#three days before the first fair of the season I can’t afford to lose a day to being so upset

[banananutsmuthie]

YouWeMe Part 7: Truth or Dare

Idol(s): Sei [Weki Meki]

Word Count: 3.5k+ words

Content Advisory: Public(ish) Sex, Female Humiliation

Previous Story in Series: YouWeMe Part 6: Tickle (Lua)

Foolish is the woman who wears a white dress on an overcast day.

Especially during monsoon season, it’s a gamble—one with high risk and low reward, more reckless than forgetting to set your alarm and less fun than any Las Vegas game of chance. And yet, the City of Sin can’t compare to the sinfulness of the sight should she lose her bet against the clouds that threaten Seoul with rain, the same clouds that gave chase from the yoga studio where you left Soeun just a couple hours ago.

The taxi finally stops at a park overlooking the Han River. There she is, making fruitless bets that she can’t afford to lose. Other than a few passersby, the only one in the park is Sei.

Her speck of white stands out among the sea of green while the dark gray sky blankets the scene. The only hint of blue lies in the river that’s gently rocking boats to sleep. The trees dance mindlessly in the wind, a harbinger for the oncoming rain.

Grass lightly crunches under your feet as you approach her from behind. Her blanket flaps in the breeze, but she’s left enough space next to her to suggest she’s been expecting you. Your foot holds down a corner of the blanket as you sit down next to her.

“You know,” you start to say as you bring your knees to your chest, “you haven’t made it easy to get back into Yoojung’s pants.”

Sei’s too enamored with the view of the Han River in front of her to even be bothered by your presence. With the AirPods in her ears, it’s understandable. Maybe she didn’t hear you through whatever music she may be listening to, but then, a smirk starts to form on her face.

“Took you long enough,” Sei finally says.

“Cut the games, Sei. Where’s the notebook?”

She takes one final mental picture of the gorgeous scenery before finally turning her head toward you. “Funny you should mention games, you’ll have to play one with me if you want Yoojung’s notebook back.”

The last couple of weeks have been one giant game. Sei can’t possibly deter you with whatever game she can concoct, not after coming this far for a chance to destroy Yoojung’s fun-sized body again.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask Sei.

“I was thinking a simple game of truth or dare. We’ll alternate for five rounds, and at the end of the fifth round, I’ll tell you where the notebook is, just like I promised. Here’s the rules: you have to do at least three dares, and you can’t ask where the notebook is or dare me to give it to you.”

Before you can even agree, Sei quickly starts the game. “Round 1, you go first.”

The first choice is important: it sets the tone for the rest of the game. With no data points to know what kind of dares Sei will give, maybe it’s better to use a truth for the first round.

“Okay, um, truth,” you answer.

“Do you think Yoojung unnie has a cute pussy?”

It’s an easy enough question that doesn’t require thinking. If this is how the game is going to go, it’s going to be a walk (or sit down) in a park.

“Yes. Your turn.”

Sei replies, “Truth.”

“Okay. Hmm…” You sit in contemplation trying to think of a question for Sei. She waits for a couple seconds, which is longer than how long she really wants to wait.

“Time’s up! Round 2!” she blurts out.

“Wait, what? That’s not fair! That wasn’t part of the rules!”

“Well, it’s my game. If you want the notebook, you’ll think of a question more quickly next time.”

Maybe the wasted opportunity is a blessing in disguise; the quicker you can get through the game, the quicker you could be on your way back to Yoojung.

“Fine, whatever. Dare.”

Sei’s pupils dilate and the corner of her lip twitches at your choice. The softball she threw in round one was just that—a softball. She throws a fastball this time, one that catches you off guard.

“Take your dick out,” she commands.

You scan the park. There’s a couple cyclists passing by on the concrete bike trail off in the distance and some boats in the river, but other than that, the park is nearly empty. Still, you hesitate.

“Are you serious?” you ask.

“I’ll take truth and answer your question: yes. On to round 3!”

“That wasn’t even my question, that definitely shouldn't count!” you tell Sei, but there really isn’t a point in arguing with the gamemaster. It’s her game and she’s definitely not wavering.

“Come on, take it out. You want the notebook, don’t you?”

“But we’re in a public place.”

“There’s barely anyone around! Plus, if you’re as big as Yoojung unnie says you are, then you have nothing to worry about.”

Fuck it. You’ve done worse with the rest of the Weki Meki girls. You quickly unzip your pants, reaching in through your boxers as you pull out your flaccid cock. Sei’s cold fingers slowly wrap around your shaft, grabbing on tight as she starts to stroke you. There’s a mixture of excitement and nervousness as you anxiously look around to make sure no one sees you getting a hand job in the park.

“Sei, wh-what are you doing? We could get arrested!”

“Shh, just let me take care of you.”

Sei can’t care less that she’s an idol giving a random stranger a hand job in the park. She has a lot more to lose, but her risky gamble pays off. The cyclists are long gone and the boats continue to float on. No cops have turned up to arrest you. The world hasn’t ended.

The tense muscles in your body slowly start to relax with each of Sei’s strokes until finally, she has you in a full erection.

“Okay, I��m jealous,” Sei says as her eyes widen in delight, “I wish you would’ve met me first so I could have you all to myself!” Sei lets go and returns to using her hand to prop her up on her blanket, eyes again admiring the river off in the distance. “Alright, your turn again, bus guy. Truth or dare?”

There’s no telling what other sinister dares Sei can come up with as a follow up. Best not to find out just yet. You burn up your last chance at a respite, postponing the rest of the dares to the last two rounds.

“Truth.”

“Would you like to have some public sex with me right now?” Right to the point. Your hand reaches for her thigh, but she slaps it away.

“Hey! I didn’t say to fuck me, did I? If you want it, you gotta play the game. I didn’t dare you, I asked you: would you like to have some public sex with me right now?”

“Yes, of course. Your turn, Sei,” you respond, eagerly awaiting her response. Having exhausted her truths as well, it’s a game of dares now, but she doesn’t seem fazed at all. She only shrugs knowing she doesn’t have any other choice. Her eyes give off willing participant vibes, beseeching you to do your worst.

“Take off your panties.”

“Really? I basically throw myself at you, and that’s all you got?”

Sei is a performer, so it comes as no surprise when she makes a fanfare of such a simple task. Her knees pull up to her chest until they lightly press against her breasts. Her dress rides up as she parts her legs, revealing her creamy smooth thighs and panties underneath. Her naughty hand reaches down and traces the two lips visible through the light fabric, rubbing herself repeatedly in the process.

Sei pulls the undergarment to her knees with two pinched fingers. The panties do the rest, effortlessly slipping down the slope of her shins and collecting at the base of her feet. With a kick of her leg, her panties fly off and land on a patch of grass in front of her. Sei tugs back down on her dress, denying you a longer view of what lies beneath.

It seems the weather has different plans: it wants to see Sei naked, too.

Above, the clouds can no longer hold back. Rain splashes against your forehead and trickles down your face. It’s tolerable, but it doesn’t take long before it starts to pour. The white dress that Sei is wearing turns translucent, drenched by the abruptly bad weather. Her dress starts to cling to her body, nipples poking through her top and revealing Sei’s secret that she isn’t wearing a bra. Her skirt sinks in the crevice between her thighs, highlighting the outline of the two lips Sei tried to hide just a second ago. Even fully clothed, Sei’s body is on full display for the entire world to see.

Still, you can’t help but feel a little bad for the girl.

“You sure you want to keep playing? Maybe we should find some shelter and get out of the rain,” you suggest to Sei.

“No, I like this. Keep going. It’s your turn.”

“Well, we’re both out of truths, so dare.”

“I dare you to fuck me right here,” Sei commands.

Gone is any hesitation of public indecency. No one else is out in the park in the torrential rain, and with Sei daring you to fuck her, there’s no reason to end the game now. It’s just getting started.

Sei leans back, parts her legs, and pulls up her dress, the open invitation now awaiting your response. Like a tiger, you pounce. Sei’s back presses against the soaked blanket. Her arms wrap around your neck as your body hovers over her.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Fuck me.”

Her outer lips welcome you in from the cold, your cock slowly disappearing between her warm folds.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, Sei.”

“Yeah, well, you’re definitely the biggest I’ve had. No wonder Yoojung unnie raved about you! Now you get to have some fun with me!”

As you begin pumping into her, Sei pulls you in against her body. Her breasts rub against your chest with every thrust. Her shivering lips press against your ear in the embrace, tickling your earlobe in the process. She whispers even though no one is in earshot to hear her anyway: “K-keep me w-w-warm.”

“Will this be warm enough?”

Your cock slams faster into Sei, the friction warming up both your bodies and creating a sound so boisterous that it could’ve been mistaken for thunder. The lighting rod thrusting in and out of Sei electrifies her loins, sending shockwaves to her walls that pulsate against your cock in response.

“Fuck, yes! Ruin me! Humiliate me! Do whatever you want! I dare you!” Sei’s voice comes out garbled as the rain fills her open mouth. It isn’t even her turn to give you another dare. But who can say no to Sei asking to be humiliated?

“You want to be humiliated? Get on all fours,” you command her. Sei smiles as she follows your orders. She looks back at you with ass perking up toward you. It’s not enough. “No, not on the blanket. Over there.” You point to a nearby puddle where no grass dare grow. If she wants to be humiliated, getting her dirty seems like the perfect way to do it.

Sei dives belly first into the mud, her white dress now completely ruined. She reassumes her position on all fours. You drag her by the ankles so that her knees sit at the edge of the puddle. Why should you get dirty just because Sei wants to be humiliated? You kneel down onto the soft grass, grabbing Sei’s hips and reinserting yourself from behind.

The sound of rain hitting every surface is loud enough to drown out the sound of skin slapping violently against skin. The only sound that can be heard over the rain is Sei’s moans.

“That’s it, wreck me! Forget about Yoojung, make this pussy yours! I’m your pet to do with however you please.”

From behind, you jerk hard on her drenched locks. Sei’s head cocks back in the forceful tug. “I oughta muzzle you,” you tell her.

“Do it,” Sei says. You let go of her hair and grab onto her head, pushing her face down into the puddle.

“Mmmh!” Air bubbles start to form on the surface as she lets out an indistinguishable yelp. You grab a fistful of her hair again, pulling her out of the mud.

“You like that?” you ask her.

Sei turns her head back toward you, just enough to see her ruined face dripping with mud. “Yes, please! Fuck me while I drown in this puddle!” She leans forward into the mud again, this time of her own accord. You let go of her hair and return to grabbing her hips.

You continue faster from behind. The rhythm of the rain keeps time with every thrust into her warm entrance, a welcomed sign compared to the chill of the droplets that are making it harder to continue to grip onto her hips. Your hands slip and slide up the sides of her torso, causing her dress to ride up and expose Sei’s back to the harsh elements. Her spine acts like an aqueduct for the rain, further making a mess of her dress. She lets out more undecipherable moans into the mud. Her face lifts up out of the puddle just slightly, enough to hear what she’s saying.

“Fuck, yes! That’s it, right there! Oh!”

Her walls tighten again, and if it wasn’t for the rain letting up a little, it would’ve been hard to tell Sei just orgasmed in the relentlessly cold rain, even with her warm juices now coating your cock. Her entire body collapses into mud, Sei’s face turned to the side to allow her some air while she blissfully lies in the mud enjoying the euphoric feeling tingling through her body.

You stroke your shaft while waiting for Sei to spring back to life. In the half minute it takes waiting for her, the rain almost comes to a complete stop, decreasing to just a light drizzle. But the damage is already done. Sei’s clothes are a mess and so are yours. You get up and hover over her.

“Come on, Sei, get up. We gotta finish the game. It’s your turn.”

She pushes herself out of the mud, wiping her face just enough to see through the mud mask. She kneels in front of you, helping you along by stroking you.

“For my dare, I’ll let you paint me wherever you want.” Sei’s perfectly white teeth shine brightly through the grime on her face. Further down, her cleavage is covered with even more mud.

“Fine. I dare you to let me cum on your chest.” It’s a fitting end to the humiliation Sei wants to be put through.

“Okay!” she says. The enthusiasm clearly shows through each of Sei’s tugs that get faster and faster. Her breasts jiggle as a result, screaming to wash away the mud until you finally cum. Spurts of white spray on her breasts like a pressure washer, wiping off the mud and replacing it with a hot sticky fluid that scatters across her chest like an abstract painting. Sei looks down and admires the piece of work before getting back up and pulling her dress back down.

“You know, if things don’t work out with Yoojung, you know where to find me. I’ll be your little fucktoy.”

“As long as you promise not to make me run all over the city again,” you reply. Sei responds with a smirk before moving on.

“Final round, bus guy. You ready?”

“Dare, obviously.”

“Come on. Are you serious? That’s too embarrassing,” Sei says.

“Well, according to you, I can’t pick truth, so what do you want me to do? What would be so embarrassing that we haven’t already done?”

“Oh, no no no, that’s fine. Do you see that couple over there?” Off in the distance, there’s a couple underneath an umbrella on the bike path walking toward you and Sei. They haven’t noticed either of you, appearing to be too busy on their date, their gazes more interested in each other than anything else. “I want you to go up to them and ask them to come here and take a picture of us.”

It isn’t what you expected when you chose dare. It’s actually quite baffling considering it’s going to be more embarrassing for Sei than you. But then again, she has been all about being humiliated. This must be a dream for her.

“You’re gonna take a picture just like that? You’re not gonna clean up or anything?”

Sei smiles. “Nope.”

The only cleaning up Sei does is pull up the shoulder straps on her dress, chest still white and nipples still peeking through her soiled dress.

You zip up your pants before jogging toward the couple. Every step squishes against the inundated grass, leaking out excess water from the oversaturated soil. It’s hard to avoid the puddles that have formed, and eventually, the water manages to penetrate your shoe, making your socks a disgusting swamp. Finally, you approach them.

“Excuse me. Sorry to bother you,” you start off. A look of concern grows bigger on their faces ever since they noticed you running toward them. “Would you mind taking a picture of us?” You point toward Sei as she’s putting on a face mask to cover her identity while finally putting her AirPods away. It’s an amazing feat of technological advancement that her earphones even lasted through the downpour.

The beautiful couple look at each other and agree to the request, following you onto the grass where Sei is waiting. As you approach, the couple are in visible shock at Sei’s appearance: your cum still splattered all over her chest while her barely-there dress leaves nothing to the imagination. Sei hands over her phone to the man and tugs you into the photo. The sight is too much for them to say anything as they hurriedly take your picture with Sei and leave.

There’s a worry that they’ll report you or that they might even recognize Sei through her face mask. Those worries go away when you overhear the woman speak to her partner.

“See, why can’t we be that adventurous?” she asks, playfully slapping her boyfriend on the arm and continuing their date.

Sei takes off her face mask once the couple is far enough. There’s still one final dare before she gives you Yoojung’s notebook.

“Okay, bus guy. Hit me with your best shot.”

As the final dare of the game, there’s no holding back. You pick up the blanket and Sei’s underwear that she kicked off earlier to make sure she doesn’t use it for the grand finale.

“I dare you to give me your dress,” you command.

She hesitates for a second before slipping it off over her head and handing you the soggy piece of cloth, hands doing their best job to cover herself as much as she can.

“You’re gonna give that back to me, right?” she asks.

“What’s the matter? I thought you loved being humiliated?”

“Yeah, but—”

“First, tell me where the notebook is.”

“I don’t have it.”

“What do you mean you don’t have it? Where is it then?”

“I gave it back to Yoojung.”

“What the fuck, Sei! I needed it as an excuse to see her again! What am I going to do now?”

Sei can’t even answer the question. She’s too concerned about her nakedness in the middle of a park. Just when it seems like all hope is lost, you remember a tidbit from Yoojung’s notebook from when you read it a couple days ago: “Shopping w/ Lucy”. Friday at 1PM in Yeouido. Tomorrow.

“Nevermind, I think I know how to find her.”

You have no use for Sei now. Opening the Uber app, there’s a bunch of cars already within the vicinity ready to take you home, your second meeting with Yoojung finally less than 24 hours away. The sedan is already pulling into the parking lot as soon as you press the button to initiate the ride.

“Wait, can I have my clothes back?” Sei yells as you run toward the Uber with her belongings. She’s too far now to turn back. Not like she deserves her clothes back, she didn’t keep up her end of the deal. Besides, it would be rude to keep the Uber driver waiting.

“Have fun getting home!” you yell back.

As you get into the car and drive off, you take one more look out into the park. Sei’s naked body stands out in the sea of muted greens, browns, and grays, her ass cheeks violently bouncing against each other as she sprints away toward the horizon. Only one thought crosses your mind when she fades out of view:

Foolish is the woman who wears a white dress on a rainy day.

Perhaps even more foolish is the same woman playing a game of sexual truth or dare in a public place, for in her risky gambles, she is now naked in the middle of a park running to find sanctuary.

As life collects on her lost bets, Sei joins a long list of degenerate gamblers who learned the same lesson too late:

In the game of life, the house always wins.

Next Story in Series: YouWeMe Part 8: The Devil Wears Nada (Lucy)

A/N: We're almost in the home stretch! Some of you have been waiting for Lucy since the beginning. Hope you're ready for it, then we'll finally get to the two-part finale of YouWeMe!

[indiavolowetrust]

THE OBEY ME BOYS AS RPG BOSSES: NEO-OSAKA

LEVEL 1-7 (YOU ARE HERE)

LEVEL 8-10

FINAL BOSS

ENDINGS

You are one of many modified humans in Neo-Osaka. A relic of your brief time in the criminal underbelly. Your adopted little brother, Luke, has been kidnapped by a criminal syndicate known only as The Devil Triad for unknown reasons. Simeon, his upperclassman, is the sole witness of his kidnapping. Armed with your trusty katana, the healing microbots in your blood, and  the information Simeon has given you, you venture back into the underworld of Neo-Osaka to save your brother.

Word Count: 4,511

TW: Blood, Violence, Gore, Mention of Drug Use

LEVEL ONE -- BELPHEGOR, THE SLEEPING BULL

In the underbelly of Neo-Osaka, it is only natural that one would want to lose themselves for a little while. You pass by a number of pharmacies that act as black markets, street vendors that hawk anti-intoxicants, and children that run between the crowds. An exchange of secrets and yen, and a pair of shoji-playing women direct you to a shuttered pharmacy down the road. No one’s operated that store in years, they say, but there are always masked men that hang behind the lot. Masks in the shape of a devil.

Night falls. It doesn’t take long for you to subdue a masked man and rifle through his pockets. A hand-held radio tells you all that you need to know: the goods will be exchanged near the butcher’s shop, the password is sleeping bull, and that one is supposed to be there, so don’t fuck this up. The goods are headed towards the base of operations of The Devil Triad.

The underlings are easy enough to deal with. You take them out one by one in their own territory, leaving them alive for only sa long as necessary, and steal one of their masks and uniforms along the way. While it appears that none of the underlings have any information as to exactly where the goods are going – much less where your little brother is – you have more faith in what the lower boss should know. He goes by the Sleeping Bull, you gather.

For one named Sleeping Bull, however, he’s much faster than you had expected.

You can’t tell whether the shadows beneath his eyes are painted or tattooed there. If they’re real, then the Sleeping Bull's got one hell of a sleep schedule. He watches you through half-lidded eyes as he yawns, adjusts the oversized cleaver in his hands, and taps his foot in impatience. Even in the dark you can tell that the Sleeping Bull is planning the best way to butcher you, judging by the way he eyes the wound on your abdomen. Apparently the ruckus you’ve caused during your infiltration has interrupted his nap.

Your offense is a grave one, it seems.

“Do you think you could die a little faster?” he says through yet another yawn. “I’m kinda tired.”

LEVEL TWO -- BEELZEBUB, COOK OF THE HUNGRY BEETLE

The combination of cured meat and seasoning in the ramen is absolutely incredible, as is the addition of a perfectly poached egg. And it’s a chicken egg, of all things! A fresh chicken egg with a runny yolk, set whites, and a hint of soy sauce. You can’t remember the last time you were able to afford such a luxury, much less find it. The pork cutlet is perfectly fried as well. Each crispy bite balances out the nature of the curry it’s been served with. The rice is fluffy, delicate, and nowhere near overcooked. You find yourself nearly moaning with delight with each bite you take.

The cook – you haven’t quite caught his name – only smiles at you over the counter, encouraging you to have more. You did save his beetle-hound, after all. It’s the least he can do.

It’s not like he has any other customers at this time of day, anyway, so you’re free to take your time. While you do find yourself staring at him from time to time, finding his dyed orange hair and face oddly familiar, the thoughts are quickly dismissed by the fresh plate of gyoza that he places in front of you. The cook joins you a few minutes after, takes heaping plates of food for himself, and you ignore the nagging sense of paranoia.

It is only when you are hit with a sudden, overwhelming wave of nausea that you realize something is wrong.

You are barely able to stop yourself from collapsing onto the floor. A white-knuckled hand grips the table as your vision swirls, your stomach turning in on itself. An empty glass shatters onto the wooden floor of the restaurant. The cook only smiles pleasantly at you as you glare at him, demanding to know what he’s done to you. Why has he poisoned you? What would he even gain from doing that?

The cook only laughs. Don’t be silly – of course he hasn’t poisoned you! Only  someone unimaginative and boring would do that, and he is neither of those things. The only reason why you’re still alive right now is because you went out of your way to save his beetle-dog. The cook hopes that your last meal was an enjoyable one. You only stare at him in disbelief as he explains that he only wanted to test a new ingredient, nothing more. You just so happened to be the lucky test subject. The first of many to try his new dishes.

The cook – Beelzebub, he introduces himself – asks if you enjoyed eating so many beetle eggs. A gift from The Devil Triad for his service. They’re genetically modified to a rather impressive degree, and they should be hatching right now in your stomach. The larvae are quite famous for their taste for human flesh.

Pain strikes your abdomen, forcing you to double over, and you use the sheath of your katana to keep your body upright. Beelzebub regards it with interest for a moment. Eyes it with curiosity. And then he is pulling a rounded metal container  from his pocket, flourishing it before you.

“Let’s play a game,” he offers. “If I kill you, the larvae get to have you as their first meal of the day. If you kill me, you get to have these pills. They’re guaranteed to kill the larvae in no time – if you win, that is.”

You watch in horror as Beelzebub places the container into his mouth, swallows, and shoots you that same pleasant smile. You can already feel the sensation of something crackling and wriggling inside your belly.

LEVEL THREE -- ASMODEUS, KEEPER OF THE PINK SCORPION

You’re sure that the perfume acts as both an aphrodisiac and depressant. It would certainly make sense why all of the employees here have donned some sort of face mask. Masked women and men gyrate against golden poles, scorpion-faced bartenders invite patrons to try a various assortment of poisons, and many more employees work to keep the diffusers filled with perfume. A melange of insensate and intoxicated patrons are scattered throughout the space. Your limbs only grow heavier and heavier as you wander through The Pink Scorpion. The clamor of the crowd becomes distorted. The dim lighting, endless walls, and pink motifs of its animal mascot begin to blend with one another in your vision, and you are nearly rendered unconscious by the perfume.

Thankfully, you have just enough anti-intoxicant patches in your pocket to keep yourself from becoming too inebriated. A slip into the bathroom allows you to replace the patch on your tongue, and your head clears.

And so it is with a mostly unclouded mind that you are approached by a slender,  pretty man. He’s one of their best workers, he claims, and it would only be fair for The Pink Scorpion to offer service of the highest quality to its new patrons. You are a new face, after all. Despite your obvious discomfort at the proposition, you had found yourself agreeing. It wouldn’t do any good to act out of line – especially not in a place like this. You’re too noticeable. The Devil Triad has its fingers in every operation here, you’re not sure if you can take on every employee and come out unscathed, and the man before you looks like very pleasant company. Besides, it’s possible that he knows information about The Devil Triad.

He leads you by the hand through pink-tinged halls, up wavering flights of steps, and into a private room. A clap of his hands, and you two are served steaming cups of tea. A single sip nearly burns off the anti-intoxicant patch on your tongue.

Time passes in a strange haze. The man twirls a strand of his blonde hair as he offers you yet another cup of tea, adjusts his bastardization of a kimono to be even more revealing, and shoots you a flirty wink. You dump the drugged tea into a nearby plant when he turns away.

The conversation is light and pleasant. You aren’t exactly lying when you remark that The Pink Scorpion is one of the most highbrow, exquisite establishments you’ve ever seen, despite being a brothel, and the man claps his hands in delight. The Pink Scorpion is his pride and joy, you see. Truly it is the jewel of Neo-Osaka’s underworld. He would hate for a patron to leave with an empty heart or otherwise unsatisfied ...

Just as much as he would hate for an intruder to interrupt their operations.

You roll back from the kotatsu just in time. The wood splinters as the blade of the kusarigama obliterates the table, sending shards flying, and you gasp in pain when a particularly sharp piece of wood strikes you in the shoulder. The anti-intoxicant patch on your tongue can only do so much it seems, judging by the weightiness of your limbs. You wrench the shard out of your shoulder and regard the man through a pink-tinged haze, the edges of your vision starting to blur once more.

The man introduces himself as Asmodeus. Asmodeus, Keeper of The Pink Scorpion. A quick undoing of his sash reveals a number of poison vials beneath his kimono, each one a violent, neon shade of pink. The shoji doors slam shut, and you find yourself coughing as the diffuser in the room begins spewing even more perfume into the space. Asmodeus, as it would seem, is completely immune to its effects.

“You’re pretty cute, you know,” Asmodeus says, shaking his head in disappointment. He readies his kusarigama. “It’s a shame I have to kill you.”

LEVEL FOUR -- SATAN, THE ARCHIVIST

Bookshelves line the walls, books line the shelves, and texts take up nearly every single increment of space possible in the massive library. Not that you’re sure if it can even be considered a library, considering the condition of the place. Most of the books seem to be piled up on one another in a nonsensical fashion, creating mountains against the shelves, and an array of ladders is strewn throughout the place. While you’re not sure where they lead, why they’ve been placed there, or if they’re even functional at all, you do know that someone must be using them. There isn’t enough dust in the library to suggest that it’s been abandoned. Not yet, anyway.

It’s difficult to believe that a place like this exists in the underbelly of Neo-Osaka. It’s even more difficult to believe that the fourth strongest of The Devil Triad spends his time here.

A number of librarians, archivists, and other employees are nestled in corners of the library, hunched over various spreads of literature and manuals. Given that you don’t possess the brand of The Devil Triad, however, convincing one of them to talk to you is nearly impossible. While the library is considered neutral territory, it appears that the triads still have considerable influence over the area and its inhabitants. You spend most of your time being glared at, turned away, and generally ignored – which you should have expected, really.

Thankfully, you manage to catch the attention of a blonde, bookish man. He smiles at you over his rather messy desk, pushes his silver-rimmed spectacles up his nose, and shoves all of his paperwork aside upon hearing the reason of your request. He’d be delighted to help someone in need, he tells you, disregarding the work strewn on the desk before. It isn’t every day that someone travels to the underworld of Neo-Osaka for such a valiant reason.

You follow the man down winding corridors, listening to him prattle at length on one topic or another. He’s more of a librarian than an archivist, he says. He likes his tea with three sugars. Dismemberment and decapitation are some of his most enjoyable methods of murder. The cafe down the street has amazing spinach pies that it serves on the weekends, although he could do without all the extra cream. Staying inside all day doesn’t lend itself to good health, after all.

The bookish man leads you to a massive archive beneath the library and begins searching through the folders. While most of the records are completely useless – in his opinion, that is – there are still a few that he considers worth keeping. The record on the wiles and weaknesses of modified organisms, for example. It is only when you mention off-hand your hatred for The Devil Triad that the bookish man pauses over a pile of folders. He removes his glasses carefully, tucks them somewhere beneath the papers, and smiles at you.

The pain is there before you can even register the impact.

Your body crashes through a number of rickety shelves in the archives, its path only stopped by a concrete pillar. The microbots in your blood work to repair your cracked ribs as soon as possible, mending the injuries as you force yourself to stand, and you blink away the dust to see the bookish man walking towards you.

His expression speaks only of wrath.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he growls, his face already half-formed into that of a devil. The green blaze and exposed pitch-black teeth click together as he speaks, the flesh burning away, and you watch with horror as he tears off more of his pseudo-skin. The inorganic strands of his hands flex and rearrange themselves into claws. “I’m impressed you managed to take out the others, but I promise you won’t achieve the same result here. They call me Satan the Archivist -- but I  prefer being called Satan the Librarian. I’m more of a librarian than an archivist, really.”

He’s a cybernetic organism, you realize. There’s no way a human would have been able to survive so many body modifications.

“NOW LISTEN AND LISTEN WELL, HUMAN!” he roars, his voice distorting with the metamorphosis. YOUR INSOLENCE IN THE FACE OF THE DEVIL TRIAD ENDS HERE! YOUR NEXT AND LAST OPPONENT IS ME!”

LEVEL FIVE – LEVIATHAN, THE DOCKMASTER

Your lungs burn. Seawater fills your nostrils and throat as you are helplessly dragged into the black sea, your screams disappearing underneath the surface of the water. You struggle desperately, giving the leviathan-like monster a few choice kicks with the heel of your boot, but it’s no use. Its teeth have latched too deep into the flesh of your thigh. While your microbots can work fast enough to repair the wound, they’ll be of no use to you if you drown. Your eyes sting as you gaze upon the moon through the dark water, its image distancing itself further and further away. This may very well be the last time you see it.

And then it is gone. A lurch nearly knocks you unconscious.

Admittedly, you had been a little too confident. The dockmaster had been alone, strangely, and you had foolishly thought that it would be the perfect opportunity to corner one of The Devil Triad’s members. The devil-shaped brand on his neck had given him away. The only witness of his planned interrogation and murder would be the moon above, you had concluded. It would be too easy for you to take him out. A short distance closer, and you would have been able to subdue him. A moment earlier, and you would have been able drag him away from the docks, force him into one of the storage containers, and torture him until he told you everything you needed to know.

But how the hell were you supposed to expect a massive, monstrous sea serpent to bite into your leg? How the hell were you supposed to expect your night to end with you being dragged screaming into the sea?

A wave of nausea strikes you. Your body crashes through the surface of the water and is deposited roughly onto something solid. A smooth, solid stone. The salt still burns your eyes and nose. You collapse against the stone as you hack up seawater, your lungs grateful for the air. It takes a moment for you to realize that you have miraculously held onto the sheath of your katana.

It takes another moment to notice that you have been thrown into a sea cave.

The surface of the water breaks once more. The dockmaster emerges from the black water and steps onto the smooth stone before you. A flick of his hand, and a portion of seawater rises to attend to him. You watch as the sea forms itself into several pole arms, each one sharper than the last. The dockmaster peruses his options for a moment – and then he takes one of them into his hands, brandishes it, and regards you with irritation.

“Surprised?” he asks. “You’re not the only one who has microbots.”

Moonlight spills into the cave from above. The dockmaster steps into its embrace, still holding his weapon before him, and allows the light to catch onto his form.

Thousands of microbots have been embedded into the dockmaster’s skin, much like scales. The result of what must have been an extremely painful and risky operation. His eyes are double-lidded, allowing him to easily blink away the seawater. His hands – no, all four of his limbs have been modified beyond belief. You’re not sure if they’re even really his. You can’t imagine what could have made him stupid enough to force his body through so many procedures.

Then again, you think to yourself, it’s possible that he did it out of desperation. Only the strong survive in the underbelly of Neo-Osaka.

It is rare for one to be born with psychokinesis. It is even rarer for one to be born with psychokinesis that is strong enough to use in combat. While many undergo horrific, painful procedures in an attempt to enhance their abilities or even give one psychokinesis, the operations typically lead to the death of the subject. The ones that are lucky to survive are often crippled for life or rendered a vegetable.

This man must have had a hell of a reason to undergo such a risky operation.

“I’m not really sure why you’ve been killing us, but that isn’t really my business. An enemy of The Devil Triad is an enemy of mine.” The dockmaster levels his weapon at you. “I’ll feed whatever’s left of your body to Lotan once I’m done with you.”

LEVEL SIX – MAMMON, HEAD OF THE TREASURY

Despite the carnage – and there is plenty of that, considering the goons you’ve slaughtered on your way in – you can’t help but admire your surroundings. The walls are plastered with gold brocade, each golden strand woven skillfully into the  material, and the endless corridors are furnished with priceless works of art. You almost feel guilty for tarnishing them with blood. Windows composed of stained glass stretch to lofty ceilings. Carved statues of crows greet you at every turn, their marble beaks and wings poised in warning. You pass by countless mahogany doors, each emblazoned with the insignia of The Devil Triad, and kick down just as many to interrogate the inhabitants within.

Much to your disappointment, however, it seems that even the threat of death isn’t enough to make them speak.

You pause in front of a particularly massive portrait . The frame of the portrait seems to have been cast from pure gold and embedded with precious stones, which is shocking enough – but it is the painted image that truly captures your attention. The man depicted within is surrounded with pelts of exotic animals. His fingers bear multiple rings on each digit, his ears bear piercings in the shape of crows and ravens, and the material of his suit suggests that it has been made from augment-weave. The man’s hair is so bleached that it appears white. His smile portrays a damning cockiness.

It is the very image of decadence and greed.

You travel into the highest reaches of the treasury. The guards are no match for you, of course. You behead one of them before they can even speak. One well-placed kick to the most exorbitant, elaborate door you’ve ever seen, and you stroll into a massive office.

A man – the very same man you had seen in the painting, you recognize – sits at the desk, swirling brandy in a glass. Mammon, the head of The Devil Triad’s treasury. He regards you with interest as you pass the threshold. Despite your bloody, battered state, you level your katana at him and demand to know the location of The Devil Triad’s main operations. They’ve taken the little brother you’ve cared for all your life, and you intend to get him back.

