#and i will now be adding tw notes to every new chapter posted

[silverskye13]

In which there are thorns.

[iwantmyprizepet]

𝒱𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽 ℐ𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒴𝑜𝓊 - 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 11/?

Summary: The kiss that got derailed. Idk I’m so nervous y’all are gonna hate this chapter I can’t think of what the hell to put here.

TW: Accident, Injury, Hospital. (No death in this fic promise.)

18+

Word Count: 10.6k

AO3 Previous Part

Expand to read the very long authors note please. 😭

A/N: I’m going to preface this with two things you all really need to know. Number one and the most important is that this was NEVER meant to be for public consumption. This was fully supposed to rot on my computer. Number two is that I was raised on watching days of our lives and other soap operas with my nana everyday so…drama and angst is just ingrained in me. I’ve been so nervous to post this chapter in fear anyone may lose interest because I KNOW it’s dragging out but…shit idk. I hope you lovely people all stick around. I promise all of the love is coming. It’s there. It’s on the way. This last part has easily been the most comments I’ve ever received and they’re all so kind and special. I feel so grateful that you all spend your time and words on this little fic. I genuinely appreciate all of you. So please PLEASE…don’t lose interest. I swear I’m not dragging it out like this to torture anyone. All of this has been written out for some time. I promise promise promise you get a kiss next chapter. - Your very nervous author, Mich.

My Royal Taglist: @morgananyx @6stolenangel9 @ahintofchaos @coffeemelko @xblinkx2

///

I woke up early, excited and mood bright. After getting dressed I packed up everything I had in my room and brought it downstairs. 

Every five minutes visions of kissing Agatha infiltrated my thoughts. It gave me shivers and a racing heart every time. 

My parents were still asleep so I fixed us breakfast sandwiches. I needed to keep moving to expel the nerves. 

A pot of coffee sat warming when I heard them start to stir. 

I poured my parents their cups fixing it how they liked. My mom appeared first and placed a morning kiss on the top of my head. Dad followed a few minutes later.

I took a bite of my sandwich, mom doing the same. “Coffee and sandwich on the counter, dad.” I said as I walked to sit on a stool at the island. 

He grumbled out an unintelligible sound. Mom fixed him a glare, mouthful of food as she chewed. 

“You married a caveman, mom.” I joked before a bite.

She scoffed with an eye roll and took a sip of coffee. “Don’t I know it.”

He turned to us. “I thought you liked that about me?” He laughed wagging his eyebrows as my face morphed into disgust.

“Oh, dad come on I’m eating here!” I added in a fake gagging noise as my mom warned him with a glare.

Laughing he picked up his coffee and sandwich. “I gotta call Charlie quick about that damn staircase on the new build.” With that he turned and disappeared into his office.

Mom and I finished our breakfast over a light chat as I tried to exorcise my dad’s comment out of my head.

It was just after noon when I was getting ready to leave. I’d packed up my car and started it to melt the ice. Dad and I had to shovel the driveway. I was sore and ready for a hot shower before seeing Agatha. Luckily the entire strip went in on plowing out the driveways and street whenever it snowed, so I didn’t have to worry about doing it at home.

My phone rang as I was saying my goodbyes to mom and dad.

Brooks. 

My eyebrows pinched in as I hit accept. 

“Hey, bud what’s up?” I asked trying to knock the concern his call placed.

“It’s Chloe.” It’s all he got out before he choked on a cry.

My heart started racing. “What’s wrong?

“I’m at the hospital. We got in an accident.” Brooks was fully crying now.

My free hand grabbed my aching chest. “Is she okay?” My eyes were welling and a panic was settling in me.

“I don’t know.” He was sobbing. “It all happened so fast. I woke up and the ambulance came and they had her on a stretcher. They say she has internal bleeding.” My heart was dropping to my gut with every word. “What hospital?”

My parents were concerned watching on, but now they both held a look of growing worry. There was really only one person it could be about and they knew it. “Uhm, the one off the exit where the old mills are. I forgot the name.”

“I’ll be there in a flash.” My parents started to get ready no questions. “Where are her parents?” 

“They’re on a fucking flight. I can’t get through. I’m sure they’ve already boarded and it’s a twelve hour flight.” 

“Okay.” I tried to still my shaking voice. “On the way, hang tight.”

I hung up and quickly explained to my parents. I was losing it with every word. In a flash I was in the backseat of my car, my parents in the front. 

The drive there passed in a blur, but also felt like a lifetime. When we made it and found Brooks, the both of us instantly collided in a hug. Sobs were wracking out of him into my shoulder. 

After a few minutes Brooks finally found some even breaths. I managed to keep a semblance of composure for him. I was destroyed on the inside.

I’d always had a hard time showing my emotions in front of anyone. That is until Chloe. I’d put up so many walls over the years. I found myself able to let people close, but never fully in. 

When Chloe walked up to the counter to apply at the cafe, she bounced in like a puppy. It was perfect timing and impossible to say no to her. 

She made her way intricately into my life like a storm. We loved each other like sisters. The idea of anything happening to her made me sick. 

Brooks explained she had went into emergency surgery just before we got there. Her spleen ruptured upon impact and was bleeding. He said she also had a couple of breaks somewhere, but the spleen was most important. 

I felt like cracking porcelain keeping it in.

My parents showed their support, mostly silent. What really could you say? They loved Chloe like family too. 

The only blood family Chloe had close enough had just left on a plane. Her poor parents wouldn’t even know until hours from now. 

Her sister, Sarah, was on the other side of the country. Brooks said she was trying to find a flight out, but she was a single mom. It wasn’t easy for her to just drop and find a flight for her and her daughter. She had just moved out to Arizona for a job opportunity not long ago. 

It all just felt so unfair. 

The waiting room settled as we waited for her to get out of surgery. My parents sat in a corner together holding hands silently. Brooks sat perched on the edge of a seat near the window, leg jostling up and down. I was pacing with my hands behind my back. Moving was the only thing keeping me together. 

Agatha crossed my mind and my throat clenched holding a cry in. All I could think is how I could let it out in front of her. How quickly she also weaved in past my walls in such a different way. 

I glanced at the clock, the time making me double take. 

Agatha. Of fucking course.

I needed to call Agatha. I needed to cancel. I needed her. 

She had texted me a couple of times, but I hadn’t looked at them.

“I need a drink.” I cleared my throat. “Can I get you something?” I asked Brooks gently.

He shook his head and shot me a teary half smile. I nodded to my parents asking them silently. 

My dad asked for a coffee, mom water and I turned on my heel leaving the room.

Weaving through the busy hospital, I made my way outside. There was a sitting area to the right out front. I tucked into the farthest corner and called Agatha with shaking clammy hands.

“Hello, darling. Still on for later?” Her voice punched in the straw I had holding myself together.

A sob erupted from me as I faced the brick corner of the hospital. 

“What’s wrong?” Her voice took on a serious drop. 

After a few seconds I choked out words. “Chloe. We’re at the hospital.” I took a shuddering breath in trying to stifle another cry. “She’s in emergency surgery.”

She gasped halfway through my sentence. “Oh, my sweet girl.” Her breath held a hitch to it. “What happened?” “I don’t know.” It came out on a cry. “Her and Brooks were driving home and they got in an accident. I haven’t even asked what happened. He’s a fucking wreck.”

I placed my free hand on the brick building, ears burning.

“Honey, I’m so sorry.” She paused her strained voice. “What do you need? Anything, just say the word.” 

I wanted to say all I needed was her but I didn’t. I knew it would break me saying it out loud. I knew she couldn’t come here and be with me. With my parents here, of course she couldn’t come. The realization made the tears come harder. 

It took several seconds, but I finally settled myself enough to respond. She waited patiently. 

“That’s okay. I don’t think I need anything.” Liar. “I just wanted to let you know for tonight.” For whatever reason that sentence strangled a sob out of me again.

“Darling, what hospital is it? I can be there in a flash.” It sounded like she was fighting back tears which made it worse.

“You can’t.” It came out in a defeated whine. “When I got the call, I was still with my parents. They drove me.” 

Silence filled her line and I felt my torso fill with an even greater ache neck down. 

What we had, hadn’t even really started. Hadn’t even really been said out loud. I couldn’t handle my parents finding out, especially like this. I wouldn’t be able to control the pull to her when I was like this. It would be so obvious what was growing between us.

“Right.” It came out short and sharp from her. “Agatha.” I pleaded out desperate for her to understand all the words that wouldn’t come out. 

“I understand.” Short again. “If you do need anything.” She paused. “Well, I can send anything over.” I didn’t know what to say. I needed her to know how badly I needed her. It just wouldn’t come out. 

“I have to go.” My free arm wrapped around my waist as if to self soothe. “I have to check on Brooks.” 

“Of course.” A sniffle sounded from her and I squeezed my ribs trying to distract from the pain swirling inside. “Anything you need. Anything at all. Anytime of day. Anything.”

It still felt wrong. It was so kind, but felt wrong. My chin was wobbling forcing down a plead for her. All I wanted was her. I wanted Chloe to be okay and to have Agatha by my side. 

After finally swallowing the lump in my throat I replied. “Sorry, I’m just.” I had to pause for another swallow. “I have to go. I’ll text you.” 

I wanted to yell of course I need you, but I didn’t. It was all too much. 

“I’ll be here. Keep me updated.” “I will.” I hung up quickly right after to try and hide the cry I released. 

I walked back in after collecting myself. There were people staring with a pity. Likely assuming they were watching someone dealing with devastating news. Crying in a hospital was never anything good. I floated the hallways of the hospital, eyes down avoiding everyone. It was loud and busy only worsening everything. There was still no update when I got back. I sipped my coffee and paced. My head was a simple mix. Thoughts of Agatha and guilt worrying about that as Chloe was in surgery. That was all I should be focused on. 

It felt like an eternity waiting in this damn room. When a doctor finally came in, she informed us the surgery went well and she was stable. 

I’d never felt more relief. She told us she wasn’t completely out of the woods yet, but stable and we could see her.

My parents stayed back in the waiting room as Brooks and I walked to the room they had placed her in. He rushed in and I hesitated at the door. 

My hand hovered at the pocket my phone was in. I felt like it would be easier, even just hearing Agatha breathing over the line. Just knowing she was with me in the moment. 

I shook my head and pushed into the room.

She looked so small in the bed. A big cast was on her left arm. There was wires all around. Her face was a little bruised and pale. Brooks held her right hand between the both of his like a lifeline. 

The cry rushed out of me like a wave crashing. I held my wrist to my mouth trying to stifle it all. Brooks dropped his head to her arm, his own body shaking with tears. 

I couldn’t bring myself to touch her. I stood near the window and watched as a hollow feeling made it’s way in. 

I couldn’t help but put myself in Brooks shoes. If it was Agatha in that bed. Not that it was the same. A pang of selfish guilt hit me again at my thoughts.

We sat and we cried as the sun started to set.

“I wasn’t driving.” Brooks broke a long silence.

He turned to me and I nodded. My throat felt dry forcing me to clear it before speaking. “Do you want to talk about it?”

His eyes closed as he breathed in and out. Chloe’s hand was still pressed between his. 

“She was mad.” He turned back to her. “Not at me. That loser uncle of hers, you know the one, misogynistic idiot. He made some comments to her the night before. She held it in for the most part until we were driving home, to keep the peace.” He paused and laughed. “We were laughing actually, when it happened. You can really only laugh at people like that, right?” He shook his head sniffling now. “She closed her eyes laughing for a literal second. I was looking and didn’t even see the black ice. The car got a little squirrelly and her front tire grabbed a huge chunk of snow. It sucked the car right in. It was like a flash and we were out of control going off the road into the woods. There was nothing she could have done. Next thing I knew I saw Chloe on a stretcher as I was pulled out. Her side is what hit. The passenger side looked untouched.” 

He held his lips to her hand, brushing them against her skin every other sentence. 

“She’s going to be okay.” I said it like it was a matter of fact, with a conviction because it had to be. Finally, I walked over and gently placed a hand on her forehead. Leaning over, I moved next to her ear. “You’re going to be okay, Chlo.” I turned and walked back to the window. 

A quiet fell on the room again. My parents made their way in shortly after Brooks told me about the accident. The clock ticked and the sun was almost fully hidden behind the horizon now.

Nurses flitted in here and there checking on Chloe. It seemed as long as she woke up and there were no more signs of the bleeding starting again, she was going to be okay. A long road to recovery, but okay. 

A nurse informed us that only one of us could stay and visiting hours were nearing an end in less than two.

I walked to my car to grab the blanket I kept in it for Brooks to have. I dug out the new pair of plain black Nike sweatpants my parents had gotten me. He usually wore a size larger than me for his height, but I knew they’d fit him apart from his ankles poking out a bit. I also fished out a pair of new socks for him and a hoodie I had in my trunk. Again, maybe would be short, but it would do until morning. After all, he was also in a car accident. I’m sure fresh clothes would help him relax a little. 

The nurse let us stay a little past visiting hours. I left with a long hug exchanged between us. I promised I’d be back as soon as visiting hours opened back up and bring him some of his own clothes from their house that actually fit him properly. 

One last look to Chloe sent a pang in me as we left.

It all felt surreal driving home. I was selfishly thinking how I couldn’t kiss Agatha now. That started the tears. How horrible of a thought to be upset about that. 

Tears clouded my vision the whole way back to my parents. They tried to get me to stay when we pulled in the driveway. It was a near fight trying to get my keys from my mom. 

I knew they were just worried about me, but it didn’t make it any less irritating. I finally got the keys with a promise to text as soon as I got home. 

It was forceful turning for the route to my house and not Agatha’s. I’d only drove there once, but the route was already memorized.

Thinking about her brought the tears on again. I white knuckled the steering wheel the whole way home. 

When I pulled into my driveway and shut off the car a long breath pushed out of me. I closed my eyes sinking in the silence for a moment. 

I sent a text to my mom before pushing out and walking up the stairs. 

As soon as I walked in the door it felt like every bit of this awful day fell onto me. I shakily pulled my phone out and hovered over Agatha’s name. It was nearing ten pm. It was probably too late. I was so terrified she wouldn’t answer. That she would be cross with me. 

I pressed call anyways and pushed the phone to my ear bracing for whatever. 

She answered instantly. “Hello, darling.”

“I’m home.” The tears already started. “I need you.”

“On my way.” She said it like she’d been waiting for it. Like it was obvious she’d come.

“Agatha?” 

“Yes, honey?” 

“I don’t want to be alone.” I had to work up the courage for a second. “Can you stay the night, please?”

“That was already my plan.” 

I sighed, shoulders relaxing. “I’m gonna shower quick. I’ll leave the door unlocked if you get here before I’m out.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in a few.”

I hung up and plugged my phone in. I grabbed sweatpants and a t shirt for bed. Everything felt robotic. My stomach was growling now. I felt so out of it.

The warm water and the knowledge that Agatha didn’t seem mad eased me a bit.

I was halfway through my shower when I heard the door. I rushed drying myself and changing after getting out. After a few deep breaths I opened the door. 

She looked perfect. Sweatpants and that damn hoodie she borrowed of mine, perfect around her. Her face was bare of any makeup, hair soft and swept by the wind. We both stared for a second. 

In sync we lurched for each other. I broke down in to her shoulder instantly. She held me tight, kissing my head and shushing me softly. Her now familiar scent was like a wave of calm washing over me.

I don’t know how long we stood like that. Every bit of pent up emotion from the day bounced out of me.

 My tears eventually stopped. Her hand rubbing my back soothing me. I felt weak, my entire weight was leaning into her and she held it so strong. 

“I brought food if you’re hungry.” She whispered into my ear. “Have you ate anything?” 

I shook my head into her shoulder. After breakfast I hadn’t ingested a thing besides coffee. My temples were pulsing with a headache. My muscles were sore from shoveling snow this morning and standing all day.

She squeezed me tighter, her hand scrunching my shirt in her fist. “Come on, you should eat something before bed.” 

I nodded. “Just give me a minute.” I pulled back and turned away heading back for the bathroom. 

After blowing my nose, I slapped cold water on my face a few times. I could hear Agatha in the kitchen warming something up with the microwave.

I looked an absolute mess. Avoiding the mirror, I put lotion on my face and went back out.

Agatha had her back to me at the counter plating something. I walked over to her and wrapped my arms around her waist, pressing my cheek into the back of her shoulder. She leaned back into me. Whatever she had warmed did smell good. 

I wished this moment felt better. The excitement of her in my house, staying the night was clouded by the events. It made me sad and made me feel selfish again. 

Her hands rubbed against my arms. “Let’s go sit so you can eat.” I nodded into her but held on, not wanting to let go. I needed this all day.

A moment passed. “Want me to feed you over my shoulder?” It was a welcome, playful question. 

I smiled and laughed lightly, she sighed at it. Reluctantly, I pulled away and sat at the table. She followed and sat a plate in front of me with a glass of water.

“I had my chef make it earlier. I figured something not too hard to digest, in case you needed food at some point today.” She paused sitting next to me. “Just chicken and rice. Something easy. I hope it’s okay.” I sucked the tears in wanting to come out. I looked to her, chest swelling as I did. “It’s perfect, Agatha. Thank you.” I dug into the food, my hunger taking over. She watched me and after a moment placed her hand over the forearm I had resting on the table. 

I finished my plate off with some water and leaned back looking down. 

“There’s more, I wasn’t sure how much you’d want.” Her nails scratched lightly down my arm as she spoke. 

It sent a distracting shiver through me as I shook my head. “That was fine. Thank you.”

Her hand halted it’s movement on my arm and moved to my chin, pulling me gently to look at her. Her thumb rubbed back and forth on my jaw, the other side her pointer finger lay firm. I could feel tears threatening and building up again. 

Her forehead was lined with her own worry, but a smile peaked through. She was just starting to will a small smile out of me when my phone rang. 

Instantly, I shot up and stepped over to where my phone lay. Worried that it would be Brooks with bad news. Maybe good news.

Mom. 

“Hey mom.” I let out on a sigh.

“Hi, sweetie. I’m just checking in on you.” That persistent worry was mixed into her words.

I shrugged my shoulders trying to ease out the soreness. “Mom, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”

“I’ll always worry. It’s my job.” A slight tinge of amusement lay in her words.

I sighed placing my hand on my hip. “I think I’m just gonna get some rest, mom.” I felt bad brushing her off.

“Okay, honey.” She paused and I could practically hear her thinking. “If you need me to come over I can spend the night with you. I don’t want you to be alone.”

I almost laughed looking to Agatha out of the corner of my eye. She was up now and washing the plate I had used. 

“No, I’m good. I’m gonna go lay down mom.” I stretched and pushed into my lower back trying to work out a tinge I picked up from the day.

Agatha had snuck up behind me and placed her hands on my hips. I almost gasped at the contact. 

“Are you sure?” I could tell by her voice she was still worried.

I sighed wrapping my hand around Agatha’s wrist giving it a squeeze. “I’m positive. I’m gonna check in on Brooks one more time and go to bed. I’m beat.”

“I know.” She huffed out. “Call me in the morning, okay?” 

I nodded. “I will. Night mom.”

“Goodnight, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you.” 

“Love you too, mom.” I hung up before she could plead to come over again. 

As soon as the hand holding my phone dropped, Agatha moved her hands to my lower back working at the muscles. “Your back bothering you, darling?” She asked softly hitting a particularly sore spot.

I sucked a sharp breath in, keening back into her as her thumb worked the muscle bothering me. After a moment, the muscle released a bit and I groaned relaxing back into her. Her hands slowly weaved around to my stomach pulling me tight. 

My head started racing with all the events of the past couple days. All the conversations we had. The pictures and the feelings. I let my weight fall further into her and moved my hands over her arms. 

We stood there a moment before Agatha spoke up again. “Let’s go to bed.” She said it right at my ear and my stomach lurched around the weight of it. 

Agatha used the bathroom and I followed right after. When I emerged all that was on was the soft light of my bedside lamp and the vent light above the oven. She’d flicked off all of the other lights like it was all familiar to her.

 Agatha lay tucked into my bed and I had to pause and stare. She chose the right side. I always slept on the left. I’m sure she observed the used bedside table compared to the bare one. The one that now wasn’t as it held her phone. 

She was smiling softly when my stare landed on her face. My head dropped trying to hide my smile. I walked towards the bed stopping at my side. Brooks and I exchanged a few texts. No changes good or bad since I’d left. I set my alarm for the morning and placed my phone on my own table. 

Nervously, I crawled under the covers. My whole body was holding an awareness of her. I turned the side lamp off and slid down. She did the same, a tense silence enveloping us. 

Whatever hesitation I had snapped and I turned draping myself over her. She moved with me, arm grabbing and tucking me into her. 

She let out a long sigh after a deep breath in beneath me after we had settled. My head rose and fell against her chest with the breath. I clung tighter gripping her shirt in my hand. I squeezed my eyes shut rubbing my face against the top of her chest. 

I almost leaned up and kissed her. I couldn’t. If there was even a hint of hesitation from her or unwillingness I wouldn’t be able to handle it right now. I knew there was a good chance that she wouldn’t hold back if I did, but that slight one percent was enough to strike a hint of fear. The idea that this awful day would cloud our first kiss was also a factor.

Her right arm lay across my shoulders firmly holding me against her. Her left hand rest further down my back rubbing gently. 

“Agatha.” I paused flattening my palm against her ribs. “I needed you today. I wanted you there so much. It’s just.” I trailed off running my hand up and down her side. “Complicated, but I don’t want you to think I didn’t need you today.” It had been wearing on me all day that I might of hurt her feelings on the phone earlier. Not letting her come to the hospital. I sniffled as a few tears tried to escape. “I actually needed you so bad today.”

I dug my face into her neck, hand gripping her shirt again. 

The arm around my shoulders squeezed tighter. “Honey, I’m aware. I fully understand. Thank you though. For telling me that.” She then placed a long lingering kiss to the top of my forehead. I scrunched up into her tighter.

The weight of the day clung heavy drifting me off easily in her arms.

I woke to being shifted and my alarm blaring. I adjusted to being awake and realized Agatha was holding me up and reaching for my phone. She shut off the alarm and I fell back into her heavily as she eased back down.

I groaned and buried my face in her. God, did she always have to smell so good?

“Sorry.” I mumbled into her shoulder. “How long was it going?” 

Her left hand tangled into my hair gently running her fingers along my scalp. I groaned again wrapping my arms around her snugly.

“It just went off. I woke up a few minutes before.” 

The sound of her voice rough with sleep, in my bed sent a shiver down my spine. I looked up to her then through my eyelashes. She looked absolutely perfect. Her hair slightly mussed, but perfect. Her eyelids rest heavy with sleep still and a smile tugged at the right corner of her mouth. 

“Mornin.” I croaked out turning my head to rest on her shoulder still holding her eyes.

“Good morning, darling.” 

I set my alarm for five am. Plenty of time to get ready and back to the hospital for six thirty. Well, plenty of time as long as I didn’t fall back asleep. Agatha was making that very difficult still chording her fingers through my hair. 

I caught myself drifting off again, scalp and spine tingling. I hid my smile in her shoulder and squeezed her side.

“You have to stop.” I mumbled into her shirt. “You’re gonna make me fall back asleep.”

I felt her laugh ripple through her torso. She moved her fingers down to the nape of my neck, nails delicately dancing there. My breath came out in a stutter at the feel of it.

My phone disrupted the warm moment. I instantly shot my head up grabbing it off of the blanket over her stomach. 

Brooks.

I fumbled accepting the call. “Hey, bud. How’s she doing?” I tried masking the instinctual worry.

Agatha followed me and draped her front over my back. Her arms wrapped around my waist. 

“Good, still hasn’t woke up but she’s moving more.” He sounded so tired.

I leaned back into Agatha, relaxing at his words.

“That’s good.” I let out a sigh. “Did you get through to her parents?”

“Yeah, they’re still trying to get on a flight back. Sarah’s catching a flight this afternoon.” A yawn followed his words.

“Good, I’ll be there soon alright? What do you want for breakfast?”

“Surprise me.” He said on a light laugh.

I nodded, free hand running along Agatha’s arms crossed over my waist. “Will do. Nine eight three six for the garage key pad right?” “That’s it.” It was so odd hearing him anything but happy and energetic.

“I’ll be there in a bit.” I assured him. 

“Alright, see you soon.” 

“Yep, I’ll text when I’m leaving your place.”

It was five fifteen when I hung up. I knew I had to get up, but pushed Agatha and I back into the mattress anyways. Time was passing quickly as we lay there. I still had to get ready, had things to do and stuff to grab before I headed back. The dread of being in a hospital again all day was dancing around my chest. Agatha’s fingers gently dragging across it were nearly easing it.

“You’re gonna have to force me up.” I croaked out with closed eyes.

A low and gentle laugh sounded from her as she pushed us both up. “Go on.” Her arms dropped from around me. “Go get ready, darling.”

I let out a dramatic groan and flopped to the side, rolling out of bed. Agatha laughed again falling back into the bed. It really wasn’t fair. 

I forced myself to my closet, trying to stretch out my sore body as I did to gather an outfit. I could feel her eyes on me the whole time. I squirmed under the heat of it until I safely tucked into the bathroom. 

It was fifteen minutes before six when I stepped out of the bathroom. Agatha was up now leaving a neatly made bed. I smiled at it and let my eyes trail over to her. She was on the phone stretching out a sigh. I didn’t pay much attention to what she saying, too busy focused on staring. She turned to me and shot me a wink forcing a burning smile out of me. 

Agatha used the bathroom after her phone call. She came out looking refreshed and my gut sank knowing we had to part ways now. It was six and I still had to grab breakfast and stop at Chloe and Brooks place for clothes. 

She sauntered over to me pulling me out of my thoughts and wrapped me in a hug. I sighed into her shoulder and tugged her in. 

“I’ll be in the office for a bit today, but if you need me for anything I’ll be there at the drop of a hat, okay?” She nuzzled the words into the side of my head.

I nodded and squeezed her hip. “Can you come back again? Later after I get home.”

“Of course.” She squished me closer. 

“It might be late again like last night.” I warned eyes glancing at the clock on the stove. 

“I don’t care if it’s midnight.” She fiercely replied. I scrunched my nose and dug it into her shoulder trying to rub away the urge to kiss her. I wanted it to be perfect. Not on a puffy eyed morning on my way to a hospital. 

Eventually, I dragged myself out of her grip to slip my shoes on. Tears were trying to break out as I tied my laces. I didn’t want to leave her. I didn’t want to spend a day looking at Chloe in a hospital bed again. I didn’t want to think about the room there still was for her health to take a dive. I stood up and quickly shoved a pair of sunglasses on my face trying to mask it. My throat was burning holding it all in. Maybe, if I didn’t speak I could handle keeping it in until after we parted ways. I turned slipping my coat on. Agatha bent over fixing her own shoes on. I swallowed hard watching her and quickly wiped a tear that snuck out. 

She stood up looking at me with a perfect smile. It instantly dropped when she reached my face. I wasn’t sure what gave it away, probably my unsteady chin. 

“Honey.” It eased out of her in a low aching way. 

I instantly broke down, head dropping. She was around me in an instant and I clawed around her desperately.

“I wish you could come.” I whispered into her shoulder, breath stuttering over my tears. 

“I know.” 

When I calmed down and pulled back she took my sunglasses off and started wiping away my tears. I closed my eyes leaning into her hand. Her scent pushed past my runny nose as she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. She pulled her lips away, hands cradling either side of my head and kept her nose and lips ghosting over me. I could feel every breath settle over my skin. I kept my eyes shut simmering in the moment. She pressed another soft kiss to my forehead then my right temple. The both of us were breathing heavier now. Another kiss pushed against the apple of my cheek and my hands tightened a grip around her coat. 

My nose was stuffy, eyes felt raw and my ears thrummed. I felt like the least attractive person in the world, but every time her lips touched my skin it shooed away any thought on my state mattering. A kiss against my nose opened my eyes. Her own were searing on me already. I watched as they closed and she slipped another kiss against the middle of my other cheek. I slipped my hands under her coat and tugged her a bit sharply against me. I felt the effect of it shake out of her throat.

I stopped breathing when her nose brushed against mine. A rough breath out of her warmed my lips and danced into my own mouth. She dragged her nose against either side of mine, blue eyes hidden behind their lids. She opened them and as our eyes met again it was like the world stopped spinning just for the moment. 

