#we barely did anything. and we have individual grades based on who did what

[je-doute-donc-je-suis]

Welp dissociated so hard i got lost in my own home after going to the toilet, then "waking up" with my hands tying my hair up, phone gone and bladder still full

In probably barely a minute or two

Full blackout

Also forgot that i wrote what i posted a few hours ago, so might not even be the same person

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story pt 24 - Sci Fi

The battle with the Hive, and the traveler! Moving onto the end game after this. (Still will take a few parts, but the end is in sight!)

Masterpost linked here.

Enjoy!

_____________________________

The atmosphere in the conference room was tense.

“The numbers don’t look good.” General Gladus stared at the display with a frustrated sigh. “We just have the few Mechs stationed in the Fifteenth Sector. The Hive have a full colony… thousands of drones, directed by a Queen. They have already landed on the nearest moon, destroying the defense base there, and will be within striking distance of the planet in..." He rechecked his numbers. "Eighteen hours.”

Pointing his finger at the hologram, the display zoomed in on the larger dot surrounded by countless other smaller red dots. “The Queen is the key. She controls all the drones. If we take her out, we can halt the invasion long enough for true reinforcements to arrive.”

I nodded, trying to follow along. “So if we don’t have the numbers to defend the planet, we go on the attack and try to strike the Queen?”

“It can take a whole squadron to take out a Queen. “ He quickly put a damper on my excitement, frowning. “A normal Hive drone is the size of a human. She’s larger than two Mechs put together, around six stories tall, with armor to match.”

I thought about the story, what I knew about what technology was available years ahead… Hadn’t Chris gotten a special Mech to fight Queens? “What about a bigger Mech? Big enough to take on the Queen?”

The general paused at that. “The military engineers at the academy have been working on some prototypes… but the bigger a Mech is, the harder it is to control. In a few years we might have one that a single Guardian could operate, but the ones we have now? No one would have the capability…”

“I do.” I interrupted, speaking with certainty. “Let Liam and I try it.”

“Honey, I know you’re a Grade S Guardian, but…”

“I’m more than that. You remember that I almost destabilized? It was because of a sudden increase of my power” Because I’m not really your daughter. “I’m much more powerful than a grade S… “ I reached out and grabbed Liam’s hand. “And that’s not even to mention our 100% resonance match.”

Liam grinned, squeezing my hand. “Trust us, General. Alaira and I can fly anything they can build!”

The General stared at us, obviously unnerved at the idea of sending his daughter into the worst of the fighting. I reached out and grabbed his hand. “Trust me, Dad. I’ll make you proud.”

“…” He let out a long sigh. “I’m already more proud than I could ever be…” He rubbed his forehead. “Fine. Let’s see if you can work the thing… but if you can’t move it perfectly, then the plan gets canceled. I’m not sending you out there to die.”

“Thank you!” Awkwardly hugging him, I felt a twinge of guilt as he patted my back gently.

I wish your daughter could be here to feel your love and pride in her.

“Don’t celebrate too soon… Even if you’re big enough to take on a Queen, we still have to get you to her.”

I stepped closer to the display, studying it. “She’s directly in the center of the army… hiding away on the moon in the ruins of the defense base. With their numbers versus ours… we just don’t have the firepower to get there.”

Warning! Mission Failure Imminent!

As the blue writing and loud warning appeared only to me, I felt no fear, no terror at my imminent doom. It was now more annoying than anything else.

If you're not going to suggest anything helpful, then shut up!

Warning!...

SHUT UP! I screamed in my head, feeling a thread of shadowy power emerge from around me, erasing the words from existence.

The warning fell silent.

What… what was that? Some sort of magic? How much about myself is still hidden in my lost memories?

Enjoying the new silence in my head, I looked over at Liam who was staring at me with a worried look.

“Are you okay? You weren’t responding.”

I reached out, smoothing out his forehead, which was wrinkled with concern. “Yes. It’s difficult to explain, though. What did you say?”

“If we don’t have the troops to blast our way to the Queen, then what about a diversion?” He pointed at the area of the diagram between us and the Hive. “We act like we’re staging a frontal assault, and when they’ve deployed enough forces to weaken the rear, you and I strike from behind!”

The General nodded slowly. “It would take quite an attack to make the Hive divert forces to the front… Even if we threw everything we had and left nothing to protect you two, it might not be enough.”

I grinned. “Don’t worry about protecting us.” Grabbing Liam’s hand I added. “You forget who I matched with. We can handle our own defense. All that’s left is to figure out how to make a big enough distraction to give us a way in.”

“DID SOMEONE CALL FOR A DISTRACTION?!”

Princess Ilene pushed past the guards at the door with the two other girls in her group at her sides. “Sounds like a job for the Harem!”

Liam raised his eyebrow. Harem? He mouthed silently at me. I shook my head, not wanting to get involved.

Alaira’s father did not look impressed. “Princess. I don’t recall you showing any interest in military matters previously.”

“That’s before the Hive kidnapped Chris!” Ilene cracked her knuckles. “Now I gotta go crush some space bugs.”

Who says Chris was kidnapped?

“YEAH!" "We're going to save him!” The other two girls struck dramatic poses on either side of Ilene.

“…” The room stared at them in silence.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, wishing away my headache. “Princess, maybe this would work better if you explained to my father what skills you three brought to the table? “

“… I suppose.” She sniffed, gesturing at Wen grandly. “She has designed a Mech with the ability to tow 50 mini cannons.”

Wen grinned, explaining further. “The guns are strapped to a small engine, and will fly at evenly spaced intervals behind the controlling Mech. It’s still a work in progress… You can’t target, and you can’t control them individually… at least not yet.”

“But that’s still 50 extra shots for one Mech.” General Gladus looked much more interested. “How many have you made?”

“Just one, but if I add a small hologram projector to the guns, it will look like we have 50 fully operational Mechs with us! THAT should get the Hive’s attention.”

Ilene and Allie chimed in. “ We’ve already practiced piloting the Mech and can operate it smoothly.”

“… That… might just work…” He shrugged. “Strong work, Ladies…”

“We call ourselves the Harem… Alaira came up with the name!”

“Don’t credit me, please..”

The General glanced at my cringing expression and chuckled. “���Glad to have you aboard… I think.”

“All right!” The young engineer high-fived her companions, grinning proudly. “I was originally saving this invention for Chris, but now I’m going to use this to SAVE Chris!”

“YEAH!”

“…” The General was now staring at me with a look of consternation, to which I raised my hands helplessly. “…Sure.”

“So that’s the plan then.” I took a deep breath, calming the fast beating of my heart at the thought of the fight to come. “The Harem will distract the Hive, and Liam and I will take out the Queen.”

We’ll save the world.

We’ll complete my mission.

It will work… it has to.

“We’ll strike first thing in the morning.” General Gladus watched me with a worried gaze, but obviously held back from speaking further. “… Good luck.”

_____________________________

Liam and I tested out the massive Mech prototype called the “Queen Killer,” able to move it with an ease that shocked Alaira’s father and the engineers. After confirming the plan a final time, I returned back to my dorm to get some rest before the battle.

I found myself too keyed up to sleep, staring blankly at the ceiling. If we complete the mission, will I get all my memories back? Will I stay in this world or be forced to leave? Will Liam stay with me? My frantic thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock on my door.

Wary, I checked the security system, quickly opening the door once I realized who it was.

“Liam, what are you doing here? It’s still a few hours before we’re supposed to meet for the mission.”

Liam wrung his hands together, staring at the floor quietly. “I… was hoping…”

“What is it?”

“Can you come with me?”

At my nod he grabbed my hand and pulled me along. I started to ask where he was taking me, but seeing the determination on his face, fell silent. I didn’t feel any wariness, despite my lack of knowledge of our direction.

_____________________________

“Aren’t you scared?” A voice asked, coming from high above me.

“No.”

“Why not?” The despair in the voice was heartbreaking. “Everyone else is.”

“Because it’s you.” I grinned. “Can’t be scared of you, Liam.”

_____________________________

I blinked, my gaze once again resting on our clasped hands.

I’ll keep trusting you Liam.

He took me to the upper deck of the academy, a large platform surrounded by multiple gardens. In the dead of night, the multicolored flowers and trees were barely visible. Rather than a clear sight, it was a combination of the senses: of impressions of movement, of gentle sounds of the wind swaying the branches and leaves, of brief flashes of colors in the light of the multiple candles that lit up the platform.

In the center of the platform stood a minister, the elderly man looking tired but still smiling gently. Off to the side were the Harem girls, watching silently, and Alaira’s father who stood by with a combination of tears and joy.

The King and Queen were nowhere to be seen.

“This.is…” My voice trailed off, filled with awe at the sheer amount of work it must have taken to move everything up here from the ballroom we had planned it in.

Liam knelt down, holding my hand with a solemn look.

“Alaira... I don’t know if we’re going to survive this battle, but I know one thing: If I’m going to die tomorrow, I want it to be as your husband.”

His hands were shaking with nervousness as they held my own.

“Please marry me.” His words were simple, but they struck my heart with a force that made me sway on my feet.

_____________________________

“Please marry me.” A trembling man held me close.

_____________________________

I smiled at the thought that I had answered this question before. “Yes.”

Liam let out a sigh of relief, standing up and hugging me gently. “Thank you…” He hesitated. “Bel.” The name was spoken only for me to hear, sounding like a prayer.

“You realize we had already planned to get married today?” I chuckled. “You didn’t have to re-propose.”

“I needed to hear it again.”

With a wide grin, he led me over to the center of the platform. There, in front of friends and family, the minister led us through the vows. As I spoke the words, holding Liam’s hands tightly, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had done this multiple times before.

How many lifetimes have I already spent with him? How many times have we been married?

Liam leaned in to kiss me, the gentle movement the barest touch on my lips, and then hugged me tightly against him.

“I love you.” He whispered in my ear.

My father stepped forward and clapped us both on the shoulder. “Alright, kids, that’s enough excitement pre-battle. Go get some sleep. I’ll throw you a combination victory party and wedding reception once we survive the Hive.”

Laughing, Liam and I left the party behind. We were unable to sleep, and simply laid in each other’s arms. My head rested against his chest, hearing his heartbeat and breaths. Closing my eyes, I prayed that we would make it though this battle safely.

And just maybe, if we survive this, I’ll figure out how to get our memories back.

I thought of the shadowy power I had displayed to shut the system warning down, an ability I had tried to repeat without success several times since. I don’t know who or what I am… but I do know one thing:

I won’t accept my fate.

_____________________________

Soon it was time for the battle.

Liam and I boarded the Queen Killer Mech and flew it around the battle site, staying out of range of the Hive’s sensors. We floated in Space watching the holographic display from the Mech's communication system as the Harem and the few soldiers Alaira’s father had brought with him advanced from the front. It looked as if there were over a hundred Mechs, an intimidating site, but we knew it was just an illusion, holograms attached to remote guns. Their actual numbers were quite pitiful compared to the army in front of them.

We could only hope the Hive would fall for the trick.

“Advance!” The General’s voice came over the intercom. I felt myself tremble with nervousness at his serious tone. I wasn’t really his daughter. Most of the time I felt like the worst fraud when I was with him. But I genuinely cared for this gruff, strange man. He loved his daughter, and wasn’t afraid to take on the world to protect her.

I hope he makes it. I felt a sharp pain in my stomach at the thought that he might not.

But if we don’t fight, none of us will.

The army of Mechs, both real and fake, moved forward. As the Hive flew to meet them, I got a close look at them through my headset. I had seen their appearance in Alaira’s memories, but somehow, seeing them with my own eyes was all the more horrifying.

Large insects, each the size of a human, with a black and red exoskeleton that coated everything, even the wings. Enormous pincers grew outwards on their heads, sharp enough to tear a Mech open, to cut a human in half. Their dark, multifaceted eyes took in the space emotionlessly. They were unstoppable, insatiable. The Hive’s only goal was to devour, to destroy. They numbered in the thousands; enough to make even seeing the moon the Queen was hiding on difficult.

I felt a deep feeling of terror growing within me, fear and despair mixing, threatening to take away my reason.

It’s not my emotions.I tried to push down the feeling, but they continued to grow, trying to overwhelm me. It’s Alaira’s.

She had died there, next to that moon, surrounded by the Hive. Their pincers destroyed her Mech, pulled her out from the safety of the piloting sphere. She was overwhelmed, and even with the fracturing of her mind she knew she was doomed.

“Are you okay?” Liam’s voice in my ear calmed me down. “Your strong emotions are interfering with the Connection.” I took a deep breath, repeating silently.

You are not Alaira. You are not Alaira.

I knew exactly what it would feel like to die in battle with the Hive, though.

The Hive started swarming to the front, line. The Queen was directing them to defend her against the “larger” threat. There were only a few hundred left to guard the rear.

“It’s working!” General Gladus’ excited voice sounded out. “They’re falling for it.”

“Then we’ll get to work.”

“… Good luck, Alaira. I love you.”

I hesitated. “… I love you too… Father.”

It was time. I grabbed Liam’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Focus on your shield.”

He took a deep breath. “You know I can’t control it.”

“You can let me in, Liam. You are in control. Use it for its purpose: to protect yourself. To protect me.”

He closed his eyes, positioning himself behind me within the Connection chamber in the Mech. His hands were on my back, and through the physical touch I felt his nervousness. The air around the Mech seemed to shift, and I knew that I had to act quickly before the mental shield weakened.

I flew the Mech forward, quickly reaching the highest speed. At the noise of our passing one of the drones turned to face us. Soon they had swarmed around us, their pincers opened to attack.

FEAR.

Alaira’s emotions were running full force, but I pushed them down once more, going faster. I could feel Liam behind me, keeping the connection between me and the Mech easy despite its enormous size. We flew into the swarm, and the sturdy alien insects splattered against the mental shield, which held firm under the blows.

Liam and I sighed with relief.

“See? You CAN control it!”

“We still have the Queen to deal with.” Liam’s voice was worried, I could feel his concern though our connection. “She’s a little big to be squished by a shield.”

“Well that’s why we brought the big guns.” After a few more moments we broke through the Hive’s line of defense, and landed on the Moon, trying to locate the Queen.

“Where is she?” The scanners were starting to scramble, as if interrupted by an unknown signal. The Hive shouldn’t have that kind of technology, though.

“I don't see her on the Moon's surface. Has she left? First, let’s try the defense fort. It should be big enough to hide the Queen.” At Liam’s suggestion we flew forward, making our way to the building. The clear defense dome seemed intact, the computers opening an airlock, allowing us to pass forward after communicating with our Mech and confirming our identity.

“How would the Queen be here without destroying the dome?” I muttered, trying to scan the surroundings and noting that it was picking up several lifeforms, even if it was still too scrambled to give a clear location.

“ I don’t know, but I don’t think that hole was there before.” Liam tapped my back, and I looked towards the Hanger, the largest building in the complex. A six story hole had been torn out of the front wall. Wary, I moved the Mech closer, ducking down and entering the main area, which was fortunately tall enough to accommodate our oversized Mech.

The area was mostly lit up, a few of the florescent lights sparking and flickering from recent damage. The few Mechs that had remained had been torn to shreds and tossed in a pile. The space was wide-open, extending outwards into shadows.

“What the…?” My voice trailed off in shock as I stared at the unbelievable sight in front of me.

In the center of the hanger stood the Queen. She was bright white with red and black markings along the side of her rotund torso. She brandished hundreds of spiky claws like a millipede, with large bright red wings extended behind her. Towards the top she sported multiple large pincers, with a final one extending from her head. Her eyes glowed with a bright white light, staring at us with fury.

She was frozen into place, unable to make a single movement.

“What is going on?” I whispered to Liam.

“Bel, you actually made it this far!”

A cheerful voice rang out, causing both of us to groan with frustration. A Mech emerged from the shadows, we couldn’t see the pilot, but Liam and I knew who it was and spoke his name together.

“Chris.”

“I keep telling you, it’s not Chris.” The voice coming from the Mech seemed annoyed, the large robot swinging a sword back and forth. “As always, you two are wrong.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked, clenching my fists at my side within the Connection Chamber of our Mech.

“Exactly what I told you, Bel: I’m ending this.” He lifted up his Mech’s free hand, and in it was a large bomb blinking with a bright red light. A single red button marked the trigger, and I tensed up as he caressed it lightly with a large metallic finger.

“That’s a uninite bomb.” Liam spoke up. “You’d destroy the moon with one that big! You'll kill us all with the Queen!”

“Exactly! I’m willing to sacrifice whatever it takes to save everyone. Not like you… monster.” He spit out the last word, his voice filled with hatred. “I’m the HERO. I’m the one who everyone cares about. I’m the one SHE SHOULD LOVE!”

“Oh, SHUT UP!” I activated the opening on our Mech, and slid down a cord to the ground, pulling off my helmet to reveal my face. The air inside the defense shield was slightly stale but breathable.

Liam was startled, jumping down to stand beside me. “Bel, wait!”

“It’s okay.” I grinned at him. “Trust me.” The Mech straightened up behind us, falling into a standby position. I looked up at the Mech controlled by the Pseudo-Chris.

“If you’re going to threaten me and insult my husband, then do it to my face.”

“Nice try. If I leave the Mech, I can’t control it. All you’ve managed to do is to give away your only advantage!” He laughed confidently. “I am in control, Bel. The Hive, the Queen… all of it! I’m the only one who can save your soul from destruction.”

“You brought the Hive here… you’re the one who advanced the story so quickly.” I paused, thinking it over. “How come you can go against the story? I always get warnings whenever we stray too far away from our characters.”

“You don’t understand. You never have. All that matters is that the roles are obeyed, that we follow our fate. I may have taken a… detour… but in the end I will fulfill my role as a hero, and save everyone, at the cost of my own life.”

“Why are you doing this?” Liam growled, standing close to me.

“He was hoping that I would give up.” I answered for him calmly, staring up at the Mech with a disgusted expression, “He made a seemingly impossible situation, hoping I would see accepting my fate as my only option.”

I thought of the system's warning that I had no chance of survival. They had tried to manipulate me. Tried to force me to do what they wanted.

But I hadn't.

“You see things so clearly sometimes, Bel.” Chris’ voice showed his approval. “And even though it didn’t work, I can still just end things here. I’ll destroy the Queen, which will complete your mission. The system can erase your memory again and we’ll start over.”

I felt a sense of fear at his words. How many times has this already happened?

“No matter how many times we have to do this, there will only be one outcome in the end: you will accept your fate.”

_____________________________

“You will accept your fate, Bel.” The young handsome man stared at me with disappointment. “You can’t keep hiding with this monster forever.”

“He's not a monster. Besides, you’re the one who sent me to Liam.” I grinned. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“It was temporary. You were supposed to be his prisoner.” He snapped. “Now, because of you, he’ll be the first to be destroyed. You can’t distort the higher realm. Everything depends on it.”

“It’s not right…”

“It’s the reality of our roles. Now enough stalling. What will you choose? Will you follow the rules, or will you let everything be destroyed to protect your precious independence?”

“No…”

“Even you can’t be that selfish.” He growled, reaching out to grab my arm painfully. “Accept your fate, Bel.

“NO!”

_____________________________

“NO!” I shook my head, clearing aside the memory. “No matter how many times you ask me. No matter how many worlds you drag me through. No matter how many times my memory is wiped. I WILL NOT ACCEPT IT!”

“Fine. Then it’s time to move to the next world…” His Mech raised its hand holding the bomb.

“You’re pathetic.” My words were quiet, but seemed to echo in the otherwise silent hanger. “Even when we were in the higher realm you were always trying to trick and scheme to get things to go the way you wanted. You thought by forcing me to Liam’s side as his ‘prisoner’ you could force me to accept my fate, but that backfired too, didn’t it?”

“… “ There was a long stunned silence.

“You… you remember?” The Mech’s head shook back and forth in a jerky movement. “No, your memories were wiped!”

I quickly thought through the few memories I had experienced over the last few weeks. “You wanted me to play my part… but I didn’t want to be in a romantic relationship with you. I would solve things my own way, which pissed you off.”

“YOU… NO! YOUR MEMORIES ARE GONE!” The whole Mech was shaking slightly.

“No matter the realm, no matter the roles we play, one thing remains constant: you’re a pathetic loser.” I smiled. “And I like Liam more than you.”

“HE’S A MONSTER! YOU CAN’T LOVE HIM! YOU HAVE TO LOVE ME!”

“Bel…” Liam whispered. “You realize you’re making the unstable man with the bomb angry, right?”

“Trust me, I have a plan… probably.”

“Oh, good.”

I looked up at the Mech, raising my voice. “I’ll never love you!”

“YOU HAVE TO!”

“Get used to disappointment, loser.”

The Mech was shaking more violently as he whispered hoarsely. “Y-you’re lying… you have to be. You don’t have your memories…”

I AM lying. “Too bad for you I’m telling the truth. I remember everything important.”

“…Then what’s my name?”

I spread my hands out helplessly. “Oh buddy, I just said I remembered everything IMPORTANT.” I leaned forward. “You were never important to me. You still aren’t.”

“SHUT UP! SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!” The Mech was rocking back and forth with his screams and then suddenly became very still.

“Got him!” I pumped my fist in the air victoriously.

“What’s… what’s happening?! I can’t control my Mech!”

I chuckled at his panicked tone.

“You see, there’s a difference between you and me. You might be the hero, but I’m the one with greater than Level S Guardian abilities. In fact, you used that very trait of mine to try to force me to partner with you. It was a burden before I formed a Connection with Liam, but now?” I reached over and grabbed Liam’s hand. “It makes things really easy. One of the skills I’ve practiced was controlling Mechs from a distance.”

“That’s…”

“Impossible? Only if you’re weak. The distance makes things challenging but it’s still fairly simple for me.” I paused. “By the way, I WAS lying earlier. I needed you to have strong emotions to disrupt your Connection with your Mech so I could take it over.”

“…” Enjoying his stunned silence, I gestured, controlling the “Queen Killer” Mech to step forward.

“Now I could let you blow yourself up and kill the Queen to complete the mission, but unlike you, I don’t feel any satisfaction out of sacrificing myself or others needlessly. I’m also not going to let you die, because I have a feeling that could have negative effects on this world.”

The Queen started moving, whatever restraints the pseudo-Chris had placed on it obviously released. I could feel her anger at being obstructed in her mission. Her overwhelming need to consume life and move on drove her constantly, and even the briefest of pauses enraged her. Her hungry eyes focused on me, sensing a threat.

I released all my abilities to the limit, feeling a light throbbing headache at controlling two Mechs at once, and one of them being the large Queen Killer.

“It’s time for this story to end.” I whispered, feeling satisfaction as the giant robot pulled out a sword and brandished it.

“My mission will be completed.” The sword tore a huge rent in the Queen’s side, spilling green blood. The insect queen screamed in rage and pain, her pincers tearing off some of the armor on the Mech’s arm.

“The world will be saved.” A second strike hit, cutting off several claws. The Queen clamped onto the Mechs’ chest with her mandibles, trying to burrow into the center. I was glad I wasn’t in the suspension gel, feeling the pain of the attack.

“And it will all be done without you.” My Mech swung the sword downward, and the Queen’s head separated from its body. It still clamped onto the chest of the robot, its eyes’ light slowly fading away.

“NOOOO!” Pseudo Chris screamed out, but it was too late. The Queen was dead. Her army would become useless.

The world was safe.

A beautiful chime rang out, and bright blue words formed into the air.

Congratulations!

Mission 100% complete.

**** You have finished the mission! ****

Stay in this world?

YES/NO

“It doesn’t matter if you completed the mission or I did. I still have the next world, and the next and the next!” The Mech was still frozen into place, but it didn’t stop his angry words. “Time is on my side!”

I sighed. “No. It’s not.” As I had completed the mission, I felt a strange surge of power. A similar sensation to when I had stopped the system voice from speaking earlier. I focused carefully, and a shadowy power poured out in the world around me, much stronger than before.

“Bel?” At Liam’s worried question, I turned and smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, Liam. It’s just time to change the game.” He grabbed my hands and nodded silently at my words, supporting me.

I turned my attention to the System’s message.

“We will not stay in this world any longer.” The shadowy power around me increased.

…

WORLD TRANSFER FAILED. UNKNOWN INTERFERENCE.

“Oh, that’s just me. You see… this world’s victory was all I needed to finish piecing together my soul.”

…

“I really do remember everything now.”

And I did. Who I was. Why I had made the deal I had made.

“I fixed every world you sent me to. Without memories. Without my protected status as the heroine. Just a hated side character or villain. Admit it… I won.”

… NOT YET.

“You’re right. There’s still one last story to be fixed.” I grinned at Liam, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. “The Higher Realm.”

Our world.

YOU MUST ACCEPT…

“I must do nothing.” The dark power that surrounded me erased the blue words in the air before they could form that hated sentence. “YOU must transfer us back. Back to the beginning.”

…

…

“Do it.” I gave no room for argument.

…

WORLD TRANSFER INITIATED. LOCATION: THE HIGHER REALM.

“I love you Liam.” I hugged him tightly. “Let’s get married one last time.”

“I love you too… But what do you…?”

TRANSFER COMPLETE.

[okaybutlikeimagine]

Come Inside, It’s Ok

Desc: Hop realizes that Billy is a lot like him when he was a teen- based on the song Thirteen by Big Star (bc that’s a Jopper AND a Harringrove anthem, tell me i’m wrong)

TW: referenced past child abuse, referenced homophobia, every dad in Hawkins sounds like an abusive asshole in this fic i didn’t mean it 😞

you can also read this on AO3 right here!! ♥

~*~

James Hopper hated his father more than anyone else hated the man. More than his uncle who had to grow up with the jerk. More than his mother who threatened to divorce the deadbeat seven times. More than anyone.

Hopper’s father was abrasive and loud. He joined the army because he wanted to. He gave up his individuality willingly. He shaved his head and licked the boot of The Man and acted superior for it. He looked down on a young Jimmy Hopper and barked in his face and ordered that he become a man. Quicker. Jim was only 7. He had just broken an arm at football practice. He needed reassurance and comfort. He got condescension and a mother threatening to leave. Loudly.

James Hopper was sure he was the only son in the world who hated his own father. He felt sure as hell about it when he stuck his jaw out and looked past his nose at his father who always seemed to tower over him. Even when the man only had an inch on him, he was larger- always looming. He felt sure as hell about it when he’d narrow his eyes and refuse to listen. He felt sure as hell about it when he talked back to him, and got into yelling matches with him, and slammed the door on him.

He felt even more sure the one night he got hit.

He was more than certain he was the only one. Standing there, staring this horrible bulk of a man down, Jimmy knew no one else had ever felt such a thing before. This wasn’t TV or the movies. This wasn’t a family love you cherish by the fire on a cold Christmas night. This wasn’t a father with kind eyes and a stern voice who comes into the house in the evening with his suit on and his briefcase in hand, kissing his kids and smiling brightly. This was different and he knew it.

And all of that anger and stress and feeling of certainty made him take too long to realize something crucial. Because he didn’t realize you can know something and yet still be so wrong.

That is, until Phil didn’t come to school one day.

Jimmy figured he was sick. A couple days later he figured it was that nasty stomach bug. A week later and he figured his family took a trip. A week and a few days had him itching with worry. He asked his best friend as calmly as he could. That friend looked at him like he was nuts.

“You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?”

“He moved away. His mom took him out of the state last weekend. They just left.”

Jim couldn’t understand the words for a second.

“Why?”

“You didn’t know? His dad has been roughing him up for years now. He got the mom too, I think. Why do you think he was always wearing sweaters all year long?”

Jim’s heart stopped.

“His mom finally got him out. They left.”

“Why did no one say anything about it?”

“Because you don’t talk about that stuff.” Jim’s friend said, hushed and knowing, eyes turned solemn and hiding a world Jim didn’t know lived in there. In his most outspoken, lively friend. In his friend he’d known since they were toddlers.

You don’t talk about that stuff he said like he had a whole world of pain to tell. Jim knew his friends were like him- dads who were tough as nails and grunted more than spoke. It was why they all got along so well. But they never mentioned their fathers being… Jim was so sure he was the only one. Everyone else did things with their family. Everyone else seemed so perfect. At the very least they seemed better. Jim was sure.

Why did no one say anything about it? quickly morphed into Why did I never even ask?

Starting there, Jim kept a critical eye out. He watched his friends and what they were wearing. The way they moved and the changes in those movements. The words they spoke about their parents. He noticed differences and fluctuating emotions. But stil, he was only a young teenager- he never knew what to do. His mouth couldn’t form around the words he felt he should say. His brain could barely provide them. So he did for them what he would have liked- just took them out to empty fields and deep into the woods. He provided them beer and music. Sometimes, when they were splitting at the seams, he’d fight them a bit. He’d egg them on so they could fight it out. Get the anger out. Help, somehow. Inadvertently. Lord knew Jimmy sometimes just needed to punch shit. Turns out, his friends felt the same way, and often.

When his daughter Sarah came, he handled her gently and spoke to her even softer. He got into fights with his now ex-wife over his not being strict enough but Hop couldn’t find it in himself to have any kind of gruffness toward someone so soft and so innocent and so pure. She was the light of his life. She left so quickly. Even his softness and kindness couldn’t save her, and he couldn’t very well beat the shit out of her enemies like he had wished to.

And when he met Billy Hargrove on the side of the road that one dark night, having pulled him over for speeding drunkenly down the lonely streets on the outskirts of town, every red flag flew up. Every worry and fear he found within himself when he was a teen found its place once again inside of him for this boy. For his bruised face and exhausted eyes. For his lightly cut chin and short breath. Hop became young Jimmy yet again, analyzing and fearing for a world of pain he couldn’t see and couldn’t ask about. He searched hard for words this time and found all the wrong ones. He exhausted the poor boy with his inability to articulate his fears and was successful in taking him in only because he had worn him out so badly.

Still, since then, he’s been here. He’s family now. He’s out of there. In all his fumbling Hop did something right.

And yet, things still feel wrong. Billy still walks tentatively around him, like the cabin is going to crash down above him and any relationship they’ve built up is going to shatter.

Hop thinks about it so often. He thinks about Billy and sees his own friends from high school. He sees parts of himself, but sadder, angrier… more helpless. He thinks endlessly on what he can do to fix it.

~Won’t you let me walk you home from school~

A song starts playing through his record player and he’s lost again in the world of Jimmy vs. Billy. He thinks of how life used to feel simple.

This song always whisks him away to high school. The early days when life was confused and wandering and he was just coming into his own with football, not nearly a “star” yet and Joyce… Joyce was young and wide eyed and wandering just the same. By that point she hadn’t even met Lonnie yet. She was awkward and yet still so beautiful. So quiet and so stunning. Her laughter rang through the hallways and he swears he can still hear it.

This song feels like it’s for them. When he first heard it, he saw her face back when they were freshmen and then sophomores, when he used to walk her home. He always used to walk her home, before he got his car and before she got Lonnie. They’d walk so slow, wandering through the streets, lazily strolling past stores and getting slightly distracted by the people zooming past on their bikes.

He sits forward on the couch and he looks down at the tattered carpet and he hears himself as Jimmy.

”C’mon Joyce… we can hit the pool this weekend.”

“I’m busy.”

“Then… then maybe Friday I can get a couple tickets for that dance.”

“What?”

He gave her his biggest, brightest grin, knowing he caught her off guard. He smiles a little now at the thought.

”Yeah, c’mon, Joyce. I’ll take ya. I’ll get a monkey suit and you can wear a dress-”

She had laughed that bright, ringing laugh. It made him smile every time.

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass.”

“You’re gonna pass up a chance to dance with me?”

“Don’t tell me, you’re the best dancer in Hawkins?”

“You’ll never know if you don’t come find out.”

“You’re really full of yourself, aren’t you?”

Hop has a hard time thinking of himself back then. He felt so sure of everything. Of himself and what he was doing, even if he knew he didn’t know anything at all. Still, he chuckles now as he sits here, thinking about Joyce’s smile and her little nod. Thinking about him buying those tickets. Thinking about the night they had together, awkward and fumbling but bright still. His first real kiss that had real feelings to go along with it. The way Joyce walked so quickly as they headed to her home because she was so nervous. The way she never let him walk her up to her house because she was so scared her parents would ground her.

Lord does he remember the fights. The stress and the struggle of dealing with Joyce’s parents. When they came to an after-school event and Jimmy said hi to her and her dad gave her hell for it and her mom worried herself sick for a bit. She got grounded and started avoiding him. He got angry and figured fine because Gloria from his History class had been eyeing him up lately and helping him with a pretty friendly smile so it didn’t even matter.

It wasn’t more than a week that had passed before he cornered her after school and convinced her to let him walk her home again.

They wandered downtown and he guided her behind a store building, the store she now works for if he remembers correctly, and asked about that night. Asked about what he said wrong. Asked about what he did wrong.

She shook her head, said it was just her parents being “crazy, I don’t know”. He couldn’t find it in him to worry that much. When they kissed, it was still with so many feelings attached. Hop can’t remember when those feelings faded.

It wasn’t until a couple years later when a rumor started going around about Joyce’s dad being a grade A asshole like Phil’s was all those years ago that made Jim take her aside very seriously and ask her if she was okay- those couple of years ago and that day. By that point she was with Lonnie and he was getting serious about Diane. He and Joyce hadn’t talked for over a year. Still, he was worried. She insisted that her dad just liked to huff and puff and yell enough to shake her ears, but he never touched her. It wasn’t until years and years later that Hop realized that really isn’t any better. Nowadays she insists she was and is fine and he’s just found it in himself to believe her.

When Hop finally got a car, they would sit in it and listen to the radio and talk music. She was the only person who’d sit with him and actually think about lyrics and feelings and words. She was always so headstrong about… well everything but especially human rights. She wanted equal rights for everyone. She fought so hard it made Jim tired. Maybe it started with her father but it truly never seemed to end. They used to sit and theorize about meanings behind words and the messages of songs.

”Tell your old man what we say about Paint It, Black. That’ll mess him up.”

Joyce hit him with a chuckle. That was the last time in high school they really laughed together. He can still remember her laugh back then- light and free from any weight these years have brought to it.

