#which i only ever really started doing when my old laptop's keyboard was broken and adding double letters everywhere lmao

[tennessoui]

when i stop writing for this fandom and delete my blog or w/e i imagine i will let everyone have 24 hours for honest constructive criticism and 'get it off your chest' asks where you can just tell me honestly anything in my fics that has annoyed you personally and i like to imagine that 30% of the responses will be saying they wish i never learned the name set starkiller; 15% will point out i have never once spelled hangar bay right in my life; and 55% will beg for my account log-in info so that they can go into all my fics and personally change my spelling of 'datapaad' to 'datapad' which i have also never once spelled right in my life lmao

[writingonleaves]

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? (did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?) - jeremy swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x original female character

warnings: swearing, pretty angsty. hopeful ish ending because i can't do sad endings, very personal but i think many can relate in their own way, cliche ish, barely proofread

inspired by + title: "the smallest man who ever lived" by taylor swift

word count: 5.6k

author's note: i'd argue almost every piece any author writes is personal, because it has their life interspersed through the words. but this one really is, because a majority of this is the exact same words i wrote years ago after a break-up. heard the bridge to this song and immediately knew i had to write something inspired by it. also trying a new format of sorts (maybe a bit meta??), so i hope you enjoy and lmk what you think!!

~*~*~

When Noelle Betsko walked away from Jeremy Swayman, holding back tears until the call dropped, she knew it was going to be a tough time for the foreseeable future. 

It didn’t matter that the pandemic had forced them apart. She knew she would still feel him for months to come.

She did the only thing she knows how to do when trying to deal with things. The one thing she always resorts to as an aspiring novelist. Sometimes on her laptop when the words were spilling out too quickly for her brain to catch up, tears littering the keyboard. Usually in her old beat-up journal, scribbling in the cursive that Jeremy claimed he always loved (“It makes your handwriting unique”) with the pens he had gifted her just a few months prior. 

At the age of 21, Noelle got her heart broken for the first time. At the age of 26, she’s about to publish her first poetry collection of sorts, all of the poems modeled after journal entries written throughout her life. So not really poetry, though her mother would say otherwise. 

She swallows as she thumbs through the middle part of the first known and binded copy of “miscellaneous.” There are only eight entries in the whole collection that are taken verbatim from her past writing. These are the eight.

May 13, 2020 (three days post-breakup, crying in my childhood bedroom)

I don’t even recognize who I was and who you were in those writings before these pages filled with love and hope and happiness. I can’t even summon up those feelings anymore that I knew existed at one point. Those feelings of complete bliss and love for someone so deep you can’t explain it. 

I’m mad at myself for not being able to conjure those feelings, because at one point, I did love you. How could something that was part of my daily life for over two years just disappear so quickly? 

But now, I’m not mad at myself. I’m mad, but I don’t know where to direct that anger to. I feel a bit empty sometimes, but then frustrated the next. Sometimes I get sad, but not so much compared to the other feelings. I spent enough time being sad during our relationship.

When we broke up, on an annoyingly beautiful Tuesday in May — over the damn phone, mind you, which whatever, it’s COVID. Fine — You told me you felt like you had been putting more effort into us. 

At the time, I didn’t react, but I’ve been thinking about how angry that statement made me. Makes me, actually. I was always very open with how much I gave to that relationship. How much it meant to me. How much it affected me. But I understand that with some people, sharing everything too much equates to things not meaning anything anymore. But you out of all people should’ve known that I mean everything I say.

I felt like I gave so much. I know I gave so much. When I told you I loved you, I always meant it. Every single time. When I told you I missed you, I always meant it. I wished you were right next to me at that moment. I mentally gave so much, because to me, I wanted to. You were always on my mind, always high up on my list of priorities. I never took us for granted.

I’ve been questioning if that was the same for you. Did you start becoming complacent?

The second thing you said that day that hasn’t left my head is that you knew me pretty well. And initially, I remember not thinking much of it. So I don’t doubt that; you always knew right when I was about to cry, even over the phone. You often knew when I was mad or upset, but when I look back now, you never pushed. Which is a good thing, to an extent. But it was a bad thing sometimes too. I knew you often wanted to give me space, but sometimes I didn’t want space. I wanted you to push. To try to understand. Maybe that’s unfair of me; it probably is. I should just say I want to talk about it more, right? 

But if you genuinely knew me, you would’ve known.

After two years, seven months and 12 days,  I still feel like I didn’t know you. Did I ever know you at all?

When people talked shit about you, I always defended you. And I still would defend you now. But lately, I've questioned what I’m even defending. All those good qualities that I thought you had, were they even real? Of course, I know some of them were, to a certain extent. But as I look back on us, there’s a lot of doubt about whether I even knew the person I called my boyfriend for so long. I know there was a point where you cared about me, but I can’t remember when. 

I often felt like I was letting you know so much about my life, but you didn’t do the same. I get that sometimes a person just wants to forget about the bad and focus on the good with a person you like for awhile. I get that. But once that was happening every damn time? That should’ve been a red flag. 

June 7, 2020 (twenty eight days post break-up, outside my childhood room on the deck) 

I don’t understand how you can give so much to something or someone and have it not be recognized or appreciated or enough. If I wasn’t enough for you, how will I be enough for anyone?

I hope one day you’ll truly understand how much this hurt. Not just the breakup, but feeling like I was always being pulled in a direction I didn’t always want to be pulled in. Feeling I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and never ever being able to win. I hate that I settled so much in the last year. Because I should’ve demanded more, even though deep down I knew you were never going to be able to give it to me.

I think back to our past daily texts, and I just don’t get it. At one point, we both meant the things we said to each other. 

Yet we still hurt each other. 

This fucking hurts.

You’ve hurt me so much, but most of it wasn’t intentional, which I think is somewhat even worse. Because I’m not totally mad at you for causing the pain. You never did anything outright to cause me pain, but I still feel like you did. 

Unintentional pain almost stings more than intentional. 

When I asked you out that night after we were both on an emotional high, I took a chance. For once in my life, I took the leap, knowing that I could get humiliated or hurt or just straight up shot down. 

Where did it all go wrong? Or, more realistically, how did we think that we could go through the wrong when it was there at the start?

I’m trying not to blame myself too much. Trying not to tell myself that I should’ve known better. 

All those times, especially at the start, when I would ask you if you genuinely liked me, you always thought I was just trying to be annoying. But you never understood that I genuinely thought that way. My self confidence from the start was lacking, and you didn’t try to understand that, because I come across to everyone as confident and self-assured. 

It hurt, when you would brush things off like that. I felt like you didn’t care.

And then, it got to the point where I stopped asking that question. Part of that is because I did become more confident and you did show that you cared, and part of that was because I knew it would piss you off.

The amount of things I was scared to talk about with you because I knew it would piss you off? I don’t wish that feeling on anybody.

I shouldn’t have been scared. I shouldn’t have been uncomfortable. But I was. And if you did notice like sometimes you claimed to, why didn’t you make it more comfortable for me? Was that too much to ask for? 

So larger than life that at the end, you faded into just the smallest man who ever lived. Fuck you.

Was it too much to ask for when I just wanted to know why you were upset? You didn’t have to ever tell me the full story (lord knows there were times I didn’t), but was it too much to ask for something? You told me once that I’m the person you’ve told the most to. How? You barely told me anything. And when I wanted to talk to you, whether it was about growing up in Alaska or why you were in a bad mood last night, you always brushed it off. Always. 

So I don’t feel so bad about feeling like I gave more effort. I gave so much of myself to you. If you really cared about me like you claimed you did, why couldn’t you show even just 1% of that care back? Or just meet me in the middle?

I could’ve tried harder to meet you in the middle, I’ll admit that. But you didn’t even give me a map or a clue how to. 

I felt so fucking left in the dark. I felt left in the dark about my own fucking relationship, something that I should be completely sure about. If you really love someone and care about them, how can you leave them in the dark? How could you not even see that I was struggling to find a flashlight?

You did care about me. I know that. To some extent and at some point in time, you did care about me. But caring about someone and their well-being isn’t always enough.

Why couldn’t you have worked with me? When I was extending my hand out, why didn’t you reach for it? How can someone just be so blind? I mean, I’m practically always spelling it out for you. 

Maybe I am being selfish. But fuck, I just wanted to be happy. At some point, you made me happy. When did I start making you feel like I wasn’t enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?

It’s useless, in a way, to keep going about this. Because I know I deserve better. And we’ll both find people who are better for us. We just couldn’t be that person to each other.

I fucking loved you.

I wish it ended differently.

July 8, 2020 (fifty nine days post-breakup, in front of the lake)

I really really fucking miss you. 

I do. 

I miss being able to text you that i love you and not necessarily expecting a response until the next morning. I miss knowing that as soon as you wake up, you’ll text me back and assure me that yeah, you love me too. 

I’m left feeling bittersweet as I look back on memories that are just splashes and not definite strokes on the canvas that used to be us.

I miss having you as a friend. 

I’ve been having more urges lately to want to text you. And it isn’t even anything important. Just moments I experience throughout the day.

Do you get the urge to do the same?

July 19, 2020 (seventy days post-breakup, still in the same damn house)

It’s hard. It really is. And it kinda just hits you at random parts of the day. Sometimes I wake up from a dream that you were in and have to remind myself that it didn’t happen. 

Sometimes it physically aches when I realize that you won’t ever help me put on my jacket again, or complain that my hair is in your face when we’re lying on the couch watching Brooklyn Nine Nine, or groan when I drag you up to dance with me (which you never improved on, no matter how many times I tried to teach you basic rhythm). I can’t view our song the same way anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. 

The other day, I read some simple thing on Twitter. I don’t even remember what it was, but I do remember that for a split second, I could see your smile in my mind. But it wasn’t just any smile. It was the smile you gave me when you took me ice skating that first time. I remember asking you what you were smiling at, and you said that you just were taking in this moment. I don’t know if you took a mental picture that day, but I know I did. That day seems so long ago now. 

In almost anything I do, you somehow pop into my mind or into the conversation. And it’s not even in a harmful way either. It’s because you were part of my life for so long. I see a dog on the street, and it reminds me of how you always stopped to pet every single one we’s see I write something in my messy handwriting, and I remember how you always used to complain that you couldn’t read the notes I’d occasionally leave around your place when you went away. I went to the doctor’s the other day, and they said I was 5 feet and 3 inches, which is just definitely not true, and I almost reached for my phone to text you, because you would’ve cackled and insisted that no, I’m 5 feet 2 inches and it wouldn’t even matter because I’ll always be shorter than you. It’s simple and minute things that make me miss you that much more.

I still can’t listen to some songs the same way anymore, but I can at least listen to them now, which is a feat in itself. I was unpacking from college and found the teddy bear you sent me the first extended time we had to be apart and had to immediately put that out of my sight. From those boxes also came photos that I had decorated my dorm room with, and to be honest, I’m glad now that I let you keep our best one. I deal with all my emotions, besides writing, by making Spotify playlists, and I made a new one earlier this week. I think it’s helping. It’s a slow process, this whole moving on thing, but it’s one that I’m trying to be grateful for, because like most things in life, you just don’t truly know until you go through it.

Sometimes, I find myself wondering how you are and how you’re healing. But, even though we’ve both changed since the day we met, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re incredibly strong and stubborn. I hope that you’re finding some growth in this process too. 

October 17, 2020 (one hundred fifty seven days post-break up, apartment in orono)

It’s been almost 5 months, and you still cross my mind everyday. 

Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why didn’t you fucking tell me what you were thinking? Why was I the one who had to approach you just because I was just so done with the silent treatment?

But I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. The mad phase passed ages ago. 

Closure is a fake word. Even a breakup as mutual and smooth as ours was still left me with so many questions that will probably never be answered. 

Any breakup fucks you up to some extent. I knew it was going to mess me up even back when we were together. But not like this. Never like this. 

But like anything in life, I guess you can never really prepare for what you think you might feel, because most of the time, you discover a whole new side of you that you never thought existed. 

I don’t miss you. I don’t. I don’t feel that love in any way anymore. 

But I did once.

You did too, right?

November 15, 2020 (one hundred eighty six days post break-up, fogler library)

I hate Halloween. 

Though, it did bring me to you three years ago. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you right then and there. 

Three years later, you texted me on Halloween, five months after our breakup. The universe really, really wanted to fuck with me. 

It was a tough night for you. I knew that. Because I know how you are after losing a game you should’ve won. But that didn’t mean that I owed you anything and had to respond. 

We agreed on no contact if we ever wanted to stay friends. Clearly, friends is out of the picture now, but come on. A vulnerable text after a bad night because you know I would feel bad for you?

Fuck, you know how much I would hate that. You had to have known. 

Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean that everything about you just disappears. I still know your tendencies. I still know exactly how my head burrows into your chest during a hug. I still know the actions I used to do that would be followed by you attacking me with a hug. I still could point you out in a crowd. 

I looked for you in every crowd for years. 

That stuff doesn’t just go away, no matter how much I want it to. But fuck. Fuck. Why did you text me? 

I don’t regret how I handled it. I probably would’ve responded months ago. But just like you, I’ve grown these last couple of months. 

It was comforting, for a split second, to know that maybe, just maybe, these past couple of months have been hard for you too. It makes me feel human. It makes me feel like I’m not crazy.

I’m glad you texted me. You gave me another level of closure I hadn’t known that I needed until then. 

But fuck, dude. You know me better than that. You should know me better than that. 

I hate Halloween.

November 26, 2020 (one hundred ninety seven days, at the coffee shop i brought you to when you came home with me two years ago)

I don’t regret loving you, but I hate you for what you did to me. 

Or maybe not. 

I hate knowing that even though we haven’t been in a relationship in a bit, it feels like sometimes, you’re on my mind the exact same amount when we were dating. I hate knowing that I gave so much of myself and my love to you, and it always felt unrecognized. 

Fuck, will it ever stop hurting? Will I ever be able to have to stop myself from thinking about you? Will it ever stop?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it.

June 12, 2021 (three hundred ninety five days post-break up, in boston, visiting a friend)

Tonight, when a friend asked me about you and how I felt about how we ended, I was able to articulate my thoughts clearly. I’m really proud of myself for getting to a point where I can take the lessons I learned the few months after we broke up and acknowledge them in a succinct way without breaking down into tears. Just watery eyes and the occasional voice crack 

I’m also proud that I can say that when we were dating, I lost a bit of myself. For months, it was really hard to admit out loud.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Sometimes, I wish I could call or text you about it, because I think you’d be proud too. And I know I’d be proud of you. I am, to be honest. I do break resolve once in awhile and check on you through various avenues.

I still haven’t seen you in person since the last time COVID made us say goodbye. Maybe I never will again. But day by day, I’m starting to accept that and be okay with it. I’m accepting that memories that used to be so painted in my mind are blurry or almost completely erased now. But that’s okay. Honestly, it’s probably for the best. 

I wonder, when you think about it, if you think about different moments that I do. That’s the thing when something ends. You have to be okay with letting go of those moments and realizing that just because you forget them, doesn’t mean they weren’t important. 

I don’t think I miss you. I hesitate in saying that. Because I’ve moved on and handled the aftermath of it better than I think both of us ever thought I could. When you hung up the phone for the last time, I proved to myself again that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I think we all are. But we don’t realize it until we’re thrown into a situation that we think we’ll never be able to overcome. 

But we do. Whether it’s because we’re forced to because there’s no other option, it doesn’t matter. Because we get through. We move on. 

I hope you're moving on. 

And then it goes into other topics, graduating during a pandemic specifically and losing what’s supposed to be your last year of no responsibilities before adulthood. There are other poems in here that reference a past relationship, but not as much as these eight. 

If there’s one thing that Noelle did change, it was taking out the details. Jeremy may have hurt her, but he doesn’t deserve someone possibly making a connection between these poems and their shared background. She’s not a famous author by any means, but she wanted to be careful.

Not that she makes that part of her life publicly known. People don’t need to know that her brother was Jeremy’s captain for two years at Maine and that’s how they met. 

Noelle grew up going to rinks. She hasn’t gone to one since they broke up. 

But also, what the fuck? It’s been five years since she’s dated the guy. She really is over it by now, even if his rise to stardom in the Bruins flittering on her social media feeds still sometimes has her swallowing a bit before she can continue with her day. 

Brooklyn is far enough from Boston. But sometimes it feels like it’s right outside her door. 

She’s proud of her first published work. She really is. People believed in her and after numerous notes swapped back and forth with her editor, she did it. She always knew she wanted to work in publishing. She never knew she herself would publish anything.

And here she is now, two weeks after the book release, in Boston, about to do a q&a and a signing. Apparently, “miscellaneous” has been on top of numerous lists and it’s flying off the shelves. Noelle can’t really believe it and tries not to think about it too much, trusting her agent with all of that. 

She’s happy to talk about her work and process though. That she can handle. And she’s grateful for all the love.

After a signing at a local bookstore, she decides to walk the 20 minutes home in the Boston fall. It’s a bit brisk, but she doesn’t mind and she just wanders, belly filled with delicious sushi she inhaled for dinner with an old friend.

Of course it happens the one time during her walk when she doesn’t avoid eye contact with someone. The song playing in her earbuds fade out of her focus and she almost stumbles. 

Jeremy’s eyes were always Noelle’s favorite thing about him. She thought she would’ve forgotten what they looked like by now. But clearly she hasn’t. 

Her eyes quickly cast to the person next to him. It’s definitely a girl. They’re a bit too far away for Noelle to pick out details. But it’s enough. He’s walking on the side closest to the street. It’s a Friday Night in a bustling part of the city. 

It hurts. She wishes it didn’t.

Even from far away, she sees his eyes blink in recognition. Noelle puts her head back down and walks faster. 

(She cries in the shower when she gets back to the hotel. She had debated feeling super sorry for herself and going to the hotel bar but refrained)

She has a few free days in Boston before flying back to New York. When she wakes up the next morning, she debates on going home early. But no, she won’t let a three second glance at someone ruin her time here. She used to occasionally come here during her college days. She loves this city. 

The city may be Jeremy’s, but she can make space for herself here too. 

She takes her time at a cafe, people watching and eating some breakfast. As she takes her coffee to-go, she looks out the window at the bookstore she was in the night before for the signing. She almost drops her coffee. 

Jeremy walks into the book store. 

Now, Noelle is debating her options. What she should do is continue with her day and walk in the opposite direction. But she’s always been too nosy for her own good. And maybe a bit self destructive. She decides to leave the cafe and cross the street immediately, so impatient to where she’s almost tapping her foot as the pedestrian signal stays red. 

As a writer, she’s no stranger to movie moments. The scenes written in books or movies where the timing is too accurate to be real. The situation too good to be true. But after a car speeds through an orange and she can finally walk, she stops in her tracks instead, feet glued down to the sidewalk.

Because Jeremy is right in front of her on the other side of the street. Her book in his hand. And he’s looking right at her. 

The first feeling she can recognize in herself is anger. Anger at the way their relationship panned out. Anger at the way they ended. Anger at the radio silence the years following. Anger at him for everything. Angry at herself for everything. 

The second feeling is, weirdly, shame, which she’s embarrassed by. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But she feels it anyways. 

The third, and perhaps the most prominent, is emptiness. Five fucking years later, and she’s brought back to the emptiness she felt immediately after they broke up. The emptiness that the person you loved isn’t yours anymore — who maybe wasn’t ever yours to begin with. 

Before she can run, he’s already crossed the street to her. He looks naturally different as someone who you haven’t seen in five years would. But he also heartbreakingly looks the same. 

“We should get out of people’s way,” Noelle manages to chokes out. 

Jeremy laughs a bit. Her heart lurches. “Yeah.” He starts walking and she follows him wordlessly. This is his city after all. 

He leads them to a bench under a tree with beautiful fall foliage. She puts at least a foot between them as they both sit down, staring out at the people passing. She can’t take the silence. 

“I see you bought my book.”

“I did,” he replies evenly. “Congratulations. I always knew you would do it.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe if she squeezes hard enough she’ll forget when she originally pitched Jeremy the bare bones idea of the exact same book that’s currently in his hand. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too. On everything.”

“You’ve been watching?”

She shakes her head. “No. But, you know Seth and…yeah. It comes up during family calls sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you say hi last night?”

She looks pointedly at a couple walking their dog. “You seemed busy.”

“She wasn’t-that-it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh. Because that makes me feel so much better,” she spits out, before taking a deep breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We broke up ages ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she gives him a look and is slightly proud of how he seems to shrink into himself a bit. “I-I know it’s five years too late. I know I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The thing is, Noelle always thought that maybe hearing an apology someday would make her feel better. But now that’s heard it, she’s not sure she does. 

She swallows. “I appreciate that.”

“I’ve already read it, you know.”

“Read what?”

Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. “Your book. One of my teammate’s girlfriend recommended it and I asked to borrow it. It’s fantastic,” He looks down at the book in his hand. It’s like the cover is taunting her. “I wanted my own copy.”

“Oh.” 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me off the hook with the poems I know were about me,” he scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “You could’ve written way worse.”

She can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I thought I was pretty mean.”

“Your definition of ‘pretty mean’ is tame compared to a lot of people,” he says, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the book. “You were always the kindest person, even when you shouldn’t have been..” 

He puts his hand out in her direction, the hand with the book in it. She furrows her eyebrows. “What-”

“Could I get a signed copy?”

“Jeremy. What do you want from me?”

He sighs, taking his hand back. “A chance to apologize?”

“You’ve already done that.”

“Not in the way I want to and what you deserve.”

She lets out a sigh, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know if that would be worth my time or yours. I know the book just came out, but that was five years ago. I’m over it. Forgive and forget, right?”

“But do you?” Jeremy counters back. “Clearly, you don’t forget, which I deserve. But forgive?” 

“We’re just going in circles now.”

“No we’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re just shutting me down because you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had five years to prepare what I would say to you if I saw you again. You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Of course I have,” Noelle tips her head back. “But also, what’s the point?”

“The point, is that I still love you.”

“Fuck you,” she says in a strained voice. “You can’t just-you can’t just throw that shit out there. Fuck you.”

He bites his lip, and to her annoyance, he laughs. But she listens more carefully, and it sounds very self deprecating. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Noelle looks down at her feet. “So…what? You still love me?”

“I do.”

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“What are you going to let me do?”

“I live in Brooklyn.”

“I know,” she whips her head up. Jeremy looks sheepish, which she didn’t even think was something he knew how to do. “Seth mentioned it when we caught up a bit ago. I also still follow you on Instagram.”

She tries again. “It’s been five years.”

“And I’m here sitting with you and still feel the exact same way I did back then. Even more, to be honest.” He eyes her pointedly. “Any more excuses?”

Her voice softens. “You really hurt me.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, Noelle.”

“I hurt you too.”

He shrugs. “We were young and stupid.”

“And we’re still not?” Noelle says with a snort before swallowing. “I’m not the same person you fell in love with.”

“I’m sure I’m not either. But I don’t know if there’s a world where I don’t love every version of you.”

“Even after reading the book?”

“Especially after reading the book,” he sighs. “Noelle, I know this is unfair of me. All of this. And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out. But I always intended to. And then you’re here? And I see you twice in two days? I’d be an idiot to not try. More of an idiot than I am, anyways.”

“Try for what?”

“A second chance? To be friends? Whatever you want.” He suddenly deflates. “Even if you don’t want anything to do with me. At least I’ll know.”

“Why did you never text me?”

“I thought about it a lot,” he admits. “I tried once, actually, after the high of a really good win. But it didn’t go through. I got the message.”

“The message?”

“You blocked me, right?”

Oh. “Yeah,” she lies. “I did.” She reaches into her bag for a pen and gestures for the book, which he gives to her, a curious gleam in his eyes. “I’m in Boston for two more days, including today.”

He takes the hint immediately. Eagerly. “I have a game tonight, but I’m free tomorrow.”

“Who are you guys playing?”

“Toronto. And I’m starting. Should be a good one.”

She hums non-committedly, scribbling on the inside of the front cover. She hands it back to him with a small, close-lipped smile. She nods at him to read the message.

to my first fan, 

i still love you too. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx

yours, 

noelle

He looks up, eyes shining but a bit confused. 

“I never blocked you. I just changed my number.”

“Oh.”

“And even if I still love you, I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t.”

She stands up, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and putting her sunglasses on. “Text me?”

His mouth splits wide into a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

She backs away with one last attempt at a smile before turning down the street.

[burnedbyshoto]

hawks_littledove.mp3

— You’re an avid listener to NSFW ASMR artist Hawks. It’s just your luck that he’s offered to have phone sex with you.

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pairing: takami keigo (hawks) x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, slight abuse of power/influence, phone sex, masturbation, degradation, praise, nsfw asmr artist!hawks

word count: 5,018

a/n: my keyboard is broken and i could actually cry. but hey, hawks do be sexy even tho I would never trust him with my life. also LOL this might be a call out to a lot of us, do not be offended or I will cry.

kinktober day 14 main kink: phone sex | kinktober masterlist

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Fantasizing about being in relationships with fictional characters was entirely healthy and normal.

That was something you believed to the core. It was fictional; thus, no one but you were to be hurt at the end of the day. The character, being fake, could never have an opinion because you must be real in order to have an opinion. So when you were between boyfriends, you discovered a new anime, and before you could stop yourself, you fell hard for a character.

It started as a mild obsession.

You had looked up fanart via google images, your heart warming when you saw the plethora of different fanart. The anime itself had been in circulation for a few years now, the manga for much longer, so the content was endless. Then google images wasn’t enough, and you began crossing into Twitter and Tumblr.

The fanart became better, more engrossing, and definitely much more NSFW. And then, one night during your endless rabbit hole down Tumblr after your daily search on Twitter, you stilled when seeing a new type of content.

⇒ grey fullbuster x reader

The obsession grew worse.

So much so that you had followed nearly five hundred self insert writers and artists on Tumblr, and maybe seven hundred artists, meta writers, and thread makers on twitter. But three months into consuming all the content you could find, you came across a new name that made you tilt your head.

Hawks Fierce Wings

It was a name that was being repeated and heavily talked about on both sites. It was an ASMR artist, apparently, and you frowned at the thought. You didn’t have anything against ASMR videos, but you weren’t exactly sure how to handle an anime ASMR artist. Were they cosplaying while making all those weird ASMR sounds? You really didn’t have any idea, but due to the immense boredom of your lazy day in, you decided to hell with it and tried out his most popular video.

It was simply entitled: Hawks is Jealous.

Did you have any idea as to who Hawks was? God, no, you didn’t. But if it was just some random cosplay he was going to do, you didn’t think it was going to matter. So as the only slightly educated ASMR listener, you never truly became invested when it was a thing; you slipped on your earbuds and pressed play.

The introduction screen faded into an illustrated picture of a slightly handsome man, and some calming yet tense music played in the background. You shifted, eyebrows drew as you waited for the ASMR session to begin, and when it did, you were not ready.

“I saw you walking around with that asshole today,” a voice practically growled in your ear, and you froze.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no!

For almost an entire hour, you sat glued to your sofa, your fingers digging into your lap as the jealous, spiteful words of this man named Hawks poured bitterly in your ear. His words were a near aggravated assault on you and definitely something you were beyond uncomfortable hearing from a stranger, but there was something about his voice that kept you there. Maybe it was the tenor of his tone or the way there was this sly, cunning scent to his words that he seemed to hide deep within his throat, but there was something that kept you there.

The second the passionate, heated kissing noises and heavy moans began to spill from his lips, you screeched, slamming your laptop closed as your cheeks pounded heavily.

Oh my god?!

It took a bit, but eventually, you were able to finish the audio and quickly figured out why he was an NSFW artist. You had never, ever heard a man eat a pussy fake or real as eagerly or vigorously as he did. Your hands were gripping the pants of your leggings, and your chest heaved.

Oh, motherfucking shit.

Finding out there were almost seventy other videos for you to still experience sent you scrambling for more, and eventually, you had to confess you were obsessed. Despite the anime fandoms you had discovered him for, Hawks seemed to be more famous for the content he created as himself. His real name was unknown by the looks of it, and he was only addressed as Hawks by his audience, something you caught on to quickly. So only after creating a new profile for his Youtube account, you made quick work of liking and commenting on every single of his already published seventy-eight nearly one hour and thirty-minute videos. 

Each one was different.

Each one filled with various roadmaps on how Hawks' scenarios would play out for you — the listener. When he used his own persona, he called the listener his little dove or his chicken nugget, sometimes his KFC thigh, or his shish kabob. 

You were glad at the very least he didn’t call you by any of those nicknames when pretending to fuck you at a speed only a “porn-is-my-only-education-on-porn” virgin teenage boy. You knew it wasn’t ideal, usually, but for some reason, it just worked. You commented on everything, read his summaries and thoughts on each video. Eventually, when you found yourself on his final, most recent video, you were ready to go a step further.

The Patreon app on your phone seemed jarringly out of place as you opened the app and subscribed yourself to Hawks' highest tiered option for the price of twenty USD.

And when you got your access to his page, you were immersed in more heavier, better content.

It was a goldmine in a sea of fools gold, and you absolutely went insane.

You weren’t sure if you were insane, needy, or just straight-up idiotic for scrolling to the very first Patreon post and indulging in the content Hawks created. 

There was a stark difference between the warnings alone between the Youtube videos and the Patreon posts. While the porn was readily accessible on Youtube, the kinkiest thing that ever happened in a video was a slight implication that Hawks had left the listener on a vibrator and fuckmachine as he went to go talk to the visiting neighbors.

It was a slight, tiny zone out and miss a detail, but one you had clung onto like an obsessed psycho and even commented on in your comment on the post. Of course, Hawks hadn’t responded, not that you had ever expected him to because all things considered, a video that was eight months old and hadn’t done that well, to begin with, didn’t seem like anything he would remember: notifications and all. 

But Patreon? Oh good, sweet, ravishing Patreon.

The very first video was of the following:

Stepbrother!Hawks fucks Stepsister!Listener in the stairwell during Christmas Dinner.

After praying and swearing to all the deities of the world that you were merely a person with a voice kink for this man and not, in fact, a perverted pseudo-incest worshiper, you clicked on it and began. It was downright sinful.

There were active voices whispered in the background as Hawks laughed about how fucking slutty you were for letting your brother fuck you like this. In the hallway, like a dog, where anyone in your joint family could walk out into. He laughed that you probably wanted it, how your wet ass pussy was greedily sucking him in, so how could you even begin to deny your lust for your brother.

You had to take a break five times during that audio.

Eventually, you do end up catching up.

Each video he had ever posted to your disposal, and most likely due to the different tier levels, you always commented on the videos. Even if it made you feel awkward for lusting over things months old, even if there were no other comments on the videos, which was much more common than you thought, you always commented and liked. It wasn’t anything ever crazy, you had seen the rarest comments bring a whole essay of analysis on why they loved it or the hating words, but you kept it simple.

Just something to keep Hawks spirits high without draining you even further of energy.

A simple: holy shit, that was hot as fucking hell!!!! you never disappoint me!!!

You never expected anything out of it; as a matter of fact, you had merely thought that you were doing the least by merely appreciating his creations when, one night, a few hours after you had gotten home. Your phone chimed with an alert.

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ in surprise; you hadn’t realized there was going to be a new release after he had just updated four days ago. Still, you popped in your earbuds and began the audio with a simple title.

i fuk ur stupid lil pus until u cri

He wasn’t precisely putting much effort into his titles these days, but his tags were definitely accurate and entirely explicit in what was to come. And in this newest video, the prominent tag was degradation.

You weren’t entirely into degradation, but still, you did what you had to do because you weren’t turned off by it. With the beginning sounds of the music playing in the background, you warped into the situation Hawks carefully carved.

But, oh?

Your face simmered with heat as Hawks dirty words dripped from the earbuds, the wet, squelching noise of your cunt and throat being fucked like some inanimate object made you soak through your panties as his disparaging words burned against your spine like a hot brand. After the thirty-minute audio was finished. Your body trembling with the aftershocks of an orgasm that had come despite the lack of actual stimulation of your clit, and you panted on your bed.