I reached my right hand up to tuck around the back of her head, and sunk my fingers into the hairs on the back of her neck. She hummed and a crooked smile broke out on the side of her lips. My chest felt like a volcano ready to explode.

Her eyebrows pinched in, face taking on a serious glow. She leaned in ever so slightly, both of our eyes fluttering closed. The loud blaring ringtone of my phone was like a shock restarting the earths turn.

I sighed and dropped my forehead to her chest. I pulled away leaving a hand against her hip as I grabbed my phone.

Mom.

I picked up trying to mask the annoyance. The usual worry for me was laced in her tone. She insisted that they would drive me, but I pushed back hard enough for her to drop it. I ended the call with letting them pick up the breakfast and meeting me at the hospital.

Guilt struck me up again during the call. Swept up in my own life, ignoring the things I had to do for the people that needed me. I shoved my phone into my pocket as Agatha’s gaze lay heavy on me.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered out as my eyes remained glued to the ground.

“Don’t be, darling.” She tapped my chin and I raised my eyes to her. “Come on.”

Her head gestured to the door with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. I sighed and walked out as she held the door open. 

Our shoes against the wooden stairs and the whipping wind were the only sounds as we walked to our cars. She pulled me in one more time as we reached her drivers door. 

“I’ll see you soon, darling.” I nodded into her shoulder steeling myself. “I’m just a call away.” Every word was soothing.

I nodded again and pulled away. I stared at her for a few seconds. She was so gorgeous it almost hurt to look at her. I focused on her lips hidden behind my sunglasses. With a sigh I backed away breaking the magnet. 

“I’ll text you in a little while.” I said dully forcing a half smile.

It was her turn to nod. We both got in our cars and pulled off in our separate directions. 

I probably packed way too much for the hospital from Chloe and Brooks house. Clothes for the both of them. Pillows, blankets and chargers. 

My parents were waiting at the entrance with breakfast when I arrived. 

When we entered the room it looked as if Brooks hadn’t moved an inch. A grin broke out on his face when he looked up.

“She just squeezed my hand.” I swear I could see the physical relief wash over him as he said it. 

The doctor popped in right after us to check in. She didn’t carry any worry, which seemed like a good sign. 

The four of us ate breakfast and Brooks changed into his own clothes.

We had just finished up lunch when Chloe’s head started shifting. Her eyes opened and the heart monitor kicked up a bit. All four of us jumped to a stand in sync. 

“Hey, you’re okay baby. You’re okay.” Brooks shushed out to her brushing her forehead. 

She groaned, eyes darting around the room taking everything in. Her panic started to settle down after a moment. My dad went to grab someone to check on her. A weight felt like it had been vacuumed out of the room. Tears of relief silently slid down my cheeks as I hovered near the bed. 

She tried to say something, but only a croaky noise came out. 

“We got in an accident. You’re gonna be okay though.” Brooks eased out to her and kissed her forehead. 

Her knuckles were white holding his hand. Chloe’s eyes landed on mine and she burst out into tears. I stifled what I could and walked over, resting a hand on her leg. 

The three of us cried, only pulling ourselves together when the doctor came in.

They still needed to do scans and keep an eye on her, but the doctor was pretty confident she’d be okay.

The first thing Chloe said when her throat lost it’s dryness was how sorry she was. She remembered everything. I could tell how guilty she felt about it. Brooks tried to ease her mind on it, but it didn’t look as if it made it any better.

My parents had left an hour ago and I decided to take a walk to let them have some time alone. 

After a walk around the hospital, I made it back and urged Brooks to go home for a little bit to freshen up with my car. It took some convincing, ultimately Chloe giving him no option but to go. There was no arguing with her.

“So, how’ve ya been?” She dragged it out casually as if it was just an ordinary catch up.

The both of us laughed. 

“Seriously, update me.” She smirked. “I need all of the details. I’m injured. I deserve it.”

I laughed and shook my head. “Not even a ruptured spleen can stop you, huh?” I joked leaning back in my chair. 

“If anything it’s fueling me.” 

“So, had a good Christmas. Got a new furniture set for the roof. Good stuff.” I smiled innocently and shrugged. 

She sighed and closed her eyes. “So help me god if you don’t give me the details of what’s happened between you and Agatha since I’ve seen you I’m going to scream.” 

I snorted. “Nothing much really.” I thought about everything that had happened in the past few days and laughed. “That’s a lie.” 

I started with the present drop off and spilled it all. Well, most of it. I did tell her about the pictures, but didn’t really detail them. 

Her mouth hung open with a disbelieving joy through most of it. It finally shut when I finished off with last nights happenings. 

“I am so sorry my state has put a hold on all of this.” Her eyes narrowed. “Ohh, the damn tension.” 

She said the last part a little loud and winced grabbing her side. She wasn’t supposed to move from laying on her back for a while. I sat up and patted her leg.

“Take it easy.”

She nodded a little dejectedly, but a smile still peeked out the end. It was easy for the both of us to escape the reality of the situation as we talked. 

“How are you feeling, really?” I asked gently.

She’d been putting on a brave face. I could tell. 

She sighed, head tilting up to the ceiling. “I’m feeling too much.” I grabbed her hand as she paused. “Everything hurts. I feel awful.” She squeezed my hand and looked back to me teary. I nodded and brushed my thumb against her. 

“I’m so fucking happy you’re okay.” She nodded with a shaky smile. We sat quietly after that, hands gripped tightly together conveying a back and forth without words.

Brooks came back looking much better. Sarah arrived shortly after he got back. A friend of hers picked her up from the airport. Her daughter, Gracie, was uncomfortable from the get. She had only just turned six. It was overwhelming for adults never mind a little thing like her. I took her to grab ice cream near by and get her away from it. 

It was nearing visiting hours ending when we got back. Sarah was staying at Chloe and Brooks so I offered to drive them. Then we found out the arrival time of Chloe’s parents. 

Two in the morning. Of course, i offered to pick them up. I couldn’t not offer. 

I excused myself for a minute before we left to call Agatha.

“Hi, heading home?” Agatha asked softly.

I let out a long, long sigh. “Technically, but not for long.” I sighed again before somberly continuing. “I’m driving Chloe’s sister to their place. Then I have to try and find a semblance of sleep, before I have to get her parents from the airport at two in the morning and then work. So, I suppose there’s no sense in us both losing sleep over this.” 

Talking about our sleeping habits in a singular felt unreal. 

A pitiful hum sounded from her. “I don’t mind you know? I have to be up early to head to the office anyways.” 

I laughed lightly. “Mmm, two am early though?” “No, not really, but early bird and all that.” “Agatha.” I breathed out. “Get some sleep for the both of us.” 

Obviously I wanted her to come over. There was no sense behind it. I tried to convince myself of that anyways. An idea of leaving her behind in my bed, kissing her on the cheek as I left sat nicely in my head. I’d already dug too far deep telling her not to come.

“I miss you.” She said softly. 

I groaned shooting my head back. “Ditto.” I turned walking the short distance back to Chloe’s room. “Let me get these two home. Her little one hates it here, poor thing. I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Okay. Drive safe.” 

I paused near the door at her words. “I will.” 

The line lay silent before I hung up. 

Sarah and Gracie were so tired that they both fell asleep on the ride. After waking Sarah, I carried Gracie in for her. We said our goodbyes, Sarah shooting me way too many unnecessary thank you’s.

As I pulled down my street, I found myself hoping the warm shower would knock me out.

My heart nearly leapt out of my chest when I turned into the driveway. 

There, leaning against the hood of her car, stood the all consuming woman herself. Her smile was a mingle of soft and smug. I could practically feel the gears protest at how fast I shifted to park. Turning off the car, I ripped the keys out and hurried out of the door. 

I walked up to her, halting a few inches away. 

“This why you didn’t fight me about not coming over?” I kept my head down. My focus on our shoes as I nudged my foot into one of hers. I spoke up again, brushing a hand against her crossed arms. “Just planned on ignoring me and doing it anyways?”

Her arms uncrossed in a blink gripping me into her. “You’re just too sweet, not wanting me to lose sleep.” She nuzzled the next part into my ear low. “I know you wanted me here. Just as bad as I wanted to be here.”

I actually felt like I was suffocating under her words. When my body felt like it stopped having an internal earthquake, I melted into her heavily. 

Eventually we moved into the house and I took the fastest shower I ever had. 

Just the same as last night, Agatha lay under the covers on the left side of my bed. Her glasses were on as she read something on her phone screen. It was only the second time I had seen them on her. 

My mind turned evil picturing her in nothing but her glasses. I bit the inside of my cheek veering my eyes off of her as I walked to the bed. 

I set my alarm and folded the covers down to climb in. She was looking at me, chin down and eyes dusting above her glasses on the end of her nose. I could feel every goosebump rippling up at the sight of her. 

I averted my eyes again and slid under the covers.

“Just have to read over something quick. It’ll only take a few minutes.” She muttered, attention going back to her phone.

“No worries.” 

I lay back close to her side, head nearly on her pillows. Her eyes were squinted, brows piercing down as her eyes skimmed quickly over what she was reading. I was held in the trance she always found a way to keep me in. 

A smirk shifted and crawled slowly up the side of her mouth. 

Her eyes stay trained on the phone as she spoke. “You’re staring.” She said it in a sing song way. 

I reached up smiling and poked the arm of her glasses, jostling them minutely. “Yes.”

There was no need to deny it. I couldn’t imagine not wanting to stare at her, always.

After locking her phone she pushed her now crooked glasses up to rest on the top of her head. She looked down to me wordlessly smiling. I expected her to have an air of teasing about her, but was met with the softest look I may have ever seen from her. 

The look left something thick in the air. She broke it by placing her glasses and phone on her bedside table. I reached over clicking the light. Agatha lay waiting for me with open arms. It was like a well practiced dance crawling into her. Just the same as last night. I tucked into her as she wrapped me up. 

Sleep was proving easy to come upon with her hands running through my hair. 

My tired mind possessed me to open my mouth. “I like your glasses.” I whispered it, eyes closed into the crook of her neck. 

She laughed low shooting an extra tingling scratch on my scalp. “I know.” 

Of course she knew. 

My alarm was like a gun sounding at twelve thirty am. I quickly stretched over to silence it and fell back forward. Agatha was stirring. She’d shifted to her side at some point, back to me. Our legs were tangled and my face was pressed into her wild hair that smelt too good. I pulled her in tight to my chest letting out a sigh. It was her turn to let out a grumpy tired groan today. She turned in my grip to face me. She looked like a child getting woke for school. Her nose was scrunched and her eyes barely looked open. I laughed causing her to bury her head under my neck. 

“Are you regretting coming over yet?” I asked playfully as I rubbed her back. 

“No.” It was quiet, almost not even spoken.

I laughed again and squeezed her before slipping away. She let out a noise in protest as she grabbed the back of my shirt trying to tug me back down. 

“Agatha.” I groaned out pleading. 

I knew she could easily convince me to stay warm with her for five more minutes. It took close to an hour to get to the airport so I knew I had to go. A huff sounded as she released her grip on me. 

Standing I pulled the covers back over her and grabbed my phone. 

I’d already set out my clothes at night. I grabbed them and quickly went to the bathroom. By the time I was ready to go it was almost one o’clock. Agatha was still in bed, but on her phone. I knew she didn’t have to actually be awake until around five. I slid my shoes on and tied them. The blankets rustling gathered my attention to the bed to see her getting up. 

Smiling I breezed over and pushed her back down gently. “Go back to sleep.” 

She watched quietly as I gathered the comforter back over her. 

“What if I rob you blind?” She asked as she rubbed her chin on the comforter.

I laughed loudly dropping down on my fists to either side of her. “I don’t think you have a need for anything in my house.”

Surely she could replace every single little thing double, easily.

She made a humming sound as she wrapped her hand around my wrist. “Might need to steal a new sweatshirt.” It came out as a warning with a glint in her eyes. “The other one has lost your essence.”

I stared at her dumb for a moment as her words sunk in. I stood upright and walked over to my closet grabbing a random sweatshirt. I ripped the one I had on off and slipped the new one on. I’d already spritzed perfume on the one I was wearing. I was thrumming as I walked over and handed her the one I had on. 

Smiling she sat up and slipped it on. She held the collar up to her nose and breathed in deep confirming why she wanted it. 

The urge to lean over and kiss her on the lips was like a freight train. I’d never make it to the airport if I did that. I decided on the safer option instead. 

Dropping back over her, I placed a long kiss onto her forehead. Lips still against her skin I whispered. “I’ll be back.” 

Her movement was quick, her nose now pressed to the side of my face. Her lips grazed my cheek right near the corner of my mouth. I closed my eyes, fist gripping the bedding as a storm built in my gut.

She let out a low noise followed by a chuckle. I really thought for a second she was just going to do it. Both of us stopped breathing for what felt like an eternity before she chastely kissed my cheek and dropped back down. 

I could just make out her features in the low oven light. Her typical confidence was there, but beneath it all she was flustered too. 

“Go on, kitten.” She poked my chest still a little breathless. “Before you get yourself into trouble.”

My eyes slammed shut at her words. “What the fuck.” I whispered it and an evil chuckle from her followed. 

“Clock’s ticking.” She sounded again, knowing exactly what she was doing to me.

I pushed my face into hers fast, nose pinning against her own. She sucked a sharp breath in that never released, features darkening. “That’s not nice to say things like that when I have to leave.”

I pushed a sigh out, spearmint breath ghosting into her mouth. She let out an honest to god whimper, eyebrows pinching together. 

I shot up taking my leave while I had a semblance of the upper hand. We settled one last look over each other before I pushed out the door. 

My thoughts were distracting and graphic the whole way. I tried to hammer it down, but it was unstoppable. Kitten? What the fuck was that? More important, how did she know the way it would flame out of her mouth and seep under my skin. She was always a step ahead.

 I made the mistake halfway there picturing her touching herself in my bed after I left. 

The force of the thought had me gripping the wheel the rest of the way. As I pulled into the airport pickup line, I was pushing thoughts of the poor rabbit I accidentally hit last year into my head. Something, anything to get a bare moaning vision of Agatha out of my head. 

When Chloe’s parents stepped out, it turned the visions of Agatha into soft mumbles in the back of my head. Seeing their worry and pain was a wake up call, and again, I was feeling guilty. 

They looked like they dropped a thousand pounds off their shoulders at the good news of her being awake and stable. 

I explained all of the details I had on the way to their house. The conversation grew into easier topics as the wheels turned. 

We finished the ride in a tired silence. All three of us had bags under our eyes ready to form their own gravitational pull. 

They thanked me and hugged me countless times when I dropped them off. It was all a tired mix of chatter. It was nearly three when I drove off for home. I rolled down all the windows to let the cold snapping air in. Fifteen minutes.

I sluggishly climbed the stairs when I got home. I’d already set another alarm for five thirty. Agatha was still tucked in bed softly breathing. Quietly, I slid my shoes and coat off and tip toed over to my closet. I cautiously slipped my jeans off and sweatpants back on. I crawled in next to her slowly and she started to stir. 

Something murmured out of her sleepily as she leeched onto me. She was everywhere in seconds. Hair in my face, arms and hands gripping around me, legs scrambled into mine as her feet moved against my own warming them. 

It felt like I had closed my eyes for two seconds before my alarm went off. 

Agatha was already holding my phone and silencing it. She was on her back now holding me into her. Her eyes were on me with a lazy smile waiting for me to look up. 

“Hi.” She reached her hand out to brush the bridge of my nose as she said it.

I hummed tucking into her shoulder. 

“Can I use your shower, darling?” She asked after a moment. “I’m going to head to the office right after I leave.”

My heart rate spiked, but I somehow kept my voice even. “Of course.”

It was her turn to pull away and out of the bed and my turn to protest. I watched her as she grabbed her bag and walked to the bathroom. “Towels and wash cloths are under the sink.” I called out as she stepped past the door. 

She turned to look over her shoulder. Her eyes lingered on me for what felt like an eternity. With a smile, a nod and a wink she disappeared behind the door.

I sighed and rubbed my face before crawling out of bed. I made the bed and checked my phone. The sound of the water running was distracting me. Thoughts of her naked behind that door. Warm water dripping down her skin. Said skin smelling like me after using my soap. 

I caught myself just standing and staring at the door. It felt like the steam from the room was slipping out of the door seams and into my body. 

It was too much for this early. 

I slipped my jeans and shoes back on and trudged out the door down the steps to the cafe. Making her a coffee would distract just enough. I returned with a to go cup for her and could hear the hair dryer I almost never used whirring. 

Brooks sent a text that had tears springing up and a smile spreading.

‘I think she’s going home tomorrow.’

I wiped the happy tears away.

‘Thank god. That’s awesome. I’ll call in a bit when a lull breaks at the cafe. Love you guys.’

I pocketed my phone after sending the text, walking to the kitchen. I stirred a bowl of oatmeal together and placed it in the microwave just as Agatha emerged from the bathroom. 

The bathroom burst with a warm enchanting smell around her. It was all my products, but they smelt so different on her. I could tell she’d spritzed her signature perfume as well. It reeled me in like a trance and I found myself wrapping around her mindlessly. 

She watched me move to her in a commanding stance. Dropping her bag to her foot she waited, like she knew I’d be swept in. 

Her right hand reached out for my hip before I fully reached her. Her glossed lips glinted against her confident smirk. 

The strongest concentration of her perfume was right at her neck and chest. I tucked into her wishing it to linger on me after she’d left. It sent a thrill through my chest, the idea of having her scent on me. Claimed.

“Chloe might be going home tomorrow.” I whispered excitedly swaying us back and forth a few times.

“That’s wonderful news, darling.” The hand on my hip smoothed over to my lower back as she spoke.

If a stranger approached me right now and said all of this was my imagination, I think I’d believe it. 

It was easier to believe than the reality of having this woman so surely in my hold. That this wildly intoxicating woman was just a breath away from being mine and I hers.

I pulled back grinning at her. “Now.” I turned back to the kitchen, her hand only slipped from me when I moved out of reach. “Can I interest you in some boring apple cinnamon oatmeal?” 

“Sign me up, kitten.” It drawled out drawing my gaze to her with a snap.

She was approaching, and waiting. Always waiting for me. I feigned casual and turned away to mix another cup of oatmeal. Goosebumps climbed up and down my spine from that one word.

As the second bowl of oatmeal spun in the microwave, I willed myself to relax. There was no sense in getting worked up like this right before work. 

Of course, all knowing of my thoughts seemingly, she crept up and her arms snaked around my waist. I fell into her front, eyes closing. I could have fallen right back to sleep standing here with her. I grumbled as the microwave beeped. “I don’t know how the fuck I’m gonna make it through the day.” I pulled away to grab the oatmeal. 

“I’ll check in on you.” An amusement was on her tongue. “Make sure you’re still upright.” 

I let out a dry laugh and faced her holding out her oatmeal. 

She moved over to me, hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder leaning against the counter. We ate like that. Agatha dropped her itinerary for the day. It all felt like home. Obviously I lived here, but whatever was radiating off of us together warmed it, completed it. 

All I could do was hope she felt it too.

I had to hold in a busting laugh at the door as we gathered up to leave. It was like a practiced in sync rhythm. I handed her the still warm coffee which earned a kiss on the cheek. It was ridiculous really. We hadn’t even kissed. Yet here we were preparing for the day like our lives had been intertwined for years. It felt like the phone number debacle all over again. She looked up from slipping her shoes on. “What?” She asked with a breathy laugh.

I had admittedly been staring, trying to hold in my laughter at it all. I shrugged in response holding her with an unwavering ease. 

“Sweet girl.” She whispered it as she clicked over to me. 

I fell into the inevitable hug she placed me in. Her fingers pressed heavily into my side. Each one felt significant against me. 

The clock ticking pulled us away from each other. Her car lingered after I let her out and parked mine again. Her window rolled down as I approached. 

“Have a good day, darling.”

Her blue eyes were like beacons in the morning light. I placed my hand on the door and she instantly reached out dancing fingers against it.

“You too. I’ll text in a bit.” 

Smirking, she dropped her fingers from my skin and lowered her head down placing a soft kiss to the back of my hand. It left my hand gripping her car like a lifeline. I shook out of the haze it left me in.

“You’re going to be the death of me Agatha Harkness.” I called it out as I stepped back.

After I turned from her burning gaze, a loud cackle broke from her as she drove away. 

[pengweng-quack]

Bloodbound

Carlisle Cullen x Human!OC

Summary: Place Carlisle in the Edward situation of falling in love with a human, and see what happens

Chapter 1/?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Notes:

The only thing that took so long about this is the title because fuck titles (genuinely)

This is on Ao3 under the same title and username if you'd like to read it there (https://archiveofourown.org/works/54527830)

Probably would be my last (long) twilight post in a while since I've lost interest in the series for a while (give it like 3 weeks before I regain it lmao)

Posting (just like before) is random lol, hope you guys enjoy this story

Much much longer than Being a Witch with Vampires by the way, so we're in a long ride (or you are, because I already know the story)

Word Count: 2294 words

General warning: I used some religious references in this story so read with caution if you're not so keen into reading that

TW for this chapter: None

PM or Comment to be added on the taglist for this one!

Masterlist

A full year had passed since the Cullens returned to Forks, now acting as grownups instead of some teenager studying in Forks high school, minus Renesmee, to her dismay. Carlisle received a warm welcome back to the hospital, where he encountered new faces introduced to him since his departure.

“Good morning Doctor Cullen.” A nurse with red hair greeted politely to him, he was around his height and had brown eyes, a face that he doesn’t remember during his time there

“I’m nurse Sean, not the chief nurse but I think Eunice is getting her out now.” Sean informed him “You’ll like her I think, she’s professional as fuck.”

A girl with her chestnut hair tied up in a bun walked out of a room. At that moment, all Carlisle could think about was how captivating the woman was, everything about her screamed authority, he knew then and there that she was the chief nurse.

Time felt like it slowed down when they locked eyes, this woman has plagued over his mind. Carlisle subtly admired her face, she had eyes that matched the shade of her hair and pale pink lips that complimented her fair complexions.

“Celine Wright, chief nurse here.” Celine introduced herself with a prim and proper tone. She offered her hand in a handshake and Carlisle accepted it, feeling the warmth of her hand against the coldness of his

“Carlisle Cullen, former chief doctor here.” Carlisle introduced back, pulling his hand away from the handshake “Pleasure to meet you.”

From the stories that Carlisle has heard, Celine was 25 years old when she assumed the position and has demonstrated remarkable competence, excelling in her role for a year prior his return with unparalleled precision and skill.

But it was distracting him, she was distracting him. Despite her undeniable competence, it was her blood that proved to be the real challenge for Carlisle. The tantalizing scent of it often left Carlisle struggling to focus, forcing him to endure long stretches without breathing just to filter out the temptation.

But even after leaving work, her scent lingered in his mind, infiltrating every aspect of his life. Something as harmless as a report file with a hint of her scent could drive him to the brink of madness.

It’s been a year since Carlisle has been working with Celine, a year of extreme caution over his thirst. He was always making sure that he was fed before going to the hospital, making sure that there was always some distance between them. However, as the chief nurse, their interactions were inevitable, presenting a constant challenge to Carlisle's restraint.

It also didn’t help that Celine’s kind and caring nature was growing on him in ways that he didn’t expect that it’ll do so. Her smile became a source of motivation for him, brightening his day with a single glance. He found himself instinctively seeking her out upon arriving at work, drawn to her presence like a magnet.

Celine was growing on him, as a person, as a friend, as someone that he wishes he could pursue openly.

“She’s your blood singer and mate.” Edward concluded, having experienced a similar scenario before “You’re dealing with what I’ve dealt with when Bella was still human.”

“Great,” Rosalie scoffed, crossing her arm “Another human.”

“Carlisle won’t pressure her into something that she doesn’t want to partake herself in.” Esme assured everyone

“We would never know if he doesn’t pursue her.” Alice said, holding on from having another vision whether Celine Wright was in their future or not

“Would we rob Carlisle a chance to finally be with his mate?” Edward argued to Rosalie

“Would you rob another girl’s humanity for an uncertainty?” Rosalie asked him back; the tension was growing between the two

“Enough with the arguing.” Carlisle said, a decision set in his head

“I’ve figured out that she’s my mate. But I will not pressure her into anything.” He stated at once to everyone that was listening to him “Nor will I pursue her whatsoever. Let the future play how it has planned to be. Alice, Edward, no attempting to manipulate it to one of your visions.”

Just in time, his alarm has rung, notifying him that he has a shift to get ready for. He bids his goodbye, going to his office to get ready.

He was painfully slow, questioning whether his choice was the right one, plagued by uncertainty and the fear of denying himself a chance at happiness.

But underneath his own desires was the concern for Celine's well-being. He couldn't bear the thought of forcing her into a life she didn't want, no matter how difficult it was for him to accept the possibility of letting her go.

“Are you sure of your decision?” Esme asked him, walking into his office “Do you really want to just give up like that already?”

“She deserves a long, happy life.” Carlisle spoke softly, grabbing his briefcase with all the reports that he’s brought home “Not be damned for eternity.”

“And if she asks for a long, happy life with you, then what?” Esme asked him, making Carlisle ponder at her question. She was right, what certainty did he have that Celine wouldn’t welcome this life?

‘The risk is too high.’ He thought to himself

He left without answering her question.

It was another late-night shift that Celine accepted. Having heard another alibi from one of her co-nurses. Lying and saying that “they have some important matters to deal with,” only to see them by the bar as she drives by, drunk beyond their capabilities.

‘I have nothing to do anyways, so why not just earn more so I could leave this shitty town.’ She always used that to convince herself

In all honesty, Celine's financial status was not a factor in her decision. She had inherited a comfortable sum from when her parents died, ensuring that she was shielded from any financial struggles. But she’s heard that Doctor Cullen always took a night shift, working perfectly for their family’s set up of needing someone to be at home at all times.

What’s wrong if she was to indulge herself and the tiny crush that she had for him? After all, he wasn't married, a fact his hand had subtly conveyed to her.

“Nurse Celine, good to see you…again.” Carlisle greeted, walking in her office (which technically, is his office too) with a disposable cup of coffee “I thought your shift was over?”

“Yeah, Nurse Alex had to bail, said something along the lines of dealing with some personal stuff.” Celine answered “Made sure to give him the morning shift though, just as some sort of revenge.”

“I do not condone that behavior, but frankly, I would say that you deserve the rest.” Carlisle said, sitting next to her. It was dangerous, he knew. But he didn’t want to leave her alone.

“It’s a slow night.” Celine reported “Just one rush to the E.R. thinking that they were dying because of some spots they saw on their face. After doing some checking on it, it was just some questionably large pimples. Scary? Yes. But not fatal.”

“At least it has been slow so you won’t tire yourself too much.” Carlisle said, pushing the coffee near her

“Why don’t you just say to your sister that you don’t actually enjoy the coffee she makes? It just feels like a waste, giving away your coffee every time.” Celine asked, accepting the cup and drinking it

Carlisle was asked by Celine one time why he wasn’t drinking the coffee that he had, noticing that the cup was left untouched until he throws it away just after his shift. In panic, he fabricated a story, claiming that his sister Esme, who worked night shifts at her own job, often made coffee for herself and would give the extras to him.

He had offered it to her then, hoping that the coffee Esme made because she has missed the aroma of coffee was in Celine’s taste. Celine didn’t answer that time if she had enjoyed the coffee or not, but every time he would offer her the coffee, she would accept it.

This silent acceptance fueled Carlisle's hope that perhaps, in some small way, they were connecting through these shared moments over coffee.

From then, he asked Esme about the recipe and continued to make it from the comfort of his car before he walked in the hospital, using the coffee as a conversation starter, a way to engage with her, hoping to deepen their connection through these small interactions.

“You enjoy it.” Carlisle answered almost immediately. Celine looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion

“I mean, she always makes it at night for her work. Offers some to me, even though I don’t drink coffee, I’m just too shy to not accept it. And besides, you deserve some coffee yourself too.” Carlisle explained further, giving Celine the satisfaction of getting an answer

“Thanks. I owe you one.” Celine said, lifting the coffee and drinking some more of it “How do you even get the energy to do night shifts? Ever since you got here, you’ve like made it your thing to be the one for night shifts.”

