#ANGRY CECE NOISES

[prinzessonne]

god i wish i could like cass. i really, really want(ed) to like cass.

to say nothing about cass continuously advocating (in the early episodes) for rapunzel keeping secrets from eugene which is my first major issue with her, challenge of the brave was where i knew i just. was not going to like whatever they did with her.

"a friend wouldn't be so oblivious" like fuck you. not only does she not have proper socialization, you should have been honest about how important this challenge was to you. how is rapunzel supposed to pick up on your "hints" when your hints are (checks notes) lying to her to try and stop her from entering and being snippier with her than usual instead of just fucking telling her how important it is to you and that this is something you want to do on your own to prove yourself

cass being The Way She Is™ is fine, i actually love the sassy sword lesbian vibe she has going. what i don't love is putting all the onus on rapunzel. you're her lady-in-waiting, you've been with her since she got back to the kingdom. you know she's sheltered and struggles with what is and isn't "proper" and figuring out all the unspoken rules of socializing. you've been with her the entire time she's been back, and that's at least seven months. at least. you should know better.

cass repeatedly criticizes both rapunzel and eugene for only thinking of themselves, expecting them to just know and inherently understand her without giving either of them the same respect and it drives me insane

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Family- Regulus Black x OC

Regulus Black x Cecelia Potter

Description: Cecelia invites Regulus to her house for dinner, where he discovers the true meaning of family. 

Word Count: 1.8k

Orion and Walburga Black were out of the house for the week for work. Something about a seminar about the Ministry ties to magical concealment. Regulus wasn’t actually listening when his mother told him, he was too busy thinking about how he wouldn’t be hindered by his parents in seeing Cecelia. Nevertheless, he nodded and, along with Antonius and Adina, wished his father good luck before they left for wherever they were going. 

Once they were gone he immediately sent a letter to the Potter residence telling Cecelia what was going on and wanting to see her. It took Cecelia no time at all to respond. She informed him that her parents were having a big family dinner the following evening to celebrate another successful potion invention that her father had made, then invited him to dinner under her mother’s instructions. 

Regulus was hesitant. Now, it wasn’t that he was nervous to see Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. As a matter of fact, he almost loved them as if they were his second parents because they treated him how parents should treat their children. But, this is the first time he’ll be so close to Sirius again after he’d run away from home to live with the Potters. Sure, he’d seen him around Hogwarts during the school year, but they never really acknowledged each other. 

To put it simply, he was afraid of what Sirius would say when they saw each other up close again. Regulus had been so angry at him for leaving, angry enough that he refused to even look at Sirius for a while when they returned to school. That’s right, he was the reason that he and his older brother weren’t on speaking terms. What would it be like to sit next to him during dinner? At another family’s house no less. 

He didn’t answer Cecelia back right away like she expected him to, he had quite a bit to think about. Was he ready to face Sirius again? It felt like it was too soon, yet Regulus couldn’t help but think about the fact that he missed his older brother. And Sirius made it known several times that he missed Regulus, yet the younger Black brother was still hesitant. 

It wasn’t until after his younger siblings convinced him to go the next day that he finally wrote back with his answer. It’s obvious that his presence is wanted at the Potter residence that evening, Cecelia had made sure to let him know that she was inviting him under her parent’s instructions. That had to count for something, right? And if he didn’t think he was ready to talk to Sirius yet then he simply didn’t have to. He’d just stay beside his girlfriend. 

That evening at precisely 6:00 Regulus grabbed a small handful of Floo Powder and stepped into the fireplace. He wished the twins, who unfortunately couldn’t make it that evening as they both had plans with their friends, a quick goodbye before throwing the powder down and calling out his destination: the Potter residence. 

He arrived just moments later and stepped out of the large fireplace. As he dusted off any soot that may have ended up on his shirt, he took a moment to look at his surroundings. He recognized that he was in the family room near the front door. There was no one in it, but he could faintly hear chattering as well as a record playing in the background a few rooms over (perhaps from the living room). Maybe they just hadn’t heard his entrance because of the noise? 

“Regulus!” 

Apparently his arrival hadn’t been as quiet as he originally assumed because not even a minute later Cecelia was bounding into the room. She had an excited look on her face as she practically threw her arms around him, pulling him closer. A small laugh left the boy's lips as he returned the hug and instantly all his nerves seemed to fade away. 

“Hello Cece,” he greeted softly. 

“I didn’t think you were gonna make it,” the girl admitted as she pulled away to look at him, her smile never faltering. Regulus had to feign a laugh in order to hide his surprise at her statement. 

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” a similar voice responded, making the couple look away from each other. Madeline stood in the doorway of the family room with a small smirk on her face. 

“You took so long to reply, she was worried that  you were going to cancel at the last minute,” the older twin added. Cecelia rolled her eyes, attempting to hide the blush that coated her cheeks. 

“Shut up Maddy,” she retorted lamely before looking at Regulus with a small smile. “Dinner’s almost ready; are you hungry?” Her tone was much kinder towards him, which made the three of them laugh as he nodded. 

“Yeah, I could eat.” Not even a minute later, Euphemia’s voice rang through the house. 

“Dinner’s ready!” Cecelia glanced at Madeline, and they seemed to be having a mental conversation with each other. After a moment the older twin nodded then walked out and Cecelia faced her boyfriend. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” She asked softly. “It’s not too late to back out, my parents will understand.” And Regulus knew that she was telling the truth. Fleamont and Euphemia were understanding people. Nevertheless, he offered her a weak smile. 

“Yeah, I’m ready.” The girl nodded slowly, reminding him that he didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to, then led him towards the dining room.  

Everyone was either in the process of sitting down or were already sitting down. Of course, being the heads of household, Fleamont sat at the head of the table while Euphemia sat at the foot. On Fleamont’s right sat James. Beside James was Sirius, and Henry was on the other side of him with Euphemia on his right. Meanwhile, Madeline sat on the other side of Fleamont. Cecelia was in the middle of her and Regulus, who was on Euphemia’s right. Regulus knew that his girlfriend had sat in the middle of him and Madeline so he wouldn’t have to sit across from Sirius, which he was thankful for. 

Dinner was positively delightful. Funny conversations were had, food was eaten (and highly complimented) and Regulus found himself having a good time. Soon enough the meal had ended and while Sirius and Madeline were on cleanup duty, everyone else congregated to the living room. Cecelia and Regulus sat in one of the loveseats comfortably while the rest of her family sat in various places around the room. 

Rather than calm down like he expected, the exciting conversations just continued. As a matter of fact he dared to say that it was louder now. Cecelia, although she was in the middle of a debate with James, made sure to keep a hold on her boyfriend’s hand, which he appreciated immensely. The debate seemed to be getting heated, which caught several people’s attention, namely Sirius and Madeline as they walked into the living room after finishing their task. 

“What’re we talking about?” The older twin asked curiously. 

“Have you ever heard that age-old question about whether the chicken or the egg came first? That,” James responded. “I think that the chicken came first, but Cece’s saying that it was the egg.” 

“Because it is the egg,” Cecelia added pointedly. 

“And what’s your argument?” Henry questioned from the recliner. 

“Evolution,” the girl said simply. “There’s been many generations of animals that eventually will cause the animal right before a chicken to lay an egg, which contains the animal that's ultimately known as a chicken.”

“That’s just rubbish,” Sirius waved a hand dismissively. 

“Oh, yeah, I forgot that you have a hard time understanding such big words,” the younger twin teased. “My mistake.” Sirius’ mouth dropped open, but he smiled in the process, which let everyone know that he didn’t take serious offense to it.

“Right. That’s it.” He began stalking over to her. 

“Now you’ve done it,” James teased just before his friend reached the girl. He attempted to grab at her but she thought quickly and tripped him up at the last minute. The boy fell to the ground, but Cecelia’s amusement was short-lived as he suddenly pulled her to the ground with him. And with that, a wrestling match was started. When James and Madeline attempted to break them up, they were only pulled into it. Henry tried next, only to be tackled by Cecelia, who was pulled off of him by Sirius. While Fleamont was content to laugh at his children’s play fighting, Euphemia stood up and walked over to them, beginning to try and pull them away from each other before they hurt themselves. 

Finally Euphemia, with her husband’s help, was able to calm the children down. The group went back to their respective seats and sat back down. Cecelia plopped down beside Regulus with a deep exhale, still trying to catch her breath. She offered her boyfriend an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry about that,” she muttered. “Didn’t mean to leave you alone.” The boy returned her smile and took her hand once again. 

“Don’t be. It’s your family,” he answered simply. 

“It’s yours too.” The answer didn’t seem that big to Cecelia, but Regulus was absolutely shocked by it, especially having not expected it. He stared at her for a moment though she didn’t notice as Henry began talking about something he wasn’t paying attention to. 

Regulus couldn’t help but smile as he watched his girlfriend’s family. He didn’t ever remember feeling so carefree and relaxed at his house. Maybe it was because something like this would have never flown at his house with his own family. 

That’s where the glaring difference lies between the Black family and the Potters. Back at his house, he would’ve been punished for just speaking when he wasn’t spoken to. He and the rest of his siblings would’ve been in trouble if even a hair was out of place. Their image in the public was nothing short of everything to Orion and Walburga, they didn’t care about their children’s happiness. 

And here? The Potters and Sirius wore whatever they wanted. Henry was literally in his pajamas for Merlin’s sake. They didn’t care about how they were perceived. In fact all they cared about was how their children were raised. All they wanted was for their children to grow up with kindness and compassion. Fleamont and Euphemia hushed their own children when he was talking so he wasn’t interrupted. 

It felt nice, Regulus realized, to not have to worry about getting in trouble for merely speaking his mind. He definitely wouldn’t have minded if they were his family. And he would be forever grateful to Cecelia for introducing them to him.

[notaninterest]

Carnal *1* (A Hisoka x Reader)

[A/N]: Hello! My username says notaninterest, but feel free to call me Cece.

I'm going to be making this into a story! So I do hope you stick around for the other parts to come. This is also posted on my Wattpad if you're interested. I don't know how many chapters this is going to be but it shouldn't be too long. We'll see :)

I update weekly to biweekly depending on how my life pans out. I will let you know when you should expect the next chapter.

I think I made some mistakes with my writing about Nen so I hope that's okay. I'm not going to be completely accurate in my writing. I hope you understand.

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this first chapter!

warnings: heavy sexual themes, smut, Hisoka being fucking hawt

The smell is the same as any other strip club. These grimy places usually never interested him, but tonight is different. It is not the same as the others. He urges for something, something not related to his bloodlust. Yes...He requires a woman. And places like these were full of them. He smiles to himself whilst taking a sip of his alcohol. Nevermind the crowd of inebriated men and some women. His yellow eyes are trained on the dancers, three different ones each accompanying their own respective poles. One of them is a brunette with an aline bob, her hands above her head wrapped around the pole and her legs crossed over the pole with her back facing towards it. She held a look of lust while she arched her back, exposing her full bare breasts further to the crowd as she spun down the pole slowly. While she played the part, her aura certainly didn't feel the part. Hisoka could sense the underlying hatred and disgust this girl has for her job and while she is good at it, she clearly doesn't enjoy it. 'Too boring. Easily manipulated. Not enough fun.' He decides, switching his gaze over to the second girl. This one has long, blue hair reaching to her waist. She confidently swirls upside on the pole, grinding against it upside down. As she reaches down lower, she does the splits midair, manipulating her lower body to face the crowd of horny alcoholics, giving them a peek as to what's beneath the lingerie. A man in the mass of bodies spits out his beer in surprise, quickly throwing money at the dancer. Hisoka rolls his eyes. It's clear as day that she's just a run of the mill slut, perfect for this specific area of expertise. She's clearly in it for it all. Sex, money, and exhibitionism. She doesn't care who watches her or who touches her. She enjoys it all the same. While sensitivity to touch was always a plus, he prefers at least some resistance to his advances. He likes 'em feisty.

The third dancer however...bingo. Her [h/c] hair is what first draws him to her significantly more than the others. The second? Well, he can't sense her aura. In fact, now that he thinks about it, he can't feel it at all. She must be using Zetsu to conceal herself from any Nen users. Little does she know that any other other highly experienced Nen users like himself can easily spot through her deception from just looking at her. Another smile upturns his lips. She will certainly entertain him for the night. He continues to watch her, noting the way her [e/c] eyes sparkle with excitement, nervousness, and some other emotions he can't place. This placates his curiosity more. "Oi, bartender." He calls one of the employees, who walks over while cleaning a glass. "What's the name of that third dancer, the one right over there?" Hisoka asks, pointing over to the mysterious woman. "Well that'd be [Y/N], the most graceful of them all." The bartender gushes, clearly having it out for the lady. "Hmm...'most graceful' you say..." He'd be the test of that one. He continues to stalk you out from the bar, sipping on his alcohol slowly. He needn't be drunk for this experience. No...He's going to enjoy this one to satisfy his more carnal cravings for a longer time. He watches you closely. You were wearing very little, definitely giving the appearance of confidence in your body. That scores high in the point system in Hisoka's head. You were currently positioned so the front of your body faced the pole, your backside facing the crowd. You bent over at the waist, grabbing the pole in front of you and bending to a 90-degree angle. Your toned ass is on clear view to the people in front of you and you slowly rotate your hips, imitating a sexual act in midair. Or, at least trying to. ‘Mmm...she's perfect.’ Hisoka dreams of the acts he'll perform on you, becoming more excited by the second. He continues to watch you, head in his left hand, his drink in the other. As soon as you finish undulating your hips, you slide up against the pole, grinding your pussy against the cold metal. A gasp leaves your lips, one that should be inaudible considering the noise and the atmosphere, but it's a noise Hisoka can hear as clear as day. It's clear that from the pitch in this noise and the way you move your body that you're not experienced in this area, which leaves him to wonder why you chose it. Maybe for the money? No...he doubted that. You didn't lurch your body around the pole as deliberately as the first dancer. There was a secret to your work that he doesn't know of. It becomes painfully more clear that you aren't experienced in any pole work at all, judging by how clumsily you slither up the pole. Your eyes struggle to convey the desire to practically fuck the pole and instead are glazed over in what seems to be a sort of nervousness. To any other everyday individual, you'd look like a professional, maybe graceful as others say. Yet, to Hisoka, he can see right through your dancing façade. Why are you doing this...he must sate his ever-growing curiosity.

As the number finishes and the dancers walk offstage, Hisoka approaches the man responsible for handing out lap dances and the like, going to put his request in nice and early. "Eh?! You request a room for the rest of the night?! S-Sir I'm afraid-" Hisoka holds up a heavy, full bag. "This here is enough jenny to last you a lifetime and even your grandkids if you spend it wisely." He smiles as he hands the packed bag over, watching as the man's eyes light up in greed. He needs this money. And Hisoka can tell. "I'm sure we can make something work. This man here will guide you to your room." The greedy man shoos over a hefty bulk of a guy, who promptly tells Hisoka to follow him. Hisoka smirks, dropping the bag of money on the slimy man's desk. "Very well. Thank you." He thanks, following the brawny dude to his assigned room.

The large man guides the magician to the room furthest down the long hallway. As Hisoka opens it, he notices it to be some sort of suite. He chuckles to himself. The other rooms were smaller. Money sure did get you good things. The strong guard before him tells him that the dancer he requested will be with him shortly before leaving, giving Hisoka some time to himself before you arrived. He investigates the big room for the time being, meticulously looking over things. There was the obvious king-sized bed, massive enough for two bodies. There's a nightstand full of condoms and lube. It has a lamp with a red shade on top of it, which Hisoka turns on. The room fills with an additional red light, making him smile. Yes...mood lighting. He's looking through the dresser across the bed when the door swings open, an angry-looking woman greeting him. He smiles at her, arms crossed behind his back. "Hello, [Y/N]-" "I don't allow any clients to touch me, much less have me for 12 hours straight!" You interrupt as you fume, glaring at the magician before you. "Must be your lucky night then." Hisoka chuckles, running his entrancing eyes over your body. Your minimal clothing was enticing to say the least, easily getting him worked up. But the air of mystery swarming around you fuels his horniness more. He needs to find out what exactly you are up to. The door suddenly closes firmly behind you, clicking locked behind the woman. You panic, trying to open the locked door handle. As predicted, it doesn't budge. "I think what you mean by not allowing anyone to touch you, you also mean you haven't even touched yourself?" Hisoka asks, beginning to walk over to you with his hands still behind his back. Your aura suddenly springs to life, surrounding your body in an instant. Hisoka smirks, continuing his approach. "St-Stand back, clown! I will not hesitate to send you flying!" You stamper, projecting your Nen in an offensive manner. "Hm..." Hisoka ponders, stopping inches away from you.

You're strong, but not nearly as strong as he is. He wonders how long you've been practicing. Must've been a few years now. You place yourself in a defensive stance, one arm angled up at a 90-degree angle and the other positioned a little below that one in the same stance, legs spread apart with one a little behind the other. Ah, yes. Every stereotypical position most fighters took when looking to fight. It looks silly with what you're wearing. And the look on your face was so hilariously serious. That's why Hisoka couldn't stop himself from laughing. He seriously tried to contain it, but the silliness of your posture combined with your facial expression absolutely cracked him up. This reaction serves to royally piss off the woman in front of him. "What?! What's so funny?!" You snap at him, clenching your hands into fists. He laughs himself to literal tears, holding his stomach with one clawed hand. "It's just...Your Nen compares next to nothing against mine, but your effort is quite adorable." The Transmuter purrs, wiping his cheek and taking a step closer to you. You look worried, taking a step away from the man. He responds by simply taking a step closer. "Wh-What do you want from me, f-freak?" You stutter nervously, finding yourself being backed into a corner. "Why, you of course." The magician licks his lips to emphasize his statement. A blush crosses your [s/c] cheeks, your eyes gleaming with fear. The look is so utterly delicious to him.

He chuckles, continuing to walk towards you. You back up until your back is literally against the wall, leaving you nowhere to go expect towards the creepy man. You breathe shakily, making your fear of him clear. "Well, let's get started...[Y/N]." Hisoka smiles, placing his hand next to your head and leaning down to touch noses with you. It's clear his height intimidates you. You swallow and swing, missing your Nen-powered punch by a longshot. He dodges, letting the attack wisp by his right star-drawn cheek. Hisoka giggles at your attempt, grabbing your outstretched hand with his free one and pinning it against the wall you were up against. You look totally helpless, fuelling his desire more. "Oh-ho-ho, trying to hit me are you now? Your attempt turns me on." He teases, fully smiling at your clear look of panic. His eyes narrow as your Nen powers up, sensing that you're up to something. He uses Gyo, centering his Ren in his eyes and watching your aura, watching as it enhances to your hidden fist behind you and to your left leg. So you're an Enhancer, hm? You were going to try to bait him with a fake punch before actually hitting him with your left leg? Okay. He feigns as if he doesn't suspect anything, allowing you to throw your fist at him before pulling back, jumping up and predictably swinging your leg at the left side of his teardrop-stained cheek. He allows the attack to land on him, his head snapping to the side with a frightening speed. Your eyes light up victoriously, but they soon dim to horror as he turns his scuffed up face back to look down at you with a smug smirk. "Any normal person would have flown away with that attack, so I must say I'm impressed. Yet, I'm not a normal man if you can't already tell. Your attacks will provide you with no protection if I haven't already predicted this. It's cute that you think you have an evenly-scored battleground with me." Hisoka chuckles, pinning you against the wall with both of your hands restrained by his at this point.

Your expressive eyes give away your anxiety of the situation, but your face remains hard with determination. The look reminds him of a certain 12-year old boy. This stirs his lust for you up further. He licks at his pale lips seductively, yellow eyes glowing into your own [e/c] ones. Your cold glare sends a spike of pleasure right to his hardened dick. He smiles wider if possible. It's becoming increasingly clear that you have no chance against him and he finds this power over you intoxicating, delicious even. "I have a question for you, [Y/N]. Sate my curiosity if you will." The clown husks, putting his mouth right next to your right ear. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of your face and you gulp nervously. "Shoot." Your icy voice fills his ears, and he gives a simple, "Hmm." at your compliance. You were going to be so much fun to break. He really chose the right contender to satisfy his needs. He snickers into your ear, his hot breath hitting the shell of it. It causes you to barely shiver. It was almost imperceptible, but not to perceptive Hisoka. He grins with this discovery, deciding not to voice it. You would soon find your body betraying you. "Pray tell what you're doing in a place like this? We both know you're not qualified for sex work, so what really brings you here, [Y/N]?" Hisoka's flirtatious voice whispers against your flesh. You noticeably tense up at the question, your hands forming into fists. Your wrists flex in his grasp. He seems to have hit a sore spot. You don't respond immediately. This moves Hisoka to press his body up against yours. Your almost completely exposed chest rubs up against his completely covered one and you gasp at his movements, clearly not expecting them. "Mmm your body feels delightful up against me dear~ Now answer the question." He lustfully whispers in your ear. You seem frozen in place, eyes wide with surprise. He decides he quite likes that expression, ingraining it into his memory. You quickly catch yourself, squirming against his body. "Let m-me go!" You stutter. Your futile attempts only rub him in all the right ways and he moans deeply, the noise hitting your right ear loudly. You gasp, your cheeks reddening with...desire? You freeze up again. He chuckles. "You feel amazing rubbing up against me like that~ Now...are you going to answer or am I going to force it out of you?~" He mumbles sensually, rubbing his lips against the flesh of your ear. You lick your lips to moisten them, your breathing correcting itself quickly.

