I was forced to write this because there just aren't enough Temily fics, and I'm completely obsessed with them (also would like to marry them both pls and ty<3) Please let me know what you think! I'm hoping to write for them more in the future :)

Read on AO3

Emily swore under her breath as she pushed her way into the motel room, her clothes and hair were absolutely drenched, and she was currently rethinking every single life decision that had led her to where she was now.

Stuck in a motel room.

with only one bed.

with the ONLY person that she’d been trying to avoid getting into any situation with that blurred the lines of professionalism.

“Oh, thank god, we’ve got towels.” Tara sighed in relief, grabbing the ratty towels from the cupboard as Emily shut the door.

She chucked one in Emily’s direction and used the other to squeeze the water from her hair as she made her way over to her go-bag she’d dropped onto the table.

She looked over her shoulder at Emily, who stood frozen, and frowned. “You okay, Prentiss?”

Emily cleared her throat and made to squeeze the water out of her own hair. “Yeah.”

Tara snorted and turned back to the bag. She rested the towel on her shoulder to free up her hands. She unzips the bag and rummages through for a moment before pulling out an old band t-shirt. She turns around and holds it up for Emily to inspect. “This okay? It’s about all I’ve got.”

“Pardon?” Emily frowned.

“You need something to change into unless you plan on catching hypothermia and considering you didn’t have your go-bag in the SUV, you’re stuck with my clothes.”

Emily struggles to breathe. “Right.” She nods, “Uh, yeah. That’s fine.”

She steps forwards and takes the shirt from Tara. “Thanks, I’m gonna...” She points in the direction of the bathroom and without waiting for a response quickly disappears.

Once the door is shut behind her Emily proceeds to quietly freak the fuck out.

Of course, it was her luck that a storm would hit on their drive back from interviewing a perp at Arizona state prison (who they suspected of being connected to their current case). The rain was so bad Emily could hardly see the road and Tara had suggested stopping for the night and picking back up in the morning when the rain would have hopefully calmed.

Which was a smart idea, but Emily had protested up until the point the car slid and nearly drove off the side of the road.

With anyone else, this situation would be annoying but fine.

But Emily’s heart fluttered stupidly around Tara and she’d taken to telling herself multiple times a day that she was Tara’s boss and that nothing could happen.

It wasn’t helping.

“Suck it up, Prentiss.” She told herself. She’d taken down serial killers; she could handle an inconvenient crush.

Emily stripped out of her clothes, leaving only her underwear on, which thankfully hadn’t been soaked through because honestly, Emily didn’t know how she would have coped if she had had to ask Tara for some. She hung the clothes over the side of the bath to dry and slipped on Tara’s T-shirt.

It was an old Rolling Stones one, and despite her and Tara’s height difference, it barely covered her ass.

“Perfect.” She muttered, and with one last look in the shitty motel mirror, Emily opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom.

And then proceeded to nearly have a stroke.

Because Emily was painfully aware of how attractive Tara was, but she was totally not prepared to see her very long, very beautiful legs. She was wearing a vest top along with short sleep shorts, and it was just a lot of beautiful skin.

“You okay, Prentiss?” Tara asked for the second time that night, with a smirk that Emily desperately wanted to kiss off her face.

“Yeah, I, uh,” Emily scrambled for something to say, “I tried phoning Rossi to let him know what happened but there’s no cell reception.”

“I’m sure they’ll figure it out. We can leave early tomorrow so we can be back at the station for nine.” Tara said as she leant down to grab something from where it rested on the bed.

Emily managed to avert her eyes from Tara’s legs just before the women straightened up and met her gaze. She held out a chocolate bar. “Want this?”

“You have food? You’re a godsend.” Emily praised, happily accepting the bar and chucking her phone onto the bed in the process. They’d been planning on grabbing dinner when they’d gotten back to the hotel, which obviously hadn’t happened. There was no way they were going to be able to order food in this weather and Emily hadn’t eaten since lunchtime.

“Of course, you don’t keep snacks in your go-bag?” Tara’s brows raised in disbelief.

“No, but I will be from now on because that’s genius.”

Tara chuckled. “It’s not a lot. Just that chocolate bar, some trail mix, and a few nutrition bars, but they’re great for emergencies.” Tara’s lips spread into a smirk, her eyes dancing. “And apparently warding off hangry Prentiss’”

Emily scoffed. “I don’t get hangry.”

“Oh, yes you do.” Tara cackled, taking a step closer to her.

“No, I don’t!”

“Sorry, but you do.”

“I do not! Take it back!” Emily ordered, stepping forward to jab a finger at Tara.

“It’s okay Prentiss, a lot of people do.” Tara’s voice lowered, that irritating smirk still painting her lips.

“Yeah, well I’m not a lot of people!” Emily rebutted and knew her face was heating up from her proximity to Tara.

Their breath was practically mingling, and Emily desperately needed to step away. To end whatever this was.

“Oh, I’m very much aware,” Tara said in a way that couldn’t be misconstrued as anything other than flirting. Her eyes dropped to Emily’s lips as her fingers brushed her chin, angling Emily’s head upwards, bringing her mouth dangerously close to hers.

Emily couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but stare deeply into Tara’s eyes. They twinkled but there was a softness behind them, her grip was gentle on Emily’s chin giving her plenty of chance to pull away, but Emily couldn’t remember any of the reasons she should.

So, instead, she nudged her head forward and met Tara’s lips.

And Tara kissed just like she did everything else, with precision, care, and passion. Emily’s hands threaded through Tara’s hair as Tara’s hands ran down her back.

The first sweep of Tara’s tongue had Emily whimpering. Even if she was thinking clearly, she wouldn’t have been able to name a single person who’d even turned her into putty this quickly.

Emily kissed back with everything she had, fighting Tara’s tongue for dominance as they stumbled back towards the bed.

They both breathed heavily as they separated, Tara sat down on the bed and tugged Emily into her lap. Her hands ran down Emily’s side, settling on her hips. Tara stared at her with soft eyes and swollen lips and Emily thought she was the most beautiful thing in the whole world.

But as she stared at Tara her mind began to clear and the full reality of what Emily had just done hit her like a ton of bricks.

“Oh god.” Emily gasped, eyes widening in horror. “Shit. No. Fuck. Oh god.” She scrambled out of Tara’s lap and off the bed, moving to the other side of the room to put as much space between them as possible.

“We can’t- I shouldn’t have- I-” Emily blew out a breath as she struggled to find what to say. Tara just stared at her confusion and hurt shining in her eyes.

“I’m your boss.” Emily settled on, looking at Tara with desperate eyes. “We can’t do that. We can’t be...” It hurt more than it should have. She could feel her heart cracking.

Tara stood up and approached Emily. “It’ll be okay. There are plenty of agents that have dated while being on the same team.”

Emily shook her head, “I’m your boss. It’s different. There are rules in place for a reason-”

Tara scoffed, “Yeah because of Rossi.” She tried to reach for Emily’s hand, but Emily just swatted her away. “Really, Em?” Her eyes flashed with hurt. “Look, I understand it’s not an ideal situation but are you telling me that you’re just going to be able to forget about what just happened?”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re both professionals. We don’t need to make a big deal out of this.” Emily said mostly to herself. Trying to convince herself that she hadn’t just fucked things up.

“Right. Fine.” Tara muttered, not able to hide the way it hurt. She shook her head and made to step away, but Emily’s hand flew out to stop her.

“Wait.” She waited until Tara met her eyes before releasing her wrist. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt or upset you. I shouldn’t have let myself get sucked in. I should have stepped away instead of kissing you.”

Emily wanted to make this better, to get that sad look off of Tara’s face.

Tara sighed, “It’s fine, Emily. Let’s just eat and then go to bed. It’s late and I’m tired.”

It was barely 8 o’clock but Emily didn’t want to argue so instead she nodded her head.

The tension when they ate made Emily want to scream. They spoke strictly about the team, keeping the conversation light, and steadily avoiding brushing hands as they shared the bag of trail mix. It was more exhausting than the whole of Emily’s week combined.

By the time she crawled into bed, Emily was ready to hide under the covers and not come out for at least a week. She hated to think of what the next girls’ night would be like...

Tara turned the lights off, plunging the room into darkness before sliding into the bed. “Night.” She murmured.

“Goodnight.”

Emily rolled onto her side, facing away from the other women and tried to fall asleep.

The silence lasted for barely fifteen minutes before Tara sat back up, turned the lamp on and said, “You know what, It’s not fine.”

Emily rolled back over and sat up, wincing at the frustration in Tara’s face.

“You feel something too, right? This wasn’t just about sex. There’s something between us and I don’t want to ignore it just because of some bullshit fraternisation rules that only exist because Rossi is incapable of keeping it in his pants.”

“There are rules for a reason. What if something was to happen in the field, I wouldn’t be able to be objective. If I had to discipline you for a reason it would fuck with our relationship, and plus it would mess with your career if people knew you were sleeping with the boss.” Emily closed her eyes, blowing out a breath before looking at Tara with a pained smile. “I feel it too, okay? I-”

“Then stop fighting it,” Tara ordered. “I don’t care about any of that. We’ll make it work because I really like you Emily and I’m so tired of pretending I don’t.”

Emily’s body melted. Tara reached out and caressed her cheek causing Emily’s eyes to flutter close as she leaned into the contact.

“Let’s just give us a chance,” Tara whispered.

Emily opened her eyes, looking at Tara with adoration and love...because that’s what it was. It wasn’t an inconvenient crush or simple infatuation; Emily had fallen in love with Tara and there was no way of fighting that without breaking her own heart and possibly Tara’s in the process.

Emily steeled herself with a deep breath. “Okay.”

Tara’s eyes lit up in delight and Emily found the sight adorable.

“But we have to stay professional at work.”

“Yes, boss.” Tara teased before leaning in and meeting Emily in a soft kiss.

Emily hummed against her lips, “You’re gonna be the end of me, Tara Lewis.”

Tara chuckled, “Not if I can help it.”

She leaned back in and met Emily’s lips. After a few minutes, Emily groaned causing Tara to pull away with an amused look. “What?”

“I’m just imagining the teasing I’m going to receive from Rossi and JJ when they find out.”

“Well, let’s not think about that now.” She kissed Emily again.

“Yeah, you got a better idea?” Emily hummed in between kisses.

“I’ve got a few.”

Emily slid her hand up to Tara’s neck, dragging her in close and kissing the smirk off her face. Tara mewed and Emily just kissed her deeper, dragging her body down to hers and letting the rest of the world fade away as she focused solely on the beautiful woman on top of her.

taglist: @xrainydazeteax

#temily #tara lewis x emily prentiss #emily prentiss #tara lewis #criminal minds #writing #fanfiction #regal-roni #resisting you was always impossible #my writing #angst with a happy ending

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paradoxicalpatton · 4 years ago

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I’m Not In Love

Title: I’m Not in Love Summary: “He thinks about them owning a dog, a golden retriever to be exact. A girl, they’d call her Honey. The Captain would fight for a regular name such as Charlotte, but Pat would convince him that Honey is much more fitting. ‘It matches her fur!’ he’d say. The Captain would immediately give in. He thinks about what it would feel like to be the object of Pat's affections. To be completely and utterly enamoured by someone so full of love." The Captain and Pat's friendship is put on the line. Pairings: Patcap (The Captain/Pat) Content Warnings: Very mild period typical internalised homophobia Chapter: 2 Word Count: 1744 Read on: Archive of Our Own Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“I can’t believe we’ve just sat here for five hours and have done absolutely nothing.”

The setting sun cast a warm golden glow on the land as it began to slowly cross the horizon, the trees and bushes gently swaying to and fro, adding a soft, cool breeze to the scene. The lake had mirrored the sunset, the transition from sky to land now almost impossible to distinguish if it weren’t for small ripples from the wind delicately distorting the light over the water.

The once vivid greens and browns of the foliage among the ground and surrounding the lake had now been muted by the vibrant yellows and oranges that were now reflecting from the sun and onto the water, a deep rich blue quickly chasing away the final remnants of the day completely from the vast stretching sky above.

Pat and the Captain had been sitting by the lake since late that afternoon, having finally escaped from the chaos that is Button house. It was nice. Peaceful. For once they could relax without being interrupted by Julian with a story of some sex-capde he had been in followed by Fanny’s usual disgusted complaints, or by Thomas demanding that one of them tell Kitty to leave him alone while he comes up with the next great piece of literature.

Alison had come to realise just how much she depended on the two of them to keep the other ghosts in order, so she had organised an afternoon full of activities the ghosts would enjoy and participate in so Pat and the Captain could finally have some time to themselves.

Sitting underneath the large tree, Pat watched the grass move with the wind, longing to reach a hand out and run it across the ground so that he could feel it between his fingers. It made him think back to when he was alive. Carol had always complained about their front garden, how the weeds in the flower beds were overgrown and that the bushes were always untrimmed. He had always wanted to fix it for her, but he was usually preoccupied with his scout duties, and when he did find time to think about it he simply couldn’t come up with anything.

He owed it to his son Daley, however, when the young boy had asked him if they could plant flowers for his Mummy’s birthday, that way she didn’t have to throw them out after they died. So when Carol left to spend a week at her mothers before her birthday, Pat and Daley drove out to the garden store and bought everything they needed to fix it up for her.

Forget-me-nots, marigolds, daffodils, and pansies now filled the once weed-infested flower beds. The bushes had been trimmed, the trees cut, and the lawn mown. A small wooden bench had even been built and placed at the end of the garden. The smile on Daley’s face as him and his father admired their hard work from the bench was brighter than anything Pat had ever seen. They were so proud.

Pat wished he could smell the rich soil at this moment. Wished he could run his hands along the grass, listen to the sound of the fallen dead leaves crunch as he walked over them. He wished he could relive the feeling of pulling his son close to him in a tight hug after planting the final flower.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of crickets waking up for the evening, as the last remaining rays of sunlight dropped below the horizon.

----------

Not wanting to return to Button house just yet, Pat directed his gaze at the man next to him. The Captain had been leant against the tree since they had got there that afternoon, the two occasionally making small talk before the Captain closed his eyes in an attempt to have the most peaceful nap of his entire existence. He’d woken not long ago, just in time to watch the sun fall and the moon rise.

For a moment after he’d woken up, the Captain had almost forgotten he was dead. At that moment, there was nothing but him, Pat, and the ground they were sat on. The tranquil smile that graced Pat’s face was more than enough to set the Captain’s heart racing. He tried to imagine what it would’ve been like, had the two of them been alive at the same time where loving the same gender was legal.

They’d move to the countryside, he decided. They’d have a large backyard with a vegetable garden by the white picket fence, maybe an apple tree, maybe even a chicken or two. The Captain had always found the thought of fresh eggs in the morning very appealing, as well as the structure provided from owning and caring for the animals.

He thinks about them owning a dog, a golden retriever to be exact. A girl, they’d call her Honey. The Captain would fight for a regular name such as Charlotte, but Pat would convince him that Honey is much more fitting. ‘It matches her fur!’ he’d say. The Captain would immediately give in.

He thinks about what it would feel like to be the object of Pat's affections. To be completely and utterly enamoured by someone so full of love.

It’s wrong, thinking about Pat that way. Imagining the two of them living in domestic bliss, running away and starting their lives all over again together. The Captain isn’t entirely sure why it’s wrong though. He was there for Sam and Claire’s wedding, he knows it’s not illegal to love the same gender anymore. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t fully accepted it himself.

He was so used to hiding away his feelings, burying them deep inside of him so that no one would ever see. So that no one would ever know he was defective. If he didn’t get close to anybody, he couldn’t betray them if they ever found out the truth.

Maybe he thought it was wrong because he truly believed that Pat would never love someone like him. He was cold, a stickler for rules and order. Not to mention that Pat was married while he was alive, to a woman no less. It was clear the scoutmaster was as straight as a pole.

It wouldn’t do any good getting his hopes up. Instead, the Captain would ignore the longing inside of him, he didn’t want to ruin what was quite possibly his only friendship in the entire house.

“Yes, well we have Alison to thank for that. Maybe we could convince her to turn this into a monthly thing. I could do with some time away from that lot every now and then.”

The Captain turned his attention toward Pat as he replied, hoping the younger ghost would be in favour of the idea. With a small nod of agreeance, Pat stood up and offered a hand to the Captain to avoid the struggle of getting up. The two of them slowly made their way back to Button house, the sounds of the other ghosts getting increasingly louder the closer they got. Hoping to stay undetected by the others, Pat and the Captain quietly snuck into the room where Alison and the other ghosts were playing some type of game.

They had almost gotten away with it without anyone noticing until Fanny got insulted at something Julian had said and jumped up to storm away. Seeing the Captain and Pat at the back of the room, she immediately took her complaint to them, the two male ghosts now preparing themselves to be thrown back into the chaos with everyone beginning to talk at once.

Alison made an attempt to calm the other ghosts down and distract them once more but was unsuccessful. It wasn’t until Pat raised his voice that everyone finally quietened down, pointing a finger at Robin asking him to start.

“Where you two go? We all play game, you not here.”

Before either of them had a chance to respond, Julian cut in with a thought that sent the ghosts into disarray once more.

“Probably off somewhere doing the old ‘horizontal tango’ if you ask me.”

“Now listen here, man! I won’t take any of this bum rap from someone of the likes of you. I would never do anything of the sort, and especially not with a brown-noser such as Patrick!”

The room stilled. The sudden silence wasn’t because of the Captain’s outburst, however, instead, the other ghosts looked past him at the short scout leader.

Without saying a word, Pat turned around and walked out, making his way to the dilapidated fountain outside the front door. He wasn’t really sure why what the Captain said had upset him. It hurt, to be completely honest.

Sitting by the edge of the fountain, Pat traced the overgrown vines with his eyes and ignored the presence slowly approaching him from behind.

“Patrick, I’m terribly sorry our friendship was misconstrued in such a way, I understand how embarrassing it was.”

“Embarrassed? You really think I’m upset because Julian’s comment embarrassed me?”

“Of course. Is… is that not the reason you’re upset?”

“No! Julian always says inappropriate things, it was what you said that hurt me.”

The Captain’s hands tightened around his swagger stick as Pat spoke, something in the younger man's tone made him want to embrace the scout leader.

“I don’t understand how, I was simply disproving Julian’s abhorrent comment.”

“That’s how! He said something about us together in passing and you acted like it was the worst possible thing in the world! Am I really that revolting Captain?”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Patrick!”

“Seriously? Can’t you see that I’m angry at you? I’m upset! And you... you don’t even care!”

“How dare you, of course I care! But you’re acting like a child, it’s time to grow up-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the Captain was shoved back, his feet tripping over one another causing him to fall to the ground. Looking up, Pat stood above him, the man’s face a mixture of regret and anger. The Captain watched as Pat turned around, his hands clenched by his sides.

“Cap, you’re a broken man, haunted by the choices you've made. I really thought we were becoming good friends. I’m sorry if I interpreted our relationship the wrong way.”

“Pat…”

“Don’t. Please, just don’t Cap. Sorry I pushed you.”

#bbc ghosts #six idiots #the captain #pat butcher #patcap #my fic #ghosts season 2 #ghosts bbc #ben willbond #jim howick

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lovelessdagger · 3 years ago

Text

Starlight - Chapter Six: Devil in Disguise

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC, Din Djarin x OFC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence

Warnings: Explicit Language, mentions of drug abuse

Words: 3585

Summary: In her youth, she hadn’t had the fortune of friends, or really any amicable or civilized relationship. Boarding school provided about as much of a social life as one could expect. What with Imperial propaganda as the basis of all education. Churning out brainwashed children one year after the other. When she was moved to private tutoring, she never stood a chance.

Not that she considered the Mandalorian to be a friend, she didn’t. She was lonely but not desperate.

Starlight Masterlist Here

Read Chapter Five Here

Read on AO3 Here

Something’s off with the Mandalorian, that much had been obvious since she woke. He’s avoiding her, to a much greater extent than she would have expected from him.

She doesn’t know how long she slept in his lap that night prior, how many hours have passed since Eadu. Wults. The breakdown which left her with little dignity.

All she knows is that she is alone.

The smallest part of her, the foolish part that still believed in hope and her being worthy of joy, actually thought he would be there. Greet her maybe. Give her another ration pack. Ask if she felt any better.

Say he forgave her.

She supposes she’d done a much greater deal to him than she had originally thought. All he wanted was to find other Mandalorians. Maybe find the girl he kept speaking of. That side of the dilemma was one she still hadn’t completely understood.

Feelings weren’t her forte. Certainly not positive ones.

Instead she’s alone. Convinced he’s locked himself in his bedchamber with the child.

She couldn’t blame him, not really.

She would have done the same. Actually, she would have done a lot worse.

At least Coruscant would break her back into reality. Into the future she had cemented for herself.

The entirety of her life had been a useless cycle. Wake. Meal. Lessons. Meal. Training. Meal. Meditation. Sleep. Transitioning into adulthood, circumstances only changed for the worse. Schooling was replaced with missions assigned by her father, the devil that he was. Meals grew few and far between, combatant training turned from dummies to fighting assassination droids to real people.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Working for Neri’Kelli offered little difference in routine.

Then comes in the Mandalorian. The annoyingly stubborn asshole that he is, ruining her mission, missions really. Daring to be kind to her, to give an ounce of a damn, why?

He said he cared for the girl because she was good, but what the fuck did that even mean?