But now Jimmy is Hopper, and life isn’t the same. It doesn’t wander and linger and hide behind stores for extra kisses that feel electric. He knows life just doesn’t work that way anymore. He feels like life has only continued with all of the bad parts and none of the good.

In the slow guitar interlude of the song, he hears voices where they shouldn’t be- distant and slightly muffled and outside the window that’s opened a bit to let some air in.

“Yeah, he’s home. The cruiser is there.”

“Then I should go-”

“No, wait-”

It’s Billy and another voice Hop thinks he can recognize. Sounds like the same cocky, lilted tone of Steve Harrington. He knows they’ve been fighting for months now. They always seem to be fighting. Hop used to get called into the school because Billy was always shoving him around that one year. Since then there’s been whispers of them causing a ruckus all over the place but Hop never gets called to check it out. He doesn’t like to ask too much about it. He’s still trying to handle Billy gently and there’s so many more things to worry about. He doesn’t have the words to ask about that.

He doesn’t have the words to explain why they’d be here, together and clearly not at each other’s throats. Why bring a fight all the way back home?

“You uh… got anything planned this weekend?”

“Nope, nothing planned.”

A pause.

“There’s uh… a stupid dance or something-”

“Billy-”

“Look I just… we can’t go, obviously but maybe… we can do something on our own?”

There’s another pause. Longer this time. Hop used to be so sure and suddenly he’s realizing yet again maybe things are the same as they were when he was young- because yet again, he doesn’t know anything.

~Won’t you tell me what you’re thinking of~

“C’mon Harrington….” there’s the confirmation Hop didn’t need. “Say something at least. Don’t just stand there thinking.”

“Billy we can’t keep running around and hiding.”

“Why not?”

~Would you be an outlaw for my love?~

“What if people find out, that’s why not! What if my dad-”

“Tell your dad to fuck off.”

“And Hop?”

Hop’s heart stops. Everything comes crashing to a halt because suddenly he’s being made to face the very harsh fact that he’s not Jimmy anymore. He hasn’t been for a long while. He’s Chief Hopper and Chief Hopper belongs to the “other” part of these young kids’ minds. Billy’s and Steve’s and El’s and Mike’s. He’s the man they’re meant to rebel against. He’s the one that doesn’t “get it” like they do.

And apparently he’s the one that Steve is worried about.

He doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t even know what to think. He knows people like that exist. He thinks he used to go to school with a few guys who were… well, into other things. He never had much to say or even think about it. Joyce was friends with them. She went out to a protest or something once in their senior year. He saw her in a car with them while he was taking Diane to the movies.

It’s not the fact that they like each other or that they want to spend time together. That’s better than them beating the snot out of each other and getting his guys called on them. It’s the fact that they’re worried about him and the fact that they have every reason to be. Hop is part of “The Man” now, and people around here don’t exactly like differences.

“I’ll figure it out.” Billy says, but Hop almost misses it, it’s so quiet.

“Billy-”

“Are you gonna fight for this, or what? Or is this just a one time thing for you to find yourself or some bullshit?”

Hop hears Jimmy in Billy’s words

”Are you not gonna fight for me?”

“Fight for you?!” Joyce had yelled. Oh, how she yelled. ”Are you serious? I… I pick and choose my fights Jim, okay? I have to.”

“That’s not very fair to me.”

“Not fair? No shit it’s not fair, it’s not fair for me either! And you… you’re not being fair to me, y’know!”

And that was it. They went separate ways. It’s so vivid in Jim’s mind- the way she stormed away and Jim drove himself home. He doesn’t remember how long it took until Lonnie joined Joyce’s picture, but it felt too soon in Hop’s ever bitter mind. He couldn’t look at her for weeks. He shoved Lonnie in the hallway any chance he got. The kid would snarl and sneer at him, but he was as scrappy as a dog and scrawnier than a toothpick- no way did he ever pick a fight. He spat words and Jimmy lunged and that was that. Hop doesn’t remember when the feelings faded, but he knows he never stopped hating Lonnie’s stupid face.

Then he started to date Diane and things were just… over.

“Alright Steve, I see-”

“It’s not that easy for me, Billy.”

“And you think this shit is easy for me?”

Hop feels bad for sitting here, still listening, but he can’t get his muscles or limbs to move him. He feels stuck, somewhere between here and the past, picturing all the ways he’s still the same and yet so wildly different.

“Well it is different for you.”

“Just because my shit’s different doesn’t mean my shit’s better. Shit is still shit, Steve.”

All the times Hop thought he had it the worst anyone could ever possibly have it.

“You don’t know what it’s like.”

“Try me, Harrington! Just try me.”

All the times Hop thought maybe his friends were exaggerating about Phil’s past. Maybe Joyce was being dramatic about things at home. There was no way a kid could feel so threatened. Not a kid as big as Phil. Not a kid as headstrong as Joyce.

There’s a longer pause from the two outside the window. The voice that comes is quieter now.

“It’s scary Billy.”

“I know it is! I… fuck I know it is.”

Not a kid as big and headstrong as Billy. It took years for Hop to believe it could happen and still, with an example living in his own house, it’s still hard to understand.

“Don’t you think it could be worth it?” That’s Billy’s voice. Hop feels his heart sink even deeper. They’re talking like they’re going to die if they’re caught. How many more times can he tell this boy he’s safe here? What does he have to do to convince him? To convince them both?

“Maybe… I think so.”

“Look, I can’t make you do anything, Steve. But if you wanna try… then let me know, alright?”

Billy sounds so tired. Hop wants to tell him to lay down and take a nap. There’s such a long pause that follows and fills the space between them.

And then suddenly there’s something blocking the sun from the window. Jim gets the wherewithal to turn and see that the two boys have got their hands tangled in the front of each other’s shirts, just like they would if they were gearing for a fight, but instead of fists flying it’s their lips locked- worlds of frustration still heavy on their brows.

Jim wants to protect these kids until the day he dies. They’re here and they’re wandering too, but their walk home is covered in speed bumps and potholes and hell maybe even spikes that he and Joyce never knew. Whatever he can do to give these kids the time and place to wander like the kids they are, he’ll do it.

Then they separate, their breathing clearly labored and mingling. Then they turn and see Jim in the window, caught like two deer in big bright headlights.

A split second later, Steve is running for the hills and Billy is left with his fists grasping at the air. Hop can’t help but laugh.

[i-need-air]

Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader – Man on a mission.

Summary: Reader is an exchange student at UA, althought she could only stay one year. This is the journey and separation. What would Bakugou do once he realizes the girl he loves leaves? Could be angsty, but I promise a happy ending. 

Word count: ~3k.

When they first met neither of them cared about each other. The girl, too focused in eating the world and showing everyone her worth, barely gave him a glance the first day of school. Having transferred from the most prestigious American School for the year, working so, so hard to get there through a scholarship, [Y/N] was ready to kick ass, take names, get mediocre grades in Japanese History and get the attention of the top heroes of the world for her next internship. So, they just didn't care about each other.

But over time, as she got close to people in the 2-A class, even 2-B, her attitude and determination caught his attention. At first the girl pissed him off, being just an extra that will disappear in a year and will never see again, yet why was he staring so much? How come his eyes followed her figure as she walked away with Round-Face? How come he focused his attention on her too adorable giggle as dumbass Kaminari tried and failed miserably to flirt with her. And how come his friend pissed him off when he did that anyway? Oh, and let's not talk about how he never ever looked at her train, obviously not admiring her moves, her quirk, that look in her eyes. How he tried so fucking hard to not smile when she messed up a Japanese word and asked anyone around her how to pronounce it, giving no shits and only caring about getting better. He definitely didn't care about how she complimented his food that one time and Bakugou, the snake that he is, somehow manipulated Mina into convincing [Y/N] to cook with them, neither girls noticing him puppeteering the whole situation. So the [h/c] girl ended being part of the Bakusquad in record time, cooking and studying started to be a norm to do together. He didn't care that he got a whole zoo on crack in his stomach as she taught him how to cook food from her home-country or how good she smelled when she leaned closer to his frame, both sitting in his room, books spread around them as she questioned something about grammar. He definitely didn't lose his breath when she casually asked him if she could call him Katsuki, earning a grunt and a Do what you want. from the boy, ears flushed.

But Bakugou was hesitant. Of course he was, she was going to leave at the end of the year yet after the first internships started he realized that he's gonna miss that giggle. Her everything actually. And maybe they'll never see each other again. The boy had his own goals, he wanted to reach number one, he wanted to be the best. Was she a distraction? Because he never considered her one, daring to say he's more driven now... Was it a stretch to consider her made for him? Because that's what he thought all the time and these feelings were eating him alive. In a cool manner, he still had to maintain his reputation, excuse you.

[Y/N] [L/N] had a crush. A big crush on a rather abrasive young man. The moment she realized an overwhelming feeling engulfed her, taking away the very needed sleep as the following day she'd intern with the Hawks. Yet getting zero sleep that night, reality slapped her so hard she didn't even feel fatigue for 36 hours afterwards.

Bakugou Katsuki stole her heart and it was doomed for heartbreak. So separation and moving on was the plan.

Although it seemed like something went over her head. She fell in love with a stubborn motherfucker, yet neither of them knew at the time the lengths he'd go just to be together.

After some time of avoiding each other everything felt wrong. Studying wasn't the same, food didn't taste as good as before when she wasn't half moaning half praising his efforts, her cute way of pronouncing things actually turned into a good accent and even if a time came for the girl to ask for correction, [Y/N] decided to ask anyone else but him. Both were getting stronger separately, finding other training partners and things started to slowly go back to what it was at the beginning of the year, leaving a sour taste in Bakugou's mouth. How come she stole his heart? And how come now she was breaking it without noticing?

And here they were, together sitting outside their living quarters, just staring at the darkening skies, both lost in thought. Once strangers turned into friends and now back at the beginning. Yet the air was calm as it always was between them, like old friends meeting after years of not seeing each other even when they met every day.

"I'm gonna miss this place..." she muttered, gulping down the uneasiness rising in her throat. One more month and she'd leave. One more month and whatever they had would be erased forever. "I'm gonna miss you..." she whispered, deciding it was the time to take this burden off her chest once and for all. For herself, her well being, to explain her shitty attitude although his wasn't better. "I'm... I'm gonna miss your stupid face..." came out in another whisper, lips trembling as she avoided his eyes but when she heard a broken chuckle, strained and forced, her eyes snapped towards him.

His palm was covering his eyes, heart in his throat, not believing that everything lead to this moment.

"You spent too much time with me, dumbass." she blinked stupidity, precious orbs watching him carefully not even trying to hide the shine of tears appearing. "You sound like me now." she chucked too, bitter and quiet.

"I didn't spent enough time..."

And everything just turned back to what they had. As when they were alone in one of their rooms, sharing stories, watching movies, listening to music, each doing their own thing in harmony. So they talked, curfew approaching rapidly but there were many things unsaid. There was no clear confession but her little moment of truth opened a door that has been closed for both of them for a long time now. Actually... Not only the door, all the windows and doors were now wide opened, barricades and walls demolished down and everything flowed naturally. Who would've thought? Katsuki told himself while walking her to her door. He was soft, he has forgiven her in an instant for all the zig-zagging around him, feeling relieved since he felt guilt for doing the same. The stupid dancing around somehow ended when they reached her room, silence filling the air.

"You're a dumbass..." he said yet didn't know if it was thrown to [Y/N] or to himself. The rich laugh earned from her made him smirk. God, how much he missed it.

"You're the one to talk?" she pushed his shoulder gently, yet for the love of god, none knew what the fuck this conversation was really about. Before she could retreat the hand thought, he grabbed it, palms sweaty, fingers surprisingly gentle.

"[Y/N]." he responded, that zoo on crack in his stomach seemed to take life again. They didn't have much time anymore.

No verbal confession was made that night, both scared, terrified of voicing out anything that would instantly throw them back towards their concerns. Yet the sweet, slow kiss they shared got imprinted in their memories forever.

Her third year passed rather quickly, yet this time she was more glued to the phone. Many of her old friends noticed, inquiring who was the boy that she was talking to so much, all in teasing manner, none noticing how her lips would flatten and her expression fell for one second before answering back in a similarly teasing way too. Training, studying, going out with friends but never looking at another guy the way she looked at Bakugou Katsuki. Time flew while they both found a way to stay in touch, as limited as it was through the time zones and goals they individually had to reach.

Memories of their last month reconnecting and stepping up into a new world together, almost together but not official, sneaky kisses stolen from time to time, teasing each other but always with a hint of uncertainty, hugs that lasted a little bit too much yet none caring, cuddles and whispers when alone. But nothing else. Oh, how she regretted it. Not kissing him harder, not hugging him longer. Not telling him clearly that she loved him. Not crying when they parted ways because she sure as hell felt like doing so. They only promised to stay in touch when finally getting a time alone on that last fateful day. Being surrounded by her new friends crying around her, saying their goodbyes and promises of meeting somehow someday. That's when he snatched her for their final time alone. That's when she told him to not forget about them, yet again, never addressing their feelings. And he grunted at her, stoic, constipated looking, a face she'd normally make fun of if it weren't for the gravity of the situation.

But they messaged at odd times, they'd create inside jokes and they'd talk on the phone, his voice always doing things to her.

"I've seen the fight, you were amazing!" she said while carefully picking his face in the voice call, re-learning his expressions, remembering caressing the same cheekbones that now were bruised after a big fight in his internship with Endeavor that could all be seen online.

"Course I was, woman." he said, small yet boyish grin on his face. [Y/N] wanted to laugh, tease and be normal around him in this limited time together but Jirou's words stopped her.

"It's insane. The Bakugou Katsuki has a fan-base now! Like... Girls confess to him every week, he gets love letters! Kirishima makes fun of him but we all know he's jealous–"

Keeping in contact with the people from UA was a blessing and a curse, the latter because of those words. He changed so much, people were starting to see him for what he really was and a selfish voice inside of her was screaming that only her could know this side of him. And at the same time feeling she'd never deserve him.

Without being able to bite her tongue, she inquired.

"So I heard you have fangirls now." bright smile way too shiny, her discomfort was so obvious even through the screen.

"Hah?" was his only answer, leaning closer to his Webcam with a frown.

"A little birdie told me." she shrugged, playing it cool, perfectly knowing she'd never be able to play anything cool to save her life.

"And who gives a shit 'bout that?" I do... almost was her reply. But no, she had to squeeze her own heart and milk the pain out of it.

"I mean, haven't you thought about it?"

"Think about what?" he rasped rather angrily.

"You know, having a girlfriend and so on...?"

"What...?" his disbelief clear on his face, suddenly morphing into anger, now clear and raw. "What the fuck are you even saying, [Y/N]!?" he shouted, breathing heavily. "Are you trying to tell me somethin'? Cuz if you are, you better say it clearly!"

"I–" I'm jealous, you deserve someone by your side, I love you. Please, don't look at someone else. Please, don't kiss someone else... Please, be mine.

"Yano what, I'm done for today, fuck off, will ya?" and with a growl, he finished the call.

The promise she made herself about not crying was slowly breaking, her reflection in the now dark computer screen showing her idiotic self about to burst in tears but she clearly didn't reach that point when an incoming call interrupted her self pity.

"Like fucking shit I'd let go of what we have, dumb woman." is all she needed to hear that day and she did.

"So it seems I need to work a year in America before I could have a contract with any other Hero Agency. Hawks made it clear that he wants me back as his side-kick with Tokoyami but..." It hurt, stupid laws and contracts and scholarships and feelings. Stupid life and stupid everything.

"Only a year, huh?" he said on the other side of the line.

Looking for a roommate was tough. Wanting to put an ease on her rent and to save money for a future she was starting to see more clearly, the woman had some interviews with some potential roomies but none were convincing. Maybe she was picky, but she got this apartment first, picked the best room and her landlady gave her full permission to pick anyone for her. Which was a blessing, really.

So the cat girl with 4 cats was an option. The guy that eyed her a little bit too much was out of the equation. There was another guy scheduled to come see the apartment that afternoon and, the best part, she was getting a package from Katsuki. He offered, actually. Said something about new house gift, brushing it off casually with his trademark snide remark about how he'd send her some cleaning shit. What an asshole, but hell, even if he did send her cleaning products, she'd cry out of happiness.

The guy talked to her through messages, asking basic questions and nothing more. Time to give another tour and talk about rent was coming yet she silently decided to give this guy a nice brief chat, throw him out and look for a girl roommate, even if Bakugou said it didn't matter and should interview both. "You know, to get it over with." little voice still screaming she'd mind if he had a woman as a roomie, but then again, they were nothing...

As 3 P.M. approached, she got a message.

From [Random dude #2 David]:

"I'll be late, hope you don't mind."

Of fucking course he was going to be late. The first impression? Annoying. What if she had things to do? Like wait for a package and then call Katsuki to open it with him there. Random David was pissing her off already.

Half an hour later the doorbell interrupted her thoughts as she stared blankly at her phone. The last messages she sent her... friend didn't actually reach him. And it's been 10 hours? Maybe he was called on a mission. But already? Endeavor surely didn't waste time, huh?

With a sigh she opened the door, ready to greet Random David when her eyes landed on a suitcase in front of her door. Her ears perked at the sound of another suitcase rolling towards her door, basically making her freak out because Random David was definitely not going to live with her now. And slowly, a guy came in her field of vision and the world stopped functioning.

Bakugou Katsuki, with a box over one of his shoulders and as she guessed, another suitcase in hand, reached her door, elevator ding snapping her out of her... uh... dream? Fantasy? Back shirt, dark jeans, messy hair and The Look™ he always had for her.

"Well, I'm here to look at the apartment." he grinned, about to burst into an ugly laughter at her dumb face. Everything until this point was worth it because that face? That face was all he needed. Yeah, the dumb mouth opening and closing, eyes big as plates, frozen in place.

"If you..." she muttered. "If you fucking tell me you're David, I will end you..."

"Ya better not call me that, woman." he said, taking a step towards her, putting the baggages down.

"Are you really here...?"

"What does it look like, huh? Now let me in, I need to sit down, I fucking hate long flights."

Rushing him in, hands trembling, words stuttering, [Y/N] [L/N] was in awe at the man in front of her. She knew, she definitely knew he was absolutely amused by her reaction but there was no helping it.

"You're here..." pulling him inside by his hand, it was so warm, just as always. "Holy shit, you're here."

"Aha, but don't get used to it, woman." he said, leaving the suitcases behind him, arms just wrapping loosely around her waist.

"Huh?" he touched her face, the scent of nitroglycerin invading her nostrils. Same scent she missed so much in the past year.

"Only for a year, then I'm taking you back home with me, understood?"

Although she didn't reply, she couldn't, as she only pulled the collar of his shirt towards her, ready to make up for all the time they threw away. So their lips met and their new life started.

Endeavor worked closely with various hero agencies in America and Bakugou Katsuki asked to be sent there for a year, or more so demanded, leaving the older man speechless. Yet with a single word from Shouto, everything was set running and Bakugou knew he'd have yo return the favor to Icy-Hot someday, but for now she was all that mattered. So when he helped her apartment hunt (even long distance), when he told her to look into this or that Hero agencies (knowing they'd work close to his), when he'd tell her to not mind male roommates (even if he minded, he minded very much), it was all towards the surprise for her.

Bakugou Katsuki was a man on a mission and he realized that in his third year at UA. He was going to be number one. He was going to be the best hero ever. And he was going to have [Y/N] by his side. Always.

Notes: I'm leaving this here since idk man, I had too much coffee and wrote this without blinking. Correlation with the notes? Don't question it. Anyway!! Pretty please, tell me what you thought of it and if anyone here knows how to add the Read More mark on phone, I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd explained me how. I'm way too old for this, I swear, lmfao. Thank you for reading, seriously. Hope you enjoyed and have a great day! ♥

[stxrrywildflower]

saudade (1)

pairing - spencer reid x reader

summary - you’re transferred to a unit across the country. later, you and spencer reunite.

warnings - angst, cursing

note - saudade is an emotional state of longing for an absent person that you care about and love while having positive emotions towards the future

series masterlist

it was supposed to be a normal day.

no new cases had come in, meaning the team had one of their rare paperwork days. everyone always complained about paperwork, but deep down, they were all happy to spend the day at their desks, talking to each other as they did their reports.

except the day had quickly turned.

the team was all at their individual desks, except for you. garcia was sitting with derek and even rossi has come out of his office to see what was going on.

you, however, were up in hotch’s office. you had been called in. a few moments later, director strauss entered the office also. the door was closed and the blinds were shut, providing full privacy and confidentiality.

the team had seen this before. the same excact thing had happened when j.j. was asked to transfer. or by asked, she was forced.

spencer drummed his fingers on the desk as the seconds went by. “what are we thinking?” morgan asked the team. “not sure. but last time strauss was with another agent and hotch, it wasn’t good,” emily spoke up, eyes glancing over to hotch. no one seemed to have a good response to that.

meanwhile, you were standing in hotch’s office, leaning against the window. your eyes were focused on strauss who was seated at the couch while hotch was at his desk.

“agent y/n, your performance with this team has been nothing but spectacular. you have exceeded my and my superiors expectations,” strauss first started. a sense of pride washed through you. compliments from strauss and her higher ups were rare. this was like a christmas present.

“which is why we’re transferring you,” strauss added.

your eyes went wide as did hotch’s. “what? you just said i’m good on this team!” you exclaimed. the whole thought of being transferred hadn’t even started to set in. “you can’t take away one of my best agents,” hotch spoke in your defense.

“it’s not my doing aaron. my superiors bought this on me and i now have the liberty of telling you. besides, i haven’t finished yet,” strauss responded, “my higher ups have proposed a new bau team. it will be six younger agents who have all exceeded expectations. any guess who number one on their list is?”

you took in a shaky breath. strauss’ authority terrified you and the fact that even her superiors hand picked you was an immense deal. neither hotch or you said anything, allowing for strauss to give more details. “the team will work on the west coast, solving cases in that region. however, the main station will be in los angeles.”

“los angeles? with all do respect ma’am i cannot move to california,” you spoke.

strauss turned to you, “why not agent y/n? is it because of dr. reid? you’re relationship is only allowed because you both swore to never let it interfere with your work.”

that was true, you and spencer had been together for almost a year. ever since you had informed the team of your relationship, they already knew, you both promised that it wouldn’t effect your field work.

you groaned and threw your head back. “it’s not just that! do you realize how ridiculous it is for me to get up and move cross country. for me to leave this team who’s practically my family?”

“they want you as the unit chief,” strauss responded simply.

“unit chief? i am not qualified to be a unit chief,” you quickly said.

“y/n, you are the number one agent on the list of some of the most important people in the government. you’re more than qualified. besides, an agent from the new york branch will be assisting you,” strauss informed you.

hotch managed to remain silent through this whole ordeal.

“let me guess, he was number two on the list, wasn’t he,” you spoke sarcastically.

“this in non-discussable. you will fly out in four days. until then, you are to pack up your apartment and work place. you are not permitted in work until the day before you leave. then, you can say you’re goodbyes. there is more information in your new files.”

“you know when i joined the fbi and i met you for the first time, i told you i wanted to be on aaron hotchner’s team,” you spoke, voice hoarse. hotch’s eyes widened, obviously not knowing that about you. “you’re really making me leave,” you’re voice had become more shaky as tears welled up in your eyes.

staruss nodded, “i’m afraid so agent y/n, as though it is not my call. i have to go to my office to grab the paperwork you must fill out. i will be back soon.”

just before the director excited the office, you collapsed into a chair in front of hotch’s desk, putting your head in your hands, as the tears started falling.

down in the bullpen, the team could barely focus on anything. however, once the door to hotch’s office opened, all of their heads snapped up. just before staruss had closed the door once again, they caught a glimpse of you. there’s no way the meeting was anything good as they saw you sitting in a chair, head in your hands.

strauss nodded curtly at the agents before exiting through the glass doors. “i’m afraid we may have lost another one,” rossi mumbled. however, all of the team heard it. and they were thinking the exact same thing.

“there’s nothing you can do?” you asked quietly.

“i’m really sorry y/n. this is even more out of my pay grade then when j.j. was transferred,” your boss spoke from across you. you sighed as you ran your hands through your hair.

“and i’ll tell the team when it’s official. most likely this afternoon. unless you want too,” hotch offered. you shook your head, “you can do it. i don’t think i could tell them without breaking down.”

the door to the office opened once again. strauss appeared, holding a large file. she handed it to you with a pen. “you may go fill it out in the conference room. bring it to my office when you are done,” strauss ordered with a surprisingly gently tone.

you nodded, taking the file before exiting the office without another word.

the team was extremely suprised to see you exit the office next. your head was down and a file was held loosely in your hand. you couldn’t have been on the catwalk for more than a few seconds before you went into the conference room, shutting the door and blinds.

strauss was next. this time, she ignored the team in the bullpen and made her way to her own personal office, leaving the door to hotch’s office wide open. the unit chief appeared in the doorway, saving his team the trip of coming up to see him.

“i’m not allowed to say anything yet,” and with that, hotch returned to his desk. the team almost wished they hadn’t heard anything at all.

you sat in your usual seat at the conference table. it took you a few moments to open the file. you did so with shaky hands before begining to read.

fbi behavioral analysis unit - west coast unit

agents recruited:

y/n y/l/n

josh benning

amelia green

abe manning

audrey blair

clay bowen

current station - los angeles, california

admentities provided for agents:

housing

office (interior furniture and products will be purchased by the agents using government funds)

transportation

moving services

you had to admit, it wasn’t bad for what they were offering. however, none of the agents listed were super familiar to you. a few of their names you had heard in background conversations but other than that, nothing.

the rest of the file was standard paperwork. mostly personal records and then your transfer paper. after that, all you had to do was sign your signature at the bottom of the page.

your pen hovered over the line as you pressed your lips together. once you signed, it was official. technically, you were no long apart of the washington d.c. bau team. finally, you moved your pen to sign your name.

standing up, you kept your head high as you walked down the catwalk. before you made your way to staruss’ office to turn in your paperwork, you stopped by hotch’s office.

“it’s official,” you said with the best smile you could muster.

with that, you spun around, looking straight as you exited the bullpen. you ignored your now former team, knowing that if you looked at them you would do nothing but cry.

hotch stood up from his desk, a grim look on his face. “bau team, conference room,” he ordered. the team, in record time, made their way into the conference room after their boss who motioned for them to take a seat.

“i’m just going to get straight into it. please hold your questions,” hotch started, “y/n is being transferred to start her own bau team on the west coast. strauss’ superiors hand picked her as the number one agent. y/n just signed the papers, making it official. i cannot fight this at all. it was hard enough trying to fight for j.j. but this is even further out of my pay grade. those who chose her are some of the most important people in the government. there’s nothing i could have done.”

the team sat silent for a minute, obviously shocked at the news. “a west coast team? what does y/n even have to do with that?” emily spoke up first.

“for whatever reason, they want a team based out of california. the team is all younger agents from washington d.c. and new york and i think one may be out of the acadamy. but, y/n is the acting unit chief.”

“she’s not even 30,” rossi commented.

“from my understanding, staruss’ higher ups or the leaders of the fbi have been tracking her movements since y/n was in the acadamy. she has done nothing but exceed their expectations and they figured, specially since she was number one on their list, that she would be the best agent to lead this team” hotch added.

“damn girl,” emily responded, helping the tension in the room ease.

“when does she leave,” morgan asked, trying to contain his anger that strauss was taking away another part of the team. he wasn’t alone, everyone in the room was feeling the same way. “in four days or saturday morning. y/n is permitted to return to work on friday to pack up her desk but until then, it’s only packing up her apartment,” hotch informed everyone. “then we’ll do a family dinner on friday at my house. make it a goodbye celebration,” rossi suggested.

after the team had all agreed to that, everyone went their separate ways; hotch and rossi back to their office, garcia back to her lair, and emily and j.j. back to their desks. spencer and derek, however, remained.

“come on, talk to me kid,” derek spoke in a soft voice.

“besides the obvious fact that she’s leaving, we barely manage to find enough time outside of work as is. between cases and other work, it’s almost like we’re never truely together. i mean we make it work but now, how are we going to juggle seeing each other when it’s two bau teams? especially with her being unit chief?” spencer rambled.

derek places a hand on the genius’ shoulder. “reid, like you said, you two have made it work. i have no doubt that in the big head of yours there’s some solution to all of this. i’m sure setting up a time to call would work. and besides, i’m sure our paths will cross on a case.”

the two agents stood up. morgan pulled spencer into a tight hug. “it will be fine man, i can promise you,” derek spoke. spencer smiled softly as the two walked out of the conference room.

just as they were back at their desks, you were back in the bullpen, a single file in your hand.

“y/n-” emily started, standing up.

“i need to bring this to hotch real quick. i’ll be back in a minute,” you answered, voice cracking on the last few words.

for what felt like the hundredth time that day, you stepped into your former boss’s office. “strauss wanted me to give this to you. i have twenty minutes before i have to leave,” you told hotch, handing him the file.

“i’m really sorry i couldn’t do anything,” hotch apologized. you pressed your lips together, “it’s fine hotch,” you simply said.

when you stepped onto the catwalk, you noticed garcia had joined the group. her eyes were read from tears. you smiled slightly and joined the group. garcia rushed over and pulle you into a tight hug. “i’m going to miss you so much sweetie,” penelope whispered.

hugs were exchanged between you and each of your team members. emily was first, followed by derek, then j.j., and it was finally spencer’s turn. “hi love,” you greeted before placing your head on his shoulder. once pulling away, you rested both of your hands in the cook of his arm while his held your elbows.

“we’re going to get through this?” spencer asked softly, barely audible to the team.

you nodded, “of course we will,” you reassured your boyfriend. you stepped away from the genius and turned towards the other four. “i have to go now. packing my apartment is going to be a bitch but i mean i have to do it. i’ll see you on friday,” you informed everyone.

“i can come by later if you need some help. you know, me being the muscle and all,” derek offered, holding up his arm slightly. you rolled your eyes playfully but still smiled. both emily and garcia offered to also help. j.j. wanted to go but she had henry and michael to take care of. spencer was already a definite.

“that would be great guys,” you spoke. with that, you grabbed your bags and exited the bau building, no longer an official agent.

on the drive to your apartment, you stopped to pick up boxes and totes to pack your stuff in. as previously stated in the file, all of your stuff would be shipped out via moving truck which was set to leave on friday. you first set out two of your suitcases, one could be a carry-on bag while the other would be just a normal suitcase. all your essentials had to go in there. after deciding to start in your living room, you began to take down all of your wall decor.

you ran your finger along the course wall as you looked at the pictures on the wall. most of them were of the team, both group and individual pictures together. dust piled on the frame, built up from the time they hand hung there. you smiled softly at one picture in particular.

it was taken after one of your longest cases ever. there had been a few scares with the team and garcia even had to fly out. in the end, however, the unsubs had been caught and the remaining victims were saved. it was a huge victory for everyone resulting in smiles being exchanged around the room. one night, the team had all gone to one of the larger hotel rooms which had couches and other seats for drinks and dinner. garcia had claimed that the team had very few photos together and you all needed one together. she set up her phone and everyone piled onto the couch, each smiling brightly at the camera.

tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you wrapped it up and placed it in a box. the rest of the photos, each documenting your time at the bau, were packed away along with the other wall decor.

when penelope, derek, emily, and spencer arrived at your apartment holding take out, you ushered them in with a comforting smile. the two girls moved towards your kitchen which was half packed up and began to unload the food.

“damn y/n, you packed a lot,” derek commented.

you spun around, taking in your apartment. boxes were littered around the floor, each packed to the brim. “i just put some music on and kinda went into autopilot,” you laughed, leaning into spencer.

“what do you have left to do?” spencer asked. you but your lip and thought for a moment, “i need to move the boxes into the empty corner, the kitchen needs to be finished, and i need to do the two bedrooms, but those shouldn’t take long. i can do them tomorrow or something.”

after eating and cleaning up, the five of you got to work. derek and emily took the job of moving the boxes into the corner. the furniture, however, would have to be left or sold as your new place was fully furnished. garcia packed up your guest bedroom, you would do your actual bedroom tomorrow. finally, you and spencer focused on the kitchen.

three hours of nothing but hard-work later, you had thanked everyone before telling them to go home. “you all were such a big help, thank you so much,” you smiled. garcia stepped forward, squeezing your shoulder slightly, “anything for you sweetie.”

with that, the group grabbed their individual bags before making their way to the door. you followed, keys dangling in your hand. “wait where are you going?” emily asked as you stepped into the hallway, your apartment door shutting behind you.

“staying with spencer for the night.”

derek whistled lowley, “well you two kids have fun. but not to much fun, if you know what i’m saying,” he chucked but stopped when garcia flicked the back of his head. you laughed at the two bickering as they walked down the hallway. emily smiled one more time at you two before turning on her heal and following the pair.

“ready?” spencer asked quietly, happy that you two had a true moment alone. you nodded, “let’s go.” you interlocked your hand with his before tugging him slightly, the two of you practically bouncing down the hallway.

____

friday night finally rolled around.

the past few days were filled with packing and receiving instructions from strauss about your new team. you and spencer spent pretty much all of your free time together. mornings before he had to go to work, the two of you would make breakfast before eating together, savoring each and every moment you two had together. at night, spencer would help you pack the final items and then talking, watching a movie, of playing some game.

your new favorite thing was spencer reading. before the two of you went to bed, you would rest your head on spencer’s stomach as he read from some book. the vibrations from his words were incredibly confronting.

an hour before you were expected at rossi’s for dinner and a night with the team, you began getting ready. it was a more casual dress code but you still wanted to look nice. the weather was supposed to be colder and rainy, which you absolutely loved.

from your closet, you picked a shorter black and white polka dot dress with short sleeves and your doc marten boots. already planning ahead, you packed a second, more comfier outfit incase the rain soaked you completely.

you had originally thought you and spencer would arrive together but ultimately, you two decided to drive in separately as he had to go to his apartment straight from work and you needed to get ready.

rossi’s home, practically mansion, was close to twenty five minutes away. you left with time to spare, your hands shaking as your gripped the wheel. it was your last night with the team, your last night in washington d.c., and your last night with spencer.

in twenty-four hours, you would be in a whole new city with a whole new team.

once at a red light, in an effort to calm yourself down, you ran your hand through your hair and took a deep breath. it took you even less time than expected. once pulling into the long driveway, you noticed that the entire team had already arrived.

you knocked on the door before stepping back. a moment later, it swung open to reveal rossi, a towel over his shoulder as he had obviously been cooking.