"I'm here to collect a bounty." You simply state, watching his pale face out of the corner of your right eye. He laughs. "Liar." He growls into your ear, his hands tightening on your wrists before he throws you behind him. He listens as your delectable body bounces on the massive mattress before he turns around, predatory eyes focusing on your scared ones as you sit up on the bed. "That's the truth-" "Incorrect. I'm simply calling you out on your bullshit." Hisoka grins, beginning to approach the bed with obvious sexual intentions. You back away to the headboard of the bed, your back pressing against the splintering wood. He crawls onto the king-sized cot, stopping as soon as he looms on top of you. The look in his eyes is hungry as he looks down your body once again. He loves the position you're in. Utterly helpless. He places his hands beneath your arms, leaning down so that he's touching noses with you again. "Answer the question. Truthfully this time." He adds, smiling deviously in your flustered face. Your mouth remains shut. That's fine. It's well past time for him to immerse himself in your beautiful body. He reaches underneath you, carefully manipulating his clawed hand to the string of your toppiece. He unties it, the flimsy material of the lingerie falling away from your breasts almost instantly. You puff out a noise of embarrassment, your hands quickly coming to aid in hiding your tits from him. The magician quickly evades this method however, encircling both your wrists in his hands again and pinning them next to your head. He takes a long look at your perfect bust, practically drooling at the sight of them. He truly scored with this catch. He smiles, making eye contact with you again. He does not hide his lust from you this time. "Fine.~ I suppose I'll have to try a different method to coax an answer out of you." He punctuates this by licking his lips, moving his face over your bosom. Your eyes watch, curious as to what he'll do. You look nervous and Hisoka couldn't hold back his smirk. The nervousness only virgins hold. This'll be one hell of a lay. He almost couldn't contain his excitement.

He sticks out his tongue, running it over your left nipple before popping it into his mouth. He gives an experimental suck and watches as your body jolts beneath him. A noise akin to pleasure leaves your throat and you look embarrassed at this, closing your eyes. His smile widens and he continues to suck on your nipple, running his tongue over it at the same time. He releases your right hand when he's sure you won't move, using his free hand to massage your other boob. He kneads the flesh in his palm, squeezing the whole thing harshly. Your back arches off the bed and a groan leaves your lips, your hands squeezing as you squirm beneath him. Beautiful. The way you respond to him. You must be sensitive. He watches your face with his observate eyes, watching as your face relaxes into a sort of pleasured expression. Perfect. He pops your breast out of his mouth, replacing it with his other hand. He continues his ministrations for a few quiet moments, listening as you release more pleased noises. This heats up his body more and as a result, his own face flushes up with his desire. "So [Y/N].~ You ready to spill the beans?" Hisoka asks, squeezing both of your tits rather roughly. You pant, opening your defiant eyes to glare at him. "Never." You huff, shivering beneath him. He chuckles. "Shame.~" He continues to fondle you, this time kissing and dragging his tongue against your stomach. Your muscles tense and untense and a full fledged moan dares to leave your mouth. Sensitive you are indeed. This causes Hisoka himself to shiver, your moan music to his ears. He drags his tongue up your stomach, in between the valley of your boobs and up to your neck, where he centers his attack. He laves his tongue in the area, kissing it too. Your moans double in volume and he smiles to himself. "Dare to share, [Y/N]~?" He huskily whispers, licking up to your earlobe and nibbling it. “Ahn- N-No." You pant, trying to remain as stoic as before. You were for sure a challenge...and Hisoka loves challenges. Chuckling, he bites at the skin of your neck, enjoying your flinch in response. "Fine. Be that way." He responds, returning his attention to your tits. He massages the flesh in his clawed hands, tweaking the nipples at the same time. He pulls them, making your back arch to follow them. He leans down to your face, running his nose against your cheek before kissing it. He moves his face towards your left ear, breathing hotly against it. You freeze up before shivering in response. "Perhaps I'll have to take more...drastic measures." He whispers into your ear, his right hand releasing its grip on your left boob and hovering over the side of your hip where a tie holds up the bottom piece of your sexy outfit.

He pulls at the measly string, untying it from your hip. It loosens the fabric, yet the triangular material protecting your modesty continues to cover it. This is fine. He unties the other string, the fabric effectively falling slack against your skin. Hisoka releases all touches, focusing on your lower body now. You move to cover your most sensitive bits, but Hisoka simply smacks your hands away with force, moving back to take the covering away from you. As you yelp and rub your hands, he uses his to grab the thong, taking it away from your body. He stares at your pussy in all its glory, licking his lips. "Say...~ all this interrogating has got me famished. You don't mind if I have a little snack, right?~" His seductive voice proclaims, spreading open your thighs and settling himself in between them. Your nervous eyes alight his own dilated ones and he continues his prowl. He inhales your scent deeply, moaning. Yes, you smell absolutely scrumptious! "I will not be asking you questions from here on out. I will be demanding them. So, [Y/N]. Tell me why you're actually here." He almost snarls, his claws digging into the skin of your hips, drawing a small amount of blood. You wince, but remain strong. "No." You respond icily, acting as if you weren't intimidated. It's almost cute, but he can smell your fear. You reek of it. He chuckles. "Alright.~" He immediately dives into your pussy, licking a stripe up to your clit. You gasp, an ungodly pornographic moan leaving your throat. Hisoka groans in response to your taste, licking up what is all of you. His practiced tongue flicks against your clit and your body twists around, full-fledged, unembarrassed moans leaving your mouth as his sucks on your sensitive sex. His thumbs spread your lower lips open and he flattens his tongue, giving another harsh lick all the way up. He sucks on your hole and you keen, arching your back all the way up. "W-wait -AH- I think I'm going to cum!" You yell out those magic words, your hands grabbing at his hair. That was fast. This fuels his goal further and he eats at you with much more fervor. He slurps your pussy, eating up all you have to offer. Your moans grow more high-pitched and before the both of you know it, you're cumming into Hisoka's mouth. He sucks up all the cum you have to offer, unabashedly enjoying all of it. By the end of it, you're a panting and sweating mess, while Hisoka remains fresh. "Wonderful.~" He murmurs dirtily against you, lapping at your pussy again. You flinch, panting up a storm. You release your grip on his hair, moving your hands to wipe sweat off of your forehead. "W-Wait. I'm too sensit- OH!" You exclaim as he sucks on your clit, watching your face closely this time. Your cheeks are the reddest he's ever seen anyone's become and your eyes are dilated with desire, something he secretly hurrahs in his head. You look amazing. He watches your mouth open in a frenzied moan and shivers, continuing his attack on your pussy. As he continues, he watches you unravel before him yet again. The sight is damning to say the least. You were a gorgeous sight to gaze at and he almost couldn't let you cum a second time, getting caught up in his own desire. He begins to rub himself against the bed to ease himself, moaning into your clit. The vibrations make your toes curl and you throw your head back in a scream. He watches your face as you come undone beneath him yet again, marvelling at your orgasmic expression. That's a face he's certainly going to remember forever.

You're different from his other whores, seeing how you aren't an experienced one. Also seeing as he didn't perform these acts on his other playthings. You're...special. To him for now at least. Surely you wouldn't mean anything once he's finished with you, right? He creeps up your body once your grip on his pink hair loosens, throwing off his shirt and undergarments, exposing his ripped physique to you. Your eyes hungrily trail down the eight-pack, coming into contact with the tent in his loose pants. "I will try this one last time. Final chance. Tell me what your purpose is being here, now." His authoritative tone falls on horny ears. You shake your head, expression firm. He smiles. "Very well..." He strips off the rest of his clothing. Your eyes are trained on his hard dick, a look of panic behind them. He smiles and positions himself at your entrance, wrapping his hands on your soft hips. You seem to second guess yourself. "W-Wait--" "Too late, [Y/N]. You can't stop me from taking you now." He huskily interrupts, beginning to push into your tight pussy. You yowl, pushing your hands against his muscled abdomen. His grips tightens on your hips and despite your efforts, his cock continues to push inside of you, rendering you helpless beneath him. You gasp, shakily exhaling. Your weak arms eventually give up, falling to the sides of you in defeat. He enjoys your submission, fueling his lust for you. He pushes himself in all the way with a hard thrust, making you cry out in pain as your virginity is given to him. He sits there for a minute, relishing in his victory and at the tightness of your walls around him.

He shudders, his whole body rocking with it. It was painfully noticeable. It feels amazing to be inside of you. That's a fact he couldn't hide. "Oh [Y/N].~ You...ngh...feel marvelous.~" Hisoka moans heavily, his grip on your hips growing tighter to the point of being painful. You quietly groan beneath him, arching your back as he begins to move. He moves out and in slowly, testing the waters. You squeak, grabbling your death grip on the sheets on the bed, bunching the material up in your fists. What a sexy display. It'd be better if it was on him instead. He encourages you to grab his back by lowering his chest to touch yours, putting his face next to yours. He effectively covers your body with his own. You get the gist of what he's trying to do, raking your nails against his back as you grab at it. He shudders at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin and in response, thrusts into your tight pussy roughly. You yelp at the new sensation, throwing your head back as the pleasure surges through you. Hisoka treasures your expression of newfound enjoyment, really relishing in being the cause of it. He nips at your ear, groaning deeply when it causes your inner walls to convulse around him more. He'll use that knowledge at a later time. For now, he hotly exhales against your flesh, making you shiver against him. He sets out a slow and punishing rhythm, slowly pulling out before forcefully shoving himself back in. You cry out each time his hips meet yours, tears forming at the edge of your eyes from the intensity of his fucking. Hisoka simply smiles, deciding to speed things up a bit. He quickens his pace, smacking against your hips more frequently now. "How's it feel, [Y/N]? Tell me - mm - how my cock feels inside of you." He grunts, sitting up to gauge your reaction. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at his dirty talk and Hisoka stops, almost cumming from the expression alone. He pants, pausing for only a moment. He awaits your response while he recovers, watching as your eyes return, your dilated [e/c] eyes looking into his lustful yellow ones. You attempt to roll your hips back onto him, but you fail horribly. You did, however, manage to sink down onto the rest of him, a moan leaving your mouth from feeling so full. Hisoka giggles. "So greedy for my dick~ Tell me how it feels, [Y/N].~" He puts your leg over his shoulder, opening you up more to him. He doesn't move. Not until you choose to respond, that is.

You whine at the lack of friction, glaring up at him with that desireful expression you hold. He smiles. You relent, closing your eyes. "Y-Your cock feels amazing, Hisoka." You admit, gasping and practically screaming as he continues his fucking you from the new position he put you in. Your eyes once again roll to the back of your head from the sheer force that he's pumping into you. You're a sweaty mess while Hisoka remains good as new, the workout hardly giving him any strain. You let out a cry as one of his thumbs connects with your clit, massaging it in time with his thrusts. Hisoka moans as you tighten around him and he continues to push into you, harsher now. Your vocality rings through his ears, heating up his body more if possible. His flushed face grows darker still and he singles in on his primary focus: making you cum again. He breathes heavily, thrusting into you at a now impossibly fast pace. Your moans feed into screams, your eyes closed from the intensity of his fucking you. He continues to finger your clit, focusing on your orgasm. He wasn't even close to his, but he decides that your release is more of a spectacle than his own. He zeroes in on it, listening as your moans reach a higher octave. Then, without warning, you arch your back for the last time, crying out as you reach your peak. Your walls milk him, but he refuses to cum, just watching your face as your orgasm rips through you for the third time. He'd definitely remember that face until he's cut from this world. He pulls out of you, settling on massaging your clit a little longer as you ride out the waves of euphoria. You twitch and moan breathlessly, gasping for air from the come down. Hisoka just watches, enjoying your facial expressions. You were certainly something. He stops touching you when you come down completely, breathing harshly. Your flustered eyes open, looking at his still lust-filled ones.

"I...," You start. Hisoka listens, tilting his head in curiosity. "I was assigned here to find you, Hisoka." You pant, wiping the sweat from your forehead. Your eyes are encircled in that hard set determination yet again as you tell him this. "My orders are to dispose of you." You admit, hardening your gaze. Hisoka smiles...and it's not a nice one. "Is that so?" He chuckles, flipping you onto your stomach.

"Tell me more as you sing for me...[Y/N].~ We've still got ten hours left for you to tell me all."

_______

Word count: 5,000+

Next chapter should arrive sometime today on Saturday, May 1st. I’m so sorry for the delay ;-;

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 44 - Wasteland

Title: Irreverent Pt. 44 - Wasteland Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~12K

Irreverent Series Masterlist

The door lies ajar, waiting for you. Aaron had disappeared past the threshold and out of sight, and your feet felt firmly planted to the floor, unwilling to move. The dread you're feeling about this upcoming conversation, overpowering everything else. You're not quite ready to talk to him immediately, the conversation with the team was still incredibly fresh as you try to make sense of the night's events so far.

John showing up out of the blue had been cathartic in a way, and you're not sure why you hadn't at least somewhat anticipated it. You knew you should've called him after your father's death, but back then you'd been so caught up in the torrent of everything else - with Aaron coming back and Emily being alive, the Senate hearing and you and Aaron not talking, mixed with the fear of the repercussions of you killing your own father. Reaching out to John hadn't been an immediate thought. By the time it occurred to you, it felt like it had been too late and you didn't want to stir up old wounds for no reason. You and John had done a remarkable job at a clean cut - you'd never once reached out and neither had he, respecting your decision.

Seeing him again - it was like your soul reuniting with its twin. Telling him everything had been so easy - he had been the one to see you through the worst time in your life. He had been the only other person equally devastated by Julian’s death. He’d been your friend and confidante. When you’d told him about your father, it had taken him a moment. A moment to process the gravity of it all. But then he’d looked at you and he was so proud. No one else had ever understood - not Aaron, not Derek, not Emily. None of them understood that you had executed the only option. If your father could get Doyle out of maximum security in the Balkans, there hadn’t been a hope in this world that he would be truly punished for his crimes. Simply seeing him arrested would’ve never been enough. The Bible says an eye for eye for a reason. You’d had no choice. John knew. Only he knew.

When he’d leaned down and kissed you afterwards, you saw it for what it was. It hadn’t been a resurgence of all of your old feelings for one another. It was new, hopeful - it had been the two of you how it was meant to be, freed from the shadow of Julian’s disapproval, family responsibility, and your father’s betrayal. But it wasn’t the same for you - not anymore. Not until Aaron had you understood the difference between a soul your own recognizes as its twin and one that it chooses as its partner.

John had taken it well, all things considered.

You could imagine after how you'd ended it, after the shock of it all wore off, how upset he must've been. The anger he must've felt. You'd ignored his feelings for the duration of your intimate relationship with him, finding it easier to shove them to the side in favor of keeping your head down and focused. It was only in the aftermath, after you'd removed yourself from the one track mindset you'd adopted in your charge towards bringing your father down, that you allowed yourself to really think about how badly you must've hurt him. You knew you had to remove yourself from his life in order to cause no further harm - for the both of you.

John would forever hold a place in your heart. No matter how much you’d tried to ignore it for the duration of your relationship with him, you had loved him. He had been your love for years and years - starting as a childish crush and morphing into so much more. There were days during your relationship with Matthew - early on - when you regretted not ignoring Julian’s ultimatum to John. You’d nearly had a moment of weakness at Dom and Katie’s wedding - nearly asked John to not only be your first kiss but to be your first everything. But you’d known that he wouldn’t have been content with just that. Not then. You’d been far too in deep with doing the right thing by your family then.

Of course it had come to a head when you’d realized that this could be your life - a life of being Matthew’s wife and being your father’s puppet. The Thanksgiving that Matthew had proposed, you’d gone home with the full intention of telling John you wanted out - out of Matthew, out of your father, out of everything. You wanted him. But then, he’d been with Cece again and he’d smiled when he spoke of her, his beautiful blue eyes twinkling with this happiness - that joy that comes from something new that is wonderful in the most unexpected of ways. You couldn’t do that to him then - not if he was properly moving on even when you’d been unable to after four years. Then of course Matthew had proposed and what else was there… You’d said yes because he’d asked.

After Matthew, after how he had treated you in the final months of your relationship, it was like you shut down. The number of times you left halfway with some guy, the number of times you tried to convince yourself to just close your eyes and do it with someone else, just once - just once to get it over with so you could move past the Matthew thing. You weren’t able to. Try as you might, Matthew had flipped something in you and you weren’t able to turn it back on your own. It would've taken a miracle for you to trust someone like that again. John had been your miracle. His grief-stricken face, his soft lips, his gentle touch. How could you not have trusted him? Even afterwards, when you realized that you needed more. More than was fair to ask of him. More than you could give back. He had given you everything. Done everything. Been everything.

That final time, you’d gone back to him thinking you could finally give him everything too. He deserved it. He deserved you at your best. Even when, afterwards, you realized how intricately linked he was to Julian - how you couldn’t separate the two of them in your mind if you tried. They were brothers. They were brothers far more than Dominic and Julian had ever been. John, however, even then, when you knew you were breaking his heart and yours, he had been nothing short of perfect. You owed him so much.

Getting over him was the hardest thing you’d ever had to do.

Your arm is throbbing once again, so you make your way towards the kitchen, the sound of your heels echoing against the marble flooring. You take a couple more of the painkillers, downing some water, as you continue to stare at the opening to the bedroom, one hand clutched around the pendant dangling from your neck as your fingers fret around it.

You feel as though you’re staring into a dark pit while you try to gather your wits about you for the upcoming conversation with Aaron. You know - so very completely - how hurt he must be. Seeing John kiss you and then subsequently learning that you'd told John one of the biggest secrets of your lives alongside the rest of the team - none of this was easy. You'd had a near meltdown when an intern had so much as flirted with him - and that was an intern who meant absolutely nothing. A stranger. He'd watched as someone who knew you at least as intimately as Aaron himself, kissed you. The two of them were probably the people who knew you best in the entire world and you'd always gone out of your way to not bring up John to Aaron. You know how you sometimes feel threatened by his connection to Haley - which is entirely irrational in and of itself, and yet it is there. You'd never wanted him to question his place and prominence in your life. John might know the old you, but Aaron knows you now, and no one could hold a light to him when it came to that. It's that thought - the belief that Aaron knows you even if he doesn't know everything about you, that gives you the courage to go to him.

You walk gingerly towards the bedroom, trying hard to tread softly so your heels don't hit the floors quite as thunderously as before. You're almost reluctant to cross that entrance. Only the dim lights around the perimeter of the room are on, casting shadows all around.

Aaron's seated at the edge of the bed, still fully dressed - sans jacket, which you'd left on the couch outside - feet resolutely planted to the floor, elbows rested on his knees and arms crossed loosely in front with his head bent downwards, staring at his own shoes. He doesn't look up as you enter, even though you're certain he can hear and feel your presence in the room. You carefully close the door to the room behind you, being deliberate to avoid anymore unnecessary noise in order to not bother any of the rest of the occupants.

"Aaron." Your voice comes out so low that for a moment you worry that you'd spoken only in your head and not out loud.

He doesn't even look up.

You falter. He's not even acknowledging your presence. The balls of your feet hurt while you stand near the doorway, thinking through your next step as you watch him sit on the bed, motionless.

He's entirely in the right to be angry with you, and you know you need to allow him to be upset. He can't be made to feel like he somehow has to console you. In that moment, you make a deal with yourself. You will not cry. Not a single tear will fall in front of him, because you know Aaron. You don't want him to feel manipulated or otherwise influenced by your feelings and your emotions. He is far too affected when you're upset and will do everything within his power to make you feel better. He deserves to feel through his emotions without putting his needs on the backburner for you.

Making up your mind, you move towards him, stopping right in front and lowering yourself to your knees at his feet. Your heels dig into your behind, which you ignore.

You look up at him, placing your hands on his knees and forcing his typically warm brown eyes to meet yours. "I'm sorry, Aaron. I'm so sorry you saw that. I am so sorry," you breathe out, trying to maintain your composure and keep your hands from shaking.

He looks up at you sharply, his eyes flickering over your face, trying to understand what you’d just said. "Are you sorry that it happened or are you sorry that I saw it happen?" he rasps out, his throat dry and scratchy.

You're taken aback by his words, unsure of how to respond, realizing your slip. It was John though, and as much as you love Aaron, you have a very difficult time saying no to John for anything. Four years ago, if he had asked you to stay, you would have done it for him. When he'd kissed you, you hadn't pushed him away, despite not responding in kind. You couldn't bear to reject him that way. When the two of you had both seen Aaron standing across the street, when you'd told him that you were with Aaron, John had been entirely contrite, apologizing profusely, offering to go talk to Aaron himself if that would help at all. But, you can't bring yourself to lie to Aaron, and your subsequent silence tells him everything he needs to know.

You can see the faint glimmer of tears in Aaron's eyes before he turns his head away from you and blinks. You have to bite your lip and force yourself to focus on the stinging pain from that in order to prevent your own tears. You promised yourself that you wouldn't.

"I think I need some space," he says turning back and looking at a spot on the wall above your head, his words a whispered sigh. He won't look at you anymore.

Your hands are tight fists as you take in what he'd asked for, your heart threatening to burst out of its cage as it dawns on you exactly how bad this is for Aaron to ask for space. The two of you have never done that before. Arguments get resolved by bedtime. You both stay in the room and you talk it out until either one person gives in or you arrive at a compromise. Never once have you gone to bed angry with Aaron. It might work for some couples, but that had never been the case for you. But, if that's what he needs, of course you'll give it to him. You'd give him whatever he asked for.