Because she, for possibly the first time in her pathetic little life decided to be nice? That she she risked everything to tell Neri about him?

Was that good?

He doesn’t know her. He doesn’t know how vile she is. How sinful her soul is. How that girl is the most terrifying person she had the displeasure of knowing.

She wasn’t capable of good.

She never was. Never will be.

The funny thing about memories is how completely unreliable they can be. In memory, everything can be misconstrued in emotion, perspective, biases, intentional or not, vision is clouded. It was amazing how something so pivotal to the experience of life could just be… wrong. Objectively.

The Mandalorian’s memories, she decides, are clouded. By what she couldn’t say exactly. Ignorance, arrogance, a cocktail of both.

She can’t entertain the thought of his emotions being more than that. More positive, caring, intimate.

The girl isn’t worthy of that.

History was different. History was objective. Based in fact and reality. The assassin prided herself by working off history, not memory. Objective, emotionless stories of the past. She’s seen enough to not care for the fluff of things anymore.

Eadu was a mistake. Where history and memory became one.

Eadu tapped into that part of her again, the foolish side. The one that believed she could ever escape the Empire. That she could be normal if she wanted to.

The words of Wults circles her head, like a scratched record on repeat. “What is it with daughters presumed dead reappearing out of thin air?”

She must have been like her. The girl crying for her father. The girl whose history was stuck in the canyons, screaming for someone to listen.

Historically speaking, the exploded laboratory was a relic of the war. Rebel victory against the Empire.

But in memory, it was a girl, practically a kid really. Scared. Wanting her father. Believed to no longer exist.

A reflection the assassin would rather not think about in all honesty.

She sits in the cockpit alone, fumbling with the buttons of the Razor Crest. Radio static plays in the background, channels aren’t reachable in hyperspace but anything would be better than the ship’s eerie silence.

She should tell him.

But should and will are entirely different concepts. For starters, will requires a conscious. Morality. You didn’t get as far as her with nonsense like that.

In her youth, she hadn’t had the fortune of friends, or really any amicable or civilized relationship. Boarding school provided about as much of a social life as one could expect. What with Imperial propaganda as the basis of all education. Churning out brainwashed children one year after the other. When she was moved to private tutoring, she never stood a chance.

Not that she considered the Mandalorian to be a friend, she didn’t. She was lonely but not desperate.

He makes it to the cockpit before she can talk herself into it. The kid rests his cheek on the cold Beskar of Mando’s chest, babbling quietly into the metal. They sit behind her.

There’s no vocal acknowledgment of each other at first, nothing either could say would do justice to dispel the tension between them.

This would be the worst time to tell him. It feels too late now.

“We should be landing soon,” she says. “You got up just in time, only a few minutes until we’re out of hyperspace.”

Mando says nothing. He doesn’t nod, doesn’t do that sigh he does when he’s especially annoyed, nothing. Through the reflection in front of her, he watches the kid instead.

“We won’t be going to the club, he’s not there this late.” She rubs her hands on her thighs, fidgeting with the wrinkles she creates in the fabric. “Level 1313 isn’t the greatest place in the galaxy, the kid should stay here. It’s not safe, even with the two of us.”

Nothing.

A minute passes. ”If you’re upset about last night, I’m sorry. But I meant what I said, I’ll get you your information.” The ship beeps in the background. Five minutes until sublight.

“How am I supposed to believe anything you tell me?” Mando asks, stoic and hoarse.

“What?”

“How do I know all of this wasn’t planned? How do I know everything I know about you hasn’t been anything but lies?”

Her heart sinks into the acid of her stomach. He knew.

“Why are you helping me?” he asks.

How did he know?

“I owe you,” she says.

There was no way he could know.

“For what?” he asks.

She had been so careful.

She pauses. “Nothing. Everything.”

He hums and they fall into themselves yet again.

---

They’re on a cargo airspeeder roughly a quarter of the size of the Razor Crest. Mando doesn’t know how she managed to get one, or how they managed to bypass the New Republic tunnel checks into the Underworld. No one got in 1313, and no one left unless given a special clearance granted by the Senate.

The descent takes a total of three minutes, its enough for her to leave the operation seat and throw on a cape of her own, hooded, it covers her entire body. Her face is covered again, hair tied back and hidden. His mind felt in limbo. The duffle bag of her personals was tossed aside by the entrance. Tucked away, folded along side all her weapons and clothing, his cape had been there the entire time. It was with her.

“Stick close, even one piece of your Beskar is worth more than anyone’s life down here.”

Unless—

“I don’t need your protection,” Mando says. His eyes catches hers in their distance. There was no guarantee for his suspicions. Atikya having his cape didn’t necessarily mean she was Lumina. She could have killed her, taken a sick trophy instead.

But who was he kidding.

This whole time, she had been with him this entire time. In his ship, in his refresher, in his shirt. Asleep on his lap. With his son.

The kid.

He must have known. This whole time he knew. That’s why he’s been so attached to her. That mind reading, sorcerer, little green womp rat knew. Maybe it was one of those weird Jedi powers, recognition of… aura or something. He recognized her as someone Mando cared about and immediately assumed he should to.

And Mando let him.

It was so obvious. Sure their voices differed. Atikya fell deeper, more sultry, confident. Lumina sounded like a song, the perfect lullaby. She had sounded so hesitant, scared even. It was enough to throw him off.

Still.

Same hair, same height, same teasing manner. Stars, her laughter was exactly the same as that on Tatooine. It lit up the room in joy and filled his heart with warmth.

And her eyes. He catches them again before she turns away.

Fuck her eyes.

He couldn’t see it until she cried. Why couldn’t he see it? She had carried herself so differently in the past days. Always arguing, fighting, brushing him aside at any moment. Avoiding eye contact at all times possible… so quick to hide her appearance whenever necessary.

“Suit yourself,” she says. “I’ll get Neri to tell you what you need to know, then you leave. I don’t need you sticking around to see anything you shouldn’t. You’ll take this speeder back to the surface, no one should stop you on the way up. If they do, show them this.”

She tosses a holographic card to him, inscribed an axe symbol, blood droplets under it. On the back of the card written in gold lettering: THE HOLDER OF THIS CARD IS IN EXEMPTION OF NEW REPUBLIC ORDENACE AS DICTATED BY THE GALACTIC SENATE. In the bottom corner in gold foil, the official seal of the New Republic.

“What about you?” Mando asks.

She shrugs. “If there’s a filter in that helmet of yours, I suggest using it. If you’re not used to the air here it’ll leave you sick like hell, and that’s if you’re lucky.”

The back plank of the ship opens into the city, sprawling in smog, the air is thick. She looks back at the Mandalorian over her shoulder. Words on the brink of her lips go unspoken.

---

“My first time here I was just a girl,” Atikya narrates. Buildings are decrepit, walls covered in fungi excreting toxins, gang symbols, and shattered glass. “My father had employed the Mandalorian on your wall to help train me in stealth and combat. He brought me here to learn how to evade Imperial surveillance systems. It wasn’t always such a shithole here, there used to be police and proper businesses, families. Now it’s mainly criminals, homeless people, black market vendors. So we’re left alone.”

They walk past a group of men huddled for warmth, their hands surround a pile of old droid parts set on fire. They’re covered in dirt and soot, tattered clothes layered as if they were on Hoth. They cough and smoke, passing along bottles of alcohol. In Atikya’s passing their slurred speech turn to quiet murmurs, each one nodding their heads.

At a corner, a female Mirialan lays unmoving, stomach protruding and round. Mando stops in front of the body, he’s sick. A can by her fallen hand holds few credits.

“Shit,” Atikya curses. She kneels by the woman, her hand hovering around the body. It shakes, and her shoulders tense. She lifts the woman’s arm, littered with markings. “It’s only been a few hours, overdose.” She grabs the can, pouring its contents into her hand. “Hey!” She approaches two men on the other side of the street, tossing the credits at them. “Show the lady some respect,” she says, nodding over. “Be gentle.”

“That necklace could be worth a pretty penny,” one hisses in front of her. He lifts the Mirialan by the shoulders, the other taking her legs. “Is it available?”

“Only the jewelry. If I find out either of you stripped her I’ll hunt you myself. Understood?” They nod wordlessly, sunken eyes fearful and avoiding hers. “Good. Get out of here, she deserves to rest.” She waves them away, the men leaving with forgotten apologies.

“Where are they taking her?” Mando asks.

“The morgue. She’ll be expedited for cremation, hopefully word gets out about her by tomorrow night. We try to do blackouts whenever we find these things.”

“Blackouts?”

“Yeah. Nights where the level is silent. No selling, fights, loitering, anything that could cause a scene. Every building goes dark, depending who’s found there might be a vigil,” she explains as they walk. “Sometimes we’ll find kids, they usually get a day or so. It’s community mourning tradition.”

“That’s… really nice,” Mando says.

“No one likes seeing dead kids, or pregnant women. We might be Coruscant’s worse, but we’re not that evil. Most of us anyways.”Above, pipes rumble and clash. “We need to hurry. It’ll rain soon.”

“Rain reaches down here?”

Her head shakes. “It’s not water.”

---

Neri’Kelli’s compound, to the best of the Mandalorian’s ability can only be described as unfortunate. They enter to a foyer of gold ornate statues of naked women, framed art works lining the walls. Black tiled floors are sprinkled in flecks of gold reflecting chandeliers lighting as stars.

Two Trandoshans guard the entryway, blocking the pair in ridiculous red velvet suits. They stand with trembling hands clasped behind their backs, heads turned down.

“Move,” Atikya says.

“No can do ma’am,” one speaks up shakily. “Orders from Mr. Kelli, you’re not allowed in.”

She laughs. “Is that right? I need to talk to Neri, get out of the way.”

“I’m sorry we-“ He coughs. He coughs and coughs and coughs. Each grows increasingly more violent than the last, he coughs so much Mando starts to worry he’ll drop dead right there. His hands fumble around his throat, pulling at his collar.

“He’s in the lounge,” the other guard jumps in. The choking one stops, dropping to his knees with gasps for air.

Atikya nods, stepping over his body, Mando follows in caution.

They find the Twi’lek watching a film projected on the wall in the back of the compound. Fittingly, he thinks, it’s a horror, symphonic devastating orchestra the background of the scene. There are no guards surrounding him, no flashing lights, smoke, drinks. Just him, in the darkness of the red lighting.

Atikya sighs, tossing her bag in front of his feet. “Neri,” she says.

He looks up, grin plastered across pointed teeth. “Ayy’Numa.” He looks around. “I see you failed me, again.”

“Considering you set me up? I take it as a victory.”

“Set you up? I’m hurt. I would never do such a thing.” He’s unbothered, terribly so, more engrossed in the fake slaughter playing before him. “No bounties, no information.” He glances at Mando, “You understand don’t you?”

“Cut the shit Neri. You’re going to tell the Mandalorian everything he needs to know. No tricks. No lies.”

“And if I don’t?”

She pulls out the blaster strapped to her hips, the barrel inches away from his forehead. “I can do this the ugly way too.”

He scoffs. “I always did say I wanted to be burned by you didn’t I? But I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he chuckles.

“And why not?”

Neri leans forward, pressing a button under the table his feet rest on. There’s a loud buzz, a metal door automates open. Two men step out, the Imperial emblem on their uniforms unmistakable. Behind them, two more Trandoshans. “I’ve been in contact with old friends,” he says. Mando whips out his own blaster. “You’re selling for quite the price dear.” His fingers snap, the Imperials walk forward, guns raised to the girl. A disapproving finger wags at Mando. “Down. You shoot them or me, they shoot her.”

“You sold me?” Atikya asks, barely a whisper.

“You sold yourself the moment you tried to leave me. I did what I had to do, it was about time you learned some consequences.”

“Consequences?” She stumbles on the word. “Is that what you’re calling this? Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?”

“No worries. I was given quite the briefing earlier. When you came here you were just a scared little girl. Look at you now, you’ll be dead without me. What was your plan when you left? You have no one but me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” He points to Mando, a steady stride poised in his direction. “You can replace your Mandalorian friend as many times as you’d like,” he chuckles, turning back to her. “It won’t bring him back.”

“Stop it Neri,” Atikya says.

“I thought you would have given up, it’s been so many years doll. What will you do next? Find a man to replace your father?”

“Neri-“ The men grab her, one placing handcuffs, the other holding his gun to the back of her head.

“Perhaps a droid. They have the same emotional depth as him.”

“Neri you’re being cruel.”

“Cruel?” The Twi’lek laughs. “Cruel… No, no this isn’t cruel. This is deserved.” Neri cackles, he faces Mando again. “I’ve got no business with you,” he says.“Find Viroz Petiko on Canto Bight. He knows exactly where to find your Mandalorians.”

“The spice lord?”

“Aye. He’s a hermit, only comes out a few times a year. But you’re in luck. He’s hosting a ball in a fortnight. He’ll tell you all you need to know.” Neri pulls a cloth bag out of his pockets, handing credits to Mando. “I believe our contract is done.”

He looks at Atikya and nods, then to the guards who approach him. “You’re right,” he says, pocketing the money. “I’ll be on my way.”

The guards lead Mando out into the hallway, mutters are audible behind them, followed by laughter, shouting. Atikya’s voice is the main cause of the latter, curses echoing out the doorway. Then, gunshots.

Mando strikes the jaw of the first guard behind him, grabbing the gun of the other, he shoots them in the head. Its an easy enough kill, leaving the Mandalorian entirely unfazed.

He runs into the lounge, movie still projected onto the walls. In the middle of the room, a cloaked figure huddled on the ground. The bodies of the two Imperials fallen where they last stood, dead.

“Bad choice Mandalorian,” Neri’Kelli says behind him. He holds Atikya, his knife pressed against her throat. “I told you to leave.”

“Let her go.”

“Oh don’t tell me you care for her!” Neri laughs. He grabs Atikya’s chin, forcing it forward. “After all she’s done to you? You know just as well as I do how useless she is.”

“I wasn’t asking. Let her go before I blast your brains out.”

Neri clicks his tongue, “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this. I’ll give you a choice Mando. Take her,” he says, tilting his head to Atikya. ”And she dies” He looks forward to the figure who’s head moves. “Or. The other way around. Take a look, I’m sure the choice is clear. Of course you could always walk away.”

The figure breathes heavy. Cautiously, Mando walks towards her, blaster pointed out.

“I’m fine, go away,” she says. It stops his heart, sinking it deep in the dark pit of his chest. His head snaps to Neri, Atikya is still in his arms.

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching for the hood of the cape. Slowly, he pulls it down. In front of him, her face stares, a growing bruise on her cheek. “Lumina?” He asks in a whisper. She sits in front of him, face perfectly captured from memory.

“You have to leave,” she whispers. “I’ll be fine. Go.” Her words earn her a strike at the back of her head by Neri, crying out she falls forward.

Mando stands, he punches Neri in the jaw, his stumble back is enough to free Atikya. She falls on the ground, gasping. Neri chuckles, rubbing the point of impact. He aims two blasters, pointed at each of the girls. “Shoot me and they both get it. Pick your poison. Tick tock.”

Atikya sits up, looking between them all. “He took my weapons,” she says. “I can’t get out of this. Come on, use your brain for once, shoot her.”

Mando stares at her, then Lumina, then her again. He had been so sure. So positive they were one in the same. Everything added up, until now.

“Mandalorian—” Lumina says.

“I won’t hurt you,” Mando shakes his head.

Neri gasps, looking down at the assassin. “Are those feelings?” He asks, amusement trickling in his voice. “Mandalorian,” he whispers. “Don’t tell me. This is too good.”

“What is taking so long,” Atikya presses. “You met her once! She’s the whole reason any of this is happening. Shoot her!”

“Stop it,” Mando warns, facing her.

“I’m right! I’m right, I’m right,” Atikya says. She tries to stand, Neri’s blaster shoots above her head. She ducks down, glaring at the Twi’lek. “If you walk out we’re both dead anyways. I can actually help you. I have helped you this entire time. What did she do? She left you. She doesn’t care about you, if she did she would have stayed!”

“Atikya,” Mando grunts. “You’re not helping yourself.”

“Why don’t you tell him the truth,” Neri says, leaning over her. “Go on. He doesn’t know does he? Tell him.” Atikya’s head shakes, she looks away. “You want to live don’t you?” Neri asks. “Tell him the truth and it’s a guarantee.”

“Don’t,” Lumina says. “No, you can’t. Don’t say anything. Neri… Mandalorian please..”

Atikya scoffs, eyes rolling. “Not so tough now are you? Fine,” she mocks “You want to know why you should shoot her?” Her hand reaches up unwrapping her hair. “I really really really thought you knew,” she muttered. Her mess of hair falls down, then her mask. “Now do you believe me?”

No.

No. This isn’t right. This isn’t right at all. Something is wrong. Something is very very wrong. This couldn’t be possible.

And yet.

There she was. Again. Lumina. Or at least her face, just as he suspected. But…

Hesitantly, Mando’s arm raises, pointed at Lumina, or ‘Lumina’, he wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. A demented fever dream if anything.

Neri laughs manically, lowering his guns. “What a turn of events. What are you waiting for? Shoot him.”

“Get up,” Mando says, holding out his other arm for Atikya. She takes it and stands, hiding behind him. “You have a lot of explaining to do,” he mutters.

Her eyes roll. “Can we fight later?”

“You,” he says, motioning with his gun to the other girl. “Who are you?”

She swears under her breath, eyes squeezed up. She looks up at Neri, standing slowly. “You promised,” she said.

The Twi’lek shrugs. “I never promised anything.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Atikya asks tightly.

“Stupid isn’t a good look on you,” Lumina says. “Mandalorian… if you know what’s good for you, you won’t shoot me. I’m not the one who’s lying.”

“Wait… Stars I know exactly who you are,” Atikya says, stepping forward.

“Atikya wait—“ Mando starts.

“Oh please tell me you don’t actually believe her!” Atikya cries.

“You don’t believe me?” Lumina asks.

“I didn’t say that,” he huffs.

“She’s a monster Mando,” Atikya says.“Obviously this is Torek, he’s trying to fuck with you. He took my face.” She reaches back, taking his hand in her own.

And the world stands still. No flutters deep in his heart, no flickers of light across the walls. If anything it’s a boring stagnation of credits. No outside force tormenting him with what ifs and annoyance.

Nothing at all, except for one thing.

“What?” He turns to her, head tilted.

“I’m the monster?” Lumina whispers. “Do you think I’m a monster?”

Mando steps back from the two of them, his hands falling to his side. He looks between the girls, brows furrowed. He tries to study their eyes in the seconds between his words. He catches contact to Atikya, and she tilts her head questioningly. She was missing something. The spark of secrecy and depth he saw on Tatooine. Her offhanded disappointment in everything. Even the flicker of rage that sparked when she was upset.

It was like there was nothing behind them.

No thoughts, no feelings, no hidden kindness she would never admit to.

“No, never,” he answers Lumina.

“Excuse you?” Atikya frowns. “You’re fucking with me right?”

“Calm down,” Mando warns, gun to her face.

“I am calm. You’re the one being an idiot with a gun in my face!”

“C’mere,” he says to Lumina, motioning to her. He leans down to her, eyes level to each other. She tugs down the collar of her shirt, silver beaded necklace placed across her neck. The one from the vendor’s stall, stolen on Taris.

“Mando,” Atikya says. “What are you—“ Blasters fire before she can finish. The Mandalorian stands, fresh smoke waving from his blaster. The girl collapses on the ground, ending with a bullet between the eyes. The body’s form changes, brown skin turning a scaly green, face morphing reptilian.

“You should have listened when I said to leave,” Lumina says.

He hums, staring down at her. “I’ve done the leaving thing before. I won’t do it again.” He takes a pause. “Lumina?”

She nods. “Lumina,” she repeats. “Well, I’m glad you came to your senses.”

“Right. We’re talking about this later.”

“Of course we are,” she sighs, lifting her gun from the ground.

“Dammit!” Neri shouts, hitting the wall. “You ruined it!”

“I think you’re done here Neri,” Lumina pouts, stalking towards him.

“Not so fast,” Neri chuckles nervously. “I’m still all you have. It was just a little game pet. Lighten up.”

“You know, I think I’ll survive without you,” she says.

“Ayy’Numa,” he says. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret. You used to be so good to me, remember? You’re mine. We’re the same deep down, you know that.”

She leans forward, wicked smile across her lips. “I’m done being you,” she whispers. “Mandalorian?” She asks, looking back. “Will you wait outside? I have a promise I need to keep.”

He nods, squeezing her side. “Take your time.”

The last thing Mando hears when the doors shut are Neri’s blood curdling screams, and he prays she gives him hell.

CHAPTER SEVEN: PRETTY

#Mandalorian #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x oc #mando x ofc #mando x original character #mando x original female character #Din Djarin #din djarin x original character #din djarin x original female character #din djarin x oc #Din Djarin x ofc #Starlight #Starlight Fanfic #din djarin x reader

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starrynite7114 · 5 years ago

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Misconstrued: Part 5

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Finally back with an update! I think this one will please some of you, I hope, but this won’t end after part 6, at this point, we might go all the way to 10. But I do have another story in the works, I’m really excited to share it with you all!

Also, thank you again for the response I’ve been getting for this story. I enjoy reading all of your comments!