The treasurer sighs. “Hasty, aren’t ya?” he remarks, taking a sip out of his glass. “Least you can do is let me finish. Vintage stuff like this is pretty hard to come by in Neo-Osaka, ya know.”

Your katana knocks the glass from his hands. It shatters against the polished floor. He shouldn’t fuck with you, you recommend. You’ve fought too hard and suffered too much to be played with now. If he would be so kind as to tell you what you want to know, then you might let him --

A shot rings out. Your forearm burns as the bullet tears through it, searing through a bit of your clothing, and you are just barely able to dodge the second shot. You look up to see a very, very pissed off treasurer before you, one of his fancy shoes propped up onto the desk. His augment-weave suit rumples with the movement.

Except he isn’t looking at you. The treasurer, you realize, is staring at a stain from the brandy on his augment-weave suit. A stain that is entirely your fault. When he whirls around to look at you again, his expression only speaks of ire and hatred. Apparently the slaughtering of his underlings means nothing compared to his tailored suit.

“Thought you could pull a fast one on me, didn’t ya?” he barks. His multiple sets of rings click together as he reaches under the table. “Well, ya got another thing coming!”

Every crow statue in the massive office orients itself towards you, their beaks opening to reveal firearms within. Countless lights make themselves known  against your body. The treasurer scowls as he grabs a golden plasma rifle from beneath his desk, powers it up, and hefts it over his shoulder. Aims it right at your head. The glare he shoots you nearly burns through his orange sunglasses.

“Come on, then!” the treasurer snarls. “I’ll show ya the power money can buy!”

LEVEL SEVEN – LUCIFER, THE RIGHT-HAND MAN

Something is wrong here. You’re all too aware of the emptiness of the compound. The corridors are unlit. No shadows linger behind the shoji doors and walls. There is only an eerie silence. You pass by gardens of stone and running water, arched bridges, and well-tended flowerbeds. You pass by dark alcoves, monochromatic passageways, and fragrant incense. Your eyes flicker to and fro as you explore the compound, expecting some enemy to come rushing at you from the darkness, but your efforts are wasted. You are alone.

For a while, that is.

A man in traditional garb kneels in the middle of a massive, otherwise empty washitsu. A sword sits at his side. Moonlight spills into the space as you open the door and pass the threshold. The man doesn’t flinch when you address him, nor does he bother to respond when you press him for information. The sound of your unsheathing katana doesn’t seem to faze him either, which infuriates you, and then you are pressing the tip of your weapon to the nape of his neck. You demand to know where your brother is.

The movement is too quick for your eyes to catch. You curse as you stagger backwards, clutching your abdomen in pain. The image of him before you blurs, despite the sufficient amount of light in the room, and your body sways unsteadily.

And then you realize exactly what the man has done to you.

Despite the brevity of the man’s attack, his blade has somehow made its way through a majority of your torso, disemboweling you. You watch in horror as your clothing blooms with the excessive blood. As your organs threaten to leave the cavity of your abdomen. As hands fail to keep most of your intestines in the right place. The man only looks at you with disdain as you fall to your knees, gasping in pain. The sensation burns like a fire through your veins, white-hot and excruciating, and for a few moments you see nothing but patches of shadow. For a few moments you waver in and out of consciousness.

But you won’t die. Not here, and certainly not now.

You slam your blade into the ground and force yourself back onto your feet. The microbots in your blood work to knit your flesh back together, reattaching your organs and skin back into the right places. With one trembling arm, you level your katana at him once more. A challenge.

“So it’s true,” the man muses, flicking his blade. Your blood splatters against the tatami. “I didn’t quite believe the rumors. Congratulations on surviving my first attack.”

You tell him quite thoroughly just how much of a fucking bastard he is.

Much to your surprise, however, the man bows towards you. He introduces himself as Lucifer, the right-hand man of The Devil Triad’s boss, and politely informs you that he has been sent to eliminate you. You bested the others because they were weak and relied on modifications, he explains with a disdainful tone. You bested the others because they were overconfident in their altered physiology. The others saw your modification as common and therefore useless, unlike theirs, and so you had used that to your advantage. It was only the factor of their underestimation that led to their defeat.

He, on the other hand, needs no such things. Altered physiology is nothing to the training and discipline that only a pure human can master.

Lucifer readies his blade. “I look forward to witnessing your skill.”

[nicole-lynne]

Cold Houses Cause Confessions

Description: Lip’s defensive about reader wanting to put in money for the gas bill. Confessions and feelings are spilled. (Set in Season 1).

Warnings: Swearing

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x Reader

“Jesus, why is it so fuckin’ cold in here?” You exclaimed as you strolled into the Gallagher kitchen, wrapping your sweater around you tighter. 

Fiona looked up at you and opened her mouth to answer when Carl leapt down the stairs. 

“Turned it down so I could see your nipples, sweetcheeks.” He said as he blew you a kiss and a cheeky wink. 

You wrinkled your nose at him. “Piss off, Carl. Fi?” 

“Gas bill was late, ew Carl, don’t put that up your nose, anyways so now they won’t turn it back on unless we pay the whole thing.” Fiona said as she frantically cleaned up the kitchen table. She wiped some grime off her face and glanced over her shoulder with a ‘same fuckin’ shit’ look. 

“Oh damn, that sucks.” You turned to dig through the laundry on the top of the washer. A small smile slipped as you found one of Lip’s hoodies and tugged it on. “How much is the bill?” 

“Like 530 bucks. Debbie, go check the cushions. That should be good for at least 5 or 10 bucks. Has anyone seen Ian or Lip? Carl, please stop melting things in the microwave. ” 

You watched the girl who was practically your sister as she ran around the kitchen, picking things up and setting them back down as she got distracted. She looked stressed to the max and you knew that this gas bill was just another card on a trembling tower. 

“I’ve got $120 from winning a couple games of pool from some losers at the Alibi, let me put that in.” 

Lip stomped down the stairs, his boots hitting the floor loudly, “no, keep it. We’ve got it covered.” He barely glanced in your direction as he crossed to the fridge and buried his head in it. 

You scowled at his back and crossed your arms angrily, “You can’t tell me what to do, Lip. I may be your best friend but you’re not the boss of me. I’m here all the time so it’s only fair for me to pull my own weight.” 

“I said, you’re not giving us any fuckin’ money.” 

Lip slammed the fridge, he brow scrunched together with frustration. Automatically, you glanced down to watch his hands flex and curl together. He had a cigarette dangling between his lips and your heart sped up with desire. Finally, you cleared your throat and forced yourself to focus back on the current conversation. 

“Are you even listening to me right now, Y/N?” He spat out.

“Lip, can you please stop? She’s the nicest girl that’s ever stepped foot in this house and she’s never gonna come back if you keep being mean.” Debbie whined from the living room. 

You rolled your eyes with exasperation. “Debbie, I’m not gonna stop coming around just because Lip is an asshole.” Lip gave you a deep frown. “Besides, I like you and Fiona so much better than him.” Fiona flashed a grin at you from across the kitchen. 

Lip opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by Steve slamming open the door. He waltzed in with a big goofy smile on his face and his eyes brightened as they landed on Fiona. You waved lightly at him before looking back at Lip. He was leaned against the counter, glaring out the window. 

“Hey guys, we’re going out with V and Kev tonight. Think you can handle watching the kiddos?” Fiona asked, a begging smile sent in your direction. 

Lip sighed loudly and crossed his arms tightly over his chest but you jumped up to block him. “Yeah of course, Fi, I’ll watch em. No promises that Carl won’t blow a hole in the wall, but he’ll have all his limbs at the end of the night.” 

Steve grimaced, “god, please don’t give him any ideas.” 

You laughed at the look on his face as he imagined Carl laughing maniacally in the middle of a giant hole in the side of the house. Fiona yanked a tank top off the washer and threw it over her head, shaking out her wild hair. She giggled as she stumbled to put her heels on before grabbing Steve’s hand. 

“Fucking hell...” Lip muttered under his breath.

“Y/N, are you sure you guys will be good? Liam should be out already and Debbie just needs to-” 

“Fi,” you wrapped your arms around Debbie as the little girl padded into the room and placed your chin on her head, “can you just go have fun, please? I’ve handled these heathens before and I will handle them again.” 

Fiona gave you a look of relief and Steve mouthed a ‘thank you’ from the door behind her. You shoo-ed them both out the door. Fiona hollered out goodnights to Debbie and the door slammed shut. 

“Okay, kiddo, why don’t you go grab a few comforters and bundle up on the couch. I brought us some microwave popcorn and feature flick.” You winked at her and she squealed excitedly. You chuckled as she dashed into the living room. “Oh, and put on another sweatshirt!”

You whirled around to smile at Lip but immediately frowned when you found the kitchen empty. Your heart sank into your stomach. The sleeves on Lip’s hoodie dropped over your fingers and you rubbed the worn edge nervously. 

Debbie yelled from living room that she was ready, so with a turn on your heel, you headed into the living room to snuggle with her. 

“Carl! Get your ass down here, we’re watching The Hangover! And put on a couple pairs of socks, we can’t afford you losing a toe from frostbite.” 