Opening your phone once again, you quickly liked the new audio and typed out your comment.

listen, i know i always comment about how fucking hot this shit is, but i have /never/ fucking soaked through my panties… you just did that and i expect a full refund for these panties 💦

You pressed send and, without so much of a second thought, continued your night. You had dinner, talked with friends, and ended the night curled back on the couch with a wine glass in your hand and a simple sit-com playing on the TV. The familiar sound of the Patreon alert rang in your ear, and you frowned, confused.

Grabbing your phone, you opened up the device and nearly shrieked at the sight of the information the notification that said:

Hawks F.W.: lets see those panties before i refund anything

A chill ran down your spine as you quickly put together the indications of this message, and you smirked, despite your quivering hands. 

Me: I have a seven inch dick requirement before seeing any of the goods — yes, that includes my panties

And from that very moment, you began a strange arrangement between you and the NSFW ASMR artist Hawks.

.

..

.

Working was the worst part of your life, you would say.

At work, you would sit in your small 4x4 cubicle, your shelves stacked with plenty of papers and items you needed, not to mention the computer that took up the majority of your desk. You weren’t quite sure what your job here was, you sort of sat at your desk and did meaningless assignments when assigned, but you did nothing for the most part. 

Before becoming an active Hawks stan, you would spend your time doing nothing playing video games. You had somehow managed to install a VPN onto your hard drive so that your employers wouldn’t be able to see what was on your screen outside of the home screen. They couldn’t trace what you did all day, but they could care less, given you got all your work completed on time and done in an over exceptional way.

But lately, since you had dropped into this… engrossed whore like relationship with Hawks, things changed. 

To be honest, it still shocks you to no end when he tells you that he had always been aware of you. Well, with your consistent, ever appearing comments on his posts and overall enthusiasm for everything he posted, it was hard to not be aware. The mental image of your soaked through panties after a long day at his own work had sent him over the edge, and he finally messaged you.

Through the DM’s in Patreon, the two of you grew to become quite the friends with benefits. He would send you countless personalized audio files because you had quickly confessed to your voice kink and how his voice sent your stomach into hormonal knots. In return, you’d send the picture of an occasional soaked panty, and if he was lucky, an audio clip of your pathetic whines back to his audios.

You couldn’t complain about this arrangement.

But as the number of his patrons doubled, and he wanted to entice his subscribers with paying him even more money, Hawks began to offer a bimonthly personalized five minute audios for his $20 tier. The fans poured into that spot, and Hawks and proudly sent you the new number of adoring fans he was getting. On account of growing platforms such as Tiktok, the number of new listeners he got was nearly exponential, as he currently passed one million followers last week. 

The cheeky bastard was also making enough money to stop working his regular work hours anymore. Choosing to transition slowly into his Patreon career while recording.

Hawks, however, seemed to have other ideas for your eventual personalized voice audio.

Hawks had simply asked if, by any chance, you were going to be working tomorrow the night before. Groaning loudly in recognition of your work schedule, you had texted him back that you were going to be working. Snidely including the fact that you weren’t rich like him, you needed the tedious old nine to five job.

Hawks: how utterly boring anyway u can b free around 2?

Me: Eh… probably not. Busy girl w busy schedule, ill be back from lunch so no break Why?

Hawks: well, u knw tht uve been amzing & th bst follower so i wanted 2 give u smthing better then the personalized audio

Me: Oh? Well, what is it?’

Hawks: pick up tmrw n find out

He had changed the subject immediately afterward by dodging all of your questions with ease. So you dropped it, and the two of you resumed a night of flirting. But now, sitting in your small cubicle, your eyes flashing to the clock that read 1:57 p.m., sweat began to build on your palm.

You peered down to your phone as you waited for something, anything from Hawks to show up. The fucker was too cheeky, evasive, and quick for his own good. You felt like pouting as you glared at the phone, waiting for the screen to light up.

And you stilled when finally, at precisely 1:59 p.m., your phone gleamed with light. You couldn’t abandon your computer mouse quicker than you did as you grabbed your phone, unlocking it, and reading the message from Hawks.

Hawks: do u have earbuds?

Me: Yes?

Hawks: good put them on n pick up

The moment you had read the first message, you were already pulling out your earbuds, synching them up to your phone, and placing them into your ear. But your jaw dropped when, for the first time, the call feature highlighted onto the screen, the time immediately changing to that of 2:00 p.m. The decline or accept button had never looked as daunting as it did right now.

Despite the call trying to go through, you still saw his follow up.

Hawks: if u dont pick up u wont get shit

[Accept]

You felt your heart hammering in your chest as both fear, apprehension, and excitement boiled through your veins, the hammering blood pounding in your ears as you waited for some sort of noise on the opposite side of the line.

“Little dove?” Hawks' voices filled your ears, and despite yourself, you smiled softly. The naturalness of his voice sends warm thumps down your spine.

“Hi, Hawks,” you whisper breathlessly, your head already checking to make sure your neighboring cubicle mates didn’t try to look over the divisions to stare at you. For the most part, the office building was quiet except for the phone calls, the clanking of computer keys, and the monotonous music playing softly on the speaker's head. 

“Whatcha doing?” he drawled, and you felt your skin heat up when you heard the all too familiar sound of his shoes hitting the top of his desk, the soft whine of his chair as he leaned back onto it. “Are you really at work?”

“What do you mean, am I really at work?” you squeaked, half horrified at the way the lazy, warm heat of lust was infiltrating your body at the sound of his voice, and the annoyance that he thought you had been lying? “Of course I am; it’s two p.m. on a Wednesday!”

“Ah, so little dove-chan is a raging pervert who engages in phone sex to bypass her long hours at work?” Hawks sighed his tone that of understanding and dismissal. You splutter. “You never fail to surprise me.”

“I do not do… that!” you stammer, your face feeling like hot cinders, your fingers and eyes double-checking to make sure that the audio was going to your earbuds and your earbuds only. You also couldn’t help the way your eyes swept around you, trying to make sure you hadn’t accidentally invited unwanted attention. “I said I was busy!”

“But, you picked up my call?”

“You said, or else!”

“Mmm, okay, I think I see,” Hawks tutted, and although you had never seen what you supposed to be his handsome face, you could imagine a lazy, toothy smirk on his face. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind using your little cubicle to talk you into fucking yourself good for me.”

Your jaw drops.

It hits the desk, and the muffled shriek of utter humiliation is only silenced because you bit onto your tongue like a rabid animal.

“Aw, you sound so excited for me already, little dove. I bet you want to know what I’m going to do to you, don’t you? I just know that I’m going to make you feel so... good…”

“Hawks!” you plea in a hushed whisper, your heart hammering where you sat frozen like a deer in headlights. Sure, you had definitely played his audios before to pass the time, but never before in your existence had you had actual phone sex. This was riskier than just listening to his audios; his audios always had a pattern, a way to escape from the madness of his voice when people were closer than you’d like. But this? No, there was no escape. “I’m at work! I c-can’t!”

“But, fuck, I want you so bad,” Hawks' voice dipped into a gravely tone, his voice just perfectly scratchy enough that your shoulders trembled in unspoken, untouched want. “I want to feel your cunt around my cock, baby, your pussy is so hot and I want to be the fucking lucky bastard that gets to fuck you through your bed.”

“O-Oh my god…”

“I’ve been thinking of what your tits look like,” Hawks continues on, his voice continuing in the style you liked the most. It was raw, heavy, and deep. No character impersonations, just him, pure Hawks. “I hope they bounce the way they do when I imagine you riding me. I want to see you moan when I kiss the underside of your tit, I want to see your face when you realize that you’re my girl, nobody's else's, but mine.”

Heat floods your panties at his words, your shallow breaths making him chuckle on the other end. 

“You’d be so lucky to be just mine, wouldn’t you, little dove?” Hawks snaps, his voice demanding a response, and you heave.

You look around, no one is near, and you croak out: “I’d be so lucky.”

“Louder.”

“I’d be so lucky.”

“Mm, there we go,” Hawks laughs, and your ears prickle for any noise that may indicate that someone was listening in. “What? Are you getting nervous that your needy ass will be heard by your coworkers right now? Answer me.”

“Mhmm,” you hum loudly, your cunt pulsing with more incredible heat and your hands shaking with a slight fear of being caught.

“Aww, don’t worry, little dove. I’m sure your boss will understand that you’re my newest fucktoy and will let me continue. Maybe they’ll want to join in?”

You whimper softly, shifting in your seat at that thought. You didn’t really want your boss coming anywhere near you, he was old and gross for one, and nothing could take the place of this beautiful man's voice in your ear right now.

“Oh, was that a no? You don’t want other people fucking you, do you, y/n? I bet you only want to have my cock in your tight little pussy, bet you want to watch the way that greedy little thing sucks me in, begging for my seed. Would you want me to cum deep inside you? You would like that little dove; you’d like to be full of my cum.”

“H-Hawks,” you keen as quietly as you can, your hips shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your heart hammering in your throat. The pressing heat in your cunt is growing, your panties growing with wet slick as Hawks' voice whispers down your ear, filling every empty and void space in your brain until you were having trouble focusing on the very much public spot you were in.

Hawks let out a soft, guttural moan, and you froze, face entirely combusting into an inferno as the familiar slick slapping of his fapping cock filled your ear. Immediately, you forgot everything.

“A-Are you—?!” you splutter, unable to find the words or the energy to come up with a way to ask if he was masturbating right now. Your eyes spun, your mind in a complete haze as soft, raunchy moans spilled from his lips, striking against your nerves and soul with each successive sound.

“I’m only trying to help you out here, dove,” Hawks growled, undoubtedly in effect to a rather loud smack of his fist colliding with his thrusting hip. “You’re the little office slut who picked up a phone call to entice in phone sex. I bet you knew exactly what I was going to do, and your pathetic, needy whore self caved to my instructions.”

Your fingers curled into the armrest of your chair.

“I bet this makes your boring ass job tolerable, the perfect distraction to a shit job, then imagining a few minutes of fucking yourself against my hard cock.”

“That’s not true!”

“No?” Hawks laughed, not believing you any more than you did. “So you wouldn’t hate it if I showed up and fucked you into the wall of your cubicle? You wouldn’t mind if I claimed your sweet-smelling pussy against your desk for everyone to hear? I know you can scream like a bitch in heat. I know that pretty little cunt of yours would milk my cock dry. Oh, I just know you would look so fucking sexy with your back arched, eyes closed, and you begging for hours just to cum. You wouldn’t cum without my permission, right?”

You gasped, heart fluttering, hammering in your chest as you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“I need a verbal answer, little dove.”

The heat in your core was blistering, your thighs shaking with your unadulterated lust and need as you ground into the cushion of your chair. All logic and moral long gone as he snarled and moaned your name in your ear, the slick of his fapping cock echoing like a great bell in your ear. You wanted to hear him cum, wanted to listen to the pithering sound of his echoing moans as he spilled the contents of his balls onto his hand — and how you wished it was your womb.

“I won’t cum w-without your permission!” you whispered, your skin shivering with your fear of being caught. 

“God, you sound like such a dirty fucking bitch. I bet your pussy is fucking soaked already. Bet you really want to run that slutty embarrassed finger against your clit but don’t want to be caught by your perverted coworkers,” Hawks hissed, his breaths turning into steady, heavy hot pants. You mewl softly, confirming his spoken thoughts, and he huffs out a laugh. “How many fingers do you normally shove up that pretty cunt of yours, little dove?”

“T-Three!” you gasp, your forehead pressing to the cool of your desk, your eyes glazed over and looking at the entrance of your cubicle, fervently wishing that no one tries to check on you as you grind against your stable chair. “O-Only three fit.”

“Fuck, you really do have a tight cunt, don’t you,” Hawks snaps, the wet sounds of his fisting hand around his cock a beautiful melody in your ear that makes you whine at the back of your throat. “Bet you can’t even fit cocks up your cunt without lube, huh. You gotta stay on top, or else you’ll get hurt with how thick and long my cock will be up that baby pussy of yours.”

“H-Hawks!” you grit out, the friction of grinding on the seat no longer working.

“Go to the bathroom, now,” Hawks commands, the small gasps on his voice from his approaching orgasm more than enough ammo for you to do as told.

You sprint to the bathroom, the slick of your cunt hot, and evident to you as you sped to the bathroom. Your phone clenched in your hand as you locked the door behind you, glad the room was empty. Barely managing to get yourself into the stall, the toilet paper placed on the seat as you raised your legs up, already prepared. The skirt you wore was bunched above your ass, and the panties you wore, stretching out around your knees.

“Sounds like you’re ready to start fucking that pussy for me,” Hawks laughs, but there's no humor, just bite. “Put in three fingers, now.”

Without even arguing or caring, three fingers slip into your cunt, and you cry at the feeling of your fingers completely stretching you out. The smell of sex and slick filling your nose as your fingers slick up, fucking your tight cunt as you moan louder and louder for Hawks. 

“God, your fucking pussy is so fucking wet, I can hear it from here!” Hawks moans, the frantic sound of his drilling hips gaining speed and momentum. 

“I want it to be you!” you moan, your face burning in your humiliation. “I want it to be you fucking my pussy, claiming me in this bathroom. I need you, Hawks, I want your cock so badly!”

“Fuck,” Hawks gasps, something tumbling in the background. “Such sweet words for a fucking dirty ass cumslut,” he growls, and your legs shake, your clit and cunt thrumming with your increasing arousal and pit of tightness in your core. 

“HAWKS, FUCK!” you sob as your hips try to start a merciless speed against your fingers, your body trying to match the speed in which Hawks was fucking his own hand.

“Keep screaming my name, whore.” Hawks gasps, his noises of pleasure beginning to grow louder and louder, your eyes crossing in satisfaction. “Screaming my name like the fucking slutty mess you are. All this shit just to get me to fuck you? God, you’re so fucking pathetic y/n. Begging for me, begging for more? I think you’re my favorite little dove ever, gonna make you mine whenever I get to fuck that pussy.”

“Hawks!” you wail his name again, your arms and pussy throbbing with the energy it takes to keep up with his inhumane speeds. Your vision seeing stars as you tremble more and more, your legs slipping from the toilet seat, yet. “I am your whore, your little dove. Please let me come, please! You fuck me so well, fucking hell, please, I needa cum, I needa cum!”

“Cum with me,” he snaps, his voice so deep, so dangerously smooth. It was precisely what you needed, the voice kink you had for his tenor exactly fulfilled entirely with that simple, last command. And just like that, your jaw slackens, head slamming backward, and pleasurable waves crash through you.

Your fingers still rock at your clit, and your vice gripped walls, your toes curling within your shoes as you soundlessly scream. Hawks, on the other end, is practically snarling, voice deep and altogether dangerous as grunt after grunt leaves him, and you can imagine the milk-white cum splattered all over his chest and hand. A beautiful, perfect sight that you wish you could see for yourself.

Exhaustion settles in your bones as you sit on the toilet, still entirely exhausted as you heave for air. 

“I think that was the best fucking orgasm I ever had,” you mumble, your eyes closed, not ready to stand up and move. “Thank you.”

“I’m good at what I… at what I do,” Hawks stumbles, husky exhaustion ringing in his own voice. “Now, little dove, finish up work, and I promise there’ll be a surprise waiting for you when you’re done.”

Not entirely agreeing, but not disagreeing with his command to go finish you last… two and a half hours at work, you begrudgingly said goodbye to Hawks before washing your hands and exiting the bathroom.

When five o’clock came, you watched as your phone screen lit up, and your face flushed as you read the DM from Hawks.

Hawks: this is my fav audio now ↳ hawks_littledove.mp3 but you surprised me today, so in case u ever want to have more fun sometime  call me 03-9183-2495 ;)

[something-fanfiction-ie]

Rough Drafts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Explicit descriptions of a murder scene, argument, angst, and cursing.

A/N: Okay, so I know I said I was gonna publish this yesterday but I got Cassandra Clare’s newest book and I couldn’t put it down. I seriously love that lady. Omg. Anyways, it’s here now! And it’s angsty! And there’s gonna be a fourth part soon I promise! For real. Don’t forget to reblog, comment, send me an ask or a message and overall just adore me so that I may continue to feel good about myself. As always thank you for supporting me and I hope you enjoy!!!

[ Part One | Part Two ]

___

An incredulous laugh bursts from your lips, your nails cutting crescent moons into the palms of your hands as you try and convince yourself that this isn’t actually happening.

“Do you have alibis for your whereabouts on Monday, June eighth, Saturday, June thirteenth, and Thursday, June eighteenth?” Spencer can see your leg bouncing rapidly under the table, your eyes flying over the pictures and the expression of Emily Prentiss. You seem genuine, but he can’t trust himself to get an accurate read of you anymore.

“I, uhm, I- I wouldn’t know off the top of my head. I keep a planner, I’ll forget things otherwise.” The burst of iron in your mouth is not something you’re unused to, having chewed your cheek so badly that the skin there has broken under your teeth.

“We’ll need to see that.” Emily isn’t sure whether or not she believes that you’re guilty, watching the way you seem to unravel before her. When you look at the crime scene photos, it isn't with any pleasure, but with disgust. Your nose wrinkles a little at the bridge and you keep looking away as the blood from your face starts to drain. 

Either you’re a really good actress or you aren’t the unsub.

Emily says as much as she flips through the small teal planner that you’d willingly given them. Due dates for chapters, publishing events, book signings and days for book tours fill most of the pages in your most neat handwriting. Dates you plan to go visit your mother, grocery shop, doctor’s appointments, even plans to go somewhere and write.

Everything is explicitly stated, that way you’re never unsure of what you meant to tell yourself. That is, until around three weeks ago when a handful of days are notated with an ‘S,’ followed by a random doodle. Sometimes it’s a tiny heart drawn absentmindedly while you discuss the plans over the phone, other times it’s a cartoon bunny or a top hat.

Garcia is the first to take notice of it, her fingers faltering in their constant thrum against the keyboard in front of her. She glances out of the side of her glasses, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Looks like lonely girl found herself a boo.” 

“That makes sense,” JJ says from the chair she’s pulled into Penelope’s office from the bullpen. A pen is stretched between her hands, her posture relaxed into the curve of the stiff, government-issued rolly chair.

All the girls have gathered into the tech analyst’s room while the men take turns interrogating you. Well, all except Spencer. He just stands behind that window watching your every move with eyes like a hawk. “What doesn’t make sense is why she keeps it secret even in her personal planner.”

“Maybe she has a stalker? That could be who is doing all this?” 

“Then she wouldn’t keep careful notation of everything else going on in her life. A stalker would follow her every move, not just her romantic interests. Even if he is in love with her.”

“A partner, maybe? Like the days they planned the murders or days they were acted out?”

“None of the days line up with the crimes, save for this one,” Emily leans the book toward the two women with her finger just underneath June fifth, the day Alison Crane was abducted from outside her campus dorm room. It’s the third ‘S’ scribbled into the corner of a day in the entire book.

“And there is nothing else written in relation to this ‘S’ character?” JJ shakes her head, looking for any clues that could be nestled among the loops and curls of your writing. Reid would be better at this, he was the graphology expert among them. So why wasn’t he back here helping?

“Then I guess we better try and get her to talk about it. Meanwhile Garcia, we’ll get Rossi and Reid to head over to her apartment and you can hack into her computer?” Penelope spins the chair, a flash of bright colors and blond hair. She clicks her tongue in response, throwing up a fingers gun and winking.

“Whatever you need me to do, I’m on it like sexy on Derek Morgan stepping out of the shower in a towel.”

After some arguing, and maybe just a little bit of pleading, they manage to convince Reid to join Rossi on a trip to your apartment. He can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable, standing in your living room. Not because he’d been here before, but because he’d never been here before.

The empty mugs that litter every surface, smelling of old coffee and your favorite coffee creamer (he only knows it’s your favorite because you explicitly ask for that creamer at every coffee shop the two of you have ever gone to), is unfamiliar to him. He’s invited you to his apartment at least three times. How come he had never been to yours?

Small pages and notebooks of scribbled ideas and dialogues cover just as many areas as the coffee cups do, your handwriting messy and cramped in every note. It’s almost like you couldn’t get the idea out of your head fast enough.

The bed in your room is meticulously made without a wrinkle in sight, but that could be because of the obvious bed you’ve made yourself along the salmon pink couch that stretches out in front of your TV. A multicolored crochet blanket is thrown haphazardly over the back, a pillow still slightly squished against the arm.

On the coffee table is a half opened laptop, a notebook with red and black ink scribbled in the lines, and a still full cup of coffee. Rossi makes quick work of calling Garcia and helping her get patched into your computer. It’s strange, watching her move the mouse on your screen from miles away.

Reid never stops moving, walking the length of your studio apartment with his eyes peeled for any kind of information he could find. It’s obvious that you spend most of your time in the main room, which houses the kitchen, a small dining area, and the living room. A door leading into your room branches off to a small bathroom which is just as disorganized as everything else in your house.

Hair products, skin washes, and all kinds of makeup are scattered across the sink and back of your toilet. It’s funny because every time he’s ever met up with you, you’re bare faced and your hair is still drying from the shower you took before leaving your house. The tube of lipstick he picks up makes him think he doesn’t really know you at all.

On the nightstand in your room is a bottle of water with the label ripped off and the two Rossi books you’d bought that fateful day in the bookstore. The label from the water bottle is stuck between the middle pages of one of the books. The passages in question don’t lend anything to connecting you as a homicidal maniac, let alone a serial killer.

Back in the living room, Garcia is snooping through every aspect of your computer.

“I don’t know whether or not the be freaked out by her web history. There’s a lot of murder-y questions here. ‘Signs of a post mortem amputation,’ ‘How much blood can you lose and still live?,’ ‘Most brutal ways to be killed.’ It’s creepy.” Rossi is flicking through the notebook from the table, his eyes squinted as he tried to make sense of the abbreviations and scribblings of another writer.

“She writes crime novels so it isn’t entirely strange for her to be looking at those types of things.” Thankfully, the defense of your web search history comes from the older man who looks up as Garcia delves deeper and deeper. Spencer had thought it first, but hadn’t said anything to avoid suspicion. He’s smart enough to know that the truth has to come out eventually, but he wants to be sure of your innocence (or guilt, he reminds himself a bit glumly) before he reveals your link to him.

“I’m not seeing anything she could be using to contact a partner unless her partner is one of the publishing people she’s constantly messaging via email.” At this Spencer stops, leaning against the back of the couch with his weight resting on the heels of his hands. The stance appears relaxed. He is anything but.

“Why do we assume she has a partner?” Reid asks, impatiently pushing a stray curl away from his face. Rossi glances at him curiously, otherwise undistracted from the shake the movement gives the couch.

“Oh, Prentiss, JJ, and I were looking through her little teal book earlier and the only thing not explicitly stated was just the letter ‘S.’ It’s why they came back to interrogate and they sent you guys to her house. I thought they told you.”

Spencer wants to beat his head against the wall.

“That isn’t a lead, Garcia. You have to tell them that ‘S’ isn’t her partner.” The mouse on the computer screen falters, several saved documents for different rough drafts of books or drabbles are pulled up the way you might have papers scattered about in front of you.

“What is it? Do you know who ‘S’ is?” Rossi is turned sideways on the couch, looking over the back and up at the distressed man in front of him. It doesn’t take him long to connect the dots when they make eye contact. Penelope impatiently whines over the phone.

“I’m ‘S,’ I’ve been seeing her for the last three weeks. I’m sure if you tell me the dates then every single one of them will be days that we’ve had plans together.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Before anyone has the chance to say anything else, the door to Garcia’s office opens and a second voice filters through Rossi’s phone speaker. It’s JJ.

“Let Reid and Rossi know there’s just been another murder.”

This time it’s a fifteen year old girl. Her hair is black and wet, her lips are as blue as the sky, and she’s naked. Water droplets from her skin have soaked into the sheet of paper that was layed over her chest. The bathtub she’s in is completely empty, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that she was drowned there. The bruises on her shoulders from the force the unsub used to pin her down are dark against the contrast of her already pale skin.

...The man leaned over the tub, his eyes squinted in thought and his lips skewed a little to the side. Ryder stayed focused on the crime scene, for the most part. But even detectives of her caliber, and higher, could easily get lost in the eyes that look up at her from beneath long golden-brown lashes.

“Detective?” She blinks the distraction away, looking back at the girl, her black hair wet and spiraling like the snakes on Medusa’s head against the ivory siding of the drained tub. Ryder can’t help but wish the girl had been lucky enough to turn her killer to stone. Maybe it would have saved her.

“Agent.” She crosses her arms, looking anywhere but at the man across from her, pretending to look for any useful clues. Ryder had gotten to the crime scene fourty-five minutes before the pair of FBI Agents had walked in. The man, who had introduced himself as Supervisory Special Agent Matthew Gray, had decided to join her in the second floor bathroom. His partner, a woman named Katherine Swift, had taken to looking for clues through the rest of the house.

Agent Gray is beautiful. It’s the only adjective that seems to stick to him with certainty, every other aspect of his personality just as elusive as the exact color of those eyes. Even as short as his hair is, the golden brown tendrils are unkempt and curl every which way. Ryder has to force her hand to stay at her side and not reach up to smooth an alfalfa that does nothing for the serious expression on his face.

She keeps imagining what it would feel like if he reached out to kiss her, curling his fingers into her hair and bringing her unworthy lips up to meet his. He’s tall so she would probably have to stretch a little, but she wouldn’t mind. Not when his hands are tangled in her hair and he’s giving her the kiss she’s been silently begging for since the moment he flashed that crooked grin at her.

The imagination is so vivid that she jumps when her own partner, Detective Russo, comes around the corner of the hallway and straight into the bathroom...

The paper crinkles in the evidence bag as Morgan places it on the table, trying to ignore the daggers being glared into him on the other side of the mirror.

Nobody on the team had been very happy with Spencer when they heard the news about your relationship, Hotch had nearly snatched him by the scruff of his neck when he made to go into the interrogation room. But after several minutes of thoroughly explaining himself, Hotch had sent Morgan in. To say Spencer was infuriated was an understatement.

“Do you know what this is, (Y/N)?” You look down at it, twisting the evidence bag so that you could read the Times New Roman font you always wrote in when writing in Microsoft Word. The words cover the front and back of the copy paper, but you don’t have to read it through all the way before you know what it is.

“It’s a page from my newest book.” The bag scratches against the tabletop as you push it away from you, crossing your arms over your chest. Your face is stoplight red with embarrassment at the thought of Spencer reading this page, mostly because you had pulled so heavily from your own thoughts when first meeting Spencer to write Ryder and Gray’s first meeting. You created Matthew Gray to write about Spencer Reid in a way that felt less ‘high school diary entry.’

“More specifically, it’s from the book you just started working on about a month ago. The one that only you and your agent have access to.” Finally, Morgan sits. Before, he’d just been pacing around you the way a lioness might stalk around her prey before she launches an attack. It made you uneasy, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it?

“Do you know where we found it, (Y/N)?” His muscles bulge against his shirtsleeves when he leans them up on the table. Derek Morgan is a very attractive man, you’ll give him that, but if making you uneasy and putting you in the room with a attractive man to fluster you was their strategy then they should have sent in Spencer.

“My computer.”

“We found it on the body of a dead girl.” Another picture joins the ones already shuffled around the table. You can barely look at it, nausea and tears building in your throat at the sight of another person dying the same way you’d written in a story. When you don’t respond, Morgan continues.

“‘She was found at the bottom of an empty bathtub, a pale leg hooked over the edge of the porcelain siding, and her arms pinned to her sides in death. Bruises discolored the skin at her shoulders, and Ryder knew at first glance that her cause of death would be asphyxiation by drowning.’” He drops the paper back to the table, having picked it up to read the passage from the end of the page.

“That’s wrong,” You say, leaning back over the table to look at the paper again. Derek looks down, like the words might have changed in the moment he looked away, but the text stays exactly the same as before.

“That’s exactly what is written here.” You shake your head, pulling the bag back to you and wrinkling your forehead in thought.

“I don’t doubt that is what you read, Agent Morgan,” Your eyes fly over the page, reading the end of the excerpt with overwhelming relief. The bag sticks a little to the pad of your index finger as you tap over the paragraph in question. “But I rewrote this scene only two nights ago. It’s on my computer, I’m sure your tech analyst can confirm my claim. This girl, Bella, she doesn’t die from drowning anymore. Her hands are tied above her head to the faucet and she’s strangled. I couldn’t decide if I wanted it to be by her sister or her girlfriend.”

JJ rushes back to Penelope’s office, on a mission to confirm your statement just as you had suggested. Meanwhile, Morgan’s mind is rushing to figure out the mess he is currently sat in. You lean back in your chair now, unsure if the dizziness you feel is from lack of food or the sudden realization that they couldn’t pin this to you anymore.

“I’m not your bad guy. If I was doing this to prove to my mother that my writing is good, that I chose the right career, as your profile says, I wouldn’t change the scene in my book and not change the murder.” In Morgan’s earpiece, Hotch tells him that you were telling the truth about editing the scene two nights ago.

“Unless you planned it to throw us off track. We know about your relationship with Spencer, you’ve probably found out all kinds of things to do to keep us from catching you.”

You clench your teeth, straightening into your chair and pinning Derek down with a look you’d learned from your mother. It makes him think of his mom, your eyes narrowed and your gaze so cold that it could cause frostbite. He watches curiosily as you tilt your chin up a little, trying to hide the pricks behind your eyes and the wobble of your lip. Derek notices them, the entire team notices. They’re trained to notice.

“I want a lawyer.” You say simply, you voice is sharp and quiet but it does the job of slicing through the tension already building in the room.

“Come on, you don’t need a lawyer.”

“That’s where you’re wrong again, Agent Morgan. I do need a lawyer. Because even though I have full-heartedly trusted the justice system since I was in diapers, and even though I came to these offices willing to help your team in any way that I could, you are still trying to use me as a scapegoat instead of actually doing your fucking job and finding the bastard who is killing people in my name.

“A study from criminal law bulletin says that 10,000 people are wrongfully convicted of serious crimes every year. One in every twenty-five people sentenced to death are innocent, Agent Morgan. Just since 1973, more than 160 people were exonerated from the death penalty. That’s not even counting the people who were killed. But you sure as hell aren’t about to make me apart of that statistic because you want to waste your time trying to piece an investigation around me. That’s not how you’re supposed to do your job. So until you can remember how to do it correctly, I do need a lawyer. Thank you.”

By the time you finish you’ve leaned over the table, your index finger jammed into the wood to make your point. It feels like your chest is on fire as you slam back into your seat and cross your arms, determined to keep your silence for the rest of the time you were forced to sit here.

Everyone on the opposite side of the mirror is stunned into silence, their eyes focused on you even as Derek gathers all the things from the desk and walks out looking a little flustered himself. If Spencer was totally honest, your outburst was actually kind of hot. He has to remind himself that you may have killed eight people in cold blood.

Your lawyer makes it to the BAU in record time, his red hair expertly gelled back from his face. His icy blue eyes only cracking when he sees you sitting by yourself in the interrogation room. Spencer can tell by the way that he lowers himself on the balls of his feet to talk to you, reaching out to touch the hand that sits on your thigh, that he knows you personally. He likes you, actually. Spencer tried to tell himself that it doesn’t make him glad when you pull your hand out of his and awkwardly pat his arm.

He’s been lying to himself a lot today.

Hotch is the one to go back in the room, he was the best at dealing with lawyers. Unfortunately his best wasn’t enough to keep you in custody and soon your lawyer, who Spencer learned was named Jeremy, was walking you out of the room for the first time in six hours.

Your back cracks when you stand, your shoulders rolling back to try and ease some of the stress you’d been holding there since this morning. The sound of the door swinging open for you is almost heavenly, the feel of the air outside of the room is damn near enough to make you cry.

When you look to the side, ready to leave out the second door that leads into the hallway and away from this mess, you meet eyes with the only profiler of the BAU that you hadn’t seen that day. Spencer looks back at you with an expression that you find hard to put into words.

He almost looks sorry, the regret evident in the slight widening of his eyes, but at the same time his chin is tilted up like he is facing an enemy he has vowed to take down no matter the cost. His shoulders are squared, but his arms are uncrossed and his palms are open.

And even though you knew you wouldn’t be there without him knowing, the reassurance that Spencer knew and even suspected you is like a blow to the chest and stomach. It robs you of air, causing you to stumble.