“I sleep in the morning.” Carlisle answered, having prepared an alibi for when that question inevitably gets asked to him “Did kind of take a toll on my social life though, I’ll tell you. But I have accepted this way when I decided to step into the field of medicine.”

“Really?” Celine asked, piqued with how he was opening up “Why prefer night shift then? You could easily be transferred to morning shift if you’d just ask.”

“I prefer it this way.” Carlisle answered, Celine pondered if someone has asked him this question before “Besides, who will give you your daily coffee if I don’t join you with the night shifts?”

“I can get myself coffee, thank you very much.” Celine answered, fake insult in her tone and playfully rolling her eyes at him

“I know you can, I do enjoy it just as much to be the one to give you your coffees.” Carlisle said, a smile on his face

‘He looked like a Ken doll.’ She thought, looking at Carlisle and admiring his seemingly perfect features. His eyes was shining golden, a shade she never thought was possible for a human to have. The pale pink tint of his lips stirred a fleeting curiosity about their softness, though she quickly brushed aside any thoughts of how they might feel against her own.

“Some of the nurses are getting jealous, you should give them coffee sometimes.” Celine teased him. Carlisle looked at her, his eyebrows raised at her teasing. He did not want to give anyone else some sort of affection.

His undead heart was with hers before she even knew it.

“That’s if they’ll like 5 teaspoons of sugar and 3 teaspoons of creamer in their coffee.” Carlisle teased her back, watching as she finishes the coffee that he has prepared

“Well, anything that you would give to them, they’ll accept really.” She answered, before going back to reading some reports that the morning shift nurses has prepared for them

The night was long, the comforting silence joining them as they read through. Fortunately, there were no urgent emergencies demanding their attention. It wasn’t until Carlisle heard Celine stifle a yawn that made him check his watch, the small screen showing 8:17 AM.

“Shift over.” Carlisle announced, standing up and faking a stretch

He could have stayed there forever had she been able to do the same.

“Finally.” Celine mumbled, the aftermath of the coffee finally taking a toll on her as she slumps herself on the seat that she’s been on for the past 12 hours “So tired.”

“Need a ride home?” Carlisle asked, seeing that she wasn’t awake enough to go home on her own

Despite his declaration not to pursue Celine, Carlisle found himself engaging in behaviors that seemed to contradict his words. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was unintentionally leading her on, even though she hadn't explicitly expressed interest in him, neither through her words nor her body language.

“I’m fine, brought my car with me.” Celine murmured; her eyes closed as she rests her head on the chair “Just need a few minutes to close my eyes.”

“Okay then.” Carlisle answered, sitting down on the chair where he was sitting earlier, grabbing a bit more reports to read as he accompanies her

The few minutes became an hour. Then the hour became two hours. Carlisle then slowly realized that Celine was beginning to doze off in the chair she was sitting in. He looked at her with a small smile on his face.

He didn’t need to be a vampire or a doctor to know that she was in an uncomfortable position. Her whole torso was slouched down and her head was down, giving the look that she was uncomfortably bowing.

Carlisle moved his seat closer to hers, feeling the warmth of her arm against the coldness of his. With tender care, he lifted her head, cradling it on his shoulder. Though not as plush as a pillow, he knew it would be far more comfortable than where her head had previously rested.

As he sat there, Carlisle gazed at Celine, closing his eyes and synchronizing his faux breathing with hers, attuned to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Carlisle knew that it was temptation, being this close to her. And a sin to indulge himself in such temptation. But if he was to be damned today, he would be happy to have indulged himself with the existence of Celine.

[eudaimonia83]

Chapter 4 is posted 😅

It’s much shorter…which is partially intentional, and partially bc I struggle a lot with writing from Gwyn’s perspective.

TW: mentions of SA, PTSD, and violence.

THREE DAYS BEFORE SOLSTICE

Can I tell you a secret?

Gwyn adjusted her stance and centered her weight properly. It was freezing. But the sky was, undeniably, magnificent. It was why she loved coming to the training ring at night now. If the moon was out, it was perfect in the silvery, watery light. Sometimes she could even see her shadow.

Hips over knees. Shoulders over hips. Back straight. Body turned askance, blade extended and angled toward the neck of the mannikin. She loved the science of this, how there was a reason for everything, and how you could train your intuitive behaviors to take advantage of a situation…even when you were disadvantaged, to level the playing field.

Slice. Cut, across, swipe, up.

Cassian had taught them the eight-pointed star, with all its crosses and combinations, but Gwyn had lately taken to thinking of the sparring moves as having names. That groups of them went together as naturally as friends, or sisters.

Angle down, to the side. That’s Emerie. Unexpected, agile. And UP, with all your force, the killing blow to their neck or head. That’s Nesta. Direct, vicious, elegant. Stab, forward and back, quick as the lightning between clouds; that’s Ananke, fast and furious.

Where am I in all of this?

The thought unsettled her to the point that she actually shifted her weight backward onto her non-dominant foot, compensatory for the force of her upward cut. The head of the mannikin, cloth wrapped around sheep’s wool in a loose and sagging approximation of a human face, split into two over her blade. Just like the white ribbon had, all those months ago…

Can I tell you a secret?

She almost lost her balance, leaning too far backward, and corrected. Shift, don’t let them close…

She noted the tiniest flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. It might have been a mouse. Or a spider. Or…a sinuous ribbon of darkness sliding along the floor of the training ring, keeping close to the edges to avoid detection.

She smiled at that…the warning it had given her…and then, refocusing, squared her shoulders and spun, pulling the practice sword in tight to give herself speed, and then with the new angle, struck under the arm. The weak point in a classic suit of armor, Mor had said during one of her lessons with the newer recruits. But be precise, she’d added. If you close with your opponent to strike them there, they have more ability to strike you, and they’ll have greater reach. Incapacitate with a stab between the upper ribs, and then get away. Speed and distance is your ally.

Gwyn had spent the next month seeking out the hole under the arms in every suit of armor she could find. Researching traditional suits of the stuff, and their weaknesses. It couldn’t hurt to be prepared.

But how could she have been prepared for this…for what Elain had told her in the library…

“You should always mind your surroundings,” said a soft voice.

Gwyn straightened, and tucked her arms in. “Who says I haven’t?”

She bent at the waist and pivoted on her strong foot, throwing up her practice sword with her strong arm and pulling her dagger with the other. Azriel knocked the practice sword aside only to find the blade of the dagger beneath his jaw. That strong, squared jaw…

His hazel eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you going to strike?”

“It’s only practice. Why would I need to?” She turned the blade ever so slightly, pushing at the skin. “Your artery is right there,” she continued, amused. “Two minutes after it’s severed, you’d be dead. No healer could reach you in time.” Anatomy had also been her friend in battle; the positions of tendons and major vessels, where to hit to incapacitate, where to hit to kill. He took a tiny step backward, away from the point; she noted a tiny drop of blood on his chin. It snaked down toward his neck. His scent, cedar, cool in her nostrils…Gwyn suddenly found it difficult to concentrate. The muscles of his jaw that swept down toward the neck of his leathers…the pulse, that had briefly raced under the touch of the blade, slowly soothing toward normal.

“You should take every opportunity to strike; and you should never let me this close to you,” he replied, as a cool edge stroked the underside of her ribs.

Shit.

Truth Teller swept lightly against the leather surface. Greater pressure and her abdomen would be open, her guts hanging out; but he was gentle. A good teacher, when he wanted to be. When the vicious temper, as much a weapon as a sword or a knife, was not engaged.

“Mor told you not to close with an opponent with greater reach,” he said. “Not unless you can be faster.” He smiled. “And I guarantee you aren’t faster than me. Even if you stabbed me in the neck, you’d still die.”

Gwyn relaxed and let the blades drop. She turned away and walked quickly back toward the sparring manikin. Silence fell as she took the oiling rag and wiped her sword clean, then angled it so she could admire the moonlight glinting along the surface. It wasn’t a noble sword, not like Nesta’s Made weapon by any means, but it was sharp and serviceable. And she wielded it competently. But not, as Azriel had just reminded her, expertly. Against all of her better judgment, that stung.

“Did I offend you?” she heard him say. He had approached and was now within the circle her feet had trampled into the sand of the arena. Too close. Not close enough.

“No,” she said, and hated the slight waver at the end of the word. “You’re right, Shadowsinger. I’m just…not focused today.”

The shadows pooled around his feet, shrouding them in blackness until he looked as though he were standing on a piece of the sky that he’d conveniently ripped out of the heavens. They gave a little rattle, a chitter. Not a purr of contentment, as she was used to…a little teeth-chattering of alarm. It reminded her of tiny bones, clinking gently together — a ghostly sound.

“Something happened,” he said. It was not a question, but Gwyn shook her head anyway.

“It’s not important.” She sheathed her blade and turned to go. “I have early service tomorrow…”

“Don’t lie,” he murmured, and the shadows chittered again in concern.

“I’m not lying,” she hissed, anger flaring briefly that he’d caught it so easily.

A glint of hazel beneath a raised eyebrow. “You attend the dawnsong services twice a week, same as the other postulants, and you’ve already done your two or you wouldn’t come up here in the small time you have to sleep.” He crossed his arms, siphons gleaming blue as they caught the moonlight; a flash of cobalt among black, ocean moving restlessly beneath stars. “What ails you, Berdara?”

“Have you been spying on me?” she shot back. “How do you know that?”

“I am the spymaster,” he said, supremely cool and self-assured. A stab of annoyance pierced her, smack in the middle of her chest. Oh? He knew everything, did he? Smug bastard.

“Then you must already know, so why should I tell you?” she challenged him.

The silence that fell chafed at her, enough that she looked up at him — the opposite of what she’d meant to do. He was watching her from beneath hooded eyes, his features blurring into shadow, but she could feel his gaze almost as a physical touch. Seeking, seeking, always wanting to know more…

“What happened is the least important part of an event,” he finally said. Halting. Thoughtful. “The reaction of those involved — that’s the missing half of any story. And that tale can only come from the people themselves. From you…yourself.”

Was he…unsure? The confident shadowsinger? A tremor swept through her. She thought that would’ve made her feel triumphant, but it turned to dust in her mouth even as it happened. And the dust became a pulse of nausea, like the world was falling away.

…Can I tell you a secret?

Elain’s words throbbed in her skull. She put her hands shakily up to her head, her vision blurring, and swayed on the spot.

He was beside her in an instant. One arm swept around her shoulder, the other at her elbow. “Sit down, Berdara.”

It didn’t even occur to her to argue. She bent her knees, intending to slowly sink to the sand floor, but they buckled beneath her and she flopped down with a huff of air. He knelt next to her, wings spread as if to shield them both.

She breathed slowly, swallowing hard, until her vision slowly cleared. Fuck. What would he think of her now? A weak-willed child who couldn’t even bear what was inside her own mind?

He knelt, and she sat, the quiet of the night growing ever colder as midnight ticked by. Until their breath clouded around them. Until finally, finally, in a small and tired voice, she said, “I’m well. I should go to bed.”

“Don’t lie,” he said, the faintest note of amusement tilting his inflection up at the end. It was like hearing him smile. “You’ve not been well for months, Berdara. What happened today to make it worse?”

She shook her head.

A pause. “Was it what I said? Just now?” He shifted away slightly. “I only intended to correct your form —“

She laughed, a burst of a bubble inside her chest. Of course not, how could he be so stupid? “No, shadowsinger. It wasn’t you.”

The secret was so close, wanting so badly to spill out. She couldn’t. She’d promised Elain she wouldn’t. But the weight of it…that Elain didn’t feel protected, the beloved sister of the High Lady. Nesta hadn’t either; and she had been right, they’d sent her to the House of Wind and failed to protect any of them when they were kidnapped into the Blood Rite. Emerie hadn’t either, and her lovely wings were still mangled, breaking Gwyn’s heart every time she stretched them awkwardly. The thought that yet another vulnerable person didn’t feel safe here…that the leaders, who had guaranteed her safety and the safety of the other priestesses, might not have their best interests at heart…it felt like rocks, strapped to her chest and shoulders. Like opening a door to a familiar hallway but finding only open air beyond, and falling helplessly. If Elain went searching outside for answers because she felt she couldn’t trust Rhys and Feyre, how would any of them be able to trust them?

The shadows swirled gently around her, nudging her hair, swirling around her forearms. At least Azriel was here. He was an agent of the Night Court; but was he not also her friend?

She clenched her hands in the sand. Everything was falling apart…

“I can’t figure it out,” she said.

“What?”

“What…to do.” She brought her knees up, then circled her arms around them and curled into a small version of herself. Her hair swept down in curtains around her face. She used to do the same thing in the days just after Sangravah, making herself feel as small as she could, to inventory every part of her body to make sure it was still there, every fingernail and eyelash and nerve ending, so that when she jumped out of sleep in terror — or prickled with anger or fear at the clink of a dinner knife — or kicked away her sheets bc they held her down too tightly to the bed — or bled during her cycle, cramping in her lower abdomen and staining the tops of her thighs — she could start at the tips of where she began and the world ended, and reclaim her body hair by skin cell by blood vessel. It wasn’t a victory, it was survival — and Gwyn knew better than anyone that survival was insufficient. But it was where she had to start. Over and over again. Even all these years later.

“How do I move past this part,” she whispered, half to herself. “when everything always comes back to this? How do I fight it?”

He shifted, leathers creaking gently as he sat cross-legged, leaning backward to rest on splayed hands. “I might not be the best person to ask.”

She lifted her head and looked at him. The moonlight gilded each curl of hair on his head, throwing his eyes into shadow beneath his brows. One of the shadows rested in a misty knot on his shoulder. “Does it come for you, too? Just when you thought things might be getting better?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “When I expect it the least.”

Yes. Yes. Her heart, so lonely and adrift in her chest, reached out with trembling tendrils toward him.

“What do you do?”

“I explore it,” he said. The quiet seemed to magnify. “I want to find the bottom of it. This darkness. This thing that I know could be evil.”

“Why?”

“Because then I’d know how far — or how low — I could go,” he said. “The limit. The border.”

Where he began and the world ended. To know that there was a difference. What part of yourself you owned and what was uncontrollably molded by the things that happened to you. Where the rock ended and the surf began.

She breathed, in and out. The cold of the air prickled in her lungs. Maybe he would understand. Perhaps he’d keep her confidence.

“Elain and I were researching her powers the other day,” she said. “And something she said…it pushed me to that place.”

He held very still, waiting, waiting.

“She told me what happened to her the night Lucien arrived in Velaris. That she was attacked and he saved her. But she didn’t want to tell anyone, because she was worried they’d lock her up and not let her find out what she needed to know…”

“Attacked?” It was the softest whisper. His entire body changed with the shift of his throat, those long muscles tightening. “By whom?”

Gwyn shook her head. “I don’t know. She said it was a lesser fae, in the docks. That maybe she stole some of her power, and Lucien saved her.”

“Stole her power?” Azriel frowned. “That’s not possible. Power can be suppressed, like with faebane. But it isn’t an item to be kept or stolen.”

“I don’t know quite what she meant,” Gwyn admitted. “The only reference I’ve ever heard to stealing power was the witches; but they’re long extinct from Prythian, if that ability was even real.”

“Nesta stole her power,” mused Azriel, half to himself.

“From the Cauldron, under unique circumstances,” Gwyn argued, her spine straightening in defense of her Valkyrie sister. “She can’t take it from anyone else. Imagine what she would’ve done if she could.”

Azriel suddenly barked a laugh. “She would have laid us all out flat. Rhys especially.”

Gwyn gave a shaky chuckle. “Or Lucien.”

Azriel’s eyebrows went up in silent agreement.

Gwyn thought for a moment. “Perhaps Elain mischaracterized what happened. But she was so uncertain, so afraid. Of people who I thought she trusted. Of people I trusted. Listening to her, it made me think: if she doesn’t feel the freedom to tell them, because they don’t understand her or would be afraid of her or try to control her…if she can’t be safe, can’t be…herself, however complicated and unknowable that turns out to be…how could Nesta ever feel that way? How can I ever hope to feel that way?”

Azriel was still, so still that even the shadows, holding close to him, seemed to breathe more than he did.

“You have always been yourself, Berdara,” he finally said, and even though he’d spoken no louder than a murmur, the shape of the amphitheatre amplified his voice enough that she heard him without straining. “If there was anyone capable of understanding themselves in the face of impossible odds, it would be you.”

Tears prickled in her eyes; the cold stung her nose and she sniffled, wiping her face with her sleeve. But something is changing. The time is coming to move forward, and…I am afraid. Afraid to take the next step. Afraid to lose the tiny bit of security I found here, with Clotho, with Nesta, with Emerie.

With you.

“Will you be able to sleep?” he asked. “Do the nightmares still plague you?”

Shocked, she turned, fully meeting his gaze. “You know about those?”

“You used to scream in your sleep,” he said. “My shadows heard it. Even down in Velaris. But it’s not so unusual. Many of the priestesses have them.” A beat. “I still have them.”

Her heart jerked. Not the Shadowsinger. He inflicted darkness, he did not suffer from it. He lived in that little nebula created by the blocking of the light. “You do? What are yours of?”

He shook his head.

Instantly she was consumed with regret. “I’m— I’m sorry. That was nosy of me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s all right. Many of them I just don’t have words for.”

She had words for hers. They were concrete, crippling, horribly, perfectly consistent; nothing she did ever changed them. She was stuck in that kitchen, desperate to be quiet, finally understanding that she would have to sacrifice silence for speed. Dreams or visions, Elain had wondered aloud; Gwyn wondered the same about her own. They woke her with her cheek hurting, her face throbbing in memory of bruises, sore and sobbing. Cold water helped with the soreness, which was phantom in her abdomen and pelvis, but not in her limbs and neck. That, she could only assume, came from the tossing and turning, the trying to run while trapped, holding back the crunch of the trapdoor so she wouldn’t crush little fingers, and the strain of her shoulders as she’d pushed the table on top of it, barely concealing it before the door to the room had creaked open.

She blinked, remembering what an elder priestess had said when she first arrived. Do not fight the fear. If restrained it will grow. It will consume you. Let the physical world anchor your mind, and your heart will follow. She concentrated hard on the heat of the tears tracking down her face. The softness of the sand under her hands.

She had almost forgotten Azriel was there, he was so quiet sitting next to her. Almost. She stole a glance at him as the tension in her back and neck slowly abated. He had not moved; he could almost be a statue made of ink, under the huge crescents of the wings that blocked the moonlight. His arm was stretched out, supported on his knee; his gaze was obscured. She had seen statues on the religious temples in the human lands that looked like him. Like a fallen angel. Slowly she stretched her legs out, fingers and toes aching from the cold.

“Where will you go after this?” she asked. “Will you be able to sleep?”

“I don’t sleep,” he said. “But I’ll stay here until you can.”

“Here? In the amphitheater?” A beat. “To do what?”

“To train,” he said. “And think. And to be here if your nightmares come back.”

She shook her head. “You can’t stop them.”

“I know.” He stood in a fluid motion and extended a hand to help her up. “But I can secure the building. If it would make you feel safer.”

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you…”

“It’s no trouble,” he said, voice firm and dark.

She considered. It might help. Just to have him here was soothing to her raw nerves. But… “How will you know when I fall asleep?”

He cocked his head as the shadows chittered indignantly, and one streamed over the small distance that separated them in a dusty little streak, to coil next to her ear. The sound of them was like sand falling in an hourglass…whispering, constant, gentle. “Ah,” she said, more a sigh than a word.

“They will not touch you,” he assured her. “They will only watch and report back to me.” He squeezed one hand into a fist. “If I can help it, Berdara, no harm will come to you. Ever.”

She stroked a shadow with her finger and it ribboned and curled in delight, twisting around her hand. “I like them,” she said, and it was true; they reminded her of the children at Sangravah, seeking attention, hiding while the adults talked, overhearing things they shouldn’t.

“Then go,” he spoke softly, pulling his long black knife from his belt and approaching the abandoned sparring manikin. “And sleep well. As well as possible.”

She nodded. The rhythmic sounds of sparring began behind her, and without turning around, she smiled as she walked back toward the stairwell.

She did not see Azriel’s shoulders slump as her footsteps faded and disappeared into the cloister, and the heavy lock on the door slid closed. He stepped back and adjusted Truth Teller in his hand, flipping it so the balance of the blade rested between his thumb and forefinger; then, with a sudden and deadly grace, flung it toward the manikin. It flipped over and over in flight, then buried itself with a thud into the wooden chest. The shadows crept along the outer edges of his wings. His silhouette shivered in the moonlight.

“Go to the docks,” he said, low and menacing, and two shadows streaked off over the edge of the amphitheatre to plunge through the freezing dark air. “Find out what happened. Who was responsible. And once you do…keep them there. Until I can come collect them.”

He strode to the low wall overlooking the light of the city, unevenly bordered by the Sidra and the mountains. The stars gleamed in frozen silence. He glanced briefly toward the shadowed bulk of the Hewn City, crouched like an ogre waiting to pounce. If it could talk, it might have spoken. Whispered among the airy songs of the dreamers.

You can’t stop what’s happening.

You can’t escape what’s coming.

[aspenforest732]

Libertias aut Mortis Chapter 32: #birdsArentReal

Summary:

tw: human experimentation, abuse, brainwashing, discrimination A beat, a step is all you need

Notes:

‘text’ JSL Text thoughts Page break text page break ???

Asami blinked hard and rubbed her stinging eyes as she realized she’d been staring far too long at the same chart. For the survival rate to be that low, a dismal 25% in the best conditions … only monsters would use forced quirk manifestation. And mother and father were not monsters. They were heroes! Well-respected, high-ranking heroes . So why did every scrap of research, every article with actual sources - not just the fluff opinion pieces she’d first seen - tell her otherwise?

Asami tapped back to the forum where fqm survivors found community and sought to educate the few who wandered into their space. Everything was completely anonymous with an option for immediate, non-suspicious looking exit, as much as she hated to admit this was not something her family could find her looking at. The last time she tried to ask questions, the site that prompted them vanished without a trace, and they told her to just “let the adults worry about that.”

I’m sixteen and a hero , I’m basically an adult . Asami exited in a flash as barely-there footsteps padded up behind her. She twisted in her chair, back cracking in just the right spot as a lock of hair fell in her face. “Anything interesting out there?”

Akira shook their head, threading a hand through their own shoulder-length hair before adding, ‘ Just a couple pigeons. Pretty sure one of them had a quirk, too. ’

Asami perked up, something tickling the back of her mind. “Really? That’s amazing! Did you get a picture?”

‘ No, pretty sure it had a Stranger quirk. Kept disappearing when it wasn’t moving. ’

Why did that sound familiar… Asami brushed it off. It was a pigeon . No one would be that bold to send a… Asami carefully kept a carefree smile on her face as she gave a run-down of the little nothings that happened on the security cameras while they were out investigating. A leaf landing perfectly on a lens, a couple arguing about one of them cheating on the other, a child losing a balloon in their rush to grab hold of an ice cream cone.

Once she was sure Akira was content to body double, Asami slipped her phone under the desk and scrolled back to the post from a few days ago by InYourWalls1984.

Pay no mind to the birds when they disappear in the coming days. #birdsArentReal

A shitpost? Probably. But… they followed the user. Just in case. They were following a lot of rat-themed usernames recently. Varying from weird to useful to downright cryptic like this one.

Asami flagged a figure who passed that wall for the third time for facial recognition. They were probably lost or drunk, or even high, but protocol was protocol. If they did well in the camera rooms , maybe they’d even get promoted to walking the perimeter of the compound. From the inside . Oh joys.

This was far from what Asami expected the life of a hero to be, especially after her brief  work study with Nova. They went on patrols and properly trained and did paperwork . Kami, how did she find herself missing paperwork of all things? At least if Hana was here, she’d keep Asami entertained with her quips and musings. Maybe even work on a new hybrid flower.

As if reading her mind - maybe there was something to those twin theories after all, Akira lazily spun their chair towards her. ‘ Not much going on today. ’ She hummed, peering at her twin as an impish smirk tugged at the corners of their lips. ‘ You could even call it quiet . ’

Asami laughed, a couple very ladylike snorts squeezing through as she playfully pushed them away. “Well now it won’t be.” She quickly whispered as their expression started to fade, “I won’t tell if you won’t.” Asami held up her pinky conspiratorially, smile faltering as she watched them fade back into that cookie cutter frame they’d become.

That they turned them into. Asami found that little voice that sounded suspiciously like Akira in their head harder and harder to ignore as the days wore on. Maybe she shouldn’t ignore it. Sure enough, the person they flagged came back as a suspect in some suspiciously frequent tremors. 

Asami raised a brow at Akira, but they didn’t even seem to register it. Biting her lip at whatever brought on the still treatment, she pinged the information to the Wren dispatcher on shift. Merobiba, if she remembered correctly. Could do something with wine and… horses? Asami shook her head. If she was running support, Merobiba didn’t have a strong enough quirk for hero work, so not worth remembering. 

Glancing back at the comparison, Asami did a double-take. Was their AI broken? They shared a similar medium sepia skin tone and maybe she could see the nose, but no. She rapidly tapped out a message, but the confirmation of their capture flashed on her screen before she could hit send. Fear and confusion swirled in an ugly spiral inside as Asami tried to work out what to do. She couldn’t just take it back, the damage was already done. And it didn’t matter if they were the right person, at this point the family and the commission would never take the publicity hit.

Asami took a deep breath and slowly let it out as she tried to steady her nerves. She deleted her original message, filled with small mistakes, and instead drafted an email to IT about the AI having some potential colorism. Surely it just needed more training data.

“Hey,” Asami flapped a hand and waited till Akira looked over, eyes blank. “Review any facial recognition matches before you send an alert. I think the AI needs more training data.”

‘ It’s been running for decades. It should have enough by now. ’ Akira’s brow furrowed slightly, the most emotion she’d probably get out of them for now.

Asami shrugged and gestured to the two images still on her screen. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s been running for decades in one spot on the high income part of town. It’s probably learned to expect certain demographics from that, right?”

‘ Then those are the demographics it should check against, ’ Akira started to turn back. 

What the hell ? Asami recoiled, lip curling as she stared at their back. Their Akira fought for the underdog, for anyone anytime anywhere. They also wouldn’t narc on you for being worried about them .

Asami slipped back on the forums, scrolling through InYourWall1984’s history for answers to really anything. She had to bite down her shock as the bottom of his history dated back to when the site was founded. They even had a badge for posting on the first day… five years ago. 

Asami scrolled past dozens of posts about animal rights and experimentation, gradually expanding into passionate discussions about the right to exist for many groups. They moved on to post more educational content and resources, but that also seemed to coincide with far less guest users. 

The past year, their tone shifted again towards more radical ideas, pushing for dissolution of the commission and defunding the police. And in the past two months, everything Asami looked for, every answer she hunted down in the most obscure corners of the internet, everything was laid bare. How the hell…

A new post popped up, startling her as she rushed to follow it.

A cage can have many rooms, even open to the sky save for the bars. But not all birds sing when trapped. Larks never will, you know. They may adapt to survive, but they need freedom to sing. #birdsArentReal

Another quickly followed

When one crow becomes a murder, and a lone cry becomes a sea of voices, the tides will rise and let the caged birds sing #birdsArentReal

Asami tapped out as the timer went off, their shift finally over. Let the adults handle the shift now that the q word was out. She joined Akira for a late lunch, pushing a little extra on their plate when they weren’t looking. Something was coming, and she didn’t know which side they were supposed to be on. But whatever it was, they would finally face it together.

Asami added another dose to her water bottle under the table as the tremors started up again. They were getting closer together, and if she didn’t take the extra dose now , they would only get worse. And when they got worse, the sweats started. And when the sweats started… a shiver crawled up her spine at the memories of the last time she let it get that bad. To be fair, Asami hadn’t thought she could get withdrawals from microdosing, and certainly hadn’t thought hallucinations could be that vivid.

Something deep inside balked at the last thought, though she wasn’t sure why. She never made a big enough mistake to warrant Funhouse… right?

