#Again;Joey; I WILL hunt you down; that's a promise

[thatonecrookedsmile]

So, I've recently been reading Fade To Black for the first time, and I'm making more and more progress. And at the moment I'm currently am, I have already read chapter 21 of this book.

I just wanted to put on record here that I became a different person after reading this chapter. I have been changed. I was saddened. And most importantly, I was destroyed. (ok, that's a pretty heavy word. I didn't cry, but feelings were definitely felt). This book goes hard, I believe.

Oh and also, since I got past chapter 23:

Joey Drew. I'm Gonna Kick Your Ass. Sleep with your eyes open tonight.

That's all. Have a good day everyone.

[persevereforahappyending]

A Beacon in the Dark |3|

Pairing: Joey x Reader

Summary: Joey likes helping people, it's what she's best at. Hunting down the monsters of myth and legend might be the best way to save people.

Warnings: Talk of murder and Death

Word Count: 3.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Ana walked through her front door, sighing as she went to put her gun back in its compartment again. She glanced at her watch, she still had over an hour before she had to go get Caleb from school. She gave a little hum, it seemed you had been right, you had gotten her back home before Caleb got out of school.

Ana wasn’t sure if the ride back home had been better or not, she wasn’t anxious about you trying to kill her, but you dropped a lot of information on her. She knew vampires were real because she had witnessed them, she had been attacked by them. She remembered the story of the Le Domas family it had been huge news at the time, an entire family, ten people dead, plus their butler and two maids. It was something out of a horror film, the amount of blood at the scene, on top of it, the house burned down. Then the fact that the only survivor was the younger brother's wife who had just married into the family. The whole case had been suspicious from the start, Ana never imagined the truth wasn’t betrayal and greed, at least not in the way most would think, instead the truth was a demon.

Vampires were real, she had come to accept that. Now, demons were real and if she got involved with you and Grace, who knew what would end up turning out to be real. Anna wasn’t sure if she was ready to have her eyes open that much to that part of the world. Fighting supernatural monsters didn’t seem like the best course, it would probably be more dangerous than her current illegal occupation. She was intrigued though; she had been curious ever since learning about Abigail and the pay would probably be better than anything Ana could hope to find.

Before she knew it Ana was headed back out, making her way to pick up Caleb. She quickly walked down the street, much less paranoid that she was in the morning. She got there a few minutes early, like always. It wasn’t much longer before the bell rang and kids came running out of the building. Ana instantly found Caleb’s head of hair in the crowd of kids, her eyes tracked his movements as he waved goodbye to a friend and slowly made his way to Ana. When Caleb looked up, his eyes widened for a split second when they landed on Ana, as if he didn’t expect her to be there. 

Ana fiddled with the candy in her pocket, itching to pull out a sucker. She had been good ever since she got Caleb back, she was always in the same spot. She wondered what had been going through his mind all day. She told him she had a job interview and would be there, she wondered if he doubted her. She had made him promises before, only to end up letting him down. She had a second chance to make things right and she wasn’t going to screw that up, she wouldn’t disappoint Caleb again. 

She smiled as Caleb walked up to her and then they began their walk back to the apartment. “How was your interview?” Caleb asked quietly, breaking the usual silence they walked in. 

Ana opened and closed her mouth a few times, looking down at her son. Caleb continued looking forward, gripping the straps of his backpack just a bit tighter. “It went well,” Ana answered softly. Caleb whipped his head to the side, looking up at Ana. “It’s different than what I was looking for, but they seem to really want me.” 

“That’s cool.” 

Ana nodded. “They’re going to call me to let me know when I can start my…” Ana looked off to the side, quickly wracking her brain for something that sounded normal. “Onboarding.” Ana nodded to herself, quite proud of her answer, it wasn’t like she was about to tell Caleb a random stranger stalked her to offer her a job in hunting down monsters. 

Caleb nodded and they continued the rest of their walk in silence. Ana didn’t miss the small smile on Caleb’s face. She couldn’t help but smile herself, it seemed like she actually did something right. A part of Ana hoped the job worked out, as long as she could still spend time with Caleb and didn’t constantly need to cancel on him, things would be fine. It seemed like just getting a job that actually wanted her was enough to make him at least the slightest bit proud of her. 

When they got home Caleb ran off to his room, as usual. Ana took out her laptop and began applying to jobs again. She knew you and Grace made her a good offer, but Ana didn’t want to rely solely on it, she hadn’t gone on a job with you yet and if the first one didn’t work out, then she was out. She wasn’t going to risk her life or her sons' life to fight monsters. As tempting as the money was, she was prepared for it to not be worth it. 

“Mom?” Caleb asked. 

Ana closed her laptop slightly, not wanting Caleb to see the rejection emails she was deleting. They hurt a lot less now that she had the offer from you, but she still didn’t want Caleb to see that no one else wanted her. “Yeah, sweety,” Ana said, turning to the side to face Caleb. 

Caleb stood in the doorway, a folder and pencil in his hand as he shifted from foot to foot. “Can you help me with my homework?” 

Ana straightened her back she was sure her eyes lit up. This had been the first time Caleb asked her for help on his homework. Whenever she offered, he always rejected the help and said he had it. Ana knew Caleb was smart, his grades were fine but whenever he dismissed her help it seemed more like he didn’t want her help specifically, not that he didn’t need any help at all. She had watched him a few times as he’d grip his hair, staring down at the paper or constantly write something only to erase it. He still never took her up on her offer, this was the first time he came to her asking for help. 

“Of course,” Ana said instantly. She closed her laptop and pushed it to the side, so Caleb had room to set his homework. 

Caleb slowly walked forward, setting down his folder with his worksheet on top of it. Ana peek around his shoulder to see that it was math. Caleb kneeled on the floor, sitting back on his heels. “I don’t get it,” he mumbled. 