Carl thudded down the stairs and jumped over the back of the couch. You tucked the blankets around the three of you tightly, in a slight attempt to keep the chilly air out.  You pecked a kiss on Debbie’s cheek, rolling your eyes when Carl puckered up for you, instead you leaned forward and clicked on the movie. 

~~~

The credits started rolling and you shifted slightly just in time to catch the clock flipping to 12:30am. Softly, you tugged your arm out from under Carl to rub your tired eyes. You twisted and turned and slipped up from under the two little bodies, shifting them onto the couch better. 

You kissed both the kids heads and whispered, “Goodnight kiddos, I’ll be right upstairs.” 

Straightening up, you stared up the stairs and gulped. You hadn’t seen a glimpse of Lip for the whole night and your anxiety was growing more and more by the second. You pulled the hoodie over your nose and took a deep breath in. 

There was a flutter in your heart at the smell of Lip and there was a tug at your being to be with him. The corners of your mouth fell again thinking of how angry he looked earlier tonight. You couldn’t figure out what you’d done or said to piss him off so much when you were just trying to help the people you considered family. 

You released another large sigh and drug your feet up the stairs. It was as quiet as it could be in the Gallagher household but you always felt comfortable surrounded by these walls. You shimmied in between the crack of Lip’s door, glancing at Ian’s sleeping body. 

For a moment, you considered passing out in Carl’s empty bed but the draw to Lip was overwhelming. Silently, you slipped your pants off, dug through Lip’s drawers to find a pair of sweats, and tugged them up. 

Hestitanting for just a moment longer before the cold settled on your skin and you heaved yourself up the bunk bed. Lip was facing the wall but you watched him shift to give you room to crawl under the covers. 

Quickly, you cuddled against his back trying to soak up any bit of warmth, noting how tense he was. You traced shapes on his shoulder blade with your fingers for a few minutes, trying to decide how long you should wait before you passed out. 

“L? You still awake?” 

He was quiet and you were positive that he truly was asleep. Just as you closed your eyes, he rolled onto his back. His eyes were wide open and he was staring at the ceiling. 

You peaked your eye open to look at him and then closed it again, promptly deciding to ignore him. He rolled again and suddenly his arm was flung over your waist and his legs tangled with yours. 

It was dead quiet between the two of you. 

“I’m sorry I yelled at you tonight.” 

You looked over at him. His icy blue eyes were filled with regret and you felt your heart soften just a little. 

“I didn’t deserve that, Lip. And I’m not quite sure why you were so mad at me for wanting to help out.” 

Lip lifted his hand and stroked his thumb against your soft cheek. “I know. I know that, Y/N.” 

“Then why’d you do it, L?” 

“Because you shouldn’t have to waste your money on us. You shouldn’t have to be to be brought down by the Gallaghers.” 

Your mouth gaped open in shock. That hadn’t been what you were expecting. You had thought maybe he’d gotten screwed out of some money or Karen had been a bitch that day, but not some ridiculous thought like the family being a bother to you. 

“Are you an idiot, Phillip Ronan Gallagher? This is my family and you are not some deadweight that’s bringing me down. Where would you even get such a shit idea?” 

Lip’s eyes fell, “I’ve seen first hand the destruction that we can cause. I just don’t want to see you caught up in it all. You should be saving your money instead of spending it on our gas bill. That money could pay for your college.” 

You twisted your hands into Lip’s shirt tightly. “Lip, I love yo-all you guys. I don’t give a shit what happens, I’m with you through it all. Even if that means having to beat a few more dickbeaters at pool to throw in some cash.” 

“But what about-”

“No, L, not even then. Not after anything.” Lip started to relent and gave you a small smile. “Besides, I think I might have a future with Carl.” 

Lip growled and smacked you in the face with a pillow. You erupted in a fit of giggles as you tried to escape his grip. Lip was laughing with you, tickling your sides, enjoying the sight of your smiling face. 

“Can you two lovebirds shut the hell up, I’m tryin’ to sleep over here.” Ian’s voice rang out in the room. 

You and Lip froze, wide eyes looking at each other before bursting out in laughter. Lip pulled you in a little closer and slipped his hands under your shirt. You squealed loudly as his ice cold fingers ghosted over your stomach. 

“Fuckin’ christ, it’s colder than a witches tit in a brass bra.” 

“God, you’re such a fuckin’ weirdo, L.” You giggled.

Lip pinched you lightly, “you’re the weirdo who stole my sweatshirt, babe.” 

You stopped squirming and looked up at him, your cheeks red with embarrassment or cold, you couldn’t tell. “Um, I’m sorry. I was just freezing and it was the first thing I saw. I’ll give it back-”

“Y/N, stop, I don’t want you to give it back. It looks way better on you, you should keep it.” He paused, sitting up and resting on his elbow. You rested your head against his pillow and watched the curve of his neck, his bicep tightened, and the rise and fall of his chest. 

“I really appreciate how much you do for us, Y/N. You...you help keep the house together when Fiona’s stressed, Debbie loves having another girl to hang out with, Ian thinks you’re the only funny one, and hell, you’re the only one that Carl doesn’t try to explode.” He paused. “I just want to protect you from bad things, and I know how bad the Gallaghers can be.” 

Your set a hand over his forearm, “newsflash, L, you’re a Gallagher too. And you’re the best guy I’ve ever known. I love that you want to protect me, but you can’t protect me from your family because they’re my family too.” 

Lip’s eyes were shining brightly, taking in everything about this moment. 

“I love you, Y/N. Like I’m in love with you.” 

You pinched your brows together and the breath was caught in your throat. You must be dreaming, this cannot be real life. The person you’d loved for years was saying the words you’d longed to hear for so long. 

“Wh-what about Karen?” You stammered. 

“Fuck Karen. She’s nothing to me, she hasn’t been for a long time. I’ve just been ignoring what was right in front of me for so long.” 

You were hypersensitive to the feeling of Lip’s fingers on your skin, rubbing back and forth. It was hard to think of anything else then his body against yours. The sound of your heartbeat was pounding in your ear. You were positive that Lip could hear it too, maybe even Ian across the room. 

“I-I don’t know what to say...” 

“Tell me that you love me too. I know you do, Y/N, I can see it in your eyes. Every day, you look at me with your big beautiful eyes and I can feel how much you care about me.” Lip inched a little closer. “At first, it scared me. It really did. The thought of having someone, my best friend, who loved me after all this fucked up shit, that I could fuck up and lose the one person I relied on...” 

“Lip-”

“No, let me finish.” He rested his forehead against yours. 

You placed your hand on his cheek, encouraging him to continue. 

“Y/N, you’re the person that I know I can count on every day. I wake up in the morning and my day, my life is chaos, but you always know exactly what to do to make things calm. I’m tired of pushing away my feelings. I’m tired of you not being mine...” He trailed off. 

You paused to see if he was finished before taking the leap and smashing your lips against his. Your heart was singing at the feeling of Lip tightened his arms around your body and kissed you back hard. His tongue traced along your bottom lip, asking for permission. You opened your mouth and his tongue swept in against yours. 

Lip rolled on top of you and slipped his leg in between yours, swallowing a moan that came from you. You ran your hands through his hair and pulled slightly, your legs wound around his waist. Your lungs were burning for air and you finally separated, both of you panting heavy. 

“God, I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” Lip mumbled. 

You smiled at him lovingly. You could feel his heart beating against your chest and you had this urge to be even closer to him. 

“I love you too, Lip. I’ve always loved you. I-I just never thought you could love me back, so I’ve never said anything. Every girl you’ve been with... None of them have ever deserved you.” 

Lip pecked a big kiss on your lip. “Now I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.” 

“Stop saying that, L. You are amazing and I’m extremely lucky to be here with you.” You nuzzled against his chest. 

Lip bent his head down and pressed his lips to yours again. This was a more gentle kiss than the first one. This was the one that felt more real, something that wasn’t only fueled by lust and passion. This kiss felt like it would be the beginning of a happy story for you two. 

“I swear to god, you two better not fuck while I’m here. I’ll smother you both in your sleep.” Ian groaned loudly before shoving his pillow over his head. 

You and Lip broke your kiss in shock before starting to laugh again. Lip tipped over to your side and tugged you in tight against him, smoothing your wild hair down.

“Get the hell over here and warm me up, babe.” 

You grinned to yourself before shoving your face into the crook of his neck. “We are so paying that gas bill tomorrow, I can’t have you losing any important parts.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #397

“you’re my religion, you’re my reason to live  /  you are the heaven in my hell”

Do you think that you’ll always love who you love now? Even if we're never together again romantically, I will ALWAYS love her at least as a best friend. Have you ever made out with a random person? Yeah, no. If you could do your first kiss over, would you? No. I'm lucky that my first kiss was honestly cute as hell. Do you like your country’s president or prime minister? Well I voted for him, so I obviously can't hate him. He seems to be doing fine so far, though take that with a grain of salt seeing as I don't keep up with politics. Even before voting for him, I just did a small bit of researching on his values. What color is your house? Yellow with white accents. Do you listen to Christmas music during the holiday season? No, I don't enjoy it. Man, Jason's mom sure did, though... I loved how in the spirit she'd get and always played Christmas music in the car during that time of year. I miss that woman and I sure as hell hope she rests easy now. Do you like ginger ale? Solely if I have a stomach bug, and I can only ever sip it. What are you listening to? "Electric Sugar Pop" by Jeffree Star. What’s the last thing you watched on TV? The TMS office has the TV on, and the woman who overlooks it (I have zero idea what her position is called) tends to have it either on a cooking channel or a home improvement one. Today was a cooking one. Is your favorite author the author of your favorite book? I don't have a favorite author. Describe someone you find really attractive: M-Mark Fischbach. *___* If you HAD to look like someone else, but could choose who, who would you choose? Hm... maybe my friend Alon. I've mentioned I feel like a million times that she is like, ethereal with how gorgeous she is. Have you ever seen someone get a tattoo done? If so, what was it? Did they cry or were they in a lot of pain? Yeah; it was a watercolor feather with "ohana" written below it. She didn't cry at all, but she grit her teeth a few times. Do you have anything you couldn’t go a day without? Some form of technology. Have you ever gotten caught doing something illegal? No. What’s your favorite flavor of Vitamin Water? I don't even think I've ever tried it. Is there someone you wanna date right now? Yeah. What first attracted you to the last person you kissed? If we're talking the very first, our vast similar interests. How many brothers does your father have? None. Does your best friend have any tattoos? No. Do you like Ben + Jerry’s? Yep. Man, I want their Phish Food ice cream now. Would you ever wish to be the opposite sex? Nah. Do you think you’re attractive? Nope. What is your favorite card game to play? Magic: The Gathering. I really miss my PS3 where I had Duel of the Planeswalkers installed on it, it was really fun. Do you own a globe? I don't think we still do. What is your favorite wild cat? Perhaps clouded leopards. If your bedroom had three portals to anywhere, where would they lead? South Africa, Sara's place, and maybe a nice little cabin in the mountains for when I'm feeling a peaceful getaway. You can ask any author one question about their story. What do you ask? I have zero idea. What’s a place you have a strong emotional connection to? The pond behind the local community college. Jason and I took our first prom pictures there. Do you take yoga classes? No, but I'm actually considering it since they offer those at the YMCA Mom and I now go to. What is a decision you’ve made that changed your entire life? To let Jason go. It's pretty great, my PTSD has been less of a bother lately! Have you ever made any money from a side-hustle? Could you consider being paid to take pictures once in a blue moon a "side hustle" when I don't even have a main job? Do you ever wonder what kind of person you’d have turned out to be if a certain event never happened to you? Ugh... it's incredibly painful to wonder how life would be if Jason never left. If you could have anyone’s singing voice, whose would you choose? Adele's or Amy Lee's, probs. What are your top 3 favorite genres of music? Metal, hard rock, alternative. Do you think Mars will be colonized in your lifetime? No. Have you ever been homeless? If so, what led to your homelessness? Technically, yes, because Mom couldn't afford the rent. She, my little sister (who still lived with us at the time), and I each were accepted into the homes of willing, kind people, though. Have you ever been on a ship? No. Who was Van Halen’s better singer - David Lee Roth, or Sammy Hagar? David. Which fictional character has the most memorable quotes? Heath Ledger's Joker is quoted all the time, so probably him. What do you think of the "Healthy At Every Size" movement/philosophy? Before I answer this, I want you to keep in mind that this is coming from someone who is obese, so I would positively love to agree with that for my own self-confidence, but I don't. I believe it's a very dangerous mentality. I think you should cherish your body unconditionally, like it's an amazing machine, but I firmly believe you should have an active interest in becoming what is physically healthy. You couldn't pay me millions to convince me that, say, a 300 lb. person is healthy. What was the name of the first person you ever had a crush on? Why did you like them? I think my first *real* crush was this guy Sebastian my freshman year of high school. I thought he was very sweet, funny, caring, and attractiveness was a bonus. What food will you absolutely not, under any circumstances, eat? Sashimi, caviar, raw eggs... Which famous person would you like to be BFFs with? Bindi Irwin, for one. What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? Hurricanes. Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? No. Have you ever been bitten so hard that there teeth marks were there after? I mean I've had hickeys before if that's what you're asking. Ever gave one? Oh, I guess you were. Yeah. Do you think its weird if guys wear make-up like eyeliner? Not at all. Would you ever date a disabled person? (Be honest) Yes. Would you rather adopt or have your own child? IF I wanted kids, I'd rather have one myself because I'm well aware I personally need that special connection. Stepkids count, too, because they'd be my partner's and therefore very important for me too. What is the most personal question you have ever been asked? Probably TMI, so here's your fair warning, but I've been asked before if I "touch" myself and I was absolutely repulsed that someone would ask me that. Were you abused by your parents? No. If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? Sara. Were you one of the smartest in your class? Up to finishing high school, modestly, I was. Where did you meet your first crush? Art class my freshman year of high school. Do you ever go places with wet hair? Yeah, idc. Who is your favorite little girl? My niece Aubree. She's such a wonderful girl. Does your best friend have kids? No. If you were pregnant, would you want a boy or a girl? Hypothetically, a girl. What place outside of your own home do you spend the most time at? Um, maybe my older sister's house? Have you ever participated in a medical study? No. Do you have any family members who are cancer survivors? Yes, including my mother. Twice. Are you allergic to any medications? None that I've tried. Do you have any licenses other than your driver's license? I don't even have that. If you’re atheist, would you raise you kids believing in God or not? No; I wouldn't intervene with their own spiritual (or lack thereof) journey. They'd learn what they'd learn and decide themselves what they believe. Do you like reading self-help books? No, I just can't get invested in those. What is your opinion on sex change? If you're unhappy with your body, you're more than free to surgically change that with no judgment from me. Do you have any goals for this summer? If so, what are they? Yes, to lose weight. Can you get a strike at bowling? I have before. There was one occasion where my first go was a strike RIGHT after saying I sucked at bowling, hahaha. Do you ever take pictures of negative moments? Well, I photograph roadkill, and that's one hell of a sad moment. I actually wouldn't mind broadening my horizons of photographing negative moments (with permission of course), because I actually find these very impactful and even builds empathy. I will never, ever forget this one picture I saw sometime of an emaciated boy huddled in the dirt with a vulture close by watching him... like fuck, it made me want to sob. No one should ever have to live like that, especially a child. Would you ever post a picture of yourself crying on social media? No. I know that sounds contradictory to what I just said, I just wouldn't be able to do it myself. Have you ever held a newborn baby? Once, when my last niece was born. I'm terrified of holding them because they're just so fragile. Do you know anyone who has twins? My friend just had triplets. What is your favorite country in Europe? Germany. Are you thriving in your life right now? BOY HOWDY- Do you remember to water plants? I don't keep plants. Name three YouTubers you aspire to be like. 1.) Markiplier in a vast plethora of ways; 2.) Jeffree Star for his incredible work ethic; and 3.) Shane Dawson for his incredible compassion. Yes. I know the controversy, but regardless, he cares a lot about people. Who is your favorite character from Harry Potter? I wouldn't know, given I haven't read the books or seen the movies. Do you watch PewDiePie? Not anymore; his content doesn't interest me anymore. I watched him religiously back in the day when he was a serious let's player, though. Do you have a Steam account? Yes. Have you ever played Five Nights at Freddy’s? No, not personally. I like watching LPs of it and I find the story fascinating, but it's not the kind of game I'd enjoy playing. Have you ever tried Akinator? Yes. I don't think I ever beat it, except maybe once. Are you wearing socks right now? No; unless I'm wearing closed-toe shoes like sneakers, I never do. I hate the feeling of them. Can you twerk? Haven't tried, don't wanna. Do you like dabbing? No, it looks stupid. Do you like fishing? I honestly do think it's fun with all the anticipation and thrill of seeing how big the fish is, however I don't support it anymore unless, like hunting, you genuinely need it for food. The only case where I'd go again was if my dad asked me, because that's always been our bonding experience. Do you have a Spotify account? Yes. Have you heard of Blizzard Entertainment? Well, they're the company behind World of Warcraft, so obviously. Do you like bananas? Yes, but only for a VERY short window of time. I am beyond picky with the ripeness of bananas. Are you addicted to anything? Caffeine and technology. Do you know your phone number? I actually don't. Do you swear in front of children? No.

[raleighcarrera]

famous

platinum | raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian)

an au where raleigh is still raleigh but cadence is an actress on a teen tv drama.

~5.4k words | M (18+)

raleigh tag list: @omgjasminesimone, @choicesarehard

cadence rolled her eyes from the makeup chair, prompting the artist that was working on applying her eyeshadow to let out an annoyed sigh. “sorry, katie,” she apologized, before cutting her gaze over to her co-star, sitting in the chair beside her.

“what’s the big deal?” cadence asked, still not seeing what made today so vastly different from any other day on set. “he’s just a guy.”

jaylen looked like she was about to have a stroke. “raleigh carrera is not just a guy. please don’t ever say that again.” 

cadence snuck a glance at katie, but the older woman only smirked silently as she waved a strip of false eyelashes in the air, waiting for the glue to try. “okay,” cadence started slowly, “i just meant -- that he’s probably like any other guest star we’ve had?”

jaylen scoffed. the set hairstylist finally walked up and started pulling the curlers out of her long, brown hair, running her fingers through it to loosen them. “he is so not. seriously, stop acting like you didn’t camp out all night for sunset skatepark tickets at one point in your life like everyone else.”

she definitely had, but -- “that was, like, a million years ago. i was thirteen. besides, he’s totally different now. i’ll be amazed if he even manages to show up on time today.”

cadence was due on set in an hour, which, if katie could get her eyelashes on in one try, was going to give her just enough time to grab something to eat before her first scene. at this point in filming the show, she was hardly nervous about anything, anymore, even having to film with one of the most famous people she’d probably ever meet -- so there wasn’t much she’d need to do to prepare, except maybe pop a mint before their big scene.

from beside her, jaylen was sulking. cadence watched her in the mirror as best as she could with katie curling her eyelashes. “his visit is totally wasted on you,” she whined, “i can’t believe the writers gave you the kiss.”

“it’s not like i asked for it. besides, rosa --” jaylen’s character “-- and trevor just got back together. it wouldn’t have made sense for it to be anyone else.”

she blinked rapidly as katie backed away, testing the weight of the false eyelashes. they were in the middle of filming the third season of the show, and while her eyes had definitely stopped watering, by now, that didn’t mean that it didn’t still feel a little bit weird, to have so much makeup on all the time.

just a few years ago, she was making smoothies for forty hours each week, barely pulling in enough money to afford her rent. now she was part of one of the most popular teen dramas in the world -- and about to get paid to make out with the guy that literally performed with justin timberlake at the super bowl.

so, life was surreal, sometimes. 

once her hair was set in the waves her character always wore, cadence left jaylen pouting in wardrobe and strolled to craft services, making a bee-line for the breakfast table. she was piling mini-muffins into a napkin when she saw him.

his hair was shorter than she’d expected it to be; when she thought of raleigh carrera she pictured the way he looked on the ‘famous’ album cover -- long hair, dark smile, lots of tattoos. the guy sitting in the chair in the corner of the room was undeniably the same person, but he looked...

hungover, that was the word she was looking for.

raleigh had sunglasses on. inside. he was cradling a cup of coffee in his hands.

cadence gathered up the corners of her napkin and made her way over to him. “hey,” she said, her voice perfectly level -- not, as shane always called it, monday-morning-chipper. “i’m cadence, i’ll be your scene partner today.”

raleigh stared at her -- or she assumed that was what he was doing. for all she knew, he was asleep. she arched her eyebrows at him, and a minute later, he tilted his head, letting his sunglasses slip down his nose. 

sheesh. he was hot. the look in his eyes caught her and pinned her in place. 

“cadence dorian, right?” she nodded, trying not to look too surprised. so -- he knew who she was? he didn’t seem like the type of guy that would be familiar with her work -- this teen drama and a number of big-studio romantic comedies. “my agent said we’re filming romance today. lots of kissing.”

cadence felt her lips spread into a grin. “yeah. i hope you brushed your teeth.”

raleigh let out a bark of laughter so loud that a few of the production assistants turned around to look at them. he was smirking when he said, “don’t tell me chadley fortnum’s got bad breath.”

she gaped at him. chadley had played her character’s boyfriend for the last two years, before the writers finally killed him off. he was an awful kisser. “do you seriously expect me to believe that you actually watch wicked midnight?”

now he was smirking in that way she’d expected. he looked a lot more like the guy from the ‘famous’ album cover. “maybe i catch an episode here and there.”

“this is hilarious. do you also watch gossip girl? riverdale? is your favorite movie fifty first dates?”

he reached up and pushed his sunglasses up into his hair. “i prefer how to lose a guy in ten days.” 

of course he was funny. why wouldn’t he be? it wasn’t like he wasn’t already drop-dead gorgeous and effortlessly cool. 

maybe jaylen was right. she’d only known him for three minutes, and already cadence could see he wasn’t just a guy.

“we should get going, or we’re going to be late. i’ll show you where the soundstage is.” 

raleigh nodded at her and they started walking to set together, him with his coffee and her with the four or so muffins in her hands that she was suddenly too shy to eat. “so,” she asked abruptly, for a distraction from thinking about how handsome he was, “why the sudden interest in acting?”

cadence glanced at him and watched him shrug his broad shoulders. “for the positive pr, mostly. i think my team’s just hoping to generate some headlines that aren’t about something i destroyed, for once.”

she laughed. “fair enough. i guess raleigh carrera guest stars in wicked midnight midseason finale is a lot better than raleigh carrera crashes motorcycle into wildlife sanctuary, kills family of endangered pandas.”

“okay, i would never do that,” he argued, “pandas are adorable. there’s nothing cool about anti-conservation.”

“but there is something cool about breaking into and wrecking a cruise ship?” so -- she read her fair share of gossip blogs. sue her.

“totally,” he confirmed. he drew her eye as he tipped his head back to drain what was left in his coffee cup. “would you believe me if i said it was a statement against capitalism?”

“i think i’d be more likely to believe you if you said you were drunk and bored.” they stepped onto set as the last scene was wrapping, and cadence hung back while production transformed the high school set into the one for rosa’s home; jaylen’s character was supposed to be throwing a house party -- that was where cadence and raleigh would meet.

her eyes scanned the room, but jaylen was no where to be found. “huh.” though her scenes weren’t filming until later today, cadence didn’t think she’d want to miss a minute of time with raleigh. 

she’d forgotten he was still standing beside her. “what?”

“i was just wondering where jaylen is,” cadence explained, “my co-star? she was pretty excited to meet you.”

raleigh turned towards her, then, smirking again. “finally. i gotta say, i was pretty disappointed you didn’t seem more star-struck. you know -- when girls treat me normally, it really hurts my feelings.”

she laughed, leaning over to playfully shove her shoulder into his. raleigh made a face at her as though she’d actually hurt him, reaching up to rub at his arm. “hey, easy! save it for the bedroom.” he looked back towards the set. “or... the fake kitchen counter.”

“cadence?” one of the production assistants jogged up to her before she could form a retort. “we’re ready for you.”

she found her mark in the fake kitchen and started making herself a drink. the extras milled around behind her, and as the director called for action, she wondered what the props team had put together to fill the bottles before her with -- on her birthday, they’d given her a full glass of vinegar disguised as water as a prank, and she’d spit it out all over ryan summers in the middle of a take.

raleigh walked into the scene and strolled right up to her. “hey.” he nodded coolly at the red cup in her hands. “what’s your poison?”

cadence surveyed him from behind the plastic rim as she took a sip. thank god it was just water with food dye in it. “i’m not picky when it comes to free alcohol.”

he pulled a red cup from the stack on the kitchen counter and made a drink for himself. “fair enough.” she watched him flick his wrist to swirl the liquid inside the cup around, mixing it together. “what’re we drinking to?”

cadence lifted her drink into the air, smiling sardonically at him. “to my dead boyfriend. his funeral was on tuesday.” she tilted her head back and chugged until the cup was empty, looking challengingly at raleigh once she finished. “cheerful, i know.”

she stared at him as his tongue poked into his cheek. he was a better actor than she’d expected him to be. “i’m sorry for your loss.”

cadence laughed humorlessly. “don’t be.” she sniffed, rubbing her nose with the hand not holding her cup. “any idiot who drives drunk deserves what they get.”

she chewed on her bottom lip, watching the extras leave the kitchen set. when she looked back at him, his gaze was intense -- it felt like he was staring into her soul.

“i’m jason,” he said, holding out his hand. cadence dropped her gaze to it and snorted, rolling her eyes. 

after a beat, she begrudgingly introduced herself. “lexi. you go to brentwood?”

he smirked at her, pushing the hand she refused to take smoothly through his hair. wardrobe had given raleigh a long-sleeved shirt, but she could still see his tattoos peeking out from under the cuffs. “nah, i’m a senior at p.s. 119. i just come to parties like this one to pass out favors to rich kids like you.”

her eyebrows lifted. with intent, she trailed her gaze up and down his body. “what’ve you got?”

raleigh dug in his pockets and pulled out a medicine bottle. he shook a pill into his hand -- the prop department had found something that looked almost fluorescent, under the artificially dim party lighting. “something that’ll help me cheer you up, i think.”

she shrugged, like it was all the same to her. “you can try.”

one of the cameras moved in for a close up. raleigh leaned in. “you’ll have to come and get it,” he said, right before he laid the pill on his own tongue.

cadence laughed, the sound low and throaty. her eyes dropped to his lips, and then she leaned in, pressing their mouths together. 

raleigh gathered her into his arms as the sweet taste of strawberry candy exploded on her tongue. he pushed the candy into her mouth and kissed her hard, his hands moving swiftly to her hips. cadence responded in kind, winding her arms around his neck and slipping her fingers into his hair, holding on tightly.

kissing him was... nothing like kissing chadley. it was nothing like kissing anyone, it was -- something she didn’t think she could have prepared for, even if she’d tried. already, she knew she’d never forget this kiss for as long as she lived. she was going to spend the rest of time comparing everyone she kissed to him, to this, to right now --

raleigh lifted her easily onto the prop kitchen counter, settling his hands on her thighs. cadence shivered as he stepped in close between her spread legs, the hushed noise of the set around them fading away. she wasn’t acting when he pushed his hips forward against hers and she let out a breathless moan of ecstasy, her grip on his hair tightening so she could pull him closer.

“cut! great work, guys. let’s reset and run it again.”

her mouth broke away from his in a daze. cadence dragged the back of her hand across her lips, breathing hard. raleigh barely looked rattled, but she was struggling to get herself together, staring at him with wide eyes.

he smirked at her. “that good, huh?”

cadence blinked. “what -- i --” she reached out and whacked his shoulder. “shut up.”

his thumbs were rubbing little circles on her bare thighs, where the hem of the denim cut-offs she’d been given ended. his laugh was fond and warm -- it didn’t feel like he was laughing at her, exactly. it felt nice, like they were in on the same joke. “it was pretty good for me, too.”

“just pretty good?”

“guys?” the assistant director was looking at them like they were insane, and cadence startled, remembering they’d been instructed to reset. right. now wasn’t the time to be flirting with raleigh carrera, even though he’d just given her an earth-shatteringly good kiss. she was supposed to be working.

she cleared her throat, scrambling to stand again. raleigh waited a beat before moving away, so there were a few heart-stopping seconds where the full length of her body brushed against his. cadence shot him a look from under her false eyelashes as he slinked away.

they ran the scene an agonizing nine more times. by the end of the morning, her lips felt swollen and raw, and her jaw was tingling from the stubble that dotted raleigh’s face. 

and that wasn’t even to mention her nerves, which were alight and on edge after a seemingly endless few hours spent kissing the hottest guy on the face of planet earth. 

raleigh wrapped an arm around her shoulders as production broke down the set around them. “so, can i buy you lunch? i feel like it’s the least i can do.”

“i bet you say that to all the girls,” cadence hummed, leaning against his side. from across the room, she noticed jaylen watching them with narrowed eyes, a frown set on her face. cadence looked away. “did they set you up with a trailer?”

“yeah, but i bet yours is nicer,” he grinned, “since you’re the star, and i’m the guy who brings property damage everywhere he goes.” he had a point. “want to show it to me?”

cadence wondered if he meant the words as the invitation she thought he did. her pulse was racing. still, she nodded. “definitely.”

raleigh wasn’t shy about looking around when she let him inside her trailer. he seemed particularly taken by her large jar of pink starbursts, which he immediately dug his hand into as she dropped down onto the couch. “woah, okay, diva. you make them sort out the other colors?”

“no,” she laughed, “i tweeted once that the pink ones are my favorite, so -- now they just send them to me.”

he grinned obnoxiously at her as he popped one in his mouth. “aren’t the pink ones everyone’s favorite? you’re not so special.”

“god, i hope you don’t talk to every girl you make out with like this,” she laughed, kicking her feet up onto the table in front of the couch. “no wonder everyone thinks you’re such a dick.”

raleigh laid a hand over his heart, looking wounded. “it’s not everyone. just the MARCs.”

“the marks?”

“M-A-R-Cs. mothers against raleigh carrera.” he said the words with a completely straight face. cadence looked at him skeptically.

“no way is that real.”

“wanna bet?” he pulled his phone from his pocket before dropping down onto the couch beside her. the long line of his body took up an inordinate amount of space in her trailer. “see for yourself.”

“huh. they even have a facebook page.” her eyes drifted from the phone screen back to his face, which was suddenly very close. “i guess you are every parent’s worst nightmare.”

raleigh laughed, staring at her for a long moment before moving away, putting some distance between them. “cadence, you flatter me. now -- what do you want for lunch? you need to carb up for this afternoon.”

she rolled over to the end of the couch, grabbing her stack of takeout menus off the side table and presenting them to him with amusement. “we have to film one scene.”

“yeah, but you’ll be in bed with me. that’s -- understandably, of course -- going to be a lot for you.”

cadence leaned over and kicked his ankle. “the show airs in primetime. we’re just going to be waking up together. it’s all in the subtext.”

“hmmm.” his eyes were on the menus, even as he said, “doesn’t mean we can’t bring it into the... foretext.”

she blinked at him. “i don’t think that’s a word.”

raleigh lifted his head. his eyes were serious and intense when they locked on hers, and again cadence found herself helplessly caught in his gaze. “you know what i mean.”

oh, god. was raleigh carrera hitting on her? 

“um.” her eyes dropped to his lips, which quirked up at the corners as soon as he noticed. yeah. he was definitely hitting on her. raleigh carrera. hitting on her. she wondered what jared from ninth grade, who’d told her she was too ugly to go to homecoming with, would say if he was here. 

presumably tired of waiting for her to try to make sentences, raleigh leaned in and kissed her. not because they were rolling, or because he thought they should run lines for later -- but because he wanted to. 

cadence gasped, leaning back against the arm of the couch. raleigh shifted to lean over her, the takeout menus that’d been in his lap falling to the floor as he moved on top of her and pressed in close. 

since they’d filmed wicked midnight’s pilot, there had been a lot of famous people who visited the set. but she’d never done this before with anyone, and she felt more than a little out of her depth as raleigh’s knees pushed her thighs open so he could grind down against her. 

she felt like she was floating. he was a truly exceptional kisser, and the way he looked at her made her feel more than a little dangerous. if she was being honest, cadence wasn’t entirely sure what he thought he saw when he stared at her like he kept doing, but she was hardly in a position to question it when he tore his mouth away from hers, breathing hard, and started kissing down her neck instead.

her head tilted to the opposite side encouragingly, and her fingers found his hair again. “i thought you had a girlfriend,” she panted, the detail stuck in her mind, for some reason. she’d definitely read about it. she had a ridiculous name. peach? pear? plum? 

“who, apricott?” that was it. “god, no. that’s just for press. and i can’t stand her.”

she did seem pretty terrible. “so why do you --”

raleigh lifted his head. cadence had trouble focusing on the expression on his face when one of his large hands was spanning what felt like the entirety of her side under her costume shirt, his thumb mindlessly stroking the skin beneath the waistband of her denim shorts. “look, i like you. so if you want to do this -- i’ll tell my publicist it’s over.” 

what the fuck was happening? “if i want to... do what?”

he shrugged. he had all the confidence of someone who was never turned down. “hang out. see where this goes.”

well, she wasn’t that stupid. “i -- yeah, of course i do. like -- you mean... date, right?”

for a half-second, it looked like he was going to argue with her use of the word ‘date,’ but then that unreadable look was back on his face. raleigh nodded decisively. “yeah. date.” 

“okay, i think you’re asking me out.” her voice was playful again and her racing heartbeat was starting to calm, her thoughts finally getting back on track. she could fake the same level of confidence he had, right? “in which case -- i totally accept, but... you’ll need to pull out all the stops.”

raleigh smirked at her, his grip on her side tightening before his hand relaxed. “oh, yeah? you want a limo full of pink starbursts? dinner on top of the empire state building? a helicopter ride to a walk on the beach? i’ve heard it all before.”

cadence laughed, running her fingers through his hair. the warm smile raleigh gave her made her heartbeat skip. “oh my god, are those your moves? yes, definitely. i want the full raleigh carrera experience.”

his eyebrows bounced up and down, and he wiggled his hips pointedly against hers. “you sure? it could be a long night.”

the laugh she gave him was breathless. cadence felt unbelievably giddy as she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip and watched raleigh’s eyes narrow in on it. “i’m kinda counting on that.”

they made out until their call time, rolling around on her couch like teenagers. cadence couldn’t remember another time she’d kissed anyone for literal hours before. the way raleigh looked at her, disheveled and wanting and flushed, when the pa finally knocked on her trailer door to call for them, made her want to play hooky and blow off returning to set -- just so they could keep doing this. 

her indecision must’ve shown on her face. raleigh pressed his thumb against her bottom lip and sighed heavily. “you are so, so, so beautiful. i can’t wait to introduce you to second base.”

she laughed. “i have been there before, you know.”

raleigh’s hands slid slowly down her body, full of intent. “not with me.”

the poor pa knocked on her door again. “um, ms. dorian? you’re really needed on set, now.”

cadence lifted her hand to push at his shoulder. “get up, you’re going to get me in trouble.”

his fingers trailed ever-so-lightly over her bare thigh. “what’s life without a little trouble? besides, they literally can’t start without us. they can wait a few minutes.”

her hands moved to his messy hair, trying her best to smooth it back down. “they’re going to have to. we’re going to need another round of hair and makeup. and zadie’s going to kill me when she finds that thread you ripped.”

raleigh shrugged unrepentantly. “it was loose.” the unimpressed look she leveled him with made him sigh again. “fine, goody-two-shoes. we’ll go to set. but you’re in for it, later.”

anticipation sang through her, quick and thrilling. “oh, yeah?”

he groaned and rolled to stand. “don’t start, or i’ll never let you go. come on.”

every eye in the studio followed them when they stepped into the bedroom scene. they separated to get changed, and cadence blushed all over when she traded her nondescript top and shorts for just a bra and panties, prompting zadie to hone her gaze in on the fresh hickey starting to bloom across her collarbone. “i love the commitment. very method.”

cadence stalked off back towards the bed; raleigh was already shirtless and under the sheets, scrolling through his phone. for a moment, she pretended like they were at home in her apartment, and let herself really look at him. he looked good -- great. incredible.

he whistled at her when he saw her. that didn’t help her blush. a few members of the lighting crew laughed, double checking the scene when she slipped into the bed beside him.

katie from makeup came over with powder. she didn’t say anything about cadence’s hickey, even when raleigh very obviously leaned in, pressed his thumb against it and laughed, “oh, shit. sorry about that.”

it would have been a perfect time for the ground to open up and swallow her whole, but they started rolling, instead.

cadence had her back to raleigh, his arm slung low across her waist. lexi was supposed to wake up first, so she did, holding up a hand against the artificial bright light of the fake sun-filled window in her face. she groaned, pressing against her forehead, and then noticed the arm around her and slowly turned towards raleigh. 

her eyes went wide. “jason?”

she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stifle the smile that threatened as raleigh woke up so adorably. he made a soft, sleepy sound of confusion from beside her, cracking one eye open. “lexi. i thought i dreamt that.”

her expression was gentle for a split second before it hardened. she shook her head. “it was just a one-time thing,” she insisted brusquely, pulling away. “i was drunk.”

“you weren’t that drunk.” 

cadence was pointedly not looking at him. “we were high.”

raleigh laughed. “that, i’ll give you.” as she moved to get up out of the bed, his arm swung out and grabbed her, holding her still. “hey.”

she looked back at him expectantly. raleigh was great at acting nervous, swallowing hard while his eyes darted around the room. “can i see you again?”

cadence shook her head. “i don’t think so.”

“why not?”

“because... i’m a mess, jason. look at me. i deserve to be alone.”

“lexi...”

she shook her head, pulling out of his hold. raleigh let her go, and she started moving around the set by the bed, picking up the pieces of her outfit. “forget it.”

he slid to the edge of the bed, sitting on the mattress in just his briefs. both she and her character were trying not to stare. “you know, for what it’s worth... i don’t think you’re a mess. i think you’re pretty cool. and you’re -- you’re going to be okay, lexi.”

her lips pursed. her voice wavered when she said, “you don’t even know me.”

raleigh stood, crowding into her space. “actually, i think i know you better than you think. so that’s why... i’m okay with saying goodbye.” his eyes searched her face. “can i kiss you one last time?”