Jeremy reaches to steady you. You shake him off, pulling your eyes from the young doctor and focusing all of your attention on the door knob.

“I’m fine, Jeremy.” Your tone of voice is more harsh than you intended but you’re still struggling to collect oxygen, even when you slide into your car by yourself, it feels like you can’t get enough air. The walk from the BAU offices to the parking lot had passed in a blur. Jeremy’s talk about staying at home and keeping your head low had gone by even faster, and now that you have time to truly be by yourself, everything hits like a ton of bricks thrown at you from a speeding train.

In the midst of your panic attack, gasping for air into the palms of your shaking hands, questioning everything about yourself and your career, you don’t register the shuffle of movement in your backseat. You’re so deep in your mind that you almost don’t notice the cool press of a gun barrel against the back of your neck until a familiar voice lifts your head from your hands.

“Drive.”

[kandoesfanfics-writes]

Hello I love your work Can I requested 16, jasonette, with a happy ending please? Have a nice day

Prompt 16: “I’m sorry, but…I don’t remember you.” Jasonette. 

This took forever and a day, and I do apologize. HOWEVER, I had to figure out how to make this happy at the end. Hope I did a good job with it.

—————————————————————————————————-

He felt like someone had twisted a knife into his chest as he looked down at her. He was holding her wrists, confused and frightened himself. He wasn’t sure who she was or what she wanted. The only thing he knew was she looked devastated, and was sobbing her pretty eyes out... and it made him want to cry, too, for some reason.

She was so tiny compared to his hulking frame of six feet, two inches. She didn’t even come up to his shoulder, stopping more at his sternum. She had black hair that fell loosely around her heart-shaped face, a cute button nose and a pair of soft-looking lips finished it off. 

Jason knew he wouldn’t sleep well for a while. Her eyes would haunt him. 

Those soft grey-blue eyes were full of anger, sorrow, and betrayal. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Those eyes were begging him to do something, but what? He didn’t know what he could do. He didn’t know how to make her feel better. He didn’t even know her.

But apparently she knew him.

“Jason… Jason, please! It’s me, Jase! It’s Marinette! Why are you looking at me like that?” Her begging voice was absolutely broken, garbled with sobs.

“I’m sorry… but I don’t remember you,” he told her softly. “I’m really sorry.”

He repeated over and over that he didn’t remember who she was, but all it did was make her look more desperate — and the more Jason’s heart shattered in his chest. 

He wasn’t sure why he was so affected by her tears. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to care about her. Jason hadn’t cared about anyone in years, save for maybe Dick.

“But Jason… Jase… Why did you stop answering me? Why are you pretending like you don’t know me? You were my best friend… I loved you. I loved you, Jason. Hell, I thought I still loved you! I was so excited to see you because I knew you, I love you!”

Jason winced, the ache in his chest growing.

“I’m sorry.  I’m really sorry…”

Eventually, the sobbing woman was pulled away by a black-haired woman with the most vicious looking eyes he’d ever seen. Her lips were pulled into a snarl as she addressed him, clearly not afraid of him despite being about a foot smaller than him. 

She gently wrapped her arms around Marinette and guided her away from him, which filled Jason with relief as well as extreme apprehension.

The dark-haired man was relieved — he no longer had to stop this foreign woman from hugging him, nor did he have to deal with her tears. But Jason was also apprehensive. This Marinette woman knew too much about him to be a stranger to him.

She knew he loved classic literature. She knew his favorite subject in school was English. She knew he wrote poetry. She knew he loved Alfred like his own grandfather, that Alfred had taught him to cook. She knew his favorite type of baked goods were conchas because they were sweet and slightly crispy. She knew that Dick had bought him the Lord of the Rings novels for his birthday (and Jason had cried over it). She also knew that he had a collection of works written by Edgar Allen Poe… and claimed to be the one to have given it to him for his twelfth birthday.

Jason could feel himself trembling a little bit as fear clawed at his chest. No one could have known that unless they talked to either Jason himself or Dick. Dick wasn’t there. Dick was in Bludhaven. Dick couldn’t have talked to her. 

He doubted that Bruce or Alfred would have told anyone private information like that either. 

He needed to go home. He needed to find that collection, needed to know the truth. 

Jason rushed past Bruce and the tide of people around him. He let his feet carry him towards the exit, forgotten voices ringing in his ears. He burst through the door, sprinting out into the busy street. 

He took a few gulps of air as he adjusted to the sunlight, his lungs burning as frigid air entered. Because he was looking frantically for a cab or anything else that could take him home, he could barely hear his name being shouted until a hand grabbed his wrist. 

Jason spun around, ready to fight. His other fist flew towards the person who grabbed him, but the person was faster than him. They had released his wrist and dodged his swing. 

"Jason, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?!" an annoyed voice snapped. "Bruce is going to call Dick at this rate!"

Jason blinked a few times before he was able to refocus. He noted the speaker had chin-length black hair and cobalt blue eyes. He recognized the face as his replacement, one Timothy Drake.

"Jason! What's going on? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Jason shook his head violently, feeling his throat closing up. How could she have known all of that? How did she know him? Why didn't he remember her? Why couldn't he figure this out?

A horrible laughter rang in his ears.

Why can't you remember, Boy Blunder?

Why can't you remember, little bird?

Did Uncle J hit you too hard?

I know you're tougher than that!

C'mon, you're the Bat's junior detective! Can't you figure out anything?

Then again, you didn't realize your mummy dearest was working for Uncle J—

Then everything went black.

—————

When he woke up, a pair of concerned green eyes was gazing down at him.

Green eyes? No one in his family aside from him had green eyes. He blinked a few times before noting the person also had bright red hair. Confusion littered his thoughts as he struggled to remember where he was and what had happened. He tried to sit up, but two quick hands stopped him, gently pushing back down on his chest. 

“Easy there, Jay. You fainted on the sidewalk. Timmy and Diana brought you home, and I brought Dickie back home. We were really worried about you.” This voice was familiar. 

Ah, that would explain it.

Wally must have been visiting Dick in Bludhaven. Once Dick heard that something had happened to him, he must have asked the speedster to bring him back to Gotham. Wally, being Dick’s best friend, would have brought him without question. The only remaining question to be answered at the moment would be Dick’s whereabouts, and why Wally was the one sitting with him.

A few bangs and a crash later, his elder brother came barreling into the room. Dick was a mess, only in his pajamas and his hair an absolute mess. He looked stressed, dark bags under his eyes making him look like a raccoon. His familiar sky-blue eyes found Jason, and once he realized he was awake, Dick raced over to him.

“Little wing!” Dick breathed, hugging his little brother tight. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

Jason looked around in confusion as he spotted Tim and Diana walking into the room. Tim’s face was paler than normal and his eyes were narrowed, as if he were trying to solve the most difficult puzzle he’d ever encountered. Diana looked relieved to see him awake, giving him a gentle smile. They both waited for Dick to be done fussing over Jason to speak.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright, Jason,” Diana said softly. “You gave Tim quite a scare when you fell on him.”

“Who was that woman, Jason?” Tim asked. “The one who tried to hug you. The one who was crying.”

Jason’s blood turned cold as he remembered just what he’d been thinking about before he spiralled.

“Dick, I need you to get something out of my old room,” he whispered. “I need you to get a book. The collection of Edgar Allen Poe’s works.”

“Little wing, are you sure? Don’t you want to rest—”

“Dick, the book. It’s important.”

Dick gave him a confused look but went to fetch the book. Once Dick had left the room, Jason turned his attention towards Tim.

“You’re tech-savvy, aren’t you, Tim? Do you think you could find records or traces of an old email account of mine? One I had before the Joker canned me?” Jason asked, trying to control his racing heart.

“...Depending on the server and whether or not they’ve wiped it, maybe,” Tim replied hesitantly, chewing on his lip. “I could try.”

“Please?”

Tim grabbed his laptop. For the next ten minutes, the only things audible were the tapping of keys on the keyboard and the blood roaring in his ears. Jason remained silent as he waited for Dick to return with his book. 

He needed to see it, needed to see the inside cover. The inside cover would, at the very least, give him a starting point to go off of. He didn’t need to panic just yet.

Dick came back a few moments later with the well-loved and worn book. He went to hand it to Jason, but paused as he noticed his brother’s hands were now shaking violently.

“Little wing...what’s wrong?”

“Dick, open the cover.”

“Jason—”

“Just open the fucking cover, Dick! Read to me what’s on the inside!”

Dick slowly opened the cover, not understanding what the hell was going on. Why would there be something on the inside cover? Did Jason write a note there? Was there something hidden or taped there? Did it have anything to do with what had happened to Jason earlier?

His eyes locked onto the message, written in red ink, and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Dear Jason, I hope this present gets to you on time. I don’t know how long it takes mail to get to Gotham from Paris, so I apologize if it’s late. I also hope this is the correct copy! I wanted to send you macrons, but Maman said that would be very hard and there’s lots of rules. You’ll have to come back to Paris again if you want more of our macrons. I miss you a lot. I hope I’ll get to see you again soon!

Happy twelfth birthday!

Love, Marinette.”

Jason covered his face with both hands and moaned.

“God, I did know her…”

Tim and Dick exchanged a look with each other before asking Jason about what had happened. Jason launched into his explanation of how the young woman had called his name and ran up to him. She’d tried to hug him, but Jason had grabbed her and not allowed her to touch him. She said her name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and according to her, they had met when Bruce took him to Paris for a business trip.

“She knew personal details about me,” Jason choked. “I knew she couldn’t be a stranger because she knew stuff that only Dick would know about me. She told me she gave me that book for my birthday. She told me she wrote a note in it...and it’s there. It’s really there. I knew her… I knew her before the Joker killed me.”

“...That’s why she was crying,” Tim said quietly, putting the pieces together. “You didn’t remember her.”

Jason nodded, feeling his body go numb.

“I tried remembering. I tried, but I remembered him instead.” 

Dick gave Jason’s shoulder a comforting squeeze as he continued.

“I must have spiralled from there. Did you find my email, Tim?”

Tim nodded before replying, “You emailed back and forth for a few years. You have over forty emails from… from after you died.”

Jason gestured for the computer, and Tim handed it to him. He sat up more before looking at everyone in the room.

“Can I be left alone? I want to read these.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Dick asked, his eyebrows furrowing together. “What if another email sets you off again?”

“Then just one of you stay with me. I want to try to remember her. I need to.”

Tim saw the look on Dick’s face and quickly grabbed Wally’s arm. He gestured to Diana, and the three left Dick and Jason alone in the living room. Tim knew that Dick was going to try and dig into this, and he wanted to be nowhere near them when Jason exploded. He suggested that they all go get some cookies from Alfred, and that Diana should distract Bruce when he came home.

“Why is it so important that you remember her?” Dick asked quietly. “This could dig up things—”

“I have to, Dick.”

“Jason, you don’t have to do anything.”

“Yes, I do!”

“No, you don’t!”

“YOU WEREN’T THERE, DICK!”

The older man took a step back, slightly shocked about Jason’s outburst. He knew the young man had had an emotional night, but he wasn’t expecting this at all.

“You weren’t there,” Jason hissed. “You didn’t see her. She looked so betrayed, scared… sad. She looked like I’d ripped her heart out of her goddamn chest, Dick. Her friend glared at me when she led her away. She was sobbing, and it wasn’t fake. You can’t fake that shit.”

Tears stung his eyes as he barely managed to choke out his next words. “She said she loves me, Dick. She loves me, and I don’t remember who she is. I need to find out who she was to me. I feel like she was important. Really important.”

Dick fell silent. Jason watched his big brother rub his eyes and sigh in exhaustion, before sitting down beside him. He wrapped an arm around Jason’s shoulder in his brotherly way before telling him that he was here for him, no matter what the emails said.

Jason nodded grimly before going back to the beginning.

——————

It didn’t work.

He still couldn’t recall who Marinette Dupain-Cheng was.

Reading their emails felt like reading through someone else’s letters, not his. 

He couldn’t recall inside jokes that they had shared. 

He couldn’t recall the events that they had shared together. 

He couldn’t recall the emotions attached to the emails. 

She felt like someone completely separate from him, as if the Jason Todd who existed before the Joker’s crowbar was someone completely separate from the Jason after. 

But he knew more about her.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was kind.

She was supportive.

She was creative.

She was intelligent.

She was a problem solver.

She was the kind of person Jason Todd had always respected, the one who put others' needs before her own. She was the one who came to save the day. She was the one who would come up with a creative solution to a seemingly impossible problem. She was the one who would listen to your concerns genuinely and soothe your fears. She was the person who loved so fiercely no matter how many times her heart had been hurt.

The Jason Todd that was here and now could not remember who Marinette Dupain-Cheng was, but he wanted to change that.

And damn whoever came in his way. 

Tim had hunted down her phone number and gave it to him. The only thing left to do now was for Jason to call her. He hoped he could still make this right. 

From her emails, Marinette did seem like a good person, and Jason couldn’t help but feel terrible that he’d hurt her. He knew he couldn’t get his memories back, but he could make new ones. Hopefully, she’d give him the chance to do that.

He held his cellphone in a vice grip as it rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello...my name is Jason Todd. When I was fifteen years old, I was in a car accident that nearly killed me. I lost… I lost a good chunk of my memories of things that had happened before that. I found your note in my book… and I found our emails.”

Jason could hear the intake of breath on the other end of the phone. He could also hear muffled sounds, and he prayed that she wasn’t crying again.

“I’m really sorry, Marinette. I don’t remember you, and I can’t get those memories back. The only thing I can do is apologize and hope that you’ll let me make new memories with you,” he said, his voice strained. 

“I’m sorry I dropped off the face of the earth. I’m sorry that we had to meet this way. I’m sorry that I still don’t remember you even after reading all of our emails… but I want to change that.”

“How? How can you change that?” Her broken voice replied.

“By seeing you again. This… this isn’t going to be easy,” he warned her. “This is going to be hard. But you are a good person. You answered my emails with such kindness and compassion. You always took care to think about my needs and feelings — you’re the kind of person I’d want as a friend. I want to restart, if you’re willing.”

A broken sob echoed on the other end before a watery voice replied, “Hi...my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m twenty years old. I work for Style Queen in New York City as an apprentice designer.”

A smile broke out on Jason’s face as he said, “Hi, Marinette. My name is Jason Todd. I’m twenty-one years old. I work freelance security in Gotham City. It’s very nice to meet you.”

[kassofchaos]

Getting the Facts Straight

So, after what seems to have been a super long hiatus, I'm back with another chapter of the fic! Hope the wait wasn't unbearable, ya'll.

The Batcave. Perhaps it’s a childish name for a 31-year old billionaire to adopt for his alter-ego’s base of operations and armory, but there’s no denying it sounds cool. To the younger, more impressionable guest, the moniker certainly succeeds in its wow factor, not to mention the awe of finding himself there.

Batman doesn’t have many guests down here. It’s usually just him and Alfred, maybe the occasional criminal; but never someone like Ben. “Why do you have a dinosaur up here?” Speak of the devil.

Batman turns to face his guest, looking to see the green-vested lad standing next to one of the giant cave’s many attractions: a life-size model of a Tyrannosaur. Granted, a very old depiction.

“I came across it during an old mission. Decided to keep it.” He responds. Easy, succinct.

“It isn’t even accurate, how old is this thing?”

“I don’t know. These things don’t come with information plaques.”

A silence wafts over them both. Even for just that second, the silence is palpable.

“Man, hate that.” Ben responds. “I get that it’s just more work, but I can’t ever see something like this as finished without a plaque like that, y’know?”

Another pause, this one slightly longer than the last. Batman sighs; so this is the kind of person he’s let in. Could be worse.

“We can mess around with my decorations later. Tell me about the watch.”

“What, this old thing? Had it since I was ten.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“By now? Eeehh, twelve, maybe thirteen years? I got it late into my tenth, so I can’t know for certain. I don’t just have the exact date on me, right-”

“Explain what it does.” Batman’s order cuts through Ben’s rant before it could even begin. Ben gulps; he’s really dealing with THE BATMAN here.

“Well…” He lets out a half-hearted chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Where do you want me to start?”

“You know where I want you to start.”

Ben takes a step back, looking away for just a second, shrinking at even the slightest hint of intimidation.

“Well… this-” He puts up his left arm, letting the light of the Batcave fall upon the device attached to his wrist, its green-and-black dial gleaming with the bright. “-is the Omnitrix. I don’t know everything about it myself, either, but I know how to use it, and I’ve been able to clue together some information on it after so long.”

Batman listens on, a notepad in his hands, ready to jot down anything important.

“From what I’ve gathered, this is alien technology. Within it are the samples of ten different alien species. I can choose which one I want to transform into by-” To demonstrate, he taps a small button on the device’s side facing him, watching the dial rise just slightly, projecting a holographic black silhouette of a four-armed humanoid. Ben grabs onto the dial’s side and turns it left, watching as the silhouette is replaced with another, this one of a shorter creature resembling a crab. “-turning the dial. When I press it down, then.. I suspect you can guess from there.”

“Only ten?” Batman asks amidst note-taking.

“Ten.” Ben nods. “An arsenal that compliments itself well. I don’t know if it’s a coincidence or not, but the choice of aliens on the watch feels planned, for lack of a better word. Intelligently designed, in a sense.”

“Lead me through each one.”

“I don’t know that I want to .” Ben finally interjects. “Sorry if that’s rude, sir, but… I’m not just going to tell you all of my strengths and weaknesses.”

Batman smiles. “There it is.” Batman waves Ben forward, leading him further. Down a set of stairs, to face a ginormous onslaught of computer monitors of varying sizes, all heralding a lengthy desk and a couple of simple revolving chairs. “I think I know why you’re here.”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

Batman nods, turning to type up on the keyboard, facing the smallest monitor screen just above said keyboard as if it were a simple laptop or home computer. After a few clicks, a picture comes up on one of the largest monitors; the scowling visage of a bitter, scarred, and somewhat wrinkled face, adorned with wide red goggles and cybernetics around the sides of his face.

“You’ve come here for him.”

Ben looks up at the display, not needing any more than a second to recognize that face. He nods. “Dr. Aloysius James. Insists on the name ‘Dr. Animo’. Sounds tacky.”

“This coming from ‘Ben Ten’.” “This coming from ‘The Batman’?”

A pause wafts over the room, broken only by the sounds of keyboard keys being pressed rapidly.

“Fair point.” Batman turns Ben’s attention out to another screen. Several dates from the last three months all laid out uniform on the monitor. “There are the days Dr. Animo has been seen publicly for the last three months. Anywhere from Bellwood to DC, even all the way down in Texas or Kansas. Most recently, he’s converged here.”

Ben nods. “That’s part of why I’m here. I heard Animo was coming by to visit. He and I have something to settle.” Ben narrows his eyes, taking a look at each date. September 7th, September 17th, October 7th, and so on. The consistency drags on. “All dates ending on a 7.”

“The question is… why.”

“Why? Dr. Animo’s often like this… kinda weird around numbers.” “This isn’t just Dr. Animo, Ben.” Batman reassures him, and another monitor lights up with even more dates. September 3rd, September 9th, September 15th, on and on.

“These ones are divisible by three.” Ben confirms.

Batman nods. “These are all dates pertaining to an enemy of mine, Bane. Once again, from various cities all over the United States. I’m positive these have a connection, and I have a name to go off of, but…” That’s when the caped crusader hears the slam of a button and a flash of green light envelops Ben. He turns around quickly to make sense of the commotion, only to behold an entirely new figure having taken Ben’s place: an orange, crab-like thing easily standing above three feet tall, and with a massive head to take up most of that height.

The creature waves one of his pincers, using its other to point to the belt it was wearing right underneath its head; the dial of ben’s omnitrix on full display at the front of the iron strap. “Worry not.” He speaks in a slightly deeper, trilling voice with the hint of a british stiff-upper-lip. “I thought I’d swap over to another more… intellectually gifted form.”

“What do you call this one?” Batman asks rhetorically, not expecting the crab to answer with “Brainstorm, actually”. Upon hearing that, he lets out a sigh and returns his focus to the information at hand.

Before he can get another word in, Brainstorm interrupts.

“Mayhaps it is worth noting every date of Dr. Animo’s appearance ends with a 7, with the exception of any days where it is the 27th. Divisible by three, just like every appearance attributed to your ‘Bane’ figure.”

“Right.” Batman nods, then looks to all of Bane’s dates for a similar pattern. September 6th, missing entirely. September 12th, the very same. “Not a single even number on this list. Divisible by 2.”

“A hint to another cohort in this scheme?” Brainstorm adds. “Or perhaps we’ve fallen into a purposely set rabbithole? This could all be an elaborate ruse; a red herring, if you will.”

“Even if it is-” Batman quickly asserts, “-I can’t ignore the fact that it might not be. If this is intentional, we’re step further into finding the reason behind all this.

“Does that reason mayhaps include that thing that attacked us on the street?” Brainstorm’s thoughts flicker back to just a few hours ago, having been assaulted by that large, somewhat mechanical purple beast. An alien? Mayhaps.

“I don’t know. He seemed more intent on your watch than anything else… still, we can’t strike the idea.”

“Today is the 16th of December. If the pattern holds true-” Brainstorm adds, “-and if Dr. Animo truly is in Gotham, we will see him tomorrow. We best be prepared for such.” Brainstorm gives the dial on his belt a firm press, and with the same flash of green light, Ben returns to normal.

“If you want me to rest here, I will. I don’t mind sleeping on couches. Point is, we should be prepared.”

“Indeed. We should.”

[jawritter]

Promised

**Series Warnings!! ** ABO dynamics! Smut, unprotected smut, knotting, claiming, mating, heat, rut, language, overly protective Jensen, age gap! 19-year-old reader, 41-year-old Jensen, virgin reader, loss of virginity, sort of an arranged marriage, hint at possible mob type settings.

Story Description:

In a world where your presentation can be a blessing or a curse, a newly presented Omega will come face to face with the harsh reality of Alphas, Omegas, and pack alliances that are expected to be upheld with the union of your two families…

A/N: Pt.5!!! Please don’t copy my stuff! Feedback is welcomed! If you want to be added to the series tag list, or just my tag list in general let me know! Cross-posted on Wattpad! Hope you enjoy it!! This is my first ABO series so be nice lmao!

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 2362

You had been at the hotel with your Alpha for two days, well awake anyway, really you had been there around four. 

In those two days, Jensen had been taking care of you while you recovered from what he said was the worst fever he ever has seen an Omega undergo during her heat. 

He still hadn’t tried to have sex with you again, and no matter how much you try and convince yourself that he’s just trying to make sure you’re well, and fully recovered it’s something that’s constantly gnawing at you in the back of your mind.

It’s not like he’d been avoiding you. Every night when you went to bed he’d wrap his strong arms around you, and pull you as tight to his chest as humanly possible. Tangling your legs together and holding onto you like if he let go even a little you would disappear. 

He spent the last to days pretty much attached to your hip while you were awake. Pulling you into his lap while on the couch watching movies, making sure you ate, making sure you were comfortable. 

That did make you believe the cares.

Waking up this his arms was quickly becoming your favorite thing. That was for sure. 

Jensen was currently sitting with his laptop on his lap, and alternating between texting, and typing away on his keyboard in front of him. He hadn’t told you what he was doing, and honestly, you didn’t know whether it was okay to ask it. 

You found yourself constantly craving his touch, but you didn’t know if it was okay that you approach him; or were you supposed to wait for him to come to you?

You thought your parents taught you everything you needed to know about Alphas, Omegas, and their relationships together, but you found out quickly that you knew nothing. So you kept your distance, watching him type away out of the corner of your eye. 

After what felt like an eternity he looked up from his work and smirked at you over the laptop screen.

“I can literally feel you staring you know?” he says, his voice light and teasing. 

You knew he wasn’t angry, but for some reason, the very sound of his voice was enough to make you shake in skin... In a good way…

“Sorry,” you mumble, picking up your coffee cup, and trying to concentrate on the show playing in front of you on the TV.

“Come here,” he said. 

It wasn’t a request, you knew that. So you put down your cup on the table next to you and walked over to your Alpha, who had closed his laptop and set it on the couch next to him. 

When you got close to him, he reached out and pulled you into his lap. You immediately laid your head on his shoulder, letting his scent and his touch calm you. This was what you were craving. His touch. Him scent... Him…

“Seems like your feeling better today than you were yesterday,” he said, playing with your hair, while you absentmindedly played with the button that was open a little lower on his shirt than was probably necessary; but you didn’t complain. I mean the man was gorgeous.

“Yeah, I feel more like myself today,” you mumbled, not sure what answer he really wanted out of you. You wanted more than anything to please and not anger him. You didn’t know this man hardly at all though, and you didn’t want to ruin your relationship with him before you even got started. 

Being claimed in the states meant that you were not only bound to the person for eternity, or until the bond was broken and rejected, but that you were also legally married as well.

“I was sending off our paperwork to the clerk of courts office, you should get your new Social Security Card, and ID in the mail in a few weeks, along with our marriage license ...” he said, letting the sentence trail off at the end like was lost in his own thoughts. 

You didn’t even think about that. You felt like such a child around him most of the time.

Which you guess that in a way you were. You were homeschooled, you were never allowed to leave the house, your only friends were family, you had never realized just how sheltered you were until you were tied to someone who you had never known, and expected to function.

Jensen had traveled all over the globe with his job. He’d seen and meet people of every variety and flavor. You had trouble making an order on the phone for food, and you weren’t even face to face with people. 

Jensen swore that he’d teach you, that it was okay, not to worry about it. That it was your family's fault. 

In a way, you had started to wonder if all those years, your whole life really, if you had been abused? 

As if on cue Jensen cleared his throat bring you back to the present, his fingers dancing lightly over the sink of your back where he’d moved his hand under your shirt. 

“Since your feeling better I think it might be best to go home today. We can use my friend’s private jet and be back in Austin within the hour. I had a moving company come in and collect your clothes and belongings that your parents had packed up for you. So you don’t have to go back there. Honestly, sweetheart, I don’t think you should go back there ...” 

Your blood ran cold. This was one thing you had feared about being tied to an Alpha, the control. You stiffened before you could stop yourself. The thought of not being around your family had your heart-shattering. Yes, they were more than likely abusive and the cause of your anxiety, and inability to function in a and around normal circumstances, but they were all you had ever known.

Putting a finger under your chin Jensen lifted your face slightly to look at him. His green eyes searching yours. His face calm and unraveling. 

“You didn’t like that I can tell,” he said, his voice soft, but you could hear a little concern.

The statement confused you though.

“What… How… How did you know I didn’t like it?” you asked. 

When he started to chuckle it surprised you. If you would have questioned an Alpha in your family, you probably would have found your ass on the ground.  He thought it was funny?

“Y/N, we’re bonded. I can literally feel the anxiety rolling off of you right now, and the fact that you're afraid of me. I can tell you what your feeling probably better than you can.”

You sat there on his lap staring at him there like a deer caught in the headlights, which made him laugh harder. His laugh was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard, and you realized you had never heard it until this point. 

Once he got his features under control, licking those perfect lips that you wanted more than anything to kiss right now, but you shoved that thought down for later. One feat at a time.

“Y/N, you’re allowed to have feelings and opinions. I’m not going to beat the shit out of you just because you disagree with me. I’m not going to snap. I can control my temper. I don’t know what you’ve been subjected to in your life, but I can guess by the way you act around me like you’re constantly walking on glass that it wasn’t a good upbringing, at least not a healthy one..” Taking a deep breath he brushed a stray piece of hair behind ear that had fallen in front of your face.

“I tell you what, sweetheart, let's go home and get you settled. Then let's just take some time learning each other a little. We will figure out what to do about your family later.” 

It made you feel a lot better that he did take your feelings into consideration. It was more than you would have thought possible alone. 

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

Three hours later, faster than you would have honestly thought possible, but again here you are; you were walking through Austin-Bergstrom International Airport. 

Jensen’s arm was firmly wrapped around your waist as you made your way through the airport with your bags thrown over his shoulder. Both of you only basically had a duffle bag a piece in the hotel room. 

Jensen had said your stuff was already delivered to your new home. Jensen’s eyes scanned the airport cautiously, scanning faces of passers-by as they went. A few people did seem to recognize Jensen. You could tell by the gaggle of girls that seemed to be drooling over him in the corner by the little sitting area when you passed, but the look on Jensen’s face screamed back off, and no one made a move to approach the two of you.

Once you were both safely in your uber Jensen gave the driver the address. Leaning over and taking his jacket off and placing it over your shoulders before pulling you close as possible in the back of the SUV.

“You okay so far?” he mumbled low enough that the driver couldn’t really hear the conversation going on between the two of you. 

You nodded your head, pulling his jacket around you tighter, letting his lingering scent wash over you, calming you. 

“I didn’t see any cameras, but I’m sure someone caught pictures of us. At least they didn’t approach. I really am not ready to share you just yet Omega.” he said, his voice dropping a whole octave, and his teeth grazing over the shell of your ear; causing a shiver to rip through your whole being. 

That was the first time he had touched you like that since the night that he claimed you.

Finally, the car pulled up outside of the house. It was surprisingly closer to the road than you would have thought it would be. Not in a gated community. There were neighbors. That was something you hadn’t expected either. Your parent's house was something like a compound of sorts. Way over walled and way overdone. There was barely even a fence blocking the front door? 

Jensen got out of the car, then helped you out, walking to the door with your hand wrapped tightly in his.

The house was impressive from the outside the closer you got to it. Two levels, maybe more. The outside painted a light gray. A wood lacquer type fence around some parts of the house. A well-manicured lawn.

Everything was clean. Everything was… Normal… No grand driveways, nothing like that. It was strange. You felt so out in the open. Jensen unlocked the door, then turned to you without warning sweeping you up bridal style into his arms.

You squealed in surprise, clinging onto his neck. 

Closing the door with his foot he walked you through the house like you weighed nothing at all. Jensen stopped in the hallway outside of a door reaching down he opened the door to a beautiful bedroom. Clean, sleek. Everything looked expensive and modern. 

Walking over to the bed he laid you down gently before jumping on the bed hovering over you playfully. A side of him you hadn’t seen yet. Though you did like it. He seemed really glad to be back into his own space.

Leaning down he licked at your claiming mark lightly, purring over you.

“So what do you think of the house so far? Satisfactory?” 

You laughed a little at him as he nipped at your jawline leaving little open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Scenting you deeply at your claiming mark.

“I don’t know. All I’ve really seen so far is the bedroom,” you try and play back to him. 

He was in such a good mood you didn’t want to break it. You liked him being playful. It’s like he morphed into a different person as soon as the car pulled up at his house. 

“Well, baby that is the most important room in the house,” he smirked at you.

Getting a spurt of confidence you lean and brush your lips over his. Jensen takes over at once like it was the permission he’d been waiting for you to give him for days, he connected his lips to yours. Kissing you deeper than he ever had. Stealing your breath away. Your heart pounding like you had just ran a marathon.

His tongues slipped past your lips and teeth. Gliding over your tongue with ease, pulling a little moan from your lips past your own defenses. 

Purring against you he pressed his weight on top of you a little more, letting you feel him against you for the first time. His scent was coming off of him in waves. His hand trailing up the inside of your thigh. Fingers tracing over hips lightly, making their way to the button on your jeans. Popping the button loose he slid his hand inside your jeans. Just as his fingers made their way inside your panties, sliding one of his thick digits through your soaking folds…. The front door closed loudly.

A growl ripped through Jensen’s chest, he jumped off of you like someone had shot him. 

“Jay? You guys home? Gen sent you guys some dinner for tonight!” you heard the voice of another man yell through the house, making his way closer to your bedroom as you hurried to fix your close. 

Jensen hovering over you, his head in the bend of your neck. A deep groan leaving his lips. 

“Remind me to change the locks,” he said before getting off the bed. 

“Who is it Alpha?” 

You couldn’t help the whine that left your lips. He chuckles slightly coming back over to kiss you softly before moving to go meet your interrupter in the living room. 

“Jared, he’s a good friend of mine. We will pick up where we left off when he leaves Omega,” he said, brushing your lips with his thumb lightly before walking out of the bedroom. 