“Let’s see here,” she reached towards the paper, lifting it up slightly to get a better look. She slowly nodded to herself; it looked a little different than the math she grew up with, but it seemed mostly the same, just a different method. “Do you have a piece of scrap paper?” 

Caleb nodded before getting up and running off to his room. He came running back in a few seconds later, notebook in hand. He handed the notebook to Ana and sad down just as he had before. Ana started mumbling to herself as she started to write out the equations. 

“Okay, here,” Ana said, handing Caleb the paper with her work once she figured out how to solve the problem. 

She sat there, explaining to Caleb how she solved the equation. Caleb nodded along, seeming to understand what she was saying and then tried it on his own for the next problem. Ana watched over Caleb as he worked through equation after equation, slowly completing the worksheet. Every few equations Caleb would ask for more help in having to solve it and Ana would only have to explain how to get it started before Caleb was nodding and finishing it all on his own. 

“Thanks, mom,” Caleb said when he was all done. 

“Anytime,” she whispered. 

Caleb stuffed his worksheet in his folder then took off to his room. Ana sighed, relaxing back against the couch, all she did was help her son with homework and yet she couldn’t stop smiling. She glanced at the clock and saw it was getting late and she had yet to make dinner. She decided chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes were a quick enough meal and got to work on that. When it was all done, she called Caleb out for dinner, and he actually joined Ana at the little dining table they had. It wasn’t often Caleb actually ate dinner with her, he had the habit of taking his plate to his room. 

Towards the end of their meal Ana’s phone began to vibrate, when she glanced at her phone, she didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?” she answered. 

“An-Joey,” a voice she recognized as Grace quickly corrected. “Sorry for disturbing you so late.” 

“It’s okay, we were just finishing up dinner.” Ana didn’t miss the way Caleb kept glancing at her out of the side of his eye while he pretended to focus on his chicken nuggets. 

“I just wanted to say we have our next case.” 

“Already?” Ana had just taken a drink of water and nearly choked. She didn’t think she’d be waiting super long to hear from them again, when Grace asked to give them just one mission, she figured she’d hear from you guys soon, she didn’t think soon meant literally later that night. 

“We’ve been investigating this for a little while, but we didn’t know what the pattern was before. We have a rare opportunity coming up, one we can’t pass on.” 

“Okay,” Ana said slowly. She wondered if Grace could sound any more ominous. 

“It’s a lot to go over on the phone,” Grace sighed. She sounded exhausted, like she had been up all night. Ana didn’t know Grace well enough, but she gave the impression that she didn’t sleep much when working. “Would you be okay with meeting again tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” Ana nodded. “Same time as today?” she glanced at Caleb, once she dropped him off, she’d have the whole day. 

“Yes, of course,” Grace agreed immediately. “Y/N will pick you up the same time tomorrow.” Ana closed her eyes, she didn’t hate you or anything, you were just a mystery, she didn’t like mysteries, especially when she had to sit next to them for long car rides. “Don’t worry, I told them to behave,” Grace mumbled. 

Ana couldn’t help but chuckle at that, you were a little annoying, but you weren’t too terrible, yet. “Thanks.” 

“See you tomorrow.” With that Grace hung up and Ana went back to finishing her dinner. 

“Who was that?” Caleb asked after a few minutes. 

“My new boss,” Ana answered. “Potential new boss. I’m going in to start my training tomorrow after I drop you off.” 

Caleb nodded. “Will you still be able to pick me up?” 

Ana opened her mouth, she figured they were just going to go over information tomorrow, but she didn’t know how long that would take. In any previous job she was given the bare minimum of information, only what she needed to know when she needed to know it. She assumed you and Grace were more thorough with your research and didn’t keep things hush hush. She didn’t need to go on a mission to know what the two of you did was dangerous, you all had apparently survived something supernatural before and Ana certainly knew that knowledge was power when it came to the supernatural. 

“I should be able to,” Ana said. “If for some reason my training goes longer than I expect I’ll call Mrs. Johnson.” she didn’t want to have to rely on her old neighbor but if this mission went well, she figured she might have to ask Mrs. Johnson to watch Caleb or ask her to pick him up a few days. 

Caleb silently nodded, his eyes falling to his empty plate. “Hey,” Ana whispered softly. “I’m going to do everything I can to be there on time.” Caleb nodded, then silently went to his room. 

Ana sighed, slumping back in her chair before grabbing the plates and placing them in the sink. She finished cleaning up then watched some mindless TV before going to bed. The next morning, she was up and had a breakfast sandwich ready to go before Caleb walked out of his room. 

She walked Caleb to school as usual and like the day before, as soon as the bell rang you pulled up in your Jeep. Ana barely glanced at you before flinging the door open and jumping in the passenger seat. You smiled at her, tilting your sunglasses down as you held up a coffee for her, she didn't miss the ‘Joey’ scribbled across the side in black marker. She wasn’t sure if you were trying to be an ass or not, but she appreciated that you were listening to her and only referring to her as Joey. She rolled her eyes, mumbling a small thanks as she accepted the coffee. 

“You ready to learn about our first case?” you asked. You were relaxed in the seat, resting one hand on the steering wheel as you made the familiar drive that Joey was sure you had done hundreds of times by now. 

“Do I get a hint as to what we’re dealing with?” Joey asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“No idea,” you whispered, giving her a smirk. 

“What?” Joey turned to face you as much as she could. “What do you mean you don’t know? Grace said you’ve been on this for a while.” 

“We have,” you nodded. “Sometimes we don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with. It’s part of the dangers of the job.” Joey sighed, she assumed you and Grace would know what you were dealing with. “We try to know as much as we can but sometimes it’s hard to determine what exactly we’re dealing with. If it’s something familiar, with a pattern, like vampire, then it’s easier. When it’s something new though,” you shook your head. “It could be anything.” 

