#thank you for asking this question i love talking about obscure cards and stuff

[basketball-lesbians]

Stiff

summary: Paige is insecure about the internet's assessment of her strap game, and Azzi helps her remember that she has nothing to worry about.

pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

contents: smut, fluff, pwp, strap use, oral sex, fingering (once again really its just smut i cannot lie... it gets lowkey disgustingly filthy in a few places. its sweet though, they're idiots in love!)

wordcount: 9076

a/n: Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait between freefall ch 1 and this upload- I got super busy between holidays and personal stuff going on, but I should be more consistent with uploads now. This fic was supposed to be shorter and... then it turned into 9k of filth. No questions at this time. Also, I had a few people ask, so I’m starting to do taglists- so do me a favor and if you’re interested in being included, just comment or message me and I’ll make sure to get you on there for future uploads. Thanks for reading and I hope y’all enjoy!

Theyre positioned on the couch of Paige's apartment in a way that's typical for them; Azzi sitting up with her legs out in front of her, crossed at the ankles while she reads- and Paige strewn out sideways across the other portion of the sectional, her head in Azzi's lap as she scrolls on her phone.

Azzi's right hand falls cyclically to play with the other girls hair in between flipping pages in an effort to keep her content while her focus is split between both her and her book.

Light streams through the window pleasantly, casting a golden glow on everything it touches, and the apartment is quiet- the other girls having gone out to a farmers market earlier in the day and leaving them alone together for the first time in what felt like weeks outside of spending the night in each others’ rooms.

The peaceful sunday afternoon silence they've struck up is rudely interrupted when Paige suddenly groans, rolling onto her side as she drops her phone away from herself like it just offended her, sending it bouncing onto the next couch cushion over. Azzi lets her book drop below her eyeline to look at the other girl, brows raised.

"Um... what was that about?" She asks tentatively, slow to engage for fear of further escalating her already always high energy and cementing the quiet moment they'd just been in as over.

Paige shifts closer to her, wrapping her arms around the younger girls’ waist and burying her face against her stomach, the loose blonde hair left out of her bun to frame her face tickling at the section of midriff exposed by the cropped camisole top the other girl wore under a grey sweat set.

Azzi sighs, setting her book down with the bookmark placed carefully to mark her place, bringing her hands to the girl in her lap fully- one moving to card through her hair and the other to rub her back.

"Hey. What's wrong, honey?" She asks gently, hands soothing in their slow motions. Paige nestles closer to her, holding her tight, her nose brushing the warm skin just above the waistband of Azzi's sweats. Azzi pretends the sensation doesn’t make her feel a little warmer.

"The internet, bro," The blonde finally grumbles, voice muffled where her face is pressed into her girlfriends' torso. Worry rises in Azzi's chest at that, her hands stilling.

"What? What happened?" She asks, pulling at Paige's shoulder to get her to sit up and talk to her. Paige frowns, wrinkling her nose as she obliges the prompt, rolling over to look up at the younger girls’ face from her lap.

Her expression is pathetic- eyebrows drawn together, blue eyes big and lips curled into a pout. Azzi can't help but chuckle at the sight, despite her mind drawing up worst case scenarios like it so often did. Paige groans at Azzi finding humor in the moment, drawing her arm over her face to hide herself in embarrassment.

Azzi smiles fully now, the silly nature of Paige's pouting easing the worry in the back of her mind. She takes in the half-obscured sight in her lap and lets it soothe her, appreciating every visible detail- the sharpness of her jaw, the length of her eyelashes as they rest against her cheeks, the prominence of her nose and cheekbones, the pretty shade of pink that adorns her soft lips.

"Babe, come on. What is it?" She asks, pulling gently at Paige's pale arm.

"You're gonna laugh," Paige whines, bringing her arm down from her face only to draw both of them up over her chest defensively, almost like a little kid would. Azzi rolls her eyes, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

"Oh my god, Paige. What is the matter?" She repeats, playful agitation biting at the corners of her tone despite the fact that her dimples give her underlying amusement away.

The older girl sighs dramatically from where she's set in Azzi's lap, waiting in silence for a five count before opening one eye to peep and see if Azzi is still looking, expectant for an explanation. She is. Paige sighs.

"They're sayin' I got stiff hips," She mutters, avoiding Azzi's gaze as the admission slips past her lips. Azzi’s eyes narrow as she furrows her eyebrows confusedly, having not heard her fully.

"They're saying what?" She asks, leaning closer slightly to be able to hear her better. Paige whines, shifting her posture antsily.

"Stiff hips, Az. They're sayin' I got stiff hips." She overenunciates, eyes becoming wide as she explains. Azzi holds her gaze, eyebrows high to match Paige's energy. She holds the expression for as long as she can before breaking, a laugh erupting out of her.

Paige groans yet again, rolling away from her girlfriend like she's trying to slink off the couch and into a puddle on the floor to avoid further embarrassment. Azzi reaches for her, stilling her progress with her hand around the other girls' wrist.

"Oh come on, you big baby," She chides, pulling her back into her lap, cradling her head as she shifts.

"Like they would know, anyway," She dismisses, hands coming up to grab her face, thumb brushing over the the hinge of her jaw as she presses a kiss to her forehead. Paige grins at that, sly and lopsided, holding Azzi's gaze like she's trying to be sure she heard it right.

"Aw, nah?" She smirks up at her, that stupid expression she reserved just for her girlfriend slowly spreading across her face.

Azzi hums. "Unless there's something you're not telling me," She teases, fingers toying with the collar of her crewneck, brushing her collarbones.

Paige smiles dopily, lifting her head and cupping the sides of Azzi's face, pulling her down gently just enough to connect their lips. It's slow and sweet and just a little bit wet, and Paige thinks about all the times they've kissed before and how it's never felt any less perfect than it did the first time.

Seven years later, and she still can't get over the feeling of how Azzi's lips feel against hers.

She shifts to sit up, the movement a little awkward on the way, and comes to settle upright next to the other girl, dominant hand settling just below her hairline on the back of her neck to ease her closer. She moans quietly into the kiss, unable to help herself, and then deepens it- leaning forward and pushing Azzi along with her, putting her on her back.

Azzi's hands meet over the back of the other girls’ neck as she settles over her, her hips snug against the younger girls' with their legs slotted between each other. Azzi bites gently at Paige's lip, and Paige has to choke back a groan as she gives into the chase, letting her tongue dart out to run along the other girls' bottom lip.

Azzi hums before slipping her tongue into her girlfriend's mouth, finding hers and running against it before sucking at it gently, drawing it out. Suddenly, they're pulling apart just enough for Paige to speak, still close enough that their lips to brush when she does.

"F'real though. Y'think I'm stiff?" She asks, her blue eyes full of conviction and concern as they meet Azzi’s once again. Now it’s Azzi’s turn to groan as she rolls her eyes beneath the blonde, much to Paige's dismay.

"Hey! I'm serious, dude," Paige pleads, looking at her girlfriend intently, impatiently awaiting a response. Azzi stays silent, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth as she tilts her head in consideration, hands still interlocked behind the other girls’ head.

"I mean..."

Paige whines, dropping her head to Azzi's chest. Although her intent was pure, she's pleased when her face nestles perfectly between the other girls' breasts, soft warm flesh surrounding her features. She could die here, she thinks.

"Oh come on, I was joking," Azzi says, trying to soften the blow. Her fingers run slowly along the back of her neck, wandering up to toy with the loose hair at the base of her bun.

"S'not funny," Paige defends weakly, speech muffled by the soft skin surrounding her face. Azzi watches her, evaluating for a moment, and then makes up her mind, narrowing her eyes and sucking her teeth as she does.

She sits up, climbing out from under Paige, and Paige looks at her incredulously, already primed to put on a dramatic show of great offense over the fact that the other girl would leave her from their comfortable position on the couch in such a vulnerable time.

She rises to her feet, turning as she outstretches her arm in front of her to hold her hand out, signalling for the other girl to grab it. Paige stares blankly from her place on the couch, unsure of what's happening.

"Come on," Azzi prompts, opening and closing her offered hand to add emphasis to her words. Paige's eyebrows furrow, her hair still tousled from their brief rendezvous seconds ago.

"Huh?" She replies, clueless, neck craning forward and one side of her lip curling as she asks to add emphasis.

Azzi sighs, stepping closer and taking both of Paige's hands into hers. She draws her upright into a sitting position, stepping into the space between where her feet are planted.

This close, Azzi can feel the blonde’s breath tickling at her stomach, her baggy sweatshirts’ zipper fixed low to allow her abs to still show- a decision she made deliberately when she’d put it on this morning.

Paige looks up at where her girlfriend stands above her and can’t help but think that it feels wrong to be in this position and not have her hands free to be able to wrap her arms around the other girl- to slip under her sweatshirt and feel her skin, to wander down and grab at her ass, to pull her into her lap.

"I said," She repeats, eyes locked to Paige's as she presses kisses over the other girls' knuckles, big brown eyes watching carefully with a glint of fire in them as she does it. The blonde holds her breath, lips slightly parted as her gaze drags from Azzi’s eyes to glance at the pink fullness of her lips and back.

"Come," Kiss. "Here," Kiss. "Then." Kiss.

Paige watches cautiously, a feeling that’s a healthy balance of being turned on and a little scared settling in her chest.

"I cant lie... I'm lost, what are we-" Azzi rolls her eyes again, dimples popping as she makes an exasperated face while stepping back, pulling as she goes to bring the taller girl up to stand.

"You're worried about having stiff hips, yeah?" She asks, her voice thick with a flirty tone that the blonde swears wasn’t there only a moment ago.

Paige stands slowly, letting herself be pulled, shrugging and then slowly nodding as she waits for a point to be made. Azzi comes in closer, leaning into Paige’s frame, dropping her hands so that one can settle over her hip, the other on her chest.

Suddenly the blonde is acutely aware of all of the places she can feel the other girl- not the least of which being her leg that brushes against her own as her foot settles between where her own are set, eliminating nearly every bubble of space between them. Paige’s breath feels thick as she breathes out, trying to resist the urge to swallow as she feels the warmth of the other girl braced against her.

"So why don't you come prove it to me that you don't?" Azzi challenges, voice sultry and sweet as she looks up at her, and Paige's jaw almost drops.

Azzi could hold her own, sure. Their little spats and back-and-forth nature were cornerstones of their entire relationship- always had been. They wouldn't be Paige and Azzi without the playful dynamic they always seemed to keep up.

But she was only bold to a point- usually, and for years now, there was a clear line they'd found, a place between gearing up to sex and actually getting there, where Paige had almost always just naturally taken over- at least to initiate things.

It wasn't always that way, per se, but it definitely was more often than not. Between that and the fact that Paige had basically been obsessed with her since she was 16, giving her anything she ever wanted at any indication she wanted it- in moments like these, Azzi had a way of catching her completely off guard.

"Wha- f'real?" Paige asks, frozen in place at the proposition. It was almost always Paige prompting, Paige setting the foundation, Paige leading- Azzi wasn't any less passionate about being intimate, she just liked to be led. And it worked well, because Paige liked to pull her along.

Azzi so openly putting it all on the table on a random Sunday afternoon, (and especially when she had been nose deep in a book less than 10 minutes before) was definitely not something Paige had really anticipated happening. Azzi quirks an eyebrow, digging her heels in.

"Unless you don't think you're up to the task?" She asks, voice donning a kind of feining innocence she only ever put on when she was being especially bratty.

Paige's face flushes at that, never one to give up a challenge- and she's on her feet, grabbing Azzi by the wrist and dragging her to her bedroom, determined to prove herself. Azzi giggles, pleased by the continuation of her perpetual ability to get what she wants from the blonde, and follows, only spurred on by her girlfriends' reaction.

Paige pushes the door closed behind them as soon as they enter the room and immediately grabs for the other girl, pulling her flush against herself by the waist. Azzi leans into the contact as their lips meet, hands coming up to settle on Paige’s chest as she deepens the kiss.

Azzi arches into the way the other girl is holding her, and Paige slips her hands up the back of her sweatshirt, any excuse to feel more of her. She steps them back towards the bed, slowing as she approaches to let Azzi get a feel for where the bed is before they go tumbling onto it.

They do, and Paige is quick to keep things progressing, catching herself with her hands to keep from falling over Azzi and then leaning back on her heels to pull her shirt over her head. Azzi's eyes track the movement carefully, watching her arms flex with the motion and dropping to look at her abs before darting back to her face when she realizes she's been caught.

Ordinarily, Paige would stop and tease, but today she's too eager. Instead, she reaches down, fingers grasping the zipper of Azzi’s sweatshirt, and drags it down, opening access to warm skin beneath it that’s been teasing her all day. She leans back in and nestles into the crook of Azzi's neck, dropping kisses against the soft warm skin there, their bare stomachs pressing against each other with the movement.

Azzi hums as her hands run up Paige’s back, keeping the other girl close and feeling the subtle flexing of the muscle there as she turns her head, kissing the side of Paige’s face where it’s nestled into her neck before pulling her back and recentering her above herself to reconnect their lips.

Paige shifts so one hand can come up between them to Azzi's stomach, pushing under her skin-tight tank top and bunching the small amount of fabric up onto her chest, revealing her abs and breasts. Azzi’s breath hitches at the motion, watching as her hands roam, admiring the contrast of the paleness of her skin against the deepness of her own, blood rushing to her head as she watches Paige go to work against her.

The blonde kisses down the younger girls’ neck and shoulders eagerly, nipping at her collarbones before making her way down to her chest and taking a pebbled nipple into her mouth. As she leans into her, the knee she has slotted between Azzi's legs pushes against her, giving her friction closer to where she wants it, making the other girls' breath catch.

She revels in the way she feels Azzi's breathing change underneath her, feels her start to squirm as she switches sides to show its twin the same affection before letting up in favor of progressing further down her body.

Her skin is warm and soft and smells like vanilla as she kisses down her stomach- it's more intoxicating than anything else Paige has ever felt in her life. She gets to her waistband and is about to pull her sweats down when Azzi taps her shoulder to get her attention.

She pauses, looking up at her with tented eyebrows as she hovers in place. "Hm?"

Once she stills, Azzi reaches down and grabs her face by the chin, eyes hooded. Paige wets her lips as she holds the eye contact, trying to steel herself and not let on the way her boxers are getting uncomfortably damp beneath her sweats.

"C'mere," She whispers, and Paige is immediately thanking god that her roommates aren't home as she climbs back up to oblige her girlfriends' request.

Their lips collide, and before she really knows what's happening, Azzi is pulling her close, locking her arms around her back before shifting hard to roll them both over and straddle her waist. Paige's mouth subconsciously falls open the slightest bit when she’s put on her back, and Azzi can't help but smirk.

She straightens her back and grabs at the bunched up fabric of her camisole that Paige had so impatiently pushed out of her way, pulling it up and arching her back as it goes to help it over her head.

Beneath her, Paige swallows and fixes her hands on her hips tightly, trying not to touch like a child watching a cake being frosted- watching desperately with a watering mouth as she takes in the scene unfolding in front of her. Everything about what she sees, she's absolutely obsessed with: her skin, her toned stomach, her perfect chest, her strong arms and shoulders, the beautiful way her dark curls cascade over her shoulders. She's perfect. So, so perfect.

"Fuck, Az," She mutters, eyes wandering over her frame. Azzi almost feels shy for a second with the way she's being looked at, but she manages to cut her thought process off.

After all, even with all the people in the world who said unhinged shit about her girlfriend online, she was the only one who got to sit half-naked in her lap whenever she wanted. Not a lot of reason to feel self conscious about that.

Azzi leans forward, hands grabbing the other girls’ to push them up and against the mattress for her own balance as she closes the gap between them to kiss Paige’s neck. The taller girls' legs naturally come up to settle with her feet flat against the bed, her thighs just behind Azzi's ass, keeping her close.

Azzi hums as she presses kisses up Paige's jaw, messy and warm and creating a feeling in Paige's gut that's very hard to ignore. The feeling of having her in her lap- breasts bare and pressing into her chest, ass pressing into her as she shifts- paired with the feeling of her full lips kissing their way across her neck and shoulders, curls tickling with the movement as they brush against her skin, is nearly enough to make her brain short circuit.

Having her hands pinned is torture- she's dying to be able to touch her. She pushes her hips forward, few other options available, and Azzi breathes in sharply at the contact, drawing back just barely to ground herself.

"Mmm, gotta be patient baby," She chides, renewing her efforts in the space between her girlfriend's neck and shoulder.

Paige groans. She wasn't used to not being able to pivot things where she wanted- to control the pace and the acceleration of things.

"Thought I was tryna show you sum," She argues, fighting hard to keep any trace of how pathetic she feels out of her voice when she says it. Azzi hums, nipping at her earlobe.

"Why don't you, then?" She counters, and Paige wastes no time in pushing up with both her hips and hands to roll Azzi back over, reclaiming her position above her.

They're both slightly out of breath once they resettle, and Paige supports herself over Azzi, holding the eye contact and letting their breath mix together in the minuscule amount of space between them.

Paige is acutely aware of the heat settling low in her belly at the way Azzi looks at her. Azzi, equally bothered, is trying hard not to squirm as she watches her girlfriend wet her lips, the veins in her hands and arms more prominent than usual after her display of strength to flip them back over.

"You gonna behave and lemme have my way w'you, babygirl? Or y’still need to get some energy out?" She asks pointedly, and a surge of pride goes through her when she sees the way a flush creeps across Azzi's face, no argument making it's way past her lips for once.

Balance restored.

Her big brown eyes peer up at her with the neediest expression she thinks she might have ever seen, and it doesn't take much convincing after that to hurry along, her point proven.

"A'ight then. I gotchu, mama," She says, pressing a single kiss to her neck before standing, letting her hands come to her hips as she surveys across her bedroom.

"Where'd that fuckin' thing end up, anyway?" She asks, and Azzi giggles from the bed, eyes lingering on her bare stomach as she turns her body, looking around the room.

"Closet, right? Had to move it when KK came in to play playstation?" She asks, and Paige turns to her, smiling.

"My girl’s so smart." She praises, reaching out to pat her leg as she walks past the bed to the closet. Azzi rolls her eyes, a small smile on her face as she tracks her with her eyes, biting at her finger as she watches her saunter over to open the closet door, sweats clinging low on her hips, boxer line peeking out just barely.

Paige stoops down to dig through a specific shoe box amongst the many that live in the small space. She knows she shouldn't be as turned on by the sight as she is, but there's just something about the way she looks, her legs spread and her arms settled on her knees as she balances on the pads of her feet while rummaging through the closet, searching.

It takes long enough for Paige to finally find it that by the time she's turning from the closet, victorious and holding the toy high above her head, she’s almost surprised to find that Azzi’s still looking at her. She lets the toy fall to her side as she comes to kneel on the edge of the bed in front of the other girl.

"Hey," She says, nudging Azzi's nose with her own, as she sets the strap and harness down above her head on the bed, out of sight. Azzi smiles at her, and for a moment, nobody else in the world exists, brown eyes meeting blue, their breath combining in the small space between them.

"Hey, yourself," She returns, reaching above her head to grab for the toy. Paige chuckles, spreading her arms wide in a stretch as she stands back up. Azzi’s eyes trail over her figure, taking in the sight of her stance, the way her abs flexed with the movement.

"Was gonna ask if you changed your mind, you seemed like you were zonin' out over here," She jokes, and Azzi makes a face.

"Sounds to me like you're getting nervous," She taunts, bringing the contraption in front of her face to get a better look at it. Paige clicks her tongue, shaking her head.

"Whatever, bro," She dismisses, leaning in to press a kiss to Azzi's forehead, hand smoothing over her curls lovingly as she hovered there.

"You sure you still wanna?" She asks, softer now, and Azzi nods, her focus clearly elsewhere as she shifts the harness to one hand and reaches out to grab her by the hips to maneuver her closer.

"If I can remember how to get this to work," She jokes, and Paige smirks, going to grab it from her. “I got it.”Azzi pulls it away from her prying hands, scoffing at her lightly.

"You never even put it on in the first place, dummy. Take your pants off and c'mere, I can figure it out." Paige laughs at that, hands going to untie the drawstring that's tucked into her waistband.

"Yes ma'am," She replies, stepping out of her sweats and then bringing her boxers along with them not long after, dropping them to the floor in a way that's all too familiar for the younger girl- makes it a little bit harder to swallow, too.

Azzi beckons her forward, putting significant effort into focusing on what she’s doing and not getting distracted by the perfect shade of pink peeking out from her girlfriend’s mound- and reluctantly, Paige goes.

"Here, step into this," Azzi says, holding a portion of the harness open for her, her eyes lingering on her girlfriends' naked frame. Paige chuckles, putting a hand on Azzi's shoulder to stabilize herself as she does as she's told.

She didn't remember it feeling this awkward the last time. Then again, it had been a while since they'd used it last- they’d both been so busy that any time that they’d found as of late to love on each other was kept entirely to quick hands and eager mouths.

Azzi furrows her eyebrows as her fingers go to work, adjusting buckles and straightening straps. Paige watches her face intently, trying not to feel silly.

"Turn," The curly headed girl prompts, and Paige follows the instruction mindlessly, feeling slightly like a kid getting their winter coat put on by a parent before being allowed to go outside to play in the snow.

Azzi tugs a specific section and it finally tightens- a little too fast, pinching at Paige's skin as it comes flush with flesh. The blonde jumps, disregarding the adjustments happening as she shoves her fingers between the harness and her skin to create a protective barrier and sooth the sting.

"Ow, Azzi!" She protests, and Azzi's head snaps up to look at her, eyes full of sympathy. "I'm sorry, baby. It was an accident," She soothes, running her thumb over the area and leaning over to press a kiss to it.

With that, it's already forgotten, the harness finally settled snug to Paige’s hips. Paige nods, mostly to herself, pushing her fingers underneath the straps once more to adjust herself to be more comfortable- and then she’s coming around to the other side of the bed and grabbing Azzi by the tops of her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the bed with no warning, causing her to yelp in surprise.

“Whoa, what are y-“ Paige shushes her, sinking to her knees, and loops her fingers under Azzi’s sweats, pulling them over her hips in one swift movement. Azzi watches the rushed movement with eager eyes, swallowing thickly while picking up her hips to help her tug them down.

Paige stoops down, and Azzi’s heart flutters in her chest as she starts to litter kisses on the insides of her thighs. The blonde is slow and intentional with her movements, arms coming to rest on the outside of Azzi’s spread knees as she sucks a purple mark into the other girls’ skin, soothing it with a swipe of her tongue and a chaste kiss afterward.

She continues to drop kisses as she moves up her thigh til she reaches her center, playing close attention to the subtle changes in Azzi’s breathing as she goes, and then slows, pressing a kiss to her clit through the thin cotton. Azzi lets out a breathy little gasp at the contact, neck craning to get a better view.

Paige presses another kiss, more pressure behind it than the last one, and then slips a little lower, repeating the motion. When she does, she finds the most perfect surprise waiting for her- Azzi’s completely soaked through the pretty purple panties she’s wearing.

“Oh my god, Azzi Jazlyn,” She remarks, looking up at the other girl with an amused look painted across her face. Azzi blushes, really blushes, and hides her face in her arm, a pouty little noise of protest falling from her lips at being mocked.

“Is it that serious?” Paige asks, tone dripping with sarcastic concern, and Azzi reaches down with the hand that isn’t obscuring her face to shove at Paige’s arm. The blonde just grins, shaking her head as she leans back and hooks her fingers under the waistband of the dampened fabric.

“Just teasin’, mama,” She soothes, voice husky as Azzi picks up her hips again.

“Y’know I fuckin’ love that shit,” She mumbles- mostly to herself- and she tugs the article over the swell of the other girls’ ass, eyes widening when they bring a string of glistening slick with them as they come away from the younger girls’ cunt.

She can’t help the groan that falls past her lips as she tugs them the rest of the way down, watching in disbelief as the strand stretches and the breaks, dropping to stick to the younger girls’ upper thigh.

Azzi hisses at the cold sensation, her face burning with embarrassment, and Paige quickly discards the pair of underwear behind her before her hands find the other girls’ legs again and she leans in, licking the slick off the supple skin of her upper thigh like she’s been in the desert and its the first drop of water she’s seen in days.

Azzi’s eyes drift back in a mix of disbelief and pleasure, biting at her lip in an attempt to keep her composure as Paige kisses the same place messily, leaving it wet.

She continues her trail of kisses up her thighs, one hand absentmindedly wandering over to the junction of Azzi’s hip, stopping there with her fingers held out as if signaling for Azzi to meet it with her own. She interlocks her fingers with her girlfriends’, and Paige looks up at her, a slight smile on her face before craning her neck back down, eyes still locked with Azzi’s as she licks into her cunt.

Azzi lets her eyes fall shut at the first contact, letting herself focus on the warmth of Paige’s tongue and the slick of her spit mixing with her own arousal over her clit. When she opens them again, she sees blue eyes still on her from between her legs, holding her gaze, careful to watch for any indication to stop- even though they both know it won’t come.

Paige is slow, letting her tongue run over her girlfriends’ pussy deliberately, reveling in how wet she finds her, how good she tastes. She sucks her clit into her mouth gently, and Azzi winces above her, curls pressed into the pillow as she kicks her head back and arches into the contact.

She lets her tongue come to assist the suction, running it over the base of her clit while she suckles at the head of it gently, and then lets it go, coming off with a pop!, pink lips glistening as they come away wet.

She brings her head back slightly and blows gently, the cold air sending goosebumps forming under Azzi’s skin, and watches her reaction carefully as she licks over it again. Azzi feels the other girls’ eyes on her and bites at her bottom lip, bringing her free hand up to palm at her breast as she holds the eye contact, teasing from where she's laid out.

Paige blinks slowly as she watches, eyebrows raising slightly- just enough to be noticeable, and she’s thankful her mouth is occupied so she doesn’t say something stupid in her awed state.

How lucky could one person get?

Azzi’s painted fingers move deftly to roll her pebbled nipple between her pointer and thumb, squeezing the mound of flesh to her chest and then repeating the motion, never breaking the eye contact. Paige watches eagerly and lets her tongue to continue to work her, slow and sensual and utterly pussy drunk, and Azzi is buzzing knowing how well she’s captured the girl between her legs.

Paige lets her tongue slip lower, the younger girls’ taste getting stronger and sweeter as she teases at her entrance- and Azzi gasps at the sensation, her right hand abandoning its efforts over her chest to come down her bare torso and grab at Paige’s hair, tangling into blonde strands still held back loosely by a hairtie.

"Fuck, Paige," She curses, her hips canting up and just slightly off the bed, smearing her slick across Paige's chin and nose. She pauses, giving an apologetic look when she realizes she's made a mess of the bottom half of her girlfriends' face, but Paige only chuckles.

She lets go of the younger girls' hand where their fingers are intertwined over her hipbone to bring both arms around her legs and over her hips to hold her still, fixing her in place before refocusing her efforts. Azzi whimpers at the feeling of being held so firmly while Paige knelt between her legs and went to work like a woman starved- so safe and desired and spoiled all at once.

She watches the slight flex of the blonde’s biceps as she holds pulls her impossibly closer, sloppy with her ministrations over the other girls’ clit, her jaw working as she alternates the shapes being drawn over the swollen nub to tease the most perfect little moans from her lips. The younger girl lets her newly free hands come up, crossing over her face in an attempt to hide how desperate she feels.

Paige smirks as she delves lower again, pushing into her cunt with her tongue and watching her facial expressions from between her legs, growing wetter by the second seeing how worked up she could make the other girl. Azzi's mouth hangs open in a silent gasp in response to the intrusion, eyebrows drawn up and together.

Paige opens her mouth wider, giving herself the leverage to fuck her tongue into her deeper- and Azzi picks a leg up to put it over the blonde's shoulder, improving the angle. The movement only makes Paige double down on her efforts, drawing back slightly to pull her right arm from its place over her hip in favor of bringing it low between them to meet the glistening slick of her pussy.

She keeps her tongue sliding in and out of her entrance, bringing her left thumb down over her pelvis to run over her clit. She’s aided by the wetness that's making a mess of her cunt- slowly spreading to her thighs now, too. Azzi whimpers, and the Paige borderline growls at the sound, drinking in the control she has over the other girl and the sounds she’s pulling from her lips.