Notes:

So. This was when I finally remembered that it helps to have Apollo’s candle lit when I’m writing. Literally go about twice as fast and for longer stints. Next chapter is the raid!! I've got a couple memoirs mori oneshots in progress, so should be able to push one of them out with 34. Thought about doing a double post, but I feel like we need the separation. Time's a little wonky for that chapter so having that separation would be good, I think. Also like technically Funhouse's shit isn't hallucinations, it's altered reality but... if you've never experienced the physical transformation capabilities, it might seem like that? idk, I wanted to keep the line in for reasons :)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[oh-saints]

sweetest devotion (p.4)

mason really should've listened what his sister had been saying all this time, that not everyone is what they seem...

playboy!mason x princess!OC

tw: as mentioned in the masterlist only, but particularly extramarital affair to a marriage of convenience AND VIOLENCE in this chapter

wc: 2.1k

note: as i've promised previously, here's some happ(ier) stuff for you guys! hope you like them! but as usual, i happen to write at dawn so this is not beta-read yet.

tags: @pingyu-in-wonderland @ironmaiden1313 @myreveriie<3 (lmk if you wanna be added!)

part 3 - part 5

sweetest devotion masterlist here

please don’t be late for the banquet.

was the last thing elena saw flashing from mason’s phone.

mason had never voiced out his inner frustration towards this whole one big mess they—including serena—were involved in, but elena knew better than the deep, resigned sighs mason let out just now. or every time he’d gotten a glimpse of serena’s name from his phone, which was rather often due to her tenacity to keep posting about her whereabout. or whenever someone brought up the sore topic of his (faux) marriage.

it still irked her that she still couldn’t have mason entirely, body and soul, despite living together for almost a season now. despite having him physically by her side almost 24/7, except on days he had to leave for practices and matches. now she had to have him apart for the formal banquet at the embassy of eldorra, as a consequence of marrying the country’s only princess.

I know, I know, elena groaned inwardly. it was only a night, but elena had to see pictures of mason and serena being a couple everyone dreams of plastered all over the news and social media posts by tomorrow morning. it might not be the married couple’s intention but surely the palace would love to blast how wonderful their marriage turned out to be, fanning the “ridiculous” gossips of the couple nobody saw coming. aka the bun in the oven.

elena couldn’t take it—heck, she never could. she would always play hard to get, yes, but it was solely for mason’s eyes. she’d never guess it’d backfire on herself, playing the jealousy card.

the mere thoughts of people fawning over their visuals would already drive her insane because she knew—god, did she know—that elena and mason would’ve smashed every other visual couples. she was a model, for god’s sake, and he was the teenage-heartthrob footballer.

the temptation to just wreck the banquet was already sitting on top of elena’s head, if it wasn’t for the fact that her career she’d so hard been building was at stake. because no matter what, she was up against a princess, a monarchy figure loved by her people, a respectable woman in the eyes of the world. of course elena would be the one everyone would throw tomatoes at, should she come out and expose the real deal.

heck, she couldn’t even tell a single soul because of it. no matter how supportive her friends are, elena would be on the short end of the sticks. they’d call out elena a crazy lady and tell her to stop deluding herself because her ex—from their point of view—was no longer available in the market. that elena was taking her grief and regret of losing mason way too harsh.

“don’t go,” elena would always beg him to stay behind, whenever mason was walking out of the door towards serena’s direction. be it picking up his fresh set of clothes—for whatever reason elena could never understand because he could’ve moved in all his stuffs—or be it for his monthly baby check-up.

tonight was no exception.

and mason would always answer, “you know I’ll be back soon, baby.”

but what if he never did? would elena still be able to stand time and place in this lifetime?

fuck’s sake, elena sobbed in frustration that she almost threw mason’s favourite choice of liquor from her hand to the nearest wall. what did she do to deserve this?

right, you broke mason’s heart and led him to serena.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

mason would be lying if he said his jaw didn’t fall onto the floor the moment serena stepped out of her room—his old guest room, mostly occupied by ben chilwell whenever he was over at mason’s—wearing a floor length tulle gown. one he’d recognised from the latest collection of the palace’s favourite designer, ellie saab.

serena, magically without even touching him, had no problem making his acting job tonight go smooth as silk.

call him shallow for all he cared, mason could feel his withstanding great wall of china he’d built around himself crumbling apart at the sight. and that should only mean a big fat red flag for him because he wasn’t supposed to feel this way. especially after the insane stunt she pulled weeks ago, endangering herself, the baby, and the identity of their fake marriage the moment she went down to Portsmouth to be by his mother’s side.

but how could he, when the room’s attention shifted to wherever serena went, that he had no choice but to aggravate his own towards his wife, who was now talking to the eldorran ambassador for the UK like they were good friends and not a princess and one of her subjects?

how could he not feel all these supposedly forbidden things when he watched her effortlessly forced everyone else in the room to keep up with her knowledge?

how could he not feel all these supposedly prohibited things when he watched her interacting with several little eldorrans like they were her own children, while looking so magnificently striking without even trying?

a total 180 degrees contrast to her usual garb of either smart pants or loungewear with cardigan wrapped around her. her hair was now clipped neatly into an updo, her make up was rather clean for a formal banquet but still had a dramatic effect around her eyes. her jewelleries could also be considered simple for the title she was bearing.

despite his description on serena going rather humble for her extravagant upbringing, mason had never seen someone who exuded an aura so… composedly dignified. regal. royal. despite his proud acclamation that he had always loved it when a woman knows how to carry herself well, no one was a worthy match to serena thermopolis of eldorra.

it was only then did he realise—again—that he had, indeed, married a princess all along.

the person who was usually silent while busily writing down her recipes and diaries colourfully on his kitchen counter—only talking whenever he asked her a question or whenever she wanted to report her whereabouts or whenever the baby’s concerned. even then, she’d cut down her replies to no more than 10 words in a sentence—was no more than an exterior she’d only put up whenever she was around.

slowly things dawned on him, especially scenes from weeks ago at the hospital. she certainly wasn’t silent if she could get along with his family.

“how are you settling into the married life, your highness?”

her smile was still plastered in her face prettily, albeit the strained edges of her eyes. “I have a wonderful husband right here,” as if on cue, mason stepped in closer to her and held her gently by the waist. they weren’t supposed to show affections in public but for some unbeknownst reason, mason wanted to. “I think it’s rather how he’s settling into the married life with me.”

was this how serena had always been, witty underneath the cold, calm beauty?

“we can’t actually believe it at first, the calm princess got married before her brothers,” another one spoke up, and mason could feel serena tensing at the implied gossip around the ton. in some fucked up way, it reminded him of the time they shared a ride home from Portsmouth, when she was left frozen at the sight mason losing his head.

was she scared of him?

“when you know a princess loves you with all her heart,” mason instinctively took the wheel, silently thanking heavens he paid attention to the short course on media play and handling Chelsea had prepared for their players. “what’s stopping you to marry her?”

while mason titled his head down to spare serena a glance, the woman’s vision remained locked to the honourable guests in front of her, a smaller smile etched on her face this time.

was he that blind to her being afraid of him?

or was it something else that he did?

who is serena thermapolis, anyway?

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

mason couldn’t sleep afterwards. he’d trashed left and right to find a comfortable position or a cold surface of his sheet, he’d woken up every one or two hours on top of that.

unfortunately, mason knew it was not because of the ethereal sight of his wife cascading throughout the ballroom, impressing and charming everyone else while also impressing mason at her ability to divert the guests’ piqued curiosity of their marriage.

it was because it had been a while since the last time he’d occupied his bed. funny how he said his bed this time around, as if he’d gone back to Portsmouth and his mother told him his old bedroom was still available for him.

but as extreme urgent poundings grazed his door before he could drift himself to sleep, mason had never felt so lucky to be sleepless.

he immediately jumped off the bed, thinking nothing but grabbing his phone to call the police. he’d pressed the device already to his ear, ready to rant off about the intruder to his house. “serena?”

he called for his wife-on-paper not to make sure if it was her crazy antics, but it was because he wanted to make sure she was safe instead. and when his calls were only met by silence, he’d never dashed off for the stairs faster than that instance.

however, it turned out it was rather mason’s problem not catching on her voice. firstly because her room was downstairs, secondly because it slipped his mind that serena had never been brought up to raise her voice. because she was already standing at the doorframe, facing whoever had the lunatic guts to disturb his home so late into the night.

mason ran faster towards her direction because there was no way she was facing a criminal on her own, without protection or safety gears or whatsoever, as if it was her friends coming over to surprise her at midnight. “serena!”

but before he could reach her, serena had flown all the way across the porch from a well-placed, strong punch. before he could process what was happening, serena had sat up, holding her face with a hand while her other hand was holding her weight.

“what else do you want?”

before he could ask what she meant by that, a familiar figure launched herself towards serena like a tiger pouncing on her prey. “I told you before to leave mase alone!”

elena?

“and I will tell you over and over again to leave mase alone!”

mason couldn’t believe the scene unravelling before his very own eyes. like soap operas, the hidden lover kept hitting on the wife set up for him—grabbing the pregnant woman by the hair, launching slaps on her face, shoved her to the ground brutally while throwing cuss words at here every time the mistress relented her anger towards her.

was this what it felt like, when his favourite actor played out a scene where he died out other noises and people and surroundings because he couldn’t think anymore?

after what felt like an eternity, the scene where elena kicked a crouching serena, left and right endlessly, was what snapped him back to reality. that’s a pregnant lady, for god’s sake!

“leave,” mason stepped in between the two ladies, covering serena’s cowering figure with his body. as soon as his hands went around serena’s sides, he could feel her protecting her belly and mason had never felt so much anger emitting from his inside. “while I’m still nice.”

“mason—”

“I said, leave,” still wrapping his body around serena’s, mason mustered the coldest, meanest intonation as if it was his weekly battle on the pitch. “which part of the word that’s hard for you to understand?”

elena stood towering both mason and serena, yet she was the one that appeared small and scared. “mase—”

“leave!” mason had never shouted at a woman before but morality and courtesy were the last things on his mind right now. “I fucking told you to leave!”

“mason…” his lover whimpered, trying to reach for mason but the man only shook her hands away and stood up, looming over her this time as he pushed her off his property. “surely you’re mistaken, we can talk about this—”

in every of mason’s step forward was a step backwards for elena. in every of mason’s fuming step was elena’s panic spew of her so-called justification behind her actions. and before long, the man had pushed her off the edge of his home.

“if you come here again, I will not hesitate to call the police. you got me?”

next update:

“I need you to be honest with me, serena,” mason didn’t waste another breath after the doctor stepped away from her room. “the doctor said next time. when was the first time?”

“remember that one week you thought I went missing?”

[elliesflower]

hello all you lovely beautiful wonderful amazing incredible show-stopping spectacular never-been-done-before people who follow me,

i’d like to share something a lil personal with you all, if that’s alright. tw for mental health talk below

i have loved the last of us since i first played it back in 2014. i was absolutely enamored by the story, the characters, the overwhelming, conflicting feelings of joy and pain i felt while playing, all of it. i absorbed every little bit of knowledge i could about the games, about the lore—i was so happy to have a little world i could escape to when nothing felt right in my life. while it has always been a constant joy in my life, it has been my main hyperfixation for the last three years now.

i used to write for a few different fandoms, and i only fairly recently built up the courage to share my writings with you all, in this community. the overwhelming amount of kind messages and comments i have received have been more than i could have ever dreamed possible. you all make this such an amazing part of my life and for that i am so grateful—that you enjoy my writing, that you want me to continue writing them, and that you are excited for me to put out new works. i struggle a lot with imposter syndrome, and i often feel like i am not putting my best foot forward, but i still appreciate it more than you all will ever understand, that people take the time out of their day to read my works and actually enjoy them.

when i first started writing for this fandom, in late october of last year, i was at the absolute lowest point in my life. i was hospitalized, briefly, before being put into an iop program to treat my mental health. shortly after i got out of the hospital is when i began writing i saw you in a dream. it was my perfect little dream world, in which i could escape to my silly little alternate reality, awkwardly flirting with ellie and feeling this immense amount of joy that only writing could bring me. i didn’t expect anyone but my best friend to read my stuff, honestly, so every single like/reblog/kudo/comment i received literally made me tear up. i couldn’t believe my eyes, as the number of notes grew, from 1, to 20, to 100, to over 700 on one of my little blurbs. still, to this day, i know i have said it a million times before, and literally probably twice already in this lil ramble but i am so so so grateful and appreciative of each and every person who has interacted with any of my works, and to the friends i have made along the way.

i am saying all this because i feel like i owe you all a little explanation. i know im a little flaky on my promises, which is not very cool of me :( i try my best to write as much as i can, but i only recently returned to work after my program, and it’s been really hard on me, mentally. and i’m not saying this for any kind of pity at all, i swear!!!! (i’m a big girl, really!!) ((well, that’s debatable, but i like to think i am!!!). i just want to explain why i have slowed down on the frequency of my writing, and posting. as someone with both adhd and autism, i struggle with a lot of basic everyday tasks already, so adding work back into the mix has been chaotic, to say the least.

ANYWAYS, TLDR; this is kinda just…a big, long, roundabout way of saying i unfortunately will not be posting the next chapter of i saw you in a dream tonight, per say, but it is in the works, and THAT is a promise :)

i love you all, so so so so much. thank you for being here. and for reading this far, if you made it through my rambling. <3

[honkhonkrichard]

Theory: Stanley Uris was Murdered.

Tagging @vvanini I hope you can follow this okay it’s very word vomity lol

Okay So TW because this post will touch on Stan's death ad the methods behind it

I propose that Stan Uris was murdered. by IT. In his home on that fateful night. I think that Stan posed the biggest threat to IT and therefore IT felt the need to take him out before the battle even started.

Allow me to explain.

Okay, so, I need to lay out some basic "rules" or "facts" before I make my case. They are as follows.

- IT planted it's roots in Derry, and finds it difficult to leave, but still can at it’s own wil.  If you read the book (I honestly don't blame you if you haven't) You'd know that once the Losers kill IT for the final time, Derry (the Physical town) is obliterated. Buildings explode, sinkholes appear, things are flooded. The town is in ruins by the time that the Losers leave the sewers. The movies don't adapt this so If this is news to you thats fine. the bottom line is that destroying IT destroys Derry, like ripping a tree out of the ground with all it's roots. Because of this, we can make the claim that while it can Leave Derry (as it does every 27 years) it probably takes tremandous amount of power to do so, which is why IT only goes when the cycle is over. Why does this matter? Well, what if IT left Derry to get to Stan? The murders had stopped for about a week when they're all in the Jade of the Orient. Plenty of time for IT to cross from Maine to Georgia. Side Note: We KNOW IT leaevs Maine to elsewhere in the world because of King's extended universe all interconnecting. it's not far off at all to make the claim that IT is the same evil that haunts, say The Shining's Overlook Hotel, which is in Colarado.

- IT is omnipresent This is also a given, IT lives everywhere, and can fuck with time and space in godlike (or maybe eldritch like) ways. in IT: Chapter Two, when Mike claims "IT Doesn't know I know what I know" he's unfortunately wrong, because we know that IT can be in A) Multiple places at once, B) can manipulate anything on the drop of a hat (See: Stan being teleported away from everyone else in Chapter One, Everything about Neibolt, etc) and C) Knows everyone's deep fears. This is further proven by IT Saying things like "Beep Beep Richie" (although this is Horribly Horribly executed in the films, ugh.) and so on and so forth. On top of all of this, We can make the claim that IT can exist outside of Time as well, given that IT is immortal. SO, what's stopping IT from Knowing Mike was going to call them all back (Espically considering that IT TOLD Mike to do this?). Even if we keep IT's omnipresence to the location that IT inhabits (in this case Derry) IT would still have knowledge of where the losers are through Mike. And if you take the Lucky Seven/Chosen Seven route (oh my god I got theories on that too) you could argue IT knows where they are inherently due to their cosmic status.

- Stan is the "most Powerful" loser So, obviously all the Loser's are powerful, espically considering they're the ones who Defeat IT (Again going on to the Lucky/Chosen Seven theory). This next claim is going to be less focused on what the 2019/2017 Movies do because they are Bad Movies and that's a whole other rant. However, in the book, Stan is (to my knowledge feel free to correct me on any of this) the only loser to Actively ward off and 'defeat' IT on his own without running away. He uses his belief in this what is Real (birds) to ward off what is "not real" (IT). The other losers do manage to take down IT in their own Right, but Stan is ultimately the one to Really get IT. This is because Stan's character revolves around Belief and Willpower. These are, in some form or another, the ways to Defeat IT. the ritual of Chud is a battle of Wills. in the book, Bill takes IT down and Eddie does the final blow. In the Remake (ugh) the losers can defeat it Technically using the belief that IT isn't as powerful as it claims because IT's "just a clown" (Ihatethatfuckingendingsomuchugh). Stan being much more skeptical than the rest of the group in his ability to understand Reality vs IT's illusions is a powermove, and IT knows that ability doesn't go away as Stan grows up, but rather he gets more powerful. Stan is the Only loser out of the 6 who left that has any sort of knowledge about IT, where the other losers have nothing. Bev has nightmares, yes, but she still forgets them. We're told in his chapter (Chapter 3, Six Phone Calls (1985), Part One: Stanley Uris Takes a Bath) that he has some hazy knowledge of his place in the Lucky Seven, and even goes so far as to MENTION it sometimes, even if he doesn't quite remember or understand any of it, his knowledge of IT and Derry is worlds more prominent than that of the rest of the losers.

(page 52 of IT:  "Stanley, nothing's wrong with your life!"  "I don't mean from inside." he said. "From inside is fine. I'm talking about outside. Something that should be over and isn't. I wake up frmo these dreams and think, 'My whole pleasent life has been nothing but the eye of some storm I don't understand.' I'm afraid. But then it just... fades. The way dreams do." OR  page 45: He had been smiling a little. Now the smile faltered, and for a moment he seemed puzzled. His eyes had darkened, as if he looked inward, consulting some interior device which ticked and whirred correctly but which, ultimately he understood no more than the average man understands the workings of the watch on his wrist. "The turtle couldn't help us," he said suddenly. he said that quite clearly.)

So, Stan has some cosmic knowledge of IT and Maturin and his role in the battle against It. What does any of this have to do with his death? Well, let me point out some other things about Stan's death that always stuck out to me. - His death chapter is narrated by his wife, Patty, rather than himself. The other chapters - almost all the other chapters - are narrated by their respective Loser (the caviot for this is Ben, but Ben is also wasted out of his damn mind so its understandable.) - Stan's personality is few and far between in the book, but we know he has a weird little sense of humour and that he's incredibly logical. I think that this logical part of him would be able to understand that Suicide is Never Ever the answer, and that it would cause FAR more problems than it would solve. (the 2019 movie tries to reexplain his death and it's crap and i hate the letters i hate the letters so much im gonna explode) The other losers try to rationalize his death by saying "He would rather Die Clean than Live Dirty (Page 506, Chapter 10, The Reunion, part 3, 'Ben Hanscom Gets Skinny') but he had already BEEN Dirty when he defeated IT the first time, and I think he would've recognized that. - upon finding him, Patty (in her narration) notes that Stan's head is bent back over the edge of the bathtub, so from his sight she would have been upside down. If Stan DID kill himself, why would he be positioned like that? It's unnatural, like someone Posed him. - the cuts on his arms are two length wise cuts. I'm no expert but.. that's suspicious. That's weird. - IT is written in blood on the wall. Why? Why would Stan right THAT of all things? You know who DOES like to paint with blood? IT.

Alright, returning to my thesis statement, Stanley Uris was murdered. Do I think Stan genuinely was going to take a bath at 7pm (which we're told is weird for him)? Yes. I think that's absolutely a thing he could have done or planned to do. Do I think he slit his wrists and commited suicide so he wouldn't go back to Derry? No. Not even remotely.

Let me paint a New Picture.

It's May 28th, 2016, or 1985. Stanley Uris gets a call from Mike Hanlon. Stan is incredibly hesitant to go to, and says he needs time to think about it. Or tht he'll try. He can feel the starts of a Panic attack, and as he's remembering the circles of Hell he went through as a child, he tries to hold himself together. He doesn't want his darling wife to see his break, so he says "I think I'll take a bath" and nothing else before going upstairs. he hides in the bathroom. He closes and locks the door, because, well, he's panicking. Locking doors is one of The Small things he does. Is it usually the bathroom door? no, but still (OCD is a bitch, and even with medication, but this is a special case). He looks in the mirror and tries to breathe. This is fine. He can do this. They killed IT once before and they can do it again. He thinks about his younger self, the promises made, and how he could explain all of this Patty in time to catch a flight to Maine. It's terrifying, but if his friends are going to bite the dust, he wants to be there with them, wedding vows be Damned. Then he looks at his reflection again. A younger, rotted version of himself stares back at him. IT crawls through the mirror. Stan freaks out, obviously. This isn't real. This Can't be real. But IT utilizes this notion against him. It digs it's claws into his arms, and forces him to bleed out in the bathtub. IT then sets the scene nicely. Razorblades on the counter, a bloody signature on the wall, a horrible posture of Stan's neck. So on and So forth. and then IT returns to Derry. IT's a little weak, yeah, but Stan is dead. That's what matters. the Lucky Seven has now Officially broken, and the balance shifts in favour of the clown.

So that's the theory. feel free to correct me on anything or engage I have plenty of theories on this story and I like discussing this stuff :).

[what-the-fic]

September - 1960 - NYU

A/N: I don't love TWs - but would add them if anyone reading decided they would be necessary. It is a sequel so you know grief is to be expected. The themes here are heavy, but I write Todd's emotions from a place of personal experience. (Actually, I write all of Todd from personal experience, because now I'm just stalling and adding words to the author's notes because I am kind of terrified to hit 'post' as this is actually worse than public speaking. That being said, I dedicate every single word of this story and the chapters to follow to sweet Caroline (bah, bah, bah).

"Excuse me! Pardon me! Excuse - MOVE!" Cecily tore through the crowd gathered by the fountain on her way to class, wondering what she might say to the next long-haired slob playing an out-of-tune guitar for spare change in the park. She wasn't in a hurry because she was excited to get to this particular class. The truth was that she'd been so unenthusiastic about this specific lesson that she had loitered in the diner complaining about it to her roommate over blueberry muffins all morning. Unfortunately, all the complaining in the world couldn't change her luck, and the precocious journalism student was running late.

It was a first for her. She had always taken her classes seriously. She took journalism seriously. Cecily took life seriously. The requirement for all journalism majors to take a poetry class in order to obtain an English degree was something she refused to take seriously. There was nothing poetic about journalism. Nothing romantic about the war that raged in Vietnam. Nothing could be called dreamy about the looming high-stakes election. Although, if pressed, she could readily admit Senator Kennedy was handsome. Not that it was vital for him to be. Overall, she found nothing sentimental about the news, just as there was absolutely nothing idealistic about Cecily Thomas.

If she believed in fate, and she didn't, she may have attributed it to the reason for her tardiness. By her count, the class had been underway for half an hour. Still cursing and shoving her way down the hall, she pondered excuses for her absence. As she burst through the door of one of NYU's smallest lecture halls, she was surprised to find the room was nearly empty. Not too surprised - it was a poetry class, after all. She expected the people who didn't want to take it would have the fortitude not to show and that the students who would purposely take the class were asleep during the noon timeslot. Her breath caught up to her and elicited a gasp, startling the only two others in the room out of a long embrace. She bolted back out of the door and wondered if she had missed the lecture altogether.

Before she could remove her bag from her shoulder to check her neatly written schedule for the explanation of the empty lecture hall, the older of the two men greeted her in the open doorway. "Come, now. You're early but welcome. There's no room for shyness in my classroom," he invited in a gentle singsong voice. His warm tone made her wonder how she would manage to stay awake while he droned on about stanzas, iambs, and verse. The younger man nodded and awkwardly shoved his hands in the pockets of his corduroy jacket as though he'd learned the professor's lesson the hard way.

"You've taken the class before?" She raised an eyebrow and addressed the young man as she took in every detail from his brand new loafers to his unwashed hair. She hadn't made an official judgment on what his unique personal aesthetic was trying to convey. She was too instantly intrigued by him to give another thought to her scheduling blunders.

With another nod, he sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "One like it. A lifetime ago," he said without a trace of irony.

"Don't let Mr. Anderson fool you with his humility. He's among the finest students I've had the privilege to teach," the professor spoke again, this time bursting with pride in his star pupil.

"Among…" the student repeated with a raspy whisper. He looked as though he might implode; like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs, and he was likely to cry on the spot. It was a look Cecily knew too well. She immediately looked at her books for fear that looking into his eyes for too long might remind her of her sister's eyes and leave her looking as miserable as her classmate. So Cecily did as she always had and saved the memory of her sister for another time. Or never, if she had things her way.

The two men embraced once again. "I'm so happy you're here, Todd," the professor's voice was softer than it had been when he welcomed Cecily into the room. She instinctively stepped back to give them space. She shuddered at the memory of everyone, people she didn't even know or like, trying to hug her at the funeral. The memory would have taken her breath away on any other day. Cecily wondered if she was healing or mastering the art of suppressing her anguish.

Pulling away from the professor, the boy she now knew as Todd turned to her with a newly composed expression. "You're going to have a great time in this class. It changed my life for the better, for the extraordinary. Do you have a favorite poet?" His teal eyes sparkled with anticipation of meeting another poetry major.

Scrunching her forehead in thought, she smiled for the first time that day. "Anderson?" she grimaced. "Well, according to him, you have talent, and he is the expert. That and - you are the only one I've ever met. So, I suppose you win by default," she shrugged and glanced at the door as the students filed into their seats for the one o'clock class time. Not noon, as she had believed when she stormed in on Professor Keating's office hours in error.

"It seems your newest fan is going to require a lot of help in my class. Why don't you show her to your seat before we get started?" Though slightly insulting as he knew she would struggle, the professor's words brought a nervous smile to Cecily's face.

When Todd smiled back, she realized her expression was no longer forced. She followed him to his seat in the front row and took the chair to his right. With that, the new study partners started the class and the friendship bound to make her life extraordinary.

[atlaese]

Chapter 1: if the science works out

summary: finding love is difficult enough in this day and age, so why wouldn't you use science to find your soulmate? pairing: Spencer reid x reader tw: cussing, angst, fluff, slow-burn words: 2K a/n: lmao alright this was part one i couldn't wait to post it honestly. I kinda wanted to explain the DNA matching thing a bit if you haven’t seen the show or read the book. I also want to note that I have only seen criminal minds up until the first few episodes of season 7, so lmao I don’t know anything about the rest of the seasons yet (except the Maeve and prison stuff bc I spoil everything for myself :D) I hope you liked it! I’ll try to release a new chapter every week (I’m quite busy with uni) thanks for liking and reblogging xxx

SPENCER REID MASTERLIST

“Find the one that was made for you” that’s what stood on the billboard in the airport, as you grabbed your suitcase from the belt and made your way to the exit. Advertisements from this company were everywhere nowadays. “Bullshit,” you muttered as you flagged down a taxi, with yet another ad plastered on the side. This company really thought they could seduce you with the promise of true love as if it was that easy. You didn’t believe it for one second. It was probably a scheme to get your DNA, to clone you and steal your identity. You gave the cabbie your address and opened the front camera of your phone. The 12 hour flight from Santiago to DC hadn’t done you any good, bags under your eyes and your skin just really… dry from the air in the plane.

You were absolutely exhausted and couldn’t wait to collapse on your couch under a blanket and catch up on the shows you missed during your 10 week work mission. You loved your job. You were basically the connexion between the local NGOs and the international aid organizations during a crisis situation in a foreign country. You had experience working all over the world, and because of your expertise in languages and humanitarian aid, you were in high demand.

When you returned from a mission, you usually got a few days off, to recuperate from the weeks you spent working, almost 24/7. But the quiet wouldn’t last very long, because even though your job was helping people, paperwork and securing donations were always involved in this bureaucrazy world (as you would call it).

As the cab dropped you off at your apartment, you took the elevator up and searched for your keys in your carry-on bag. Finally opening the door and dismantling the alarm (leaving you apartment empty for months on end without security would be crazy), you closed the door behind you and dropped everything you had in your hands on the floor. Your suitcase, carry-on, backpack and small purse were left in pile at the front door and you threw your coat on top of it, not being bothered with hanging it up - for now.

You did a quick prayer, hoping your cacti would still be alive after being left to collect dust for two and a half months. Cacti were the only plants that would survive your long trips, and normally you would never be gone for more than 7 weeks, but this time you were pushing it.