Joey went back to staring out the windshield. She fiddled around in her pocket before pulling out a little sucker, she popped it into her mouth and ignored the side glance you shot her. The rest of the ride was filled with a comfortable silence besides the radio playing quietly in the background. 

Before she knew it you turned down the secluded street and began passing mansion after mansion. Joey truly couldn’t imagine what the people who owned those houses did. She never would have guessed Grace inherited her money through marriage and now used it for funding supernatural monster hunts, but she didn’t think any of the other rich people on the street were doing that. Finally, you pulled into the familiar driveway and almost instantly the gate opened for you. 

Joey followed you through the house and back to the same room as the day before. She could see from the outside that the house was absolutely massive, but she had only seen a small fraction of it. The house was clearly old, though well taken care of, Joey was curious what secrets it held. She would bet money that it wasn’t just a simple multimillion dollar mansion, but that Grace had more than a few secret rooms throughout the place. 

“Welcome back,” Grace greeted. “Let’s get to it.” she gestured to the other side of the room where Joey had seen the pegboard, which was even more full than the day before and there were two more boards added to the mix. 

Joey couldn’t help the way her eyes widened; you had told her you did your research, but she was seeing that herself for the first time. There were various news reports, online articles printed out, pictures of the same two people, and little handwritten notes spread across the three boards. There was also a red string connecting various papers back to the unknown man and a blue string connecting more papers to the unknown woman. 

“As a surprise to probably no one in this room,” Grace said, jumping right into things. She stood at the front of the room next to the boards. “High society people tend to be the common denominator for supernatural killings.” Joey saw you nodding along out of the side of her eye. “We’ve been tracking mysterious killings for over a year now. They’ve been hard to put together because the victim is usually some random unknown person.” 

“AKA, arm candy for one of the rich pricks,” you said. “Someone not in that life, someone-” 

“No one will miss,” Joey finished. 

“The victims are seemingly random,” Grace continued. “Men, women, various ages, it doesn’t matter. The only common factor is the way they died.” Grace reached across for something on her desk then pinned up several pictures of different victims. 

“Holy shit,” Joey said, stepping closer to the board. She narrowed her eyes at the pictures of the victims, they all looked the same, their eyes were wide open, their mouth barely parted, but their faces were pale and sunken in, like someone quite literally sucked the life out of them. 

“We’ve never seen anything like this before,” you said. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with, just that these two people,” you pointed to the man and woman. Joey had to admit both of them were unreasonably attractive, she wasn’t sure if that was a sign they were a supernatural monster though. “Show up at every party where there is a victim.” 

“Which isn’t saying much,” Grace interjected. “High society people tend to run in the same circles, very small circles.” 

“So, who are they?” Joey asked. 

“His name is Marcus Carter, a typical rich businessman.” 

“And she is Karoline Knight,” you said. “Typical trust fund girl living off daddy’s money.” 

“She goes to the functions to mingle with business partners,” Grace added. 

“Do they know each other?” Joey asked. 

“Hard to say, they must know of each other. People like this, everyone knows everyone.” 

“We’ve never seen them in person,” you said. “Based on all the footage we’ve found and anyone we’ve talked to, they arrive separately, leave separately, they never interact at the parties, and killings have happened at parties where only one was in attendance.” 

“Any chance both are killers?” Joey asked. She already knew what it sounded like when she asked but she had to ask. Killings happened at parties they were both at and at parties where only one of them was present, that couldn’t be a coincidence. 

“Doesn’t seem likely,” Grace said. “Nothing is impossible. Nothing’s indicated they’ve ever spoken; let alone they kill together.” 

“Also, the kills are the exact same,” you said. “The odds of them both being a killer is incredibly rare.” 

“So, what’s the plan?” Joey asked, crossing her arms. 

“I’m glad you asked,” Grace smiled. She moved away from the boards and back around to her desk, she opened one of the drawers and pulled out a small rectangle with gold etching for a border and perfectly handwritten calligraphy, “There’s an exclusive party Saturday,” Grace held out the item in her hand. “And you two have an invite.” 

Joey gently took the invite from Grace. She only vaguely recognized the address, she recognized the name of the street, it was a gated community, sort of like the one Grace lived in. The place was fill with multimillion dollar mansions, all bought up by billionaires, some living there full time and other using it as a vacation home. Joey had never seen an invitation like this before, whoever was throwing the party literally paid someone to hand write every single invitation and based on the one Joey was holding, they were flawless. 

“Does that work for you?” Grace asked, snapping Joey out of her thoughts. 

Joey quickly nodded. “Yeah, my son will be at his dads this weekend so no problems.” 

“Great, Y/N will pick you up a little before the party, the two of you will come back here to get ready, and you’ll be off, hopefully to catch a killer.” 

Once the plan was settled on Joey was back in the car with you, headed back to her side of town. The meeting had gone much longer than she thought, it hadn’t felt like she had been there very long but going over the research, the plan, and everything had been so interesting. Joey was a doctor, but she had never seen something like that happen to a body before, she was intrigued how this monster was killing people. 

She tried to not keep glancing at the clock when she realized it was late and she might not make it in time to pick up Caleb. She focused on grabbing another candy from her pocket then spent the rest of the car ride tapping her fingers alongside the door. She couldn’t even focus on what was playing on the radio, she had told Caleb she’d do everything she could to pick him up on time and she was most likely going to fail. She hadn’t even officially had her first day of work, it was just a debrief on her first mission, which was a trial run for her, just something to see if she actually wanted to work with you and Grace. 

Joey was brought out of her thoughts when she felt the car come to a stop. She looked around seeing they were in front of Caleb’s school, the same place you picked her up. “What are you doing?” she couldn’t help but ask. You held up your finger and a second later the school bell rang, signaling the end of day. 