You didn’t know who this Jared is, but you did make a mental note to teach him how to knock.

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

If you missed the previous chapter read it here!! 

Promised Series Masterlist

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons​ @imabitch4jensen​ @rvgrsbrns​

Series Tag List:

@spnfamily-j2​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @stoneyggirl​ @bloo-moon-freak​ @musiclovinchic93​

[fizzingwizard]

Alright, so, Digimon Adventure 2020 Episode 12: Castle in the Sky Laputa!

I mean, I, Guardromon...

... Bicentennialmon?

well, any of the three works :P

Right off the bat, I’ll say this ep gets a ‘meh’ from me, BUT I did love its aesthetic. I’m a big fan of robot stories, especially the Asimov variety. Scrap heap robots are my absolute favs. And I did like the Ghibli vibe going on too. The episode was pretty, and the robot characters were cool... it just wasn’t very fun. At the very least, I was expecting team Taichi/Koushirou/Mimi to be a bit more fun than Yamato/Sora/Jou, but I guess this ain’t 1999 anymore ;)

^The most amusing bit was finding out Koushirou’s laptop can fold like this... which, okay, shouldn’t surprise me, it just looks frigging weird...

me: DO YOU KNOW HOW TO USE A KEYBOARD???

koushirou: hush old lady, your first laptop was grayscale only and had Windows 3.1 installed.

Actual content relevant to the episode below...!

We had a promising start when last week’s episode ended on a cliffhanger... or a cliffdropper, I guess, because Mimi’s not hanging onto anything. She’s fallen down and landed on Palmon. Digimon can sure take a beating.

Palmon reaches to see if she can hoist them back up, but...

... it’s too high! Oh well, no choice but to travel on foot. Good thing Mimi landed on Palmon!

Meanwhile, above, Taichi and Koushirou turn to his computer for help. Unfortunately they have some technical difficulties.

Koushirou: Noooo, not the swirling of doom!! My immortal nemesis...

Even Taichi understands that buffering spells death. He’s a 21st century kid, so he’s a little more savvy about computers than 99 Taichi, whose trusty recourse in these situations was "treat the machine like a Bop-It.”

Mimi discovers they are in a Digimon scrap heap. ;_; Good heavens. Apparently robot Digimon are unlike organic (??) Digimon same as robots are different from humans, so the way they die is not quite the same either.

Mimi feels sorry for these trashed creatures. She’s no cold-hearted corporate goon who looks at these guys and just sees dollars. She notices the heart!

She also just wiped that rusty Guardromon’s helmet with her bare hand...

Mimi: Where’s Sora-san when I need a towel!!

Andromon makes his 2020 debut! And he’s just as much the pawn of evil as ever!

Boxing Cactus Go-go-go!!

Togemon gets her prickly hiney owned, but the Guardromon suddenly reanimates and protects her instead. His big strategy is “drop something heavy on Andromon and run away.” It’s super effective.

Who wants to translate the digicode, because I’m not gonna. Ten bucks says it’s something like “target human child exterminate” yadda yadda

When Koushirou’s computer fails, we must rely on our physical skills. Their big plan is “climb down the bottomless pit after Mimi.” There are a few things wrong with this picture:

1) Even if they know how deep the hole is, IT’S STILL QUITE A FALL. Make one wrong move and you’ll be useless to Mimi T_T And these idiots make plenty of wrong moves.

2) If there were handholds like these, why couldn’t Palmon have just grabbed them with her vines and carried Mimi up? Instead she was like, “Nah, can’t reach the top, let’s walk in a random direction and hope things work out!”

3) The Guardromon is taking Mimi to an elevator. Meaning there is a working elevator, meaning there is a way down that would significantly decrease their chances of DYING on the way. Koushirou’s computer can’t figure that out? Also I was expecting some hijinks there... like, they finally make it down only for Mimi to say “Why didn’t you just take the elevator like I did? Boys are weird.”

In his defense, Koushirou’s method of descent is worlds better than Taichi’s.

Hate to say I told you so...

Guardromon takes Mimi to some suspicious water which she uses to nurse Palmon... with a towel

Guardromon presents Sheeta Mimi with a flower to convey that he likes killing pretty delicate things :) run Mimi

The Laputa vibe... it is vibing.

We cut away to Yamato/Sora/Jou for thirty seconds just to point how much Better they’re doing than Taichi’s group. They’ve even realized how that basket was, who needs to put in all that work when we can all fit comfortably on a log! Sora and Yamato flirt. Jou’s going to be sick.

Taichi and Koushirou encounter some broken Solarmon who are being controlled by Soundbirdmon, so I guess it’s official now that we can’t believe any Digimon is truly evil if Soundbirdmon is around. Koushirou goes to help Mimi while Taichi stays behind to fend off these gears. Uh, is it just me or does this team seem very quick to split up.

I like the way Guardrmon cradles Mimi so all we can see is her shocked expression.

Guardromon tries his tried and true method of shooting down something heavy to crush Andromon...

... but Andromon’s like “hah! Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me!” and knocks it away. Not very effective...

Guardromon’s guarded his last mon... he starts to go... offline I guess...

In sweeps Kabuterimon to the rescue. In 99 Adventure, he’d have something witty to say, or at least a pun. 2020 Kabuterimon mostly likes to make weird noises. I understand why Agumon and Gabumon’s VA’s were calling him a “weirder uncle than ever” at Digifes...

Obligatory Best Boy cap

Hell Approacheth

Wow!!! Taichi finally got knocked off Greymon! He must have forgot to put on his suction cup shoes today!

So this entire episode, I was wondering what was to stop MetalGreymon from happening and stealing the show from Lillymon. I expected “Agumon just evolved recently and doesn’t have the juice to do it again so soon!” or some such. Nothing more than that. But, nah, we don’t even get that... MetalGreymon happens and he just... can’t... beat Andromon? For some reason? I’m going with “Because he’s Andromon.” Afterward, this very heavy structure falls down and MetalGreymon has lift it a la Atlas to keep Taichi from getting squished, so he can’t continue to beat on Andromon.

... Of course, Togemon gets stuck holding this thing up too... so there’s that...

The reason, of course, is so Guardromon can make one last action surge, grabbing Andromon’s leg, which works, randomly. At least for a moment.

Mimi spends most of this episode being Shocked.

Guardromon takes one final, grainy look at Mimi as he prepares for sweet death. The digicode says “Sheeta.” (kidding like I’d bother to translate it lol)

Andromon RUDELY stomps on his head. Like HELLO Andromon can you not see the dude is having a moment here? Show some respect!

Mimi sheds a Single Emo Tear

Which causes “Your sorrow made me evolve!” Lillymon. She immediately flies out to attack Andromon, leaving MetalGreymon alone holding the heavy metal structure, which promptly crushes him and our heroes. Game Over!

just kidding, the structure just vanishes I guess :/ It’s not very clear...

High kick attack!

It’s not very effective...

Lillymon does seem to have an ability that MetalGreymon doesn’t which cinches her victory over Andromon... her rain of petals interfere with his ability to lock on to a target. Too much organic matter everywhere I guess.

Lillymon covers Andromon in plants rendering him immobile...

... *cough*

Poor Mimi’s had a hard day of watching robots die.

Her affinity for marking graves returns as she leaves the flower Guardromon gave her on his corpse(?).

Taichi looks only sadly as Koushirou explains that Andromon and Guardromon were totes besties, until Soundbirdmon started mindcontrolling everyone. Gee that seems like something that could have been an interesting plot point had it been mentioned y’know earlier.

In sum... yeah, this ep just isn’t fun. There’s no friend moments, no getting to know each other, everything takes a backseat to this robot-protect-girl storyline. I really did like Guardromon, but the episode takes itself way too seriously in my opinion.

That aside... I was happy that Mimi’s episode didn’t involve stinky ugly Digimon falling in love and stalking her so she can passionately reject them. I can live without both of those things.

Mimi having the ability to project feelings onto supposedly nonfeeling things is a very Mimi-like character trait for her and one that I really truly love. It’ll definitely come in handy in the digital world where all is never how it seems. On the other hand, though, it’s not like it’s a trait we didn’t have already... it just belonged mainly to Hikari :P So... yeah.

Next week we’re going to get Garudamon, in a way that looks like it will pale compared to our first meeting with Garudamon in 99 Adventure, BUT that’s okay... because we’ve got plenty of time for the Big Important things to happen, both on a plot level and on a character development level. I am a little wtf??? about everyone getting not one but two evolutions within the same adventure - assuming the kids are going to go home at some point and finally put Tokyo out of its misery. I’d expected this show would be more like 02 with the kids jumping in and out, but tbh I’m not gonna be sad if they just stay in the digital world indefinitely. Also, it’s not like Taichi didn’t get both an evolution and a jogress the first time he came to the digital plane, so obviously things are just working differently in this show!

But as it’ll be a Sora episode, I just hope it’s an improvement on the last Sora episode. There’s plenty of potential following the mini tiff between her and Yamato last week, so i hope we see some follow up to that. Maybe a couple Sorato moments. We didn’t get anything for Taishiro this week :( But since it looks like probably next week the groups are still separated, perhaps the week after we’ll get MegaKabuterimon and see more interaction between Taichi and Koushirou then. *shrug* A girl can dream!

Anyway this ep gets 5.5/10 from me!

[fifielady]

Soulmates and Stairs? Disaster

Day 2 of @usukweek​ || Pining | Soulmate AU

Note/s: I always get lazy by the end of the story I’m writing  (シ_ _)シ

"Good job, arsehole."

"Arthur, I... I'm really sorry." Alfred kept his eyes on the bland gray-blue (he'd asked a nurse which colors were which while waiting for Arthur) tiled hospital floor, he couldn't seem to at least muster up the courage to look at the other person in the eye and apologize for what seemed like the eleventh time after he accompanied Arthur to the hospital. It was both embarrassing and disheartening that he left such a terrible impression on his soulmate. A terrible and utterly painful physical impression as well.

An hour and a half ago, before they could finally see the blindingly beautiful colors and were sitting in the hospital with Arthur Kirkland's left arm in a cast and Alfred F. Jones regretting and savoring the good and the bad of the consequences of his actions, they were both in the student park in front of the male dormitories spending time on their weekends. Separately, that is. Arthur was sitting on the narrow cobble stairs that lead to the old but sturdy dorms while Alfred was sitting under the canopy of a tree admiring the view.

Alfred was finishing up his essay outside his dorm room because he left his key on his desk when he rushed to his one and only 9 a.m. Saturday class. He was lucky his laptop was fully charged before he headed out, bringing his charger would've been useless since most of the outlets in the common room were always occupied. Besides, the weather was nice enough, for a cloudy day, to spend outside while he worked on his homework. But while he waited for his roommate to come back from buying comics and manga (or was Kiku visiting his Greek soulmate's apartment?), he glimpsed the one and only Arthur Kirkland sitting on the steps furiously working his pencil on a sketchbook.

He thought while unknowingly pressing on the letter 's' on the keyboard, Ah, wow, he looks lovely as always. Though Alfred could only see the light gray shade of Arthur's hair and the dark gray shine in his eyes and even an almost white complexion, there's no way colors would even matter to the sheer handsomeness of Arthur Kirkland. He was very much lucky he could see him almost every day.

Arthur's room was directly across his and Kiku's and though he'd never even talked to him before, except for that acknowledging nod he got when he picked up the guy's Calc textbook, Alfred had developed a crush on him that seemed to grow into something more whenever Alfred was able to catch sight of Arthur. He punched his pillow to exhaustion that night for missing the opportunity to at least brush the skin of their fingers together when Arthur took the book from him. Alfred was guilty, even right now actually, that he'd liked someone who might not turn out to be his intended. It was kinda silly that he'd felt he was cheating on his soulmate when he knew that Arthur probably didn't even know his name.

Alfred forced himself to stop staring because he'd look creepy like that one girl who was always stalking his Russian classmate and that he really should carry on with his essay and other homework, so he graced himself one last look of longing to Arthur for the day and face his open word document only to look down and see that there were two pages filled with "s"s. Nothing a ctrl+z can't handle. Bless technology and Arthur Kirkland's adorably grumpy face of concentration while drawing. Well, not just his looks, he'd seen the guy helping other people without them noticing and it was so 'noble' of him and it made Alfred want to hug him and happy-cry.

Hm. He really should start on finishing his work. But all his pining made him hungry. His stomach grumbled as if to agree. Alfred pursed his lips and thought for a moment. If he were to pass by his crush on the narrow staircase, maybe he could say hi and stuff and invite him out for a snack, and voila!, their first conversation and, maybe, a date. It's a good start, at least.

Like a man on the most super important mission of his life, he'd quickly gathered his things and was basically skipping over to Arthur who was ever so focused on his illustration. Alfred put on his Gonna-Get-Me-Some Smile™ and waved when he was a few feet near the base of the stairs where Arthur was, "Hey Art--WaaAH!"

Something caught his right foot and it was moments before his social death on the ground when he felt a warm body barreling against him and breaking his fall, two bodies tumbling down beside the foot of the stairs. Someone groaned, or maybe they both did, Alfred something felt warm and soft and a bit bony under him. Funny, when was the ground ever bony? Or soft? A whimper caught his attention, oh that definitely wasn't him. Alfred opened his eyes as he stood up to see Arthur on his back wincing.

"AAH- I'm so sorry, are you okay?!"

Arthur only whimpered in response, his eyes were closed tight and there were droplets on his lashes beginning to form. His left arm was positioned weirdly, too. Uh-oh. Arms weren't supposed to bend like that. "Arthur? Arthur, you gotta stay with me," Alfred frantically and lightly tapped on Arthur's cheek. The man's thick brows furrowed into a grimace so Alfred changed tactics. He carded his fingers to brush Arthur's bangs away to clear his face and continued the hair-stroking to soothe him a little bit.

"It-it hurtss... Aaarghh..."

Alfred felt his heart clench. "It's alright, buddy. I'm gonna shout for someone to call for a nurse and we'll go to the hospital, 'kay?"

Arthur only moaned back, tears slowly falling down his face. "Art, hey, can you open your eyes for me? You gotta stay awake. Please stay awake."

He was squinting, and blinking to adjust to the light behind Alfred. The other realized this and shifted slightly to shade Arthur's face. Slowly, and very slowly, just like the slow-motion in the movies, Arthur fluttered his eyelids and all Alfred could see was a color so deep he could in forever hidden behind the long, long the dark and bright lashes of his. And immeasurable pain! Right!

"I'm really sorry about this but you've gotta hold on, soulmate, I'm gonna take you to the hospital and get you patched up."

And that was how he'd given his soulmate a temporary painful physical impression. Talk about his strange luck. Alfred scratched the back of his neck, this was just so nerve-wracking! "Right, um, at least it wasn't your right hand...?"

Arthur also kept his eyes glued on his lap, refusing to even look at him. "I'm left-handed, you fool."

"But... you were drawing with your right hand earlier?" He asked albeit hesitantly and a lot quieter than he usually was.

"I was scribbling out my anger. I'm useless with my right hand. And thanks to you unexpectedly trampling down, I won't be able to use my dominant hand to do anything competently." Arthur shifted his head to the opposite of Alfred, his cheeks and the tips of his ears were tinting 'red'. Crap, Alfred really messed this up. Of course Arthur would be angry. "Even your maddeningly daunting presence makes it difficult to breathe."

That made Alfred wince but he took it. It hurt but Arthur's broken arm was a lot worse. He took a deep breath, "Look, man, if you really hate me being around you that much then I'll leave you alone, okay? You don't have to insult someone who's supposedly your soulmate."

Arthur snapped his head back to face his faster than a cheetah with his eyes comically wide, "Wha-- That's not what I-- "

"It's nice meeting ya, soulmate. I'll get out of your way now." Alfred rose up from his seat, eyes misting. He really messed it all up. Just when he finally attempted to start something, he'd trip and had his soulmate break his arm while breaking his fall. Alfred suck-- "Ack--! Are you trying to choke me?! Seriously, getting even by strangling me to death?"

His shirt collar loosened up a bit. Damn, Arthur was strong! Enough to asphyxiate someone like his only soulmate. Alfred pulled back on the front of his collar to even out Arthur's intense pulling on the back of his collar. 'Useless with his right hand', his ass! Arthur could still probably lift a coin jar with that hand. "Are you as thick as a jar of peanut butter?" Arthur's English accent got thicker and thicker as he slowly let go of his grip on Alfred's collar to just playing with the hem of Al's wrinkled shirt. "Just... just let me continue and actually listen to what I say."

Alfred immediately resisted from running away in tears and stood silent in the hall with Arthur behind him. He could feel the other pinching and rubbing the cloth of his shirt. Softly, as if fearing Alfred would take off if he made himself louder, Arthur muttered, "I'm left-handed and we are soulmates. I, erm, I need another hand to help me around."

"Eh?" Alfred turned around to face Arthur. The guy's eyes were still focused on the ground but the increasing 'red' tint of his cheeks was, in two words, adorably delectable.

"Just until the cast comes off! It's your duty you know..."

Eeehh? What the--? Really?! How was this guy so--!

"As my soulmate, that is."

Alfred couldn't help himself and put his arms around the smaller frame of his soulmate. "Oh my God!" Alfred exclaimed, glee and relief quickly taking over his mind and heart, "You're so freakin' adorable! I can't--!"

He swayed their bodies to and fro, never faltering the strength he'd put in their embrace. Yes! Yesyesyesyesyeees! Alfred was so lucky!

"This arrangement is only until the cast comes off! Oomph, mind my arm, my arm!"

Suffice to say, the arrangement lasted for the rest of their lives. With Arthur also reciprocating more than the help he needed, of course

[mrs-takami-keigo]

King of the Clouds

Chapter 2

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

————————————

‘His niece? HIS FUCKING NIECE?!’Hawks whipped his head around the room trying to find the newest hero in town, spotting her talking to Mirko at the bar. He was mad for a number of reasons, one he knew the organization had to have been lying to him and he needed to know why. Two Endeavor could have just told him instead of going for the dramatic route. And finally he was pissed at the fact she still had the one up on him. He could hear Quinn’s voice as he got closer to the bar. “Your thighs are so in shape, I would honestly kill for them.” “Are you kidding me? You’re body is on fire. To be very honest it’s nice to see another women with curves like ours in the room.” Mirko said making Quinn laugh. If he wasn’t in such a mood he would have paid more attention to the butterflies that fluttering his lower stomach but right now he didn’t have time for that.

“So you’re a Todoroki?” He said as soon as he reached the two women who were in the middle of a conversation.

“Well hello there Hawks. Please, cut us off it wasn’t like me and Quinn weren’t having a lovely conversation just now.” He know it was rude of him to just interject himself. Sighing he turned to the white haired women, “My apologizes Mirko, may I borrow Phoenix for a second I wanna compare wing sizes.”

“I’ll just text you later girl.” He watched as Quinn hugged Mirko before turning to him fully. “Follow me.” Her voice was calm no malice or mocking behind her words.

Phoenix POV

My Uncles words rang through my head, ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover.’ I sighed, he was right. I’m way to old to be playing these ‘I’m better than you’ games with Hawks. I lead the younger male to my office which was down the hall from Endeavors. I would have used his but he was in there with some pro’s.

Opening the door I moved out of the way so Hawks could walk in first, when he passed me I caught a whiff of his cologne. It was musky but with a hint of sweetness to it. ‘Focus Quinn!’ I shut the door before turning to face him. I could see he was about to say something but I stopped him before he could.

“I apologize for how I acted earlier today. I don’t know you and it was just rude of me.” I saw the surprise on his face, which was expected.

“I was not expecting you to say that kid.” He leaned on my desk crossing one foot over the other while his arms did the same. Once again that thought of if were in a different time and place I wouldn’t have minded him taking me home. But I hated when he called me kid. Taking a deep breath I knew I had to keep my composure. Making my way across the room to my desk, I pulled my chair out, “Let’s have an adult conversation shall we?” I gestured for him to take the seat across from me. We both sat down, I leaned back crossing my legs. “My name is Quinn Bailey-Todoroki. Born and raised in New York where I am the number one hero and number three in America. My powers I’m sure you are aware of are telekinesis and fire control. And last I am not a kid I am older than you by about 5 years, so no more of that kid nonsense okay?”

He eyes had never left mine while I was talking. It was refreshing to see, to have someone listen instead of just gawk at me.

It took him a moment to say anything to me. The wheels in his head were turning I could tell. “And you couldn’t have said all this when you first met me because?” I rolled my eyes just when I thought he stopped being a complete jackass.

“Because unfortunately my temper comes from the Todoroki side. So once again I’m sorry can we start over?” I stood up putting my hand out waiting for him to shake it and call truce.

“So you are a Todoroki?” Why was he so obsessed with this question. I just nodded my headband stuck my hand out even further. Hawks followed suit and grabbed my hand shaking it. “Good, now I have a party to get back to.” I tried to take my hand away from his but there was a grip from his end. Looking back at the blonde I watched as he brought my had up to his lips, gently kissing the back of it before letting it go.

“What the hell are you doing Hawks.” I wiped my hand on the back of my skirt, trying to hide the fact that it sent butterflies to my stomach. He chuckled and walked back to the door opening it while using his other arm to cross in front of his torso before he bowed his head.

“I always wanted to kiss the hand of a royal.” I hated this man with my entire soul.

-Next day-

I laid in bed staring at the ceiling not even caring that the alarm clock on my phone was going off I just kept hitting the snooze button. Today was my official first day as a pro hero and for some reason I felt off. Thinking back to last night I remember the conversation Endeavor and I had in the car.

“I saw you go into your office with a bunch of pro hero’s, anything I need to know about?” He could tell from my tone that I was being deathly serious. The one thing about the dynamic between us was there was always respect and no secrets.

“There have been some more Nomu sightings throughout Japan. We haven’t seen them since the Kamino incident so this is interesting if true. We aren’t sure if they are rumors or not.” I could see in his face this was worrying him. I knew about the Kamino incident, everyone did. All Might’s retirement effected everyone around the world.

“Any sign of the League of Villains? Wherever the Nomu is one of them is sure to follow.”

“No sightings of them and that’s what really concerns me, what could they possibly be planning?” We both didn’t say anything after that. Just the thought of what they were capable of doing sent shivers down my spine.

“Are you going to turn that alarm off or not?” Jumping a little I looked at the door to see my Uncle standing in my doorway already in costume.

“God you scared me! Ever heard of knocking?” I grabbed my phone and aggressively hitting the stop button.

“I did but you didn’t hear me. It’s almost the afternoon I’m heading out for a meeting. I’ll be back later tonight.” It was always right to the point with this man. Hearing his footsteps go down the hall I got out of the bed. Stretching my arms up above my head I felt my shoulders pop back into place. I didn’t have patrol until later tonight so I was thinking of using the day to look for apartments. Putting on my house slippers I made my way to the kitchen to see if I could whip anything up to eat.

“Oh Quinn you hungry?” Fuyumi was sitting at the table with her laptop open and papers scattered around her.

“Yeah but don’t worry finish your work I can make something.” I waved my hand at her while opening the fridge. Fuyumi was just as kind and thoughtful as she was when she was a little girl. While growing up she always followed me around and it was the cutest thing.

“Do you work today?” She was typing away on the computer but I knew she was talking to me.

“Yeah I have patrol later to night probably won’t be back till the early morning.” I decided to make a sandwich, nice and simple I wasn’t in the mood to make a mess. “But I was thinking about going apartment hunting and since your home wanna have a girls day my treat?” The clicking sound of the keyboard stopped, “oh my god yes please! I feel like I’ve been stuck in the house forever!” The excitement in her voice made me smile.

“Once I’m done eating I’ll go get dressed and then we’ll head out.” I saw her nod before going back to what I’m assuming was grading papers.

-later that day-

“I really really like that last apartment we saw.” We were in the car on our way back to the house trunk full of shopping bags and bubble tea in our hands. Before we went to the open houses in the area, I took Fuyumi to the mall and let her get anything she needed. I knew it wasn’t easy taking care of three men when you’re the only women in the house. I want her to know she doesn’t have to have that burden on her shoulders while I’m here.

“It was nice but the third place we saw might have to be the one. It had access to the roof which is perfect for me when I just wanna fly home after a hard day. And I’m also a sucker for floor to ceiling windows.” Taking a sip of my taro bubble tea I looked at my cousin, from her side profile she looked just like her mother.

“How is aunt Rei? Have you guys seen her?” Fuyumi looked down at her hands as she started to play with her thumbs.

“Me and Natsuo try to see her as often as we can but it’s Shouto who ends up going the most. She’s a lot better now! We’re all hoping she’ll get all hoping she’ll get released soon.” Her face lit up at the last sentence it made me smile.

“Maybe we should go see her, I still have plenty of time before I have to go to work.” I leaned forward to tell the driver about the change of plans only to be stopped by the emergency alarm coming from everyone’s phone in the car. My stomach sank I knew what it meant. There was a fight happening and we were close.

“Quinn it’s dad.” Fuyumi had a look of horror on her face. I quickly leaned over looking the phone with her.

‘Were here in central Fukuoka where a hooded figure crashed through the window of this building. Fortunately two heroes were already on the scene, Endeavor and Hawks!’

My body started to shake as I watched the hooded Nomu land a punch on my uncle sending him back through the already broken window. The screams of the people trapped in the building and the people down below that were trying to escape the falling glass were ringing through the speaker of the phone. ‘I have to go! I have to help them!’

“Sir please drive us as close to this area as you can!” At first he was hesitant of my request, “PLEASE!” His hands gripped the steering wheel before the car sped up.

“Quinn you’re gonna go?! You don’t even have your costume!” The worry in Fuyumi’s voice was evident but I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing I was a hero.

“That’s why I asked him to get us as close as he could if I use my wings to fly there from here my clothes would be all burnt up.” I know she didn’t want me to go but I had to and she knew that.

‘There seems to be more Nomus appearing out of nowhere!’ There were Nomus climbing all over the buildings but other hero’s arrived on the scene to take care of them while Endeavor and Hawks took care of the stronger one.

Their movements were fast but I caught each and every one. I watched as I say red feathers carry civilians down to the ground and reattached themselves back onto Hawks wings. The camera was trying focus on him but he was fast. With Two large feathers in his hands as swords he took a few swings to the animal only to be hit his yellow visor broken in half. Most of his feathers were gone trying to save people so he couldn’t stable himself in time before he fell on top of a building.

Endeavor took this time to try and beat the Nomu only to receive a cut to his face sending him flying as well. This was bad very bad. With both of them down and out for the count I could hear the sheer panic from the people. I needed to get out of this car and get to them fast.

“Miss this is as far as I can go.” The driver pressed hard on the breaks as to not hit the car in front of us. “It’s only about ten minutes driving distance from here but I’m sure you can get there in no time.”

“Thank you so much. Please keep Fuyumi safe for me.” I patted his shoulder before turning to my little cousin. Taking my hand in hers I looked her in the eyes. “I’m going to be alright, we all are I’ll make sure of it.”squeezing her hand once last time I opened the door, jumping out wasting no time to take to the sky. ‘Please be okay!’ The city below me zoomed right by my wings taking me as fast as the could. I could feel that the t-shirt I wore was already buried where my wings were but I could care less. That feeling I couldn’t shake from this morning was back, my instincts have been trying to tell me something all day but I just ignored it.

I could hear the commotion from the fight in the distance, the scream’s of the people. It made me so mad, how could anyone take joy in doing this to people!

“Endeavor use my feathers! Let me help you go faster!” It was Hawks, trying to find where the voice came from I found him on top of a building. His face was serious but also banged up. I could see the blood coming out from where his visor broke and from his mouth. Hawks was looking up towards the sky I tried to follow his eyesight and when I did I covered my mouth with my hands. Endeavor was giving his last little bit of strength to take this monster down. He was far away from me but I could feel the heat coming from his flames ‘He’s over heating!’ The feathers Hawks sent him pushed him faster to the goal. The next thing I saw was a flash of bright light and a scream from my Uncle. I had to close my eyes from the light but the force of the flames was like a gust of wind that you could only feel during a hurricane.

Everything seemed to go quite after the wind and the light died down. Opening my eyes I caught a glimpse of Endeavor falling back down to earth. I flew over but slowly, scared to see what I would discover. ‘Please be alive, please!’ I kept chanting that in my head as the cloud of smoke started to disperse. That’s when I saw it, My uncle standing there with his fist up in the air standing on both his feet. I could feel the breath I was holding in my chest leave my body. ‘Thank god he’s alive.’

“Endeavor are you alright?!” Hawks was next to him in a flash trying to hold him up but his strength was just as weak as Endeavor’s was. His once large bright red wings were much smaller. Having had to use the feathers to fight, save people and still be able for him to fly took a lot out of him.

“What a nice show there you gave us Endeavor!” It was a voice I wasn’t familiar with. “I was supposed to bring High-end back alive what the fuck am I supposed to do with a dead burnt up Nomu. Not very hero like of you!” This guy had a lot of anger in his voice. He was y’all that much I could tell. The thing that caught my attention was the scarred skin he had. It was all over his body, arms, neck, chin even under his eyes. Just by the looks of him I knew he was part of the league.

“This was the day I’ve been waiting for though, the day when I can finally get rid of you Endeavor!” I saw blue flames shoot out from his hands aiming towards Hawks and my uncle.

Third person POV

“What the fuck am I gonna do now? My wings won’t be able to carry the both of us and Endeavor is barely holding on to consciousness.” Hawks growled under his breath. He knew there was no way out of this situation and the other hero’s were to busy trying to get everyone to safety.

“This was the day I’ve been waiting for though, the day when I can finally get rid of you Endeavor!” Hawks heard him shout while blue flames started to appear from his hands.

‘Think Hawks think!’ He felt the heat of the flames but not the flames themselves. Looking up he saw the sight of Phoenix standing in front of them both her hands had flames coming out from them. ‘Where did she come from?’

“Hawks are you alright?” He looked at the older female, she looked different than she did yesterday. He couldn’t put his finger on it just yet.

“I’m fine how did you get here?!”

“Don’t worry about that now can you get him somewhere safe?” Hawks could see that her shirt was all burnt in the back and she was starting to sweat.

“Yeah, but what about you?” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about her.

“I’ll be fine,” Phoenix turned her head to look over her shoulder at Hawks. “Plus I don’t think this I good match for you dove. Now go!” She faced her opponent again this time her flames became hotter and stronger.

He tried to pull Endeavor up but he was to heavy for him. Just as the winged hero was about to try again the bright red and blue flames ceasefire.

“Well well look who it is, Phoenix right?”

“Aw that’s not fair, you know me but I have no idea who the fuck you are.” Phoenix cocked her head to the right staring at the man that was across from her.

“The name is Dabi. Glad I could be the last thing you see before you die.” The scarred man put one foot behind him to steady himself before another huge ball of blue flames came at her, but this time it was much bigger. Everything started to happen in slow motion for Hawks. The wind around him started to pick up. He could feel a strong power emitting from the women in front of him.

“Phoenix, d-don’t it’s too dangerous!” Endeavor’s voice was weak but Hawks heard him.

Bright red and orange wings appeared on her back as she started to hover above the ground. The blue flames circled her instead of blasting her to burnt bits. It was like what he saw in the video she was absorbing the flames. But something was different this time. Hawks watched as her back arched making her face the sky, eyes wide open. She was in pain and he could see it. Stopping his assault Dabi watched in amazement “Well that’s different.” He’s seen people deflect his flames or even try to stop them but never absorb them. “Too bad for you but I’m not dying anytime soon motherfucker!” Her back was still arched while she spoke. But the voice that came out of her was scary it sounded like multiple people were talking at the same time. Letting her back straighten out she made a straight dive for Dabi.

“Ever have your own flames try to kill you?” Phoenix was smirking as she released those same blue flames back onto her opponent. She was terrifying, her power sent chills down the spines of many like how All Might’s used to.

“Like you said I’m not dying today either.” As soon as he said that a black circle appeared behind him, sucking in Dabi and the corpse of the Nomu right before a bright blue flash hit the spot he was standing on. Hawks had covered himself and Endeavor with what little wings he had left. Peaking over the wing he saw Phoenix walking back towards him. Her t-shirt burnt falling off her body in little pieces her sports bra showing and her jeans had burn holes in them as well.