“fiorellino!” rossi greeted, pulling you into a hug. you rested your head on the man you practically considered to be your uncle’s shoulder. “hi rossi,” you replied, a smile on your face.

the older agent ushered you inside and towards the kitchen. upon entering you were met with loud cheers and shots of your name. you initially flinched slightly but broke out into a wide grin.

you were handed a glass of wine by emily of course before you made your way to lean against the counter. spencer moved next to you, resting his arm loosely around your waist. after noticing a bowl of vegetables on the table, you looked towards the host.

“hey rossi, can we eat these?” you asked, motioning towards the dish.

“ah ah ah, sorry y/n but those are for dinner,” rossi started, “all right everyone! gather around, it is time for the second annual team dinner. this time, however, we are gathered under much different circumstances. while we will do a formal toast later, let us raise our glasses to y/n y/l/n who is leaving us tomorrow and only going onto big and better things.”

the team raised their various drinks towards you making you blush. “thank you all, it really means a lot,” you spoke. spencer leaned down and placed a kiss to your cheek, mumbling a quick, “you deserve it.”

after the toast was done, rossi captured the attention of everyone as he began to go through his very complicated recipe. thirty minutes later, dinner was ready. the group took seats around the dining room table, the meal placed in front of you. small talk was exchanged, thankfully it wasn’t about your transfer. the team had gotten the vibe that, after the toast, you wanted this night to be about family and not about your departure.

when dinner was finished, all eyes were on you once again. “so, what do you want to do kiddo?” rossi asked. it took you a split second to think. “anyway we can do a poker night?” you suggested. that went over incredibly well with everyone.

hotch and rossi, being the dads they are, offered to clean up. j.j., derek, and emily all went into the lounge to relax before the intense poker games later. you, however, walked towards the door.

“where are you going?” spencer asked from behind you.

you slipped your boots on, hoping slightly to face your boyfriend. “outside,” you simply said, a slightly wicked grin on your face. “babe, it’s pouring rain,” spencer responded.

after standing up, you shrugged. “that’s the whole point,” you spoke before swinging open the door and walking out into the driveway. true to spencer’s words, it was pouring rain. puddles were everywhere, pooling in spots around the driveway. the lights from the house illuminated the yard.

the rain seemed to embrace you. sure, you were getting soaked, but it felt really nice. only moments after you had stepped out, spencer was right behind you. he stood at the base of the driveway and looked towards you, hands in his pocket.

you walked over to your car, opening the drivers side and plugging your phone in. it only took you a moment to scroll through your music library and find the song you were looking for.

‘it’s time’ by imagine dragons began blasting out of your speakers.

the song related to your situation. you were begining a new life tomorrow and you wanted to reassure that you wouldn’t ever change, despite starting something new.

a knowing smirk found its way to both of your faces. you twirled around as you made your way over to spencer. you sang the lyrics of the song as your hand moved to spenders cheek. from there, the two of you linked hands and began spinning in a circle, the momentum of your movements driving you around in the circular motion.

you laughed as the rain whipped off of your skin, only for you to be covered in more water. both of you were drenched but at this point, you didn’t care. as the slower part of the song three-fourths in began to play, you moved towards spencer.

“it’s time to begin, isnt it? i get a little bit bigger but then i’ll admit i’m just the same as i was,” you sang softly as you and spencer swayed. his hand on your waist as yours was on his back. your other two hands were out to the side, interlocked.

“now don’t you understand, i’m never changing who i am,” as you were singing these lyrics, you squeezed spencer’s hand slightly as if you were reassuring him about your situation.

when the beat picked up, you took off running into the grass. spencer caught up to you, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up, spinning you around. you laughed as he slung you over his shoulder and brought you back towards the driveway.

as the rain continued to fall from the sky, spencer pulled you close to him, his lips connecting with yours. it was a perfect moment, kissing in the rain with the man you loved.

as hotch and rossi continued to scrub the dishes and clean the tables from cooking, derek had suddenly wondered where you and spencer were. he set his drink on the table before standing up. as derek moved through very large house, he stopped at the window by the front door.

derek then noticed you two spinning around before coming to a halt and moving back and forth. emily, upon noticing her fellow agent leave, followed him. “how are we going to manage without her,” derek spoke once he noticed emily behind him.

the dark-haired woman looked out the window and saw you and spencer, completely captured in the moment. “i don’t know,” she replied.

a few minutes later, you and spencer entered the house, each with bright smiles on your faces. a change of clothes hung loosely in both of your hands. “you kids have fun?” rossi asked as he noticed the two of you soaking wet. you didn’t say anything, your smiles were explanation enough.

“well you two go get changed. i’ll set up poker,” rossi offered.

the two of you made your way to two different bathrooms, changing out of your wet clothes and into dry ones. spencer took your outfit from you and tossed it into the drier while he did the same.

after sitting down at the game table, you were handed your cards and your chips. “ready,” you asked, looking down at your hand.

the rest of the night was filled with laughter and playfully fighting as the poker round winners bounced from team member to team member. towards the end, rossi brought in a bottle of champagne and eight flutes. full glasses were distributed. by the looks of the people around you, you figured it was your turn to speak.

“when i had my first ever meeting with strauss, i was presented with the various teams i could join,” you started, “i had already knew that i wanted to be apart of aaron hotchner’s bau profiling team. that was one of my choices and i chose it in a heartbeat. i just remember being so nervous on my first day but all of you were so welcoming. i especially felt at home when penelope made me a personalized coffee coaster,” the team had all laughed at that.

“from there, i learned so much from every one of you. without all of your teaching and lesons, there’s no way i would be able to lead my own team. while it isn’t ideal, i wanted to thank you for guiding me for all of my years with this team,” as you finished, tears were welling up in your eyes.

no words were exchanged as each member of the team raised their glasses. “to y/n y/l/n,” hotch spoke. “to y/n y/l/n,” the team echoed, glasses clinking together.

at the end of the night, hugs were exchanged between you and everyone else. with each person, you held on tightly, whispering thank you’d to each of them. the only person you didn’t fully hug was spencer. he would be bringing you to the airport tomorrow morning where your personal goodbyes would be said.

by the end, your eyes were red as tears flowed down your cheeks. with one final smile and a goodbye, you and spencer exited the house before going to your desperate cars. the two of you would be driving to spencer’s apartment as yours was already empty and you had no point in going back.

the night ahead was filled with nothing but cuddling and spending your final hours together. sure, tears were exchanged but you two wiped them away and instead talked about anything else.

the following morning, you and spencer got up bright and early. you had gotten dressed in comfy clothes before packing your final few items away. the drive to the airport was mainly silent, your hands, however, remained interlocked and rested on the armrest console.

when spencer pulled into the drop-off area, you both realized that this was it. stepping out of the car, spencer unloaded your suitcases. he rested them against the car before turning to you. you stepped forward, resting your hand on spencer’s cheek.

“i love you,” you spoke.

“i love you too,” spencer replied, a reassuring smile on his face.

you leaned forward and kissed him softly. you two were so caught up in the moment until your watch beeped, giving you an alert that you needed to get inside the airport.

with one final kiss to spencer’s lips, you spun around on your heal with your suitcases in hand. you shot him one final smile with a slight wave before walking into the airport, about to start your new life.

[firstagent]

Review! Digimon Adventure: (2020) Episode 53: The Geko Hot Springs' Revolt

In this episode, Joe returns to the incredibly hostile hot spring he spent a couple weeks in earlier, only to discover that it remains incredibly hostile.

When we saw Patamon and Tailmon unable to evolve to fight Burpmon, that was a compelling twist. When the team discussed it and decided the remedy was a trip to a hot spring, we rolled our eyes. When we recall that what little we saw of Joe’s week in said hot spring didn’t seem all that relaxing or peaceful, we wonder why he’d want to drag two powerless Digimon and their eight-year-old partners for a visit. Maybe we’d be more inclined to indulge ourselves in the ridiculous moments here if this was an unexpected pit stop in a longer journey. But this was deliberately teed up, an intended destination in a subplot that’s probably going to be important. That makes it hard to call it anything besides a flimsy premise yielding flimsy results.

One reliable rule in the Digimon anime must be the mandate that your brain shuts down as soon as TonosamaGekomon features in an episode. With his goofy appearance, lumbering size, insistence on being revered, and the Gekomon subjects more than happy to oblige, it’s apparently impossible for any story with him to stay on the rails. That doesn’t make it a total loss—Adventure gave us the worst of Mimi that we kind of needed to see, while Zero Two had some slick set pieces amid all its nonsense—so it’s still fair to hope for something of value, and definitely fair to observe that there’s none to be found here.

What we do get is TonosamaGekomon taking Gomamon for his bride after taste-testing everyone on the team. Subjecting Gomamon to all the “maiden forced to marry evil ruler” tropes provide almost all the moments of joy in the entire episode, which is pretty unsettling when you think about it. You would think there would be a million ways for someone as crafty as Gomamon to talk his way into a more favorable position. In an episode meant to feature Joe, you would hope so. But instead he just endures the humiliation until he sees Joe’s obvious trap and manipulates TonosamaGekomon into it. That’s not nothing, but with how exceptional bonds are commonplace and expected in this show, it’s not very much.

As if Joe’s prior experience in the hot spring wasn’t confusing and unfocused enough, he runs into the Nanimon and Blossomon again and swears to help them. Boy, wouldn’t it be nice if we could have actually seen what happened between them so we know what to make out of this relationship now? We know Joe was terrified of these guys, we know he was stuck with them for more than a week, and we know he escaped not through battle or talking his way out of it, but by shooting off a freaking geyser in the middle of the spring. And yet not only is he happy to return, but he’s willing to forgive the hell he put them through understanding that they need their spring back. Joe makes a big deal of the bond with someone he’s shared a bath with, and it’s not like they don’t need his help, but that mantra does a lot of heavy lifting this episode and we never got the context to understand why he should still believe in that.

The show certainly doesn’t believe in Joe’s ability to handle a problem by himself. That’s particularly annoying here because he does all the work he needs to: he comes up with the obvious plan based on the information he has and does the bulk of the work to defeat TonosamaGekomon. There was no need for Taichi to be involved here, and he doesn’t add any depth to an already shallow episode. Even his role in the battle is underwhelming, dealing with Kabukimon and the Gekomon while Joe fights the big guy. It’s hard to tell whether we should criticize the writers for insisting on adding Taichi where he isn’t needed, or failing to think of a clever way to deal with the goons without a second evolvable Digimon. Either way, it’s another case of being sloppy.

It adds up to a lack of effort in everything. Joe’s plan doesn’t require a lick of ingenuity, and it goes off without any hitch that might add some suspense. TonosamaGekomon goes down as just another bully, a comically selfish and gullible one at that. His penchant for licking things and claiming brides against their will is outrageous enough for some laughs, but that’s not going to make up for the episode having neither competency nor any real point.

My Grade: D+

Loose Data

Kabukimon’s song and dance is your typical pomp and hype for a villain, but it becomes additionally dumb when you realize the only point of it is to help TonosamaGekomon steal a bride.

Monopolizing the only hot spring in the name of being the only one good enough for it isn’t such a smart idea when TonosamaGekomon can barely survive outside of one. Great plan limiting your mobility and practically begging to be overthrown.

Tailmon, who is particularly annoying trying to narrate this nonsense with a straight face, comments that TonosamaGekomon and Kabukimon’s oblivious adherence to old ritual stems from partially absorbing info from the human world. This is the first time we’ve heard of the human world influencing individual behavior in the Digital World, which would have been a neater concept if introduced earlier and not in a situation better explained by “some Digimon just act weird.”

We all saw TonosamaGekomon using his tongue to pretend he’s peeling off Gomamon’s imaginary kimono, right? Shame Mimi wasn’t there to direct that.

We reserve to drop the episode another half grade if it turns out all this actually did help Tailmon and Patamon evolve.

See reviews of every Digimon episode at Digimon: System Restore! Support the site by joining our Patreon!

[itsclydebitches]

Welcome back, everyone! 

We’re now on Chapter Eight and once again the story is told from Velvet’s perspective. So our starting question is: why is she getting the most attention so far? If memory serves, the PoV order has been Coco, Velvet, Sun, Fox, Yatsu, Velvet, Scarlet, Velvet again — meaning that in a text balancing eight main characters, so far four of them have received a single chapter, two (Sage and Neptune) zero chapters, and one three chapters. That seems rather imbalanced. I suppose it makes a certain amount of sense if we factor in RWBY viewers’ familiarity with Velvet, but I’d wager we’ve gotten far more screen time with Sun overall. My only point being, why Velvet? It’s not that you can’t make her a focal point of the narrative, I just haven’t seen anything to explain that choice in the first 100+ pages. Her perspective hasn’t brought anything unique to the story, something we couldn’t have gotten from the seven other characters involved in these events… but here we are, back with Velvet for the next six pages.

Yeah, this chapter is short. Silver lining?

We learn that Team NOVA is on their second mission — why bother showing us the first when they’re an entirely new, volatile team, right? That would be silly! — escorting a technician “through the Grimm-infested mountains just outside of Oscuro Combat School.” So Shade students regularly conduct real huntsmen work but throw a fit over having to spar with one another? Interesting. See, if I were a civilian who got even a glimpse of what goes on inside these schools, I would not trust these kids with my life. 

Lo and behold, things go horribly! We learn right off the bat that “The technician had been knocked unconscious in a skirmish with a band of Dromedons.” For those of you with an iffy memory like mine, these are the camel-like creatures that spit acid and… that’s about all we know about them. That’s really all we need for this scene though because this grimm nailed the tech in his leg, a wound which now requires “serious medical attention.” Great. Gus Caspian, who I learn is a younger friend from the previous novel, is trying to treat the wound as best he can, clearly a little freaked out about being here, “but apparently Oscuro teachers didn’t coddle students any more than Theodore did.”

Do you expect them to? Despite Atlas being the only one who combines their academies with their military, we can’t pretend like these schools aren’t teaching teenagers to wield deadly weapons and kill things with them. There’s no institution on Earth (or Remnant) that should “coddle” those looking to take on that responsibility. I mean yeah, we had moments where Ozpin encouraged them to be kids, like after the food fight and during the dance, but he still took a hard stance whenever there was an actual lesson in the works: “No. You will be falling.” Based on the age of the students, the academies are akin to colleges. In real world college if you don’t do your work or don’t pay attention in class, well… nothing that bad happens. This is by no means a call to not do you work, merely an acknowledgement from a formerly grade obsessed student that individual test scores really don’t have the impact on your life that it feels like they will at the time. Trust me on this. So yeah, some leeway is great in the real world… but when the students are fighting monsters and defending others from death? Then the schools should absolutely discourage any slacker-esque attitude. The concept of any institution “coddling” huntsmen is horrifying. 

Note though that the chapter starts after all the action has taken place. We skip the rest of reinitiation. We skip NOVA’s first mission. We skip the attack that landed Velvet in this predicament. It’s not automatically a bad technique provided you’re skipping over boring parts to get to the interesting bits… but this isn’t interesting. We learn almost nothing new from this scene: Velvet misses her old team, her new teammates don’t believe in her, Nebula is mean. Those are the emotional beats here — things we’ve known for at least three chapters now. The only thing that’s introduced is the advertisement on Gus’ scroll, which could have been been added to any other scene.

Let’s revise a bit: 

We get to see the battle against the Dromedons wherein Velvet uses her camera, revealing her weapon to Team NOVA and earning more of their respect. Information about Gus’ improvement is shown through his combat abilities as he’s unexpectedly chucked into this battle (perhaps with him using his semblance to further his growth there too). While taking a hit he loses his scroll, slightly damaging it. In the aftermath Velvet retrieves it for him and finds this ad displayed, growing curious. Over the course of Gus’ explanations the rest of Team NOVA is clued into Velvet’s worry and suspicion. What’s wrong? It’s just an ad. But you’re clearly hiding something… Now, does she tell her new team about the Crown, or keep it silent and risk the tenuous trust they’ve just created?

Why is Myers skipping over all the action and potential growth?

Instead we get the boring stuff. Velvet admires Gus’ uniform because of how it’s built for the heat and recalls that “Coco had been messing around with new outfit designs for Team CFVY.” I swear though, 95% of my enjoyment with this novel comes from the throwaway details. I would actually like seeing how Coco combines her personal love of fashion with the necessity of designing combat gear appropriate for the environment. Maybe they frame it as merely a hobby outside of their huntsmen work, giving them an excuse to keep helping their former teammates. That could be cool! 

Though of course, this is the series where Cinder, Neo, Hazel, and Emerald all walk into the ice Kingdom with skin bared, so...

(You all are going to freeze to death, have fun.) 

“Velvet’s ears swiveled around, listening for danger.” That’s anything detail I like. At the very least Before the Dawn remembers that Velvet is a faunus and frequently incorporates that into her character. She’s on the lookout because other than Gus tending the unconscious technician, she’s alone “on the sidelines.” It’s framed simultaneously as the group rejecting her and as an unavoidable necessity: “it wasn’t like she didn’t have an important task of her own [repairing the relay], one that none of her teammates had the expertise to perform.”

Wait. Why does Velvet have this expertise?

The justification is that she’s “handy with electronics” and “Anesidora was incredibly complicated, and she’d designed it herself,” but that’s like saying “I built a computer so I’ll come fix your refrigerator. That’s easier.” I don’t know, maybe someone with the ability to build a computer from the ground up could figure out a refrigerator on the fly, but they feel like different skill-sets to me. All electronics are not built the same and claiming that because you understand one you automatically understand all others — even supposedly simpler pieces of tech — seems a little suspect. If that were the case, we’d have no need for experts who fix your phone, your television, your toaster, and your watch. Surely if you understand one you understand the others, right? It’s the same assumption here: If Velvet can understand building a hard light weapon, then she must understand relay communications too!

…right.

She even goes so far as to say that they “probably should have left the technician at Oscuro—she could have done this on her own” yet just a few minutes later it’s, “Velvet double-checked everything. She didn’t know what was wrong. She glanced back at the technician, Gus still at his side. The guy was out cold. He’d taken a pretty hard knock to the head. Well, she had tried.” So she’s confident enough to think that the technician is unnecessary one moment and then looking to him for help the next? Which of course isn’t followed by any sort of revelation. Velvet doesn’t acknowledge that her knowledge isn’t as specialized as she had assumed it was, or that huntsmen rely on non-combat experts for other things. She just shrugs and…

…kicks it.

Yeah. Velvet’s skill amounts to kicking the box until it works. Which, of course, it does. 

I can’t with this novel.

More seriously though, that’s terrible characterization. Not only does it undermine Velvet’s actual skill to reduce it to being “handy with electronics” — isn’t every huntsmen “handy with electronics” then, considering they all build their gun/energy/dust weaponry in school? — but it adds another layer of supposed uselessness to the adult professionals around her. Theodore doesn’t teach them anything because, as their headmaster, he’s removed from everyday interactions. Rumpole can’t be trusted now and every lesson she tries to impart is rejected. The unnamed technician who is referred to only by his professional title is deemed unnecessary, knocked out, and then indeed proves useless when Velvet magically does his job for him. So why are any of them in school? Why aren’t they just running the world with their superior knowledge and skill-sets? Every time the RWBY franchise puts its characters in a position where they might actually learn something through failure, it pulls back at the last second. ‘Never mind, they actually knew this all along!’ Or, ‘Never mind, the things they’ve been taught are stupid, so best to forget them!’ I struggle to understand what kind of story I’m reading — or watching — when the characters are already framed as perfect. Or rather, flaws absolutely exist (as these recaps attest), but the story pretends they’re not there. 

I hesitate to use the term “Mary Sue” here due to its origins and history. Meaning, the Mary Sue was conceived of as a parody, a deliberate exaggeration to comment on the types of characters written in the Star Trek fandom. Then people began using “Mary Sue” as a catch-all term for any female character that people deemed too talented (regardless of how talented their male counterparts might be), we started acknowledging the sexist undertones of that, then started reclaiming the term as something to celebrate and embrace… but we haven’t quite gotten there yet. “Mary Sue” is still a pretty loaded name to force on a character and it carries a lot of implications that I absolutely do not want to attach to Velvet. Yet it’s also the closest term I know to describe the act of an author giving a character what feels like a badly justified skillset. Such as “handy with technology” actually meaning “can fix anything powered by electricity or Dust as the plot needs.” 

Velvet is the action movie hacker going, “I’m in” is what I’m getting at. It’s not a compliment lol.

During all this grimm watching and relay fixing, Gus wants to know why they don’t just high-tail it out of there. Especially since the person they brought to do a specific job can no longer do that job. Mission’s a bust. Velvet gives what sounds like a decent explanation: “Retreating from Grimm isn’t an option when you’re fighting this close to a settlement. If we leave without destroying them, the Grimm will just look for another target.” AKA the settlement itself. 

Thing is, by this logic any grimm that are currently close enough to attack them are already close enough to the settlement to latch onto those people as the next target. They’d pick up on the civilians whether Velvet’s group was there to kill them or not. The group is there though, so they feel responsible, but why not just head to the settlement anyway? If the grimm follow you, fine. You can still fight them AND you now get the additional benefit of any other huntsmen/students who might be there. If they don’t follow you, great. If they were close enough to the settlement all along… again, this was always going to happen. 

Which, to be clear, isn’t the worst stance to take. I understand them wanting to avoid any potential risk by leaving/leading the grimm towards anyone else. I only want to point out the additional stupidity of fighting them when you’ve already got an unconscious civilian in your care, a barely trained student, and the whole reason you came out here might now be for naught. Yeah, Velvet gets the relay working with her magic kick and yeah, the rest of the team handles the grimm just fine, but none of them are able to see into the future and know that both these events will occur. Gus’ ‘Why are we staying here? It’s dangerous and pointless’ question has merit.

But of course, no one in RWBY would ever consider retreat. It’s a very iffy characteristic at this point. 

We learn — or at least I learn now — that Gus’ semblance is the ability to enhance others’ emotions, so basically the opposite of Ren’s. That would indeed be incredibly handy provided he has good control over it. We get another reference to Yatsuhashi’s “meditation exercises” that helped Gus’ grandfather in the last novel. Velvet theorizes that his improved memory has more to do with Yatsuhashi’s semblance than any generic meditation: “No one knew for sure what Yatsuhashi had done with his Semblance when he’d tried to heal Edward’s mind … even Yatsuhashi wasn’t sure. His ability was to erase memories, but it was possible that there was more to Yatsu’s Semblance than that.” Um… subtle yikes? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad things have turned out well for the guy, but if I were the grandfather—or a family member of his—I wouldn’t really want a student messing around with my mind when he “wasn’t sure” what he was doing. Especially when the base skill is to erase memories, not recover or strengthen them. Honestly, I love taking a good look at fantasy series because half the time you realize how horrifying things actually are, once you strip away the common place aspects of these skills. An equivalent third year college student is running around experimenting with peoples’ memories to see if he can achieve something other than erasing them. Great!

The good thing is that Yatsuhashi is just as suspicious of this power as I am. Velvet things that he “hated messing with people’s minds.” Understandable, bud. I’d hate the ability too.

While they’ve got this time alone, Gus mentions that he had planned to contact Velvet soon anyway. Two of his classmates have gone missing and though his school has told Shade about it—there’s at least some of that additional info that Rumpole mentioned—he wanted to let her know too because remember, no one in this franchise trusts the professionals to fix problems. It’s a mindset I’d better understand if the professionals were actually inept. Or the protagonists weren’t training to be those professionals. It’s still exceedingly weird to me that there’s so little respect and trust for huntsmen while they desperately try to become huntsmen…

Something something broken systems, but RWBY isn’t interested in exploring that. 

So yeah, Gus ropes Velvet in with the hope that she can help. He says that they were last seen attending a new club called Mirage that hosts one-on-one fights for a championship title. So… it’s not really a club, right? Sure, sure, we’ve all seen Fight Club, but generally that’s used to describe dancing, not fighting. It’s a rather misleading term for what they were actually looking for. No one else finds this odd though. Nor that the information was sent out to select, powerful individuals. Nothing shady about this, folks! Velvet obviously recognizes all these details—a club, powerful semblances, a crown in the advertisement—and asks Gus to pass it along to her.

Our plot forwarded ever so slightly, their conversation ends as Arslan calls Velvet on the now fixed connection. One of the first thing she says is that Octavia used the other students as bait for the grimm.

At least Velvet shares my reaction: “What?!”

Octavia then takes an already bad situation and makes it that much worse. Listening in, she defiantly says, “That’s right. And it worked. It’s called strategy.” She confirms that the students are “mostly” okay and taunts Velvet about inviting them to her “Baby Brigade and you can all cry about it!” I hope I don’t need to take up precious document space by explaining how awful this is. Overlooking the fact that these would-be huntsmen are willing to put their younger peers’ lives in danger like that—and then mock them for needing mental health resources after the fact—why is Octavia the one pulling the murderous Mean Girl act? Yeah, she was an asshole during reinitiation, but wasn’t the whole point of that to demonstrate that she and Velvet got a little closer? Even if she won’t admit it? She saved Velvet from flying down that hole, but now she risks the lives of students at least three years her junior? If anyone should be this violent and antagonistic towards Velvet, it’s Nebula. The most she’s done for Velvet is offer a hand up, otherwise we just watched her express glee in getting to fight her and mock her for not abandoning Beacon… the same sort of behavior we’re seeing from Octavia now. Does Myers think that these two characters are interchangeable? That he can just pick one willy-nilly per chapter and let her play at being Velvet’s Mean Girl?

As a lovely anon reminded me recently, these are also the girls that were created and backed by fans. If I had put money and creative energy into these OCs, I’d be pretty frustrated with how the RT team has been treating them.

Arslan at least is complimentary towards Velvet for fixing the relay—“Truly, great work today”— and Velvet herself is appropriately shocked at Octavia’s behavior. That’s more emotional consistency than I’ve come to expect of this book, so I’ll take whatever little bits I can get.

Arslan signs off with plans to meet back up soon and Velvet thinks about how “everyone was safe after the mission, which was no small thing.” I’d agree… except for Velvet’s early thoughts about how easy this mission supposedly was and Octavia’s decision to put her teammates in danger. It sounds like if anything did go sideways, it’s in part because you chose to enter this overconfidently and then actively made it more dangerous.

Finally, the chapter ends with Velvet believing that she might be able to make her new team work with time. Our final line, in its own paragraph is: “If they had time.”

Am I the only one who finds this weird? The line reads like an omniscient bit of foreboding. Velvet thinks about how she just needs time and we, the reader, hear that this won’t be possible. Except this chapter is told from Velvet’s perspective. So why does she think they might not have time? Because of the Crown? I assume there will be an attack towards the end of the novel—can’t have a RWBY story without the final, epic battle—but right now Velvet has no reason to believe that an attack is imminent, or that the teams will change back, or anything else that would interfere with her hopes of strengthening this relationship… so why the rather confident sounding pessimism? I don’t know. I don’t pretend to know anymore lol.

At least this chapter was short? As said, silver linings. We’re still treading water though: Velvet’s bond with her new team seems to have regressed after two missions, rather than improved, and Gus didn’t reveal anything we didn’t already know, just further confirmed it. I assume that next chapter Velvet and the others will visit Mirage. Let’s hope something actually happens then. 

See you! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

[aperfecttimeforscreaming]

AN EXCHANGE OF MEAT

Late valentines day ZADR drabble, extremely nsfw, takes place in the #izspacetrash universe NSFW 18+ Warning: Petplay, Zussy, Choking, Power play, Power theft, Over-stimulation, flirtatious bullying 

Back on Irk, coupling is illegal. It’s a big deal for humans because they can’t name a rock without forming an emotional attachment, for Irkens however, there’s no reason for the law to even be in place. As a species we have evolved past the need to interact with others. Every individual in the empire has the potential to be a sturdy, self sustaining island unto themselves. We’re built better than every sentient stain in all the known everything!! We have YET to encounter anything that even compares to our size and MIGHT. The last fertile cluster of Irkens died out a thousand decades ago. Every irken is cloned and easily replaced if not functioning at maximum capacity.

So, the desire to do more than indulge yourself is...low. There’s no reason to involve another irken in the matters of ones…..self congratulation.The practice of an EMOTIONAL and spiritual coupling fell out of favor long before we learned to control our natural impulses. 

If this is all true (and it is), how can I feel so much for the vicious neanderthal that calls me his? Dib was working on one of his drones as I sat in the dark pocket of the lower bunk bed, the bed itself built into the wall of a home on wheels. Dibs white rectangular fat assed Arr Vee was parked behind a dunky doughnuts so that we could stay out of the sightline of main roads and siphon power to recharge the vehicles battery. See, the outside of Dibs roaming home looks like any other shitty old caravan. In fact, it is more like Dib’s own mobile base. The battered shell outside the chrome and black and blue innards of the crisp sterile mobile lab are no more than a clever disguise. An infuriatingly smart trick. It’s a trick wrapped around stolen Irken technology and it’s to our collective benefit that everything stays hidden. It’s more comfortable being a prisoner, knowing that Dib has become secretive of his most prized belongings. Legs crossed, back pressed to the wall, chin in hand I was thinking my thoughts. 

My hand drifted down my neck to trace the soft top edge of the lined matte black metal collar locked around my neck. I felt at the difference in texture between the soft barely there fuzz on my skin and the smooth cool metal. It had been locked there for thirty one days, ten hours, six minuets and eleven seconds. It’s some fluke of nature that Dib is as smart as he is. At one point in my career as an invader I theorized that as  humans grew taller, their brain shrunk to make up for the increase in body mass. With Dibs lineage, this is less so. As an adult he is only more cunning, more dangerous, more cloyingly obsessive, more driven. He neglects his sleep to work. He works with the single minded diligence of an Irken researcher. His drive to excel in his field transcends the greasy smelly differences between our kinds. The efficiency he commands my own technology with rivals that of a practiced PAK technician. He’s studied the things I left behind on earth for 14 of his years, and it shows. With a single steady bare claw I traced the shape of the emblem embossed onto my collar tag. Dibs skull shaped symbol, displayed in shiny silver across the front of my neck at all times. An unnecessary humiliation that marks me as one of many stolen treasures. I feel its shape on the bare pad of my finger and silently kiss my teeth, stung by the reality that Dib thought of it first. If the world was just, if things made sense, things would have been flipped, things should have been different. If I really am the more advanced life form, I have no excuse for his subjugation. Thirty one days, ten hours, seven minutes and forty fucking seconds.

From my dark hideaway I could see him, hunched over his desk with the posture of a scoliosis king. A bright white desk light illuminates the front of him and reflects off the cobalt blue shine of his protective eyewear. The blue strips of emergency LED light that mark out the floor area catch the underside of his form, and stripe the wrinkles of his sloppy mechanics smock in toxic blue slivers. Through the gap in the curtains in front of him, I could make out a flickering yellow street light. Dibs sigh broke through the silence. He set down his tool and leaned back in his chair, away from the open shell of the drone he’d been repairing. I watched him drag a long fingered skeletal hand back through his greasy weird hair, and watched the unruly sprig of bone and black people fur spring back up as his hand passed it. “You’re quiet.” The human announced, obviously. Before he could twist the rotating chair around to face me I let my hand fall into my lap and folded both hands neatly together. “My brain is loud.” It needed no explanation, but Dib had demanded the cause. Slouched back in his chair, I watched him copy how I had my fingers folded into each other. His eyebrows arched high on his forehead and crinkled his sweaty brow. “You’re thinking? You’re capable of thought?” He’d lick his loathsome incisors and grin. “Damn, I’ll have to correct my notes. I thought the metal parasite on your back did all that for you.” “IT’S NOT A PARASITE! I TOLD YOU! It’s as ME as the rest of ME!” The corners of Dibs eyes crinkled with delight as he watched me retrace the fact. “MY PAK stores the thoughts of my brain jelly- it’s not responsible for my depthy, nuanced original thoughts. It’s all to my benefit. Your simple animal mind can’t BEGIN to perceive the archives of information, understanding and theorizing, locked away between my two magnificent thought centers.” On my knees at the side of the bed, I pointed to my skull, illustrating the thing Dib wished to understand but could never fully unravel. He reached up to peel the lenses of the goggles from the hollows of his eye sockets. As Dib deftly replaced them with the large circular frames of his glasses, he spat noise at me. “You’ve beaten that dead horse to a pulp, Zim. I don’t think your PAK is any different than a circuit board hardwired to the brain of a roach. You’re just as animal as I am. Only, your issues stem from being part evil cyborg, and mine stem from trauma.” Sunny as a blistering summers day, he grinned at me. Smugness radiates from him like pulsar blips, and my innards are assaulted by tight gripping trembles. I tense my core muscles to keep my tymbal from rattling at the slightest provocation. With my antenna pitched slightly forwards, I can smell the pheromones on his sweat. I crossed my arms over my chest, raised my chin, curled my lip at him to flash fangs. “Tch. Zim is no creature. You’re the animal here. You have the technology to advance yourselves into a race of space faring monstrosities, and yet all you want to occupy yourselves with is the pursuit of earthly pleasure. Your kind construct elaborate rituals just to try and rutt against each other. It could be so much simpler!!!” Dib scratched his chin, nonplussed. “Yeah, I never really got all that either. We do have dating apps and that can simplify things if you don’t account for catfishing, and people who straight up lie about themselves just to get their dick wet.” I grimaced at the mental image of a wet human phallus. I re-contextualized the image in my head and imagined the organ as Dibs. I bit the inside of my cheek. “Sooooo… what? As you get older you stop exchanging meats, and instead swap false personal information?” Dib laughed, quick and dry, brimming with unearned superiority. “Oh, fuck- what you mean like what we did back in grade school?” He sat up, leaned in closer to me. Elbows folded on his knees he hunched closer. I could smell his breath on my antenna. Coffee and sugar and bacteria filled my senses and the stalks flicked quickly backwards at the olfactory intrusion. “Yeah I don’t really know why we did that. I have a theory it’s all metaphorical, some kind of mind manipulation game the government was playing with kids to get them to associate “love” with “flesh”. I mean, you know what “meat” alludes to, right?” My face screwed up as I searched my brain for obvious answers. “MMHhn. HHHMN. Pain? Obviously, pain. Emotional...badness.Maybe hormone tampering. Disease?” Dib was already getting out his phone, snickering to himself as he does when he knows something I do not. I kept going. “Death? Blood? Salt? Disgust? The inevitability of the cycle of consumption? How you’re all doomed to be slaughtered by a greater predatory force?” “No. No- what?” He cocked an eyebrow as he looked back up at me. I wanted to rip the piercing out of it. “No. Shut up and look at these.” Dib held out his portable telephone slab to me and on it I saw a digital gallery of meat related memes. The phrase “beat my meat” was prevalent. There were photos of hammers pounding sickly off grey slabs of deceased pig muscle, and a man dusting a sprinkling of salt or spice over a carved rib of bovine corpse.