Anon: I don't know if this is too specific but could you do something about Angel ruining a date and later admits it because he loves them and then they have some angry smut and late night fluff

Word Count: 6731

Warnings: Angst. Mild violence

Previous parts

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4

Masterlist

Tag List: @iambabyharry : @justahopelessssromantic : @carlaangel86 : @marvelmaree : @mrsamaroevans : @ifoundmyhappythought: @woahitslucyylu : @cind-in-real-life : @briannab1234 : @fairygardenss : @gemini0410 : @everyhowlmarksthedead : @losolvidad0s : @whyisgmora : @comasi-world : @xserenax-13 : @chibsytelford : @welovethesponge : @claytoncardenasbabymama : @jadert15 : @bigcreatorwombatdreamer : @trulysuccubus : @pananegra : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass : @encounterthepast

Two weeks have passed since you and Angel broke up. You’ve avoided the clubhouse and your tio has not forced you to come, respecting your wishes. You avoided Carniceria Reyes, getting your meat from the grocery store instead. You went from work to home, occasionally stopping by the grocery store or some fast food place. You somehow never ran into Angel, which you were thankful for.

There were times where you would listen in, trying to see if he brought someone home, but you never heard anything. You heard EZ, Coco and Gilly very often, but never another woman, which you were thankful for.

You thought the heartbreak you experienced with Diego was something, but this? It was the worst.

Half the time, you just found yourself crying without any provocation. And other times, you would think you’re at the mend, but the tears came again. You always thought people were ridiculous for crying over their significant other they had for a whopping month, but here you were doing the same thing.

The length of time didn’t matter, it was about the connection.

And you definitely had that connection with Angel.

Diego was more present in your life, which was no surprise for you. At times, you welcomed his distraction, but more often than not, you wanted to be left alone. He just wouldn’t leave you alone. You’ve made it clear to him numerous times that you weren’t interested, that nothing was ever going to happen, but he didn’t seem to care. He resonated that he just wanted to be there for you, to make up for lost times.

But you realized that at times, friendships ended for a reason. The more you spent time with Diego, the more you realized that you two grew up to be two different people and you’re not exactly sure if you wanted to have anything to do with him. Besides the fact he used you, Diego was very self-centered and he didn’t care for the consequences of his actions as long as it favored him.

Laying on the couch, you had Netflix on to Avengers, you’re not sure which one, but you just needed some noise to silence your brain. It worked every once in a while.

But most of the time it didn’t.

Diego was sitting on your armchair, just watching you. It truly pained him to see you at your current state. He thought he was doing you a favor by pushing Angel out of your life. What he failed to realize was just how much Angel truly meant to you. Even after Regina had called you out, you were never like this. After a few days, you were able to face Diego, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to face Angel. Diego would try to bring you to the clubhouse, you would refuse and throw a fit, it surprised Diego. You were never so cold towards him, but now, no matter how hard he tried, you just didn’t give him much of anything. You were cordial, would laugh at some of his jokes, but otherwise, he felt as if you didn’t want him there.

It was new.

He wasn’t used to this. You always smiled whenever he came around. You always cracked jokes with him, your witty response was what drew him to you in high school.

“You okay babe?” Diego watched as you looked at him, giving him a small smile. He knew you were hoping that would appease him, but it didn’t.

“I’ll be fine, can you stop asking me every thirty minutes?” You knew he meant well and you didn’t say it in a snappy tone, but being asked every thirty minutes was excessive.

“Sorry, just want to make sure you’re okay.” Diego felt small then, he was so used to you hanging on to his every word, blushing when he would be sweet to you. But this side of you, he’s never experienced it. You were just not having it.

“And I get that, but you’ve been here with me, I’m fine.” And just like that, your mood turned on him.

“But I know you’re not.” Diego countered.

You really didn’t need this tonight. All you wanted to do was watch the Avengers, ogle over Chris Evans and Chris Hemsworth, occasionally Robert Downey Jr. The last thing you needed was Diego’s constant nagging. It surprised you how you felt towards Diego. You remembered vividly how much you adored Diego and always craved his company, but now, it seemed like you couldn't get rid of him. It was so opportunistic of Diego to pop up the day after Angel broke up with you, your favorite snacks and drinks with him. You thought it was sweet and a much needed distraction. But now, you just didn’t want the company. You wanted to wallow, cry it out, drink it out and eventually move on.

You’re not exactly sure what Diego wanted, but you had a feeling it was along the lines of coming back to Stockton with him. And quite honestly, for you, he could go fuck himself.

“Diego, can you just go? I just want to be alone.” You sighed, not really wanting the company.

“Please stop pushing me away. I know he broke your heart and all I want to do is be there for you.” Diego pleaded.

You scoffed. “Very convenient of you to be here for me as soon as Angel broke up with me.”

“Well I blackmailed him into doing it so yes, I knew it was going to happen.” Diego realized his mistake as the words escaped his mouth. You were never supposed to find out. Diego didn’t want you to know that he purposely sabotaged your relationship.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” You sat up then, anger coursing through your veins. The nerve of this asshole. How were you ever friends with him?

“Look, Angel is in bed with the rebels, if your tio found out, he would murder Angel, Coco and Gilly, he might include you too because of how close you are to them.” It was part of the reason that Diego threatened Angel. It was to protect you. He knew how terrible it would look. You would be tried by association. Diego saw the way your face changed when he mentioned how Bishop may involve you in the trio’s mistake. You didn’t seem fazed by the information he dropped on you. Then it dawned on him. “You knew.”

“How could you do this to me?” You accused Diego, the tears welling up in your eyes. “You broke my trust so long ago, but you just shattered it now.”

Diego grimaced, his whole world was falling apart. This was not how he expected things to go. “Y/N, please.” He moved to kneel in front of you, but you immediately stood up, as if the mere contact of his skin to yours would cause a burn.

“You sabotaged my relationship, for what? I told you I was done.” You wrapped your arms around yourself as Diego watched you helplessly. “I love him Diego, and you ruined our relationship. I never did that to you, no matter how much it hurt seeing you with another woman. If you were happy I could live with that and be happy for you.”

“But you weren’t happy!” He argued.

“How would you fucking know that?! You’ve been out of my life for four years, no text, no call, no contact, nothing. You can’t just march back into my life expecting things as they were. They’re not. Back then, you were the only thing I saw, the most important thing to me.” You began to sob. You hated that you cried when you became far too emotional. “You didn’t appreciate me then and you still don’t appreciate me now. You’re just mad because you’re no longer number one, you’re doing that same pattern again. When you could feel me slipping away, you come and tell me what you think I need to hear in order for me to come back to you.” You wiped the tears coming from your eyes, the overwhelming feeling of betrayal sinking it. “It’s not going to work this time. You don’t love me Diego, you love this idea of me you have, the person that would do anything for you, the person that hung on to you with every word. The person who looked at you like you held the sun and the moon, she’s not here anymore.” Your eyes connected with Diego. “You let me go four years ago and you can’t take that back. I just want my friend, not this guy who wants to rekindle something that's never going to come back. I need my friend."

It dawned on Diego just how badly he hurt you. The toxicity of how your relationship with him became for you. He realized too late just how much you meant to him, how much he couldn’t live without you. He wanted to tell you that he was miserable without you and how that scene between you, Regina and himself always replayed in his mind. He wished that he was braver to face the consequences of being in a relationship with you.

You were right.

Love wasn’t about being selfish, it was about loving the person you love anyway you could and at times, that meant loving them from afar.

Diego watched as you continued to cry, covering your mouth to silence your sobs. The way your shoulders were shaking, he knew you could hold it in for so long. He cut the distance between you two and enveloped you in his arms.

He fucked up.

He was man enough to admit that.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” Diego kisses the top of your head holding you.

You wrapped your arms around him as you cried it all out. The frustration of this whole situation. You were angry at Diego, but you were also angry at Angel. He should have told you, you two were a team now, but you figured that’s not how Angel saw things. Maybe this was Angel’s way out and Diego just conveniently took advantage of it.

“Come home nena, let home heal you.”

You didn’t respond to him because running away doesn’t solve anything. You’ll figure out how to deal with it, you always did. Santo Padre became your home, regardless if Angel existed in Santo Padre or not.

“You’re not forgiven, I hope you know that.” You informed him as you pulled away.

“I know, but I’ll make it up to you.”

“How can you? You sabotaged my relationship.”

“I will, you just have to let me in, let me be your friend again.”

“I don’t think I can, not right now, the wound is too fresh. I can see why you did what you did, but like I told you, we’re done.” You weren’t ready to forgive Diego. His indiscretions were too much this time around. Though, you would think that the whole issue with Regina would have been a much greater sin towards you, but it wasn’t. This one was, the one person that made you actually feel love was taken away from you by the one person you wished loved you as you loved him years ago. It was kind of ironic, a twisted vicious circle.

Diego nodded his head. “I’m going back to Stockton next week.”

“I’m glad. You don’t belong in Santo Padre.”

“I don’t. You’re right.” Diego wanted to add that he didn’t belong anywhere unless you were there, but he knew that wouldn’t get him much. “For what it’s worth, I truly am sorry for what I put you through. It was selfish of me to blackmail him, but I was looking out for you.” He took a USB stick from his pocket, placing it on your coffee table. “It has the copies of the pictures I took of Angel and them. As a show of good faith.”

“Just go, please.” You walked over to your door and opened it, surprised to see Angel standing there, his arm up to knock on the door.

He saw the tears in your eyes and he frowned. He heard you yelling and he immediately came out of his apartment to check on you. It pained him, but he knew Diego was over much more often. At times, he was listening intently to see if you let Diego in, but he always just heard Netflix and he was never happier to hear Avengers play over and over again.

Diego and Angel made eye contact. The pure hatred they had for one another was evident and you felt the tension in the air.

“I’ll see you later nena.” Diego kept his hands in his pockets, walking past Angel.

Angel opened his mouth to speak, but you slammed the door shut. Sighing, he turned around and Diego was already halfway down the walkway.

“Hey,” Angel called out, jogging after him. “What the fuck did you do?”

“None of your fucking business Reyes.”

“Anything that has to do with her is my business.”

Diego scoffed. “She knows. She knows I blackmailed you and apparently, she knows about your shit with Adelita. Are you fucking with me? Did you just take the bait to get out of your relationship with her?”

Before Angel even knew what he was doing he punched Diego causing him to fall on the floor. Diego tackled Angel to the ground, getting on top of him as he attempted to punch Angel as well. Angel was able to block most of his attempts before he turned him around, landing shot after shot on his face. All the frustrations, the anger, the absolute hurt Diego has caused was being released by Angel.

“You motherfucker!” Angel roared as he continued his assault.

“Angel!” He heard EZ call out to him.

He heard footsteps behind him, but he didn’t turn around. He continued his assault and he felt as if Diego was letting him. He was no longer defending himself.

EZ pulled Angel off of Diego with Gilly’s help. Coco checked on Diego and was slightly disappointed he still had a pulse. His face was bloody and he was groaning due to the pain.

“Fuck Angel, what happened?” Coco questioned.

“She was yelling at him, he upset her.” Angel was breathing heavy, all the adrenaline coursing through his veins. “She fucking knew.”

“What?” Coco, Gilly and EZ asked in unison.

“Y/N, she knew about the rebels.”

Coco and Gilly shared a look, which was not missed by Angel.

“You’re fucking kidding me, how can you involve her? If Bish found out, he would wring her alive too.” Angel scolded. “This is a team fucking effort, how can you not tell me?”

“Angel, it wasn’t on purpose. She was talking to us about the cartel and how she wished we weren’t involved and it just happened. I’m sorry man.” Coco knew and Gilly fucked up, but they trusted you and shared that information with you in full confidence.

“How much does she know?”

“All of it.”

Angel couldn’t believe this. It was the reason Coco pushed him to be truthful, to let her know about Diego’s scheme because she already fucking knew. He broke up with her thinking it was for the best while he deals with Diego when he could have avoided this all together.

They heard the door open and saw you walking out of your apartment. You looked at all five men, Diego on the floor holding a handkerchief over his mouth. Walking away, you shook your head, done with the Mayans drama for the night.

“Y/N,” you heard Angel call out after you.

Thankfully your car was right by the entrance of the gate. Quickly you got in your car, turned it off and reversed. You waited for the gate to open, locking your doors so Angel couldn’t open it. As soon as the gate was open enough, you drove off, leaving Angel behind.

He made his choice.

He chose not to trust you and let Diego come in between you even though he promised he wouldn’t. You understood the reasoning behind his madness, but that didn’t mean you were okay with it.

Angel watched as you drove away. He made his way over his bike, but EZ stopped him.

“Just give her time.” EZ advised.

“No, I fucked up. I can’t let her slip away.” Angel ran over to his bike and immediately went after you. He caught up to you quite easily and he followed you all the way to Bishop’s home.

He cussed under his breath. He turned his motorcycle off, going over to the driver’s side where you remained.

“Baby, open up.” Angel knocked on your window.

You remained looking straight ahead, grabbing your phone, you thought of calling Bishop to come outside, but you didn’t want him to fight your battles for you. And regardless of what happened with Angel, you didn’t want him to get in trouble.

“Y/N, listen to me, I fuck up. This is what I do. I was given one option and I didn’t stop to think of any others.” Angel explained. “I wasn’t going to let it go on for long, I was going to get you back. Please, mi Dulce, you have to believe me.”

His words were registering, they just weren’t sinking in. It was always like this. You were the sacrificial lamb or the one that they couldn’t risk anything for since their standing with Bishop and Marcus would be tainted. At times you wished that they knew that it was two separate entities. For you it was. You would never actually tell your tio’s about their member’s indiscretions towards you. Someone getting hurt over what happened behind closed doors was not your forte. There were times that you wanted to tell Marcus about what happened with Diego, to tell them what Regina said to you, but you didn’t want to, especially after what Regina said.

‘What are you going to do now? Cry to your tio’s?’ Regina scoffed. ‘Only reason all these Mayans are nice to you is because of who you’re connected to, otherwise, you’re just some fucking tomboy that they all want to screw just to see what’s underneath all that baggy clothes. Don’t flatter yourself honey, there’s nothing to look at so you can stop hiding behind those clothes.’

Bishop watched from the window, debating if he should go out or not. It was hard for him as your uncle to really let you fight your own battles, but this thing with Angel, it had to be between you two. If he held back on killing Diego for using you, he can hold back on hurting Angel till you gave him some sign to do so.

“Is that Y/N?” Bishop heard Marcus questioned.

“Yeah primo, she’s in her car talking to Angel.”

“Angel, good kid, with a good head on his shoulders.” Marcus took a drag of his cigar.

“Acts on impulse though.”

“You mean like you?”

Marcus and Bishop both chuckled.

“Just like me.”

“Is he going to be a problem like Diegito?” Marcus and Bishop knew all about Diego’s moves. It was naive of you to think that it wouldn’t get back to them, but they pretended it didn’t. They knew how it would greatly upset you if something happened to Diego and quite frankly, they didn’t want to deal with your mother who would most likely tear them a new one.

“No, he won’t. Angel’s too smart for that and he actually loves her.”

After fifteen minutes of sitting in your car, with Angel now leaning against it smoking, you decided it was time to go outside. Angel would never leave you alone. You looked down at your phone, Angel saw it was Diego calling you. Pressing the button on the side of your phone, you ignored Diego’s call. Looking over at Angel, you gestured for him to move away from the door. Angel did and you stepped out of your car, holding your hand up when Angel made a step towards you.

“You have to believe me, I know how this looks, but I couldn’t let him jeopardize all the work me, Gilly and Coco did.” Angel explained. He noticed that you appear thinner than before, your clothes had always been big on you, but it just looked much bigger than usual. He knew that your break-up took a toll on you, but it did on him as well. It was difficult for him to be near you, yet, he couldn’t come see you. He would see glimpses of you whenever you would come to the scrapyard to pick up some parts for the shop or when you would help Coco out with his kid, but it was rare. At times, he would wait for you to come home if he didn’t see your car there and it hurt whenever you came home with Diego. “I love you, I didn’t want to do this, Diego followed us to Santo Madre and it just fell apart from there.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Angel froze then, he didn’t have a good explanation for that because he should have told you. It was what Coco advised him.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew about the rebels?”

“So you’re saying this is my fault?”

“No, fuck!” Angel was frustrated, this wasn’t how he wanted this to go down. In his perfect world, after you found out that Diego blackmailed him, you would run into his arms and that was it, happily fucking ever after. But Angel realized this was his world and there was no such thing. “There’s no excuse, I should have told you, you’re my girl, I should have disclosed it with you.”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter now, you obviously didn’t trust me enough to tell me, which is fine. But I really wished that we didn’t start anything because at least I would still have you as my friend.” You crossed your arms over your chest, looking at the floor. You hated that it was difficult for you to make eye contact with someone when you were in a confrontation, but you were working on it. “For what it's worth, I’m glad I lost my virginity to you because it was with someone I cared about.” You smiled bitterly, trying your best to hold your head up high. “You hurt me worse than Diego did, because with him, at least I always misconstrued whatever the fuck our relationship was. With you, it was very clear that there was something there, I just misconstrued how much you trusted me.”

“Baby, please.” Angel pleaded, stepping closer to you, but you shook your head. “You know I love you, there’s no misconstruing anything, I fucking love you. All of this, I sacrificed this to assure my mission wouldn’t be done, but I would never leave you. You have no idea how difficult it was for me to end things with you.” Angel was going to wait till you woke up to break it off, but he wouldn’t have been able to do it. As soon as he saw the tears in your eyes, he would have retracted whatever statement he made and made it up to you the whole day. “Just give me another chance.”

“You said you would never let Diego come in between us, remember? We went to the beach, you told me that you would never let Diego come in between us.”

Angel remembered that and he regretted letting Diego come in between you.

“I can’t take back what I did. But if you would give me another chance, I can show you that I am worthy of you. Diego’s the asshole in this story, I did what I did to protect you.” Angel knew he was protecting his own ass, but in some ways, like Coco said, he would be no good to you if he was six feet under.

"Do you really think so little of me? That you couldn't trust me with the truth. This is bigger than just you, I'm just as much a part of this and I should have had a say. You don't get to make the decisions for everyone Angel, you don't get to decide what's best for me.”

Angel realized then that he should have just told her. This was bigger than him and she should have been part of this decision. If he was going to make her his partner, he should have spoken to her and made the decision together. Coco was right, she’s been a part of this life all of her life, if anyone would understand his madness, it would be her.

"I was just trying to protect you"

“Don't. We both know that's bullshit. You were protecting yourself.” You spat out. “So when were you going to tell me that Diego was blackmailing you?”

“As soon as I fucking buried him across the border.”

You nodded your head, chuckling at Angel’s words. “Yeah?” You took the USB stick that Diego had left on your table. Tossing it to Ange he caught it with ease. “Make sure you clean up after yourself next time.” You made your way over to Bishop’s place, unlocking the door quickly so Angel didn’t have a chance to catch up to you.

When you walked in, you saw him through the window. He looked up at you then, wanting to come after you, but Bishop appearing at the window caused him to halt his steps. He would wait for you at your apartment, he wasn’t done with you before and he definitely wasn’t done with you now.

“Everything okay mija?” Marcus questioned.

You looked over at your tio, nodding your head, giving him a small smile. “Yes, I’m fine.” You sat beside him, which in hindsight may not be a good idea since he was smoking. Standing up once more, you go to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. “I heard Diego is going back to Stockton.”

“Yeah, Creeper is back, we don’t have much use for him now.” Bishop sat by Marcos.

You sat at the other end of the table, placing your glass in front of you. “Good, glad he can go home.”

“You know he stayed for you.” Marcus pointed out.

“I do, but it was futile, I’m not really sure what he wanted with that.”

Marcus and Bishop looked at one another, shaking their heads.

“Maybe he wanted to apologize for letting that bitch disrespect you.”

Your eyes widened at Bishop’s words, unsure exactly of what to say. Looking over at them, they had stern looks on their faces and you felt foolish thinking they didn’t know.

“You knew.”

“Of course we did.” Bishop scoffed at her suggestion that he or Marcus would know nothing about what transpired between her and Diego. “Your mother called us, demanding that we beat the fucker alive for what he did to you.”

It would be your mother.

Amaya Losa was a force to be reckoned with. She knew her connections and used it wisely. It was rare that she called Marcus or Obispo for anything, so when she did, they did whatever she requested, except for hurting Diego. They knew it wouldn’t do anything but hurt you further. Bishop was able to talk his sister down and think rationally. He wanted to be Diego, strip him of his patch, but he refrained from doing anything knowing it would upset you.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Cause you wouldn’t have wanted us to hurt Diego, regardless of what he did to you.” Marcus knew his niece. He remembered how sweet you were growing up, always wanting to please your mother since your father died when you were still young. You saw Marcus as your father figure and it’s never changed since then. You never wanted to do anything to tarnish their names within the club, which was why you acted as appropriately as you could. When Regina called you out, you swallowed your pride and still showed your face at Stockton.

You felt emotional, tears welling up in your eyes. Your tio’s always protected you, even if you didn’t know it. Knowing that they knew about Diego and chose to remain silent, it surprised you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew about Diego?” You looked at them, wiping the tears that escaped your eyes.