She runs her tongue flat against her, running from entrance to clit, lapping up the juices she’d pulled since pressing the muscle into her needy cunt. She sucks her clit into her mouth again, letting the fingers of her free hand trail lower, tantalizingly slow in their movements as they ran deliberately teasingly along her folds, feeling the slickness of her juices over soft skin.

She lets her middle finger slip deeper, probing against her entrance, and Azzi’s breath catches at the feeling, hips bucking up in a desperate attempt to fill the ache inside of her.

"Ohmygod- please," She babbles, and Paige lets off her clit so she can sooth her. "Shh- I know, I know. You're okay mama, I gotchu.” She drops an open-mouthed kiss to the swollen bud.

“Jus’ needa stretch you out and make sure you're ready for it baby. S'been a while, hm?” She coos, lips brushing against her cunt as she says it, and Azzi whines, angling her hips so she feels her deeper. Paige hums at the observation, taking in the sight of the younger girls’ pussy as she has her way with her- glistening with wetness and the perfect shade of swollen pink.

"So needy for me, huh, baby?" Azzi nods deliriously, desperate for more- and Paige laughs sympathetically at her. "A’ight, sweetheart," She whispers, slipping two long, slender fingers in and curling them as she slides knuckle deep in one flush movement.

She presses deep entirely too easily, fingers brushing against her sweet spot far before the other girl had anticipated they would work themselves that deep- and its all she can do to whine at the sensation, throaty and guttural.

“Feels good?” The blonde husks, as if she doesn’t already know the answer. Azzi groans, humming a sweet little 'mhm' in response and hoping it’s enough, because it’s all she can muster. Paige eases in and out of her slow, reveling in how wet her fingers come away each time she draws them out of her pussy.

“Fuuuck, baby,” She husks, in awe of how perfect this girl is- how wet she’s gotten, how good she’s taking her fingers, how pretty her pussy is. Azzi whimpers, her hips chasing her fingers every time she draws them out, little ah, ah, ahs falling past her lips every time her fingers brush against that spongy spot deep inside of her.

Paige groans as she fucks into her gummy walls, chasing the high brought on by the younger girl’s delicious little noises. She's successful, Azzi keening when she strokes particularly deep- arching her back off the mattress, her abs flexing with the effort. The blonde watches eagerly, eyes hooded and lips wet as she observes every filthy detail of the unholy ministrations she’s working against Azzi’s cunt.

"'S it that good, baby? You like it when I stretch you out and get you ready for my dick, sweet girl?" Paige coos, and Azzi's too far gone to even manage a response, nodding deliriously with thick eyelashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks as she just stares with a fucked out expression, breathy little noises spilling out of her with each curl of her girlfriends' long fingers against her inner walls.

Unable to resist the urge, she lets her tongue lash over her clit again, moving in fast flicks of motion that she has to put conscious effort into limiting the pressure of in order to prevent overstimulating the swollen nub that’s already flared an angry pink.

"P-please, P, need it," Azzi whines, and Paige looks up at her, undeniably pussy drunk. "Yeah? Tell me what you want, baby," She says, tone sultry and words slurring with lust in a way that was just for Azzi.

"More," Azzi whines, and Paige tuts at her.

"Nah- you know better. Ask me right," The older girl corrects before bringing her mouth back to her core. Azzi whimpers pathetically before taking a steadying breath, steeling herself.

“Please,” She chokes, desperate for more despite the fact that her eyes were already welling up with tears at the intensity of what the blonde was doing to her.

“Want it,” She breathes, voice breaking, and Paige lets her eyes fall shut for a brief moment so she can soak in the sound of her pleas. Her wrist works overtime to keep her fingers in motion inside of her, and her tongue swirls around her clit, soaking in the metallic taste of the puffy little button as she continues to tease at it.

“Need it- fuck, please? Want you to fill me up,” She begs, and Paige takes a deep breath from between her legs, nostrils flaring slightly as she attempts to ground herself while she kisses into the younger girls’ cunt sloppily, lips and chin covered in her arousal. It’s almost too good to bring her mouth away from.

“Okay, sweet girl,” She mutters before letting her tongue drag along her slit, the slickness making the motion easy.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” She promises, pressing a kiss to her clit before standing. She places one knee on the mattress, bringing her hand up to rub at the other girls' thigh affectionately.

"Scooch up, mama. Gimme some room to work here," She murmurs gently, and Azzi complies, her eyes never leaving the blonde's face, bringing her hands to the mattress and pushing herself back.

The blonde follows immediately, crawling toward her and dropping a kiss to the scar over her knee as she approaches before sitting up straight. She adjusts the width of her knees where they’re pressed into the bed as she settles into the best position she can manage, reaching down to grasp the base of the toy where it juts out into the small amount of space between them.

Azzi’s eyes watch carefully as she reaches out, running her pointer and middle fingers through her folds to gather wetness before spreading it over the toy. She watches Paige’s fingers as they run along the length of the toy, coating it in her slick, and swallows, suddenly starting to realize that the toy looked a little bit bigger than she had remembered it being.

To distract herself, she forces her eyes higher, takes in the sight of the girl between her legs- abs tight, pert breasts and puffy pink nipples on display, loose blonde hair framing her face and a concentrated look painted across her features that was absolutely entrancing.

Paige takes hold of the toy and shuffles closer until she can run the tip through her folds, and Azzi’s breath catches at the contact. The older girl wets her parted lips as she stares, revelling in the way the younger girls’ slick spreads along the silicon, allowing the shaft move easily up and down her slit from entrance to clit.

Azzi's breath is shaky beneath her, pretty brown eyes blown as she watches every movement eagerly. She lets the toy nudge against her entrance, admiring how her pussy clenches a kiss around the head at the intrusion, and Azzi whines up at her, expression pleading silently for her to progress- so she rocks forward, slow, eyes on the younger girls’ face to gauge off of.

A little gasp falls from Azzi’s mouth as her eyes fall shut, head pushing back against the pillows as she draws her bottom lip between her teeth. Paige’s tongue peeks out of her mouth, pressing against her bottom lip with the effort as she presses in further, torturously slow as she eases her hips flush with Azzi’s.

Azzi moans as she bottoms out, her fingers grabbing ahold of Paige’s arm where it’s braced against her leg to improve the angle.

She lets her hand linger there in a loose grip, holding on to her for the sake of touching her alone, watching the other girl admire her, feeling her muscles move beneath her skin with every motion. Paige’s hips rock back, eyes watching the toy slide out of her entrance before she eases forward again, starting to find a rhythm.

“Oh, fuck, that’s good,” Azzi slurs, drawing a smirk out of Paige.

“Yeah? You like that, mama?” She asks, voice low and raspy as she pumps in and out of her, eyes roaming over the other girls’ body hungrily. The younger girl nods, eyebrows drawn together and face tight as she concentrates on adjusting to the stretch, painted fingernails digging into Paige’s arm just barely as a whimper escapes past her lips.

Paige gambles a look down as her pace gradually picks up, and watches as the strap slides in and out of the girl above her in time with her strokes. She swallows hard, sucking in a steadying breath as she watches her pussy stretch around the toy, excess wetness accumulating in a thick ring around the base of the toy.

Eager to see more, she snakes her dominant hand between them, using her pointer finger and thumb to hold her lips apart so she can get a better look at the toy pumping in and out of her, pussy pulsing and stretching around the silicon cock. She presses her thumb to her clit, rubbing tight circles as she picks up her pace gradually.

“Fuck, mama- squeezin’ my dick so pretty w’that pussy. You like it when I stretch you out, baby?”

“Ohmygod, yes,” Azzi rushes out, barely coherent, and Paige watches as she takes it, moving with her to set the pace, hips chanting and abs tight.

“Yeah? Feels good, don't it princess? Y’feelin me deep?” Azzi hums out a pathetic little mhm, whimpering, and she can't help herself- she reaches out, running her hand up her stomach, squeezing at her tits when she gets to her chest, palming them and feeling the weight of them in her hand.

She groans, letting her head kick back. She could feel their combined wetness smearing all over her pelvis and the front of her thighs now, and the realization hits like a drug. Azzi’s hand comes to meet hers over her chest, not to stop anything she’s doing, just for the sake of being able to hold onto her- and Paige shifts, bringing one knee up to better her angle, pausing as she pivots, and then presses forward again.

Azzi groans at the new angle, her hips canting up to chase the motion and pushing Paige deeper, in turn drawing a whine from the blonde’s throat when the base of the toy pushes against her clit.

“Oh, fuck,” Azzi whimpers, spurred on by the knowledge of what fucking her like this is doing to the blonde. Obscene sounds fill the room- Azzi’s cunt squelching around the silicon cock, breathy moans falling from both of the pairs’ lips, the sound of their combined slick over the already prominent sound of skin meeting skin with each thrust from Paige.

It’s filthy, the way they’re rutting into each other, but god, did both of them need this.

Azzi arches her back, taking their joined hands and pushing them lower, and at first Paige isn’t sure what she’s doing, thinks maybe she’s ushering her to stimulate her clit again, but then she stops short, right above her pelvis. Her confusion quickly gives way to recognition, and she almost chokes when she feels it- she’s fucking up into the younger girl so deep that she can feel it perfectly just by having her hand braced over her stomach.

“Oh, baby- fuck,” Her hips stutter, overwhelmed between feeling how deep she’s fucking into Azzi and the sensation of the base of the strap rubbing against her clit. Azzi shifts, hooking her legs around her waist, and Paige leans further forward, bracing herself with her elbows against the mattress, body pressed to Azzi’s as she continues the snap of her hips.

Azzi’s moans are even clearer now- right there to lean over and swallow up with a kiss, so she does, connecting their lips as she rolls her hips fervently. It’s wet and messy and desperate, both of them moaning into it, and for a moment, the sheer desperation shared between the two of them is enough to carry it, both rutting into each other like it was their last moment on earth.

Azzi’s head kicks back when Paige draws in particularly hard, the blonde’s bottom lip dragging against the side of her face when she breaks away from the kiss to shift so suddenly. Her legs wrap around her tighter, arms slung around her back with one hand tangled into the bun barely still in place on her head and the other digging half-moons into her shoulder as she fucks her open.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” She babbles, and Paige curses under her breath, shifting her weight from one arm to the other to sustain the rocking of her hips.

She’s absolutely stoned on the sounds she’s drawing out of her lips- so committed to making her make more of them that the tiredness settling into her body is barely even noticeable. Azzi’s breaths get shallow and run together, little noises escaping her lips with every thrust, her hips and hands unable to stay still as she grasps for Paige like she’s not as close as physically possible already.

“Paige, I’m- oh fuck,” Her voice breaks, and the sheer amount of desperation in her tone is enough for Paige to be sure of what’s happening.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” She asks, and Azzi just nods, incapable of mustering any response beyond that in a coherent manner. Paige nods, pressing a kiss to the side of Azzi’s face, and braces herself to shift her weight on one arm, letting the other reach between them and find her clit.

The angle’s awkward and she knows she wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long- but she also knows Azzi doesn’t need much more, just wants her to feel good as she goes over the edge.

“Show me, princess. Wanna see you cum on this dick, pretty girl,” She whispers, and Azzi whimpers, nails digging into her back as she arches her back, impossibly close. Paige’s heart is nearly beating through her chest, and she’s trying embarrassingly hard not to let on how she’s pretty sure she could cum, too, trying to focus on getting Azzi there.

“C’mon, mama. Doin’ so good, so pretty for me. Let me have it, sweet girl,” She coos. Azzi nods desperately, shaky breaths heaving from her lungs as she chases the edge.

"Don't stop, don't stop," She pleads, and Paige hums, acknowledging the request as she presses a kiss to her face again, back tense as her hips roll into her at a pace she has no earthly idea how she had possibly kept up this long aside from pure obsession and a desperation to make her girl feel good.

"Never, baby. I gotchu, you're okay. Let go for me," She urges, and Azzi purses her lips, eyes fluttering shut and dimples popping as she tips over the edge of her climax.

Her head pushes back against the pillow and her eyes eyes screw shut, legs tightening even further around Paige's waist. A guttural moan escapes from her throat and for once, she doesn't even care how loud she is.

Her breaths draw deeper as she shudders through the remainder of her orgasm, little spasms of pleasure washing over her body, and Paige nuzzles close, dropping soft kisses to her shoulders as she slows her efforts. Beneath her, Azzi finally relaxes, body slumping against the mattress and her head lolling to the side to rest against Paige's forearm where it's pressed into the mattress supporting her weight.

Her hand comes down and entangles with Paige’s where it’s working her clit slowly, wincing as she pulls it away. “Too much,” She whimpers, and Paige chuckles airily, nodding.

“Okay, babygirl,” She replies, keeping the younger girls’ fingers intertwined with her own as she rests her hand on her waist.

“You good if I pull out?” She asks, and Azzi nods slowly, a hint of hesitation in her eyes. “But… slow, okay?” She asks, voice small, and Paige swears she almost melts at the expression on her face.

“‘Course, baby. I’ll be gentle, I promise,” She assures, pressing a kiss to the shorter girls’ forehead before starting to ease the toy out.

“You okay?” She asks, giving the other girl a distraction as she works herself out from inside of her. Azzi nods, her fingers fidgeting lightly with Paige’s where their hands were intertwined.

“Yeah, I’m good,” She nods, her chest still heaving big breaths. She winces when Paige eases the toy the rest of the way out, but Paige is quick to soothe, pressing kisses to her shoulders as she leans further down.

"Good job, baby. Did so good f'me," She praises, and Azzi soaks it in. Paige sits up again, pulling at the buckles of the strap to try and get it to loosen enough to slide out of, and Azzi can’t help but giggle.

“Come here, dummy,” She teases, leaning forward to reach her. Paige obliges her request, picking up her hands so she has space to work, watching as she manages to release all the cinched down straps in the amount of time it had taken her to figure out which direction was tightening or loosening the device.

“I dunno how you do that, but you amaze me, f’real,” Paige mutters, a dopey grin on her face as she looks at the other girl, and Azzi rolls her eyes, a grin creeping across her face.

“You’re so dumb,” She dismisses, lovesick expression on her face despite her words as she pulled the excess of the straps taut, making it easier for Paige to slip out of them. She does, and once she pulls it off, she immediately discards the contraption onto the floor to deal with later.

Azzi chuckles at the thud it made against the ground, pulling Paige close, reveling in the feeling of the warmth of her skin against her own. She let her hands start to roam, fingers exploring expanses of soft skin that only she got to touch like this.

“You’re so perfect,” She whispers to the blonde, and Paige chuckles, a light flush spreading across her chest. Her hand settles on her waist, holding her close, while she lays on her back, one hand slung behind her head.

“You think so?” She asks, and Azzi nods, bringing her lips to drop kisses along her shoulders.

“Definitely,” She confirms, lips brushing against her collarbones. “Good strap game, too. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, after all,” She says, and Paige can’t help but laugh.

“Thank you, baby. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” The blonde replies, running her hand up Azzi’s bare waist affectionately.

“Mmm, I definitely did,” The younger girl whispers, her lips trailing up her neck, teasing a path to that one spot behind her ear that always seemed to drive her crazy.

“Now I think it’s my turn to make sure you enjoy yourself, hm?”

For once, Paige has no argument.

a/n: Thank you guys for reading and thank you again for your patience while I finished this, seriously! Comments and reposts are appreciated, remember to let me know if you'd like to be included in taglists in the future!

Disclaimer: Sorry for the robbery at the end, I really intended to include that scene but I was already at 9k words so I decided to just wrap it up. If y'all want a second part or smth, lmk!

[nyupuun]

is there any set of cards (2 or more with shared naming or characteristics) that you wish got a full archetype? i really love the majestic mechs. their art is gorgeous, and i used them a lot in the tagforce games, as part of a fairy / banishing based deck. im still holding out hope they get revisited. i know we got a malevolent mech and a pyrotech mech, which also are very pretty, but i prefer the white colorscheme of the majestics (and i don't like using self burning cards)

This is such an insane ask to be getting because I am literally grinding on Over The Nexus with a Fairy Banishing Deck. I was thinking of making a more "up-to-date" version but finding out there are a whole 3 Majestic Mechs has definitely been one of the most terrible news ever.

Regarding Malevolent and Pyrotech Mech- truth be told I think they are just supposed to be a sort of counterparts (especially Malevolent just being a Zombie Counterpart) which feels a little random for such an obscure series. I do hope we can get more support in that regard... now that I think about it, some Fairy Support would be nice. They really don't make them like how they used to 15 years ago (joking)

FOR your actual questions:

Presenting my thoughts and opinions......!!!!!!!

This feels like such a generic answer, and I am sorry for it, but I would LOOOOVE to see a Gem Dragon archetype. I used to play Luster Dragon in World Championship 2007 all the time so it definitely is a bit of a nostalgic card, but KONAMI... I see the vision!!!!! I also like Night's End Sorcerer and Administrator, the design is cool and I love speculation to their relation to the Charmers...!!

I alsk want Helios to be something so badly. I still run it in my ""fun"" Banish Gren Maju Decks simply cause I love her so much and I think people who run Macro Cosmos need to run 1 Helios by default or they aren't allowed to activate and resolve Macro Cosmos! Tsk!!!

I could ramble on and on how I think Swordsman of Landstar is so silly and how I wish it had more cards to its name outside of its one Tuner Version (although I understand that by now its very established as one of the 'Normal Club' as depicted on Normal Support Cards) but I also know how much we love pandering to DM anyways so...! Who knows!

TL;DR Gem Dragons and Helios would be my go-to.

Sorry I rambled so much I actually love Yu-Gi-Oh! so much and I love talking about cards and how much I want each of them to be playable and unlock their potential cause I always have fun.

[lets-talk-spirituality]

Hi, can I please get a channeled message from the next guy I'm going to be in a relationship with? Intuitively getting that I will meet him near the end of the year. Thank you💫

Interesting, what makes you say that? With my intuition on meeting someone it always feels like this big change is coming and I feel this anxiety and anticipation. But sure, let’s see what comes up!

💫💛💫💛💫💛💫💛💫💛💫💛💫💛💫💛💫

Future Romantic Partner, what do you want your future partner to know?

Stop worrying and planning and keeping track, it’s more fun when you let the universe surprise you. Let me showing up being a surprise, divine and I orchestrated this sick ass meet cute, and we can’t tell you (childishly saying that and teasing). Te he. But honestly, when we meet, I’m gonna think you’re so radiant. Just for being who you are, so in the meantime, be the most you you can be. Develop the you that you want to introduce me to. What sort of hobbies do you think we’ll do together? You can always start without me, tutor me ;)

Oh and I like obscure 90s British rock, like angsty stuff, sort of like Bush. So maybe start looking into bands from that era, if you want to. Would give us something to talk about. Maybe you find a new favorite. (I’m seeing them in professional attire so I’m getting like white color work, khakis and like a pink polo, a little worn so nothing too fancy, maybe some sort of management in a trade field, cars, construction, something like that)

Yes! I love building things and learning how things work. I’m really big on kinesthetic learning and using my hands ;) If you know what I mean ;) But anyway, yeah just stress less. I’m just working on my money and myself. You do that too so when we come together it’s Bam! ready to go. (Animated and exited talking here). I can’t wait to meet you! Travel plans. I have so many dreams. You’ll see ;) Keep dreaming (I’m getting summer/fall vibes like hot and warmth, not sure if that’s because it’s that time now or if that’s a significant time somehow but that’s what I’m getting, seeing leaves change and sweating).

Card Pull— Druid Craft Tarot

Spirit, what else do you want anon to know about their next romantic parter?

Two of cups, reversed—“the happy course of a relationship may be temporarily or permanently disrupted. You should perhaps avoid making any decisions yet— love and relationships need to be lived through, whatever direction they take us in”

Immediately I’m feeling like this next partner isn’t your “one” but that doesn’t mean it won’t be a relationship that is good or teaches you a lot. This card, for a lot of people is a soulmate card. So in the reverse it tells me that you are soulmates but not fated to last this lifetime. I’m feeling like your feelings for them may feel intense and you may feel drawn to make impulsive and rash decisions. Like move in together quickly, but I’m getting that this intense feeling is showing you that you have a soul connection and it doesn’t indicate that it’s meant to last. I think you will want to make it last, and would be willing to compromise a lot, but this card is warning against that.

To me, reversed means beware of being swept up too quickly, because the faster you rise the faster it falls. It’s okay to be excited but just be wary as there are elements to this relationship that may ask you to make sacrifices that you can make, the question for you will be whether you want to make those sacrifices and if they are good for your long term goals. Sometimes the lesson is painful to teach us what we really want and I think this next dynamic is gonna show you that by making you choose between various things you think you want so you can uncover what you really want and need.

Songs

^^ Glycerine came up as the Bush song but here’s a Pulp song I heard recently and liked. They’re both 90s British Indie/Alt rock. Maybe those can send you down a rabbit hole.

Hope this enlightens and enlivens you! Would love to know how or if this connects. 💛

[writingsofmax]

Disarm pt. 14

Words: 5.1K

Summary: Edward and Y/N hang out at home and try to talk about Edward's plan and everything that has happened.

Tags: angst, guilt, hurt/comfort, chronically ill reader, anti-social Edward, obsessive thinking, CARETAKING

warnings: depictions of illness, panic attack, canon-typical description of orphanage stuff

Chapter 14- The World Is A Vampire Sent To Drain

Y/N woke up, cold sunlight streaming in through her bedroom’s frosted windows. She stretched, and pulled the covers tightly around her, reluctantly opening her eyes. She quickly realized that she was alone in the bed. 

There was a vintage card sitting on her nightstand, alongside her pills with a glass of water. He did leave, she realized. Her heart sank as she reached for the card. It depicted a crying kitten in an old fashioned nurse uniform. You being sick is a cryin’ shame! Get well soon. I love you. She blinked and flipped it over. On the back was Edward’s handwriting with some doodles of eyes and hearts on it. I stepped out to get food for us and some other things as well. I will be back soon. I love you. Y/N let out a relieved sigh and set the card back down on the table. She could hear rustling coming from the kitchen. She took her meds on the side table and then kicked her blanket off, putting her feet on the floor. She noticed that her room wasn’t as cold as it had been before. “Eddie?” she called, cautiously. “In here!” She heard him answer from somewhere in the apartment. She sighed, relaxing her shoulders before getting up. They had a lot they needed to talk about today and she was finally feeling good enough to discuss it. She walked down the hallway, apprehensiveness growing with every step. She paused and hovered in the doorway of the kitchen, watching as Edward stocked the fridge, pulling food and drinks from grocery bags on the floor. He was obscured by the fridge door, and didn’t notice her watching.

She looked around the kitchen and found that it was practically sparkling from how clean it was. Looking past the kitchen into the living room she felt her face grow warm when her eyes landed on a vase of fresh flowers on the coffee table.

The corners of her lips moved into a half-smile when she noticed he had brought over two space heaters as well. One of them was already plugged in, in the living room, working hard to warm the air in her frigid apartment.  “Good morning,” she greeted Edward, shyly. Edward leaned back and peeked at Y/N from behind the fridge door. “O-oh, good morning!” He quickly finished putting things away and shut the fridge door, standing up and leaning against the appliance with his arms crossed. “I, um––I went out this morning,” he stated. “I couldn’t really sleep, so I decided to pick up some breakfast food for us from the diner, and some easy things that I can make for you since you didn’t have food here and—Oh yeah, I got space heaters too down at the hardware store since your apartment is so cold, and that can’t be good for you—but don’t worry, because I can pay for the extra electric fee… Although, that shouldn’t even be a thing because your apartment should have been warm and liveable anyway, but who can trust landlords to actually do their jobs? It's alright though, it's not a big deal and anway are you warm enough?” he rambled, looking down at the space between them. “Oh—Yes, I am. I noticed that it was warmer right away, thank you,” Y/N answered. “But are you... okay, going outside? Won’t you get…” she trailed off, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the air. Edward regarded her for a moment, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “It’s fine,” he answered firmly, turning to the bags of takeout sitting on the counter. “No one knows who I am, or that I’m…” he ended his statement with a vague hand gesture. Y/N rubbed her arm, furrowing her brows, anxiety starting to grow in the pit of her stomach. “And is that going to change? Or what's your plan here?” Y/N asked, worriedly. Edward didn’t answer at first, instead fixating on putting all of the food he had brought from the diner out on the living room coffee table. He moved very quickly, Y/N noticed. “Eddie?” Y/N asked again, quietly. He seemed upset by her line of questioning and she wasn’t sure how to approach the subject. Edward sat on the couch in the living room and patted the seat next to him. Y/N hesitantly followed and sat. His eyes seemed to have an air of sadness to them as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I’ll answer any questions you have, but I think we should eat first before discussing...” He paused for a moment, frowning. “... Everything.” At the mention of eating, Y/N looked at the table. There were a variety of containers carefully placed around the flowers he had gotten. There was french toast, bacon, eggs, pancakes, hash browns, and even more containers unopened. It seemed like he had practically bought everything off the breakfast menu, she noted. 

It did smell really good and, for the first time in days, she actually had an appetite. “Okay, we’ll eat first,” Y/N agreed. Normally when the two of them would eat together, their dining would be punctuated by conversation. Edward would ask her questions or riddles and she would try to answer them. Other times the two of them would talk about books, politics, Gotham, art, or music. The two of them could talk and discuss their ideas for hours. Today though, they just sat in heavy silence as they ate. Y/N felt sad. They were together again, yet everything felt so different. They both seemed uncomfortable. She wasn’t making a move to talk, but Eddie sure wasn’t either. He would barely even look at her. She looked at the flowers on the table and her heart clenched. Had Eddie gotten them for her, as part of his apology perhaps? And all of this food?

It seemed that he really was trying, but she was unsure. Maybe he had meant what he said the other night, she thought, the pain in her chest returning. He did seem standoffish this morning, like he was keeping his distance from her. It was hard to believe that the person that had bludgeoned the Mayor to death had also gone and picked out a bouquet of flowers just for her. Well, not just bludgeoned the Mayor to death— he had brutally killed two others.

Y/N set her fork down as her food threatened to come back up. She had watched Eddie’s “trials” on TV more than once because the news during the past week had just been 24-hour coverage of the Riddler. He had put a bomb collar on Coulson, and she could hardly even think about what he did to the Commissioner––with the rats. And what did all of this say about her? That she was in this apartment, sharing food with him, acting like everything was normal?  She should have noticed that something was wrong when they first started seeing each other, but she hadn’t. Looking back on his episodes now, she felt like she should have seen the signs. I guess that’s why they say that hindsight is 20/20. She should have tried to get him help. Should I still try to get him help? Is that what I should be doing? She cast a sidelong glance at Eddie, he seemed perfectly normal sitting beside her, eating his food. Somehow I don’t think that therapy would help someone that’s already killed a person by having rats chew through their face.

Y/N could feel her heart rate rising and her mouth felt dry. Her apartment seemed too small for her thoughts and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She just needed a second, just a walk to clear her head. She stood up quickly, earning a concerned look from Edward. 

“I, um—I’m gonna go for a walk real quick,” she stated while walking over to her coat and keys. 

Edward looked bewildered. “Let me go with you.” 

“No, it’s fine really, I just need some fresh air, I’ll be right back,” Y/N responded, pulling on her coat quickly, her panic threatening to bubble over. 

Edward stood up and walked over to her. “I really don’t think you should. You’re still recovering and it’s really cold outside,” he objected. “At least let me go with you,” he pleaded, his eyebrows knitted in concern. 

Y/N just shook her head no, and slipped past him opening the door. With one last apologetic look over her shoulder she mumbled, “I promise I’ll be right back.” She shut the door behind her, leaving Edward behind.

——?——

Edward stood by himself in Y/N’s apartment, at a loss for what to do. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to follow her, but he didn’t. She had very clearly wanted to get away from him. 

Edward sat back down on the couch and let out a loud sigh, sinking forward into his hands. Is she... Afraid of me? Memories of her terrified face on Halloween night flashed through his mind. 

This was such a mess. He wished that he had just been honest with her to begin with instead of all of this. He didn’t know what to do with all of the guilt inside of him. He found that it was hard to even look her in the eye, let alone speak with her after what he had done. Every time he looked at her, he was reminded of everything.