cadence drew in a shallow breath and nodded. raleigh cupped her face in his hands, holding her jaw steady, and kissed her hard. she had to actively fight the urge to pull him closer, knowing that lexi was still resistant to letting him get close -- but it was hard, when raleigh was such an expert kisser, the movement of his mouth against hers making her weak in the knees.

she was almost relieved when the director called, “cut! that was great, guys. we definitely got it. raleigh -- thanks for coming out, man. awesome stuff today. hopefully we can have you back soon.”

he reached out and ruffled her hair, grinning brightly. “only if you keep sticking me with this one.” cadence elbowed him in the side. “seriously, thanks for having me. this was really cool.”

zadie was holding out a robe for her. cadence reluctantly stepped out from raleigh’s body heat and put it on, smiling softly at the way he pouted when she tied it closed. 

he stepped up close and lowered his voice so none of the many, many people moving around them could hear. “so, are you done for the day? can i buy you a drink?”

“ooooh, are we going out for drinks?” somehow, jaylen stepped up between them, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “hi, i don’t think we got a chance to meet, yet. jaylen riaz -- i play rosa martinez.”

“...right. good to meet you. i’m raleigh.”

jaylen laughed as though he’d just made a funny joke. “of course i know who you are, silly. do you think i live under a rock?”

raleigh’s eyes were begging for help. cadence leaned in between them. “you should totally meet us when you’re wrapped for the day. i’ll text you where we wind up, but -- first we need to grab some food.”

“right.” raleigh’s lips twitched. “we skipped lunch.”

the memory of what they’d been doing instead threatened to make her blush, but cadence fought it off, wary of the way jaylen was looking back and forth between the two of them. “okay,” she said finally, her voice slow and thoughtful, “sounds fun.”

fortunately, they made it back to her trailer before she lost it, dissolving into giggles. cadence leaned her back against the closed door as her shoulders shook with laughter. “god,” she grinned, “you are such a dick.”

“me?” raleigh demanded, “what about you? you should totally meet us.” 

“okay, i do not sound like that.” cadence dropped her robe and started getting dressed in the clothes she’d wore to set that morning, what felt like a hundred years ago. “and i was just being nice. she totally likes you, she’s going to be so pissed at me when she finds out this is, like, a thing.”

“i guess i am irresistible,” he sighed, expertly ducking the t-shirt she threw at him. “i can’t fault her for her good taste.”

“it’s amazing your ego even fits in here.” she reached for her purse, pulling out her phone. she’d hardly looked at it all day, and it was alive with activity -- her manager had texted her about... forty-five times. cadence scrolled down to the bottom and saw the message that started it all: what’s this i hear about you getting cozy on set with raleigh carrera? sure you want to go down that road?

she grimaced. “let me guess,” raleigh said, cutting through her thoughts, “someone doesn’t want you getting messed up with me.”

cadence hesitated, her non-answer an answer on its own. he dragged his tongue across his teeth. “it’s really up to you, though, isn’t it?”

it was. “yeah,” she nodded, “and i don’t care about any of that, anyway. are you sure i’m not causing trouble for you? what about your fake girlfriend?”

he rolled his eyes. “she’ll get over it. as long as you’re okay, i’m okay.”

she smiled. “i’m okay,” cadence confirmed, “whatever happens -- i can handle it.” the look he was giving her was difficult to decipher, but she thought he might be pleased. she hesitated. “you’re... sure you want to do this, though? it’s okay if you just got caught up in the story.” 

“uh, hello? i already slept with lexi d’agosto, remember?” the obnoxious grin he was wearing softened at the sight of the expression on her face. “cadence, i’m sure. i like you. i want to hang out more -- see where this goes. you’re the one i should be double-checking.” 

“no way.” she gestured for him to follow her out of her trailer, into the film lot. “you’re not going to get out of giving me the full raleigh carrera experience. i don’t care what it costs you to buy out the empire state building.”

he laughed, his hand finding hers to link their fingers together. “i think you’ll change your tune after the blogs get wind of this, but -- fair enough.”

eventually, they reached the security gate. she’d have to walk them out into the street to find the car that was waiting for her, and if her manager had already heard the rumors sparking from their day on set, that meant that it was likely a few photographers had, too. once they left the film lot, there was no going back.

raleigh squeezed her hand. “ready for your life to get messier?”

things had been awfully predictable, lately. “definitely. ready for yours to get more awesome?”

“oh, absolutely.” together, they started off down the street. camera flashes exploded behind her eyelids, but she kept her head down, fighting a smile all the way to the car.

at least whatever happened next was bound to be interesting.

[desdemonafictional]

Guess WHAT I’m doing hxh fic again, we’ll see if it goes anywhere, but here’s a bit of action/adventure

--

Gon had left his home island in the eastern sea and arrived on the mainland just in time to catch a ride on a caravan headed west, towards the capital of the Seaside Empire. The last letter his aunt had received from his father was marked with the seal of the Capital, sent almost twelve years before, and attached to a dagger that Mito had presented to Gon, reluctantly, on his birthday. 

“So what did the letter say?” Kurapika had asked him, as they sat around the campfire that first night with the caravan.

“Well…” Gon had shrugged with some embarrassment. “It said I should take the dagger for an inheritance and not chase after him, since he’s as good as dead to me now that he left me behind for someone else to raise.”

Kurapika’s eyebrows went up. “And yet here you are, chasing after him.”

Gon wrinkled his nose. “I just don’t think it’s a very good trade! I’m going to find him, and give him the dagger back, and make him show me how to be a treasure hunter like he is. And then it’ll be fair.”

“Suppose he doesn’t want to teach you?” Kurapika asked.

“He will,” Gon said, with perfect confidence. “I’m his son! When he sees how serious I am, he’ll have to do it.”

On Kurapika’s right, Leorio was slumped back against a stump and examining the dagger in question, holding it up against the firelight. “Sure doesn’t seem like anything special,” he remarked. “Maybe it’s just some junk he picked up. Maybe he isn’t even a real treasure hunter.”

“He is!” Gon said. “Everyone says he was an amazing treasure hunter, even before he left! He killed a dragon when he was only fifteen years old! That’s amazing, isn’t it?”

Since that first night, on the coast, their caravan had come many days travel deeper into the mainland. The passed through the swamplands, through a great rushing river that had carried away a dozen less cautious of their fellow travelers , and was passing now through the Ruined Lands, a wilderness spotted at every turn with the wreckage of some ancient stone empire.

About a day’s journey into the Ruined Lands, the poplars and willows and birds gave way to a standing stone circle straight in the middle of their path.

“At this point,” the head of the caravan—a seasoned merchant from the north—announced to the group at large, “we’ll have to go around! It’s bad luck to travel through the circle, and the road ahead is rife with all kinds of danger. They say a dragon lives inside one of the burial mounds that way, and the last thing we want is to be noticed by a dragon.”

There was a ragged shout of boos from the crowd. With their many pack animals and unwieldy wooden cartwheels, none of the travelers relished the idea of lugging their possessions through the narrow foot trails and underbrush of the forest.  While they were embroiled in argument with the head of the caravan, Gon and his friends hung back from the mess and surveyed the hill with the  standing circle with some interest.

“I suppose the road must lead through it for a reason,” Kurapika said, considering the deeply worn ruts in the turf at his foot. “Maybe there was originally a pilgrimage that ran this way.”

“Pretty impressive it’s still standing,” Leorio said. “But I’m more interested in those burial mounds he mentioned. I wonder if they’ve already been looted, or if there’s still any treasure left in there.”

“Did you miss the part where he mentioned a dragon?” Kurapika asked dryly. “Or can’t you hear anything past the sound of cash registers?”

While Leorio scoffed, Gon scaled the side of a vardo wagon. From its curved wooden roof, he was able to see past the circle and into the countryside ahead, where the heather gave way to woods again.

There was sudden shouting and banging from the other side of the wagon, and Gon slid across the roof just in time to see a trio of travelers shove the caravan head down onto the turf.

“Listen here,” one of them said, while the other two bore down on the more experienced traveler, “we’ve got an appointment to make in the capital, and we’re not about to lose a day mucking around in the shrubs with all these donkeys and chicken coops. You’re gonna take us through the straightway, and you’re gonna do it now.”

Gon climbed to his feet. “Hey!” he shouted down. “Leave him alone, he’s just doing his job!”

In a moment, Kurapika and Leorio had rushed around the side of the vardo to see what the fuss was about. Leorio stiffened; Kurapika reached for his batons. Immediately a handful of random travelers reached for their own weapons, short swords and hooks and hammers, and closed ranks around the belligerent trio.

“Everyone, please,” the caravan head said, one elbow planted in the dirt. He lifted the other hand in a plea for peace. “A caravan should never quarrel within itself. We are all we have out here in this wilderness.”

The skinnier one of the trio planted his boot in the man’s back and ground down. “Fine by us, we don’t want a fight. We just wanna get going. You gonna do the smart thing, old man?”

There was a tightness in the air, as Leorio and Kurapika both drew themselves down into a coiled stance, ready to spring. The share of travelers who had sided with the trio, more than a third of the whole group, also tensed.

“Yes,” the headman said, at last, “fine, we will go on with the straightway. If that’s what the group wants, that’s what we’ll do. Let me up.”

The tension remained, as the trio let the headman up and the man brushed himself off. Gon jumped down between Kurapika and Leorio, who were putting away their own weapons with some reluctance.

“That isn’t right,” Gon said. “He’s the most experienced traveler, if he says the road is dangerous, we should be listening to him.”

“I agree,” Kurapika said. “All the same, there’s strength in numbers. I would be hesitant to break off from the caravan, even if I knew the way to the capital perfectly myself.”

“We’re at the mercy of the whole stupid mob of ‘em,” Leorio agreed, his eyes narrowing.

And it was on that grim note that they set off again, amongst the rolling coops and covered wagons, and passed beneath the wide stone lintel of the standing circle.

Kurapika, as he had eventually revealed, was on his way to the capital to become an enforcer; that was to say, a warrant officer, a hound of the empire. Leorio was traveling to find a doctor willing to teach him medicine, and hopefully apprentice himself to the craft. Neither could afford to delay their travel another season, even if the caravan they found themselves attached to was in conflict with their own principles.

In the woods deep beyond the standing circle, beneath the canopy of seasonless beeches, Gon paused mid-step and turned his head north.

“What?” Leorio said, bending down. “You hear something?”

“What could he possibly hear over this racket,” Kurapika murmured, as the coop of squawking chickens rolled along behind him.

Gon shook his head. “I smell…” He frowned. “I smell sweat. And old blood.”

Leorio and Kurapika met each other’s worried gazes at the same time. “Let’s get the headman,” Kurapika said, just as the first arrow flew out of the treeline and embedded itself in the post of the chicken coop.

In the same moment, the three of them grabbed hands and threw themselves through the gap in the train of wagons, taking shelter behind the wall of the next vardo as a hail of arrows punched into the whole north facing side of the wagon train.

“Bandits!” Kurapika shouted, his voice almost lost in the eruption of chaos.

“We need to get out of the open,” Leorio said. The checkered brocade of his carpet bag swung as he gestured to the southern treeline. “We’re sitting ducks out here.”

“The headman,” Gon said, suddenly. “We have to get him.”

“Gon, we don’t have—” Kurapika looked down just soon enough to realize Gon was no longer there, “—time. Oh.”

He looked at Leorio. Leorio let out a sharp breath and then straightened up. “Tell you the truth, I wouldn’t feel right leaving the guy either. He tried to warn us.”

“Yes,” Kurapika said, turning to the front end of the caravan. “Yes, I suppose so.”

The whooping, mounted shapes of bandits were pouring out of the woods—probably not more than a dozen, but in their staggered chaos they had the feeling of being an endless flood to the unprepared travelers. It was pandemonium as Gon and his friends raced to reach the headman; animals in disarray, humans shouting and scrambling for control of them. A mule tore free of his leadline and broke for the southern woods, scattering wax-wrapped packets across the ground as he went.

They found the headman slumped and clutching an arrow embedded in his upper arm, blood blooming through his blue wool sleeve. He looked up as Gon reached him, confusion and pain in a mixture across his features.

“Let us help you, sir,” Gon said, and braced the man so that he could get to his feet again.

“Do you know anything about these bandits?” Kurapika asked. “How they operate?”

“I don’t know this band,” the headman told them, his voice tight. “I don’t know if they kill travelers or leave them alive.”

“Well let’s not stick around to find out,” Leorio said, and tossed his carpetbag against his back.

Kurapika hooked the headman’s uninjured arm over his own shoulder and then they were off, darting across the ditch and over the shoulder of the road. There was a shout from somewhere behind them; a twang, and the dire whistle of fletching passing through air. Kurapika was caught with dread—what could he do but keep going, even with the weight of the headman dragging him down? They had rescued the man, it would be the height of dishonor to abandon him now.

The whistle broke suddenly into a gruesome thock as it hit human flesh, but it was neither Kurapika nor the headman who cried out. Leorio let out a pained grunt, from much closer behind Kurapika than he had been before.

They hit the treeline. Another arrow embedded itself in the trunk of a tree, and then they were safe among the old growth of the forest, beyond the reach of arrows. Kurapika could finally turn his head and see what had become of Leorio.

White faced, grimacing, Leorio was only a few steps behind. At first there was no sign of the arrow, but then it dawned on Kurapika that the shaft of the arrow had passed through the carpetbag over Leorio’s shoulder and buried itself in his shoulder blade.

“Oh,” Kurapika said. “You’re…”

Leorio’s grimace twisted into something echoing a smile. “Don’t sweat it,” he said. “It’s not that deep. Better me than you guys, anyway.”

“Leorio…” Kurapika said.

Gon appeared at his elbow, making a thoughtful circle around his back. “We need to get that loose. Normally it’s better to leave them in, but the shaft is pinning your bag to your back, and you won’t be able to let go of the handle or the weight will snap it.”

“We can’t do it out here,” Leorio retorted. “Who knows if they’ll send someone after us. We need shelter, somewhere defensible.”

Gon tapped his boot a couple times, and then he said, “I’ll scout ahead, I’m faster and uninjured. You guys just keep moving south, and I’ll find you again once I’ve found a place.”

“Very well,” Kurapika said. “Go on ahead. I’m sure with your experience you can find something suitable for all of us.”

“You sure?” Leorio said. “That just leaves the two of us.”

Kurapika smiled at him, just past the bend of the headman’s elbow. “I think we’ll do just fine together.”

Leorio went red. Kurapika started moving forward again, leaving him where he stood.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

One In A Million - Chpt.6

Summary: Rose spends an idyllic holiday season with the guys before tragedy strikes, threatening to disrupt the timeline that Rose is trying so hard to keep on course.

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! We’re in full swing relationship mode now and I just adore the whole “stucky x reader” set up. Prepare yourself for sweet fluff and a pinch of angst before even sweeter fluff. Because ya’ll should know by now that’s my jam lol. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Six

Dating the guys turns out to be very similar to what you had been doing up until that point. They come over every other day, sometimes every day if your schedules align. In public Steve is your boyfriend and you happily chit chat with the girls at the office who all are curious about how smitten you are with the tiny, shy, artist. There’s always that ache in your chest though, when you want to share something about Bucky but can’t. He’s your boyfriend’s best friend and while you can tell the occasional story about the three of you hanging out, there’s so much you can’t share. The truth is, Bucky is actually the sweeter of the two. He’s desperately affectionate and tactile with you and Steve. While Steve will spend an afternoon drawing something in his sketch pad, Bucky isn’t happy unless he’s tangled around you like an octopus. You indulge him often, surprised by how easy it is to be close with him. Steve jokes that it’s nice having someone else for Bucky to throw himself on for a change. Not that Steve isn’t affectionate, but he’s more like a cat; coming to you in infrequent bursts when the mood strikes him. 

The holidays come and go quietly. Bucky and Steve head up to visit Bucky’s family for a few days and you stay home eagerly awaiting their return. You made them promise not to get anything but they both show up on your doorstep with gifts in hand when they get back. Steve gives you a sketch of the three of you sprawled out on the sofa together. It’s beautifully done and you promise to keep it on your bedside table. Bucky gives you a pair of the thick woolly socks you steal from him whenever you spend time at their place. They’re your favorite and you’re touched knowing he put a lot of thought into your gift. You grumble about them spending money on you but they ignore it, doing the same when they unwrap their packages. 

You had wanted to get them things they wouldn’t have bought for themselves. Steve has to stop halfway through thanking you for his new art supplies, choking up with emotion until he finally just pulls you in his arms for a hug that lasts for what feels like forever. Bucky actually is rendered speechless by his coat and gloves. He showers you with kisses when his brain finally catches up and you know he’s appreciative of the gift. He had gone without a new coat for a few years now, his getting more worn and threadbare each season. Bucky always claimed getting a warm coat for Steve was the priority, letting his own wait even when it really couldn’t. The gloves were likewise necessary. His hands were always chapped from the bitter cold and dampness down at the docks and they couldn’t afford good leather gloves that would keep his hands dry. 

The three of you spend the whole weekend in your apartment, snuggled safely away from the world. The guys are both gentlemen through and through, volunteering to take the sofa and the floor to sleep on. You know girls aren’t supposed to be so free in the ‘40s but you can’t possibly let them sleep uncomfortably when you have a bed big enough for the three of you to sleep in. Bucky caves first, pointing out that Steve has enough health problems without him sleeping badly and aggravating his back. You lead them both down the hall to your bed where they slip in next to you like they belong there. Bucky claims the middle, the prime cuddling spot, or so he claims, leaving you and Steve to trade amused grins over him. 

New Years Eve and Day are spent at their apartment, Steve claiming it’s only fair since they celebrated Christmas at yours. He cooks up a small hunk of corned beef, simmering it slowly all day with cabbage, potatoes, and other root vegetables he was able to get on sale. It’s quite different than the pork and sauerkraut you’re used to but you go along with their traditions without complaint. You sit around dreaming up plans for 1942 together, places to go and things to do. Bucky mentions the rink at Rockefeller center, everyone has been talking about it since it opened a few years ago and it’s supposed to be quite an experience. Steve agrees it would be a good time and tells Bucky they should start saving now so they can take you before spring comes. You shake your head, “Why wait?” you ask them, “It’s probably still decorated from Christmas. What better time to go than when it’s at it’s best? We can go tomorrow.”

Steve sighs, a tight smile on his face. “We’re just dreamin’, doll. As much as we want to take you, that place is for those fancy Manhattan folks. Last I heard, it was a dollar a skate and then we have the subway cost to get there and back.” 

“So I’ll pay for it, I don’t care. I want to take you two out and do something fun. Start the new year off right.” 

The pinched look on Steve’s face deepens, “We don’t need your charity…”

“My what!?” you bark at him. Bucky has inched back, wisely staying out of the escalating argument. He has enough sisters to know that Steve is not winning this one. 

“I know this isn’t the most traditional relationship but you gotta let us take care of you, doll. Like a man should.”

“Steven. Grant. Rogers.” you grit out in outrage, “If I want to take you out I damn well will. Don’t start with that antiquated, patriarchal, misogynistic bullshit!” 

Steve flushes, his cheeks burning brightly, and he stands up from his seat on the sofa to storm off to his bedroom where he slams the door behind him. 

Bucky shoots you a raised eyebrow, making sure he isn’t in trouble by association. You shake your head and sit back heavily, worried you ruined New Years Day. 

“He’ll be okay, just give him a minute to calm down.” Buck assures you, “You and I both know Stevie supports the women’s rights movement but it’s still a hard habit to break, wanting to take care of our best gal.” 

You climb into Bucky’s arms, wanting the comfort it brings you, “I’m sorry for ruining the holiday.”

“You didn’t ruin a thing. Just give him a few more minutes and then go talk to him. You have to understand, we didn’t grow up with money. I know you did so it’s not something you worry about, but that’s hard for us to adjust to.” 

You snuggle in against him, letting the minutes slip by until you can go to Steve and make things right. 

When you do finally go to him, Steve is staring out the window, brow furrowed under the weight of his thoughts. You apologize, and so does he. You both know your hearts were in the right place even if it doesn’t always come out that way. 

The next day you take your guys ice skating at Rockefeller Center just like you had wanted to. They insist on buying lunch and you let them, a quiet compromise to keep everyone happy. You skate for hours until your legs are weak and your fingertips and noses are frozen from the cold. Bucky fusses over both of you the whole way home, worried you’ll catch your death. It was the best day you can remember having in years, and one you’ll cherish the memory of forever. It was also the last good day you had together before it all went to hell. 

xxXxx

Bucky’s concern over Steve or you getting sick turns out to be legitimate. Two days after your trip Steve is coughing deep and rough, his asthmatic lungs not faring well against the illness he’s caught. By the third day he’s in bed with a fever that climbs faster than the medicine can work. Bucky can’t take the time off work, not if he wants to keep a roof over their heads, and so you call out from the SSR office, letting them know your boyfriend is not well. 

Seeing Steve suffering is a new level of hell. He’s sweaty from the fever, shaking from chills, and the cough in his chest could wake the dead. It’s amazing his body doesn’t just shatter apart from the force of it. You stay by his side, giving him sips of warm broth and tea when he can manage and reading to him from his favorite books. After a week he looks like a skeleton, shrunken on himself and devoid of the liveliness he normally radiates with. Bucky calls the doctor then, scared of the cost but more afraid of losing the love of his life. 

You can’t help but blame yourself. You knew Steve was prone to getting sick but you had pushed to go skating with them. It was selfish, so selfish, and now Steve was paying the price. Bucky tries to soothe your fears and guilt, reminding you Steve caught pneumonia just by stepping outside most years. You put on your bravest face and smile so Bucky will have one less thing to worry about, but it doesn’t alleviate your guilt in the least. There’s also the undercurrent of fear that you’ve messed up the timelines now and ruined everything. He has to pull through. He has to, so he can go be Captain America and save the world, you tell yourself.

Bucky won’t let you pay for the doctor who comes or the medicine he prescribes. You argue over it briefly but Bucky insists he saves for things like this and they’ll be fine. Steve comes out of it a few days later, the new medicine doing its job at last. 

“Hey,” Steve croaks, his voice rough from disuse. 

Your eyes fly up from the book you’re reading to meet bright blue eyes that are focusing on you for the first time in ten days. “Steve.” you squeak out through the tightness in your throat. You can’t contain your relief. “Oh honey, I thought we were gonna lose you.” you sob.

Steve reaches out with a painfully thin hand, “It’s gonna be okay.” 

“God, I was so scared.” 

“Come on, get in here with me if you can stand the smell.” he jokes weakly.

You carefully climb into bed with him, pulling him close until you’re lying flush against one another. You stroke the sweat sticky hair from his face, running your fingers over the sharp bones of his cheeks. Steve is too worn out to protest as you sprinkle kisses across his face. 

“If this is the treatment for whatever I had, sign me up for another round.” 

You frown at him fiercely. “Don’t even joke. I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, don’t you worry.” 

“I’ve done nothing else for ten days. I can’t lose you, I love you.” Tears are still falling from your eyes but you catch the change in Steve’s expression. You hadn’t even realized you said I love you out loud, having repeated it so often in your head while at his bedside that it feels natural now. 

“You love me, huh?” his eyes shine with amazement, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, I do.” you admit, not wanting to take it back now that the truth is out. 

“I love you too, Rose. Does Bucky know yet?”

“I haven’t said it to him yet. I will though, tonight.” 

“Make sure I’m there when you do. I’m sure he’ll react much better than when I said it to him the first time.” he huffs out a weak laugh and you reach back to get him a cup of tea from the side table. Steve sips slowly, letting his body adjust. “Do you wanna guess what that jerk said to me when I told him I was in love with him?” 

“I can’t even imagine.” 

“I was fifteen and he was sixteen. It was summer and we were flush after he got his first paycheck from helping sweep up at the docks where his dad worked. We spent the day at Coney Island eating hot dogs and riding the ferris wheel until they kicked us off. We were sitting down on the beach watching the waves as the moon came up, everyone else had left by then, and I realized it was the moment I’d been waiting for. I looked over at him and said ‘I love you, Buck’ to which the idiot said ‘love you too, pal.” easy as could be. So I told him ‘I’m in love with you.” and the great buffoon shoved at me and said “You do not!”. So then I shoved at him back and we ended up rolling around scrapping on the beach until finally, one of us let up. It wasn’t until we’d gotten home to my place that said he was in love with me too.” 

“That’s terrible and wonderful. I love it.” you tell him. 

“I never thought we’d find someone like you. I can’t believe I got this lucky twice.” 

You blush at his words, unable to believe his love for you could be even remotely close to his feelings for Bucky. 

“What time is it?” Steve asks squinting at the clock.

“Quarter after four.” you reach to the nightstand for his glasses so he can see for himself too.

“I hate to ask this of you, but could you help me to the bathroom? I could really use a shower.” 

“Honey, it’s okay. Bucky and I have been taking turns caring for you so it’s no big deal.” 

“Great. Not exactly the first impression I’d like to leave when you see me naked the first time.” 

“Hey, don’t be like that.” you scold him as you let him support himself on you to stand, “If you think for one minute I’m going to see something I don’t like when I look at you, you’re crazy.” 

Steve grumbles but decides he wants to be clean more than he wants to act tough. You half help, half carry Steve into the bathtub, setting him down carefully inside it while you get the water nice and warm. He tries to wash himself but his arms are shaking after a minute and you take over washing his hair for him, getting it nice and clean for the first time in over a week. The bath exhausts Steve and he naps while you make dinner, barely keeping his eyes open to dry off.

Bucky is ecstatic when you tell him Steve was awake and talking earlier. He barely stops to give you a kiss before he’s barging into the bedroom to see Steve. You join them a little while later, eating dinner in bed on trays so that Steve can rest but still be included. He’s sleeping again before he even finishes his soup, his tray whisked away to let him rest peacefully between you and Bucky. You talk quietly over him, catching up on your days and sharing in your relief that he’s finally improved. 

“Thank you for helping me care for him. It got really bad this time. I don’t know what we would have done without you.” Bucky says again, grateful for all your help over the past week.

“It was no problem. I love him, of course I wanted to take care of him when he’s sick.”

Bucky looks over, surprised. “You love him, huh?”

“I do.” 

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s easy to love.” Bucky looks down at Steve with such sweetness it’s hard for you not to jump over Steve and kiss him.

“Hey Buck.” you catch his attention again.

“Hmm?” he finally looks over at you.

“I love you too.” 

Bucky smiles wide and warm like the sun. “You do, huh?”

“Yep.” you chew on your lip, waiting for his next move.

“It’s a good thing then. ‘Cause I love you too.” Bucky gets up, coming around to your side of the bed where he can pull you up into his arms. 

“I love you.” you whisper between kisses.

“I love you, so much doll.” he replies, burying his face into the curve of your neck. 

“Ah shit. Steve wanted to be awake for that.” you groan.

“What? Why?” Bucky asks with a chuckle.

“He wanted to make sure you didn’t shove me after I said it.” 

“Oh no, he told you the story!” Bucky is cringing, embarrassed by the memory. 

“It’s sweet.” you assure him. 

Bucky starts trailing kisses up your throat again and you sink into his embrace, letting yourself enjoy the contact after a week of tense worry. 

Steve really will be okay, you’re sure of that now. The timeline is intact despite all of your involvement in their lives and you just have to get through the next four months without disrupting anything else. Though how you are going to walk away from the two of them is getting more and more complicated.

Tag list! @wolfarrowepz​

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/63206323

Chapter 27

Seeing the Avalon Hotel for the first time, Arthur gasped. It looked even more glorious than he had imagined. „Wow, it’s a palace“, he sighed, clinging to Nick, causing his lover to chuckle. „Wait until you’ve seen it from inside.“ Arthur was eager to go in.

But before, they had to climb the noble wide stairs in front of the building. Arthur saw a golden statue decorating it and wondered what it might show. Halfway up the stairs he stopped and said: „Wait…is that you?“ Nick couldn’t help grinning. „Yep. It’s for the annual convention. It’s not always standing here.“ „Stop“, Arthur suddenly commanded. „Huh?“ Nick gave his lover a puzzled look, wondering if he said something wrong. „Could you place yourself next to the statue for a moment? Or better, on the pedestal?“

Nick obeyed quickly. He liked the sudden determination of his lover. It promised to be interesting.

Standing next to his golden self he put an arm around it’s shoulder in an easygoing pose. „Like this?“. His voice was pure silk. When he glanced back at  Arthur he saw that his lover suddenly held a camera in his hands. Startled, he held up his own hands as an attempt to hide his face. „Hey, wait!", he shouted, "I’m not prepared for this! My hair is uncombed and my suit is full of wrinkles and my shoes are dirty…“ He began to tug at his clothes and sort his hair strands.

„Don’t be silly. You look smashing!" Arthur took his first photo without a warning, just when the nervous rock star was trying to clean his shoes. „Hey, I wasn’t ready!“, Nick moaned, but his lover had no mercy. „Start posturing or else this will be on the front page!“ Finally, Nick gave up his resistance.

Instead he proved to Arthur that he was a very talented model if he wanted to. Using  all his irresistible charisma he was making his lover sweat behind the camera. Arthur forgave him all the crazy or way too sexy poses that would never make it in the newspaper. He planned to keep these photos for himself.

„Reporters, man, never lose an opportunity to assault innocent stars,“ Nick sighed, having the situation under control again. „You know what’s a really interesting subject?“ „I have some in mind,“ Arthur said, giving Nick a wholesome shiver. He however pointed at him and then at the pedestal. „You…up there. And I’m gonna take the photos.“ Arthur winced. „Me? No way! No one wants me on a photo,“ he stuttered while Nick hopped from the pedestal and snatched the camera from his hands. „But me,“ he countered. „Let me have some fun or I’ll get grumpy.“ „Do you even know how a camera works?“, Arthur tried but Nick lifted a hand. „Want a smack on the ear?“, he asked in a playful way. Then he pointed at the statue. „Get up there.“

Arthur climbed the pedestal and unsurely hung about the golden Nick. „The lens is on the front side, Nicky,“ he kept on kidding, but his voice was shaky. „And you better take a look into the little window on the back, so you’ll see if it’s focused!“ Nick lifted an eyebrow. „You have a big mouth for someone who’s posing like he shit his pants.“ „I’m not a model, Nick!“, Arthur protested with his fits clenched.

„You could be!", his lover said with emphasis. "After all you're tall, slim and handsome. All you need is a sense of ease, a sense of laissez faire, you know what I mean?“ Arthur crossed his arms and blushed. „The opposite of that,“ Nick commented, even though he found it adorable. „That’s ridiculous,“ Arthur grumbled. „Please, Arthur, only one picture! Be a tiny bit spontaneous, just stop thinking for a moment!“

Arthur, who was still red, tried his best to please his lover. He backed against the statue and laid a hand on it’s cold chest. „Yes,“ Nick yelled. „That’s good!“ He took the photo. „Give me another one,“ he said and Arthur complied. He tried a lot of silly stuff, hoping that no one would ever see these pictures, and only comforted by the fact that at least Nick seemed to like what he did. He had never considered to be somewhat good looking. Nick kept telling him though, so perhaps at least for the two of them it was true.

„You got it now, baby! Yeah, give me more!“ Nick blew kisses at Arthur who now thought that he maybe wasn't that bad. He got motivated enough to try something crazy, so he climbed on the statue and lied down on it’s widened arms. „Oh, that’s beautiful. Stay like this!“ Nick took multiple photos, thinking that he'd beg Arthur to develop them all so he could keep them. A sharp voice ended his euphoria.

„What do you think you’re doing here?“ A man in a red uniform came out of nowhere and eyed them suspiciously. Arthur quickly climbed down. Nick remained calm. „Public relations“, he said. „We must not be disturbed.“ „Is that so?“, the nosey man snapped. „And since when does the star take photos of the journalist?“ „This is the new age of journalism!" Nick's voice was now dripping with pathos. "The new transparency! People are done with the no-names and no-faces, they want to see the person behind the camera!“ The man remained unfazed.

„That's fine with me, but not in this property. This isn’t a playground and this statue his rather delicate.“ „But it’s my statue,“ Nick pointed out. „I don’t allow it,“ the man said sternly. „If you need something to climb, we have cliffs all around the island.“ „Very funny,“ Nick said dryly, but he had no chance. He turned to Arthur who had nervously watched their conversation. „What did I tell you? Nothing but snobs here.“ Arthur took the camera out of his lover’s hands. „Perhaps we went overboard a bit,“ he muttered. „Nonsense! We’re here to have fun after all. Let’s go in.“

With that he led Arthur into a pompous entrance hall that was filled with people who seemed to be totally ignorant about the beauty around them. Busy bell boys dragging heavy suitcases, stressed out receptionists, bored or upset guests sitting in comfortable chairs, and between all this Arthur who tried to be not too obvious about his astonishment.

Nick watched him rapturously, until he asked: „Are you hungry?“ Arthur gave him a puzzled look, so he repeated: „I asked if you’re hungry.“ and grinned Finally, Arthur heard him and noticed how the word ‚hunger‘ dramatically changed the feeling in his stomach. All of a sudden he had a gaping hole inside him and at the same time he became very interested in what people might eat in this wonderful place. „I guess so,“ he said blankly. „Splendid. I need a snack too.“ They meandered through the masses of people and luggage until they reached a double door. Nick opened it for Arthur. „After you.“

The restaurant was much calmer, the guests were good tempered and in the distance they heard a soft tune played on a piano. Arthur started to feel much better. When Nick ordered a table, he still hid behind him. He didn’t really trust the Wellies anymore. He was glad when the waiter gave them a cozy place in a corner of the room where nobody would watch them. They sat down and received the menu. Opening it, Arthur gulped.

„Oh dear,“ he said quietly. „What?“ Nick looked at him. „Everything is so…expensive. I’m afraid I can’t even afford a plate of buttered bread in here.“ Nick sighed. „Oh, Arthur, you’re so cute..." Arthur gave him another puzzled look. „You can have everything you want", his lover explained. "You’re my guest.“ Arthur scanned the menu again and found many delicious meals. He had no clue what to take.

„Do you have a favorite?“, he asked and Nick got going. He described at least ten different meals until Arthur interrupted him. „Did you already try everything on the card?“, he gasped. „Not everything. They change it every season. But it’s alright if you want something that’s not on it.“ Nick was so casual about it, as if they were just having a snack in a fast food restaurant. Arthur shook his head.

„I…I can’t decide.“, he said after a while. „Then choose everything!“ Nick gave him a wide smile. „I can’t do that.“ „Why not?“ „I’m not that hungry.“ „Then I’ll help you.“

While they were discussing, the waiter came back to their table. Nick saw him and quickly said: „I’ll take over. Or else you’ll miss out on too much.“ He began to give a large order and Arthur felt torn between his sense of shame and his growling stomach. „Thank you“, he whispered when the waiter was gone. His stomach had won. Nick patted his arm. „Wait until you take the first bite.“

„I’m so hungry, I feel like I didn’t eat in weeks“, Arthur suddenly admitted. „Shall I fetch you something from the bar?“ Nick was about to get up, but Arthur took his arm. „No, It’s okay", he assured him. "I want to stay hungry for everything you ordered.“ Nick eyed him. „Tell me if you need something, okay? I don’t want you to faint before you can eat anything.“ „Don’t worry. I can wait.“

Arthur had to remind himself that this was real. Whenever he spend time with Nick, he suddenly felt like a very important person. Just a couple of days ago he would’ve never believed that a man like Nick would love him. But here they were, sitting in the most noble restaurant in town. He felt flattered, seeing the way the famous rockstar looked at him. Nervously, he cleared his throat.

„How are you doing by the way? How’s the band?“ Nick relaxed again and smiled. „I feel great! I’m surprised myself about how well it’s working. When we’re playing, it feels just like in the old days, as if we’ve never been separated.“ He nodded, musing. „This is my chance. Our chance." Arthur gave him a warm smile. Time to dig deeper.

„Sounds like you’ll get the new record together.“ „You bet! We’re almost done!“, he said proudly. „Okay, we need a few more songs, two or three perhaps, but I sense this is going to be big.“ Arthur made a prying face. „How did you get your band back in the first place?“

Nick suddenly leaned closer to Arthur. Their faces almost touched. „Arthur…“ he whispered mysteriously. „Yes?,“ his lover sighed. „Arthur, my darling…“, Nick went on purring. „Yes?“, Arthur said again. Nick's voice was louder again when he said: „Tell me the truth. Is this really a date or do you want to squeeze informations out of me?“ He made Arthur wince. „You think I could do that?“ „I mistrust journalists in general,“ Nick said definitely. „So?“ Arthur stared down at the table.

„Of course it’s a date“, he said quietly. „But I had to promise my old boss to give him a new big story to get my press pass back. And if I don’t deliver I’ll soon be just a downer who stole a press pass. Please Nick, play along. I won’t write anything you don’t like. Or else I’ll have to hide in the tunnel again and you can’t go anywhere with me and soon I’ll bore you.“ The words blustered out of his mouth.

„Arthur, you don’t bore me at all!“, Nick eagerly replied. „Of course I’ll help you, because I want you to be free.“ His lover was flattered. „Thank you, Nick. I...I owe you one.“ Nick waved him off. „You don’t owe me nothing. I wouldn’t be here without you.“ „And without you, I would’ve been slaughtered by a horde of Wellies by now,“ Arthur countered.

Nick gave him a grin. „The show wouldn’t have been half as memorable without you.“ Arthur exhaled. „And I thought I ruined it.“ „No way! Didn’t you read the headlines the next day? I still have the photo of our fight.“ Nick winked at him. „Oh dear.“ Arthur covered his face with his hands. „I hope nobody recognizes me.“ „I don’t think so,“ Nick said calmly. „You’re hiding very well what a hardass you are." Arthur blushed.

„I’m just a bureaucrat.“ „Nonsense. You’re fast and strong, and most of all where the hell did you learn to fight like that?“, Nick swooned. „I was fighting in the arena in the Headboy’s Quarters,“ Arthur admitted. „Headboys?“ „Oh, that’s a group of tough guys in the Garden District. They think they own the place. And when you fall into their hands, you have to fight your way out.“ Nick stared at him. „Is that true?“ Arthur sighed. „Yeah, sadly, they got me.“ „But you made it out alive.“ Arthur suddenly felt adventurous and said: „They called me the King of the Parade.“ He saw a spark in Nick’s eyes he liked very much. „That’s…that’s very hot,“ Nick sighed.

They leered at each other until the waiter startled them, finally serving their meals, that were arranged so neatly that Arthur felt sorry to destroy them. He marveled at the filled plates while the waiter served them whine. „It tastes even better than it looks like,“ Nick assured him and raised his glass. „To the freedom of the press!“ Arthur followed. Their glasses clinked softly when they touched. Then Arthur enjoyed the best meal someone had ever served to him. Considering what he had seen as a downer made him wonder how the hotel could even afford such good food.

„What do you think?“, Nick asked him some time later. „It’s delicious. I never had such a good meal, not even in the best restaurants of the Parade District.“ Nick gave him a tender look. „Just eat it up, King. You need it.“ Arthur almost choked on the salad.