“We never liked Diego for you, the fact you distanced yourself from him, knowing how much you meant to him, it was punishment enough. Diego was not the same after you left. He was just another member wearing the patch with no direction. Regina always tried to push him to become something more, but you know him, he hated being pushed or challenged.” Bishop explained. Leaving scars on his body would have definitely appeased their anger and your mother’s, but the way Bishop and Marcus saw it, leaving him emotionally crippled due to you walking away was much more jarring than any physical damage they would do to him. “Without you there, he didn’t have much of a purpose. He was a good rider, but never reliable with guns. He had a mean right hook, but again, Diego was just a good foot soldier. He would never actually move up the ranks. You gave Diego confidence because of your connection to us, but without you there, he was just another member with a patch.”

“I think you’re giving me far too much credit.”

“Maybe, but you didn’t see him when you left.” Marcus made a few visits to Stockton and whenever he did, Diego was quiet, not as talkative as when you were there. He didn’t have anyone to bounce off his energy with, to balance him out.

“Why’d you come here? You rarely come visit me.” Bishop teased his niece, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Diego was at my apartment, he was annoying me so I decided to come here.”

“Why didn’t you just call Angel?” Bishop knew that Angel had been gunning for Diego for quite some time. Ever since the day you slapped Angel, he noticed that Coco, Gilly and Angel watched Diego like a hawk. Every move he made, they knew about. It was slightly unnerving, but he didn’t question it. As long as they didn’t kill Diego, he was fine with whatever else they decided to do. He knew the three stooges weren’t that idiotic to kill a member. “He followed you all the way here.”

“Angel and I broke up.”

“You think Angel’s going to give up on you?” Bishop knew for a fact that Angel was not.

It was only a matter of time till you let Angel back in again.

If Bishop had to lock you two in a room till you made up, he fucking would.

==============

The next day, you stopped your car in front of the motorcycles, watching as Angel, Coco and Gilly made their way out of the clubhouse. Coco seemed upset, immediately lighting up a cigarette as he walked ahead of Angel and Gilly. You could see Angel and Coco becoming heated with one another as Gilly looked on, you then heard Riz, and knew that some shit just went down.

“You picked the perfect fucking time to come.” You murmured, shaking your head.

Just as Riz was walking away, you saw another car pull up and you knew that car anywhere. It was Regina’s car. Diego came out of the clubhouse then, his face immediately souring when his eyes landed on the car.

You debated whether or not to get out of the car, not wanting to deal with Regina after having your talking with both Diego and Angel last night. But at this point, fuck it. If you were able to face off against Diego and Angel, Regina was nothing.

Sliding out of your car, Regina’s eyes immediately went to you and realization hit her face quick. She always had a hunch that Diego was staying in SoCal for you, but he didn’t think Diego would go back to you. She sunk her claws in and she never thought he would break away. Being with a Mayan provided a status in Stockton and she needed to keep that. Association with the Mayans provided you protection and it was something she needed after all the shit she spoke to others.

“You fucking kidding me right now? You came to Santo Padre to look for her?” Regina’s shrill voice rang out through the yard, an audience immediately forming.

Angel noticed your arrival then.

“Don’t fucking start Regina, the fuck are you even doing here?” Diego attempted to move her away, but her eyes were rooted on you.

“Three fucking years you haunted our relationship and you weren’t even fucking there. You happy now? You got your precious Diegito?” Regina made her way over to you, shrugging off Diego. “You must think you’re hot shit because Diego ran after you? It was only after I dumped him baby, and now I’m back for him, so just like before, you’ll be thrown to the side.”

Angel wasn’t going to let this bitch talk to his girl like that. He moved to stand behind you, wrapping his arm around your middle. “Is there a problem here babe?”

You couldn’t help but feel safe with Angel’s arm around you. His mere presence gave you strength and you were thankful for that, even if you were still upset at him.

“No, just Diego’s trash looking for it’s dumpster.”

You heard the roar of laughter coming from behind you, which you guessed to be Coco and Gilly. Your Tio Bishop and Tio Taza were at the porch, chuckling as well, hearing your words to Regina. She stood there, speechless, looking at Diego who was laughing as well.

“Fuck you, you’re nothing but trash. You think you’re hot shit cause you have all these men around you, let’s see how tough you are when they aren’t around.”

“Name the time and place, bitch.”

Before Regina could reply, Diego dragged her off to the side, leaving you with Angel.

“Damn baby, I love your feisty side.” Angel kissed your cheek, his arm still wrapped around you. “Doesn’t it feel good to be back in my arms?”

“Fuck you, Angel.”

“Name the time and place baby.” He was teasing you and it was irritating you, yet you tried to fight off a smile.

Angel knew he was far from being on your good side, but the fact that you weren’t ignoring him anymore, he took it as a good sign.

He’ll win you over, he was confident he would.

==============

EZ stood beside you, watching Angel fight Riz. Boys will be boys and you laughed at how easy it was to handle conflict within the Mayans. Beat the fuck out of each other in the ring and it was a done deal.

“So, how are you and my brother?” EZ handed you your usual pineapple cider they keep in stock for you.

“Nothing there.” You shrugged, wincing as Riz got Angel in his back.

“Right,” EZ chuckled. “You know why he did what he did. Angel is impulsive and he was trying to do everything to protect you.”

“I’m sure he was and so was Diego.” You took a swig of the cider in your hand, watching as Angel got the better of Riz. As much as you were upset at Angel, you still had to admire how fucking good he looked. “Wished people would see that my tio’s and myself are two different entities.”

“Angel sees that, but he also knows that you two have not been two separate entities for a year now. If he’s doing something, you’re more than likely to be involved as well.” EZ explained. “Bishop is a smart man, and he knows you and Angel well. He won’t be able to separate you two when it comes to shit like this cause he knows Angel wouldn’t be able to hide it from you. Regardless of how Angel handled things, you know he loves you.” You heard the gunshot, signaling the end of the fight. “You weren’t the only one broken up about it, do you think I like sleeping on my brother’s fucking couch? Nope, but I did it to make sure that he didn’t drink himself to oblivion.”

You two watched as Angel hugged it out. Angel looked over at you, a smirk on his face as the blood dripped down his cheek, sweat making his chest glisten. You watched as the girls waited for him and Riz by the entrance of the ring, waiting to patch him and Riz up after their fight.

“Go patch up your man.” EZ playful elbow you on the side.

“Go patch up big brother, Ezekiel. Sure you’re used to it.” You teased him right back.

“Mi dulce, come help me clean up.” Angel stopped by the clubhouse entrance, pulling your attention away from EZ.

“Your brother is calling you.”

“Yeah, no, think that call was for you.” EZ walked away, leaving you with Angel.

“I can clean you up Angel.” One of the girls who followed him to the entrance offered.

“Go right ahead sweetie, don’t forget to kiss his boo boo’s too.” You winked at Angel, downing the rest of your drink and turning away from him. Looking at the time, it was nearing nine in the evening, good time to leave.

“You really gonna let some other woman clean me up?” You were started by Angel’s sudden presence, moving away from him.

“Can you not do that?” You placed a hand over your chest to calm your heart. Being around Angel usually caused your heart rate to rise, but pair that up with being scared, it made it worse.

“Come on, clean me up.” He took your hand, pulling you towards the clubhouse.

“Angel, that girl literally fucking offered.” You pointed out as he opened the door.

“Don’t give a fuck, I want you.” Angel led you to his room at the clubhouse, opening the door and closing it behind him. He sat down on his bed, his eyes on you. Crossing your arms over your chest, you were slightly nervous. Being alone with Angel was dangerous for you.

“Come on Angel, don’t do this.” You leaned against the door, thinking of a way to get yourself out of this one.

“Don’t do what? All I’m asking is for you to clean up my wounds, you did it before we got together, why can’t you do it now?”

“Angel, things are different and you know that.” You sighed, shaking your head. You opened the door and you heard him get up. “I’m just getting a wet cloth, sit down.” And you did as you told him, coming back with a wet cloth and stepping in between his legs. You cleaned the dried blood on his face, thankful that the cut on his nose was not gaping, meaning it didn’t need any stitches. “You should shower.” You instructed him.

“You gonna join me?”

“Angel, I told you, we’re not okay, far from it. Just give me time.” You cupped his face, he leaned against your palm, sighing.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I really am.”

“I know,” you stepped away from him.

“I don’t want to lose you. No, I can’t lose you.” Angel hated how dependent he became towards you, but it was difficult not to be. The feeling you provided by your mere presence was never something he experienced. All he wanted was to be around you, to be with you.

You stepped back in between his legs and kissed him, his arms immediately wrapping around you, pushing you against him. Pulling back you rested your forehead against his, he kissed you again. You pulled away, putting more distance between you two.

“You won’t lose me. Just need time to figure some things out.”

“We can figure it out together baby.”

“No, this is just on me. Got to work on me before we can be really together.” You wrapped your arms around him, missing the hugs Angel would give you. “I love you, Angel.”

“I love you too.”

#angel reyes #angelreyes #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes fic #angel reyes fanfic #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fic #mayans mc fanfic

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witchcraftingboop · 5 years ago

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Re: Jbird & RainS. (Briar) Discourse

Previously, I have spoken with the person who made very serious allegations against JBird, calling him a racist, that were then used by others to spread slander against him. They have since apologized and admitted that JBird isn't a racist, and I genuinely think there was a stark miscommunication that went on to prompt such a claim. I don't want to name them or involve them here, since I do believe they've already reflected enough on the situation at hand, and is still deeply considering the multi-faceted hornet's nest of problems they've stumbled upon.

However, in light of the blatant dismissal and refusal to submit actual proof against the two, I feel as if I should share the information I offered this person before.

If you are basing your arguments against Jbird and Briar off of the previous, separate Discord group discussions of Trio & co. - screenshots of which have been, and continue to be spread years later, by Prim - then I especially implore you to be open to what I have to say. As a third party to this continually and rapidly spiralling debacle, I feel like there's not much I can say or do to assist my friends in being heard, but I feel as if I ought to try. Prim's following is large and actively prepared to follow her "do not interact even to ask questions" policy, so I worry it may be too late already. But I am not without hope or faith.

Tumblr is, unfortunately, a place where hate spreads rapidly, and while I do love the broad community it fosters, I am also aware that, even with the best of folks, it is hard to see the side of someone you've already decided is guilty and not worth approaching for an explanation.

First and foremost, I believe in innocence until proven guilty.

Now then! Onto my offered commentary/input! (Sorry to prattle on so much.)

To start, thedesertgod, also known as Trio, did go through and look for her personal information, which is messed up. But that person has already apologized, if I'm remembering correctly, and left Tumblr. And the other main user who helped spread information about Prim being a race faker also admitted wrong and left. The others in the chat, particularly Mystic and Ronan appear to just be making jokes and stating factual informative summaries, respectively. E-muete also said "ok no" after the Dolezal comment, which is a common "no that's too far a comparison/joke/statement" substitute among their forums and chats and often means they don't actually agree with what they themselves said. Ruby also politely reminds Trio that it's impossible to tell someone's race off of their appearance alone. So what I see here is definitely problematic, but entirely on Trio's part. I'm not saying it's not screwed up to find pictures of someone's parents and debate their race, but the persons who did those things have already left the Tumblrsphere.

Unfortunately, the people you've pointed out don't have a good history with Prim even before the whole "Trio nitpicking her race" thing. Prim used to follow more than a few of them and use their posts to fuel her platform, oftentimes creating uninformed mish-mosh articles with a voice of authority that simply wasn't warranted. As I'm sure you're aware, it's hard enough dealing with people stealing your content word for word, but to attempt to steal your knowledge? Your initiations and rites of passage? And use them to sell yourself as a master of a breadth of practices? The tradcrafters of that particular circle decided to band together and block her from interacting with them directly for that very reason. And because of that, Prim started telling her followers that they are all racist and elitist and ableist and gatekeepers. These terms over the years have become almost like triggers in that once they're said, everyone seems to put on a blindfold and fall into a frenzied rage. And to be fair, Prim is far too quick, in my opinion, to bring up racism as the reason others disagree with her. Most times, I've noticed at least, that if she calls someone racist or says they're unsupportive of POC, she nearly immediately brings up BLM activism in her posts or reblogs. I'm not saying I necessarily support calling all of her activistic inclinations performative, but where the tradcradt group she calls racist is more than willing to talk of and show proof of their contribution, Prim never has and avoids it if asked. I can see both sides, really. But the fact remains that calling someone performative in their actions, does not a racist make. Neither, in my opinion, does interacting with people who are assumed (without real and concrete proof) to be racist.

I can appreciate where you're coming from; honestly, I can. People have grown accustomed to hearing the prefix trad- and preparing for the worst. Racism is a systematic and prevailing problem in the society all around us, so it makes sense to be on the lookout for it. You want to protect yourself and your community. I can understand your sentiments perfectly. But I cannot support "guilty by association" viewpoints. As a WOC who grew up in some rough areas, I have seen boys killed under that very same reasoning. Jbird is a good friend of mine, and I have never questioned his morals or ethics. I have seen no sign of my being looked down upon for the color of my skin, nor anyone else who runs in that very same circle.

What I see is what I see in a lot of faces on this hellsite: hurt. Before Trio and after Trio left, the tradcraft community has been slandered and ostracized. They have shut themselves off to outsiders for the very thing you've done to Jbird just yesterday. They hold their secrets closer than most other communities now because persecution is seemingly forever at their door. On Prim's end too, there has been struggle and pain and needless arguing and hurt. If those you approach seem prickly, it is often because the world has roughened their edges, not because they personally are against you.

I asked for a couple examples from the group and one person (I'll keep them anonymous because I didn't confirm they'd like their name here) said: she has talked about saint magic (trio), hadean pamphlet (trio), hubris (Ruby), fairies, trad craft shit (Mahigan among others), etc etc

From what I personally have seen, her most recent was the Witch Fire podcast. A few tradcraft blogs had a debate/discussion about Witch Fire and its traditional eurocentric foundations in witchcraft not that long ago, and then Prim decided to put out a podcast that was so uninformed, I'm still worried about how younger or newer witches might be hurt by it.

Unfortunately the tradcraft community is vulnerable to that kind of thing [being called names or falsely accused] and an easy target. That's why being called those kind of harsh words - like gatekeeping, elitist, racist, and ableist - are met with so much anger from them. I take it very seriously because I've seen the kind of whiplash it has, especially on such a closed off group.

[A Reply.] Yeah no, Prim "apologizes" by talking about how she's been previously given a hard time with interjections of "but please don't go around spreading hate" and never directly apologizes to the tradcrafter in such posts. Unfortunately, her "apology" did more harm than good. I was hoping she'd just ignore it but . . . This tends to happen too 🤦‍♀️

I think that if both sides were able to approach it as openmindedly as you have, there would be a lot less drama and in-fighting on this app 😩 I really did enjoy talking with you though!

That just about covers everything I'd like to say on the matter.

I do not condone spreading hate, just as I don't condone misinformation or blind allegiance to what one person says. So if you can respectfully and openmindedly address your questions/comments/concerns, I don't see why you can't interact with Briar, Jbird, or myself. I understand it's easy to get caught up in the first perspective you're given, but it is my hope that Witchblr as a whole can be more open to hearing both sides of the story. Blindly blocking and cancelling certain bloggers is something I don't support nor encourage. I understand Prim must be tired of addressing all of the drama that churns around her, so I won't speak as to what her reasoning could be for suggesting such a solution. I'm simply stating what I hope for the community as a whole.

| | Note: The statements above were written early (I think, my sense of time is off) yesterday, and as of yet, I have still seen no concrete evidence that Briar or Jbird have ever made racist comments. On Briar's part, I have seen her observation that activism on a performative platform such as Tumblr can come off as performative, but she never once said she doesn't know or see why Prim would support and promote BLM activism. Something I think was misconstrued and lumped all together to sound as if she thought Prim were faking her contributions altogether. | |

#witchblr #witch community #witchblr discourse #discourse #disappointed #tradcraft #traditional witchcraft #primrose #nightshadeandroses #gabrielle #chthoniaa

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thanks--for--listening · 4 years ago

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tethers

hi party people guess who finally finished her fic for the wilds! i’m tagging it as leatin but you could probably read it either in a ship way or just in a friendship way. takes place after the ocean scene but we’re pretending Leah hasn’t gone into the woods to find nora yet. (also on ao3)

The sun was overbearing. Leah tried to open her eyes, but the glare surrounded her, didn't leave room for anyone or anything else. There was no warmth or feeling — just light. She might have compared it to drowning, but the metaphor didn’t hold up anymore. She knew what drowning looked like; there was nothing bright about it.

The waves had been all darkness, pain and pressure toying with her like she weighed nothing at all. She’d heard the ocean described as unforgiving before, and she hadn’t understood it until she was out there. The water didn’t care about her. It didn’t care about anyone. There was fear, a survival instinct that couldn’t be ignored, but there was also something intoxicating about its indifference. Giving up control offered a serenity she hadn’t prepared for. A part of her still longed for it, although it wasn’t strong enough to break through the sun, to drag her up and off the beach.

The constant light might have tricked her into thinking she’d succeeded, but she was pretty sure the afterlife wasn’t supposed to hurt this much. Every muscle in her body groaned, as if they’d rusted over in however long she’d been asleep. There was a quiet but constant pounding in her head, and she let it ground her, let every beat sync up with her heart and confirm that she was still alive.

Her other sensations came back slowly. The hunger, deep in her gut, made itself known in whispers that weren’t easily ignored. The sand beneath her, damp and cold, served as a constant reminder of the hell she was waking up to. But more than anything, it was the feeling of a hand running through her hair that motivated her to blink away the sun and let reality come back into focus.

Fatin wasn’t looking at her. Her eyes were cast outward, at the infinite ocean surrounding them. She stared at it like she could see past it, like there was more to look at than their own personal wasteland. Like she saw something that wasn’t there.

Leah’s eyes drifted to her hands. She could feel her right one still absentmindedly combing through her hair, but her left was in its own world. Her fingers kept moving, up and down and left to right, slowly then quickly, then slowly again. It looked sporadic at first, but the longer she watched, the more she felt like there was a rhythm to it. A pattern, although one she couldn’t decipher.

Fatin glanced down, as if she felt her eyes on her. “You’re up.” The worry in her voice contradicted the smile on her face. “How do you feel?”

“Drowsy.” Speaking took more effort than it should have. Her voice carried it's now characteristic crack, the sound almost not coming out at all.

“Here,” she said as she reached for a water bottle. “Drink slowly.”

Fatin helped her up, held her head as she drank. It didn’t matter that the water was warm — it came with the same relief it had in the few weeks they’d been here. Every sip calmed her, brought her back down to Earth, dampened the pounding and gnawing and rebelling going on inside her body, if only for a moment. Calm wasn’t something she held onto for very long.

She put the bottle down, shifted so her head ended up in Fatin’s lap. They’d never talked about it, this position she often found herself in. Leah wasn’t even sure how it had started. All she knew was that she liked the way it felt, to lay against her, to feel the warmth of another person underneath her. And after that day they’d spent searching, when all she could think about was Fatin dead in a ditch somewhere, Leah couldn’t deny the comfort it gave her, knowing for certain that she was okay. That she was alive.

Fatin never stopped her, not once.

“How—uh, how are you feeling? You know, up here?“ Fatin tapped on the side of her head as she asked. The hesitation was so unlike her. Guilt reared its ugly head, reminded her of an indisputable fact: Fatin’s fear, her worry, it was all her fault. They were in hell, and she was making things worse. The way she always did.

“Better.” She answered confidently, even though she wasn’t entirely sure whether it was true or not. The desperation was out of the forefront, at the very least. But she wasn’t sure that would classify her as healed. As normal. Leah didn’t think she’d ever fit that label, not before this fucking island and definitely not on it. She did her best to ignore the sinking feeling that she might not find normal anytime after their castaway adventure, either. She would always be this way. That girl who ran to the ocean, she would live somewhere inside her forever.

Fatin sighed in relief, and all at once she made the white lie worth it. “That’s two things to celebrate.”

“Two?”

Her face lit up. “We’ve got food now. Starvation is officially put on hold.”

She tried to smile. Truly, she did, but whether it was her body’s slow reaction time or her mind’s lingering hold on her, something wouldn’t let it happen. Pretending kept getting harder, and she couldn’t help but worry about what happened when she lost the ability entirely.

Fatin noticed. She always seemed to notice. “Aren’t you happy?” She could hear it in the way she spoke. The concern. Leah hated it, hated being the reason for it.

“Yeah,” she answered a little too quickly. “Sorry. I’m just really tired. But that’s good, it really is.”

She didn’t look like she believed her. Leah didn’t know how to explain it, her lack of response. It was a little bit of everything: the dread at thinking about what came with survival, the fog from whatever she’d swallowed not fully faded, the lifetime spent not knowing how to feel anything the right amount. She was all or nothing, always had been. And right now, no matter what she did, she couldn’t escape the nothing.

There was a numbness to it. She’d get moments, watching the world speed around her while she felt trapped in slow motion. The island had broken it initially, but the adrenaline faded with every day that passed, and it took any sort of regulation with it. All she was left with was her typical, fucked up self, her zero to a hundreds. And everyone else was left with it, too.

“What was that thing you were doing earlier?” She asked it mostly as a distraction. Fatin may not have been as shallow as she’d once thought, but she also didn’t pass up many opportunities to talk about herself. The attempt may have been futile, but it could work, if it managed to catch her off guard. Or if Fatin decided to amuse her and ignore the obvious avoidance.

Leah knew she had her when she scrunched her eyebrows together. “What thing?”

“With your hands. You were, like, not tapping exactly, but you were doing...I don’t know. You were moving a lot.”