He felt so very undeserving of her. He didn’t deserve to look at her, he didn’t deserve to speak to her and he especially did not deserve to touch her. Not after… certain comments. 

And now she was gone, walking around Gotham in the wet and cold. That usually would be hard on her anyway—let alone now while she was still recovering. Today was the first time he had seen her even eat anything and she had still been warm to the touch last night. 

She shouldn’t be walking around out there at all, especially not in this weather.  He felt torn, he wanted to follow her to make sure she was alright but didn’t want to scare her. He couldn’t bring himself to overstep any more than he already had. 

He got up and started clearing away all of the diner food from the table. Something to focus on, he supposed. It had crossed his mind that she was going to the police, but if that was the case he felt resigned to it. It would be penance for how he had treated her. 

A part of him almost felt relieved that she had left him here, that she was finally reacting in some way. He wished that she would be angry with him or even yell at him. I deserve it, he thought, carrying the takeout boxes to the trash. 

He was more worried, than relieved though. If she’s not back in the next 30 minutes I’ll go find her. As much as he didn’t want to overstep he had to make sure she was at least okay. He continued clearing away the dishes as guilt ate away at his insides. 

He wasn’t looking forward to this talk. 

Despite it all he still wanted to go forward with his plan— not the seawall, but Falcone. He needed to kill Falcone. He was the head of corruption in Gotham and had to be taken out. That was the point of everything, but he didn’t know how she would take that. Would she hate him? Would she be scared? He didn’t know how he could make her understand. Before he had met Y/N, every night of his was a thousand nights in the orphanage. The only thing that had relieved the pain he had felt was working on these plans. I can’t just let it go. It’s not that simple. I have to make him pay. 

Taking a deep breath, he sat back down on the couch and looked at the flowers on the table. He had specifically picked those out for her, hoping she would like them. At the Diner, he had gotten everything on the menu, unsure of what she would want the most that morning. He wanted so badly to make everything okay with her, to make her understand, but wasn’t sure how. He could hardly stand to be in the same room with her—the guilt was so strong.

He checked the clock on the oven in the kitchen. It had only been 8 minutes. How could 8 minutes feel so impossibly long? His mind was already a mess with worry and hasn’t even been that long since she had left. He flicked on the television. He needed something to distract him or else he would go after Y/N. And it helped that he was more than a little curious about what the news was saying about him. The news was showing footage from Coulson’s trial and Vicki Vale was reporting. “—reign of terror will continue? There have been no more updates on the Riddler for several days, yet tension continues to run high in Gotham’s political circles and in the GCPD.” Edward grinned. Even though he hadn’t been active in awhile, they were still terrified. Good. He giggled, leaning forward to watch the broadcast more closely. Let them feel an OUNCE of what I felt every day for YEARS. The screen cut to footage of a crowd of his followers and he felt his heart swell with pride. There were tons of people wearing his mask, holding up signs with his symbols on it. It was almost like being loved, he thought. Although, after meeting Y/N, nothing could truly compare to the real thing. He really appreciated his followers though, their strong allegiance to him made him feel powerful. Strength in numbers. 

Now they were interviewing some low-level cop about what he thought of the Riddler. Edward rolled his eyes. I guess they have to keep the Gotham populace watching somehow. He read the time on the bottom of the screen––only a few more minutes had passed since he had last checked. He turned off the TV. Y/N still wasn’t back. She shouldn’t be out there. His anxieties were interrupted by the sound of the door unlatching. He was flooded with relief as Y/N walked through the door. Her face was red and she was breathing pretty heavily. She hunched over and put her hands on her knees as she looked up at Edward apologetically. “Yeah, you were right,” she laughed nervously. “That was stupid. I only… made it about… a block away before… I could barely breathe.” Her words came out labored as she tried to catch her breath. “And it was very cold, just like you sa–” her words were cut short by a coughing fit.  I knew it. I knew she shouldn’t have gone out there. Edward rushed over and helped her pull off her wet coat and boots. He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her close. She was shaking. Silently, he guided her over to the couch.

“Do you need your inhaler?” he asked, trying not to show that he was upset. She shook her head yes, as she sat down on the couch, still trying to catch her breath.  Edward pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, and was dismayed to find that she was starting to burn up again. He adjusted the blanket over her on the couch and went to grab her inhaler. On his way back he pulled another blanket from her bed and brought it out to the living room to wrap her in as well.

Y/N had turned on the TV and was watching the news broadcast about him silently. This made Edward feel even more nervous and agitated. He wanted to ask her to turn it off, but he didn’t.  What did she even think of all of this? He approached the couch quietly, and laid the other blanket on top of her, handing her the inhaler. He had no idea what to say about what she was watching. He didn’t know if he even wanted to broach the subject, he was leaning towards no.

“I’m going to make you some tea,” Edward stated, instead.

He went to leave but felt a grip on his sleeve, he turned to Y/N holding onto his arm from the couch.

“Stay,” she asked, pulling on his arm. “I’m cold.” She shifted on the couch, making room. “Lay with me…” she added, almost hesitantly.

Edward felt his stomach flutter, and gave a small smile. “Okay,” he responded as he climbed onto the couch with her. He pulled her into his arms, wrapping the blankets tightly around her. She was still shivering, but it had lessened. It felt so nice to hold her in his arms again. He turned his attention back to the TV, they were going over the clues and riddles he had left around town, still trying to guess his next move. Gotham is filled with idiots. I’ve given them more than enough time.

Y/N shifted in his arms, and he felt the excitement in his body turn to anxiety. He still had no idea what she thought about any of this really. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?” he blurted out. Maybe not the most tactful way to ask that question, but he was desperate to know. “No...” Y/N responded after what seemed like ages to Edward, but was probably only a few seconds. “I left because I just needed space to think about everything and I know you wouldn’t hurt me…” she continued. “Just them, right? The people we’ve always talked about?” Edward relaxed into the couch in relief. “Yes,” he reassured her. It seemed like she understood his reasons for doing what he was doing, and that made him happy. But her statement about him not hurting her made him wince. “I know that I did hurt you though, the other night,” Edward spoke softly, and pressed a kiss to her head. “I am truly sorry about that,” he continued, hoping she would know how much he meant it. “I never will again.” Y/N took one of his hands and squeezed it, and Edward squeezed back, feeling so grateful that she would even touch him. “I know, Eddie. You did scare me, but I forgive you.” Edward felt a lump in his throat and tears threatened to fall from his eyes at that statement, but he willed himself not to cry in relief. 

“Everything I said the other day was true,” he insisted. “I really do regret everything, and I didn’t mean any of the things I said—I love you so much.” He knew he was rambling, but he didn’t care. “I love you so much and I’ll do anything to make it up to you, I swear!”  

“Eddie,” Y/N spoke softly, and kissed the back of his hand. “I know... I really do forgive you.” Y/N used her free hand to motion to the TV. “Can you please tell me about this, though?” she asked. “I mean… How long have you planned this? Are you going to get caught? Is your plan over, or is there still more? Do you… Do you like killing people?” All of the questions spilled out of her in a rush and Edward could tell that she seemed somewhat overwhelmed by it all. Edward blinked at the last question, unsure of what to say. This plan was such a deep part of him that it felt almost impossible to explain. He sighed, unsure of how to start.

“I don’t know if I can make you understand, but I am going to try,” he started, holding Y/N’s hand for reassurance. “I grew up in hell. I know we’ve talked about the orphanage before, but I’ve never told you fully how bad it was. It changed me.” In his arms, Y/N nodded her understanding, and Edward continued. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been stuck there,” he stated. “Technically, I left when I was 18 but it never felt that way. I’ve never been truly free of it.” “I’m stuck there,” he repeated, squeezing her tightly. “For me…” he paused, searching for the right words before continuing again. “For me, it’s like time is frozen and I’m always there,” his voice came out strained.

“The pain that was inflicted upon me—the rage and hopelessness are always there. It has never once gone away.” Edward felt his body shaking, and his heart was thumping loudly in his chest. It was so hard to talk about this part of himself. He had never let anyone else in before. Y/N rubbed his arm reassuringly and he held her close to him, feeling safe enough to continue. “The worst thing is that I thought it was my fault,” he seethed. “All of us kids at the orphanage were told that we deserved to be treated that way, that if we behaved then we would be treated more kindly. But we never were,” Edward spat, rage sparking in his core. 

“We were fed empty promises to keep us in line. It wasn’t until I started my job as a forensics accountant that I found out that it wasn’t my fault. That it wasn’t our fault,” he explained. “There are other people to blame!” 

He gestured to the TV. “People that knew we needed that money and those resources and took it anyway. People that already had everything they could ever need and decided that they wanted more.”

Y/N twisted in his arms to face him for a moment. She gently ran a hand through his hair and traced her fingers over his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Eddie, that they did that to you,” she whispered, laying her head back down on his chest. Edward rubbed small circles on her back, really more for his comfort than hers.

“Every day when I look into a mirror I see pain...” he whispered. “And when I go to sleep, I’m back at that orphanage. I can hear their screams and it never ends, Y/N.”

“I didn’t realize it was that bad for you, Eddie… I’m sorry I didn’t notice before, and that you’ve been in so much pain,” Y/N sniffed, and moved to wipe something from her face but Edward couldn’t see. “You didn’t deserve any of this. No one does. But especially not you––you’re so good.” 

Edward had never heard anyone talk to him like that in his entire life. He had never heard anyone say that he was good— that it was alright for him to exist. That it was okay. 

“Y/N?” he asked, dipping his hand under chin, lifting her face to his. “Do you really think I’m good?” he asked in disbelief. 

“Of course, Eddie!” Y/N insisted. “You’re so smart, you’re like the smartest person I know! And you’re so thoughtful and kind to me, you’ve helped me so much, and you’re trying to help others—-you’re so good,” she whispered, looking up at him adoringly.  

Edward cupped her face in both hands, looking at her adoringly. He leaned in and kissed her for the first time in days.

It felt so right. Having her in his arms, snuggled close to him was perfect. It was where she was meant to be— with him. His perfect angel. 

Y/N relaxed into the kiss, her arms wrapping around him effortlessly. He kissed her deeply, pouring all of his love for her into it. He had missed her so much. Missed this. He trailed his fingers over her body while he kissed her, unable to stop touching her. 

He was so glad she was okay, that she was with him. He was so glad that she had forgiven him. If they were together then everything would be alright. He ran his fingers through her hair, kissing her more and more, getting lost in the feeling. 

Y/N pulled away, her face flushed. “Sorry,” she whispered, “I don’t feel so good...” Oh yeah, Edward remembered. She has a fever. 

“N-no, that’s alright, Y/N. I’m sorry,” he giggled nervously. “I got carried away. I just missed you so much,” he admitted. “Are you okay though?” he asked, wondering if she was in pain at all. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just need to rest. I don’t have much energy right now,” she responded softly, laying her head back down on his chest. 

Edward fell silent for a long time, listening to her breathing. He debated whether or not to come clean and tell her that he was going to continue his plan, but decided that he needed to. It was all going to come out in the end anyway and he needed to be truthful. 

“About the plan Y/N…” Edward started carefully. Y/N shifted, he had gotten her attention. 

“I want to continue it,” he confessed. He felt Y/N tense in his arms. He had already been nervous and the feeling was growing, but he did his best to ignore it. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but she had to know the truth. There couldn’t be any more lies between them. 

“I can’t accept that the people that did this to me, that did this to all of us get to just go on with their lives,” he explained, narrowing his eyes at the television. 

“I can’t accept that,” he stated resolutely. 

“Do you understand, Y/N? I can’t just let this go,” he admitted, his calm demeanor breaking. “They have to suffer for what they did. Hundreds of children died because of their actions. Hundreds more ended up like me, haunted by it all. It was torture, growing up there, Y/N.” She was looking up at him now, watching him carefully as he spoke. 

“And they did it all for what? For money? To buy a second house? For stupid, selfish reasons. They’re parasites! And I guess to answer your other question: Yes. Yes it feels good when I kill them. It feels good when I see the fear in their eyes. Because THEY DESERVE IT.” His voice was loud now, adrenaline coursing through him as he explained. 

“They don’t deserve to be here, they deserve to die for what they did. I’m exposing them all, I’m changing everything. I won’t let them do this again to anyone while I’m alive, I’m going to—“ 

“Eddie,” Y/N’s voice cut him off, breaking through the dark fog surrounding his thoughts.  

He looked down at her, reorienting himself to the present. “Sorry,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean—“ 

“Okay,” she said, reaching up and caressing his cheek with her thumb. 

Edward looked down at her questioningly. He tilted his head in confusion. 

“Let’s go after them,” she said, looking into Edward’s eyes intensely. “They’re scum.” When Edward was a young teen, he had a job as a delivery boy. When he would go home at night, he would pass dozens of houses all lit up from the inside, every room warm and aglow. He would imagine happy families that might have lived in them, with their nice normal lives as he made his way back to the worst place on earth. 

It had made him feel frozen and alone.

But now, he knew how it felt from the other side. It was like every room in his soul finally had some light in it. He felt safe and comfortable and warm. He felt loved. He now had everything he had ever needed. He wasn’t standing out in the cold anymore. “I love you,” he said reverently, sitting up to give Y/N his full attention. “I love you too, Eddie,” she said, grasping both of his hands. “It's… It's definitely a lot to take in. Your plan and everything, but––they did that to kids. These people were okay with hurting actual children. And Gotham obviously isn’t doing well under their control.” She looked at the TV and continued, “And honestly, we both know that they’re actually part of the problem themselves. A lot of them are directly involved in the crime that plagues this city.” She looked back to Edward and squeezed his hands, “I’ll support you, I just...” she trailed off, looking down at the space between them. “What is it, angel?” Edward asked, leaning forward. “Tell me.” “I just don’t want you to get caught,” she admitted, her lower lip trembling. Edward noticed that she was squeezing his hands really tightly. “I’m scared that it might happen and then…” she stopped, and looked away, her shoulders shaking. Edward pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her protectively. “And then you’ll go away forever,” she cried into his chest. Edward rubbed her back soothingly. “No,” he said. “I won’t get caught. I promise.” He pulled back to look into her eyes, his hands on her shoulders. “I haven’t been working for several days and they still haven’t figured out any of my clues. They’re idiots, angel. I would never allow myself to be caught.” Y/N sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Do you trust me?” Edward asked, searching her face for understanding. “Mmhmm.” Y/N nodded, still looking anxious.

“Darling, I would never allow myself to be taken away from you. Okay? Never.” He reached out and wiped her tears away, “So no more crying okay?”

He gave her a smile and Y/N smiled weakly back, nodding her head in agreement.

“We’ve had more than enough of that in the past couple days,” Edward added wryly, adjusting the blankets on top of her while getting off the couch himself.

“I’m going to make you that tea now, okay? You should rest.” He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and handed it to her, “And watch something else for a while, okay?” he asked, sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Something more relaxing.”

Y/N giggled. “Okay, Eddie, I guess I won’t watch your grand accomplishments on an endless loop if that’s really what you want.”

Edward felt his face grow hot and he quickly turned to go to the kitchen, “T-that’s not… Just— You can’t—I don’t know, watch something else!” he stammered out.

He heard Y/N laugh from the other room and he rolled his eyes, going to the cupboard to prepare her tea. 

Next

[bqstqnbruin]

I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call

OK so here we are with the penultimate part! BIG MASSIVE THANK YOU to the absolute loves of my life @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys​ and @fratboytj​ for helping me write this because I am a dumpster fire of a human and this would still be unfinished had it not been for them 💛💛💛

Hope you like it!

Read the whole series:  I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

---------

“This right here is our issue!” 

“I don’t care. You need to leave.”

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

You and Evelina were leaving for Los Angeles the next day, the presentation not quite done yet as your boss bombarded both of you with texts asking for updates while you were just trying to relax at home after what had been a stressful week of work. The two of you had turned into gremlins as soon as you came home, hair tied back, sweatshirts on, hoods up, facing each other while sitting cross-legged on your living room floor, typing faster than you probably needed to every time your boss sent a new suggestion. 

“Does he really think adding in a transition between these two slides is going to do anything? Like, there are no other animations in the entire presentation, why these two slides?” you huff, pushing the fly-away hair out of your face as you look to Evelina, hunched over her laptop with her computer screen illuminating her face.

Your phones continue buzzing as you try to put the finishing touches on your laptops. “Whatever this man is smoking, I need some to deal with him,” Evelina mutters. You look up from your computer, questioning the statement that just came out of her mouth. “What?” she asks, “Don’t act like you wouldn’t, too.”

“I’m texting him and telling him we’re going to stop for the night and talk with him in person about it tomorrow at the airport and on plane,” you tell her, setting your computer down next to you. You lay down on the floor, stretching your body out with your hands over your head, your toes pointed, groaning so loud you practically scream as your phone lays silently next to you. 

“Have you heard from Matthew?” Evelina asks, breaking the silence that was normally broken by texts from him. 

You shake your head, sitting up again. “Not a word.”

“Have you tried to talk to him?”

You take in a deep breath, closing your eyes as you pick up your laptop again. “Nope. Nothing posted on our stories on Instagram or Snapchat in a week, no texts, no calls, no Facetimes, our streak gone on Snap. We’re both radio silent,” you start, trying to fight back the tears that you knew were coming. This was for the best, maybe. You didn’t need to be preoccupied with the idea of liking someone that was just going to hurt you. He was only meant to be your friend. Your best friend. 

“I’m sorry, babe,” she says, turning her head. A small piece of paper under your couch catches her eye, stretching to see what it was. “What is this? ‘For Ev and Hg’ Who’s Hg?”

“I think that’s me,” you say, reaching for the card, Matthew’s messy writing scrawled across the small paper. It must have fallen off the box that had the jerseys in it, you figure. 

“That’s not right,” she says, pulling a laugh from you.

“Matthew calls me that: Hg is the chemical symbol for mercury, coming from hydrargyrum, the Latinized form of the Greek word hydrargyros, which means water-silver. Mercury stops oxygen from reaching the brain and it drives you crazy. He’s saying that I drive him crazy,” you explain, a sad smile on your face as you play with the card, curling the corners of it slightly just so you had something to do.

“That is surprisingly smart and cute for him,” Evelina gushes, a sudden wave of sadness washing over her. “I think this is my fault,” she admits.

“What?”

“Matthew not talking to you. Matthew knowing about the list.” You stare at her, not sure what to say. What was she talking about? “I told him about it the night you started it.”

“What the fuck?” you scream, “That’s the reason we had this whole fight in the first place. That’s why we aren’t talking right now. Ev, you ruined my friendship with Matthew!” 

“You’ll get through it,” she tries to reassure you, unable to look at you. “Couples fight all the time.” 

“We were not a couple!” you yell, standing up. “And now, because of you, we never will be.” 

“Is that what you wanted?” she yells back, getting up with you as if you were about to start physically fighting. “Do you want to be a couple? Or do you just want him to be your friend? I don’t care anymore, but until you figure out what the fuck you want, you can’t fix this.”

You look down at your feet, wiggling your toes in the socks you had on. “You’re right,” you admit to her, trying to stay as calm as you could. “But why did you have to tell him about that list? What do you think it’s like to find out that someone you care about has been keeping something like this from you?” You stand there quietly for a minute, neither of you sure what to say to the other. “I’m going to go to my room,” you say, finally breaking the silence, “Just, don’t bother me for a little bit, ok?” You don’t let her answer, picking up your computer from the floor and retreating to your room to lock yourself in for the time being. 

Evelina sits down on the floor, trying to figure out what she can do. This was her fault. Or was it yours? She had suggested the list, but you were the one who went along with it. She made the bet, but you wouldn’t drop it. She wanted you to be with Matthew, but you have been fighting it no matter what everyone else tells you. 

She shakes her head, picking up her computer, a reminder from her calendar coming up in the top corner: Flames @ Kings, 7:00 p.m. Friday. Staples Center. With all this bullshit, would you even still want to go to the game? Evelina pulls up her phone, hearing loud music coming from your room, thankful that you wouldn’t be able to hear her conversation. 

“I can see on her Spotify that she’s playing the playlist we entitled “depressed bitch” when she broke up with her last boyfriend and I can’t stand to see her like this. Why did you have to bring up the list?” Evelina barks into her phone.

“Why did you have to have Y/N start the list in the first place?” Matthew’s voice comes through on the other end. “With no list, then we wouldn’t be in this fucked up mess in the first place. You’re the reason I’m not talking to her.” 

She knew he was taking his anger out on her. And he’s right, as much as she hated to admit it. “I know it’s my fault,” she says, begrudgingly, “which is why I’m trying to fix this. She cried for five hours after you left last week. She did not sleep for two days and I think the only reason she did was because our boss is an exhausting jackass. It’s because of you and me, and she’s made her peace with me as far as I can tell. I need you back in the picture.”

“Why?”

“Matthew,” Evelina groans, hating that she had to explain her reasoning to him, “you’re good for her. You’re good to her. You listen to her. You hear her. From the moment you met her, you were absolutely infatuated with her.”

“Yeah.”

“So why haven’t you talked to her in a week?”   

She hears him let out a deep sigh, swearing she could hear him sniffle as if he were crying. “Because I’m in love with her. I love Y/N. And I know that the more I try to pull her back to me, the harder she’s going to push away.” 

“Why do you love her?” Evelina asks, grabbing her computer, an idea popping into her head as she balances her phone between her shoulder and her ear, pulling up a blank document. 

He scoffs, starting, “Her way of relaxing herself is by ranting about obscure facts that no sane person would actually care enough to read, let alone commit to memory. And she absolutely lights up when she tells you this stuff. She has this, this soft smile that still somehow reaches her eyes when she’s talking. At the end of her rant she makes that face where she scrunches her nose because she thinks it’s embarrassing that she just spewed all those facts to you.” 

“Keep going,” Evelina instructs him, her fingers flying over her keyboard as he talks.

“Are you typing?” 

“I’m working on...work. Keep going, I’m listening,” she says fast, hoping that he wouldn’t question her.

“I like how she dresses, and I know you think she doesn’t have good style but hear me out: she dresses how she’s comfortable. She doesn’t dress up often because it’s not something she wants to do so it’s not something she does do. But, fuck, when I see her dressed up in the slightest, she looks beautiful. She looks great in anything she wears.” 

Evelina couldn’t help but smile as she continued to type, not even needing to egg Matthew on to keep spilling his guts to her, his voice getting more confident with everything he listed. “Have you ever noticed how she doesn’t hold a pen correctly? What was it, her grandmother taught her to write outside of school so when she went to school and already knew her teachers saw that so they didn’t focus on her and catch that she was holding it wrong? So now she’s constantly playing with it to distract herself from that fact, which makes no sense, but whatever. And she has ink all over her hands all the time because she keeps twirling it between her fingers and dropping it.”

“She’ll joke that it’s ‘abstract art.’” Evelina cuts in, both of them laughing.

“Come on, even you love that. She’s so stubborn. Once she gets any idea in her head, she won’t give it up because she knows she’s right. It drives me crazy.”

“Mercury,” Evelina mutters. 

“What was that?”

“We found the card that you wrote with the jerseys,” she explains, peeling her shoulder away from her face and holding the phone with her hand for a moment, “You call her Mercury because she drives you crazy.” 

Matthew stays silent for a moment, forgetting that you were supposed to see him in Los Angeles against the Kings that Friday. “Are you still coming to that?” 

“You mean is she still coming with me?” He doesn’t answer again, leaving Evelina to fill the empty space in the conversation. “I’m going to try to get her there. I want her there. And I know she wants to be there, too.” 

“I remember the night we met,” Matthew says, changing subjects, not wanting to think about the possibility of not seeing you at that game, “it was just a normal night out with the guys and then two girls who we hadn’t seen before walked in. And normally we wouldn’t think anything of it, but,” he exhales, “I don’t know. The entire energy of the bar changed. All of us felt it. And then the two of you walked up to us. You were fucking annoying,” he jokes, earning a scoff from Evelina.

“Watch yourself Tkachuk, don’t make me mad right now.”

Rolling his eyes, even though he knew she couldn't see him, he continues, “The guys loved you immediately, it was like you had known them for years the way you fit in. But then there was Y/N. She’s your exact opposite: you were this loud force of nature but she was quiet. There was just something about her that I had to get to know her. I knew she was different around people she’s comfortable with and I just had to be one of those people. Couldn’t even tell you why.”

Matthew keeps talking, Evelina typing as he keeps telling her about his feelings. In a lull in your music, you can hear her laugh from your room, thinking to yourself that you were glad at least one of you was having fun with whatever it was they were doing. You finally sit up, having been sprawled on your back on your bed staring at your ceiling trying to think of something, anything that wasn’t Matthew. You look around your room, trying to ground yourself from the pain you felt from not hearing from him, not wanting to reach out to him to begin with. You see your computer on your dresser, forgetting that you put it there once you got to your room, getting up to put something on from Hulu. 

Out of the corner of your eye, in the reflection of your mirror, you see a black sleeve sticking out from the rest of the clothing that was hanging on the back of your door. You put your computer on your desk, flipping through the clothing to see what it was. You pull it off whatever hanger it was on, a wool winter pea coat, definitely not yours. 

Because it was Matthew’s. When you first met him, you were so comfortable around each other. You could go over his place with ease, not feeling awkward when you fell asleep on his shoulder while watching a movie, feeling completely normal when you woke up the next morning and used his bathroom as if it were your own, eventually keeping some stuff there for when you did stay over, no matter how little use it served you the night after the charity event. 

He was the same at your place. He has stuff around your room everywhere, you never really blinking an eye at the pair of his sweatpants and the tshirt that were somewhere in your drawers for when he slept over. Not even a year ago, he left in the sweatshirt, the coat he wore the night before left on the couch without you realizing it, making its home on the back of your door only to get shuffled right up against the wood as you hung more and more clothing in front of it. 

You walk over to your bed, not taking your eyes off the coat. You sit down on your bed, hearing some sort of jingling sound from somewhere in the coat. Digging through the pockets, you can feel something metal in the front right one, a piece of paper poorly folded around it. Should you be going through the pockets of someone else's coat? 

Who cared at this point? You take out the contents of the pocket: a key and a receipt. Your heart was racing, having a feeling about what both of these things meant. The receipt was dated the night you went out to the bar when you moved to Calgary, the night you met Matthew and the rest of the boys. Matthew’s name was on the bottom signaling that it was his, a few drinks circled by who you assumed was him. 

Those were the drinks he bought for you that night, the drinks he would always ask you if you wanted befor you could get a word in first, ‘vodka sour = lemon,’ and something else you couldn’t quite make out written on the side. The next time you were out with them, a vodka sour was the drink he bought you because you told him you liked lemon but hadn’t found a drink that you liked with it in it. That was the drink he bought you the night of the charity event. 

On the back of the receipt, again in Matthew’s handwriting, ‘my home is your home, Y/N.’ In your hand was a key, with a lemon charm hanging off of it. 

It was a key to his apartment. 

You couldn’t begin to fathom the emotions that washed over you in that moment, knowing that he was going to give you his key, probably before you even thought of giving him one for your place. Fuck, you didn’t even give him one, Evelina did. You didn’t even think about it, and there he was, a key for you, planned out, thoughtful, meaningful. You felt like crying because of sweet it was. 

You pick up your phone, pulling up Matthew’s contact to call him. Your finger hovers over the button. All you had to do was press the button, and you would talk to him for the first time in a week. Before you can tell yourself no, you hit the button, a picture of the two of you coming up on your screen, ‘Matthew, calling,’ rolling over your phone in bold white text.

You didn’t even know what you were going to say, holding the phone to your ear. Actually, you knew what you wanted to say, hearing the phone ring, and ring, and ring. It wouldn’t stop ringing. 

It was a sign. One that you shouldn’t be calling him, hanging up immediately and blocking his number so that he can’t try to call you back. If you were meant to be with him, then he would have answered when you wanted to talk to him most. He would have called you first.

Every emotion you felt turned into anger. You wanted him to call you. You wanted him to be there for you, because if this were happening with another guy, Matthew would be the one sitting there on the bed with you talking you down when this hypothetical man didn’t answer. 

“Mother fucker!” you scream, throwing the key against your door, letting it drop to the ground, wishing it was smashed. 