Joey looked down at her lap where she was playing with the wrapper of one of her candies. You had done it again; you got her back home in time to pick up her son. She hadn’t said anything to you, she didn’t even ask you to drop her off at the school, it was just something you did. “Thank you,” she mumbled, before slipping out of the car. You gave her a soft smile, then you were off before the first student was out the door. 

Taglist: @thinking1bee @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic @alexkolax

[writing-rat]

Surprise Visits

Pairings: Abigail and Joey, Joey and Caleb, Abigail and Caleb

Content: Fluff, Abigail just wants to see Joey, mentions of addiction

Summary: Abigail decides to check on Joey to see if she stays sober but also for more reasons...

WC: 1022

Leaning against the wall, Ana sighed. She was a chef at a restaurant and she did love the job, sure, but it was stressful. She had finished her shift so she changed into a pair of jeans, a random band t-shirt that was long sleeved and a jacket. Reaching into her bag, she grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She needed a break from walking home, Caleb would be home soon. Admittedly the mother was ashamed she was smoking again. Caleb had found it immediately about the cigarettes as Joey told him before he would find out himself. There were no secrets between them. 

The reason she was smoking now was because she flitted between 2 different addictions. Nicotine and sugar. She felt ashamed about it but she was intent on staying sober. In fact, she had made a promise to Abigail about it, or her life would be ruined. Abigail had threatened it after all. “You really shouldn’t smoke Joey,” a voice called out, the voice of a little girl. 

“Yeah, well the sugar addiction is ruining me right now so might as well go for nicotine,” Joey hummed. 

“It doesn’t taste good,” Abigail frowned, walking out as she wanted the younger woman to stop smoking. She leaned next to her.

“Well, you won’t bite me,” Joey retorted with a smirk. Abigail smirked and nodded. 

“That’s true,” the girl spoke, looking at Joey with observant eyes. 

“So how did you find me?” the woman asked, smoking as she was looking at the smaller girl, well, woman she should say. She was centuries years old though.

“You didn’t think the Lazar family wouldn’t track you anymore? Well, I did. It was to see if you could stay sober. Since I can’t watch you constantly… have you?” she asked, looking at the woman with a glare. “And I will know if you lie to me,” she added.

“I have stayed sober. Caleb has accepted me after all,” Joey shrugged before she started to walk, expecting the ballerina vampire to follow her and Abigail did. 

“Good,” was all she said.

Abigail proceeded to follow the woman to her house. “Why are you following?” Joey asked curiously as she unlocked the door and walked in, Abigail quick to slip in. “Caleb will be home soon, he knows what I went through and he won’t hesitate to protect me,” she added.

“I know he will be. I just want to be with you though. You are an interesting human to me. Never have I ever let one go so I will keep checking on you,” Abigail spoke with a smile that made her seem innocent. Joey sighed and nodded as she was closing the door. 

“Can you eat human food?” Joey asked as she was getting some bread and some canned hotdog sausages out. She was instinctively treating Abigail like one of her kids and she didn’t realise.

“No, but I have fed recently so I am fine,” Abigail spoke with that innocent smile. Joey grimaced but she was nodding. 

“Got it,” she spoke as she started to get 2 plates out. 

Eventually, Caleb did come home and he put his bag straight down immediately, not looking so he didn’t see the spare pair of shoes on the floor. “Mom! I’m home,” he called out, expecting her to be in her room. He jumped once he saw her in the kitchen with someone else. “Who’s that?” he asked bluntly, grabbing a cup to get a drink. 

“Honey, you know when I called you and a vampire was hunting me down? Well, the vampire who helped me against him is called Abigail. This is Abigail,” she spoke, trying to be careful with her words to not anger Caleb. Anger was in his eyes. “This is the person who lured and tricked you? And you let her in?” he asked frustrated.

“I simply wanted to make sure she remained sober and she has. I have been watching her but I wanted to hear her confirm it then I decided to follow. I have to go back to Father soon, however,” Abigail explained. Joey nodded. 

“I made a deal to stay clean. She helped me get a job since the Lazar family don’t just control crime. She would help me out with you too, it is all for you, I promise. You are the best thing I’ve ever done so you deserve the best lie,” Joey spoke gently as she checked on the hotdog sausages that were cooking before she went over and hugged him. He was still shocked but he did hug back at least. Abigail just watched with a smile on her face. Ever since the incident she also got more attention and she loved it. She was happy Joey could do the same now with her son.

She was ashamed she wanted a mother figure now, however, and the only person she could think of was Joey. She wanted to hang around her more. What she didn’t realise was that she was walking close as she was lost in her thoughts of how to ask for a motherly figure. Joey and Caleb noticed however as Joey brought an arm out for the girl (well, the woman she thought). Abigail immediately noticed before she awkwardly went over and joined the hug. Joey just smiled as Caleb was hesitant before he finally understood why Joey wanted Abigail around. She was good to only her mom it seemed. “Food should be ready now, we can eat and then watch a film together. All three of us can watch the film since you can’t eat food. As long as your father is ok with it. I don’t want to cross him,” Joey chuckled. Caleb grimaced at the fact Abigail couldn’t eat human food and also the talk of her father. Abigail nodded. “Father wouldn’t mind. He knows I am with you and where you live. May I explore around your house?” Abigail asked. Joey nodded. 

“You can. Just don’t explore the bedrooms,” Joey explained. Abigail nodded before she started to explore.

She was excited to see Joey more.

[blackwolfstabs]

Wolf! Frank & Joey Headcanons

(requested by @screamqueen10)

!!! (these are NOT shipping headcanons. just ones of these two interacting because let's face it, they've definitely got an alpha complex going on haha)

────���─── GIFs are not mine

as stated previously in this post, Frank is the alpha, but Joey is the alpha-female. this causes them to fight almost over everything. their tempers are short, so it doesn't take long for one to phase and strike and the other follows.

if these two fight, you'll need some sincere divine intervention. someone like Peter, Rickles, Lazar, or Lambert would be the most promising to break them apart.