Nick went on: „I know you need this interview, but I’d love to know more about you.“ Arthur began to stutter. „I…I’m afraid there’s not much so know.“ „And that arena fight? Was that nothing?“ „It was the only exciting and dangerous event in my entire life. Everything else is…well…pretty much boring. I was a reporter, then a censor and then a downer.“ He shrugged. „That’s it.“ He pondered. „Okay, I’m pretty good at bridge.“ Because Nick silenced Arthur added: „That’s a card game.“

„I know bridge,“ Nick said and played upset. „Just because I’m a rockstar doesn’t mean I’m dumb as a sack of hammers!“ He made Arthur smirk. „You won’t be the first.“ „Oh, you really want that smack on the ear!“ Arthur leered at him. „What if I do?“ „I see. You’re provoking it the entire time, assaulting me with your camera, taking me on a fake date to press information out of me and to cap it all off you’re offending me.“ „I was just joking,“ Arthur defended himself. „Guess what? You’re not boring at all,“ Nick concluded.

Arthur stubbornly poked his plate with his fork. „I guess I changed a bit. But there’s still not much to say about me.“ Nick pondered that, running a hand through his hair. Then he leaned closer to his lover again. „Listen, Arthur, my life can be boring, too. Right now it’s going so well that there’s barely anything to fill your story with.“ Arthur disagreed: "But the happy stories are the best stories! That’s all I need!“ He gave Nick a warm smile. „Just give me a comforting plot. Something that’s just the way it should be. The Wellies will love it. And I’d love it too, to hear that you’re doing well.“ Arthur gave Nick’s shoulder a soft pat and looked deeply into his green eyes. Nick wondered how his crazy life could actually fit in an article.

Then he said: „Alright, first I’ll tell you the truth, and then we’ll turn it into a story, okay?“ „Okay,“ Arthur answered with a curious look. Nick wriggled about on his chair. „Actually it’s not quite heroic. It’s going well now but it wasn’t easy to get them all back together.“ His expression became worried. He meekly said: „Normally I wouldn’t tell this story to anyone.“ Arthur put down his glass.

„Nick, I’m a downer. I won’t judge you just because your life isn’t all sunshine and roses.“ His lover looked at him pleadingly. „But would you write about it? You know, you could easily denounce me with it.“ He sighed. „I don’t want to tell you a lie either.“ Arthur was about to hold his hand, but then noticed how that would look like.

„Nick, trust me,“ he said instead. „I love you. I won’t use you to give myself airs in the press. Trust me, if I had a choice I’d forget all this and just have a good time with you. Let's just…get this over with, okay? “ His lover have him a thankful look. „I’m glad I’m having this interview with you. Everyone else would’ve used me.“ „I won’t“, Arthur said again with emphasis. Nick got lost in the other man’s dark brown eyes before he went on.

„It was all…coincidence. The same day we ran across each other at Sally’s I met my band again. That is, one of them.“ He gulped. „It was a real awful day and I…I thought my career is over. Somehow I gathered the courage to visit my old pianist from the Make Believes. Morrie Memento.“ Nick avoided Arthur’s eyes now. He felt uncomfortable talking about Morrie in front of him, but he wanted to clarify Morrie’s role in the story. At least the whine helped him to fight down his conflicted feelings.

„I didn’t beg for my old band, I only told him how sorry I am. I haven’t been quite nice in the past, you know. I don’t remember it anymore, but I somehow kicked him out of the band. And maybe others too. I only know that the band broke up and it’s all my fault. And Morrie…he gave me a new chance. He summoned the lads and…I had to persuade them too. Somehow I made it and we’re together…God, I thought I’ll never see them again.“ He took another sip of whine and refilled his glass, before he gave Arthur a questioning look. But Arthur’s glass was still full.

„Don’t you like it? I could order something else for you.“ His lover shook his head. „It’s good, but I rather stay sober for a while. It’s only afternoon.“ Nick suddenly smirked. „You don’t tolerate that much, am I right?“ „Are you trying to change the subject?“, Arthur replied. Nick’s smirk fell down. „Well…what else is there to say? I know these guys since school and it’s wonderful to perform with them again. I need to prove them every day that I’m not trying to sell them out and sometimes it’s very tiring but I’m confident they’ll be pleased when our record is out.“ He drank again.

Then he suddenly said: „Would you do me a favor?“ „Sure.“ „Can you interview them too? I promised not to be the only spokesman for the band anymore.“ Arthur widened his eyes. „That’s not a favor for you, but for me! My boss will fall on his knees and praise me if I give her an article about the entire band. Of course I’ll do that!“ Nick smiled. „You’re such a sweetheart, Arthur.“ They exchanged amorous looks again until they got served the next course of meals.

Arthur stared in surprise at how many new plates were piled up at their table. „How much did you order? This is enough for an entire week!“ „We can keep the rest", Nick waved him off. "Just eat your fill.“ Arthur stopped protesting and pitched in. He ate another heap.

It was the first time since weeks that he was able to stuff that gaping hole in his stomach. Meanwhile he could comfort Nick a bit and made him talk about some pleasant memories that’ll amp up the article. They made notes together and had a very good time while their dessert was served.

„I’m full as a tick,“ Arthur finally said. „I think I’ll never eat again.“ Nick was still busy with his chocolate mousse when suddenly a waitress brought him a big pile of ice cream. „This looks very delicious, my darling, but it’s not mine,“ he told the girl, giving her a charming smile. She returned the smile and said: „It’s from the lady over there.“

Nick turned his head and froze. For the third time he saw the girl with that incredibly long blonde mane. She had a beautiful smirk, too. He blew a kiss at her, alerting Arthur. „Who’s that?“ „Uh…that’s a fellow musician. Birdie Callagher, maybe you’ve heard of her“, he casually explained. „And she’s sweet on you?“ Arthur lifted his eyebrows. „Perhaps. To be honest, I can’t read her. Perhaps her plan is to make me burst at the seams," he answered eyeing the big ice cream bowl. „In that case she’s too late. You accomplished that yourself,“ his lover said dryly. He didn’t like it one bit that this blonde bombshell was flirting with his Nick.

„You know, I can pay her back,“ Nick said now and waved to a waiter. „Just leave it be,“ Arthur tried, but his lover didn’t listen. Proud of his plan, Nick leaned back. „I ordered her the biggest bowl of ice cream they have. I hope she’ll like it.“ „And what are we doing with this?“, Arthur pointed at Nick’s. „What do you think?“, he replied and began to eat. „Perhaps we should better leave,“ Arthur urged him. „And miss out on her reaction? No way!“ Nick glanced over Birdie’s table. „I feel watched,“ his lover said. „Oh come on, this looks just like an interview, reporter and star, just as you said. Relax,“ Nick waved him off. Then he got excited. „There, now look!“

They watched how Birdie was served a giant bowl that would've been too much even for two people. She threw her hands up in surprise and laughed out loud. Then she looked at Nick, who gestured her to eat it all up. However, she made a gesture as if she wanted to beckon him over. Arthur immediately felt sick. He was very relived when Nick refused.

"Now we've seen it. Now let's...", Arthur began but couldn't end his sentence because another portion of ice cream was placed in front of him. "What the..." The waiter said: "It's from the lady over there." Arthur turned around to stare at a fancy dressed woman with brown pinned-up hair who waved at him. Nick burst out in laughter. "That's not funny", his lover protested. "Don't tell me it never happened to you before...", Nick gasped. "Oh man, your face..."

Arthur screw up his nose. "She's probably just thinking I can get her a backstage pass." Nick took a deep breath. "Come on, dear, relax and eat some." "But I'm full," Arthur said stubbornly. "Just try it. It's really good." Arthur gave up and took his spoon. At least Nick wasn't watching that blonde girl anymore. His ice cream was delicious too. "Now I'm really full," he said after eating half of it. Nick didn't come much farther that him.

"What a shame we can't keep that," he said, sadly watching the ice melt. "It was wonderful, Nick", Arthur said with a softer tone. "But now whe should go." Nick agreed, but he also glanced at Birdie's table once again, who was still eating. "She'll eat it up", he whispered in awe. "She didn't empty the entire kitchen before that, unlike us. Please, Nick!" Arthur couldn't handle it any longer. "Okay, okay," Nick said and finally got up. His lover was quickly leaving the restaurant, so that Nick didn't get another chance to dally away.

[findmeinpops]

FindMeInPops’ 12 Days of Christmas: Day Twelve - Southside Archive Secret Santa

Merry Christmas Liz ( @worriestothewind​ )! Here we have a festive friends-to-lovers oneshot for Female!Reader x Sweet Pea. I hope you enjoy reading this and that you have a wonderful festive season; I wish you all the best for the new year (and decade!). Harry x 

P.S. Thank you @southsidearchive​ for organising the Secret Santa, it’s much appreciated.

Prompt: Friends to lovers

Ship(s): Sweet Pea x Female!Reader

Rating: T

CW(s): Cursing, alcohol

Gifted: Liz ( @worriestothewind​ )

@riverdalebingo​ : A Christmas Bet

Reindeer Games: Prancer - Parties

As Y/N was pushing the pins into her hair to hold up her half-up half-down do, she could only think about how little she wanted to go out tonight. Every year the Southside Serpents held a festive party in the Whyte Wyrm - she had no clue how they could even afford the place considering their low budget but it probably did not hurt that FP, the current leader of the Southside gang, was brothers with the owner.

Y/N had joined the Southside Serpents three years ago so there had only been three parties since Y/N had first been permitted to go, and she was rather glad that she had only ever been roped into attending one of them; every other time she had been quite happy to stay at home, curled up in bed. Her best friend Sweet Pea had voluntarily attended each one, unfortunately for her, so she had been left at home alone to entertain herself. But this time he was dragging her along with him.

“I still can’t believe you persuaded me to go to this party,” Y/N complained, casually strolling out of her ensuite bathroom and standing in front of Sweet Pea, hands on her hips in the only act of defiance she could muster right then. He drew his eyes away from his phone, looking up from his position on her bed, not batting an eyelid at her half-clothed state.

It was an almost amusing contrast to see Sweet Pea in the setting of Y/N’s room; the floral pink duvet cover against the fully-black biker look, that Sweet Pea seemed to have had ever since he left the womb, would have been shocking to most. To be fair, his dark attire wasn’t all that different from Y/N’s typical outfits of choice, but she had an affinity for all things pink, pastel, and floral when it came to her decor and belonging, only preferring grayscale when it came to clothes.

Y/N and Sweet Pea had been best friends since birth, or near enough; they were both Serpent legacies, but Y/N’s family was somewhat more stable than Pea’s. When Sweet Pea hit the ripe old age of six months, his father took it upon himself to high-tail out of Riverdale to go and live with his pregnant mistress. A single, working, new-mother, his mom often resorted to leaving Pea with the Y/L/Ns’ and the pair became fast friends. They grew up together and, although they did occasionally venture outside of their partnership, they were each other’s closest friend. And it was for this exact reason that Sweet Pea had no reaction to Y/N standing in front of him in only a black mini skirt, fishnets, and bra.

“We need to leave in half an hour. Are you going like that?” Sweet Pea commented dryly.

“Pea,” She moaned, continuing to complain just in case he would allow her reprieve from their plans.

“It’s up to you, but I think FP may have something to say about your outfit of choice.”

“Pea, please?” She pouted, clasping her hands in front of her chest.

Sweet Pea sighed, dropping his phone between his crossed legs. “I believe we had an agreement, sweetheart.”

“Yes, and I will be forever grateful that you are not forcing me to go to the New Year’s party or any other Serpent festive gathering for the rest of this year, but,” Y/N crouched down, a hand on each of Pea’s knees, “would you not much rather be curled up with yours truly, hot chocolate, and a Christmas comedy on the TV?”

She tried to pull her most enticing puppy-dog face--which nine times out of ten melted Pea into a puddle at her feet, but not this time.

“A deal’s a deal.” He gave her a pointed look which softened slightly when he saw genuine disappointment flicker through Y/N’s eyes. “Hey,” he placed his hands on top of hers, running his thumbs over the back of them, “I’ll be there and I promise we can be back here by one am. I’ll even try to persuade your mom to let me sleep over and we can cuddle with hot chocolate and a comedy then.” The placating smile he offered did nothing as she rolled her eyes, pushing up from her position.

“You don’t need to persuade my mom to do anything.” She wandered over to her dresser, picking up her makeup bag before plopping herself down on the floor in front of the full-length mirror attached to her wardrobe. “She fucking loves you.” And didn’t Y/N know it.

‘Sweet Pea is such a nice boy’, ‘why don’t you date Sweet Pea’, ‘wouldn’t it be wonderful if Sweet Pea was my son-in-law,’ – Y/N never heard the end of how much her mother adored Pea but what her mother (or Pea for that matter) did not know is how much Y/N and her mother were in agreement in wishing that Pea would date her.

For as long as they’d been friends, Y/N had known that she loved Sweet Pea, but it was not until a moment in their teens, when she had had the sudden urge to grab him by the neck and crush his lips to hers, did she realise the love was no longer solely platonic.

Y/N had a crush on her lifelong best friend and he did not have a single fucking clue.

She had briefly entertained the thought of initiating something between them but the potential of losing Pea over such a thing was a devastating concept and so the idea was killed in moments. Regardless, Y/N knew that Sweet Pea had a huge crush on Toni, not that he had told her this, but she had noticed the way he smiled at her - that was the smile of a boy who was crushing on a girl.

Each time Y/N saw that smile, there was always a small twinge in her gut but she was determined to make her best friend happy, no longer caring that it would not be with her. Sweet Pea deserved to be happy.

“But she doesn’t love me as much as I love you.” He sent her a faux sickly-sweet smile in the mirror, forcing her eyes to roll yet again.

Drawing on her eyeliner, Y/N could not stop her mind from imagining him meaning it the way that she secretly hoped he would. No, she had to reprimand herself, Sweet Pea had been with her through thick and thin, spent many evenings soothing her as she sobbed over this and that as well as always having her back. She loved him regardless of context and, because of this, she wanted and needed him to be happy – if Pea wanted to be with Toni then she would make it happen.

“I fucking love you.” Their little phrase left her lips as she finished up the liner on her second eye.

“And I fucking love you,” he replied, as they shared a genuine smile before delving back into their respective tasks – Y/N applying minimal makeup for the forced exertion from her home and Sweet Pea texting whoever.

******

Riding on the back of a motorcycle in a skirt was never really the best of ideas, but it was a dark December evening and no one would see. But what Y/N had not considered was how bad of an idea it was to ride on the back of a motorcycle, in the middle of December, at night, in fishnets and a skirt.

“Holy shit, I’m freezing,” she exclaimed, jumping from the seat as soon as Sweet Pea turned the engine off.

“Yeah, probably not the best of our ideas,” Sweet Pea reasoned, sliding off the seat a lot more smoothly. He placed a hand on either of her arms, rubbing his hands up and down her clothed skin, trying to create a little heat.

“Our idea? Please, I wanted to take the car but no, we were already late so you wanted to freeze my tits off.”

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes at that before gripping her wrist in one hand, pocketing his keys with the other, and all but dragging her towards the bar door.

“I’m freezing, my legs are going to fall off, and I do not want to be here.” Y/N continued to complain and Sweet Pea could only compare her to a toddler having a tantrum.

They stopped just shy of the closed door, muffled music and chattering could be heard on the other side, and the glow of multi-coloured lights could be seen through the frosted panes of the windows. It all looked rather cozy and, if there weren’t fifty other people in there, Y/N would have probably been quite happy to enter.

“Stop being dramatic, we had a deal. These parties normally suck--”

She opened her mouth to interrupt but a slight glare from Sweet Pea stopped the words in their place.

“--but my bestest friend in the whole entire world is here and you’re going to make the experience so much better. Then, we will go home, maybe catch a lift with someone since I quite like your legs being attached,” he spared a glance to her goose-bump covered skin, “and we will drink hot chocolate and watch a movie.”

He took one of her hands in his, neither of their fingers particularly warm, and began to push on the door before stopping and turning back to face Y/N. “Oh, and Toni’s here.”

Ah, how could she forget her plan, although she wasn’t entirely sure why Pea thought that this would be an incentive for her to enter, he had no idea that she was aware of his crush. Y/N was going to somehow get her best friend to ask out Toni by the end of the night, whether she said yes was out of Y/N’s control, but she would be sure to get Sweet Pea to confess... somehow…

With a small smile now gracing her lips, they both pushed through the door into the large bar area, welcoming the overwhelming warmth that hit them as well as the tangy smell of alcohol. Hog Eye, the owner of the Whyte Wyrm, had strung fairylights along the walls and a small Christmas tree sat on the bar, adorned with the same multi-coloured lights and several red shiny baubles. People were scattered all over the large room, drinks in hand, and loudly chatting away as Bing Crosby was crooning out ‘White Christmas’.

Y/N hummed along as she handed her coat to Sweet Pea to hang on the coat stand, nodding a silent thanks as she continued to take in the room. It was whilst doing this that she spotted several bunches of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, and then she had her plan. Now she just had to lure Toni and Sweet Pea over to one of the many bunches of mistletoe. She began to search for Toni but the latter had already spotted them and was waving them over to where she stood with a small group of her friends.

“Let’s join Toni,” Sweet Pea spoke before Y/N had the chance, sending a nod towards the fellow Serpent.

“Hey guys, cold out isn’t it?” Toni greeted each of them with a hug once they made their way through the crowd. This was not too much of a feat, though, as they tended to part easily for Sweet Pea as he towered over most people.

“Sure is. This idiot decided to ride on the bike wearing fishnets.” Sweet Pea knocked Y/N with his elbow, sending a kind smile to let her know he was only joking.

“Sure, sure, my fault, I know.” Y/N rolled her eyes goodnaturedly, bumping her best friend back with her hip.

“Well, at least it’s warm in here, you’ll be alright in no time,” Toni replied before pulling on the arm of a tall redhead beside her, who turned away from her current conversation. To say Y/N was shocked to see Cheryl Blossom in the Whyte Wyrm would be an understatement. It had been a few years since they had all graduated from Riverdale High, but Cheryl had always been an incredibly preppy individual, to put it kindly, who had deemed herself higher than most others around her. She and her brother, Jason, had practically ruled the school, hardly sparing a glance to others, particularly the transfers from Southside High who were made bottom of the food chain. She had obviously come a long way from her time in high school.

“Sweet Pea, Y/N, I’m sure you remember Cheryl.” Cheryl wiggled her fingers in a small wave and offered a sheepish smile as they were introduced. “She’s a ‘trainee serpent’, so to speak. FP is considering her for the initiation.”

Both Y/N and Sweet Pea’s eyes widened comically. Tonight was full of surprises. It was one thing for the Cheryl they knew to willingly surround herself and be associated with Serpents, but for her to also desire to become a Serpent - perhaps she had hit her head.

Cheryl must have noticed their expressions as she was quick to pull her hands together in a pleading gesture. “I know and I sincerely apologise for the unacceptable and truly horrible way I treated you and your fellow Serpents throughout our time at Riverdale High. I promise that I have changed my ways since graduation and, with the help of TT, I hope to show you how true this transformation is.”

“Of course, I’m sure we’ll see more of each other through Serpent business, but we can always hang out. It’s a regular thing we do with Toni,” Sweet Pea answered for both of them, swinging an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, signalling for her to nod her agreement.

“Brilliant.” Cheryl grinned.

A slightly awkward silence settled around the four of them, something that was most likely due to all of their being unsure how to act with Cheryl around. Y/N’s eyes flitted around the room, not knowing where to land, trying to avoid having to make stilted conversation. Her eyes just happened to catch on a particular bunch of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling above the bar.

Being in such close proximity with Pea heated her skin, something that was putting Y/N off of the whole scheme she had created, but the look that appeared on Pea’s face each time he saw Toni reappeared in her mind; she wanted only the best for him and for him to be happy and, because of that, she would continue forward with her plan.

“I don’t know about you, but I need a drink” Y/N broke the silence, and relief noticeably appeared on Pea and Toni’s faces, Cheryl seemingly oblivious. Pretending to notice Toni’s lack of drink in hand, you added, “Toni, why don’t you join us at the bar.”

Pea’s eyes narrowed slightly, trying to work out why she had intentionally omitted Cheryl from the invitation but seemingly settled on ignoring it for now, he released his arm from around Y/N’s shoulders before chiming in, “yeah, I’ll cover this round.”

“And I’ll stay here and make conversation with my soon-to-be fellow Serpents.” Cheryl did not seem overly bothered about her exclusion, smiling and nodding before making her way across the room to a group of younger Serpents.

Y/N led the three of them over, placing herself at the front of the group so she could strategically lead them over to the right-hand side of the bar where the mistletoe hung. She settled herself at the very far end, resting her arm on the sticky surface so that Toni and Sweet Pea would be forced to stand together at her left.

“Y/N, Sweet Pea, nice to see ya,” Hog Eye greeted, coming directly to the trio, bypassing a few already waiting patrons.

Y/N and Sweet Pea had helped out Hog Eye quite a bit over the last year. The Ghoulies, before they were run out of town, had made an attack on the Whyte Wyrm, destroying half of the bar, and the pair had been a part of a few Serpents who had helped reassemble the place. Veronica had pitched in the money necessary, due to feeling guilty about her father being partially responsible for the attack, so Y/N and Sweet Pea just offered some manpower, as well as occasionally taking up some shifts at the bar while Hog Eye was recovering from injuries he sustained during the ordeal.

Nevertheless, Hog Eye had been incredibly grateful and had no qualms ignoring the already waiting customers to serve them. “Toni too, I see. What can I get you three?”

“I’ll have a bourbon, please, Hog Eye, you know how I like it,” Y/N replied. “Pea’s driving so he’ll just have a coke?” Sweet Pea nodded to her question. “And Toni, what do you want?” Y/N turned to Toni who seemed distracted but requested a Jack and coke at her prompting.

As Hog Eye was pouring the drinks, Toni zoned out again, slowly gaining a mischievous twinkle in her eye paired with a not-so-hidden grin. “Y’know, Y/N, you’re looking hot as hell tonight.”

Y/N turned bright red at Toni’s words, and she wanted nothing more than to hit her head on the bar counter in embarrassment. A similar, but more subtle, pink dusted Sweet Pea’s cheeks. It was also joined by a small smirk.

“Um, thanks I--”

“Yeah, you look amazing, let me take a photo of your outfit. And Sweet Pea! Sweet Pea can be in the photo as well.” She was talking so frantically that neither Y/N or Sweet Pea really understood what was going on so when Toni suddenly gripped Y/N’s arms and spun her around for the picture, Sweet Pea had to grab Y/N by the waist to stop her toppling over.

“Perfect! Just perfect!” Toni exclaimed, pulling her phone out of her jacket pocket. “Now Y/N just move a little closer to Sweet Pea.”

“Do you know what the fuck is going on?” Sweet Pea whispered into Y/N’s ear, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. She shook her head in answer but also to rid herself of the odd sensation, she could use that bourbon now.

“And smile!”

Toni took the photo. The pair began to move apart from the too-close position before Toni stopped them with a hand, that mischievous look taking over her entire face.

“Would you look at that!” She feigned surprise, tilting her head to the ceiling. Y/N and Sweet Pea followed suit, freezing at what they saw. Shit.

“Mistletoe. You know what that means?”

“No, Toni you were--”

“You’re under the mistletoe, you have to kiss.” Toni seemed to be enjoying Y/N’s squirming, but Y/N was more concerned about Sweet Pea unwrapping his arm from around her waist and pulling away, taking it as rejection. Although it was nothing short of what she expected, it still stung.

“No, Toni, I think Y/N wants you to come here.” Sweet Pea stepped back, motioning Toni over. Y/N could almost scream in frustration, this was not going how she had wanted it to go.

“No, it was supposed to be you and Toni under the--”

“Guys, just get on with--” Toni tried to interrupt Y/N, but Sweet Pea stepped in.

“Wait, you were trying to set me up with Toni?” Y/N swung around to face him, now incredibly concerned that he had taken offence. She had not considered Sweet Pea might consider her scheming overstepping.

“Yes, I just wanted to see you happy and I know you have a crush on--”

“Me? Have a crush on Toni?” Sweet Pea’s eyes were almost bugging out his head.

Their outbursts had gained the attention of a few of the nearest Serpents whilst Hog Eye was trying his very hardest to hold in laughter, his face beginning to resemble a tomato.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to--”

“I thought you had a crush on Toni!” His exclamation caused Y/N to freeze, both of them oblivious to the listening ears and the amused smiles of the entire bar.

“You--I--What?” Y/N could not believe a single word that she was hearing. How had he gotten the idea that she liked Toni? Y/N had noticed how he had always smiled when they approached her and whenever she was mentioned in conversation the same look reappeared; how else was Y/N supposed to interpret this?

“As entertaining as this is, we would all appreciate it if you both shut up.” Toni’s words brought their attention to the silence that otherwise filled the room and the fact that every pair of eyes were trained on them. If Y/N had been embarrassed before, it did not compare to how she felt now.

Heat filled her entire body, and not in a good way, her face radiating as she chewed at the skin on her lower lip. Sweet Pea was hiding his embarrassment somewhat better, but pink still tinged his cheeks and the tips of ears.

“You’re under the mistletoe so stop stalling and just kiss!” a shout came from somewhere in the small crowd.

Sweet Pea shot a glare in the heckler’s direction before he took a step closer as Y/N was still frozen in shock, reaching his hand to cup her cheek, gently tilting her head upwards to face him. His thumb smoothed over her warm cheek as he scanned her eyes for any form of protest--there was some hesitation but also a hefty amount of want. The same thumb ran over her lower lip now, his ring cold on her skin as he pulled her slightly bruised lip from between her teeth. Pea’s gaze left her lips, meeting hers and silently asking for her permission. After a nod, so small that only he would have seen, he brought his other hand up to her unoccupied cheek, guiding her face up so they met in the middle.

Sweet Pea wasted no time in pressing his lips to hers, unable to believe that this was happening and savouring the moment. Y/N broke out of a trance, bringing one arm up to wrap around his neck, threading her fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, ensuring he would not pull away quite yet. It was too soon.

Her lips were on fire, but it was the sparks that spread from their connection through all the nerves in her body that racked her with shivers and set her akin alight. Her other arm settled against his chest, clenching the material of his jumper in her fingers as one of Sweet Pea’s found its place at her waist, pressing her against him, trying to get as much contact as possible.

And then Y/N began to move her lips in a gentle caress, Sweet Pea following suit. There was no rush or urgency, they had time but also a passion as they poured their love for one another into this kiss. The pair moved almost in opposites, caressing each other in turn. Y/N took a gasp of air so Pea seized the chance to run the tip of his tongue along her lower lip, not needing to deepen the kiss further, but savouring the feeling, her touch, her taste, when they were no longer connected. Y/N moved to wrap her other arm around his neck but a loud clearing of a throat registered, triggering Y/N to remember just where they were.

She leant her forehead against Sweet Pea’s chest, her cheeks turning even redder whilst her lungs were still trying to catch up, snickers beginning to filter through to her ears. How could she forget where they were? She probably would have allowed them to progress to a full-on makeout session, without intervention, completely oblivious to the audience they had gained.

Sweet Pea pressed a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head, the hand not on her waist smoothing through her hair. The contact of his skin sent a shiver down her spine, her body obviously not registering their audience.

Once she finally caught her breath and calmed down, she pulled away enough for Sweet Pea to press a small kiss to her nose. An involuntary grin took over her lips and stayed in place as she finally twisted her head to look at the Serpents gathered around.

A chorus of cheering and wolf whistles broke out. Toni still stood behind her, only now joined by Cheryl, who had wrapped an arm around her waist; the former wore an incredibly smug expression whilst the latter simply looked thoroughly entertained. Fangs, on the other hand, who stood a few metres from them, had a slightly childish pout on his face aimed solely at Toni.

“Told you I could do it tonight,” Toni simply said in answer to his expression. “You’re going to have to pay up.” She held her hand out, making a ‘gimme’ motion.

“I don’t have the money on me right now! I was so sure…” the last part seemed to only be spoken to himself.

“You bet on us!” Y/N cried indignantly, wrapping her arms around herself, interlocking her fingers with Pea’s at her waist.

“Only last week,” Toni placated, as if that made it any better.

“If it’s any consolation, Y/N,” Hog Eye spoke unexpectedly. He was leant casually against the wall behind the bar, a smug smile that rivalled Toni’s, adorning his face, “me and yer’ mom have had one going for years.”

“My mom!” Y/N was not angry, per se, but more frustrated with the fact that everyone seemed to have been in a secret conspiracy, even her mom.

“Just don’t tell her about all the mistletoe I put everywhere.” Hog Eye began to full-on belly laugh when Y/N’s eyes bugged out of her head. The rest of the bar, still listening, joined in too.

Y/N twisted back around to properly hug Sweet Pea, wanting to fully gauge his reaction. It seemed she was not alone in her embarrassment, but by the chuckles that were beginning to vibrate through his chest, he was finding the humorous side of things. Y/N sighed. She supposed it was all good-natured.

Y/N‘s gaze flickered over Sweet Pea’s face, taking in the small smile, the slight flush to his handsome features and the twinkle in his forest green eyes. He was truly gorgeous.

“I fucking love you,” she whispered to him, smoothing a lock of his hair back from where it had fallen into his face.

“And I fucking love you.”

[emilyann101]

A Soft Epilogue

So I’m not really a writer, but I love Arya and Jon’s relationship so much and it was really not done justice in the eighth season. I also love Gendry and Arya and needed them to end up together so I wrote my own ending. I hope you like it. Constructive criticism is appreciated. 

It had been more than five years since he was exiled. The weight of all that he had done between his stints on the wall was heavy in his heart even after all this time. Upon returning to the wall he had been made a ranger and with the land being safe from the threat of the night king and his followers a mission began to chart the far north and find a home for the wildlings. He had never expected it to go on for this long, but he was glad of the peace of the free folk. He had helped them build a settlement, watched with pride as Tormund led them and they lived peacefully. Now he was headed back to the wall with his fellow crows, who felt more like wildlings after all this time, to deliver the maps of the true north as promised. The mission was only supposed to last a year or two, but how does one chart wilding settlements if they haven't been built and with the wildling population having dwindled how do they get built without help? Jon was in no hurry to get back to the wall. It had been one thing when he had gone by choice and risen to the rank of lord commander, but to be exiled here for the crime of killing his lover, his kin.... he needed to be with the free folk to feel free of the shame.

 When he arrived at the castle, he saw a young maester running out to meet them. What in seven hells is he running for Jon thought. The master shouted “Are you Jon Snow? Arya’s brother? The one who killed the night king?” Jon’s heart nearly stopped; he hadn’t heard her name in so long. “That I am, no need to run” Jon said proudly as he dismounted. He walked calmly towards the young maester who was trying to catch his breath. Once he had regained his composure he said “Forgive me, my name is Jaron, I’m the master here. Have been for a few years now, I’m quite pleased to be meeting you Jon Snow” Jon nodded in recognition and responded “pleased to meet you as well, I have some maps you’ll be quite interested in, once we’ve put our horses up and gotten warm that is” “Of course, of course” Jaron said calling over the stable boys and leading the men inside to the hearth. Once inside Jaron said “Forgive my excitement earlier, it’s just that I’ve been waiting so long to meet you, your sister will be thrilled to hear of your return, shall I write her or would you prefer to do it yourself” Jon Snow, knowing nothing, said “I’ll write Sansa on the morrow and let her know that I’m well, thank you”. “No, you misunderstand, Arya and I have been sending letters back and forth for years. She enquires about you regularly and there’s a stack of letters from her to you in my office, would you like to see them?” Stunned Jon sat with his mouth open for a moment “I thought Arya had sailed west” Jon said bewildered “How did the ravens find her?” His head was spinning, if he had known he could write to her he would’ve come back sooner.  “She’s been back for years actually, she-“ the boy master started “I’d like to see the letters” Jon interrupted. Jaron hastily took him up to his office and handed him a stack of letters from his desk drawer. “I’ll leave you to them, come back down when you get hungry, I’ll see to it that you and your men are fed. There’s a stew tonight” Jaron left him with that; and he sat down in awe. He never thought he’d hear from his dear sister again, never thought he could be sure she was even still alive, but here she was. Her words at least, he tore open the seal on the first one and began to read.

 Dear Jon, I hope this raven finds you well at castle black. I have been sailing for a month now and even though you won't able to write back, as no ravens have been trained to fly to where I am, I need to write to you. To stay connected to my family in some small way. Also, to share with someone in the known world what I find. As you know the crew and I left from kings landing, so we had to sail south before we could begin our journey west. We passed the isle of Tarth where Brienne was a lady; I never realized how close it was to storm's end, you could almost see it past the sapphire Isle. I was surprised by how much I missed her that day, there are a few fair swords on Honor (that's what I named my ship, I think father would have liked that), but none as skilled as Brienne. I fear my skills will dull without a good fight, but after stopping by the Arbor for supplies it's been fuck all but water. I wish we would have stopped off in Dorne, I hear the sandsnakes are great killers, but it would have slowed us down. We passed the last of the known lands a fortnight ago and it will be west and water until we find something new. I will miss you big brother, be safe. -Love Arya

 p.s. pet ghost for me.

 Dear Jon, we have been sailing the sunset sea for nearly two months now. I must say the crew is going a bit mad with boredom being surrounded by nothing but water for five weeks. Though we are truly starting to bond as a crew. Our healer Myra and I are becoming fast friends, and I think she's becoming more than friends with our best cartographer Nik. Though perhaps he's simply bored with there being nothing at all to chart. We've begun rationing food in case we don't find anything for a while. If we don't find anything in the next fortnight we will have to turn back, and this will have been a wasted endeavor. The time away from everything has done me good though. I think I needed space more than I realized to come to terms with all that happened since father was killed; All that I had done and what had been done to me. During my time with the faceless men in Bravos I was trained to feel nothing and to be nothing, only to serve the god of death, only to kill. I realized when they wanted me to kill an innocent woman that I wanted to do more with my life than kill just for the sake of killing. I went there because I wanted to learn to be a great killer to avenge my family, but if I had to forget my family and be no one to serve the many-faced god it wouldn't be worth it. None of it would be worth anything if their memories weren't with me. Still those lessons were hard to unlearn. I am still working through it truth be told, but I've had nothing but time to think out here, and Myra likes to talk a bit too much, so I've finally told someone everything. I didn't realize how much I'd forced myself to forget until I tried to remember. I miss everyone more than ever now, even the ones that aren't dead, especially some of the ones that aren't dead. Perhaps if we turn back this endeavor won't have been a waste Afterall. If we do, I'll come visit you at castle black.... I may send another raven from Storm's End first though. I hope you are well. If Tormund is there with you tell him I said hello. -Love Arya

 Dear Jon, we've done it! We've found undiscovered lands. Actually, I believe them to be the three islands that Elissa Farman discovered two hundred years ago and named Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys. It was only legend until now, but I've seen them with my own eyes. I was worried at first, after all the last time I saw legends come to life in the form of dragons I nearly lost my life, but these islands are warm and welcoming and uninhabited. Some of the animal life is dangerous but we were lucky enough to learn that without loss of life or limb. We docked here only three days ago, meaning that the journey from the arbor to here is seven weeks, nine from kings landing, probably about two months from storms end. We will be staying here a fortnight to re-supply, then we will travel further west to see if there is anything even Elissa never saw. Since I will be staying in one spot for a while perhaps the maesters can send the raven back the way it came. I want to know that you are safe at castle black, part of me fears that you've gone north with the wildlings and are not receiving these. I hope you are happy wherever you are. -Love Arya  

 Dear Jon, we have left the beautiful islands in search of the unknown. I took to calling the one named Aegon Jon as it reminded me of you. I hope to show it to you one day, I know you have taken the black, but how would the unsullied ever know if you went somewhere no one is. I don't know if you weren't able to write back because you went north or because the maesters couldn't send the bird back the way it came since the island wasn't his home. Two-way ravens are rare I know, but it was worth a try. Regardless I discovered so many beautiful things on the island I had to write and tell someone. There were pink fruits and spices like nothing else. We brought more than we needed on board in the hopes of convincing those in westeros that the islands are real. Nevertheless, we now have a further off turning back point to resupply so the journey can continue longer and we can chart what’s further west. I should be pleased by this, and a large part of me is, but another part was looking forward to seeing you again soon. To seeing everyone I've been missing. I will see you again big brother, that I promise. It may take a while, but I will be back. I have loved this adventure, but a wolf needs a pack. We’ve lost so much family these past years. We can’t afford to lose each other now too. We found some family too though. We found Sam, Gilly, Brienne, Pod, we both found Gendry at one time or another, but that's a longer story. I miss my pack, I miss you, I hope one day you'll be pardoned and the last of the starks can reunite in Winterfell again, even if it is just for a short while. If not, I'll personally drag Sansa to castle black by her hair. -love Arya

 Dear Jon, Sam will be pleased to know that the maesters of Oldtown were right. The world is round, and what's west of westeros is Essos. We docked here in Ashai fifteen weeks after leaving Kings landing, meaning that we have found the fastest route between the two places to ever be charted. My cartographer Nik is convinced we should make maps that are round and can be spun to explain this to people. I say we should bring back a shipload of Ashai goods and when we make it back to Westeros eight months after having left no one will need convincing since it would take nearly a year to get between the two points taking any known route. We will be staying here a while to establish business relations with Ashai merchants on behalf of the North (we are sailing under Stark banners after all) and to explore a bit on dry land for once. The furthest I had ever been before was Bravos. It is truly incredible here. Since I will be staying in one place for nearly a month and it is somewhere ravens know how to find I can receive a raven from you. I will be sending letters to Sansa, Bran, and Gendry as well. Hopefully at least one of you will write back in time for me to get your response before we leave again. I will be back in Westeros in about four months big brother. My first mate Jaqob says that we should dock in kings landing first since that is where the trade will be best, though since it burned not a year ago, I somehow doubt that, and storms end is further south. I do not think I could bear to pass it by even to go see Bran, but wherever we dock first I will write you and tell you where I am so that you can write me back and let me know if you are well. I want to know how you've been and what you've been doing. Did you go north of the wall or stay at castle black? Have you heard from anyone? Have you made any friends there? I hope you have. I'll see you soon big brother. -Love Arya