“Shit, not Dorian”, you sighed as you looked at the sad little almost brown cactus. Dorian was one of the first cacti you got since living your apartment. You put the little plant in your sink, filled it with a few inches of water and hoped he would revive himself. The other cacti Dante, Daisy & Frank(enstein) (all named after characters from books you read) were looking fine, but you put them with Dorian as well, just to be sure.

“Alright; cacti are watered, suitcase is not unpacked and fridge is-“, you opened your fridge, “empty. Who would have guessed?”

Refilling the fridge would be a chore for another day, you decided. After having showered and drying your hair, you plopped down on the couch with the taco’s you had ordered and you turned on the tv.

“—to be matched to your one true love?”, the interviewer on the news asked a couple, “well you know, I was really nervous before taking the test. I was actually with someone else, but you know, doubts started creeping in. Are they truly who I should be with? So we made a mutual decision to both take the test and then I matched with Yazz. It felt like I had known her for years and we had this instant connection. I’ve never felt like this before.” The interviewer continued talking about the matching service, because apparently everyone wants to find their one true love pronto.

“As you can see, there are many happy couples now. My company ‘The One’ just needs a simple piece of DNA, like a strand of hair, and in our labs. We trace what are called hydrocarbon pheromones and if two of those are the same, we have a match”, Rebecca, the founder explains, “you are genetically guaranteed to fall in love. Don’t you want your fairytale ending, just like me?” she ends her sentence as a man comes on stage and passionately kisses her.

“Alright, when are they gonna stop this bullshit?”, you say as you rolled your eyes and turned on Netflix to search though the catalogue. The marketing department of that company must be working overtime, you thought to yourself as you shoved a taco in your mouth.

The next day you wake up on the couch with an awkward kink in your neck from not using your pillow. You stretch your neck a bit and stand up, ready to start your day of cleaning up the mess you left in front of your door.

A few hours later and everything is tidy again, your fridge is filled and laundry is being washed, even Dorian is looking a little bit better. Your doorbell rang, and you knew exactly who would be behind the door.

“You can come in Sian, I know you’re itching to use that spare key I gave you!” The door immediately opened to Sian, probably your best friend since you left university. “You gave me a key for a reason, I don’t see why I should still knock”, she said while she gave you a hug, “honestly how long did they need you now? I hope they gave you some days off now?”

“Well, I can’t help that an earthquake decided to mess up everything we had already fixed, but it’s good to see you again Si, how are you?”

Sian opened her bag and pulled out some cupcakes, and you put your hands over your heart, as if saying a big thank you and turned on your coffee machine. “Well you know, everything is fine actually. The kids decided that they wanted to do three art projects last month instead of two, so let’s just say that paint was everywhere and the white t-shirt I had on is not white anymore.”

You laughed as you put two coffees on the table and grabbed a cupcake, "you knew what would happen with second graders so don’t complain about it!” You both munched on your cupcakes as you sat in silence. The silence was kind of odd. Usually after you’d be gone for a while you both had tons of stories to tell each other, so what is this?

“Is something wrong Si? Did something happen to your mom or-“, you left the question open, as you were blanking with what could have happened during your time away.

“Well, um, I know you said you would never do it, but I might have done it”, she rambled. “Well, I have absolutely no idea what you’re saying, but it doesn’t sound good”, you quipped. What could she have done now? Honestly it wouldn’t surprise you if she subscribed to a pyramid scheme. One time she even donated money to help an old lady (a 23 year old girl) get a lifesaving surgery (breast implants). So no, you wouldn’t be surprised with whatever she had done now.

“Well, you’ve seen the ads right? Like the soulmate match kinda thing? Well I might have send in a strand of my hair and now I’m waiting for the results”, she put up her hands as if you were holding her at gunpoint, because your eyes were shooting daggers.

“Girl, you know it’s like a big scam right? What if this is the governments way of collecting your data? Don’t come crying to me when your clone is walking around and stealing your money and identity”, you scoffed. Sian rolled her eyes, “well I don’t want to become a bitter old lonely lady, which you are quickly becoming”, she fired back.

“Okay, I know, I’m sorry, but it just sounds too good to be true you know?”, you picked at your fingernail, something you often did when stressed. Sian took your hand in hers, “I know you’re only looking out for me babes, but let’s use me as a test subject? When I get matched and it truly works, you can do one as well”, she squeezed your hand, “don’t worry okay. I’ve dealt with worse things.”

“Second graders are not horrible people Si”, you snickered, “I’ll think about it. But right now, I have a feeling I don’t need it. Maybe when I’m desperately craving some physical affection and when I’m not out of the country for weeks at a time.”

—

Spencer was sitting in Garcia’s cave as they were taking a break. “Yo, boy genius, what do you think of this DNA matching thing? Does the science check out?”, Garcia curiously asked Spencer. She loved love and if she wasn’t happily together with Kevin she would immediately do the test and find herself a partner.

“Well, it’s really quite interesting. Many studies have been done on animals - insects specifically, so pheromones are chemical signals that have evolved for communication between members of the same species, it’s like some sort of signal. Through evolution, these pheromones have evolved into odorant molecules in some species. Odorant molecules became signal molecules in two main ways. The first way is by developing increasing sensitivity for molecules that initially are simply a reliable cue, for example, to finding a sexually mature female. This may be how goldfish sex pheromones evolved. Hormones control the development of eggs in female goldfish, and some of the hormones leak out of their gills into the water. These hormones, or molecules derived from them, have become female-produced sex pheromones, attracting male goldfish.”

“Okay, Reid, in non-robot terms please, not everyone has a Phd in chemistry”, Garcia hit him with her pen. “Alright so it’s just some kind of smell that insects and mammals smell and they get turned on, that human enough for you?”, he exclaimed with a small blush rising on his cheeks.

“So this also works on humans then?”

“I guess they found a way, which is pretty impressive because for a long time, no one believed it was possible for humans”, Spencer concluded his info-dump.

“So, does that mean you’ll try it, my single doctor? You could find your soulmate!” Garcia was already imagining scenarios in her head that involved magical dates and a fairytale ending for her good friend, who wasn’t particularly lucky in the love department.

“Hmm, I’m going to read up the science first and see if it checks out. You never know what they’ll do with your DNA after all.” He stood up and went back to his own desk, actually thinking about what this might mean for the science community. He had been to a seminar about pheromones in animals before, but in humans it was pretty new.

He was also pretty single at the moment. On every date he had been in the last six months (2 dates), the girl just wasn’t really his type. Sure, they were both beautiful and accomplished people, but he just didn’t feel that connection. It felt as if he was on a trial version and could only say so many things until they looked at him weird and would end the date with a ‘it was so nice to meet you, hope I see you soon!’ As they dashed away without leaving their phone number. This could be the solution - if it worked of course.

If the science checked out, Spencer would gladly be a test subject in the name of love.

NEXT CHAPTER

[evilvarric666-archive]

This is gonna be long, so sorry in advance, but as someone who enjoys long fics here are my two cents:

I get why some ppl may not want 75 tags in fics, but this is gonna hurt long fic writers. On a long fic there are probably gonna be more relationships that are central to the plot that aren't the main ship. And side pairings that may be a squick to some ppl. Not to mention trigger warnings and tone tags.

For example: a long fic with the pairing Y x Z. Z had an abusive relationship, and that's gonna be explored. So the author tags abusive relationship, bc that's a trigger, but an explanation next tag saying "not current ship" or smth.

Then Y has very important friendships with some of the cast. These are central to the plot so they're tagged too.

Turns out, character W is controversial in the fandom, but they're central to the fic too. The author is gonna tag after the character tag W positive/negative; so ppl who don't wanna see positive/negative things about W can skip this.

And guess what? Ship A x B appears in this fic too. Maybe it's not that central, but this ship is also disliked by some people, so the author will tag it, so ppl can filter through.

Another problem is with media that has different mediums, like, the media Y, Z, etc are from has movies, and books, and games and a tv show. All these things actually have different stories, different enough at least that ppl may only want to see fics written for the movies! But the author wants to take plot from the movies and the books. So instead of just tagging the all media tag for that media, they also tag media (movies) and media (books)

These tags end up accumulating. And especially in long fics. The author could make the first chapter a list of tws and stuff that they keep updating, but that destroys the purpose of ao3 tags: you can't filter content like that, you can only filter tags.

I honestly think they should just find a way to delete the fics with the trolling tags, or make a readmore thing so it doesn't hurt the browsing. At the very least make the tag limit longer.

sorry in advance that this is going to be rambly and weird. I have a lot of thoughts.

I get where you're coming from but I also still disagree. Like it's definitely going to change the way longfic writers tag, but I really don't think it's going to hurt them. I think it's going to encourage more effective tagging and that that's going to be better for everybody in the long run. If anything, I think that overtagging is what's hurting longfic writers, it makes their works look unappealing, and actually important information gets buried in a wall of text.

i will admit though that I do understand better now why less room for trigger tagging is going to be an issue. My preferred tagging style is "General/umbrella warnings in the tags, with whatever elaboration/specifics the author deems necessary in an author's note/author's notes at the beginning of each chapter" (example: "animal death" in the tags, so that the filters catch it + people who can't handle the subject At All know to keep scrolling, and then the author's note specifying that its in the context of game hunting & not a pet death, so that people who were uncertain and needed more info could click in and get the specifics.) and I thought that preference was pretty universal? But apparently a lot of people use the tags as an exhaustive list of warnings, which I didn't know because when I see a work with more than, well with more than 75 tags, I just start scrolling until it's gone.

(this is a tangent and I get that my experiences are not universal. but I genuinely dislike full warning lists in the tags because, for me at least, it makes it harder for me to figure out if the story is something I can/want to read. The things I Really Do Not Want To Read about are rare, and rarely tagged the same way twice, so the exclusion filter isn't really helpful for me. I have to actually read the full list of warnings and if the things I'm looking for are sandwiched inbetween a bunch of trope/character tags in a big wall o text I am going to miss it. This has happened to me multiple times.)

I think that that's an ineffective tagging style, basically. Lots of tags is kind of the opposite of useful tags, imo. Short, to the point and consistently worded warnings are better and I think having less space will encourage people to do that. I understand why people do this other style, though, and also why it would frustrate them that they can no longer do that. I think it really sucks that ao3 let everyone wild west their website for so long that it managed to spawn like three distinct groups of people who all use the website in completely incompatible ways, and now it's at the point where any new rule implemented is going to screw a lot of people over no matter what. But I digress.

Anyways, as long as someone isn't putting Revolutionary Girl Utena levels of warnings in their tags (and if your fic needs that much... maybe you should just put yur top 10 biggest warnings on there and slap a Dead Dove Do Not Eat on the end there, yknow?), I think that 75 tags will fully accommodate them. I get that tags start adding up, but also I think a lot of people are underestimating how many tags 75 tags is.

Like to just add up how many tags are used in your example: three / pairing tags, lets go crazy and say three more & pairing tags, tag every character tag in those pairings that's twelve, #abusive relationship + #not main pairing tags, three fandom tags bc multiple source mediums, a #[controversial character] positive tag... that's 24 tags. Like all the necessary character & pairing tags are handled in less than a third of the space given (and personally I consider this slightly over tagged. I think the only character tags you should put on a fic are the very mainest/pov characters, but yknow) and honestly if you can't then figure out a way to communicate the rest of the necessary information about your fic in 51 tags and a 1250 character summary then I really don't know how to help you. I personally would have to really push myself to figure out how to put more than 75 tags on one fic, regardless of the length of the fic. And I can't help but notice that a lot of the fics I could find with over 75 tags while searching last night had a lot of... unnecessary duplicate tags, often for information that could've been easily otherwise intuited (tagging #mandolorian #mandolore #mandolorian character and #mandolorian culture on a Jango Fett pre-series fic, for example)

I do have some criticisms about the current change though. I think it would've been better to have individual tag number limits for each individual field (x number of fandom tags, x number of character tags, etc.) instead of a 75 tags over all limit (or make a "warning tags" field that's separate from "additional tags" but that's a separate essay and would... probably mean overhauling the whole site. so not very practical.) A readmore option would be good too, and I'm not sure why they didn't go for that? I also think that this change will be most effective if done in combination with other changes. Like posting very loosely or not at all enforced official tagging/style guides for the site. I really think that even a tepid attempt at standardization will increase the site's usability like, A Lot.

I'm not sure how cohesive that was. TL;DR I appreciate hearing your thoughts, mine are that I still think this is a step in the right direction. And that cutting back on overtagging will lead to more concise, effective tagging which will make browsing and filtering easier in the long run.

[snarkwrites]

02 pt 2 | m i n e | tim speedle | csi miami

Notes:

I’m not even gonna lie... This chapter took several turns on me. Several. I wanted to post this a day ago, but something felt.. Incomplete. Amiss. Then it clicked as I wrote the smutty oneshot for these two so I banged this out. Any errors in grammar are mine and I own that shit. We fly blind in this house, no betas.

I hope you guys are all enjoying this so far!! It’s been a fun time to write. I think that’s largely due to the fact that it’s kind of..action-y, suspense and still fluff and romance eventually?

Summary:

You never forget the one that gets away. When Sylvie and Tim are thrown together again upon her arrival in Miami, will things finally work themselves out? Can Tim keep her out of danger?

Pairing:

Tim Speedle x OFC, Sylvie.

Warnings:

Stalker tw. Huge stalker tw. Because Sylvie has herself one. There may or may not also be other crime related topics raised here, such as injury/blood, etc.. I’ll try to warn as they come, loves. I’m going to try not to be too graphic so that people can still read this, but given the way this has surprised me thus far, I make absolutely no promises as to what the future holds.

Other Parts:

[ one - two part one - soundtrack ] 

Tagging:

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@twistnet​

Other Links:

[ faq & tag list doc ] 

                                              TWO PT TWO

The wind in my hair, the Florida sun beating down on me and Billy Idol on the radio full blast. I almost felt relaxed as I drove aimlessly along the Keys. I could almost forget for a few moments that I was currently being stalked by some unknown asshole who liked to write me ten page letters detailing his disturbingly vivid fantasies about me. Bragging about what he’d do when he finally managed to get me all alone.

I was coming back from an open air flea market, the spoils of my trip flung carelessly into the backseat. In my cupholder, my cell phone started going berserk. When I saw that it was Rex calling me, probably pissed because I’d stood up a gig he spent two weeks booking after I explicitly told him I wasn’t taking said gig in as many different but firm ways possible, I let it go to voicemail.

The gas needle was getting lower and bearing the thought in mind, I pulled into a little gas station, parking the red Porsche at the pump and reaching down, grabbing my clutch. Taking my card out to swipe at the pump.

I felt eyes on me and almost immediately, I tensed. My eyes darted around and they settled on a man two pumps over. Gaping at me.

I managed a tight smile, a little nod. Because I didn’t want to seem rude, but the way he was staring at me had me immediately getting paranoid all over again. And just like that, my earlier good mood was rapidly vanishing. I sighed and reached for the unleaded pump, inserting the nozzle into the Porsche’s fuel tank opening. Swiping my card and waiting. Tapping my foot because the clerk inside the station wasn’t even paying attention and the man two pumps over was now leaned against his silver BMW, arms folded over his chest, watching me like a hawk.

I realized that I wasn’t going to get away from the situation any faster unless I made my way inside to let the clerk know I needed the pump turned on, so I grabbed my cropped jacket and slipped the hood over my head and pocketed my keys after raising the convertible top on the Porsche, ducking my head as I quickly walked right past the staring man and disappeared inside the station.

“I need you to turn on pump 3.”

“Yeah, let me do that. I’m so sorry. Do you know that guy?” the clerk nodded towards the man who’d been staring at me. I shook my head. “Never seen him before in my life.”

,, he kind of resembles Rex. It’s unsettling.”  the thought came but I shoved it out. The little I knew about Rex, he didn’t have any family. The man was far too selfish for that.

“He’s lurking around your car. You might want to stay in here.” the woman said it in a concerned tone that caught me by surprise.

I swallowed hard, taking a few deep breaths. I could feel the panic starting to build just a little more. I tried to convince myself that maybe the man was just someone who had seen one of my ads or something. Trying to make myself ignore the weird vacant look in baby blue eyes as they roamed over my body, like he was enjoying his view. Way too much. It was almost lewd.

My eyes settled on my Porsche and I gulped when I saw him walking around it, kind of trying to covertly peer in. I took a few deep breaths. Maybe he was just a fan. Maybe Rex was right, maybe I really am paranoid. ,, with every good reason to be, hello, ten page explicit letters? Last month in Paris when the stalker writing said letters actually tried to grab me?” 

The woman behind the counter gave me a sympathetic smile and shook her head. “I’ll go wrangle up my husband Clay. He’s real big, looks mean as hell. Maybe we can get this man outta here and you back on the road, okay, dear?”

I nodded, thanking her. Grateful.

She disappeared to the little garage attached to the back of the station and minutes later, a very tall and menacing looking man wearing a local MC’s cutte stepped out. “We’ll have him outta your hair in no time, hon. You just wait right here with the little missus and don’t worry, alright?”

I nodded, again, grateful.

“ The world’s gone insane these days, I swear.” the clerk spoke up after a few seconds. I don’t know what her husband said to the man with the staring problem, but a few seconds later, all I could see of that silver BMW was it’s tail lights as it made a hasty retreat, going the opposite way that I had to go to leave and that knowledge only relaxed me.

After thanking them both again, I hurried out of the station and got into my car, just thankful to be getting back on the road again. My cell phone showed 3 missed calls. All from Rex. None of which I had any interest at all in taking.

Almost the instant my hotel came into view I relaxed. But only slightly.

Rex was pacing the parking lot, glaring at me when I parked the Porsche and killed the engine.

“Where the entire fuck were you, dollface? I told you specifically, the meeting to discuss the gig I got ya was 8 am sharp.”

“And I told you I wasn’t taking it.”

I side-stepped him and after grabbing my bags from the backseat, I made my way into the hotel and up to my room. Dumping off all my stuff. Digging through one of the shopping bags until I found the red bikini I’d gotten on a whim.

Once I had that on and I’d found a pair of cut offs and a cropped shirt to go over it, I grabbed my phone and the book I’ve been reading and I made my way out the back of the hotel. Wandered down the street until the smells from a local diner wafted to my nose, lingering on the air and reminding me exactly how long it had been since I truly indulged myself.

I wandered in and up to the counter.

And when I heard his laugh from somewhere closer to the back, I found my gaze wandering around the diner.

Settling on Tim.

His back was turned to me. But even without looking at him, I knew it was him. It had to be. I haven’t forgotten the sound of his laugh.

I froze for enough time that the cashier cleared their throat. “Did you know what you wanted to order?”

“I think I’ll actually go grab a booth. If that’s okay?”

The cashier nodded and grabbed a menu for me and I turned, scoping out the diner.

The booth right behind Tim was empty. Did I dare sit there?

My heart was pounding, about to beat right out of my chest. Just like this morning at the gas station, but different.

Excited.

Hopeful, even though I knew in my bones I had no cause to be. Too much time had passed.

Steeling myself, I slunk right past the table Tim and two other men were sitting at, sitting down at the booth of the empty table directly behind his.

I buried my eyes in the menu, pretending to be engrossed. Ordering a soda when one of the servers came around. Then on a whim, ordering the double cheeseburger and a large plate of fries.

And I gazed out the window.. Heart still pounding. Trying to figure out whether or not to say anything. Did I have the right to?

XXX

Almost as soon as the blonde wandered in off the streets, Eric spotted her and nearly choked on his soda. Knowing how the fact that she was in town and it was eating Speed alive was probably the only reason he took it easy on the guy, choosing not to point her out. But his staring so intently at the front of the diner drew Tim and Walter’s attention, and naturally, Tim turned around.

He went quiet, words trailing off mid-sentence.

Eric cleared his throat. “There she is, man.”

“I fucking saw her, Delko, I’m not blind.” Tim muttered, taking a deep breath. It felt like the wind got knocked right out of him. Like slamming into a wall full speed. Everything around him just froze and all he could do was watch her. When she glanced their direction, he looked away quickly. Pretending to laugh, to be caught up in conversation.

Painfully aware of her presence, he gripped the edge of the tabletop. Walter cleared his throat as Sylvie started to make her way right towards them.

“She’s walking towards that table behind us.”

“If you don’t say something, Speed, I swear to God.” Eric muttered. Tim shook his head.

He didn’t even know where to start, for one thing.

She’d settled in the seat right in his line of vision. She was literally almost close enough to touch if he were to stand up and walk over, sit down on the bench opposite the one she currently sat on. But Tim was frozen.

“Ryan was saying that stalker’s still an issue earlier.”

Eric mentioning it had Tim’s eyes darting around the diner. Just wanting to be sure she was okay and that no one followed her in.

Tim took a deep breath.

“One of you has to say somethin, man. This is stupid. Tell him, Walter.”

“Eric makes a good point.” Walter muttered, gazing at Tim. But Tim was totally dazed. Watching her as covertly as possible.

And then, he thought back on the last time he’d seen her.

The day he left New York to take the job here.

“You know what, Delko? You’re absolutely right… But fuck if I know where to even begin.”

“You walk over, sit down and say hi. Pretend like you’re not sure it’s her if it helps, buddy.” Eric shrugged as he dispensed the advice. “Otherwise, Walter and I are gonna shove you into the booth when we all get up to go.”

Tim took a deep breath and stood. Making his way over to her table.

Right past her. Towards the bathroom.

Eric grumbled and shook his head. Walter chuckled, amused by the whole thing.

As Tim came into sight again, Eric watched intently. He’d moved to Tim’s vacant spot, finishing off as many fries as he could, chuckling to himself, shit eating grin on his face as he nodded to the table Sylvie happened to be sitting at.

Tim glared at him.

But he kept walking.

Right as he went to walk past her booth, Eric saw her hand shoot out. Wrap carefully around Tim’s wrist. Effectively freezing Tim in place.

“I didn’t see that comin.”

“Neither did I, man.” Walter mused, taking the final sip of his milkshake as he and Eric shared a look and both got up, leaving Tim behind.

XXX

I’d seen him walk past. For a few seconds, my heart raced. I pouted to myself as he kept going… Not even a glance my way. Disappearing into the bathroom.

I’d pretty much resigned myself to him not noticing me, but then I saw him walk out of the bathroom and knowing he was close enough to touch was too much for me. I snapped. I reached out, tentatively grabbing his wrist.

“Tim?”

“Sylvie?” he raised his other hand and dragged his fingers through his hair. I managed a smile, took a sip of my soda. “You can sit. I mean if you want to..” I trailed off, going quiet.

Heart still a little fluttery.

Not sure at all what I was going to do now that I’d gotten his attention.

,, it’s been years. Ease back into this. There’s a lot of old stuff there, things that didn’t get said. Hurt.” the thought lingered heavily in my mind.

I honestly didn’t think he’d sit down, but he did. My food came and the waitress put it all out on the table in front of me. I inhaled the greasy deliciousness and smiled a little, thanking her as she walked away, my drink in hand to refill it.

Tim eyed my order.

“You realize that’s 3 pieces of meat.. And a ton of grease.”

“Mhm. And I’m about to practically inhale every single bite, okay?”

Tim chuckled, smiling. Muttering something to himself about some things never changing.

“When did you get to Miami? I didn’t even know you were in town.”

“Last week, I think. It was supposed to be my vacation. My manager didn’t get the memo so I’m hiding from the asshole right now.” I frowned, shrugging. Reaching out to grab a few french fries. I pushed the plate closer to him.

“Is this where you get lunch every day?”

“Sometimes, yeah.” Tim shrugged. “The view of the beach is kinda calming. Plus, the cook’s a good friend of Eric’s.”

My eyes wandered out, gazing at the beachfront view in question.

“It’s been a long time.” I muttered, gazing at him. He nodded. Mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something and then he just didn’t.

“Too long.” I continued, taking a huge bite of my burger almost immediately after having said it.

I was dying to tell him I missed him. That I still loved him, that at least twice a week I found myself either re reading our old texts or dialing his number only to hang up just before hitting the call button.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

“It has been too long.” Tim admitted, snagging himself a few more fries. “How long are you in town?”

“I’m actually going to talk to an agent about a beach house tomorrow? It’s just… So much more relaxed here. Plus there’s a school hiring…”

Tim eyed me.

“Thought you were happy with that whole modeling thing?”

I shook my head. “Honestly?”

“I’d prefer it.” Tim answered as soon as I asked.

I took another sip of my Pepsi and answered quietly, “I’ve been miserable for a while now, actually.”

His next question had me nearly choking on the sip I’d taken. “The stalker situation, right?”

I gazed at him and he explained with a shrug, “It was all over the news. Not to mention our moms are always on the phone callin each other.”

“And then us.” I gave a soft laugh. Taking a deep breath, I nodded yes to answer what he’d asked about my situation. “It started before that though. I never actually wanted to get involved with this but then I started and the money…” I trailed off.

“Yeah. I mean I don’t blame ya.” Tim shrugged, going quiet.

The tension settled in all around us. Thick to the point I felt like you could cut the way it lingered with a knife.

“I hate to but I gotta get back to the lab…” Tim spoke up after a few minutes of us just sort of sitting there… staring at each other, deep in thought. He stood and I asked quietly, “Would it be okay if I called you later? Is your number still the same?”

“I’d like that. Yeah.. you know me. Predictable. My number’s still the same.” he gave me that smile and I felt myself smiling back, nodding. 

“Maybe you can show me around sometime…” I trailed off because there I went.. Rushing in all over again. I took a deep breath, making myself meet his gaze. Fully prepared to laugh it off and say that he didn’t have to.

Tim chuckled, nodding. “I was about to say that. I see you’re still a mind reader, baby girl.”

“Just yours, Speed.” I wanted to kick myself because the words left my mouth just a shade too flirty.

And I knew it was much too soon for that.

XXX

“Now who in the hell is he?” the man stood outside the diner, leaned against one of the streetlamps. Watching Sylvie intently through the window as she talked to some guy inside the diner.

When the guy sat down at her booth, his blood began to boil. His hands clenched to fists at his sides and he gave an angry laugh, shaking his head.

“Now this just won’t do. Not at all. Nothin’s comin between me and her. Nothin.”

[notquitecanon]

Lauren Reynolds/ Marvel (Reader Insert) Pt. 5

TW: death, combat, guns, knives, fighting, blood, graphic description of violence and injury angst, arguing (if that counts)

This is Criminal Minds Season 6, Ep. 18, so if you haven’t gotten that far and don’t want it spoiled, maybe just move along, come back and read once you’ve finished season six. 

Gonna be honest, I took Seaver out of this. I love her character, but she just kind of got in the way.  Otherwise, most of this is the same as the episode, except where I either modified dialogue or switched around characters! 

I wanted to use this chapter to show some relationships between the team, but I don’t think I did a very good job of it. Also you lowkey a badasss. 

Part one    Part Two   Part Three  Part 4

___

It took another hour's drive to get to Quantico. Anderson seemed to feel your unease, so he didn’t even attempt to make small talk, only driving faster. You were grateful for that. You were grateful for Steve, trying to cheer you up. But the anxiety was back, climbing up your throat like bile. You chewed on your thumbnail as you watched the scenery go by, wondering what would wait for you at the BAU. 

As soon as you were brought into the building, you caught a beautifully familiar face. Sighing in relief, you rushed forward into a hug, “JJ.”

“They called in all their cards, huh?” She breathed, returning the embrace. You detached as you were ushered into an elevator. 

“Any idea what this is about?” You asked, her lips pressed into a line. That wasn’t a good sign. The elevator dinged and opened up. 

“We’re about to find out.” She muttered, giving your hand a squeeze as the two of you strided out of the elevator. The two of you walked into the BAU like you owned the place, she was wearing her Pentagon ID and your SHIELD badge was clipped delicately to your belt. Hotch was explaining the situation. 

“I’ve reached out to two experts on the matter who can also shed light on Prentiss’ past.” He informed them, pinning what looked like Prentiss’ key card to the idea board. Reid’s head cocked to the side. 

“Them.”

When Hotch nodded to you and JJ, every head swiveled to you. JJ held her head high, trying to hide her anxiety, while you just smiled at your team. 

“Let’s get to work.” 

Within 45 minutes, you and JJ had completely redone the ideas board. With her Pentagon connections and your SHIELD intel more and more blanks were being filled. Even with the advancement, every minute passed was another minute Prentiss was in danger. 