“Phoenix are you alright?” He could tell she wasn’t. With each step she staggered and stumbled, her face was void of any emotion and Hawks knew this wasn’t good. Reaching her uncle she fell to her knees on his right side. Her small hand reached out putting it on his back. A sigh escaped her lips as she bent her head down.

“Thank goodness you’re both safe.” Her voice was soft but the blonde could hear her. She was staring at her fallen uncle while she did that. Soon her brown eyes locked with his golden ones.

“Thank you for protecting him Hawks.” A smile passed on her lips before she too collapsed on top of her uncle.

“Quinn!” ——————————————————————————————————— I’m very proud of this chapter! Thank you so much for the likes on the first chapter! Please don’t be afraid to comment! Comments help me know that people like what I write

[cinnamonboleyn]

The Perfect Moment

Proof that I cannot write a short fic. It’s physically impossible.

In all seriousness, I dreamt this up and fell in love with the idea. I think part of the reason why it’s so long is because I loved writing this version of the characters and did not want to stop.

(which is why I may continue on with this AU...)

This is also my first time writing a ship for this fandom, I’m not sure how I did but hopefully I did Parrlyn justice.

In summary: Katherine deserves to be loved, Anne is a chaotic older cousin with a heart of gold and Catherine is just trying to wrap her head around the situation while still being her supportive self.

Please enjoy :)

TW: Homophobia, implied past abuse, implied past conversion therapy. 

Word count: 9526

It came up one lazy Saturday morning while Catherine was cuddling in bed with her favourite person in the world.

Anne had one arm around Catherine, pulling her close. Her other hand was being used to lovingly stroke her girlfriend’s curly dark hair. It was soothing and comforting enough to almost lull Catherine back to sleep.

Before that could happen, Anne dropped her hair and tapped her a few times on the shoulder. Catherine obligingly flipped over.

“Mhm? What is it, babe?”

She pulled her fingers through her messy brunette bed head. She was all the beautiful just the same.

“I want you to meet someone important to me today.”

Catherine raised an eyebrow. “I’ve already met your parents. Do you have a secret sibling you haven’t told me about?”

“No..” She hummed, “Well, practically my sibling if you really think about it. Her name is Katherine too, only spelt with a K. Katherine Howard. She’s my cousin.”

“Oh?” The small girl dug herself into the pillows to meet Anne’s gaze, “So you two are close?”

Boleyn nodded her head. Her eyes were darting around the room nervously, which was a state Cathy rarely got to see from her.

“She’s eight years younger than us, and she’s had a rough go at it. I don’t feel it’s my place to talk about it… but she’s very sweet, and polite, and the most fun person in the world if she lets her true self show…”

“Anne.”

Catherine planted a reassuring kiss on her girlfriend’s forehead, causing Boleyn to stop her rant.

“She sounds amazing, I can’t wait to meet her.”

It was good to see Anne’s smile back on her face.

“It’s going to be a great day.” She promised.

It took them fifteen more minutes to actually get out of bed (it’s too comfy under the covers and in each other’s arms), but finally they’re up and manage to get ready.

Catherine is told to dress prepared for anything. Unphased by her girlfriend’s spontaneous way of planning things, she decides on a black cardigan under a deep blue tee tucked into black jean shorts.

Grabbing her laptop, she set herself up at the kitchen table in their flat and decided to get some work done on her book before the day ahead of them.

Typing up a storm, Cathy took occasional pauses from the clacking of the keyboard and could hear Anne talking from the other room. From the way her voice went up two octaves and how was wasn’t speaking with her usual slang, she figured the girl was on her phone.

She continued with her work. After a bit, a mug was placed down next to her laptop which made her look up.

“A splash of milk, no sugar?”

Anne grinned from above. Catherine looked from the cup of coffee to the girl now clad in a black crop top and a green skater skirt.

“I have the sweetest girlfriend in the world.” 

“Don’t mention it, Cathy.”

She continued with a smirk on her face.

“I’d make a cute waitress, wouldn’t I? Too bad I’m only on the menu for a select few.”

Anne winked. Catherine rolled her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks was apparent.

Continuing to type out her story, she was vaguely aware of her girlfriend shuffling through things in the cupboard and chopping things on a cutting board.

What she wasn’t expecting was when she finally tore herself away from her computer screen an hour later, was to find the entire kitchen counter was covered in food.

Bagels, muffins, eggs made in all of the ways you could possibly cook them.  Every single fruit in their pantry was sliced and diced just about every way imaginable.

Anne held out in apple slice that was cut into the shape of a heart.

“For you, my love.” She faked a very posh accent, drawing a laugh from Parr.

“Why thank you, dearest,” Catherine returned the silly voice, “And might I add that you’re the apple of my eye.”

Boleyn snorted, which just made Catherine laugh all the harder. Soon they were laughing continuously and as soon as someone would stop the other person would start again.

This is my life. I get to live with my amazing, wonderful girlfriend.

After they finally managed to stop bursting into laughter every three seconds, Catherine asked,

“Why did you make so much food, anyways? I thought only Katherine was coming over?”

Cathy knew her girlfriend well enough to know that if she was the one making breakfast, she perfectly content with pulling a frozen eggo from the freezer and eating it as it is. Ice and all.

This was the most effort she’d seen her put into a meal in ages.

Anne shrugged. “I want to make sure there’s something she’ll eat.”

“That’s really sweet of you, babe,” Catherine smiled, tucking a few stray locks back behind Anne’s ear. “I’m not complaining anyhow. I won’t have to make breakfast for a whole week.”

The writer went to put away her laptop. She carefully helped Anne place all of the prepared food onto the kitchen table.

“A breakfast fit for a queen.” Catherine took a step back to admire the feast in front of them.

Anne followed, lacing her hand in between her partner’s. “A breakfast fit for my queen.”

The two shared a soft kiss. Even though they’d kissed a million times before, it never lost it’s passion or warmth for either of the women.

It was the perfect moment.

They sat idly at the table, waiting for their guest to arrive. They chatted, sometimes teasing each other playfully. At one point there was a competition to see who could throw up the most grapes and catch them in their mouths (Anne won that. And she rubbed it in, of course).

Three careful knocks sounded at their flat door.

Without waiting for a moment more, Anne took her girlfriend’s hand and led her down the hall to the front of their apartment.  From the way she was holding her hand, Catherine could sense the nerves radiating from her.

To calm her, she started brushing a finger over Boleyn’s palm.

Arriving at the door, Anne took a deep breath before pulling it open.

Behind it stood two figures.

The first was a kindly looking woman with blonde hair cascading down her back in waves. She had a bright smile, one that was genuine as well as a sincere look in her brown eyes that gave Catherine an immediate sense of trust. 

The second was definitely Katherine. The girl was taller than the woman and slim, but despite this still appeared very young. From her conversation with Anne before Catherine deduced that Katherine was seventeen years old, but honestly she would’ve placed her at about fifteen if she hadn’t known any better.

Her hair was in a high ponytail, the ends having been dyed an electric pink colour. Her long face was stoic and gave away no emotion, contrasting with the other person beside her.

Really, there wasn’t much resemblance at all between Katherine and the blonde stranger. Catherine saw more of a resemblance between her and Anne, not that it was the strongest resemblance ever but it was still there.

“Kitty!”

Anne lit up like a christmas tree at the sight of her cousin. Katherine’s lips twitched upwards and her eyes crinkled slightly, but it quickly faded to be replaced by her blank stare.

“Come in, come in, both of you.” Anne opened the door wider, allowing the guests to step inside.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Katherine. My name’s Catherine too; Catherine Parr.”

The pink-haired teen gave a small wave but didn’t seem confident enough to look her. Instead, she became very interested in the wooden floor. 

“Lovely to meet you Catherine. I’m Jane Seymour.”

Always smiling, the blonde woman extended an arm to shake. Catherine accepted, and was further surprised when the handshake led into a sort of hug.

Jane did the same gesture with Anne.

“Thank you for reaching out to me, Jane.” Boleyn glanced down at her cousin, her words clearly sincere. 

“No problem at all. I’m happy to do whatever I can for Katherine.”

As warm and caring as Jane’s voice was in saying this, they only seemed to further put the girl on edge. Her posture stiffened and she bowed her head down.

There was a bit of a pause that would’ve been awkward if Jane hadn’t broken the silence.

“I’ll be on my way then,” the woman flashed a smile. Katherine’s reaction didn’t seem to faze her at all, she didn’t show a hint of contempt towards the younger girl.

“Have fun, alright? If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ring me.”

“Thank you, Jane.”

These were the first words uttered by Katherine since she walked through the door. Her voice was so small that you had to lean in closer to make out what she was saying. It was uneven and unsure, and in noticing this Catherine couldn’t stop the faintest of frowns from forming on her lips.

So polite… yet so nervous?

“Goodbye, Kat.”

Jane gave the girl’s hand a squeeze before waving to the other two women and heading out.

“How’s my favourite cousin doing? It’s been so long! I’m in love with your hair, you look like a piece of bubblegum. In a good way!”

Anne made no move to hug the girl, but was clearly excited to see her again. They all started towards to kitchen, and Catherine couldn’t help but notice the way Katherine was taking cautious and measured steps, almost like she was sneaking up on someone.

Or away from someone.

Still, the corners of her lips upturned the smallest bit. She unconsciously played with a bit of her pink hair.

“I… I missed you, Anne.”

There had never been a more adorable phrase uddered.

Well, maybe except when Anne called Catherine my entire world. That was pretty adorable.

Katherine’s small voice and shy nature just made Catherine’s heart burst.

However, if you looked at Katherine’s face when they arrived the the feast layed out in front of them you would’ve had the impression that she was looking at a crime scene.

Anne picked up on the discomfort real fast.

“You can have whatever you’d like.” She reassured, “How about I fix you a plate with a little bit of everything and you can see what you like best?”

Katherine nodded stiffly.

Soon, three plates were fixed. Anne had a skyscraper of pancakes on hers with half of the bottle of syrup poured on top. Catherine physically blocked the freezer to keep Anne from putting scoops of ice cream on top.

Catherine’s own plate was packed with bacon, eggs and half a bagel. The last plate contained a variety of foods, just as promised.

Katherine poked at a blueberry muffin, ripping off small crumbs and eating them slowly.

“I’ve heard so many lovely things Katherine,” Parr tried, wanting to make the girl feel welcome.

“I’m very happy to have the chance to get to know you.”

Katherine’s eyes bulged out of her head. 

Was it something I said?

“I’m so sorry, I haven’t even introduced myself!”

Katherine’s frantic apology concerned Parr, so she did her best to reassure the girl.

“No problem at all. I haven’t even introduced myself either, and you’re the guest. Besides,”

She smiled lightly to Katherine, who relaxed a bit in her chair.

“You’re Katherine Howard, no introduction needed. Isn’t that right, babe?”

“‘Ouw wight!” Boleyn piped up with a mouthful of pancakes. She swallowed before continuing. “Your awesomeness speaks for itself, Kitty.”

The girl lowered her head, her cheeks visibly heating up.

After a few more bites of food, Katherine regains the confidence to speak again.

“It’s nice to finally meet you too, Catherine.”

As shyly as she spoke, Catherine could tell how genuine she was being.

“I- I haven’t heard much about you, I really didn’t have the chance to be told… but I’m happy to be meeting you as well.”

Formal, sincere, yet also stilted and anxious all at once.

Sometimes, Cathy wished she wasn’t so observant. It felt wrong to be so aware of Katherine’s small behaviors, it wasn’t her intention to invade her privacy.

No amount of analysis would have made Catherine ready to hear the response to the next question asked.

For a while, Anne was comfortably chatting in her energetic way. Katherine didn’t seem to mind the fact that she could barely get a word in, in fact she seemed almost grateful for that.

After picking at everything on her plate, it seemed she’d taken a liking to the cut up fruit and dipped each piece into a bit of Nutella on her plate.

She even got up for seconds of the fruit. Anne beamed when that happened.

Katherine carefully sat back down, her posture perfect. Her elbows never even got close to touching the table.

But the big question came right after Kat popped a Nutella-dipped apple slice in her mouth:

“Kitty, how has your stay with Jane been so far?”

The girl took a second to think, although her facial expression gave no clues as to what was actually going through her head.

“She’s very nice… she hasn’t locked me in my room once yet! She keeps the pantry unlocked as well.”

Unluckily enough, Catherine ended up taking a sip of water at that exact moment and ended up choking on it. 

Katherine and Anne both looked over, Parr muttering an apology and something about it going down the wrong tube to play it off.

“You don’t know how happy I am to hear that,” Anne continued with the conversation, “You deserve to be safe.”

“... It’s only been two weeks…”

She sounded utterly defeated about what she was implying.

And Catherine wasn’t about to have that.

“I’ve just met you, Katherine. I don’t know your situation and I can’t even begin to imagine it. But what I know for sure is that you’re always welcome here and if anything happens in the future you will always have a place here.”

The pink-haired girl didn’t seem entirely convinced or reassured.

“... Thank you.”

Proving things like that will take some time.

It’s not going to happen all in one day. 

Still, Katherine deserves to hear it be said. 

It was clear to the writer at this point that Katherine was in foster care. Really, that didn’t make a difference at all because it’s not something that defines a person.

Catherine focused on the soft-spoken, mindful girl in front of her and couldn’t wait to get to know her for her.

Anne Boleyn was one of the best people at small talk in the world, which helped kick the upbeat chatter back into gear. Through the following conversation, she found out that Katherine was in Year 12. She enjoys music and singing, according to Anne she’s the next Brittany Spears.

“Do you have any pets this time around?” 

Kat shook her head in response to her cousin. 

“The fur isn’t great for Jane. But her neighbor has rescues and she lets me come over to give them treats and play with them! Her name is Anna, she’s a tattoo artist.”

Something else that Catherine noticed was that when Katherine got excited about something, her eyes lit up in pure joy. It was really nice to see.

She eagerly discussed the dog’s names and preferred chew toys as they finished the rest of their food.

Once everyone was finished eating, Anne took the plates and put them all in the sink.

“I’m about ready to head out,” She grinned, an air of playfulness about her. “Are you ready, Kitty?”

Looking up at her cousin curiously, she asks, “Where are we off too?”

“The fair’s in town!”

Anne jumped up from her chair and let out and excited giggle. Katherine joins in with a light laugh and a smile that Catherine never wanted to see go away.

The pair definitely looked related at that moment. Even if Katherine settled down from her excitement quickly (kind of like she was forcing it down or stifling it?), they basically had the same reaction.

Which Catherine thought was absolutely adorable.

“I can’t think of a better way to spend the afternoon.” Catherine piped up. Walking over to her girlfriend she wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Anne leaned into the touch, resting her head on Cathy’s shoulder. The writer couldn’t help but press a kiss onto her partner’s forehead.

Catherine immediately regretted doing that when Kat flinched away.

It was as if the sight hurt her somehow.

“I’ll - wait in the car.”

Katherine scampered out of the room, moving quickly yet silently.

Anne watched her leave with a sigh. Catherine turned to her girlfriend with a questioning look.

“Is she alright? Did we do something wrong?”

“Kissing you could never be wrong,” Anne teased. Her girlfriend’s cheeks started involuntarily turning crimson.

“I know her reaction wasn’t, well, the warmest… it’s all just very complicated. Thank you for being so patient-“

“No need to thank me.” Catherine asserted, “It’s the least I could do. I’ll accommodate Katherine in any way she needs me to. And I meant what I said to her.”

Anne didn’t respond with words, by enveloped the smaller woman in a big hug and nothing else needed to be said.

They headed out to the car. Boleyn slipped into the driver’s seat, and Catherine was about to slide into the passenger seat but decided to sit next to Katherine in the back instead.

Kat seemed surprised by this, but didn’t tense up in anyway. Catherine even swore she saw a ghost of a smile on the girl’s lips as she buckled her seatbelt.

As the drove onto the road, the writer asked:

“How did you two get to know each other?”

“Oh, I’ve known Kitty since she was a baby. Suddenly I didn’t get any of the attention at our family gatherings.” Anne faked a pout.

“I remember following you around the yard when I was really little,” Kat recalled, “I remember once you pelted an acorn at Isaac’s car. The alarm went off and you blamed it on me.”

Catherine burst out laughing at that, Anne giving a sheepish grin.

“Leave it to Anne Boleyn to get you in trouble.”

Katherine cracked a small grin. 

“But there were fun times too. There was the time that I begged you to put pink flowers we’d found in the near the ditch in my hair, and you said you weren’t all that great at that sort of thing… but you did it, and I loved it and didn’t take the flowers out until I was made to. Stuff like that meant a lot to me, especially as we both got older…”

“It meant a lot to me too.” Anne replied, “And for the record, I still don’t think Isaac knows I was the one who scratched his car.”

Katherine lifted her head curiously towards Cathy.

“So, how did you and Anne meet?”

This question caught Catherine off guard, for some reason. Luckily, Anne jumped in right away.

“High school, of all places. Wish I could say it was somewhere actually worth the time of day,” Boleyn made a face of disgust.

“We were in Year 11 actually. How could you not fall for this one when she slanders the patriarchy by correcting the approach our education system takes to historical events?”

She winks for added effect.

Katherine just looks absolutely lost.

“I… have no idea what you just said.”

“Most of what Anne says flies right over my head. And I’m dating her.”

“You find it charming.” She quips back, sticking out her tongue.

The conversation comes to a close. The driver flicks the radio on to avoid spending the rest of the ride in silence.

Some pop station was playing, and the passengers had a blast singing along to the songs playing and attempting to harmonize (which sometimes failed horribly). Katherine even joined in during particular parts, but never sang louder than a soft whisper.

They eventually found parking just down the street from the fair.

“Let’s go!”

Anne latched onto the arms of her girlfriend and her cousin before taking off down the sidewalk. Katherine was laughing the whole way, and as for Catherine, she was used to these antics at this point.

The three of them paid for their bright purple wristbands for admission into the fair and their senses were immediately overwhelmed.

The sounds of a roller coaster clicking down its track and gleefully screaming children, the smell of funnel cake and churros wafting through the air, the sights of all of the people out with their families…

Catherine snuck a glance at the two girls beside her, who were taking everything in with a smile.

“Watchya wanna do first, Kitty?” Anne asked.

“Well…” Kat shuffled her feet on the gravel beneath her, refusing to look her cousin in the eyes.

“Maybe we could do some of the rides for a bit? While the lines are still down? Unless, you guys want to do something else…”

“That’s a great idea.” Catherine reassured.

After paying for another green fluorescent wristband for their left hand, they were equipped to do as many rides as they wanted.

Anne chose the first one, taking the group over to one called The Zipper. It was basically a rotating frame covered in flashing lights with a bunch of free-flipping compartments to hold riders. It was one of the most intense rides at the fair, which is of course why it was Anne’s favourite (even though the bumper carts were a close second).

They tried every single ride there. The girls all packed into a seat on the scrambler, making sure Katherine was in the middle because the people at the sides inevitably get squished.

They spent a while racing each other on the slides, Catherine high-fiving Kat every time she managed to beat her cousin.

They walked through the fun house, they spun as fast as they possibly could on the spinning teacups and Catherine was just happy that she hadn’t thrown up her brunch.

If she had to choose her favourite ride, she would’ve said the roller coaster. Not that it was the most thrilling experience, but she enjoyed watching the way Kat and Anne would cheer and scream at the drops and sharp turns.

She was just glad they were all having a great time together.

And really, Anne was right when she said her cousin was a very fun person given the chance. A lot of her worried behaviours melted away, no longer putting a mask over her emotions.

This became clear whenever Katherine took the other two on her favourite rides. She enjoyed the merry-go-round (which she looked slightly embarrassed by), but Anne was great at always requesting it and Katherine would agree with a nod.

Katherine’s favourite, as well as their combined favourite ride was without a doubt the Ferris wheel.

“I love how you can see everything from up here. It makes you feel less small.” She solemnly spoke the first time they rode it.

Anne assured her that even if that was the case, she would always be her baby cousin. 

On their fifth ride of the Ferris wheel, Katherine’s guard was almost completely gone. She snuggled into her cousin as they went up in the air, looking as if there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

Anne looked over at Cathy while this was happening. There was so much emotion in her eyes that the writer had trouble parsing them out, but it was clear that she reciprocated Katherine’s feelings.

After two and a half hours spent in the beating sun out on rides, they decided it was time for a break.

“Would you like to check out what’s going on at the main stage, Kitty?”

“That sounds like fun.” She agreed.

The three headed over to find a spot on the bleachers. It looked like there was a magician’s act happening on stage.

“I’m going to do something real quick,” Anne said once they found their place, “Would you like to come with me, Kat? Or do you want to stay here?”

Her eyes darted between the girl in blue next to her, the stage in front of her, and her chaotic cousin.

“I’ll - be good here.”

Anne skipped away, leaving the two girls alone.

A comfortable silence set in as they watched the magic tricks being performed.

“How are you enjoying the fair so far?” Parr questioned.

“I’m having a great time.” She looked at her with her sincere brown eyes.

“Thank you so much for this, Catherine.”

Katherine’s eyes wandered shyly. She still didn’t look completely comfortable, but that kind of thing takes time.

Catherine was happy to wait as long as the girl needed her to.

“I’m glad Anne suggested we do this today. I’m having fun spending time with you. Plus,” she paused, nodding her head in the direction that Boleyn beaded off,

“I guess having my goofball of a girlfriend around isn’t so bad either.”

Katherine giggled lightly at this comment.

“What’s so funny?”

Anne took back her seat at the end of the bleacher row, a bowl of something between her hands.

“Oh, nothing… what’ve you got there?” Cathy asked.

The woman smirked, tilting the bowl so the two other could see. Three spoons were sticking out of several colourful scoops of-

“Ice cream!”

Katherine smiles, eyeballing the pink scoop. “You remembered that this is my favourite.”

“Not like it was difficult. Anything pink is your favourite.” She pointed out, turning to address her girlfriend.

“You can try, but no one gets in between me and my ice cream.”

“I swear babe, you run on nothing but refined sugar.”

“Just the way I like it.”

She passed the ice cream over to Kat who was sitting in the middle of the three of them. They snacked as they watched an audience member vanish for inside a box. Catherine even gave in and had few bites, leaving the strawberry for the pink-haired girl.

“Hey, look who it is!”

Anne emphatically pointed to someone at the bottom of the bleachers.

Inspecting her from the back, the woman’s perfect posture and curly black locks were a dead giveaway as to who it was.

“How many Catherine’s can we have in the same area?” Cathy quipped playfully.

Anne started yelling for the woman in a shrill and singsongy voice. “CATALINA!”

She turned around to look for the source of the noise, and must’ve figured out who it was because she headed up the bleachers to where they were sitting.

“Anne Boleyn!” The curly hair woman asserted fiercely. “I thought we agreed you would never call me that in public again.”

The girl in green just shrugs. “Teasing you is too much fun for me to stop.”

Parr butted into their argument. “Hello, Catherine. Lovely to see you again.”

Catherine nodded cordially, somehow not bowing her head in the process.

“It’s nice to see you too. And who might this be?”

Before Cathy can process what is happening, Kat is curling into her side. Her eyes show the most fear Catherine had seen from anyone before.

It must’ve been an instinct, because she responded by placing a protective arm over the teen’s knees without a second thought.

“Catherine, this is my cousin, also Katherine.” Anne introduced slowly, probably sensing the shift in mood.

“Kitty, this is our friend Catherine Aragon.”

She said the friend very carefully and deliberately.

Katherine’s eyes dart to Aragon for a second, and spare managed to follow her gaze up to where she’d been zoning in on.

What seemed to bother her was Catherine’s necklace of all things.

Before that could be dwelled on too much Katherine was back to staring at her shoes without adding anything to the conversation.

“Three Catherines? Have we broken a record or something?” The standing woman sarcastically adds, but even she knows something’s off.

“I’m the special one!” Anne declares, quickly adding:

“But that’s always the case anyways. Right babe?”

Catherine looked at her girlfriend quizzically.

Um, maybe not the for one-liners?

“Yes…?” It came out more like a question, not that she didn’t think her girlfriend was the most special woman in the universe, but maybe when the teenager you’re responsible for is looking at your friend like she’s seen a ghost it isn’t the best time to point it out?

Just a thought?

Then Boleyn gave her a look, a bright-eyed slightly vulnerable look that told her everything she needed to know.

Trust me on this.

Anne grabbed both of her girlfriend’s hands, pulling her off of the bleachers. She was now standing in front of her.

Boleyn stood up, cupped Catherine’s face softly with her hands and pulled her into a kiss.

Naturally, Catherine was surprised by this but quickly relaxed into the kiss. They pulled away after a few seconds and she could practically feel the redness creeping up her face.

“I’m happy for you two, but I sincerely hope you haven't been snogging all day in front of the poor girl.”

Everyone turned to look at the mentioned teen, who looked… in complete shock.

Anne fluttered her eyelashes innocently.

“Only a little.” 

“Well, this has definitely been an experience… I better head back down, I was saving spots for the pageant. Deborah says it’s a tradition… a superficial one, but is she knows someone in it then it’s good to support them.”

Aragon spoke directly to Kat. “I’m happy to have met you. Hopefully I see you around.”

As the woman walked away, Catherine got one last good look at her necklace;

It was a dainty thing, it looked like pure gold. It was a simply cross on a small chain, the charm hanging only a few inches below her neck.

“How are you doing?”

Anne put a hand on her cousin's shoulder.

Kat blinked a few times, seemingly at a loss.

She whispered something after a while of silence. It was so quiet that the writer could barely hear, but from what she was able to put together she said:

“You’re so… comfortable.”

Anne apparently had no trouble hearing the girl and answered. “It gets much easier when you know it’s safe. Sometimes, it isn’t though, and it’s okay to be cautious. Smart, even.”

Catherine still couldn’t figure out the reason that Katherine was uncomfortable, not that it mattered.

“Let’s go check out more of the fair, yeah?”

Anne grinned adventurously, extending an arm to Katherine. It took her a bit to stand up, but eventually she did and the three headed off the bleachers and away from the main stage.

They found themselves in the market section. Stands were set up in small colourful tents, selling things from candles to jewelry to very tacky bedazzled purses.

It turned into a game of finding the most ridiculous thing for the other person to wear.

Boleyn found a hideous Hawaiian shirt for Catherine to try on, but she got her back with an awful looking cowboy hat.

Anne found some strange earrings that were basically felt flowers connectected together in a foot long strand.

“This is perfect for you, Kitty!”

The pink haired girl was facing a rack of dresses, but it was as if she could see through it.

She was completely zoned out.

“Kitty?”

Snapping back to reality, Katherine almost knocked over the rack she was standing in front of. Luckily, Catherine sprang forward to keep it from tipping over.

“What’s on your mind, Kat?”

“Nothing…” She fumbled with her hands, balancing slightly on her toes.

“It’s, it’s stupid….”

“Hey. If it matters to you, then no it isn’t.”

Parr really wanted Katherine to understand, so she tried looking her in the eyes.

She averted her gaze, but spoke up.

“C-Catherine, Catherine Aragon, she - mentioned another woman. Deborah. Do you know who that is?”

Wracking her brain to think if she knew anyone with that name, Catherine came up dry. Her girlfriend shook her head as well.

“Why do you ask?”

“... No reason.”

“You’re sure there’s nothing else?” Anne tries gently.

Kat shook her head, walking out of the vendor’s tent signalling the end of the conversation. The two adults give each other a glance of let’s keep our guard up before walking out to join her.

As they continue to check out the sights of the fair, Katherine’s gaze lingers on a sparkly unicorn plush hanging from a game booth.

… Which of course, means that Anne immediately circles back around and slaps money on the counter.

“Hit me with some bean bags!”

It was a traditional knock-em-down game, with metal bottles lines up on some shelves.

Anne lobbed the first few bean bags, managing to knock out half of the bottles.

Cathy throws a few as well, getting a few good shots in. Kat insisted that her aim was abysmal and she was going to waste all of their money but after some prodding, she joined in too.

When there was only one bottle left, Kat was the only one with a bean bag left to throw.

“I don’t know if I can do this… maybe one of you should take it.”

“You’ve got this Kitty. I know you do.” Anne firmly encouraged.

“Wind up as far as you can, and throw hard.” Catherine added. “You’ve already got a feel for it, so you have it in the bag.”

Reluctantly following the writer’s instructions, the teen carefully lined up the shot.

Taking a deep breath, she gripped the object in her hand tightly.

Then she sent it hurtling forward, crashing directly into the bottle, sending it tumbling to the ground.

“Yes!”

“You did it!” 

Katherine wrapped her arms around her cousin, jumping up and down excitedly. 

It was impossible for Catherine not to beam at the sight.

After the rush of excitement the teen made a shy gesture towards the plush she wanted. The game attended happily got it down.

Kat squeezes it close to her. “Her name is Bling Bling Sparkle Bling Bling,” She said more self-assured then Catherine would’ve been saying that name out loud, “But we’ll call her Sparkie for short.”

“Well, I think I’ve got the perfect place for Sparkie to check out with us…”

Boleyn lead the way (again), that is, until Katherine noticed the large barn coming into view and realized where they were headed.

“Letsgoletsgoletsgo!”

She latched onto the two adults hands and pulled them forward with more force then Anne had when they were first arriving at the carnival.

The excitement was even more clear when they got into the barn.

Katherine absolutely loved animals.

She was so gentle with each one, even the pigs and birds and the one chicken that tried pecking at her finger.

Her soft approach with each one was something to witness. It was a gift.

Anne seemed to think so too. “Kitty’s going to be a veterinarian when she’s older.”

“Come on, Anne..” The mentioned girl shook her head while petting a bunny’s fluffy white fur, “I’m not smart enough for that.”

“School does not dictate how smart you are. I almost failed out of my senior year, and the only reason I didn’t is because I had Cathy to help me through. You are plenty smart and then some, Katherine Howard.”

Kat furrowed her brows in disagreement, but said nothing and continued petting the rabbit.

They continued to look around for a while. At some point, a handler for the two horses popped in to give them some food and he let Katherine feed them some grain.

He was impressed with her skills, telling her that he wished he’d of been as calm the first time he’d ever fed a horse.

Truth be told they could’ve spent the rest of the day in there, but Anne suggested they go see if the rides were lit up now that it was getting later.

Even though the sun was still out, a few of the booths and displays were lit up in neon. That, combined with the quieter atmosphere of the later time made walking through the fair and taking everything in a great time all on its own.

Of course, the company helped.

Her girlfriend was by her side, as was a pink-haired girl who she loved to see happy more than anything.

Katherine was a lot calmer than earlier, her worries no longer apparent. Maybe it was the animals, maybe it was something else…

But she had her arm linked with her cousin and a big contagious smile on her face.

The mask was gone.

Maybe that wasn’t such a good thing.

Because as they passed by the food vendors, a certain Spanish woman noticed them passing by.

She pointed the group out to a woman standing next to her and the two stepped out of line to meet up with them.

Katherine stopped dead in her tracks. Unlinking arms with Anne, she planted her feet firmly on the ground.

“Katherine?” Parr called to the girl, concerned.

Sadly, Anne had stepped in front to greet Catherine and the stranger so was unaware of the scene happening behind her.

“Catalina! I’m surprised to see you haven’t run off in the opposite direction when you saw us coming up.”

“I’m surprised that they’ve been able to put up with you for this long.” Catherine shot back.

“Deborah, this is Anne Boleyn. I’m sure you may have to impression that we’re very civil from that exchange, but that’s really just how our friendship is.”

“Catalina absolutely adores me.” Anne drawled, then turned to the other woman. “Nice to meet you, Deborah.”

She nodded stiffly in reply. The woman had a similar posture to Aragon in that she held her head high, but unlike Aragon it was as if she was looking down on everyone else.

Her eyes darted away from Anne and to the pair in front of her.

“Katherine!?” 

The teen inched closer to Cathy. Her bottom lip was quivering, and she looked absolutely terrified.

This was something much more than just the nerves she had when being introduced to Aragon earlier.

Something’s wrong here.