Frank likes to test Joey, purposefully going around Abigail or Caleb to act as if he were hunting them.

Joey challenges Frank's authority out of her loathing his arrogance and ambition. she feels that he thinks he's entitled to the pack's business just because he's the alpha. (example from something i've been writing from my Abigail Werewolf AU):

Another trek across the travertine to the left side of the yard had her panting in trying to fight the heat. She hadn’t realized someone had come out, until she heard a distinguishable voice. “You mind tellin’ me why you’re out here wandering around like you can’t stand to be inside with the rest of us?” Frank. She was not in the mood to put up with his shit. She stopped on the grass but didn’t turn around to look at him. “Actually, I do.” Frank’s ears twitched, “Hmm.” Clearly, there was a problem. “So, something’s definitely wrong.” He caught her soft growl and the almost painful lower of her hips. “What’s got you all moody, Joey? Is it Shark Week?” She could’ve wished. But she knew that was a jab. “No,” she rolled her eyes and actually glanced over her shoulder. “I’m fine. I just wanna be alone, right now.” But the red wolf didn’t move, just tilted his head with a poor excuse for a pitied expression. “Oh, did we run out of candy again?” he teased. It was fake anyway. “No!” she snapped, baring her teeth in a warning as her hips lowered even more, but this time, it was more defensive, the fur on her hackles bristling in the sunlight. “Then, what?” he demanded, more serious now. “I told you. I want to be alone.” Now, Joey turned around to retrace her steps towards him. “You’re not the alpha of this pack, and you’re not the alpha of me. I don’t have to tell you shit, so back off,” she growled, thrusting her muzzle forward to make him pull back a little. The other’s eyes darkened as they narrowed, and a low growl rumbled in his throat. “You’re not my fuckin’ alpha either, so I suggest you watch your tone.” Her ears turned back, which led him to continue. “You won’t sit the fuck down and you’ve been whining all day.” There was a slight falter in her demeanor. “Oh, you think we haven’t noticed? Kinda hard not to when fuckin’ wolf telepathy is a thing.” By now, his own fur was rising, and his lips were starting to reveal more of his teeth.

i know no one asked for that, but i told you i would share some of my werewolf!au stuff 🤭

Frank is much easier to control as a wolf than a human. Joey is the opposite, she's more controllable as a human than a wolf.

because Frank's the "confirmed" alpha, it's his instinctive duty to check on all the pack members, even if it's subtly. he won't admit it, but he does trust Joey's instincts, both human and wolf, (which he also appreciates) so he tends to make his "check-in" on her more noticeable, likely engaging in conversation.

Joey's extremely smart and that irritates Frank.

they growl at each other just because. if Frank growls, Joey will growl back at him even if it wasn't directed towards her, and vise-versa.

they can never "play fight" without it turning into them trying to dominate each other. they just piss each other off xD.

are those ok?? again, this was harder than i anticipated but it could be because i'm sleep-deprived haha. i hope you like them and lmk if you want more! much love 🩶🩶🩶

[hedgiwithapen]

Prompt: Cameron gets snatched by Helix after leaving Blue Valley. He is very, very aware that no one will be looking for him.

Some nights, curled up on a cot in his basement cell, Cameron dreamed of his father, coming to rescue him. Ice frosting over the metal door and shattering it, and his father holding him, promising that he was safe now, that everything would be alright. He woke from those dreams with tears frozen on his cheeks, hating  that he'd hoped, hating that it had been a dream and not real, hating that he'd wanted it to be real even for a moment.  His father was a murderer. He'd killed Joey Zarrick. He'd threatened to kill him. But anything would be better than being stuck here.  It hadn't been so bad, at first. He'd been so lost, so confused, and his powers had been out of control. Frost had followed his footsteps, and sometimes he could hardly breathe for the ice in his lungs.  The head nurse had been waiting when he woke up in a sparsely decorated room, assuring him that he was alright, that he was safe and no one hunting him would find him. 

He'd asked for space. Courtney, at least, he thought would have given it. But maybe  Artemis Crock, or Rick Tyler couldn't allow the child of their parents' killer to walk free. Maybe they'd convinced Pat Dugan he was a threat. And he was, wasn't he? After everything Courtney had told him, told him when she'd known the truth, maybe he really was a threat. 

Nurse Love seemed to think so. They'd moved him down to the basement, in a room with a locked door and a heating vent that never turned off entirely. 

"It's for your own good. For your safety, and the safety of the others who make this place their home," Nurse Love said when he asked why. " you don't want to put them in danger, do you?"

It would be selfish to say yes. But he missed his art studio, with the windows to the garden. He missed the sky. 

"When can I go home?" he asked, staring unhappily at his mug of hot chocolate. Nurse Love always brought it, first thing in the morning. At least, he assumed it was morning.  Often, it froze the moment it touched his lips, but today it had just cooled. "I'm getting better at controlling it. Really, I am." He held it out to her as proof.

"I can see that," she said, her voice wobbling like his grandmother's did. Like his grandmother's used to. "But how much of that is you and not this room?  We made it to help you, after all. The design... I suppose it could be transferred to an upstairs room, but it needs too much energy,  so it's really not practical anywhere but here. I'm sorry it's not more to your liking. Why don't I find you a nice rug?"

She left the rest of his breakfast tray, and returned hours later with a soft, warm rug for the floor beside his bed.  "That's nice, isn't it? Oh, and I brought you another book from the library." Cameron stared at the art history book longingly, but didn't dare touch it.  What if he lost control again, and ruined it? 

"You could say 'Thank you' you know," Nurse Love sniffed. “You rest, now. We’re going to need to run a few more tests tomorrow.” She left, the door bolting behind her, one more thing he didn’t dare touch.

He did not dream of his father that night. Instead he dreamed the other impossible wish.  Courtney, halo'd by her staff, standing at his door. 