“Oh. That.” Fatin didn’t blush, not visibly, but she’d seen that smile before. She knew what it meant. “It’s nothing.”

“Does it mean something?”

“No. It’s stupid. Just an old habit.”

She could hear the lie. It didn’t make sense, how something so inconsequential could be worth hiding. Genuine curiosity snuck in, made her forget about distractions entirely. “It’s not like you could embarrass yourself more than I already have, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Leah saw the smile tug at her lips. “Okay,” Fatin said, sounding more herself. “If I tell you, you have to promise you won’t tell anyone. My reputation depends on it.”

She forced her hand up to her lips, weakly mimicked zipping her mouth shut. Her arm screamed, but the effort was worth it for the laugh she got in return.

“Alright. Sometimes, when I get bored, or when I need to get out of my head, I mentally run through whatever piece I’m learning.”

The connection took a second. “You mean cello pieces?”

Fatin nodded. “I use my thumb as the makeshift fingerboard,” she said, holding her hand up in front of her. “And I just...go through the motions.”

Leah watched as her fingers moved. She could see it more clearly now, the intentionality of it all. The routine. She moved quickly, confidently, with so much purpose and familiarity. It was something so small, but she felt like it shattered whatever was left of the misconstrued perception she’d had of her.

Fatin stopped after a few seconds. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid. It’s cool.”

She laughed. “If you think this is cool, your social education has failed you.”

“I’m serious.”

“Leah, it’s the cello. Nothing about the cello is cool.”

“Anything is cool if you’re good at it. And I heard you’re, like, really good. Like, Juilliard-level good. That’s cool.”

The smile faded. Leah didn’t understand it, felt a quiet desperation to get it back. “Yeah. Well, if one good thing comes out of this, it’s that I can leverage my parents to make sure I never have to go there. Not sure they’ll be able to say no to me ever again.”

“You don’t wanna go? But isn’t that, like, the be-all end-all school for music?”

“Yeah, if you wanna spend the rest of your life playing concertos written by dead racist white men and wasting your best years wearing concert attire.” She tried to smile, but Leah could see right through her. “You know me, I can’t live my life confined to an all black wardrobe.”

She hesitated, just for a second, before asking, “There’s more to it than that, though, isn’t there?”

For a second, Leah thought she’d deny it, but instead she just shook her head. “It’s complicated.”

“I’ve got time if you wanna explain it.” She motioned vaguely around then. “Schedule’s all clear for the foreseeable future.”

Their eyes met, and even if she’d been strong enough to move, she would have sat frozen in place. Fatin had a way of staring into her like she could see every thought running through her head, like every emotion she had was out on display. It was captivating, and fascinating, and terrifying, and Leah never wanted it to stop.

“My parents started me in lessons when I was little,” she said after a minute. “Tends to come with the territory when you’re first gen. Music is supposed to teach you discipline and patience. Immigrant parents eat that shit up.”

“I’m sure you took to that lesson real fast.”

Fatin cracked a smile. “Oh, yeah. Throw your kid into nonstop music lessons before they know how to read, and you could come out of it with me, every parent’s dream. Clearly I’m a walking success story.”

“I mean, you kinda are. That is, if you’re really that good.”

“Don’t get it twisted. I’m fucking amazing. But it isn’t because of some child prodigy bullshit, or because I have an abundance of patience. Most people aren’t born good at something. You have to work for it.”

She meant to ask it as a joke, but sincerity slipped out. “And...that’s what you did? You worked at it?”

“You don’t have to act all surprised. Yeah, I worked at it. I worked at it a lot.” She held up her hand, and for the first time Leah saw the rough calluses Dot had mentioned earlier. “You don’t get monstrosities like these without spending a lot of fucking time on it.”

“Wow.” She tried to imagine it, a tiny Fatin slaving away at an instrument that had to be just as big as her. A teenage Fatin locked away in a practice room, playing over and over and over again, wounds reopening so many times that even weeks on an island couldn’t properly heal them. “I didn’t realize you were so passionate about it.”

She didn’t say anything. For a second she wondered whether she’d gone too far, crossed a line she hadn’t realized was there. An apology was sitting at the tip of her tongue when Fatin sighed and said, “I used to be.”

She could hear it, the way they were treading into delicate territory. Part of her was scared to keep going. Every one of her companions seemed to have their own personal landmines hidden in their time before the crash, and the last thing she wanted was to set off an explosion. She knew how to blow up, but she wasn’t strong the way Fatin was — if she missed a step, she may not be able to put the pieces back together.

It was the feeling of Fatin’s left hand stalled in the movement, still fingers content to stay tangled in her hair, that made Leah push aside the fear. She could beat herself up later for whatever mistakes she was bound to make, but she couldn’t do nothing.

“What changed?” The words were an invitation, one she wasn’t sure Fatin would accept. The pain was palpable. Her eyes drifted away from Leah and back out into the ocean, and a small part of her wanted to go back in, to find whatever it was Fatin kept searching for.

“I did, I guess.” She spoke like she was saying the words for the first time. “It may be hard to believe, but I wasn’t a popular kid. I had a weird name and a weird family. I brought the wrong lunches to school and I wore the wrong clothes, and no one cared to look any deeper. But none of that mattered, because I had music.”

Leah could see the light creep into her eyes, slowly, quietly. “When I played,” she continued, “I understood everything. I could hear it, the way each note, each piece, was supposed to sound. I could practice, and practice, and practice, and I could get better. I could learn to do everything right.”

She talked about playing the way people talked at funerals: reminiscing about someone who was already gone, picking only the happy memories and pretending for just a moment that no other ones existed. And Leah knew it wasn’t the whole story, but there was something compelling about listening, about imagining a world in which everything made sense and no error was so abhorrent it couldn’t be fixed with a slight adjustment.

“By the time I was in middle school, my future had already been decided. I’d spent every day after school rehearsing, spent every summer at music camps. I never complained, because I truly thought there was nothing else. Nothing could be better than sitting on stage, impressing rows and rows of people who could only dream about having what I had.”

“It sounds amazing.” Leah hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, but it was true. It reminded her of writing. Searching for the right words, the right structure, the right pacing. The satisfaction that came with it. She may not have had an audience to look out on, but she’d had glimpses of the feeling. The ability to control the world around you, just for a second.

“It was, at first. Every crowd, every teacher and ensemble member, they all wanted to hear me. They wanted to be me. And maybe it’s shallow, but there’s nothing more intoxicating than being desired.”

“It’s not shallow.” It came out as a whisper. Leah turned her eyes down, even when she was certain Fatin’s had found their way back to her. She knew if she gave her the chance, Fatin would see everything, all the guilt and pain and humiliation. The pages might have burned, but the need for them, for what they once meant, hadn’t turned into ashes yet.

“Maybe it’s not.” Her voice felt softer as she spoke again. “But it’s easier to say that when it’s coming from an audience. From something you have to earn. It’s a lot harder when it’s coming from boys who see a body instead of a person.”

“So that’s what changed.” She tried to put some humor into the words. The last thing she wanted Fatin to think was that she was judging her. She might have done it before, but the high ground she’d once placed herself on was sinking by the minute.

Fatin chucked. “Yeah, you could say that. It’s the classic story, really. Girl turns fourteen, goes through puberty, and suddenly popularity is offering itself up on a silver platter held by boys in football jerseys and envied by girls with Pom Poms. Trends shift. What was out is now in. And for the first time in my life, I was in.”

“That sounds nice.” She wasn’t sure whether she was lying or not. It did sound tempting, but popularity had always seemed too good to be true. There had to be a catch.

Fatin just sighed. “Part of it was. I’d spent years not really interacting with anyone outside of a rehearsal hall. I thought it’d be hard. But when you're used to searching for emotion in sheet music, faces become so much easier. All these kids projected everything, gave me all the right answers. I never even had to try.”

So much of who she was began to make sense. Her perceptiveness, her empathy, her uncanny ability to read a room. Fatin had gone from an open book to a complete mystery in the last few weeks, and for the first time since, Leah felt like she was beginning to figure her out.

“The people I started to hang with, they were so different from everyone I’d ever met,” Fatin continued. “They were bold. Independent. Filled with confidence that wasn’t reliant on anyone else. It was…” she shrugged. “It was revolutionary.”

“What do you mean?”

“They showed me an entirely different life. Everything I’d thought I could only get while performing was out there, waiting for me. And the options — there were so many options. For so long, music was the only thing I cared about, because it was the only thing that ever made me feel...I don’t know. Seen. Heard. Wanted. But when the world started paying attention to me, I started paying attention back. And the cello wasn’t enough anymore.”

“So, why didn’t you stop?”

Fatin rolled her eyes. “You say it like it’s that easy. I could complain until I ran out of air, but that wasn’t going to change anything. Juilliard was my future. My parents weren’t going to let me throw that away for complete uncertainty.”

“Even if you didn’t want it anymore?”

“What I want hasn’t mattered in that house in a long time.”

Leah hesitated, before asking, “Is that why you’re going to move?”

“You could say that.” She seemed to search for the words. “I thought I’d...my mom, I thought she’d…” Fatin sighed, and she could hear the way her breath shook, went unsteady for just a moment before she kept talking. “I don’t have anyone on my side. The only thing that could keep me there are my brothers, but I’m not what they need. Not now.”

She let the silence fill the space around them. She’d only known Fatin from glimpses in the halls, but in each one she was always talking. Surrounded by people. The idea of her alone was almost unimaginable. “At least you have your friends. I’ve only ever had one, and I went and threw him away.” She thought about Ian, about the tent, about every moment she’d blocked out when her view had been dominated by hand-written notes and whispered confessions. “You still have people to go back to.”

Fatin just shook her head. “It’s not that kind of relationship, hon. We don’t...the people I spend my time with, we don’t talk about the real stuff. I’m not sure any of them are gonna wanna stick around after I come back with all this.”

Leah frowned. “But what about the guys you…”

“The ones I’ve fucked?” Leah nodded. “No. Everything is temporary with them. It’s perfect.”

“It is?”

“Oh, yeah. We worked because we both knew what we were getting into. They used me, and I used them. They wanted a good time, and I...I wanted that feeling back. The applause.” She exaggerated the word, like she wanted it to be a joke. It didn’t work. “I wanted more of it. I wanted them to need me more than I needed them.”

“That sounds—”

“You can say it. I already know.”

“Say what?”

“That I’m a skank, and I’m taking all of us women down with me and my reckless promiscuity.”

“I was just going to say it sounds lonely.”

She watched Fatin bite her lip, turn her eyes up toward the sky. Leah looked up with her. The clouds could have been painted, they were moving so slowly. It calmed her, although she couldn’t figure out why.

“There are worse feelings,” Fatin finally said, “than laying with someone who wants you, even if it won’t last.”

He crept in quickly, reminded her of the pain of being left, abandoned, desired and then repulsed. She thought about the dark that had followed and never stopped, the missed calls and the unheard screams. The deafening thud in her head telling her to swim until she reached the end. She thought about the paranoia, the intensity of knowing when something was wrong but having no way to prove it, no way to fix it.

“Fatin,” she said softly, eyes still glued to the clouds. “I don’t want to stay here, but I don’t think I want to go back home, either.”

She could feel the stare, but she avoided it. “You don’t have to go home.”

“I have nowhere else to go. And even if I make it back, I’ll have nothing. No one.”

“That’s not true. You’ll have me.” Fatin put her hand on her chin, tilted her head, waited until their eyes met. “And there’s no if about it. We will make it out of here. I promise.”

“It’s not just the island. I can’t leave all my problems in my childhood bedroom. I can’t walk out of my own head. I…” she tried not to, but she felt the tear slip out anyway, felt it make its way down past her chin. “I don’t know how to live like this forever.”

Fatin bent over and hugged her, brought their heads together in a way Leah didn’t think was physically possible. “I’m not gonna lie to you and say that everything’s going to be easy. But I know it’ll get better.”

“How? How do you know?”

“Because nothing could possibly be worse than this.” Fatin raised her head, but she kept her hand in her hair. Leah let the motion bring her back down, let it fight off the waves as best as it could.

She didn’t know how long they stayed there. Long enough for the panic about the future to subside. Long enough for Dot to come over with food. Fatin eased her up, helped her eat slowly, and Leah was grateful. She wasn’t sure she’d have had the self control not to over-indulge without her.

Sleep threatened, tried to tug at her eyelids when Fatin pulled her back down into her lap. She resisted, searched for something to focus on and found the ocean in front of them. The moment leading up to it had been a bit of a blur, desperation blocking out the rest of the world, but she knew who she’d left on the beach. She knew who’d had to watch.

“Hey,” Leah forced herself to tear her gaze off the sea, to look her in the eye. To not hide from the pain. “I’m sorry for scaring you like that yesterday.”

Fatin shook her head. “Don’t apologize. I know you...you’re not wired like everyone else. You have to be stronger. And that sucks, it really, really does. But promise me something, okay?” Leah nodded, and Fatin put her hands on her cheeks, made sure she couldn’t look away, even if she’d wanted to. “If you ever start feeling that much darkness again, don’t run to the waves. You run to me.”

She didn’t trust her voice, didn’t trust herself to do anything but nod. Fatin stared at her for another moment, searched her eyes for something and seemed to find it. She let go, but her hand didn’t make its way back to her hair. Instead, they formed fists at her sides, held nothing but air and frustration.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Fatin.”

Leah could feel the breath she took. It was heavy, weighted with burdens Leah knew and ones she didn’t. “I’m sorry.” She spoke to the ground instead of at her. “When you ran out there, I didn’t know how to get to you. I didn’t know how to bring you back.”

“But you did.” This time it was Leah who searched, who’s eyes begged her to listen, to believe her. “Rachel may have carried me to shore, but you saved me, too, Fatin.”

Leah reached for her hand, unraveled it until it fit inside her own. She ran her fingers over the calluses, the marks that told a deeper story than she’d ever suspected. Part of her wondered if they’d ever go away, if any of their pasts would leave them unmarked, or if they’d have to carry those scars forever.

“You know what,” Fatin said after a moment, “you should come with us. Dot and I, you should live with us in LA after this.”

She tried to imagine it: a tiny apartment, the three of them desperately trying to figure out adulthood on their own. It sounded crazy, and unpredictable, and reckless. She wanted it more than anything.

“Okay, but on one condition: you have to play the cello for me, at least once.”

Fatin scoffed. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“I just need to hear what all the fuss is about! If I’m living with a music virtuoso, I wanna get an exclusive performance before you retire all together.”

She rolled her eyes, but a grin fought its way through. “I’m not opposed to the idea of playing again, so long as it’s for you.”

“Really? Just for me?”

Fatin fake sighed. “Alright, Dot can listen too, I guess. But my piece selection will consist exclusively of Top 40 covers. If you hear the real stuff, you might become possessed like my parents and try to ship me off to Juilliard in my sleep.”

“Possessed? So what, you’re some kind of Siren now?”

She held her hands up in fake surrender. “I’m just stating facts. My playing convinced my immigrant parents to push their daughter toward a career in the arts. Who knows what other power it holds.”

They laughed, and Leah kept to herself the thought that she could never be a Siren. Sirens were supposed to be tempting only from afar, their beauty a mirage meant to lead sailors astray; the closer she looked, the more confident she became that Fatin was no facade. She might have been the realest thing Leah had.

“If I’m being honest, I kind of miss it.” She looked back at the island. Leah watched the way she stared at it, the hints of appreciation that slipped into her gaze. “This place may be a living nightmare, but it would be a hell of a spot to play. Not for an audition or an audience or anything. Just for the beauty of it.”

“What’s the piece? The one you were practicing before you came here?”

“You wouldn’t know it. Unless you’re a closeted classical music fan.”

“Can you show me what it sounds like?”

Fatin turned toward her and smiled. Leah knew she felt everything in extremes, but she was certain that she could spend forever looking at Fatin’s smile and never grow tired of it.

She began to hum. It started off fast, the notes bouncing from high to low and back again before Leah could even really process them. The cello was about as foreign to her as any other instrument, but even she could tell it sounded hard. The movements she’d seen earlier began to make sense, the speed at which her hands had shifted. It was impressive, even now, with no instrument in sight.

When she began to slow down, each note taking up more and more time, Leah closed her eyes. She could hear it now. The timidness that had appeared at the start faded, and all that was left was the emotion. The passion. Part of her longed to point to it, to show her that it hadn’t vanished the way she’d thought, but the last thing she wanted to do was stop the music. So instead she kept her mouth shut and just listened.

Their hands had found their way back to one another. She let them stay there, momentarily intertwined. Her body still ached but she ignored it, forced her energy into memorizing this moment. When she’d jumped into the ocean, she hadn’t felt strong enough to pull herself back. Her brain could be so selective, so misleading. It could steal the few tethers she did have, leaving her disjointed from everyone around her, from reality itself. She still wasn’t entirely sure how to fix it, but she wanted to try. In her mind’s brief period of peace, she silently vowed to make as many as she could, to stock up on moments that made her feel grateful to be alive. She started with this: Fatin’s melody, accompanied only by the quiet push and pull of the waves.

#ahh ok here we are #i spent the majority of my time writing this frustrated bc i never felt like the flow really came together the way i wanted it to #oh well #here it is anyway #pls tell me if you like it i thrive on the validation from others #the wilds #leah rilke #fatin jadmani #leatin #leah x fatin #TFLAO3 #fanfic

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zwowow · 4 years ago

Note

ask??? aight, 2 on the angst dialogue thingy but its em who’s saying it, buttttt kells replies with 19

up for the challenge??

2. “It’s my fault, I didn’t listen to everyone saying this would be a mistake!”

19. “Stop! Just stop it!”

Always up for a challenge, bebs! ;)

"Are you even gonna ask me what happened?" Colson towers over Em, but he feels so small. He wants Em to listen to him, needs Em to hear him, but Em thinks he's seen enough. But what he saw wasn't the truth, only a tiny portion of what really happened.

"Do I even want to fucking know?" Em's voice is pure ice, but his eyes are on fire. He's sitting in his recliner in the living room like a mad king on a throne. Colson dreads the moment when Em tells him to get the fuck out, enforcing the exile of a once loyal companion.

Swallow his pride and the lump in his throat, Colson falls to his knees in front of Em, "Please, listen to me." Begging is unlike him and it shows on Em's face, the impassivity breaks for one moment of shock, then slips easily back into place.

He looks at his boyfriend kneeling in front of him, exposed, and nods his head.

Colson starts his story, makes his case for what he'd done, and how it led to what he didn't do, but is being accused of. He wasn't right in everything he did, but Em has him all wrong.

"I wasn't drunk, but you know that feeling when you're around people that are, and everybody is having a good time so you feel good too? It was kind of like that." Em looks bored, but Colson persists. If he's ever going to understand, Em has to know the ecstasy he was feeling. That no thoughts, only fucking vibes type shit.

"I didn't really think about it when she started coming up on me. It's a fuckin club and I'm supposed to be actin single, right, why wouldn't I be on that?" Em makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat when Colson says the word single, but doesn't challenge him. Those were the rules they set up, the boundaries they had to keep in place so that only their close friends and family knew about them. Em knows this, and as much as they both hate it, acting like they are still single is a huge part of keeping them on lock.

Colson's knees start to hurt as he continues telling Em about the night, how this girl kept close to him, how she didn't let him out of her sight or grasp, how she held him possessively but didn't quite make a bold move. The looks of disgust on Em's face makes his own heat with shame. He ignores the pain in his knees and keeps going. It becomes a self imposed punishment. Especially because he can't say out loud how much he enjoyed having someone, anyone, on his arm, even if he wished it was Em. Em must pick up on the words unsaid because when Colson goes to grasp Em's knee for support, he jerks it away. He rests it back on his thigh instead.

"So at the end of the night, we're all tryna go home and this girl still won't leave me alone, and I felt kind of bad she'd wasted her night on someone who didn't want her, so I offer her a ride home. Em, believe me, I wasn't planning on doing anything." He wasn't, he'd swear on his life and everything he has, but Em finally snaps, unconvinced and unwilling to hear the rest because he knows where it's going. At least he thinks he does.

"I don't want to fucking hear this." He says as he stands up from the couch, almost knocking Kells down. Kells scrambles off his knees to follow Em where he's stalking into the kitchen. His guilt turns to shame and his shame turns to anger.

"I'm trying to tell you that nothing fucking happened! All fucking night nothing happened and those pictures that you saw, they're not what really went down!" He yells at Em's turned back. Tears prickle his eye but he doesn't shed them.

"So you weren't kissing her? Those fucking pictures are photoshopped? Must have been a pretty good fucking job then." Em whirls on him.

"I'm sorry!" Colson cries, it's not a denial, though. He can't deny that the pictures are real, only that they misconstrue the situation.

"No, you know what, don't apologize. It's my fault, I didn't listen to everyone saying this would be a mistake!" Colsons stomach drops to the floor and his heart races to meet it there. Em just keeps going. "I should have fucking known you'd do something like this. I guess that's my type though, right? Sluts. Fucking girls or dudes doesn't fucking matter, just always gotta have somebody that's gonna fuck me over, huh?"

"Stop! Just stop it!" The tears Colson had been trying hard not to let go fall freely now.

"Why should I? It's true, isn't it? You fucking cheated, didn't you?"