My head pulled back, giving me the appearance of multiple chins of disgust. My gut churned as I turned my head away. “Why would you show me those??! THEY’RE REVOLTING!!”  

Dib frowned, irritated, and put his phone away. “The “meat” those memes are talking about? It references human JUNK- y’know, genitalia? The memes aren’t talking about actual dead farm animals. And, that’s what I’m saying.” He put his large warm hand on my shoulder and continued, sure to hold my eye contact as he put the curl of his thick broad thumb against my cloth covered collar bone. I tensed my guts to keep my tymbal from rattling. “The government has skool children trade literal meat, so we get the idea early on that we’re supposed to exchange our "meat" with people we're attracted to. So that way, we learn to breed, and the men in power get more workers and soldiers and grease for the wheels of their self destructing machine.” My eyes flicked to look at his hand- the long pale olive fingers, the beaten fight scarred knuckles. My gaze then returned to Dibs humorless expression. “That’s a… problem?” Dib groaned, he rolled his eyes, he took his hand off my shoulder. 

It slid down to my hip, his free hand mirrored the motion  and I was lifted up from the bed and onto my humans lap. He held me there and growled at me in frustration. “YEAh! Zim! It’s a problem! If people are going to have sex it should be their own choice to do so, it isn’t something we should be culturally brainwashed into accepting! And we don’t NEED to do it! Some people are asexual- some people don’t want children and-” Dib rambled, on and on, laying out the injustices of an archaic capitalist system reliant on the breeding whims of its workers. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of the argument was fueled by Dibs xenophilic leanings and revulsion towards his own kind. I gave less than a quarter of a shit about the very political tangent my human was going off on, but I did like how Dibs lap made for a nice sitting surface, and how the heat of his angry body felt against my skin. As Dib spoke I smoothed out the front of his damp black wife beater absentmindedly, my expression unmoved. As my hand rested in the center of Dibs chest, I patted him, I then mock pouted at him. “Poor Dib, how he’s been rejected by his own kind at every turn. How hard it must’ve been for you! Brainwashed into needing the fuck, harassed by the need for fuck with noooo options for how to obtain it!!”

That got him to glare at me, and my spine tingled for it. I grinned as he countered; “You’re missing the point.” And I kept going. “Addicted to the unknown feeling he can never hope to attain, his vile monster meat might have shriveled up without the wetness- like an unwatered flower! Like a rotting length of carrot! Like a bundle of seaweed on a beach, growing drier and nastier the longer it’s left alone, collecting nothing but mold and botfly eggs and-” Dib grabbed me by the throat. His hand closed around my throat. He gave a warning squeeze as he told me to shut up and I peeped in response. 

Lowly, my tymbal rattled. 

Dibs narrowed angry eyes softened as he caught the surprised chirp of arousal. 

The words on my tongue stalled at the tight curling of his long fingers as they overlapped my neck.

“Even if that was how things worked, I’m not at risk of that anymore, am I?” 

Dib looked at me with a gaze that implored an answer, and I shrugged coyly. As he frowned and squeezed harder I gagged, my stomach fluttered and a chirp rattled out of me far clearer than the first. 

"Mhhn. That's what I thought."

Dib hummed, his human purr was deep and infuriating. He used his free hand to shift my placement on his long thigh, so that I straddled his thigh as he choked me. My eyes began to water as he raised up his knee and gently bounced my vent against his leg. 

There is nothing playmates can do for eachother that a squidgyblit cannot also achieve the end goal of. However, being choked while your nemesis grinds your pleasure center against his leg hits differently. 

I moaned with a grimace. I scowled at him as he drew another choked out squirm from my body. Unpleasant as the sensation of constriction around my throat was, we both knew the short term strangulation wouldn't kill me. It was a comfortable routine and Dib continued his gloating games. 

"You think you can resist all this? You think you can resist the urge to get absolutely wrecked- by someone who's going to lovingly put all your pieces back together when he's done? You need me as bad as I need you, you fucking moron."

He’s wrong. I don’t need him. But, his games are so amusing, they’re so entertaining. It’s such a thrill to be obsessed over. If he ever knew that, it would all go to his head. As bad as he already was, there was ample room for things to get worse. Dib pressed his fingers up underneath my jaw and held my mouth shut. My growl came out as a choking sound, I tried to open my mouth wider and he put his free hand on my shoulder as a threat. “Shhh. You don’t need to talk right now. Why don’t you show me what you want?” I glared, I tried to hack out a rebuttal, but he didn’t want that. Pink heat spread across the skin of my face plate, I chirped and ground my slick vent slowly against the black jean fabric of his thigh.  In doing so, I inspired an unhinged smile to pull across his gaunt snout.

He released my throat and my posture bent, towards him as I gasped. My throat opened back up, and my PAK hummed softly as it began to replenish its oxygen reserves.

Dib patted my warm cheek with his hand. “That’s a good boy.” He mocked softly. I was well within my right to bite him. His hands settled on the bone of my hips, I watched his eyes pass over my head and point towards the bunk behind me. The curious gentle twitching of my antenna caught the heat of his words as they stood on end, and I lifted my chin to glare up at him. “Is that really what your brain was being so “loud” over? You’re still angry about our arrangement?” My lip twitched, it’s downwards arch could not have been more dramatic. “HOW could I not be mad about it? You know better than ANYONE what a powerful beacon of mayhem my existence is- that I can be controlled by someone as misshapen and weasley as you is a blistering amount of shame for Zim- full offense.” As I spoke his fingers laid over the small of my back, he rubbed along my tense lower spine and his gentle ministrations forced my aggressively postured antenna to lower. “Oh, full offense taken. But I know you’re happy about it. Deep down, somewhere in your cold blooded brain, there’s a tiny Zim just glowing over how it feels to be fully appreciated. You’re a hideously evil space terror, I can’t take that away from you by loving you. And I wouldn’t want to.” The heat in my face wouldn’t stop, the fluttering sickly feeling in my guts wouldn’t go away. Like knotted strings being unwound or spider web being gently tugged by a trapped fruit fly, the vibrations of his words unwound my nerves. I had to look away from him to speak, the weight of his useless human affection was too heavy to bare the brunt of head on. It was blasphemy that something a horny ugly alien said to me could mean more than the approval of any tallest. “MMMhhNNG. Stop making words.” I growled politely. Dib chuckled without malice, he curled in over me to press his lips to the crest of my skull. “You love serving me.” “Phheh. Zim loves nothing.” “You love what I’ve done to you, Zim. And I can prove it.” Dib lifted me up to move us onto the bunk bed, and bumped the front of his proportionally massive head against the shelf of the top bunk. “Fuck-ow,” “HAH!”

I reached up to hit the button on the bottom of the shelf, and the top bunk folded up against the wall behind it. As the mechanical components hissed, Dib rubbed his five head. “Yeah? That’s funny? You think your master getting brain damage is just hilarious don’t you?”

“If my “master” (I used my fingers to make mock air quotes) is dumb enough to turn his brain to garbage when we aren’t even under attack, he’s not showing mastery over anything, is he?” Dib dropped me out of his arms and onto the bed, I landed with a yelp of surprise though the impact came painlessly. “HEY!”

With his teeth clenched and his eyes narrowed Dibs hands flew over my body, grabbing and groping, pulling off boots and leggings, striping me of the new uniform I’d been given, replacing dark blue cloth with an expanse of green skin. There was ample evidence to suggest Dibs need was as urgent as my own, from his feverish actions to the telltale tenting at the front of his tight emo boy pants. He needed me. I gave a quick shiver twitch at the feeling of air on my exposed skin, and hissed at him. He pinned my chest down with one hand, and sneered at me as the other cupped over my pelvis. “Your standards are way too fucking high for someone who screws up constantly.” I grinned at him with challenging eyes as my legs folded up and opened. “Where would your challenge be if I lowered them, Dib?” His middle finger split the wet slit of my vent open. He traced the sensitive pink interior and I had no choice but to draw in an afflicted breath. The finger slid deeper, he brushed the base of my wriggling dwarf ovipositor, and the distraction sent my antenna fully back. “You, crave conquest.” I crooned, distracted. Sensations continued. I felt the shivers of pleasure in the back of my teeth, my tymbal rattled with quick twitching clicks each time his middle finger teased the inch length of my pink wiggly hot button. “You don’t know what I crave, Zim.” I cackled, light and airy and I gripped the blankets beside my face. I bit my lip and looked at him. His thumb slid into my slit and he gently pinched his fingers around my “dick”. I gasped sharply. I kicked out a heel as he pressed firmly enough to make me whine. I could not help how my eyes wanted to roll back into my skull at the continued friction, but I swear I caught the reddening of his cheeks before vision became meaningless. I do know. I chirped, I moaned, I rubbed my cheek into the soft blankets stained with floral detergent as the tingling feeling of goodness rolled from my loins up the rest of my body. I felt good, and I made it LOOK good. Dib likes to watch me writhe, and in return he  rubbed over and over, again and again he rubbed, till it seemed I was breaching a new level of tingly bliss with every passing second. “But, I know what you want, don’t I?” I groaned in disagreement, his fingers stalled on my sex, then his thumb rubbed small twitching strokes at it’s base. I trembled all over at the teasing agitation, and breathed out hard. “MHn, you’ve… got AN idea, of it.” Dibs motions were less practiced as he set out to release his tube steak from it’s denim cage, but he didn’t move his hand from the source of my sultry keening sounds. He wouldn’t, I had been so SO fucking good to him. Letting him work uninterrupted without a single complaint of boredom. I hadn’t tried to attack him in DAYS. It was a personal best record at the time. I was overdue for a reward.

“UHM, EXCUSE YOU??” Dib took his hand out of my vent and I sat bolt upright on my elbows, glaring at him in a sex flushed daze as I watched him inch the clothing down his nearly non-existent ass. “I WAS BUSY. Who said you could STOP?”

He pushed me back down, grabbed my leg and sharply fixed himself between my open thighs. “I’m not stopping, you know I’m not stopping you shrill shitty bedbug.” It spiraled into more routine. In the act of copulation I could always count on the sensation of his fingers sliding into my orifice to pull it’s tight walls steadily open. I could feel all the bumps and ridges, the rough calluses, the finger pad curling around my core and pulling delicious sensation from the thing inside me that made my guts twitch and tremble and rattle like a sack of angry crickets. It didn’t take much. I didn’t need long, and he wasn’t willing to hold off from indulging in the ambrosial clutch of a wanting Irken tunnel. I groaned as he withdrew three of his fingers from me, pulling with them a thin strand of pinkish slick that broke and collapsed over my cleft. I trembled, I hissed in disgust with myself as Dib aligned the head of his extraterrestrial shaft with it’s destination. As he looked down on me, he commanded. “Beg.” “What?” My head cocked, one antenna lifted while the other lowered, my hand reached up to wipe the pearling sweat from my brow. “Really???” He ground his length into the gooey mess he’d left my vent in, I grit my teeth as my tymbal rumbled. “Yeah. Really Zim.” “Mhgghh.” Eyes closed I tensed as the friction of dick on dick action swayed my compliance. “ Plleeeeeaaaase.” “Please what?~” I tried to scowl at Dibs goading, but his grinding made me bite my own tongue. “You have to say it, pet. I won’t give it to you unless you ask properly.” The nickname is a scorning stinging wound that burbles and pops like a pollution born wound, it feels like a hot sudden burn, it catches me the way his fingers do when they clamp around my most intimate points. In the most pathetic of tones and volumes, I answer my mate; “Please, please fill me with your cum, master Dib.” I was rewarded by a hand coming to stroke across my skull. He cradled the dome of my head and caught one of my antenna stalks between his fingers. With the same care he gave my cock, he gently strokes the black hairs to reward me. “Good boy. Good bug.” When the rutting commences sense tumbles out the window in a broken screeching fury, like an escaped chimp on meth, like a rat on fire making a break for water. I lose my fucking mind to the reactions of my body. The vehicle rocks under us with the power of Dibs mighty  thrusts.He fills me so deeply with his oversized ovipositor, I can feel his pulsing want bulging against the skin of my stomach at full hilt. When he finally spills in me I am so wound up that I have already hit my climax twice over. I snarl, I lean into him and the lips I have put to his salty skin part so I can taste his sweat on my tongue. My jaws open wider, and as Dib grunts, at the height of his peak, I bite hard enough to puncture his fragile skin on the edge of my teeth. The red taste of metal is smeared over my lips, on my tongue, over the pasty tan palette of his shoulder muscle. Dib hisses air in through his teeth. “You couldn’t- you couldn’t help yourself, could you?” His panting breath stalls his words, a red tinted smile spread across my fuck drunk face. I licked my lips as I replied, and watched a thin trail of human red meet up with the black fabric of his shirt and diffuse into it. 

“No, no I couldn’t.” I hummed back at him. In the state of high endorphine swing I am not fully myself. Everything was brighter, lighter, more exciting. A hazy happy drugged exisence takes hold of me and sways me to Dibs whims. As he pulls out of me, he sighs with a shivering buzz. “Then, you’re not done yet.” In a matter of minutes Dib is redressed while I remain naked, wrists and ankles shackled to the four rectangular points of the bunk via metal shackles that the walls of the Arr Vee spat out. I was only just beginning to come out of my fogy mental state when my human retrieved a black blunt vibration wand from a drawer of tormenting devices. Over the following hour I grew more and more delirious as Dib wrung my body out for increasingly mind crushing orgasms. Things stopped having meaning, Dibs taunting words lost their sense, and I rattled straight through to my bones. That I could not pull my limbs in towards myself and protect my body from the assault of sensation had at one point been disquieting, but then and there, it encouraged me to let go of my resistance. I had let go of my fruitless delusions, I had given myself up to Dib, and Dib did not stop till I was crying with the intensity of multiple peaks.

It made up for everything else that had happened. The blinding beacon of his smothering affections absorbed me in it’s garish embrace as he unshackled me from the walls. He cleaned me, he held me in a folded blanket  till the shaking of my overwhelmed body stopped. My prickly insults bounced off him like harmless pebbles of sand.  The Dib stroked over my antenna, groomed them with the sex scented oils of his fingers, the Arr Vee reaked of the smell of our sins. Accepting Dibs terms of affection is illegal, but I’m defective anyways, aren’t I?

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations

This is a fic that I originally told myself I wouldn’t post any of until it was complete.   Evidently I lied.  It’s not complete but I do have 21k words and eight chapters built up already.  It was meant to be Gordon’s story of how he ended up in WASP but the other brothers have decided to put in an appearance too (I blame the boys and also @willow-salix​ for encouraging them)

I’ve also set myself a secondary challenge with this to produce a piece of art for each chapter.  I’m hoping to try out different styles and hopefully make some progress over time.  This first bit was very much about getting a feel for the tools (a challenge seeing as I first have to wrestle the drawing pad away from the small person who just likes being able to make rainbow glitter pictures)

Anyway....

xoxoxox

Summary: Jeff Tracy has very strong beliefs about what he expects from his sons.  Sometimes his expectations are at odds with what his sons themselves want from life, especially Gordon.  

Chapter One

The office was tiny, barely large enough for the single desk it contained.  It didn’t really matter.  This room no longer had a permanent resident. State wide cuts to the careers service and an investment in online guidance meant that careers advisors were stretched across districts; a few lonely individuals doing the rounds of the high schools to dispense reassurance and wisdom in statutory ten minute blocks.  As a consequence this area of the school hadn’t been refurbished in many years and had a general air of neglect.  The carpet tiles had been worn bald in a clear path to the two chairs in the room, one in front of the desk and one behind.  The painted cinderblock walls were covered in posters, bleached and faded by the California sun, bearing inspirational quotes.  

 You can do anything!

 Be the change you want to see

 Aim for the skies

 The posters mirrored the sentiments he had heard at home too many times.  Although at home they tended to come tinged with disappointment as he handed over yet another report card that didn’t meet the standard set by the siblings who had gone before.  Yale, Harvard and the Denver School of Advanced Technology had already accepted a Tracy.  Gordon just couldn’t match up to their lofty heights of academic success.  He was bright but that just got overshadowed by the glittering trio above him.  Anything he did had always been done better by at least one, but more often all, of his older brothers.  

 The pressure to achieve academic excellence had lessened slightly as his swimming training had ramped up in intensity.  As competitions progressed from local, to state, to national, to international the family had grown to accept that this was no passing hobby.  But Gordon still lived with the constant threat that he would be pulled out the pool if his grades dropped too low.  It was taking all his energy to keep on top of his school work to the required B- average insisted on by his father so that he could keep doing the one thing he felt truly good at.  The one thing that set him apart from his over-achieving brothers.

 At least the teachers didn’t judge him or at least couldn’t judge him against his more intellectual siblings.  As soon as John had graduated high school and started at Harvard, an accomplishment for which he was several years younger than the average after skipping a couple of grades, Jeff had moved himself and the youngest boys away from rural Kansas to Los Angeles.  The old farmhouse was retained but was no longer a permanent base for the family.

 The move to the city was a strategic decision by Jeff and one that was only delayed in order to allow John to complete his high school education without the disruption of an inter-state move.  For Jeff it meant the ability to site himself in the commercial heartlands expected of the business that was flourishing under his direction.  It also meant he was able to get back each night to care for his youngest children, even if he sometimes didn’t make it back to the apartment before midnight.

 It may have been expected that Jeff Tracy, an individual rapidly climbing the lists of America’s richest and most influential individuals, would have used the move as an opportunity to enrol his youngest sons in the finest educational establishment Los Angeles had to offer. But Jeff Tracy was a man raised in Kansas wheat fields.  A man for whom his own success and the successes of his eldest three sons had been built on the foundations of learning delivered in small town rural schools. What was good enough for him was good enough for all his children.  There were no private tutors or exclusive schools.  Gordon and Alan found themselves enrolled in the regular district school with its air of neglect and underfunding.

 A large part of Gordon really wanted to be back in his math class.  Not because he had any great fondness for the subject but because he found it hard in a way the others didn’t.  He was not above digging out Virgil’s old annotated English texts or Scott’s history files if he wanted a bit of extra insight for his essays but math was different. Any notes left by his siblings were generally an incomprehensible scrawl.  Not that any of them had made many math notes; they all seemed to just get it.  

 Gordon still remembered the first time after John had headed off to Harvard that he had called for help with his homework.  John had tried to be patient but there had been an unmistakeable tone of annoyance accompanied by a condescending eye roll clearly visible on the call screen.  Gordon had been left in no doubt that John found the idea of a Tracy struggling with algebra to be frankly insulting.  Virgil had displayed rather more patience and understanding but the pity that came with the help was too much for Gordon to take.  He didn’t want to find out what Scott’s reaction would be.  The golden haloed first-born was becoming increasingly distant and superior as his career in the Air Force progressed.  

 And so Gordon ploughed on alone.  Taking study guides to swim competitions to read between the heats.  Trying to juggle the conflicting demands of Team USA and Team Tracy.  The former striving for physical excellence and peak performance, the latter demanding excellence across the board.

 The careers advisor on the far side of the desk looked up at the young man sat opposite her.  The school records showed he was academically above average.  He had prospects.  

 The students that entered her office tended to fall into three broad categories.  There were the ones that didn’t really need their regulation advice session having already got their chosen career path mapped out, whether that involved furthering their education or just jumping straight into the local jobs market. There were those that were bewildered and clueless about where to turn next.  Then there were those that just didn’t seem to care and who drifted through her office much like they drifted through the rest of their school career. She wondered which she would encounter in this interview.

 “So Gordon” she smiled at the teenager, “have you considered what you want to do after you graduate high school?”

 The teen looked at her with a slightly surprised expression.

 “Swim, ma’am”  

 It was said bluntly and without preamble, accompanied by a mid-western politeness that the move to the city hadn’t shaken off. Stated as fact rather than as some hypothetical idea.  She had encountered plenty of teenagers with dreams of making it big on the sporting circuit but very few made it professional.  Usually the dreams were of football or basketball; swimming was a new one to add to her list.  

 “Swim?”

 “Yes ma’am, swim.  I’ve already got my qualifying time sorted.  Come the summer I’ll be at the Olympics.”

 Cogs clicked into place.  This was her nineteenth interview of the day and the students were beginning to blur together, even with the supplementary notes put together by the tutors that actually got to see these kids each day.  The low attendance scores suddenly made sense. Gordon Tracy, the rising star of the swimming circuit.

 “Of course.”  She flustered slightly over her notes.  It was a new experience to have a member of the Olympic squad sat before her. But she was obliged to be a sounding board for his career choice for the next ten minutes.  She couldn’t just send him back to class off the back of a one word answer.  She decided to stick to familiar territory; if they know the plan, find out the backup plan.

 “Have you considered what you will do after swimming? You have good grades here.  I’d recommend making a college application.”

 The youngster gave a hollow sort of chuckle. “Not good enough for anywhere that matters.  I think I’ll stick to what I’m good at, ma’am.”

 The interview was brought to a close by the final bell of the day and Gordon was glad to be able to scoop up his rucksack and escape the claustrophobic confines of the office.  He was sure the careers advisor meant well but he felt that the session was a pretty pointless experience.  Actually being in class would have been a better use of his time.

 As he reached the front of the school he spied Alan waiting for him in their usual spot.  The younger boy was scuffing his shoes in the dirt while waiting, the bored expression of his face breaking into smile when he saw his older brother.  They set off on the short walk back the apartment.

 “Good day, Al?”

 “Yeah, ok”

 “Much homework?”

 Alan grimaced.  He was about as fond of homework as Gordon was.

 “I’ll take that as a yes.  Well make sure you get on with it as soon as we get in.  No video games until it’s finished.”

 “Yes Sir!”  The response was accompanied by a mocking salute which earned Alan a gentle whack on the back of the head.

 “Hey, less of that.  I’m not Scott.  But seriously Al, just make sure you get it done.  I’ve got an extra training session tonight but only a short one; you’ll have the place to yourself until about 6.  I’ll sort us some dinner once I’m home.”

 “Will you be able to play video games with me once you’re back.”

 “Sorry, I’ll have my own work to get on with.”

 Alan’s shoulders slumped dejectedly and his feet dragged along the sidewalk.

 “Another quiet night then.”

 Gordon hated seeing Alan so flat.  The pair spent a significant amount of time together and, like all his brothers, he had a desire to protect the youngest.  He wrapped an arm around the shoulders of the shorter boy and was rewarded with a shove in the ribs.  Evidently anything even slightly resembling a hug in public was out this close to the school grounds.

 “I’ll see what I can do.”

 They had reached the apartment by this point. Gordon dashed inside to grab his swimming kit and left Alan with strict instructions to make sure he got all his homework done.  He didn’t like leaving Alan home alone but it was a regular occurrence now.  Their father wouldn’t be home for hours and with all the others moved away the youngest two had got used to fending for themselves.  He left Alan with a promise that they would spend some time together later.

 The training session passed in a blur of drills.  There were now more days with both morning and evening training in preparation for the Olympics and the extra workouts were taking their toll.  By the time Gordon reached the apartment his shoulders ached and all he wanted to do was stand under a scalding hot shower before collapsing in to bed.  Unfortunately he knew he had other responsibilities to attend to first.

 Gordon rolled his shoulders, plastered on a smile and scanned the entry system for the apartment.

 xoxoxox

 Normally weekday meals were Gordon’s domain or he was at least there to help out if Alan ventured into the kitchen.  But he had completed his homework quicker than expected and in the boredom of the empty apartment it had seemed like a good idea to start dinner.

 He took the pack of greens from the fridge, prodded the pan of pasta and gave the chicken a quick stir.  As he sliced the greens an acrid smell assaulted his nostrils.  The chicken, which had been cooking nicely until now seemed to have chosen the moment he took his eye off the ball to catch and stick to the bottom of the pan.  Carefully prepared strips of prime breast disintegrated and crumbled as he tried to scrape the dried out offerings from the base of the pan.  He cursed, turned out the stove, and went back to preparing the greens.  

 The clock ticked closer to 6pm.  Steam rose in billows from the pan of greens which had reached a rapid boil.  Perhaps he should have waited until Gordon was actually home before cooking the vegetables, the shredded leaves were starting to disintegrate.  

 At least the pasta should be ok.  

 The pasta which wasn’t boiling.

 More cursing filled the air as Alan realised his error. In his attempt to salvage the chicken he had turned off the heat under the pasta as well.  Perhaps he should have just let Gordon cook the whole thing. This was a mistake.  All he wanted to do was free up some time in the hope of getting a game in with Gordon and instead he had ruined everything.  He wondered if it was too late to dig out the emergency credit card and call for take out.  He would just have to make sure Dad took it out of his allowance rather than Gordon’s.

 The sound of the front door broke through his thoughts.

 “Hi Alan.”  The voice echoed up the hallway.  Footsteps approached, only pausing briefly as a kit bag was launched into a room, landing in a corner with a heavy thud.  Too late to salvage anything now, within moments Gordon was in the doorway.  “Hey, you cooked.  Thanks”

 “No need to sound so surprised.  Don’t thank me til you’ve tried it though.  It’s, um, not really gone to plan.”

 “I’m sure it’s fine.  Want me to drain these pans while you get the plates out?”

 Alan signalled his agreement by delving into the crockery cupboard leaving Gordon to drain and stir together the contents of the various pans.  He wasn’t exactly looking forward to the meal but Gordon seemed grateful to be spared the chore.

 Dinner was everything Alan expected it to be.  They sat opposite sides of the kitchen counter, Gordon shovelling down vast quantities of noodles while he picked at his own much smaller portion.  The meat was as dry as cardboard and stuck in his throat alongside the shards of undercooked pasta. Perhaps he ought to pay more attention in the kitchen, especially as Gordon was likely to be training more and more over the coming months.

 Gordon’s fork clattered onto the empty plate before Alan was even half way through.  He looked up to see eyes the colour of mahogany under the harsh kitchen lights looking at him with concern.

 “You ok?  You’ve hardly eaten.”

 “I’m fine.  Just wishing I’d ordered us a pizza instead.”  He waved a forkful of charred chicken to emphasise his point.

 This earned him a small chuckle and at least dispelled the worry.

 “Hey, no complaints from me over it.  I think my coach would have something so say about that too, we’ll save the pizza for the summer.  I’ll start clearing up while you finish off.  You still want that game?”

 Alan grinned.  Suddenly the pasta was a lot easier to stomach if there was a chance to thrash his brother in the goblin realms at the end of it.  

 xoxoxox

 As the clock ticked past midnight and into the small hours of the morning Gordon lay in the darkness, sleep refusing to come.  His normally comfortable bed felt too lumpy and he turned this way and that.  First facing the blank wall next to the bed, then the ceiling and finally the open room. A shelf of trophies glinted faintly in the light that managed to spill around the edges of the heavy blackout curtains.  Back in Kansas Gordon had rarely bothered closing his curtains; he had always been an early riser and was usually up long before the dawn in order to get to early morning training or fit in a gym session before school.  But the pervading yellow glow of the city from the ever present light pollution wasn’t like the peaceful moon.  On nights like this the city felt oppressive and he yearned for the open fields of home, as he still though of Kansas.  Gordon might now be able to access better training facilities and coaches which had enhanced his Olympic prospects but he had never embraced city life.

 He was exhausted.  The training session after school had been intense and he had thrown himself into the drills with maximum effort.  The gaming session had probably been a mistake but he hadn’t wanted to let Alan down.  The kid had gone to the trouble of trying to make dinner and save him a job.  Ok, the noodles had been still firm to the point of being slightly crunchy and the greens had been on the verge of turning to soup but it’s the thought that counts.  It was calories.  It was from his prescribed meal plan.  It was mostly edible.  He appreciated the level of consideration shown by a teenager who shouldn’t have any more pressing concerns than getting his chemistry paper completed and working out whether Ellen from World Studies class had a crush on him.

 His own homework had been its usual slog.  He wrote until his eyes became sticky and the notes he was reading became a jumbled blur.  Sleep should have enveloped him within minutes of climbing into bed but instead the words from his earlier interview kept churning around his head.  The thoughts drowning out even the gnawing ache in his overworked muscles.  

 What about after?

 He had always managed to stave these thoughts off before.  Whenever his father had made comments about future plans he has always managed to deflect the conversations.  He didn’t have room in his head for anything other than visualising the dream.  Why on earth should the words of a complete stranger, parroted from some state approved script, make life any different.

 He was a Tracy.  A name synonymous success and achievement.  He had found his calling in a way that set him apart from the others.  

 He was going to swim.

 He was going to represent his country.

 He was going to win.

 He ran through the visualisation that had been a constant companion in his head for years.  He could feel the flow of the water over his body as his muscles flexed in perfect synchronicity.  He could hear the roar of the crowd as the results flashed up on the scoreboard.  He rode the wave of emotion as the medal was presented.  This was the moment that would mark him out as more than just the fourth son of an astronaut.  Gordon Cooper Tracy.  A name in his own right.

 With the sound of the national anthem still ringing in his ears Gordon tried to visualise the next steps.  He tried to force the dream beyond its current conclusion but instead found only darkness.  

[cherryyharryy]

Burning Words

Chapter Three: I’m the one who grades you

WC: 6.4k

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The air is sticky, humid, suffocating. The sun barely crosses the horizon, but it feels like it’s been on duty for hours. I tug at the collar of my sweatshirt to circulate some air between my skin and clothes, but I think it just makes things worse. 

My apartment isn’t too far from class. Technically off campus, but close enough that I don’t have to worry about owning a car. But days like these make me wish I had one. I run my sleeve over my forehead and slow my gait once I’m in view of all the early risers who are scrambling to get to class on time. 

I reach the English building, rounding the corner once I’m inside to see Harry and Danielle arguing beside the door to our class. I swallow past a dry throat and take a few steps back so I’m out of sight, checking the time on my phone. It’s two ‘til eight. My nerves prickle with the idea of being late, but each time I think about walking by those two, my legs refuse to move. 

He’s animated, gesticulating with purpose, brows knitted together, ascetic, defeated. Despite the empty halls, I cannot decipher a single word, only strings of half-bitten syllables coming from the both of them. Something about manipulation and did you seriously think and you owe me. Danielle remains calm, at least from what I can tell of the back of her head, while Harry’s face grows red. 

I only watch for a few minutes until someone exits a room opposite our class. Harry and Danielle separate on impulse. She’s the first to leave, storming off down the hall with her hair flowing behind her. Harry stays put, his head bent at the neck, staring at the ceiling. He’s frozen for a moment or two, and then he shakes out his shoulders, sucks in a breath, and heads into class. 

I slip inside, and take my usual seat not long after, and fan myself discreetly with the note cards I made last night. Dr. Pierce begins class today, straying off topic as I’ve found he’s keen on doing, until Harry redirects the discussion by clearing his throat. 

“Ah, yes, Mr. Styles has your graded reports to hand back.” 

“Most everyone did exceptionally well.” Harry steps back to the desk and gathers a stack of papers. I gulp. “Some of you however, didn’t seem to grasp the instructions...I hope you can learn from this mistake before any future assignments.”

Was he looking at me? Was he talking to me? Surely the shake of his head was intended for someone else. Maybe the guy in the back who falls asleep each class, or the girl who’s missed three weeks in a row. Maybe—

“As I was saying, if you have any questions or concerns, drop by my office sometime this week.”

He straightens his posture and begins reciting the names of everyone in the room. One by one, students shuffle to the front. When my name is called, I might as well be marching up to a guillotine. 

I know I did well. Jessie read it, my mom, Ms. Bortnick, the student writing center...other than a handful of grammar mistakes...this was just a book report after all. Why am I so nervous?

“Remember, if you’d like to discuss your grade you can see me during my office hours. And my office hours only.”

Don’t expect a perfect score, don’t expect a perfect score...

Fuck. Red marks are everywhere, between the lines, in the margins, and topping it all off is a giant 27 circled at the top. No. Fuck no.

I look up and Harry is already pulling up a powerpoint, ready to continue the discussion on The Catcher in the Rye, but I can barely make it back to my seat. Where is my seat? What planet am I on? What the hell is happening? Hypothermia, suffocation, immolation...which one, pick one, it doesn’t matter anyway.

I find my chair and sink down. He’s cruel, possibly morbid, because this is a sick joke. And I don’t want to hear him or see him or feel his movements through the vibrations when he’ll undoubtedly find his way to my row and tap on the desk, so I pull out my headphones like the kind of student my grade represents and pretend the last five minutes did not just happen.

*** 

It’s the guy who chews his gum unreasonably loud that nudges me awake as he’s leaving. He looks back over his shoulder, smacking away, to see that I get up. Everyone’s just an ass today. And there to greet me upon knuckling away the fogginess in my eyes is Harry’s handwriting in what might as well be my blood. I don’t even want to know what horrible thing I did to deserve this.

“Excuse me, Dr. Pierce?” 

He’s cleaning up his desk, smiling when he looks up to me. “What can I help you with?”