"I knew you were in trouble. I came to bring you home."

He woke, knowing home was out of his grasp, and that no one but Nurse Love would be opening the door any time soon.

[gardenergulfie]

Liveblogging time with Shubble let’s gooooo

Did she get the crown???? The thumbnail looks promising

SHE SLEEPWALKED???? 

“I have bad memories of this place” YEAH YOU WERE KIDNAPPED AND LOCKED UP HERE HUN YOU GOT TRAUMA

SHE SLEEPWALKED AGAIN TO THE SAME SPOT AND ALS SHE’S IN THE WOLF SPIRIT GETUP 

THE WOLF SPIRIT IS BACK!!

“Does this make me a furry?” Yes Shrub yes it does

Venus Mercury Jupiter and Leo are the secret strike force of wolves that’ll help sniff out the crown

“AM I THE FUNGUS?” HAJKDASCDS

Also Virgo is joining the hunt!

“Everyone knows I’m the Wolf Spirit it couldnt have bee anyone else I’m the only one who’s 4 foot 3″ JHWCJKLD at least she’s self aware!

Shrub i am concerned about your sleep habits plz get help

God i love Joey and Shrub’s passive agressive friendship

DWHCGJWDK Shrub just going “PLAY ALONG” with the whole Wolf Spirit thing in front of Joey is so funny because she originally was gonna kill him as the Wolf Spirit. She might still do it honestly

Shrub sniffing Joey to try and track down the crown using his scent god she really is a furry HICUQHIDW

The Wolf Spirit: Actually I’m doing this quest for my friend Shrub Joey: Oh the fungus girl! The Wolf Spirit aka Shrub in the most deadpan voice: Yes, the fungus girl

X LIFE REFERENCE????? Wait so both Shrub and Scott were witches in another life, Joey and Lizzie too! Oh this is cool!

WHY DOES SHRUB KEEP WAKING UP IN THE CORRUPTION RESEARCH AREA I AM ANXIOUS

SHRUB IS SWIMMING I AM SO PROUD OF HER FOR FACING HER FEARS

SHRUB IS THE RULER OF EMPIRES! Her rule is that everyone must take tame 10 wolves! Heheheh spies!

OH MY GOD SHRUB LEFT THE TOO SLOW NERD PAPER THAT KATHERINE FOUND iUGIUCDHWICO

[youcouldmakealife]

YCMAL Superlatives Write-ins (Rd 5)

I’m not here! I think I will be back tomorrow? But gathering write-ins is a good ‘is doing something but doesn’t actually require brain’ kind of work when under the weather. (...I promise I am mostly resting. This is restful!)  

Second to last of the write-ins!

Most likely to stay physically active after retirement:

Liam, fiery ball of energy. Anton, who doesn't give up jogging, to Thomas' chagrin. Bryce, handling the kids (yes, it includes playing hockey). David, because letting go is not an option - and Jake exercising with him is... very...attractive.

Bryce, Dan, Marc, Jared - the dads who must chase or play with their hobgoblin children

I feel like David wouldn’t be able to let go of that routine. Like, a lot of them wouldn’t, but David especially.

Bryce seems like he's just genuinely a gym rat so him

I don't think Willy could ever slow down enough not to

Bryce, gotta keep it tight for that beautiful boy

Ulf (out of vanity)

David. Just because he wouldn't know what else to do.

Tate "Rise & Grind" Williams

David, just as the doctor said.

Dan. Yoga is canon.

I feel like Liam wouldn’t work out but he’d run around like a toddler on a sugar high anyway

Bryce will always need an energy burn! So, I guess my vote goes to Jared?

Oleg! He was in his whatever thirties and keeping up with David in training!!

Bryce “weirdly frequent alumni games” Marcus

Ulf you peacock

I don't know who the "Ontario boy who goes out hunting in camo every offseason" is in this verse, but it's him

Willy. He is young and he is beautiful and he wants to stay that way.

Despite potatoes, David

Playoff Willy is gonna get so ridiculously competitive at running marathons

Most likely to immediately get out of shape after retirement:

I’m considering not even bothering with a ‘top four vote getters are your options, pick one’ for this category unlike all the others, and just giving you all Scratch written four ways. Is it: Scratch, Nick Angelopoulos, Nick ‘Scratch’ Angelopoulos, or all of the above? (Am so proud of ScratchnMoney getting disentangled for this question.)

But not everyone agrees!

tbh none of them. But I could see Jake almost never playing hockey specifically again.

Luke, like Mike, stays big but gets soft (literally AND metaphorically)

Marc Lapointe, because lazy

I mean, Mike, but that's not fair. Low-key, it's Vinny.

Scratch (not nMoney), also Andy

I trust Dan to calm down and chill out

Julius, he can't cook and he's used to being skinny automatically. That stops working eventually.

Liam- annoying the shit out of people doesn't burn as many calories as hockey

Tbh, i can't picture it for anyone bc you kinda have to love exercise AND have self-discipline to make it to pro-hockey levels?

Oleg, the man's exhausted

But also...

Scratch (now money cannot limit his sweets!)

Scratch, those eating habits gonna catch up with you......

Scratch (hates running! Eats so much shit!!)

I feel like scratch would immediately ditch the food restrictions

Scratch - when the snack drawer is just the pantry.

Nick “Ugh, JOGGING” Angelopoulos

Scratch already would be out of shape without Joey

Scratch is a cookie monster even in the nhl he’s only gonna get worse when hes not contractually obligated to be in shape

Scratch is gonna love his dad bod years

Most likely to get back to back hat tricks:

The people are angry but honest.

Somewhere on this continent there's a secret warehouse Sébastien Boucher rents out just for his hats.

Seb, and he'll let you know about it too!

Seb!!! (Jake is crying somewhere; David is seething)

Seb. And celebrate them in the most obnoxious way imaginable

Seb, damn him

Seb, to the great chagrin of David

Seb Boucher. Ugh.