Evelina hears you, hoping that the conversation with Matthew would end soon so that she can go check on you when he says, “What about how she’s always so quick with her chirps? I have never met someone who’s so fast with a comeback. She’s better than any guy in the NHL. Better than anyone,” Matthew says, still on the phone with Evelina, his voice getting quiet. “Better than anyone,” he repeats himself. 

“I’ve known Y/N’s last two boyfriends and between her and Thomas recounting the high school boyfriend, I feel like I knew the third,” she says, partially regretting bringing up Thomas’s name, “You really love her?” 

“Haven’t I said that already?” he snaps.

“Yes, but I want you to say it again. She is my best friend and has had plenty of people say that they are in love with her. You’re the first one she’s been in love with back, though.”

Matthew’s breath hitches at those words. If Evelina was saying it about you, then it had to be true he figured. “Of course I do.” 

“Ok,” is all Evelina can say, leaving the two of them in silence for a few seconds. 

“Uh, bye, I guess,” Matthew says, hoping the awkward silence that fell between them would end. 

“I’ll text you later about something. Bye,” Evelina hangs up the phone, letting out a long sigh before getting off the floor. Wandering to your room, she knocks on your door, waiting for any sign of life from you to tell her she could come in. “What is this?” she asks after stepping on the key, handing it back to you, plopping herself down on your bed.. 

“Matthew was going to give me a key to his apartment,” you tell her, waving it around in the air. 

“When?” You shrug, honestly not sure how long ago the coat was left there, not sure how long it had been in his pocket in the first place. “I need to ask you something,” she says.

Not really paying attention, that stupid key in your hand, you answer her anyway, “What?”

“Do you like him?”

“Him who?”

Evelina rolls her eyes at you, telling you who even though she really didn’t need to. “Matthew.” 

“Of course I do. He’s my best friend besides you.” 

“Do you love him?” 

“Why hasn’t he called?” you ask, quietly, her instead.

Evelina sighs, “He probably wants to give you space,” she tells you, even though she knows the real answer. “He just wants you to go to him when you’re ready. You know he would never push you to do something you don’t want to.” 

The two of you sit there in silence for a moment, neither of you sure what to say. Would Matthew want you to reach out first? If he did, why didn’t he answer the phone just now?  “Y/N,” Evelina presses, you knowing that she wanted you to respond to the question you intentionally left unanswered. 

You pick up the receipt that was beside you, the key still in your hand, wondering how he could have thought yo give you the key before you even thought about it yourself. And why did he never give it to you? “Ev. I said no. He’s just like Thomas. He loves me and I don’t feel the same way, and I’ve lost him just like I lost Thomas,” you insist. 

“You didn’t lose him,” she tries to reassure you. “This is going to work out.”

“How do you know that, Ev? He means everything to me. You and him are the two people outside of my family that I care the most about. What does it say about our friendship that we get into some stupid fight and now we don’t talk for a week?”

“Y/N,” she lets out a small laugh, “He loves you.”

You shake your head, swallowing hard as you turn the key over in your hand for what felt like the thousandth time. “If he did he would be here right now. He would have called, he would have done something to show me that he cared about me.” 

“Y/N,” she tries.

“No, Ev. Can we just drop it?” you beg, reaching over to your nightstand and throwing the key and receipt in the drawer. “We have to work on our presentation, we leave tomorrow, and we still need to finish packing.” 

The rest of the night was spent by the two of you not saying more than monosyllabic sentences to each other while you worked on the finishing touches of your presentation, packing the last of what you needed for the trip and triing to get your mind off Matthew. You zip your bag up, satisfied that you were finished when you see the jersey Matthew gave you sitting there on your floor, in a pile of other clothing you meant to put away. 

You pick it up, like you did the jacket that was now sitting on the couch, a note laying on top of it for Evelina to give it back to Matthew. Sighing, you fold up the jersey, leaving your room to go put it with the coat. You didn’t want it. You had no need for it. All you could do was let it go. 

You couldn’t sleep the night, any time you closed your eyes and managed to doze off, Matthew’s image flashed through your mind. Every single memory you had with him seemed to be manifesting themselves in your dreams, unable to shake him no matter what you did.The nights you spent together on the couch watching whatever was on TV, teaching him to make your favorite cookies, even though he burned them to a crisp no matter how many times he would check the oven, the two of you going Christmas shopping for your families, buying each other the dumbest gifts you could find to see who you laugh harder. Not a single bad memory came up, besides the last time you saw him. Was everything with Matthew actually that perfect? Or were you blocking things out? 

Your alarm goes off but you were already awake for it, groaning loudly prompting Evelina to come running to your room. “Are you ok?” she asks in a panic. “Babe, did you sleep at all last night?” 

You didn’t even want to know how awful you looked, just hoping that you would be able to cover it up with makeup and get some semblance of sleep while on the plane even if it were only a three hour flight. “Maybe an hour?” you guess, even though you were sure that was an over exaggeration. “Whatever. We have to go get ready.” You get out of your bed and storm to the bathroom, closing the door before Evelina could even say anything. 

You looked like you had been hit by a truck, hating how you came across as you stared at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were red, the bags underneath them so rich in color they could probably be designer, your skin discolored like you were sick. You would need makeup and a miracle to fix yourself at this point. 

“Y/N?” Evelina says, opening the door without you inviting her in. “I found the coat and jersey.” You make eye contact with her through the mirror, pursing your lips and nodding as you get back to putting on your makeup. “You really don’t want them?” You shake your head, swallowing hard. If you kept them, then they would tempt you to go back to him. Getting rid of them was the only thing you could do. “I put them in my room for now, ok?” You nod again, still not saying a word. 

“I’m worried about you,” Evelina says. “Even with those other guys you’ve broken up with, they have never left you this broken.” 

“I’m over it. I’m just tired.” 

“We both know you’re lying about this. You know how you feel. You know that you’re in love with him, you always have been.”

You put your makeup down on the counter, staring at the powder in it’s container. “I can’t say it.” 

Evelina takes a step back. “What?” she asks, surprised by your response. 

“Thomas said he loved me, and that was it. The friendship was over and we haven’t seen him in years. If I say it to Matthew, if I admit it at all, then it’s going to be done. It already is done and I never said it.” 

Evelina could feel her heart breaking, trying everything she could not to start crying in front of you, worrying that it would set you off as well. “You know that’s not true.” 

“I do in my head, but not in my heart,” you say, letting out a laugh, “That sounds like something from a stupid Hallmark movie.” Evelina lets out a small laugh with you as you continue. “Can we just drop it this weekend? We just have to get through this conference. And get through a weekend with our boss.” 

“Ok. I’m gonna go finish getting ready, then,” Evelina says, backing out of the bathroom. 

By the time both of you are finished getting ready, your boss had texted you that you needed to be outside waiting for him in the next ten minutes when they pulled up with the car that all of you were taking. “Ok, last check. Boarding passes?” you start your list.

“Mine is the front pocket of my bag, yours are in the folder you have with your computer.”

“Passport?”

“Same places as the boarding passes for both of us.”

“Computers?”

“Side pocket of your bag, middle of my bag.”

“Chargers?” 

“Somewhere in my bag I have a phone charger and a computer charger for both of us.” 

You keep going through the long list, both of you knowing where the other kept everything. You freeze when you get to the last thing on the list, written in Evelina’s hand writing instead of your own. “Jerseys.” 

“I have mine. Yours is in my room.” 

“Good,” you say, almost completely forgetting about the game.  You shake your head as if to physically shake the thought of Matthew from your mind. “Got your keys?” you ask Evelina, her waving them in your face as you grab yours, too. “Let’s go then.”

The two of you lug your stuff towards the door, opening it and ready to leave when you see him there. “Matthew?” you say, surprised to see him standing in your doorway, a bouquet of flowers in hand, a guilty expression on his face as he looked like he hadn’t slept for days. “What are you doing here?” you ask in shock, feeling your heart start to race.

“Can we talk?” he asks quietly, debating on stepping into your apartment or not. 

“No. We’re leaving for the airport now, we don’t have time,” you tell him, trying to move past him.

“Come on, we need to talk,” he insists, putting his arm against the frame of your door to stop you from moving past him.

“Why should I listen to you?” you ask, looking up at him. 

“Because I love you.”

[masterthespianduchovny]

The Truth is Out There (Part 1):

Summer 2008

The utility worker makes his way to the building. The sun beats down his neck, but he’s unbothered by the heat as a thin sheen a sweat forms where the cap meets his head. Pleasantly, he smiles and slightly nods at the woman holding the door for him.

Unnoticed, the utility worker passes by customers and employers, expertly navigating his way to the boiler room. 

Locking the door behind him, the man gets to work. He’s pulls out various items, some of which seemingly have nothing to do with the task at hand: a syringe, a black substance in a bottle, and a band. 

Inspecting his items, he then pulls out a large wrench and a cylinder object. It has buttons on it and a countdown timer.

The man makes easy work of getting a tightly screwed pipe off, and then partially slides the cylinder into the pipe. Fiddling with the buttons, a beeper goes off and the cylinder slides completely within the pipe.

After the man finishes screwing the pipe back into place, he grabs the syringe and fills it with the black substance.

He waits.

His eyes are hard and determined.

Another beep. The man sits down and grabs his laid out items.

Tying the band around his arm, it doesn’t take him long to find the vein, and then insert the syringe in himself.

Taking a deep breath, his eyes snaps shut as the needle pierces his skin. The man exhales as the substance flows through his veins.

His eyes fly open and small, black lines are on his eyes.

Efficiently, he places all of the discriminating items in his worker bag, and then unlocks the door. He makes it a few steps before he and his bag falls to the floor.

No one sees him falls as everyone else fell unconscious themselves moments prior.

Fall 2008

“...I DO SO LIKE GREEN EGGS AND HAM! THANK YOU! THANK YOU, SAM I AM.” 

The library worker strummed his fingers along the spine of the book as he smiled at the claps from children and their parents.

They waved goodbye at him as their parents gathered him.

“Carl,” said Majorie, extending a hand out to her daughter. “You’re just showing off at this point.”

Smiling, Carl bowed his head. “I’ve tried reading without the book, but you know kids, they love the theatrics. It’s only impressive to them if I start reading the book, and then tell the story from memory.”

Majorie chuckled.

“Thank you for this.” She gestured to the book. “Ever since the divorce, after school care has been so hard to find and...story time is a God send.”

“It’s no problem, really.” Carl crossed his arms, and then looked at the girl Bethany. “The kids are doing my wife a favor, it’s like an after school care of sorts for myself. If I didn’t have this I’d be driving my wife up the wall sending her thousands of emails.”

Amused, Majorie smiled. “I know parenthood isn’t everyone’s path, but I’m surprised you aren’t a father. You’re just so good with kids.”

Biting his lip, Carl looked off. “Uh...well, that wasn’t in our cards.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s fine, Majorie.” He waved off her concern. “I need to straighten up in here, but I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Carl stacked the surplus small chairs and put them in their designated corner. He then gently tossed the beanbags near the back wall. After collecting and putting away stray items, he exited the event room.

The next hour or so, he busied himself putting away returned books, but manned the information desk twice for a handful of minutes each. Once, so Ashanti could go to the bathroom and another as she made a quick personal call. Carl didn’t mind since he was almost finished with the return pile. Due to his eidetic memory, Carl remembered the location of books and the filing system as clear as day.

Filing was light work for Carl.

As soon as he finished with his last book, he joined Ashanti at the desk. Whenever they were assigned together, they chose a topic to debate through their shift.

The topic: Harry Potter v Percy Jackson

Who was the stronger protagonist? Which themes are embodied better in their respective series? Which series has stronger supporting characters? And which author was more effective in their series?

Knowing how beloved the Harry Potter series was to Ashanti, Carl let her argue in favor of the series. Although he enjoyed the series himself, he personally leaned towards Rick Riordan and his series. Because he knew how passionate Ashanti was about all things Harry Potter, the debate was going to be especially fun for him.

Just as Carl began to argue his position after listening to Ashanti, someone asked for assistance. 

“No cheating while I’m gone,” Carl warned.

Ashanti rolled her eyes. “I don’t need to cheat, old man.”

Carl grabbed his heart as he walked backwards. 

The two looked at each other and laughed.

In his life, Carl’s been accused of many things and paranoid was at the top of the list. As he assisted the visitor, Carl felt as if he was being watched. Men and women pretending to be occupied with books or the computer, hell, even making small talk with Ashanti, but casting quick glances in his direction.

Just because he’d been called paranoid more times than he could count doesn’t mean he was wrong.

Carl finished up with the visitor and pointed towards the information desk. Discreetly, he patted his pockets and he checked his mental map of the other exists. Obscuring the eyesight of him by going to the other side of the book shelfs, Carl hurriedly walked to the side door. As the distance increased between him and the other library occupants, he heard someone yell:

“He’s making a run for it.”

Carl put up a valiant fight. He ducked, dodged, and outran longer than anyone would’ve imagined, he’d bet. But, if only he was a little quicker--spotted them a little sooner, he would’ve made it out of the side door, instead of being tackled near the front entrance.

A knee was in his back as handcuffs were tightened around his wrists.

“What is this about? What do you want?” Carl yelled. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Fox Mulder, you’re under the arrest for...”

Mulder zoned out.

Granted, he knew the FBI could’ve found him if they wanted to, but he assumed that they didn’t give a shit where he was as long as he wasn’t the Bureau’s problem anymore.

Although he never felt truly comfortable due to being on the run, he thought he was in the safe. And yet...they were still trying to make him serve justice for a bullshit crime.

As Mulder was led out of the library, he saw Majorie and Bethany approach. They were shocked to see him in handcuffs being led out by FBI agents.

Scully.

He needed to talk to her.

Although she hadn’t been a fugitive like himself, since the FBI knew where he was, they had to know she was involved. Hell, they were together. Who knows how long they’d been surveilled. 

An hour later, he was in an interrogation room, handcuffed to the table.

His old boss walked in moments later.

“Skinner? What is this? What’s going on?”

Looking at the two way glass, Skinner said, “Uncuff this man.” Sitting down, he looked at Mulder. “Long time no see.”

“Not long enough apparently.” Mulder rubbed his wrists after the metal rings came off. “Where's Scully?”

“On her way,” Skinner answered. “Don’t worry, she hasn’t been arrested.”

Mulder stared Skinner, and then the file on the table. Skinner has always inhabited many roles and leveraged his position as he saw fit. This wasn’t about Knowle Rohrer. Just like he thought, the charges were bogus and the FBI didn’t give a shit about the murder. It was all about having him out of their hair.

Leaning back in the metal chair, Mulder looked at Skinner again. “Why was I arrested?”

“That was the only way we could get you in a room.”

Biting back what he truly wanted to say, Mulder said instead, “I can think of other ways.”

“Cut the crap, Mulder, you and I both know you would’ve slipped out of our radar again.” Skinner gave him a hard stare. “Look, we need your help.”

“And why would I do that?” Mulder looked at the two way glass. “I just got re-arrested on bullshit murder charges again, Walt. The last thing I want to do is help the FBI with anything.”

Uncomfortably, Skinner shifted in his seat. “Shortly after you were escorted in here, the charges and...conviction was taken care of.”

“Oh really, that simple.” Mulder narrowed his eyes at Skinner.

He didn’t have anything against his former boss. Skinner did help him escape and most likely thwarted efforts of his capture years before it happen. But, Mulder was still angry about what happened--about all of it. Skinner was just a convenient scapegoat. 

“I get it, you’re angry, but we need your help on this--you and Scully,” he clarified. “I don’t want to take credit for having your charges and conviction cleared because what happened was a gross interpretation and handling of justice. But, the FBI needs you.”

Skinner slid the folder in front of Mulder.

“No one knows more about this stuff than you two.” Mulder’s brows furrowed as he looked through the file. “You have every reason not to trust the FBI or--or want to work with us, but we have no one else to go to.”

“And, if I don’t help?” 

Skinner caught Mulder’s meaning. “Your record will still be clean.”

“But, not my conscious.” Mulder closed the folder and looked at it in thought. “Any other cases.”

Skinner nodded. “A duplex in upstate New York and a chicken plant in Kansas. Officially, all three were said to be gas leaks. Spread far apart enough not to cause any panic or raise any questions.”

“For both the perpetrators and the FBI,” Mulder supplied. “But, someone or something has possession of live black oil and they're going around and weaponizing it.”

“An agent from the BSU made a profile suggesting that these...incidents are trial runs.”

“That much is obvious,” Mulder mumbled to himself. “Why publicly?”

“What do you mean?”

Mulder shook his head. “These tests are usually done under the cover of night. In the shadows. In controlled situations. But, with the duplex, the bank, and the factory, it’s an attack. A public one at that. And they're allowing the government to control the narrative. Why?”

[crowstan]

Alright, so I actually did this last night while I was waiting for the melatonin to kick in, and I couldn’t post it because Tumblr decided that I can only post once a month on the mobile browser, so it’s honestly really late. Anyway, spoilers for My True Identity! | Sanders Sides, which is also linked because! Snazzy.

**Reminder!!** These are just my opinions and feelings, and aren’t factual at all! There are also instances of tone indicators in different spots as well, as those are something I use frequently in notes and pm’s. I also tried to keep cussing down to an absolute minimum, but in cases where I felt it was better to not change it, the words will be censored. THis is also a direct copy n paste, all i did was censor things a bit better.

-holy SH*T stuffed animals!! yes!!

-"SNOOZE!" ndhfhfjfhdhdhdh moooooood

-oh that intro title was snazzy!!

-jdjdjdj ok i was not expecting immediate noise, i shall note that next video

-jdjdjdj same man, same. sometimes you can't help but over share

-i KNEW there was theater!! yes!!

-"do i really know myself as well as i should? " uhhh, technically the self is a projection and a social construct but does anyone really? (/hj)

-got distracted because dream lover started to play from my playlist so i was kinda vibing for a bit before i continued lmao

-"hello there class!" djfhdhjf l o g a n!!! yes!! class time!! we gonna learn some mf stuffs about ourselves today!!

-in all seriousness, learning is fun unless it's about me lmaoo, I'm the only topic i hate, as much as i talk about it

-"this is my intellectual side! every fact that I've ever learned."

"believe it or not i was quite the nerd in school! "

"I'm pretty sure that's a surprise to no one" lmfaoooOOO sjjdjdjd?? that's legit hella funny ngl?? reads like the last two brain cells but one is v drunk

-djddjdj the sass. why is. roman sassy.

-also fanciful?? wow that's a word!! i like that word, imma steal it /hj

-"what's going on kiddos?" JFJFJFJRJR KIDDOS. I LOVE THAT WORD SM. Y'ALL DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE THAT WORD

-"I also represent your unabashed love of dad jokes." ??? me??? mood???

-ok ngl that kinda self aware joke??? yes. yes. y e s.

-thomas points out that most people know him from vine! this is correct he made AWESOME vines don't @ me please

-jdjdjf r o m a n. just called thomas o u t

-yes i am still aware this is all one person shhhh lemme sort the stuff n do the things n make them just slightly separate from each other

-thomas is really good with his characters and my knowledge that it's all him will not stop my awe of how well the characterization is because the instant you see each side? you can immediately tell they are carried differently than the others. that is HARD and i will appreciate that

-hfjdje WAIT THEY EACH HAVE A DIFFERENT DIALECT. THAT'S SO????? RHRHHRNRNR THAT'S HEL L A

-"Wouldn't want to be our own villain, would we?" uh, you're not supposed to do that? /j

-jdjdjdjdjd ideal. i would also like that in a person. except less cartoons n more whatever obscure video i find. did you know that an ultra shortcut works by hitting all the correct key check points in the right order, but without doing it as intended? Apparently the boundaries can overlap and the game thinks you progressed correctly! i think the coconut mall ultra shortcut is the coolest and i wish we knew more about it. this has been mini info dump with james, thank you for tuning in

-patton: asks a deep question that takes a lot of self knowledge to answer

also patton: hey, we have the same glasses!!

-why is that me at 3am

-jfjfjfjfjfjfjjf?? he mentioned we may have harder questions about ourselves like our gender or sexuality?? i funkimg STAN sm

-"where do babies come from?"

"you're a father"

"well, i know it has something to do with storks"

-GOSH i love patton!! he is my official favorite now, i don't take criticism at all on this topic

-"Am i right tony?"

"not my name"

"then what is it?" jdjfjfjdjr me after i come out as trans n ppl don't know my name

- a a a smol hamster, a tiny ladsy

-"youtubes" djdjdn sometimes i say that, huh

-DHJFJFJR GUYS GALS AND NON BINARY PALS DJFJFJFJRJRIIEIEISISJDHD!!!

-the end card with patton??? a mood. a M O O D

(written: December 1, 2020, 23:49)

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Day 14: The Last Day

Hi guys! Here she is! The last of our quarantine fic as the world is opening up, whether it should or not. It’s short, but felt complete! Huge thanks to everyone who read and reblogged! A huge thanks for @dirtystyles and @emulateharry for the read throughs and cheerleading! I am sure there will be other little odds and ends-

Harry’s POV maybe...

Day 14: The One With The Loss

"Where the f ..." Elise felt frantic, she could not find her bracelet. Her grandmother had given it to her. She didn't care at this point if she had to leave everything else behind, but she couldn't leave that.

She'd been incredibly close to her grandma Rose. On Some hard days, Elsie would have said she was the only one who ever really loved her. When she was dying Elise had gone to the hospital as much as possible to sit with her, at first to play cards, and then to hold her hand, and finally to curl up next to her and cry. When grandma was still able to talk she'd told her to go in her jewelry box, the one that was packed from her room at the assisted living facility and find her opal bracelet.

They shared an October 21st birthday. Grandma Rose said she'd had the bracelet since her sweet sixteen. Elise was a little older than that when she got it, but the bracelet was priceless and irreplaceable at this point. Her random t shirts and even her books could stay, but not her bracelet.

She'd been packing for a couple hours at this point. She wasn't aware she had this much stuff, or that it was so spread out. She'd been pretty unemotional through the whole process, until she couldn't find her bracelet. Elise might have been crying inside before then, but she was really freaking out now.

It was the first time she had cried since the talk with Harry.

"Is that what you're so scared of?" He'd said.

She'd scoffed. That got her back up. "I'm not scared of anything."

"Are you kidding me?" He actually laughed at her. "You're scared of everything!"

"Fuck you Harry! You don't know how I feel."

"Of course I don't. It might actually kill you to talk about your feelings or be honest." His hands were crossed over his chest.

"Honest, feelings? Cuz you are the king of talking about real shit?" Her hands came off her hips and she was pointing. "All we do is play, or fuck. You may actually be a lost boy."

"I'm just trying to read your comfort level, love. That seems to be the depth of life you're willing to deal in. Gotta keep it light for poor Elise, or she will run away. I'm dont even know why I bother." He sighed. "If you liked spending time with me at all, without being entertained all the time, I would not have to lure you out of your room every damn day with some promise of food or comfort or sex. It's so damn hard to know you."

"How dare you!" She seethed. He'd insinuated she was shallow right? That's what that bullshit about depth implied. "I am not shallow. Or a damn child who needs to be bribed. Maybe if I had any idea what I was doing here, or why you were being so nice to me, I'd not be so damn afraid I'd need to hide. I don't know you either, and your intentions are even more obscure."

"What you're doing here? I was just trying to make sure you were ok, or safe. Take care of you. If you were unwell it would be my fault."

"Cmon Harry, we both know you could have got us tests and sent me packing ages ago. What little fantasy are we living out here?"

"Yours!" He shouted.

And the conversation got more intense from there.

"Where could I have?" Elise's cheeks were wet; she was nauseous. This day had already been too much. She'd just got her head in her palms to weep when strong hands came onto her shoulders.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Harry asked into her black hair before kissing it.

"I can't find my grandma's bracelet anywhere. She gave it to me when they told her she was running out of time." She turned a watery frown on him and he placed a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"Ok, well tell me what it looks like and I'll help you."

Elise described the delicate piece and they each set off to look. She was essentially tossing things out of her way adding to the mess. The room had already looked casually like a bomb went off, but she was a mess when she looked for things. She did notice Harry was orderly in his disarray.

"When'd you wear it last?"

"I don't wear it. I'm too afraid I'll break it." She told him, and he chuckled.

"If you say something about patterns or bad habits I will cut you." She mentioned.

He put his hands up in surrender. And they both laughed.

He had a point.

Elise was thinking about how their fight the night before had gone when Harry said. "Is this it?"

"Oh my god." Tears filled her eyes anew and ran down her cheeks. "Thank you! What would I do without you?" It was an honest question. It had only been fourteen days but she honestly couldn't imagine not knowing him, really knowing him, not about him, or speculating about him, or inferring about him, or projecting about him. Knowing him, underneath his clothes, under his skin.

"No need to find out!" He smoothed her hair and then gave her a smooch. "Now, can you grab whatever you need so we can pretend we hate that we have to be locked in a house together for an undefined time."

She giggled. "You don't hate that you are stuck in your house with me for who knows how long?"

"Are you going to let me turn up the heater and stay naked?" He picked up one of the boxes she'd put together.

"Not all of the time."

"Then some of the time?" He curled his tongue and poked it to the side of his mouth.

How was she supposed to say no to that. "Maybe."

"Then hurry." Kiss. "Up." Kiss. " we need to go play strip scrabble."

"Im not playing scrabble with you." She said for the umpteenth time.

"Strip monopoly?"

"No."

"Apples to apples?"

"How the hell.." she just laughed at his hugely dimpled smile. "How about we just go in your hot tub and drink margaritas naked."

"Deal!" He started tossing clothes wildly into bags. It was out of character except for his insatibility. "Hurry up! We have plans!"

"To have sex?" God he was sooo cute. "More sex." She clarified.

"Yea, aren't those very important?" He stepped into her space and planted his hands on her hips and his flag in her heart. He'd leaned in close, but didn't connect their lips.

She gulped and leaned up against his arms keeping her feet planted and away from his tempting lips. "Yes, very important."

"Yeah." He said and kissed her silly.

She'd never done it on that bed. Seemed funny to do it after it had been stripped and with the knowledge it would never happen again.

It could have went another way. Elise kept catching herself in moments and feeling grateful, that once Harry started talking, he really started talking.

The day before, when he shouted the truth about living out her own fantasy, she'd started to walk away. She couldn't handle the truth. It was at least half true, it was a wonderful two weeks of her life, and it looked like now it was over. Elise knew she couldn't handle going back to his place and fighting more, or worse facing silent treatment. Plus, if he had wanted her there, he still hadn't said that today or before. She was about to cross the threshold of the room. Harry muttered something about her walking away.

She stopped and turned. She only had to walk away if she wanted to be done.

"This has been a fantasy, of course it has. Like a dream come true. And I'm really scared. I have no idea why I'm here, not really, or what we are doing, or what..." she sucked in some oxygen. "Or what." She felt tears building in her eyes. "How you feel about me." She expected him to say something, but instead he just stood and stared at her, waiting for her to talk. "And what happens tomorrow."

"What?" It was the first thing he'd said during her rant.

"We' re almost done with friends." She whispered.

He was nodding. "We are. so?"

"You said." She swallowed. "Last week you said we should finish Friends, the you said we only had three more days to finish."

He was nodding. "I guess I did, but Elise, the end of friends, it doesn't mean the end of us. And I'll answer all the questions you have. If you want the answers. But, I'll be honest and say I have no idea how you feel about me, like the real me, too. It's why I held back so long."

"So long? It's only been two weeks."

"Pretty intense two weeks." He wiped her tears. "It felt like forever. I wanted to love you up by day five."

She giggled. "Me too."

"Ugh." He groaned. "All that missed opportunity." But they were both smiling. "New challenge: make up for lost time now."

She was shaking her head at his ridiculous eyebrows. "So, you like me?" She asked.

"At the risk of being really obvious, I like you, like really like you, maybe could be more." He tilted her chin up. "and you like me? Me me?"

Elise nodded then thought she had already been this brave. "More than like, I think."

He beamed. "Honestly Elise, when I first brought you home it was out of guilt and because it didn't initially occur to me to just get tests." He looked down. "I had Jeff do research, and we had to wait a few days, and by then, well, I really liked spending time with you."

"Me too." All these confession made her feel like a feather.

"And nothing happens tomorrow. It's not some scary end date, I'm not kicking you out at check out time." He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "Honestly? I'd really like it if you stayed with me, for however long this lasts. We've already been exposed to each other.."

"You think?"