I look down at my report, and hold it out between pinched fingers like it’s toxic. “M—my grade. It’s...bad. Really bad,” I dry laugh. “I’ve never done this...bad.”

“Well, Mr. Styles graded these reports so you’re better off asking him. You can leave it with me, but it’ll be awhile before I get a chance to look at it. I still have last week’s quizzes to finish up for you all.” He’s still smiling. This is just a joke for all of them, isn’t it? “But he’ll have whatever answers you’re looking for.”

I turn, slowly, like a child in trouble, to see Harry standing by the door. His shoulders slouch unusually low and rigid, and his nose is a hot red. He’s toeing at the ground while students file out of the room. 

I’ve only ever approached him one other time, and it was just because Dr. Pierce had to step out for a phone call. A couple of weeks ago, we had to partner up for a writing assignment, and to no one’s surprise, our uneven numbered class left me standing alone by my desk, flashbacks from middle school invading my brain. 

With great reluctance, I inched my way to the front where Harry was sat at Pierce’s desk, busy grading some of our work. I cleared my throat which earned his attention, and bitterly told him of my dilemma, and how I had no problem in working alone. 

“No, that’s not necessary. We can find you a pair to work with. You can just divide the work up between three people.” 

He wore a smile as he led the way back towards the class, clapping his hands to silence the chatter. 

“We’re going to have one group of three, any volunteers?”

If a meteor had been headed for Earth in the very place I was standing, I wouldn’t have moved. 

“Anyone?” He asked, when not a single pair made a move to accept me. “It’ll be less work on you individually,” he bargained. 

He had turned to me, keeping his smile up as best he could and motioned for me to follow him. If I was someone else, someone who didn’t fight off a panic attack each time I had to type out an email or place my order at a restaurant, I would have spoken up. I would have told Harry—Mr. Styles—that I didn’t need his help. That I was fine by myself. Or that I could have found my own group. That I really, really didn’t want to work with Danielle, despite not having a reason. 

But I am me, unfortunately, so in a blur of a memory I want to forget, the next thing I remember is sliding in a desk beside the girl who kissed Harry on the cheek when he bent down to pick up her pencil. 

He blushed and told her to stop. She didn’t, going in for another before he could say anything else. The other girl just cooed at them like they were puppies, and for once I was thankful no one pays attention to me, or else my eye roll might have rubbed them the wrong way. 

“This is due before class is over, so get to work.”

And, as expected, as my life typically turns out, I was responsible for the entire assignment. I wrote nearly three pages worth of quotes from To Kill a Mockingbird while Danielle talked about Harry and how cute he is, and how good of a grade she’s gonna get, and how he’s just too sweet for his own good.

“Do you need anything, y/n?” Harry’s voice shakes me from my thoughts. 

I look around to see we’re the only two left. He’s closing out of the powerpoint, raising his brows at me from behind the desk. 

I shake my head. No. This is not what I want. Fuck. I’m back at my seat, shoving this wretched report into my bag. He says my name as I’m leaving but I don’t bother looking back. 

•••

I stuff my change into my purse and bid the cashier a soft goodbye. My steps heading out of the grocer’s are timid, avoiding slick spots of water that customers drag in from the rain. A woman steps through the door, the bell shrieking in her presence as she shakes the rain off her coat. I brush what I can off my arm. She sees me but doesn’t say a word. 

A clap of thunder greets me once I’m outside. It’s chilly, and yet I still feel like it’s summer. And here I thought that Georgia weather was crazy. 

Bustlings of mothers and their small children, college kids, and an elderly man hurry past me while I secure myself under the green and white striped awning. Curtains of water pour down from all four sides; it disrupts my view. I have four plastic grocery bags gripped in my hands, a headache looming at the base of my neck, and the growing acceptance that there is no way I am going to make it to the student lounge unscathed by Mother Nature: I had forgotten  my umbrella. 

With a grumble I’ll share with Jessie tomorrow, I burst through the shroud of freezing rain, only to plow right into a hard body. 

“M’so sorry, sorry,” I throw out. I earn a slew of curse words from the old man, and with nothing more in return, I am left to scramble along the sidewalk for the contents of my bags alone. Thick, icy drops hammer onto me. 

Until they’re not. 

A veil of rain encloses around me. When I look up the clouds are gone, but a large, leopard print umbrella has taken their place.  

What pains me more than the source itself, is the tingling electric shocks pricking me from the inside-out at the sound of a deep, British accent. It vibrates, I conclude, and I feel it in my ribs, strumming, burning, like making a snowball with your bare hands. The sound is conflicting. I don’t know if his voice is noise or not. I swallow and yank a box of tampons off the gritty sidewalk. He says my name. 

And I don’t bother to look up, hoping he’ll carry on and leave me to endure the rest of this embarrassing moment by myself. I’ve had practice. I’m good at it. But then he’s reciting my name once again, and I don’t know how I feel about a man using what is mine to get my attention. I sigh roughly, and peer up to Harry hovering over me. 

He’s in nice clothes, hair plastered to his face, translucent skin, red nose. His mouth moves, but all I hear is rain. Lightning strikes off in the distance and I wonder what his eyes would look like in the heat. I’m still kneeling on the ground when he crouches down. 

“I’m busy, so if you don’t—”

“Do you need help?”

“No.” I have to crawl and stretch my arms in different directions to gather the rest of my things. He does the best he can to follow me with the umbrella, and once I’m back on my feet with my arms full, he steps forward so I’m protected once again. I want to cry. 

“Do you—would you like a ride home?”

“No.” I make it three steps before he’s back by my side and shielding me again. 

“It looks like you do.”

“Then you’re obviously not looking hard enough. I don’t need your help.” I linger for a second, my face scorched with a black heat, realizing those are the words I chose, before attempting to step away. 

His cologne persists even through the downpour, growing stronger as he repeats his actions and brings the two of us together once more, only this time he cradles my elbow with his free hand and urges me to move out of the way of two teenage girls. “We’re blocking traffic.”

“You are. I need to go, so if you don’t mind…” I wriggle my arm and he slips his hand off my skin. 

“The walk back to the dorms will take you twenty minutes.”

“That would be a problem if I was going to the dorms. I have my own apartment.”

“Where—wait—Stone Bridge? By that small park? That’s even farther.” His accent is thicker, ellipsed and coated in syrup. I blame the rain. “Let me drive you over there.”

I’m soaked, so much so that my bones are getting wet. No one looks good in the rain. But he does and I know I do not. And he teaches literature, I do not. He has a car and I do not. He is something and I am... I’m backing up now. I’m confident that my soul has left my body and is hovering over me, shaking her head, not wanting to associate herself with me any longer. I wonder who he would pick to protect from the rain now? Me or her? I can only hope the mascara dragging down my face will be enough to scare him off. Go help her, she’s innocent and I am not. 

“There is no way in hell that you’re doing me any favors, okay. I’d rather lightning burn me to a crisp. At least I wouldn’t have to see you in class ever again.”

“Is this about your grade?”

“No! It is not about my grade! It’s about you—”

I lose my footing, scrambling to catch myself, but I fail triumphantly when my entire backside collides with the sidewalk. I wish a flaming bolt of lightning had struck me right there on the sidewalk outside of Jo’s Market; it’d be more convenient. But instead of sizzling away on the pavement, I am holding back tears with every ounce of strength I can summon while Harry abandons his umbrella to fall to his knees beside me. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. 

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Here, lemme help you up.”

I don’t have the energy to push away his hands as they find appropriate places to support my body. I rise at an angle, partially because all my things are back on the ground and now I have to start all over, and the more presiding reason is the stifling pain in my ankle. His fingers dig into my arm and my side, somehow strong but not terribly so. Why did the image of small fingerprint bruises cross my mind? Hopefully the rain will cleanse my thoughts.

“Can you stand?” He asks. I haven’t added weight to my leg, and he gets his answer before I can respond. “Your ankle—here.” Smoothly, he maneuvers himself so my arm is draped over his shoulder, his arm wrapping around my back as a crutch. We are stuck together, forming our own three-legged race towards the parking lot. All that big talk I did moments ago, and now I’m not sure if I’m allowed to protest. I forget how to speak anyway, so it doesn’t matter. 

The seats of his car are leather, and I am glued to them. It smells like him and I find myself taking deeper breaths, ushering his perfume as deep into my lungs as they allow. It makes my eyes flutter and my cheeks warm. My soul is missing out. The air is a sedative, and she could use the rest.  

“I’m goin’ to get your stuff. Wait here.”

I’m not sure if he is trying to be funny, but I don’t laugh. He returns a minute later and tosses my bags into the trunk, folds his umbrella and shakes it out as if that would cut down on the flood the both of us are bringing into his car, and slides into the driver’s seat. He slips his glasses off and uses his shirt to clean the lenses. 

“I think I’m okay. I mean I think I can walk.” I try not to wince. 

His eyes are different in the car than they were outside, and even more different than in class. “You can’t even put your foot down in here.” He rolls his eyes and suddenly I don’t want his scent in my body any longer. “I’m—just let me take you. It’s a ten minute drive.”

“Not to my apartment.”

“What?” He puts the car back in park after having backed up an inch. 

“My roommate’s boyfriend is visiting. He lives in Wyoming.” I pause, but realize it’s not enough information. “I promised to stay out for a bit tonight so they could...y’know...catch up.”

“Well what were you planning on doing then?”

“Was just gonna, I don’t know, hang around campus. There’s a rec room.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You can’t go sit, soaking wet in a cold ass lounge for hours with a busted ankle.”

“It’s just twisted, it’ll ease up fine by morning.”

“Is there somewhere else you can stay? A friend’s room?” He starts the car again and I squirm to face him, changing my mind immediately. His eyes are swollen, beaten, a criminal red. I’ve only been high a few times, but I’ve cried enough to hold a record. 

“No I’ll be fine, just take me back to school, please. The library is fine, it’s closer.”

“I’m not—I can’t,” he sighs, “Okay, what about the hospital? They can take a look at you.”

“No. No thanks.”

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving you all alone. What if something happens? You can’t even walk, love.”

I ignore the flush of heat making its way from the top of my head to the twinging pain down below. In fact, I ignore a lot of things, like how drops of water take their time crawling down his neck, or how his shirt adheres to his body like a second skin. His knuckles swivel and pulse with each turn he makes. And then I remember I’m moving.

“What um,” he clears his throat and his fingers tighten around the wheel, knuckles no longer dancing. “My—I could take you to my apartment. S’not far from yours.”

I keep my gaze trained on his hands. I need to look at him but his eyes would be too much, his face would be too much. It’s odd, the shift in everything but my focus. He is no longer the man that stands tall in front of a group of people and speaks with purpose. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, and before I utter a response, he’s offering up more of his thoughts.

“Only if you want to, of course. I’m not trying—I don’t wanna pressure you, given our...dynamic.”

“Our dynamic?”

“Yeah...you’re my—I mean we’re...fuck. I don’t want you to think I’m implying anything, or that our relationship inside the classroom will be affected either way. My roommate’s out of town with family, so, there’s a spare room. That’s what I’m saying.”

We are at a red light. The wipers squeal and squelch against the glass, back and forth, rhythmic. I grow tired, drowsy in the warmth of his car, and then he starts driving again. We’re moving along below the speed limit, and when he stops at a crosswalk, he turns the heat up. 

It no longer feels like we are in New York, everything is so slow. It feels like I’m in a movie, only I have to come up with my lines all on my own and Harry is actually sad, not acting, and tomorrow I’ll wake up and remember the way he looked under an umbrella. 

“Um, I guess that would be okay.” My voice barely presides over the wipers. His fingers relax, and his knuckles swim again. “As long as I’m not bothering you.”

“No, not at all. Like I said, roommate’s gone, so it’s just me.”

***

His apartment is foreign. Metallic and earthy, a serene jungle, much more aesthetically pleasing than mine. I feel a syringe filled with tree bark and old books and mint shoot into my veins when he looks at me. This is his territory, and I feel intrusive. 

It is dark and navy, indigo, washed woods. Copper pots hang from a rack over the sink. The rugs all match one another, and a painting of a mermaid hangs on one wall. The outdoors are brought inside, almost like a fairy god from a damp forest had decorated this space. The splash of color is a mustard gold. 

A secretary’s desk sits under the window, abruptly capturing a 1940’s moment. Books and papers litter the top. It is the messiest part of the room, and I wonder how untamed he might be with early morning light striking his unwashed face while he makes notes in a book we’d be discussing in class. I wonder if he jots down the questions he fires at me in class, scribbles my name in red ink and underlines it three times, bulleting a list of possible things I’ll say. 

The rain beats against the window, and yet somehow I can still see with my eyes closed.

He stands at the sink in nothing but boxers, sipping on coffee much too strong for me while thumbing through a newspaper.

He sits poised in the navy armchair, reading 18th century literature I never would be able to digest. 

He leans against the bookcase, strumming the guitar, and only stopping to sip on wine more expensive than me and adding notes to a music sheet I can’t understand.

“You okay?”

My thoughts blurr away and Harry is back in focus. He drips all over the floor, and as I follow a drop of rain down his jaw—it had come from his hair, and landed on his left hand—I remember that I am a mess.

“Yeah, m’good.”

“Let me get you a towel. I know you probably want a shower, but I’d feel better if you didn’t. You’re still pretty wobbly and I’m not the best in emergencies.” He speaks over his shoulder with his back to me while he rummages through a small closet. I imagine myself arguing with him, because he appears to be the exact kind of person you’d want in an emergency, but figure we’ve done enough of that already. 

“Thanks.” The towel is soft and green. He leaves me to dry off in peace, rounding a neck-high bookcase that works as a divider between the front entryway and the kitchen. 

I shuffle closer to the living room and rub down my body, although it does little good. My clothes are suctioned to me. I pick at the fabric and pry it off my skin, which only erupts another round of chills. 

I take a moment, while I’m unattended, to scan my eyes over his home. It’s cozy and lived in. If I take a few steps I can see around the bookcase. Harry’s hunched over the sink, his hands gripping the counter’s edge. His shoulders shake slightly, which reinforces the cold I feel on my own. Head bowed, I see him suck in a deep breath before straightening his form, sighing at his phone. He starts to move and I jump back out of sight. 

“Ow—shit!”

“Y/n?” He hurries around to see me in all my fine glory. “What happened?”

I look up at him from the floor, sighing defeatedly. “I—I just tripped. I’m fine.”

“Okay, your ankle is worse than I thought. I’m taking you to the h—”

“No, really. It wasn’t my ankle, just, I’m a klutz.”

“The student clinic is still open. I can have them take a look at you.” He grabs his keys off the counter and pauses, tossing them back. “Sorry,” he sighs, “I—I don’t know where my head’s at today.” He bends down and hooks his arm under my back and lifts me up so I’m standing, well, leaning into him. “I’ve got some clothes for you to change into.”

“No I’m fine.”

“You want to stay in your wet clothes?”

He doesn’t sound accusatory. Sad, he almost sounds sad. I shake my head, my mouth fumbling over silent words as I scream at myself from the inside. “I, I just mean, I don’t wanna be a bother and—”

“I wouldn’t have offered.”

I gulp and nod, our conversation ending there as he helps me sit in one of two chairs at a small metal table that divides the kitchen and living room. He disappears behind me, and I’m left alone to summon whatever force I’m capable of to prevent any tears from escaping. 

My efforts are distracted when his phone vibrates on the counter. Again and again it goes off, working its way to the edge. I’m sure it won’t fall, but with each round of movement, that seems increasingly untrue. I grip the seat of my chair and shuffle over the foot or so I need to be able to reach up and push his phone further back, but then I pause, and peer over my shoulder, still no sign of Harry, and selfishly slip his phone into my hand. 

His screen is filled with Danielle’s name. It’s enough to make me force the phone away, back on the counter where another message rolls in. I didn’t see much, only the most recent of texts—you're being a dick about this!!! 

“Here, think this might fit you. And I’ll throw your clothes in the dryer.” Harry returns, having changed himself, and sets a hoodie with our school’s name on it and a pair of grey sweats on the table. 

“Thanks,” I mutter. 

He helps me up, but as soon as we turn around he freezes. “Uh, why don’t you change here. In the kitchen. That’s where my dryer is anyway.” He nods to a little alcove homing twin laundry appliances. “I’ll wait in my room. Once you’re done we can head out.”

After assuring him I’m capable of dressing myself, he leaves. It feels wonderful to finally get my soaked clothes off, but once they are, the panic starts to creep it’s way up my spine. Despite his eyes not being on me, I feel exposed. And inappropriate, perhaps, for me to be standing stark naked in my TA’s kitchen. 

I scramble to get dressed, thankful for the loose clothing since my bra and underwear will have to be dried too. I shove my things into his dryer and set the timer, holding my breath while I call for Harry. 

“Don’t—I’ll come get you,” he rushes over to me and takes what is now the usual position of his arm around my back to help me walk. “Go slow, we don’t have to hurry.”

Without a layer of wet fabric drawing my attention, his touch feels that much more warm. I tentatively raise my arm to rest right below his neck, my hand using his shoulder for support. 

And if I said I was able to ignore how his muscles felt beneath my fingers or how his rough voice sounded in my ear, I’d be a liar. But I try anyway, and lie to myself the whole way back to campus. 

***

“You guys are cutting it close,” I hear the nurse tell Harry. He looks over his shoulder at me and turns back. I’m slumped in one of the waiting chairs while he signs me in. “We close in about ten minutes.”

“You’re still gonna see her though, right? She’s...in a lot of pain. Please.”

The nurse sighs and gives Harry a tempered look. “Have her fill these out. Quickly.”

“If we’re too late it’s fine,” I tell him when he sits down beside me. “And since we’re here, I can just go to the library like I planned.”

He turns to face me, a smile creeping its way onto his face. “Let me think about that...no.”

“Excuse me?”

“How do you plan on getting there?”

“Well, you.”

“Nope. My services are for trips to my apartment. Or yours. If you wanna hobble your way, allll the way to the other side of campus, to wait in a cold, dark library all by yourself and—”

“Okay, okay. I—”

“Are you filling out your paperwork or chatting?” The nurse interrupts. 

I’m filled with heat at being caught, but stifle my laugh nonetheless  when Harry rolls his eyes. “Fill that out before we get in trouble.”

My name is called minutes after Harry turns in my clipboard, and we’re led to a small room in the back. I refuse the exam table, knowing he’d have to help lift me to get me up there, and opt for one of the chairs in the room instead. 

In less than a breath, a tall woman donned in a white coat comes in. Her demeanor serves opposite places with the nurse up front, smiling big and wide as she shuts the door and shakes both mine and Harry’s hand. 

“I’m Dr. Reynolds,” she introduces herself before taking a seat on a rolling stool, eyeing the paperwork I filled out earlier. “So, looks like you’ve twisted your ankle.” 

“I tripped and fell on the sidewalk...I’m not even sure what I did to hurt it.”

“Can you put weight on it?”

I look to Harry, for whatever reason, as if he has the answer. “Uh,” I clear my throat, “not really. It hurts to do so.”

“Okay, well—do you mind?” Dr. Reynolds rolls over to me and reaches down, waiting for my nod before she slowly pulls up the leg of Harry’s sweat pants to the middle of my calf. “Yeah,” she sighs knowingly, “you’re pretty swollen.”

“Could it be broken?” Harry chimes in from beside me, his voice thick and rough. 

“How did you fall exactly?”

I blink a few times, recalling the memory, but I have to force my way through images of Harry in the rain with red eyes and an umbrella. “I kinda fell backwards. On the edge of the sidewalk, like I lost my footing.”

Dr. Reynolds hums and wheels back to the computer. “I’m leaning more towards a sprain or strain—but we can’t rule out a break until we get you x-rayed.”

“But, aren’t you about to close for the day? Do I have time?”

“We’ll run over a bit today, but it’s not a problem,” she smiles. “We have a wheelchair in another room I can get you. Then we’ll take the x-ray, and hopefully send you home without a broken diagnoses.”

***

“Lemme get you a towel.”

I don’t have time to protest before Harry dashes out of the bedroom. My knees pinch and sting when I lean over my legs to adjust the bag of ice sitting on my ankle. The cold burns already, and I’m not sure if I’ll make the full twenty minutes of icing before ripping the bag off my skin. 

Harry stays silent when he returns, folding a dish towel and placing it between my ankle and the bag. 

“Thank you.” I start to shift on the bed, but regret it immediately when Harry jumps in place and then bends over me to straighten the pillows behind me. 

“This alright?”

“Yeah, I’m uh, I’m good.”

“Okay—” he stops his own sentence, pinching the air before he’s out of the room again. 

I sigh and try to move my attention away from my ankle. It’s only a sprain, and a minor one at that, but the swelling hasn’t ceased any, and the weight I put on it after Harry got me back into his apartment earned me a sharp twinge of pain and a disapproving glare. 

I scan my eyes over the room. It’s a little too dark to make heads or tails out of anything other than the furniture. I hiss when I try to shift again, and yank the ice off my skin. I wrap the bag in the towel to keep the water from dripping anywhere, and set it on the nightstand, nudging a copy of 1984 out of the way. 

Harry bustles through the door a moment later, kicking it closed behind him. He looks down at the drink in his hands, chewing on his lip. “All I have is lemonade.”

“Thank you.” I hold back the smile I am supposed to offer. He looks relieved when I take the glass and a sip, nodding and relaxing his shoulders. “I uh...I did want to ask you…” I test the words, wait for the line to appear between his brows before finishing, “about my grade.” He does nothing more than narrow his eyes. I swallow and push my thoughts out. “You failed me.”

He blinks, rolling his lips in. “I did. But we can discuss this later. I—you need to rest.”

“O—okay.” I clear my throat and change the subject. “You play the guitar?”

“A bit.” His lips curl a little like he wants to smile, but they don’t quite make it. 

I hum and bring the covers close to my nose.

“Can I get you anything?”

He stands over me as I sink further into the bed. I shake my head.

“Okay, well—why is this not on your ankle?” He picks the ice up and tries to return it back to my leg, but I move too quickly, letting my foot hang over the bed. “Intervals of twenty minutes,” he hums. “C’mon.” He nods to my leg. 

I manage to hold back any sounds when I settle my foot back on the bed, but judging by Harry’s tsk, I know my face is a dead giveaway to my pain. 

“See? Gotta keep this on here,” he’s particular when adjusting the towel and bag, “you won’t get better, love, if you don’t take care of yourself.”

My mouth fills with heat, so all I’m capable of doing is nodding. He makes a show of setting a twenty minute alarm on a clock by the bed, clearing his throat as he quickly scoops up the contents of the nightstand; the book, nail polish, and a cherry chapstick, shoving them into a drawer in a dresser across the room. 

“You can, well you can stay as long as you’d like. Overnight I mean.” He coughs into his fist. “Just yell for me if you need anything. I’m listening, always. I’ll be...I’ll be in my room. Stay off that ankle.”

I nod, but make plans to wobble out of here as soon as I can. I’m not exactly an invited guest, and for all I know, I could be ruining his schedule...working or studying. A date. He clearly wasn’t in the best mood when we ran into each other this afternoon, and I’m sure having to babysit me doesn’t help any. My skin crawls; how could I have been so careless to not see when I’m being a burden? I’m usually pretty perceptive, or at least, I assume the worst anyway just as a precaution. You idiot. 

He looks over his shoulder, his glasses reflecting what little light fought through the clouds and rain. “Okay, well, I’ll let you be.” he faces the door again, but when he looks back his lip does curl this time. “I’d offer you a book...but I know where that’ll get us.”

***

My ankle stings, but not enough to where I can’t stand on it. I still make sure to occupy my weight on the opposite leg as I crack the door open and peer into Harry's living room. It is early, still dark, and the quiet has me kicking myself for falling asleep last night, forcing me into this twisted walk of shame I am about to endure.

Would he be awake? Dressed? Annoyed that I am still here? His courtesy had been offered out of pity, this I am sure of, and I have foolishly overstayed my welcome. All that is missing is the bed sheet draped over my naked body while he asks me to step out so he can put his clothes back on.

“Harry?”

I can taste the silence. It is unnerving. A few more utterances of his name yield the same result, and I find myself standing in the middle of his living room, dropping the imaginary sheet because he is not there to scrutinize my morning appearance.

There is only one other door beside the one I have just came from, and I press my ear against it for any sign of his presence. Again, there is nothing but the sound of my own pulse.

“Harry?”

I tap my knuckles against the wood...still nothing, and when I yank the courage from the bottom of my gut to open it, I am met with a clean bathroom, still humid and smelling of soap. My face twists and it’s not until I spin around to see a thick blanket covering the couch cushions that my brain finally pieces everything together...but surely he didn’t...fabricate a roommate?

What little energy I woke up with escapes my body. I feel weighed down while making my way to the kitchen. My things are sat neatly on the counter. He’s moved my groceries into a canvas tote and laid out a bottle of water and aspirin beside my folded clothes. 

When I sling the bag over my shoulder a slip of paper floats off the counter and flutters to the ground. I grab it and smooth it against my thigh. 

I was running late this morning, but there's cereal in the cabinet beside the fridge. Please don’t try to walk back. I can reimburse you for an Uber later—remember, I’m the one who grades you. 

I’ll be in the library today around 2. 

Bring your report. 

Harry

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Thank you @aileenacoustic @fromyourstrulyh and @bathrobesinparadise for beta reading for me!!!!!

[introvertllux]

Peace in Normalcy: Chapter One

(The chapter is told from Prue’s point of view. Anytime, that you see italicized words, that means Prue is speaking via her internal monologue). 

Genre: Romance, Drama, Comedy, Comedy-Drama

Warnings: 18+, depictions of mental health, mental disorders, depression, suicide, and sexual abuse. (Please do not read, if you may be triggered).

*Any depictions of mental health are based on MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCES. Please do not think I’m making fun or or mocking anyone, again these experiences are based on what I have seen and, or been through myself. Also, I am not intending to romanticize mental health or disorders in anyway. Lastly, If you do decided to read this story I am very thankful and I hope you enjoy it. : )

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Prue's P.O.V

(Picture of Prue)

Friday, September 27, 2019

Isn’t funny how in an instant- and with a snap of your fingers your life can turn completely upside-down. I mean really think about it. One day you’re just doing your average daily routine, completely minding your own business. Then next thing you know, something happens- and incident. Imagine that said incident happens at your job of all places and you end up in a place like this. Who would’ve known, huh? Who would’ve known that one incident, no one mistake could make you end up in the nuthouse? Not, me.

"Prue! Time to go!" I heard a voice yell in the distance from behind me. I ignored the voice as I laid down on the grassy field of the psychiatric hospital’s courtyard.

(Psychiatric Hospital Courtyard)

I kind of like it out here. It brings me peace. I can breathe some fresh air and get away from it all. The meds, the therapist, and the patients. Being out here was as close to freedom as I was going to get for a while. But, to tell you the truth I’ve grown to like this place, the institution as a whole wasn’t so bad, when I really think about. The meds keep me stable, I guess. The therapist actually treats me like a normal human being, and I can relate to the other patients. This place was sort of like a sanctuary for me. For the first time in a long time I feel like I belong. For the first time in my life I actually feel like I fit in. I think I’ve made up my mind. Yeah… I’ve definitely did. I’m never leaving. Never.

The shouting of my name continued as heavy footsteps began to approach me. I sighed softly.

I must have visitors. Well, more like a visitor, most likely my sister, Mallory. She was the only one that has visited me during this whole ordeal.

The footsteps came to a halt as the figure hovered over me,  blocking my view of the sun. I wasn't surprised to see a male orderly; they always came to pick up people either for medicine or a visitor.

"You have a visitor. Come on." He said.

I stood up and brushed the tiny pieces of grass off of my pants and followed the male orderly back inside. As I walked, I couldn't help wondering why my sister was visiting me. She normally would visit me every two months on a Saturday. But she visited three weeks ago and today is Friday.

After walking for a couple minutes, I noticed the route we were taking would lead us back to my room. Usually, visitors we not permitted to go to a patient's room unless-

I heard a loud squeal followed by "Prue! Surprise!". I walked around the orderly and stared into my wide-open door. To my slight surprise was my sister, Mallory quickly packing two large black suitcases.

(Picture of Mallory)

Yeah, just as I suspected. She was here to pick me up early. But why?

I stepped into the room as the orderly shut the door behind him. I stared at my sister as she continued to pack my things.

"Um?" I questioned quietly with a slightly raised brow.

"I know. I know what you're thinking. I'm back. Again. But this time I'm back for you. I was able to work something out with the courts. I’ve been going back and forth with them for months. They said they would monitor you and if you showcased good behavior and improvement within your counseling sessions, they would let you out early. Don’t you want to come home?” She said as she continued to pack my things.

I was ordered on a plea deal to stay here for a year, but it's only been nine months. And, I don’t know do I want to go home? Wasn’t I just fine with staying her the rest of my natural born life, just a few minutes ago?

Mallory cleared her throat and spoke after a few moments of silence, "Uh, I guess you would probably want to pack your own things, huh?" She chuckled softly after she paused her actions.  "I'm sorry, I just got a little excited you know, my little sister is finally coming home!" She shouted and giggled.

I moved around her and started to finishing packing what was left of my clothes. "You know, I bet you're really excited to get away from all of this." she said waving her hands around the room. "To finally get back to some normalcy." She said.

I paused and flinched slightly at the word normalcy.

Normalcy? Back to normal?

I began to zone out, getting into my own head.

"I'm sorry, did I-did I say something wrong?" She asked as she began to panic.

"No. No, you didn't it's fine." I said a bit dazed. I quickly snapped out of it and continued to hurriedly pack my last article of clothing.

"Are you sure? I- "She said worriedly.

"I said you're fine Mallory. It's fine. I'm fine. We're good." I said as I slammed the top of my suitcase down and zipped it up quickly.

She nodded her head slightly. "Well, if you're all set to go, let’s get going." Mallory said as she grabbed one suitcase and I grabbed the other.

As we exited the room and I looked back slightly at the room I called mine for the last nine months. I then turned my body forward and walked down the hallway, following slowly behind my sister. I look my time walking so that I could get one last look at all the décor and rooms that I sent the last months several months in doing arts and crafts, eating lunch, playing with board games, yoga, participating in group therapy, and individual therapy. As strange as my sister may think this place it, this was my normalcy for nine months and I was about to be pulled from it before I was ready.

A few moments had past and we made to her car.  It was a 2019 Volkswagen Beetle. Was it cute. Sure. Practical? Absolutely not. This care had to be one of the tiniest cars to ever exist. There’s barely enough room to fit both of these suitcases. As my sister thought about this “dilemma”, I gently tugged on the passenger, signaling her to unlock it. Seconds later I heard the sound of the car door unlocking followed by two high-pitched beeps. I then proceed to move the car seat forward, I figured I didn’t need that much space considering I was on 5’2. I then eased the large suitcase into the backseat. As soon as I finished, I looked behind me see that Mallory had managed to squeeze the other suitcase into the tiny trunk.

(Mallory’s car)

I then went to sit down in the passenger's seat. I began to position myself to accommodate to the lack of space. Once I got comfortable, I buckled my seatbelt. and buckled up. Mallory then opened the driver's side got in, buckled up and started the drive home.

As we began the journey back home, I contemplated whether or not to look out the window. To be honest looking reminding me of the path I took to get here in the first place. I didn’t want to think about it. I just didn’t want to think at all. I just wanted to shut down for a minute or two. I decided that trying sleep will help me just disappear for a few hours.

I as I began to drift off, Mallory began to play some music. Which I was glad for. For some reason, music has always helped me sleep and get through just about anything ever since I was little.

I woke up to the sound of tapping. I squinted out the car window to see Mallory rapidly tapping on the window. I groaned as I slowly unbuckled my seatbelt and sluggishly began to make my way out of the car.

"We're home! Well, my house. It looks different since the last time you’ve seen it!” She said excitedly. I just blinked slowly trying to process everything that was happening.

“I thought you'd be more comfortable at my house before you go to mom and dad's house. Don't worry about your stuff we can get it later." She said.

She locked the car door and began to shuffle through her key rings to get the key to the front door. The house looked very different from the outside. It had a more modern look, which I wasn't surprised at Mallory is an interior decorator after all and she happens to be very good at her job.

(Mallory and Jahmal’s house)

"Welcome to Casa la Jones." She said dramatically as she flicked the house lights on.

Yeah, remember when I said she happens to be very good at her job? Yeah well, I meant to add she can sometimes be a little too good at her job. It was like Kim Kardashian meets the middle of Massachusetts.

"So, what do you think. It's nice, right?" She said grinning brightly.

"Uh, yeah. It's very nice." I said feeling slightly overwhelmed by grandiose it was.

I looked around the house and noticed that it was quiet, too quiet. Where was Jamal?

I rubbed my tired eyes and yawned as I ask, "So, where is Jamal?"

"Oh, Jamal I told him to go hang out with Leslie and David. You remember them, right? Two of our old friends from college." She said quickly. "I wanted us to have a sister night." She added she walked toward the kitchen.

I followed her into the kitchen and took a seat at one of the barstools.

(Mallory and Jahmal’s kitchen)

"Leslie and David?" I asked as I eyed her. She laughed lightly, "You probably don't remember them, huh?"

No kidding we're ten years apart. If you meet them in college, then that means I was definitely learning how to multiply fractions in the fifth grade.

“You were only like what, nine when I brought them home with me during spring break. But yeah, they became really good friends of ours towards the end of college. Then you know, you eventually went away to college, so you guys never really got to know each other." She said quickly again.

"Anyway, I made your favorite. Chicken Parm." She said as she walked towards the refrigerator.

Chicken Parmesan?! I hate chicken parmesan (and it's actually her favorite). The tomato sauce always gives me extremely bad acid-reflex. My favorite meal is Chicken Alfredo, but I will still eat her meal because she thought about me, sort of.

After Mallory placed our food in the microwave, she leaned over the kitchen island.

"So, I know you normally sleep in the basement when you stay but... it's being occupied at the moment. But good news you can have the guess room. I remolded it as well. You remember where it is right?"