“My contact only knew her history word of mouth.  She assumed Lauren Reynold’s identity when undercover for Interpol. With them they profiled terrorists.” JJ explained, then you piped up. 

“Interpol worked closely with SHIELD operatives for that. She was a part of a special task force called JTF-12.” You added, that information had actually come directly from Clint- who apparently worked several missions against the IRA and had a personal grudge with Ian Doyle. He offered to come in, but you told him to stay with his family. 

“They were assembled after 9-11. CIA, SHIELD, and other Western Agencies assembled the best and brightest. As you may have heard, all sorts of people were recruited post 9/11. These were the same agencies that recruited Bruce Banner, Betty Ross, and tried to recruit Tony Stark.” You continued. 

“Terrorists and Serial Killers profile different.” Derek pointed out. The roundtable nodded. 

“How does Ian Doyle fit into this?” Spencer asked, eyebrows knitted fiercely together.  You made a mental note to check in about his headaches later, but for the moment you just answered his question. 

“Doyle was her task forces last target.” You filled him in, flipping the mission file onto your tablet. JJ nodded. 

“And now the JTF is on his hit list. He’s already hit Jeremy Wolf, Sean McAlister, and Tsia Mosely.” She explained, motioning through photos. “And the team leader, Clyde Easter hasn’t checked in since Tsia’s murder and is currently presumed dead.” 

“Did JTF make the arrest?” Hotch asked, and you answered. 

“No, the host countries handled that so the team could move onto the next case. And so names wouldn’t be on paper.” You informed. Hotch’s face screwed up in confusion. 

“If all they did was deliver a profile, how does Doyle even know about them?” He asked. JJ and you shared a look, but you bit the bullet. 

“Due to the shady nature of terrorist cells, international agencies will use infiltration tactics. Which is why Emily was considered a US spy.” You explained, catching Derek’s disapproving scoff. You knew he liked things straight forward. Spencer, however, continued with another question. 

“Who was undercover on Doyle?” 

This time it was JJ who delivered the bad news, “Emily. She made contact with him in Boston to get intel on Valhalla. She was posing as another weapon’s dealer.”

JJ then passed out printed out photos of a younger Emily, cutting flowers, wearing a linen pants suit. Derek looked at the photos, “She looks mighty comfortable.”

Hotch redirected the phrasing, “How close did she get to Doyle as her cover?”

Once again it was your turn to give bad news, sucking in a deep breath, “Well, his profile included an in-depth background of all his romantic relationships. Emily... was his type.” 

You paused to look at the rest of the table. Morgan’s face flashed with contempt. Spencer’s frown deepened as his eyes flitted back to the photos. Garcia was looking around for an explanation while Rossi and Hotch shared a look. Now they understood just how personal this was for Doyle. 

And that put Emily in so much more danger.

______ 

After the meeting, Hotch assigned tasks. You had watched Derek storm off towards the garage, Rossi following calmly behind him to go through Prentiss’ apartment. Garcia retreated back to her computer room with JJ as they worked on finding any sort of paper trail. 

You were left with Reid, you and he were reviewing the SHIELD case files that were relevant to the case. For the longest it was silent, the two of you working in harmony for Prentiss’ sake. You paused from your scrolling, looking up to the genius. His eyes were moving almost inhumanely fast as he mouth the words he was reading, one hand scribbling down notes as he went. 

“How have your headaches been?” You asked quietly. His head popped up, eyes wide, so you quickly placated him, “No one’s around. I just figured that all the screens, puzzles, and people are probably not great. Reading on screens for the past 30 minutes straight probably hasn’t helped either.”

His eyes softened, going back to the tablet, “The Doctor said it’s psychosomatic. But I think he’s wrong.” 

You nodded, waiting to see if he would add anything to the matter, he did, continuing to say, “They died down a little bit, but it does seem to correlate with stress.” 

You smiled softly, “Have you told the team, yet?” 

He shook his head, smile pulling into a guilty line.  “Just you and Emily, the others would just worry and baby me.” 

You just nodded, going back to your files. It was probably for the best that Derek had been sent to Prentiss’ apartment with Rossi- just the idea of her seduction had made him angry. The explicit details would enrage him. Speaking of the pair, your head turned as the pair rushed through the bullpen to Hotch’s office. 

“Guess that means they found something.” You muttered, watching the door slam behind Derek. With a sigh, you flicked to the next page for fresh content. It was a file report of their first meeting. You’d gone through this countless times so you popped your head up to rest your eyes, settling on the idea board across the room. Then it clicked. 

“If we’re profiling Doyle like a normal unsub, and Emily as his object of desire/rage... It’d make sense for them to go back to the place it all started. That’s Boston.” You thought aloud, eyes meeting Spencer’s. You watched him process before he nodded, eyes lighting up with understanding. 

“We need to tell Hotch.” 

________

“Boston. She went to Boston.” You blurted swinging the door open. All three men gaped at you, Derek was holding Emily’s passport and Rossi’s was dangling a gold necklace from his fingers. Hotch paused before looking to you, with Spencer lurking just behind you. 

“What’s your evidence?” He asked, jaw and eyebrow set. You took a deep breath. 

“Well she’s not running away,” You started, pointing at the passport in Derek’s hand, “And she’s chasing Doyle, who’s chasing her. Like any other unsub/victim combo. They’re going to end up where it all began. That’s Boston.” 

Hotch nodded, gesturing for the rest of you to follow him. JJ and Garcia flanked the group, Garcia rambling her findings as the team sped towards the exit.  “Sir, one of Clyde Easter’s covers was flagged by TSA on a flight to Boston.”

“Have him detained as soon as he steps off. We need to go. Garcia, you're coming with us.” Hotch’s orders were clear and concise, and the team was quick to carry them out. 

_______

On the jet to Boston, you listened to Garcia leave voice messages on all of Emily’s old numbers. Her voice was quiet and small,  you could hear the tears she was holding back as she plead with the voice mail, “Hey, Em, it's me, Penelope. Hotch told me to go through all your numbers, and I found this old listing. You probably don’t even use this anymore, but if you do, if it is you and you’re out there... Come home, please.” 

You could hear her throat tighten, so you placed a comforting hand on her knee. Her other hand laced with yours in solidarity as she continued, “God, Emily, what did you think? That we would just let you walk out of our lives? I’m so furious at you right now! Then I think about how scared you must be, how you’re in some dark place all alone. But you’re not alone, ok? You are NOT alone.

We are in that dark place with you. We are waving flashlights and calling your name. So if you can see us, come home. If you can’t, then... then you stay alive. ‘Cause we’re coming. We’re coming.” 

She clicked off, pressing the cell to her lips as a safeguard to keep her tears at bay. You squeezed her hand before getting up. Stopping at the coffee bar by the bathroom, you checked your own phone- naively hoping that maybe Emily had reached out. No such luck, as of 10:13. Three hours had felt like three days.  You did have three other texts from your SHIELD friends. 

__

Clint: Be careful with Doyle, he’s more dangerous than he looks. 

Natasha: Clint told me you're going after Ian Doyle. Be careful.

You laughed dryly, so much for secrets. Texting them appeasements, you were touched by their concern. 

Steve:  Just checking in, any word on your friend. 

You: Nothing good yet. Following a lead to Boston. 

Three little dots showed you that he was typing, but you beat him to it. 

You: If that text is going to say ‘be careful’, don’t even send it. 

The three dots disappeared, before reappearing and turning into:

Steve: Yes ma’am. I’m sure everything will work out.    

_______

Twenty minutes later, your tablet pinged: an alert from SHIELD. You had already combined Boston PD with all your relevant tags. You handed your tablet off to Hotch as you voiced your findings, “Hey guys, I got a firefight in east Boston. Automatic weapons, sounds like our guys.”  

“ANnnnnd, I got video footage.” Garcia chimed, tapping away at her computer. She gasped, hands flying to her mouth. 

“Baby girl, what is it?” Derek pressed with concern. You scooted in closer to her to see, soon your understood her dread. 

“It’s, It’s, Emily. She’s here. Oh god, she’s walking into a trap.”  Penelope gasped. Her eyes were watering, but Hotch kept his cool. 

“Garcia, put in on the big screen.” He ordered sternly, but somehow still kindly. The blonde hacker nodded fervently, wiping her eyes from under those red glasses. 

“Right, Right, I can do that.” She said, mostly to herself as she followed through.  Soon the video was on the jets display. All the team members were silent the first time the video played through. The air in the cabin seemed thick with tension. Derek and Hotch visibly tensed, as if ready for a fight.  Next to you, Rossi’s expression hardened, the only readable emotion was disdain. Spencer looked as if he was cringing and couldn’t stop. Beside him,  JJ simply clenched her jaw and forced herself to watch- just as she had done when Spencer was taken hostage all those years ago, Emily had been knew then.  

You watched as Prentiss sprayed the car with bullets, shattering a window before throwing a flash grenade in the SUV.  Then she squatted down to cover her ears, but as soon as the boom was over, she was on the move again.  Stalking around the SUV, that’s when the camera angle switched. Now showing the passenger side, you watched as Emily seemed to negotiate. Then from out of nowhere, a man appeared and shot Emily twice. 

This caused a scream to erupt out of Penelope while everyone else either gasped or winced. Derek, ever the protector, attempted to comfort her with a warm arm around her shoulder, but it didn’t seem to help until the man (who you presumed to be Doyle) revealed her bulletproof vest. There was a collective sigh of relief when Emily seemed to stir. 

Just as quickly as Emily attacked, Doyle shoved her into another van that quickly sped off. Garcia took the screen off the monitor and tapped at her computer a little longer. 

“I can follow them two more blocks, but then they vanish.” She admitted, still furiously typing and apologizing for losing her cool.

When she finally gave up, she moved into the group displaying her screen. The video feed was backed up and ready to play again. The group looked at the paused screen, three men around the black range rover. 

You broke the silence, “They knew she was coming. Doyle was already lying in wait before Emily even got out of her car.” 

“From the first angle, it looks like Doyle got into the SUV. But from this angle, you can see that he didn’t,” Garcia agreed, switching the camera and playing the feed again, “Which I wish Boston PD warned us about before I started watching it. Sorry again for the screaming.” 

Derek watched the silenced video in shock, “She threw a flash-bang grenade into a car. She’s lucky the three people inside didn’t die. Is anybody else bothered by that?”

You stopped to think for a second, thinking of if it did bother you. You realized it didn’t, maybe it would have before SHIELD, but now that seemed like a normal course of action. That said a lot about the effect Natasha and Clint, hell even day to day life with SHIELD had on you. Before you could stop yourself, you lifted your eyes to him, “Three targets.”

Rossi clarified your statement, but didn’t seem to disagree,  “Well, three bad guys.”

Derek scoffed at the word change but Hotch spoke up before Morgan could air his complaints, “Illegal as it is, I think Prentiss knows she has to be as ruthless as Doyle.” 

“That’s how you survive.” You muttered, watching as the video played on a loop, not able to take your eyes off it, “It’s how spies survive.” 

“Don’t eve-” Derek started, but Spencer interrupted with something constructive. 

“He’s come to the US to wage a public vendetta. He even hired a group of mercenaries to remain loyal to him. He has nothing to lose, so she has to act the same way.” He defended Emily. Derek sighed in frustration, turning to look out a window. 

“So how did Doyle know she was waiting for him?” Rossi asked, floating ideas around. You answered with another question. 

“Well, we’ve already discussed the probability of a mole. So who knew the Emily left the BAU?” You posed the question. JJ continued your line of thought.

“The same guy who’s been feeding Doyle the contractors and agents? So someone who has known Prentiss from the beginning.” She nodded, glancing around the jet. “Our best suspect was just arrested with a suitcase full of cash.”

Classic rat, selling secrets. A flash of anger went through you before you suppressed it. 

“How do we get Easter to talk? He won’t cooperate willingly.” Spencer asked. The group fell silent, and despite the fact you wouldn’t show it, you couldn’t help the hostility in your voice. 

“There are lines I can cross that you guys aren’t allowed to. SHIELD has looser rules on interrogation.” You offered angrily, glaring at the footage of Clyde Easter on the monitor. Hotch narrowed his eyes as if he was trying to read you but didn’t agree or disagree with your implications. Derek watched you with shock. 

“It won’t come to that. I’ll interrogate him, the rest of you focus on Doyle’s location.” He decided. The rest of the team nodded before Penelope piped up. 

“I hate to be the one to ask this, but,” She paused for a deep breath, “How long does Emily have?” 

Hotch tried to hide his own stress, but some seeped through, “Her best chance is also the most troubling. Doyle saved her for last because he views her as his stressor. This means he’ll take his time.” 

It was a bittersweet hope, but hope nonetheless.  

_______

When the jet landed, it was all a flurry of activity. A race against the clock to save a victim, that was a story you told to often. But this time, you had the feeling of impending dread in your stomach. This wasn’t a random stranger. This was Emily. 

The same Emily that force-fed you water on wilder nights, who had the sweetest cat named Sergio, who saved your ass more time than you cared to count. Emily who set you up on blind dates and drank wine with you when they ended up terrible. Emily who noticed your crush on Spencer and kept it a secret for an entire year until you had gotten over it and moved on- she was the only person who ever knew, and would likely take it to the grave. Emily who always had your back, both in the field and in life. Like the rest of the BAU, she was family, and it was hard when your family was in danger. 

Even though everything seemed to be moving at lightspeed, it somehow seemed not to be moving at all. In fact, you wondered if time had stopped until Rossi dragged in a scrawny man in an atrocious suit yelling obscenities. 

“Who’s that?” You asked as Rossi handed him over to the police. He wiped his hands in discuss as he answered. Hotch approached in interest. 

“Jack Fahey. Irish Mob. He called Easter’s cell phone 12 times in six hours.”  Rossi explained. You and Hotch nodded, seeing the thin connection. 

“Any connection with Doyle?” Hotch questioned. 

“Boston PD says he’s low level. But the Irish mob has long-standing ties to the IRA.” Rossi confirmed. Your jaw hardened. 

“I’ll put some feelers out. Maybe find a few more ties.” You sighed, pulling out your tablet to search through files. Keywords: Doyle + Fahey / IRA. The search was running through millions of files so you set it down while it loaded. 

“You two see if you can get anything out of him.”  Hotch nodded, turning back to Garcia as you and Rossi shared a look. 

____

You, Rossi, and Spencer stood in the doorway of Fahey’s interrogation room. Anyone could see that his skin was already crawling in discomfort, and having three sets of eyes on him would irk him further. 

“Alright, Jack, why were you blowing up Doyle’s phone?” You asked, making your tone as condescending as possible. His fingers drummed against the table impatiently. 

“Any of y’all got a smoke? Bean pole? FBI Barbie?” He sneered, licking his lips. You scoffed, letting his insults roll off you like water. 

“What do you think?” Rossi asked. You purposefully turned your back on Fahey, knowing the lack of attention from the only female would drive him up the wall. 

“Male ego narcissist masking deep-seated insecurity.” Spencer shrugged, looking between you and Rossi. 

“Loudmouth, overcompensating.” You feigned a giggle, “You know what that means.”

You looked over your shoulder giving him the “mean girl” once over. He started to object. But Rossi continued as if he wasn’t talking. 

“So if we puncture his self-image, this hood rat will talk.” He nodded. Apparently, being called hood rat was more of an insult than a little dick.

“Hey, hey, hey. I ain’t no hood rat. You take that back.” He demanded. You just smiled sweetly. 

“So admit to being... lacking in other areas?” You asked as you took the seat across from him. Spencer stood behind you and Rossi sat beside you. 

“I ain’t neither. I’m more than adequate and I ain’t a hood rat.” He growled, leaning back in the metal chair.  Rossi scoffed as you just smirked. 

“You look like one. Smell like one too.” Rossi paused to take a deep breath, “Smell that?” 

You and Spencer shared a look, dramatically sniffing the air before answering in unison, “Hoodrat.” 

“I am not! Take it back!” Fahey whined. This strategy was working quickly, and you hoped Hotch was having the same luck. Rossi stood, sauntering around the table and leaning down to eye level with the Irish mobster.  

Condescendingly, he asked, “Jack, do you know what a hood rat it?” 

Then he looked back to the two of you, “See what I mean, he’s just gonna have to learn the hard way.” 

Fahey held up his hands in surrender, “All right, all right, Clyde? he was going to pay my medical bills. This ear, it ain’t growing back.” 

“What happened to it?” Spencer asked from behind you. You nodded as if to say that was your same question. 

“This bitch teammate of his shot it. Said it was a warning.” Fahey growled. Seemingly not noticing the three of you share a look.  “Thought she could take on this IRA big shot named Doyle. So I told these- AHHH.” 

He was cut off by Rossi shooting out of his chair and grabbing the edge of his injured ear, he immediately went limp in his hold to avoid further damage. You inwardly cringed at how greasy his skin and hair looked but ignored it and his pathetic cries. 

“Where is Prentiss?” You growled, watching his eyes dart from you to your teammates as if they were going to stop Rossi. He kept stuttering words, using the word “who” like a lifeline. Spencer leaned across the table. 

“Lauren Reynolds, where is Lauren. Reynolds.?” He demanded. Rossi let go and sat back down, offering him a reprieve to answer. Almost sickeningly, his face lit up.

“Ohhh.” He drawled, his voice made your skin crawl in the worst ways as he cheekily smiled between the three of you, “Friend of yours, is she?” 

“You tell us where she is right now or I swear to god I’ll send you to a prison where they’ll teach you what a hood rat is.” Rossi threatened. Fahey only smiled, thinking he had the power back in his corner. 

“And by the time you do, she’ll be in pieces. So, uhhh. My price just went up.” He grinned. Spencer and Rossi only shared a look while you glared at the grunt in front of you. 

“Dr. Reid, do you have a pen on you?” You asked sweetly, eyes never leaving Fahey who looked more confused.  Spencer produced a fancy pen out of his cardigan, placing it in your waiting hand. “Thank you, will you boys wait outside. I just want to chat with Mr. Fahey here.”

Your voice was so sugar-sweet, that it bordered on malice. With another shared look, the two men left the room and turned off the camera that was recording the interrogation. You waited a few moments, staring at Fahey until he squirmed. He chuckled nervously, 

“Want ole Fahey to show you a good time? I mean I know your partners are still watching, but if it doesn’t bother you, it-” You cut him off with a harsh growl. 

“Shut up.” It was a stark difference from both your condescending and sweet tones. Jack even flinched as he registered your anger. In one swift motion, you were by his side, pressing the butt of the pen into the skin between in ribs and his side, right where the bend of his arm would touch. His entire body immediately seized up.

“I learned this fun little trick from a friend of mine that worked for the KGB in Russia. They made the IRA look like you, like a bunch hoodrats. You wanna know what’s happening? I’m pushing against your brachial artery. If I don’t ease up within the next forty-five seconds, you will start to bleed internally. If I even slip, I’ll puncture your skin and you will bleed out quietly in this chair. You will die a very slow, cold, and painful death, do you understand me?” You hissed in his ear. 

“The Feds don’t allow this! I got rights! They’ll see the video and you’ll go to jail.” Jack struggled, you chuckled bitterly next to his ear. 

“I’m not FBI, and the camera stopped rolling the moment they put a pen in my hand. And given your predicament do you think any of the actual FBI is gonna help?” You asked, pressing down ever so slightly. 

“Ok! Ok! I’ll talk!” He gushed, jerking away from you as you let go completely. You threw the pen on the table, as he continued, “On one condition. The government pays my medical bills.”

You raised an eyebrow, picking the pen up again. His eyes widened backing away, but Rossi entered before you could continue. He looked from you to Fahey.

“We’ll discuss it. (Y/L/N), with me.” 

You nodded, following him out. Once the door was shut, you turned to the older profiler, indignation clear in your voice “Rossi, what gives, he was about to give me everything!” 

Rossi nodded over his shoulder at Derek who was watching you in disgust in anger. You knew Derek disapproved of off the table methods, but this was Prentiss! 

“(Y/N), you almost killed him! That’s not how we do things. I don’t know how they do things at SHIELD or at Interpol, but in the FBI we try to beat the bad guys without stooping to their level- the KGB, really (Y/L/N)? We’re the good guys, or have you forgotten that?” He growled, voice bordering on patronizing as he followed you and Rossi out of the observation room. You gave it right back, emotions were running high and your frustration from Fahey, from Doyle, hell all the way from the last time Fury yelled at you- it was all boiling over. 

“First of all, I had it completely under control, he wouldn’t have died. Second of all, I can name ten interrogations off the top of my head when you turned off the camera or when Hotch had to pry you off an unsub, so I don’t even want to hear it.” You snapped before stopping dead in your tracks to turn sharply to him, voice rising with every syllable and hands gesturing wildly, “And lastly, Derek, I don’t know if you got the memo, but one of our best friends is being held hostage by one of the cruelest arms dealers in the books. This isn’t little leagues anymore, so I’m sorry if you’re too good to get your hands dirty, but I’m getting really tired of this holier than thou attitude towards Prentiss and me. I don’t care what beef you have with her right now. If you’re not prepared to give everything to this case, to get her back alive, then why are you even here?” 

Your eyes were alight with anger, and Derek’s eyes were wide with shock. He’d seen you angry at unsubs, even seen you pop off at Hotch before. But he’d never been on the receiving end, nor had he ever seen this kind of fury. Reid watched on, almost afraid to get between then two of you. Finally, Rossi decided to put a stop to it. He placed a hand on your shoulder, sharing a look that said, ‘Stop before you say something you regret.’ You nodded and let him lead you away from Derek. 

Once out of Morgan’s earshot, Rossi rubbed your back a bit- he was always more fatherly than he liked to claim. “You alright?” 

It was a two worded question, but you knew the implications. You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself, before shaking your head, “Sorry, I know now’s not the time for infighting. I just got so, so...” 

“I know it’s hard to keep your head on straight, but the important thing is that you didn’t say anything you couldn’t take back.” He nodded before motioning you along, “Now, let’s get back to what really matters. He’s either afraid of you or in love with you- I can’t tell, that gives us a little bit of leverage. What else did you notice?” 

You chuckled a bit at his joke, letting go of the anger as you answered. “Withdrawals. He needs a cigarette.” 

“Let’s use that.”

____________

“You know when a cigarette is best?” Fahey asked after a long drag of a cheap cigarette. Grey smoke swirled around him like fog on a lake. Derek was worried about me killing him? Lung Cancer will get him long before I do. You and Rossi simply rose an eyebrow, waiting in the cold air on the roof for Fahey to say anything useful.  “After sex with me.”

After that thrilling conclusion, you simply rose an eyebrow as Fahey licked his lips while looking at you up and down. He continued on to say, “The Fluorescents didn’t do you any justice, sweetheart, neither did the stabby stabby, but a fiery woman is attractive and I can be very forgiving.” 

Rossi stepped between you two, pretending to scare him off but really protecting him from you. Growling a harsh,  “Mind your manners.”

Fahey backed off, protectively covering his injured ear, “All right, whoa, whoa.”

Rossi continued own, glaring at the worm, “You’re already extorting us for Prentiss’ location.”

“It would be a real shame if you, I don’t know, ‘slipped’ on an ice patch and fell.” You singsonged, as you looked to the sky. Fear flashed over Fahey’s face before he smiled cheekily.

“If you keep being mean, I’m gonna fall in love with you.” He grinned. You simply rose a single eyebrow as Rossi put himself between the two of you.

“Listen pal, I don’t know how much longer I can hold her off, and up here she can a lot worse than poke you with a pen.” Rossi shrugged, stepping out from between you two. You just smiled sweetly, flipping the pen through your fingers.  “So out of curiosity, what’s it like working for Doyle?” 

“Eh. He’s not so tough.” Jack shrugged taking another long drag, so long that the cigarette burned down to his fingers. You offered another one and Rossi held up a light. You skimmed the rest of the rooftops, anything so you didn’t have to look at Fahey as he gushed about his ‘involvement’ with Doyle. 

“Wow, you’re really the man, huh?” You asked clearly not paying attention, looking at the building adjacent. Something about its silhouette just wasn’t quite right. But Fahey distracted you with another lewd comment. 

“I could show you how much of a man I really am...” He stopped when Rossi stepped closer forcing him to back off, allowing you to narrow in your eyes on the discrepancy. You’re eyes widened in realization a moment too late. 

The whistle of a bullet followed by a warm spray of blood punctuated his last disgusted comment. A sharp pain grazed your shoulder as you shouted, “Sniper, GET DOWN!” 

Rossi didn’t give you time to argue as he covered you with his body, pulling you to the ground. Two more rounds shredded through Fahey, making his body convulse before it hit the ground. Rossi covered you like you were his own child, holding your head against his chest until he deemed it safe. By the time you were able to get a good look at the sniper- no snipers, there were two- there was just a flash of silver off one building and the other retreating out of your firing range. 

Even with the warm blood dripping down your face, you didn’t think about your own life. Without Fahey, you might never find Emily. 

________

An hour later, the clock had struck midnight and your phone had been long neglected, forgotten on some desk as soon as you had arrived. After getting first aid (and arguing against going to the hospital), your shoulder had been wrapped where the bullet grazed you. You were dabbing blood off your shirt sitting on the bench outside the police station’s bullpen, mentally kicking yourself for wearing white. Hotch slipped in, watching you do so. 

“That’s not going to come out. How’s your shoulder?” He stated, sympathetically. You nodded with a shrug. 

“Could be better. I don’t know what else to do to other than twiddle my thumbs.” You sighed, resting your elbows on your knees. Aaron stood across from you. 

“(Y/N), we have a problem.” Hotch stated, your eyebrows furrowed, waiting for the rest of what he had to say, “Without Fahey, there’s not much left.”

“Hotch, unless you have a point, this is the worst pep talk, ever.” You sighed. Hotch didn’t even crack a smile, he never did on cases. 

“We all want to save Prentiss so bad, that we can’t see this case straight.” He admitted. Again you nodded. 

“Ok, what do we do?” You asked. You were at a loss, exhausted, upset, dirty, and you honestly didn’t know what Hotch was getting at. 

“None of us can give an unbiased profile. So we bring in someone who can.” Hotch nodded to you, handing your cell phone over to you. Suddenly it dawned on you what he meant. You had a call to make. 

________

Hotch left you alone to make a call, he didn’t know any of your SHIELD friends but he said he trusted your judgment. Clint was the first that came to your mind, but he’d told you everything he knew about Doyle, so he wouldn’t be much help, and he was biased. Natasha would have been a good contact, but she was on a mission. Your thumb hovered over Steve’s contact before finally pressing the call button. It took a ring and a half for him to answer, unsurprising he was up at this hour. 

“(Y/N)? What’s wrong, what happened?”  You smiled at the concern in his voice. 

“Hey, Steve, I’m fine, well mostly, but I could use a fresh pair of eyes- or well ears.” You started, waiting for his response to your not-quite question. 

“Alright, what’s going on?” Steve asked and you smiled at his willingness to help. With a deep breath, you launched into the entire story, only sparing the bullet grazing incident. Knowing Steve, he’d sprint to Boston just to force you into a hospital. 

“Steve, you don’t know any of them, tell me, what sounds off?” You asked the soldier who had been patiently listening to you ramble. 

“Keep in mind, I don’t understand much about this profiling science, so it might not be very helpful, but...” He started, but trailed off. 

“Anything is helpful, we’re at a wall and the clock’s ticking.” You sighed, eyes closing as you leaned your head against the wall. 

“How does their affair change your profile? Does that truly affect it that much?” He asked, and while he had a point, you took the moment to relish the blush you knew was on his cheeks. Regardless, you’d already explored that point. 

“What else?” You pressed, wishing you could see his behavior. The other end was silent. “Steve, I’m sorry to put in this position but I can’t even see it straight anymore, please think!” 

“Why is he targetting families?” The Captain rushed out. And your eyes widened. 

“Steve, keep going.” You whispered, rushing into the bullpen and grabbing a dry erase marker. You jotted down, ‘families?’ as you listened to his search for the right words. 

“You said Prentiss is Doyle’s stressor, that he believes she wronged him. So why go after everyone else. The child in DC, it doesn’t fit with the rest of the story.” He rambled. You basically copied him word for word. 