"Very exposed to each other." He laughed with her. "And then after, whenever that is. We talk about it. You can keep your place, or save the money."

"I could pay for groceries."

He sighed. "Ok, you can pay for groceries." He quirked a brow and the dimples that bracketed his mouth wanted to break free, they just needed her response. "Does that mean you'll stay?"

"I'll stay." The full wattage of his smile was really like A full moon on a clear night. He bridged the space between them and swooped her into his arms.

"Good, I'd miss you if you were gone."

"I'd miss you if I was gone too." She was honest, hopefully it would become a new habit.

"Then let's not let that happen." He kissed her then, and it was a piece of this tiny instance of forever she'd keep always, if they wound up married fifty years or broke up by pandemic's end.

"Can I tell you something really crazy?"!She asked with her ear pressed to his heart. She felt his body nod on her head. "I'm so glad you sneezed in my face."

"Yeah?" He asked. "I could do it again?" He offered, his body vibrating with his laugh.

"I'm good now thanks. But, I'm still glad it happened."

"Me too baby, me too."

[eeveecryptid]

※ BORDERLANDS: CL4P-TP EDITION

Various lines that Claptrap bots have said through Borderlands 1, Pre-Sequel and 2. feel free to change pronouns if needed. May include nsfw material. ( BL3 version here )

"Wow! You're not dead?" "Hey, check me out everybody! I'm dancin', I'm dancin'!" "Unce! Unce! Unce! Unce! Ooo, oh check me out. Unce! Unce! Unce! Unce! Oh, come on get down." "Yoo-hoooooooooo!" "I am the best robot. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I am the best robot. Ooh, ooh, here we go!" "Hey! Over here! I'm over here!" "Still haven't found the Vault?" "I'm over here!” "Rrrrrgh...this isn't working!" "Unce! Unce! I think I lost the beat... but, Unce! Unce!" "Wanna hear a new dubstep song I wrote? Wub! Wub--"  "(name) asked me to tell you about a, uh, ‘little sumthin' sumthin'’ s/he needs done. You should ask him/her about it!" "Did you find the Vault yet?" "Sure is lonely around here." "Oh my God, I'm leaking! I think I'm leaking! Ahhhh, I'm leaking! There's oil everywhere!" "I can see through time..." "My servos... are seizing..." "I can see... the code." "I don't like this... this is making me nervous. Take a deep breath- I can't breathe! This is just a recording of someone breathing! It's not real! It's just making me more nervous!" "I'm detecting a motor unit malfunction... I can't move! I'm paralyzed with fear!" "Please don't shoot me, please don't shoot me, please don't shoot me!" "Turning off the optics... they can't see me..." "The traveler will protect me. The traveler will protect me." "Good as new, I think. Am I leaking?" "The box is awaiting your attention." "Please open the box." "Yeah? Well, hmph!" [ gives the finger ] "Good luck!" "There's more to learn!" "Let me teach you the ways of magic!” "Magic waits for no one, apprentice!" "Still working on that quest?" "Shouldn't you be murdering something about now?" "Hey! You're TALKING to me! And I didn't even have an exclamation point over my head! This is the BEST day of my life!" "Sooooo... how are things?" "Hey, best friend!" "Yessss, look into my eyes. You're getting sleepy. You're getting... zzzzzz... Zzzzzz..." "Success! My spell to make you want to hang out with me worked!" "Stay a while, and listen. Oh god, please -- PLEASE! -- stay a while." "Away with thee!" "Don't you worry, minion! Give me one good shot at that (name) dude and I'll take them right out! I... just got some stuff to do first." "We've really come a long way, haven't we, minion? And you're still just as loyal as ever! Who's a good minion? You are! Yes you are!" "Yessiree! This whole place would completely fall apart without old Claptrap keeping things humming along!" "As a robot, I'm completely immune to (name)’s gas attacks. But that hasn't stopped me from incessantly cowering!" "And I thought bandits were bad BEFORE they had nightmare plants growing out of them!" "You already saved Pandora? But... but I'M the hero of Pandora! It's on my business card! I ORDERED SO MANY OF THEM!" "Sanctuary's gone? But the bank! All my stuff! All my crucial information! YES! I'M OFF THE GRID, BABY! NO MORE CREDITORS! Seriously, I owe a lot of people a lot of money." " The Vault Map is gone! Forever! It will never be found. Never, ever, ever-- is what I'll say to everyone I know while I look for it. " “ I can do more than open doors, sir/ma’am! We CL4P-TP units can be programmed to do anything from open doors to ninja-sassinate highly important Janitor-y officials! ” “ I once started a revolution myself. There were lots of guns and a lot of dying. You'd think I would have gotten some better benefits out of the whole thing but no, demoted back to door-opening servitude! ” “ ---Remember what? Are... are you my father? ” “ Are you god? Am I dead? ” “ I'M DEAD I'M DEAD OHMYGOD I'M DEAD! ” “ Thanks for giving me a second chance, (name). I really appreciate it. ” " Hey everybody! Check out my package! " " Let's get this party started! " " Glitching weirdness is a term of endearment, right? " " This time it'll be awesome, I promise! " " Look out everybody! Things are about to get awesome! " " Eww, what flavor is red? " "Where'd all my bullets go?" " Bullets are dumb. " " I need tiny death pellets! " " RUN FOR YOUR LIIIIIVES! " " Oh, s/he's big...REALLY big! " " I am a tornado of death and bullets! " " Stop me before I kill again, except don't! " " There is no way this ends badly! " " This is why I was built! " " You call yourself a badass? " " Is it dead? Can- can I open my eyes now? " " I didn't panic! Nope, not me! " " Not so tough after all! " " I have gaskets tougher than you! " " That was me! I did that! " " Don't tell me that wasn't awesome! " " Wait, did I really do that? " " Aww! Now I want a snow cone. " " Freeze! I don't know why I said that. " " I can't feel my fingers! Gah! I don't have any fingers! " " Why do I even feel pain?! " " Why did they build me out of galvanized flesh?! " " That looks like it hurts! " " Oh, quit falling to pieces. " " Is that what people look like inside? " " Huh, robot's don't do that. " " Disgusting. I love it! " " It's about to get magical! " " You can't just program this level of excitement! " " Push this button, flip this dongle, voila! Help me! " " Square the I, carry the 1... YES! " " I have an IDEA! " " Round and around and around she goes! " " It's like a box of chocolates. " " If I had veins, they'd be popping out right now! " " Roses are red and/Violets are blue/Wait... how many syllables was that? " " Aww, I should've drawn tattoos on you! " " Tell me I'm the prettiest! " " Trouncy, flouncy... founcy... those aren't words. " " The robot is dead, long live the robot! " " Take these, gorgeous, you'll feel better! " " Some days, you just can't get rid of an obscure pop-culture reference. " " Oh darn, oh boy, oh crap, oh boy, oh darn. " " Do not look behind my curtain! " " I'm made of magic! " " Like those guys who made only one song ever. " " Everybody, dance time! Da-da-da-dun-daaa-da-da-da-dun-daaa! " " I brought you a present: EXPLOSIONS! " " Is this really canon? " " ... You're dead to me. " “ Nobody hurts my friends! " " Wubwubwub. Dubstep dubstep. Wubwubwubwub DROP! Dubstep! " " I'll stop talking when I'm dead! " " I'll die the way I lived: annoying! " " Come back here! I'll gnaw your legs off! " " This could've gone better! " " You look like something a skag barfed up! " " What's that smell? Oh wait, it's just you! " " Yo momma's so dumb, she couldn't think of a good ending for this 'yo momma' joke! " " You're one screw short of a screw! " " I bet your mom could do better! " " Good thing I don't have a soul! " " I'll never go back to the bad place! " " I have many regrets! " " Can I just say... yeehaw. " " You're the wub to my dub! " " So... does this make me your favorite? " " What are YOU doing down here? " " We're like those buddies in that one show! " " This is no time to be lazy! " " You can thank me later! " " You love me, right? " " You, me... keeping on... together? " " You versus me! Me versus you! Either way! " " Dance battle! Or, you know... regular battle. " " You wanna fight with me?! Put 'em up!.. Put 'em up? " " A million baddies, and you wanna hit me? Aww! " " I am so impressed with myself! " " Ha ha, this is in no way surprising! Ha ha! " " Don't bother with plastic surgery - there's NO fixing that! " " I am right behind you, Vault Hunting friend! " " I can do that too! ... Sorta... Except not. " " You jerks have NO idea what you're in for! " " I'm so glad I'm not one of those guys right now! " " YOU! ARE! SCARY! " " That is in no way disturbing. " " I did a challenge? I did a challenge! " " Glad I didn't mess that up. " " I feel... complete!.. That's weird. " " I actually did something right for once! " " Hmmm, the possibilities are an infinite recursion. " " Do any of these come with a new paint job? " " Which of these gives me my free will back? " " The moon is not enough! " " I'd do anything for a man/woman with a gun. " " At least I still have my teeth! " " Coffee? Black... like my soul. " " Crazy young whippersnappers...  " " I've finally got an electric personality! " " Wait, this isn't vegetable juice! " " Cool! Now we're both super-crazy-amazing! " " These are the best kind of cooties! " " Can I shoot something now? Or climb some stairs? SOMETHING exciting? " " Times like these, I really start to question the meaning of my existence. Then I get distra-hey! What's this? This looks cool! " " It would really stink if I couldn't control what I was thinking. Like, who wants to know that I'm thinking about cheese and lint, right? " " How does math work? Does this skin make me look fat? If a giraffe and a car had a baby, would it be called a caraffe? Life's big questions, man. " " Who needs memories when I can do all this cool stuff? Stuff that I currently am not doing! That's what I'd like to call a 'hint'. " " Does this mean I can start dancing? Pleeeeeeaaaaase? " " Ya know when there was that Vault monster scare? I had these friends, and boy times sure were scary! But, I didn't care because I had friends, and they were like... super-friends! And then they left me, but they saved the world and I was like 'I know those guys!' Even though they never came back after that I still knew they cared, because no one had ever been... nice to me before. ... What is this? My eye is like... leaking. " " It's really quiet... and lonely... (hums briefly) Also this 'stopped moving' thing makes me uncomfortable. It gives me time to stop and think... literally. I'VE STOPPED, AND I'M THINKING! IT HURTS ME! " " Oh. My. God. What if I'm like... a fish? And, if I'm not moving... I stop breathing? AND THEN I'LL DIE! HELP ME! HELP MEEEEE HEE HEE HEEE! HHHHHHHELP! " " Ahem, ahem. What's going on? Did I break something? " “ You hear me, (name)?! You killed my friends! You destroyed my product line! I am the last Claptrap in existence, AND I AM GOING TO TEABAG YOUR CORPSE! ” “ You think a door can stop me, (name)?! I was MADE to open doors! ” “ Dammit, (name) - how did you know stairs were my ONLY weakness?! Next to electrocution, and explosions, and gunfire, rust, corrosion, being kicked a lot, viruses, being called bad names, falling from great heights, drowning, adult onset diabetes, being looked at funny, heart attacks, exposure to oxygen, being turned down by women, and pet allergens! Your brilliance is matched only by your malevolence! ” “ I'm just gonna go ahead and cloak now. You can't hear me crying if I cloak! (sobbing) stairs, why did it have to be stairs? I'll never climb those stairs! ”

[loftec]

50 questions you’ve never been asked

I was tagged by @wehangout, thanks <3!

What is the color of your hairbrush? black and rainbow

A food you never eat? I have one or two obscurely specific things I know I don’t like (nyponsoppa, don’t even know how to explain that one to you… a sweet soup made from rose hip?) but I’ll pretty much try anything.

Are you typically too warm or too cold? Too warm.

What were you doing 45 minutes ago? I was still in bed, scraping the bottom of the barrel of a semi-obscure fandom tag on AO3.

What is your favorite candy bar? Japp

Have you ever been to a professional sports event? I… think so?? Have I? I don’t know? I think I have? I think I’ve been to see the local football team play, once? Maybe?

What is the last thing you said out loud? I told the cat that I would close the balcony door, since she had her face in the way. I can’t remember in which language, though? What is real life, what are memories? Who am I?

What is your favorite ice cream? Anything with chocolate.

What was the last thing you had to drink? Having my morning coffee now.

Do you like your wallet? Yes.

What was the last thing you ate? Skånsk kavring (a dark rye bread) with dill caviar and sliced hard boiled eggs.

Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? No.

The last sporting event you watched? Uuuh, think there was a game on telly once a couple of months ago at my parents’, before Sunday dinner. So football. I am not good at sports, be it playing, watching, caring, or remembering.

What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? Salty salty

Who was the last person you sent a text message to? @ilikedaredevil

Ever go camping? A few times when I was a kid.

Do you take vitamins? I have them. Do I take them? Meh.

Do you go to church every Sunday? Haha no. I live in a secularised lutheran country but I’m not christian, or otherwise religious.

Do you have a tan? No.

Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? Chinese food, I mean, it’s the food of a whole huge country, it’s all the Chinese food. Pizza is good, but it’s just one thing.

Do you drink your soda with a straw? Not generally, no.

What color socks do you usually wear? Don’t usually wear socks. (Unless stockings count, in which case they’re black.)

Ever drive above the speed limit? Yes, but not so much anymore.

What terrifies you? I am convinced a bathtub will kill me, one day. Let’s not get into the deeper stuff, it’s still early.

Look to your left, what do you see? Curtains, and my fishbone cactus.

What chore do you hate? Washing dishes, a little bit.

What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? Love it, but also it’s one of those accents that rub off on me immediately in conversation and I feel like a nob because it sounds like I’m making fun of it? If I ever do this to you I don’t mean anything by it, some accents just have a melody to them that I can’t help following. My own accent is a nomad, lost in the wilderness, it just wants to find somewhere to call home for a little while.

What’s your favorite soda? Ashamed to say it’s Coca Cola.

Do you go into a fast food place or just hit the drive through? I don’t have a car.

Who’s the last person you talked to? @ilikedaredevil

Favorite cut of beef? Don’t have one.

Last song you listened to? Wintertime by Norah Jones.

Last book you read? I am (still) reading The Well of Lost Plots by Jasper Fforde. I miss reading books so much, so I made an effort to start last month… and then the current situation happened and I got stuck in two consecutive fic bogs and forgot to read books again. Books and fic are two very different flavours of escapism.

Favorite day of the week? Friday.

Can you say the alphabet backwards? Can barely say it forwards, tbh. (That’s a lie, but I’m really bad at remembering it unless I start from A and work my way through. I can also start at O if I need something from the back half, I do not know why I’m like this.)

Do you like your coffee? Yes ma’am.

Favorite pair of shoes? Current ones are adidas, I think it says campus on them?

At what time do you normally go to bed? 22-23 on a weeknight, closer to midnight on a weekend, probably.

At what time do you normally get up? 6:30 on a weekday, between 7 and 10 on a weekend, depending on how long I can read fic and refuse getting up before the cat starts walking on my face (today it was 8:30)

What do you prefer, sunrises or sunsets? Sunrises.

How many blankets are on your bed? None.

Describe your kitchen plates: A bunch of mixed plates in different colours and patterns. Yes, I am that quirky bitch.

Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage? No.

Do you play cards? Sometimes! Not in a while, though.

What color is your car? Nonexistent. My bike is black. Like my mood. (I’m sorry, that was a reference probably only one person is going to get, and now I want to watch season 1 of Dark Angel again.)

Can you change a tire? Probably not, I only ever drive my parents’ car when I drive, and I don’t think it’s equipped with the necessary tools.

What is your favorite province? Skåne, probably? But looking up the differences between provinces and prefectures, I started thinking about Osaka-fu and Gifu-ken and now I really really miss Japan. I also really loved East Sussex, which is a county. I do not know how to answer this question, but places are neat and I miss them.

Favorite job you’ve ever had? The job I have now. The competition isn’t great (mostly did awful to bearable jobs before this one), but I do like the one I have now.

How did you get your biggest scar? Fell into a stream and cut my palm open on some sharp slate.

What did you do today that made someone else happy? Oh come on I just woke up! I gave the cat breakfast?

Tagging anyone who wants to do it! Tag me if you do so I can snoop on your answers : )

[rpdrficexchange]

Stuck (craquaria - mollyroll)

Summary: It wasn’t exactly love at first sight. It took a faulty elevator and a lengthy chat to realize how good they could be together.

A/N: Happy holidays everyone!! 

This was written for @tohkkis with lots of love, hope you like it <3 <3

I had so so much fun with the plot bunny

Thanks to missy and my lovely sis lena for the beta read!!

ao3 link - moodboard 

2303 words

&&& feel free to poke me at @aqmollyroll <3

Brianna had always had a soft spot for the Christmas season, even if she didn’t celebrate it. She was 5 when her mum first told her the meaning behind the phrase imprinted on her wrist in loopy, delicate writing.

Everyone is born with an inscription on their left wrist, a message that will vanish when their soulmate says the words to them. Their second half; their perfect match.

When Brianna was younger, her friends used to tease her for having an unusual mark. It was normal to have romantic phrases, but Brianna felt very proud of her words.

Have I told you how much I despise Christmas shopping?

It was a blessing to know roughly when it would happen. A hopeless romantic, every single year she waited anxiously for December, and was disappointed when January came along and the words remained unchanged on her skin.

This year was no exception. She had volunteered to cover the Christmas Eve and Christmas Day shifts at the coffee shop so her two other coworkers could have time off with their families. She didn’t mind, being the sole barista and cashier was exhausting, but helping her friends made her warm and fuzzy inside.

So when she dragged herself all the way home on the 24th, nearing midnight, she wanted nothing more than to eat her mother’s cooking and then slide into bed until the next day. In a single motion, she entered the elevator and pressed the button for the tenth floor. The doors were closing when out of the corner of her eye she spotted a figure entering the lobby, carrying a veritable tower of presents.

“Hold the elevator!” The girl was stumbling; the boxes in her hands obscured her vision and she was having a lot of trouble keeping them balanced.

Brianna didn’t think twice, she ran over, determined to help in whatever way she could. She took a couple of boxes off the top of the tower, enough so the other girl could see where she was walking, and helped her inside the elevator.

Once the doors closed, she turned to ask the other girl what floor she needed to go.

“Ten is good, thanks”

Brianna knew her. Her name was Aquaria, if memory served her well. She fidgeted where she stood, feeling inadequate in her stained pink unicorn sweater when Aquaria looked as though she had been ripped off the pages of Vogue. Both of them had grown up in the same building, the same floor, two doors down from each other, but they had never really interacted. Brianna probably knew her mums better than she knew Aquaria, and that was saying a lot.

The elevator had started moving by the time she sneaked a glance at Aquaria and found her looking at herself in the mirror. To tell the truth, she had never really liked the younger girl. She had always thought Aquaria was distant, self-centered, and haughty. When she left their small town some years back (“She’s going to be a model!” her taller, sweeter mum had once told her upon a chance meeting in the hallway) it only reaffirmed Brianna’s preconceptions about her. She thought she was too good for-

There was a hitch as the elevator climbed, then a shrill metallic sound. Suddenly, it shuddered and ground to a shaking halt. The lights turned off.

“What the fuck?!” Thumps echoed in the darkness as what Brianna guessed were boxes fell to the floor. Aquaria launched herself at the control panel, frantically looking for the alarm button.

“Uh… it won’t work…” Brianna bent to set the gifts she was carrying neatly on the carpet, then sat down. “The elevator maintenance crew was supposed to come this week but-”

Aquaria banged on the door, then groaned when, predictably, nothing happened. “You have got to be kidding me! Tonight, of all nights!?”

Brianna shrugged, then realized there was no point in the gesture. “I mean, we probably won’t be here for long.”

She heard the rustle of fabric, then a dull thud as Aquaria presumably slid down onto the carpet. Her eyes were still getting used to the dark when a flash of light dazzled her. Aquaria had turned on her phone. She fidgeted with it for a few seconds, then threw it into a pile of boxes in frustration.

“Could you call my mum? Your mum? Someone? Anyone?” Illuminated by the faint glow of her phone, Aquaria looked like she was going to cry.

Brianna knew her phone had run out of battery hours ago, but she hoped for a Christmas miracle. She pulled it out of her bag and, as expected, it was dead.

“I knew I should have bought a SIM card at the airport, fuck my life.” Aquaria half heartedly thumped her head against the floor length mirror behind her.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure we’ll be out in no time.” Brianna couldn’t find it in her heart to complain about being tired when the other girl seemed so distraught.

“I guess… urgh… it’s just been a long day.” Aquaria turned on her phone’s flashlight so they would at least have a light source.

“Same… long, long day.”

For years Aquaria had seemed like a stone statue, unapproachable and perfectly poised. Seeing her trying so hard to keep herself in check was weird, to say the least. She was human, after all. Brianna felt bad for having assumed so many things about her, it was unlike herself to think the worst of others but for some reason she had done so anyway when it came to Aquaria.

They spent a few moments in uncomfortable silence when Aquaria began talking unprompted.

“I took a red eye flight from Paris yesterday… I was hoping to surprise Mum and Mum for Christmas but… the flight was delayed and… I barely had time to buy some presents and…”

“I’m sure they’ll be delighted to see you anyway."

Aquaria rubbed her eyes, smudging her perfect makeup. "You’re probably right… sorry about that… Mum always says I run my mouth whenever I’m stressing too much about stuff…”

Brianna smiled what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “You’re really close with them, that’s sweet.”

“Not really, I only see them once a year.” Aquaria crossed her legs. “Don’t get me wrong, I miss them. I’m just so swamped by work I can barely have time off.”

“They probably like you better because they don’t see you as often.” Brianna’s eyes opened wide when she noticed what she had said.

Rather than take offence, Aquaria laughed. “I guess you’re right.”

“I mean,” still somewhat flustered, Brianna tried to correct her blunder, “if they’re anything like mine… my mum’s been pestering me for years to move out and get my own place already!”

Aquaria’s smile was really pretty. Prettier than she thought possible for someone with a resting bitch face.

“I remember seeing you around, I think. You’re from 1006 aren’t you?”

“That would be me.”

“Nice to meet you properly, then. I’m Aquaria from 1008.” She held out her hand and Brianna took it.

Fearing she would come off as creepy, she bit back an ‘I know’. Instead, she went for something simpler. “I’m Brianna."

—–

“So.. what’s your deal?”

They had spent several minutes in silence. Aquaria had been looking through her pictures, or something, Brianna honestly hadn’t been paying attention. She had gotten bored of inspecting her fingernails and had closed her eyes for what seemed like just a second.

“Excuse me?”

Aquaria shrugged. “Job, hobbies and whatnot. Small talk to pass the time. You can start… if you want to, I mean… I don’t know.”

“Uh, sure.” Brianna quickly rubbed sleep out of her eyes and shifted where she sat. “I work at a coffee shop three blocks down… nothing too interesting, really. I’m pretty sure you have better stories than me.”

Aquaria scoffed. “I might be a model or whatever, but that doesn’t mean my life is interesting. Mostly just routine, boring.”

“What brands have you worked with, lately?”

She seemed bored, like she had been asked that question a million times before. “Moschino-”

Brianna’s eyes were wide open. “Moschino?!”

“Yeah, we did a photoshoot for-”

Brianna gave a slight shove to Aquaria’s shoulder. “And that’s not a big deal?!”

Aquaria looked at a loss for words, she simply shrugged and changed the topic. More than haughty, she seemed clueless. Like she didn’t have a filter, and she didn’t realize the effect her words could have on others. It didn’t come out of maliciousness, rather ignorance. And that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

“Uh, what do you usually do for Christmas?”

“Jewish. We don’t do Christmas.” Brianna shrugged. “I usually take on solo shifts though, to help out my coworkers.”

The phone fell out of Aquaria’s hands and they were plunged into darkness. She quickly recovered, fumbled with it, and turned the flashlight back on.

“Uh… is something the matter?”

“Y-Yeah… yeah it’s all good.” Her face was carefully blank, but her voice sounded panicked. “I-It’s really nice of you… to help out… your coworkers…”

There was something clearly not right there, but Brianna didn’t press it.

Conversation rose and fell between them. They talked about the holidays, traditions, family, fond memories… Sometimes things got too deep and personal, but Brianna found she didn’t particularly mind. It felt natural, talking to Aquaria, even when she barely knew her, she felt oddly comfortable around her.

There was something else about her, something that had changed in the short time they spent been together. It was something about the way she smiled like she knew something Brianna didn’t, how she played with her hair and looked at Brianna below her lashes. How she made Brianna’s mouth feel dry, and how her mere presence sucked all the air out of the room.

When she asked about past relationships, which would normally be considered a taboo subject for mere acquaintances, Brianna told her all about them, anyway.

“So you haven’t met your soulmate yet?” Aquaria all but purred, pointing with her head at Brianna’s exposed wrist.

“Uh, no.” She fixed the cuff of her sweatshirt over the inscription. It was far too dark for Aquaria to read the small print, but covering it felt appropriate.

“How do you want them to be?”

“I mean, I like the thought of having a fated soulmate.” Brianna was thankful for the low light that hopefully concealed her blush. Aquaria was flirting and it wasn’t fair.

“But if you could choose their traits, what would you wish for?”

“Well…uh…” She was far too distracted by the other girl slowly inching forward, “Openness? Uh… warmth?”

“Have you ever considered leaving this town?” Her fingers danced over her left sweater sleeve.

“Yeah but… why are you asking me all these things?”

“No reason!” suddenly flustered, Aquaria recoiled back to her own end of the elevator.

If she continued whatever it was she was doing, Brianna wasn’t going to survive this. And it would be entirely her own fault for maybe hoping that something might happen between them. She hadn’t exactly waited for her soulmate, having had a couple partners in the past, but it always felt wrong to hook up with anyone in December, when her soulmate was so close but so far away.

Thankfully, nothing further happened after that. They sort of drifted into a companionable silence, and eventually Brianna noticed Aquaria leaning against the mirror on the wall with her eyes closed, head slumped to a side, breathing relaxed.

She should probably get some shut eye herself. It had been a very long and confusing day.

—–

Neither woman knew exactly how long they’d been stuck by the time the lights finally turned on.

Brianna opened her eyes, blearily, to see Aquaria pull down on her own sleeves.

“Mornin’ sweetheart.” She smiled at Brianna as she nonchalantly stretched out her long limbs.

“What time is it?” Brianna was still feeling too sleepy to react further

Aquaria checked her phone. “Dead. I’d guess around 4am.”

The elevator started moving again, jerkily at first, then smoothly until they finally stopped at the tenth floor.

Aquaria had clearly spent some time awake already, she had stacked the presents lying on the floor into neat piles and seemed to be trying to figure out how to carry them out all at once.

As she lifted a couple boxes into her arms, she turned to Brianna.

“Have I told you how much I despise Christmas shopping?”

Brianna was stunned silent. Suddenly jerked fully awake, her mind had drawn a complete blank.

Aquaria didn’t notice, the doors opened and two blondes jumped straight in and hugged her, smothering her, fussing over her, and making her drop what she held in the process.

Brianna’s arms moved as if they had a mind of their own. She pulled on her left sleeve and-

It was gone. No trace of the inscription remained. The words she had grown to love had vanished in seconds.

When she finally came to, her neighbours were ushering her soulmate down the hallway, into their home and she would never see her again and-

“Aquaria?!” Brianna all but ran out of the elevator and tripped over something. She would have fallen flat on her face if someone hadn’t stepped in to hold her by the arm. (She hadn’t even seen the maintenance workers, looking amusedly at the scene in front of them. Or their tools, scattered about.)

“Yeah?”

“Would you-” she lowered her voice, suddenly self-conscious about yelling in the dead of night where everyone could hear her. “Would you like to hang out sometime?”

That was a stupid thing to say, Aquaria was gorgeous and popular, she had surely been asked out in better and cooler ways and-

She smiled.

“I’d love to!”

[mikami]

Death Note Audio Drama 07

Disc 7: Double Agents  - a summary / partial translation

Prior translations / an explanation as to what the fuck this is.

Honestly, not much new happens in this part, but there is some funny banter between Matsuda and Ivor (Aiber); and between Light and L.

_______

Ivor calls Shimura under the Coil name. Coil hints that L will soon discover Yotsuba as Kira as a ‘friendly warning’ type of thing. Shimura here is extremely generic and not anxious like normal Shimura at all.