Julius "better than you" Halla

Julius. He'd be so smug but also so nonchalant about it too.

Shithead, cause life isn't fair

Marc. Overachiever.

Raf, because he deserves all good things. And he'll be bashful about it.

Shithead, and both will have a shorty thrown in there for good measure

I don't want to say it but I gotta. Seb.

Marc, probably to prove a point

I mean. Seb won the richard for a reason

Probably Shithead, AND he would be annoying about it

...... boucher (the douche-r)

Bryce out of sheer talent, force of will, and need to impress his husband on the bench

Most likely to get back to back Gordie Howe hat tricks: (1 goal, 1 assist, 1 fighting major)

Flames-era Bryce (Jared is Not Happy)

Holden Chase (also with obnoxious cellies)

Jake -- there aren't many other players who combine "very good players" and "piss people off on the ice" like him.

Jake. But he's so nice about it!

Jake or Georgie both fit into the slim center of the Venn diagram between “good enough for a goal and assist” and “up for a fight”

Mike while on a line with Julius

I bet Jake has plenty already

Luke, cause life is sometimes fair

Holden Chase. And one of those fights will be with his liney.

Jake, probably because he's a dumbass

Jake. Is there a Gordie Howe hat trick hat trick when you get 3 in a row?

Jake (but not against the Bolts)

Shithead. So talented, such a dick.

Jake "all refs are out to get me" Lourdes

Shithead is going to fight Holden Chase for the honor

Best Dancer:

The people are VERY DIVIDED (except for those who confidently say ‘absolutely none of them’, which would absolutely track for a bunch of characters created by me.)

Ballroom: Oleg ( wedding practice). Club : Liam, on the nights he's away from Mike. Mostly to turn strangers on and tell Mike when they have phone sex later.

Vinny. He'd just go for it, and he's flexible

None of them, hockey players are terrible dancers

I feel like all the hockey players are probably pretty bad dancers. I'm going with Elaine, mostly because I have this headcanon that she takes ballroom and swing dance lessons as a way to get out of the house and meet new people.

I feel like Derek would have the moves, but Sven would turn out to be good at like, ballroom.

I feel like Sven Olsen can wave his limbs around in strange and mesmerizing fashion (a la Thom Yorke or David Byrne).

Probably Derek, no shame or inhibitions, just goes for it

Look Tremblay didn't kill it on the dance floor at a gay bar sporting a feather boa just for you all to vote for anyone else

Kiro Volkov. i feel like if he and Emily could come as a set? i bet they have routines.

Stephen seems like a guy with hidden depths

Ulf. He has snake hips.

Oleg Kurmazov has hidden depths

Liam. Nobody likes it, but it’s Liam.

In my heart I see Vinny

Emily (I refuse to believe that literally any of the men can dance)

Tremblay (if you've got taste)

Vinny just because he makes you smile no matter what he's doing

Carruthers. In his mind.

Literally none of them

I wanna say Jake, confidence and a lack of care what others think (though that could also make him the worst dancer w/o him knowing)

Willy is best at all things

Liam, comfortable in his body and absolutely shameless

Seb. No inhibitions.

Scratch. Idk why but the vibes

Tremblay, just saying, Matt didn't know he was gay before seeing him dance.

Georgie. Bet he has some smooth moves.

Ulf, for sexy reasons

Bryce (if he lets himself i feel he would have RHYTHM)

Drunk Joey

theyre all terrible dancers. i genuinely cannot think of anyone who is actually good or even strikes me as “least bad”. if there’s a character who is a dancer and ive forgotten, them.

Literally no one

Worst Dancer:

Sweden coming in ready and willing to destroy international relations.

Jessica, although it's probably on purpose

Scratch and Money definitely flail.

Jared, only because he never dances

Tremblay according to Dan

Shithead's dancing is 80% twerking and he's not even good at it

Connie, shy & self conscious never works on the dance floor, bless him

tied for David-what-is-dancing-Chapman and Mike-fuck-off-fitzgerald-im-not-doing-this-Brouwer

Andy. He’s too embarrassed for this, and not even alcohol helps.

Vinny - but in an endearing way

David- I am laughing at the image of him on a dance floor

Also Tremblay (if you've got eyes)

Dan Riley. Doesn't even try.

Anton. This is canon. Crank that Soulja boy.

Literally all of them

Depends what you mean by worst: david is too stiff, dima is too chaos, Seb is too Seb

Jared Wouldnt Dance

Julius. Finnish people can't dance (regards, a Swedish person)

Willy. So pretty. No rhythm.

Andy (it's the curse of the gingers)

imagine Trigger dancing

theyre all terrible. every single one. special shout out to: everyone when drunk, Derek, Joey, Scratch.

Shithead in his gaudy gold clubbing shirt. And he’ll think he’s great.

Drunk Joey, followed closely by Sober Joey

Liam but he doesn't give a shit

Most likely to be the cool mom/dad:

Dan, Bryce, Emily, and for some reason Roman. Also, Jake is the cool uncle right?

Does Erin Matheson, the future Wine Aunt, count?

Is being the pushover who you can get to let you do things cool? If so, Bryce.

Kiro and Emily could not be anything else if they tried.

Jake, I think he'd be a great dad, still holding out hope Taylor........

Elaine is canonically the cool mom? but also, Bryce

Ulf. Although I can't see him with kids, he'd be suitably aloof and all the kids pals would have a crush on him / want to hang out with him

Anton’s parents ARE the cool parents, he’s just the only one who doesn’t think so

Ben :) good egg

Dan. By not trying to be the cool dad.

Grace obviously

Jake, which is why David's not letting them have kids. So Bryce.

Emily is the coolest so by default she is the coolest parent

Gritty with all my heart

Ngl none of them have any chill but I can see Seb trying

Bryce will never say no to their kids

Jake if they had kids. He will settle for cool uncle

Elaine. She is the most wonderfullest, best-friend mom in the whole world, thinks Bryce.