You exhale on a shaky nod, lips tight so as to prevent the choked whimper in your throat from materializing. Dropping your hands from his knees, you push yourself up on your own, wobbling unsteadily in the heels, your eyes trained firmly on Aaron as you slowly back away towards the bathroom. Maybe if you just took a shower and he had a chance to sit by himself and think, he'd be ready to talk.

You look at him a final time as he continues to stare past you, before closing the door to the bathroom behind. You don't lock it - you never lock the door when it's just the two of you.

You turn on the shower, letting the loud rush of water be your cover as you finally allow yourself to fall apart. Stumbling out of the heels, you sink to the floor, thighs meeting your chest as you drop your head to your knees, unable to hold in your tears any longer. You can feel yourself tremble as you're fully wracked by sobs - the overwhelming feeling of dread and impending doom taking over any rational part of you, as your breath swells and your lungs struggle to pull in any air at all.

Your mind is a swirl of the past week - of Aaron and you that first night in this very bathroom, of him holding you after you made the deal with Terry, the night up on the roof where he pledged forever to you, his face after the fire. On a loop - Aaron being giving and kind, Aaron comforting you, Aaron loving you, Aaron worrying about you. He was perfect. You were anything but.

At least ten minutes have passed, if the small clock on the counter is accurate, before you have enough control over yourself in order to stand up and slip out of the dress, resorting to yanking it off clumsily since you couldn't reach the zipper without help. You catch sight of your reflection in the mirror - your makeup had bled down your face and your previously sleek ponytail is held together barely after you'd run your hands through it only minutes ago out of frustration at your inability to stop crying.

You finally stand under the steady stream of hot water, letting it scald your skin as you try to burn away the memory of tonight - of John's kiss, of Aaron's face afterwards, of his unending silence and empty stare. You scrub your skin harshly and lather the shampoo vigorously through your hair - the disappointment in yourself for having been the cause of Aaron's pain, propelling you to take vengeance upon your own body as penance.

There's a part of you that expects him to enter the shower after you as he often has before. Slipping in behind you and taking you in his arms, telling you all is forgiven and that you're both alright, before meeting your lips and erasing even the impression of another's lips against yours to dust. What wouldn't you give for that to be the case.

Your fingers have pruned considerably and the steam in the bathroom is starting to suffocate you with its heaviness before you feel prepared to face him once again. You dry yourself off with a fair amount of trepidation, as the anticipation of speaking with him builds. You find an old pair of pajamas in the closet, foregoing grabbing the pair in your go bag so that you can emerge fully clothed, instead of appearing to be attemping some sort of cheap ploy for his forgiveness.

You steel yourself in front of the door, fully dressed, semi wet tendrils of hair falling down your back as well as by the side of your face. You open the door and exit back into the room, only to find it empty. You think maybe he'd gone to speak with Rossi or maybe even Emily - get some sort of outside perspective on the matter. You can't fault him for that. Either one of them would only help. However, as you make your way into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, you notice that his jacket that you'd set on the arm of the couch is also missing.

He'd left.

*------------*

Aaron had stared at the closed bathroom door after you'd disappeared behind it. He hadn't heard the clicking of a lock, so he knows you've left it open for him if he so chooses.

His mind is reeling from everything and he hates himself for acting so cold towards you while he processes it all. It's very much like how he was with Haley when they would argue - he'd shut down emotionally and take the time to process his feelings and then discuss them with her afterwards. While that wasn't necessarily unhealthy, it wasn't how things worked between you and him. You two talked. He explained his thought process to you because you would also at least understand his reasoning even if you didn't always agree with it. He could tell you why he was being a certain way or why he'd made a particular call and instead of getting upset with him about it or refusing to even consider his reason as valid - which was how it often went with Haley and ultimately led to him withdrawing explanations around his decisions - you listened. You gave him the time and opportunity to talk through his rationale and if you had logical or even emotional reasons for disagreeing with him, you'd explain too. Fights with you were nothing like fights he was used to in a relationship. With the pure standout exception of the time after you'd resigned, you'd never once raised your voice at him and he was cognizant of never doing the same.

His vision had blurred after you'd crossed the street and approached him. Things had felt hazy around the edges.

The walk back to the apartment had been miserably long despite being maybe only five or ten minutes. He finds himself shutting you out because that was an easier way to keep himself in check.

He hadn't expected to feel the rage that he did. Disappointment and sadness was one thing - hurt feelings, sure. But anger was simply not a feeling that he associated with you and he's not sure where it's stemming from exactly but he knows it isn't just about the fact that he saw someone else kiss you. It's not about the kiss because that's how he keeps framing it to himself - someone else kissing you. There had not been a single thing that made it seem like you had kissed back and in his gut he knows you hadn't. So it's not quite the kiss itself that he's angry about, but it is something.

Aaron had listened intently when you'd explained to the team why you'd told John about the Doyle mission. How he'd been the only person you'd had in the aftermath of Julian's death - how he was the only one that understood. That John deserved to know. Aaron wanted to challenge that - what exactly had John done that earned him that particular privilege? Not like he'd know even if John had done something especially remarkable - you'd never spoken to him about John. Not to him at least. Morgan apparently had known. Aaron hadn't. He has to wonder why that is. What is it about John that makes you not want to talk to Aaron about him?

He'd gone into the bedroom afterwards and waited for you, unsure of what to expect. His head feels heavy and he just slumps down as he waits, the coiling pit in his stomach feels like lead. He'd give just about anything for this entire week to have never happened. He should've just told you to stay home and enjoy your time off and none of this would've happened. If he could close his eyes and wish it all away, he would. In a heartbeat. He would.

You'd walked in and then before he could quite bring himself to look up, you'd crossed the floor and were right in front of him. The next second you're kneeling at his feet and that surge of panic he feels comes out of nowhere because what was this. He couldn't have ever imagined you kneeling in front of him in this manner, in such obvious repentance, and he doesn't want this. He doesn't want this at all but he's entirely frozen as the panic winds itself around his veins and squeezes tight, holding him in place. You tell him you're sorry - you're sorry that he saw. You hadn't wanted him to see. So, are you sorry that it happened or sorry that he saw? When he asks you, your silence seems to stretch out for an eternity as the panic gives way to the much uglier rage that he had pushed down outside the bar earlier. He can't possibly ignore what you said.

He needed space. He'd never quite needed that from you before, but right then he'd never felt more disconnected from you. He couldn't understand anything you'd done that night - from leaving with John, to telling him about Doyle and your father, to being kissed by him, to the apology you'd given Aaron. None of it made sense to him. He had to force himself to ignore the look on your face when he said he needed space. That entirely broken and confused look that would tell him you were in the same dark place he was because this wasn't you and it wasn't him and the two of you just…existed with one another so easily it was like there wasn't even another person there. So how could he possibly need space from you?

Before he could stop himself, he'd left the bedroom and was downstairs in front of the building. He had needed a moment to clear his head - fresh air - before he spoke with you again and he really didn't want to risk misspeaking and inadvertently making the situation worse. Hearing the shower turn on in the bathroom, knowing you'd left the door unlocked in the hope that he might just decide to let it all go - he couldn't just give in to that quite yet. He wasn't able to even if he tried.

Aaron could feel the rage boiling in his chest again as the scene of John kissing you plays over and over again in his head. You had allowed it. There was really no way around that. Maybe he hadn't known and maybe you hadn't reciprocated. Maybe. But you'd allowed it. You'd allowed him to get close. Allowed him to lean down. Allowed him to meet your lips. Allowed him the chance to linger. Allowed him to move away at his leisure. You'd allowed it. All of it. What the fuck was he supposed to make of that?

You were sorry that he saw - he can't help but repeat that over and over in his head. Did you even feel remorse that it happened at all? If your apology was to be taken at face value, then no. He can't help the rage that thought induces - the idea that you were perfectly alright with someone else kissing you. Not just someone else either - John. John whom you had gone with so willingly. John who you had gotten matching tattoos with. John who had known you in New York and likely knew all about you. John who had been there for you your entire life and had history with you that Aaron couldn't hope to compete with.

To top that all off, you had gone and told John about the Doyle mission. A classified mission. You hadn't even simply told him the high level details that he had carefully articulated in the case. You had told him everything - the cleverly disguised secret that he, Morgan, and Prentiss all kept for you. You had left them all open to implication and they'd all just trusted you. While he trusted you too, you could've at least asked him or talked to him about it beforehand? You could've run it by him and see if maybe it wasn't such a good idea. Yet you hadn't. You'd just gone off and told him and he was supposed to be alright with it. Accept it.

He walks a couple of laps around the block of the building, the night chill forcing him to burrow into his jacket further. It smelled like you - the scent of fresh pears and freesia mixed with the sweet vanilla citrus smell that seemed to always linger on you no matter what, invades his senses and he suppresses an audible groan at the memory of that scent wrapped around him. They say smell is the best memory agent and Aaron was very much struggling to repel the memories the scent of you carried with it. He didn't want to think of you in that way.

He'd walked a couple of blocks further and found himself back outside the bar the team had been at earlier. Wanting a reprieve from the chill and perhaps a drink to calm his nerves, he enters into the warmth of the bar, gratefully taking off the jacket as he goes. He finds a spot to one side of the bar top opposite from anyone else and waits for the bartender to notice him. The bartender appears to be engaged in a conversation with a regular and Aaron isn't immediately successful in getting his attention. Before he can attempt again, he feels and then sees from the corner of his eye, a body slide into the stool right next to him, despite there being quite a few open seats down from him.

Aaron turns to see the same man from earlier, his leather jacket in one hand and a crystal glass of amber liquid in the other, settle down next to him. He freezes entirely. Aaron had not prepared for this possibility.

He watches apprehensively out of the corner of his eye as John settles in, and then turns to the bartender. "Tom," he calls out in a familiar manner, "Can you get this man here a drink?"

There was an ease with which he carried himself, Aaron notes. He's a regular at this place too - likely had been with you. He's undoubtedly nervous, the slightly tensed shoulders and fidgety fingers giving him away. He hasn't quite looked in Aaron's direction entirely yet, and Aaron wasn't about to be the one to initiate whatever this was. He watches as the bartender - Tom - turns away from the other customers and grabbing a bottle of the same top shelf scotch you keep stocked at home, he settles a glass in front of Aaron and pours out two fingers worth. He also refills John's glass at his indication, before turning away.

Aaron stares at the drink in front of him, shoulders very tense, waiting. The drink was an obvious gesture of peace, but the loop of John kissing you earlier is on repeat with drums on in his head. His hands tighten into fists, resting on his thighs, jaw clenched tightly, the warmth in the bar becoming just this side of too much.

"We didn't get a chance to be properly introduced earlier," John says, finally breaking the silence, his voice a little heavier and his speech indicative of him having already had a couple of drinks prior to Aaron's arrival. "John Hawthorne," he says, pointing to himself, "and you're Aaron Hotchner."

Aaron blinks, entirely unsure of how to react, apprehensively looking up until he meets John's eyes. Aaron nods once, slowly, eyeing him carefully, trying to work out exactly what his agenda was. John was tense as well, looking at Aaron cautiously. It was a near bizarre situation to even be sitting here side by side with this person and Aaron felt wholly unprepared. He's not sure what life experience could possibly have prepared him for this - with Haley he hadn't even confronted her directly.

A part of him wants to just get up and walk away, but he feels compelled to stay - like no matter what happens next, he should see this through. He turns away from John and lifting the glass, takes a sip of the scotch. The familiar taste sits on his tongue and then rushes down his throat, leading to a pleasant burn in his chest that really warms him up. At least now he knew where you acquired a taste for good scotch from. He briefly wonders what else you'd gotten from John, before shaking that particular train of thought away.

John mirrors his action, as though drinking a shot of liquid courage, even though Aaron is quite certain by now that this is well past his first drink. However, he's a pretty large guy and it appears to have only loosened him up rather than making him drunk. Aaron is careful not to look too closely at the tattoo on John's wrist. It's familiarity serves only to cause a pang in his chest, a physical reminder of how very intimately he knows that date which he really didn't care for at the moment. It was a bit ridiculous how viscerally physical of a reaction he has to even memories of you.

Apparently having drawn the strength he needed, John continues. "I'm sorry," he articulates, "about earlier," undoubtedly referring to the moment when his lips had touched yours merely an hour or so prior. Aaron wondered whether the outline of the two of you under that street lamp was burned into the cement pavement underneath. His eyes had bored into you hard enough. It was a possibility.

Aaron bites his tongue to avoid reacting outwardly. It was an apology, sure. So far, a better apology than yours had been, discounting the fact that John hadn't gotten down on his knees.

"I didn't know she was with someone. I am sorry if that caused any problems for the two of you."

Aaron grunts, finally acknowledging that he'd heard and takes another sip, choosing to focus fully on savoring the taste of it on his tongue before allowing the burn to settle in his chest. He really had nothing to offer there - even if words were possible he wouldn't know which way to string them together.

"Though," John breathes out a humorless half laugh, "I guess it did cause problems if you're sitting here with me and not back with her."

Aaron's jaw clenches at the jab, whether intentional or not. Perhaps the two of you had gone to the same pretentious day school where they taught how to craft together not-so-great apologies.

John backs up a little, clearly picking up on how that had gone over.

It's quiet for a bit as the two of them drink silently side by side. Aaron has nothing to say to John. Yet, at least. His thoughts go back to what you'd said earlier to the team - how John had been all you'd had after Julian died and you learned the truth. He feels his intestines coil with the realization of how entirely alone you'd been then. You'd been twenty two years old, all alone, fresh out of an engagement with your entire world crashing around you. Julian's death was one thing, but finding out that it was your father who'd made the call was soul wrenchingly horrifying. You'd gone overnight from being a Harvard graduate with her entire life in front of her to questioning everyone and everything. John had been there - he had apparently been the one person you could bring yourself to put some faith in.

"She told me, you know," John says, his voice a near mumble that Aaron has to strain to hear over the noise in the bar. "About what you did for her - with her father...thank you."

Aaron finds himself nodding. Of course you'd told him that as well. He looks at the man next to him carefully. Seeing John sitting there - despite everything - that was proof that the two of you would seemingly do anything for each other. Aaron doesn't know if he could've sat there in John's place. But John had sat and apologized and that was a lot more than most people would be able to do. Aaron knows he's doing it for you.

"That vengeance, that drive to conquer him, for a while that was the only thing that kept her going - as ugly as it was, it was something," he adds. "The pain of losing Julian and finding out the truth about him, it was all too much for her." His hands shake a bit around his glass. "There was a time - back then - when I'd go to bed every day scared I'd lose them both."

There's something about John's words that prickles a thought in Aaron's brain and he turns to look at John, his eyes downcast, fingers fidgeting with the rim of his glass, shoulders hunched and turned ever so slightly away from Aaron. He was the picture of a man who had said too much, and Aaron finds himself going back and dissecting that confession. He'd been afraid to lose both of you…

It's quiet again while Aaron broods on what was just said and John sits stoically beside him, keeping him company in his meditations.

Aaron couldn't discount the importance - that position John held in your life. He was more struck by the fact that, despite the significance of John in your life, he'd hardly ever heard of him. He's left feeling like there were two versions of you - the one that you showed him and the real version. The version that had been systematically sequestered away in Manhattan these past few years as though it had no significance to the person you were today.

He realizes that was at least a large part of the anger. The entire week had been a walk down memory lane for you, revealing all of these parts of your life that he knew about in only the vaguest of senses. He had been led to believe that he knew everything there was to know about you and he was confronted with the reality that that might not be the case. It had all culminated with John, but truth be told, John had merely been the tipping point. He'd been feeling odd about this the entire week, from the moment you'd mentioned you still maintained a residence in New York.

He looks at John again, whose head is bent over, shoulders hunched as he focuses on the drink in his hand. Aaron can feel that your secret is safe with him, despite not knowing him at all. You trusted him. That's what mattered.

"She seems happy," John says, speaking up again as he turns to look at Aaron, having felt his gaze, a small smile on his lips in contrast to the sadness Aaron can see evident in his eyes. "I didn't really see her happy until that last time, and I know that you and your team are the reason for that happiness - that you especially are part of that."

Aaron has to suppress the smile that almost appears on his face. He covers it with the glass of scotch in his hand, bringing it up to his mouth once again. It was somewhat validating to have someone who knew you so well attest to your happiness - yours and his and your collective happiness. Aaron hadn't been around for your lowest points - he'd run when Emily died and in the aftermath of your father's death he'd been estranged from you. John had been there after Julian. Of all people, he had been witness to the wasteland that you'd inhabited in the aftermath.

John had been there. He'd been it for you.

Aaron thinks he finally understands what you meant when you said that you were sorry that he saw it happen - he's pretty sure it would've happened no matter what. He can't quite blame John for seeing you after God only knew how long, thinking you had finally vanquished the evil that was your father, seeing you happy - he might not be alright with what had happened, but he could follow the thought process.

The ill will Aaron had felt towards John was slowly lifting. The good scotch definitely helped.

"You know that last time, she seemed lighter and happier than I'd seen her in two years. She came for Christmas and it was like having her back - it was what I'd been waiting for that whole time. She told me about some kid's birthday party she was going to - we talked about what presents a two year old would want and it was funny because she had no idea," he said, a fond smile on his face.

Aaron chuckles, surprisingly even himself. "I'm pretty sure that was our son Jack's birthday," he says, before realizing his own words. He did think of Jack as yours - has forever. But it was one thing to think it, and another to verbalize it to a near stranger. Especially this one.

John seems momentarily surprised but takes it in stride, and Aaron can't help but feel his respect for this man grow. It would take a lot for someone in his position to not react to a statement like that.

"How'd he like the Lego Death Star?" John asks, remembering what the two of you had landed on as an appropriate present.

"We spent a few weekends building it. It still sits in his room," Aaron replies, allowing his shoulders to ease up.

John smiles. "Good. She would've never come up with that on her own, you know. She was looking up stuff online and was about to buy one of those little car things, but I figured not all parents want their toddler zooming around in a scale replica Lamborghini."

Aaron actually laughs at that. Of course that's what you'd thought to get for Jack, never being one to do anything small. As much as Jack would've loved that, him and Haley would've had their hands full running after him.

It was good to know that some things about you were still very much the same as they'd always been. That birthday party had been towards the beginning of you, him, and Jack hanging out together. In the early days, that’s primarily what happened. Aaron had been fresh out of the divorce with Haley and he was struggling with Jack. It made him feel like a poor father - one who couldn’t take care of his son by himself. Over time it had gotten a lot easier, but those first few months of his and Haley’s arrangement had only been bearable because of you. You’d helped make that transition so easy. You had such a natural and effortless relationship with Jack from the start - he’d envied it. Both him and Haley had struggled in the beginning, as he was sure that all new parents do. It’s likely a lot easier when the child isn’t entirely your responsibility. However, regardless of that, having you around with Jack had helped a lot. He remembers how you’d gotten him a Smithsonian family pass, and it had resulted in you being asked to accompany the two of them as the pass accommodated up to four people. In that time, he often fantasized about asking you out - just you. Without a Jack in one hand and a bag of snacks and juice boxes in the other. But he didn’t think it would go over well. You were there for Jack. Any friendship you and Aaron had was a byproduct of that. Over time, sure, things had changed. But there was always that nagging voice in his head that told him that you were with him because of Jack.

He’s driven out of his thoughts by a friendly nudge to his shoulder. Aaron shakes himself out of his reverie, a little surprised by how at ease he felt around this guy. He didn’t think that would have been possible an hour ago and yet here he sat beside him, having a drink together, sharing a laugh. It was truly a strange turn of events.

John nods towards the empty glass in front of Aaron, “Another?” he asks, eyebrow quirked up in a manner that feels far too familiar.

Aaron notes the time on his watch, realizing he’s been gone far too long - longer than he’d meant to be away for.

He shakes his head and stands, grabbing his jacket, before turning to John. “Next time,” he says with a slight uptick of his jaw, sticking his hand out.

John appears surprised by Aaron’s words, and it takes him a second to react. However once he does, his smile reaches his eyes and he shakes Aaron’s hand firmly.

*------------*

Realizing that Aaron had left had pushed you into a near panicked state, and you'd had to force yourself to not go to Emily’s or Derek's rooms and simply cry. He'd left and that was not something you'd been prepared for at all. If he'd left - he'd been unable to be around you for even a second more - that could only mean the worst.

He'd needed space. This night had been a lot - for both of you - and he had said he needed space. You'd thought that meant like half an hour so you'd taken an extra long shower. But now…did that mean more? Did he mean that he needed space from you entirely?

You do your best to control your breathing as your brain goes into overdrive. It was much harder without him there to help you, rubbing your back and whispering soothingly into your ear.

You needed something to focus on, so you decided to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer before doing another run through of the bedroom and closet gathering any remaining dirty clothes. You manage to sweep both the common spaces and the bedroom while you wait. Wait and think. There wasn’t much else to be done.

If Aaron wanted space - true space - if he wanted a break or even to break up (the thought alone made you want to curl up into a ball and lie on the floor again) - however if that was what he wanted, he was well within his rights to demand it. While you might not think you'd cheated, there was a possibility that Aaron had, especially after you'd admitted that you'd done nothing to stop the kiss, merely hadn't reciprocated in kind. But perhaps that was enough. With Aaron especially, someone who valued loyalty so highly, it might be enough.