I didn't even bother to question who or what was taking over the basement. I just nodded my head. As we continued to wait, for our food to warm up Mallory began to hum. I began to analyze the new interior of the kitchen. I started to get anxiety looking at all the changes that not only happened to her house but even the growth between her and her friends that came to know as just the people who “needed somewhere to crash for spring break. And now the basement, the room I always stayed in is now preoccupied. When did everything change? I was only gone for nine months; how can things change this much!?

"Prue? Prue? Hello? Are you okay? Speak to me." Mallory said as she made way over to me and grabbed my shoulders.

"I'm fine. I just- I just was thinking about something." I said trying to end the conversation.

Mallory nodded her head and turned her attention to the microwave as it beeped loudly. Mallory began to plate the food and grab glasses. She poured herself some wine.

"So, I only have white wine right now but-." I cut her off and spoke with a tight face, trying to contain myself. "Mallory. I don't drink remember. Frist off, I hate alcohol. Plus, the medication. I'm on medication remember." I said through slightly gritted teeth.

She placed the bottle down on the countertop. "You're right. How could I, forget. I'll get you some, uh water." She said as she turned on the faucet and filled the glass halfway.

Mallory then grabbed the two plates carefully and placed one in front of me and the other at the head of the island. She then went back and grabbed the drinks.

After a few moments of eating, Mallory cleared her throat. "So, Prue. Before you go to mom and dad's house, I just wanted to talk to you about somethings." I ignored her as I continued to pick at my food, trying to avoid as much tomato sauce as possible.

"You know, now that you’re home there's some rules that you have to follow. It was a deal we made in order for the courts to agree to let you out early." She said softly.

I slammed my hands down on the countertop. "Can we not talk about this right now! "I yelled.

"Prue." She said gently trying to rapidly diffuse the situation.

"No, don't Prue me. Nine months! I haven't been home in nine months and all you want to do is remind me that something is wrong with me! Why can't I just come back, eat some food and sleep in a nice warm bed!" I yelled as tears began to form in my eyes.

Mallory looked at me sympathetically. "I-I'm not reminding you or even saying- "She started to say before I interrupted her.

"But you are. The face-expression you're making is the same one you had the day I got sent away, and the same one mom and dad had on too. And you know what, it's the same one they will have on tomorrow. That's exactly why I don't want to go there tomorrow!" I said as I got up from the barstool.

"Prue. Please." Mallory said with her hands up in surrender. "Oh my God!” I screamed as I backed away and spread my arms out wide. “You see! You see! You're still making that face and now- now you have your hands up. Like you’re scared. You think I'm going to do something don't you, that I might try and hurt you! You're calling me crazy and you don't even have to say it!" I yelled as tears began to stream down my face rapidly.

"Prue, I never said you were crazy. I just. I'm just trying to help. If you don't follow these rules, then you have to go back." She said still standing defensively.

I let out an agonizing scream. "Good, great! Then I'll be back where I belong with the crazy people, right?” I said as I gripped the sides of my face tightly.

I then took quickly grabbed my plate of Chicken Parmesan and smashed it onto the floor, "And I hate Chicken Parmesan, it gives me acid-reflex. You should fucking know that by now!" I exhaustedly screamed one last time as I ran up the stairs and slammed the guest room door.

Hours had past and the house remained quiet. The sun had gone down and it was so dark out that the sky had looked pitch black. I looked over at the digital clock in the room and saw the time. The clock read 12:32 AM. I tried to go back to sleep. Normally, it was never easy for me to fall asleep sue to me feeling anxious all the time, but right now the nausea I was feeling due to my acid-reflex acting up only aided in my lack of sleep.

I let out a groan as I held my stomach tightly. I squeezed my eyes shut hoping that the pain would go away or subside in at least the slightest way. Unfortunately, nothing was working. The only other possible solution I could think of was to take a walk. Usually, I take walks to get my mind off of things if music wasn’t an option or if I just needed some fresh air. Before I went to the hospital, I would walk around with my music and let it guide me. But, since that's not an option I guess I will let my feet be my guide this time.

I got up from the soft bed and tied my sneakers. I grabbed my jacket and slipped it around the pink pajamas my sister had left out for me. I stood up too quickly and fell back down. I felt a wave of nausea hit me. I took a deep breath and tried again, this time getting up carefully and slowly.

I walked quietly out of the room closing the door gently. I slowly crept down the hallway and down the staircase. I then slipped passed the kitchen and exited out of the front door careful not to slam the door too hard. I wasn't too worried about the door, since I knew it had an instant lock.

I began walking down the cul-de-sac styled neighborhood. I gripped the sides of my jacket as the cold air made me shiver slightly. I kept stopping to take deep breaths to try and stop my waves nausea that came every couple of minutes. I kept walking for a few minutes until I couldn't take it anymore. I felt too sick. I need to sit down.

I looked around me to see if I could spot somewhere to sit. I decided to sit on the curb in front of a random house. I felt dizzy and my head began to pound. Before I knew it, I had vomited.

"Fuck!" I yelled as some landed on my pajama shirt and jacket. I quickly covered my mouth as I notice my voiced had echoed. I looked around to see if anyone in the neighborhood had heard me. I closed my eyes and sighed in relief as I saw no sign of active neighbors.

"Hello? Whose out there?1" I heard a voice yell.

Damn It.

I began to panic as I saw a house light flick on. I then heard the sound of curtains aggressively sliding open. I still stood there, like a deer in headlights.

"I'm calling the cops!" The older male voice threatened.

I began to run as quickly as I could down the street as I saw more house lights begin to turn on. I started to feel dizzy again and my head was pounding even more. There was nowhere to hide so I decided to sit beside a small shrub on the sidewalk.

What felt like 15 minutes had gone by and I thought for sure I was off the hook until I then heard police sirens in the distance getting closer and closer by the second. I groaned, placing my head in my hands.

The sirens came to a stop. I heard footsteps approach me and the sound of a very familiar voice.

"I've gotten calls from all over the neighborhood, something about a nutcase screaming throughout the neighborhood and waking them up. That wouldn't happen to be you, would it?" The office asked smugly.

I just groaned in pain and annoyance. The officer walked closer to me.

"So, now you've got nothing to say, huh? Typical." He asked as he waved a flashlight on me. I groaned again, not wanting to look up at him.

"Look at me." He said sternly. I dreaded this moment.

I lifted my head up and placed my left arm in front of my face to try and block the bright light radiating from the flashlight,

I then heard laughter, followed by "Oh! Oh! You’re kidding!  This must be my lucky day! Prue? Prue- Prudence Walker. Is that really you?  They said you were getting out today but never did I think, I'd find you roaming the streets. Less than 12 hours back and you're already losing your shit again, huh?" He said laughing.

“Can’t say I’m surprised.” He said waving the flashlight around.

I groaned again as I began to wrap my arms around my waist, hunching over slightly. "J-just take me back to my sisters' Taylor.

(Picture of Officer Taylor Miller)

"That's Office Miller to you. And why should I? I could just arrest you and have you shipped right back to that psych-ward." He said smirking.

I didn't say anything to him. I just gave him a pleading looking, hoping that he would find some kindness in his black heart to just take me back to my sister's house.

He laughed again and grabbed my arm roughly, he pushed me into the back of the police cruiser and proceeded to drive off. Fifteen minutes had gone by and we arrived in front of my sisters' house. He opened the door and I walked out quickly trying to move past him.

"Not a chance." he said as he gripped my right arm tightly. He dragged me to the front door of the house and immediately proceed to bang loudly on it.

We waited a few seconds, before the door opened widely.

"Prue!" Mallory yelled exasperatedly as her eyes grew wide instantly.

"I found her just roaming the streets. The neighbors called. You've gotten keep an eye on her. I can let her off with a warning this time." He said fakely, pretending to care as he let go of my arm.

"Get inside, please." She said exhaustedly.

As I walked inside, I heard Mallory say, "Thanks Tay, I swear it won't happen again. I owe you one."

I door then slammed shut.

"I-I just can't right now. We will talk in the morning." She said, in a very and disappointed and exhausted tone.

I went straight upstairs and tried to get some sleep trying to avoid thinking about the many conversations that awaited me tomorrow.

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Links to:

Chapter 2

Masterpost

[wexhappyxfew]

HAPPY TRIVIA TUESDAY SHANNON!! Why did you start writing and how did you get from your starting point to here? (Like- basically can you talk about your development as a writer?)

AHHHHH JAMIE HAPPY TRIVIA TUESDAY!!!! and omg thank you so much for the ask you wonderful human, you’re such a supportive bean thank you!!! <3 

and these questions *chef’s kiss*

One of the main reasons I started writing is actually something people may not suspect. Growing up, I actually HATED writing because of experiences in a 3rd grade or 2nd grade class - I can’t remember exactly. But we were supposed to write a short story and when I presented mine, I was told that it didn’t have good enough ‘context’ or a real drive or plot, even though for me I thought it did. Supposedly it just ‘wasn’t what the hopes of writing a short story would be’. I was later told it was because I needed a simpler topic. Smh. So that set me off really and all through elementary I strayed from writing, writing classes, anything and I mostly just read because I was like just not confident at all with writing. And I struggled big time with essays, reports, story writing. In 6th grade, my ELA teacher tore apart my story as well - so yeah I wasn’t exactly happy about that either :( I was already off on a bad foot. 

But when I reached 7th grade - this was after my best friend introduced me to Wattpad and such - I started seeing the impacts of fanfiction actually and that you can base it off something and then make it completely your own! WHICH I LOVED! Because I like a bit of structure BUT THEN I LIKE GOING WILD!!! I like having that model a bit, but then being able to go and do what you want with writing. 

And honestly, I’ll be honest, I have written over 20 different works, but Band of Brothers is my only published work :) It’s short stories, other fics based on stuff like Stars Wars, The Maze Runner, etc...a bunch of stuff like that! 

And then I really discovered the impact of writing on me. I found that it became a hobby for me and I knew that when homework was done - I had the ability to go and write and escape to a completely different world. And for me, since I have trouble focusing in school and then it makes stuff more difficult to complete homework and such, I liked being able to escape to a different world through writing. And writing saved me more than anything in quarantine.

At the beginning of quarantine, I just was not in a good headspace especially with everything happening, but being able to go and write The Soldier of Stars with Hazel Parker, and being able to develop a deeply flawed character and write interactions with others, and then go and write a strong female bonded friendship as well as strong female characters who were also deeply flawed, really helped me through because it was rough. I don’t know what I would’ve done without it. 

But writing truly, I saw a change in myself even in school. Because of writing fanfiction really, I saw improvements in my essays at school surprisingly by 8th grade! They were used for examples, I was getting good grades on them - even if it were just a science report - and the teachers were complimenting my way of writing and my style. I remember in 8th grade I was partnered with a girl, where we were given 10 vocab words and had to create a story with it and we would share our stories with each other and I remember looking at me after I read it and saying, “ YOU wrote that? ITS AMAZING!” and she was just super shocked. And I think that’s where I really started writing after that tbh. 

Through high school I had major improvements and by my AP Lang Exam I took, I was nervous bc it was 45 mins for it, which isn’t exactly normal bc of COVID, but I was just like “Focus, you write FOR FUN for HOURS ON END, you can write for 45 minutes.” And that really focused me. And I got a 5 on the exam, which I was very happy about. But I swear it’s simply because of how much I write, and how OCD I am about making sure it is all perfect and up to my standards. I swear on it. Because with my writing, I like a flow and I feel if you don’t have a flow it just doesn’t work - and having a flow helped me AP exam bc without it, I would’ve done worse. But flow helps and being able to write with a flow helped more than anything! SO YES fanfiction helped earn me a good grade on my AP exam LOL

And for me writing has just been a place to express who I am. Sure, I like clothes, but most of the time for school, I’m too tired to try super hard and end up throwing on a sweatshirt and leggings and I’m not super talkative either, I’m quite shy. So writing, is where I really feel I can express myself and just BE myself. I can purely just write for fun and if people read it COOL! THANK YOU! But I’ve always written for myself, for personal enjoyment, and to see my characters, so when others love them, it’s always so nice!!! But writing has always been such a personal thing for me, and I love it more than anything in the world, where I feel I can truly express myself! <3

AND...my development as a writer is something I can definitely talk about!! <3

For me, each new story I write, I can see myself developing. Because when you start out, you’re not perfect - I SOOOO was not perfect - I wrote in 1st person (NO HATE AT ALL I JUST SUCK AT FIRST PERSON), I barely included any emotional value or ideas focused simply on timeline, I just wrote without second thought or really a care. But with Band of Brothers, I really developed. I write in 3rd person heavily, so I can explore different heads and emotions and character arcs, and ideas and interior monologue, which for a quiet person like me I LIVE FOR!

For Sunshine Soldier, I wrote with Charlotte Tarvers and developing her character, as she is someone who is very similar to myself, is something I have loved more than anything in this world. She’s my OG OC, my original little BoB Beeb. And her story I really focused on relationships and friendships of characters, simply because of what I was trying to portray with her of the fact she was a character who was called ‘Sunshine’ and loved everyone and was loved by everyone and was really that light in Easy. But in that story, I didn’t develop emotions (as I go back and reread) and descriptions as much as I wish I had. I feel there’s parts EVERYWHERE, where I could go in and add a little bit more of everything there

For The Soldier of Stars (+Ad Astra Per Aspera) I feel you see A BIG CHANGE in writing because this is where, with a quiet character like Hazel Parker who is heavily and deeply flaws, where we see the emotion and description that Sunshine Soldier misses at some points, comes out. Writing Hazel’s character (+that of Catherine and Lizzie and their bond) we focus more on an internal monologue, heavy and deep set emotions, and a constant questioning of reality from someone who is deeply hurt, and quiet and humble and soft-spoken like Hazel. And for me, there’s just so many lines in The Solider of Stars that I love with all my heart, because there are so filled with emotion and deep meaning and such and ACK I LOVE IT! One of my favorites is from Ad Astra Per Aspera - Chapter 4: The Little Bird, where all it is, is Hazel’s interior monologue after her wound. Her struggle and mental battle to simply stand and use the bathroom normally - from bed to bathroom and back. And there’s no present dialogue - very in character for Hazel, and simply just flashbacks and her mental mind having it’s own battle with having to constantly push herself to get over this fear and keep pushing herself to get better, to keep fighting. It’s a hard chapter, but so deeply beautiful of a raw struggle of simply being human.

And I feel with The Soldier of Stars (+Ad Astra) I felt myself simply just write with so much pure and raw emotion, which I held from Sunshine Solider a bit, even though Sunshine Soldier has A LOT I feel still LOL. But I definitely saw growth between these two stories, a whole lot, and I feel as I keep going I’ll just keep growing and growing with it all.

I feel with The Soldier of Stars (+Ad Astra ) I finally took the time and care to focus on my characters, and each of them individually, and really focus on emotions and feelings, which is something present in war for many and especially having a quiet character makes it easier I feel because they don’t say much but they FEEL so much. 

I would talk about Landslide - but I don’t want to get out of hand and spoil anything, so I’ll leave it at that for the moment <3 

I’ve just truly seen myself really develop and grow as any writer would and it has been so fun to see where my writing has taken me!! Thank you so much for the question Jamie, this was truly SUCH a good one to ask, because I can tell just a bit of my own story and personal struggle with it all. Thank you!!! <3

[skyfallensoldier]

Mobile Navigation || Rules & Mun ↓

DISCLAIMER: I just want to note here at the beginning that while I am considering this RP blog to be historically based, i.e. remaining true to the time period and overall details of John Laurens' biographical information and whatnot, I do not consider myself a historically accurate blog, not entirely. Historical fiction is a well known genre of literature and many, MANY creative liberties are taken within that genre. Think of this blog like you would if you saw an Anastasia Romanov blog. She's dead, we know she didn't survive, and she's been dead a long-ass time; so has Laurens. People still have included her in many works of fiction, even after her body was identified and it was proven she did not survive her family's massacre. I saw a romance book a couple of months ago where she survived that was recently published. Historical fiction, while a controversial thing at times, is a legitimate form of literature.

You don't have to tell me if you think John isn't acting exactly like the real man himself would have, I know that. I'm not going to call John my 'perfect sunshine boy cinnamon roll' or dismiss the privilege he was raised on due to his father, I'm aware he was a real person who had his own personality, virtues and prejudices. I won't deny that while he was certainly a progressive thinking man for the time he grew up in he definitely still had racist thoughts and actions that were indicative of his upbringing. But I'm not on here to debate modern, real life politics, or get into arguments about whether he was a good abolitionist or not. At the end of the day, this is still a hobby for me, and I'm writing for fun.

Basically, don't take it too seriously. I'm a 21st century bisexual woman writing from the POV of an 18th century (likely gay) male soldier, the way I write him is obviously not going to be a perfect representation of who he was. I know he wasn't an amazing, perfect person, but I've still chosen to write a fictionalized version of him for my own entertainment. Please try to respect that; thank you.

Mun Stuff

Name: Luna Gender: Female (She/Her or They/Them) D.o.B: July 23rd, 1996 Age: 24 Nationality: Canadian Sexuality: Bisexual Timezone: Eastern Time (US & Canada) Activity: Daily BIOGRAPHY (SORT OF)

Hello, there! You can call me Luna! I've been interested in writing ever since I first got the internet when I was 14 and discovered FanFiction.Net and now I'm an aspiring author and Roleplay enthusiast. If you include acting/talking out DnD like games with friends then I've been 'roleplaying' since the fifth grade, but I like to think there's always room for improvement. If you ever want to chat I'd love to make a new friend or plot out a roleplay, so don't be afraid to shoot me an ask or send me a private message. Just because my muse can be a jackass doesn't mean I am! I’m a huge advocate for mental health, and if you ever need someone to talk to, please don’t ever hesitate to reach out! Some of my hobbies including literature and writing (of course), digging into mythology from various cultures, practicing solitary eclectic paganism/new age spirituality, drinking tea, and collecting crystals/minerals.

Please note that for the sake of disclosure, I am considered ‘Neurodivergent’, in that I suffer from ADHD, diagnosed at about age six, and have Anxiety and Depression which are directly tied to it. This doesn’t often effect my life on here, but I sometimes have an unpredictable sleep schedule (stay up all night, sleep in late into the morning, etc). I’m usually quick to reply to threads for the most part! I work every Tuesday and Thursday from 5pm to 7pm in addition to odd jobs here and there, during which time I won’t have access to the Internet. The rest of the week I’m on and off all day basically, so you can feel free to contact me any time.

RP Style

⭐️ Please use basic spelling/grammar/punctuation when you RP with me. I'm not a drill sergeant about these kinds of things, I know that typos happen, and if you have a vision problem or such we can absolutely find a way to work around that, I also have no problem roleplaying with people whose first language is not English, so that's totally fine and I’m happy to accomodate in whatever way I can, but it does make it a little difficult to play with you if I don't know what you're trying to say. For this reason I prefer if you not use any text shorthand (lol, idk, brb, jk, etc) unless our muses are messaging each other. Using it in the tags is fine.

⭐️ I roleplay Laurens in a past-tense 3rd Person Point of View (think story-telling format), and generally I don't use icons or text formatting unless I notice my partner does, then I will try to match their style (for example if you use icons and small-text, I will try to do the same, though because formatting isn't possible on mobile, any mobile replies might take longer to be posted than if I were on my laptop). If you have any issues with how I'm writing or need me to adjust my style for any reason don't be afraid to ask.

Contact

⭐️ If you spam me with messages over and over again about something I haven't replied to, chances are I'll drop the thread. I don't mind being reminded because I know Tumblr's notifications are notoriously unreliable sometimes, and humans can forget/lose things, but if you keep poking at me after I've acknowledged you the first and second time, I won't be pleased. Things can get busy on here, or in real life, or sometimes you're just lacking muse for that particular thread, y'know? It doesn't mean I hate you and don't want to RP, I'm almost always up for plotting, but muse tends to fluctuate.

⭐️ My ‘Discord’ is available to mutuals upon request. I don't mind roleplaying on there if Tumblr is being glitchy or you're just not feeling up to formatted/heavily plotted threads, sometimes Discord is fun in that you can do immediate replies without needing the effort of putting icons and formatting into it. I also have a Kik but I never use it. I don't RP in Tumblr's IMs, that's purely for OOC interaction.

⭐️ I also occasionally stream movies/TV shows in group chats or play “in character” Cards Against Humanity game nights, Among Us, etc. If you’re interested, lemme know, I’m always looking for more people to hang out with!

Important

I have no actual triggers that I'm aware of, although snakes do creep me out (mostly shots of them coiled up or images of their pupils), but there are some things I will not roleplay personally for comfort reasons:

⭐️ Cannibalism. You can mention it, for example I won't freak out if someone tells my muse that somebody else ate a person (he might, assuming its not a Supernatural type verse), but I won't RP him engaging in cannibalism, not even in AUs (blood-drinking vampires are fine). I'm just not sure I could stomach writing about eating people. I managed to watch Hannibal, barely, but writing about it? Nah. I can handle lots of horror, gore and disturbing content but not this. Sorry.

⭐ Incest/Pedophilia. I do not SEXUALLY ship with characters under the age of 18. John is not attracted to children, and would never consider sleeping with someone much younger than him.

⭐ I will not write anything sexual with muns who are under 18 years old, even if your muse is an adult. I'll still ROLEPLAY with you if you are under 18 but probably no younger than 16 just because things tend to get explicit on my blogs and I don't want to be accused of corrupting the youth with my foul language and weird opinions, lol. Seriously though, this blog covers a lot of dark subjects and while I’m all for minors exploring that safely through writing rather than in real life, some people aren’t comfortable with interacting with under age people for legal or personal reasons, please respect that.

⭐ Necrophilia. Just... no. Vampire threads don't count, as they're undead and not 'dead dead'.

⭐ Rape. I won't write it with you. I'm okay with mentions of rape, with rape/sexual assault survivor/recovery plots, and even with one character intervening to rescue another from an attempted sexual assault (if an attempted assault does occur, it will be thoroughly tagged and under a cut). I'm fully open to discussing rape recovery/trauma plots as those are things that happen in real life, and it can be interesting to explore how a character reacts to trauma. But anything else is a no-go, sorry!

⭐ Please be aware that I write Laurens as a gay man. However! Because of the time period, violent homophobia and social stigma, he has slept with women before and may be seen flirting with or referencing relationships with women in the past. He is still gay, and still uninterested in being with women long term, he's simply closeted to all but a few individuals. So, unless your muse is Martha Manning (who Laurens DOES love in a manner, and he always will), shipping with female characters on here most likely isn't going to happen unless it's heavily plotted/developed and part of an overall plot, and you understand that it will not be a conventional sexual relationship. I'm sorry if that disappoints you but I've read Laurens as a gay male for so long I have trouble seeing him any other way.

⭐ I will not roleplay slavery plots. This is not up for debate. Roleplaying a highly fictionalized version of a long dead real person who existed during a troubling time is one thing, but I draw the line at that. For this reason, while I'll happily play with non-white muses, muses using non white faceclaims, and crossovers with characters of all sorts, I'll have to decline playing with any muse claiming to actually be writing slavery. There’s a difference between, say, roleplaying a character like Daenerys, a fictional character who was technically a slave-bride sold by her brother, and writing actual slavery from a very real, horrible time period. Slave ownership will of course be mentioned on this blog, that's unavoidable, but just like the mention of rape may happen on this blog from time to time, it will be in reference to a past event or speaking about the subject in general, not roleplaying a scene of it. Please respect this rule, I was hesitant to make this blog at first, because I know it makes some people uncomfortable, but I won't glorify such a horrible real thing that happened to so many people.

Exclusives/Mains

Just a head's up, unless I develop a bunch of chemistry with a particular portrayal of a muse I'm not likely to agree to being exclusives with anyone, unless perhaps it's a very niche or divergent character that has formed a good relationship of some sort with John and I'd have trouble interacting with other versions of that muse. For major characters I just feel it would be unfair to say no to someone who I click with in every other way, solely because I have already befriended someone else writing that character.

I will, however, discuss becoming mains with someone whom I've either developed or plotted out detailed storylines/interactions with regarding our specific portrayals of our characters. This means that I tend to reply to them quickly when I'm online, or may make little gifts (moodboards, aesthetic things, mini ficlets, whatever) for them unprompted, have a verse dedicated just to them, etc. Even if it seems like we haven't done much on Tumblr, there may be a lot of off-site development on Discord or whatnot that led to us plotting out intricate stories for our muses.

Current Mains:

Alexander Hamilton - @quillborn​

DO

⭐️ Send private messages.

⭐️ Send my character asks/starters/memes.

⭐️ Tag me in things.

⭐️ Ask to plot or ship.

⭐️ Ask for angst, fluff, etc.

⭐️ Submit things to me & my muse.

⭐️ Do crack and other ridiculous things with me!

⭐️ Like my RP threads.

⭐️ Like my personal posts.

⭐️ Comment on my personal/OOC posts (if you want to).

⭐️ Comment on my crack threads.

⭐️ Instant Message (IM) me if you'd like to talk, whether we're friends already or not!

DON'T

⭐️ Send hateful messages to me about other people and especially my mutuals; doesn't count if it's about the muse and not the person playing them, however. Also, if I’ve got beef with someone for whatever reason, don’t harass them/send hate to them on my behalf, please. I don’t condone anonymous abuse, attacking others, or harassment. I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself, I promise.

⭐️ Introduce yourself with ‘wanna ship?’ For one, I prefer if we’ve at least started a roleplay together, or have spoken OOC. Auto shipping doesn’t always work out and I hate promising people something only to realize there’s zero chemistry, because then I feel like I’m letting them down.

⭐️ Come into my inbox with just ‘wanna rp?’ and that’s it. Please at least have some idea of what you want to roleplay, it’s not very fun when someone approaches you to RP but then doesn’t offer up any suggestions at all. Remember, you are always free to send me memes, whether we’re mutuals or not, and hit me up for whatever plot you think might interest me! I want to hear about it!

⭐️ Spam me with "reminder" messages if I've already acknowledged you the first few times.

⭐️ Reblog my RP threads if you're not a participant in them.

⭐️ Send me anonymous OOC hate. Hate for Laurens is fine, it's just another form of roleplay.

⭐️ Kill off my character or severely injure/maim my character without permission or having plotted something involving that with me first.

⭐️ Follow me if you're a porn blog. I don't mind blogs that post NSFW content, or smut a lot, etc. I mean blogs that aren't for RP and are literally just a normal looking blog until you click on it and the header and first twenty posts are hardcore nudity and porn. I hate those things.

⭐️ Shame my ships.

⭐️ Complain about my tagging. I put my smut under a 'read more' without exception and tag them as "NSFW //" with two dashes. Things that are not necessarily graphic but still have sexual undertones go under "Suggestive //". I use these tags to avoid attracting attention from porn blogs and porn bots that track certain key words, as such I do not tag my content with "Smut" or trigger words such as "dick, oral, anal, nudity, etc", please block my NSFW and Suggestive tags if you're uncomfortable. Triggery subjects (mentions of rape, animal abuse, torture, mental illness) will be tagged under the name of said trigger with a space and two dashes, example: "Self Harm //", “Suicidal Ideation //” or "PTSD //".

⭐️ Godmod my character. If you’re not sure what is/isn’t okay, come talk to me! I don’t bite! If you’re looking for an example of god mod behavior, here: “X lunged at Laurens, taking him by surprise, and hit him square in the nose, causing blood to spurt.” It might not seem like a big deal but it means that you decided how your character’s actions affected my muse, and not only that, didn’t give him a chance to dodge or anything. Not cool.

⭐️ Ship with me without permission (sending in shippy asks is A-Ok if you're interested in exploring a ship between our muses, I'm talking about things like claiming that our muses are in a relationship without discussing it with me, referencing dates or sexual acts that never happened, etc. I ship mainly with chemistry otherwise things get boring fast.

⭐️ Assume/act like our characters know each other/are closely connected (friends/family/lovers) if we've never discussed it unless it is established in canon/history. This especially goes for original characters. I'm open to Laurens forming deep relationships with OCs obviously, but those have to be developed in character, not just assumed from the first interaction.

⭐️ Attempt to roleplay with me if you are not a roleplay blog/or if you're just trying to RP as "yourself." I don't do Character X Reader imagines stuff. I don't RP with 'fan' accounts, only RP blogs. You can still send asks so long as you're not trying to initiate an RP scenario. For example, asking Laurens what his hobbies are, asking for a blessing etc? That's fine. Spamming me with different actions "you" are talking to Laurens is weird. Stop that. I will also not RP with blogs that claim to roleplay as real life people, such as Markiplier, that's super creepy. This does NOT apply to "historical fiction" roleplay (obviously since that's what this blog is), which is considered its own genre of literature. I'm talking about the above where people will 'roleplay' as real life, currently alive people like YouTube celebrities and ship them with their friends, even if they've made it clear that they're uncomfortable with it. 

⭐️ Get angry at me for doing something you don't like if you don't even have a rules page for me to go by. It's not fair; you can't expect your partners to just read your mind and magically know how you feel. If something bothers you let me know, I’ll make a note about it so I avoid it during our interactions!

⭐️ Use me as a meme resource blog without ever interacting with me. I don't require "reblog karma" for you to follow me, partners are more than welcome to reblog from me, but if we never interact and I just occasionally see you reblog fifteen posts from my meme tag and then disappear again I'm not gonna be happy. Go to the source or to an archived blog no longer getting notifications, please!

⭐️ Reblog my Meta/Headcanons. If they're from a different blog it's fine but the ones I've personally written are for MY portrayal of Laurens. I work hard on most of my stuff and I'd prefer if you didn't reblog it, not because you aren't allowed to have the same headcanon ideas as me, but because then it ends up getting liked or reblogged by lots of other people, spamming my notifications, etc.

OCs & Multimuses

I love OCs and multi-muse blogs (I have my own multimuse sideblog over at @historyremembers, which has other 18th century characters including the Hamilton children and some OCs), so feel free to interact! That being said, please have an about page of some sort on your blog. I can't follow back blogs that have absolutely no information available regarding their character(s). I don't RP with OC children of Laurens. This is nothing personal, but I'm fairly certain he was gay in real life and prefer to play him that way, and he only had one child - who he never even got to meet - in real life, so it just wouldn't make sense to me for him to have other kids running around unless he'd adopted some. If you're a multimuse, I may not follow you back if I'm only familiar with two of your muses if you have a blog of fifteen characters, simply because I'd prefer to keep my dash clean and only have characters/fandoms I'm familiar with on it. I'll still RP with you if you have a character I'm interested in! I just might not follow back if the majority of your characters I do not know, I apologize for this.

If you’ve made it to the end of this, congrats! I know it couldn’t be easy (my ADHD brain was frustrated trying to just write all this up) but it’s necessary so there’s not misunderstandings on what I am/am not willing to RP. I won’t ask for a password since I trust most people to have the courtesy to at least skim the rules of those they want to RP with. 

Have a nice day!

[mimisstudy]

Ash - character study

We are doing a new project called ‘write what you know’ which means writing a film about something that has happened to you or around you. Mine is about why people don’t report things straight away as this is something I see complained about a lot with #metoo

Ash is the main character ~17, and based on me. She lived with her dad who emotionally and sexually abused her, and then moved in with her mum when she was ~16. 

this is a super long post btw

Personality

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? Pessimistic - considers herself a realist, prepare for the worst, hope for the best.

Are they introverted or extroverted? Introverted - was great at making friends as a kid but really struggles to since living with her dad.

What bad habits do they have? She keeps things to herself far too much - she wasn’t allowed to talk to her dad as he would make it about himself and so, despite not living with him anymore, she still internalises until she can’t anymore

What makes them laugh out loud? Shitty puns

How do they display affection? Giving gifts - listening to what they like and giving things related to this

How do they want to be seen by others? Smart (was always told she was smart so doesn’t want to seem dim)

How do they see themselves? An idiot, weak, a bad person. Then she moves. Smart, funny, kind, brave, creative/inventive

How are they seen by others? Funny, kind, smart, gentle

How competitive are they? Competitive with themselves, doesn’t care so much about competing with others but hates when she does something worse than she has before. 

Do they make snap judgments or take time to consider? Indecisive but once set on a plan, she will do it to the max.

How do they react to praise? Struggles to, not used to it

How do they react to criticism? Also struggles as not used to it. Never really praised or crisitised, just sort of blends in

What is their greatest fear? Wasps. Being abandoned. 

What are their biggest secrets? The abuse

What is their philosophy of life? Fuck it, might as well try.

When was the last time they cried? A wasp landed on her while she was on a hike and she had a panic attack

What haunts them? Her dad. she is starting to see him on the streets and in her dreams.

What are their political views? Prioritising people's safety and well-being over the economy

What will they stand up for? Equality, environment, women's rights, sexual assault

What quality do they most value in a friend? Honest / real

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? Their past, though she wouldn’t actually change it. Or make themselves more confident

What is their obsession? gardening

What are their pet peeves?

What are their idiosyncrasies? Autistic. Stampy feet flappy hands.

 Friends and Family

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of? Small - Taylor (sibling), mum and dad. Lots of extended family but she has moved too much to bond with them.

What is their perception of family? Used to hate her mum but now appreciates her. Loves Taylor but weird sister relationship as they didn’t grow up together

Do they have siblings? Older or younger? Taylor, 3 years older.

Describe their best friend. Does not have any - struggles to bond with people long term

Describe their other friends. Mainly extroverted people that talk for her. 

 Past and Future

Did they grow up rich or poor? Not obviously poor (she wasn’t aware of it) but far from rich. Under the poverty line a few times but didn’t go to food banks

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? Felt nurturing but was rather emotionally abusive

What is the most offensive thing they ever said? ‘I would like to live with mum/dad’

What was their first kiss like? Awkward school dare - she’s not that into dating but did hook up with someone while in a depressive episode to avoid thinking

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? ‘Basically everything ever’

What are their ambitions? To help others get through what she did. set up her own music label

What advice would they give their younger self? Say no clearer

What was their childhood ambition? Be a musician

What is their best childhood memory? Camping at Tolpuddle music festival and the way the musicians interacted with the audience. 