Anne glanced back at the woman’s words, finally aware of her little cousin’s state.

“Is.. is something the matter?” Anne was completely lost, as was Aragon.

“I would hope not.” Deborah insisted.

She took a few steps closer to Katherine, who yelped and latched onto Parr’s arm as if her life depended on it. Curling in on the older woman, she was shaking slightly.

“It’s been ages, Katherine. I see you’ve ruined your hair while you’ve been away.”

Kat’s hold only tightened around Parr, whimpers falling from her lips.

“Deborah!” Aragon was clearly disturbed by her friend’s sudden behaviour.

“You can call me out of line all you want, but I’ve tried my best to save Katherine from the depths of hell.”

Deborah took another step closer. This time, Catherine stepped protectively in front of the teen.

“All your parents did was try and save you! And you repay them with prison time? You’re a devil child, Katherine Howard. You’re beyond rescue. The lord stands with me on this.”

Anne wasn’t dealing with any of this. “You better stop spouting your lies and leave and leave right now before I report you-”

The pressure on Cathy’s arm lifted suddenly.

Tears falling down her cheeks, Katherine bolted away without looking back.

“Katherine!” 

Three voices called after her.

But it was no use.

The Spanish woman was fuming.

“I can’t believe you! How dare you speak to anyone that way, let alone a sixteen year old! Have you no decency? And you bring the Lord’s name to your awful behaviour!”

Even Deborah cowered under Catherine’s angry gaze. She could be very threatening when she wanted to be, which served her well in a time like this.

“Catherine, I thought surely you of all people would understand where I’m coming from.”

“There’s no one who could possibly understand where you’re coming from, me least of all!”

Deborah wasn’t backing down. “She’s a deviant, Catherine! An abomination!”

“Leave. NOW.”

Catherine’s voice was scarily unmoving and calm.

Deborah couldn’t help but shoot one last look of disapproval at Anne and Cathy before stalking off.

As soon as the woman was gone, Aragon’s narrowed eyes and clenched jaw soften into a look of desperate remorse.

“I can’t believe she… I had no idea… I’m so sorry, you two.”

“It wasn’t you, Catherine. We know your true views and know that you would never associate yourself with anyone who thinks that way.”

The Spanish woman nodded the information away as Anne spoke up.

“We need to find Kat.”

They decided splitting up would be the best plan of attack. Catherine went off to the left where the stage was, Anne headed back towards the ride which meant Cathy was in charge of searching the south part of the fair.

Scanning everywhere she passed for the girl, her search came up dry.

Until a red barn came back into view and she knew exactly where she was headed.

“Katherine?”

Continuing to call her name, she passed through the barn before circulating the outside.

After rounding the corner of the barn she saw a familiar pink-haired teen crumpled into a ball on the ground clutching a violet plush to her chest.

“Katherine…”

Startled brown eyes peeked up for a second.

Catherine could feel her heart ripping apart at the sadness that they held.

Kat burrowed them back into her stuffed animal, continuing to cry her eyes out.

“Hey..” 

The writer took a seat next to the girl, placing a stable hand on her shoulder.

“It’s going to be alright. The woman is gone, and she won’t be coming anywhere near you. I won’t let that happen.”

Katherine slowly lifted lifted her head to look at Parr.

Her face was red and wet, but underneath it all, it was impossible to miss how vulnerable she was.

“I hope you know that none of what she said was true. You, Katherine Howard, are an amazing kid who deserves so much more than what she got. And you’ve got stellar hair.”

Kat let out a small huff which Catherine hoped was her trying to laugh. She played with the tips of her hair between her fingers.

The writer pulled the sleeve of her cardigan over her hand and wiped away some of the tears trailing down her face.

“I’m sorry… I was so scared… I had to get out of there…”

“Don’t ever apologize for being scared. It’s not something to be sorry for.”

Catherine gave a comforting smile.

“And I want you to know that you aren’t wrong for changing your look. Dye your hair pink, get a nose ring, heck you could even shave your eyebrows off, and you’re not wrong for doing it. Nobody should tell you how to express yourself.”

Katherine slowly leaned closer to Parr, resting her head on her shoulder. Giving her affection that she previously had only wanted from Anne.

Parr’s heart soared as they stayed like this for a while. She was happy to be a source of comfort.

“.... A lot of bad people, they wanted to make me feel bad about who I am.”

Catherine nodded her head to show the girl she was giving her her full attention. Kat fumbled with her left sleeve as she spoke.

“Some of them were doing it out of love. Out of wanting my soul to be saved. But that doesn’t excuse what they did to hurt me.”

Katherine tentatively pushed up her sweater sleeve and and flipped her arm over.

Right below her wrist, there was a medium sized tattoo of a pink, white, and red heart.

“Anna did this for me. After everything I’ve been through, it felt right. Even if I’m not ready to show it to everyone yet. I know it’s there. And now, you do too.”

Catherine took the younger girl’s hands in hers. “It makes me happy you shared this with me. Thank you for trusting me. The tattoo is beautiful.”

“I do trust you. Maybe it was silly of me to keep it this long because I know you and Anne are together-“

“It’s not silly at all. We all get ready in our own time. Can I tell you more of the story about how I got to know your cousin?”

Katherine nodded eagerly.

“Well, it was in Year 12 like Anne said. It was the first year we had classes together. I remember in History she sat diagonally from me, and I wouldn’t be able to focus because I was staring at her.”

Catherine quickly added, “Don’t tell her I said that. It will inflate her ego even more.”

The teen giggled lightheartedly.

“Eventually, our History teacher paired us together on a research paper and we got to talking. We started to get to know each other. I remember not being able to understand why she’d want to talk to me of all people…”

“Sometimes people would mutter hateful things under their breaths at us. But one day, it came to a head when an older guy came up while I was talking to Anne and pushed me to the ground. He was shouting derogatory words and spit in my face.”

“After that happened, I was terrified. I isolated myself from Anne, thought it would be better if I stopped these feelings from happening. But it wasn’t. I was sad, and confused, and all I wanted to do was get rid of who I really was…”

Katherine cut in. “I understand that. That’s how I felt, too.”

“Anne was so patient. We spent time hanging out outside of school, and little by little I got comfortable with being together in front of others. Holding hands in front of others. Anne mattered so much more than anyone else’s opinion did.”

Her mind wandered back to their first kiss.

Anne asked her to be her date to the end of school dance, and of course she said yes.

They had the best night ever, and during a slow dance Catherine knew in that moment she was ready.

She leaned in, softly kissing her girlfriend on the lips.

It was in front of the whole school, but Catherine didn’t even register that anyone else was there.

It was just her and Anne.

No one else mattered.

“I don’t know how they mistreated you, Katherine. You don’t ever have to tell me if you don’t want to. But you didn’t deserve any of it. Just know that it will get better. No matter how long it takes or how hard it is, you’re a fighter. And we’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

Kat pulled the woman next to her into a hug. This one wasn’t desperate or pleading or fearful: it was gentle and caring.

Her mask was gone.

It was really her.

Catherine cherished the hug for every moment it lasted, making sure she wasn’t the first to let go.

The teen pulled away, glancing down at the drawing on her arm again.

“Someday, I’ll be able to wear short sleeves and let everyone see this. But for now, I’m happy with you, Anna, and Anne knowing. I mean, Anne doesn’t know about the tattoo but I think you understand.”

“I hope you know the minute you show Anne this tattoo she’s gonna be jealous and want one too.”

Katherine laughed again. “You guys could get matching couples tattoos! That’d be really cool.”

Catherine ruffled the younger girl’s hair affectionately.

“Maybe someday, kid.”

She stood up, extending an arm to Kat.

“Let’s go find your cousin, how about that?”

Kat accepted and let Cathy help her off the ground. They walked through the rides section of the park, the lights now all activated and casting pretty purples and blues around the whole fair.

Katherine was right at her side, their arms brushing gently due to their close proximity.

It felt right.

“Kitty!”

A relieved Anne Boleyn ran up and scooped her little cousin into a hug. “Are you alright?”

Kat’s brown eyes met Cathy’s as she responded. “Yes, I am.”

Anne semi-pulled out of the hug, but only to pull her girlfriend in closer.

“I’ve got you two. And I’m never letting go.”

The embrace lasted for a while. Anne was holding on the tightest, which was much different than what usually happened when she gave out hugs. 

“Kitty… how did you know that woman?” Her tone was serious and strained.

“I don’t know her very well,” Katherine said quickly, almost like she was trying to reassure her cousin. “She started coming to our church when I started secondary school.”

Her voice started to hitch.

“She’s seen a few things happen… she supported what they were doing.”

That only made Anne let out a shaky breath and pull them both tighter.

Catherine didn’t know anything about what happened to Kat. She didn’t expect to be told, she didn’t feel she deserved to know in the slightest; it was Katherine’s story to tell, after all.

But with the flinching while watching her and Anne kiss, with the references Katherine made to being hurt for expressing herself, the way every move she was almost too perfect as if to try and please someone else and the religious overtones to it all…

Not to mention her parents were in jail.

It was hard to wrap her head around.

Katherine deserves the world. 

They stayed clumped together in that huddle group as they shuffled towards the exit of the carnival. After the tiring events of the day, the three of them were ready to cozy up at home.

Anne sent a text to Aragon before starting the car. Buckling herself in, Katherine asked, “Do you guys think we could do movie night at your place? I mean, if you have the time-”

“That’s a great idea Kat. Thank you for suggesting it.”

The ride went by much faster the way back then it did the way there. Once they arrived at home, Catherine and Kat got to work pulling all of the pillows and warm blankets they could find from all of the rooms in the house.

Katherine bundled herself up in a fluffy white blanket. Parr sat cross-legged on the couch next to her as they scrolled through movie options on Netflix. The second Matilda popped up in their suggestions, Kat perked up and requested it. Catherine had never seen it before but was excited to watch it. 

Anne had gone to the other room to make a phone call and explained in hushed whispers the events that transpired earlier. She joined the two others after hanging up.

“Jane’s on her way over. I thought it would be nice if she joined us for the movie.” Katherine nodded and smiled at her cousin’s explanation. 

“I wonder if Jane has seen Matilda. It’s Catherine’s first time, too.”

“You’ve never seen Matilda?!? How have we gone our whole relationship without watching it? This is a crime.”

Anne plopped down at her own spot on the couch. “Remember when we used to watch this, Kitty? We used to pretend we had telekinesis all of the time. This must’ve been our favourite thing to watch together.”

“I do.” Katherine recalled fondly. “And it still is. My favourite movie, I mean.”

Stealing a shy glance at her cousin, she added; “I don’t think that’s going to change.”

The three settled in as the movie began to play. Not even five minutes in, there was a knock at the door.

Anne got up to answer it, and returned with a slightly disheveled yet still kindly blonde.

“Kat!”

Katherine kicked the blanket off of herself and got up to initiate a hug with Jane. When they first walked in together at the beginning of the day  Catherine hadn’t pegged them as being very close, but this hug changed her perception quite a bit.

“I’m so happy you’re okay, love.”

“I had people there to help me. Besides, I won’t let that woman ruin what was a really amazing day otherwise.”

“I’m so proud of you. You’re a strong one, Katherine Howard.”

Katherine guided her foster mom over to the couch. Jane admitted to never seeing Matilda either, which earned her a very over-dramatic reaction from Anne.

“Did either of you have childhoods? I’m appalled.”

They continued to watch. Catherine had to admit it was the perfect way to cap off their day, Kat was right on with her suggestion. It was nice to be warm and cozy and together.

A half an hour in, there was a second knock at the door.

This time, the writer got up to answer it albeit albeit confused since they weren’t expecting anyone else. Kat insisted on pausing the movie so that she could “get the full experience”.

Pulling the door open, behind it was none other than Aragon.

The curly hair woman stood stiffly, an apologetic look in her eyes. A pristine white envelope was clutched tightly in her hands. 

“-Catherine.”

The mentioned Catherine put a hand on the older woman’s shoulder, trying to calm her down.

“Hey. We found Kat, she’s doing great and wanted to have a movie night. Is everything alright?”

Aragon shook her head.

“No, it’s not alright. I let myself associate with someone with those kinds of views, someone who is against everything that I stand for. I’m not sure what her history is with Katherine, but either way I noticed how uncomfortable she was around me and should’ve been more careful introducing her to others.”

She extended the letter towards Cathy. “I’m not sure she would be comfortable with seeing me face to face, so I wrote out an apology for her. I just want her to know that I’m sorry-”

“How about we let Katherine decide?”

Cathy went back in the house, and after a brief discussion the pink haired girl followed her back to where Aragon was standing.

“Hi.”

Kat waved shyly.

“Katherine… I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier.”

The teen’s eyebrows raised. “Why? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Not directly, but I could’ve done more to prevent that confrontation. When we first met you were uneasy, I should’ve taken that as cue to keep my distance… but instead, I put you in that situation. I’m so, so sorry Katherine. I would like you to know that I don’t share the same views as that woman at all, I don’t even know her very well…”

Catherine passed her letter the younger girl.

“I wrote you this.”

Katherine stepped forward and took the envelope. Tearing it open, her eyes scanned the paper inside.

As she continued reading, tears pricked her eyes and her breathing got heavier until she was weeping.

Aragon was horrified.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry-”

“No - no,” Katherine gave a watery smile, “It’s not like that.”

Pulling the letter close to her chest, she began to explain.

“Most adults don’t apologize… they think it’s beneath them to do that, especially if it’s to a kid. Even though you don’t have anything to be sorry about, it means a lot that you did this.”

The older woman shook her head, beginning to get teary herself.

“Of course, Katherine. I truly am sorry.”

She swatted at her tears with her palms and took a deep breath.

“I should be heading out so you can get back to your movie. Have a good night-”

“Catherine, wait.”

Kat shuffled forwards again, intertwining her hand with Aragon.

“Please stay. I want you here.”

She tilted her head towards Cathy. “If that’s alright with you two.”

The writer quickly nodded. “Catherine’s always welcome here. Maybe it’ll be her first time watching Matilda as well.”

“If you’re sure you want me to stay then… I’m happy to, Katherine. What did you say we were watching? Matilda?”

Katherine all but dragged her inside. “You’re going to love it!”

Catherine exchanges pleasantries with the rest of the woman inside. Jane introduces herself warmly as the movie continues to play.

The woman took a seat on a chair next to the sofa. Seeing as there wouldn’t be enough room for the four of them to sit on the couch, Parr happily sat down on the floor.

To her surprise, Katherine did the same. She took back her blanket and wrapped it around them both. 

The movie continued for a while. Anne and Katherine would sometimes interject to tell a story relating a scene to their childhood. Soon, Anne had slid off of the couch entirely and slung her arm around her cousin and her girlfriend.

Sat there, surrounded by her friends, sitting next to Anne and Katherine who were both grinning from ear to ear….

It was the perfect moment.

She was so thankful for that moment.

She was so thankful that Katherine was now in her life.

[tommyhardyx]

Mr Solomons - Part 10

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Pairing: Modern!Alfie Solomons x Reader Word Count: 4.2k Summary: Alfie is still in a bad mood with his broken leg, and an old friend comes to visit.  Warnings: swearing A/N: I’m so sorry this took me so long! I’ve been trying to figure out where to take this series and I think I’ve finally worked that out so hopefully it won’t take me too long to get the next chapters done now I know what’s happening. Also thank you to @acciostilinski for helping me write Tommy, making sure he’s not too nice.

With Alfie moving around easier on his crutches, and his breathing becoming easier as his ribs begin to heal you expected his mood to change. Hell, you figured the regular blowjobs you’ve been giving him would be enough to lift his spirits, but still he’s been in a bad mood.

He has his good days, sometimes only good hours, but more often than not he’s in a foul mood, his frown set deep on his face.

Some days he has Ollie pick him up and take him to the distillery, taking Cyril with him to keep him company. But most days he sits around the flat, watching TV or working on his laptop, his bad mood filling up the room.

Today is a day like that, with Alfie on the couch with Cyril while you sit at the table, with your laptop open in front of you, your fingers flying across the keyboard as you work on an article, for the first time in a while the words come so naturally to you, the narrative pouring out of you so easily.

Your fingers falter when you hear a knock on the door, the sudden sharp noise of it breaking you out of your flow of words.

“Can you get that for me love?” Alfie calls to you, and you sigh as your train of thought is broken and you get up to go open the front door.

A vaguely familiar looking man stands in the doorway when you open it, his suit more expensive than anything you own, piercing blue eyes assessing  you as the corner of his mouth turns up slightly.

“Can I help you?” you ask.

As the man nods, you notice a bottle of what looks like whiskey in one hand, while his other rests in pocket and he glances over your shoulder into the flat behind you.

“I’m looking for Alfie. He home?”

His voice is what makes it click, his accent so distinct that you suddenly realise who you’re looking at. Tommy Shelby.

“Yeah he’s home,” you step aside, opening the door wide enough for him to step through. “He’s in a mood though.”

Tommy seems to be amused by this as he steps inside. . “I’ve dealt with his moods before. Tommy Shelby”

He says his name as if it should announce him, careful eyes watching your reaction as he gauges exactly what Alfie has told you about their friendship.

You nod, and  introduce yourself, doing your best to be polite to a man with such an air about him.

There’s something about Tommy that makes you uneasy, maybe it’s the eyes that seem to be looking into your soul, or that he walks in as if he owns the place.

Alfie glances over the back of the couch as the two of you approach, genuine surprise on his face as he looks at Tommy.

“Tommy? What’re you doing here?”

Tommy places the bottle of whiskey which bares his own name on the table before coming over to sit in the armchair across from Alfie.

“I heard what happened, thought I’d come see how you’re doing,” he explains.

You fold your arms over your chest, feeling oddly uncomfortable in the place that has come to feel like home to you in recent weeks.

Alfie watches Tommy for a moment, eyes narrowed slightly in what looks like thought before he looks over at you.

“Can you give us a little privacy?”

Frowning, you watch as Tommy reaches into his pocket to retrieve a cigarette case and a lighter.

“Oh… uh, sure. I’ll just take Cyril for a walk,” you decide, not wanting Cyril to be around if Tommy is going to smoke.

“No worries love, see you in a little bit.”

Tommy nods at you as his way to say goodbye, and you give him the briefest of smiles as you clip Cyril’s leash onto him and leave the building, the dog brimming with excitement.

“So,” Tommy starts as soon as the door closes, running the tip of his cigarette over his lips, “That's the journalist aye?”

“Yeah mate, that’s the journalist. So, what’re you doing here Thomas?”

Tommy leans back in the armchair,  crossing one leg over the other as he lights his cigarette.

“I heard about what happened and I was in London so I thought I’d come and see you. You look worse than I expected,” Tommy explains, a small smile on his face which could only come from years of comradery.

Alfie huffs a laugh, hand running through his beard as he moves his arm over the back of the couch.

“I heard it was Sabini who did it,” Tommy continues, flicking ash into a coffee cup sitting on the table “He’s been spinning yards, telling everyone he sent you to the hospital.”

This comment earns a snort from Alfie, the older man shaking his head slowly.

“He didn’t do anything, sent three other cunts to do it for him. Didn’t even bother to show his face,” Alfie says.

“And what do you plan to do about it? Or are you going to sit here feeling sorry for yourself until you get the plaster off your leg?”

Alfie bristles at the comment, before y/n he never would have hesitated to show Sabini what happens when you mess with Alfie Solomons, even if he was retaliating for Alfie making the first move. Now he hasn’t even considered it.

“Not feeling fucking sorry for myself mate, just biding my time alright?”

Tommy’s eyebrow quirks, the disbelief clear on his face.

“Is that right? Or is your relationship clouding your judgement?”

“Don’t fucking bring her into this Thomas, she’s got nothing to do with it.”

Tommy leans forward, putting out his cigarette in the coffee mug he’d been using as an ashtray.

“You asked her to leave, seems you haven’t been entirely honest with her,” he comments, watching the anger bloom on Alfie’s face. “A year ago, if I had said any of this to you you’d’ve pulled a gun on me, but I guess these days you’ve got your guns locked away far from the view of the journalist.”

Alfie’s hand curls into a fist on his thigh, his jaw clenching as he glares at his friend.

Seeming satisfied with himself, Tommy stands his hands returning to his pockets as he does.

“If you decide to stand up for yourself, give me a call, I’ll be in London until the end of the week.”

Alfie doesn’t say a word as he watches Tommy go, his hand slowly sinking beneath the couch cushion, fingers brushing against the metal of the handgun he’s had tucked away down there ever since the attack at the distillery.

When you step back through the door, the lingering scent of cigarette smoke is the only evidence that Tommy was here at all.

“He’s gone then?” you ask by way of greeting, letting Cyril off his leash so he can go join Alfie on the couch.

Alfie smiles briefly at his dog as Cyril settles his head on his lap, his fingers immediately moving to pat the dog’s head. You move across to the other side of the room, opening up the windows to let in fresh air to flush out the smell of smoke.

“Yeah love he’s gone,” he says, his body relaxing slightly.

You nod, sitting back at the table planning to get back to work on your article when Alfie glances over the back of the couch at you.

“Are you alright? Somethin’ seems off with you,” he points out.

Shaking your head, you stand up to grab your hoodie off the back of another chair, pulling it on.

“I’m fine, I just… something about Tommy made me uncomfortable,” you admit, the bad feeling that buried itself in your stomach when the man walked in like he owned the place still present.

Alfie nods, calling you over with a flick of his wrist. You come to stand behind the couch, and his hand finds your own holding it softly.

“Yeah he does that to people, don’t worry alright? You won’t have to see much of ‘im. He lives in Birmingham, just came by to see me while he was here,” he explains, his thumb brushing the back of your hand.

It’s the most affectionate he’s been with you for weeks without being in a bad mood, without it feeling forced, so you can’t help the small smile that creeps onto your face.

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

With only a week to go until the cast is supposed to come off, just seven days until freedom, you assumed Alfie would be in better spirits about everything but he’s still in a mood, still grouchy whenever you try to mention it.

After all this time he’s still unable to accept that he isn’t invincible, that what happened would happen to anyone.

Making your way into the coffee shop, you spot Hannah and Ollie immediately at a table near the back and smile when Hannah looks up and grins at you.

A waitress comes by to take your orders, and soon enough three cups of coffee sit before you on the table.

Hannah was the one who suggested to meet up for coffee, deciding that as Alfie’s three caretakers it was about time the three of you sat down without Mr Grumpy himself to chat. She pulls you in for a strong hug as you approach the table, as does Ollie before you settle into the empty chair left for you.

The conversation begins with no mention of Alfie, Hannah and Ollie checking in with how things are going at work. But, as expected, soon enough the conversation turns to the man you all have in common, and as you listen to Hannah talk, her true motive in inviting you here becomes clear, she wants to make sure he’s not chasing you away.

“Look, I know Alfie can be bloody miserable when he’s like this but really he means well,” she explains, sipping her iced coffee.

“Don’t sugar coat it Hannah, he’s been a prick to everyone since he got hurt, just don’t judge him entirely on how he is now compared to how he was before that, he’ll get over it eventually.” Ollie says.

“Will he? Because I’ve tried talking to him, tried telling him that what happened could have happened to anyone, but he’s so ashamed that it happened to him he just shuts down and refuses to talk to me,” you explain.

Ollie sighs, glancing at Hannah before turning back to you.

“Let me talk to him. He’s stubborn but he usually listens to me, I’ll talk to him about it,” Ollie offers. “If he doesn’t listen to me then Hannah can try.”

Hannah nods, her hand reaching across the table to settle on your own.

“He’ll listen to Ollie, really just come spend the day with me and Ollie can go over and talk to him,” she offers. “We can have a girls day and just not think about my grump of a brother for a little while.”

You smile softly, noting the comforting feeling of Hannah’s hand on yours.

“Yeah alright, that does sound good,” you decide.

Hannah beams, brushing a stray curl away from her face.

“Yay! We’ll have a great time while poor Ollie here has to go see Alf,” she says with a teasing grin at Ollie who just rolls his eyes.

“Lucky me.”

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

For the first time in a while the front door opens to reveal not y/n, but Ollie, six pack of beer in hand and as he steps inside, Alfie has a feeling this isn’t a friendly visit.

“Hey Alf,” Ollie calls as he shrugs off his coat, hanging it on the hook by the front door.

“How’s it going mate?” Alfie asks, watching his friend carefully as he runs his hand over Cyril’s head, the dog resting on his lap as he has taken to doing ever since Alfie got hurt.

“Alright, how’re you feeling? Getting around a lot easier these days,” he comments.

Ollie puts the beer in the fridge, grabbing one for each of them and handing one to Alfie before he sinks into the armchair across from the couch.

“Spit it out, you ain’t here to ask about me fuckin’ leg,” Alfie says as he cracks open his beer.

Sighing, the younger man takes a sip before he speaks having rehearsed exactly how to engage Alfie in this conversation on the way over, though he didn’t expect to have to get to it so soon.

“Right Alf I’m saying this because I’m your friend and y/n is too nice to say it, you’re being a fucking prick.”

Alfie blinks once, twice, three times as Ollie’s words sink in. Not one to often swear, or to say a bad word about anyone, Alfie knows that if Ollie is calling someone a prick, he means it.

And he’s not wrong, Alfie knows he’s being unfair especially to y/n when all she is doing is trying to help. But he can’t shake the feeling of shame he gets whenever glances at his cast, or feels the twinge in his chest from the pain of his healing ribs.

“Yeah,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face and up into his hair. “Yeah mate I know.”

“You’ve got a really great girl, don’t let her get away because your pride is hurt. We both know there’s nothing you could have done that night. Even you can’t fight off three guys,” Ollie says, his voice strong, but sympathetic.

Alfie allows a grin to slip onto his face, looking up at his friend who doesn’t often stand up to him like this.

“Look at you, come here to tell me off aye?”

Ollie rolls his eyes as he sips his beer, but Alfie just laughs as Ollie’s words roll through his head, the first real laugh coming from the man in quite a while.

“Ah fuck. Don’t know why she’s still ‘ere to be honest with ya, if I were her I’d have fucking run weeks ago,” he mutters, running his hand over his beard.

“Because she loves you, that’s why she hasn’t left,” Ollie offers, and Alfie just shakes his head.

“I’ve fucked up haven’t I?”

This time it’s Ollie’s turn to laugh as he looks at his oldest friend.

“Look, you’ve been a prick sure but that doesn’t mean you’ve ruined everything. Do something nice for her, surprise her with a nice dinner or something and apologise. She’ll forgive you because she wants to forgive you. And I know that because she told me that, we’ve been talking about you,” he adds with a grin.

Alfie just shakes his head, a hand rubbing through his beard. “I assume Hannah is behind that,” he says, and Ollie just shrugs.

“Who else would it be? You think y/n or I would do that? Of course it was Hannah. She cares about you Alf, she just wants to make sure you’re happy and without y/n you’re not as happy. She doesn’t want you to lose her. We don’t want you to lose her.”

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

Coming home from work a few days after seeing Ollie and Hannah and Ollie’s promise to talk to Alfie, you’re exhausted from a long day and ready to collapse into the couch with Cyril and forget about anything.

Of course you can’t do that, because you have the grump to look after. It’ll be hours until you get to sit down and relax. Well, at least that’s what you’re expecting.

Walking into Alfie’s place, you’re surprised to find a glass of wine on the coffee table, candles surrounding it as the only light in the room, with Alfie nowhere in sight.

“Alfie?” you call out, shrugging off your coat and drop your bag onto the armchair beside you.

“That’s for you,” Alfie’s voice comes out of nowhere, making you jump as you turn in the direction on his voice. “Dinner’s almost ready, so you just sit there and drink your wine until it’s ready.”

He moves steadily on the crutches these days, making his way towards you standing by the door leaning in to kiss you softly.

“What’s this for?” you ask.

He rests his crutches against the wall, his arms slipping around your waist and pulling you closer to his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been acting like a cunt since this happened, I know I have. You’re tryin’ to fucking help me and I’m being a grumpy fuck all the time,” he says, his eyes focused on yours as he speaks.

Even though you know this is only happening as a consequence of Ollie having a talk with him, you can see the sincerity of his apology written all over his face. Gently, you press a kiss to his lips.

“Thank you for apologising,” you mutter, resting your forehead against his as you wrap your arms around his body. “I guess what Ollie said sank in huh?”

He smiles, reaching to press a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Usually does, he doesn’t often have a go at me so when he does I know it’s serious. But I am sorry y/n, you’ve pretty much been living here with me and I’ve been nothin’ but a grumpy prick the whole time.”

You smile moving your head to settle against his chest, his big arms holding you tight and comfortably against him.

“I love you y/n, I hope you know that.”

“Yeah Alf I know. I love you too.”

The two of you stay like that for a while, his arms feeling like home again after weeks of tension between the two of you.

Eventually he pulls away, a soft kiss pressed to your head as you whine at him pulling away.

“Gotta check on dinner love. Get comfy on the couch, drink your wine and just relax yeah?”

You nod, kicking off your shoes and giving him one last peck on the cheek before letting him go.

“I’m just going to change into something more comfortable first.”

After dinner, you and Alfie snuggle up on the couch, his arm around your shoulders as you rest your head on his chest, a movie of your choice playing on the TV in front of you while Cyril sleeps by your feet.

For the first time since Alfie got hurt, the first time since your trip away you finally feel like things are good again, finally feel that sense of comfort and warmth from being around him.

As your trip to Brighton comes back into your mind, you’re reminded of a particular conversation between the two of you.

“Alf, do you still want to get another dog?” you ask.

His eyebrows go up, a look of surprise on his face as if he entirely forgot he ever intended to get another dog.

“Yeah.... fuck I forgot we talked about that. After I get the cast off, there’s a dog shelter not far from ‘ere and we’ll go there and pick one out,” he decides, his eyes falling on Cyril who is asleep on the floor by Alfie’s feet.

“Sounds like a plan,” you say as you snuggle further into his side. “Thank you for tonight, this was really nice.”

Alfie smiles down at you, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“Ollie’s the one you should be thanking, he suggested this. But you deserve it, I’ve been a cunt to you ever since I got hurt and you’ve done nothing but try and look after me. I’m sorry for making things so difficult for you.”

You smile, pressing your lips to the tip of his thumb.

“It’s alright Alfie really, you don’t have to keep apologising. Just as long as you don’t go right back to being a prick in the morning, consider yourself forgiven.”

He chuckles, his lips pressing against your forehead.

“I promise it won’t love.”

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

Watching Alfie as you make your way through the animal shelter, you smile at the sense of wonderment on his face. Ever since you reminded him about getting another dog Alfie’s been in a better mood than he has for weeks.

When he got the cast off you asked if that was what he was so happy about but no, while he was relieved not to need the crutches anymore the prospect of being able to do things entirely for himself again a definite mood booster, he was mostly excited to go look for another dog to join your little family.  

“Aw love, look at this little one,” he says, squatting down in front of one of the cages. You move to stand by his side and your eyes spot a small grey pit bull puppy in the corner, chewing on a toy. “What’s a dog as young as you doin’ in a place like this huh?”

“She was brought in a few weeks ago, someone had hurt her. People are cruel to breeds like this one,” one of the workers overhears Alfie and fills him in, Alfie’s brow furrows at the mention of the puppy being hurt.

“Who the fuck hurts a dog this small that can’t even defend itself?” Alfie grumbles. He turns to the worker. “Can I hold her?”

She nods and unlocks the cage, giving Alfie the chance to reach in and carefully lift out the puppy, holding her against his chest.

“Hello little one,” he says, his voice unusually soft as he holds the dog up to his face.

The puppy leans in, tail wagging behind her, as she licks Alfie’s cheek earning a laugh from the man.

“I think she likes you Alfie,” you point out, smiling at the excited puppy in his hands.

The worker smiles at the sight of the big man playing with the usually shy puppy.

“She hasn’t been this open with anyone who has come in and looked at her. We’ve been calling her Blue but you can change her name if you decide to take her home,” she explains.

“Blue aye? I think that’s a good name for her,” Alfie says, gently scratching under the dog’s chin. “What do you think love? Think she’s the one for us?”

His inclusion of you in the decision is touching, bringing a smile to your face as you let Blue sniff your hand, smile growing when she gives your hand a little lick.