There's always been a part of you that thought there was more to his and Haley's divorce and Aaron was never one to speak ill of Haley, but sometimes you wondered. Derek had told you that Aaron had requested a transfer at one point, which had somehow gone away very close to his and Haley's divorce.

Maybe it wasn't even the kiss though, but everything else around it. Bringing up all of the stuff with your father, John, Julian - stuff that for the most part is not brought up anymore. You've noticed - how could you not - that Aaron has struggled this week upon learning a lot of your past. You know the stalker thing bothered him even if he didn't vocalize it. You know the photographers bothered him even if he played along. John definitely was part of the reason for the upset currently, and in many ways John was periphery to everything else. You were the eye of the storm - your very presence brought with it chaos. It was too much. It was all far too much for any reasonable person to want to handle. You were too much.

It would be a lot for a normal person - someone with a laidback job who could afford to extend themselves to the specific brand of bedlam that you tried to sell in a pretty package. But for Aaron - the man who already carried the burden of the world on his shoulders - it was far too much to expect for him to bear this as well. You shouldn't. A better person - a good person - would leave him in peace. A peace that can't ever really be achieved when your mind itself is the source of tumult. Sure, you put on a good act, but Aaron can see through the cracks, you're sure. This week had given him a front row seat to exactly how fucked in the head you really were. Good girls, normal girls, they don't invite stalkers, they don't have paparazzi following them, they don't have ex-whatevers showing up just to be told about the secret mission where they murdered their own father.

Not for the first time, you find yourself thinking how much better off Aaron would be with someone else - someone sweet and kind whose hands were clean. You had far too much red in your ledger to make up for. Things he didn't even know about. Things no one knew about.

You try to do your best to compartmentalize. As difficult as it was in this case, you needed to separate your feelings from reality and manage them individually if possible. If Aaron's intention would be to end it, then what? You'd have to sit down and talk to Jack - hopefully together. Explain that things would be changing a bit, but that it wouldn't change anything between you and Jack. Knowing Aaron, by now, he'd want you to be in Jack's life still even if he might not want you in his. The primary goal for the both of you would be to ensure that Jack's life didn't lose the stability it had.

It would be easier for you to move out rather than to have Jack and Aaron move. But then Aaron would get all weird about staying in your home even though it's been his and Jack's home as well. But initially, at least, it would be easier for it to be just you - until you can help him find a different place. You could easily just stay in a hotel temporarily. You're away a lot lately anyways. Make things easier on Jack, Mrs. Avery - their routines didn't have to change. Speaking of Mrs. Avery, you'd need to talk to Aaron about working something out for her payment - right now Aaron paid for her but that was without rent and she wasn't exactly cheap. You could change the stipulations of the trust to cover any of Jack's expenses - assuming Aaron was alright with that.

Then there was the matter of the Christmas in Paris booking - you'd have to contact your travel agent and figure that out. Maybe you could rebook it and Jack and Aaron could still enjoy a trip, maybe even Europe still. Jack had been really looking forward to it. He wanted to have scones in England and croissants in Paris. That kid was just as much into pastries and dessert as you were. Aaron blamed you for that entirely.

But then - he'd promised he wouldn't leave you. Aaron was good at keeping his promises. He might also feel some sort of odd obligation to hold himself to that promise he’d made to you in the beginning. That he wouldn’t break your heart. In which case, maybe it was up to you to rip off the bandaid. Do what he couldn't. It would be less painful for you both in the long run. Cut your losses now, before too much was invested. You'd only moved in together and while there were days you felt like you were practically married, that really wasn't the case at all. He wouldn't have to wait as long as he had after Haley. It wasn't a divorce really. A breakup. A simple breakup. People breakup everyday. In a few months or a year he could find someone else. Jack was an adorable child. Anyone would love to be around him.

Breaking your own heart was allowed.

You would be alright, you told yourself.  Eventually. You would have to work out some sort of agreement with him about Jack. Maybe every other weekend. But you would be alright. Eventually. It would suck of course in the beginning, but well, you were busy. You'd been debating the whole partnership with Clyde and telling him you were out after this assignment wrapped up, but that didn't necessarily have to be the case. You could transfer. You could move entirely. The world was your oyster. You'd just have to figure out something with Jack.

When it came to the team, McKinney's redesignation of you couldn't have come at a more opportune time. More likely than not this was one of your last cases with the team, so it shouldn't change the dynamics there too much. Emily and Derek would try to blame him, but you'd sit them down and explain that it was your fault. You were the culprit, the reason it didn't work out, not him. He had done his best to put up with all the baggage you came laden with and truly it wasn't his fault. It was just too cumbersome to help carry for any person. Especially if they came with heavy crap of their own.

The dryer beeps and you go to take out Aaron's load of laundry out and carry it into the room, dumping it onto the bed so that you can fold it while it’s still warm, to avoid wrinkles. He hates wrinkles.

It would be alright, you chanted to yourself repeatedly. Everything would be alright. He would end it, and you would survive. You could survive it. If he couldn't, you'd have to do it for him, and that would take its toll, but it was better for him and for Jack. It would be alright. You just had to keep telling yourself that. You've survived worse than being broken up with by Aaron Hotchner. This too shall pass and all that.

You get up to grab Aaron's go bag from under the settee so that you can put his clothes away in there. It feels empty save for one thing rattling around in there at the bottom, and you're about to unzip it and put everything away, when you hear the door to the bedroom open. You'd been so focused on the task at hand that you hadn't even heard the elevator come up.

You turn and see Aaron, who looks at you apprehensively. You feel your stomach clench at the sight of him. Setting his bag down you silently move out of the way, shifting towards the bed.

There’s a beat where he just watches you from the threshold and it is overwhelmingly tense. Then he enters, closing the door behind him silently.

Aaron proceeds to where his pile of fresh laundry sat on top of the ottoman and he starts changing, shedding his clothes. You avert your eyes, instead focusing on the pattern of the duvet cover, following the lines there instead.

Was he expecting you to speak? He'd been the one to say he needed space, and you weren't sure it was your place to be the first to speak up now. He had seemed to make it clear that he'd rather not hear what you have to say, and you can't blame him. You'd apologized and even that hadn't been quite right because you'd messed up and stated the truth.

"I'm sorry."

You look up at the sound of his voice. He's changed into his pajamas and for a second you find your eyes trailing over him entirely before you snap yourself out of it. This could be the last time you see him like this. You blink to refocus on him as he stands, arms crossed, leaning against the wall. At least he was talking to you. He doesn't seem angry really but you find yourself unable to otherwise read him.

You must look confused, because he clarifies, "I'm sorry for leaving."

You nod, standing up. “It’s okay,” you whisper, your voice incredibly hoarse, forcing you to clear your throat.

A large sigh leaves him as he shifts and begins to walk closer. You brace yourself. Here it comes.

"Y/N, this week - this entire week - I feel like there are so many things I don't know about you."

Suddenly all you can hear is the blood roaring in your ears, as you force yourself to nod. You have to ball your hands into fists to hide the shakiness, nails digging into your palms.

"I don't think it can go on like this."

Right - of course he's right. It couldn't. You can't expect people to be confronted by your past and all the weird, messy, ugly, scary stuff and want to stick around. Before, maybe, he'd thought of you - outside of the whole business with your father - as just that girl that works with him. Now, however, he wouldn't be able to look past everything as it confronted him too head on. So he was going to do it. He was going to end it. This was it.

You nod again, your vision blurring at the edges as you continue to stare at him. You can feel the air rush away from you and the walls feel like they're closing in.

I can't do this.

"I - I'm sorry," you manage, before quickly brushing by him and running to the bathroom, closing the door behind you, clicking the lock into place.

I can't do this.

I can't, I can't, I can't.

Your breathing becomes harsher by the second and the tears are there and your hands are shaking and it's really, really hard to think or stop. The blood was pounding in your ears and your heart was thudding loudly and you wanted it to stop. You’d give anything to make it stop. Silence. You need complete silence. How do you claw your way out of your own body to achieve it?

Your hands cup your face, feeling the tears there despite trying to stop. You can feel your nails dragging down your face, fingers trembling on the way down. Why was breathing so hard right now? You can feel your windpipe closing while simultaneously feeling bile in your throat.

On the other side of the door, Aaron's eyes had widened as you came towards him, and then quickly rushed to the bathroom. He worried for a second that you're about to be sick. However, he then hears the click of the lock behind you - that's when he starts to actually panic.

He tries knocking on the door, softly calling your name to avoid being too loud and waking anyone else. All he hears is the sound of you breathing far too heavily and he needs to get in there dammit. His knocks become more urgent the longer it goes on.

He has no idea what's going on. He'd anticipated a conversation with you - the two of you were good at that. You could talk things out. He was calmer now. He'd tried to talk and you'd been listening and then all of a sudden, he didn't know what happened.

It takes a couple more minutes for you to truly calm yourself down. You can't cry in front of Aaron. You’d promised. You can finally make out him calling your name from the other side. If you'd been trying not to freak him out, that had obviously not worked out too well.

Releasing a shaky breath, you wipe your face, splashing some cold water to hide the more obvious evidence of your little breakdown. You'd convinced yourself you could face him, but he'd surprised you. It was okay. You knew now, going in. You'd be ready. You can do it.

With a trembling hand, you unlock the door and turn the knob, nearly running straight into Aaron. He looks thoroughly agitated, as though he was minutes away from breaking down the door and you feel your heart clench. Even moments away from ending it, of course he’d still care so much. No. You will yourself to become numb to it all. Numb to him. That was the only way to make it through this. Feel. Nothing.

You take another deep breath as he backs away, allowing you room to exit the bathroom, and you close the door behind. You look up at him, immediately regretting looking into his overly concerned, warm brown eyes. Why did he have to look at you like that right now? He really needed to work on appropriately timing his concern for people.

You look away quickly. You nod at him shakily, half attempting a smile, but what even was a smile? "It's okay," you tell him, your voice nearly robotic, nodding again, unsure which one of you you're really trying to convince. "J - Just do it."

Aaron looks at you, a perplexed expression mixing with his worry as he stands incredibly close to you. Why was he standing so close?

"Do what?" he asks, reaching out towards you, his large warm hand brushing some of the hair away from your face, pushing it behind your ear.

You look at him sharply, trying hard not to lean into his touch. Something clicks in that moment as you watch him standing far too close to you. He's not moving away either. He'd just touched you. He wasn't…he didn't know what you meant when you said…

He wasn't.

But does that mean that you have to be the one to do it?

You shake your head, taking in a shallow breath as you try to wrap your brain around what was happening. Or not happening.

"I was trying to say, earlier," he starts, still looking at you apprehensively, as though he could see past your cover up job in the bathroom, "that I don't like feeling like there are a lot of things about you - about your life - that I know nothing about. While I understand th - that is something that happens over time, I just feel like there are some gaps that I would like filled."

You find yourself trying to comprehend what he'd just said, trying to rewire your brain from fight or flight mode to actually listening to him. He just wanted to…know things. He said nothing about the kiss.

"That's it?" You look up at him, certain that it could only be some sort of trick. A bait and switch. But that's not really an Aaron thing to do. So, if he was being sincere…

"I'm not thrilled about tonight,” he concedes, his lips a thin line. “But I understand how it happened. I get that John is important to you.”

You nod again. It feels like your brain is working only in slow motion because the simplest of things are taking a while to really work their way through the processing channels. He gets that John is important - he genuinely seems to believe that.

"Now I understand that filling in the gaps - that isn't an overnight thing. But over time, I would appreciate it if you could just be a little more upfront and tell me these things. Even if you think they don't matter. That they're in your past. Just tell me, please?" he asks, his eyes pleading with you.

You weren’t losing him. He wasn’t trying to end it. It didn’t feel like he was doing it merely out of obligation. So...that was good.

You find yourself nodding fervently, trying very hard not to cry. He just wanted to know things. Maybe it would be too much, maybe. But tonight had been a lot too, and he'd handled it well enough. Afterall, the two of you were standing there now. Together. That had to count for something. He said it didn't have to be immediately. You could tell him over time, everything. It was Aaron. He'd likely understand - he was good at that. Especially with you. And well, if it was too much, maybe you'd cross that bridge when you get there because at least for now, you'd have him.

It was selfish - delaying some sort of inevitable. But maybe it wasn't. You stood to lose a lot more if you didn't just take a leap of faith. Believe that he'd understand. If anyone could, it'd be him.

"Oh sweetheart, come here," he says, both of his hands reaching out towards you and wiping at the tears that had fallen regardless of any attempt on your part to keep them at bay.

"I'm sorry," you wept, letting him grab onto you and pull you closer. He was so warm. He was always so warm. He lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bed, sitting down with you in his lap, allowing you to calm yourself as he soothingly rubbed your back.

"I'm sorry. I promised I wouldn't cry," you mumble against his neck, tightening your hold on him.

Aaron shakes his head, reassuring you that it is alright, and takes a deep breath that you can feel in his chest. His hands, soft, warm, and pleasantly calloused rub circles on your back under your shirt. You just want to melt into him, let the wax of your being meld with his.

You can feel his breath against your skin and you can’t help but press a kiss to the side of his neck while you continue to cling to him. It’s different with Aaron because with John, you’d never actually feared losing him. With Aaron, the thought of not having him one day eats away at you, constantly.

Aaron’s still comforting you and you can’t help but feel bad about it. Today was still your fault and you want to make sure that everything is truly alright. You want to be certain that he feels good about the two of you. That’s what was most important.

"Are you sure you’re alright with everything?" you ask, moving to look at him, your hand cupping his face, thumb rubbing over cheeks.

He nods, but you can see that there's something. Something else bothering him. Something that he seems reluctant to voice.

"It's okay, just ask. It's okay," you reassure him. It was better to just get it all out now. One fell swoop.

He worries his lip as he looks at you, as though wondering how to get it out properly. Swallowing, he asks, "Would we be together if it weren't for Jack?" He eyes you nervously, as though he’s afraid of the answer and even more afraid that he voiced the question as all.

Aaron doesn’t feel great about asking this now, but he agrees with you that it is better to get all of this out of the way so that the two of you can return to being on the same page. No matter what, he doesn’t think it will change much, but he wants to know for his own peace of mind - understand where he stands.  

You still, your shoulders tensing and your brain going into hyperactive mode again. That wasn't what you'd expected at all. Did Aaron think that you were only with him because of Jack? Had you done something to make him feel that way? You know he's entirely serious about the question as he looks at you. You can see the insecurity and nervousness that had sat behind this question and you wonder how long he's felt this way. How long this has eaten away at him.

With a short sigh, you shift slightly. You want to be honest about this, because you know it's important to him. It’s important to you as well - for him to never question exactly where he stands when it comes to you.

"No," you reply. You can see him recoil almost immediately, so you're quick to continue. "But not because of what you might be thinking,” you say quickly, tightening your hold of him and forcing him to stay still. He pauses and nods, urging you to go on. “Aaron, I'm not playing house here. If I wanted a kid, there's other options. Adoption. Me not being able to have a kid - that's mostly speculation. It could still happen."

He nods, but you know that he's still focused on that No from a second ago.

"Aaron, before I joined the team, Emily had been there an entire year. How often did the two of you hang out together?"

Aaron looks at you, starting to piece together where you’re going with this. He shakes his head. They hadn't.

"Exactly,” you emphasize, cradling his face in your hands. “Because you don't do that, Aaron. You don't just let people in. I got in because Jack and I bonded first. You let me in because of Jack. You let me see you with the walls lowered - you let me see you beyond Agent Hotchner. You let me see you. That would've never happened without Jack. You keep your walls up at work so high that hardly anyone can traverse them. Jack was my ticket in. So no, if it weren’t for Jack, I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t be together. I would’ve always been Agent L/N to you,” you finish softly, looking into his eyes to make sure he understood.

He takes a breath, processing what you've said. You're right. He knows you are. It was silly to think you were with him just because of Jack. Jack isn’t even around and you’re wrapped up in his lap. He can’t help but feel a little stupid for even questioning it at all. However, part of him is glad he had. Even if he should’ve just known, it was good to have it confirmed nevertheless. Hearing you explain it that way made a lot of sense. Sure he was friends with the team, but he was really only good friends with Rossi. You were right - he didn’t go out of his way to have intimate relationships with his coworkers. Even now, all the parties and hangouts, he’s pretty certain you’re at the center of most of the team socialization. You’d bridged the gap between him and the rest of them.

"Anything else?" you ask somewhat teasingly, a soft smile gracing your face as you look at him fondly. He might be a bit of an idiot when it came to realizing that people loved him and cared for him with no hidden agenda, but well, he was your idiot. To think that you were with him because of Jack was laughable at best. You had Jack even before you and Aaron were together. It was about Aaron. About how his arms wrapped around you. About how he made you feel. About how simply being around him made your heart sing.

He shakes his head, a smile finally breaking out across his lips as he leans in to capture yours. It’s an affirming press of his lips to yours as he holds you to him as closely as possible. It feels like coming home.

Maneuvering the both of you around, he places you next to him on the bed, pulling the blanket around both of you. You curl into his side and he can feel your fingers run lightly against his stomach as you’re pressed against the length of him. He reaches for your hand, lifting it up and looking at you disapprovingly as he notes the indentations in your palm. You hide your face from him a bit as he brushes over the marks lightly with the pad of his thumb.

Something prickles at the back of Aaron's head as you snuggle into him. Something John had said to him at the bar. The way you'd responded to him taking space, how you'd planned to not cry in front of him, instead you'd done laundry and evidently cleaned. It was telling. You'd obviously planned out a contingency plan. An exit route for yourself. It was something that was most often seen in people who… The actual realization hits him - what John had meant when he said he'd almost lost you.

He looks down at your peaceful face, burrowed into him, your legs entangled with his as much as humanly possible. His breathing must've changed, because you look up at him curiously.

He shakes his head, trying to smile so as to not worry you. He couldn’t quite believe it and he definitely wasn’t sure he’d arrived at exactly the right conclusion. But he wants you to know…just in case. "My world wouldn't be the same without you in it,” he breathes out, looking at you with immense care and love, so that you know. So that you know that it won’t be easy on him if you weren’t around. So that you can’t rationalize away your absence. Because it would be felt. It would be felt harrowingly.

You smile at his words, entirely unaware of the intention behind them, reaching up and quickly pressing a kiss to his lips. He can feel your smile in your gesture.

Burrowing back into the warmth of the blanket, a soft laugh and eyeroll escape you and he looks down curiously. "Penelope was wrong," you shared, your words slightly muffled against his chest. "You're totally a Hufflepuff."

Aaron looks at you, his face marred with confusion. “What the hell is a Hufflepuff?" he groans, rolling over so he can face you and hold you tucked into him.

The only response he gets is a peal of laughter, reverberating through his ribs and the warm press of your lips to his chest.

*------------*

David Rossi woke up early the next morning. Clubbing and drinking till late at night was for children. He wasn't quite so young anymore, and instead of nursing a hangover, his body decided to be wide awake at an inhumane hour.

He gets dressed, and instead of trying to finagle your complicated coffee machine, he heads down to grab one from one of the street carts.

He's paying the man for the coffee, when his eye is caught by a photo in one of the papers. He leans in close, just to make sure he's not seeing things. But no, he wasn't.

There you were and there Aaron was, dipping you down, his mouth latched onto yours. 

He laughs and looks back at the man, holding up the paper in his hand. "However many copies you have of this, I want them. I want them all."

[sims4legacy]

Cece was sleeping when she heard a loud noise. Cierna had returned and was apparently angry as she kept yelling at her computer.

Cece: Weren't you planning to let me know you had arrived?

Cierna: I thought the bumps would be a clue.

Cece: How could you do this? Ruin the dinner...

Cierna: It was just dinner, Cece, we'll have more.

Cece: It wasn't just dinner to me... and we won't have more if you don't start controlling your addictions. 

previous / next

[nuatthebeach]

New Ginny

Link to AO3 for comments/reviews

"You know this was not what we had in mind for a low budget vacation, Winston!"

"You said you wanted to go somewhere you couldn't find at home."

"So, why would you take us to the beach all the way across the country, man?!" Sand shot in the air as an angry kick on the shore was executed effortlessly by the man Schmidt himself. "We live in freakin' LA! There's beaches crawling out of everywhere! And you wonder why no one lets you choose any of our vacation spots anymore, ya freak."

Cece threw up a hand in exasperation, diamond ring winking in the sun. "Yeah, why didn't you just tell us we were going to the beach, Winston? We could have saved a lot by just taking a car nearby instead of you surprising us with these 'low cost' plane tickets."

"See, you guys don't get it. I told y'all we were going on a cheap trip we ain't never done before, right?" Winston's smile brightened, the look of misguided, twisted comedy overtaking his expression with alarming speed. "And then, boom, I took y'all to the beach. On the East Coast. Ha! You just got Bishoped!"

Nick shook his head, right hand rubbing wearily against his face, looking just as tired as the rest of them. "You've gotta stop with your pranks, man."

"Y'all should've seen the look on my face - "

"Y- Seen the look on your face?"

The only word to describe the look on Schmidt's face was 'flabbergasted.'

" - When I swiped y'all's credit credit cards last month as you were all arguing with Nick over that Flat Earth theory video on YouTube - "

"When they asked the guy about his qualifications, he answered 'critical thinker'! Does that sound like someone who would just lie to you?!"