"I drove her home! That's it. She tried to kiss me in the car, that's where those pictures came from, but I stopped it. I told her I was seeing someone and that I really was just gonna give her a ride home. That's it. Why wouldn't you just let me fucking explain that?" Em's rage is oppressive. It fills up all the empty space in the room, takes root in your lungs and coats them in black fucking tar the more you're around it. But Colson, his rage, his anger at not being heard, of being misunderstood and demonized in a situation where he didn't do much wrong, is a rock sailing through the window, letting the air in.

When he's finished telling Em off, they can both breathe.

"You still let her kiss you." Em reminds him, but his voice is softer now, his cold voice now a melted puddle.

"I'm sorry." He did, he stopped it after only a moment, but it was long enough for their to be pictures, long enough for Em to see, long enough to break his heart, and for that he's sorry.

"I'm sorry too. I just get so... you know after what happened with Kim, cheating shit just makes me go crazy. I saw those pictures and I fucking lost it... but that wasn't okay. I should've listened. I'm sorry."

When they embrace it feels like it's been a lifetime of fight, though it's been less than a day. Colson realizes, while breathing Em in and trying to get over all the pain they'd caused each other, that it all could've been avoided if they were just out. Though he supposes, that's a fight for another day, right now, he just wants to hold Em and be held back.

#is kissing someone else cheating #emgk #zwowfic #angst prompt #not cheating just a wittle kiss #anybody ever gone thru the convo with their SO?#hopefully i rose to the challenge #💅 aight? aight.

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goldenspecter · 4 years ago

Text

Wash and Go

summary: wash and go (or wash 'n go) - a method of cleaning and styling hair without the use of heat, protective styling or any other manipulation techniques and a staple in the natural hair community.

Valerie hadn't expected to style a ghost kid's hair, especially one as powerful as Clockwork, but she believes that everyone should have a good hair experience. She just didn't think it would be the start of something new.

Word Count: 6,970

Archive of Our Own FFN

This fic takes place early season 1, like maybe a week or so after "Parental Bonding".

-I headcanon Clockwork to be black and queer/nonbinary and express that through all my fics that I've written. Maybe not as explicit as calling out skin tones but through little things like AAVE(African-American Vernacular) and their hair type. So at the very least, they were coded to be read as black whenever I write them. Valerie uses AAVE terms so if there are words that pop out at you that you don't instantly recognize/aren't sure of, that's AAVE and it's used in its correct context. This fic serves as a reclamation of blackness/black culture for CW, Valerie and Tucker, for more on that, it’s included on the AO3/FFN versions but not this one since I didn’t want to clutter it any further with notes.

-Music in this phic: Green Eggs and Ham by Princess Nokia and VRY BLK by Jamila Woods ft Noname

---

It’s quiet in her room and the young, small, blue ghost that she mysteriously acquired is laying in her bed, watching a video on their prized console. They-Clockwork, is quiet, curling in on themselves, as if to make themselves smaller than what they truly are and it rubs Valerie the wrong way. She’s not quite sure how, but she knows that something is off. As an attempt to ease the small child, Valerie moves in to run her fingers through their hair in an attempt to comfort them when her fingers are stuck in thick silver curls and Clockwork hisses in pain, but doesn’t make any move to pull away or pry her fingers out of their hair.

“Chile, do you not comb your hair? When was the last time you ran a comb through that?” Valerie asks, gentle maneuvering her fingers out of the thick, nappy hair.

“You’re supposed to comb it?” asks Clockwork, voice tinged with confusion.

“Yes, you’re supposed to comb it!” Valerie almost shrieks, because what parent doesn’t teach their own child to comb their hair or style it for them? Hair was such an important thing for children. It spoke volumes about people, the luscious curls, vibrant blacks and deep browns that stand proudly on top of your head, and she knows each and every hairstyle she rocks is breathtaking and commands attention to her personhood. She can’t imagine a child not being taught to take pride in their hair and the fact that this child hasn’t been taught to be prideful of their hair both saddens and enrages her. She notices the subtle flinch before she softens her voice, “Sorry about that but do your parents really not comb your hair?”

Clockwork is silent before shaking their head, “They said it’s too much trouble,” they say, voice soft. “So they cut it short when it grew out too much. Saved everyone time.”

Valerie’s eyes darken in rage and she has to take cartoonishly deep breaths before she can speak. What kind of parent does that shit? To give up on their child, not bothering to take care of their needs and all but giving up on them? She takes another deep breath and speaks in a low voice, “Well, we’re gonna change that.”

Clockwork furrows an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to do your hair,” she says, “That is, if you’re okay with it.”

“No one wants to do my hair,” Clockwork says quickly, “It’s a pain to do and I’m too much of a baby for anyone to do it. I always cry and scream too much when my guardians try.”

It takes every fiber in Valerie’s body to hold back a venomous retort about how shitty Clockwork’s parents sound, because at the very least, she knows that her anger at their parents will be misconstrued and that Clockwork will grow to be afraid of her. Instead, she puts a hand under their chin and gently turns their head to make them look at her.

“Getting your hair combed sounds scary, I get it,” Valerie starts, “However, it's not healthy to keep avoiding it like this. You gotta do it at some point, and if you decide that after this you wanna get your haircut and keep it short, that’s fine. But at the very least, you deserve to have a good experience when it comes to your hair and I would like to be the one to provide that for you if you like.”

Clockwork falls silent, before nodding hesitantly.

Valerie is surprised that they agreed to something like this so quickly, that they trust her with something so intimate, but she does nothing to convey her surprise. Instead, she stands up and puts her hands on her hips. “Alright, first step is to wash your hair.”

Fifteen minutes later, Valerie gathers two combs, shampoo and conditioner sets them down on the counter of the kitchen sink as she finishes cleaning off the counter. It doesn’t take her long to do so, and when she finishes, she gently motions for Clockwork to come over. Clockwork obediently comes over, tightly holding the dry towel to their chest, their grip tightening when they eye the combs laying on the counter.

“Will it hurt?” they ask, looking down at the ground.. It’s not how a child typically asks when parents have to disinfect cuts and scrapes, but from a child who knows and has been through some serious pain. Valerie’s heart aches for this child she barely knows. She’d love to meet their parents because she has a lot of questions to ask, most of which involve a lead pipe.

“Yea, it will,” she says honestly, not wanting to lie to Clockwork. “Especially since you’ve never had your hair combed but I promise you I will do my best to not make it hurt anymore than it has to.”

“You promise?” Clockwork asks.

Valerie nods. “Come on up here squirt. Let’s get started.” She helps Clockwork onto the counter, moving one hand on their back while the other rests on their chest and she slowly but gently guides their head to hover above the sink. Once Valerie thinks that Clockwork is steady, she slowly removes her hands and moves to turn one of the sink knobs. She slides her hand under the water, slowly waiting for it to get hot enough before she touches the knob for cold water. Valerie puts her hand under the water again, deems it warm enough before she pulls out the spray head and starts to wet Clockwork’s hair.

“Is this too hot?” she asks.

Clockwork squirms a little, pulling their head back from the water. Valerie holds their head still but moves the nozzle away from them and turns the cold water on just a little bit more. She puts the nozzle back at their hair, “How about now?”

“Yes, thank you.” they say.

“No problem. I promised you would have a good experience and this is an important part.” Valerie says, moving the nozzle around to thoroughly wet Clockwork’s hair.

Valerie occasionally fluffs their hair as she wets it. Once she determines that it's fully drenched, she places the spray head back into its socket, grabs the shampoo and opens it with a loud click.

She squeezes a nice dollop of it in her hand to start out and begins to massage the shampoo into Clockwork’s hair. “I wasn’t sure what scent you’d like best so I picked out lavender to start with. We can shop for more if you want to keep this up.”

“I like lavender.” they say, then a moment later, “If I want to keep this up?”

“Yea, if you like how this turns out, then we can keep this up. We can try out different hairstyles, do whatever you want. I can ask dad to buy more hair stuff from the store.” Valerie answers, adding more shampoo to Clockwork’s hair and deeply massaging it in with the soapy suds coating her hands.

“You want to keep doing my hair?” asks Clockwork and Valerie knows that they’re asking much more than that. You want to keep trying? You aren’t ready to give up hope on me? You don’t want to quit?

“Yes, if you let me.” Valerie says, because she loves doing hair. She loves styling it. Taking something that’s so beautiful in its raw form, magnifying its beauty with braids, twisting, heat is a magic all on its own and she’s so glad that she’s able to take part in that magic.

Clockwork lets out a tiny ‘ok’ so softly that Valerie has to really strain her ears to hear them. She can tell that she’s made them uncomfortable so she quickly dries her hands, opens Spotify on her phone and plays some music. Her voice and body falls into the trap that the music lays out for her and so soon, she swings her hips as she sings proudly while still continuing to wash Clockwork’s hair.

“Love my inner child, Kool-Aid smile

I been like this for a while

Going into town, gonna find a crowd

Right by the kids in the park with the style”

Her joy is contagious, as Clockwork begins to tap their hand against their chest with the beat. Valerie’s nails scratch against their scalp, causing Clockwork to let out a groan.

“Something wrong?”

Clockwork immediately shakes their head, “No. Just- that felt good. Can-can you keep doing that?”

“Of course,” Valerie says as she presses her fingers into their scalp, massaging the skin with varying pressures to both distribute the foamy substance and pamper the neglected area." “Is it too much pressure or good enough?”

“Uhh...good enough?” Clockwork answers, and Valerie can tell that she’s hit the sweet spot. “I like the pressure, I don’t know why.”

“It’s okay not to know why,” Valerie reassures them, pulling the nozzle and rinsing out the shampoo before adding more into the child’s hair. “But to be honest? It just feels good to have someone massage your hair and that’s okay.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. When my dad used to wash my hair, I loved it when he massaged my hair.” Valerie says, continuing to massage their hair. Her music is still playing, hiding a smile when she hears Clockwork softly humming to her music.

Her hands pull at several strands of silver hair at the nape of Clockwork’s nape. “Do you hear any squeaking?”

“A little? What does it mean if it’s squeaking?”

“Your hair’s clean. Hold your ears closed, I don't want water to get in them. Swimmer’s ear is hell.” says Valerie, thoroughly rinsing out the soap and suds before she adds more. “I’ll wash it again just to make sure. I want it completely free of any build up of dirt or dandruff before I style it.”

Valerie washes Clockwork’s hair a third time, this time making sure that she completely scrubs out all of the dirt and dandruff that might have built up before she rinses out the soap and suds for the last time. She gets the bottle of conditioner, begins to squeeze it out, and rubs into Clockwork’s hair.

Once there’s an ample amount of condition in Clockwork’s hair, Valerie reaches across the sink to grab one of her combs, a golden wide tooth comb and readies it in her hand. Clockwork eyes the comb with great suspicion, instinctively scooting away from the menacing comb.

Valerie notices and rests her hand on their chest to stop them in their tracks. “Look, I know, I know. It’s scary, it’s going to hurt a lot, especially since you haven’t had a lot of experience with this.” Valerie begins, voice soft. “If you need to scream, cry, whatever, then go ahead and do it. I’m not going to stop you. Okay?”

“Okay.” Clockwork whispers, bracing themselves to feel the teeth of the comb dig into their hair.

Valerie places the comb at Clockwork’s edges, pulls the comb through the hair to form a part, occasionally having to pull the tangled strands apart by hands. During this Clockwork hisses, kicking the side of the island in pain. She does this two more times, effectively parting the soaking wet hair into three sections. Valerie fully sinks the teeth of the comb into their hair, starting at the scalp and begins to pull the comb through, collecting dead hair as it goes through stopping at the ends. Valerie focuses on the ends, where its the most tangled, combing it through multiple times to get it to that silky smoothness.

She retracts the comb from their hair, pulls the dead hair piling in between the teeth of the comb and puts it in the strainer at the bottom of the sink to be collected when she finishes. Valerie combs through the first section one last time and nods in satisfaction at how easily she can run the comb through their hair.

Sticking the comb in Clockwork's hair, she does a quick check in. “How are we feeling?” she asks.

Clockwork quickly wipes away any tears pooling at the corners of their eyes before they turn their head to look at her. “It hurts, but I think I’ll be okay.” they say.

Valerie quirks an eyebrow. Getting hair combed hurts like hell, even when combed often. They have to be in some serious pain for how tenderheaded they were. “You sure?” she presses, “I can stop for a few minutes if you like. It’s not a big deal, Clockwork.”

The small child shakes their head, “No,” they say, a soft sob itching to be let loose but they manage to suppress it. “You can keep going.”

“Okay,” Valerie says quietly, pulling the comb out of Clockwork’s hair and resumes by starting to comb out the next section. Clockwork continues to hiss in pain, but doesn’t do anything to stop her.

Dead hair continues to gather at the bottom of the sink as she combs through the sections.

“What’s this song? I like it.” Clockwork asks, Valerie muses that they’re trying to focus on something other than the pain.

“VRY BLK by Jamila Woods and Noname. It’s one of my favorites.” She pulls the hair from the teeth of the comb before returning the comb through their hair. “Would you like me to turn it up?”

They nod, “Yes please.”

Valerie dries her hands on her shirt, grabs her phone to turn the volume up and starts the song over. A soft steady percussion starts up and slowly takes over the kitchen.

“Black is like the magic, the magic's like a spell

My brothers went to heaven, the police going to, yeah, they're going to

Hello operator, emergency hotline

If I say that I can't breathe, will I become a chalk line

Up to see the movie, line up to see the act”

Valerie takes pride in her voice, as she continues to sing as she finishes combing out Clockwork’s hair, and smiles as she can hear them sing along to the chorus very softly. They aren’t flinching from the pain as much and she considers that to be a monumental improvement. She runs the comb through several more times to make sure that their hair was fully combed out before she rinses out the conditioner in their hair.

When the conditioner is completely rinsed out, she turns the water off, gathers the clumps of hair sitting in the strainer and dumps them in the trash can. She returns to the sink, helps Clockwork sit up, pulls the towel away from them, and drapes the towel around their neck. Valerie holds out a hand for Clockwork to hold onto and pulls them off the counter.

“How was it?”

Clockwork runs a hand through their hair, eyes widening in surprise that it’s free from kinks. “It’s...good. It felt good.”

Valerie beams, “Good.” She grabs the combs, her phone, and a chair that’s in front of the kitchen island and takes with her into the downstairs bathroom. “Come along Clockwork!”

Clockwork follows after her, droplets of water forming a trail behind them. They’re standing outside the bathroom when she wordlessly gestures for them to sit in the chair in front of the mirror. Clockwork struggles to get in the chair since it’s the chair is a bit higher than them but they manage to hop in. when they finally hop on the chair, they are entranced by their reflection staring back at them in the mirror. They pull at a few strands of silver hair, looking on in curiosity as it unravels and coils back once they let go.

This was what their hair looked like when it was combed, washed and treated with care? Impossible. It looks.. too good. Healthy. It’s on their head, so it has to be their hair. Maybe they shouldn't get too attached because Valerie says she would be willing to keep this up, but what if she grows tired of doing it and ends up cutting it like the Observants.

“Looks great doesn’t it?” Valerie says, cutting them out of their thoughts.

Clockwork nods, “I can’t believe that this is what my hair looks like.” they say in awe, because holy shit this is what their hair actually looks like. Their vision blurs and before they can wipe their tears away, Valerie’s hands are already there, whipping away the tears that spilled over.

“If you think this looks good now, just wait until I’m finished.” Valerie says, excitement bleeding in her voice. She takes the towel off their neck and drapes it across the chair. Grabbing the comb, Valerie quickly combs through their hair and sections it into four big plaits.

Valerie takes down one of the braids in the back, pulls out a jar of curl defining creme, opens it up and scoops some out with her fingers. She then slabs the cream on top of their hair before she takes time to really work it through, pulling her fingers through the hair to define the curls. Her hands dive back into the jar to scoop out some more and continue massaging it through Clockwork’s hair, saturating the hair with the cream.

Clockwork is quiet throughout the process, casually stimming as Valerie did their hair and they honestly couldn’t believe how easy it was so far? Why couldn’t the Observants do something like this?

“It’s so smooth,” Clockwork says.

“Yea, glad I combed your hair out right?” Valerie jokes with a smile.

She gets a fervent nod as her answer. "Me too. Otherwise, it would be a helluva lot harder to do this."

The music still plays in the background as Valerie finishes one section, takes down another braid and continues the process. It takes about an hour to do, and that hour goes by quickly.

When Valerie finally finishes, she proudly puts her hands on her hips, "What's the verdict so far?" she waits for Clockwork's reaction.

Clockwork leans forward in the chair to get a closer look at their hair. This is actually, really their hair. Fingers slowly pull at some of the defined curls hanging in front of their face and coming away with a build up of the cream between their fingers.

“It’s so pretty.” Clockwork says in awe, and as much they don’t want to, they can’t help but be prideful of their hair. They look at Valerie. “What now?”

“We let it dry.” says Valerie. “It takes a few hours to do.”

“I’m a Time Master!” Clockwork answers, gesturing to the clock in their chest. “I can speed time up, and you won’t even notice!”

“Oh we don’t have to wait that long.” Clockwork says simply.

“How so?” Valerie answers, “Unless you’re talking about a hairdryer, I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“You? A Time Master?” Valerie asks, seeing Clockwork nod enthusiastically, quirks an eyebrow. “You’re so young.”

She doesn’t give herself time to think about how she literally just did a Time Master’s hair. Because holy shit, if this child is so powerful, then how powerful were their parents?

Clockwork frowns, “That’s what everyone says. The Observants think so too, but here I am!” They force themselves to smile and Valerie thinks there’s so much more to that bright and cheery optimism that Clockwork is exuding.

“Yea, you are. But I think using your powers to dry up your hair is cheating.” Valerie says gently. “If you want to truly experience this, then you gotta wait like the rest of us mere mortals.”

“How long does it take?”

“Four hours. Give or take.” says Valerie, “Sometimes I use a blow dryer to speed it up a little bit if I’m not in the mood to wait that long. I can use a blow dryer if you want?”

“Yes please.”

“Okay.” Valerie goes into the bathroom closet, rummaging through the piles of towels, hair products, and bed sheets until she comes across the blow dryer. She gets, heads back to the sink, reaches over Clockwork to plug it in the wall, and drapes the tower over their neck. “It’ll get a bit hot, just let me know if it’s too much.”

“I know it’ll get hot, that’s what they’re supposed to do. I’m not a baby.” Clockwork says smartly and Valerie can’t help glaring at the small child.

“You and I, we finna fight.” She says with a smile. “But seriously, tell me if it’s too hot, okay?”

“I don’t see the point, but okay I guess.” Uneasiness grows in Valerie’s stomach, what the hell has this child been through for them to not take their own limitations seriously? What the hell have these Observants done?

Valerie is seriously starting to question that she needs a lead pipe when she finally does talk to these Observants.

Valerie turns the blow dryer on, keeping it several inches away from Clockwork’s hair, moves it around their head, the heat of the blow dryer slowly but surely drying it a bit. She occasionally wraps her hand around the curls, to feel how wet their hair is and to make sure that she doesn’t dry it too much.

“How’s the heat?” She asks.

“Hot.”

“That’s what blowdryers are supposed do.” She mimics from earlier, laughing when Clockwork glares at her. “Is it too much?”

A firm shake of the head, “No? I don’t think so? It feels kinda nice.”

“Cool, cool. I’m only doing this for another minute or two since I don’t wanna dry it out too much.” Valerie blow dries it for another 5 or so minutes before she cuts the blow dryer off, unplugs it, wraps the cord around it and stuffs it back in the closet.

Clockwork slides off the chair, shuffles towards Valerie, who presses a hand against the top of their hair.

“Hmm, it’s still somewhat wet. It shouldn’t take more than two hours for it to fully dry out.” Valerie guesses.

The child fumbles with their gloved fingers. “What do you normally do while you wait?”

Valerie rests a hand under her chin. “I watch tv, play a game or two, read a book if I don’t have homework to do.” Eying Clockwork, she continues. “Homework isn’t that important though, what would you like to do?”

“I dunno?” Clockwork says shyly, pointedly looking at the ground.

She doesn’t say it out loud because she’s certain it would embarrass them, but the way Clockwork acts is oh so similar to the little kids that she babysits for some quick and easy money and that in and of itself is so damn adorable.

“What do you normally do then?”

“I mainly watch the timestreams! Or I train on my powers! Sometimes I have to attend some meetings or handle some crisis that the timelines are going through at times.”

‘Does this child do nothing but work?’ Valere thinks to herself. “Do you do anything for fun?”

“I don’t have time for fun. Not when there’s important work to be done.” Clockwork says with a derisive snort, sounding so much older than the seven/eight year old they are. “Humanity’s a little bit more important than me having fun.”

“I’m sorry but what the fuck is wrong with your parents?” Valerie snaps.

Clockwork flinches and Valerie immediately regrets it.“There’s nothing wrong with the Observants. They’re doing just fine.”

Valerie growls, pressing her hands to her temples, trying and failing to suppress the frustration that she’s experiencing right now. “Yes there is. My dad doesn’t make me work all the time, your parents shouldn’t either.”

“But that’s different!” Clockwork shouts.

“How the fuck is it different?”

“You’re a human child! You wouldn’t understand!”

“You’re a child too!” Valerie shouts. “You are a literal child! You’re younger than me!”

Clockwork sputters at that, trying and failing to come up with a response. “But I’m a Time Master-”

Valerie clasps a hand on one of their shoulders, “You might be a Time Master, but you are a child first and foremost. That’s the most important thing for you to be and the Observants are wrong to teach you otherwise.”