 Dear Jon, we've left Ashai for Westeros. I hope you are alright. I know that you would have written back if you got my letter in time. You must have gone north of the wall to be with the wildlings. I suppose you might not come back and if you don't you might never get these, but I hope that's not the case. I hope you were only gone for a little while and we've just missed each other. I will keep writing so that you'll get my letters when you come back to castle black whenever that might be. I haven't forgotten you. I want you to know that. Anyway, I received return ravens from everyone else. I was surprised by that to be honest, since Gendry and I left things on strange terms. I told you that Gendry and I were a long story in another letter and that's still true, but basically, I thought he might still be angry with me for leaving him. I don't think you ever knew that Gendry and I knew each other before you brought him to Winterfell or that we were close, but we were. I met him the day that father died. I still don't know how the two of you found each other, but I suppose I can ask him when I get to Storm's End. We will be docking there first. I sent him a letter telling him what I found west of westeros and that I was trying to establish a trade route between Ashai and Storm's end. I said that if he would prefer not to have to see me that I could establish the trade route with Kings landing or Tarth, but that I'd like to see him again. That I missed him. He replied that he'd like very much to establish a trade route, that it would be good for the people to have as a source of income for their war-torn lands, and he invited me to stay at Storms end as a guest of house Baratheon. The next time that I write to you will be from there. Please write to Storms end if you are going to be at castle Black, I'd love to hear from you. -Love Arya

 Dear Jon, I arrived back in westeros nearly a fortnight ago. Davos says that they have not received a raven from you here at Storm's end. I must assume that you've gone north, but since I've no way to find you north of the wall I will have to stay in the south until I hear something from you. I pray that is soon. I will however be staying at Storm's end indefinitely. I have a lot of work to do. We were able to sell the goods from Ashai to merchants from all over westeros who buy foreign goods at shipbreaker bay and blackwater bay (I sent my first mate to the blackwater with most of my crew two days after we docked to sell to the merchants there) we were able to sell for less than anyone else and still make more profit since we didn't have to travel for as long. I will be sending a share of the profits to Sansa in Winterfell, we were sailing under Stark banners after all, and after paying my crew I will be using the rest to build another ship. I plan to have one ship sailing back and forth between Ashai and Storms End and one that goes on longer journeys from Bear island to Moraq. I will have my first mate take over Honor, he'll be sailing her to bear island per Sansa's instructions in a fortnight once we find replacements for the members of the crew that are staying with me awaiting the building of my new ship. I still don't know what I'll be naming her. Gods I hope you'll write soon and let me know you're alright. -Love Arya

 Dear Jon, I have been in Storms End for three months now. My ship is almost complete, but I will not be leaving with it. It will be captained by Nik, my cartographer, with Myra by his side as the ship’s healer. I will be staying here and overseeing the continued business of both ships. I will be staying here because I am going to be the lady of Storms End. I know to you this seems like it's come out of nowhere because I never did tell you that very long story, but I would like to now. As I said I met Gendry the day father died. Yoren found me at father’s execution and tried to bring me back to Winterfell with a group of recruits for the nights watch, he disguised me as a boy and told me to go by another name of course, Gendry was one of the recruits. He protected me from the other boys before he even knew I was a girl; he was just good that way. We travelled together for a long time, he figured out that I was a girl and I told him the rest. He never betrayed me, never told anyone my true name, just kept trying to protect me. When the gold-cloaks came for him I protected him too, told them Gendry was the name of a boy they already killed so they'd leave him be, but by then Yoren had already been killed. That's why we never made it to Winterfell, they took us to Harrenhal. Nothing good happened there, but I managed to trick a man into helping us escape with a boy called Hot Pie. The three of us travelled north together for a long time on our own, we became quite close...almost like a family. He'd never had a family before, so when the brotherhood found us and wanted to sell me back to mother and Robb, he thought it would change things even though I told him that it wouldn’t, and he wanted to join the brotherhood. In the end it didn't matter, they sold him to that red witch and that was the last time I saw him before you brought him to Winterfell. When we were reunited it was as if no time had passed, he still felt like family, but I had gotten older and that did change some things. We became involved romantically before the battle of Winterfell and when he was legitimized, he asked me to marry him and be the lady of Storm's end. I told him that I wasn't a lady.... That was true, it still is really. Besides I was sure I would die in Kings landing and could not promise anyone a future. I have loved him since before I even knew what love was, but I knew I would never be the traditional sort of lady he needed. As it turns out he's not a very traditional Lord, but the people love him, and he is a very good one. While I've been here and while we've been working together on the trade of Storms End I've seen the sort of partnership we could have. I've even advised him on matters not pertaining to trade and he's always been willing to listen. He's worked to rebuild the storm lands with his people after the wars and always hears their concerns. He is a lot like father in the way he treats his people. I didn't think it was possible, but I think I love him more now than I did when I left westeros. You probably won't want to know about this part, but it didn't take more than a few days before we ended up in bed together again and, well, I'm pregnant. Having been a bastard himself Gendry didn't want that for his child, so I asked him to marry me. Not out of obligation and not just for the child, but because I truly want to. I have wanted to be his family since I was twelve years old and that has never changed. The title of lady that now comes with the man is a bit of a surprise, but seven hells people have always called me a lady even though I'm not one so what difference does it make if I'm Lady Stark or Lady Baratheon? I'll always just be Arya Stark the same way you'll always be Jon Snow even if you're Aegon Targareon. I have spoken with Bran, Sansa, and the council and they have agreed to grant you furlough to attend the wedding. I pray to the old gods and the new that you'll get this in time. It will be in the godswood in Winterfell in a fortnight. If father can't be there, I at least wanted it to be where I feel his presence most, and I want you to be the one to give me away. I hope to see you soon big brother. -Love Arya

 Dear Jon, I am writing to you from Winterfell on the day of my wedding. I suppose you are still ranging too far north to get my letters. I had Sansa send a raven to the maester at castle black inquiring as to your whereabouts and even they do not know. They say you ventured out shortly after arriving and have not returned. Some believe you have died, but I know that's not the truth. You are discovering and charting where no one has been like I did. I hope it is as healing for you as it was for me. Sansa seems to be doing well as queen in the north. Winterfell has been undergoing repairs since the great battle. It nearly looks like it used to again. Write to me when you can I'll come to castle black the moment you do. I might be the first woman to give birth on the wall, but I will come. -Love Arya

 Dear Jon, they still have not heard from you at castle black, but I had to write and tell you about my son. I gave birth six months after the wedding to a black haired, blue eyed, giant of a baby. Anyone who actually believes him to have been conceived on our wedding night and born prematurely is a damned fool. Gendry could not be happier, and neither could I, we've named him Eddard Baratheon. He will carry the names of both of our fathers and be the heir to Storm's End and Winterfell until Sansa has children of her own. He's healthy and I am recovering well. Write me when you can, I'll figure out a way to introduce you to him if it is the death of me. Be well big brother. -Love Arya

 Dear Jon, I have been the lady of Storm's End for over a year now and I don't think it will ever quite feel real. Gendry and I have split the duties of lord and lady in the way that best favors our skill sets rather than the way that holds to tradition. He is patient and kind with petitioners, noblemen and small folk alike and I have been overseeing the training of the guards and the armies. You should have seen the guards when I arrived, I was always able to sneak about unnoticed, had I been there to kill Gendry rather than bed him I could have easily done it. Now I would have to kill at least two guards on the way. It is progress. Luckily, we have had little need for armies as of yet. Thank the gods. The realm deserves a break from bloodshed. A fair bit of my time goes to my responsibilities as commander of my small fleet though. Honor has completed its first journey from bear island to Moraq. May it be the first of many, it was incredibly profitable for both lands and for myself and my crew. My second ship Duty was completed months ago and took up the route from Storms end to Ashai. That route is the shortest but probably our most profitable and I doubt the ship will ever stay docked for longer than a month. As such some of the crew will need to be rotated, it certainly makes it easier for the good people of Storm's End to find work. As does the building of my third and probably final ship “Family”. Family, duty, honor: Tully words with Stark banners. I believe you were right big brother I found a way to carry on both parents’ legacies. Though my son is all father in aspect despite having the Baratheon look. He is only eight months old but already so sturdy and quiet and kind. I can tell he'll grow up to be just like his namesake. The realm needs another Ned, needs as many as it can get really, but this next one looks like it's going to be a girl. Gendry is thrilled, but I'm not sure I know what to do with a girl. I suppose it'll be alright if she's like me, but what if I end up with a miniature Sansa? I love the woman she's grown to become but as a girl she tormented the both of us, and little Ned won't have anyone to ease that pain if there aren't more siblings. I suppose there'll have to be, I loved having you and Rob, Bran and Rickon. Enough family that no one is ever lonely. That sounds quite nice after being alone so long. I've been petitioning to have you pardoned so that you can come south again. It hasn't taken yet but I'm more stubborn than anyone on that damned council and I will wear them down you mark my words. I've been writing the maester at castle black and he's agreed to keep all my letters to you in the case that you return. Hopefully when you come back this letter is in a stack including your formal pardon and you can come here straight away. I'll be praying for you safe return. - Love Arya

Dear Jon, well I was right, my second born is in fact a beautiful little girl. Her look is all Baratheon, but something I can't quite place about her blue eyes reminds me of you. I've decided to name her Lyanna after your mother. Gendry joked that his father can rest easier now that there is finally a Lyanna Baratheon though it's not the way he had planned. I think both our fathers would have had a chuckle at that one. Ned already loves her so much I can't believe I ever worried. They are the very picture of you and me, and I suppose the first Ned and Lyanna. One for every generation I figure, I hope their stories are more pleasant than their namesakes or ours for that matter. But our stories aren't over yet. You will come back one day, and my children will meet the greatest uncle who ever lived. Write me when you get this, and I'll take my fastest ship to eastwatch by the sea. Sansa says they've rebuilt it. -love Arya

 Dear Jon, I've done it. After five long years you can finally come home! The council has pardoned you posthumously. They have of course also declared you dead as no one has heard from you in five years, but there is no crime in living through something you shouldn’t have, or I'd have been chained years ago. You can come south to be declared alive and you will not be harmed. When you get this send a raven and we can meet in the middle at Winterfell, or you can come here even. I've had a room ready for you for years now. I pray I'll see you soon. -love Arya

 Jon could not believe his eyes. His little sister was not only still alive, but a mother, and a wife. A lady and a businesswoman, and she’d had him pardoned, and…fucking hells he couldn’t have started with that. “Jaron” Jon bellowed “fetch my horse”. It took nearly an hour to convince Jon to stay the night and rest after his journey, or at least to eat something, but Jaron finally managed it. The next morning he woke to find Jon and his horse gone. Jon had left at dawn to make the trip to Storm’s end as quickly as possible unable to even begin a letter as there were not words for this situation. Three weeks late he arrived at Storms End. “Oy what do you want then” a guard shouted at the lone rider. “I’m Jon Snow, I’m here to see my sister Arya Stark” he shook his head “I mean Arya Baratheon” he would never get used to that. The guard laughed and said, “Jon Snow is dead, best fuck off then.” “Send for my sister, she’ll know me” Jon replied. “She’s with the master, she can’t come now, off with you” “Send for Gendry then” Jon insisted before he dismounted “He knows me too, and I’m not leaving until I speak with them”. The guard looked annoyed but called the stable boy over to take his horse and led Jon inside the gates. He left him with another set of guards and told them to keep a close eye. A few minutes later he returned with Gendry carrying the most beautiful, giggling, two-year-old girl he had ever seen. There was a four-year-old boy trailing closely behind and Jon could see what Arya had meant, something about him was the very picture of their lord father even if he looked nothing like him. Gendry went from laughing and tickling his daughter to pale as a ghost the moment he saw Jon. “Hello” was all that Jon could manage at the sight. Gendry took a moment to find his breath again and then chuckled. He put his daughter down and went to hug his friend, his brother by law. “She always said you’d come back” he said in disbelief when the two had parted. “Who is that?” Lyanna whispered tugging on her father’s pant leg and pointing at Jon. “That’s your uncle” Gendry said, and Jon could feel the tears in his eyes; he knelt to met her at eye level and said “hello lyanna”. She threw her arms around him without blinking and he picked her up, the weight in his heart finally feeling a little lighter. He had nearly forgotten to ask about Arya in his joy, but Gendry snapped him back to the present. “Arya will be so glad to see you; we’ve got a room for you and everything” Gendry said, “how long can you stay?” “Where is Arya?” Jon asked confused and a bit worried “the guard said she was with the master, is she alright?”. “Yeah, she’s not sick or anything, she’s in labor” Gendry said much to Jon’s surprise “we should have another little one in a few hours….I’m not sure if she’d kill me more for taking someone to her in her current state or not taking you to her immediately. All things considered why don’t we have dinner first and get you settled, maybe the baby will be born by then” Jon laughed “Another one already? Gods be good.” He shook his head and walked with Gendry to the feast hall. The lords table was surrounded by smallfolk, and Gendry knew the names of everyone who worked in the castle. He truly was just like father in that regard. Midway through the meal a woman came down with blood stains on her clothes and Gendry looked worried “Everything alright Myra” He asked. “Oh, everything is fine Gendry, go and meet your son” she said smiling. He beamed and nearly ran up the stairs hollering “Come on Jon” as he ran. Jon was a bit apprehensive but followed slowly after. When he reached the top of the stairs he saw Gendry standing beside a blood-stained birthing bed holding a small bundle. In the middle of it all was his fierce little sister, pale and tired and smiling at her husband holding their son. She caught sight of him and sat up a bit “Jon, is that you?” she said, “is that really you?” His feet moved without his permission and before he realized it he was kneeling beside her and kissing her forehead. When he pulled away he saw her smile, even brighter than it had been before and with her small hand in his she said “you’re not a dream” “No, I’m not a dream, I’m here, I’m right here” Jon kissed Arya’s hand “I have missed you big brother” she said “I missed you too” he replied smiling and crying. The master returned to the room “I-, well, this is highly irregular” he sputtered. “Oh come off it, it’s only my brother” Arya corrected. “Still, you need to rest. It was a long delivery. They should go, the both of them” he said gesturing to Jon and Gendry “you can get reacquainted on the morrow” “We shall get reacquainted right the fuck now, off with you” Arya said sitting up a bit more. “Language, please, he’s not an hour old” Gendry said exasperated but with love in his eyes and Jon had to laugh. “Which means he doesn’t know what it means yet” chided Arya while smiling lovingly at Gendry. Jon cleared his throat and asked the master with sudden desperate worry “Is she alright?” “She’s fine, exhausted, but fine” the master responded. “I’m also right here” Arya said “and I want to hear everything. Where have you been all these years?” Jon sat by Arya’s bedside and began to tell her all his stories and ask his questions about hers. It wasn’t long before she fell asleep, but they had nothing but time now. Gendry showed him to his room, and he slept better that night that he had in years. The next morning he saw Arya at breakfast holding her newborn babe with her daughter by her side and little Ned protectively watching them both. Gendry had his arm around his wife and kissed her quickly and sweetly before he realized Jon was in the room. They were smiling at each other and he’d felt like he was interrupting something sacred. He nearly turned to leave when Gendry said startled “Jon” he dropped his hand from Arya’s waist “good morning, are you hungry?” Jon chuckled a bit to himself “starved” he responded, and Gendry motioned to a servant to bring another plate as Jon came to sit beside Lyanna. “I’m sorry I fell asleep; I really do want to hear about the wildings. You were in the middle of telling me about the settlement Tormund started” Arya said as she took a bite picking up as if no time had passed. “It’s no matter, we have plenty of time for stories now that I’ve been pardoned, thank you for that by the way” Jon replied. “How long do we have though? I mean how long can you stay? I hadn’t heard anything from Sansa or Bran, did you come straight here? Do they know you’re alive? Do you need to go to Winterfell or Kings Landing?” Arya rattled on. “I did come straight here, I had no idea if you were even alive until I got your letters and when I saw you’d had a whole life while we’d been apart…..I didn’t even have a thought by the time I was on my horse, the poor thing nearly died of exhaustion on the way” Jon said. Arya squeezed his hand and said “No more separate lives then. You’ll stay here, and we’ll send for Sansa and Bran” Jon delighted at the thought and could not help the smile that split his face. “All of us in one place again and more of us now” he said looking at the newest addition to his family. “I can think of nothing I’d like more. What are you going to name him?” he asked. Arya lightly punched his arm “Jon stupid, what’d you think?” They smiled at each other and for the first time in a long time his heart felt whole.

[twotwinks]

a thing i was tagged in a long time ago by @rochc93. i am, believe it or not, attempting to catch up on these things. i always intend to do them but it’s either not a good time when i think about them or i’m not thinking about them. sorry i’m a mess

Who were you named after?

First name, nobody bitch. That’s all me. Middle name, like twenty different characters who are important to me but all on accident because I didn’t realize we shared the name until after I’d picked it. Notable instances include Rita Rose Vrataski from Edge of Tomorrow and also Amy Rose (a recent discovery). Last name, Gary King and also because I like confusing people about my gender by deliberately using a “male” title while presenting female (though hopefully not for much longer) and also being nonbinary. (Also s/o to ladies who call themselves king instead of queen. Yes I’m thinking of Kagamine Rin in the WanOpo songs Death Should Not Have Taken Thee and Our Adventure Log Has Vanished.)

Last time you cried?

two weeks ago to the day, when my dad let our dog Koko get hit by a car, things have been Extra Bad around here since then

Do you like your handwriting?

No. When I was little everyone always used to tell me how pretty it was but then I started trying to be a Serious Writer and my penmanship degraded as a result of how fast I had to get the words out of my head. Now my mom whines all the time about how messy and illegible my writing is.

What is your favorite lunch meat?

TURKEY

Longest relationship?

Umm....about two years ago for about three months-ish? I think? Maybe two months? I don’t know, we were dating for Christmas and then I broke up with him right before Valentine’s Day because my mental health couldn’t take it. I realized I was aro shortly after. Who would’ve guessed, huh?

Do you still have your tonsils?

Yep!

Do you bungee jump?

no and i never will

What is your favorite kind of cereal?

Dude this changes like monthly. Sometimes Honey Bunches of Oats. Sometimes Frosted Flakes. Sometimes I get a ridiculously strong craving for Strawberry Awake or Lucky Charms or Honey Nut Cheerios. I just get to eat cereal so infrequently that I can’t really have a favorite, I just have to indulge whatever craving I currently have because I only get the chance to eat one box every three months or so.

Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?

Yes because when I was little my mom ingrained into me that not untying my shoes first would ruin the backs of them way faster than they should. In all fairness we were poor and couldn’t afford to buy me new shoes that often because my feet are so sensitive that an actual comfortable pair costs $100.

Do you think you’re strong willed?

oh fuck no i mean have you ever spoken to me??? i’m the biggest baby pushover to ever live

Favorite ice cream?

Either that Death by Chocolate stuff they serve at Purdue’s dining courts sometimes or mint chocolate chip. It has to be green though or it loses something sdkhsdhk

What is the first thing you notice about a person?

Usually like their shirt, I guess? I don’t know, this isn’t something I’ve ever really thought about. Maybe it’s also if they have one of those annoying faces or voices. Or if they have a queer vibe. Look I’m not good with people ok.

Football or baseball?

Football but only because marching band and/or soccer

Favorite doughnut?

Okay this is going to sound weirdly specific but. Chocolate cake donut with chocolate frosting and rainbow sprinkles. Also on a related note I once let a girl in high school copy my homework (that I myself had found the answers to on the internet, it was a really unfair English assignment). She was so happy that she said she’d buy me a donut for breakfast the next day (she made a donut run for herself once a week as a special treat). I gave her my oddly specific request, but since I knew it was kind of a rare donut to find I told her anything chocolate would work. The next day, lo and behold, she showed up with the perfect donut. She had them make it special for me (insert Discord’s pleading face emoji). That was the day I learned my lesson about judging “dumb blondes”.

What music are you listening to?

I’ve been back into Touhou doujin arrangements again lately, especially eurobeat. However I’m also hyperfixating on Sonic the Hedgehog again so the game soundtracks and the Crush 40 albums are starting to show up in my frequent rotation on Spotify.

If you were a crayon, what color would you be?

The obvious choice is mint green but I could also very easily be a lime green or a glittery ruby slippers red.

Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?

I believe I talked to my grandma a little bit on my mom’s phone not that long ago? Other than that according to my phone it looks like I took a call from my dad back in April?

Hair color?

that real deep almost black brown. i nearly got into a fistfight with some boys in second grade who insisted my hair was black. it’s not black it’s just very thick. it actually looks much lighter if you just separate a smaller chunk and look at it.

Eye color?

Hazel. Brown with some green flecks. Or possibly green with some brown flecks. Also both of my irises look different up close but you can’t tell unless you’re really up in my face.

Favorite food to eat?

pasta but it can’t have red sauce

Scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings all the way

Last film you watched in the cinema?

do you really expect me to remember this. i honestly do not fucking know. i have no brain when it comes to movie theaters. i was gonna do a double feature of birds of prey and the sonic movie the tuesday before spring break (cheap prices for students!!!) but i ended up having a headache that day so i couldn’t go and then shit hit the fan and there was no theatergoing. i have tried and failed to get my parents to rent the sonic movie since. i’m very unhappy about it now that i’m hyperfixating again.

What color shirt are you wearing?

well i think it used to be white but it’s really old so now it’s like off-white. also it has a big snake on the back. i don’t even like snakes i just enjoy this shirt.

Favorite holiday?

Christmas!!! I don’t necessarily actually enjoy celebrating the holiday (thanks fam) but I love the idea behind it and the aesthetics. Also it’s peppermint season!

Beer or wine?

Listen I am super picky about alcohol. I haven’t liked any of the wine I’ve tried, but the first two wines I had other people told me it was bad (and then they took me out and bought me alcohol I would actually like because I’d never drank before and apparently getting me tipsy in Ireland over spring break was an Honor for them I literally didn’t pay for a single drink that night) and the third wine I had was paired with the wrong type of food (we couldn’t get the Right wine bottle open). I didn’t really mind the beer I tried in Ireland though, so I guess beer? I really like cider best though, and apparently I can also handle vodka.

Night owl or morning person?

night owl i wish i could be nocturnal

Favorite day of the week?

Friday. It has all the joy and anticipation of the coming weekend without the curse of my dad being home or the responsibility of homework looming over everything.

Favorite animal?

HEDGEHOG yeah i never really got past that from when i was little. but i also just love pretty much all animals. except like. snakes and spiders but sometimes snakes have their moments.

Do you have a pet?

Yeah. We have a lot of “family” pets but I consider Patches (cat) and Gabby (dog) to be Mine Specifically. If my mom hadn’t forced me out of therapy I’d probably be bringing Patches with me to college next year as an emotional support animal.

Where would you like to travel?

Europe babey. I just wanna hang out in France and England and Scotland and also go back to Ireland. I miss Ireland so much y’all.

ok that’s it. that’s all for this one. i’m not tagging anyone because i’m sure it’s already made the rounds among everyone. but if it missed you and you still wanna do it go for it. consider yourself tagged. poof.

[ghostbustermelanieking]

phantom weights chapter four

one, two, three

season 11, post my struggle iv. part of my series that i write as i rewatch the x files.

Summary: In the wake of their second encounter, Mulder, Scully, and Jackson reconnect (both by accident and on purpose).

---

Things may have slowed down in Jackson's life, may have seemingly stopped being dangerous, but he still found himself jumpy and paranoid. Still found himself worried about the few people in his life, that they were in danger. He checked the news in and around Farrs Corner every now and then, searching for any crimes popping up near or around where Mulder and Scully lived—they were definitely great for money and things like that, no matter how awkward his encounters with them were, but usefulness wasn't worth getting them or the kid killed. He kept an eye on the nationwide news, looking for any activity similar to the activity of the assassins they'd sent after him, or activity of kids like him. (He'd thought about the little grave in San Diego a lot, the little girl named Emily, wondering if he had more siblings out there like her. The idea frankly made him furious, of more kids like him subject to exploitation, more exploitation of Dana.) He got extraordinarily nervous when there was a series of break-ins two buildings down from him, until it was revealed to be a disgruntled handyman. He used fake names a lot when he was out with friends and played it off as a stupid prank, and he was very careful when meeting Sarah, on the rare times that they met.

His relationship with Sarah was messy, messier than it had been before—which seemed unreal, considering what an asshole he had been. Sometimes, she would say she was too busy to meet him with a rushed text, offering excuses about her pissed-off parents and her suspicious little sister. And she seemed pissed off herself when he insisted on trying to hide. "I want a normal boyfriend," she'd say irritably, "not some fucking shadow who spends all his time hiding." And he would have to struggle not to snap at her, to tell her that he had never been normal. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, to hurt her anymore than he already had. (He was still wracked with guilt over the incident on the Chimera, not to mention the fact that he cheated on her and Bri both. He still felt horrible about all of it, and equally horrible about ghosting Brianna, but her parents were even stricter than Sarah's, if that was possible, and he couldn't stay with them both. He felt guilty for even staying with Sarah, after everything, but he felt like he didn't have a choice. She was one of his last links to his old life, and he couldn't let that go. He was terrified of being alone.)

Sarah seemed constantly pissed off at him now, and not just about the aliases. She seemed on edge the few times they talked on the phone; she was dodging his texts, to the point where he stopped calling and texting. He didn't want to be the jerk anymore. He tried to just enjoy the time that he got with her. But he could sense the tremors in their already fragile relationship, could sense what was coming before it happened, almost like shockwaves in an earthquake. When he got a call from her one day in July, her contact photo a picture of the two of them last New Year's making goofy faces into the camera, it sent a wave of dread through him that probably wasn't supposed to accompany a call from your girlfriend.

He answered anyway. "Hey, babe," he said, trying his hardest to sound cheerful. "What's up?"

She was silent on the other end. He could hear her breathing, uncertain and awkward. And then she said, "Jackson, we have to talk."

He leaned forward, his forehead against the wall of his shitty kitchen. It was totally pathetic, but he suddenly wanted to beg her not to do it, tell her that he needed her to keep him grounded. But he didn't say that. He said in that same falsely cheerful voice, "What it is?"

Sarah took a deep breath. "Look, babe, it's…" There was some clattering, a voice on the other end, and then the sound of her yelling: "It's just someone from school, Mom!" Jackson grimaced at the cacophonous sound. "Sorry," Sarah said softly into the phone. "It's just been crazy since the break-in, we're all crammed into a tiny fucking hotel room, and I'm sitting in the fucking bathtub right now…"

His head shot up, nearly hitting the side of the fridge. "Wait-wait-wait," he blurted, waving a hand like he was scrubbing at the air, trying to scrub away the awful words. "There was a break-in? Somebody broke into your house?"

"Yes," said Sarah, annoyed. "Last weekend, some jackass completely ransacked the place…"

"W-why?" he stammered, cold sweat breaking out on his hands. Goddamnit, he'd been so careful, and it still wasn't enough. How the hell could he do this, not take preventative measures to protect Sarah? "What were they looking for, what did they steal?"

"That doesn't matter, Jackson. Listen…"

"Was it someone looking for me? W-were they coming for you, because of…"

"Jesus, Jackson, no! Not everything is about you," she hissed, trying to be quiet and clearly failing. "Look, I think it's time for us to end this, okay? After the break-in, my parents can't afford to send me to Richmond for expensive music lessons anymore, so there's no way for us to see each other, anyway."

He was dumbfounded, speechless, torn between trying to talk her out of it and supporting it simply for her own protection. What if the burglars had been looking for her, what if they'd only stolen things to cover their tracks? He didn't want to lose anyone else, but if he held on, he might really lose her. And he couldn't force her to stay with him if she didn't want to. "Babe…" he began in a soft voice.

"Look, Jackson, this is the right thing to do. We've both felt it coming. Don't try to tell me you haven't, okay? We've been growing apart for months." He could picture her on the other end, sitting in the tub with her socked feet up on the lip, twirling a curl around one finger as she talked. "It's not fair for us to hold each other back, not when there's other people out there. I hope we can still be friends…"

"Babe, did they catch the guy he robbed your apartment?" he asked, because he was still thinking about it. Even after dumping him, they still might come for her.

Sarah sighed with exasperation. "Seriously? We can't even have a mature conversation?"

"This isn't immature, Sarah!" he snapped, finally losing his composure. "They killed my parents, you know they killed my parents! And they could kill you, too, if they think you're my girlfriend."

"Well, I'm not," she said in a sharp voice. "I'm not your girlfriend anymore."

He winced, his head falling forward again. It was for the best, but he couldn't stand it, he couldn't stand it. "Please," he said softly, "please just tell me if they caught the guy, Sarah, please…"

"They didn't, okay?" she said, and she sounded like she was crying. "I'm sorry about your parents, Jackson. I'm sorry about… all of it. But you can't worry about me anymore. I'm not your concern."

He thumped his head against the wall lightly: once, twice. "Okay," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"You be careful," he told her, suddenly stern. "Be careful, and be safe, and…"

She hung up abruptly, leaving him sitting alone in the dark and the quiet. He let the phone drop on the tile with a clunk. That was it, he thought. Everything from his old life gone, and maybe for the better. Maybe for the better.

He didn't know if he could have contact with anyone now, get close to anyone. And a new thought was building up in the back of his mind: what if they came for the baby? If the baby was around him… what if they came for the baby? What if they came for all three of them, because of him?

(If the baby turned out to be like him, then there might be no protecting the three of them. But he couldn't let anything happen to them and it be his fault. He couldn't risk it. He didn't know what he could do about it, but he knew he couldn't risk it.)

---

Jackson had it decided by the next morning. He would distance himself from his new friends as much as he possibly could, to protect them. And he'd distance himself from Mulder and Scully. It wouldn't be hard, considering what a distance there was between them already, considering how his last encounter with Scully had gone. He would just have to start dodging their calls and making up excuses, to let them down easy, as hard as that would be.

In theory, he could keep them at arm's length, and tell himself determinedly that they were not his parents (because they weren't), but in practice, it was much harder. He was connected to them in a way he never had been to anyone else, and he could always feel the waves of their emotion when he talked to them: their guilt, their grief, their caring, their earnest hope. It was hard to turn that away. He thought that it might've been easier if they were assholes, but they didn't seem to be assholes. They seemed to genuinely care.

But he knew that he had to start being more careful, for everyone's own safety if nothing else. It was decided the night Sarah dumped him; he had to do this, and so he was going to do it, and do it right. He was going to start first thing the next day.

Within a few days of barely talking to his friends and not talking to his birth parents, though, there was already a hitch in that plan. Jackson's landlord showed up at his door and informed him that the apartment building was being fumigated this week. "We have an infestation of cockroaches on your floor, and we don't know how extensive it is," he said. "Do you have anywhere else to stay this weekend, William?"

Jackson winced automatically when the landlord called him that. It'd been dumb to sign the lease William, both because it was kind of an asshole move towards Mulder and Scully, and because he could barely stand to be called it. (He flinched every time the landlord called him that, to the point where he suggested a nickname. "Do you go by Will? Bill? Billy?" he'd asked, and that'd only made things worse, because it made Jackson think about that blog entry he'd written a while back where he called himself Billy. At the time, he'd done it just to distance himself from one of the stranger episodes in his shitty life, make it feel like it happened to someone else; he'd had no idea his name used to be William.) "Uh, I guess I can find somewhere," he said. "I have to be gone the whole weekend?"

"Just Friday to Sunday," said the landlord. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience. You think you'll be okay with somewhere to stay?"

Jackson rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'll be good," he said, which might've been a lie. He couldn't stay with Mulder and Scully for obvious reasons, and he didn't want to risk staying with any of his friends. He could probably get a hotel, albeit a cheap one. "Thanks for letting me know."

---

Jackson had to work several shifts right on top of each other the next couple days, to the point where he actually forgot to book a hotel. By the time he got off at the warehouse, he was ready to just find a hotel room and watch mindless cable for hours. Maybe order a pizza. He was sitting in his car with a hastily packed bag in the backseat, googling cheap hotels, when he got the phone call. It was Scully's cell number, put in his phone as Dana, despite the fact that he only ever called the house phone.

Jackson stared at the phone mutely for a moment, helpless in not knowing what to do. He knew he shouldn't pick up, but he didn't want to alienate them suddenly without any word, as tempting as that was. They'd done a lot of nice things for him. They didn't deserve that. But he couldn't talk to them and give them the expectation that there'd be more, not when he swore he would leave them out of it. For their sake and for the kid's.

The phone lay like a lifeless thing in his hand as it rang, the blank gray square he had instead of a contact photo taunting him. He was ready to hang up, but somehow, he lifted the phone and answered it instead. "Hello?"

"Jackson?" she said on the other end. "Hi, it's Dana."

"I know," he said without thinking, and was surprised to hear her uproarious laugh on the other end. A corner of his mouth turned up unconsciously. "What's up?" he asked quickly, hoping to get the conversation to go along quickly.

"Oh, I just wanted to call and check in," she said. "See how you were doing. We haven't talked in a while."

"I guess we haven't," said Jackson. There was a long, lengthy silence before he added lamely, "I'm all right. I'm… I'm headed to a hotel, I think. My apartment is being fumigated."

"Really? A fumigation? Did they say why?"

"Roaches," he offered.

Scully made a sound of disgust on the other end. "Remind me and I'll tell you someday about a case Mulder and I had with cockroaches," she said. "Have you paid for your hotel yet?"

Taken aback, he said, "Uh, no, not yet." He didn't realize what she was going to suggest until the words left his mouth, and he immediately winced. He should've lied and said he had. He shouldn't have brought up the goddamn fumigation at all.

"Sweetie, there's no point in you getting a hotel… why don't you just come stay with us for the weekend? Do you have work?"

"No." He was beginning to regret taking the phone call. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

"Why don't you come down? There's no point in you spending all that money on a hotel," she said gently.

He was going to say no. He told himself he had to say no. He didn't think he could stand an entire weekend with them, considering the way their past interactions had gone. And he was still afraid that people were still looking for him, that they'd hurt Mulder and Scully and the kid if they found him. He had to say no. He would go to a hotel, like he said he would originally.

But he started thinking about the money. He didn't have an abundance of it in the first place to spend on a hotel and meals. And he was thinking about lunch with Dana, her face when he said that he didn't know they wanted kids. Thinking about the money they'd given him, the furniture. Thinking about what an ass they must see him as, trying to wriggle out of seeing them, spending time with them. He couldn't stay in their lives, but he couldn't cut them off completely. Not without a word.

(If they were in danger, wasn't it better that he know for sure? He could look for signs. And besides, if the kid was anything like him, than they might be in danger already. It might not matter what he did.)

"Jackson?" Scully's voice was gentle, and maybe a little worried, on the other end. "You okay?"

He cleared his throat, thumping his forehead against the steering wheel. "Um, yeah," he said with a sigh. "Yeah, I'll come down."

He was just doing it because he didn't want to sit in a shitty hotel all week. That was it. That was it. That would be the end of it.

---

Mulder had been out at the store when Scully made the phone call to their son, and when he returned, she explained what had happened, that Jackson was heading their way. "Scully, that's great!" he said, seizing her hands in his and squeezing. She managed a wobbly smile of her own, and he recognized her apprehension immediately. "Are you still worried about what happened last time?" he added gently.

"Maybe a little bit," she said softly. "I just don't want things to go badly. I don't want to hurt him again."

"I know." He leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. "Look at it this way," he said softly. "I don't think he'd agree to come here for the weekend if things were really bad."

She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder, a hand on her stomach. "Or he's coming so he can get more money out of us," she mumbled. "There's always that."

He shrugged. He rested his chin on the top of her head. "Whatever the reason," he told her gently, "he is coming here. And that's something, no matter what."

She smiled, just a little, her eyes fluttering closed. Their hands were still together between them, his knuckles against her stomach, and he could feel the light, light  movements happening beneath the surface. "How's she doing in there?" he whispered.

She shook her head a little in disapproval, but he could see that she was still smiling. "You don't know it's a she," she told him firmly, but she squeezed his hands again. "Active. Restless. I know it's your child just because she won't relax."

"You say that as if it's a trait she's just inherited from me," he said teasingly, and she looked at him squintingly. He rubbed a hand over her lower back, which was frequently aching nowadays. "You're as bad as I am, honey. This kid is never going to relax."

"Mmm," she said in a soft, sleepy voice. She leaned into him again; he dug his fingers against her back, and she made a small sound of appreciation. "We should get some pizza," she added in a husky voice. "For Jackson."

He smiled. "You're right," he said softly. "We should."

---