“Rogers, I can’t thank you enough. If this whole SHIELD thing doesn’t work out, remind me to get you an interview at the FBI.” You smiled, praising him over the phone. You heard the rest of the team already chatting over ‘your’ discovery. 

“Anytime, (Y/N),  just be careful.” He conceded. You nodded as if he could see you. 

“I’ll try my best.”

__________

With Steve’s added push and a little help from Clyde, the team was back in action. You labeled him as a family annihilator and deduced he had a hidden child. From that, Garcia cross-referenced Irish Immigrants with Doyle’s employees. That’s where she found the pictures. 

A series of photos. A middle-aged brunette woman and a small blonde child. In the first few they were both crying to the camera, silver duct tape silencing them. In the next couple, there was a hand brandishing a handgun. And in the last three, the photos showed them limp, blood trailing down from the bullet wounds. The photographs were sickening, gruesome in every way. Aside from the obvious, something was wrong. You clicked through them, trying to decipher what your gut was telling you. Spencer watched over your shoulder, seemingly sensing the same thing. 

“(Y/N), look at the hand.” He muttered, and you complied gasping as you understood. Garcia looked at the pair of you in confusion before Derek voiced their question. 

“It’s a hand in black clothes.” He shrugged. Spencer shook his head, reaching over you to point at his epiphany. 

“No, look at the nails.” You clarified, examining the jagged and short edges Spencer was pointing at. Garcia gasped. 

“Oh, oh my god.” Was all she managed, subconsciously scooting her rolling chair away from the computer. First assumptions- worst assumptions- ran through your head at Mach speed, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling that you were missing something. 

Regardless of the implication or whatever your instinct was trying to tell you, you spoke, “Garcia reference search warehouses, secluded or abandoned, with their own perimeters, cross that with any Interpol activity. .” 

She simply nodded, clearing away the gruesome photos from her screen. You did the same with your mind, I’ll find out the truth from Prentiss when we save her. We’ll sort this out.

“Got it. 1518 Adams Street.” 

Garcia’s words from earlier that night rang through your head, Emily, I think of how scared you must be, in some dark lonely place. But, Emily, we’re waving flashlights and calling your name. We’re coming, just stay alive. 

_____

“Agent Prentiss is the only friendly in the building. Rescuing her is out primary objective.” Hotch ordered as you all geared up. Safety’s clicked off, ammo clicked into chambers, velcro ripped on and off as vests were strapped on- it had been a long time since you wore FBI labels you thought as you tightened the straps- and there was a collective sense of determination and nervous energy in the air. 

“Our only advantage here is stealth. Once they know we’re on-site, there’s nothing to stop them from killing her.” Derek- always in charge of strikes- informed. “So we keep it quiet until we get to her.” 

Everyone nodded in agreement as the briefing disbanded. To your shock, Derek approached you. The look he gave you wasn’t friendly, but wasn’t hostile either, so you decided to hear him out. 

“Like you said, this isn’t little league,” He began, watching you clip extra ammo clips to your belt, “I’m sure the strike team is great, but as it stands you have a better grip on this than me. I want you in there with me when we go in.”

You simply nodded, holstering your gun. Derek had an automatic weapon slung on his shoulder, while you just opted for extra handguns, giving you three loaded guns on your person. One in your hip holster with a silencer attached, one in the waistband on your pants, and an ankle holster hidden by your pants. Taking some of Natasha’s advice to heart, you also slid a tactical knife into your vest- just in case. 

Derek wasn’t done though, “I don’t know this world, and frankly I’m not comfortable with it. But I can sort my issues out with Prentiss when we get her back. And I need someone I trust in there watching my six.”

The statement seemed mundane, but you knew the meaning behind it, someone I trust. That was as close to an apology as you were getting, but you offered him a genuine smile- you’d take it. Just like old times, you wrapped your arms around him, and he returned the hug. Like a brother to me. 

“We good?” He asked as you let go. You nodded, raising an eyebrow as if nothing ever happened. 

“Let’s get this son of a bitch.” 

___________

Entering the warehouse was nervewracking, as everything relied on stealth. A silenced sniper took out the two guards at the gate, allowing your’s and Derek’s group to enter. Every guard and goon was taken down by a silent bullet, a quick and quiet end to their life. You kept your wits about you. Every step was a step closer to Prentiss. You thought was you stepped quickly behind Derek, eyes sweeping crook and cranny.  

As more and more thugs appeared, the group fanned out. It was a sad fact that anyone who saw you had to be killed or incapacitated- no one could spook Doyle. Not when you were this close. 

You waited for Hotch to send the signal. Winding through hallways, gun at the ready, you waited. Every ounce of anger and frustration you tunneled into fine-tuned senses as you followed Derek. The two of you stuck together, the rest of the team was checking other buildings. As you entered the first large room, you heard it. A struggle, Prentiss’ yells and a man’s grunting as you heard the fight. At the same time, the group of enemies noticed the two of you- your first count said nine. Then it happened, the power went down. That was the signal for all hell to break loose.

“DEREK GO!” You shouted, as two rushed towards you. You shot at one blindly, hitting him in the leg. The other didn’t have a gun so he tried to grab you. You delivered a roundhouse kick to his face, hooking the bend of your knee around the back of his neck and pulling him to the ground. The butt of your gun whipped across his face before you finally pull a bullet in him. Derek gaped at you for a moment, before snapping back to reality. 7 enemies, one injured

“I’m not leaving you!” He yelled back, fighting off another. BAM. Six and one injured. 

“Derek, you have to trust me. I got this.” You growled eyes adjusting to the dark as a particularly large man hulking up to you, “Emily needs you. She’s fighting, but she needs you.”

Derek hesitated, but finally growled as he complied, sprinting towards the sound of Emily’s struggle as you emptied the rest of your clip into the giant approaching you. He was easily seven foot and padded with extra layers of flesh and maybe a vest, he grunted at the shots but he didn’t slow down.  Part of you regretted sending Derek away as your eyes the other five approaching you. 

Make Natasha proud. You thought as you vaguely heard Derek demand back up for you over the comms. Lightning fast, you dropped the empty clip before replacing it with a new one. This time you emptied it into his chest and forehead. Almost inhuman, he kept walking for a minute before finally collapsing in on himself. Five, one injured. You locked eyes with every other man in the room, a moment of calm before they all rushed at you. 

A tall, lean man with blonde hair was the closest to you, so you pitched the empty gun at his face like an MLB pitcher. It hit his nose with a satisfying crunch, causing him to stop to hold onto his bleeding face. Four, two injured. 

The next was almost of a caricature of an Irish stereotype: short, red-headed but balding, square jaw, and bulky with muscle. He had a jagged scar running from his eyes to his neck. He was too close, you didn’t have time to grab another gun. You realized that too late, a solid fist connected with your ribs. The pain was immediate, but just as Nat had trained you, so was your reaction. Her voice echoed in your head as you dropped to the ground and swept his feet out from under him. ‘Your enemies won’t wait from you to recover, neither will I’

 After a swift kick to his redhead, you turned to your left swinging your leg up and around to look around the next nearest enemy, a stocky bald man. Using your leverage, you pulled yourself up and twisted, grabbing your ankle gun at the same time. This sent the bald man to the ground, disorienting him long enough for you to put two shots into his head. Three, two injured. 

In your distraction, the redhead had recovered, sneaking behind you wrapping his strong arms around you, pinning your arms to your stomach. “Drop the gun, bitch.”

You didn’t, so he squeezed you hard enough that you swore you felt the already throbbing ribs crack- or maybe it was your elbow- forcing the gun out of your hand. The blonde, face now dripping blood, approached. 

“Hold her steady for me, Mckellan.” He smirked after kicking your knees, forcing them to buckle before balling his hand into a fist. The grip on you tightened and you braced yourself for a hit. Even with the preparation, it didn’t ebb the pain. You had been punched before, but not like this. You felt the curve of his knuckles whip your head to the side, right where your eye met your cheek, you watched as your earpiece clattered to the floor. The blond kicked it out of your sight. The force dizzied you, but you didn’t get a reprieve. ‘Mckellan’ dropped one arm to take hold of your hair, jerking your head up just in time for the blonde to hail another fist onto your face. This time landing on your jaw, allowing you to taste the blood in your and feel it trickle down your face. 

They laughed expecting you to be done, as your head hung for a second. You defiantly lifted your eyes to the blonde’s, spitting out a mouthful of blood and hoping he could see the murderous glint to your eye. He did, and you saw the fear in his as he registered too late. With all your strength, you threw your head back- twice. The first time you hit your captor's nose, you felt it crumple. The second time was his chin, you felt the force cause him to bite down. Hope you didn’t want your tongue, you sick fuck, you thought as his hold loosened. 

With a little more freedom, you jumped up and arched your back, wrapping your legs around the blonde's neck. With all your might, you threw your body to the ground, twisted your hips, and bent your knees. You felt all your muscles strain but were rewarded with a sharp snap as the man went limp. One short breath before you lunged for your gun, kneeling and aiming it at Mckellan who had just spit out his bloody, severed tongue. Your lip curled in disgust as you pulled the trigger. Standing up, you kept your count, Two left, two injured.

Before you could even find your next target, someone launched onto your back. The sudden weight disoriented you as grubby fingers pulled at your face and hair, causing you to once again drop your gun. His grubby fingers prodded at your face and his heels dug into soft flesh to hang on. Base instinct took over, their weight causing you to blindly stumble backward until you hit a wall. Feeling the contact, you grunted in anger pulling back before ramming your attacker against the wall again. The short man shouted curses at you but didn’t let go. With a primal growl, you did it again, harder this time. Checking him into the brick wall with as much force as possible. This time he dropped, and you instantly whirled around kicking him in the stomach as he scrambled to his knees. You took the leverage, your fingers knotted into his greasy black hair, to maximize force you brought your knee up at the same time you brought his head down. You didn’t know whether he was dead or unconscious, but it didn’t matter as he crumpled to the floor- he wasn’t getting up anytime soon. 

 For a moment, you leaned against the wall forgetting there was still another attacker. You were panting and sweating, fatigue set in as you lost your momentum. The ache in your head blossomed, reminding you of the hits you had taken, your shoulders were sore from Mckellan’s hold, your knees from the blonde’s kick, not to mention the two blooming bruises and busted lip on your face, (you wouldn’t be surprised if your nose was broken), the koala attack and the hockey style defense you put on had your entire bottle rattle, and that was just on top of normal body fatigue. I could really use a super-soldier right about now you thought. 

Of course, your moment of rest was no longer than fifteen seconds. Just enough time for someone to tackle you from the side. You shrieked in shock and pain as you hit the ground on your already injured ribs, your attacker's weight adding to the hit. Your head smacked against the concrete, and you saw stars and you tried to escape as he tried to wrap his hands around your throat. 

It took a moment for you to regain your wits, but when you did, you rolled. Your attacker fell away, or at least his weight shifted enough for you to scramble away. You saw your gun a few feet away, so you scrambled towards in on your hands and knees. Seeing your plan, the bearded man grabbed your ankle and hauled you back to him. In anger, you twisted around, your other foot stomping into his face. You knew you wouldn’t make it to your firearm, so instead, you leaned up and tackled him back to the ground. The two of you rolled a good distance before you ended up with the upper hand. This time with you on top, you delivered one well-executed punch to the face before slipping the knife out of it’s hiding spot. With a growl, you brought down the knife, but he caught the handle as the tip pierced the skin above his heart. For a moment there was a power struggle, he was no longer fighting for Doyle, he was fighting for his life. 

But you were fighting for Emily. A rush of determination lit a fire in you. You reared back, balling up your fist and hitting the butt of the knife like a hammer. It plunged the blade in an inch. Sensing how close you were to winning, he flailed underneath you, trying to hold off the blade with his remaining strength. With one last growl and hit delivered to the knife handle, the last of Doyle’s men slacked against the bloody floor.

 After all the struggle, he was dead rather quietly. Besides the injured one, that should be all of them. You heard the click of a gun safety sliding off.

“You’re too late bitch, Doyle’s alread-” BAM smoke rose out of the hole between his eyes as he fell over.

His (him being the first man you shot in the leg) gloating distracted him before he even had a chance to aim at you. The moment you heard the click, you’d slipped your hidden firearm out. With a groan of pain, you rose to your feet. Everyone in the room either dead or wallowing in pain as Swat flooded in. Slowly, you moved to pick up you earpiece, entire body protesting movement.

“-A MEDIC IN HERE. PRENTISS IS DOWN.” You tuned into the last bit of Derek’s pleading. Like you had been electrically shocked, you were recharged, tearing towards Derek’s location. It was three hallways over, and as you came in, your heart broke.

Emily was on the floor, a bloodied piece of wood sticking out of her abdomen. Derek was beside her, holding her hand. He noticed you, eye raking over your body. You knew you probably looked like hell, but he didn’t comment. There were other priorities and your health didn’t make the list at the moment. 

“Go after Doyle, he can’t have gotten far!” He ordered, you nodded, taking one last look at Prentiss- her eyes lolling around- before you sprinted out the back door. You could hear a commotion up ahead so you followed the noise, reloading your gun as you went. Turning a corner, you could see Doyle across the train tracks about to get into a car, staring straight at you- smiling. 

“IAN DOYLE, SHIELD, PUT YOU’RE HANDS IN THE AIR AND GET ON YOUR KNEES.” You thundered, anger tearing shreds in your already sore throat. Into your comm, you asked, “I have a shot, do I take it?” 

Hotch picked up as a train whistled its approach, “Yes, take the shot.”

Right as your finger twitched against the trigger, your comm hissed in your ear causing you to flinch- but not take your eyes off Doyle who was now grinning like the Chesire Cat. 

“Belay that order. Agent, you do not take that shot.” A new voice took over your comms. 

“Who is this? On whose orders?” You heard Hotch demand. Your eyes remained on Doyle, who curiously hadn’t moved. Anxiously, you gripped your gun tighter keeping your target in firing range. The train was getting closer, making it harder to hear, the spotlight lighting up the night. 

“Order comes from the World Security Council.” The voice shot back. You growled although no one could hear it. You were taking the shot, you had already decided. You didn’t care if you spent the rest of your life in federal prison. Doyle deserved it. Hotch was still arguing with the new voice as your entire body tensed. 

Time moved in slow motion, you were losing your window. Running forward, you squeezed the trigger, bullet ricocheting off metal. But you were too late, the train cut in front of you like a knife. 

“Guys, I’ve lost my visual. Does anyone have sights on Doyle!” You shouted into the comms. Trying in vain to see past the train. Slamming your earpiece into the ground, you screamed a slew of curses at the top of your lungs- your anger, desperation, and anguish being lost in the noise of the locomotive. Minutes later, the end of the train flew by you. Revealing what you already knew, Doyle was gone without a trace.

Another hiss of curses fell out of your lips as you turned on your heel and sprinted back to Emily and Derek. Arriving just in time to see the EMT’s put her on a stretcher, you hunched over to catch your breath. Though you still had plenty of anger, your adrenaline was fading fast, no longer masking any of the pain you were in. You hissed as you limped behind Derek, trying to catch up to Emily’s stretcher. 

“How’s she?” You asked, not arguing when he slung one of your arms of your shoulder to help you. His jaw hardened. 

“She’s been through hell. Lots of blood loss. Maybe some internal bleeding.” He shook his head, leading you back through the warehouse. Back through the room that held your handiwork.  Derek saw this too.

“You look terrible. I shouldn’t have left you.” He remarked, watching as an agent pulled a sheet over the guy with a knife in his chest. You shook your head.

“If you stayed with me, Emily would be leaving in a body bag. She’s got a chance because you scared Doyle off. I’m the one who let him get away- I should have taken the damn shot.” You reprimanded but ended in a low snarl, one arm going up to cradle your ribs that were now throbbing. Normally, there would have been a handful of jokes and a few innuendos in there. Derek would have teased you and questioned you on where you learned to do all that. You would have teased him about being able to kick his ass. But now, there was only resignation. The case was over, but Emily’s fight wasn’t finished. 

When you finally saw the light of the ambulance, Hotch rushed to you. Eyeing you up and down. “We’re going to meet Emily at the hospital, should I call another Ambulance?”

You shook your head as Rossi appeared- the ambulance was pulling off with sirens piercing the night air, “Minor wounds. Nothing to worry about.”

Both older men looked unconvinced but didn’t press the matter, allowing Derek to help you into the back of an SUV. You sank into the seat beside Spencer, who was wringing his hands with worry. He gave you a once over before beginning to ramble about minor injuries and the statistics on death’s in the US. For once you didn’t have the energy to listen or pretend to listen, you just stared at him blankly until it tapered off, ending with his handing you a handkerchief. You took it gratefully, lacing your hand through his as a comfort and dabbing the cloth to your face as the SUV pulled into the road.  

The radio clock read 3 AM, and the night showed no signs of an end. 

____

Garcia and JJ met the rest of the team at a hospital, where the whole lot of you were ushered into a waiting room. Garcia fussed over you a little, which you knew was because she was so worried about Emily, but couldn’t do anything so you allowed it. Several nurses tried to drag you to the ER for treatment, but you refused every offer until JJ came up behind you. 

“Emily will be in surgery for the next few hours, go get patched up. I’ll come to get you if anything happens.” She told you, it was quiet and gentle, like the warm hand on your shoulder- a stark contrast to everything else that night. You hesitated, looking back to your team and then to the doors that lead to Prentiss. Sensing your hesitation, her blue eyes locking with yours, “Prentiss would be the first person to drag you into an ambulance.”

With a defeated sigh, you nodded, letting a short Hispanic night nurse lead to the ER. She, along with a gaggle of other nurses and one doctor’s approval, went to work. They cleaned out the numerous cuts and scratches along your face and arms, diagnosed you with a mild concussion, wrapped your knee (advising you to buy a brace if you wanted it to heal right), and told you that you fractured two ribs. You refused X-rays, knowing that they’d take to long. So with their work done, most of the nurses went to their next patient. 

The one that brought you stayed behind and despite your silence- Claire Temple her name read with a smiley face beside it, was incredibly kind. She handed you two wet hand towels, “You’ll feel better with all that blood off you. Be careful where the skin split though.”

Tiredly, you sponged off the blood- which did make you feel a little less gross- and was careful around the bandages. Claire stood behind you, deft hands working through your hair- pulling out glass, twigs, and god knows what else- before twisting your hair into a loose braid. With a kind smile, she offered you a bottle of water and two large white pills. 

“Thank you for your kindness, but I need to be-” You started to protest. She dropped them in your hand regardless. 

“Honey, those are max strength ibuprofen. You’ll be perfectly alert, as long as you can stay awake.” She smiled- you were exhausted, the clock on the wall read 4:02 AM- stepping to the side. “Go wait with your friends, your other friend should be coming out fo surgery soon.”

Her kindness was something you really needed at that moment, a reminder that not everything was terrible, so you mustered the sweetest smile you could, “Thank you, I really needed that.” 

“I know, now go.”

_______________

The waiting room was bleak. Hotch and Spencer took turns pacings. In the time you had been back, Spencer had gone through three cups of coffee. Garcia was beside Derek- who hadn’t moved, only holding his head in his hands- nervously tapping her pen against her notebook. JJ was in and out, making a thousand different calls. Rossi stared into thin air as he was lost in thought. 

You had only been in there for forty-five minutes, but as you sat a few seats away from everyone else, mentally beating yourself up- I could have taken that shot. I shouldn’t have even asked permission- your anxiety was already bubbling over.

When JJ entered the room without a phone in her hands, you knew something wasn’t right- as did everyone else in the room. A single pull of her lip confirmed everyone's fears. Some tried to remain stoic- Hotch’s jaw hardened, Derek hung his head- others immediately broke- Garcia gaped, denial written across her face, Spencer was shaking his head like he was being lied to.   

“She never made it off the table.” JJ tried to keep a smooth tone, eyes meeting the floor. Your heart shattered, Emily was gone. Doyle actually killed her- you didn’t save her. Your eyes were hot with tears, and before you knew it your feet were carrying you out of the waiting room, out of the ER, out of the hospital. 

Your throat was constricting, tears blurring your eyes as you slid to a stop. You didn’t go that far outside, but the distance felt like miles. It said a lot, that you ran outside- the rest of the team is inside, together. You thought, choking on a sob, you thought bitterly, God, how fitting. I left, just like I left them. 

Your thoughts kept devolving, breathing becoming erratic as it became sobs became harder to hold in, I left, maybe if I stayed I could have noticed something was up with her, brought it up sooner, figured Doyle out sooner. We shouldn’t have waited for SWAT we could have been there twenty minutes earlier. I shouldn’t have listened to Morgan, I should have stayed with them and helped stem the bleeding. I shouldn’t have asked permission to take the shot. I shouldn’t have listened. I should have taken the shot. It wouldn’t have brought Emily back but at least her killer wouldn’t be running free. I should have taken the shot.

You dropped to your knees against the cold pavement, allowing yourself to cry as you looked to the sky for some sort of answer. All you found was a hospital helicopter heading east. You sat outside, in the middle of March in Boston, in a short-sleeve not even noticing your shivering until a warm hand was on your shoulder. You looked behind you to see Hotch, who shrugged off his coat and put it on your shoulders. He helped you up, his ever so serious eyes looked at you- and as always you felt obligated to give him an answer. 

“I should have taken the shot.” You croaked, now acutely away of how cold, hungry, sore, and exhausted you were. Hotch shook his head. 

“You had orders not to.” He corrected, stoic as ever. That was good, the team needed a rock in all this. But at that moment, you didn’t see that. 

“He got away.” You choked, wiping at the near-frozen tear trails on your face. For the first and only time in your life, Hotch pulled you into a hug. It was stiff and cold, and honestly reminded you of every ache and pain, but the sentiment was nice. 

“We’ll catch him again. Let’s go home.”

________

I was excited for this, but then it turned out,,, bad

taglist: @irishfaulk97 @viarogers @toboldlyscream @benji-booxx @sophiiev @thebadassbitchqueen

[letsjustkeepitbetweenyouandi]

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

Buddie Recs For You

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

Don't Take My Sunshine Away

Eddie is in a coma, and Buck blames himself. He should've been there to protect Eddie. The least he can do now is to be there for Christopher, even if Buck doesn't know if he has it in him to be a parent without Eddie. Buck makes Eddie a deal: he'll fight for Christopher in the real world, while Eddie fights to wake up.

Eddie's come a long way since those bleak days in El Paso, listening to his parents comments about how he's not fit to be a father. How Christopher doesn't deserve to be dragged down by the likes of Eddie and Shannon. Eddie thought after moving to LA, he and Chris had escaped that. When he wakes up and finds Buck neck-deep in a legal battle with his parents for custody of Christopher, Eddie must face his own mistakes, and find the confidence to stand up for himself against his absolute worst nightmare.

113k  -  21/21 Chapters

-

Leading with the Left

When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico."

And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?"

In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

84k - 18/18 Chapters

-

Six Different Ways To Mark Your Territory

Or "5 times Eddie was a possessive bastard, and Buck (being the oblivious puppy he is) didn't notice. And the one time he couldn’t help but notice."

5k - 6/6 Chapters

-

Tread Lightly

Healing after a truck bombing, breakup, pulmonary embolism, tsunami and lawsuit is a slow process when you're afraid to talk to your team when it feels like the world is crumbling in on you. Finding your way out of the crippling darkness is a lonely process when you're afraid you'll get benched again for something beyond your control. Learning to love again is a terrifying process when you're not sure your best friend will ever truly forgive you.

151k - 36/36 Chapters

-

Accidental

It was an accident. He slipped. That doesn't mean he isn't going to take advantage of the opportunity that presents itself.

---- Post Lawsuit, Buck accidentally cuts his arm. He decides that maybe not getting help is best for everyone.

--- TW for suicidal idealization and injury that turns into a suicide attempt.

36k - 14/14 Chapters

-

Left Unsaid

A woman shows up at the station with a picture of Buck on her phone.

It goes better than last time.

OR

The discovery of a small facebook group full of tsunami survivors rocks station 118.

33k - 7/7 Chapters

-

If The World Was Ending

Eddie doesn't realise how badly he's destroyed his friendship with Buck until his former partner has swapped stations, changed phone numbers, and moved homes without warning. It's nearly impossible to track Buck down and it's clear that Chris is suffering too. After Eddie is injured on the job, he has to start piecing together the broken pieces of who he is with the help of family and friends. Under those sorts of circumstances, a chance to repair his fragile friendship with Buck might be possible - but it won't be easy when Buck has a new boyfriend.

121k - 25/25 Chapters

Commentary: Right, I've read this one before, and I have conflicted feelings about it... the writing is really good, but well, they deal with Eddie getting amnesia, and there's not a real resolution of him getting al of his memories back, only some of them. Now, for me, that didn't really work out just as I wanted it, but I still liked the story, and like it's written really well with good character driven story and whatnot... So yeah, read at own risk

-

a leaf falls on loneliness

Buck doesn’t think that if he were to say, “I’m in a bad place”, that anyone would turn him away. Really, he doesn’t. The 118 has too many good, kind people for that.

But every time he wants to open his mouth, to say something, to reach out to Eddie or Bobby or Hen or Chim, he hears Eddie yelling, “you’re exhausting.”

—you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting—

So each day he does his job and he laughs and he jokes and he pretends he’s the care-free goofball he’s always been. And each day he packs away his bruises and his worries, takes them home to his empty loft with its quiet rooms, and licks his wounds in silence.

11k - 1/1 Chapters

-

The Space Between Sleep

It all started innocent enough but Buck can no longer deny it.

He has a stalker.

Someone so obsessed with him that they would spend hours and hours following him, unnoticed, taking pictures of him, taking notes of his habits.

But life has been so good lately, and Buck doesn’t want to worry anyone. So he tells no one about it, he can deal with it on his own.

38k - 11/11 Chapters

-

Reaching In The Dark

It all started innocent enough but Buck can no longer deny it.

He has a stalker.

Someone so obsessed with him that they would spend hours and hours following him, unnoticed, taking pictures of him, taking notes of his habits.

But life has been so good lately, and Buck doesn’t want to worry anyone. So he tells no one about it, he can deal with it on his own.

38k - 11/11 Chapters

Commentary: Okay, so, I think I've read this one before... and I can't remember if it's like quality or what it is... but imma leave it for you to figure out, cause there's a lot of other ones that I wanna read for you to make sure they're good, so... read at own risk!

-

I'll Be Your Arms, I'll Be Your Steady Satellite

Buck couldn’t believe how quickly the day had turned. When he had been thinking about what came next, this hadn’t been what he expected.

--- The 118 takes a call that changes everything, turning Buck's world upside down and pushing his life in a new direction.

54k - 25/25 Chapters

Commentary: So, this was the one where he had a kid, and like, man, dad!buck was a thing I didn’t know I needed that much, but apparently I did, cause man I love it so much! Also, now I really wanna read more dad!buck kid!fic’s, preferably where like Buddie is together, and they want another kid, and so they decide to do surrogacy with Buck this time, and like, have most of what happens in this fic happen, but with some additions to it that I wished they added, with there being more Christopher being a big brother... anyhow, read it! It’s very good and adorable!!!

-

Like We Never Loved At All

Prompt: The lawsuit is all a front to protect the team but they don’t know so they treat Buck harshly. Buck bares all of it until Eddie or Bobby just breaks whatever hope he has left. By the time the truth comes out Buck is gone. Fast forward to a year or more later Eddie and Christopher are out with the team when Chris sees Buck. He’s got longer hair and cold eyes but most importantly he’s pushing a baby carriage with twin babies. He’s loving to Chris but frosty towards the team. What happened

22k - 6/6 Chapters

Commentary: Right, read it, and like it’s good, but the writer said herself that she was thinking of continuing it (But she has yet to do so) so though it has an ending to it, it’s not really a resolved one... more like a very very open-ended one... So again, read at your own risk.

-

Of Bikes and Concussions

Buck gets into an accident on his way to work in the morning, and before he can explain why he's late, he gets thoroughly chewed out and the rest of his day goes way downhill from there.

7k - 1/1 Chapters

- 

Mistletoe

After Buck grabbed the mistletoe and kissed Hen, he decided he wouldn't stop there. After making the rounds, he reaches Eddie, and nothing is ever so easy with that man.

9k  -  5/5 Chapters

-

Rewrite the Stars

Buck is struggling with nightmares weeks after he has returned to work after the tsunami. He is struggling to sleep, and distancing himself from everyone-- most of all, Eddie.