“I think she’s perfect,” you tell him. “I think Cyril will love her too.”

Alfie grins as Blue leans in to lick his face once again.

“We’ll take her.”

From the moment she first laid her eyes on Alfie, Blue loved him. As soon as you get her home, she doesn’t want to leave his side, only going near Cyril when Alfie carries her over to him giving them both a chance to sniff each other.

Alfie has to lead Blue around the place to prompt her into exploring the flat, eventually deciding to go off on her own, sniffing everything in sight as you and Alfie set up a bed for her. Cyril watches Blue carefully, following her at a distance as he makes his mind up on how he feels about the new addition to the family.

Now, as you and Alfie cuddle together on the couch little Blue sits on his lap, too busy trying to chew on his finger to pay any attention to any of the toys you had bought for her earlier that day.

“She really likes you,” you comment, smiling at the look of contentment on Alfie’s face as he plays with the puppy in his lap.

Alfie grins, laughing as Blue attempts to climb up his chest, settling down so her head rests below his chin.

“Think you’re right love,” he says, fingers gently patting the dog. “I like her too.”

His free hand settles on your knee, his fingers brushing against you as he looks from the dog on his chest to you.

“I’m glad to see you in a better mood Alf,” you admit, earning a grin from him.

“It’s nice to be in a good fucking mood again. I was bloody miserable all those weeks, and I know I was fucking miserable to be around. But now the leg is healed and my ribs are almost healed, I’m plannin’ on making it up to you for having to put up with me,” he says, a sly grin on his face.

You shake your head, leaning in to press your lips to his hand resting gently on his cheek.

“Oh you better be making it up to me. I had to put up with a lot from you,” you tease, his chuckle forcing your smile to grow.

Blue barks, sensing that she has lost yours and Alfie’s attention. You pull back, turning your attention back to her, and smiling as she tries to chew on Alfie’s beard.

“I don’t know how dogs seem to love you so much, I’ve never seen a dog around you that doesn’t love you immediately,” you tell him, fingers brushing against across Blue’s back.

Alfie grins at that, looking from Blue and back up to you.

“Guess I just know how to charm dogs,” he says with a wink.

Tags: @eap1935 / @coolmaybelateruniverse / @sandyddt / @inkeducatednnerdy / @ravendor28 / @thisisjeany / @overitall2018 / @outofbluecomesgreen / @mollybegger-blog / @bilesxbilinskixlahey / @elemph / @pointlessblogger99 / @marvelfangirl-x / @madbrilliant84 / @lotusbreathe / @justanothershelby 

[saltnhalo]

I can finally post my zine fic for volume 1 of @profoundzine!

Once upon a time, there was a man named…

It was a dark and stormy night in Lawrence, Kansas…

This is a story all about how my life got flipped…

“Whatever story you’re writing, you can’t begin it by ripping off ‘The Fresh Prince of Bel Air,’ Dean.”

Dean runs his fingers through his hair and groans, then selects the only ten words on his laptop screen and deletes them all. Back to zero, once again. “I know,” he mutters, glaring at the blank document. “I’m just… stuck.”

Castiel peers over his shoulder, reads the title of the document—‘some bullshit i guess’—then slides into the empty seat next to him. “What are you writing?”

It’s an innocent enough question, but… one that Dean doesn’t think he has the answer to just yet. He drops his head into his hands and stares down at the table, at the patterns of the grains in the wood. “I don’t really know,” he mumbles quietly. “Something, I guess. I just…”

He sighs, then lifts his head out of his hands and looks over at Cas. “We’ve lived such a fuckin’ crazy life, you know? And I figured that it’d be a shame if it never got written down. If it died with us. So I… I guess I figured I’d try putting it into words.”

He’s been through so damn much, with his dad and Sammy, and then with Cas as a new part of their broken little family after he’d pulled Dean out of hell. Now so much of it feels like it happened such a long time ago—hell, not that he’ll readily admit it to anyone but Cas, but Dean’s definitely starting to get some grey hairs. Some part of him feels compelled to write down at least part of their story, considering how much they’ve seen and experienced and lived through. It would be a crime not to.

Castiel’s gaze softens, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his mouth pulling up into a gentle smile. “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” he says, and then his smile turns cheeky. “I hope it stars a devastatingly handsome ex-angel and highlights just how in love with him you were from the first time you met.”

Dean can’t help but snort, turning his gaze back to the laptop and the empty document. He runs his fingertips idly over the keys on his keyboard. “Not gonna lie, babe, you were kind of a fucking dick for a while there.”

Lightbulbs shattering. Barn doors blowing open. A man who brings with him the shadow of two great wings and an electricity in the air that feels as though it sets Dean alight.

“I know,” Cas muses. “Dicks with wings, didn’t you call us?”

“I sure did.” He gives Cas a sidelong smile. “You weren’t the worst of them, but it took you a while to come around to us. You must’ve rebelled for a damn good reason, huh?”

“I’m hunted, I rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for you.”

Castiel rolls his eyes at Dean’s shiteating grin and seems to ponder it for a moment. “You know, I can’t seem to recall.”

“You’re a jerk,” Dean huffs. He turns away from his laptop to glare at Cas. “Remind me why I put up with you?”

“I’m great in bed,” Cas quips, without even taking time to think.

Damn it, Dean’s taught him too well over the years. He can’t keep the grin of amusement off his face, and Cas matches it, clearly proud of himself for managing to cheer Dean up. It’s so fucking endearing that for a second, Dean forgets his frustrations.

Only for a second, though. “This fucking sucks,” he groans, leaning back in his chair. “No one told me writing would be this hard. Everything’s up there in my brain but I don’t know how the fuck to get it out of there.” An idea occurs to him, and he raises his eyebrows at Castiel. “If you had any grace, would you mojo it all onto the page for me? Please?”

From the unimpressed look Cas gives him, that’s not an option.

“Okay,” he mutters under his breath, “so that’s a no, even if you were still powered up. Coming through loud and clear.”

Dean turns his gaze back to the empty document and watches the cursor blink at him—on, off, on, off. Like it’s mocking him for his failure to even start this fucking miserable story.

When you’ve had a life like Dean’s, where the hell do you start?

“This was a dumb idea.” He groans and plants his feet on the floor, shoving his chair back a foot and away from the laptop, the blinking cursor, the whole stupid idea he’d had of writing all this shit down. “I can’t fuckin’ do this. I’m not the smart one, that’s Sam’s job. He’d probably be halfway through writing this fucking thing already, but I can’t even get started.”

He moves to stand, but then there’s a hand resting on his thigh, strong but not forceful. Dean could push past it if he wanted to, but instead, he sinks back down into his chair.

He’s in the bathroom of a shitty motel when Cas appears out of nowhere, standing behind Dean’s shoulder and meeting his gaze in the water-stained mirror like a ghost—except for the fact that Dean knows just how solid and real the angel is. When he turns, he can feel heat and electricity radiating from Castiel. This close, all it would take was for one of them to lean in just a few inches, and Dean’s gaze flicks down to Castiel’s lips.

“Cas. We’ve talked about this. Personal space.”

“You’re not stupid, Dean.” Castiel’s voice is low but insistent. His hand radiates warmth through the fabric of Dean’s jeans. “We’ve talked about this. Just because you’re not ‘book smart’ like Sam—which isn’t even true, by the way—doesn’t mean you’re not smart in other ways. How many gadgets have you designed for the hunter community?”

Sometimes Dean regrets introducing Cas to pop culture, and it looks like showing him all of the James Bond movies is coming back to bite him now. “A few,” he mutters, shrugging one shoulder. The grip on his thigh tightens just slightly, and when Dean looks up, Cas has his brow arched in a look that Dean has quickly come to obey. “A lot,” he amends.

Cas smiles, and rubs his hand over Dean’s thigh in a reassuring gesture. “Yes, a lot. You are incredibly smart, in your own way—which doesn’t make your smarts any less important than those of anyone else,” he adds, before Dean can protest.

(Which he totally was about to. Fuck, Cas knows him too well.)

He grumbles irritably, then says, “I guess. But that doesn’t mean I’m any good at writing books and shit.”

“It doesn’t have to be any good on the first try, Dean.” Cas’s expression is soft. Encouraging. “It just has to be there.”

He’s fucking right, of course. Dean sighs and makes a conscious effort to let go of all his tension and frustration—something that he hadn’t learned easily but that he’s slowly getting better at, now that he’s retired from hunting and has Cas by his side. He rubs at his eyes, then drops his hands into his laps and gives Cas a slow, small smile. “I guess you’re right,” he says quietly.

Water laps gently at the edge of the dock. Cas is standing by Dean’s chair, the two of them looking out over the lake. There’s no need to share words between them—the silence is more than enough.

Dean is peaceful, and he is content.

The corner of Cas’s mouth ticks up, and Dean knows that that’s as close as Cas will come to saying ‘I told you so’—at least, for now. Whether he gets shit for it further down the line remains to be seen. “So you’ll keep trying to write whatever it is you’re writing?” Castiel asks, reaching for one of Dean’s hands where it lies in his lap and intertwining their fingers.

Now that Dean’s getting older, the impulse to write down the important parts of his life has been sticking with him and not letting go. He knows that if he doesn’t do this, if he gives up right here at the first fucking hurdle, he’s going to regret it.

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing Cas’s hand. “I will.”

Cas grins, all joy and radiance, and leans over to press a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “Good,” he says decisively, then kisses Dean’s knuckles as well before letting go of his hand. “Whatever you’re trying to say with this story, let it come from your heart.”

Dean watches as Cas stands up from his chair and goes to leave. When Cas pauses in the doorway and looks back at Dean, eyes crinkled in amusement, Dean raises his eyebrows.

“Besides,” his husband says, “if it really is terrible, I’ll make sure I let you know so you can rewrite it.”

Dean flips him off, but can’t help but grin when it makes Cas laugh. He listens to it as Castiel walks away through their house, then turns back to his laptop, thinking not for the first, or the second, or even the hundredth time in his life, about how fucking grateful he is to have Cas.

“I was there, where were you?”

“Dean and I do share a more profound bond.”

“We need you. I need you.”

“It’s a gift. You keep those.”

“…I love you.”

When he thinks of the last twenty years, he knows there was much more to the story than just him and Cas, but…

It’s hard not to focus on the slow path to love they’ve taken over all these years when he has his husband sitting beside him.

After all, their story definitely had to be one of the greatest love stories ever told—if he does say so himself. And even if the words that he writes never see the light of day, he wants to have them here, so that he can still relive them when he’s old and grey and has his husband by his side. When he really thinks about it… there’s so much to say that he can’t let a stupid little thing like a beginning stop him.

He puts his hands to his keyboard and writes.

Hi there. My name is Dean Winchester, and this is the story of how I fell in love with an angel.

[purplesurveys]

863

Do you have any friends who are on and off with bfs/gfs all the time? Yeah, Jo and Aya don’t make the most stable couple. They had one really problematic stint last year where they would break up and get back together every week. They ironed it out eventually and they’ve been ok for a while, but lately I think it’s a little rocky again because I no longer see them interacting and they’ve been retweeting stuff that gives me a few hints. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve broken it off for good. When was the last time you almost cried out of exhaustion? Ohhhh boy. It was some day in Feb I think? and everything had just been going wrong for me. Andrew and I got yelled at by our thesis adviser because she didn’t like what we submitted and she gave us a day to revise three entire chapters. We stayed in the college working away from 3 PM to 10 PM then when I got home, I realized I forgot to bring with me a certain item that my org entrusted me with. Absolutely wasn’t allowed to lose it. Had a panic attack and this was when I started crying because it was so late and I just wanted to go to bed; though Andrew saved my ass by offering to go back to school at like 11:30 just to retrieve the damn thing. Lastly, that was a time when business reporting was still giving me hell and I was struggling to find a business story around campus to turn in for that week, so I was freaking out about that too. All in all a shit day. What`s a TV show you hate missing? Idk man, if I miss a show I don’t think there’d be hate attached to it. I imagine I’d miss a show because it made me happy, so this doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. Do you think it’s funny how people always say their pet is the best ever? It’s adorable haha but not necessarily funny. Whenever someone says it I totally believe them; I think all pets are the best :) When did you last brush your teeth? This morning.

What was the last website (besides this one) that you visited? I checked my Twitter right before this question. Do you have a friend who you think you’ll be best friends with forever? Yes, Angela is for keeps. Does it annoy you when you accidentally delete things? For the most part I can just undo and get the deleted thing back, but when that’s not applicable it can get super distressing. I know I was gloomy for a very long time when I accidentally wiped out my camera roll with photos from 2014-2016. What`s a movie / book / TV show / band / whatever you highly recommend? Movie: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off Book: Got nothing in this department. Show: BoJack Horseman Band: Paramore ha. They got a sound for almost everyone! When did you last use a dictionary / thesaurus? Two questions ago when I was looking for an adjective to best describe what it’s like to lose your entire camera roll and, essentially, good memories that you’ve made. Are you anticipating or dreading anything? I ammmmmm anticipating dinner haha. I can’t think of anything I’m dreading.

If someone could randomly give you something right now what would you like? Baked sushi :( It’s a recent trend locally and it looks so gooddddd, I just don’t wanna spend the last of my savings on it or ask my parents to buy a tray for me. What`s the most annoying thing in the world? At the moment it’s people who refuse to wear masks because they claim that it messes with their oxygen level or because they find it personally uncomfortable. When did you last use one of those water slides you put on hills? I have no clue what you mean. What are you sitting on right now? One of the dining room chairs. What skills would you like to learn / develop? Adobe Indesign and iMovie. I dabbled with these recently – Indesign for a class and iMovie to make a video for Gabie – and though I was always too scared to start using programs like these, I actually found them fun and super useful when I finally had my hands on them. When we saw each other the other day Gab was talking about using this break to take up workshops in different Adobe programs so that she’ll have more stuff to put on her resumé, so I might follow her footsteps too. What is something other people say you’re good at but you think you’re not? Teaching. I always feel like I fumble a lot, but idk I get compliments on it so I guess I’m kinda okay but I just don’t see it. What does your bedside lamp look like? I don’t have one. I used to have a wall light though. It was a just tiny lil bulb that I had to plug in to give my room a light orange hue. What did you last take a photograph of? Myself and Cooper. When was the last time you got really frustrated with technology? Yesterday. My laptop was a bit slow when I wanted my YouTube video to go full-screen, and my impatient ass already got irritated with it. What was the last funny thing someone said to you? She didn’t technically ‘say’ it but my mom was singing a song earlier and had the lyrics wrong, and what came out of her mouth instead was so wrong and so funny.  Who taught you to tie your shoelaces? My grandmother. What was the last thing you bought? I bought snacks from my girlfriend’s dad Korean food business! I got myself odeng (fishcakes) and tteokbokki (spicy rice cake) :) Do you want to move to somewhere else? If so, where? Any country with a capable government at this point. What time is it where you are? 8:04 PM. What’s your favourite picture of yourself as a child? I’m not sharing that on here, but I do have my favorites.

Do you like your neighbours? I suppose they’re okay, in a sense that they haven’t done anything to annoy me. I’ve never talked to them in the last 12 years that I’ve lived here though haha I always felt like my mom could take care of the socializing stuff – and she has been. Does your room need to be cleaned? Nah I’m barely in it these days. It’s mostly spotless and things are stacked up neatly. Do you have a good relationship with your family? I wouldn’t say it’s good, but it’s not bad. Super lacking in the emotional aspect, though, and it’s a big reason why at the end of the day I can’t call it a good relationship. What is something people are surprised to hear about you? That I don’t like fruits. The horrified gasps and expressions never get old. Do you make judgments about people straight after meeting them? Only if they blatantly act like a jerk. Do you hate any particular groups of people? I mean I hate racists, abusers, rapists, Karens... but if you mean to ask if I hate any race or people of a certain sexual/gender orientation then most definitely not. Do you fall up or down stairs usually? Down :( Do you constantly break things? (By mistake or otherwise) HAHA yes. What was the last bug you saw? Kinda looked like a moth but I’m not sure what it was exactly. Are there any smells which make you feel nauseous? Rotten egg, any fruits lol. What is the scariest thing you`ve ever gone through? Random men play-lunging at me when I’m walking outside and then laughing once I jump or whimper. I don’t know if there’s a certain script that those fucking pigs follow, but I’ve had several of the exact same experiences through the years. That’s why my friends can always poke fun at the fact that I drive everywhere no matter how close my destination is – at least I feel safest that way. Do you have anything unusual in your bag? No. I only carried the essentials in the last bag I used when I went out the other day. Are there any people you know in real life that you only talk to online? Yeah, there’s a bunch of people I don’t really get to see irl. Some of them are friends who’ve migrated, some are my friends’ parents, my relatives who’ve always lived in the US, etc. Do you think people who don`t care about education are dumb? In the Philippines they will definitely be considered careless, dumb, and having no ambition. But I know education isn’t as big of a priority in other countries and that college isn’t a necessity in those places, so I guess there’s a cultural difference here. What`s your favourite key on a keyboard? I don’t pick favorite keyboard buttons lol. Do you always finish what you start? Nah I’m a little terrible at that, especially if we’re talking of passion projects. I collected Starbucks planners for like six years and was never able to completely fill up any one of them. Who`s your favourite character from The Simpsons? Or do you hate that show? I’m not a big fan of the show but just because I relate to her a lot and the fact that she’s intelligent and a goody-two-shoes, Lisa. Have you ever had any friends who always tried to steal your things? Nah wtf? I’d so easily stop talking to them if all they did was steal from me lmao What is something you will never understand? People!!! Who!!! Aren’t!!! Nice!!! To!!! Servers/Baristas/Anyone working in a job that has to directly deal with customers!!! When did you last laugh hysterically? Probably earlier this afternoon watching a Good Mythical Morning episode.

[artificialqueens]

Not Nineteen Forever (4) (Branjie/Scyvie)- Ortega

a/n: i am absolutely hanging out my arse so editing and re-reading this chapter made me feel vaguely ill. i’ll pass it off as method acting xo thank you so much for the continued love and support for this fic, the fact that each chapter so far has broken 100 notes makes me piss my pants with excitement (watch now i’ve jinkxed it and this one’ll get like 8). in this installment Scarlet finds it hard to believe that she isn’t Victoria Beckham.

Trigger Warnings: explicit drug use, alcohol. unaaay.

Summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree

***

Scarlet had to admit, she was enjoying the high life. As she sat up the back of the lecture theatre in the new fur coat she wasn’t planning on taking off anytime soon, blinking heavily with her £75 lash extensions, drumming her £50 acrylics against her notepad, she smiled to herself. This was definitely the kind of life she was suited to. Okay, she got a bit of a shock when the rent left her bank account, as well as her gas and electricity bills, but she still had a good amount there. Clenching her stomach, Scarlet thought about the number on her banking app. £3713.65. Slightly giddy, she pressed her lips together as she thought about it. How could she have spent over a thousand pounds in the space of two weeks? She thought through it in her mind. Rent, £550. Electricity, £30 split with Ra’Jah. Gas, £25, also split with Ra’Jah. But that only came to what…just under six hundred pounds? There was still so much unaccounted for. Scarlet thought about how much she’d paid for on nights out, the two shopping trips she’d been on since her scratchcard win, and the many, many Ubers she’d taken pretty much everywhere. It was time to reign the spending in.

It was crazy how much confidence it was giving her, though. Even on the group chat Scarlet felt self-assured enough to throw out barbs every so often, the girls all responding with keyboard smashes and capitalised laughter and giving her a boost of serotonin. It had even made her feel more confident around Yvie. Scarlet felt weird about the whole Yvie thing. Now that she’d realised she liked her, she didn’t really know what to do about it. She knew she would do something, she promised herself, as if she ended up in a situation like Vanjie’s she would scream. Scarlet cast a glance to the girl beside her, frantically typing notes into her laptop and listening intently. Bored, Scarlet took her fluffy-topped pen and wrote on her notepad, pushing it Vanjie’s way.

Lunch after this?

She watched as Vanjie looked down at her writing, looked back up, then nodded once. Scarlet smiled, glad that she had something to look forward to. It had been a while since she’d had a catchup with Vanjie, and part of her was excited to see if there had been any progress made between her and Brooke. Scarlet then realised it was a little selfish of her to think that way and, realising she hadn’t confided in anyone about her crush on Yvie yet, she decided she’d let Vanjie in on her secret.

When the lecture finished up they decided they would go for lunch at the Mexican place in town. It was a slightly longer walk than anywhere on campus but Vanjie was good company, chatting away happily about something funny her Mum had done back home and distracting Scarlet from the cold weather. They eventually reached the restaurant and got sat at a table, despite the fact Scarlet could have stood under the heaters that were blasting by the entrance forever. She watched as Vanjie shrugged her huge coat off then leant forward.

“So, how’s your lovely flatmate?” Vanjie asked, Scarlet letting out a snort and rolling her eyes.

“Our oven’s broken. She’s saying I broke it,” she explained, Vanessa tilting her head with intrigue.

“Why? What did you do?”

“I don’t know. Used it to cook food,” Scarlet said, her laugh giving away her monotone voice and causing Vanjie to giggle too. “It’s exhausting living with her! She just hates me for no reason! I swear she’s going to turn up by my bed in the middle of the night with a knife and her pillow to smother me with.”

“But then she’d have no-one to blame for the shit that goes wrong in the flat.”

“True. If I’m ever found murdered, though, you know who it was,” Scarlet raised her eyebrows knowingly, Vanessa having to stop herself from laughing as a waitress arrived at their table and took their drinks orders. Vanessa ordered a Corona and Scarlet almost joined her, then realised that beer on a lunch break when she still had a lecture in the afternoon was risky. She got a blood orange San Pellegrino instead. As the waitress walked away, Scarlet continued. “How’s Silky and Akeria? I’ve not seen them since last Saturday.”

“They’re good. Akeria’s stressing about Masters applications, even though I keep telling her every uni is gonna be fallin’ over themselves to accept her. Silk is fine. She’s always fine. I think she’s made peace with the fact she’s probably going to get a 2:2.”

“Nothing wrong with a 2:2,” Scarlet shrugged, even though she knew that if she was on course for a 2:2 she’d be crying as if her life was over.

“That’s true. Degree’s a degree. Still gon’ cry like a baby if I don’t get a 2:1 though,” Vanessa frowned, brightening up as the waitress returned and put their drinks in front of them.

“You will,” Scarlet said. It hadn’t been a lie- even though she only saw Vanessa working towards part of her PPE degree, she always seemed on the ball with lecture notes, got good grades in her essays, and you could never shut her up in tutorials. The other girl still narrowed her eyes at her as she took a drink.

“You have to say that, though. You’re my friend,” Vanessa said, Scarlet brightening up at the validation of her friendship. She’d never known if Vanessa had liked her at first, but over the years they’d eventually settled into being comfortable with each other. Vanessa sighed. “I worked out that if I want a 2:1 I need to get above 65% in everything until the end of the year.”

“That’s doable!” Scarlet insisted, pouring her can into the glass in front of her. She frowned and shook her head. “Anyway, let’s not worry any more about uni. How’s Brooke Lynn?”

Vanessa slid down in her seat and covered her face with the menu. “I don’t know, bitch, ask her.”

“You know what I mean! How are things going? Any progress?”

Vanessa screwed up her face. “I mean, I don’t know. Kind of? Maybe? It’s so hard to tell with that bitch.”

“What’s the maybe?”

“So last Monday we went for a drink after we went to the library. We were just talkin’ and somehow…I don’t even know how we got onto this topic…we started talkin’ about how we were…y'know, like in bed.”

Scarlet let out a screech. “OH my God. Amazing. How is that a maybe in any way?!”

“Nah, well, you know,” Vanessa smiled bashfully, fanning herself with the menu which neither of them had so much as glanced at. “It started to get deep and then I did my classic ha ha ha what a big joke this is I’m definitely not takin’ this serious in any way thing I always do with her. I think I made it awkward, ‘cuz I’ve not seen her since then. I mean we’ve talked on the chat but…yeah.”

Scarlet pouted, feeling sorry for her friend. “Oh, Vanj, no. It won’t be that at all. You know her and Plastique have got their portfolios due next week, she’ll just be busy!”

Vanessa bit her lip, then smiled slowly. “How about if I organise a lil somethin’ to take her mind off her work, then?”

Scarlet took a sip of her drink. “You’re going to turn up to her flat wearing nothing but a massive bow playing The Stripper through your phone speaker.”

As Vanessa howled, Scarlet realised a little too late that someone had come to take their order. She asked for five more minutes, neither of them having looked at the menu yet and having only used it as a prop for embarrassment.

“No, bitch,” Vanessa wheezed, finally getting her breath back. “Let’s see if we can get her to come out tonight.”

Scarlet felt her brows pulling together involuntarily. “On a Wednesday? She’ll be too responsible.”

Vanessa sighed and gave the menu a cursory glance. “Couldn’t we at least try? I just need to know if I’ve made things awkward so I can go about trying to fix them. Although how the fuck I’d do that, I don’t know.”

“I guess you could put it on the chat?” Scarlet shrugged.

Gleefully, Vanessa bounced about in her chair and grabbed her phone decisively, immediately typing. She put it back face-down on the table almost as quickly as she’d picked it up. “It’s sent. Although now we’re running the risk of everyone being free apart from Brooke Lynn, and if I’m honest I really don’t have the energy to go out otherwise.”

“We’re getting old,” Scarlet shrugged, her eyes scanning over tostadas, taquitos and empanadas without really being able to focus on any of them. “Do you remember the days when you could manage two nights out back to back?”

“I remember the days I could manage two nights out in one night,” Vanessa laughed, running a hand through her hair and exhaling. “Scarlet, why am I nervous? Tell me why I’m nervous.”

“Because you’ve just orchestrated a night out with our whole friendship group just so you can see one member of it. Instead of, you know. Asking her on a date,” Scarlet smiled teasingly, Vanessa laughing in self-depreciation. It occured to Scarlet that she still hadn’t told Vanessa about Yvie. “That reminds me-”

Just then she was cut off as the waitress appeared again at their table. Scarlet couldn’t bear to send her away again so she quickly ordered some fish tacos and some sort of cheesy beany quesadilla she had no idea the other ingredients of. Vanessa rapidly fired off an order for a pulled chicken burrito and pork taquitos which, Scarlet could glean from a quick glance at the menu, seemed to be served with radioactive levels of spice. As the waitress walked away, Scarlet frowned.

“Are those taquitos not really spicy?”

“Meh. I don’t mind spice. Worst case scenario I’ll have to install scaffolding round my ass for the next three days after I eat ‘em,” Vanessa shrugged and then leaned forward, hardly giving time for Scarlet to laugh at what she’d just said. “You said ‘that reminds me’ after we were talkin’ about dates, what’s up with that?”

“Oh uh, nothing,” Scarlet smiled shyly as she picked at a bit of dripped candle wax on the tabletop. “Just that I’m joining you in the crushing-on-my-best-friend club for the foreseeable future.”

Vanessa’s face lit up. “What is this?!”

Scarlet felt cheeks flush red as she said it. “I…think I have a crush on Yvie.”

Vanessa let out a quick screech of delight, drawing the gaze of a dining couple sitting at the opposite side of the room. Hushing herself, she leant close to Scarlet and continued. “Oh my God! Bitch! I love this. This is amazing. Aw, you’d be so cute together! I knew you were touchy with each other but I always thought that was just how your friendship was.”

“It is how our friendship is!” Scarlet protested, then put her head in her hands to cover her cheeks as she smiled. “I just…realised I like being touchy with her a little too much to be friendly.”

“Oh, I got it. You wanna be touchy with her in a different way,” Vanessa winked suggestively, Scarlet squealing in mortification and both the girls ending up howling with laughter. As the laughter died down, Vanessa smiled. “Well, welcome to the world of crushing on a friend, boo. It’s amazing, electric, and largely horrific. And painful. I’m not selling this well.”

“It sounds slightly sadomasochistic.”

“That’s actually what you get if you Google it,” Vanessa nodded faux-seriously, then put on a funny, posh-sounding voice. “If you liked getting shocked by a disused electrical socket twenty-five times in a row, perhaps you’d like: crushing on your best friend!”

Scarlet laughed, then shot a glance down at her phone as it sat face-down on the table. “I’m kinda hoping Yvie comes out tonight too now.”

“Ooh! We should check the chat,” Vanessa said, pouncing on her phone and her face dropping as she looked. Scarlet opened her own to see what had been said.

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: me n Scarlet wanna go out tonight who’s down

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: BITCH ARE U CRAZY WE AINT FRESHERS ANY MORE

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: I GOTTA DATE WITH BRADLEY WALSH AND WHOEVER THE CHASER IS TODAY

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Girl we all know The Chase starts at 5pm you gotta think of a better excuse

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Sorry boo I’m out

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: BITCH BACK TO BACK EPS ON CHALLENGE TV FROM 7 THANK U NEXT

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Need to be at the library early if I wanna get that 1st

Kim Kardashian-West: Placement :((((((( sorry babyyy

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: I’ll see yall at pres though

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: I’m guessing they’re gonna be at ours

Okay Then: Sorry girls our portfolios are due in like 9 days

Okay Then: big celebrations after though!!

Dave the Laugh: i’d actually be down

Scarlet felt guilty as her heart gave a jump, Vanessa sitting dejectedly across from her. “Hey, chin up! She’s not replied yet.”

“If Plastique is sayin’ no, she’ll be a no too,” she jerked her mouth to the side in a pained attempt at a smile. “Your girl’s down though, that’s good!”

“Stop. She’s not my girl.”

“Yet,” Vanessa smiled, a glint of disappointment still present in her eyes. Just then, Scarlet’s phone lit up in her hand.

mose: I’m going to follow the tradition of my entire university career making poor life choices and say yeah I’d be up for a night out

Scarlet looked with anticipation across to Vanessa, whose eyes were wide with excitement. She didn’t seem to know that she had a beaming smile on her face, and Scarlet couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, happy for the girl opposite her. “See? Good news!”

“Oh my God. It’s gonna be me, you, Yvie and Brooke Lynn. Fuckin’ double date night out,” Vanessa’s eyes scrunched up as she laughed happily. Scarlet felt her pulse start racing, nerves taking hold of her already. She was excited, though, for some time with Yvie in a slightly smaller setting. She hadn’t grabbed a coffee or done anything with just her in a while, and even though this wasn’t the ideal setting, it was still an opportunity. Vanessa was back typing quickly into her phone, and Scarlet watched the group chat progress.

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: yall suck apart from Yvie and BrookeLynn

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: come to mine for 9 then bitches! Xoxoxoxo

Mose: See ya then boo

Scarlet turned over her phone and raised an eyebrow at Vanessa. “You’re her boo.”

“Yeah fuck y’all bitches, I’m Brooke Lynn’s lil’ ghost,” she smiled and gave her hands a quick clap together in excitement, Scarlet spluttering a laugh at her friend’s adorable reaction. Just then, their food arrived and got placed down in front of them.

“Oh hey, can I grab another Corona?” Vanessa asked, holding up her empty one. The waitress took it and nodded, and Vanessa gave Scarlet a guilty look. “I should really head to the library after this but I’mma go back home and nap, then spend the next four hours gettin’ ready. Fuck, I don’t even know how I’m gonna afford goin’ out tonight.”

Scarlet took a bite of a taco, then thought. Lunch was only going to come to about forty-ish pounds altogether, and really, what was that out of her winnings? She swallowed, looked to Vanessa, and smiled.  

“Hey. I’ll get us lunch,” she shrugged, shifting a little in her seat as Vanessa blinked at her.

“Serious? No, Scarlet, I can’t let you do that.”

“Honestly! My loan came in early,” she said, looking down at her plate as she lied. “Think of it as a celebratory, double-date-crush-night-out-whatever-the-fuck-this-is treat. And you can buy me a drink or something when we go out, call it even.”

As a waiter came by and placed another bottle in front of Vanessa, she gave a smile and raised it. “To coming out on the other side of tonight with girlfriends?”

Scarlet smiled as she clinked her glass against Vanessa’s beer. “Let’s not push it.”