What is their worst childhood memory? The dad experience

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? No. She would talk to her blanket though.

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight? No. She is aro/ace, she thinks

Are they in a relationship? No. 

How do they behave in a relationship? She has only been in one proper relationship and this was a depressed escapism one - she was sleeping with her as a distraction from her life but wasn’t sexually or romantically attracted to her. she was nice to her but was mainly there for the sex - though she is terrified of insulting people so was still respectful and kind

Has your character ever been in love? No

Have they ever had their heart broken? By her family, yes

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat? Disassociating - she struggles to speak and is very slow. She also stims a lot which leads to rubbing her skin raw and has many scars because of this. 

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? Neither but her tongue if really having to.

What is your character’s kryptonite? Loud people/sounds

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? Her blanket that she has had since she was born

How do they perceive strangers? No one is trusted until they do something big

What do they love to hate?  Sound design

What are their phobias? Wasps

What living person do they most despise? Certain political leaders and CEO’s that are fucking up the plannet

Have they ever been bullied or teased? No - they aren’t really noticed at all. Taylor used to tease her constantly though - mean, even for a sister, but they are far better together now.

Where do they go when they’re angry? To her garden plot. She has one away from the house.

Who are their enemies and why?  She doesn’t pay attention to anyone enough to hate them that much.

 Work, Education and Hobbies

Do they have a job? Yes

What is their current job? Editing music videos for a band that she knows from secondary

What do they think about their current job? She likes doing it but hates that she could mix the songs better than them - they wont let her change anything though

What are some of their past jobs? They worked at the sweet shop round the corner for a few months before she moved in with her mum.

What are their hobbies? Mixing, baking, minecraft, gardening

Educational background? 7+ (the new uk grading system) in all subjects at secondary. Working on a music and media course at college - predicted distinctions.

Intelligence level? Very smart but struggles understanding basic things often

Do they have a natural talent for something? Baking but she doesn’t enjoy it so doesn’t do it often. 

Do they play a sport? Are they any good? Swimming - she’s good enough to not drown but mainly enjoys just floating around

What is their socioeconomic status? Working class. Her mum is slightly more well off (upper working) but both parents kept their money troubles to themselves.

 Favourites

What is their favourite animal? Snakes

Which animal do they dislike the most? Wasps

What place would they most like to visit? Havana, Cuba due to all the music that has originated there.

What is their favourite song? We’re going to be friends - the white stripes

Music, art, reading preferred? Music

What is their favourite colour? Green

What is their password? Chrysanth3mum

Favourite food: Bolognese but the pasta separate.

Who is their favourite artist? The Crane Wives

 Possessions

What is on their bedside table? (Kubrick was obsessed with bedside tables, he thought they spoke the truth about an individual). Three books: one on music theory, Percy Jackson but she’s barely got through it, and one on gardening. A bedside lamp. A mug. Her glasses. A spray. A hat. Sweet wrappers. A pen and pencil. Her journal, open.

What is in their bin? A years worth of receipts after she finally emptied her wallet. Seed packets. Tissues. 

What is in their purse or wallet? Lots of receipts and business cards. A few bank cards. Lots of change but no notes.

What is in their pockets? Her phone and earplugs. Her jacket pockets are stuffed: rocks and shells she likes, seed packets, tissues, gloves, various bits of rubbish she has picked up, pens, a tiny notebook

What is their most treasured possession? Her hardrive

 Spirituality

Do they believe in the afterlife? She hopes is doesn’t exist - the idea of still being alive after you die is horrifying

What are their religious views? She was into all the spiritual wiccan things at one point but fell out of it during her last depression spell. She still uses crystals and tarot cards though.

What do they think heaven is? Heaven is in the moments of bliss

What do they think hell is? The world we are currently living in

Are they superstitious? She thinks other things are out there and around us but she isn’t scared of that. She likes to leave apples outside for the ghosts and fae

How would they like to die? Either by her own hand (again, depressed) or drowning. Old age would also be nice.

What is their zodiac sign? Taurus

 Values

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? Not listen to them

When did they last lie? ‘No, its fine’ - when asked if they wanted to talk about what he did

What’s their view of lying? Lying is bad, it’s just really confusing. That being said, she is okay with it when you are doing so to protect yourself

When did they last make a promise? They don’t make promises

Daily life

What are their eating habits? They won’t eat things if they are in the wrong order. Eating is boring so she wont do it unless she is actually hungry. She has lots of ‘bad’ foods - tomatoes (puree is okay), cucumber, bananas, mushrooms, dates, oranges (orange juice is okay). Fizzy drinks. ARFID

Do they have any allergies? no

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? Hoarder. Everything looks like a mess but it all has a reason for being where it is.

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Clean teeth, shower, water, food, pack bag, get dressed, clean teeth, check the lights and plugs, college.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? Edit and then do some gardening

What do they do on a Friday night? Make pizza and play minecraft and drink

What is the soft drink of choice? She doesn’t like fizzy drinks. She will have ribeena

What is their alcoholic drink of choice? Blackberry liquor that her mum makes for social drinking. She has a habit of getting very drunk with vodka and smoking to dull her mind

Miscellaneous

Who is their hero? Elton John

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? She doesn’t celebrate halloween and instead tries to do Samhain rituals.

Are they comfortable with technology? Yes but she does tape over her camera and is always using a vpn

If they could call one person for help, who would it be? Taylor

What is their greatest regret? That they didn’t say no enough. Thinks about the butterfly effect constantly though so wouldn’t change anything in her past if she could.

What would they do if they won the lottery? Split the money between her, her sister, her mum and a little tiny bit for her dad so he doesn’t hate her. She would set up her own music label and get a farm but almost the rest of it will be for setting up charities/donating. She wants one charity for helping victims of abuse, another to go to an orphanage, and then to alazhiemers and autism charities. 

What is their favourite fairytale? Snow white and rose red

Do they believe in happy endings? No

What is their idea of perfect happiness? Sat on her farm, her music playing softly in the background, many cats and goats and chickens, and a bowl of soup. 

If your character could travel through time, where would they go? They would stay right where they are. Although, she would quite like to tell the guy that came up with autism to not be a sexist twat.

What sport do they excel at? They are weirdly good at golf but don’t like it as it is such an unnecessary use of green space

What sport do they suck at? Frisby 

If they could have a superpower, what would they choose? Invisibility or the power to change chances

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

Unexpected Arrival

Sam Wilson x OFC

Word count: 6071

A/N: Commisson for the awesome @minimoose23 There will be a part 2!

Summary: Juniper Davis is coming from on military approved leave; the only thing is, she isn’t coming home alone. Now she has to introduce her friends to Kix Davis, her three month old son and one Avenger isn’t so happy.

The airplane was quiet, except for the sound of a man two rows up snoring; I felt bad for the people sitting next to him, but from my seat, the noise sounded soothing in an odd way. Leaning into the large seat, business class, courtesy of a certain Tony Stark, I cradled the little bundle of joy against my chest. He had turned three months a week ago and it was his first airplane ride, I was proud and deeply grateful that he had spent most of the trip sleeping. That was my boy, though. He was like his father, quiet and relaxed, and I was thankful for that, because God knew how stubborn and loud, I could be. Kix, he had his daddy’s personality, but he looked just like me; big brown eyes and soft brown hair, he was going to kill it with the ladies one day.

Sighing contently, my hand lifted to his head and stroked the top of it, smiling when he moved a bit from my touch. There was only two hours left before landing back into the great city of New York, where Tony  would be waiting; I had missed him, all of them – Sam, Steve, Natasha, Bruce, and even Clint, who always liked to annoy the hell out of me with the sailor talk. The last two years on Navy deployment had been tough without my friends and team, working as an information systems technician, but it was a job I loved. I signed up two years prior to this last deployment, even when I was not entirely sure I could handle the sea. Luckily, the ocean had nothing on me, and things had gone wildly perfect and fun, if I was being completely honest, I loved it. Then Nick Fury got in contact with me, had learned through the grapevine (not really sure how and never really wanted to know) that I was a pretty accomplished and gifted code breaker – it had not been something I intentionally  gotten into, it sort of fell into my lap and I went with it. I must have been good enough because Fury asked me to join SHIELD when I was not on active duty and that was when I met the Avengers.

A saucy group of individuals that I had no business being in the same room as, they fought aliens and avenged the World, I was in the Navy and worked mostly on a computer. For the first few months, I never even worked in the same building as the team, mostly working on intel solo missions doing code work and earning a nice little bank account while I was at it. Then I was called to the big leagues and joined the team on a mission in Germany; it was weird at first, being in a quin-jet with Captain America, but after a few hours it felt like I was back with my Navy crew and after that, things just got easier.

Eventually, I moved into the facility with everyone and it had made me feel normal – especially with Sam Wilson. The Falcon, as he was known, was extremely charming and snarky, but kind. He immediately had taken me under his wing, figuratively, and the two of us hit it off pretty well. We went to basketball games on our down time, binged watched a lot of Netflix, but mostly, we bonded on our common service time. He was military like me, and understood the life, the way it felt to be back home and around civilians. Sam often invited to me to go down to the VA with him and he became this link to my service life in this new Avenging world. If I was being truly honest, I had a major crush on him but knowing I would be going back to the Navy eventually, I just did not want that long distance relationship. I did not want to miss Sam more than needed and I did not want to make him wait around for me, because life was made to live, and I could not hold him back. So, I slowed my roll, pulled back a bit and made it clear I was ready to go back to duty and that was my main focused. I knew Sam would get it, he had to and that was it. Except, I still missed him.

“Hey Kix,” I whispered to my son, his eyes fluttering open as I shifted him in my arms. He was light and when he yawned, my heart soared; he was the best thing that happened to me and I was anxious to get home and to introduce him to everyone, to Sam. “Everyone is going to be so surprised to meet you, but I know they’re going to love you.”

It was true, no one knew except Fury, that Kix even existed. To be frank, I was surprised to see the pink positive sign on the pregnancy test a year ago. It was shocking and mind blowing, I think I even laughed a little – but that might have been more hysterics -induced laughter. Children were far from my mind, I was busy being a SHIELD agent, but it happened. It happened with Joel Holt, he worked IT with me; I had trained him when he first arrived, he was cute and funny. Sweet and kind, and one night, a collective day off, the two of us went to get a drink or two with a group of sailors from our rank. It was a rowdy night, everyone was letting lose after a week of a shit workload and the music was flowing, drinks never ending, and Joel was really, really hot in his blue jeans and black tee shirt. What can I say, I was a sucker that night. He had me from the moment he stared across the bar, his eyes meeting mine with this lightness that made my head dizzy and before I knew it, the two of us were walking back to the off-base apartment I shared with another female sailor. The sex was sloppy and frenzy, we laughed a lot and then it lasted no longer than an hour before Joel and I passed out smelling like booze. The next morning, I woke up to my alarm screaming at six in the morning, even though it was my day off. That was when I noticed a naked Joel in my bed; a month went by after the hook-up and neither of us wanted anything from it until I found out I was pregnant. We decided that being together was not an option, it wasn’t something we wanted and agreed that co-parenting would be best. Joel was with me when I reported to my rank officer that I was indeed pregnant, and we made a plan; I was to stay on duty until I reached my twentieth week in my pregnancy and after that I was to take a leave to wait to deliver. Joel had been every bit there for me and even held my hand during the delivery, but then he was to be deployed for a full year, and my leave was extended for a few more months after Kix was born, giving me time to make arrangements for when I would eventually go back. It was a lot to think about, but the first place I immediately thought of to go, was home.

“Uncle Tony’s going to pick us up from the airport,” I whispered to Kix, rocking him gently. He was staring at me, his little fingers grasping at the soft mint green blanket. It was a tough delivery but the two of us had made it through, Joel and I could not take our eyes off Kix. I watched Joel cry as he held his son for the first time and I knew we had made the right choice, he was going to be a wonderful father, but we were never meant to be together. “We’re going to ride in a fancy car, your first. Isn’t that awesome? Man, he’s going to love you, kiddo.”

….

And he did; Tony Stark was hardly shocked, but when he saw me walking out of the terminal with Kix in my arms, his jaw nearly touched the floor.

“June, tell me you didn’t steal that baby,” he asked, reaching an arm around my shoulder for a light hug as to not disturb the sleeping infant.

“This is my son, Tony,” I chastised him with a smile and pulled back the blanket to show Kix’s face. He was awake and alert as Tony whistled, touching the side of his face. “This is Kix, he’s happy to meet you. He would love a scholarship in his name for college.”

The Tony smirked and asked if he could hold him. I said yes and slowly handed over my son, watching as the man grinned and cooed at the little boy. “Wow, kid, you’ve been gone for two years and this is what the Navy has you doing?”

Laughing, I shrugged and leaned down to kiss Kix’s forehead. “Something like that. So, you know what I’m dying for?”

Barely taking his eyes off the baby, Tony looked over to me and smiled. “A burger?”

…..

I had two burgers while Tony held Kix, munching on fries himself as he cooed over the little boy; asking me a million questions concerning the pregnancy and whether I was going back to my duty, and if I was when and what my plan was for the baby. Most importantly, he asked who the father was and I just smiled.

“He’s a fellow sailor and that’s all I have to say about that.”

“Okay, Forrest Gump.”

He laughed then I did. “He’s a good man, Tony, that’s all anyone needs to know.”

Tony’s face relaxed and he smiled down at Kix, leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead. “I get it, privacy granted. The others are going to flip out, you do know this, right?”

The others.

Yeah, Tony was easier to deal with – he never prodded when it came to people’s personal lives, but there was Natasha and Sam, when those two wanted answers, they always found a way to get them. That was what you were afraid of, knowing they would hound to know who Joel was and why he wasn’t around, especially Sam.

“You worried about Wilson?”

“Why would I be worried about Sam?”

Tony’s eyebrow rose in judgement and I pretended to be invested in the shake in front of me, taking a long sip until it was emptied out, the noise of the straw sucking air making him wince a bit. He dramatically begged me to stop and I obeyed, falling back into my chair.

“Sam and I never really had anything,” I explained, throat drenched with thirst from the chocolatey shake. “So why am I anxious to see him? To know what he thinks about Kix?”

Tony gave out a sigh and again, gazed down at the baby; he looked good holding a kid and I wondered if Pepper knew this. I told him this and he grinned ear to ear.  “Wilson’s a big boy, it’s not like the two of you had this fifth-grade pinky promise to stay pure.”

“So, he’s been dating around?” He said yes and I felt relieved; we never really talked about taking our friendship to another level, but yeah, we both knew there was something there. But I was not thinking of him the night I slept with Joel and hadn’t for a while, so consumed with a newborn. I was happy to hear he was seeing people and having fun, he had every right to live his life while I lived mine.

“Oh, look,” Tony cooed to Kix, caressing his thumb against his little chin. “Mommy looks mighty jealous.”

Ignoring his poke, I asked for his cell – he handed over without a question and even posed when I snapped a photo of the pair. “What do you say we send this photo to Pepper and tell her you bought a baby?”

Tony’s eyes lit up in mischievous delight and he smiled. “Please do.”

…..

The living room  was rowdy, people calling dibs on various soft spots around the TV; Sam had two bowls of popcorn perched in each hand, declaring everyone to shut the hell up as he moved around Clint, who decided being on the floor provided the best view. Steve and Natasha sat next to each other on the couch, her back against his side as her feet stretched out to the other end of the sofa. Bucky was on the leather recliner, looking a bit sad but what was new? He did manage a smile when Sam handed over a bowl of popcorn, ordering him to share it with Clint, who crawled over to be closer to the recliner. Sam then took his place next to the couch, on the oversized and comfortable lean back lounger next to the couch. Steve held the remote in his hand and asked if everyone was ready to begin the binge watching of the new of Stranger Things. There was a collective answer of yes and the show began, and everyone settled down.

Sam’s body was in Heaven as he relaxed and took a handful of popcorn before passing it off to Steve, who then shared it with Natasha. He loved down time from missions and all the hero agenda, when everyone could just be normal for a while and zombie out on shows and food. It was nice but as he watched contently as few of the kids appeared on screen, Sam could not help but think of June. He often did that, when things got quiet around the facility; wonder how she was doing and when the noise in his head got too loud, he would email her. He knew, from what she had said, that she lived off base and it never failed – every time he emailed, she’d write back within hours. Except, lately, in the last few months, he hadn’t received much. Knowing first-hand how the military life went, Sam chalked it off to busyness. She would write eventually, a long email about what’s being going on and how her return date was coming soon. Sam thought of the plans the two of them had made; a few ball games with Steve and lots of drinking and bar hopping; plus, a little downtime to just to hang out. That’s what Sam was looking most forward to, being able to have June to himself and possibly feel the waters of taking things to another level. There was something there, had been since day one when June was introduced to the team; she was stubborn but playful as hell, could hold her own against Sam’s snarky personality. It was fun and he had been counting down the months for her return – June was due three months from now and he was excited to see her.

“Has anyone heard from Juniper?”

Sam’s eyes glanced over to Natasha, who was stuffing her mouth with popcorn, eyes glued to the television. She wondered out loud why she hadn’t emailed her back and Sam felt relieved to know he was not the only one not getting replies. Steve chimed in that she must be busy, and Clint scoffed and said how hard was it to send an email back. Getting a bit defensive by Barton’s remarks, Sam acknowledged that fact that June was fulfilling a service important to the country and that he should have some damn respect.

“Touchy, touchy,” Clint jokes. His head fell back down to the ground and he waved a hand in the air to apologize, then everyone settled down again, but Sam could only watch the show with a loud mind. He couldn’t focus and eventually excused himself, claiming he was not in the mood to watch – he promised to catch up but needed to go work out. No one protested, but as soon as he left the room, Natasha took a handful of popcorn and belted it at Clint.

“You had to go open your dumb mouth.”

“I forget how sensitive he is when it comes to June – she’s been gone for a long time.”

“She’ll be back in a few months,” Steve explained. He asked everyone to just keep the June talk down until then. “Sam misses her more than anyone of us, let’s not make it harder, got it?”

Clint threw a thumbs up in the air and the room got quiet again as the show went on.

….

The facility elevator was filled with shopping bags, among them a few of my own bags I had brought on the trip; Tony had insisted on stopping by the nearest baby store to pick things up for our stay at the facility. I had planned to stay only for two weeks and then take a flight to my folks’ home, where we would stay until I had to report for duty for my final deployment. My parents would care for Kix until I would come back, six months later, when my military contract ended– it was going to be hard, being away from my little boy, but that was how it had to be.

“Everyone’s going to lose their shit.”

I glanced over at Tony, who was carrying Kix in his car seat. “I hope they don’t mind a baby in their quarters, he’s much of a crier.”

“Who cares, let him scream his lungs out, they can deal with it.”

Smiling, I thanked him just as the elevator dinged opened to the hall that leads to the main living quarters for the Avengers. I looked down at all the bags and Tony said to leave them for now, waving his free hand to tell me to lead the way. I did grab my suitcase and backpack, which was filled with Kix’s diapers and such, before exiting the elevator. The two of us walked to the doors and Tony told me to open the door. I did and it felt like coming home again, I could remember all the times I would bring groceries in with Natasha, screaming for someone to help just so we could ditch the groceries for the ice cream we bought. We hated putting everything away and usually Sam was the one that came around, rolling his eyes but giving me two spoons and waving us out of the communal kitchen. He was a good roommate, they all were, although Clint was the messiest and it was funny to see Sam bitch and moan about it.

“FRIDAY, where are the degenerates?”

“Living room.”

We looked at each other and smiled, this time I told Tony to lead the way. I followed behind him, leaving my suitcase by the door but strapping on the backpack. As we drew closer to the living room and kitchen, I could hear the television on, and I felt a bit nervous as we approached – how would they all react to Kix? What would they say? What would Sam say? It was all happening fast but I calmed myself before we reached the living room, because these were my friends and I knew they would be excited to meet Kix.

Tony walked in first, announcing himself like the King he believed himself to be, everyone turning to say hi and double taking when they saw the baby in his arms. Clint was the first to jump up when he saw me lingering behind Tony. He shouted my name and smiled, moving around the coffee table and couch to give me a hug. He said he was glad to see me and gave me a tight squeeze before getting a look at the baby Tony was carrying. His eyes gazed down at him with a smile before looking over to me and gesturing to ask if that was my baby.

I nodded. “His name is Kix.”

That’s when everyone else had gotten up from their seats and came over, giving me hugs and kisses before turning their attention to my son. I was delighted to see how responsive they all were, Natasha being the first to ask to hold him. Tony, with a frown, gave the baby up and asked Bucky and Steve to retrieve the bags from the elevator.

“He bought out a baby store on the way here,” I explained, following Natasha as she moved back to the couch. She sat down carefully as I took up the space next to her, watching as she rocked Kix against her chest.

“You have a baby,” she said, and I laughed.

“It sorta just happened, but I’m glad it did.”

Natasha gave me a warm smile and held a handout to my shoulder. “I am too. Is this why you’re home so early?”

I answered yes, explaining about my approved leave and how I must be back in a few months for my last deployment. Her face fell and she looked sad for me, but I told her it was okay. It was only six months and then I would have the rest of my life to be with my son. She asked where Kix would be during that time and I said with my parents, which made her even sadder.

“My parents love you, Nat. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you visiting.”

Pleased with that answer, her face lit up again and she said she could watch him if I was tired from the trip. I hadn’t felt tired until she said it and my body slouched against the couch cushions as I listened to her cooing over Kix and telling him she was Auntie Natasha while giving him kisses. It was sweet and I was happy to be home, but I hadn’t seen one face.

“Where’s Sam? Is he out on a mission?”

She said the gym and when I asked if she could watch Kix while I pop in to say hello, she practically shooed me away, her eyes glued to the baby. Laughing, I left and first went to find Steve and Bucky. I went back to the main doors and found Tony on his cell, he removed the phone from his ear and said Pepper got the photo. We laughed and I asked if he had seen the boys.

“They took your stuff to your old room.”

I nodded and left him to his call, hoping Pepper would consider having a baby with Tony, because that man would be an excellent one. Moving down the hall, I passed everyone’s room until I got to my old one – it was across from Sam’s but next to Nat’s and it was the last door to the right. The door was flung open and I poked my head in to see Steve and Bucky, arranging all the bags in one corner.

“Thanks, guys. It’s a lot, sorry.”

“Not a problem, these are the last of the things,” Steve said, walking over to me. He gave me a warm hug and told me it was nice to have me home. “Even with the new edition.”

“We could use another person on the team,” Bucky teased, and I grinned, as I let go of Steve.  Telling him maybe one day, I moved down to all the bags and started rummaging through all the things Tony had brought. It was enough to sustain Kix for a few months before taking to my parents. Bucky sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Steve said he’d go pick up some lunch for everyone. I watched as he left before asking Bucky to help me take everything out of the bags. He did, without saying much, but I saw a small smile on his face that said enough. We made several piles – one for clothing, bottles, diapers, toys, and other accessories.

“That’s a lot of stuff for one baby.”

“Tony went a little overboard.”

Bucky nodded and mentioned that Sam had missed me, and that’s when I remembered I left Kix with Natasha to find him. Laughing at my forgetfulness, it happened a lot when all I had on the brain was Kix.  I started to get up off the floor to go find him, when his forceful voice came belting down the hall. He shouted to whoever heard as to why my bedroom door was opened and when he reached the doorway, his eyes widened in surprise.

“June!”

“Sam!”

My face was bright and happy, stumbling over the bags and Bucky, to his open arms. Sam hugged me tightly and kissed my hair, asking why I was home. “I thought you weren’t due for a few more months. They finally got sick of you?”

Pulling from him, I shook my head and moved out of the way so he could look at what Bucky was doing; he was arranging a bountiful of onesies in a neat pile and Sam snorted, not connecting the dots. It had taken him a moment as his eyes roamed from item to item surrounding Bucky, whose brows scrunched in confusion at the breast pump in his hand. That’s when Sam gazed down at my stomach and noticed that it was a bit softer than last time, but even then, he wasn’t sure if I was expecting or had a baby. His questions were answered a few seconds later when Natasha came bouncing in, declaring that Kix needed a diaper change.

“Surprise,” I announced quietly, unsure of his reaction. “I had a baby, a little boy – Kix.”

“Like the cereal?” was all he could manage until I just laughed and asked Natasha to hand him over. She insisted she wanted to try her hand at diaper changing, even when I warned her that she had to be quick – joking about a golden shower. She grinned and asked Bucky to find her a diaper and wipes, which he did as Sam stood in front of me.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you; I didn’t tell anyone – well, except Fury.”

“You have a baby,” Sam said, and I nodded, giving him a smile. He finally returned the gesture and hugged me again, excusing himself. “I’m sweaty, I should go shower.”

“Oh, yeah, okay,” I nodded, feeling a bit disappointed. I guess I thought he would be happy, but he seemed distant. “Well, Steve went to get lunch, it should be back before you get out.”

Sam smiled and gave me another quick hug, but leaving the room, not even a glance at Kix. I waited until I heard his bedroom door open and closed, before turning to Bucky and Natasha. They both gave me sympathetic smiles and Natasha confessed she might need help. I grinned and told Bucky to observe.

“No one is escaping diaper duty.”

….

Only Sam escaped diaper duty, because he stayed far away from Kix and me; after that initial hello, I barely saw him over the next two weeks. At first, I figured he’d come around after a few days, that maybe it was weird having a baby at the facility, had to take some time getting used to. Then after a few days had gone by, and everyone else grew to love Kix in that short time, Sam was still acting aloof, and it hurt. He couldn’t even be in the same room as Kix without making an excuse to leave, the only time he even talked more than a few words to me was when Steve and Natasha had taken Kix out to the little pond near the facility for a walk in his stroller. Sam had walked into the kitchen to find me making lunch, he smiled and asked me to leave the stuff out.

“Making a famous Wilson sandwich?”

“You know it,” he laughed and then I laughed, because it was nice. He promptly told me to step aside as he took over the lunch making and I sat on the counter, watching and answering his questions about my deployment. I talked but noted that any time Kix came up, he changed the subject or asked if I wanted a certain item in my sandwich. I didn’t push the subject, but it was upsetting and later that night I found myself crying to Steve, asking him why Sam was being this way.

“It was obviously he liked you, right?”

“I know,” I cried, wiping tears. I hated feeling this way, because Sam had been my best friend but now, he could barely look me in the eye, let alone acknowledge my child. “But Kix is my son, and he’s just gonna have to swallow that pill. What was I supposed to do? Stay celibate?”

Steve laughed and said no, that Sam would have never asked that of me. “He knew that you didn’t want any type of relationship with anyone while you were serving, and maybe he’s hurt because you came home with a child.”

“But I’m not with Joel.” It was the first time I had said his name out loud to any of my friends, of course Natasha had prodded to know who Kix’s father was, but I stayed mummed. So there never was a real confirmation of Joel’s role in my life besides him having a parenting role. Sighing, I thanked Steve and decided that night, during dinner, I would answer all the questions anyone had.

…..

Everyone was seated at the table, Kix was sleeping in the bassinet Natasha had brought from my room and put it next to her. She was attached to say the least and it was nice, seeing that light in her eyes. I sat next to her and served her while she gave Kix his pacifier, it was Chinese night and there were to-go cartons being passed around. I laughed when Clint, who sat across from me, threw a fortune cookie at me and said maybe I’d have better luck next time finding a good man.

“Rude,” Natasha scolded but I flipped him off and laughed.

“Joel’s a great guy,” I declared, knowing what I was doing by name dropping his name. Sam, who was seated next to Clint, looked down at his plate before engaging in a conversation with Bucky and Steve. Natasha glanced over at me and smiled, saying she didn’t totally hate the name Joel and asking how we met.

“He’s an IT tech too.”

“So, he’s still on active duty?”

I said yes and explained that he sadly still had a year left on his contract with the military, but that he was excited to finish up and come see Kix. “He wants to relocate to New York; he’s going to buy a small place outside the city. I think he was talking about New Jersey, I’m not sure.”

I eyed Sam, who seemed to be listening but also pretending he wasn’t.

“New Jersey isn’t too far, you’ll still be close to us,” Clint shrugged, and I gave him a confused look, and he squinted his eyes. “Wait, you’re not moving to Jersey?”

“No.”  The noise around the table seemed to quiet down as I elaborated, saying that Joel and I were not together. Natasha asked why not, and I shrugged. “He’s going to be an amazing father, but I barely know him. “

“You had a baby with him,” Clint pointed out and I smirked.

“I mean, he was a good friend of mine and we get along great, but there wasn’t any real chemistry between us.” Again, Clint pushed the agenda that I had a baby with Joel, and I laughed, rolling my eyes. “It was a one-night stand, Barton.”

Natasha chuckled and leaned down to touch Kix’s head. “Did you hear that? You’re a one-night stand baby.”

Ignoring her comment, I looked over to Sam and smiled at him before addressing the group. “If no one else has any more questions about Joel, can we eat now?”

Steve grinned and held up his drink. “To one-night stands.”

….

It was nearly two in the morning; my eyes were glossy from tiredness and Kix was crying as I attempted to rock him back to sleep. He had awakened forty minutes prior, and I feed him, but it was not enough. He was having a bad night; I was so exhausted and worried that he would wake everyone up – even though Tony had said who cares. I cared, because I didn’t want to put anyone out. Moving up from the rocking chair, I started pacing the room.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” I attempted to soothe him, but Kix was having known of it, his brown eyes closing and opening with each cry. He had never had a night like this before and I was on the verge of my own tears when a soft knock came from my bedroom door. Feeling embarrassed, I tried to hush Kix before answering it, surprised to find Sam.

He was wearing dark gray sweats and a white tee, his eyes tired and droopy.

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” I apologized, rocking Kix a bit faster. “I’m sure he’ll be asleep soon.”

Sam stared at me for what seemed like forever, but was always a few seconds before his face softened and he asked to come in. I moved aside and he did, closing the door behind him. I bounced Kix and watched as Sam turned to me and held out his hands. I was confused at first, so I just stood there, delirious with the lack of sleep.

He laughed. “Give me the kid.”

I said what. He repeated himself and stepped closer. “Are…are you sure?”

“Yeah, come on. I’ve held a baby before.”

My son’s cries were ringing in my ear, so I gave him up and watched as Sam held him gently. I was amazed to see how natural he took to it and it hit me this was the first time Sam was holding Kix – they looked good together. I felt warmth shoot through my body and got so lost in the joy that I hadn’t noticed that the crying at subsided.

“That’s right, little guy,” Sam whispered, his arms swayed back and forth as Kix fell back to sleep. “You need to get some sleep, cause your mom needs her rest. I have to take her to lunch tomorrow, to apologize for being such a jack-ass.”

I grinned and shook my head, moving closer to the pair. I peeked down at Kix and saw that he was asleep, face soft and pudgy. My eyes lingered to Sam, our bodies so close I could almost feel the warmth radiating off him. “I like lunch.”

Sam shrugged, eyes lowering a bit in shame. “I’m sorry for the way I had been acting, I hate to admit it, but I was jealous.”

“Sam – “

“– no, it’s just, they way we left things,” he whispered. “You said you hadn’t wanted a relationship while you were away and then you came home with this fella. I -I just thought that it was me then, that you didn’t want a relationship with me.”

Admiring his vulnerability, I smiled and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “It was never not you, Sam. I just – it got lonely.”

“I get it, believe me,” he insisted with a snort. “Military life, am I right?”

“Yeah,” I smiled, yawning.  He motioned for the crib and I followed as he walked over to it, giving me a glance. I said for him to go on and watched as he placed Kix down on the crib mattress, stilling for a moment to make sure he wouldn’t stir. Kix didn’t and Sam sighed in relief, turning back to me with a kind smile. He reached out for my arm and squeezed it, before leaning in to kiss my forehead.

“So, lunch, tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” I said, walking to the door. The two of us stood at the doorway for a moment before Sam kissed me light on the lips; it was nice, and it felt right. He said goodnight but stopped when he turned to leave. His eyes found the crib before meeting mine and he winked at me.

“Bring Kix tomorrow, I’d like to get to know him better.”

“It’s a date,” I proclaimed in a quiet voice. “Goodnight, Sam.”

“Goodnight, June.”

[whitewolfbumble]

Expressions of Love -  Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You have the ability of physical attraction- more a curse than a power- that makes you a particular asset to the team. Distancing yourself for your own protection and while personally knowing nothing of love, you thought of yourself as somewhat of an expert on the topic when it came to the members of the team. All except Steve, who you were closest with and for some reason couldn’t keep away from.

Prompt: “I keep drawing you in my sketchbook because I’ve always found you to be beautiful and I’m longing to tell you how I feel, but one day you find it and you have questions”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: People get unwantedly handsy/gropey with you and there is low-grade recurring trauma from it (please don’t read if you think that in any way would bother/trigger you!), a fight breaks out, Reader is a bit touch-starved, kinda hurt/comfort?, Protective!Steve is protective, 

Word Count: 8k 

A/N: Somehow this is my first Steve Rogers x Reader fic??? And it happens to be for @stanclub’s 2.5 Writing Challenge! Hope you enjoy darling!

MY MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

_______

“We could use a distraction here,” Nat said lowly in the comm, crouched behind the safety of a large tree some distance away, blasts and gunshots ringing through the air. “This isn’t a cell group at all.”

“It’s a small army out here,” Bucky said, finishing her thought with the ratatat of his machine gun pinging off.

You were already off the quinjet at that point, boots softly crunching down on the thin and hard layer of snow that covered the forest. Without the sun for warmth on this blue-grey morning it wasn’t all too bad out, leaving you in a long-sleeved shirt, trimmed vest, and fingerless gloves that had you blending into the scenery. The elements weren’t what you needed to be hidden away from anyway, but a group of high-tech extremists whose base was a few hundred metres ahead.

The team was already engaging them, the fight starting off easy and as planned, but was fast devolving into something far more precarious and bloody.

“I’m making my way over, just tell me when,” you said.

“Y/N,” Steve responded. “We’ll manage here on our own, I don’t w-”

A yelp rang through the air, jarring and pained. The sound stopped you in your tracks, footsteps faltering. It lasted only a moment.