" - And for your only holiday weekends too! And, man, Nick is so broke right now! I was trying so hard to hold it in!" Winston was absolutely beaming with mirth at this point, reducing his friends' sense of camaraderie towards him to a terrifying low. "You know, you guys should really be checking your billing history more often, for real, someone could really be stealing from you, and you'd have no idea."

Before Winston could register Schmidt's increasingly tomato red face, something else in his periphery caught his attention. "Damn it, Ferguson, don't go near that water! It is not your friend, baby!"

"What type of idiot lets a cat roam free on the beach!"

While Cece attempted to alleviate the pressure between Schmidt's tightly clenched teeth, an irritated look overpowering her own, a low voice spoke from behind. "Are your friends always like this?"

Ginny, who had been laughing at her loftmates' antics and was surprisingly not feeling as bothered by Winston's tendencies as the rest of them (this vacation is, after all, well-deserved after the shitty week I've had, and every second counts, even if they are each spent planning Winston's upcoming ultimate demise), turned around to see an incredibly fit man her age speaking to her directly.

Sweeping her eyes over his form once, she leaned closer. "I'm afraid they are, yes, but I've got to warn you I'm not much better."

He seemed equally as amused as her. "How so?"

"Well, as you can tell from my completely American accent," she deadpanned in her British accent, amused when the stranger rolled his eyes in response, "my sense of humor is a bit dry. Superior, of course, but I'm told some people can't handle it."

"Natural selection will handle that, I hope," he chuckled.

"If we're lucky," she smiled. Feeling particularly introductory that late afternoon, she gestured halfheartedly to the obnoxious chatter several meters ahead of her. "My loftmates here, on the other hand, each have an equally questionable sense of humor themselves."

"Who, those few?"

She rolled her eyes, failing to prevent the corner of her lips from quirking upwards. Pointing to the man who was now dragging an increasingly wet and agitated cat from the Atlantic ocean, his jeans completely soaked from the knees down, Ginny drawled, "That idiot over there who cost us a proper, well-earned vacation is Winston. The only thing this man loves more than crazy pranks is his even crazier cat, who I'm pretty sure doesn't even know he exists. Needless to say, I've really never been more envious of a cat's attention span myself."

Moving on to Schmidt and Cece who were lying on the shore as far away from Winston as much as possible as a form of spite, Ginny explained matter-of-factly, "Schmidt and Cece don't have a cat, but that won't stop them from also making ear infection-inducing noises at six in the morning through our paper thin walls."

Pointing to the last couple on the beach, she continued, "Not like Nick and Jess are any better, though. They like to make weird noises too, but it's not always during sex, and that scares me more than it should anyone, really."

She gestured to herself. "And last but not least, you have me, whose most normal experience of today is having a fit guy at the beach wonder out loud about how five idiots managed to drag their even more fit loftmate out of her comfortable bed and into an expensive five hour flight. Just to do the same things that I easily could have done if I just took a simple albeit very long stroll outside. And I would have had a much better view, too, no offense to your rather peculiar looking ocean over here. What shade of contaminated gray would you call that hue, by the way?"

"No, that's a pretty accurate way of describing it, actually. I'd like to think there is some green in there, though. Just to give it the illusion of appearing to be clean." Reluctantly, Ginny had to agree.

The stranger's lips pressed firmly in amusement the entire time she was talking - ranting, more like - clearly trying to not give her the satisfaction of knowing how funny and charming he thought she was.

She found that endearing. They all try at first.

Eventually, he settled with: "So you and, uh, Winston, are the only two people in the loft who are not coupled up?"

She raised an eyebrow, impressed by his nerve. "Pretending to ignore your intentions for asking such a tactfully worded question, no, actually, when Winston's not too busy canoodling with his cat, he's canoodling his girlfriend - Aly - back at home, but she couldn't make it here today, lucky girl. So it's just me."

Finally smiling now, the stranger ignored her challenging look ('why are you so curious about my relationship status, you hot, inquisitive, none-of-your-business stranger?') and asked her teasingly, "Aren't there a lot of people to fit in just one loft?"

"I mean, we're from LA. Rent there is mad, so we need all the help we can get," she shrugged. "But, yeah, most definitely breaking some housing rules here or there. Is that something that bothers you?"

He smiled, something akin to arrogance taking over his face. She found that look more stirring than she'd like to admit out loud. "You'll find I'm not really the rule caring type."

"Oh? When would you imagine I'd be finding that out?"

She was beyond the point of caring how brazen she must have sounded to a complete and utter stranger. And if she was being honest with herself, she never did care, really. Besides, if she was going to fit a hot summer romance in the span of a whole day, she thought she might as well get on with it.

He cleared his throat, his gaze silently indicating how much he'd like to agree with her on that one, too. "Okay, Miss Dry Humor. I guess I know everything there is to know about your loftmates without risk of my mind being fully blown apart, now. What's your story?"

"What's yours?"

He chuckled at her retort though immediately furrowed his eyebrows afterward, as if he was confused by this question himself.

Ginny did not know what to think of that, though she found a strange fog overtaking her when she tried to ponder on her own personal history too.

Strange.

Instead, she prompted, trying to clear her mind, "You're a lifeguard here, right?"

He looked down at his form, a lanyard draped across his increasingly interesting collarbone and a whistle resting just above his bare chest.

"I can't swim."

She blinked.

"What?" she laughed. "Isn't that, like, a hazard for what you do?"

"Probably," he said sheepishly, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. "I don't mean to, like, put anyone in danger or anything. It's a long story, but basically, I'm covering for my friend while he's, um...making noises with his girlfriend, as you said. Hence, the whistle right here. So I'm not really a lifeguard. But if anything happens, my other friend - an actual reliable lifeguard - can help you out. He's right over there nearby."

He pointed to another dark-haired, attractive man standing farther away from them along the shore. At first, Ginny thought he was winking at her, but when she saw the tension building along the shoulders of the stranger next to her, she knew who that teasing look was meant for.

"Sorry about him. He thinks I'm trying to make a move on you."

"Oh? Is that not what's happening right now?"

His cheeks flushed slightly. Ginny found it amusing how this man could be so confident but also so shit at flirting too. It strangely caused warmth to expand, but this time it was not through her lower belly.

"I don't want him to think that, though. I'd never hear the end of it."

It was not a direct answer to her question, but his eyes were so soft and mischievous that she had no doubt as to what he really meant.

She rolled her eyes anyway. "I thought you Americans were supposed to be more direct than that."

He scoffed, eyes lighting up at her jibe. "Oh, I see. You're one of those. Dry humor doesn't have to equate to being mean, you know."

Ginny laughed. "Well, that's why my loft arrangement works out so well with this lot over here," she jabbed her thumb to her friends, watching as Ferguson was attempting once more to drown himself in the ocean to escape his owner's clingy attentiveness. "My sense of humor is mean and dry, and their sense of humor compensates by being mean and wet."

He coughed. "Wet?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, pretending like she hadn't made any suggestive comment whatsoever. "Well, occasionally we do like to alternate, though."

"Of course."

"If I was always dry, and they were always wet, we'd have a different problem altogether."

He barked out a laugh, his cheeks flushing again. "How are you even real?"

"Well, anything's possible if you've got enough perv."

The man's breath hitched, his green eyes staring at her intensely. Despite her earlier insult, Ginny thought the color reminded her exactly of the ocean they were at now, something much stormier than the one back in California.

She found herself growing fond of this beach in a way she was not before.

"Do I know you? I swear I feel like I met you before."

She leaned closer to him, fighting feeling flustered herself. "I've probably got one of those memorable faces or something."

"Something like that." His eyebrows furrowed, but his lips were still upturned. "I'll certainly remember it much later today anyways."

His ears promptly reddened.

She gasped playfully, smiling as she hit him lightly on his very fit arm. "You are much smoother than you look. And randier."

He laughed. After a short while of them standing in a silence filled with smirks and silky sheet-like possibilities, he finally asked, "Okay, Miss Dry Occasionally Wet Humor - "

"Nice."

He bit back another chuckle. "What's your name?"

"What's yours?"

He rolled his eyes ("stubborn too"), he relented, "I'm Harry."

She chuckled, shaking his hand that was offered to her mockingly. She tried to ignore how well it fit in her own small one.

"Ginny."

He watched her nose crinkle, a deep smile spreading across both of their lips contentedly.

It was something tangible, she thought, as her insides fired up, not out of lustful heat - though certainly that too - but something warm, like receiving hugs after being shoved outside in a freezing tent in the woods for months and months, with nothing but a piece of marked parchment to keep one sane.

Parchment?

Something within her squirmed, and she thought that if she listened closely enough, the sounds of seagulls cawing in the distance could easily be replaced by something akin to an audience crooning in sympathy.

As if watching a pair of hopeless lovers on a silver screen.

Suddenly, Nick's comically high pitched scream filled the air, allowing Ginny to shake her head at her crazy thoughts.

"It's just a ghost crab, Nick!" Jess yelled from far away, annoyed as her boyfriend jumped on her back in fright, almost causing her to topple over herself.

"Why are there crabs and ghosts, Jess! You can't have both! You know I always told you that crustaceans are the cockroaches of the sea! It's a crazy world out here!"

At Jess's blank stare, Nick chuckled incredulously, his last brain cell firing meekly. "Wait. I get it. You're teasing me, Jess. Ghosts aren't real. Psh. Nice try."

Nick's neck cricked as he glanced around in paranoia.

Jess rolled her eyes, attempting to drop him down from her back but failing badly, his legs wrapped around her like a vice. "Ghost. Crabs. Nick. I don't know why you're even scared of them - they even walk sideways like you do!"

"They should not be blending in with the sand like that! They're all spooky ghosts! It's not right!"

"You. Are. So. Infuriating, Miller!"

As Nick hopped off of Jess to moonwalk away from the ghost crabs, a thought came to Ginny.

"They kind of remind me of..." Both Harry and Ginny said at the exact same time, causing them to stare at each other hastily.

When neither of them finished their sentences (what even was I going to say anyways?), Ginny huffed. "Right," she said, "Well, I've got to head back now before Nick finds out that it's getting late, which can only mean that more ghost crabs are bound to be crawling all over the place soon."

He laughed but quickly became alarmed when she made to leave. "Wait."

She turned around, hand cupping her forehead to squint at him through the waning sun. Harry swallowed, eyes drifting to her red hair in a daze.

Before he could say anything, however, Schmidt and Winston's obnoxiously loud voices were shrill above the sounds of the waves crashing ahead of them.

"Of all places for a prank!" Clearly, Schmidt's ability to let things go was about as weak as Ginny's right hook. "Why did you decide to take us here in the end?"

"As in, why the East Coast and not a beach in a whole other expensive ass country? Damn, now that would have been a better prank."

Four legs reached out to kick sand in Winston's face, Ferguson following with a screech.

"But to be honest, I couldn't wait to see what the sunset looks like on the other side of the country."

Pause.

"Winston! We are on the East Coast! The sun falls west at night time! Look at where the sun is now," Schmidt gestured aggressively behind him, where towering beach homes covered the view. "You can't see the freakin' sunset on this beach, man!"

"Aw, damn, my bad."

"How are you actually one of the more intelligent people I know in my life?!"

If there was one thing she and Schmidt shared, Ginny concluded, it was their inability to handle rage.

Her eyes flitted to Jess, who was trying to catch her attention.

Ginny chuckled, holding up a hand to let her loftmate know to wait there when she saw her smiling knowingly towards her and Harry. She watched as Jess's eyebrows waggled dramatically, stuffing her index finger through a hole she made with her other hand in repetition as she chomped down on her lip.

Completely unfazed by her loftmate's quirks at that point, Ginny turned to Harry again.

"If we can't do that sunset, I suppose I'll have to make plans for a sunrise tomorrow before we head back to LA, then. Join me?"

His answering smile could make a grain of sand feel alive.

She had the strangest feeling that the sound she could have sworn she heard a while ago was ringing faintly in her ear once more.

This time, she thought she heard boisterous whoops instead, clapping cheerfully as Ginny smiled one last time to Harry before finally walking toward her friends.

…

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[silveraccent]

Foreword || Solo

TIMING: Current, the day Grace is discharged from the hospital.  LOCATION: Grace’s apartment. SUMMARY: Grace reckons with truly being alone and confronts her anger at Regan. 

Grace had always found silence menacing. If it was quiet, it meant she would be forced to listen, and to truly listen could mean so many things to a person like her. Though, her way of listening-- it was different. She was different.

She wasn’t powerful, though. She wasn’t capable of protecting others, or even of protecting herself. She offered nothing but anger to both Cece and Kaden. She offered nothing but her distrust to Regan-- though, didn’t she deserve that?

Grace had fought with herself-- did she deserve to be angry? To fall into her thoughts, to relish in the despair from those around her. She had been so angry at herself, and for what? What could she have done to protect herself, or Cece, or Janus (who, under other circumstances), was now gone? What could she have done? She wasn’t capable of saving others, it showed in the way that she had failed to save Renee, in the way that the only thing she could do was offer words to those who were in dire need of hearing them. 

What good could she do with words, and words alone? They were empty, for the most part-- robotic, sterilized. Being able to feel those around her, to feel their anger, their pain, their elation-- it was overwhelming, and with the silence? All of it was louder. Now, she was forced to listen to those feelings. They crept through her wall, dark and sinister, terrified heartbeats in ribcages that eventually, would open up and display their inner most terrors. 

Her own terror was found in the tremble of her hands at every loud noise. She could barely look at her reflection in the mirror, the gauze still taped to her ear. She had become her own terror-- she had been submerged in this feeling once before, the idea that she wasn’t capable, all that she was was fragile, made up of pieces of glass, ready to shatter at the slightest wind. She was anger and sadness, warped and bruised, barely recognizable. She didn’t look in the mirror and see herself. She saw a scared girl, one whose terror had gripped her tightly, sunk into her bones, made her rattle and disintegrate. 

And for what? For what reason did she have to feel this way? Grace had pleaded with herself, with the sky, the moon, the stars-- to be strong, to forgive Regan, because it was clear there was something else there. Her anger, like embers burning in the pit of her stomach, striking ash against the palms of her hands like poison. She couldn’t forgive, she couldn’t forget. 

Regan had returned her to the days in which she had lost Renee. 

For that, she could offer no forgiveness. 

[gingyboo]

Mirror Mirror

A/N: Again many thanks to @booglebug

Description- Soulmates existed. People knew that much. Soulmates were rare, a handful in each generation, an unexplainable phenomenon that formed a bond closer than blood and more sacred than marriage.

Bucky finds his soulmate when he needs her most. Little does he know how much she needs him too.

(Soulmate au that slots pretty much in to the MCU but with soulmates. Set after TFATWS.)

Pairing- Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings- Mentions of violence and guns, but its mostly fluff, drama and angst. Blood and serious injury.

This is a multi chaptered fic.

Please like, comment, reblog!

prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter4 Chapter 5Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 chapter 15 Chapter 16

------------------------------------------------ Chapter 17

Kit watched the ramp rising, shutting out the sunlight. His breath was heavy as he maintained the pressure on Nancy’s wound. Just before the ramp closed Kit was jolted by the distinctive clang of metal on metal. The ramp was forced open enough for Bucky to squeeze through, he seemed dishevelled but unhurt as he stood up, his head brushing the roof of the jet. All colour left his face as his eyes landed on Nancy. Words lost him entirely as he fell to his knees by her side. Kit looked at him helplessly.

“The Wakandan outreach centre, London, they’ll be able to help her.” Bucky stuttered towards the pilot. He took Nancy’s hand that was limp by her side. and enveloped it in his flesh hand squeezing it firmly. leaning over her, he swept a flyaway strand of hair off her forehead. Tears pricked in his eyes.

“Nancy…” he whispered.

Sam dropped through a hatch above them, landing lightly on the floor behind Bucky. They shared a look and Sam dropped the shield, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder.

“Nancy, please, stay with me.” Bucky pleaded, holding up her head, two fingers finding the weak pulse in her neck. A shiver ran through him, and Nancy’s eyes fluttered slightly. Bucky squeezed her hand tighter.

“Nance…”

“Bucky, you’re okay… Buck…what happened?” Green eyes peaked out between her lashes.

“Oh, thank goodness, you’re going to be ok, the Wakandans will help you, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry...” he pressed his lips to her forehead. Kit shifted his hands as Sam passed him fresh wad of bandages to stem the bleeding. Sam was talking frantically on the phone. Nancy’s eyes darted round the plane frantically taking everything in. Her eyes landed on Kit, all his focus was on the wound in her chest, he was shaking, his breath catching in his throat. Nancy tried to reach for him, with the hand not locked in Bucky’s, but her arm felt heavy and detached from her.

“Kit,” she choked out, “Kit, look at me.” Kit shook his head, her eyes snapped to Bucky’s, a wordless exchange took place as he removed her hand from his grip and slipped his crumpled jacket under her to support her head. His hands covered Kit’s releasing him from his trace. Kit slid back, finally meeting his sister’s gaze.

“I’m sorry, it should have been me.” He stuttered “it’s all my fault.”

“No. Don’t you say that.”

“Shuri’s let the London team know, they’re preparing a medical team, she says Bucky should stay close, she thinks their bond could help her.” Sam said, hanging up the phone. Looking at the scene by his feet. Kit looked like a small child whilst Bucky seemed older than ever. All extended youth seemed to have evaporated from his form as he watched life spilling from his soulmate. The sight seemed too personal, too private, even Kit had looked away, curled up against the wall. Sam marched into the cock pit, he could be more helpful there.

The journey could have been years for all Bucky knew, Nancy drifted in and out of consciousness speaking fractured sentences, he shushed them away, telling her to save her strength. She was quite for what seemed like an age before her voice returned, stronger and clearer than before.

“I need you to promise me something.” She said to Bucky.

“Don’t talk like that.”

“You have to promise me you won’t fall apart, promise me, you won’t go looking for vengeance, you or him, I know he’s still in there, but you can’t let him out.”

“Nancy stop.”

“it’s okay, you can let me go. I think it’s time.” She winced pain filling her feature.

“You’re not going anywhere, you’re not leaving me.” Bucky turned to the cockpit, “How far are we?” He shouted.

“We’re close, little further.” Rayden responded, his voice laced with guilt though he pushed the engines to their limit.

“Bucky I’m sorry,” tears swam down her cheeks, “Kit.” She called, unable to turn her head, paralysed in pain. Her brother slid over to her, taking her hand in his.

“I’m here, I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Kit, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too CeCe.” He cited his childhood nickname for her. A simpler time when his baby sister came home from the hospital and two separate syllables was too much for him.

“I need you to know, I forgive you, for leaving, for hiding, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, you not forgiving me, you’re not going to die, you’re going to be angry at me for long time, I’ll have grovel and plead, I have regain your trust and even then you’ll still bring it up every time we disagree on something, you’re my baby sister and you’re not going anywhere.” He said firmly, Nancy smiled softly, a chuckle escaping her lips. Her breathing escalated, she choked and coughed, blood seeping out of her mouth. Sam appeared beside them once more, reaching down he swept Nancy up in his arms, cradled to his chest like a baby. Her head lulled to one side. Kit stood to protest, but Bucky held up a hand.

“He’ll get her there faster.” the ramp started to lower, as Bucky leaned over, kissing her cheek softly.

“Don’t go where I can’t follow.” He whispered in her ear, if Sam heard he was pretending not to. Kit squeezed her hand before Sam dove out into London’s sky.

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

Bucky felt her fingers twitch first. His gaze shifted up instantly until it rested on her eyes. They shifted beneath her lids, responding at last to the bright lights above her sick bed. The outreach centre had taken her in fixed her up, she had stabilised by the time Kit and Bucky had made it to her. It had been two days now, her wound was healed but her body was still recovering. Wakandan medicine was an amazing thing, Bucky was fascinated, remembering his days on the battlefield in the war, how many would have lived had their facilities been available then. She was squeezing his hand now, and he smiled squeezing back.

“Nancy?” He spoke softly his free hand sweeping across her cheekbone. Her eyes fluttered open, green peeking through her thick lashes.

“Buck… Bucky.” she croaked out.

“Oh, doll you had me scared back there.” he exhaled heavily, drawing his chair closer to her bed.

“The witches?” she asked frantically trying to sit up. bucky held her back down with soft shushing noises.

“We left them there, not the last we’ll see of them no doubt, but for now you’re safe, that’s all that matters.

“Where do we go from here? Back to Wakanda?”

“We can’t.” his face fell into a solum line.

“What’s happened?”

“Duncan Everitt is dead.” he said simply, watching a crease form between her brows.

“How?”

“We don’t know, but if someone can get to him there then its not safe enough for you.” he insisted. Nancy’s brow furrowed but any protest was cut off by Kit rushing into the room. He was by her side in an instant.

“Don’t ever put me through that again.” he smiled down at her.

“Where will we go?” she asked looking between the two men.

“I will go to Wakanda, Duncan may have hunted me, but he was one of my men once, he deserved better than what he got, I will find out what happened to him.” he said defiantly. Nancy nodded, Bucky help her to sit upright in the bed. “I’ll get to see dad, apologies, start to make amends.”

“He’ll be over the moon, to see you again, when I told him I think he didn’t dare to dream, he won’t believe until he sees you. I know I didn’t.” she looked up at her brother, he was now freshly shaved, and his hair trimmed, he wore a loose-fitting white t-shirt and some black silk trousers, he’d made him self at home here. Nancy was pleased, he looked more like his old self, younger, softer in the face without the wiry beard.