Jackson arrived long after dark, the screened door swinging open with his arrival. He scanned the room in a nervous animal sort of manner before landing upon where they were sitting on the couch, Scully asleep on Mulder's shoulder. "Uh, hi," he said with a sheepish sort of smile.

Mulder smiled, too, a broad, involuntary one. He hadn't really realized how much he had missed his son until just now. He had just remembered that he hadn't seen Jackson in person since they helped him move in. "Hey, Jackson," he said softly. "It's good to see you. There's pizza in the oven if you're hungry."

"Thanks," Jackson said with a nervous little laugh. "I, uh, I ate something on the way here, but I'm already hungry again."

Mulder laughed at that. "Help yourself," he said, rubbing a hand over Scully's arm. He was debating whether or not to just wake her up, or to try and move without waking her up.

Jackson walked past them towards the kitchen, freezing a little in his tracks near the couch. "She's okay, right?" he asked, motioning to Scully.

Mulder startled a little, looking down at his wife and then back at their son. "Yeah, s-she's fine," he said quickly. "Sleepy. The pregnancy has been kind of rough on her." He winced a little that; he hadn't meant to mention it.

"I can, uh, imagine," Jackson said quickly, his hands in his pockets. He cleared his throat loudly before continuing to the kitchen.

Mulder cleared his own throat and leaned down, brushing his fingers over Scully's cheek. "Scully," he whispered. The oven door opened and closed. "Jackson's here."

She stirred gingerly, her eyes opening foggily. "Jackson?" she whispered, and he nodded. She sat up with effort, his hand on her back as he helped her, and turned to Jackson as he reentered the room, a droopy slice of pizza in hand. "Hey," she said warmly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Hi, Dana." He offered an awkward little wave with the pizza-free hand. "Thank you for offering me a place to stay."

"Of course, sweetie." She rubbed at her eyes sleepily as she got to her feet. "You're always welcome here."

"Do you want anything to drink?" Mulder added, heading for the kitchen himself to get Scully a glass of water. "We've got some soda, some juice… water…"

His eyebrows raised a bit. "Soda would be good," he said with a stifled yawn. "I'm pretty exhausted, actually. Long day. Long drive."

"Do you want us to show you the guest room?" Scully asked gently, with a yawn of her own. "You should make yourself at home."

He shrugged sleepily, opening the fridge and taking out a can of Dr. Pepper. "Yeah, sure. I've gotten into the habit of sleeping on the couch, I need to work on breaking it."

Mulder felt, rather than heard, Scully's intake of breath, and knew she was thinking of him years and years ago. He'd been thinking of that himself. He gave a little laugh and said, "I've been in that habit, kid. Not a bad one to break."

"For sure." He rubbed at the back of his neck, taking a sip of his soda.

Scully cleared her throat, taking the water cup Mulder offered. "The room's upstairs, whenever you're ready," she said, taking a sip, bumping her arm against Mulder's in thanks.

"We can go right now." Jackson retrieved a plate from the cabinet as if he'd been living there for years, piling a couple slices on and grabbing the soda can before turning to them expectantly. It wasn't the healthiest bedtime snack, but Mulder didn't feel as if he had the paternal authority to say anything. (And he knew his eating habits weren't much better anyway.)

Scully led the two of them upstairs, up the book-laden stairs and down the hall. Over his shoulder, Mulder saw Jackson taking everything out in interest, and realized suddenly that he had never been upstairs before. Only in the downstairs. They went past the baby's room, which Jackson glanced at with a hint of apprehension, and into the room they'd been putting together for him.

Scully flipped on the light when they entered, and Daggoo, who had pretty strange habits for a dog and loved to sleep in there, rose from his favorite perch on the bed and yipped excitedly. Jackson grinned.

"Sorry about him," Scully said with an absent wave. "He loves it in here, but you can kick him out if you want."

"No, no, that's cool. I love dogs." Jackson flopped down on the bed and scratched Daggoo's head as he wriggled and whimpered with excitement. "My mom was allergic," he said wistfully, "so we weren't ever able to have a dog."

Scully smiled, too. Mulder offered, "Scully here has always been a big fan of dogs. She actually stole this one."

Scully chuckled low in her throat and shook her head disapprovingly. Jackson looked up in surprise. "Seriously?"

"We were on a case," Scully explained in a deadpan. "I caught a serial killer who worked in an animal shelter. I just fell in love with Daggoo, and the whole place was in disarray. I didn't think we had time to stay in town so I could go through the adoption process."

"That's what she wants you to think," Mulder told Jackson. "Secretly, I think she's just a ruthless dog thief."

He snorted with quiet laughter as Scully elbowed him lightly in the side. Daggoo, perhaps sensing he was the subject of discussion, came over to greet Scully. Jackson began to survey the room, his eyes lingering over the books and movies on the shelf, the little TV adjacent to the bed. To the dresser, where they paused on a floppy stuffed bunny sitting on the dresser. Mulder froze a little when he saw it himself; he recognized that bunny. He hadn't known that they'd still had that bunny. He hadn't known that Scully had put it in here.  

"What's that?" Jackson asked, his voice sounding purposefully light. "Something for the kid?"

Scully took a deep, gentle breath. "Actually, it was yours."

Jackson jolted, just a little, his shoulders tight. "Really?" he said quietly.

"Really," she said. "My mother—your grandmother—she bought it for you. You loved it; you wanted to take it everywhere." She laughed softly, fondly. "You loved to chew on its ears," she added. "You slept with it every night."

Her words hit Mulder square in the chest; he hadn't seen any of that, and it still ached to this day. He had missed out on so much. He'd seen Scully sleep with the rabbit curled under one arm when they were on the run, desperate and grieving, but he had never seen it with their son. And now here it was again, when Jackson was too old for anything like that and clearly didn't have any interest in it. He forced a smile, pretending that his chest wasn't tight with grief.

Jackson was still looking at the blue rabbit, his face unreadable. "That's cool," he said in a husky voice. "Cool bunny." He looked over at them, halfway curious. "W-where does your mom live? Do you see her a lot?"

Scully smiled sadly. "No, unfortunately she passed away a couple years ago."

"Oh. I'm really sorry," he said immediately, solemnly. He looked down at his hands, at Daggoo on the bed, looking between them with interest. Mulder wasn't sure what to do, to say.

"Thank you," Scully said softly, her voice faltering a little. "She… I miss her a lot, but she lived a good life."

Jackson nodded, stiffly. He yawned again, in a purposeful manner, and said, "I, uh, I think I'm going to bed."

"Okay," Mulder said, offering what was meant to be a reassuring shrug. "There's food in the fridge, and the bathroom is at the bottom of the stairs. First door to the left in the downstairs hall."

"We can take Daggoo if you want," Scully offered.

"Nah, he can stay." Jackson reached out to scratch the underside of Daggoo's belly, who panted happily. "The room looks good, by the way," he added. "Really cool." As if he'd known that they fixed it up for him—which, Mulder realized, he probably had.

"We're glad you like it," Scully replied. Her hand was against Mulder's wrist, as if she wanted to take his hand, but didn't want to do so in front of Jackson. "Good night," she added warmly.

"We'll be down the hall if you need us," Mulder added, as if he was a small child who might have nightmares. As if it was a normal night, and they were tucking him into bed, and they'd see him in the morning. (And they would; they would see him in the morning, unless he snuck out during the night for some reason.)

"Okay." Jackson was focused on the dog, semi-wrestling with him. He didn't look up as they exited, but he called up a muted, "Thanks."

Back in their bedroom, Mulder suddenly felt weak, limp and small, and he pulled Scully to him in a fierce hug. Her arms went around him immediately, unable to envelop him completely, but still holding tightly, clutching at the back of his shirt. "Hey," she whispered softly. "You okay?"

He nodded, his throat thick. He had missed out on so much. He had missed out on so much, and here was an opportunity to not miss out on things, but he would still never get that time with William. He had left them, and he had lost so much.

He was saying it before he could really even think about it: "I'm so sorry I left."

Scully shook her head immediately. She let go of him and stepped back, tipping up his chin slightly so he'd meet her eyes. "Mulder," she whispered gently, "you didn't have a choice. It was the only way to save yourself."

They'd fought about this a thousand times, each taking different perspectives and going back and forth on different things, but Mulder was sure in this moment that it was his fault and solely his fault. He tried to apologize again, and Scully shook her head. "Mulder, we have to stop living in the past and digging up these old issues," she said. "What's done is done. We can't do anything about it now." She reached up to touch the side of his face gently. "He's here now," she whispered. "We have a chance to get to know him. It's not exactly starting over, but it is something."

He nodded, his eyes growing wet. He engulfed her in his arms again, kissing the top of her head. "You're right," he said softly. "It's just… hard not to linger over the things I've done wrong. My regrets."

"Believe me, I know." She kissed the underside of his jaw. "It's going to be okay," she told him, and she sounded a little uncertain, but he could feel the reassurance in her voice.

He nodded against the top of her head. He felt the baby kicking and smiled absently. "You think you'll be able to sleep with the kiddo being restless in there?" he joked.

She poked him firmly in the arm. "I do it every night, Mulder." She kissed him softly, giving his elbow a small tug. "C'mon," she said with a yawn, "let's go to bed, okay?"

They climbed into bed together, her curling at his front so he could provide some support for her back. He put his lips to the back of her head, his hand to her belly, and tried to relax. But his mind kept returning to their son, in the bedroom down the hall. Wondering if he was okay, if he had nightmares the way they did. He heard footsteps on the stairs, he heard the bathroom door creak. He hoped that he would still be there when they woke up. He wanted more than anything to get to know his son.

---

Jackson slept until noon on Saturday. Not even on purpose, or as an avoidance tactic; he was exhausted. He hadn't been getting many chances to sleep in until noon lately, what with work and being on the run. He slept like a rock, after admittedly staying up half the night watching cable, and when he woke up to sunlight streaming into the unfamiliar room, he briefly forgot where he was.

He panicked, briefly, kicking at the covers as he instinctively bolted up in bed, but his eyes fell on the blue rabbit on the dresser as they jerked frantically around the room, and that snapped him out of it. He let out a heavy sigh, flopping limply back on the bed.

After a few minutes (and after he realized both what time it was and how hungry it was), it seemed silly to just lie here and pretend he was anywhere else. It's not like he could do that all weekend, hide upstairs and only come out at night like some bastardized vampire. If he was going to do this, and make this the last time, he had to do it right.

So he forced himself out of bed and staggered downstairs, realizing just as he hit the bottom stair that he'd forgotten to pack anything sensible, like a hairbrush or a toothbrush or a change of clothes. Dana was on the couch, a book in hand, but she had looked up when she heard him coming down. "Good morning," she said with a calm sort of pleasantness. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Uh huh," Jackson said, his voice wavering a little bit. His eyes jerked around the room, from the couch to the kitchen table, where Mulder was sitting with a laptop, to the front door, where he had kicked off his sneakers the night before. "I'm, uh, I'm going for a run," he said. He needed to breathe for a moment, needed to clear his head. He went for the door and yanked them on, pulling open the door and blinking in the bright sunlight. He inhale deeply and took off, dust road from the driveway stirred up by his shoes.

The run felt good. His birth parents lived out in the middle of fucking nowhere, and it was the perfect place to just run. He ran harder, harder than he probably should, until his chest ached with the strain of running and he was gasping for air.

Running did clear his head. It gave him time to think. Reminded him what he needed to do, the reason why it was good that Sarah dumped him. People might still be looking for him. People might come for Mulder and Scully and their kid. He'd told himself that he was going to try and last the weekend, but being alone out in the country made him too tense, gave him too much time to get paranoid about all the shitty stuff that could happen. He tensed up every time a car went by.

He was honestly ready to leave just on the basis of it seeming too dangerous for him to be there (and also, honestly, because it was awkward as hell, and he didn't want to be in that house, surrounded by reminders of the childhood he didn't have and the family that wasn't his). But when he got back to the house, he was out of breath and coated in sweat. He felt a little like collapsing on the spot. He thought to himself, vaguely, as he leaned against a pillar on the porch, Okay, so I won't leave this exact second.

When he staggered through the door, he found Mulder and Scully on the couch, watching some movie. It sounded sci-fi esque, with lots of hissing sounds and canned screams coming from the television. Something Jackson might've liked years ago. When Mulder saw him come in, he tossed him a water bottle, damp with condensation from the freezer. "I'm guessing you'll need this," he said.

Jackson caught it, a little stunned and not sure why. "Thanks," he said.

"Don't drink too fast," Dana offered mildly, and it was then that Jackson remembered that she was a doctor. It was the thing he had known about her before he'd known almost anything else: Ginger was a doctor. It'd been strangely comforting as a child, in that dinky little hospital where he'd essentially been kept prisoner as a child; he had lain in bed, curled up under the covers, sucking his thumb like a baby for comfort, and he'd closed his eyes and seen her. Ginger, helping children like him, being kind and caring and everything the doctors there weren't, and he'd thought, She wouldn't do this to me. She'd take care of me for real. She'd get me out of here.

(His own mom had been the one to get him out. He'd been in for six months, and they'd been unable to tell his parents what was even wrong with him. He was scared to tell his parents what the doctors were doing to him; one of the nurses whispered that if he wasn't good and didn't kept things a secret, he might not ever get to go home. When the doctors tried to stop his mom and dad from visiting, that was the final straw. His mom had gotten lawyers and threatened a lawsuit, and gotten him out, and they'd moved to the East Coast, far away from the people who had done this to him. Ginger had never come, no matter how much he hoped she would.)

"Okay," Jackson mumbled, unscrewing the lid and taking several grateful gulps. He flopped down in a chair, exhausted, turning his face vaguely towards the TV. It was some kind of monster movie, incredibly cheesy-looking.

He didn't mean to stay and watch it, but he did. He just did. He didn't move from the chair, and the three of them watched three movies without even thinking about it.

Towards the end of the third movie, Jackson went into the kitchen to retrieve a soda. Almost as soon as he stood up, he was thinking about leaving. Wondering if he was wondering out of time to save them all. Wondering if he was being overly paranoid, jumpy and ridiculous. Wondering about the kid, if it didn't matter what he did because they'd come for the kid if they didn't come for him. Wondering if there was even anyone out there to come for either of them.

On the front of the fridge, there was an ultrasound picture. The same one that was there last night. Beside it, one he hadn't noticed: a younger Mulder and Scully, lying sprawled out on a bed asleep. A baby between them, cradled on Mulder's chest, Scully's hand on his back, fingers in his mouth, wearing a little blue onesie. Him, he realized, and bit his lip. He yanked open the fridge too hard and grabbed a Coke. As the door closed back, he caught a glimpse of the ultrasound all over again. My sibling, he thought involuntarily, and was stunned to feel something at the back of his mind. A little push, a presence.

"Find everything okay?" Scully asked when he re-entered. They were trying so hard to be casual—she was pretending to watch the TV, but she was watching him. He could tell.

"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly and flopping back in his chair. It was an impulse, what he said next; he was thinking about the little push he'd felt, and the picture, and the conversation he and Dana had last time, and he just said it. "You guys got any name ideas for the kid?"

They both looked up in surprise, like it was the last thing they expected him to say. On the screen, a werewolf growled ominously.

Mulder was the first to recover. "We don't know," he said. "We've had some ideas, but nothing feels right."

"Do you, uh…" Jackson cleared his throat awkwardly. "Do you know the sex yet?"

"Not yet," said Ginger, and she had a small, absent smile on her face. "Mulder insists it's a girl, though." Mulder shrugged sheepishly.

Jackson swallowed awkwardly. "Well, either way, you can't go wrong with Fox, right?" he joked, trying to keep his voice light.

It worked. Mulder and Scully both burst into laughter at that, Scully laughing so hard he could hardly believe it. "Low blow, kid," Mulder said, wrapping an arm around Scully's shoulders. "Low blow. But thanks for the suggestion."

Jackson gave a little chuckle of his own. He felt a rush of relief, at just not saying something wrong for once. "Or Lily," he offered, speaking before he could think again. "Lily's cool. If you're digging for options."

He didn't know why he said that. He didn't know why he said that, except for that it was the name he and his mother had liked when his parents were trying to adopt when he was eight. His mom had suggested it, and it'd been his favorite option for a girl, insisting on it even after they'd moved onto other names. But he didn't know why he'd said that now. He hadn't thought about having a little sister named Lily in years, and he didn't know why he was suggesting it now. It felt like his parents' name to use, not theirs. But he had said it, for whatever reason.

Mulder and Scully exchanged a look, a loaded look. "That's pretty," Scully offered. "I like it."

"Yeah," Jackson said, flopping back in his chair. He'd intended to make some more name suggestions, more jokes, but he found he couldn't. He popped open his soda, turned his attention back to the TV. "Fox might be the better option, though," he threw out gingerly. They chuckled from behind him, again, but he could barely hear it. He watched the werewolf tear through the woods, claws drawn.

---

After dinner, Jackson retreated out to the porch. He seemed jittery while they ate, which was more than expected, but the speedy retreat still stung a little. Scully bit her lip when the door shut hard behind him; Mulder saw it, even across the table.

"We could go out with him," Mulder offered as they loaded the dishwasher. It was a nice night, not too hot, the sky streaked pink and orange from the setting sun.  

Scully shook her head, her hands buried in soapy water. "I don't want to put pressure on him," she said, which he knew she'd been trying hard not to do all day. "I want to leave him be. We've had time with him today."

He slipped a plate into the bottom drawer, stepped behind her and engulfed her in his arms. He felt the baby moving under his fingers. "I love you," he said into the back of her neck.

She slipped her sudsy hands down to intertwine her fingers with his. "I love you," she whispered, and he squeezed her tight. She rubbed the back of his left hand with her damp thumb. "We're gonna be okay," she said quietly. They'd been saying that a lot since this all ended, but this was possibly the most confident he'd heard her about it. She turned in his arms and kissed him, her wet palms on his cheeks. They stood together in the midst of their kitchen, pressed together before the sink and the sinking sun.

Later, after Scully had gone upstairs to bed, Jackson was still outside. Mulder could hear the creak of the porch swing through the open windows. He'd been planning to have a beer inside, at the table, but in the split second of hearing that swing creak, he changed his mind. He wanted a few minutes alone with his son. And besides, he did usually have a beer outside rather than in, so he had a good excuse if Jackson asked.

(He considered, briefly, taking a beer out for Jackson, but then decided that it would be nothing but a blatant bribe, and probably not a very paternal move. And Scully would be furious, anyway.)

He took his beer bottle and went outside, towards one of the chairs adjacent to the swing. "Mind if I join you?" he asked his son, who shrugged and continued moving the swing with the toe of his ratty tennis shoes. Mulder sunk into a chair, popping the bottle open. He saw Jackson eyeing the beer wistfully, and pretended he didn't notice, taking a long sip. The swing rocked back and forth.

"Nice night," Mulder said after a few moments. He could hear the crickets chirping in the dusk, feel a slight breeze blowing. It was the kind of night he used to love to sit outside with Scully during, the kind of night he hoped he could look forward to for the rest of his life.

"It is," Jackson said softly, pushing off the porch again. He took a deep breath. "I've missed quiet nights like this. When I was little, we used to live on a farm in Wyoming. I don't remember it too well, but I remember I liked it. And I loved going to visit my grandmother."

"Not a lot of quiet nights in Norfolk?"

"Definitely not." He sighed quietly, leaning back on the slatted swing. "It's nice out here," he said quietly.

Mulder watched him in the dimming light. He couldn't help it. Every moment with him felt like a blessing. Scully kept saying that Jackson looked like him, but he couldn't see it. Looking at Jackson, he just saw his own family, his mother and his sister and Scully. It was hard to look away, to not linger over all of the things they had missed out on. He could imagine a multitude of nights like this with his son, instead of acknowledging that this was the first one. But it might not be the last. He took a swig of his beer and sighed himself, looking out over the fields instead of at his son. "We're glad you're here," he said quietly. "Your mother… Dana and I… we're both so glad you're here, and that you're safe." They'd been so close to losing him; he remembered his horror clearly, his grief, when he thought they'd lost him. He chewed at his lower lip, unsure of what to say, but knowing that he couldn't not say it. It was the same reason Scully told him how much she'd missed him and regretted giving him up every time she saw him: he needed him to know.

The swing squeaked abruptly, harshly to a stop. "Right," Jackson said in a strangled voice.

Mulder tipped the bottle up with a clammy palm and looked at his son. His head was dipped forward, his hair hanging in his face. He couldn't read his expression in the dimming light. "Mulder?" he said softly, rubbing at his mouth hard with one hand.

It threw Mulder off; he couldn't remember if his son had ever addressed him directly. It was overwhelming to hear Jackson say his name, as much as he wished he'd said Dad instead. "Yeah?" he replied, biting back the urge to tack son on the end.

"Do you… do you think…" He broke off mid-sentence. "Those people, the ones chasing me… they came after your family, right?"

The question took Mulder aback, but it wasn't necessarily unexpected. He wasn't surprised that Jackson was shaken after his months on the run, after being pursued for months and having his parents murdered and being shot in the goddamn head. He should've expected Jackson to have questions about where this bullshit originated. "I… yes," he said quietly. "They… they were involved with my father. The one who raised me, not the smoker. They made a deal to take my sister when she was eight years old." He bit the inside of his cheek hard; no matter how many years it had been, the memories still hurt. And the hurt was not lessened any by the fact that his son had suffered from similar things, the fact that he looked a little bit like Samantha. "They killed my father," he added. "They came after Scully, and after me…" After you, he added silently.

Jackson was quiet. The swing moved back and forth. "When did they stop?" he whispered.

Mulder didn't have a good answer to that. He'd come so close to losing Jackson, and though he mostly thought that all of this was over, a part of him thought that they would never stop coming. It was one of his greatest fears with the baby, although he would never leave her or lose her for anything in the world. But it'd been months since anything had happened, months since he'd noticed any kind of Syndicate activity. He and Scully were trying their best to believe that it had ended, that they were safe.

He went with the optimistic answer. "I suppose a few months ago," he said. "I don't know exactly… what happened… but I'm inclined to believe this is all over."

He looked at Jackson, who wasn't looking back at him. He had his forehead balanced in his palm, his head still bent forward. "Why do you ask?" Mulder added tentatively, halfway pressing for an answer, and halfway hoping he wouldn't get it. He wanted to know if Jackson was still being pursued, but he was praying that this wasn't the case.

Jackson sighed heavily, and sat up straight. "No reason," he said, and Mulder bit back an exhale of relief. Before he could ask another question, Jackson got to his feet and turned to the door. "I'm going up," he said bluntly, reaching for the handle.

"Oh," Mulder said, a little surprised, but knowing better than to say anything. "Okay. Goodnight, Jackson. Scully and I will be down the hall if you need anything."

It was probably a babyish thing to say to a seventeen-year-old, but if Jackson minded, he didn't let Mulder know. He didn't say anything at all; he just grabbed the screen door and whipped it open. It slammed hard behind him as he went inside.

---

Early the next morning, Jackson left. He slipped out before it got light, while Mulder and Scully and even the dog were still asleep. He didn't want to have to go through the motions of saying goodbye, and he felt as if leaving was the only thing he had left to do. The only right thing to do.

He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't be around them. He didn't know if these people would ever stop coming.

And besides that, they weren't his family anymore. Once upon a time, they'd raised him and named him and napped with him and given him a little blue stuffed bunny that he carried everywhere, but then they gave him up. They weren't his family, and he couldn't be theirs. He couldn't be a brother to a little baby if he'd only be putting her in danger.

He had to leave. He didn't have a choice.

[okimargarvez]

EVERY FAREWELL BRINGS WITH IT A NEW BEGINNING- Wheels up

Original title: Ogni addio porta con sé un nuovo inizio.

Prompt: 13x01, 13x05.

Warning: character’ death.

Genre: angst, family, romantic, drama, friendship.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Tara Lewis, Stephen Walker, Spencer Reid, David Rossi, Matt Simmons, Mark, Diana Reid, Will LaMontagne, other BAU family members.

Pairing: Garvez, Emily x Mark, JJ x Will, Spencer x Maeve, Matt x Kristy.

Note: 2 oneshot.

Legend: 💏😘🔦����⚰.

Song mentioned: none.

Note: I written this almost a year ago, before watching the 13th Season Premiere. There is a second part, dedicated on episode 13x05 (Lucky strikes). What I wanted to see. I’ve tried to write as it was a screenplay. Less descriptions and more dialogues.

Every Farewell Bring With It A New Beginning- Masterlist

GARVEZ STORIES

EVERY FAREWELL BRINGS WITH IT A NEW BEGINNING

 Previously

A very loud noise, indeed, more than one. The bang of exploding tires, first the front ones and then the rear wheels. The screeching brakes of the asphalt.

A female voice: -Is everyone OK?-

-Yeah.- another woman, after a break of consultation. Sighs of relief filled the cockpits of both vehicles.

Then a sudden and blinding light. Another danger lurking. Not even time to scream. Again, a cacophony of sounds horrifying. The metal being bent by the impact. The glass that are shattered; some splinters sticking into the skin, causing superficial wounds and bleeding.

 Wheels up

Start a new gig: moaning giving way to genuine complaints.

On its own, separate from others, was hear a broken voice. Far. -Guys, what's happened?-. She doesn't get an answer. She's afraid to try again. But again, the woman speaks through a mobile miraculously survived. -Are you okay? Please give me a sign!-. sob, pulled up the nose, another sob. -Emily? JJ? Rossi? Tara? Alvez? Walker?-. It seems almost a list, a roll-call for only absents. The order isn't really random.

Anything.

Then fingers quickly press the keys, outgoing call -911, what's your emergency? -. No time to let be governed by panic.

-I'm an FBI agent, my colleagues have been hit during a mission, I need at least three ambulances at the address which I'm forwarding to you, NOW! - despite good intentions she yells and screams a bit 'too much.

-We will immediately did. Can you tell me if it was involved a firearm or...?- she stops the operator rudely.

-No, no! I think that it was a car accident but... just before I heard the bang of the tires bursting. It wasn't bad luck, it was deliberate.- she act is found to do the part of the profiler, that she had never wanted to be.

 The first thing she hear is a sharp pain in the chest, stretching the length of the chest. At the same time a kind of whining. Soon she realizes that she herself is producing that sound. The head is spinning, because they were overturned.

She opens her eyes and even that tiny gesture causes suffering. Next to her, at the wheel, there's Rossi, unconscious. All at once a groan, but not came from man. -Tara?- she feels her mouth dry, almost the impact had taken away all the saliva. The belts have become a prison. She tries not to panic and follow the procedures, learned too many years ago. She puts her hands on the roof, then with one can press the lock and release. She sighs of relief and gradually let go the grip with her feet. She finds herself sitting crooked. She looks again at Dave, who doesn't move.

Something, maybe her instinct tells her to stay alert. She peers in semi-darkness in search of her gun. She finds the weapon and holds it close to her. Turning back to Tara, still upside down, she makes a sign to remain silent. A thousandth after a blinding light illuminates the road and then the passenger compartment.

 She cleans the lenses with the rag, but those salty stains will not go away. Then she off her glasses and she put them on the desk. She looks blinking dot on her screen; fixed, always in the same position. Help is coming. She must think this, or go mad.

-I'm at the airport now, hold on, baby girl. Wait. In a moment I'll be with you.- she nods, but he can't see her. But she can't talk at this time. And it is strange, for she usually begins to rave when they are in trouble.

They knew it was risky. They were talking about this just a moment before it happened the incident. Mr. Scratch is the worse unsub that they had met.

The call ends with a click. But she can't afford to do another cycle of crying. She has something to do.

 Slender hands leaf through the pages covered with photos. Others, a bit older and wrinkled, cover the younger hand indicating a particular image. He portrays a man, a woman and a small child, in front of an institutional building.

-Here we had just returned from the science fair, which of course you won.- he smiles and it's funny, his mother remembers a piece of their lives that he, with an eidetic memory isn't able to remember, because it was really too small at the material time. He looks carefully one of the people, more than others.

Dad. I miss dad.

A simple thought for one with an IQ as him. But the woman's fingers shake his. She know it; she feels the same thing.

One annoying vibration forces him to open his eyes. It's his phone. The caller is Penelope. Instantly he understands that something bad happened. He stands up, moving away from the mother so she doesn't hear. Just when he presses the green button he was denied a chance to speak.

-Reid , the team had an accident... I sent the ambulances... no one answers... Derek is coming here... I...- he understands that she is in clear and justified drowsiness. He glances at the blonde woman sat on the couch.

-I'm coming.-

 She sees a metallic shimmer. She counts mentally two seconds. She hears Tara's breath and her own, they seem loud as the roar of a plane. She rushes forward and fires five shots in quick succession. She is sure that it's not the help. The watch Rossi leads the wrist says that only within minutes have passed from the accident and not even Garcia isn't so rapid.

She turns to Tara. She's fighting with belts and finally succeeds in.

She gives a kick to the last bits of the window glass, remained precariously together. She tries the door handle of the door, but the latter is deformed, and then fails to open it. Without thinking too much, she comes out straight out of the window, accumulating other scratches.

A pool of blood is spreading under the body of a man dressed all in black.

Behind her she hears Dr. Lewis shouts  -Rossi! Rossi, c'mon!-

 Hearing gunshots she feared the worst. Looking out, the glow has enabled her to understand that the victim wasn't one of her team, because it wasn't on the cars but outside.

-Are you all right?- to they it went better. They weren't overturned, but flipped on its side. -Luke?- no movement, however slight. -Walker?- she asks then, but is not likely to get any kind of response.

 The flashes light of ambulances.

The cries of the paramedics.

-There need to intubate! -

-B.P. is dropping!-

-We're losing him!-

Then they are transport on stretchers. People waiting sessions for less wounds serious watch helplessly that show.

-I'm fine, you have to help Walker, Rossi and Alvez!- the protests of one of the three women are settled with any simple gazes. -I said I'm fine, leave me!- she attracts everyone's attention.

-Madam, calm down. You had to be visited as the others. We are taking care of everyone.- the bed continues to wobble. A needle inserted gently into the skin.

Finally, peace and oblivion.

They hold hands as a few days before, when he was finally released from prison. That time he was in need of comfort and support. Today the roles have been reversed. Garcia is a strong person, despite all the tears that she annually weeps. He has never seen her like this. It had never happened something like that, a disaster that involved the safety of the whole team.

She doesn't know what to think, for those she has to pray. This time she can't believe that it happens a miracle and that's will right.

Something, a voice tells her that it's not.

Without even realizing it, she lost consciousness.

 -It was a Scratch's trap. I should have thought. I have examined all possibilities.- the brunette shakes her head to self-inflicted reproaches of her boss. A bandage covers her forehead, concealing a deep cut right on her eyebrow arch. Various scratches are scattered all over the face. The hospital gown doesn't take off one gram of her authority.

-Emily, don't say that. At best, it was our mistake. We had to think about any kind of variable. It wasn't your fault.- she repeats, but the other woman ignores her. The brunette runs a hand over her face, feeling tangibly her wounds.

-It was impossible to predict one such thing.- Rossi gives her help, but it's useless.

She keeps looking in the direction of the last bed. Empty.

 It was only a moment and no medical intervention was necessary. Never letting go they reach the room where the BAU members are hospitalized. Spencer runs from JJ.

-You already warned Will and the boys?- the blonde asks, without breaking away from the embrace, the computer technician nods.

-I... I called everyone I could. Morgan is coming too... – this doesn’t seem to surprise Prentiss. Not even Rossi, who giggles. When he arrives from the latter he realizes that it doesn’t add up. Someone is missing from the party. The smile goes off on her lips.

There is still another bed in the room. And there's nobody on it.

-Garcia...- she doesn’t remain there to hear an unpleasant story. Before disappearing, she glanced at Reid, who didn’t want to tell her what the doctor had told him while she was "absent".

The others look at her running away, sighing and exchanging eloquent looks.

 She washed her face several times with cold water, but every time she raises her eyes on the mirror, she sees a redness on her skin that doesn’t want to leave. She can’t stop crying.

She seems to hear a male voice making her name. She ignores it. But this insists, tries again. Anything. She recognized who these nuances and accent belong to, but it is only her mind that makes fun of her.

Suddenly the hallucination becomes tactile. Soon after a strange noise, like wheels on the floor; a hand is resting on her back. Big, certainly belongs to a man. And hot. She can feel heat even through layers of fabric.

She turns slowly, and he releases his grip.

Sitting in a wheelchair there is special agent Luke Alvez.

 -So, what we do?- the brunette went for a moment in the bathroom and when she came out wearing the gear brought by Garcia. Yes, she had thought of everything...

-We can’t do anything right now, Emily...- the paternal and condescending tone of the elder irritates her. She knows perfectly well that this is irrational sensations, but this changes things a little.

-Rossi is right. You have to rest, you are still under observation... – she chases the boy's words with her hand.

-You shouldn’t be here, rather. You should be with your mother. Good heavens, you're just back in freedom and just a few hours ago we freed Diana! What the hell are you doing in the hospital?- everyone has understood the reason for their boss's behavior; nobody takes it too much.

-We are a family, have you forgotten it? We have to stay united.- even the blonde has to add the dose. What no one says is especially at times like these.

Quick disordered flashbacks pass before their eyes.

The attack in New York.  Hotch disappeared.

Garcia in the operating room. -The bullet entered the chest and rebounded into the abdomen. She lost a lot of blood. But we managed to repair the injuries. A centimeter higher and would have crossed her heart but could be discharged in a couple of days.-.

Spencer kidnapped by a bipolar fool. -Dad, don’t do it!... Shut up, son.-.

Savannah hit while she was pregnant. Outside a hospital.

The funeral of Emily. That of the chief of the section, Erin Strauss.

-The superhighway of information is closed.- Elle almost dead.

-We have a case... it concerns Gideon...-.

JJ kidnapped and tortured while she was pregnant. Mateo Cruz, chief of the section, half dead.

Hailey killed by the Reaper. And Jack save by miracle.

The anguish, then the relief. Sometimes only despair that fades too slowly. The pain that becomes a friend to cling to.

There have already been so many times, yet each one is always different. Probability doesn’t mean certainty, but possibility. Hope.

- We must think only of Stephen. We have to pray that everything is going good.-

 -Luke?! Oh God! Oh God! You're... you're...- the man understands what she can’t say aloud. He shakes his head, without the shadow of a smile. Then he raises his leg to show her that it's nothing serious.

-It's just a dislocation. Really, Garcia. I'll just have to use crutches for a while.- now he tries to smile to reassure her. The comfort, however, lasts very little.

-Oh, then it's Walker!- for a moment he would like to protest, to say that as usual she would have preferred it was him, the one in danger of life, because he had no one who would mourn his death, while Stephen had a family, wife and sons. He was only the newbie and he would remain forever. But luckily, he manages to hold back and drive away a thought that is so selfish, yet sensible.

-Breath, Garcia!- he tries to take her by the shoulders, but from that position is too difficult. He sees that look she had during the Reid hearing. -It's in the operating room, right now.- thin consolation. That bad presentiment that has haunted her since Prentiss showed her the false message sent to Derek, is now stronger than ever.

-I have to... Oh my God! Monica and the children! They are already arrived? She will need help... - she feels herself missing again. The head turns like a crazy top. The legs are too heavy. She can’t speak anymore. Luke assists helplessly, fearing she may fall, but not knowing what to do. She leans against the wall and takes a breath. -You remember... what you told me?- she just stares him. -Now I want to cry and that someone can stand me while I do.- the tears are already peeping from the pupils and it is clear that she will not accept a no for an answer. Luke smiles sweetly. He doesn’t know how he managed to make such a confession that day. And certainly, she hadn’t taken him seriously. But now it is he who takes his responsibilities. Penelope lowers her height and hugs him. The masculine hands gently caress her back. He trembles, strives not to cry in turn.

A few sentences whisper in her ear, while a hand moves through her hair. -I'm sure you did everything you could, all the necessary calls.- her biggest enemy is herself, and it's always been so obvious. She will never be enough, up to her expectations. There will always be something that she could have done but was not able to. Something to think about. She and Prentiss are very similar. – Stop crying, stop. It's not your fault, Penelope.- and she notices once again how Luke is not Derek. The latter would have allowed her to let off steam until exhaustion. The Newbie no; he wants her next to him at the crime scene; he has the courage to tell her truth that she would prefer (it would be easier) to ignore. -It will not help Walker survive.-

 -But why are they putting so much? To wedge a leg, it doesn’t take all this time …- the anxiety has spread throughout the room. Nobody tries to comfort others. Even Spencer gave up after receiving a glare for coming out with one of his quotes. -It says no news is good news.-.

Then the noise of wheels on the floor and the door that opens makes everyone jump. Enter Luke, in a wheelchair. But even more shocking is that to push it is Garcia. They see that she cried, but this doesn’t surprise anyone.

-Are there any news?- he immediately shoots that question, aware that otherwise he will not do it again. Both Emily and Rossi shake their heads. The wait continues. Silence seems almost unreal. Only JJ notices the hand of the former task force agent gently gripping the arm of their computer technician. For a second, she wonders if something has happened between those two and promises to ask her friend. When all this will be another bad memory.

But then the door swings open and this time a doctor enters, still wearing a bloody smock, headphones and a mask. Indecipherable expression. -Are you colleagues of Agent Walker?- so many nodding heads, hands clasping each other, in a gesture of prayer, intertwined fingers. -We have done everything possible, I'm sorry, the head injury was too extensive.- the rest of the doctor's words is confused in their minds.

He can’t really be dead.

We had just met him.

Monica, poor Monica.

It's my fault, my fault, mine. Mine.

After a few minutes the ambassador of misfortunes comes out and no one can even say anything. Penelope glances at the door, but before she can even think of escaping, the hold on her arm tightens and takes her back to her duty.

They are a family, for better or for worse.

 The cry of the child lasts very little. Two pairs of arms are already ready to tighten and console him. A couple and a half. -You should not lift weights, have you forgotten what the doctor said?- the husband's sensible words don’t sound good before a mother who just wants to embrace her own fruit. -Honey, let me, I don’t make him fall!- a moment of resistance and then surrender.