The teen pulls Clockwork into a tight hug, “How about we play a game or something? We can do whatever you want.”

Clockwork’s muffled voice mumbles out, “Really?”

“Really.”

“Can I show you my tower?” Clockwork asks excitedly, pulling away from her and she can visibly see the way Clockworks eyes light up. “It’s really cool, there’s a lot of rooms, hallways and books-”

Valerie presses a finger against Clockwork’s lips, “Why talk about it when you can show me it?”

"I'm not really the best at teleporting. I have accidents sometimes," Clockwork admits softly. "I don't think I'd be any good teleporting two people."

She shrugs, "Maybe you aren't. Perhaps there's other ways to get there."

"There are but natural portals take forever to form and there aren't any in Amity Park." Clockwork says, "Guess we'll have to teleport there."

Valerie raises an eyebrow, looking down at the young Time Master. "I thought you weren't any good at it." She says suspiciously.

Clockwork doesn't say anything as they run towards Valerie. "We'll have to find out won't we?" They say, jumping up, diving into Valerie, wrapping their arms around her. A portal formed behind the two children, both of them falling through the portal and Valerie landed on her bottom as they came from the other side with Clockwork buried into their chest. Clockwork sits up, looks down at Valerie and tilts their head.

"Did I do good?" Clockwork asks.

Valerie pulls herself up, uses her elbows to keep herself propped up, and looks around. The simple bathroom that her and Clockwork was in is gone, the house, everything that she knew is nowhere to be found and was replaced with scrying portals twice her size and clock gears of various sizes. Valerie questions why there are so many gears here, since it seems like it would be dangerous for a young kid like Clockwork to be around no matter how smart or cautious they seem. But she doesn't say it out loud, instead, saving it for whenever she finally meets these Observants. She looks to her left and her right, the seeing the hallways that Clockwork mentioned from earlier, but the more she stares down the hall, the more they grow in size and loom over her, the discomfort that started off small growing until she can actually feel it gnaw at her.

Clockwork taps her shoulders and she jolts, tensing her shoulders before remembering that it was only just Clockwork as she loosens the tension in her shoulders and lets out a deep breath.

"Did I do good?" they ask again.

Valerie looks around one last time, really taking in the scenery of the tower, how everything the tower touches seems to be saturated in green overtones, the overwhelming sense that everything about this place feels so unnatural, disconcerting and wrong and that a simple human like her wasn't meant to be here. Slowly, she nods her head, not wanting Clockwork to pick up on her uneasiness.

"You did great buddy." she says. "You mind getting off of me?"

Clockwork beams at the praise, floating off of Valerie and helping her stand up. Once she's up off the ground, they look up at her with wide expectant eyes. "Can I give you that tour now?" They ask, tail flicking behind them excitedly.

"Yea, sure buddy." Valerie says, yelping when Clockwork takes her hand and begins dragging her through the halls to give her the tour of the citadel.

As Clockwork gives the tour, she takes note of all the empty rooms that have been repurposed for gardens and apocatheries, libraries brimming with rare books that are worth more than what her father will make in his entire life time, how Clockwork is just so enthused with bringing someone along to show them empty rooms devoid of life and personality and she has to wonder how lonely they have to be.

She's not sure how long the tour was, but it felt like it was over before it truly started. Green eyes catch a door with a startling amount of locks on it and her curiosity shines through.

"What's behind that door?" she asks.

Clockwork tenses, the grip they have on her hand tightening. "It's nothing." they say with a tight voice, pulling Valerie along as the two move away from the door. "Let's go."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Tour's over." they say cryptically.

So it is dangerous. "Why is there something so dangerous in your tower?" She asks, walking behind them. "Why would these Observants leave something like that with a little kid? What if you got hurt?"

Clockwork shrugs, "It's not like I don't heal up, I'm usually fine."

"Usually? What about when you aren't?"

"I heal. Eventually. and I get over it." Clockwork says, leading Valerie back to the area where they started from. "That's it."

"Don't these Observants help you heal or get better?"

Clockwork raises an eyebrow and shakes their head in a manner that says 'dont ask stupid questions.' "No? Why would they? I get myself in trouble, I get myself out of it." They say nonchalantly, turning their back to Valerie as they wave a hand to change the image on their scrying portal. "You wanna see something cool?"

Valerie begins to shake her head to argue about the Observants, but whatever she is going to say dies down in her throat when she sees the hopeful look on Clockwork's face begging her to drop the subject.

Reluctantly, she nods her head, "Sure why not?"

Clockwork beams at her, grabs her hand and pulls her into the scrying portal. Valerie doesn't have time to think about how she feels like she's wading through jelly as she goes through the portal and how her body goes numb for several seconds after she stumbles through the portal before she finally catches herself awkwardly standing on her tippy toes, body lurching forward and just one misstep away from falling flat on her face

Time travel, she supposes, isn't really meant for humans.

"Are you okay?” Clockwork asks, “I’ve never had a human travel with me before.”

Valerie nods, before her throat coats itself in bile, feels it rise and fills her mouth and she immediately shakes her head. The fourteen year old throws herself over the closest ledge, leaning over and throwing up the bile that came out of nowhere. Her legs buckle as she continues throwing up before she finally stops, resting limply for a few moments. Valerie pushed herself off of the ledge, shakily pulls herself back together, before turning around to face Clockwork.

“If I wasn’t fine before,” she rasps out. “I’m fine now.”

Clockwork raises an eyebrow, “Are you sure?”

Nodding her head, “My mouth feels gross but some water should do me some good.”

“Okay.” Clockwork says, slipping their hand into hers and guiding her away from the stone ledge. “There’s a resturant around here somewhere, we can get you some water.”

It finally crosses Valerie’s mind to ask where she is. “Where are we anyways?”

“Rome.” Clockwork says offhandedly.

“Ancient Rome?” Valerie asks.

“Noooo,” Clockwork says with a laugh, looking up at one of the street names before crossing the street. “Present day Rome. Don’t get me wrong, ancient Rome is cool and all, I just didn’t think you would like to see gladiators, deal with the stench-Romans bathe but like, Rome is still gross and all the other nastiness that goes on.”

Oh. She didn’t consider that. She wonders from the way they’re crossing the street, with no one really paying attention to them, if they were really there. “Can they see us?”

“Who?”

With her only free hand, she vaguely gestures to everyone around them. “Them!”

Finally understanding who Valerie was referring to, Clockwork shakes their head. “No. to them we don’t really exist? I don’t know how to explain it, but whatever we do right now isn’t really going to impact the timeline.”

Valerie doesn’t really get it. Maybe it’s because she’s not a Master of Time and doesn’t really understand the complexities that come with the passage of time and if she was quite honest, she’s grateful that she’s just a human who interacts with time in such a simple and straightforward way. Valerie doesn’t get it, but she trusts this kid that’s pulling her through the streets of Rome.

The two walk by several clothing shops before finally making it to that restaurant that Clockwork mentioned earlier. Valerie looks up to see the name of the restaurant and is taken aback when she sees the white double arches standing out against the black drapes.

“McDonald’s?” Valerie asks, a hand on her hip. “Of all the places in Rome and you choose McDonald’s?”

“McDonalds is considered a restaurant, so I technically brought you to one.” Clockwork says arrogantly, curling their fingers around the door handle. “You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to.”

Clockwork pulls the door open and enters. Valerie grumbles and begrudgingly follows after them, slipping through the open space before the door closes, her potential complaints dying down when she saw the interior of the McDonalds. Black bricks on the floor, with dining booths covered in leather, each one separated by wood and marble. She takes a few steps forward, taking in how...sophisticated this McDonald’s looks. As she marvels at the decor, her eyes move away from the furniture and flooring before they linger and gaze in awe at the sculpture cornered a few steps away from the tables.

Valerie steps in front of the statue, a beautiful Roman woman with a dress. Her arms were missing, and the dress rests below her chest, each of the folds immaculately sculpted in the marble. Valerie reaches her hand out to touch the detailed folds of the dress, but retracts her hand in fear that if she touches something so beautiful, it’ll break and crumble in her hands.

“It’s not going to break, you know,” Clockwork says, “It’s not the original sculpture, the original is in a museum if you want to see it.”

She looks down at them, then back at the sculpture. “Do you know who did it?”

Clockwork shrugs. “I dont know but it’s no Venus de Milo.” They turn away, walking down the steps, and heading into the main area of the restaurant. “You still want that water?”

Remembering how dry and parched her throat is, Valerie nods, stepping down and walking into the main part of McDonald’s and she’s taken aback at how fancy it looks. The Nasty Burger could never look like this, “It’s a fancy McDonald’s, I’ll give it that.”

“I thought all McDonald's look like this?" They ask.

"Chile no," she scoffs, they walk past the people and stop in front of a self-service kiosk. Valerie taps the screen and orders herself her much needed water.

"Can you throw in some fries please?" Clockwork asks. "Nuggets too!"

"Aren't you hungry?" She teases, adding the requested items to the cart. "I could go for some fries and a chicken sandwich myself."

Adding the items to the order, she taps finish, and when the payment page comes up, she turns to Clockwork. "And how do you propose we pay for all of this?" She asks, "I don't have any of my money on me."

Clockwork bites their lip, before leaning over and tapping the screen, and fiddling with it before it shows that the order was paid for it. The kiosk spits out a receipt, Valerie takes it and eyes Clockwork suspiciously. "What did you do? I thought you said we don't really have an impact on the timeline."

"I just took advantage of a little loophole in the system," they say innocently. Looking up at Valerie, they shy away from her disapproving frown, turning away from her appearant disappointment as they explain themselves. "It's not going to hurt anyone, and we don't really have an impact on the timeline right now."

Valerie notices how they turn away from her, and decides to let up, relaxing the tense muscles on her face. She wasn't happy that they technically stole from the people here, but she won't harp on them too much. They say it won't really have an impact on the people here, so that doesn't make it that terrible right? Shaking her head, Valerie moves away from the kiosk, towards the register and waits for their food to be served. Ten minutes pass by, she hears their order number called out, grabs the food, rolls the top of the bag inward to keep the food hot, and searches for a table that isn't too full to sit at. Clockwork stays close to her, and she offhandedly notices how their hand slips into the crook of their elbow and latch themselves close to her. Something foreign blooms in her chest but she squashes it down before she can put a name to it or fully explore it, blaming it on the weirdness involving Clockworks powers.

She finally finds them a place to eat, an area that seemed to be a bit secluded and didn't have as many people in the area. Valerie and Clockwork sit down at a semicircle shaped booth several feet behind a case of glass holding cups with plants in. Clockwork slides in the booth first, Valerie slides in next and sets the food on the table. Opening the bag, she pulls out the Clockwork's food along with some ketchup and honey mustard packets and gives it to them.

Clockwork pulls their fries and nuggets close, dips some fries in the ketchup and sticks them in their mouth. "Thank you!" they say happily, swinging their feet as they continue to eat. Valerie doesn't say anything back, opting to open her chicken sandwich and taking a bite out of it.The two children eat in silence-rather, Clockwork talks about whatever crosses their mind, while Valerie occasionally nods along and asks a question or two of her own. She ignores that little feeling in that chest from earlier as she listens to Clockwork talk, as she's certain that it's just some weird pain in her chest or stomach that'll go away.

Valerie finishes eating about twenty minutes later and puts her trash in the white paper bag. Clockwork notices her, looking up at her, "Did you want to see more of Rome?" they ask, "There's a shopping district a few streets away, if that's what you're into."

She doesn't say anything as she grabs a napkin, folds it in half and reach out to the little Time Master's face to wipe off the remaining honey mustard and ketchup from the corners of their mouth. With her other hand, she feels Clockwork's hair, gently patting the top and middle parts of their hair, rubbing the curls between her fingers to truly feel it, and pulls her hands away from them with a smile. "I'll take a raincheck for that," she says with a smile, gently tapping their nose, grabbing their trash and tossing it in the trashcan next to the table. "But we need to go back home, I have to show you something."

Clockwork tilts their head before nodding. The seven year old snakes their hand into Valerie's, tightly clasping their hands together, scrunching their eyes close and before Valerie knows it, the two are back in her kitchen.

"How'd you do that?" she asks, "Last time, you needed a portal."

Clockwork shrugs, "I dunno? You said we had to go home," they say, "This is home."

Oh. Valerie isn't quite sure how to feel about that admission, and she has a lot of feelings about the way Clockwork easily and honestly calls this house, where she lives, home. So she'll bury them for right now, maybe unpack them later, maybe ask her dad about these emotions. She senses that Clockwork is staring at her, realizing that she spaced out, plasters a wide smile on her face to make up for it. Valerie covers their eyes, shushing their protest when she walks them over to the bathroom and stops in front of the mirror.

Slowly, she lowers her hands from their eyes, watching with joy as Clockwork stops their protesting to stare at themselves in the mirror. Valerie moves behind them, fluffing their curls up a bit, so they can be at full volume. "Do you like it?" she asks, "Be brutally honest, Clockwork."

Clockwork stands there in shock, a hand reaching up to tug at one of the curls at the edge of their forehead. "It's so pretty," they say in awe, then noticing Valerie standing behind them. "It can't be mine. There's no way this can belong to me."

"Yea, it is." she says simply, shifting her weight to one side of her body and leaning against the bathroom door.

For the second or third time that day, Clockwork cries. Valerie bends down a little bit, right until the two were eye level and pulls Clockwork in for a hug. She feels them trying to hide in her neck but she shakes her head, gently guiding their head to look in the mirror, "Every single strand of hair belongs to you," she says, wiping away their tears. "I know you don't believe me, but your hair is so beautiful. I meant what I said earlier, I'll keep doing your hair as long as you want me to."

"You mean that?"

Valerie nods, "I meant every word I said."

"Can you…?" they begin, but they go quiet, still unable to ask the question.

"Yea," she answers, pressing a kiss on their forehead. "Come back next week, okay?"

"Okay." Clockwork says.

#danny phantom #valerie gray #dp clockwork #dp fanfic #dp fanfiction #goldenspecter writes

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years ago

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Seventy-Nine

Words: 4.1k

Warning(s): explicit language, violence, explicit sexual situations, substance abuse, mentions of assault

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I hum along to the Christmas music softly playing over the speakers of the grocery store as I walk down the aisles, pushing my buggy, looking at the different types of cereal.

Nikki doesn't like sweet cereals aside from Captain Crunch, so I just grab a box of it before heading to grab toilet paper and paper towels, along with some eggs, and head to the checkout line, my attention stalling on a tabloid on display.

"Nikki Sixx & Vanity: Their 'Friendship' Timeline," it reads, a picture of Vanity and Nikki plastered on the front...I exhale sharply.

I can't believe it's been four months since Vanity aired out their dirty laundry on TV.

That means Duff and I have been together for three and a half months...

I'm quickly backing up and walking to the sexual health section, examining the many brands of pregnancy tests.

I grab the cheapest and go back to the line.

"I told them not to put those out," my cashier states to me when it's my turn, as she sees me give another glance to the magazine with my husband and his mistress on the front.

When she gets to the pregnancy test, she clears her throat.

"Celebratory or...?" She asks, swiping the test.

I pretend I don't hear her.

I shut my trunk, my arms wrapped around grocery bags as I step to the front door, of the house, the sun setting through the neighborhood, and I sigh heavily as I grab my key.

I haven't been home in a couple days, avoiding Nikki as much as I can, but I know we need groceries in the house and I know he hasn't left to get any, and even though I'm done with him, I don't want him to starve or something.

Opening the front door, the house is a wreck just from a glance, and I quietly shut the door in case he's asleep, and head to the kitchen.

I quickly stop in my tracks when I see through the dim light, coming from the single lamp in the foyer, figures moving in the living room, a light littering of giggles flittering through the air…

I turn the lights on, nearly dropping the groceries to see eight girls in lingerie, girls at least in their late teens, piled on Nikki—and Steven—lips swollen from making out with each other and euphoric glows casting over all of them.

I'm at a loss for words.

Nikki and Steven just look at me, Steven looking like a guilty kid.

"Is that your wife?" One of the girls straddling Nikki asks, looking at me, wide eyed.

"Ex-wife." I correct her.

This is where the story tends to get misconstrued. If you ask Nikki or Steven what happened, they'll tell you it went down like this…

"Vivian put the fuckin' gun down!" Nikki yells at me as I hold his shotgun, the girls screaming and scattering like roaches while he and Steven run to the backyard as I pump a bullet into the chamber and fire off, missing them by a couple inches as our wall by the back door is blown to hell, chasing after them and emptying the gun in our backyard whilst trying to shoot them.

What actually happened…

"Get out of my house." I tell the girls harshly and they look at me, pissy.

"If I want them here, they can be here." Nikki argues.

"They're babies, Nikki!" I shout, and the girls all defensively simultaneously let out their ages, ranging between 18 to 20, but I honestly don't see how some of them are over 17. "Then let me see your ID." I tell them.

"We came to hook up, we didn't come to get interrogated." One of them states.

"Okay, well, you've had your fifteen minutes with Nikki Sixx so you can get out of my house." I repeat.

"Fuck off!" She exclaims to me and I raise my brows.

Fuck it.

I go to our bedroom and grab what I need, and I don't give anybody a warning before firing off shotgun shrapnel into our glass ceiling, shards of mirror raining down as I hear the girls holler and cry out in fear, scampering to the door in their heels, and once the gun is unloaded, I look in the living room and see fluffy black and blonde hair peek up from behind the couch, their eyes bugging, pupils taking up most of their eye.

When the cops showed up, I said I accidentally fired into the ceiling while trying to clean the gun. They were fans of Nikki so they didn't give us a fine for public disturbance, and they didn't ask why eight girls were in our lawn in lingerie, either.

"I cannot believe you." I grit through my teeth when Steven blocks my entrance into their rehearsal studio, his heavy panting clouding the words trying to come from his mouth. "Did you run here?!" I exclaim and he nods, still trying to catch his breath, still trying to get his apology out that I can't even hear because he's talking but not saying a word due to his breathing. "Moron." I hiss, shoving him out of my way to get inside.

"Viv, wait!" He musters out, following me.

"Fuck you!" I shout.

"Vivian, please, let me—" he gasps for breath some more.

"—I hope you're having an asthma attack or something, I really do, dumbass, I really do." I march away from him and he grabs my wrist, a pathetic look on his face.

"Look—"

"—No, you 'look,' I refuse to be the little bitch that just lays on her back and let's everybody fuck her to hell with their bullshit. It's gross and it's disgusting and you should be ashamed of yourself for even being apart of it, Steven, because I thought you wouldn't do that shit to me. Just 'haha it's so hot to do stupid shit that'll hurt Vivian,'" I mock his voice, and he tries to talk again, "No, just shut up and go suck on Nikki's balls some more because I don't think those teenage girls did it enough!" I turn on my heel go to find the guys.

"You're not mad about their age, you're mad Nikki didn't give a fuck." He gets out, taking deep breaths and I stop and turn to look at him, rolling my jaw. "You're jealous, and you know you are, and it's okay and normal to be, Viv, I know you still—"

"—Know I still what, Steven? Hmm? Love him?" I furrow my brows, stepping to him, my heels clicking on the floor when I get face to face to him, our nose nearly touching, my voice shaking with anger as I say, "He could die tomorrow and I wouldn't give a single fuck because he's been dead to me for months. And as of right now, you are to. So don't come at with me trying to strike up some empathy for a person I feel absolutely apathetic about." I sneer quietly, turning. "And stay away from teenagers. I don't care if they're eighteen or nineteen, they're still fucking kids."

I grind my teeth together as I leave him standing in the hallway before I try to go into the girls bathroom, only for it to be locked.

"Damn it." I mumble, holding back tears, glancing at the door of the boys bathroom.

Without shit given, I open the door and walk in, seeing Izzy standing over the toilet, cigarette in his mouth, peeing.

He glances over his shoulder and looks at me.

"Viv." He says the best he can, smoke puffing past his lips.

"Izzy." I reply, sitting my purse on the sink, digging through it. "Sorry, the girls bathroom was taken." I mumble.

"No problem." He replies. "Not like you haven't seen it before." He adds and I roll my eyes.

"Unfortunately." I sigh out, grabbing the box with the pregnancy test in it. "Hurry up, please."

He looks at me to say something smart back, but looks at the box and his face falls.

"Jesus fuck, Viv, what do you have that for?" He asks me.

"Okay, I know you went to high school in Indiana and their version of Sex Education was just ways to stick your dick in a pickup truck's tail pipe without getting carbon monoxide poisoning, but when a man and woman have sex, they have a risk of procreation." I tell him.

"With Duff? " He asks me with a confused face.

"No, I got Bret Michaels and Willie Nelson to cum in a cup and I mixed it together and went from there." I sarcastically hiss.

"Fuck you, smart ass, I was asking a legitimate question." He zips his pants back up and steps aside for me.

"Yes, with Duff. I haven't had sex with Nikki in months." I tell him.

"Sorry, I didn't know if you were doing them both or what." He shrugs and I glare at him.

"No. I'm not." I inform him, pulling my dress up and my panties down.

"Okay, that's my cue." He says, turning away from me, in reference to my naked bottom half.

"Not like you haven't seen it before." I repeat what he said earlier and he chuckles, going to open the door. "You're leaving?" I ask him, quickly, and he looks at me.

"Yeah?"

"I need support." I tell him, honestly sounding scared and he leans his head back and rubs his eyes.