“I was thinking, we could go to America, Louisiana probably, I got a place there, it’s not much, but…”

“I’d like that.” she said quickly smiling, she caught Kit’s eye who smiled in agreement. Whatever had happened, Kit trusted Bucky now.

“Sam would be close by too, if trouble were to find us.” he smiled taking her hand again.

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

It took a few days to prepare, finding flights, sorting out her visa, getting Samara to deliver her passport to Sam on the other side of London to avoid anyone following them to get to Nancy. Kit left with Rayden for his journey to Wakanda, it was a tearful farewell on Nancy’s part as Bucky finally left her side to give the siblings a moment of privacy. Nancy felt stronger every day, moving out of her sick bed and into a shared room with Bucky. Not wanted to risk going outside she walked up and down the stairs in outreach centre, outwards appearance resembled a tower block, one of the larger centres held, it had a lot of stairs. Shuri contacted her, sending over a replacement top with bullet proof properties, the other torn to shreds by the bullet and the doctors. Her father fretted down the phone to her, even her mother called, though it was cool and brief her mother did at least sound half relieved to hear her awake, Kit had insisted she’d fretted constantly before Nancy had woken up, this she found hard to believe. Eventually it was time to leave, set off for a fresh start. As Nancy curled up in the wide 1st class seat with Bucky beside her she felt herself poised at a precipice, a brand new chapter of her life.

[songofsoma]

3 for the writing prompts. Do I coward

i think i just ripped my pants

“Okay, so my mom sent these files with me this morning for us to look through pertaining to our new case assignment,” Cecilia announced as she walked through the door of the meeting room they were using. 

Four pairs of eyes settled their attention on her.

“Well good morning to you too, Cece,” Farah complained whilst spinning in one of the swivel chairs at the table.

“Oh, sorry. Good morning,” she said brightly, her gaze sweeping over the room.

Nat was sitting next to Farah, smiling politely at her as she grabbed the back of the younger agent’s chair to stop her, causing her to almost fall off. Morgan was leaning against the wall where the light didn’t shine as brightly. A puff of smoke was her greeting. Finally, her eyes met Ava’s glacial stare. 

The commanding agent was stunning as always, even with her large form shoved into the small office chairs. Cecilia offered her a warm smile, one that made Ava quickly avert her gaze. Her heart constricted at the action.

“Cece,” Nat’s voice drew her back to reality. “You were saying?”

She cleared her throat, continuing her walk to the table. “Yes, my mom—oh, oops!” 

Her heel caught on a snag in the carpet, causing the files to fall from her hands, papers going everywhere. 

“I guess it’s just one of those days,” Cecilia groaned as she moved to begin picking them.

The second she bent over, there was a distinct ripping noise.

“Lace. Nice,” Morgan quipped from where she was standing, smoke filtering from her lips as she smirked.

Fantastic. Just what she needed.

Her face heated significantly as she quickly stood, doing her best to cover the rip in her pants in the midst of her embarrassment.

Nat looked at her sympathetically, moving to try to help. Before she could, Ava was up and at the detective’s side. Quickly, she shrugged off her coat to tie it around Cecilia's waist, not without giving Morgan an angry stare.

“Do you have a spare here?” Ava asked, trying her best to adopt a stoic mask.

Cecilia pursed her lips. “No, I have to go back to my apartment. If I could just borrow your coat or something until then—”

The vampire held up a hand to stop her. “Keep it. You can give it back to me later.”

She smiled gratefully, resisting the urge to just hug her outright. “Thank you, Ava.”

[eusooah]

hello my lovely fairies and gentle gems! i’m cece, and i’m very excited to bring to you im sooah (irene), child of hecate. the best way to describe her is literally “she’s beauty, she’s grace, she might actually punch you in the face.” buckle up, i use this quote a lot to describe her. sooah might seem intimidating at first, but i promise you, she’s harmless unless you provoke her.

 i’m going to link her bio / profile / plots page, but if reading all of this is too much work (i feel that, so no offense taken if y’all just skim through it), i’m going to leave a few details under the cut. 

anyways, i’m excited to plot with all of you. click the heart and i’ll drop by in your ims.   

▸▸▸  had a rough childhood and did not get along with her dad because he was always gone, and looking at her reminded him too much of her mom. he had to give up his dream of being a surgeon to take care of sooah so while he did love his daughter, he also was quite bitter.

 ▸▸▸  was a pretty angry child (had major anger management issues) and would often climb onto roof of the apartment to stare at the stars. that’s how she found her love for the stars. 

 ▸▸▸  for what it’s worth, for the most part, sooah’s worked through her issues with her dad. she’s doing much better now but she does have bouts / periods where the traumas of her past come back. 

 ▸▸▸ notable abilities are mystiokinesis and umbrakinesis 

 ▸▸▸  doesn’t really believe that she’ll ever love someone romantically or be loved romantically, but it’s whatever for her. does partake in the occasion one night stand / did have fwbs though. 

 ▸▸▸  she’s not particularly strong, but she’s graceful and uses her petite stature to her advantage in combat. relatively good fighter though her strengths lie in her abilities to cast magic. lowkey thinks that she could be a sorceress like circe or medea.

 ▸▸▸  she’s confident and can come off as snobby but she really is not arrogant. acknowledges that she is pretty but there really is much more than just her face -- works hard to prove that to people.

 ▸▸▸  does like to be by herself and dislikes loud noises, so you can find her in quiet spots on campus by herself. that or the hecate cabin. can be hyperactive with her siblings and close friends though. 

 ▸▸▸  perpetually tired and sleepy. but isn’t that just the life of a graduate student? 

 ▸▸▸ terrified of ghosts. kind of ironic considering she has necromancy abilities and that’s kind of how her dad got the attention of he mother, but she’s terrified of ghosts. 

[cececreativewriting]

full play, “Cactus”

CACTUS

A play by Cece Jane

my mind alarms me

wondering what is real

and who decides reality

Characters:

Jonah: antsy; to be read abruptly, quickly, almost always in a panic.

Mirror-Jonah: Jonah’s reflection in the mirror. Sassy. He wants to help Jonah, but can’t be heard when Jonah is determined to block him out.

Boss: Only heard from other side of phone call, not seen.

Avaleigh: Neither seen nor heard. She was perfect. He’ll do anything to get her back.

Setting:

An apartment building in an average, middle America town. The year is 2020.

Post-it notes of various colors are hung up throughout the apartment. Some are inspirational, saying “You can do it!” or “One day at a time!”, while some state things like, “You’re a piece of shit”, “Stop being delusional”. Negative post-it notes primarily on the mirrors.

Throughout the whole play, there is a cactus in a pot, in every scene.

Notes

/ means the next line begins.

The question of this play is, what is real? And that’s up to each individual audience member to decide. Jonah shows people that other people’s realities aren’t always the same as yours.

SCENE I

*Jonah wakes up and it is midnight. He sits up in his bed. It is dark, with a small spotlight on his bed, and a window that shows it is pouring rain.*

*He reaches over to his phone and the bright screen shocks him, as he scrunches his face*

Jonah: *sighs*midnight.

*Jonah starts to dial on the phone, and does so slowly, as if nervous*

Jonah: *on the phone; he stutters*Avaleigh, listen… I’ve really been thinking, and I…

*He looks out the window at the hard rain. He touches the window with his finger, letting himself feel the cold glass. He wants to feel the rain on his fingers, he wants to run his fingers through Avaleigh’s hair, he wants to feel her warm skin and little scar on her left thigh again.*

Jonah: … I think we can make it work. I mean, I know things have changed, I know nothing can ever remain the same no matter how badly I want it to. But… Avaleigh, I want to make this work!

…

I want to make you happy.

*He slowly hangs up the phone, flickering on a small light.*

*Jonah reaches over to his bed side table and picks up a bottle of pills. He pours two pills out and swallows them without water.*

*He then sits in his bed with a book of a collection of Edgar Allen Poe short stories and begins to read, stopping a few pages in, sighing, and putting down the book.*

Jonah: One moment at a time, Jonah. One moment at a time.

*He turns off the light. It is pitch black with the only light being the moonlight coming from the window, in which we can watch the shadows of the rain*

BLACKOUT

*A few minutes will pass, and the window will slowly fade the rain away, and enter in sunlight.*

SCENE II

*Once the lighting is set as a bright morning, an alarm clock goes off on Jonah’s phone.*

*Jonah wakes up abruptly from the alarm, jumping up and grabbing his phone, shutting off the alarm. He looks outside at the window, and notices that it’s sunny. A new day has come, and it is bright and sunny. He is… hopeful?*

*His room is covered in multicolored post-it notes. Everywhere. He looks at them and reads them in his head as he passes each one. When he looks at the ones by the window or the mirror, he quivers.*

*He makes his bed, perfecting every corner, then he walks to his desk and pulls out a notebook to write his schedule*

Jonah: Okay, so, if I brush my teeth and put on clothes, I can make it to the office by 8:33am. I can take the bus, right? I think I can take it from The South Station to The Main St Station. I can get out, and go to Bagel Gourmet, I can get bagels for the whole office! They’ll all be like, ‘Oh look, Jonah got us all bagels!’ They’ll all be so happy. I’ll make them all so happy.

*He gets distracted, mumbling about how happy he’ll make them, fantasizing about friendships with these coworkers*

Okay, okay, I can get to work at 8:52. Allotting time for hello’s and removing my coat, I will work from 8:56 until 12:23. I will go to the bathroom, then I’ll take a lunch break from 12:25 to 12:50. I will allow ten minutes for the returning socialization, possible phone calls, or maybe I will read the newspaper. But I will start working again no later than 1pm, continuing to work until 9:38. I’ll put in those extra 8 minutes so I seem like a hard worker.

*His eyes widen*

A hard worker. Me, that’s right, I’m a hard worker. Hello, I’m Jonah, nice to meet you, I’m a hard worker!

*getting more serious*

I will walk home, so that I can stop by Avaleigh’s.

*getting excited*

Yeah, I can stop by Avaleigh’s and maybe she’ll be there! Maybe she’ll be there, and I’ll say Hello!

Or…

*nervously*

Maybe I’ll walk by, and, and maybe I’ll look and see another man. A man who isn’t me. Maybe I’ll-

*He interrupts himself*

Stop it, Jonah! Stop it!

Work Before Play! Work Before Play!

*He paces around the room as though he is looking for what to do next but unsure of the move. He picks up a post-it note and moves it to a different location, then goes to his desk and grabs a bottle of pills. He pours a few out and takes them.*

Jonah: One day at a time, Jonah. One day at a time. You can survive today, and we can focus on tomorrow, tomorrow. Tomorrow tomorrow! Tom-or-row, haha!

You can do this, Jonah!

How does a man eat an elephant, Jonah?

One bite at a time, Jonah.

*The next line is to be said while slowly going into a cry/panic. Additional or less repetition of the phrase is okay*

One bite at a time. One bite at a time. One bite at a time. One bite at a-

*He breaks down crying.*

*The spotlight on the cactus*

BLACKOUT

SCENE III

*he gets up and looks at the clock*

Jonah: Okay, okay! If I leave now, I can make it to the office by… 9:03! I mean, I won’t be able to get bagels for everyone, but at least I’ll make it to the office. Yeah, yeah Jonah, at least you’ll make it to the office, at least you’ll get to greet everyone, say your hellos!

You’ll make it to the office, Jonah, you’ll make it!

*Jonah takes a few more pills. He begins pacing around the room for a few moments before stopping while mumbling to himself. He pulls out his phone, nervously, and dials on his phone.*

*ringing noise….. BEEEEEP*

*During the call, on a mirror at a different point on the stage, a reflection of Mirror Jonah is shown, arms crossed, shaking head dissaprovingly.*

Jonah: Avaleigh! Hi! Hi, it’s uh Jo- uh, it’s me.

I want to see you...

I want to see you… today.

Yeah, I want to see you today, Avaleigh.

I miss you, Avaleigh.

My life isn’t the same without you.

My life isn’t the same without you in it.

Avaleigh…

Please, please come back.

Please, Avaleigh.

*He tries to hold it together but his mind is overcome with despair.*

Please come back.

I’m begging you, Avaleigh.

I am begging you.

I am begging you.

*pause; he is frozen*

Jonah: Okay, okay so now I’m a little late. Now, I’m a little late, but I can still make it! I can still make it! You can still make it, Jonah, you can still make it to work!

One bite at a time, Jonah.

One step at a time, Jonah.

One! At! A! Time!

*begins pacing again, then waters the cactus*

Jonah: Remember when Avaleigh got you this cactus? She got it to protect me. Remember she said, ‘This is your protector. A cactus is humble, it doesn’t ask for much, but it is by no means submissive. It protects itself from risks without hurting any other aspect of nature. Cut it open and it has the qualities to heal humans, drink it and you’ll think you’re floating up to God. A cactus fulfills the need for nature as well as providing as a weapon. It’s a contraction within itself. It’s just like you, Jonah.’

*He paces around, mumbling to himself questioning what he needs to do before he can leave for work*

Jonah: Okay, okay, Jonah.

I just need to wash my face,

Yeah… I’ll wash my face and,

And I’ll wash my hands too,

Of course, can’t forget to wash my hands.

and, and I’ll fix up my hair.

Yes, make my hair look nice for work,

I’ll make my hair look nice and everyone will say,

‘Wow, Jonah, look at your hair!’

‘How dapper you look!’

‘What a stud that Jonah is!’

I bet Avaleigh would even fall in love with me again,

She would,

She’d see my hair and she’d fall for me

She’d fall into my arms and say,

‘Wow Jonah, you look so handsome, thanks for doing your hair!’

Yeah!

I’ll do that.

I’ll do my hair

*he mumbles about looking good and doing his hair for a little while walking to a bathroom. Need a sink and a mirror. Mirror reflection is seen by audience.*

Jonah: You can do this Jonah.

I can do this.

*Washes hands very intensely. Turns sink on and off various times.*

*Dries hand with a dull hand-towel. He makes sure his hands are completely dry and takes his time with it.*

*He looks in the mirror with the towel in his hands, his face starts to scrunch up, he begins to cry. However, after the face becomes scrunched up in the mirror, the mirror shows “Mirror Jonah”, confident, not crying, fed up with Jonah’s shit.*

Mirror Jonah: Jonah, you piece of shit!

*Jonah looks up in the mirror, sad, confused, but not as shocked as you would think one would be if their reflection started talking to them. It seems as though they’ve met before.*

Jonah: W-what?

Mirror Jonah: Yeah, you. You, Jonah. Get your fucking shit together.

Jonah: I am! I- I washed my hands, I am doing my hair… I’m gonna go to work, I’m gonna greet everyone with hellos!

I’ll say,

‘Hello, Sharron!’

‘Hello, Louis!’

‘Hello, Tracey!’

‘Hello-

Mirror Jonah: I know you won’t.

We both know / you won’t

Jonah: I will!

I will! I will! I will!

*Mirror Jonah rolls his eyes and slightly chuckles*

Jonah: Stop mocking me! I will, okay! I’m going to do my hair and everyone’s gonna say I look so nice and put together! Avaleigh is going to love it!

*Mirror Jonah laughs*

Mirror Jonah: You’re delusional, Jonah, I’m trying to help you.

Jonah: Help me! Help me!

How!

By Crushing my dreams?!

Mirror Jonah: By telling you the truth./ Something you can never do for yourself.

Jonah: Shut up shut up shut up!

*Jonah gets angry. Angry tears stream down his face, he is raging. Lights represent chaos. He is screaming and yelling, telling Mirror Jonah to shut up and leave him alone.*

*Mirror Jonah holds up a cactus. Jonah bangs against the mirror, then screams in pain and looks at his hand, full of cactus needles.*

Mirror Jonah: The cactus… A weapon that will always flower.

Jonah: What the fuck!

Mirror Jonah:*amongst Jonah’s screams* I’m trying to help you!

*Mirror Jonah writes something on a post-it note and places it on the mirror.*

Jonah: Leave me alone! I don’t want you! I don’t like you!

*Amongst this screaming, at one point, the mirror returns to being simply a reflection of Jonah*

*He is screaming banging on the mirror, cracking it. It continues to crack, but he keeps banging, with glass getting under his finger-tips making him bleed more. There is blood all over the mirror as Jonah bangs against it, bloodying his hands more and more with each movement*

*Amongst the chaos, people dressed in all black will put cacti throughout the bathroom. Some of the cacti will have candle wicks at the top and be lit, some simply with a spotlight. But, there should be a lot of cacti and movement.*

*Eventually, he backs up and looks at the cracked, bloody mirror, and notices his reflection.*

Jonah: What!

You’re just gonna be silent now!

*He waits for a response that will never come.*

Jonah: Fucking speak to me!

*No response. He stares at the mirror but simply sees himself: bloody, crying, a mess.*

Jonah: … come back!

*Jonah keeps trying to get Mirror Jonah to return, by both screaming and silently crying. Eventually, he falls to the ground in despair. He puts his head in his bloody hands and sits there, crying, with his reflection in the mirror.*

*A few moments pass, then the spotlight is on the mirror, off of Jonah. There is no reflection. The audience can see how broken, cracked, and bloody it is. A few moments later, blackout with spotlight on a cactus in the mirror.*

BLACKOUT

SCENE IV

*It is now evening. It is dim, lighting and windows reflects that. It could be raining.*

*Jonah is pacing around the room. There are bags under his eyes*

*Jonah dials on his phone, both eager and timid*

Jonah: Hi, Avaleigh. It’s… it’s uh, it’s me again

Hahah

I, uh,

…I just really miss you.

I just

I just don’t know… what to do without you and-

I’m sorry, okay! I’m just,

*solemnly*

I’m sorry

*Jonah returns to his desk, dumps out some pills and swallows them without water*

*I want the actor to interpret how to say this next line. Mockingly, serious, with tears, laughing. What is your experience with medication? How can you express that with this line?*

Jonah: Just take your pills, Jonah.

You’ll feel better, Jonah.

Just take your pills.

*Jonah begins to pace around again. Timid, he pulls out his phone and dials, but within the first ring he hangs up with fear.*

*He writes down “Confidence!” on a post-it note and sticks it to the wall, or on his phone.*

*He sighs, builds up confidence, then redials*

*The phone rings. The ringing is loud, intensifying in Jonah’s ear like the beat of your heart does as you lay on a cheap motel pillow*

Boss: Hello, this is Greenside, how can I help you?

*Jonah pauses. He tries to speak but no sound comes out of his lingering lips.*

*While he speaks, he is drawing a cactus on a post-it note.*

Jonah: Hey, hi, uh, hi this is Jonah.

I, uh, I was really going to make it into the office today,

I swear, I had it all planned out and,

I really was, I swear!

But, uh, something came up.

I promise, I promise I will be there bright and early tomorrow

With my hair done nicely and

A smile on my face and

A whole box of bagels for the whole office!

I’ll, I’ll be there, I/ promise.

Boss: *sighs; beat*Jonah…

Jonah: I mean it, I will! I’m so sorry.

Boss: Look Jonah, it’s just…

This is getting old.

I get it, Jonah, I do.

I get that it’s hard and I understand that you’re struggling, but it’s just…

It’s been two years, Jonah.

It’s been two years since you’ve come into the office. The last time you were here was in 2018, Jonah!

I mean, we’ve replaced you, you have to know that, right?

You just, you need to stop calling.

*Jonah angrily puts the post-it note up. A light on it. It is a drawing of a cactus, and over it says, “I DON’T GET THE DIFFRERNCE BETWEEN HEAVEN AND HELL.”*

Jonah: But / I

Boss: Just. Stop. Calling.

*Boss hangs up on Jonah. There is a BEEEEEEEEEP to show the call has ended. It feels longer than it should be.*

*Time is moving differently.*

*He holds the phone away from his ear without hanging up. He drops the phone, and it bounces on the ground once. The BEEEP gets louder over time.*

*Jonah stutters and mumbles before falling to the ground, crying.*

BLACKOUT (with spotlight on the cactus. Maybe different colored spotlight.)

SCENE V

*Jonah is in bed. The time is past midnight. Lighting is dim, maybe a candle at the bed side. He is rocking back and forth. He has the Edgar Allen Poe book in his lap, with post-it notes throughout it. He pours some pills into his hand.*

Jonah: Just take your pills, Jonah

Just take your pills and

Everything will be okay Jonah

Just take your pills and you’ll be okay.

You’ll be able to sleep

You’ll be able to sleep and

You’ll be okay

You’ll be able to sleep and

You’ll wake up in the morning and

You’ll look in the mirror and

You’ll fix your hair and

You’ll look so good, Jonah

Avaleigh would have said ‘you look so good’

She would’ve

I know she would

How do you know?

I just know

But how do you know?

I know! Because I know! Because I love her and I know her

I’m gonna see her tomorrow,

I will. I am going to see her tomorrow,

I am!

*Jonah writes down “GO TO AVALEIGH’S” on a post-it note and puts it right on the wall by his bed*

BLACKOUT

SCENE VI

*The lights are blinding- no one can see what is on the stage. Over time, they become dimmer, but still bright enough to represent a sunny day.*

*It is morning now. The sun is bright and there is an optimistic vibe to the atmosphere, presented through lights and setting. Birds are singing. Hope is in the air, but delusion is in the wind.*

*Spotlight on Jonah on the side of the stage, holding a single flower in one hand, a gun in the other.*

Jonah: Avaleigh, I’m coming for you.

I’m coming this time.

I’m coming.

*He looks at the gun, then the flower, then the gun, flower, gun, flower, etc.*

Jonah: *As though talking to someone who asked him a question*

No, I don’t know what I’m gonna do.