_______

TITLE MUSIC

_______

A Yotsuba meeting. They discuss hiring Misa for image girl.They also brush over Hatori’s death by saying that they assume everyone will send ‘appropriate letters of condolence’ (Shimura asks what is ‘appropriate’ in this case, but is brushed off instantly).

Takahashi seems confused and eventually brings up that he thought at least one person would speak up against the murders. (Someone: “You want to agree with an opinion that nobody actually brought up?”) Takahashi, flustered, changes track to point out that it’s strange that nobody is really talking about Hatori’s death. (Someone: “Mr. Hatori’s death is something we are all painfully aware of. Appropriate letters of condolence, like was said.”)

They then agree that Kira is the one who killed Hatori and then wonder how Kira found out that Hatori wanted out. 

_______

Matsuda wants to arrest all Yotsubas on basis of these tapes, but L points out they don’t know who of them is Kira and Soichiro points out the video is not admissible in court.

Light and Soichiro don’t want to just let the murders happen. Light thus suggests contacting Namikawa to stop them.

______

NAMIKAWA: Knew I’d find you here, Kyousuke. 

HIGUCHI: I’m a refugee. A refugee for nicotine. 

NAMIKAWA: You got fire?

Cigarette lighting noises.

HIGUCHI: Better smoke fast, we’re almost at real estate and finances.

NAMIKAWA: Takahashi finally got his job done?

HIGUCHI: He’s apparently got a few numbers. Both of us can only guess what tethers them to reality.

Phone ringing. Namikawa picks up. It’s Light as L. The deal is pretty much the same as in the manga.

______

Takahashi and Mido supported the delay in killings, as we learn in an L and Watari conversation. L suddenly directs his suspicions to Light again, after Light was the one to find Yotsuba and take initiative here.

Watari accuses L of being envious of Light’s success, but L denies this and names Light a perfect successor candidate.

______

L comes to Misa’s room, Light is already in it with Misa. Light claims he interrupted them getting comfortable as far as possible in HQ. The rest of the conversation is just about L convincing Misa to help the investigation. Highlight is Misa calling Light her ‘cuddlebunny’. 

Though it’s funny because the way the job is described, Misa just sums it up like “So.... I need to let them give me presents. Support my career. Pay me.” :)

________

Higuchi points out that Rem has been uncharacteristically quiet last meeting. They then chat about hiring Misa to find L. Higuchi figures out that Misa was the friend Rem was talking about and that she was Kira II. He then decides to marry Misa.

________

Rehearsals for Misa’s job interview. She’s bad at acting and doesn’t actually want to be an actress, just a star. Ivor and Wendy help her rehearse, especially since Ivor (as ‘John Wallace’) is also going to be one of the interviewers. Wendy and Ivor try to explain to her that she and Ivor are double agents now, leading Misa to point out Namikawa is ALSO a double agent and present. “Will there also be people who aren’t doube agents?” she asks, and in this context, honestly it feels like a legit question.

There’s going to be Ooi, Shimura and Higuchi at the meeting as well though.

________

The actual interview. Wendy and L are listening. Wendy brings up that Misa has to adjust her female charms to the desire of all the older guys specifically, to be what they want, manipulate them. L does not believe in that stuff, Wendy basically verbally eyerolls at him for it.

The interview itself is uninteresting as far as new content is concerned.

________

Wendy is still annoyed at L not understanding women. (L: “Nobody understands women.”) She explains to Light how she taught Misa to manipulate men.

________

Misa throws up from nervousness during the interview break. As she comes back out into the main room of the bathroom, Rem is waiting for her. 

________

The Yotsuba executives like Misa as an idea for an image girl. They also like that Misa can lead them to L. Higuchi mostly wants to fuck her tho.

________

Rem explains the situation to Misa. 

________

MATSUDA: Mr. Wallace. How’s the meeting with Misa Amane going? It wouldn’t have hurt to invite me to it as well. I’m her manager after all.

IVOR (whispering): Don’t talk to me!  You’re gonna blow our cover!

MATSUDA (whispering): I am Misa’s manager and you’re the guy handing her the contract. You can be pretty darn certain I’ll talk to you. 

MATSUDA (loud): Here’s my business card.

IVOR: I don’t want your card. 

MATSUDA (quiet): Oh yes you do, Ivor.

MATSUDA (very loud): Here’s my card, Mr. Wallace. I truly hope we can cooperate towards mutual benefit.

IVOR: Right. Thank you.

MATSUDA: And, what’s the current state of affairs?

IVOR: We’re interviewing your client, Mr. Matsui, and I think her chances are very good. 

MATSUDA: I actually meant the operation.

IVOR: We’ll contact you on the details later.

MATSUDA: Huh. Well, I just asked.

IVOR: Just let me do my job, man.

MATSUDA: I’m the overbearing manager. No reason to get all shirty.

IVOR: Interesting choice of words.

MATSUDA: What’s your problem with my shirt? 

IVOR: You look ridiculous.

MATSUDA: I’m adjusting to the situation. I’m the cocky media guy.

IVOR: It attracts attention. The trick is to not do that.

MATSUDA: Is that what you tried doing when you were convicted of fraud?

IVOR (furious): Do we really need to talk about this now?!

MATSUDA: I’m just saying. Now don’t forget, you’re the cool suave guy from marketing. 

IVOR (still furious): And maybe that guy also has a black belt.

MATSUDA: Oh, piss off.

IVOR: You piss off!

______

Rem continues explaining to Misa.

______

After the interview, Misa makes Matsuda drop her off at the mall (by claiming it’s a ‘woman thing’), instead of going straight back.

______

MISA’S MAILBOX MESSAGE: Hello. This is Misa-Misa. For a fun and sexy message. Here’s the beep. See you!

Misa has 5 new messages. Wendy is leaving a message for her to call. L and Light also left messages. Higuchi messages to agree on a meeting at the mall. Matsuda then calls twice to figure where the fuck Misa went now.

_______

Misa and Higuchi meet up. Misa near-immediately reveals herself as willing to date Kira.

_______

Soichiro informs Matsuda that the specific mall does sell mostly jewelry (he knows because of Sayu), which means Misa lied by implying to shop for period products. Wohoo. L is super frustrated with Misa.

_______

Misa agrees to kill Ginzo Kaneboshi to prove she’s Kira. Higuchi first has to convince her that he’s a bad person (animal testing, illegal human testing) though. Misa doesn’t even pretend to write here, which makes Higuchi wonder if she has a different Kira ability from him. Misa also dictates that Kaneboshi texts Higuchi before dying.

_______

Kaneboshi is in the opera. Rem personally shows up there to force him to write the message?? Though she has written it into the notebook as well, so really, what’s the point??

Either way, he dies as dictated.

_______

Higuchi gets the announced text, still confused Misa hasn’t written anything.

Since he doesn’t have the notebook with him and Misa doesn’t want to come to his house out of reservations that he’s up to something sexual. Thus they settle on him not killing anyone for proof.

_______

Misa shows the task force a recording of this.

_______

Higuchi confronts Rem on how Misa might have figured out he’s Kira / how she killed Kaneboshi without writing. He wants this ability too. (”What else can it be but an ability? She just says it and a madly in love god of death does her a favor??”)

________

Matsuda triumphs that they got Kira now, L points out they only know one Kira and not how he kills.

Meanwhile Wendy has placed bugs all over the building and also into the private homes of the executives. Mido, Namikawa and Higuchi have special security, which is a hindrance in her operations.

Higuchi’s house is too complicated to bug, so instead they bug his six cars.

_________

Door opening.

LIGHT: L?

L: Question: do you remember killing all those people?

LIGHT: Oh, piss off.

Door closing.

LIGHT: Go away! I’ve had enough of your paranoia!

L (muffled through door): Let me in. I’m trying to find something out.

LIGHT: Try starting with the reason nobody likes you.

L: Let me in.

LIGHT: I’m not Kira. You need to stop accusing me every time you don’t know what to do.

L: I need your intellect. You need to answer as if you were Kira.

Light sighs. Door opening.

LIGHT: What would Kira do....

L: Exactly. What would he do?

LIGHT: Alright. Let’s go through it.

L: Can you remember killing these people?

LIGHT: No.

L: Why not?

LIGHT: Because I didn’t do it, idiot. And now get out of here!

L: But... what if it was you after all?

LIGHT: It was not. 

L: Let’s just pretend it was.

They go through the idea of Light forgetting something and why now. They come to believe that Light losing his memory would have been his own decision, in case it happened. They begin thinking of the Kira skill as something like a contract with different packages. Premium (eyes) vs basic.

________

Matsuda watching TV, as L and Light approach him. They suggest the scheme of Matsuda showing up on TV together. Matsuda is creeped out by them being in sync for once. The reason they think Higuchi will recognize Matsuda immediately despite an obscured face is his.... tacky shirt.

________

Namikawa is hosting Shimura and Mido at his home, he invited them. They have a similar meeting to the manga, except in this verse Mido approached Shimura instead of the other way around.

They also assume Higuchi is Kira. Namikawa also confesses that L has contacted him and also suspects Higuchi. They agree to wait it out until L caught Kira and their troubles simply disappear.

_______

Advertisement for the TV show on Sakura TV, highly overproduced with a lot of echo effects.

_______

The task force prepares to start the scheme. It is set up the same way as in the manga.

_______

Namikawa calls Higuchi to watch Sakura TV. Higuchi tries to kill Matsuda with the fake name, then is shocked when it doesn’t work.

_______

Higuchi leaves stressed messages on Misa’s voice mail. They start of simple and friendly and then deteriorate anger and culminate in: “Start running, whore.”

_______

L and Light are amused at Higuchi’s growing despair. Everyone from Yotsuba keeps calling Higuchi about the TV program. In these phone calls Higuchi actually talks about himself with regards to killing but that’s not really addressed, so I cannot tell if it’s a writing mistake or a sign of Higuchi becoming careless.

Higuchi finally resolves to go to the studio in person. Wendy tails him on her bike. 

________

In the car, Higuchi talks to Rem. Higuchi is hell-bent on simply killing Matsuda and everyone in the TV station.

[peterpumpkinparker]

Getting Better |2|~ River Lea

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2000

Masterlist

Spotify PLaylist

Constructive Criticism always appreciated!

“Parker,”

his last period’s teacher stated plainly, barely loud enough to be heard over the yell of the rowdy teens.

Peter picked up his tired head, his brown eyes looking up tiredly. The teacher’s stony face was evident with sternness as she looked upon the paper in her hand.

Peter’s stomach erupted with butterflies as he jumped up quickly. Did he do it?

He raced to her desk, signing a paper with tingling hands and looked at the paper, a hint of pale blue on the borders of the crisp white edges. His heart raced and his hands rubbed the soft interior of his sweatshirt as she looked at the paper with a face of steel.

It felt like an hour (when it was only a few seconds), but the stern woman handed Peter his report card.

“Not bad Mr. Parker,” she stated with the smallest hint of a smile, “much better than last semester. Just make sure you keep it up.”

Peter looked at the small sheet, the angry butterflies in his stomach transforming into what felt like soft clouds.

“Um uh- yeah, of course,” Peter replied as he still stared at the paper in disbelief.

He walked back to his seat, thumbing each letter grade in each class. A smile played on his lips- mostly B’s, and a hand full of A’s. Much better than last year- towards the end of that year, when being his alter ego was getting a little out of hand, he was skipping classes and not doing work, which resulted in him almost failing. He had worked tirelessly to start paying attention in class again and getting his grades back up- and to his surprise, he actually did it. Now he just had to do it over and over again throughout the year. But he would manage. Nothing in the world was going to make him repeat what he did last year.

In his transfixed state of self pride over his report card, Peter wasn’t paying attention to the clock, which was unlike him. Peter was the kid who counted down the seconds before the bell rang, his jitters making him tap his foot furiously on the floor or rap his pencil on his desk.

The shrill period bell rang, declaring the school day was over. The kids stampeded out of the room as the teacher yelled out about the test next class, Peter being the strangler. He stuffed his pencils and paper in his semi-new backpack, then carefully folding his report card and placing it in the pocket of his jeans. Peter nodded a goodbye to his teacher, and shuffled his way into the packed hallway.

A new type of joy bubbled in his stomach- this was going to top the already good day off- it was time to be Spiderman.

Peter put in his earbuds quickly and  jogged out of the school, weaving through the very familiar streets and sidewalks until he finally reached his favorite deli, the worn words “Delmar” clearly being seen from the streets. He walked in, a little chime going off as he opened the glass door. The smell of salty food filled the air as a loud Spanish conversation was being heard in the back room. Warm light filtered in from the street.

Peter was just pulling out his earbuds as someone shoved his shoulder, the person clearly in a hurry. Peter grunted from the contact, a “Sorry” already spilling out of his chapped lips as the person walked out the door. The person didn’t turn to reply, their rushing body walking out the door as the same chime sounded yet again. With one white earbud dangling from his hand, he turned to see only a glimpse of the stranger out of the window- a girl, the female’s hair being obscured by a red handkerchief that covered most of her forehead and neck, while black sunglasses obscured her eyes.

Peter looked at the now empty street, his senses making his fingers tingle and his abused shoulder thump with what felt like electricity- an unsettling feeling started traveling throughout his body.

“That was weird”, he thought with a confused look on his face.

He was still looking out the window when a familiar voice called his last name. He tentatively looked away from the window, turning to meet the expectant face of Mr. Delmar.

“Oh hey Mr. Delmar,” Peter replied hesitantly. “How’s it going?”

“Not bad, kid, not bad- been a pretty busy day but I aint complaining.” Mr. Delmar chuckled with an air of ease.

“Thats good….really good,” Peter said distracted, wondering why his Spidey senses reacted so harshly to when who-ever-that-was brushed his shoulder.

“You gonna order?” Mr. Delmar again broke his train of thought.

“Oh- yeah- yeah! Sorry, could I get my usual? With a pack of gummy worms, thanks,” Peter gave a tight smile, looking out the window yet again as Mr. Delmar told, in Spanish, the person next to him what to make for Peter’s order.

A few minutes later, Mr. Delmar laid his sandwich and pack of candy on the counter next to the cash register.

“By any chance- do you know who that was? The one with the-” Peter motioned to his head as he handed him a crumpled 10 dollar bill.

“The girl with the handkerchief? Nope, never saw her before, sorry kid,” he replied as he handed him back a couple ones with some change.

“Oh, its okay, thanks anyway,” Peter said as his stomach fell slightly. Something about his senses was rubbing him the wrong way- but he brushed it off, thinking that his high excited emotions were making them “malfunction” a little. He stuffed his change and food into his backpack, petted Mr. Delmar’s fat ginger cat, and quickly left the shop, his mind completely forgetting the girl and going to usual spot to transform into the friendly neighborhood Spiderman.

___

He loved being Spiderman.

At school, he was the kid who sat quietly in the back, did his work, talked only to his friends. He was ridiculed by Flash for being smart- but as Spiderman, none of that was there. He had no nervousness, no awkwardness- he was free to do what he wanted, when he wanted and help people who needed it.

He got to help all the little Peter Parker’s who didn’t have the luxury of turning into Spiderman deal with all the Flash’s of the world.

Spider Man did have its downsides though. Like instead of the high schoolers at his school ridiculing him for being a nerd, the “city” bullies were shooting gun ammo at him.

Every job had its down sides though- his was just more on the deadly side, but he could care less.

Today was actually kinda slow. Peter didnt have to deal with any wierdos selling alien tech in dark alleyways, no guys trying to shoot him down with their own homemade inventions. It was kinda nice to Peter. Dealing with those guys were sometimes fun because it let him test his power’s limits, but doing it constantly was stressful and draining.

It was now starting to get dark, the last rays of light beaming out on the horizon, as if the sky wasn’t ready to give up its pretty shades of pink, orange, and red at sunset. Peter’s day as Spiderman went very smoothly, to his surprise (because it never really did)- he stopped someone from jacking a car, helped an oldy cross multiple streets (it took forever), help a little girl find her lost puppy, and met a couple of little fans on the way.

After the whole fight with Vulture last year, many families were thanking Spiderman heavily for keeping the streets safe for their children, which was rubbing off on the little ones. A whole Spiderman Revolution had taken over the city, little kids now begging their parents to get them Spiderman t-shirts and costumes, and little kids now looking up at the sky constantly trying to catch a glimpse of the human Spider. He didn’t want to admit it, but he really liked it. It was nice getting some recognition- even if it was coming from citizens who were now just learning how to add.

He loved meeting the little kids- they always made his day with their outlandish questions and shocked, excited faces.

The wind was now whipping in Peter’s face as he did his last patrols around NYC, his webs detaching and reattaching to each building he was flying through on his pearly white webbing. This was his favorite part- just flying through NYC, above the heads of everyone, almost like he was in his own little world. This was when he could think at his best- really think things over and figure stuff out that was bothering him. But, the week had been exhausting, filled with tests and high point assignments he had to do well on, so all he really wanted to do was go home.

He stopped by his spot where he kept his clothes, the sunset finally giving up its bright colors and letting the cool of night take over. He quickly grabbed his backpack, the webbing he used to protect it from muggers now being dissolved into nothing.

He grabbed his backpack and began to walk home.

He entered his apartment, twisting the key against the old doorknob. The faint smell of burnt food wafted in the air, an all too familiar smell to Peter.

“Aunt May?” He asked tentatively as he wrapped his earbuds tightly around his phone screen.

“Peter?” Aunt May shot her head behind the counter of the kitchen sink, her long brown tresses Falling gracefully against her back.

She smiled, and walked over to give him a hug.

“So,” she asked as she released him, “anything at school? Anything new? Interesting?” She pressed him a little, as if softly coaxing a conversation.

Peter tightened his lip, shaking his head nonchalantly.

“Nothing?” She asked again, almost as she was trying to get the truth out of something.

Peter looked up in confusion. There wasn’t anything that big today. It was pretty normal-hanged out with Ned, helped MJ plan a trip for the Quiz Bowl team, took notes all day.

She sighed happily, trying to suppress a smile.

“So,” She busied herself with a pot of spaghetti on the stove, “I got in the mail a copy of your report card.”

“Oh,” Peter said in realization, looking up at his aunt as he waited for her to say more.

“I’m really proud of you Pete.” She smiles at him, placing a kiss on his forehead. “You really are maturing, getting your time management down, planning your future-you can’t lose this Peter. ‘Kay? You gotta keep truckin forward-your too smart to throw it all away.All A’s and B’s!” She spewed out, her pride radiating off her face.

Peter smiled again, a little bit of embarrassment evident in his face.

He shrugged.

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” he smiled nonchalantly as he set his backpack down.

“Well, it is,” May stated, “which is why I tried to make a cake… which clearly,” she laughed, “Didn’t go very well at all.”

Peter chuckled, shaking his head happily. His aunt wasn’t the most amazing cook by any means, but she did try.

“So...I was thinking we could get some Thai? Sound good?”

Just as Aunt May finished, Peter felt his phone buzz in his back pocket.

He fumbled for it.

“Yeah, Yeah sounds great!” He smiled quickly to his Aunt, his heart picking up pace as he dashed to his room to answer the call.

“Hey-uh-Mr. Stark! What’s up?” Peter asked, awkwardly stuffing his free hand into his pocket.

“Nothing kid,” Stark replied nonchalantly, “was wondering what’s going on with you.”

Peter’s face shifted to surprise. Stark never called unless it was important-and most of the time if it was really important, Stark would visit him with warning. And never just to see “what’s going on” in his life.

“Uhm..” Peter mumbled, “just was gonna go out to eat with my Aunt.”

Peter looked out his door, hoping Stark would finish a little quickly so he wouldn’t leave his aunt waiting.

“Great great,” Stark sweeped away Peter’s sentence. “Listen kid-I called you to tell you something- not a mission or anything-just an event.”

Peter’s heart fell a little. He was hoping he would be doing another team up mission with Stark-those were always so awesome.

“in a couple weeks I’m gonna have something special going on, ya know, the whole Stark wedding and all...and I was actually going to invite you to it. If your up for it.”

Stark continued to talk, but Peter was so surprised and elated he started tuning it out. He actually got invited to something important to Stark. He always looked up to him, so this felt like an achievement of some sort.

“I’m-uh-Yeah sure! I’ll be there,” Peter accepted politely, his body turning away from his door.

“Great kid, Pepper’ll be happy,” Stark sighed, “but I’m sorry to break it to you, but a theres catch to this whole wedding thing.” Stark threw in, catching Peter off guard.

“Is it bad?” Peter asked tentatively, hoping it wasn’t crazy.

“Well, depends…,” Stark drawled out.

“You need to get a date.”

“Wait-What?!?” Peter yelped.

Not another date Peter thought. The last time he had to ask someone out, it wasn’t-well-amazing. He had taken his crush to Homecoming, but it turned out that her father was a super villain and tried to kill him. And he had to ditch his date, so that kind of ruined any type of relationship after that.

“Your gonna have to figure it out kid.” Stark instructed, cutting against Peter stuttering.

“Wait-did-why do I-“

“I gotta go kid!” Stark ended, “I’ll have Happy send you an invitation and all that, but remember-Get. A Date.”

“Bye kid,”

Peter heard a click from the other end. He pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at his screen. He breathed out, turning his tired body away from his phone and suppressing the want to roll his eyes.

And with that, Peter’s night got instantly more stressful and a little annoying.

Hope you guys enjoyed! More parts will be up soon, but thank you for reading!

Taggings:

@petersshirts @just4muggles @starksparker @starksmile @bisexualparkers @spiderboytotherescue @hollandroos 

(I seriously cant think of tags right now ACK)

[batwake]

Living Room Song - chapter 3/12

No one new ever moves to Derry, Maine.

The worst day of Eddie Kaspbrak’s life is the day someone does. 

read it on ao3

chapter 1 - chapter 2

The last time Eddie had a crush on someone, he was thirteen and had a broken arm.

Bill Denbrough was just about Eddie’s favorite person in the world, with his soft auburn hair and blue eyes and hands that felt like home. Bill had a way with words, still does, even with the stutter. He could’ve asked Eddie to throw himself in front of a moving train and Eddie figures that he probably would. That’s how Eddie ended up in Neibolt with the other Losers when they were just preteens, barely old enough to think for themselves yet. It really shows, thinking back on it, getting separated and making other stupid decisions. When he’d fallen through the floor and broken his arm, Bill was the first person at his side and the last one to leave it later, a comforting hand and familiar gaze. Even when Mike had taken him back to Sonia in the basket of his bike (had he really been that small?), Bill made sure that he was right there next to him, reassuring him as he pathetically cried.

That was just the beginning, too. Bill’s name was the first one on the cast, Bill xoxoxo written in his curly handwriting, a card a few weeks later signed the same way. He carried Eddie’s school stuff and didn’t care that it made him late to class most of the time, and walked him home after school, because Eddie couldn’t ride his bike with his cast like the others.

In Eddie’s undeveloped mind, it was practically true love. A gentleman with a sense of humor and a cute stutter? Every handsome man in Sonia’s cheesy rom-coms that Eddie had drooled over while growing up was replaced with Bill in Eddie’s dreams.

Eddie moved on, eventually. When they got out of middle school and everyone started thinking about girls and dating and other things that Eddie couldn’t keep up with. Bill and Mike and Ben drooled over Beverly when she finally joined them, albeit, they kept their composure around her better than all of the other boys at school. This was bonding time for Eddie and Stanley, both of whom did not seem so interested in the idea of high school romance. Stan liked birds and that’s about it; Eddie liked a lot of things. He just kept quiet about it.

Realizing he has a crush on Richie Tozier feels a little different than it did with Bill.

Having a crush on Bill was like turning on a faucet slowly, watching the drips become a trickle and the trickle become a steady stream. Richie makes Eddie feel like a broken tap, the kind where you twist it and the intense spurt of water comes out all at once, soaking everything in a two foot radius. It happened all at once, like jumping from the cliff at the quarry, Richie’s hand clasped tightly in his. One second Eddie is standing safely on the ground, and the next he is submerged underwater, feeling overwhelmed and like he is drowning in his feelings.

There’s a lot not to like about Richie. His stupid clothes, sweatshirts that aren’t his and hawaiian shirts that hang loosely on his skinny frame and other oddities that are too many to name, his shitty sense of humor that mostly consists of your mom jokes and obscure knowledge that only he gets, and his insistence on calling Eddie by nicknames that do nothing but annoy him.

Eds, Eddie-Spaghetti, Spaghetti-Man-

Countless others.

“Eddie is already a nickname, dumbass,” he had said once they had retreated to the rocky shore of the quarry, basking in the sun and pretending they weren’t looking at each other. “I don’t need another one.”

“No one needs a nickname, that’s the whole idea, Edward.” Richie had reached over and pinched Eddie’s cheek playfully, leaving pink in its wake. “Do you think that Vlad Tepes wanted to be called The Impaler?”

Eddie still doesn’t know who that is.

Richie makes Eddie want to scream into his pillow.

On his birthday, when Richie had dropped him off as the sun was setting, Eddie had marched right up to his room and had done so. Screamed until his throat was raw and he couldn’t speak anymore; his mother had made him stay home from school the next few days, sure that he had strep throat. Eddie would rather be sick than have a crush on Richie fucking Tozier.

When he returned to school two days later, The Losers made fun of him perilously, and even with all of his best efforts to avoid Richie, the other boy had still laughed and told Eddie every blowjob joke he had in his repertoire. Eddie had wanted to yell some more, but settled with hitting Richie in the arm, then on the side of his head.

Eddie stares at the back of Richie’s head, not listening to Mrs. Wakeman drone on about the medulla oblongata. From what Eddie can see, Rich isn’t paying much attention either, making funny faces at Betty Ripsom, who is in the desk next to him.

“Mr. Tozier, can you please answer the question?”

Both Eddie and Richie startle; Eddie coming out of his daze and Richie turning to look at Mrs. Wakeman, who is at the chalkboard expectantly.

“Lowest part of the brainstem,” Richie answers, grinning wide and confidently, sticking up his chin like Eddie has seen his siblings do on multiple occasions. A few other students in the class snicker, clearly not having expected Richie to answer correctly. Eddie feels strangely proud.

Mrs. Wakeman does not seem so entertained, handing Richie a yellow slip of paper. “That’s correct, Richie. Unfortunately, you’ll still be seeing me in detention.” With that, she returns to writing on the board.

Eddie is forced to quietly watch as Richie takes the detention slip and shove it in his backpack unceremoniously. He knows this isn’t even Richie’s first detention this week, but he still feels a little bad for him.

The bell rings a few minutes later, Richie is up and gone before Eddie can even put his notebook away.

~

It takes some sweet talking, but Eddie is able to convince his mother that he can ride his bike without driving it into the nearest highway. Sonia likes Bill, though, so as long as he is there, she figures that Eddie will be okay.

“What’d you t-tell her?” asks Bill, raising a hand to wave at Mrs. Kaspbrak, who is watching the two teenagers from the living room window. Bill returns his attention to the tires of Eddie’s bike that he is currently pumping air into. “I-I mean. What changed?”

Not much, Eddie thinks. They’re still popping antidepressants instead of breaking the eerie quiet in the house, Eddie refusing to talk about what happened, and trying to pretend that things aren’t different, Sonia making dinners that he used to like or saving the comics in the paper. So, Eddie says, “she thinks I’m getting better,” instead of, “she hopes I’m getting better.”

Bill stands up and wipes his hands on the front of his jeans. “Sh-she should be a-all good now. Good as n-n-new.”

The bike had gone unused all summer. Eddie had enlisted Bill’s help to fix the unused gears and fill the tires with air. Bill just came with the extra bonus of helping Eddie get away from his mom. “Thank, Bill. We meeting the others at the barrens?”

The pair walk their bikes down the driveway, Silver looking sleek and clean next to Eddie’s dusty old bike.

“Yeah. Ben wants to make sure the d-dam is sturdy enough b-b-before it gets t-too cold to go down there.”

Once down the street from Eddie’s house, the boys get on their bikes and start heading towards the barrens. It’s not a long ride, typically, but Bill seems intent on going slow. Eddie doesn’t mind that much- he’s still getting used to being back on his own bike. Still, he has known Bill long enough to know that something is on his mind. He opens his mouth every couple minutes, then closes it, as if second guessing what he is about to say.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, finally, tired of glancing over at his friend to find him looking back with that stupid look on his face. “Is it about my m-“

“No, no,” Bill reassures, looking away from Eddie and straight ahead at the road they are crossing. “I’ve just… been th-thinking.”