"Vivian, babe, I can just go get Duff—"

"—No, no, he doesn't need to know I even think I'm pregnant." I state, panicked. "Look, it'll take a few minutes but I can't wait for the result by myself, it'll drive me up the wall." I plead with him.

"Well, what if you are pregnant, are you gonna tell him, then?"

"I-I don't know." I admit. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there just, please, stay in here with me."

He lets out a heavy breath before nodding, rubbing his forehead.

"Alright, alright. Just piss on the stick because I'm missing rehearsal for this."

It was an agonizing wait, but once Izzy glanced at his watch and said, "alright, it's been long enough," I felt like it had only been a few seconds.

"Maybe we should a wait a little bit more." I suggest.

"Viv, it's been ten minutes. You already put it off once before, come on, now. Cowgirl up." He tells me.

"Okay." I breathe out, anxious, rubbing my lips together and shakily reaching for the test before quickly snatching away. "I can't do it." I say to him, shaking my head. "You look at it and tell me."

"Vivian—"

"—Please?" I beg, giving him my best puppy dog eyes and he lets out a breath and reaches for the test, looking at it, nodding a little.

"Well, Stripey, we're at the bridge, how're you gonna cross it?" He asks me, handing me the test, and I see a perfectly shaped "+" on it.

I started to panic, and think irrationally, as I do when I'm backed into a corner. So in my panicked state, the best thing I saw for me to do, was...

"You are fucking insane." He tells me sharply, leaning against the sink. "Like evil insane."

"Izzy, I don't know what else to do aside from just get rid of it or hope and pray I miscarry, and that's kinda fucked." I explain, holding back tears.

"You want to fuck Nikki and just play it off as his—that's more fucked up than praying the damn thing away!" He whipser yells. "And what about Duff? What the hell happens to him when you pull that shit?"

"I don't know, Izzy, alright? But he doesn't need a kid to worry about when he's just starting to get a taste of what he's wanted for years, now, and I don't want to—"

"—He's going to be fucked up with the idea of you still screwing Nikki when he's under the impression that you two are gonna be this magical little fairytale of unicorns and sparkles and love and shit, Vivian!"

"I know, but I don't know what else to do!" I reply in the same tone.

"Oh, my God." Izzy exhales smoke from his fresh cigarette. "You can't tell me this shit. You shouldn't have even let me know about this because now I'm a fucking accomplice to your batshit crazy scheme." He scolds me.

"Izzy—"

"—You are the fucking devil, Vivian. Axl was right. You are the actual devil."

"Well, you tell me what to do, Izzy, because that's the only thing I can come up with!"

"Why does it matter if the child is Nikki's or not, you two are getting divorced anyway, so why does it matter if it's somebody else's?" He questions, and I stay quiet. "You are filing for divorce, right?"

More silence.

"Oh. My. God."

"Izz—"

"—Will you quit incriminating me with you when you do stupid shit?!" He lets out, slightly panicking. "Now im gonna be fucked sideways if they find out I knew and never said anythi--why the fuck were you even screwing Duff if you weren't a thousand percent sure you were gonna leave Nikki?!"

"Because I thought I was but no—"

"—Izz, you alright?!"

"Duff." Izzy mouths to me. "Shhhit."

"Answer him." I mouth back.

"Yeah, man, I'm good...just really, um, fucked on that pizza from earlier!" He lies as I shove the pregnancy test box back in my purse along with the test, and zip it up.

"Okay, dude, just making sure!" Duff replies, the sound of him walking away letting us know the coast is clear.

Just to make sure Izzy sticks his head out of the door, and glances at me.

"Go," he motions and I do. "Last door on the left of that hall." He adds and I go in that direction, opening the door and seeing Axl, Duff, Slash and even Steven has joined them.

"Hey," Duff's face lights up when he sees me, and be puts his bass down as I walk to him.

He wraps an arm around my waist and leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips.

"Hi," I smile when he pulls away, looking into his eyes, while I can see Izzy staring at me from the corner of my eye, taking a drink from his cup with this look on his face like I've just killed his best friend.

I honestly might if I'm not careful.

Once their rehearsal is over, it's around 5:00pm, and my stomach is killing me.

"Can we get food?" I ask him, my hand in his as we step to the parkinglot.

"No, I'm just gonna let you starve." He sarcastically lets out and I cut my eyes up at him. "Where do you wanna eat?" He asks next, letting my hand go so he can grab his pack of Marlboros and settle one between his lips, lighting it, before grabbing my hand again.

"I don't know." I shrug.

"I thought you said you're hungry." He says next.

"I am—that doesn't mean I know what I want to eat." I add and he just looks at me.

"Do you want a burger?" He suggests and I wrinkle my nose. "Okay...chicken?" Again, I don't look pleased. "Dennys?"

"That's fine with me." I nod.

"Thank God." He sighs. "My car or yours?" He asks next.

"Doesn't matter." I tell him.

"Alright, we'll take mine." He says, stepping to the passenger side, opening the door for me without a second thought.

"Aww," Slash says as he comes out of the building, teasing Duff from behind his shades and his own cigarette.

Duff just smiles and flips him off, walking to the driver's side.

"I'll see you later tonight, man!" Slash calls.

"Alright!" Duff says back, shutting the door, fumbling for his keys to put them into the ignition.

"You guys are going out tonight?" I ask him as he cranks the car.

"Yeah, you can come." He offers and I shake my head a little.

"Um, I was actually gonna go visit with Sharise and Skylar for a few hours, tonight." I tell him.

(Pt. 79 CONT.)

#gateway drug #nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction

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aura-ra · 4 years ago

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yeah no it doesn't matter what you did a fucking year ago, he doesn't have any right to invade your privacy, there's no quid pro quo here. and threatening suicide to make someone stay with you is abuse, full stop. you need to get out of this situation ASAP

Sorry for the long absence, a bit has happened since I last posted. Wanted to clarify that the threat of suicide was way before we were married. I believe that the threat was early 2020? And we got married in august 2020. Although I still feel cautious calling it a threat of suicide for many reasons. At the time it just felt he was flying off the rails saying he didn’t know what he’d do if I left.

So to update from the last post. We had that very large fight where he told me to grow up. This isn’t new. (Going off on a very informative tangent really quick.) Back before we had gotten married and I was pregnant I had been weary of moving out of my then apartment to go live with him (this was early 2020) and so he accused me of trying to keep the baby from him when that wasn’t the case at all. I know myself and I knew that moving into a new place very quickly after giving birth would make me very anxious. I already don’t like change and the fact that I was going to be moving into a completely different environment wasn’t helping that fact. I expressed that to him and he just went off on me saying things like I was just taking the baby from him and that it wasn’t fair to him to only visit on the weekends. (I had asked about me living at my moms 3 hours away from where he was because he’s in the military and he has to stay at his location) and all these other things. He ended up bringing it up to his mom obviously misconstruing the entire conversation and she told him to take me to court over it. I don’t know I thought I was being fair at the time but I could be wrong. Not to mention I was crying and wailing the entire time this conversation about moving and in the end I was worn down into agreeing with moving out to his base. Long story short we ended up getting married and I got moved out here outside of his base to live with him. For obvious reasons I’m not going to disclose the location.

Back to the present. He had a training thing to pack for and whatnot. About two days before he asked if he could go through my phone. Now to update, I have not talked to, written about or said anything about my feelings on the internet because the last time I did that he went through my iPad and found stuff I had been venting about that had to do with our relationship. Forgive me if I’m repeating things it’s been awhile. So when he asked to go through my phone I outright refused because I felt like it was my right to do so and I needed to stand up for myself. I had gotten a bit angry with him and said he just wanted to find something so that he could leave. There’s quite literally nothing anymore bc I’ve since stopped talking about anything other than small talk to anyone really but anyway. I said that and he said “I want to find nothing. I’ve found something every other time with every girl I’ve been with so I want to find nothing” I still don’t know how to feel about that. If you want to find nothing then don’t go looking? I don’t know. After that I told him he didn’t respect me bc I felt that he didn’t because he would just go through my phone behind my back. Anyway after all that I angrily unlocked my phone to give it to him to go through.

To understand this next part I’m going to have to go on a tangent I apologize. So my entire family’s phones are connected via my moms iCloud account. None of us had made our own accounts bc we didn’t know how it worked at the time but it doesn’t bother us any. However because of this mine and my fathers phones are connected because he uses my old phone. Although the numbers were switched i somehow get his call logs but he doesn’t get mine. That being said when I unlocked my phone out of anger to give to my husband i saw that I had missed a call. So I open the call log and see that 911 had been dialed earlier in the day. I knew that I hadn’t called so I showed this to my husband and he let me call my parents. Spoke to them and no one had dialed 911 so the whole thing was weird and the thing about going through my phone was just forgotten I guess. Either that or he went through my iPad later i don’t know. But what I was getting to was he would’ve gotten his way had that freak thing not happened. I would’ve just given up my phone again to avoid a confrontation. Sorry about a long post after months of silence.

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spencerreidreads · 5 years ago

Text

I Should Have Known Better - Part 1/? (Spencer Reid x Reader)

(a/n: sorry it took so long to post something, and I know this isn’t great, but I hope you enjoy and I’ll try to post more. Also I lost my tag list again and I’m too lazy to look back in my archive to find who wants to be tagged so also sorry.)

Spencer had invited you over to his place tonight, and while you were keeping things a secret at work, it still felt special that he’d invite you over considering anyone could show up at any minute.

“You look so cute tonight baby,” Spencer smiled down at you, pulling you closer while you were hanging out in the kitchen.

You nuzzled your head into his chest while your arms were around his waist and looked up.

He was smiling down at you until he wasn’t smiling anymore.

His lips crashed down into yours and then it was a frenzied mess of removing your clothes until you got to his bedroom.

This pattern continued for a few more months until you asked Spencer while you were tangled in the sheets cuddling with him, “What if we weren’t a secret anymore?”

“Wha-at? You… you mean tell the team?” Spencer gulped.

You could tell you shouldn’t have said what you were thinking, but you couldn’t help your feelings.

“Yeah, I mean we’ve been seeing each other for months now and-” “Y/N I’m sorry, but no. This is just sex...right?” he unraveled himself from you and looked over at you.

You were now holding the covers closer to you, “Right, just sex. We don’t have to tell anyone.”

So again here you were hiding your feelings just to feel close to the man you were sleeping with.

You walked into the bullpen the next morning feeling some sort of shame. Thinking “why does he want to keep me a secret? What’s so bad about me?”

You pulled your jacket closer to your body crossing your arms in the process as you walked up to your desk.

Spencer noticed your weird body language, “Cold outside?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, removing your hands and jacket in the process. Sitting at the desk across from the man that you were currently in a secret sex-relationship with.

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows at your response and quickly shoved it aside not thinking much of it.

JJ walked into the bullpen with some files that you all needed to fill out and she stopped at your desk, “Y/N you okay?”

“Yeah why?” you glanced over at Spencer who you could tell was listening.

“You just seem off this morning, but if it’s nothing…” JJ got up and headed towards the break room.

Taking that as a queue you got up and followed her.

As soon as you opened the door she turned her head while pouring two cups of coffee, “Ah ha! There is something!”

“No it’s nothing! That’s the something,” you replied to get a confused look from her as she brought both cups to the table that you sat yourself at.

You looked down at your coffee cup, “Okay, so I can’t say much. But what would you do if you were seeing someone and they refused to introduce you to anyone. Like you were a secret?”

“If a guys keeping you a secret he’s obviously hiding something, or he just wants-” JJ caught herself in her tracks.

“Sex,” you finished the sentence for her.

“It sounds like you’re being used Y/N…” JJ sympathized.

“But he’s really not the kind of guy who would do that…” you advocated for Spencer.

“Men are men, trust me,” she frowned.

She got up from the table and took her cup of coffee to her office.

You returned to your desk so unsure of everything, you felt like Spencer really liked you, but what JJ had said was really sticking in your brain and it made sense.

Spencer had never been one for relationships, or at least as anyone in the office knew. So maybe he did just want sex.

“You good?” Spencer asked as soon as you sat down.

“Yeah, just girl talk,” you replied giving him a fake smile.

His eyes shot open wide, “What kind of girl talk?” “Relax, I didn’t say anything,” you rolled your eyes and got back to work.

Spencer realized that something was up and made a note to ask you about it later.

“Wheels up in 30, we don’t have time to talk about it now. We’ll discuss it on the jet,” Emily strolled through the bullpen.

The whole case things were off between you and Spencer. Normally you two would bounce ideas off of each other and get closer to solving the case, but this time you barely talked to him. It was as if both of you were avoiding each other.

But soon enough the case was over and you were on your way back home.

You were looking out the window of the jet thinking about your feelings for Spencer and how he didn’t feel the same when you felt someone sit next to you.

“Hey,” Spencer whispered, “I know things have been weird this week, but do you want to talk and hang out once we land?”

You looked over at him, seeing his eyes flicker back and forth trying to read you, and as you looked back at the window you replied, “Yeah sure.”

Spencer sat next to you trying to think of what he was going to say. How was he going to explain to his friend, someone he’d been sleeping with for months that he didn’t want anything more? It was hard for him to get feelings for anyone and he just liked the closeness.

Eventually you were both driving back to your apartment as usual, the team thinking that you were just dropping him off before you were on your way back to your place. It was just a silent car drive, a silent walk to your apartment building door, a silent walk up the stairs and then you were both sitting on your couch silent.

“So um, you wanted to talk?” you finally asked looking down at your hands, afraid to look at Spencer.

“Um yeah...So about you wanting to tell the team, I uh-um,” he was struggling to get out what he wanted to say.

“Just say it,” you snapped.

“I’m not really into relationships right now, and what we have is really good, so why ruin it by putting a label on it and telling everyone?” He faced you and scooted closer.

You sat still, but looked up at him, “Why? Maybe if we had feelings for each other a relationship would make sense, but I guess that’s not the case.”

He frowned at your response, “Y/N, I’m sorry..” “It’s fine, I knew what this was. I guess I just misconstrued things,” you shrugged.

“So you want this to continue?” He asked surprised.

“If you want to,” you said quietly.

“I absolutely want to,” he replied eagerly.

So instead of dealing with your feelings, you just decided to straddle him on your couch and get on with the night.

#Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #dr. spencer reid #dr spencer reid x reader #dr. spencer reid x you #Spencer Reid fic

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rpbetter · 3 years ago

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Raven used to be my friend but I had to cut ties recently due to feeling like walking on eggshells everytime we spoke and they never apologized to me for when I brought up something that they did upset me. I really miss them but I don't want to deal with the if it's not about me I don't care attitude.

Pt 2 of Ravens old friend. They reblogged anti fandom posts on their resource blog and I happened to be in that fandom and it hurt. A resource blog shouldn't be doing that.

Hey, Anon! I wanted to post this before I released one of my drafts, as that draft happens to be something I do not want you to misconstrue being about you. Thought about it after the fact and honestly, felt a bit ill over potentially making you think any such thing! The post is about how pushy people can be about what they like (usually as regards fandom) that you don't, and how that can be a contributing factor toward people saying hateful things about fandom topics. It was the quickest of the finished drafts sitting around to edit, so it was being queued, that's all! I do not think you were being pushy about your likes to "deserve" this, and frankly, even if you had? One's meme/resource/help blog is not the venue for shitting on your friends.

Okay, just wanted to clarify, everyone is stressed and feeling judged enough, I don't want to inadvertently contribute to that with any drafted posts!

I'm really sorry this happened, Anon. I don't mean that in a passing, flippant way that looks good on my blog. Not that I mean anything that way lol but I frequently have had "friends" in the past who felt like it was totally fine to reblog, even make original posts, like what you're talking about. Anti-fandom, anti my part of the fandom, my muses, my takes, and so on. Really hurtful things when we'd spoken in DMs about how upsetting it was, then they go and throw full support behind it in front of me.

It would be irritating with a grain of betrayal if it was a friend of a shorter time, or a mutual one doesn't really interact with OOC, but with a closer or longtime friend, it's actively hurtful. It feels like they looked you right in the face, said they do not give a single shit about either what is important to you or sparing your feelings, and went on. Yeah, it's just fiction, but the way we treat each other over fiction is real.

Given the behaviors displayed openly, it's not a shock you received no apology. Whether you got an apology or not, though, good on you for trying to bring it up to them! It's hard to do that with friends, even ones you're more certain won't blow up at you for it. I think if we could all be a little more (calmly, nicely, reasonably) open with each other like this, we could avoid problems that result from things festering and piling up, but it's hard to take that step...and I'm sorry this was your reward for it.

Just as blogs that are not one's RP or personal blogs shouldn't be openly judging and hating fandoms like that, friends shouldn't leave you feeling like you're walking on eggshells.

And, I'm going to say something unpopular here - sometimes, we all are capable of doing that to people we care about. Bad moments in lives combine, there are misunderstandings, sensitive topics, and things we can't entirely control otherwise. I don't like this idea tumblr has that anything other than a perfect, sweet, forever-cheery relationship is the actual height of abuse, so I want to be clear on that because it's just trivializing and blinding people to the possibility of toxic and abusive interactions. When you think "toxic" means "they don't like x, I love x, we don't talk about it," you're not aware of legitimate signs like being too worried to be yourself around them.

It's when this is the typical, established behavior that it's a problem. It's when there's never any meaningful acknowledgment, apology, or attempt at changing that it's a problem. If you constantly feel like you have to be worried about what a friend is going to say or do, it's not a friendship you need to be in, and I'm glad you recognized that and got out of it!

But there's also the idea that this is easy because it's the right and logical choice. It is not, and it's often made even harder because admitting to other friends that you miss the good times with the former one is all but impossible. They're often only reacting out of concern for you, the fear that if you miss this person they watched hurt you, you'll go back to that friendship, but it effectively shuts down a more healthy way of dealing with your feelings by sharing them with better friends who could support you.

So, Anon, it's also fully alright and normal to miss Raven! They were a longtime friend, and the thing about these kinds of friendships, these kinds of relationships in general, is that we seem to fail to realize that if things were straight awful from day one, we'd not have been friends. Of course, there are memories! Of course, you have the impulse to send them a link or that meme you know is their humor! It doesn't stop for a long time, either. That doesn't mean you're fucked up for it, it's something to be ashamed of, or that you're going to drop your better judgment and go send Raven a message immediately and rekindle that friendship. It's okay!

This right here: "I don't want to deal with the if it's not about me I don't care attitude." This is the place you should be in, and I congratulate you on being there because it takes a lot of shit heaped on someone by a friend to get there. Just keep remembering the good things you experienced with them, but always with this in mind, that their end of the friendship appears to have been predicated upon what they were getting out of it only.

Case in point, like everything they displayed to the whole damn RPC that encountered them these last few months, their personal interest and viewpoint was of greater importance to them with that anti-fandom post than a friend was.

I will say, it can be a delicate thing having this blog. I have opinions and takes that most of my friends share, what's important to me tends to run in the same lines as what is important to them, that's the basis of a lot of our friendship. We still disagree! We still have different interests, fandoms, favorite characters, songs, and experiences. Sometimes, I have to address a problem that they could misconstrue, in a totally normal and reasonable way, because while they're not doing whatever in a bad way, others are. I've made a point, more than once, to contact them and talk about it a little preemptively, and that's not just to keep up friendships, it also allows for extra insight from them and better phrasing from me so that other people I don't know won't take it the wrong way either.

Yes, I have some immutable, incredibly hard lines lol I think we all know what most of them are now, but expressing my purely personal opinion on something like fandom is not more important on this blog than anything else. I may genuinely feel like there is diseased connective tissue of disappointing behavior stemming from an origin point in a popular fandom, I'm not going to go off about it on this blog. It's inappropriate as hell, going to make people feel isolated and targeted whether they're my friends or not. Being passionately displeased about that does not have place here, and that's the kind of thing you have to consider, reconsider, force yourself to shut up about when you've got a blog that isn't for RP or a personal, you know?

I don't think everyone is cut out for doing that, and no one is cut out for doing it without ever making a mistake in judgment. Some people really should simply realize that there is nothing wrong with not being in the place in their lives or mental health to put that much effort into being fair or being quiet and concentrating only on memes. If you're one of those people, random reader? I'm serious, it's okay if you can't do it! It's not shameful, I'm also a deeply flawed human being, the quietest, politest, helpful meme blog out there is also run by a flawed human, they're just at a different place with themselves than you are. And. That's. Okay. Just don't hurt other people (and yourself, ultimately) by forcing it, please.

I suppose, knowing that it wasn't important enough to chill and reevaluate for the sake of a friend is some consolation lol what one won't do for friends definitely won't be done for random muns deemed problematic. So, maybe that'll make some other people out there feel a little better, and I thank you for sharing...as much as I wish you had nothing of this experience to share. I know it's an unpleasant one to have had, and I hope you have much better friends!

I promise you that I'll never post anything here that is viciously against any particular fandom or any such thing, and that if you feel like I've been unfair about anything at all, I welcome polite messages as a way of discussing it so we can all be clear and/or learn from each other. I know, I openly admit, it's kind of a draw of the blog, that I have a...um, tone of salt about things lol and sometimes, I don't phrase things the way they deserved. So, it's always okay to drop in for clarification or counterpoint, so long as it isn't being done with a shitty attitude that incites hostilities. Let's do have a legitimate conversation about it instead of hurt feelings!

Thanks again, Anon!

#vespertine #answered #anonymous #fandom #toxic friendships #drama cw

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