*swallows pills*

But I’m getting her back in whatever way possible

No matter what that means.

*Mirror-Jonah walks in holding the frame of a mirror. He sits down in a back corner and holds it in front of him, watching Jonah*

*Jonah begins to walk across the stage, slowly. He is the calmest we have ever seen him*

*As Jonah walks, he continues to look from the flower to gun to flower to gun etc. He is unsure of what to do.*

*Once at the other side of the stage, the spotlight is still only on Jonah (with dim lighting on Mirror Jonah). There is a small figure to his right*

Jonah: H- hi Avaleigh.

Jonah: I know it’s been a while. I should’ve come to see you sooner. I’ve called, I - I just couldn’t actually face you. It’s too hard.

Jonah: But, I want to be with you. I’m ready to be with you again.

*The spotlight widens, revealing a tombstone that states: HERE LIES THE BEAUTIFUL AVALEIGH TRUONG. BELOVED DAUGHTER, FRIEND, AND LOVER. 1-12-1990 TO 9-26-18. SHE IS LOVED AND MISSED BY ALL.*

*He puts the flower on her grave, and lies down, as though cuddling with her ghost. It seems as though he is actually holding onto a figure, like someone is actually there.*

*He doesn’t cry. He remains there as people surround him with cacti. Mirror Jonah bangs against the inside of the mirror but can’t get out.*

*Jonah puts the gun in his mouth*

*He cocks it*

*beat*

BLACKOUT

THE END

[thesunlightout]

where do i turn to when there’s no choice to make? and how do i presume when there’s so much at stake?

All that, and she had nothing to show for it. Nothing to say for it.

She gave her up.

-

Eli showed up at the hospital, and spent all of Friday with her. They had twenty-four hours. Twenty-four his wife until his wife would be back in the city, until he’d have to take Zoë with him, until they’d part ways.

For good.

She doesn’t think she let go of her the whole day, save for when her father and step mother came to see her. And they looked at their would be granddaughter with so much love in their eyes, Fiona began to hate herself.

-

Georgina, Zoë’s new mother, hugged her for a solid two minutes, whispering words of thanks into her ear and commendation for her hard work. Fiona had barely murmured anything in return, her eyes glued to Eli’s over her shoulder, too afraid her attempt at holding herself together with tape and glue would falter long enough to give everything away.

He looked as emotional as she did, barely holding it together himself, but they were stupid. They deserved this. At least he’d have the baby.

There was a weakness in Georgie’s eyes, however, one Fiona caught almost immediately as her eyes landed on Zoë. She hadn’t known what to make of it, but she promised to love her, and that was all she could ask for.

And when they left, tiny little bundle wrapped in a navy-blue car seat with bright pink blankets to combat the New York cold, Fiona wept, heart heavier than she could bear.

Vivian had been the one to find her, and she held her until she stopped, whispering words of comfort she couldn’t really remember. However long it was, she’d probably never know.

-

Getting home was a bit of a blur after that. She remembered vaguely that her father had showed up after she’d been alone with Vivian, and that Auggie had been waiting for them downstairs with the car.

She hadn’t seen much of him in the last two days save for when he briefly came to meet Zoë. But when he hugged her, she’d broken down again, and it killed her that her baby brother, who she’d tried to protect from everything had to be the one comforting her.

“I’ve got you, Fi,” he’d whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

He hadn’t seemed to mind, helping her into the car and holding her tighter once they were sat in the back seat.

As their dad began the drive back to the apartment, Fiona could feel herself finding the first bit of sleep she’d had in two days. The over-exhaustion was finally getting to her, for real this time.

“Where’s Waverly?” she whispered, head on his lap.

“Home,” Auggie answered, rubbing her back. “She’s…” he hesitated, like there was more than what he could share, but she wasn’t sure if she had the energy to pry further. “She’ll be glad to see you.”

She swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay.”

It was the last thing she’d said before dozing off.

-

For all the things she’d accounted for upon jumping into the whirlwind that had been having a baby for somebody else, what she hadn’t accounted for was the void she’d feel upon having to give up said baby. Upon having to deal with the notion that her daughter, the one she felt move and grow inside her would no longer be hers.

In a way, she supposed, Zoë never was hers. The fact that she felt differently wouldn’t change that, nor should she have been surprised.

And yet, she had been. And yet, she’d shut down anyway.

Making it into the apartment that first day, with Auggie’s help, she’d bypassed everyone, even Andi and Sophie who’d been standing by waiting for her arrival, and made it all the way to her room.

She was sore, impossibly so, and wanted nothing more than to sleep because maybe that way she wouldn’t feel anything at all.

-

The apartment had been a revolving door of noise and movement the next couple of weeks, what with her completely not reacting, and everything Waverly was going through. From her dad and Vivian, to Andi and Sophie, to Quincy and Cecilia. Jude and Charlie were around, too, what with Eleanor around.

She sort of wanted everything to stop. For everyone to stop fussing and just leave her here. She supposed that was ungrateful, especially since it was her own fault she was in this mess, and everyone was just around trying to make sure she didn’t completely disappear.

(There was something incredibly humbling and equally embarrassing about having to be bathed this far in the game. She cried to Andi and Cece for a solid hour afterward. Yet another pair of souls she owed so much to)

Waverly showed up one night, and for as angry as she’d been at her for so long, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for her sister.

She was surrounded by so many people who loved her, and yet the void inside her wanted to consume her.

-

She got out of bed almost a week later, and when she walked into the kitchen that morning, she thought she saw tears in Auggie’s eyes. He hugged her and held her for a long beat, and she could feel her own eyes welling.

She was a bit relieved nobody was around that morning, not exactly ready for the same reaction from everyone.

“Where’s Waverly?” she’d asked, taking a seat at Auggie’s instruction as he worked on breakfast. She didn’t have much of an appetite, and yet she couldn’t find it in her to break his inspiration.

“She went out with Eleanor this morning. Mother/daughter date,” he said, small smile on his face.

Fiona nodded, her expression unchanging. That stung a bit, but she supposed no one around her was to blame for that.

“Fi, I… sorry…” Auggie turned away from the pancakes on the stove.

She shook her head. “Hey. Don’t be. It’s okay, really. Just because I’m…” she trailed off, deciding to not say what she wanted to say. “She deserves to be happy. She’s been through a lot.”

He nodded, watching her for a bit. He couldn’t place where her mind was at, and if Fiona was honest at all, neither could she.

“I can’t… This has been the hardest thing in the world for me,” she said a beat later. “Like… when we lost mom, that was… I mean, you know how hard it was, but this…” she sighed and wiped at her eyes, not wanting to spiral again. “I didn’t want to give her up, you know?”

Auggie set a plate in front of her, and leaned forward at the breakfast nook to listen to her. “I know.”

“But I just... it felt like the right thing. And every day I remember, I just want to forget I had it in me to do give up my own child because I keep saying she wasn’t meant to be mine, but she was... I... I felt it."

“Fi... you’re the most incredible person I know. You give up so much for people, and you don’t give yourself enough credit,” he said. “And you were doing what you thought was right. It doesn’t... that doesn’t change because of the decision you made. In fact, it grows because of the decision you made,” he told her.

She closed her eyes, unsure of whether or not she could believe him, but she couldn’t deny the words helped.

“You know you’re not alone in this right?” he stressed. "For as long as it takes, you have me and Wave and everybody. None of us are leaving you alone with this.”

She sniffled and nodded. “I know. I love you for it.” She sighed and gave his hand a squeeze. “I have so much to do. So many people to talk to.”

“One day at a time, okay?”

[sunshinechii-scenarios]

Hi Neighbor

Hello! I'm back with another scenario finally after another round of just posting moodboards! I also did include a pet cat in here so if you're a dog person I'm sorry! I love cats kskxnsozjs but people see me as a dog person sad sad. W.E I love them both ♡

✿ Seventeen The8 x Gender Neutral Reader ✿ Fluff ✿ 1.7k words ✿ Not Requested ✿ Chii

PSA: If you requested something please give us 2-3 weeks! We’re both in school and busy with personal things! I don’t wanna sound annoying but be patient! Thank you! I make make a wip post where I’ll update the wips I’m working on if that helps!

I made the following divider so please don’t take it or use in your own posts, thank you .- Chii 

          There was an absolutely wonderful opening for the Friday night shift at work and with rent coming up, you knew you needed the extra cash. It was always a normal occurrence that Friday has the least amount of workers, next to the weekend. You picked up the black marker and wrote your name on the whiteboard inside the employee office. Marking your name down, you made up a plan in your head to prepare yourself for working two shifts within 24 hours. Gathering your things, you checked the time on your phone that had been locked up. 7:34 pm, you still had time to eat a quick meal and sleep before you dealt with an afternoon and night shift back to back. You luckily had four breaks in those two shifts but it was hard to take naps with noise constantly around you.

“Bye, Y/N. See you tomorrow!” Said one of the older workers there, you waved them a goodbye before walking out of the building. As your shoes crunched against the fallen leaves and the wind hit your skin, you walked to your stop. You fished out a pair of earbuds and plugged them into your phone as you waited for the bus.

          On the 15 minute ride home, your plan started to come together. You would order some delivery and pay with your debit card over the phone to save the trouble of paying with cash. You would take a shower within the 45 minute window it usually took for your delivery to come and eat before sleeping by 10 AM. You turned the white corridor lined with dark doors to stop in front of the one you called home. You felt up your pockets for your keys. Finally feeling the jagged edge of metal against your fingers you pulled it out, the jingling sound was the only other sound besides the voices you could hear from next door. You recently got a new neighbor, the old one had moved due to work relocation. It was such a shame, you two had been close and it was hard to adjust to a new neighbor, Minghao is his name if you weren't mistaken. You barely said anything to him since he moved in last week. A few greetings here and there were exchanged between the two of you. You only knew his name because of mail being accidentally put into your box day after day. You thought back to a few days ago, around two days after he moved in. He caught you while coming home in your work attire, that day you had been especially tired and it showed in your appearance. 

It only consisted of him saying “hey neighbor,” before he walked into his apartment and his three friends followed. You were worried about the noise factor but to your pleasant surprise you could hear him tell them to quiet down every time they got loud. You enter your home but not before stealing a glance over to Minghao’s door, hearing muffled voices.

‘Maybe he has friends over again,’ you thought to yourself before pushing the dark door in. You felt a fluffy tail around your ankles as soon as you stepped through the door.

“Hey, Cece.” You bent down to pet the white and gray cat on the ground. She started to walk off to god knows where while you took off your coat and shoes. You called in your order and paid, finally being able to enjoy a hot shower after a long day. You took your time under the hot water, letting it relax your tense muscles. The steam filled the tile bathroom and you looked down to your hands, red due to the hot water. You heard a female voice that interrupt your thoughts through the walls. The walls were thin but not that thin, it took a lot to hear someone talking from another apartment. You got out of the shower after that, you had been in there way too long anyway. Your noticed your prune like fingers while you changed into a fresh change of clothes. The doorbell rang just when you exited the steamy bathroom and prepared the cash tip.

          You thanked the delivery man and gave him a tip and sat down at your coffee table. Opening the bag, you took out it's contents. You saw Cece making her way towards you. Getting up, you lifted her into the couch and she turned a few times before getting comfortable. Came that time of the night to look for a show to watch while you ate. Although, once you did it was nearly impossible to enjoy your T.V show in peace. The voices next door got louder and louder. You wanted to shut them out and ignore it as white noise but you could make out every word they were shouting. Disregarding your damp hair and your cat meowing for you to not leave again, your hand turned the handle to your front door. You slipped on a pair of slide on slippers and walked the short distance to Minghao’s door. You took a deep breath before knocking, what were you going to say? Stop yelling? Regardless, you knocked and waited for him to answer. To your surprise the door opened quickly, you saw the angry looking girl behind Minghao. You assumed this was the loud female voice you heard while trying to relax in the shower. She looked angry and was red in the face, you saw tears streaming down her face with bits of mascara. You blinked rapidly and tore your eyes away from her, not wanting to make awkward eye contact.

Looking at Minghao, you began to speak, “hey, I’m-mh?!”

‘Hey, I'm your neighbor from next door. I know you just moved in and all but I have a night shift in 4 hours and I would appreciate if you kept the noise down,’ is what you wanted to say if it wasn't for his lips pressing against yours but you weren't complaining. They felt smooth and plush, unlike your own that was dry from not applying lip balm after coming out of the shower. You saw no point in it, you were going to eat right after but in this moment you wish you did. He held onto your body as you practically melted. You have never been kissed like this before with your luck in men. They didn't kiss you like Minghao did. They wouldn’t be able to kiss you like Minghao did. He pulled away, staring into your eyes before leaning towards your ear.

“I know this looks bad but play along and I'll explain everything later.” His breath tickled your neck and caused your cheeks to flush.

“U-uh sure…” You could barely say anything since you were still in shock from the kiss. He interlocked your fingers together and stepped away so you could see the girl in your sight again. She was just as shocked as you were.

“This is the girl you keep saying doesn't exist.” Minghao said while motioning over to you.

“So you’re the one, huh?” Her voice was just as loud as before but it was slightly brittle.

“Uh,” you felt Minghao’s fingers tighten around your hand, “yea! We’ve been seeing each other.” You saw the anger in her eyes and felt scared, like she was about to attack you. She start to walk towards you but Minghao let your hand go and stood in front of you.

“I think it's time for you to go.” Minghao said calmly, trying to be the bigger person in this situation.

“This isn't over!” She screamed louder than before.

“Yes it is.”

“Ugh!” The girl stomped out of his apartment but not before slamming his front door so loud that you heard your cat meow from the wall.

“I should be expecting a call from the landlord in a day shouldn't I?” Minghao crouched down and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Most likely.” You crouched down to be eye level with him. He pick up a fallen pillow and threw it back in the couch.

“About before, I'm sorry.” He looked at you apologetically.

“It’s fine, a nasty ex?” You said.

“Now she is.” He said blandly.

“Oh, I'm sorry.” You said quickly after, not really knowing to comfort him but he didn't seem to mind that he just broke up with his girlfriend.

“It’s alright, we got into our 9th argument this week and I expected this to come.” He got up and started to fix up the rest of apartment.

“Do you want help cleaning up?” You asked him, figuring it would be weird to just leave after that and you wanted to speed up the process so you didn't have to hear cluttering while in bed.

“That would be amazing, thank you…” His voice trailed off.

“Y/N, I live next door.” You pointed to the left wall of his apartment.

“Ah, you always bring my mail over to me.” He nodded his head at remembering your morning attire and half awake face when you would drop off the said mail.

“So,” you paused before continuing to pick up the Chinese fashion magazines,” do you always kiss your new neighbors?” You said after you put them on his coffee table.

“Why? Want it to happen again?” He turned to you to saw your face flush a deeper red. He tried to hold back a smile.

“How about I take you in a date first? We’ll see if everything plays out well and I'll kiss you again.”

“Date? Wait! My take out! Ah, it's probably room temperature by now.” You suddenly remembered your food and sighed, you didn't want to use the microwave since it was half your age, a ‘goodbye present’ from your parents.

“I’m sorry about that, you could use my microwave if you want to. It's brand new.” He offered up his kitchen to your use and pat the top of the microwave.

“You just saved me from my old rickety microwave.” You sighed happily.

“You saved me from my ex, it's the least I can do.”

You spend the next hour continuing to help Minghao with his apartment and ate at his place also. You introduced him to your ragdoll cat and Cece loved him, so did you. Maybe love is a strong word but you are definitely attracted to him now. Usually you kiss after two people get together but a change up in the order makes it interesting.

“I still have my night shift….”

I HAD THIS WIP FOR 5 DAYS AND THATS THE QUICKEST i’VE EVER FINISHED, MODIFIED AND EDITED ANYTHING. I like this little prompt so I worked with it and it’s not bad! :o Until next time!

Please don’t claim this as your own and please don’t do anything with it without my permission. If you don’t want it happening to you, don’t do it to others.

[ember-of-hades]

Jasper Phokas Yates

Jasper Yates was confused, unsure, and lost in a world he couldn't explain. And as he walked through Hera's garden, his fiance's hand in his, he wondered why he couldn't feel more than just lost. He wondered why he wanted to try so hard for everyone around him. He wondered why everything felt distant to him, far away. He floated from his body and watched everything like a movie. A movie of his life. Even here in the garden, he felt far. Out of touch. Everything moved slow and fast at the same time and Jasper was lost in the void of colors. Until CeCe shook him and suddenly he was back in reality.

He blinked and shook his head. "Ah man, sorry, CeCe." He laughed a bit, his heart hammering. "Jas, you okay?" Concern lathered her voice like thick honey, muffled and distant. Jasper shook his head again. "Uh, yeah..I just.." he sighed. "I keep thinking about the quest. And Kori, y'know? I'm worried about her. She hasn't been here in so long and then she's just given news that her mom is dead." Jasper scratched the back of his head, trying to stay focused. "It makes me sad that this is what she comes back to." CeCe nodded, staring ahead as they walked. Her face was tight, and Jasper could tell she was thinking. "I think the last thing she'll want is us feeling sorry for her." She said softly, trying to make Jasper feel better.

Jasper stayed quiet for a while, basking in the silence as they walked. He was afraid of speaking more, and making everything feel worse. He couldn't understand it, but for months, Jasper has felt distant. Noises around him we're muffled and he felt so far away that he didn't know what to do. He was afraid to tell CeCe and make her worry even more about him than she needed to. He didn't want to tell his dad for fear of being looked at as weak. The last thing Jasper wanted was his father to think he was weak.

"Have you told anyone?" Jasper blurted out, trying to pull his mind back down to reality. CeCe tilted her head to look at him, a smile now dancing on her lips. For a moment, staring at her made Jasper forget to breathe. She was stunningly beautiful without trying. Her piercing green eyes were lit with a wicked playfulness. Her long Sandy blonde hair was up into a messy pony tail. Her tan skin basked in the sun, showing off light freckles across her cheeks nd nose. Everything about her stunned Jasper, and she didn't even have to try.

"No. I think we should wait, since we have a quest coming up." She said, turning her head to look at flowers. She quickly pulled her hand from Jasper's and walked to the bush. Green, blue, and purple mixed flowers bloomed, flowers that didn't exist on Earth. Jasper wondered if they were Hera's favorite, because there was tons around them at the moment.

"I wonder if any of the gods know," Jasper muttered, stepping next to CeCe and studying the flowers. They were beautiful to look at and had quite a small glow. CeCe laughed, turning back to Jasper and grabbing both his hands with hers. "They're gods, they probably do know. I mean," she swung their arms for a moment, then let go and turned her back to him. "My dad should at least know." She shot him a devilish look over her shoulder then began to walk forward. Jasper quickly followed after, feeling himself grin. "Yeah, he should, shouldn't he?" Jasper suddenly shuddered, remembering his conversation with the messenger god. He gulped. "He knows," CeCe laughed at him. "You scardey cat. My dad is probably the easiest god to talk to!" It was Jasper's turn to laugh. "That's not true whatsoever."

The continued their walk through Hera's garden, chatting and basking in the happiness before the quest. Jasper knew this would be the last time they could enjoy this comfort for a long time. Jasper also knew that the memory was just going to feel far away from him, because anytime they were silent, Jasper drifted and floated away, having the hardest time planting himself on Earth. But he enjoyed what he could, because he loved her, because he loved this moment, because the next time this happened, he wanted to be married to her.

°°°

Jasper was summoned to Zeus' office building a few hours after he and CeCe left Hera's garden and they split for the day. He had gone to his dad's home to take a nap when the summons arrived and now he was walking into the building, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Hello, Mr. Yates." A cloud nymph, Mollie, sat at a receptionist desk and greeted Jasper as he walked in. He smiled at her. "Hey, Mollie. Where am I going?"

Mollie handed him a clip board with his summons information. "Floor 35, conference room 6. Would you like some coffee or some snacks?" She asked, smiling at him. Jasper shook his head and scanned the clipboard, then handed it back to her. "No, but thank you."

Jasper headed to the elevators, feeling himself detach once again. When he got to the 35th floor, everything felt tilted and unstable. Jasper made his way to the conference room, trying to control his breath and pull himself back down. Chill, Jasper, Chill.. he thought to himself.

Kori, Sam, and Charlie were already in the conference room when Jasper finally found it. Jasper decided to take a seat next to Kori, which made him gain a confused and angry look from her. "Hey, Kors." Jasper said, ignoring her look. "Nice to see you too."

Her anger seem to subside and she sighed. "Sorry.." Jasper smiled. "It's fine. I expect nothing less." Kori smiled slightly.

They waited for the rest of the team to get there, and Jasper fought to stay grounded because of the silence. He put his head down and shut his eyes. Calm. Breathe. Ground yourself.

"Alright!" Jasper snapped his head up to the sound of Charlie's voice, his heart hammering again. Everyone was now In the room, and CeCe was on the other side of him. Both CeCe and Kori gave him funny looks and he decided to just grin at them. "Did you fall asleep..?" Kori asked. Jasper just shook his head and looked at Charlie, who was writing on a white board.

Charlie was taking over with leading the group, which wasn't unusual for Zeus's son. But Jasper couldn't help but feel as though this should be lead by Kori. Jasper glanced at Kori and immediately shook the thought from his head, realizing that she looked completely exhausted and worn and wasn't in any shape to lead at the moment. Her grey/blue eyes were darker now and red from crying. Her olive cheeks were staind with old tear tracks she probably didn't wipe away. Her usually perfect dark curly brown hair was messy, and Jasper wondered if it was because she was crying into something, or she was grabbing her hair. His chest tightened at the thought and he quickly focused his attention back on Charlie.