She sits on the couch, abandoning herself to dead weight.

-Mummy, do you want me to help you put the jacket?- the blond child with glasses bigger than him make her smile.

-Sure, my love.-

 -I know, I know if you could you have been here.- she walks across the room, making the same route.

-I know you, Em, you want to make everyone believe that you're well, being strong enough to overcome anything by yourself... but you're not alone, love, ok? There are me and there are your colleagues. Nobody expects you to be the next Iron Lady.- but she shakes her head.

-Mark, it was my fault, if Stephen died! I'm the chief of this unit... Hotch...- he stops her before she can say other nonsense.

-Don’t say something like "Hotch would not allow it". He is a human being, like you. Such development couldn’t be foreseen.- the man on the other end of the line sighs. He passes a hand on the head. -Listen to me, I'll be there tonight. Okay?- this time she nods, but he can’t see her anyway.

She end the call without adding anything. She sits down, takes off her shoes and massages her feet. She is no longer used to putting on her heels. She far prefers something more convenient and practical.

 Trying not to be too brusquely he drives away the woman's hand.

-Mom, enough. So you're suffocating me.- he tries to loosen the tie a bit. He feels strangled. He is having a crisis. It didn’t happen to him for a while. He thought he was already free of stress for having spent six months in prison but reading at the speed of light or having a volcanic mind doesn’t save him from the human emotions of ordinary mortals. In that sphere he is vulnerable, just like everyone else.

One name seems to pass quickly in front of him. Maeve. He feels a caress on his arm. It could be a breath of wind, entered through the window that his mother left open. Before he can even take a step, the new nurse intuits what he is thinking and closes it. Yet that shiver doesn’t go away.

I'm with you, Spencer.

 -You're very well dad, really.- a laugh.

The man doesn’t turn around, he continues to admire his reflection in the mirror. He sees all the wrinkles, some white hair despite the color. And yet... not bad. Overall, it could be put much worse.

The female hand rests on his shoulder and forces him to turn around. -I'm sorry to distract you from contemplation, but you'll be late for the ceremony...- he looks at his partner and daughter, their faces both anxious.

That dress he would have preferred to put on another occasion.

 She isn’t convinced of her choice, but she doesn’t find anything better. She ponders the stupidity of the need to concentrate negative emotions on clothes that society considers suitable for the occasion.

-Tara?- the man says her name. His tone is delicate, he knows how much her sister is suffering, but she is the strong one, who doesn’t show her weaknesses. She spends her life listening to the thoughts and problems of others, while she doesn’t even consider hers. She turns to look at him. -It's time to go.- he offers her his arm and after a minute hesitation, she accepts.

 He fastens his shoes and then look at the bed. The dog is looking at him curiously, bending his head following his movements. -What's up, girl? Don’t you like it?- he using the arms to bring the wheelchair next to the mattress. -No even I wanted to put clothes like that.- he sighs, for a moment losing in his memories.

The bell rings.

He gives Roxy a caress. -She is here.- he announces, the voice a bit trembling. He moves to the entrance and opens the door. A blonde woman, entirely dressed in black, with a hat of the same color on her head, is smiling to him sadly.

-Are you ready?- she asks him, staying on the threshold. The man nods. She turns around and turns back. -We see you later, Roxy.- she greets the dog and then helps him to get off those few steps, then to get on board the car. She puts in the driver's seat. It's a strange thing, it was usually the opposite, but lately, because of the fracture, she was often found in this situation.

-Penelope...- he puts a hand on hers, already on the steering wheel. The woman turns to look at him, tightening her lips. -Are you okay?- she shakes her head, deciding to be honest. -Me too.- he says, intertwining their fingers and giving her a hold. -We will get also through this.-

-Do you think so, Luke? I'm not so sure.- she starts, without breaking the contact. -We go ahead, because there isn’t much else that can be done... as to overcome it... no.- she shakes the head again and she is necessary not to cry, not to ruin the make-up.

 Standing in front of that closed coffin, everyone tries to stand up as they can. JJ clings to Will, Rossi to his daughter, Tara and Emily remain close, Reid alone (or almost), with his hands in his pockets, Garcia behind the wheelchair of Luke, a hand on the man's shoulder, that of him on hers, without looking at each other.

In the front row a woman embraces two children, a boy and a girl, who can’t stop crying.

-The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.- a man dressed in ceremonial clothes pronounces in a solemn tone. A priest, a great friend of the Walker family. He baptized Ely and Maya, celebrating the marriage of Stephen and Monica. He didn’t think he would survive that boy who spent his afternoons helping him with the parish, instead of playing the park like everyone else.

The box is lowered, and the pit filled with earth.

It's over another day.

 -We need to take that bastard!- the brunette slams a fist on the round table, making the other members of the team jump. That empty chair stands out terribly. -It's my fault, if Stephen is dead.- now her voice seems to come from beyond the grave.

-Emily, it's not true...- the blonde expert in communication tries to contradict her.

-Yes, that is. I'm not just talking about Scratch trap. I let him come here, I wanted him to be part of this group, and now Monica no longer has a husband, two boys no longer have a father... and we've lost a fantastic person. I want the head of the son of a bitch, and I want it before this month ends!- with the last cry, she gets out of the room. With strange glances, the others gradually get up and leave. Only the computer technician and the former agent of the task force remain.

-Do you need help, Newbie?- since the incident she changed attitude, indeed, she took care of him, making him a nurse, helping him in the kitchen, taking Roxy out... basically they attended a lot in the non-working hours and have discovered to appreciate each other's company. Luke has become used too easily in the presence of the woman and at this moment he realizes that when he gets better, everything will return as before and he doesn’t know if he's ready or if he wants it. On the contrary, he knows perfectly well that he doesn’t want to start spending his free time alone. Or without her, which is about the same thing.

-No...- he answers after what seems an eternity. He returns to her own papers. -Penelope...- he finds the courage to call her, the blonde raises her head to look at him, but then her cell phone starts to sing. The man shakes his head and sighs.

-Matt?- she asks surprised. -What?- she turns her back to him, she is distracted for a moment. When she looks around, Luke is gone.

 -Welcome to the team, Simmons. I hope you'll help us capture Lewis.- the woman shakes her hand. The man with Asian features reciprocates the grasp and smiles.

-Thank you, Prentiss. I hope so too.-

 It's all dark and already the thing appears quite suspicious. JJ gives a boost to the man, forcing him to enter. On her face a strange smile. As soon as he sets foot in the meeting room, the light is rekindled and the sight hits him. The others are also stunned, all except the blonde.

-Surprise!- shouts a voice that he knows well. On the round table there are several glasses already filled with a semi-transparent liquid and even a cake with the word Welcome in uppercase.

The former newcomer can’t hold back a grimace of annoyance. Garcia can’t but celebrate the entry of a person in the team; pity that she hadn’t reserved such a consideration to him. Indeed, all the opposite. He notices with horror that he is jealous of her. Every smile, every minimal gesture that the woman dedicates to Simmons, is unbearable.

He doesn’t even listen to the usual proclamations and so he is taken aback when a female hand is resting on his shoulder.

-Are we going, Luke?- he nods only, fearing what he might unwittingly say.

 He opens the door trying to make as little noise as possible. It's night. He doesn’t want to wake his partner. He climbs the stairs moving like a thief or an assailant and the idea almost makes him laugh, risking ruining everything. Arrived at the last step he almost falls due to a toy; he bites his tongue not to say a dirty word.

He opens the door and contemplates his children sleeping for a few seconds, then moves into the bedroom and does the same with his wife. Then he undresses, wears his pajamas and finally slips under the covers.

Sigh of joy.

This is home.

 -Are you sure everything's ok?- they're waiting for the elevator together. The ex-newcomer tries to keep his distance for what he is allowed by a wheelchair; he begins to strongly hate this machine. It makes him feel too vulnerable and made him discover what it feels like to have Penelope Garcia in their everyday life, knowing that it will end too soon and that it isn’t enough anyway. -Do you need help later, with Roxy?- the woman asks after waiting for the answer to the first question, in vain. She doesn’t understand his strange attitude of these last hours.

-No.- he finally answers, always closed. She looks up and pretends nothing. Silence, they only hear the buzz of the elevator that is coming. Finally, the doors open. They go up, he avoids her help and Penelope doesn’t know what to think. They remain silent for a few seconds, then she blurts out: -Listen, what's your problem? Say it immediately and let's get it over.- she puts her arms crossed and forces him to look at her.

-Nothing...- he begins in an unconvincing tone. -just that... when Prentiss came back you gave her a toast, Walker… you welcomed him with open arms- he had a hard time saying that name -and Simmons... you gave him a welcome party- she starts to guess where he wants to go, but she lets him end. -I'm the only one who didn’t have this honor.- he closes his eyes and shakes his head, just wanting that the doors open and can go down. In any case he can’t drive, so he will not easily get rid of the woman.

Penelope has a smug smile on her face. -Oh no, no, I can’t believe it!- she exclaims with exaggerated tone and theatrical way. -You are... jealous of the attention I gave to Matt?- it annoys him that she called him for his own name. -You are completely out of it, a little sounder- she warns him that they have reached the parking floor. He pushes the wheelchair outside and heads for his car. -But you know that he has four children?- she emphasizes the number.

He sighs, desperate. He should have found a way to restrain himself, but it's too late now. -Of course, I know, I'm the godfather of the twins.- he confesses. She is so surprised that she stops and stands in front of him to scrutinize his expression more carefully and catch him in the face of a lie. -It's a great friend of mine, we've known each other since the days of the academy...- she starts walking again and then helps him to settle in the passenger seat. He no longer opens his mouth halfway and the blonde decides to respect his colleague's silence. -I've known him for a long time.- he suddenly begins to speak, while they are still at an intersection. -So no, I'm not jealous of him.- she turns to look at him confused.

-But then…- he doesn’t give her the chance to reply and even the light turns green. She press the foot on the clutch, then on the accelerator.

Luke sighs, totally resigned. -I'm jealous of you.- he no longer has the courage to look at her and not even her. -Now, please, if you want me at least a shred of love, don’t say anything, leave me at home, slip away and... forget what I told you.- she nods, but knows she will not.

TAGS: @theshamelessmanatee @itsdawnashlie @talesoffairies  @kiki-krakatoa  @gcchic @arses21434 @jarmin @kathy5654 @martinab26 @thisonekid @thenibblets @perfectly-penelope @ambrosiaswhispers @reidskitty13 @jenf42 @gracieeelizabeth27 @silviajajaja @smalliemichelle99 @charchampagne14 @thinitta  @skisun  @myhollyhanna23 @thenorthernlytes @garvezz @mercedes-maldonado

[fuckyeahevanrwood]

Evan Rachel Wood, Gina Rodriguez and Other Stars Take Aim at TV’s Patriarchy: ‘There’s No Going Back’

It’s a different day for Hollywood, and for our culture. From the time allegations of sexual misbehavior rained down on mogul Harvey Weinstein last October, this business and many others have been rocked by revelations and allegations, and by a sense that the time is long overdue to afford women equal respect and equal opportunities rather than treating them like commodities.

In this climate — with hashtags like #MeToo and organizations like Time’s Up working to affect real change — TheWrap convened seven television actresses to discuss what they’ve experienced in their careers, what they’ve seen in the last nine months and where they’d like things to go from here.

TheWrap’s Sharon Waxman and Beatrice Verhoeven asked the questions; Zazie Beetz from “Atlanta,” Alison Brie from “GLOW,” Rachel Brosnahan from “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel,” Claire Foy from “The Crown,” Gina Rodriguez from “Jane the Virgin,” Yara Shahidi from “black-ish” and “grown-ish” and Evan Rachel Wood from “Westworld” answered them.

What does it feel like for all of you at this particular moment in time, with everything that has happened over the last eight or nine months? Are you mindful of the politics going on around you in Hollywood and in the wider world?

ALISON BRIE Well, there’s no way to ignore what’s going on in our industry these days. That’s why I feel lucky and grateful to be working on a feminist show where we have female showrunners, so many women on the crew and six out of 10 of our directors are women.

That’s something about “GLOW” that I find really amazing and fascinating: We have a cast of 14 women in Season 1, 15 women in Season 2, of all shapes and sizes and ages and socioeconomic backgrounds. They’re interesting, in-depth characters. Their lives revolve around things other than men and being single.

I was talking yesterday with Gillian Jacobs from “Love” about how different it can be shooting a romantic scene when you’re working with a female director. You’re more involved with the way you’re being commodified on the show, which is helpful.

YARA SHAHIDI It’s extremely powerful and inspiring to turn on the TV and see Issa Rae on the show she created, to see Laverne Cox, to see all these women leading shows. Whether it’s cable or [broadcast] television, I feel like we are seeing a difference, and I think it’s partially because the audience is now expecting it. But we’re not nearly there yet.

We are seeing more shows — like Rachel’s “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” — about female awakening.

RACHEL BROSNAHAN At its core, “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” is a story about a woman finding a voice that she didn’t know she had. And that becomes more and more relevant every single day. We’re seeing so many different groups of people in the country finding their voices.

It’s not something that I was necessarily aware of as we were making it, but it’s a huge gift to play this fully realized, completely three-dimensional, complicated, flawed woman.

SHAHIDI We’re definitely seeing more complex roles. It’s less about saying that a character has to be this beautiful, perfect role model who handles it all. If anything, it’s been about making them realer, more complex or more unique. So rather than saying this woman has to be the universal woman, we can deal in specificity. When we add that layer of detail, you can only gain when you’re talking about human complexity.

BRIE What’s great about what’s happening right now is that these stories for women are being told, and I feel like there’s no going back. If I read a script about a woman who can’t get a man, or two women fighting over a guy, I’m just so bored.

EVAN RACHEL WOOD I think everybody’s a little bored by that.

ZAZIE BEETZ For so many years, people were like, “Everybody can identify with a white man lead.” There wasn’t even a thought of, “Oh, someone can identify with a woman as well and not be a woman?” That’s insane.

Many of your shows now feel increasingly timely and resonant precisely because of what’s happening in Hollywood and in society.

WOOD We started “Westworld” before this movement happened, but when people say, “Oh, it’s so timely now, it’s crazy how synced-up it is,” we always say, “No, it’s timeless.” This has always been an issue, but we’re just paying more attention and listening in a different way now. So it seems more relevant.

And it was strange doing Season 2, because it’s all about the uprising and the reckoning, and the women — even though they’re not technically women, they’re machines — coming into their power and realizing who they are.

CLAIRE FOY I think it’s really interesting, the conversations that people are having. A year ago, would TheWrap be having an all-female cover talking about women being empowered? It’s because of a very few brave people got together and put themselves on the line. And then all of a sudden everybody came out of the woodwork and said, “I just realized I can stand up for myself.”

I have learned so much from other women about what they’ve experienced.

GINA RODRIGUEZ I’d love to jump in on that, because I think Time’s Up was created from the response from the American farmworkers — 700 women got together and wrote a letter to the women in Hollywood. This is such a difficult conversation because there’s no way we can encompass everything: This is hours and months and years and history and hundreds of years of domesticated mentalities.

But I believe that the culture for women, if we’re going to specifically speak about that all over the world, is a social norm. We created it and we can change it. But it would take a collective effort to do that.

WOOD We get pitted against each other sometimes, and I think what we’ve realized, which is part of the theme of today, is that we’re stronger together. It’s a slogan, but it’s also very true.

BROSNAHAN One of the coolest things about doing things like this is that we get to spend time together and know each other as peers, and that makes it easier to lift each other up and be each other’s champions and be on the same team. Because previously, there was usually room for one woman in a group of men.

Now, there has been a shift. I’ve been walking into a lot of rooms recently with both men and women where they’re saying, “Do you want to do other things? Do you want to write? Direct? Produce?” I’d never been asked that question before and I hadn’t thought about it much, but now I’m thinking about it and going, “Yeah, I do want to do all those things!”

RODRIGUEZ I produce my own projects because I really got tired of being told, “They don’t think you are this enough.” And I was like, “Who is they?” I need to be they. So I just made sure that I was the they so that I can tell them, “No, I don’t think that’s correct.”

As a young girl, I knew how affected I was by the lack of color on screen. I knew how much I gravitated towards the little bit that we did have that represented our culture. I understand that the lack of history of Latino culture in schools adds to dropout rates. I love that Claire plays one of the most important women in history, but there are so many more that we haven’t seen yet because people don’t even share it in schools. I’m all about doing my own stuff, making my own projects.

Claire, you were the subject of a real furor recently when it was revealed that you made less money than your co-star Matt Smith in the first season of “The Crown,” even though you had a bigger role. It came as a shock…

FOY It’s that unspoken thing. Actors don’t talk with each other about how much they are paid. But we all knew. And now something good has got to come out of all the shame and the embarrassment and the talking about my worth in comparison to one of my best friends.

WOOD I have never been paid the same as my male counterparts. I’m just now to the point where I’m getting paid the same as my male co-stars [on “Westworld”].

BROSNAHAN Really? I’m mad for you but also happy for you now that you’re there.

WOOD I was married to an actor for years and he always got paid more than me, and I actually worked more. And I was like, “I’ll just take what I can get, I’m just happy to be here.”

BROSNAHAN That’s a huge part of the equal-pay conversation, because women are brought up with this idea that there are 100 more of us who could step in at any given moment. So it’s hard to speak up for yourself, because you feel like you could lose it. And honestly in the past, you could.

RODRIGUEZ They do that to us from the start of our careers. Take our power away. I feel like that’s happened to me from the jump. “That’s fine, we have a bunch of people who could step right in.” You diminish someone’s self worth and it’s up to them to believe it or not. I’ve had that from the beginning.

BEETZ It’s about, are you being valued in the same way? Are they seeing you as an asset in the same way that they are seeing your counterpart?

FOY Our industry works on a quote system. You get a quote for one job and it will be used in your next job. It’s across the board, and it’s relatively fair in that sense.

The way it doesn’t work is because if there aren’t leads of people of different races or different genders, then they’re not going to be given the opportunity to ever get their quote up, because they will never be given that lead. And if they do get that lead and they don’t have the same quote as their counterparts because they haven’t had the opportunity before, then I genuinely believe it’s the responsibility of the people who are in charge of making those decisions to pay that person not according to their quote but according to what their part is. That is the only way it will ever make it right.

One of my friends is an Indian actress, and she’s never going to get a high enough quote because when has there been a lead part for an Indian actress? It just has to happen by someone making the decision. It has to be a directive, it has to be something that people just do. Because you want to be paid equally for the work that you do, and for your investment in that which will make a lot of other people very wealthy.

So it’s time to be outspoken and stand up for yourself.

FOY It’s not even about being outspoken. It’s just about saying, “These are the facts!”

RODRIGUEZ That’s what it is. It’s like, a woman does it and she’s being craaaaazy. A man does it, it’s logic. We gotta stop talking about it that way. It’s not about being outspoken, it’s about laying the truth down.

WOOD I’ve been working for 25 years, and the people with money are still men. You’re pitching projects about women to a room full of older white men with money who aren’t necessarily creative types. Those rooms need to change. They need to be more diverse and have more women, more people of color, more everything.

BROSNAHAN It’s hard when there’s one group at the top making all the decisions and controlling all the money. People in positions of power need to look like what the world looks like, so that the art we’re making reflects the world we live in and the world we aspire to live in.

[hq-cuties-pls]

can i please ask for oikawa trying to win back his ex? angst. i need me some angst.

Holy crap this ask inspired me so much!! I don’t normally write a lot of Oikawa (I leave that to Admin Alyx) but he just spoke to me this time. Please enjoy!~Admin Emma

Oikawa fussed with his sweater and jeans, smoothing them over his chest and adjusting them until they laid just right. He picked at imaginary lint and pills, played with his hair until he was satisfied, and shifted from one foot to the other. He was nervous. He didn’t want to screw up again. He knew in his heart that if his sweater was a little wrinkled or a hair was slightly out of place, it wouldn’t matter, but at the moment it was something he could control. He needed that control right now.

He was lucky you’d even agreed to meet him. Your break up was… messy was putting it lightly. He’d considered flowers, or sweets from that bakery you liked, or expensive gifts he couldn’t really afford in the off season… but he knew you. You’d see right through that. You always did see right through him. It’s what made you so understanding about his love of volleyball, about his fan club that he honestly couldn’t really control. It’s what made you trust him even if he was mildly flirtatious with other girls, even if you did get adorable and pouty afterwards (he always liked that), and it’s what made everything about you set him at ease. It’s what made you perfect for him.

But he fucked it up. His stupid anxiety and his stupid brain drove you away. You hated him now. But maybe… just maybe… he could fix it.

He finally stopped pacing and stepped into the bar where you’d agreed to meet. Honestly, he was so braced to not see you–to have been stood up–that it was a genuine shock to see you. You were dressed simply–the dark blue cardigan he loved, the jeans that hugged your curves… to anyone else, it was a cute, casual outfit, but to him… were you sending a message? And if so, what did it say?

He shook himself, plastering on that fake smile of his that he always wore. He knew you’d see right through it, but it made him feel more confident than he was. He tapped you on the shoulder, and thrilled a bit when your chilled expression softened when you saw him.

“____-chan,” he began.

You held up a hand to interrupt him; “Don’t call me that, Oikawa.”

He rubbed at a spot in the middle of his chest; after two years of teasing ‘Oikawa-kun’s and sultry ‘Tooru’s and loving and affectionate purrs of ‘darling’ and ‘my love,’ his surname stung.

“Apologies, ____.”

The bartender chose that moment to come over to take his drink order. He just ordered one of what you were having without looking at it. The bartender shrugged, pouring a glass of dark red wine that was sure to be very oaky and floral and earthy and dry and whatever other things red wine tended to be. Oikawa made a face–he wasn’t a fan of reds. But he was committed now. Besides, he wasn’t here to drink.

“Can we talk?” Oikawa asked with a pointed look at the bartender.

“We’re here, so talk,” you said in a clipped voice

“Please, ____. Please can we just…” He trailed off helplessly.

You sighed, taking your wine glass and standing from the stool; “Fine. Let me settle up and we’ll get a table.”

Oikawa stepped over you, sliding a fold of bills that was probably more than enough to cover the 1600 yen worth of wine plus a too-generous tip across the bar. He didn’t care. He just… he needed to talk to you. Now.

“Oikawa, that’s not necessary. I can pay for my own drinks.”

“I know,” he said. “And I know why you don’t want me to pay, ____, but don’t see it as a grand gesture or a piece of control or anything like that, alright? You agreed to meet me when you clearly didn’t want to. Let me at least buy you a drink.”

You shrugged, leading him to a secluded table. It wasn’t so secluded that exits were blocked off, but you were well out of earshot of the bartender and the other dozen or so patrons milling around. You waved off the waitress with a polite smile before folding your hands and fixing him with a withering stare.

“Alright, Oikawa. Talk. What do you have to say?”

He took a breath to make his case; he had a big, dramatic speech prepared about how sorry he was, how perfect you were together, how much he’d changed and seen the error of his ways and if you would just give him another chance… but it all felt so fake. He took a deep breath again, collecting himself. He couldn’t control the catch in his throat, or the way his expression crumpled into something ugly and miserable.

“I miss you,” he said, folding in on himself.

“Oikawa…” You shook your head, exasperated. “Tooru. You know why we broke up.”

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbled, more mad at himself than anything else. At least you’d called him by name… that was something, at least. “I know.”

“I told you there was nothing between Iwaizumi-san and I,” you continued. “I told you that you had no reason to be jealous. Iwaizumi-san told you that you had no reason to be jealous.”

“I know!” His hands balled into fists of frustration. “I know that.”

It had been stupid. Of course you and Iwa-chan spent time together. You’d been very quick to befriend his very best friend, which was another thing that had made you perfect. You’d both had an easy relationship with the each other. You’d cooked for Iwa-chan. You’d run errands with Iwa-chan. You’d had inside jokes with Iwa-chan.

And that was it, wasn’t it? It wasn’t that you got along with Iwa-chan–that was pretty much expected if you were to be in Oikawa’s life–but the fact that you got along so well. Oikawa would never admit it, but he’d felt inferior to Iwaizumi since middle school. Iwa-chan may have never had a fan club, or been overly popular with the ladies, but he’d never been dumped just for being himself around someone who was supposed to love him. He’d never felt the need to hide who he was. He’d had three steady relationships since Oikawa had known him, and if Oikawa knew Iwaizumi, he knew the only reason they hadn’t stuck was because Iwaizumi was too kind to keep a high school girl on the hook when he was going to college in Kyoto.

It was only a matter of time, right? It was only a matter of time before you’d realize that Iwaizumi was so much better than him for you–for anyone–and then he’d have to face the hell of losing you by degrees. He would lose you, because he wasn’t good enough for you. You were perfect, and he was this awful, ugly monster filled with rage and anxiety and hatred and–

“Tooru,” you said softly, running your fingertips along the back of his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you still love me?”

You sighed deeply, which was never a good sign. He took a sip of his wine just for something to do with his hands… and pulled a face. Yeah, he definitely hated red wine.

Then you answered in a way he couldn’t have anticipated; “Of course I love you, you big idiot.”

“What?” He nearly dropped his glass, which would have been bad for a lot of reasons.

“Tooru, I will always love you,” you said emphatically. “I mean, sure, you’re kind of childish and petty and hyper competitive… you hide way too much of yourself behind this gaudy exterior that you’ve oh-so-carefully constructed and boy howdy do you have some serious demons that a professional should probably try and unpack–”

“Wow, what do you say about guys you hate?”

“But you’re also sweet. And passionate and caring and beautiful. You’re generous, and for people you love you are unfailingly kind. Who couldn’t love you?”

“Then… why can’t we make this work?” Oikawa asked. “Because I love you, too!”

“Tooru, you know why! I told you there was nothing between me and Iwaizumi-san, and you didn’t believe us. And you tried to control me, and when I wouldn’t put up with it you pushed me away. I couldn’t bare the hell of losing you by degrees, so I took mercy on myself and ended it,” you said quickly, like you were trying to get it out before he could interrupt. “I told you all of this when we broke up!”

“But–”

“No, Tooru,” you interjected, lowering your voice like you were aware that it had been steadily rising. “I love you, and I’ll always love you, but I am not your goddamn possession. I don’t want to deal with your grand gestures and your speeches. I’m not looking for shoujo manga, here. I thought we had something real.”

“I know,” he said, burying his face in his hair. “I know! You’re… you’re the first person I could ever see it being real with! You’re the first woman I could have seen being forever. And I broke it. I saw you and Iwa-chan and I wanted to possess you both so completely, I lost you both.”

“You’ll make up with Iwaizumi-san someday. Just give it time.”

“Look, I had a plan,” he continued like you hadn’t spoken. “I thought I could waltz in here and lavish you with praise and platitudes and apologies and you would take me back with open arms. I’m not trying to be self-deprecating or manipulative when I sincerely say I’m sorry for the way I acted. I was an idiot, and you deserved better!”

“Tooru–”

“No, please, let me finish,” he pleaded. “____, I love you. I love you so much, and every day without you is just this agonizing reminder that I need you. I wouldn’t blame you if you threw your wine in my face and told me to fuck off and get the hell out of your life forever, but… I miss you. And I want to try again, if you’ll let me. So please… please, ____. Please give me another chance.”

“How do I know it’ll be different?” you asked quietly. “That… that can’t happen again, Tooru.”

He took a deep breathe, averting his eyes; “I know. I was… I was terrible to you. I wish it was as easy as me just… blaming my anxiety and calling it a day. But that’s not fair to you. I’ll always be possessive of you, because you’re so important to me, but… but I understand I have to let you be your own person. I can’t prove that I’ll be magically better… but I can try. I can be better.”

It was the longest, most deafening silence he’d ever experienced. He hated it. He stiffened in his seat, waiting for you to slap him, or tell him to get lost. Instead, you sighed deeply, and he heard the scrape of your chair against the floor. You were leaving… of course you were leaving. Why wouldn’t you leave.

“Tooru,” you said softly, your hand brushing against his neck. You pressed your knuckle into the soft spot just below his ear, sending a delicate shiver down his spine.

He turned his widened eyes on you, and your sly smile sprung him into action. He followed you onto the street to hail a taxi, and while you waited, he pressed into your back. He took a deep breath, taking in your scent. He knew the look in your eyes when you’d passed him. He knew it meant you hadn’t forgiven him yet… but you were inviting him home. It wasn’t a large opening, but it was an opening nonetheless.

This was enough. It had to be enough.

[msmovingforward]

A For Effort

Wow! Tiffany may just be the biggest evil genius the entire Housewives universe has ever seen! You mean to tell me you graduated Cornell at 19, graduated medical school at 23, and you didn’t see the irony in serving cricket pizza in order to trigger someone who was infamously called a “chirpy little Mexcian?” (LeeAnne’s words, not mine). Tiffany knows exactly what she’s doing. You don’t have advanced scientific degrees and your own wine label, but need Pancho the chef to explain to everyone what salami is. Though I’m not falling for her “I never had girlfriends” sob story, I’m loving the deliciousness with which she is playing the victim to our faces while riling these southern belles up like swinging piñatas. Sorry I had to get these thoughts out before they escaped me. Onto the recap proper!

We open with Mr. and Mrs. Moon discussing the aforementioned pizza soiree. Tiffany really does have everyone in her life on a delicate thread. She masterfully guilts her husband into doing EVERYTHING to set up this party (decorating, making pizza dough-which is a frickin’ process in case you’ve never attempted it) by saying she’s extremely stressed about fitting in with her new friends. (Will they accept her for two seasons in a row?!) Tiffany knows this is her time to do something BIG in order to really brand her name on the cattle that is the Dallas Housewives, and that thing is using her $15,000 pizza oven for a group of friends that includes two women who probably don’t eat. (The last time I remember a pizza oven being mentioned as a centerpiece for a party was when Camille Grammer invited everyone to her house to drink vodka out of fishbowls and find out when they were going to die and lose their legs, but I’m digressing). Tiffany makes an Excel Spreadsheet, and the two clink to pizza parties.

D’Andra heads over to her Shaman’s house. This guy is just a gay with a lot of feelings in a robe, and you know what?! Good for him! You get that money! He had to do something with all that left over spirit gum from the community theater production of Fiddler that shut down due to COVID, and what better use than fake sideburns to convince sad rich women you’re a spiritual guru?! We learn that D’Andra has developed a twitch from all the trauma of fighting with Kari in Grapevine last week. The shaman asks what D’Andra thinks she might be projecting to invite negative energy, and we’re shown flashbacks of D’Andra mom shaming Kari in last week’s episode, screaming, “I don't even care because you were my fucking friend! ... You have three kids that are grown. One child home that is under your care.” With a completely blank stare on her face, D’Andra says, “I don’t know the answer to that honestly.” The shaman tries to get D’Andra to see the bigger picture, telling her that in life there will always be people saying things she doesn’t like, but D’Andra just blames Kari yet again, saying that Kari is just jealous of her. The shaman advises D’Andra to always come from a place of love, so no one can accuse her of having negative intentions, which I’m sure D’Andra will misinterpret in episodes to come, and then he has her lie on the floor as he spreads rose pedals on her, so she can receive the gifts of Mother Earth. I’m in the wrong area of work, clearly. How much is this dude charging for this? I tell women they’re queens and listen to them bitch all day, and I don’t get paid for it!

Kameron is with her dog and her daughter in their living room in preparation for Brad the hot dog trainer to pay a house call. It’s hard for me to tell whose name I hate more, Fanci, her dog, or Hilton, her daughter. Is she named after Paris or the hotel chain itself? Gag! Court enters and informs the two small children and the dog as well as Kameron that an interested couple had just toured their home for a third time, and they have decided not to buy. I really hate Court. Why would he tell the six year old children and the dog this? Kameron is clearly not listening. At first, I felt bad for Kameron because I thought she wasn’t being given a chance to have a say in this, but then I realized this is 20 fucking 20, and she doesn’t need permission to be strong and independent. God, Kameron! What is with the Dallas women in particular and playing victims? If you want to sell the house for more then get in there and hustle, girl! Kameron informs the audience via her confessional that “[My dream house] could sell, then it could be off the market. Then Guess what! I don't have another house that I'm obsessed with!” Some women have jobs, Kameron. Even Kari is pretending to make jewelry! Some women actually take their dogs outside to walk them! Then again, I am watching this show because this is where the humor lies. Court really is the worst kind of man, though. He openly mocks Kameron’s feelings to his six year old daughter’s face, joking that if she gets hysterical about the house selling for too low, the two of them have a contract not to tell Kameron. Again, though, this IS the life Kameron is choosing. I wonder what the shaman would have to say about THIS?!

Brad comes in and informs them that letting Fanci just have a bone all the time to keep her occupied is the same as giving your kids an iPad at church. Kameron says without even a hint of irony that that is what they do with their kids at church. Brad informs the family that they’re doing a C+ job at training Fanci. Kameron, who’s never probably gotten a grade above C- in her life is thrilled, saying, “At least we got a letter!” Kameron informs us in her testimonial that she needs to feel control over training Fanci because there’s so little in her life right now she does have control over, including COVID and her home selling for too little, making her unable to afford a bigger version of her current home. ACTUALLY IF YOU DID ANYTHING EXCEPT STRAP YOUR DOG TO A TREADMILL, YOU MIGHT FIND YOU DO HAVE SOME AGENCY HERE, KAMERON. Ugh...

Stephanie is diligently working on receiving her Nobel Peace Prize by setting up her office space so that she can spend Travis’s money to give public schools luxury locker rooms. She’s heroically painted her office the same shade of off white that she’s going to have someone else paint one of the locker rooms to make sure she likes it. The pressure is really mounting, though, because if she doesn’t finish her office in time, she’s made a bet that she will have to touch Travis. No one wants that! He’s hairy! Travis comes into the unfinished office with flowers, and informs Stephanie that she’s already over budget. (Her budget, for which she did absolutely no research before setting, is $100,000, but the lockers alone are costing $70,000). Stephanie jokes that she’s going to have to prostitute herself to afford these renovations. Travis says she’s probably not good enough in bed to raise that much money. Healthy.

We are shown vignettes of the women trying to figure out what to wear to a chic pizza party. I’m confused because I’m pretty sure chic pizza party isn’t much different from chic square dance, which is what I imagine most of Dallas’s social events to look like. Kari is getting her makeup done, and she shares a text with her makeup artist that reads, “Just to set expectations: I'll probably be wrapping up the party at like 10:30, because I have a meeting tomorrow and I want to be fresh for it. Can't wait to see you all tonight.” Kari informs us that she’s NEVER gotten a text like that before in her life. Stephanie and Kameron are riding together to Tiffany’s, and Stephanie says she’s always in bed by 10, so she doesn’t have a problem with it. (Me too, Stephanie!) Kameron informs us that proper etiquette would have been to send out printed invitations with a set end time. I think Tiffany knew exactly what she was starting when she sent out this text. D’Andra arrives to the party with a container of some sort of deli salad topped with a white bow, and Tiffany freaks out that D’Andra needs to put on shoe covers. I wonder if she and Mary Cosby use the same brand. Stephanie and Kameron arrive right behind D’Andra with a piñata they forgot to give Kari at her 50th birthday party. Tiffany shows off her closet filled with easily a million dollars’ worth of Birkin bags. I do have to say, Tiffany’s closet easily outshines both Lisa Vanderpump’s and Bethany Frankel’s. I just hope TIffany has proper safeguards against moths.

The last to arrive are Kari and Brandi. In the car, Kari informs Brandi that she’s essentially over trying to make a real friendship work with D’Andra, but they can be superficial friends, and Kari will just keep D’Andra at arm’s length. So basically how it probably was all along. This story line sucks, Kari.

The two arrive just in time for Tiffany to tell everyone there’s going to be a contest to see who makes the best pizza. She also lays down some ground rules, saying, “You just have to be honest. I know that's really hard in this group ... The number two rule is no fighting. (Kari looks pissed about this rule). On your first infraction, you shall receive a verbal warning. The second time, you get pizza flour thrown in your face. (Kameron nods like she understands). Like 'Stop fighting!' And rule number three is have fun!” Brandi makes a fair point that having fun is the point of a party, and this was Tiffany’s last rule.

It isn’t until this point that I realize lackluster friend of the wives Jen is in attendance. You know it’s bad when the friend of is being outshined by the Shaman.

The women bust open Kari’s piñata, which contains a riddle: “What's wet, long, thin, hot, and down south?” Somehow this means the women will be taking a cast trip to Austin to further drag out Kari’s birthday party.

The gals make and eat their pizzas. Kameron informs us that dabbing the grease off the pizza takes away 250 calories. After the very stupid pizza contest winner is determined Tiffany reveals that they all just ate crickets, which she hid in her pizza toppings. Needless to say, Kari is PISSED. The only thing it’s appropriate to pour down someone’s throat is tequila! Brandi has to run inside to throw up, but not before she puts shoe covers on! Tiffany had intended to win Brandi over because Brandi’s love language is pranks, but this clearly has backfired. D’Andra starts meditating, and then Kameron’s alarm goes off to inform everyone they only have 8 minutes before 10:30, so they’d better scram. Not even Tiffany could have predicted these women would be so humorless. It looks like she’s going to really have to step it up if she wants to be in this clique! Tiffany informs us that the party probably got a B-, which to a tiger mom like her is basically an F. Didn’t Tiffany say she never came home with less than an A? Rough!

Will Tiffany recover from this horrible prank gone awry? Will Stephanie be able to help high school athletic departments? Will Jen ever say anything? How does she know these women? One thing is for sure; we are definitely going to long, thin, hot, wet, southern... Austin? next week!