“That’s new.”

Gravel under his bike crunches as Bill stops, Eddie soon after. Bill doesn’t usually act this way, especially around Eddie or the other Losers. “What’s-“ Eddie starts.

Bill cuts him off. “I’m going to break up with Beverly.”

That's not what Eddie was anticipating. He was half expecting an intervention. “O-oh,” he stammers, “okay.”

A shaking hand cards through Bill’s auburn hair. “I l-l-like someone else.”

Eddie doesn’t see where he fits in this equation. He stays silent, his hands still tight on the handlebars. Bill likes someone? Who isn’t Bev? They don’t even really know any other girls, except-

“Uh. Thanks for telling me?” Eddie says, cutting off the annoying voice in his head. His voice sounds weak, despite his best efforts to force out something confident and true. “When are you going to…”

This seems like the wrong thing to ask. Bill sighs, shifting his hands on Silver so he is leaning on the bars. “I don’t f-fucking know, thats the p-p-problem. I l-love her, but n-n-n…”

“-not like that,” Eddie finishes when Bill can’t. “Right.”

Bill laughs but there isn’t really any emotion behind it. “Right,” he agrees.

They kick into emotion again, the air surrounding Bill less tense, although they are both lost in their own thoughts.

Who could Bill, his best friend, possibly like? Beverly seemed like his soulmate, the end-all be-all.

Eddie searched through his memory, trying to recall girls that Bill had mentioned. Betty Ripsom and Greta Keene both come to mind, both sharing multiple classes with Bill. And Margo Tozier, who is like Beverly in many ways and too much like Richie in others. Margo and Bill have chemistry together.

Wrinkling his nose, Eddie pedals faster so that he will pass Bill and get to the barrens as soon as possible, his head reeling with thoughts of girls and crushes and the Toziers.

They reach the barrens, where the other Losers wait for them. Bill and Bev greet each other with smiles and kisses, and walk away from the boys towards the dam with their hands held. Stan looks at them with just as much unease as Eddie does.

Ben, Stan, Mike, and Eddie follow their fearless leaders, anyway.

~

If Eddie thought that Richie was a mystery, his brother was a complete enigma.

Mike was quiet, didn’t say much unless it was a sarcastic response to something Mr. Mauro or another student had said, but sometimes gave Eddie these looks, like he was in on a joke that Eddie wasn’t. Mike always looked kind of pissed off, his expression only softening while talking about his siblings, which he did not bring up often. Eddie was usually the instigator of said topics, wanting to know more about the odd trio. Margo was always happy to talk, but never seemed so interested in her brothers. Richie doesn’t talk to Eddie in class.

“What’s it like, being a triplet?” Eddie asks one day, avoiding Mike’s gaze and sketching a graph into his notebook. He mentally checked to make sure the sine curve crossed through the origin, Richie’s scolding tone coming to mind. “I can’t even imagine what having siblings is like, much less being a triplet.”

Shrugging, Mike types something into his calculator, then writes something in his own notebook. “I dunno, I’ve never known anything different.” There is a brief moment of silence while Eddie waits for Mike to continue. “I couldn’t imagine a life without them.”

“What are they like?”

“Richie and Margo?

“Yeah.”

Mike plays with his hair for a second, staring straight ahead at the chalkboard at the front of the room, thinking. Eddie focuses on his graphs while he lets Mike think, then startles when nearly five minutes later, he does.

“We share everything. Clothes, food, the womb, you name it. It’s like we can read each others’ minds, even. We eat our food the same way and have the same taste in music, and you can’t find one of us without the other two.”

Eddie looks at Mike, abandoning his wretched calculus work, and taking him in. Anyone with two eyes would be able to tell that Richie, Mike, and Margo are triplets, all of them with the same hooked nose, black hair, and freckled cheeks. Eddie had noticed, whenever Richie takes off his glasses for a moment or during one of the rare moments where Mike is smiling, they look almost indistinguishable. Richie’s face is just the slightest bit thinner, his hair just a little bit more curly, and his legs and arms longer and pointier. Richie talks loudly and smiles a lot, whereas Mike is quick to annoyance and wears a permanent frown. Eddie imagines that Margo is the perfect mix of the two, talkative and feisty and friendly.

“We’ve grown apart, since we moved. It’s mostly Richie.” Mike’s voice is so quiet that Eddie has to lean in to hear him. “He doesn’t tell us very much anymore.”

This surprises Eddie. The few times he has been around the three of them together, Richie seems perfectly normal. Perhaps Eddie doesn’t really know what normal means, when it comes to the other boy.

“Why not?”

Something crosses Mike’s face before it is blank again. “You don’t need to hear about our family problems,” he says, sounding like his sister, “It’s pretty stupid anyway.”

Eddie forces a smile onto his face. “I doubt it.”

He does; The Tozier’s become more and more elusive with everything that Eddie learns about them, which isn’t very much. The three of them all seem so alike yet still so different, everything about them pulling Eddie in for more. He thinks of Richie’s smiling face, and jumping into the water, and listening to music in the car, watching the sunset. They had felt so close, that night, even if they hadn’t really advanced their relationship any more. Eddie knew Richie’s favorite songs. Richie knew Eddie’s birthday.

It was something.

“I can see why he likes you,” Mike says, breaking the silence.

Eddie whips his head to look at Mike. “What?”

A rare smile sits on Mike’s lips. “Richie. You intrigue him, I think.”

“Intrigue,” Eddie mocks and rolls his eyes, hiding the excitement that is bubbling up in his stomach and chest, “how nice of him.”

Mike holds his hands up. “It’s not like he tells me shit. But he talks about you.” Mike, as if sensing that Eddie is hanging on to every word, adds, “maybe I’m reading him wrong. I’ve only known him my whole life.”

Students around them start putting their textbooks and papers away into backpacks or folders, waiting for the bell to ring. Eddie and Mike join them, quiet once more.

Richie likes him. Richie thinks he is intriguing.

The bell rings, so Mike stands and says bye, Eddie, flooding out with their classmates. Eddie stays in his desk, trying to supress the grin that is spreading across his face. He laughs a little to himself, not bursting into fits or anything that would label him as crazy once more, but enough that makes him cover his mouth and squeeze his eyes shut. He lets himself have this moment, thinking about the cute boy who is interested in him, too. Eddie could scream.

He is eventually kicked out of his seat by the guy who sits there in second period, but the smile does not leave his face until he is in Mrs. Quing’s room, long after Margo has asked him what he’s so happy about.

————————

There is a picture of the triplets that sits on the counter in the kitchen of the Tozier household. They’re in the bathtub, bubbles surrounding them and their faces. The back of the picture reads Michael, Margret, and Richard, 4years old and was taken by their father as Maggie desperately tried to keep the three of them still. You can even see her hand- set atop Richie’s head in the way that only mothers hold their children, restricting him yet still allowing him to shove bubbles in his sisters’ face.

The photo itself is quite silly, with Richie wearing Wentworth’s glasses on his tiny face, even in the bath, Margo’s face full of bubbles and a wide, open mouthed smile that Richie put there, and Mike shown mid-scream, tears running down his face.

Margo swears she can remember the picture being taken, and how afterward she recalls Mike elbowing Richie in the face and knocking out one of his teeth and sending it down the drain.

They weren’t allowed to bathe all together after that incident.

Photos like that one remind Richie of a time when they were their own best friends, no one else understanding them quite like their siblings did. But then Mike and Margo got competitive around middle school and Richie never got the memo.

Moving to Derry was a fresh start for them. Richie couldn’t pretend he didn’t have siblings and Mike couldn’t avoid them and Margo couldn’t hide from her brothers. The apartment is too small to hide away in different rooms and ignore each other. Even Wentworth is claustrophobic, his paperwork spread throughout the apartment instead of just the tiny space he used to use in the kitchen when they first moved in. They’re making do with the things they have, the four of them, so Richie can’t find it in himself to complain too much. Who cares if they never have hot water because Margo uses it all? Who cares that he can’t sleep because Mike snores? Who cares, who cares, who cares.

(Not Richie)

Distractions are nice.

One evening, Richie goes out onto the fire escape and finds Beverly Marsh in his usual spot, a half smoked cigarette between her pointer and middle finger. Richie has gym with Beverly, and knows that Eddie is friends with her, but has never spoken to her. He is about to turn around and book it back to his apartment, deciding that he can open a window in their bathroom and smoke in there, when Beverly looks over at him.

“Hi,” she says, her tone almost mocking. “You’re Richie, right?”

Richie’s box of cigarettes feels heavy where it rests on the inside of his palm. Beverly’s presence feels a lot like Margo’s; she sits up straight and holds herself with authority, although the green overalls and lopsided smile and cigarette speak an entirely different story. Beverly’s eyebrows shoot up and disappear almost entirely underneath her mop of orange curls, then her mouth closes. “You’re quiet. Do I have the wrong brother?”

There is a moment where Richie processes what has just been said to him, then, “Oh! No, you were right. I’m Richie. We have-”

“Gym. Yep.”

More silence. Richie gestures to the door he had come through. “I’ll just-”

“Don’t think you’re getting away that easily. Come sit.” Beverly pats the stairs next to her. “Besides, it looks like you have a fresh pack of cigarettes just waiting to be shared with me.”

Richie sits, glancing down at the rows of steps below them, leading down to the empty lot behind the apartment building. There isn’t anyone else outside at that moment, but Richie can hear cars driving through Derry every once in a while, and people yelling from the neighborhood that is just barely visible from their spot on the fire escape. He can even hear music, playing from a window that Richie is fairly certain is his bedroom.

“You’re quiet,” Beverly says, bringing her cigarette to her lipstick stained lips. “I swear every time I see you no one can get you to shut up.”

Getting out his own cigarette, Richie laughs lightly. “You’ve caught me at an off moment, Miss Marsh.”

Beverly holds up her lighter once Richie sticks his cigarette in his mouth, leaning in close and lighting it for him. She smells like smoke, of course, but also like honey and strong perfume. Richie likes it.

Once it is lit, Beverly pulls back, propping her arms up on the stair a step above where they sit. She hums, then says, “tell me your woes, Mister Tozier.”

Richie laughs, leaning back like her and crossing one leg over the other languidly. He sees no reason to lie to his new friend. “I like someone.” Smoke rises between them with the silence, Beverly waiting for him to continue. “Normally I would tell Mike or Margo but… We’ve grown apart, I think.”

She nods, like she gets it, brushing curly red hair behind her ear and gesturing vaguely with the hand holding her almost burned out cigarette. “I’m an only child, so I can’t relate, but I do know that if I were your siblings, I’d want to know what’s going on in your life.”

That isn’t the first time Richie has heard something along those lines, all three of them received plenty of therapy over the last couple months, but it sounds better coming out of Beverly Marsh’s smoke filled mouth. The sun is setting, casting the two of them in a soft yellow glow, Beverly looking almost ethereal.

“Are you my guardian angel?” Richie teases, taking a heavy drag and looking at Beverly with what he can only imagine is love in his eyes. She snickers into her own cigarette, rolling her eyes and nudging Richie’s leg with her sneaker covered toe. Beverly opens her mouth to say something, but the window Richie came out of slides open, a black haired head sticking out.

Margo peers down at them, her long hair cascading out of the window a little. Her green eyes move between Richie and Beverly a few times, before settling on her brother. Beverly is taking her in as well, her cheeks bright pink.

There are a few beats of awkward silence before Margo finds the words. “Dad brought home dinner.” Margo states matter-of-factly, looking once more at Beverly before retreating once more, leaving the window open behind her.

Sighing, Richie stubs the cigarette out on the metal of the stairs. “See you in gym, Beverly Marsh.”

Beverly lifts a hand in goodbye, sending him a half-smile. “You owe me a cig, Tozier.”

Crawling back into the window is a feat with his gangly legs, but he manages, grinning to himself as he returns to the apartment, Eddie Kaspbrak on his mind.

~

Smoking with Beverly becomes a regular thing, skipping gym to smoke outside. Beverly gives great advice, and Richie likes to hear her talk about her friends. Whenever they skip they leave Ben behind in the gym, so they make an effort to stay once in a while to keep him company. Richie likes Ben, finds him funny and smart and kind of adorable. He could probably beat up Richie while holding Beverly on his shoulders, and Rich would thank him.

It is a cold thursday in October, Richie and Beverly leaning against the brick wall with their knees pulled up to their chests and passing a cigarette between them, when Beverly drops the news.

“You know my boyfriend, Bill, right?”

Richie thinks. He does not have any classes with him, but is distantly aware of seeing a tall auburn haired boy who is often with Eddie and company. He used to drive Bev to school, if he remembers correctly, but Richie started doing it once it became more convenient. Bill.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I’m gonna break up with him.”

Richie’s eyebrows shoot up, disappearing behind his fluffy hair. He leans away from Bev, staring at her. “What? Why?”

Beverly pulls at some of the yellowing grass that pokes through the cracks in the concrete. “I like someone else. We’re best friends, nothing will change that, but…”

“Feelings changed,” Richie finishes, frowning.

Sighing, Beverly stubbs the cigarette out on the concrete. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Just as Richie opens his mouth to say something else, something vaguely comforting, the school bell rings. Richie scrambles to get up, pulling Beverly along with him. Beverly is off to history, Richie to psychology. With Eddie.

Ben opens the door to let them back into school, just like he does most days they’re outside. “Thanks, Handsome,” Rich says to him, patting one of his arms. Beverly follows, the three of them heading in the same direction to their next classes. Bev begs Ben to tell her some of the questions on the history test that Ben has already taken, but he keeps his mouth shut tight. Richie wonders aloud how Ben does it.

Richie watches the way Ben and Beverly interact with each other the entire way to class, occasionally jumping in for a joke or a laugh in the conversation so he doesn’t seem out of it. Beverly is a head shorter than Ben, even more so than Richie, looking up at Ben with glittering eyes. One of her hands is always on his arm while they walk.

He hasn’t known them for very long. Maybe he’s reading into things.

“Hey Eddie!” Beverly cheers, waving as the boy in question comes from the opposite direction of the hall. Eddie waves half-heartedly, eyeing Richie beside her, who grins and hurries to walk into class beside him.

“What’s up, Eds?” Richie tosses an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, forcefully pulling Eddie into his side as they enter Mrs. Wakeman’s.

Eddie gags and pulls himself away. His face in scrunched up adorabley, nose crinkling and eyes glaring.“You smell awful. Smoking is terrible for you.”

Richie sniffs at the collar of his t-shirt, then shrugs. “Beverly Marsh is a terrible influence.”

Eddie looks like he might laugh, for a moment, then rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, Trashmouth.” Eddie leaves then, moving to his own seat towards the back.

Dumbfounded, Richie sits down in his own seat, wondering if his own face gives away his feelings.

~

It is a rare day where Richie is not stuck in detention, forced to sit in his car for an extra hour after school as he waits for Mike and Margo. The parking lot is empty, cleared out immediately after school got out almost fifteen minutes ago. Richie smokes, his feet propped up next to the steering wheel and his hand fiddling with the radio, too lazy to reach for one of his cassettes.

Bret Michaels’ voice sings thorn for just a second as Richie passes the station, but quickly flips back. He grins, leaning back in his seat and taking a long drag of his cigarette, playing air guitar along with the solo, tapping his shoes against the dashboard to the beat. He sings around the cig in his mouth, belting, “I listen to our favorite song, playing on the radio, hear the dj say loves a game, of easy come and easy go” and waving his arms dramatically. He sings along to the chorus just as loud, every rose has its thorn coming out with the smoke Richie inhales before continuing to sing. “Yeah it does!” he says to himself along with the song, rapping his hands against his thighs.

The sound of a door opening and closing from the school makes Richie sit up, wondering if Mike got out early.

Even better, Eddie Kaspbrak is walking out of the school, his shorts adorable and backpack full of books. Richie lights up, tossing his cigarette out his open window and putting the car in drive, pulling out of his spot and driving up to the sidewalk next to Eddie.

Richie can’t hear him over the music, but when Eddie sees his car pulling up he stops and mouths something that looks suspiciously like jesus fucking christ. Richie leans over the seat and rolls down the passenger window, wiggling his eyebrows at his new companion. “Heya, Spaghetti-man. Your chariot awaits!”

Eddie eyes the car, his eyes flicking to the radio that is no longer playing Poison, but instead Diana Ross. Richie wonders if he is thinking about the last time Eddie was in the car with him.

Seemingly making up his mind, Eddie stands up straight. “I can walk home, thanks.”

Richie rolls his eyes and finally reaches forward to turn down the radio, not in the mood for a ballad. “Oh come on, Endless Love doesn’t put you in the mood to jump in here and ravish me?”

“Beep beep.”

“It’s getting too cold for you to walk home in those shorts, don’t you think?”

Eddie’s hands move to his shorts, which just cover the very top of his thighs. He tugs them down self-consciously, covering the thin white lines against his tan skin. He huffs and opens the door, like he is getting in just to shut Richie up.

Richie cheers, pulling out of the Derry High parking lot.

“Where are-”

“Mike is at AV Club and Margo is running.”

“Oh. You wait for them every day?”

“Usually I have detention so we’re all busy. I was a perfect student today, though.”

This makes Eddie laugh, for some reason. Richie laughs too, tapping absently on the steering wheel. Uncomfortable with silence, Richie launches into some story about something that happened back in Hawkins. Eddie is a good listener, Richie thinks, commenting and laughing at all the right times. Richie even pretends to miss Eddie’s street, just so he can finish the story and keep Eddie in his presence for just a minute more.

When he pulls up to the curb, Eddie stares up at his house, then looks straight forward, unmoving.

Richie just waits, humming along to what is playing on the radio now. Eddie breathes in deep once, twice, then opens the door and swings is bag over his shoulder. “Thanks, Rich. See you at school.”

Richie doesn’t get to say bye before Eddie is shutting the door.

[gruumpy-cat]

The Art of Being Nonchalant (Or Not) / Chapter One

It was the night of my seventeenth birthday party. I was trying to fall asleep in the Potters' guest room, which is conveniently nicknamed Quinn's room since I was the one who mostly spent the nights there as opposed to any other guest, but I was too buzzed from drinking and dancing and thinking, so sleep eluded me.

One of the drawbacks of drinking, I guess. Though I don't remember ever hearing other people complain about sleepless nights after a night out. I'll have to ask around.

Deciding that sleep is just not in the cards tonight, I rolled out of bed, threw on my shorts and a loose T-shirt since I didn't want to walk around in my underwear, and gently opened the door of the bedroom.

Looking out into the hallway I could see that everyone's rooms were closed and I guessed they were probably asleep like normal people. Ignoring the obvious problem with going into another person's room at night uninvited, I tiptoed into the hallway and did my best stealthy Faceless Man impression until I got to the door of the room next to mine. I was honestly surprised I managed to do this without making a sound due to my buzzed state, but I guess luck was on my side tonight.

Carefully opening the door, I snuck in and was engulfed in almost complete darkness, the moon the only thing illuminating the room since the Potters' home was pretty isolated from the rest of Godric's Hollow.

"James?" I whispered. "You awake?"

I could hear faint grumbling from the direction of his bed. I stepped around the clothes on the floor, probably unceremoniously dumped before he crashed, and came over to where I could see him sprawled across the bed in a position any sane person would classify as impossible.

But James Sirius Potter always did do things the impossible way.

I sat down on the bed and poked him. My poke was awarded nothing more than an almost imperceptible grumble. It was time for drastic measures. I scooted over next to him and sat on his torso. That woke him up.

"Merlin's beard, Quinn, why are you bothering me in the middle of the night?" James looked at me through half closed eyes as he said this. He obviously forgot that we do something like this every year. Or he was still a bit drunk, which was probably closer to the truth. I was in no position to judge him. But I could blame grandad and Ethan for buying the booze for the party.

"Bothering you?" I looked at him as his eyes cleared and he realised that it was well after midnight and what that meant. He quickly sat up and engulfed me in a tight hug. I could smell the familiar minty smell of his shampoo on his still damp hair and the Firewhisky on his breath even though he brushed his teeth. The smell of alcohol is not something cured by toothpaste.

He drew back and smiled at me. We were so close that I could see the specks in his hazel eyes even in the low light. I returned his smile.

"Happy birthday, Quinn," he said in a low voice as he turned towards his end table and took out what I presumed to be my real birthday present. We usually got something jokey for each other to give out with the rest of our friends and family, but the real presents came after.

James gave me a fairly thin, neatly wrapped present and excitedly looked at me while I tore at the black wrapping paper.

The wrapping paper revealed a cardboard box. You could count on James to wrap his presents the right way, no messy cuts or badly taped Spellotape and definitely no presents outside of a box if they didn't come in their own. I, on the other hand, was a lost cause.

As I opened the box, a cloud obscured the moon and suddenly, we were in complete darkness. I could feel the familiar shape of a vinyl record sleeve but on top of it was something else I couldn't recognise by touch.

The cloud passed and moonlight streamed in, allowing me to actually see the presents. As soon as I saw the vinyl I nearly squealed but managed to stop myself before I woke anyone up.

"You found it! I can't believe you managed to get me the first LP Sons of Tyr ever recorded," I exclaimed, "they're incredibly rare."

James just grinned at me "It helps when your dad knows Mundungus Fletcher."

I looked at him with a horrified expression, "Tell me this didn't fall off the back of a broom!"

"Nah, he just conveniently knows a lot of people selling a lot of rare stuff, including records. He managed to get me a discount on account of you being easy on the eyes," he laughed at what I was sure was a disgusted look on my face.

Taking the other present in my hand and seeing it for what it was - a black picture frame decorated with little silver Beater's bats and Bludgers and the two of us, aged eleven, flying together in my parents' backyard during Christmas holidays. I could remember grandad taking the photograph right before my brother Ethan threw a snowball at his head. I was pretty sure this was the first photograph of the two of us together. James probably had to collude with my grandfather for this present.

"Do you like it?" James asked after I didn't say anything for a while, just looking at the moving photograph. I looked up at him and grinned.

"It's perfect, James. Thank you!"

He smirked, wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and said, "You know, I did like the other presents you got earlier."

I got up and put the vinyl and the photograph on his desk before lying down next to him.

"Oh really? Which one did you like the most?" I asked, turning on my side so I could look at him while we talked.

"My favourite was the one Ash got you," he blushed while he said this which was unusual since James almost never blushed unless his mum said something really embarrassing, like how he used to have a toy rabbit he slept with at home until he was twelve. He named the rabbit Fluffy and his dad found that hilarious for some reason.

"You mean the red slutty dress I would probably wear once a year?" I mused. My usual choice of attire was black jeans and a black T-shirt. I like the colour black. I would make a great woman of the Night's Watch if they accepted women and I lived in the A Song of Ice and Fire universe. Ashley Thompson, one of my dorm mates at Hogwarts, liked to give me presents that I would probably never buy for myself. I'm pretty sure all the dresses I own came from her one way or another.

He nodded, "Yeah, that's the one."

I lightly punched him, "You're just teasing me."

"Maybe. But I bet Al loved it. I think his jaw actually dropped," he said this in a lower voice.

At the mention of Al's name, I remembered what I was thinking about that possibly had a hand in making this night sleepless. I turned again so I was on my back staring at James' ceiling which was charmed to show the night sky.

"I broke up with Al tonight," I said with a sigh. Albus was my boyfriend for a total of two months which was certainly a record for me.

James snickered at that and asked, "Did you break my little brother's heart? I did tell him you probably will."

I thought about his question and felt the tiniest stab of guilt. Maybe I let it go on for too long before I broke it off.

"Of course I didn't! Al knows me and he was fine with, you know...me...," I trailed off.

"Merlin, did he break yours? I'll kill him if he did!" James' face was one of bewilderment and confusion as he looked at me with wide eyes.

"You know he couldn't," I replied with an eye roll. I was surprised he'd even think that.

"Why not?" He propped himself up on his elbows so he was looking down at me as he asked the question.

"Because I don't have a heart, James," I stuck out my tongue at him.

"Nice comeback, Quinn. So...why did you leave him? When did this even happen because I don't remember you missing any part of your party?"

I made a face. "What's with the third degree? It's not like you don't already know."

He plopped down on the bed again. I could see he was having a hard time between being my friend and being worried about his brother, however hard he tried to hide it. Al might be cool as the Giant Squid but James loved his siblings and he didn't like it when something was wrong with them.

I squeezed his hand in the hopes it would make him feel better. He squeezed back.

"We snuck out for a little while when you were doing your Gandalf impression," I said and winked at him, "but, unfortunately for Al, he and I had quite different things in mind when we snuck out."

"It wouldn't have been fair to stay with him. It was fun but he decided he wanted to talk about us and his feelings for me so I cut him off. This thing with him was just ... me passing time. Feelings didn't really have anything to do with it and you know it."

As I said this, James turned on his side, gave me an intense look and hugged me to him. We lay like that for a while in silence. I could hear the steady rhythm of his heart beating and it was soothing. The tiny pangs of guilt I felt about Al disappeared.

After what seemed like an eternity I could hear him as he whispered in my hair, "I know everything about you."

"Yeah. You do."

I woke up in James' bed the next day. The sunlight was streaming in through the window and I had to blink a few times to get adjusted to the light. James was still asleep with his arm around me. Waking up in his bed was not unfamiliar but remembering that just the night before I broke up with his brother made me realise it wouldn't look good if one of his family members happened upon us right now no matter how many times we had sleepovers before.

So I did what any sensible girl would do. I forcefully woke up James by alternatively poking him, whisper-yelling at him and tickling him until something of the three yielded results.

He had a grin on his face when he woke up.

"Happy birthday, Quinn."

"Yeah, yeah, you said that already. Now get up and Apparate me home!" I'll have to take the Apparition test soon now that I turned seventeen. James passed his a few weeks ago.

"Bloody woman, why are you so bossy?"

I frowned at him.

"I like things being done a certain way. Stop talking and turning around in a confused state so we can get going. I'd prefer it if you could bring me to my room but I guess the vicinity of my house would be good enough," I got up as I said this with a small smile and took both the vinyl and the photograph.

He made a pouty face and put a hand over his heart, "Are you suggesting I wouldn't be able to Apparate accurately? You deserve to be splinched!"

"You wouldn't splinch me! You like me too much," I smirked at him.

"Naah, I think I should after that insult. Maybe just a small splinch to teach you a lesson...how about your pinkie? Or your ear? Hm...," he touched my ear like he was seriously considering this and then he started tickling me. I was seriously ticklish and I just prayed to Merlin he'd stop soon or I'd start shrieking and probably cause the whole house to wake up.

Finally, he stopped but he had me pinned on the floor. He looked at me intensely like he was trying to figure out a particularly hard Arithmancy assignment but he soon changed his expression to a teasing one.

"Say I'm the best at Apparition!"

I rolled my eyes and sighed. He knew I was defeated.

"You're the best at Apparition, James. Can we get on with it now?"

As I said that everything went black and I felt the pressure all around me. Soon it was over and we were on my bed in the same position as before, with me pinned down under James.

I wiggled under him, "Get off, you hippogriff, I'm trying to breathe here!"

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," he smirked, again.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. But seriously, I need to -," I was cut off by a huge ball of grey fluff jumping on top of James causing him to literally stop my breathing with his body as he collapsed on top of me from shock.

"Argh," was the only sound I could make.

James rolled off me and fell on the floor with the ball of grey fluff, namely, my cat Ziggy, staring at him viciously and hissing. I guess Ethan and grandad forgot to feed him. And by feed him I mean refill his bowl when it was half full (Ziggy would probably call it half empty because he's a pessimist like that).

Looking at Ziggy with a slightly horrified expression, James turned to me and said, "Quinn, I said this already and I'll say it again, but your cat is psychotic!"

I tentatively extended my hand towards Ziggy so I could try and pet him but he jumped off my bed in a huff and threw me a scornful look as he stood next to his half-full bowl.

Such theatrics.

"He's not psychotic, he just doesn't like anyone. Or anything. Well, he sometimes likes me but I'm sure that's just because he sees me as a constant food source. And he liked you that one time when he allowed you to pet him!" I felt the need to defend Ziggy even though he was a little bit, well, evil. Sometimes. I adopted him from a Muggle shelter nearby three years ago when he was just a tiny kitten. Even as a kitten he wasn't particularly friendly and his first adopted family brought him back to the shelter because of it.