Charlie was a proud and strong leader with major compassion problems. He held his head high and kept his back straight. His skin was definitely sun kissed, and his sky blue eyes seemed electric, daring and confident in every movement he would take. His dirty blonde hair bounced around as he moved, something he did a lot of when he talked. Charlie was a playful guy, and normally didn't take things seriously. So when Jasper watched him as he talked, he was surprised to see how serious the 19 year old was. There was a lot on his shoulders and Jasper felt bad, but someone had to do it. Who better than Zeus's son?

The quests used to be led by Isaiah Arnold, Charlie's older brother. Isaiah took lead, even if he wasn't going, because he knew what exactly needed to be done and wanted everyone to make sure to do it right and come back alive. Jasper's heart sank when he thought of Isaiah. Isaiah went missing 12 years ago, when Charlie was 7. No traces of Isaiah, no leads to where he went, only hopeful to find him since Kori could never sense his soul in the Underworld which meant he was still alive. Jasper wondered if they would ever find him.

"Once we get to the forest, I think is best to split into teams of two to cover more ground." Charlie's voice shot through Jaspers thoughts, shattering his mind back into reality. There was a white board behind Charlie with everyone's names written on it. "Obviously, there's only nine of us, and I don't want any one on their own, so there will be one group of three, which will be me, Xander, and Kori. I paired you guys off with someone who has pulled your strengths out before on other quests, so I don't want to hear any complaining." Charlie said, stepping to the side so everyone could see the board. Jasper frowned, seeing his name paired with Sam and CeCe paired with Sienna. Ruth was paired with Priya which made Jasper slightly confused because he's never seen the two girls get along for more than five seconds, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. Sam and Jasper were really a good team, but Jasper wanted to be with CeCe for his own selfish reasons, which really sucked for him, but he understood why.

Charlie rolled out a map onto the conference table, circles and names covering a forest area. Jasper guessed the circles and names were the areas Charlie wanted each group searching through. "We'll be focusing on ruined temples of Hekate. Hades says Marisa is at one near the Kingdom every night, weeping. Some temples will be hard to access, so keep a lookout. This will take a bit, but this is where I want everyone to meet when you've thoughrouly searched your areas." Charlie pointed to a small clearing shown on the map. "Rendezvous. You'll have maps, so make sure you know where you are." He continued explaining when each team needed to do. Some needed to stay near rivers, some needed to stay away. He discussed what they should do once they found Marisa, and how to contact each other in danger. "Marisa will think of everyone as hostile. Hades has asked us to diffuse the danger with her as quickly and painlessly as possible. Under no circumstances are we to fight her. We talk. That's it."

"So what are we supposed to do if she tries to kill us?" Ruth asked. "Defend and flee. Marisa is important, we cannot hurt her." Charlie replied, then scanned everyone's faces. "Anymore questions?" Silence fell over the room and Charlie decided to take that as a no. "Alright. We each will have an emergency pack Hades has been making for us. We leave in the morning so please get some much needed rest."

Charlie rolled the map back up and turned to the white board. Everyone else took this as a chance to leave, each on shuffling out the door slowly, muttering to each other. Before Jasper was out of the room, he caught a glimpse of Xander talking to Charlie, a hopeful smile on his face. His dark skin color was tinted red with a blush on his cheeks and before Jasper could even form a thought to why, Sam was shoving him out of the room. Outside, Hades was waiting, he black eyes and blue glowing skin freaked Jasper out and he hurried away, glancing back only for a second to see Kori talking to him.

Jasper realized that it was going to be a long time before he would ever get to step foot back into this building again and the thought terrified him horribly.

[silveraccent]

Repercussions || Grace & Cece

TIMING: Current, after this incident  LOCATION: The hospital PARTIES: @thebickedwitchoftherest SUMMARY: After the incident at the morgue, Grace and Cece are forced to acknowledge what it all means. 

The hospital bed was stiff. Grace was stiff. Her body felt like a lead weight. The longer she laid in her bed, the more she felt as though the mattress were enveloping her body, dragging her down to a special kind of Hell. All things considered, Grace had gotten off lucky. She wasn’t sure what lucky was, or how she classified as such. Things could’ve gone worse. Either her or Cece could’ve been killed. She wanted to incorporate Janus into her mourning, but she didn’t have the energy. Her throat was sore, her head was throbbing. It had taken several hours for Grace not to feel the urge to throw up, and even then, bile still sat in her throat. She wanted so badly to close her eyes, to drift off to sleep, but had been advised she needed to stay awake due to the minor concussion from the amount of pressure applied to her ear drum from the explosion. No matter how badly she wanted to explain, it wasn’t an explosion, it was Regan, it was Regan! The words never left her. Despite her anger, Grace couldn’t bring herself to turn her boss in. Grace now stared at the wall in front of her, the television playing a rerun of a sitcom she wasn’t familiar with. Their words were muffled and she could barely hear them through not only the gauze, but through the injury she had sustained. There was a sound closer this time, and somebody’s hand on her leg. She didn’t look at them, she kept her gaze trained on the wall. If she counted the amount of tiles, this wouldn’t be real, she would wake up once she was done. Everything would be fine. 

Cece had not been completely convinced to go to the hospital. She knew that she probably needed it. That technically speaking there was no inherent problem with walking into a hospital. She supposed it was probably leftover feelings from her time with the coven. Due partly to the annoying insistence from the paramedics and partly due to Grace and the janitor being rushed to it, Cece begrudgingly decided to tag along. She played their games. She let them get her a room and hook her up to monitors and run tests. She answered their questions regarding the incident without revealing any information. What happened was met with the a shrug. Was someone responsible was met with a shrug. Can I go now? Was a question that Cece asked that was met with a head shake by one nurse and a shrug from the more sarcastic nurse aiding. They had patched her hands which had been stabbed and shredded with broken glass. They checked her ears and cleaned the dried blood that had dripped down them. Eventually, they conceded that Cece wasn’t in any immediate danger of death and once Cece had the freedom to leave the bed, she searched for Grace’s room first. She walked in right as the nurse was in there working on her. “You mind giving us a minute?” Cece crossed her arms and stood in the doorway, propping it open and leaving plenty of room for the nurse to slip past and leave them alone. “Grace? You one of those creeps that sleep with their eyes open? Are you focused? How you doing?”

The sound of somebody’s voice, however, made her take a peek out of the corner of her eye. Grace couldn’t tell who it was, the sounds filtering into her ears still muffled and distorted. The ringing in her ears was still evident. The sight of Cece made her stomach churn. She looked at the nurse as she simply nodded, fixing something on her arm before she left the room. At first, Grace refused to look at Cece. If she did, that meant this was real. It meant that she had gauze wrapped around her ears, it meant that both she and Cece shared new scars down their arms and faces. It meant that they now shared something that she would’ve never wanted to have shared with anyone. Grace hesitantly turned her attention to the blonde. “No.” Her voice was hoarse, from what she could tell. Her throat ached with her own screams. “They won’t let me sleep.” She said after a moment. She wasn’t sure what to say. She wanted to be worried, wanted to pour over Cece, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She was so tired. Grace was, however, relieved at the sight of Cece standing. It meant she wasn’t badly injured. “What about you?” She asked as she looked away, back to the tiles. Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five, Grace counted silently. 

Cece hated being serious. Time spent stressing over things was time wasted. And although she was young, Cece had spent too large a chunk of her life being serious. But she was willing to compromise every now and again. Right now, Grace didn’t seem to be in much of a joking mood. Even if Cece couldn’t bring herself to completely lay off the jokes she cared enough about Grace to show more concern. “I’m more concerned about you.” Cece spoke loudly. She worried about what the gauze around Grace’s ears meant. At least she was still able to hear what Cece had said. Still, Cece was speaking up just in case. “My balance is still shit, there’s a ringing in my ears still, but other than that I’m okay. You got pretty fucked up back there. How are you holding up?”

It took Grace a while to process Cece’s words. The silence was interrupted by the low hum in the back of her throat, the constant ringing. Grace dropped her shoulders into a half-shrug, too sore for anything else. She had slammed into the ground pretty hard. “I’m alive, right?” Grace asked after a moment, her own voice sounding foreign to her. It was scratchy, raw. It hurt to talk, to open her mouth. Cece’s voice rose slightly, and Grace was thankful. She wouldn’t express such, but she gave her a swift look out of the corner of her eye. “It’s like when you put socks on a cat or whatever, I guess. Or a bag on their head.” Grace wound her blanket in her hands, knuckles going white. “I’m alive, right?” She repeated. She didn’t have anything to complain about. She was alive, despite what had happened in the morgue. She wasn’t ready to tell Cece what the doctors had told her, not yet. Grace thought back to moments before Regan screamed. She saw the worry, the way that Cece seemed to know. Grace mulled over her question in her head for a few seconds before she finally asked it, “did you know?”

“Yeah, this isn’t exactly paradise.” Cece chuckled, humored by Grace’s repeated questioning on whether or not she was actually alive. “For your sake, when you actually go I hope it’s in a place more peaceful than the White Crest hospital.” Cece didn’t really believe in an afterlife, but she hoped that regardless of what it was, she didn’t end up in some bland ass depressing location like a hospital. Cece might actually prefer hell to purgatory. “Yeah, that was… intense.” Cece didn’t know how else to describe it. Grace had been freaked out enough by Regan afterwards, Cece wasn’t trying to make matters even worse. Regan was already undoubtedly pouting at her apartment about the whole incident and convinced that she was never going to show her face to her coworkers again. “I knew about it. Someone told me about it. But I’d never heard it for myself. Can’t say that’s what I was expecting.” Cece shrugged, as if this were completely normal. Cece needed to realize that just because this weird shit was normal for her, it wasn’t for Grace. “Have you eaten anything? The food here sucks, but I can order us something for delivery.  The nurses will get over it.”

Grace wanted to laugh, she did. She couldn’t find it in herself to do so. Could only feel the ache in her bones, in her head-- how everything felt muddled and weak, how she felt if she moved quickly, her body would disintegrate into the baby blue sheets. “Right.” Grace couldn’t be angry with Cece, could she? For not disclosing what Regan was? Whatever she was, Grace wasn’t sure, but she sure as hell was not human. Grace unfurled the blanket from her fists and began to smooth it out for something to do with her hands, the bandages on her hands caught the pieces of unpicked wool of the small blanket. Shouldn’t she have been warned, though? That if she had been, something like this could’ve been avoided? Cece seemed to know what to do, but for Grace… for Janus, it was too late. Anger surged in the pit of her stomach and she finally looked back to Cece, “I’m not hungry.” On the contrary, she was starving, but the thought of eating made her sick. “Why didn’t you warn me?” Grace asked in a cracked voice. “If you would’ve told me, maybe this--” Grace curled the blanket in her fists again. “She could’ve--” Grace stared at Cece. She wasn���t sure what knowing could’ve done for her, or for Janus, but it could’ve done something, could’ve made them run faster, could’ve done something. Grace felt hot tears roll down her cheeks. At least this time, she could tell it was tears and not blood. 

“I want to believe that…” Grace cut her gaze, “I want to believe that she didn’t mean to hurt us, but…” She wanted to believe that her boss, Regan Kavanagh, wouldn't have knowingly put them in danger. How would that be possible, though? It was clear Cece knew about what Regan was, so obviously Regan knew what she was capable, clearly there were warning signs everywhere. “I don’t--” Grace’s voice caught in her throat again. She hated the idea that somebody she idolized, that she had worked so hard to get to like her, even if it hadn’t seemed like it-- that somebody whose feelings towards her, Grace had become so preoccupied with it, and now? “I hope she never shows her face again,” Grace said after a moment, “she put us all at risk, she could’ve--” Grace reached up tentatively to touch her bandaged ear. Still, the ringing was there, the way that voices, noises, it all felt so far away. “You knew and you didn’t say anything. We could’ve died.” Grace finally said. She didn’t know the extent to what Regan was capable of, or what it was she was, or what she had been doing, but Grace believed it to be true-- the idea that they could’ve died from that, because when Grace had been writhing on the morgue floor, she felt as though she wanted death more than she ever had before. 

Apparently, Grace was more than just injured. She was pissed. Pissed at Regan for screaming and pissed at Cece for not giving her a heads up. Cece leaned back against the wall, studying Grace as she tried to gauge her anger level. Cece couldn’t blame the girl for being upset, not after what had happened to her. Anger in something that couldn’t be controlled didn’t help anything, but sometimes it was the only option that people had. Grace had to feel something following the event. Betrayal and hurt weren’t invalid feelings to have. “It’s not my business to tell other people’s secrets.” Cece shrugged, as if this was a good enough answer. Maybe it was, before that secret had almost killed them. Was secrecy worth the price if things had gotten any worse in there? “Besides, like I said I’ve never actually seen her do that before. I didn’t think it was going to happen. I didn’t know it would be that loud.” Banshee’s were known for their screams, but until someone actually heard it for themselves there was no way to fathom just how loud it was going to be. “Whether we knew or not, nothing would have changed what happened.”

More important than the pain they had suffered and the anger that Grace was feeling though, Cece needed to make sure that Grace wasn’t going to throw Regan under the bus. For what it was worth, Cece actually liked her boss. More than that, she wasn’t sure if she could handle Dr. Rickers actually being in charge. “You can be pissed at her. At me for all I care. You’ve been through enough to earn that right.” Cece wasn’t going to try to fight her on it. She knew well enough that these things had to run its course. With Grace’s condition, Cece wasn’t going to waste either of their time begging for forgiveness that Grace may not be in the headspace to give out. “But I need you to keep it a secret. Which- I know- fucking sucks. But hurting Regan isn’t going to take back what happened.” The hand resting on Cece’s purse twitched, anticipation of what might be necessary if Grace refused. The last thing Cece wanted was to actually consider erasing the memories of a person she considered a friend, but Regan’s entire career could be in jeopardy. Assuming people even believed her, since it seemed a little out there. “I’m not asking you to forgive her. Just to give her a break.”

If she were to look at the situation through rose colored glasses, Grace wouldn’t be able to properly understand what had happened. She would go on thinking that Regan was this great magnificent being. That wasn’t the way it was, though. There were multiple people hurt, with the risk of there being more if something else had happened like this. Cece was right, it wasn’t her place to go around telling other people’s secrets, but when a secret could’ve resulted in something as detrimental as this? Grace wasn’t buying it. There could have been measures put into place. From the moment Grace emerged from surgery, she had begun to think about the way that they could’ve prevented it-- running, a sound proof box. Who the fuck knew. Grace wanted to believe that there could’ve been something to prevent it, but neither Regan or Cece had thought to look into it, and why not? Did they not care? Grace swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. She didn’t have a reason to be angry with Cece, she knew that, but the anger came easily, colored her cheeks rouge with exasperation. “You don’t know that,” Grace finally said after a moment. She felt like she was going to choke on her own words. She wanted to believe that they could’ve done something, but Grace didn’t even know what had happened, or what Regan was. 

It’d be easier to run, to run back to Portland, to pick up her old life, to work at the same coffee shop she had. To fill her head with anger, elation, and disgust. It’d be easy to do just that, but something tethered her to White Crest. Despite all of this, Grace couldn’t find the mobility to run. She never wanted to see Regan again, that much was true, but what was she supposed to do? Cece’s words were warranted, the way that she was acting, obviously the blonde would think that Grace was going to rat Regan out as soon as an officer stepped into her room. “I’m not going to tell anybody,” Grace barked back. She winced at her own anger, the way it made her head spin. “I don’t care, because as long as--” Grace choked on her words, the tears burned in her eyes, “as long as I don’t have to see her, as long as--” She didn’t want to feel this way, didn’t want to be so angry, but Regan had taken something from her, something she didn’t believe she’d ever get back. Grace looked down at her hands, watched as her fingertips began to tremble. “I’m not going to tell anybody.” She wasn’t going to. What if people went after Regan and it happened again? What if they became like her, or worse? Grace couldn’t imagine putting other lives in jeopardy. No. It’d be easier to let Regan run, or hide, or disappear altogether. Grace knew that much. The pain in her head had her stomach running rancid, she felt as if she were going to spill over the side of her bed. Grace reached up to tentatively tuck her hand against her ear. “I want to be alone. Can you leave.” It wasn’t a question.

There wasn’t much more to say on Cece’s account. Grace didn’t know enough about the supernatural to know that sometimes normal methods of preventing things didn’t work when in this life. That scream wasn’t going to be stopped by any normal means. The only chance there was at filtering it was some sort of magic that Cece hadn’t figured out yet. Until then, they just had to hope that the scream didn’t happen again. Not that it had mattered much anyways. After today, there was no way Regan was showing up to work. Grace would get her wish. This would only work to push Regan farther away from the two. So much for the easy work relationship the three had shared earlier that day. “Fair. And thanks.” As long as Regan wasn’t going to be ratted out, Cece had accomplished half of what she had come in to do. The other half, checking on Grace, hadn’t wielded much of a satisfying answer. “I’m out, then. Get some rest.” Cece pushed off of the wall and headed towards the door. Cece had been dragged into the middle of this shit storm and she hadn’t been too thrilled with its conclusion. For now, the only option was to be patient. 

[aliyanalopez]

HOLDING TOO TIGHT➝  CHLOIYANA.

TAGGING ➝  Chloe Harper, Aliyana Lopez.

LOCATION ➝  Aliyana’s house.

TIME FRAME ➝  10/23, evening.

WARNINGS ➝  None.

NOTES ➝  Solo para. The Chloiyana breakup from Ali’s POV. You can read CeCe’s side here. 

Aliyana was far from stupid. When she and CeCe somehow found their way back to each other, she knew that they were making a mistake. As much as she loved the other girl, it didn’t matter much when the other girl didn’t trust her. Ali thought she could earn that trust back, and that them being together would work again, but it didn’t. A part of her knew that. It was like her head and heart were at war with each other. Her head was calling her out on all her crap. Telling her how stupid she was, because there was no way that her girlfriend could trust her the same again. And that was her fault. She was the one to mess everything up. She thought she earning CeCe’s forgiveness would be hard, but it was easy compared to how hard it was to forgive herself. She hated herself for what she did. It was always running through her mind. Her heart told a much different story. Forgetting all about logic, her heart told her CeCe was the one for her. The one she was supposed to be with. She couldn’t imagine her being with anyone else. Her heart belonged completely to CeCe. That’s why she had to make things work. Maybe they could easily make things work with other people, but she didn’t want easy. She wanted the girl who held her heart. Unfortunately, logic got in the way of that. Loving someone wasn’t enough. She knew that, but she had been convincing herself that it was. Until her girlfriend showed up that evening. All it took was one look and Ali knew exactly why she was there.

The tears formed in her eyes against her will. She tried her best to listen to everything CeCe said, but what she heard came out like a muffled noise. She was already telling her things she already knew. They couldn’t be together, because CeCe didn’t trust her. She told Ali how much she loved her, and Ali wanted to say it back, but instead she just got angry. Not at CeCe herself, but at the situation as a whole. Love should have been enough. They loved each other, they didn’t want anybody else. It should have been all they needed to make it work. A part of her felt like CeCe had given up on them, but she knew that it wasn’t fair for her to think that way. Not that she could control how she felt, but it wasn’t CeCe who messed everything up for them. It was Ali. If she hated herself before, she hated herself even more now. If it was possible, she felt even worse than the night of CeCe’s birthday. It was like she could literally feel her heart breaking in her chest. She wanted to beg, to somehow convince the other girl that she deserved this second chance. Who was she kidding, though? She didn’t deserve that chance. She never did. Ali knew that CeCe didn’t want this anymore than she did, but she told herself that this is what she wanted. That she didn’t want to be with Ali anymore. It wasn’t the truth, but it was the only way she could let her go without a fight. She said she would keep fighting as long as they wanted each other, she just didn’t have any fight left in her. She was much too tired for that. 

Watching CeCe leave this time was even worse than before. As much as it hurt the first time, there was a part of Ali that thought they would be okay. CeCe was the one for her, she knew that for a fact, so she thought they would make things work. She wasn’t so sure about that this time. Love truly wasn’t enough anymore. CeCe actually said she wasn’t going to trust her again. That was it for them. Maybe that was the way things had to be. They were holding onto something that wasn’t there anymore. They were in love, there was no doubt about that, but things weren’t the same anymore. And she knew. The signs were there. CeCe couldn’t even sleep in Ali’s room anymore. How did she ever think they would be okay? It was denial. She wouldn’t let herself accept their breakup. Now, she feels like she was starting to. After the other girl left, Ali walked up to her room and threw herself onto the bed. She didn’t cry into her pillow, although she was tempted to do just that. The tears were still pouring down her face, she just wasn’t sobbing the way she had before. Instead, she stared at the ceiling and tried to convince herself this was for the best. Maybe CeCe wasn’t the one for her. Maybe she was meant to have a happy ending with someone else. That’s what she wanted to believe. Once again, her heart told a different story. Not that it mattered. She was done listening to her heart. It only hurt them in the end. She was thinking logically now. Her head said it was time to move on, so that’s what she was going to do. It hurt like hell, but that’s what was best for both of them. Ali needed to move on. They both did. As much as she wanted to hold on, it was time for her to let go. And that was exactly what she was going to do.