39k  -  19/19 Chapters

-

Bury Your Dead

If you had asked Edward Buckley to describe his parenting style, he would’ve told you that he was a “disciplinarian.”

28k  -  13/13

Commentary: Stumbled upon this one, and I’m pretty sure I’ve read it before, it sounds familiar, and as far as I can remember it was rather good!

-

it’s okay

Finally back with the team, Buck isn’t going to let anything tear him away again. He has to prove his place, his part in the family, even if that means smiling through the pain.

Or, Buck gets hurt on a call and doesn’t tell anyone.

11k  -  1/1 Chapters

Commentary: Oh, it has a lot of angst and it will warm your heart!

-

Broken Silence

combined prompts asking for quiet Buck trying to stay out of everyone's way after the lawsuit--he and Maddie get hurt but he thinks they won't care, because of how they've been treating him lately, so he doesn't say anything, but does request time off, and then comfort ensues!

2k  -  1/1 Chapters

Commentary: Listen, I know that it’s shorter than what you usually read, but man, it’s so heartbreaking and gooooooood

-

Comfort of Strangers

"I don't want anyone else to have your heart, kiss your lips or be in your arms. Because that's my place."

Buck and Eddie grow closer, one kiss at a time.

15k  -  15/15 Chapters

-

5+1 Times People Call Them a Family

5 times someone points out that Eddie, Buck, and Christopher make an adorable family and 1 time where they say they are family.

4k  -  6/6 Chapters

-

Stay

Buck’s voice was soft and hesitant, but full of patience when he finally spoke again. “Did I do something to upset you, Chris? I can leave—”

“No!” Chris whirled on him, a complete shift from the standoffish vibe he had been giving a second ago. The tears he bravely held back finally broke free from his eyes, sliding down his rosy cheeks from behind his glasses. He shook his head vehemently, the yellow crayon falling to the table. “No, I’m not mad. Please…” His words turned to whimpers, his lip trembling. “Please don’t leave me too.”

31k  -  10/10 Chapters

Commentary: This was the one I linked you too on messenger. It has like a minor supernatural element to it, that they don’t warn you about, cause it’ll like spoil it, but it should not make you shy away from it, because it’s a thing that makes the story fits so well together and makes it so heartbreaking and good! So yeah, check it out, and be prepared for the angst!

-

All Bets are Off

"Enough!" Bobby sighed, he pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously exhausted. "Alright, I'm gonna need everyone to be completely straight with each other from here on out. No more fighting. Okay?"

Hen rolled her eyes but nodded. "Okay Cap."

"I'm always straight." Eddie called defensively.

Bobby's mouth opened to respond when they heard a strangled chain of coughing behind them. When they turned, they saw Chimney, choking on a bagel.

"Oh man…" Chimney coaxed through his wheezing. "That's the biggest lie you ever told."

Or, the five times the firefam realized Buck and Eddie were in love, and the one-time Eddie finally did something about it.

35k  -  6/6 Chapters

Commentary: So it’s a 5+1, but it’s a lengthier one than the other one, and it’s so good! It’ll both satisfy your buddie need, but also your Bobby being a father to Buck need!! And like a lot of other good stuff, so yeah, should definitely give this a go

-

you working?

a request for some jealous!Eddie

Summer is winding down and the 118 is out for one last event at the local park before kids are back at school. Buck attracts attention, Eddie glares at the world, and Hen is honestly having a blast.

4k  -  1/1 Chapters

Commentary: In reality, it’s a part of a series that’s 18k words long, but like 10k of it is a lot of smut, and like some of it’s plot driven, other very much isn’t, and then like the last part is an engagement one, so like, if you’re prepared for the smut, then sure, otherwise, you could just enjoy the first part of it, with a very adorable jealous Eddie Diaz

-

am I coming out of left field?

5 times it was obvious to literally everyone that Buck and Eddie are in love, and the one (first) time Eddie actually admits it.

3k  -  1/1 Chapters

Commentary: Short, but cute, though the last part could be better

-

Can't Stay Away

“Long story short, your kid is too damn smart," Buck began. "Seriously, Eddie, maybe you need to pull him out of that fancy school and send him back to public school. Dumb him down a bit so he’s easier to handle.”

Buck’s words became so tangled in his anxiety that he couldn’t really process what he was saying. “What the hell are you talking about? Is Chris okay? Is he in trouble?”

“He’s fine. Safe and sound, happy as a clam, but I’d say he is definitely in trouble.”

...

In which Eddie's parents hate Buck, and Christopher is too damn clever.

6k  -  1/1 Chapters

Commentary: Oh this is a good one... Like, proper whump and Christopher being the captain of our ship!

-

There It All Is (What's Always Been Mine)

“You alright Buckaroo?” Hen asked and Buck shrugged. “You’re not worried about hosting this sleepover, are you?”

“I just don’t want to screw this up,” Buck said. “Like, I’m the one who’s not a parent here. Am I really qualified to be in charge of three kids?”

---

Or, when a sleepover becomes the sight of a dangerous emergency, Buck learns what his friends and family knew all along; he’ll do anything for the people he cares about.

8k  -  1/1 Chapters

Commentary: I said I wanted Buck with kids, and I got it. Basically, it’s cute, and I luv buck with kids, and this is a good one. 

-

TO ADD MORE

,

,

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

A Dive Into My Bookmarks

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

,

light me and i'll burn for you

In which an old friend of Buck's joins the 118, and Eddie does not like him. At all.

31k - 3/3 Chapters

-

all the stones and kings of old

Edmundo Diaz, King of Calder, does not want a husband.

He had a wife, he has a son. He doesn’t need anyone to try and fill the void in his life Shannon left when she died—he is perfectly content with an empty bed, with Bobby and Athena advising him, with household staff taking care of Christopher when he can’t.

But. Apparently he doesn’t have a choice in the matter.

(Theirs is not an auspicious start.)

36k - 14/14 Chapters

Commentary: So this is the AU that I talked about, with it being medieval, and like, something out of Merlin, only I don't really think there's magic in it... i can't remember if there is... So I don't think there is. Anyhow, it's pretty good!

-

Everybody Knows

The five times someone assumed they're together, and Eddie had to correct them, and the one time it happened and he didn't have to.

14k - 1/1 Chapters

-

You square all the corners, I straighten the curves

Five times Buck and Eddie pretend they're dating (and one time they don't)

11k - 1/1 Chapters

-

The things we lost in the fire

Commentary: Now, this is a two part story, I'll add the summary for both parts.

Part 1:

Evan Buckley left his past behind when he left home for good at age 19. But an unexpected phone call on a quiet shift disrupts the life he's built for himself: forcing him to confront his past in order to build a new future.

Part 2:

It was fall at the 118. That was supposed to mean pumpkin spice lattes, Athena’s world-famous pumpkin pie, and the yearly tradition of getting bullied by children at the annual firehouse trick-or-treating.

Instead, it was a disastrous cornucopia of Maddie’s pregnancy, the Buckley parents visiting, and a sexuality crisis for good measure.

Oh, and?

It was wildfire season.

204k - Part1: 10/10 - Part 2: 22/22

-

,

,

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

The Ones I Need To Read First

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

,

waiting on the sunrise

When Buck left home, it was a rushed decision. He didn’t know where he was going or what he was going to do, but he had a high school diploma and enough street smarts to make it as far from his father as possible.

It's been nearly ten years since then, and now his father is in town. Buck quickly learns that some things haven't changed. But other things have, and his family will help him realize that.

28k - 10/10 Chapters

-

Two Weeks Noticed

With Christopher away at camp, Eddie finally has a chance to catch his breath after the hellish year he's had. Meanwhile Buck is still reeling from the sudden reappearance of Abby. On a routine night of movies and pizza, Eddie and Buck discuss some feelings and stumble into something that may just take some time to figure out. Good thing they have two weeks to get a handle on it.

148k - 15/15 Chapters

-

I Hit the Accelerator (But the Car was in Reverse)

When Buck is forced to confront the truth about his breakup with Abby, having casual sex with his hot new coworker seems like the best rebound idea.

Unfortunately, that hot new coworker turns into his best friend. But best friends can keep having sex with each other, right?

There's no way this could possibly go wrong.

68k - 15/15 Chapters

-

the weekly bet (but the forever kind)

When the squad bets on how long it will take for Buck and Abby to get back together when she comes back to LA, Eddie is forced to reconsider keeping his feelings for Buck a secret. “Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, hiding his face deep in his pillow, even if Buck can’t see him in the dark. “What for?” Leave it to Buck to be confused about something so obvious. “Being you, idiot.” “And again with the name calling,” he answers, content and sleepy. Nights like this, Eddie feels like asking for a miracle. But to the team, it wasn’t a matter of if Abby would take him back, but when. A matter of days.

49k - 9/9 Chapters

-

Guess We'll Just Have to Adjust

No, Buck does not have a damn crush on Eddie fucking Diaz. No, Buck is not thinking about Eddie's stupid smile or his stupid hair or that obscene sound he made when he pushed the couch the way he did.

Having a crush would be weird. And dumb. And the last thing Buck needs in his already fucked up life.

36k - 12/12 Chapters

-

Speak Now

Fake Dating AU idea from a tumblr post that got out of hand the minute I started writing.

Eddie lies to Shannon about being in a serious relationship when she wants to re-enter his and Christopher's lives, and of course the person he asks to be his pretend significant other is none other than Evan Buckley, because what are bros for?

25k - 3/3 Chapters

-

Pack a Bag, Say Goodbye

It wasn’t the first time he felt unwanted. In fact, it was an all too familiar feeling. But the last time he felt this way, he had left. Run off to South America and wherever else he could find himself. But the one thing that had helped him stop feeling lost, the place where he had found himself, had been ripped away from him.

So, why was he still there? What was the point in sticking around? ---

After the lawsuit, Buck is struggling when he realizes how unwanted he is at work. When he makes the decision to leave, how will everyone react? And to what lengths will they go to get Buck back?

61k - 30/30 Chapters

-

According To You

“He’s gonna’ be fine, they did scans, they said it’s just a scratch--”

“Just a scratch?” Eddie blinks incredulously. “‘Just a scratch’ doesn’t require stitches Evan! God, how could you be so irresponsible?! How the hell were you not watching him at the park?! How could you let him get all the way across the street without you?!”

5k  -  2/2 Chapters

-

When it comes to an end (I will want you to plea)

After the lawsuit, Buck and Eddie are casually sleeping together. Eddie tells himself it doesn't mean anything more than that. An unexpected incident at work brings up something Buck thought he'd long buried behind him and makes Eddie re-evaluate his feelings for his best friend.

26k  -  8/8  Chapters

-

Protector

He didn’t know who he could contact.

Even though it had been months since he had returned to work, there was still an awkwardness that could not be cleansed. There had been a chill at the start, he had been confined to the station, knowing that his decision to reveal personal information to his lawyer had truly been a mistake. Eventually, the team went back to how they once were in the field, working together to save lives without hesitation. They would share meals, the comradery slowly showing once more.

Outside of work, Buck felt alone.

21k  -  10/10 Chapters

-

Helping Hands

Everyone wants Buck to heal from the past year, and they think getting laid will help him. Buck doesn't want to revert back to Buck 1.0, but he also doesn't want his friends to worry about him. So Buck enlists the help of his best friend Eddie in fooling his friends.

55k  -  9/9 Chapters

-

Next To Me

Buck and Eddie started off in different places but eventually they ended up in the same. Eventually, they ended up in love.

Told from Buck and Eddie’s perspectives, a canon-compliant take on Buddie and how they could realistically get together.

.

Buck had never had a friend like Eddie before. Someone that burrowed under his skin and wrapped around him and became a part of him — like an extra limb, someone he couldn’t do without.

.

He loved him. Eddie loved him. Eddie was in love with him. With Buck. With his best friend. But it didn’t matter…loving him meant that the only thing that mattered was being able to keep him in any possible way even if that meant that Eddie could never tell him.

93k  -  17/17 Chapters

-

burn 'em up and scatter their remains

A serial killer taunts L.A., targeting first responders. Fear creates tension among the 118, at the station and outside of it, but they’re going to need to come together stronger than ever to survive this.

50k  -  25/25 Chapters

-

Eddie's Not-So-Secret Feelings

5 times Eddie says sweet things about Buck in Spanish so Buck doesn't find out he's in love with him +1 time Eddie realises Buck speaks Spanish and knew all along With special guest stars: Eddie's entire family

17k  -  6/6 Chapters

-

More Than You Know

Eddie's forgiven Buck, and things are back to normal between them. By normal, we of course mean they are in love with each other but haven't confessed to anyone yet. After a bad call, Buck goes over to Eddie's to keep him some company. Except Eddie isn't home. And when Eddie does arrive, he bruised and bloody.

44k  -  17/17 Chapters

-

a christmas miracle

The 118 are discussing their plans for the holidays, but Eddie's plan has Buck reeling with hurt.

38k  -  4/4 Chapters

-

i think i might've inhaled you

How do you tell your best friend that you're actually in love with them? If you're Evan Buckley, you don't.

25k  -  2/2 Chapters

-

You're Standing Here Beside Me

In the beginning, May doesn’t know much about Evan “Buck” Buckley.

Also known as my 1 + 5 + 1 Buck & May sibling fic or "1 time May finds out she has a big brother, 5 times Buck and May are totally siblings and 1 time May and Buck spend time with the rest of their family.

14k  -  1/1 Chapters

-

The 118 Quarantine Chronicles

A look at the 118 during Quarantine. Featuring cooking competitions, tirades against math, parades, idiot boys in love, prank wars, and happiness.

16k  -  11/11 Chapters

-

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger...Right?

Behind the Scenes: What we didn't and should've seen when the screen went black.

or

Four Times we could've seen so much more Buck Whump, Eddie caring and 118 protectiveness and one time it could've been a lot worse.

11k  -  1/1 Chapters

-

Now when do I start to feel again?

Buck's first call back with the team doesn't go as well as Bobby and Eddie hoped. It leads to Eddie having to make a tough decision. A decision that only gets made after a very emotional day.

Buddie fic, pre-slash, 3x06 Coda, Bobby is clearly not only Buck's emergency contact but also his dad. Re-edited for typos 11/11/19

11k  -  2/2 Chapters

- 

Nothing to Lose

A simple trip trip to the bank ends badly when the robbery crew takes a firefighter with them.

Will his family and friends be able to find him before it's late. Will he realise everything he has and fight to get back to them.

Buck always needs to be the hero, even if he doesn't think he is.

Pre-Buddie because I am absolutely not confident writing how that would even unfold. There are hints of it of course because that's basically canon.

15k  -  10/10

-

now that it's over (and i'm sober)

Eddie felt like he was going to choke on his own tongue.

It was a wildly inappropriate thought, given that they really were trying to rescue this girl from a fly-away hot air balloon, running at it with all the speed their legs could muster.

Even digging his heels into the ground and wrapping his hands tightly around one of the drop lines couldn’t stop him from staring slack-jawed at his best friend.

13k  -  1/1 Chapters

-

and the winner is......

When Maddie convinces Buck to join her and the rest of the couples of the 118 on a couples game-show with Eddie as his partner, he does so hesitantly, if only because he knows that by the end of it -- the rest of the team will realize he and Eddie are way more than best friends.

18k  -  1/1 Chapters

-

Drift Away

“You’re getting a call tomorrow from the Chief. You’re being reinstated to active duty. The city gave me the option of transferring you to a different station...I declined.”

“You won’t regret it”

“You might”

He did

18k  -  3/3 Chapters

-

[bijackkellys]

thunderstruck ; prologue

Fandom: Newsies (All Media Types) Relationships: Jack Kelly/David Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer  Word Count: 753 Dedications: dedicated to my amazing gf and beta reader @mistyw273​ and to @dimenovelcowboy​ for just being wonderful. some of my lovely followers also asked to be tagged (if you’d like to be added to this list just send me an ask or dm!): @santa-fe-maniac​ @pulitzers-world​ @yo-let-me-get-a-milkyway​ @verified-dumbass​ @jewishdavidjacobs​ @agentsnickers​ @thetruthabouttheboy​ Author’s Note: so here it is, finally—the jathvey superhero au i've been sitting on for a little while. first of all, i want to say thank you for being here; i'm really excited to get this out of my head and see where my muse takes it. some notes before we begin: i do have a plan for this, start to finish, but only the first few chapters have been written out, so updates may come slowly. action and friendship are probably going to be the most important aspects of this fic, because while the ot3 is the endgame, my focus is building them as a team and as friends first and foremost. there's going to be violence but with the plan that i currently have it won't be gory or overly graphic. think like, a marvel movie. i'll also post warnings for specific triggers in the notes of each chapter. with that being said, let's get on with the introduction. tws for this chapter are fire and major character death (kinda).

read it on ao3

THE CATALYST FOR ALL OF THIS is a fire.

On the day that it starts, it’s snowing, the kind of biting, snarling cold that’s only found in New York in January. The city is half-buried in layers of white and dead beneath it, so when the flames catch, hot and bright and golden, it seems as though they’re the only living thing for miles.

Black smoke curls into the air above the hospital, and twelve blocks away, just outside a coffee shop, Crutchie’s fingers dig into Jack’s arm.

“Don’t,” he says. It’s more of a plea than anything, his cheeks bright red and eyes glassy from the sting of the cold. There’s fear written in every corner of his face; he must know, already, what’s on Jack’s mind. “Jack, your powers won’t do anything against the fire, let someone else handle it—”

Jack’s not listening, too busy tugging on his mask and pulling out of Crutchie’s grip. He’s right, maybe—Jack can summon lightning to his fingertips but will be powerless in the center of an inferno, and in the moment he can’t bring himself to care. “I’ll be back,” he tells Crutchie over his shoulder. “I always come back.”

Crutchie yells something after him that’s lost to the blizzard.

When Jack reaches the hospital, the fire has spread; he can feel the heat of it in the air, a stark contrast to the still-falling snow that’s turning black with ash. Around him people are screaming. For a brief, fleeting second he hesitates—the fire department will be here soon, and they will do what they can, and he could turn back now.

Except he can’t, not really. Not away from this. He strips off his coat and tugs his scarf over his mouth and nose and someone behind him calls out to him, but then it doesn’t matter because he’s already inside.

It’s like stepping into hell. Jack thinks he could die from the smell alone; there’s smoke everywhere and it’s suffocating, burns in his throat and his nose and threatens to strangle him.  He can’t focus on that, though, can’t focus on the oppressiveness of the heat and the fire in his lungs. He has to find the stragglers and get out—he can hear voices coming from every direction, reverberating in his skull. Jack blinks the soot and sweat from his eyes and takes off towards the closest one.

There’s a woman half-pinned under her wheelchair, sobbing for help. The metal is searing already; he bites back a cry as he wrenches it off of her and slings one of her arms over his shoulder, half-dragging her back to the entrance. She’s saying something to him but he can’t hear her over the roar of the flames and the ringing in his ears. The moment she’s safe, he tears back inside.

Jack pulls two more people out of the building, a young girl still clinging to a stuffed turtle, a nurse who’s stumbling blindly through the smoke, and runs back in a fourth time. Distantly, he wonders why the sprinklers never turned on, wonders if the firetrucks have made it through the blizzard—he doesn’t know how much longer he can do this, honestly. His vision is going blurry, tinted at the edges from the heat and smoke and exhaustion, but there’s still voices coming from inside. He has to keep going—

When the entrance to the building caves in, what could be minutes or maybe hours of dragging people through smoke and fire later, it’s striking in its finality, like the last nail on a coffin. Like his fate has been sealed. Jack feels his legs give way in the same manner—he could find another exit, he thinks, but oh, the room is spinning ferociously. There’s tongues of red and gold around him, and voices still piercing the air, and he thinks of Crutchie, standing in the snow and still waiting for him to come back, to keep his promise.

In the end it’s Spot’s voice in his head, words from years ago when Jack had only just started donning the suit. He was more solemn than Jack had ever seen him, eyes like chips of coal as he told him gravely, you can’t save everyone.

But Jack had been sixteen and restless and determined, and now he’s eighteen and burning and maybe already dead.

No, he had said then, and thinks again now as he finally, finally shuts his eyes. But I can sure as hell try.

[marvinswriting]

Chapter Two- TSS

Previous chapter, here; Master post, here Regina-centric, TW: extremely mild blood mention

"We probably would have been friends a lot sooner if Janis was more trusting and Regina stopped feigning indifferent," Aaron said.

Janis scoffed. "Do you blame me?"

"No," Aaron says shaking his head. "But my point still stands."

"I want to tell the next part of the story. Janis is gonna be biased." I say.

"Jains? Biased? No." Damian laughs.

"Hey!"

Dying for 15 seconds is scary. 

People tell about how they see god or how deceased relative says it's not their time and it all seems whimsical and heavenly. 

Nobody mentions the fear.

Knowing you're gonna die. Not knowing you could wake up.

Regina doesn't remember much. One minute she was screaming at Cady, trying to ger her voice to travel to the tall girl. The next minute was pain, flashing lights, sirens, her own blood.

Regina shuddered at the memory as she walked down the hall. She was on a mission right now. Ever since Regina woke up in the hospital she was filled with a sense of gratitude which was slowly being replaced by guilt. 

Its funny how getting brought back from the dead can show clarity to how fucked up you were in the past. Regina wanted to fix that.

It was her study hall period and she had hoped to talk with Janis, but the girl wasn't there. 

This meant with Regina's luck she was with her giant friend, Damian and she wouldn't even get near her for the rest of the day. 

If the tiny artist was with Cady she might have a chance, but it would still be slim.

Regina looked around the tiny halls anyway, determined to right her wrongs.

She knew she couldn't fix the years of trauma she caused, but she wanted to apologize. Janis truly was a good friend, it was Regina who fucked up the close bond they had. 

The plastic turned down a hallway and froze to find Janis sitting against the wall drawing in her sketchbook.

It was so easy to think about apologizing, but now that she had the chance, all words seemed caught in her throat. 

She opted to silently walking over, sliding down the wall across from the girl.

"Hey." Regina said softly. 

Janis looked up, clearly not pleased to see her there. "You should be in class. Leave me alone."

"You should be in class too," Regina said. There was an edge to her voice she was trying very hard to keep down. She didn't want to get defensive. "I wanted to talk."

"I'm not in the mood, Regina." Janis went back to drawing in her sketchbook. Regina knew this wouldn't be easy, but she had expected Janis to at least hear her out.

"I'm sorry."

Janis looked up with obvious disbelief. "Uh-huh."

"I'm serious, Janis." Regina turned her palms up, holding her hands out in defense. "What I did was so fucked up, and I can look back now are see that. And I'm not even talking about the years of bullying and hell I put you through."

To Regina's relief, Janis closed her sketchbook, looking closely at the girl in front of her. Her eyes trailed around Regina's face as if looking for any sign of a prank. When she decided Regina was in the clear she spoke. "Continue."

"I was scared. I know its no excuse. People started rumors that we were dating and- I thought maybe if I threw you under the bus and stopped talking to you the finger wouldn't be pointed to me-"

"And it worked." Janis cut in. Her voice was low, mixed equally with hurt and disinterest. It was a tone Regina recognized using herself all too much. The I-care-and-I'm-ready-to-cry-but-not-around-you voice.

"It worked," Regina repeated softly. "But at an awful cost. You were my best friend Janis. I was terrified. When I saw that I was in the clear- I couldn't stop. I needed to make sure I stayed in that clear. And it was so wrong of me. I'm fully aware a thousand apologies can't change my past actions. But I want to change to make my future actions better."

"Are you changing for me or for you?" Janis asked pointedly.

"What?"

"Sounds to me like you have a guilty conscious to clear. I don't think you're actually sorry for me."

"Janis-"

"No, Regina." Janis cut her off. "Not only did you out me to the school, but you also outed me to me. I wasn't even sure of myself yet. I didn't get to make my own decisions on when I came out to people because it was made for me before I even knew my own sexuality. I bet you didn't think of that. Yeah, you're right, the bullying and the homophobic slurs where a shitty touch, but don't pretend like you know what I went through." Her voice while started angrily, was straight-up venomous by the end. "I don't know what you earn from fucking with my feelings with a fake apology, but I'd appreciate if you stopped."

"The apology wasn't fake." Regina said softly. 

"Okay, then what were you hoping to selfish earn from it."

"Nothing," Regina said. And it was honest. "I died Janis. I've been given a second shot at life. I'm not overly religious but I do think it's a chance to fix the awful fucking mistakes I made. I truly feel so fucking bad. I am one hundred percent aware that I have no right to ask for your forgiveness. And I'm not. All I'm asking is that you actually think about my apology. I do want to fix things."

Janis was quiet for a moment, staring at the hallway floor beneath them. "Sure." She said finally. She shoved her sketchbook into her backpack before looking at Regina. "I still don't trust you and would rather you stayed away though."

Regina nodded. "I understand."

The bell rang, causing them both to jump. 

Had they really been sitting here for so long?

Janis mumbled something that could have equally been a goodbye or a fuck off.

.

Regina knew she had a lot of work cut out for her. She also knew it was very likely she would never be Janis's friend again. Even if Janis forgave her, her giant friend definitely seemed like the overprotective type. Not that Regina could blame him, she had given him every reason to be in the past. Regina swung her bag over her shoulder, walking to the tiny pick up the zone with a new sense of purpose. 

.

Her first opportunity to prove herself came not ever three days later while walking through the giant halls with Gretchen and Karen. They were walking slowly, taking in the halls. Regina almost didn't hear it over the buzz of the hallways, but there was no way to miss the cocky tone owned by none other than Shane Omen.

"Wait." Regina said, tugging a strand of Karen's hair. The blonde immediately stopped. Regina turned to where Shane stood in front of Damian who was protectively holding Janis close to him. 

"Hey, Shane?" Regina called, snapping the bully out of whatever homophobic insult rant he was on. "Please shut the fuck up. You're presence is giving me hives."

Shane looked like he wanted to retort something, but Regina placed her hands on her hips, a typical challenge of power for her. She was the queen of this school and Shane wasn't dumb enough to try and pull something.

"Whatever." He said before stalking away.

Regina eyed Janis and Damian for a moment, watching them both visibly relax. She made eye contact with Janis but didn't say anything to the artist.

"Okay," She said, tearing her gaze of the girl and facing forward again. "We can head to class."

.

It was a small action, yeah, but it was something she never went out of her way to do before. It was something she should have done a long time ago. And she knew Janis could recognize she tried from the look on her face that day.

.

It was a week since she last tried for English after school help. Regina wasn't one to stay after for classes, but she needed to turn her grades around fast. But when she walked into the room to see Janis and Aaron sitting at opposite ends of the room and no teacher, she groaned. 

"Are you kidding me?"

" 'fraid not," Janis said, not even looking up from her sketchbook. 

Aaron just shook his head with disappointment. "I gotta pass this class but I can't do it if the teacher doesn't stick to her word."

"Glad it's not just me," Janis says looking up. 

"Oh please, book smart award-winning artist cant do English?" Regina snarked, rolling her eyes before catching herself. "Sorry." She added in quickly.

Aaron's eyebrows raised like he's never heard a genuine apology from Regina before.

Probably not.

"I'm failing from skipping so much if you must know everything," Janis said tensely. 

"Okay," Aaron lifted his hands out, trying to defuse a quickly heating situation. "We're all in the same boat, why don't we study together?"

Regina and Janis stared at each other momentarily before shrugging.

"Sure." Janis got up, moving to a desk closer to the center of the room, Aaron doing the same. Regina sat down as well, pulling out her notes. 

"So, Janis is failing because she doesn't come to class, I'm failing because I can't be bothered to do the work, and Aaron is failing because he doesn't understand it. How are we supposed to help each other?"

"Mutual needs," Aaron says. "I need you to to help me understand, Janis needs to go to class in order to explain to me, and you need to do the work to help as well."

"Sound like you get more out of this than us, but sure soccer boy," Janis said, but she grinned despite the insult. "So what are we learning about right now?" She started.

.

"The teacher never showed up if you were wondering," I say.

"None of us were surprised though." Janis shook her head. "She skipped class more then I did."

"And that's probably saying something." Cady laughed. 

tag list! @musicallygt @realmisspolarbear @smallsoysauce @sourishlemons