The rest of her lunch with Vanessa passed by comfortably, Scarlet paying the bill when they were finished without a second thought and the girls saying goodbye with a hug and an excited squeal in anticipation of later on. Part of Scarlet wanted to head straight to the shops to look for something new to wear but she stopped herself, instead getting in an Uber and going back to the flat, the prospect of her returning to campus for her 3pm lecture growing thin. Turning the keys in her front door, she sighed when she heard loud music coming from Ra’Jah’s room. Scarlet had hoped she’d be out by now. Walking through to the living room to dump her shoes, coat and bag, she paused when she saw something on the messy, cluttered coffee table that she was sure hadn’t been there before.

It was a tiny, clear, plastic ziploc bag filled full of a white powder. Scarlet frowned as she picked it up, transferring the bag between her fingers and watching as the powder inside crumbled and broke up, the same sort of consistency as flour although slightly looser and whiter. The realisation of what she was holding suddenly hit her like a bus, nearly making her drop the bag. She stood silent for a couple of minutes, completely unsure of what to do. Then she heard the music in Ra’Jah’s room get turned up and that seemed to make her decision for her.

Storming back through into the hallway, Scarlet banged on her flatmate’s door. “Ra’Jah!”

The music got cut off and there was an eerie buzz of silence in the flat. The door in front of Scarlet swung open to reveal her flatmate, her face unimpressed. “Yes?”

Scarlet held up the bag, hoping it would elicit some emotion out of the other girl. It did not. “Can you not leave that shit lying around our flat?”

Ra’Jah smiled in amusement, showing a set of slightly uneven teeth. Scarlet felt her top lip curl up in a sneer. Ra'Jah wasn’t able to pull them off, not like Yvie with the cute gap she had between her front teeth. Fuck, was she really thinking of Yvie right now? Ra’Jah leant on the doorframe cockily. “What, a girl ain’t never seen cocaine before?”

“Of course I’ve seen it,” Scarlet lied, gripping the bag tight between her fingers. “I just don’t want the flat looking like a fucking crack den. I mean it’s not a potted plant, Ra’Jah, it’s a fucking class A drug. It’s not decorative.”

“Class A, ooh,” Ra’Jah mimicked mockingly, irritation washing over Scarlet. “Don’t shit yourself, bitch, it’s fine. I only put it down for, like, two seconds anyway. Just give it and I’ll put it somewhere safe.”

Scarlet went to pass it back to her, but something held her back. She looked at the powder again and a flash of thoughts flew through her head, of skinny, glamorous models and nightclub toilets and champagne. It was an illegal drug, and everything Scarlet had been brought up to believe told her it was fucking disgusting, and dangerous, and led to a spiral of addiction and debt. But still part of her was so insatiably curious, like she was addicted without even having tried it yet. She watched Ra’Jah’s expression change as Scarlet curled her fingers back. “Where’d you get it?”

“What is this, twenty fuckin’ questions?” her flatmate snapped back, rolling her eyes. “Just give me my narcotics, bitch.”

“Can I, um. I’ll buy it off you?” Scarlet stumbled out, causing Ra’Jah to look at her in disbelief.

“You want to buy cocaine?” she raised an eyebrow at her, speaking through a slight laugh. Scarlet’s hackles were up.

“Or give me the number of your dealer.”

Ra’Jah let out a small snort, shrugging her shoulders. “Ain’t any need to involve anyone else. Alright, that’s a gram. Give me sixty and it’s a deal.”

Scarlet felt her eyes widen involuntarily, Ra’Jah chuckling in response. “Girl, what did you think it was gonna be? Naomi Campbell snorts this shit for a reason, people use rolled up hundred dollar bills to snort this shit for a reason. It ain’t fuckin’ Cabbage Patch kids weed we talkin’ ‘bout here.”

Scarlet frowned and took out her phone, opening up her banking app. Just before she transferred the money, she looked at her flatmate suspiciously. Ra’Jah rolled her eyes.

“Look, I’m not taking you for a ride. I got it for fifty, a bitch wants to make a profit. Sixty is standard in some places. Others you’d be talkin’ seventy. Google it if you don’t believe me.”

“No, I believe you,” Scarlet simply said, hitting a button and just like that, sixty pounds flew out of her account. A nervous heartbeat felt entirely too fast and too loud in her body. Another hundred pounds gone.

“Thanks, bitch. This was great fun, maybe I’ll drop out and become a dealer,” Ra’Jah laughed, Scarlet saying nothing in reply as the door swung shut in her face. The bag seemed to make her right hand tingle, and a surge of nervous excitement shot through Scarlet like propane.

She got ready for the night ahead in a sort of daze, as the panic and the gravity of what she’d actually done began to sink in. She’d just bought a gram of cocaine for a night out. What the hell was she planning on doing with it? There was no way she’d be able to actually do any. Or was there? That was what Scarlet had always said about weed and now her and Yvie got high together all the time. Her pulse thrummed at her wrists when she thought about the other girl. Scarlet imagined bringing the small bag out in a toilet cubicle with her, watching her eyes grow wide, imagined her thinking holy shit, I never knew Scarlet was this type of girl at all. Imagined them both cutting it up with Scarlet’s bank card and snorting it, then hitting their high on the dancefloor, turning to her and letting Yvie lean in and kiss her in a haze of euphoria and lust.

Scarlet felt a throb of heat pulse between her legs, her doubts gone. This was a good decision.

Scarlet showed up to Vanessa’s flat only running a tiny bit late, ready with a bottle of vodka the size of her head and a couple of mixers in case any of the girls wanted to share. She got buzzed in quickly and was welcomed into the flat by Akeria who was looking a far cry from her usually-glamorous self, her hair piled on top of her head in a towel and a pair of pink flannel pyjamas on. Scarlet was shown through to their kitchen where she found Vanessa, Brooke and Yvie all sitting on the sofa or on chairs beside Silky who was also in her pyjamas and, just as she’d promised on the chat, was watching The Chase. The girls gave a small cry of delight as Scarlet walked in, Scarlet not missing the way Vanessa was sat on Brooke Lynn’s lap. Part of her prickled with jealousy, wishing that her and Yvie were in their place, but she didn’t mind too much. She was happy for Vanessa. Scarlet grabbed a glass, took a chair to sit in, and began pouring a drink as the girls continued to watch the TV.

“Low offer of minus four thousand pounds, high offer, please?”

“Fifty-one thousand pounds.”

“We’re watching The Chase,” Vanessa explained to Scarlet.

“I gathered.”

“If he takes the minus offer, I’m gonna reach through the TV and stab him,” Brooke said seriously, her face displeased.

“Nah, he’s gonna stick in the middle. I trust Nigel, 52, from Stockport,” Yvie drawled, taking a sip of her drink then smiling at Scarlet from her position on the chair beside her, reaching across and squeezing her hand. “Hey, girl, how are you?”

“I’m good, thanks,” she smiled shyly, giving Yvie’s hand a small squeeze back and admiring her crushed-velvet red dress. “You look good.”

Yvie momentarily looked as if she was about to say something cute in response when her eyes were suddenly ripped from Scarlet’s and back to the screen as the girls groaned loudly.

“He’s a fucking TRAITOR,” Silky yelled, launching a cushion at the TV. “Sheila brought back forty-five thousand for this asshole to take from it? NO MA’AM!”

“Well this is the most lit pres I’ve ever been to,” Scarlet deadpanned.

“I hate this motherfuckin’ game show. Silk, turn this shit off,” Vanessa rolled her eyes, her flatmate loudly complaining.

“It’s my fuckin’ flat too, hoe!”

“Yeah, some of us actually have to do work tomorrow,” Akeria piped up from her position at the oven, checking on whatever she’d put inside. “How come you’re out tonight anyway?”

Scarlet caught Vanessa’s eye and she just stopped herself from smiling. “Oh, you know. Sometimes you just fancy going out.”

“It’s called being spontaneous, Kiki. You should try it,” Brooke joined in as she brought both hands up around Vanessa’s waist, the other girl giving a happy sigh and Scarlet staring at them, jealousy burning under her skin. As the other girls bickered, Yvie turned to face her again.

“Hey. You alright?” she asked, concern etched on her face and making Scarlet’s heart swell up.

“No, yeah, I’m good!” she smiled, blinking and trying not to come out with the truth of I’m insanely jealous of how close and cuddly Brooke and Vanessa are being right now and I wish Silky would get up off the sofa so we can join them. Satisfied with her answer, Yvie smiled.

“That’s good. No sad allowed at pres,” she joked, then tapped her gently on the nose. “Also you’re not allowed to be upset, you’re, like, my favourite person. Don’t tell the others.”

Scarlet felt something akin to a tidal wave flood over her whole body. Boosted, she gave Yvie a small wink. “I won’t. I promise.”

Something behind Yvie’s eyes seemed taken-aback, but not in a negative way. Almost as if she hadn’t expected Scarlet to come back with something so flirty so quickly, and Scarlet had to hide her smile behind her hand when she saw Yvie’s cheeks turn slightly pink.

Two hours later, all of Scarlet’s vodka had been drank and the four girls had managed to navigate a drunk Uber ride and entry into one of the fanciest clubs in the city. Usually none of them would have been able to afford the entry fee, but Scarlet had paid the ten pounds for each of them without batting an eyelid. She probably should have cared, but Scarlet had hit that stage where the alcohol had her convinced that life was wonderful, she was invincible, and she would be young and rich forever. She laughed as she cast her eye around the small circle the girls had formed on the dancefloor. Vanessa was dancing, frankly, like a stripper, and Brooke seemed to be living for it, her hands on the other girl’s waist protectively. Yvie was bouncing and flailing about, completely intoxicated, and yelling along to whatever song was playing- Scarlet didn’t know it, but she didn’t really need to. Turning to Yvie, she grabbed her hands and laughed. Yvie looked at her curiously.

“You look like those things…those car lot things…they go like this in the wind,” Scarlet explained, suddenly demonstrating to Yvie and throwing her hands in the air. Yvie buckled over with laughter, her hands on her knees, and Scarlet was so pleased she’d made her laugh.

“Bitch you started doing the floss to Miami 2 Ibiza, shut the fuck up,” Yvie snorted, Scarlet howling beside her. Casting her eye again to Brooke and Vanjie, an idea planted itself in Scarlet’s head.

“Yvie, watch me dance like Vanessa,” she commanded, suddenly feeling emboldened enough to throw her arms around Yvie’s neck and push her body up against hers. She ran her hands through the other girl’s hair messily, Yvie’s eyes half-lidded as she laughed gently at her.

“Girl…messing up my hair,” she muttered, Scarlet smiling back brazenly.

“It was messed up when you did it,” she smiled cheekily, tapping Yvie on the nose like she’d done to her earlier. Without giving her a chance to respond, Scarlet dropped down onto the floor in a move she hoped would make her look irresistible. Instead, she toppled over and ended up flat on her back against the sticky floor, the crowd parting around her like the Red Sea. She looked up to see Yvie laughing hysterically, holding both her hands out to her. Scarlet took them gratefully and she was pulled up, beside Yvie again only this time with just a fraction of the confidence. Yvie must have seen her pouting as Scarlet felt her strong arms being wrapped around her in a hug.

“Aw baby, I like your dancing the way it is,” she slurred into her ear, a tingle shooting down Scarlet’s spine at the proximity of Yvie’s lips to her skin. Scarlet was about to do something, say something, when she suddenly felt herself being wrenched away from Yvie and dancing beside Vanessa, who was gripping her arm. Scarlet was confused until Vanessa leaned in close to her and yelled above the music.

“I got an idea,” she said, her voice thick with alcohol. “Gonna make them both jealous.”

Scarlet’s eyes widened, an electric shock running through her veins as Vanessa pulled her close, then tilted her head up and kissed her. There was little to no hesitation and Scarlet felt herself kissing back, feeling the eyes of the other girls on them both. Vanessa kissed as if she’d known Scarlet’s lips her whole life, hot and passionate, and it briefly ran through Scarlet’s mind that Vanessa probably had a certain Canadian blonde on her mind as she was doing it. She desperately wanted to open her eyes, to look over to Yvie to see if she even cared. Show over, Vanessa pulled away, beaming and laughing, and Scarlet felt herself laugh back. In her drunk state, the situation was funny- the pair of them getting with each other to try to make their two other friends jealous. It appeared to have worked, certainly in Scarlet’s case, as Yvie took her hand and pulled her back, an odd sort of smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She shouted over the music at Scarlet, something that she couldn’t quite hear.

“What?”

Yvie raised her voice a little more. “I didn’t know you liked Vanessa like that!”

Scarlet laughed. “I don’t!”

Yvie gave her a funny look, a multitude of questions no doubt running around her head. Scarlet felt her confidence peak and she leaned in close to Yvie’s ear, Yvie’s arms snaking round her waist instinctively. “You jealous, girl?”

She felt Yvie’s body shake in a laugh Scarlet could tell was affected. “No…bitch.”

Scarlet leant her head on her shoulder and spoke against her neck. “Hey, 'f you’re lucky it might be you next time.”

She pressed a tiny kiss against Yvie’s skin and pulled away laughing, Yvie looking momentarily shaken then joining in with Scarlet’s laughter. Scarlet ran her tongue over her teeth. Fucking yes. Suddenly, she remembered the tiny bag she had in her bra. She caught the attention of the other girls and shouted over the music again. “Guys. Come pee with me.”

She began to make her way through the crowd to the toilets, hearing Vanessa and Yvie laugh at Brooke singing a parody of Come Fly With Me but replacing the word “fly” with “pee”. They eventually all managed to cram into a cubicle together, Scarlet counting her blessings that there was no toilet attendant on duty who would almost definitely have bundled them all out. The girls looked shocked as Scarlet turned around from locking the door and produced the bag from her bra.

“Is anyone down?” she asked lightly, Brooke letting out a nervous laugh beside her. Vanessa flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“What the fuck is that,” Yvie asked, her face set in a hesitant, concerned smile. Scarlet shrugged.

“It’s exactly what it looks like.”

Vanessa spoke first with a blase shrug. “Yeah, bitch, let’s do it.”

Scarlet smiled happily, part of her quite surprised at how readily Vanessa agreed to the whole thing. Her eyes darted to Yvie, who was still looking at the bag cautiously. Obviously noticing her eyes on her, Yvie gave her a look that Scarlet couldn’t quite decipher, then screwed her face up. “So this is a thing we all do now?”

Vanessa narrowed her eyes at her. “Aw Jesus, Yvie, it’s one key in a club on a night out, we’re not all about to turn into fuckin’ junkies.”

Scarlet’s confidence had been given a knock. She hesitantly caught Yvie’s eye. “I mean, you don’t have to, I just thought-”

“No, girl, I’ll do some. ’M not a fucking pussy,” she frowned, taking a breath that seemed to be shaky and turning to Brooke, who was still looking with wide eyes at Scarlet. “Brooke, you doing this?”

It occurred to Scarlet that this was the first time she’d ever seen Brooke look anything other than completely sure of herself. She was laughing awkwardly, almost nervously. Scarlet watched as Vanessa put a gentle hand on her arm. “You don’t have to, baby.”

“No, well, y'know me. Try anything once,” she slurred, leaning into Vanessa’s touch. “Okay, fuck, let’s do this shit.”

Scarlet moved to empty the bag out onto the toilet cistern, but Vanessa put out a hand to stop her. “Woah, girl, the fuck you doin’? Just take a key, ain’t no need for all that fuckin’ credit card shit.”

Scarlet frowned at her, confused in her drunken state. “Keys?”

Vanessa seemed to shrink back into herself as she saw all three girls looking at her intently, wondering how she knew so much about the process. Wordlessly, she gestured for the baggie and produced her keys from her gold clutch bag. She calmly opened the small plastic bag and fished into it with a single key, balancing some of the powder on the length of it. With a short glance up at the girls, she pressed a finger to one nostril and gave a quick, harsh sniff with the other. As quickly as it had appeared, the cocaine was gone. Vanessa rubbed quickly at her nose, sniffing awkwardly.

“Alright, who’s next?” she questioned. Scarlet could feel Yvie’s eyes on her.

“Well since Scarlet brought it, she should go next,” she said, something off to her tone and her stare that Scarlet couldn’t quite pinpoint. Scarlet shrugged stiffly, Vanessa reaching back into the bag with the key and holding some out for her. The butterflies in her stomach almost overwhelming, Scarlet leaned forward and mimicked what Vanessa had done. The first thing that she felt was the all-encompassing smell of petrol, followed by a horrific stinging at the back of her nose and mouth, Scarlet briefly being reminded of jumping into swimming pools when she was little and water shooting up her nose. She gave a cough and a big, follow-up sniff, Vanessa chuckling lightly.

Well, that just happened.

Nervously thrilled, Scarlet felt the butterflies in her stomach dissipate as she watched Vanessa hold a key out to Yvie. Yvie frowned and shook her head.

“Nah. Changed my mind. I’m out,” she said darkly, shooting Scarlet a glare that made her feel like a reprimanded child.

“Come on, Yvie, it’s fine,” Scarlet offered, the other girl scrunching up her face.

“No. It’s not happening. You guys have fun.”

Scarlet felt dejected. She wished she knew what she’d done wrong. Trying to push her feelings aside, Scarlet watched as Vanessa turned the key to Brooke. Brooke was looking from the key to the lock of the toilet stall, nervous. Vanessa reached up and touched a lock of her hair.

“You don’t have to, Brooky.”

“No, I will, I will. I’m just nervous. And excited,” she stammered out, Scarlet thinking she couldn’t have judged the girls’ reaction to this entire situation less accurately if she’d tried.

“You can rub it on your gums if you don’t wanna snort it,” Vanessa explained, part of Scarlet wishing she’d told her that before her turn. Brooke tilted her head, considering, then wet her finger, reached into the bag and took some. Then she put her finger back in her mouth and maneuvered it around, her eyes on Vanessa.

“You tryna flirt, boo?” the other girl questioned, her eyes half-lidded as she locked eyes with her.

Brooke let out a laugh. “Bitch I’m trying to take fucking drugs!”

Vanessa, Brooke and Scarlet burst out laughing, Yvie shushing them.

“Right, let’s go, junkies,” she said irritably. Scarlet frowned, sad that she seemed to have upset Yvie in some way. An idea came to her as they left the cubicle and wandered past the judgemental line of waiting girls.

“I’m gonna get us a bottle of champagne,” Scarlet decided, sure for a second that she saw Yvie roll her eyes, but she wasn’t too sure.

“Vanjie, does it look obvious we’ve been doing drugs?” Scarlet heard Brooke yell over the music, Vanessa laughing gently.

“Everyone here is on drugs, baby. Just chill. It’ll kick in in a minute,” she winked, taking both of Brooke’s hands and jumping a little on the dancefloor.

Scarlet watched as Brooke’s eyes darted to a security camera on the ceiling. “Guys. They can see us. They know.”

“Brooke, relax, nobody gives a shit,” Yvie rolled her eyes. Brooke turned to Scarlet, panic filling her eyes.

“Scarlet, what was in that? Is it all okay, yeah? It’s not got anything through it?”

“Oh, good. Well done, bitch, are you seeing this?” Yvie glared at Scarlet before she had a chance to reply to Brooke. “Brooke! It’s fine! You’re okay!”

The music seemed as if it had been turned up louder. Scarlet scrunched her eyes closed. “Brooke, it’s fine, okay? I’m going to the bar, who wants something?”

“Ugh, of course you are,” she thought she heard Yvie mutter. Suddenly irritated, Scarlet whipped around to face her.

“And what is that meant to mean, huh?” she snapped, Yvie’s eyes widening a little at being challenged.

“You, bitch! What the fuck is up with you these days?”

“Nothing’s up with me? What is this?!” Scarlet cried, a couple of heads turning their way then slowly turning back. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as if she’d just drank fifty Red Bulls back to back, although she was unable to tell if this was the effect of the drugs or just how annoyed she was.

“Something’s off with you. Fucking…cocaine, champagne, this constant…buying everything for everyone like we’re all charity cases, behaving like you’re a fucking extra off Gossip Girl? This isn’t you, Scarlet!” Yvie yelled back, suddenly grasping her by the wrists and giving her a shake. “The normal Scarlet would have shit herself at the thought of doing a key, the normal Scarlet would want to go to Levels and pay a pound for entry instead of going here to dance around with a bunch of fucking Love Island rejects!”

Yvie’s words stung harshly at Scarlet’s heart. She knew the other girl could sometimes grow argumentative when she was drunk, but Scarlet had never had it directed at her. It wasn’t nice. Scarlet felt her tone switch a little as she spoke. “Yvie, you’re being kind of a dick.”

Yvie gave a laugh of disbelief. “Well breaking fucking news, Scarlet! So are you! I mean do you have any idea how shitty it is to see your best friend grow into a total asshole over the space of two weeks?”

“Guys,” Vanessa suddenly interrupted out of nowhere, and Scarlet had no idea how long they’d been fighting or at what volume. “Me and Brooke are gonna go. She’s not doing well.”

Yvie looked at Vanessa, panicked. She cast Scarlet one last withering look before dashing through the crowd, presumably to pick up their jackets. Scarlet felt a bubble of upset prick at her throat. She turned to Vanessa instead. “What’s happened?”

“She thinks she’s having a heart attack. I mean, she’s not, it’s just the drugs, but I’m still worried about her,” she frowned, biting her lip. Vanessa jerked a thumb back to where Yvie had slinked off. “The fuck was that all about?”

Scarlet shook her head silently, not trusting herself to speak unless she began to cry. She didn’t understand how she’d managed to fuck everything up so badly. Vanessa saw her upset and pulled her in for a quick hug.

“Baby. Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

The four of them got their coats and joined the taxi queue in a blur. Yvie wouldn’t even look her way, and Scarlet didn’t trust herself to try to speak to her in case she managed to make things even worse. She seemed more concerned about Brooke anyway, who was chattering away, her teeth clicking together in the cold night air.

“Is the taxi driver going to know? Will he just drive us to the police station and hand us in? Do you think he’ll phone the police? What if the police were to just come here right now and say they’re giving random drug tests to everyone in the line? What if-”

“Oh my God, what if you shut the fuck up?” Yvie snapped, Brooke looking taken-aback. Vanessa wrapped her arms around Brooke’s waist protectively.

“Brooky. It’s alright. The police aren’t coming, the taxi driver isn’t gonna turn us in. We’re going back to your flat and we’ll get you into bed safe. You’ve got us, nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

Brooke let out a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a sob. She buried her face in Vanessa’s hair. “I love you, V’nessa.”

Scarlet saw something shut down behind Vanessa’s eyes as she squeezed Brooke tightly. “I love you too, baby.”

Scarlet couldn’t stop herself from casting her eyes across to Yvie, selfishly longing. If she hadn’t fucked everything up, maybe something could have happened. Now, though, it looked as if she’d have to piece their friendship back together, never mind anything more.

The line moved up, and they found themselves at the front. Brooke and Vanessa spilled in, then Yvie. Scarlet went to join them when she found the door getting pulled across in her face. Yvie scowled at her. “No. You’re not getting in with us. I don’t even want to speak to you right now.”

Scarlet could hear Vanessa protesting. “Yvie, for fuck’s sake-”

“You’re not coming with us, bitch. Make your own damn way home,” she reiterated, slamming the door shut.

As the taxi sped away, Scarlet couldn’t fix the slack-jawed look of complete hurt she could feel on her face. As the reality of what had just happened sank in, she felt her face crumple like a paper bag as she began to cry, stood on her own at the taxi rank in the small hours of the morning, and all she could do was wait.

[crisisengine]

review: TEENS OF STYLE

Teens of Style was Will Toledo (aka Car Seat Headrest)’s 2015 major label debut. However, rather than being a paradigm shift into new, polished studio-recorded material (which would come on the next record, Teens of Denial), it was instead a laptop-recorded look back at the Will’s lo-fi Bandcamp days, compiling together older songs from different projects (mainly his first non-numbered album My Back is Killing Me Baby and the relentless but captivating breakup record Monomania). Now that Will has a firmly established musical reputation outside of the world of Bandcamp and people are enjoying all his work, both new and old, I thought it would be a good time to explore whether this record holds up in its own right. It is more than just a greatest hits compilation? (short answer: ABSOLUTELY YES!)

I like how the refrain from SUNBURNED SHIRTS closes and opens Car Seat Headrest’s first trilogy of major label albums. It’s cool to see how, on this song and on ‘Twin Fantasy (Those Boys)’, the same words and melodies are used in totally different contexts (though, here, we also get the eargasmic “People here bang on the walls late at night…” part). This one oozes dreamlike, summery vibes. I love the psychedelic sound collage at the start and, from there, it’s a pleasure to watch the song build up into the final rock-out ending. 

The opening riff of THE DRUM is perfectly produced. Whenever it appears, sometimes without warning, I get total chills. The guitar tone cuts through like an ice pick. The verses build on this in a muddier fashion but, by the time the vocals come to a head (“The Drum’s in debt!!) I am absolutely won over. Andrew Katz’s spritely drum fills add a fitting contrast to the breakdown and final verse really does give off a bizarre sense of triumph (“he’s got his flag unfurled or something”). I enjoy how, after the opener has gradually drawn us in, this song feels like a decisive overture, a setting of the scene for the album.

SOMETHING SOON is a brilliantly put-together pop song. The verses’ lyrical vignettes of cabin-fever turn into outright desperation in the chorus. It pinpoints these feelings really accurately. The skittering breaks in the verses release themselves into the crashing choruses and outro.  Each section is bookended by the same repeating electric piano chord. The explosion from this pared down moment into the final burst of energy just seems so right.

Like ‘The Drum,’ NO PASSION also rests on an exquisite moment of production. In the final chorus when Will sings “I” in his high register, it’s like a shot through the heart. The sarcastic image of failure in the verses compliments this so well – a succession of half-formed images that seem to suck away all feeling. The comparative earnestness of “I just needed more money, more time, more love” hits home. Our generation often try to rationalise things through sarcasm when really there is something more deeply lacking in our lives. The line “All my desires are so poorly drawn” also really resonates with me.

TIMES TO DIE adds to this album’s incredibly strong selection of opening moments of tracks. The wandering bassline interlocks with the chug of a delayed guitar followed by a single note. There’s something incredibly satisfying about it, especially when you are aware of the sound bath you are about to enter. The psychedelic vocal and guitar interplay in the verses is a highlight – in the first, they mirror each other but, in the second, the guitar skirts around the vocals, carving out new crevices. Their two melodies collide at the end of said verse, in a really affecting way (“but he just keeps singing this song”). The use of horns and cut-up vocals enlivens the sound palette. It feels like a series of ancient rooms with each section or lyrics (“and when they took him to the temple…”) leading somewhere new. A light seems to shine through as the melodies cascade upwards. The “most of the time” section provides nice segue into the “divine council” part which feels like an explosion, with the “is it harder to speak?” section as its fallout. The intermingling of imagery or religion and the music business (“got to believe in the one above me, got to believe that [Vince]Lombardi [head of Matador records] loves me”) is playful and dreamlike.

PSST TEENAGERS is a fun interlude that adds some more immediate energy into a generally fairly meditative album.

The opening verses of STRANGERS leave you inquisitive as to where the song is heading. All becomes clear when the tension of the exclamatory chorus is released in the lovely, picked instrumental break that follows (again enhanced by some inventive drum rhythms). The second section is the real stunner though, starting off cocoon-like and vulnerable but leading into a volatile crescendo. The line “I won’t last too much longer” and its raw delivery convey a sense of enigmatic fragility that I find very affecting.

The keyboard riff in MAUD GONE swamps the mix in the best way possible. I love its distorted, wet tones. The sax solo at the song’s crescendo provides the perfect counterpoint to it, too. Its muscular, sinewy texture cuts through emphatically in the context of the album’s drenched sound palette. As the notes reach up, the instrument seems to become an incredible, cathartic pressure valve, leeching out a lot of confused unspoken feelings as the notes reach up. The metaphor of “a full moon every night” is enticingly simple but also utterly apt for the feelings it describes.

LOS BARRACHOS has an infectious opening synth lick. As it bubbles under the verses, I’m just waiting for it to return with its full force. The wry but combative tone of the song’s opening (“let’s […] crush the grapes beneath our feet/ like some heartbroken Bacchus”) reflects Will’s desperate attempt to rekindle this relationship, to change his situation, to turn sadness into hedonism. These illusions can’t last, however. The riff does not return. Instead the song melts into a kind of broken, abject despair. “I miss you.” The disintegration of the song’s subtitle to just “Don’t have any hope left” is heart-breaking. It’s the most visceral portrait of a breakdown I’ve ever heard.

BAD ROLE MODELS, OLD IDOLS EXHUMED is my favourite song title ever. The track (the only new song written for Teens of Style) feels like a self-aware reflection on the nature of this album. The images of a figure from the past who once meant a lot but is now insignificant in the life of the narrator seem to tally somewhat with the way in which the album is made up of songs taken from previous projects. Past relationships, and the hurt they have caused, are dismissed and rationalised into triviality and insignificance. The horns and the final refrain make for a strangely celebratory ending, like a forced annulment of regrets (“You probably looked like an idiot in that hat!”) in the face of a resolve to move forward. This forced, performative break with the past, however, seems only to emphasise how the wounds are still very much open, just as the songs here, despite their pre-dating of the album itself, lose none of their emotional potency.

The chorus of OH, STARVING! is deliberately contradictory but also feels very comprehensible. The boredom of a life that seems superficially better as, opposed to a past delineated by clear highs and lows, is a recognisable feeling. Sometimes things being superficially ‘ok’ just makes you painfully aware of how far away you are from the things you really want in life, while impending pressures can obscure this, making any brief moments of solace much sweeter. In the context of the album, this also seems to imply a sense of nostalgia with regard to the events and feelings laid out in these songs. Even though this album deals with confusion, depression and heartbreak, in hindsight, the potency and simplicity of these feelings (given the separation of time between the writing and re-recording of these tracks) could almost seem preferable to the confused present. Yet, by the end of the song, Will seems to finally be able to let go. Saying “goodbye” to all his “secret files” seems almost ritualistic, like he is purging himself of the confusions of the past and moving on. I like this version of the song best because of the moment, at the very end, when the delicate piano chords and doo-wop harmonies are replaced by raw, shredding guitars and a single voice singing “goodbye” so distortedly the word is almost incomprehensible. The raw power of this moment seems to work up a head of steam, like an exorcism of the kinks and bruises of the past, in favour of something.

There isn’t Car Seat Headrest album I’ve heard that I don’t love. However, I think Teens of Style undoubtedly ranks among the best of them. It might just be one of my favourite albums of all time. It does lack the conceptual charge that powers Twin Fantasy, Monomania, Teens of Denial and even, to some extent, How to Leave Town. However, despite their lack of a heavy overarching theme, these songs flow together really well. The album feels cohesive thanks to its spring-reverbed production aesthetic (which reminds me of being indoors on a hot summer day) and the smaller themes that recur throughout (resentment of the past, confusion in the present, getting signed to a major indie label). The tweaks to the lyrics of many of these songs make the creative intent yet more apparent.

I also think this album definitely does not negate the albums from which these songs are taken. I love Monomania and My Back is Killing Me Baby and, if you haven’t listened to them you should definitely do so right now! There are bunch of essential songs on both albums that are not on this one (‘father, flesh in rags,’ ‘Souls,’ ‘happy news for sadness,’ ‘Sleeping with Strangers,’ I could go on…). However, for me, the songs on this album benefit from being recontextualised and, in certain cases, from being rerecorded. It’s great to be able to experience the stronger standalone songs from these previous records in the context of album that lets them breathe a little more, outside of context. 

The most obvious example is ‘Los Barrachos’ which I think works amazingly well as the climactic track for this album. On Monomania, placed somewhere in the middle, it felt more like a just another rung in the downward spiral of heartbreak. On Teens of Style, it has room to breathe and can finally reach its full potential. Similarly, ‘Maud Gone’ benefits hugely from its re-recording. The crisp yet bedraggled sound palette of the new version feels much more fitting than the original and, in the context of a more emotionally diverse album, the catharsis it brings is more powerful (especially coming after ‘Strangers’).

Teens of Style might be made up moments from the past, but it more than proves its worth as a cohesive album that is great in its own right.