“Clint’s hit!” Nat said.

If the first sound caused you stop still, that one made you sprint into action, the crunch of footfalls hitting the ground hard as you took off sprinting. The deep of the woods did nothing to impede you, weaving through statuesque trees and bare brambles to get to your companions in the fray.

“It’s bad,” she continued after a moment, voice tight in her throat between your heavy puffs of air as you ran. “We need to get him out of here now.”

You soon saw the team up ahead, their figures muted through the hazy cold of the morning and coming in flashes of colour. Black for Nat and purple for Clint, huddled together and struggling to stand. Black and silver for Bucky, providing cover for the pair as his gun didn’t stop firing and determination didn’t falter a second. The deep blue of Steve, shield whipping out and back to his hand faster than you could track. A flash the red and gold for Tony, flying through the tops of the trees while dodging fiery blasts. Another shot of red was Thor, barreling on top of tanks and throwing down Mjolnir to crumble the metal below his feet.

But the dark green-clad figures of the enemy were everywhere and for every one the Avengers took down, it was like two more rose in their place. Often times on missions you were outmanned- that wasn’t anything new- but this was brutally so, and clearly here you were vastly out-gunned too.

“There aren’t too many, it’ll be fine,” you said between clenched teeth, looking out to the scene in front of you and trying not to let the gritty apprehension you felt settle into your bones. “Call it, Captain. I’ll be ready.”

You saw Steve fighting straight ahead, throwing punches as Tony whipped by him, momentarily clearing the way for him to speak.

“Alright, but we’ll be right here,” he assured, a concerned edge to his voice as there always was when you did this. He turned from his position if only briefly to try and spot you through the trees. For a second his eyes held yours. “We’ve got you, Y/N.”

You nodded as he turned back to the fight, somewhat encouraged by his words even if your hands were shaking just slightly. You sidestepped out from being half-hidden behind a tree trunk and into the small clearing in front of you.

You took several deep slow breaths, purposefully exhaling out your power into the space around you. It filled this morning winter scene, seeking out the enemies the Avengers were fighting against. In your mind you focused on the green-clad men, just focusing and breathing and letting your power trickle free, coming loose from some hidden place inside you.

“Look out team,” you said in warning, voice suddenly calm and smooth, matching the expression on your face as you kept your eyes closed.

Your hands weren’t shaking any more as one raised in front of you, holding it out as though reaching for something.

The gunshots suddenly stopping short was the first sign, and the second was the crunching of snow as innumerable footsteps began to move closer to you, slow and steady.

Cracking open your eyes as you felt a firm and steady handle on the power seeping from you, you saw them coming closer, emerging from the forest like the living dead. Their eyes were transfixed on you singularly and their hearts beat under their chest a mile a minute, a chorus flooding the forest with the sound of drums.

You were “calling” them to you in a sense and it set off a longing for you so deep in their souls and bodies that they lost sight of the fight, each other, and themselves in the process. The only thing they wanted in that moment was you and you alone. It was something primal and all-consuming.

And that was your ability; to have people desire you so deeply it consumed and clouded them from everything but you.

Nat and Clint, with the help of Vision, were well on their way to the quinjet and part of you hummed with ease at that. With the mob of people slowly making their way to you, the rest of the team worked to incapacitate them as fast as they could. Through training and focus your teammates could fight your abilities somewhat- and you did you best not to target them- but it was an unspoken struggle on both sides.

Still, the mass of dark-clad and faceless people kept coming in droves, despite how many the team were getting too. God, you should have started this farther back, you didn’t realize their numbers as they practically emerged from the woodwork to surround you.

You felt a hand grip your shoulder, wretching you back and trying to take hold of you. Without breaking concentration you took hold of their hand, ripping it off of you and half-turning your body to snap their wrist bone, sending the assailant to their knees. With a kick to the head they were out like a light and you were back to the matter at hand.

The facts were that you didn’t have super strength, you weren’t a super spy with super skills, and if you snapped the mob out of this before they got to you, there was no guarantee all of them would actually stop their insatiable want for you. You were trusting the team to incapacitate them in time, and they were trusting you to hold out long enough for them to do so.

Sometimes the longer you held people under your sway the more crazed they got, and sometimes the longer you held them the harder it was to keep it up. It just depended on the individual, and in a mob like this, you had to use a significant amount of your power to keep everyone under the same level of influence. Meaning you were now piling on the power to those who were already crazed enough.

Another hand, this time on your hip, gripped you. Before you could so much as move you saw someone appear from the side and grab you across your waist. Another wrapped their arms around you from behind, trying to rip you away from the other two.

Shit!

“Let go Y/N!” shouted someone, but frantically above the encroaching mob like a sea of dark green in front of you, you couldn’t tell who.

You swung out elbows and used just about every maneuver Clint, Nat, Bucky, and Steve had collectively taught you, but it was too much. Too many hands now began to cover your body, scratching at you and pulling your skin and your clothes and your hair. Your vest was torn in two, one boot ripped off, and you felt the heat of blood cooling fast all over as your skin was torn open under fingernails.

You pulled back your power like a rubber band, hoping that whoever of the mob was left would still be dazed enough for the team to take them down before they could start firing again.

In a rush you were pulled down to the ground with countless people falling on top of you, crushing and stealing the air from your lungs in a bone-rattling thud. You couldn’t breathe- could barely move- as people consumed and overwhelmed every sense you had.

As you felt yourself drowning in skin and pressure that made you want to scream, a sudden hit of cold air entered your lungs. It was the sweetest you had ever tasted, bodies being thrown off of you and the shining glimmer from a shield, a hammer, and a metal suit flashing somewhere through the crushing mob.

A deep navy-clad arm reached down by way of life raft and you scrambled to grip it through the horde covering you. The arm roughly pulled you up and out of the clutches of the mob, and you launched yourself towards the body it was attached too. You gripped the frame of Steve as he held you tightly, holding you firm to his body and sprinting from the mob as though you weighed nothing.

You were jostled hard for a few moments before you were carefully set down against a tree. Eyes closed, you breathed deep, shaking breathes of the cold, clear air. As you did, you felt the feather-light touches of his hands searching across the tattered, barely held together garments that hung from you. It was blissfully so unlike the hard, demanding gropes of countless hands that were just trying to tear you apart.

You wanted to commit that feeling to memory forever, to hold that feeling close to you in the dead of night when you woke up terrified from nightmares and gasping for freedom. You wanted those light, caring, deft fingertips and broad, warm, caressing hands on you always, to shake away every other horrible feeling of unwanted flesh groping yours.

Only after a moment of his studying your frame for serious injury did you open your eyes, looking up to the super soldier. His light blue eyes were a picture of concern, brimming with emotions rippling through his eyes too fast for you to decipher in your spent state. You felt the ghost of his fingers cradle your jaw, the other settling lightly on your hip to steady you.

“Tell me that helped,” you murmured shakily, grabbing onto his arm as though grounding yourself to the safe presence that was your dear friend. “Or at least lie to me if it wasn’t?”

“It helped,” he said, his light blue eyes shining again as though sunlight glinting off the ocean. Now you were aware enough to see a calm and relief spread through his muscles as you spoke and joked, signaling to him you were fine. “I don’t need to lie about that.”

You gripped him tighter, trying to move to get up, screwing your eyes shut against the sharp flashes and throbbing pulses of pain that moved through you.

“No, you’re done here,” he said, words firm and kind, keeping you from moving. When he spoke next it was into the comm. “Y/N’s okay, I’m getting her back to the jet. Let’s get this wrapped up.”

When he picked you up it was both fast and hesitant, and you couldn’t understand why, but then again, you never could. It was always Steve to get you, who pulled you from danger long before your stupidly self-sacrificing nature would allow. Always Steve who gently set you down and created a wall of protection with his own body. Always Steve who lightly touched you, checking for injury with those caressing fingers and under those caring eyes. Always Steve who picked you up and carried you back to the safety of the quinjet or a safehouse or home base.

It was always him, and you knew somewhere deep that it would only be him. Though it remained some unspoken, unacknowledged secret, neither of you would allow anyone else to.

So when he held you to his body, you found your favourite spot against him, head pressed gently into the crook of his neck, pain be damned, and focused on what could anchor you to him in this moment. His scent of sweat and adrenalin and clean soap filled your nose. The only thing you could see was him. The only feeling you focused on was his muscles under you and the cage of his arms, firm but gentle, hesitant but confident.

“I’m alright,” you whispered into his skin. Maybe to steady him, maybe to steady yourself. You didn’t know. “I’m okay… I’m okay.”

The words were punctuated with watery tears building, seeping from your eyes and down his neck. They formed and spilled as you felt this episode added to the black swirl of nightmares ever-churning at the back of your mind. You swallowed, trying to force down the whole thing from your mind but it didn’t work. It never did.

A venom and bitterness sprung up in your mouth as you pushed yourself closer to him, a loathing spreading through as it always did after using your ability.

You hated it. Hated using it. Manipulating people to “love” you and want you? It was sick and twisted and deplorable and you hated it. Far beyond just the injuries it caused you.

But the rational part of your mind reasoned, as it always did, that you saved your team members. It was a mantra that was getting old. They could have called in Bruce or you could have insisted they did, but the casualties would have been so much higher.

So you held on to Steve and he held you together.

______

A week later after the mission was done, the enemy rounded up and shipped to the Raft courtesy of Ross, things had eased back into the usual running of things, as it always did.

Through the afternoon, as was customary, the rest of the team had been getting ready and heading out for their respective Friday night plans. Even Clint was well enough now to head back home for some deserved rest and relaxation.

It left you and Steve at the kitchen island, him reading the newspaper and you sipping a cup of calming tea, while Bucky and Nat were grabbing a bottle of water post-training and pre-date night. The airy space seemed all the brighter and energetic with those two here.

“C’mon, Y/N,” called out Bucky to you, though his eyes remained on Natasha, a small mischievous smile on his face as she finished the water bottle. “I think it’s time you snapped me out of this already.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at the brunette super soldier, not seeming overly bothered as you turned back down to your tea warming your hands.

“I told you Buck,” you said, taking a sip as you watched the flirting couple, a sad tinge of envy nagging at you. “This is definitely not me.”

“Oh? So, you taught Nat your ways, did you?” he teased, following closely behind the redhead as she walked out of the kitchen, hand on her hip and satisfied curve on his lips.

She could lead him to the end of the world and he’d probably follow. You had yet to see the love they had for each other reach a limit yet.

Expressions of love across the team were as varied as the members themselves you had found since joining them.

It was impossible not to see Bucky’s smirk of adoration when he sat back and watched Nat train or kick ass or even just walked by him. She was more apt for soft teases in close quarters (which he was picking up on now too, apparently) or colding demolishing anyone on the battlefield that so much as looked at Bucky in a way she didn’t like. He loved sitting back and watching her be her, while her attitude was one of “I can toy with him but don’t you even think about it”.

Tony was devoted eternally and completely to Pepper. Sometimes his gestures for her sparked teasing discussions about what terrible or inconsiderate thing he had done this time. But guilt was never his motivation with her. His constant striving to do right by her filled his mind and thoughts constantly. He was astounded by her, talking a mile a minute to hide the fact that a hundred of his words would only equal one word spoken from her lips. She, on the other hand, was generally the level-headed, cooling, and calming presence to his genius, scattered life. She brought balance to him: joy when he was upset, calm when he was anxious, and a fiery spirit of challenge when he needed a kick in the pants.

Bruce had Betty, though that was hardly a traditional relationship. Distance was how he showed his love for her, refusing to allow himself even the possibility of hurting her. So not exactly a touchy-feeling situation, for obvious reasons. You hadn’t actually met her yet, only seeing pictures and hearing Bruce’s soft words of praise. A particular demure smile would follow whenever he mentioned her, usually followed by a fond-feeling silence.

Sam had a few relationships in your time here, with his smile wider, jokes lighter, and praises readily given to those around him when he found someone new that caught his eye. It was very easy to tell with him when were was someone new in his life, with joy positively beaming from him the moment he walked into a room.

Clint would talk of his acts of service when he returned back to the compound after seeing his family. How he put new flooring in the dining room because Laura’s sock got caught on a loose floorboard and almost made her trip with the newest family addition in her arms. Or that he took out a linen closet to add another walk-in closet for her, because the thought of asking her to purge some of her clothes didn’t even enter his mind. Anything she needed, he readily gave without her needing to ask.

Vision talked a lot to Wanda. He was constantly trying to find the right words to put a smile on her face or hear that twinkling laugh from her. While Wanda herself was more patient with him than anyone else, a happy gleam in her eyes and wry smile on her lips as Vision talked on (and on… and on…).

Now Steve? Well, you had yet to really pinpoint his defining characteristic yet. You could say he was gentlemanly, fair, considerate, fought endlessly for those he loved. But romantic love? You had yet to really see him in love or even in moderate like yet. Even with Natasha and the others offering up possible options for company on a Friday night, similar as they did with you. And like you, he always declined.

It sat like a stone brick in your stomach, thinking of the day when he would give in and say yes. To know someone else would get those light touches or breathe him in or spend your Friday night together as you had been, eating and talking and watching movies together.

But you had made it another week with him politely declining the offer for a blind date. Thank goodness. So once Nat and Bucky were out of the kitchen and the coast was clear, you hopped off your stool, walking around to roll up your sleeves and washed your hands.

“What’re we feeling tonight?” you asked, happily settling into the quiet of the evening and your usual Friday night routine with the only other single member of the team.

“Last week was fajitas?” Steve asked, setting down the paper mirroring your movements, sliding up beside you and washing his hands at the same time.

As usual, you felt the brush of his hip against yours. You smiled to yourself, happier than you had been in a week that he was still here with you and not off on some date with some woman.

“Yeah, I think we have chicken left in the freezer? I can quick thaw that and maybe we have something to make a casserole?”

Steve turned to the cupboard while you turned to the freezer, the two of you moving like a well-oiled machine. You pulled the chicken out of the freezer, popping it in the microwave while Steve rummaged through the cans and dry goods. You could picture the look slight concentration on his face and the bright blue of his eyes.

“Hmm, cream of broccoli?” he asked, throwing a can lightly over his shoulder.

You smiled, holding back a laugh as you caught it deftly, while the other one that immediately followed wasn’t so graceful.

“You’re getting good at that,” he noted, glancing your way with that winning grin of his as he pulled out a can opener.

“Well, this is what, the twenty-sixth Friday in a row?” Steve saddled up to you again, arm brushing against yours as he started cracking open those cans. Maybe you shouldn’t feel so contented by the feel of him so close, but he was about the only one you’d let touch you outside of hand-to-hand combat training…. And even then, that was still mostly only Steve, actually. “I should be the best at this point.”

“Rice is on the counter,” he said, nodding back behind him with his grin only increasing.

“And I heave a big sigh of relief you didn’t throw that,” you remarked cheekily, bumping your shoulder on his arm as you went to put on the rice.

You could almost sense the eye roll and feel the warmth of his smile.

“I’ll never be able to apologize enough for that one, huh.”

“Considering that was the fourth Friday? Probably not.”

And so it continued as it always did, with easy grins, light brushes of skin on skin, friendly chatter with your… well, you were sure what to call Steve, really.

“Teammate” was too distant a word. He might be your friend, but he probably wasn’t your best friend, since he had Bucky. Can you be best friends with someone if they weren’t best friends with you? You’d ask yourself this before, with still no real definitive answer.

Relationships weren’t exactly your forté, considering you had to distance yourself from anyone and everyone, and certainly all those from your past. When your power was developing, it had been out of necessity. You weren’t in control of powers when it first started developing when you were a young teenager. Suddenly having to fight or flee became your life as the people around you were drawn to you beyond their control or yours.

It had been a dark time in your life. You had forced yourself to run away, to be alone, to not risk getting close to anyone. Even after you did have more control over your abilities, there was a distance you kept from those around you. Because what if you slipped up and you couldn’t get away?

But light came back to your life once you found the Avengers. And things got every brighter when you got closer to Steve. When you found yourself able to touch another person again without fear. When you trusted him to not only be able to protect himself from you but protect you from others. When you found yourself able to have him touch you. When you started living for those brief moments.

So while learning everything you could about Sam’s new girl (an old friend from the military days) both of you were too wrapped up in conversation to notice his arm up against yours on the island counter. That little bit of warmth from his skin and the cooling calm of those blue eyes filled you with ease and relaxed each and every muscle down to your toes.

You both were also too wrapped up in each other that you didn’t remember the casserole until it was far, far too late.

Your face quirked, eyebrows pulled together and chin lifted up a bit. You looked around the kitchen, sensing something off but not quite able to pinpoint what. Steve lightly took your hand, eyes searching yours for a moment.

“Is something... burning?” you asked, turning back to him.

Realization hit you both at once, Steve rolling his eyes at his lack of awareness and you both shot off your stools at the same time, sprinting around the island towards the oven.

The moment Steve opened up the oven a plume of smoke billowed out and took over the whole kitchen, the grey swirls pooling in a massive cloud at the ceiling. Both of you were reduced to coughs and sputters, him looking a bit amused and you looking rather abysmal. You were starving at this point, your stomach growling at the exact moment Steve reached in and gingerly pulled out the almost comically blackened casserole.

Not a moment later, the fire alarm started beeping at its most intrusive, ear-shattering pitch.

Both of you took to fanning the room with tea towels, still sputtering in the grey haze though this was a bit of a lost cause and you both knew it.

“It’s like the fourth Friday all over again,” he said loudly over the alarm.

“I’m surprised after the disaster of that night we still kept doing this,” you pointed out, earning a smirk from him. “Alright Captain, call it.”

His smile stayed, looking rather silly with his large muscled body fanning the air with a tiny tea towel to just about no avail.

“Team decision,” he said as his eyebrows pulled together with the same mock seriousness as you, though he couldn’t manage to dash the smile from his face. “Pizza or Thai?”

“Pizza,” you nodded firmly though your eyes began to burn a bit. “You stay and clean, and I’ll pick it up?”

“Affirmative,” he agreed, coughing as he waved smoke in front of his face. You grabbed your sweater slung on the back of the stool and dashed out, smiling as you left the poor thing to this disaster.

_______

You announced yourself by way of a slamming door and hard footsteps booming through the compound. Steve knew something was wrong before you even walked in, hearing how angry and upset you were before you entered the cleaned and much less smoky kitchen.

You blew into the white open space, your eyes red and watery and mouth set into a hard, angry line.

“What is it?” he asked before catching a good look at you. Once he did see the state you were in his tone turned into the same one he had on missions: firmer and deeper. “Y/N, what happened? Are you alright?”

You were already bee-lining right for him but he was too quick and met you halfway, coming right up to you with concern flashing hard and deep in his eyes. He grabbed the pizza boxes from your hands and set them blindly down on the kitchen island behind him, eyes flitting between yours.

“Some assholes at the pizza place,” you commented, running your hand through your hair, anxiety still rocking through you. “Some upstate frat boys here for the weekend, thinking they’re the irresistible ones and I’m some dumb piece of ass that likes being threatened and grabbed.”

“What did they do?” It was less a question and more a threat of action from the soldier. His bright blue eyes became dark and stormy instantly and you saw his fists clench and unclench beside him.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat (unsuccessfully) and before you leaned into the man in front of you, seeking out your favourite spot between his shoulder and neck, you moved away. You passed the brick house of a man, heading for the fridge and one of Clint’s beers. You grabbed two, both for you.

“It’s fine Steve,” you said, still upset and eyes still a puffy, watery mess. “I’m alright.”

You took a swig of the beer, feeling that warm presence walking up behind you. You turned, leaning back against the edge of the counter and tried to keep those burning tears from spilling over.

“I’m okay,” you said once you put down the beer on the counter. It didn’t sound all too convincing though, and you looked up to Steve, wondering if for one he believed it.

You had to admit that look in his eyes, though intense, was familiar and comforting. You were close enough to breathe in that clean smell of his. Feel the pleasant heat radiating off of him. Compounded with your racing heart and longing to feel him and the security he gave, you gave in.

Sighing, you held your elbows and leaned forward, resting your forehead against Steve’s chest.

“I’m okay.”

You felt his hands come up your back, hovering above the thin fabric of your shirt before connecting, holding you lightly, then closely. He wrapped his arms around you, so familiar and comforting. The both of you moved together, body pressing together out of habit and clicking together like puzzle pieces. You felt his fingers thread lightly through the ends of your hair, his other hand splayed out warmly, helping to ease the light shivering he felt moving through your spine.

When he spoke it was soft, leaning down to your ear, that soothing protective tone washing through you.

“Y/N,” he said, low and smooth. “You left with a sweater on… Where is it?”

You screwed your eyes shut tighter, moving up to that spot between his shoulder and neck, breathing him in deeply.

“Those guys… It wasn’t even that bad,” you said, though it wasn’t too convincing and it wasn’t even the point. The act itself was shocking and unwelcome, but it was the trauma it brought up was the worst of it. It always was. “They just- well, one of them grabbed my arm. He wouldn’t let go and the other just wouldn’t back off. He practically pinned me against the counter…  so I just punched him. Hard. Then zipped off my sweater so the other guy would let go and got out of there.”

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment, and usually he wasn’t at a loss for words. He was always ready to give hard and motivating speech when things got rough, or kind word to ease things over, or some snappy, biting remark to the enemy.

“Steve?” you swallowed, a feeling of guilt mixing in with the other twisting in your chest.

When he didn’t respond you felt your shoulders slag, sadness hitting you.

“I know, I’m an Avenger,” you rambled quickly, trying to fill the silence since he wouldn’t. You didn’t even look up to see what those blue eyes would tell you. “I know I shouldn’t have just punched the guy; I should have gotten out without going violent on him. But he wasn’t letting go and he was too close and you know I can’t handle that from anyone but you and yes I know how to get out of a hold like that but I wasn’t thinking I was just hurting and I’m sorry, alright?”

Your chest heaved against his, wrought with emotions and words tumbling too fast from our mouth to breathe.

“This isn’t your fault, Y/N,” Steve started, tone controlled but edged with something upset. Something hurting. You felt it. You knew that feeling. “I’m just angry. At them, that they touched you. I’m angry I wasn’t there to do something about it. I should have been there.”

At that he looked down to you but you didn’t meet his gaze, just wrapped your arms around his neck, breathing him in again.

“It’s just pizza,” you said after a moment, the shivering having stopped and emotions settling little by little at his words. “And it’s not that big a deal, I’m just… Well, I’m just me. I should expect this.”

“Don’t do that,” he said, firm tone coming out again as his head rested against yours. “This wasn’t you overreacting and it wasn’t your fault, Y/N.”

“Okay, but only if you don’t blame yourself for it either.”

You looked up then, seeing a twist to his lips that wasn’t quite a smile but certainly was confirmation of your assumption he’d somehow feel guilty over this. Although it wasn’t exactly accurate to say, still, leave it to Steve to feel upset over staying behind to clean up rather than getting pizza.

“No promises,” was his final verdict.

You closed your eyes, settling back into him. You probably should have backed away. You should have given him maybe what would have been a hollow but encouraging smile, something to show you were in fact okay. You would then make some remark about the pizza getting cold and grab some plates. The two of you would then sit at the kitchen, eating the cooled pizza and maybe eventually chatting. Maybe your arm would touch his again or your foot would move next to his or something. Neither of you would mention it, and that would be okay.

But you didn’t. You stayed, coiled up and wrapped up in him as you had done at the end of missions. But this time there had been no mission and there was no threat, no injury, no need for Steve to be the leader and take care of you like this. And yet there you were.

You wanted to say something to him, maybe to justify this connection or even try to make this last longer, but you couldn’t think of the words. Whatever Steve was thinking, maybe he couldn’t think of the words either.

He bent down a little, a noise of displeasure squeaking out of your throat without you meaning to, before his arm went to the top of your thighs, hoisting you up and carrying you in his arms. Your eyes went a bit wide but you certainly didn’t want to fight it or ask why and jinx it.

Steve paused a moment, handing you the opened beer bottle from the counter before you slowly took it from him. He then walked over to the edge of the counter and picked up pizza boxes with his free hand. He carried you in one arm and held your dinner in the other, as though neither weighed a thing. Admittedly, the pizza didn’t, but you were a different story.

Regardless you let the protest out of common decorum die in your throat as he walked you through the compound and to his room. You even reached out and opened the door as you got there.

Once the pair of your entered, you were greeted with the faintest smell that was Steve: sweat and soap and comfort. It was similar in style and configuration as most other bedrooms there were: a large bed on one wall with a door to the bathroom or closet on either side, and a couch, small table, and TV on the other half of the room. You had been Steve’s room a number of times- at least twenty-six times in fact- as was the second part to your usual Friday tradition.

Yes, Steve had a love for training and fitness and leading and strategizing. But the quieter side to him love the contemplation of certain activities like reading, or visiting museums, or listening to music. So along those lines the two of you began to watch films together on Fridays after dinner, picking one popular or critically acclaimed movie from each year since he went under the ice. It brought the modern world into view for him, caught him up perhaps on some things he missed, and you weren’t exactly a gym-buff yourself so this was a nice compromise for you too.

The two of you had just hit the seventies.

The pizza boxes hit the little coffee table with a satisfied thunk, but you were lowered to the couch a lot softer and certainly with more care. Steve sat with you, still holding on, though his grip loosened enough for you to lean back a little, showing him a soft smile.

There was a long moment where he didn’t move and neither did you. A thought was on the tip of Steve’s tongue, heavy and intent. But before he spoke his expression and tone shifted, coming lighter than you expected.

“Sam let me borrow tonight’s movie; want to eat and watch?” he said instead, giving you the feeling that it wasn’t what he had wanted to say.

“Sure,” you nodded, and it made you wondered if you have ever actually told him “no” before…

Steve got up with a smile, apparently choosing to put aside whatever it was on his mind and what had happened to you tonight. Of that last one you were thankful. You wanted him and pizza and a movie, the reality of everything else be damned.

“I thought Sam had given it to me,” he said, rummaging through the draw of the TV stand. “I thought I brought it back here…”

“Maybe he took it back?”

“Maybe,” he said, mulling it over but not convinced. “He gave it to me in the lounge. It might still be there, I’ll be right back.”

You watched him leave, debating as soon as he left whether to grab a slice of pizza. But your appetite wasn’t back yet really. Instead you brought your legs up to your chest, looking around the familiar room and waited.

Usually you would get into some comfy sweatpants post-dinner in your room, letting Steve clean up any unmentionables you doubted he actually left around his space. As you glanced around the room, that assumption seemed correct. Everything was tidy and neat, clearly the days in the army sticking with him as you had noted on occasion before.

After a minute you got up, spotting something on the nightstand that looked like a DVD case. It was tucked half under a large leather-bound book.

“I think I got it, Steve,” you shouted out, him probably not hearing you. You were about to call out again, but that leather book caught your eye. In all your time here, you couldn’t remember seeing it before.

Curiosity winning over any degree of boundaries, you put the DVD down and picked the book up.

You realized once you opened it that it was a sketchbook.

You flipped through wondering if this was something from his old days that Tony was able to dig up for him, but you noticed a drawing of the Avengers building, then the view of the lake from the compound. You were a bit surprised, considering how full this sketchbook seemed though never once had you spotted Steve sketching.

It was beautiful, Steve’s hands deft at bringing intricate details alive on the page. There were landscapes and architecture, all poised and full of life and realism, shadow and light. It was simply stunning.

But you frowned when you saw one of you.

It’s not that it wasn’t beautiful because it was, wonderfully so, and certainly a more flattering light than you thought you deserved. But you didn’t think you were worth taking up a space in a book so masterfully done as this was.

Flipping through you saw another one, this time you were holding a cup of coffee and looking out the kitchen window- nothing particularly special about it to note in a sketchbook- but the look you had was serene and joyful.

The next page was you asleep on the couch from this room.

The next was you again, this time with your eyes coloured in. It was the only colour in the book so far, everything else in charcoal grey.

You flipped the page over, and there you were, the colour in your eyes again but this time a better match than the last one.

As you turned page after page, they were all of you, the colour of your eyes the only colour on each page. The hues shifted slightly and changed as it went, but eventually you realized that he had been experimenting with it. Steve was clearly eventually able to find the exact right shade and intensity, and as you went through page after page after page, you saw that colour gleaming right off the page at you.

Steve had walked in so quietly you hadn’t realized, until a bit breathlessly you looked up, your eyes locked to his unreadable ones.

You held the book, not speaking for a moment as you looked at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you said, voice airy and shocked.

“The sketches they aren’t-” he began, not able to find the right words. “The sketches are just… I was just…”

“No, Steve,” you said quietly, knowing from the care and detail and sheer volume this wasn’t an exercise in practicing drawing a figure. These sketches spoke a thousand words and more. “Why didn’t you tell me about- about how you felt about me?”

Silence filled the room, getting heavier as his skin on his cheeks tinged redder.

Steve wasn’t one to back down from a confrontation or fight, and though this was neither, he didn’t back down now. It took a moment, but his gaze was steady as was his voice.

“I know you, Y/N,” he started. “I didn’t want to push you to something you didn’t want, and I didn’t want to lose you because of it. I couldn’t- I won’t be able to handle that.”

“You can handle anything,” you whispered, swallowing as you tried to move from shock to something useful in forming a proper thought.

“Not that,” he stated.

The words rung through the room clear and honest, and it made your lungs fill and deplete in rapid succession.

“I’ve never…” you spoke, words not coming strong enough for you to hear, so you tried again. “I’ve never done this before? I mean, I don’t…”

You felt your voice falter again and a pain hit in your chest. You had no doubt Steve could see it on your face, stepping closer reflexively before making himself stop short of reaching you, landing halfway through the room. Again, you saw emotions rippling through him too fast for you to decipher.

“I’ve never known if anything was- was real I guess,” you tried again. “How could I. And when I… the couple times I’ve told people about what I can do when I thought they genuinely... they’d think I was making this feel that way and… Well, it never went over well.”

“What I feel?” Steve started, leaning in with his head tilted just so to catch your eye. “That’s real, Y/N.”

He paused, again, letting those words sink into the space between you.

“This isn’t you manipulating me or making me feel this way,” he said before there was a tug at the corner of his mouth. “And I don’t have any real experience with this either.”

You nodded, crossing your arms in what you hoped was a casual way, trying to play this off while you were holding on the sketchbook with white knuckles. Because you weren’t convinced. You didn’t think there was a way you could be.

“This isn’t just attraction,” he said softly, in that way of his you liked so much. “This is love, Y/N.”

That stilled you where you stood, the words holding you motionless. You didn’t respond but simply stood there. Slowly Steve walked forward, stopping when he was toe-to-toe with you. Carefully he took the book from your hand, casting it aside on the bed.

You waited as his hands reach out, hovering just above your arms. You waited for him to connect his skin to yours, soft and warm and perfect. You waited for him to press that feather-light touch into you that made you feel and want and need.

But it didn’t come.

Steve went as far as dared, hovering just above your skin, so close and yet not close enough. He pushed as far as he could, and this was his limit.

His eyes were down, caught up in a thought he didn’t share before he snapped back to you with a gentle look on his face.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he said, doing his best to convince you of words that were somehow false. He was a bad liar and you saw through it to the cutting pain underneath. “It’s okay that you don’t… That you don’t feel the same. I’ll be okay. I’m okay.”

Those were the words you tried to use to convince him that you were okay. But it was a lie each and every time. And just like you did now, Steve always saw through those words. He didn’t challenge them though. Not once. He never challenged you, actually. The others he had no qualms about laying down the law when it needed to be done, but you realized never with you.

He used actions with you. Slow and steady and soothing. He held you or protected you or removed you, taking you somewhere where you could be at peace, be tranquil, be alone with him. He never tried to use those words against you or make you believe otherwise. He let you be, and he asked wordlessly that you let him be with you too.

And if he used action to combat those words, so you would too.

You felt your chest tighten and throat constrict, but you let it happen. You felt your mind pull up every bad experience, every horrible touch, every infliction of physical pain and you let it fall away. You stopped holding yourself back from this- from him- and put your hands on his chest.

You felt his eyes watch every movement with biting intensity, waiting and not hoping- doing anything but hoping- as you slowly leaned in. You tilted your head up to him, not seeing those quick flashes of heat and feeling behind that beautiful blue. Your eyes were on his lips, closing as softly as your lips touched his.

It was the briefest of connection, a simple brush of your skin to his. But it made your heart jump and electricity fill your veins. It made his breath come rapid and warm across your mouth. It made him tense his muscles and close his eyes, savouring that feel of your kiss as though it would be the last.

You swallowed, hands at his chest, gripping his shirt between your fingers. You tried not to shake but you did. You tried not to let the yelling in your head say that this wasn’t real have a voice, but it did. All the same, you carefully closed the distance again, gently capturing his lips with yours.

The second kiss was different. It was a breath of fresh, clean air and an exhale of relief. It wasn’t a test or a question or a hesitant challenge. It was a choice. Something that was wanted and yearned for.

You felt that heat Steve radiated increase tenfold as his lips cautiously then longingly moved against yours. You felt him, hands touching your arms then gliding along your back, try to hold back from deepening the kiss. From letting the unspoken, untended love for the past months overtake you both and drown you in the affection you wanted, but weren’t ready for.

All the same, your hands moved up across his chest and wrapped around him, pulling through his hair as he did the same to you. You had a hold on him as much as he had on you, and it was as quiet and compassionate as his embraces have always been. How could you not have known? How could not have seen and felt his love for all this time?

As you released your lips from his, settling into that space between his shoulder and neck, you went through every moment you had shared. For the first time you saw clearly ever gesture and expression of soft adoration.

With him you were safe. With him you were yourself and he could be his. With him you were happy and whole and calm and alive. And now could see and feel that love expressed in every touch, every movement, every glance, every word, every action, every sketch.

The nightmares that lived at the back of your mind didn’t stop. The pain of your power didn’t fade. Your history and past were unaltered and undiminished.

But that didn’t compare to the truth of this moment. The truth being that with him you were wholly and truly loved.

_______

A/N: This got away from me so hard I’m so sorry for the length of this novel.

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