James got up and gave him a few cat treats I had on my desk. Ziggy purred at that. I could swear he smiled. But cats don't smile. They do love bribes, apparently, because Ziggy allowed James to pet him for a second before prancing over to my window and jumping on the sill to look at the birds flying around a nearby oak tree.

"You're coming over later, right?" I asked, "Everyone is going to be there for lunch, even mum and dad, but they're leaving tonight because they both have practice tomorrow morning. We could do a movie marathon."

James sat down next to me on the bed and bumped my shoulder, "Of course I'm coming over. What kind of a birthday evening would it be without me?"

I smiled gratefully at him and hugged him, "Great!"

He stood up and said, "See you soon, Quinn," before Disapparating with a quiet pop.

Looking around my room, I realised I seriously needed to tidy up because the only remotely neat things in here were my Quidditch kit and my record collection. My school trunk was still sitting relatively unpacked even though I was going back to Hogwarts in two weeks and my clothes were in two different piles, the clean one near my closet and the dirty one on the floor next to my bed. I wasn't usually this messy, and grandad surely wouldn't tolerate it under normal circumstances, but I've been spending almost all my time at the Potters' house during the last few days so he turned a blind eye. He had a soft spot for me. Feeling lucky I could finally use magic outside of school I decided to try my hand at some of those household spells I've seen grandad using after I've had breakfast.

After changing into something I dug out of the clean clothes pile and filling Ziggy's bowl, I tied my dark hair into a messy bun and went downstairs. I could hear my grandad in the kitchen, hopefully making breakfast, and talking with somebody.

"Good morning," I said as I entered the kitchen. Immediately I could see my dad's face in the kitchen fireplace. Grandad turned around and they both exclaimed, in weirdly similar voices, "Quinn, love!"

Grandad came over and engulfed me in one of his bear hugs, "Happy birthday, my favourite granddaughter!"

"I'm your only granddaughter!"

I could hear dad alternating between yelling birthday wishes and singing the birthday song in a horribly off-tune voice. He could be really silly sometimes. Or all the time. He liked to say he got hit one too many times in the head with a Bludger but that wasn't even close to the truth.

"Dad, please stop, I just woke up," I said with a yawn.

He just snickered, "Don't lie, dad told me James just brought you home so you've been awake for at least half an hour."

I threw my grandad a look and muttered, "How in the seven hells did you even hear us, James' Apparating is freakishly quiet?"

Grinning, he just said, "Magic." He turned around and continued frying the omelette he was making when I interrupted.

"Quinn, I've got to go because practice starts soon and the Captain can't be late. I love you and I'll see you at lunch," dad said with a sad expression, which in turn made my grin disappear. I was hoping to at least exchange more than two sentences with him. I couldn't blame him really. Being a Captain of the Ballycastle Bats and also a Chaser on the English National Quidditch Team meant he had very little time for family. But he was living the life I hoped I would someday so I was quick to forgive and forget.

"Love you, dad," I said as I gave him my best smile and waved at him. His head disappeared from the fireplace. My grandad was muttering something to himself, but since I didn't have his unnatural hearing, I couldn't decipher what he was saying. He looked a bit angry.

I sat on the barstool at our kitchen island while I waited for him to finish breakfast.

"Did mum Floo while I was in my room?"

He turned around and put a plate full of food in front of me, "No, but you know she's as busy as Dylan is."

I rolled my eyes at that, "Oh yeah, she's so fucking busy she can't even Floo to wish me a happy birthday."

Grandad frowned and said, "That's the life of a professional Quidditch player. Your parents love you and they try their best...," he trailed off, "But I have no bloody idea what would've become of you and Ethan if I wasn't here."

"Right. We would've probably dropped dead."

"I was thinking more in the line of both of you becoming completely wild and untameable. It's not like you're much better even with me here."

I made a face. Grandad was one of those people that can't help being blunt. As I munched on my food, I realised Ethan wasn't here.

"Where's Ethan, anyway?" I asked.

Grandad shrugged his shoulders, "I expect he's at his flat."

"But he's never at his flat...unless he has a girl there!" I was grinning at this. I loved to tease Ethan's girls because he usually had a type. I don't know how, but he always managed to end up with one who didn't believe in one night stands (even though she just had a one night stand with him) and quickly became more and more crazy as the morning after dragged on. Though I wondered who the hell would go off with my brother out of the Weasley girls (I knew it wasn't Lily Potter since she was way too young). I couldn't remember seeing him with anyone in particular last night, but then again, some parts of the party were a little hazy.

"I know what you're thinking, Quinn, and I have no idea who the girl is. I always mix up all those Weasleys anyway," grandad said this with a huge smirk on his face. Even though he never looked at another woman after my grandma died, he fully supported Ethan in his conquests. He also supported me in mine. I guess he was pretty supportive.

"So, what's the plan for today?" I knew it would be pointless to ask for my presents right now because it was tradition to do a family birthday lunch and then get presents. The fact that birthdays are one of the rare days we're all in the same place at the same time makes them extra special.

"Your dad is going to cook and your mum is baking the cake and I'll finally have some well-deserved respite from all the cooking around here," he said this as he sipped his black coffee. Grandad woke up crazy early every day and by the time I got up he'd already spent half a day doing his thing. But he liked to keep me company while I ate. I think he was pretty lonely while I was at Hogwarts and that's why he didn't mind the fact that my twenty-four-year-old brother spent most of his time here instead of at his own flat.

Grandad looked at me teasingly, "So, what did your boyfriend get you? I don't want to know if it's anything that has to do with shagging."

I almost choked on the last piece of my omelette.

"You're fine talking to me about shagging but don't want to know the details. Got it, thanks grandad, that wasn't embarrassing at all."

He just laughed at me. Wonderful.

"Sometimes I think I'd be better off if you or Ethan were even a little embarrassed about your escapades but then I remember I'm the cool grandad and the thought quickly disappears. So, what did Al get you?"

"You're our only grandad!" I exclaimed.

I never met my mother's parents. They were Muggles and she talked about them a lot. Said they were free spirits which I understood to be a bit weird and unconventional and made me feel sorry I never met them. They died a pretty conventional death, though. They were going to a Black Sabbath concert on their bikes and a driver who fell asleep at the wheel crashed into them. Sad story.

"Al got me concert tickets to see Sons of Tyr in February and he's not my boyfriend anymore," I said, not meeting his eyes. He liked Al. Grandad, Ethan and Al had that Slytherin brotherhood going for them.

I'm not sure why I didn't meet his eyes because grandad is always on my side. He just shrugged his shoulders, "Another one bites the dust, eh?  Ethan owes me 20 Galleons!"

"You bet on my relationship?" I was more amused than surprised.

"Can you even call it a relationship if it lasts for just a few weeks?"

"Few weeks! It lasted for two months. Give or take."

He laughed at me again. I love it when people laugh at me. Not. Maybe being a stand-up comedian should be my backup if I fail at professional Quidditch. But I'm honestly not that funny.

"It lasted exactly six weeks, I should know since I bet on it."

I stood up and washed my plate for the first time using magic. I could get used to this. We never had house elves or nannies or anything like that because grandad was a firm believer in doing things on your own so you don't become spoiled and incompetent. I'm not convinced he succeeded in not spoiling me but eh, at least I could wash my own plate.

Spending my birthday cleaning my room wasn't ideal but I really couldn't stand the mess any longer. I put the Sons of Tyr LP James got me on my turntable and started. By the time I was finished, I managed to find two T-shirts I thought lost forever and one of Ziggy's favourite toys. After taking a shower I heard two distinct pops. I ran out of my room and down the stairs until I finally saw my parents after I don't know how many weeks of only communicating by owl or through the fireplace.

"Quinn! Happy birthday, honey!" My mum hugged me and I forgot about my annoyance with her from this morning. I missed her. I missed my dad.

"Hey mum, dad," I mumbled because I couldn't talk like a normal person since my dad decided that a group hug was in order so I was pretty much getting crushed between the two of them. Dad towered above both me and my mum and she was pretty strong for her slight Seeker build.

They finally released me and I grinned at them.

"Nice of you two to show up," I said with a wink. They started talking over one another trying to explain their busy lives and I had to stop them before they started arguing because that's how these things usually end.

"Stop, stop! I was just kidding, Merlin's pants!" As I said this grandad came into the living room.

"Son, Ivy, good to see you."

Mum turned towards him and hugged him. I don't know why but she likes to give out hugs.

"Ian! How are you? Did everything go alright yesterday? Is...," and off she went with the questions about everything. I tuned out. Dad was already in the kitchen starting with the meal and mum soon joined him. I kept them company. We chattered about my party and Ethan and even Al, though apparently, they thought I was kidding back when I told them in a letter we were together. I have no idea why.

Sometime while they were cooking, we heard a loud crack and Ethan entered the kitchen. Mum immediately attacked him with questions about his job, his (lack of a) girlfriend (at this I sniggered) and so on. I gave him a sympathetic look.

After the lunch was over it was time for my presents at last. Dad gave me a small silver box.

"This is from your mother and me," he said. I opened it and found a watch inside. It was black instead of gold, with silver Roman numerals and stars instead of dials. It would've been quite traditional (except for the material) had it not been for the engraving on the back - Fuck Fear, which was something of a Jones family motto, and yet, only dad and I were Gryffindors, and grandma Olivia, too, but she was killed by a dragon so I'm not sure fearlessness was to her benefit.

Dad was just about to say something else when mum cut him off, "You better like it, Quinn. I swear we bickered for the past month until we settled on the design we thought you'd like. So even if you don't like it, pretend that you do and wear it for our benefit, and I don't care how ridiculous that sounds," she drew a breath and continued, "You like it, right?" she said this with a slightly psycho-looking smile.

Ethan was trying not to laugh, grandad was smoking his pipe and pretending not to listen to her, or maybe he wasn't pretending, he liked to tune her out sometimes, and dad looked exasperated.

"Yeah, I like it, thanks!" I nodded my head up and down as I tried to be as enthusiastic as possible because mum was still psycho-smiling. I did like it but she was a crazy perfectionist who couldn't stand the thought of something being, well, not perfect. If it wasn't then she'd go off on a tangent and yeah...We learned to live with it.

Ethan took out a pair of blood red Quidditch gloves from his bag and shoved them at me.

"Here you go, little demon. They're dragon hide gloves, Vipertooth model, tailored for Beaters so they'll give you a little extra kick when you swing the bat -"

He was interrupted by a wolf Patronus that appeared in our dining room. It spoke in a voice I haven't heard before but it was obviously familiar to Ethan.

"Jones, we need you at HQ right now, bring your heavy-duty kit," as soon as the wolf said this, it disappeared.

Ethan got up from the table and gave me a small smile, "Duty calls, little demon, but I hope you'll make good use of my present. I'll see you all later." He turned on the spot and Disapparated with a crack.

Mum looked slightly worried but she quickly masked her expression. She was too proud to admit she worried constantly about all of us, especially Ethan since he worked as a Hit Wizard, but we all knew it. That's why grandad kept most of my Quidditch injuries a secret from her. She'd go mad with worry and she'd feel guilty for not being there. Dad was slightly more reasonable, or he was just very good at keeping up the appearance of being cool all the time.

"He's going to be alright, Ivy," dad said this as he covered mum's hand with his own and she nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, I know...Merlin, is that the time? I have to be back in Appleby for the afternoon practice," she rolled her eyes at that. "Bloody Orlov is convinced I'm giving out team secrets to Dylan. I fucking hate that guy, why the fuck did they make him Captain instead of me? I'm the fucking better strategist, that's fucking obvious..."

Luckily, grandad decided to interrupt her before she could go on another rant about Ivan Orlov, one of the best Keepers in the League and my mum's Captain.

"I'll clear the table," he said as he waved his wand around and all the dirty dishes followed him out of the dining room.

Dad was suddenly very interested in the gloves Ethan got me and I pretended I was interested in my new watch.

"Okay, I'll stop talking about Orlov, I get the message. You lot aren't exactly subtle," she glared at us as she said this. "I still do need to go. Quinn, I love you and I'll see you before you go back to school," she narrowed her eyes as she turned to dad, "and you, I'll see you tonight." I couldn't decipher if that was a booty call or if she was angry at him about something. It was probably both.

"Ahem, hm, yeah, right, okay," dad was red in the face. For a star Quidditch player who dealt with journalists all the time, he was painfully unable to hide his feelings. It made his interviews funny to read because he'd often get angry and start hexing the journalist who did the interview. More often than not, the journalist in question was Rita Skeeter. She held a huge grudge against him after he turned her into a toad one time.

"I'm going, too, sorry Quinn but you know, I've got that fundraiser later. We'll see each other soon, yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Grandad came back from the kitchen and looked around, "They're gone, then?"

I nodded. He frowned.

"You still haven't seen the present I got you, come on, it's in my study," he put an arm around my shoulders and guided me to his study room. It was bright with diffuse light that came in through the big glass double door facing the north side of my parents' property and overlooking the Quidditch pitch grandad put up shortly after five-year-old me zoomed past him on a toy broom while he was gardening. We lived in a small wooded area near Bath and grandad put a lot of Muggle repelling charms around the property so they wouldn't stumble upon us, especially with the Quidditch pitch being obviously out of place.

He opened his closet, took out a broom and gave it to me. I nearly jumped from joy when I saw it but I managed to keep my cool and just hugged him tightly.

"The Stormwind! It's not even in the stores yet!" The broom was black, made from world-class ebony with numerous protective and aerodynamic spells woven into it. It was going to be the fastest broom on the market, faster by five seconds than the newest model Thunderbolt. But it wasn't the speed that was its prime characteristic, it was the incredible balance it provided. The Stormwind was the only broom in the world that adapted to its rider and the spell that made it so was the best-kept secret in the Quidditch world. Rumour had it that Selene Zhang, the Stormwind designer, didn't even reveal the secret to her board of directors.

"Selene is a close friend," grandad said it like it was no big deal.

"I didn't even know you knew her. How do you know her?" I asked.

"How did you not know that her mother was one of my best players in the Tornados?" He was genuinely surprised.

"Jessica? I don't know, I don't keep tabs on players after they retire. But anyway, thanks grandad, you know it's like, the best present ever, right up there with James'."

"Yeah, well, don't just count on your fancy new broom to win the Quidditch cup," he said gruffly, "you still need to practice your Backbeat!"

I grinned at him and teasingly said, "My Backbeat is going to be better than yours!"

"I expect nothing less."

I was alone at home when James came over in the evening. Grandad went out with his friends down to the pub and Ethan was still MIA. We were now lounging in the living room contemplating which movie marathon we were going to have. Both James and I were big fans of Muggle movies.

James was sitting on the fluffy white carpet and playing with my hair that fell down the sofa since I was lying down. Ziggy was sleeping on the armchair.

"So, Lord of the Rings or The Godfather?" he asked.

"Don't make me choose, you know I'm indecisive as hell."

"The Godfather, then. We haven't watched that in a while. Pancakes or popcorn?"

"James, you're trying to make me choose something again!"

"Both?" he chuckled.

"James Potter, you are brilliant!" I beamed at him and got up from the sofa. He followed me to the kitchen. James was terrible at cooking so I waved my wand and the ingredients for the pancake batter started to stir in a bowl. I sat up on the kitchen island he was leaning against.

"How was lunch with your family?" he asked me. I showed him the presents my family got me as soon as he Apparated. He was just as excited as I was by the fact that I now had the Stormwind. He even said he'll ask his parents to buy him one when it hit the market even though they just recently bought him the new Firebolt. Lily can have the Firebolt, apparently.

"Eh, okay, but I think my mum made a booty call to my dad in front of me."

James raised his brows, "Lucky Dylan!"

"Ew, what? That's my mum!" I made a disgusted face at him but he just wiggled his eyebrows.

"Says the girl who shagged my little brother for the past two months."

That shut me up. I took out the pancake pan and turned on the stove. When the pan heated up, I started frying the pancakes in silence. James came over from behind me and hugged me around the waist.

"I was just kidding, Quinn, don't be angry at me," he said in a low voice. I turned my head so I could look him in the eyes and smiled at him. That seemed to reassure him.

"I'm not angry, I'm just plotting my revenge!" He grinned at that and kissed my cheek.

"Okay."

In the middle of the third movie, Ethan Apparated in the living room which made me scream since I wasn't expecting it and, more importantly, because he was covered in blood. I rushed over to him, James following with a troubled look. Ethan just waved us away.

"Not my blood," his breath smelled of Firewhisky and his words sounded slightly slurred, "let me just get another Firewhisky before I crash."

James threw me a look and I just shrugged my shoulders. He went over to the fridge and brought the bottle of Firewhisky with three glasses. James and I settled on the sofa and Ethan on the armchair with Ziggy who promptly woke up, hissed at Ethan, jumped off and left to another corner of the room.

We drank in silence, neither I nor James knowing what to say. Ethan wasn't volunteering any information and there was no point in trying to pry it from him. If he didn't want to talk, he wouldn't talk.

After another three glasses, Ethan got up and went to his old room.

James put his hand around me and I leaned my head against his shoulder. I think I fell asleep in that position because I woke up in my bed in the middle of the night and James was lying next to me with his arm laid protectively around me.

It felt reassuring to have him here.

[agentverbivore]

Hi!!! Super duper happy to see that you're taking Chanukah prompts. Can you write fs + celebrating Chanukah at the academy? Thanks!

thank you for sending this! inspired by @buckysbears’ Chanukah headcanons/prompts.this is the first in a little trio of Chanukah ficlets (all in different universes) that I’m hoping to finish/post this week. Happy (day before the) Festival of Lights!Rated G. Canon-compliant Academy era FitzSimmons, at the end of their 1st semester. Simmons is Jewish (yes, I checked with @jewishfitz if that was okay! other variations are coming.).

Jemma jumped when she heard Fitz’s now-familiar three knocks on her dorm room door, nearly dropping the holiday card that she had been re-reading for the fifth time. Blowing out a puff of air, she returned the card to her desk, swiped at the moisture beneath her eyes, and patted her cheeks to bring some color back in them. It would not do for her to meet her newest (and only) friend at the Academy for a chemistry study session looking as if she’d just been crying (never mind that she had been).

When she swung open the door and gave him a cheerful greeting, however, his own neutral smile immediately faded into a frown of concern.

“Are you alright?”

An instinctive yes, of course response died on her tongue, and she let her shoulders droop slightly. “It’s nothing,” she offered, voice quavering annoyingly and forcing her to bite down on her bottom lip as she turned away to collect her bag and books.

Behind her, she could hear Fitz take a couple of shuffling steps into her room, and the weighted door slowly swung shut behind him. “Is it exams? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure you’ve memorized the textbook by now, and we’ve got all night to study….”

Sighing, she straightened, instinctively hugging her bag to her stomach as if it were some kind of shield. “No, no, that’s not it. I, um… it’s a bit… I’ve been feeling a bit homesick, I suppose you could say. I picked up a parcel from my parents today, and, well….”

“Today?” The wrinkles in Fitz’s brow deepened in confusion. “Don’t you fly home on Monday?”

“Yes,” she said, shaking hair out of her eyes, “but tomorrow’s the first night of Chanukah.”

Fitz’s mouth rounded into an ‘o’ of surprise; she had never mentioned her religion to him before. “So they sent you presents early, then?”

“Yes, well – sort of.” Jemma returned her bag to the floor and then reached into the cardboard box on her bed, where she’d replaced everything right away so she could read the included card. “They sent me a menorah.” Her eyes watered slightly as she pulled it out and held it before Fitz.

When packing for the Academy, she had dismissed her mother’s suggestion that she bring the bronze menorah she’d been using since her grandmother had given it to her at thirteen. What was the point, she had argued, in taking up extra space in her suitcase when she would be celebrating most of the holiday at home anyway? Exams would keep her too busy to think about a silly little thing like Chanukah. But that afternoon, as she had unwrapped the new, silver menorah and traced the mosaic-patterned struts, Jemma found that she had plenty of time to miss the December tradition nearly as much as she missed her parents.

“It’s really nice,” Fitz said carefully, and she could tell that he still wasn’t quite following. “That’s a good present, though, right?”

“It is,” she agreed, and let out a small laugh as she placed the menorah in its proper place on her immaculately organized desk. “But I… oh, see, I told you it was nothing. I can’t actually light the candles. We’re not allowed open flames in the dorms.”

He gave her a look that suggested she’d just said that the planet was flat. “But – I mean, okay, I dunno much about Jewish stuff, but the candles are important, right? Just do it anyway, no one’ll know.”

“Fitz!” she exclaimed, giving him a scandalized look. “That would be breaking the rules.”

“For something that’s important,” he insisted.

“I don’t want to be expelled!”

“You won’t be expelled,” he shot back, planting his hands backwards on his hips. “And it’s really important, right? To you. That’s why you were crying.”

“I wasn’t crying…” she started, but then trailed off, wrinkling her nose. “I’ll just have to wait until I get home on Monday.” Then, Jemma let out a noise of impatience and reached for her knapsack. “Honestly, we’re just wasting time. We need to get to the library.”

As she stalked past him and towards her door, Fitz muttered disapprovingly about how she was being ridiculous, but she ignored his protests. She had already gone through other potential solutions in her head (taking the menorah into the quad – and potentially getting questioned by campus security; going to the campus’ Jewish Student Union event – which was taking place entirely during their exam period) and rejected them all. Going over them with Fitz again would just be a waste of both their time.

A couple minutes later, once they were proceeding down the mid-quad pathway to the library, Fitz cleared his throat. “You never said you were Jewish before.”

Blinking, she arched an eyebrow in his direction. “So?”

He shrugged, shifting his bag on his shoulder. “I mean, seems important to you, so – would’ve thought you’d’ve mentioned it. I dunno.”

“You don’t talk about your religion.”

“Don’t have one.” He chuckled when she gave him a bemused glance. “Okay, I think my mum has a picture of me in my baptism outfit somewhere, but that’s about it. Never went to church or anything.”

Silence fell between them for a few moments, and she squeezed the edges of the book she had wrapped in her hands. “I suppose I don’t think about it very much. It only seems to matter around the holidays, you know?”

Fitz nodded sagely, kicking aside a branch that had fallen on the bricks before them. Then, in typical him fashion, he used that distraction as a springboard to talk about the exam for which they would be studying shortly, and Jemma happily fell into the change of topic. Opening up to her new friend had made her acutely shy in a way she did not typically feel around Fitz. Her family’s religion seemed rather intensely personal to her mind, and she felt somewhat daring to have shared it with him.

——

One and a quarter days of intensive studying and nerve-wracking exam-taking later, and Jemma felt lighter than she had in weeks. Both she and Fitz had one last exam on Sunday morning, but it would be a walk in the park compared to chemistry – everyone knew that Professor Vaughn’s tests were laughable.

Humming to herself as she strode cheerfully out of the class building into the night, she almost didn’t notice the door slam open behind her or the footsteps of trainers hurrying along the pathway to catch up. “Hey, Simmons!”

“Hi, Fitz,” she said, smiling as her friend drew even, his cheeks slightly pink in the evening’s cold. “I didn’t realize you were almost done or I would have waited.”

“S’okay.” Shrugging his knapsack onto both shoulders, he gave her a bashful grin. “Are you gonna do Chanukah now? It’s tonight, right?”

She let out a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “I – okay, we don’t ‘do’ Chanukah, exactly, but, yeah, I was going to go say the prayer over the menorah.” Wrinkling her nose, she couldn’t help but let out a little sigh of disappointment. “It will be a bit weird without lighting the candles, really, but – it’s okay.”

“Can I –” Fitz cut himself off and swallowed, shoulders rolling slightly in. “I mean, I don’t wanna – if you – but could I… come with you? If it’s okay? I have something I wanna show you, but I don’t wanna, y’know, interrupt anything, or –”

“That would be great, Fitz,” she said warmly, giving his arm an affectionate nudge with her own. “I’d love the company.” It was impossible for her not to notice how he straightened at her invitation, or the slight spring in his step as they proceeded to her dorm room.

Once they had arrived and her door had swung slowly shut of its own accord, she set about clearing things away so that the menorah, the shamash, and the first night’s candle were prominently on display in the center of her desk.

After watching her for a few moments, shifting from foot to foot, Fitz drew her attention back to himself by clearing his throat. “Erm, I know you don’t wanna light the candles –”

“It’s against the rules,” she reminded him, and he rolled his eyes.

“I still think that if it’s important enough, it’d be fine, but anyway,” he continued, preempting her before she could begin to lecture him about why following the rules was an important part of their SHIELD careers. “I sorta had an idea last night, so I tried making something, and if you don’t mind, I can show you, but if you don’t like it, I promise I’ll take it away and I won’t bring it up again.” Giving him an intrigued eyebrow raise, Jemma nodded her assent. “Um, is it okay if I – can I touch – the, uhm, menorah? Is that allowed?”

She couldn’t help but laugh a little, even if she appreciated his question. “It’s not a yad, Fitz, anyone can touch a menorah.” He squinted back at her, and she spoke quickly before he could ask. “The yad is used to turn the pages of the Torah.”

“Oh! Right, cool. Um, so I can…?” Fitz shifted forward a few steps, holding his hands out towards the desk until she nodded again, and he returned to a normal pace.

While she watched, he gently removed the candles, placing them at a safe distance away on the desk, and then reached into his knapsack to retrieve what looked like a massive tangle of wires. She was just able to make out what seemed to be small Christmas lights within the bundle, but then Fitz stepped up to the desk and obscured her view. For a few minutes, he worked quietly and efficiently, the sight quite familiar to her from their many afternoons together in chemistry lab. Finally, he crouched beneath her desk with a plug in his hand, giving her a view of what he had created: Most of the tangle was hidden behind the menorah, with little bulbs nestled into the candleholders.

“It’s rough, ‘cause I didn’t have time to get supplies from the department, so if you like it I can make you something proper for next year, but I’ve tested it and it works. I’m just lucky I hadn’t returned the lights yet.” With a hesitant uptick of the corners of his mouth, he stepped back over and handed her a small switch, connected to the contraption by a thin wire. “I can make it wireless, too, with more time. So, the middle one is the main candle, right?”

“The shamash,” she said, “yes.”

“Yeah, so you turn the switch and that one goes on first, and then each candle in order. If you wind it back, it turns off. So you can just turn it however for you want for each day.” Having finished his explanation, he glanced nervously between the menorah and her face. “Is that okay? I just thought – it’d be better if you could use your own menorah. The one your parents got you. Even if you don’t wanna use candles –”

Stopping his words short, Jemma darted forward to wrap her arms tightly around his torso, squeezing her eyes shut to try to keep her oddly volatile feelings about this silly little menorah in check. “Thank you, Fitz,” she mumbled against the soft cotton of his sweatshirt. 

Although he didn’t move for a few, long seconds, eventually he hesitantly returned her hug, resting one arm over her shoulders and patting her back with the other hand. “S’alright,” he muttered.

A part of her wanted to press him for when he’d found the time to make the contraption, considering that they’d barely been apart for the eight hours during which they had both been theoretically sleeping. But something told her not to embarrass him further, and she convinced herself to take the gesture for what it was: a kindness from the boy who was rapidly becoming her best friend. It was in moments like this that she nearly forgot they had been sworn rivals for the first two and a half months of the semester.

Jemma held on for a little longer, waiting until she was quite sure she wouldn’t start crying, and then pulled away with a bright smile. Taking the remote, she took a second to turn off the overhead light before inhaling and then twisting the gadget’s switch one notch. The shamash bulb faded into life before them, flickering in an apt imitation of a real flame.

“Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam,” Jemma recited, “asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tsivanu l'hadlik ner shel Chanukah.” As she spoke, she turned the switch once more, until the first of the other eight bulbs winked into life.

Slivers of light bounced against the white-washed, cinderblock dorm walls, and a new feeling settled into her chest – something that seemed to tell her that the Academy was exactly where she belonged, right by her thoughtful new friend’s side.

“Happy Chanukah, Simmons,” Fitz said, and she grinned, giving his arm a friendly nudge.

“Happy Chanukah, Fitz.”

[Other drabbles.] [AO3.]