Gabe Markson- he IS a cool mom

Jared wishes

none of them. theyre all dorks. lotta cool aunts/uncles though

Bryce! He takes after his mom that way

Most likely to be the embarrassing mom/dad:

Bryce is literally the frontrunner in both these categories, the people are TORN on his coolness. Kiro also appears in both but I think we're all in agreement that if he's embarrassing his progeny it's 100% on purpose.

Jared. He's his mother's son and will delight in embarrassing his kids.

Marc. He just wants to support everyone. Please put away the pamphlets at the peewee game.

Bryce. Let's face it he already is and he doesn't even have kids. Dad Vibes

Tonya Petrov (for a given value of 'embarrassing', where most people don't think she is particularly embarrassing, but she maximizes actions that make Anton cringe)

Definitely Bryce; he would be so sentimental always.

...and yet somehow also Kiro. But on purpose. He weaponizes embarrassment.

Bryce and Jared combined. Bryce with the gushy love and Jared trolling the hell out of them. Good luck lil M&M's

Kiro"why have kids if you don't embarass them" Volkov

DON MATHESON but also. Stephen would embarrass his kids on purpose

Bryce (not in purpose) dmitry (on purpose)

Marc. Although that may be too canon so Jared but he'd do it on purpose.

Bryce—soft man, many feelings, cannot keep them inside

Kiro is for sure an amazing dad but I am persuaded he trolls his children

Also Bryce (the duality of man)

All of them. Teenagers are embarrassed by having parents exist

Bryce. He gushes. And cries.

Marc. He can’t help it.

Jared on purpose - he has to pass along the suffering

Jared, raising the next generation of hobgoblins.

Bryce with his sheer force of love!

Also Gritty with all my heart

Bryce by accident and Jared on purpose

Marc, right? The answer is Marc, right?

Bryce <333 has too much love and no chill

Tonya could teach a master class after raising Anton

Marc definitely speaks to their teachers too much.

I feel like anyone that gets too close to any player would realize how embarrassing they all are

Boy I hope Derek's hypothetical kids are as unembarassable as he is.

Bryce, but i have to note it’s literally everyone. all of them are embarrassing.

Best work-life balance:

A background character that stays so far out of the ridiculous drama the protagonists create that we've barely heard of them. Maybe one of the not-Mikes?

Gabe (best at any balance! best at life!!)

Stephen—plenty of practice making time with NHL Gabe when both their schedules allow

Roman seems like he knows how to have fun and still work hard

Gabe Markson or Chaz Rossi, our most relaxed sons

Elaine (still not sure if she actually works, therefore perfect work-life balance)

Dan Riley, who married the opposite

Gabe, most reasonable in all things.

It would be simon were it not for the seb-shaped anchor holding him beneath the waves of work related stress. So I’ll say Chaz

Jake is the epitome of work hard and play hard

Gabe, of course. The most stable and balanced son.

None of them? Gonna go with none

Kiro or Gabe. Sensible good eggs

Owen, by virtue of not being a hockey player and/or spouse of a hockey player. and like, being relatively sensible and level-headed. points deducted for being a student, so ymmv.

Work is life and balance is bullshit:

David if Jake isn't in town. Dude, chill.

Playoff Willy and/or Owen (baby when do you sleep??)

I mean, you sort of wrote a massive epic about David's pathologically intense relationship with work...

Playoff Willy. Hockey. Is. LIFE

Playoff Willy, why are you laughing this is playoffs.

Have you been introduced to the concept that is David Chapman?

Dave!!! And his favorite client.

David and I hate that my precious angel is my answer

Dave can only dream about anything like balance cause Andreas has his foot on the scale

Literally everyone, but Playoff Willy leaves them all in the dust

David. No question. Will never retire.

David. we’re all collectively staring at david.

[lilred1989]

The Horror and the Wild

Jaskier felt the moment everyone froze from the magic of the Wild Hunt. He was safe inside the keep of Kaer Morhen, but he felt it nonetheless. And that was the moment he decided that enough was enough. Those were his friends, his lover fighting and possibly dying out there.

Those in the keep sent him confused glances, as he rose and purposefully strode towards the gates separating him from the fighting. He felt the magic he had so long neglected gather in his body. And he allowed himself a feral smile, that carried just the hint of a fang.

With as much force as he could muster, he threw the gates open and made them clang against the walls. Everyone’s eyes turned to him and he spotted Eredin, who had cornered Ciri, the girl who was like a daughter to him.

Jaskier took a deep breath, gathered his strength and his magic and opened his mouth to sing. He needed a little time to really gather as much strength as he needed to defeat the Wild Hunt. On top of that, he had always channeled his magic better by singing.

“You were raised by wolves and voices

Every night I hear them howling deep beneath your bed

They said it all comes down to you”

His heart ached, when his eyes landed on his brother. The ice cold warrior that had left their home to join the Wild Hunt. Eredin grinned, but turned towards him. Jaskier seethed inwardly, because Eredin had never taken him serious.

“You're the son of sightless watching stones

You watch the stars hurl all their fundaments

In wonderment, at you and yours, forever asking more”

Eredin had always been the favorite of their mother. Him and their older sister Siocan, who had inherited their mother’s throne. Jaskier and his little sister, they had been the odd ones out. The weird ones. The living ones in a court of winter and death.

“You are that space that's in between

Every page, every chord and every screen

You are the driftwood and the rift

You're the words I promise I don't mean”

As the words dripped from his lips like poison, Jaskier remembered all the ridicule he had suffered, because he was different and poured them into his magic as he walked down towards the battle. He refused to look at anyone except his brother.

“We're drunk but drinking, sunk but sinking

They thought us blind, we were just blinking

All the stones and kings of old will hear us screaming at the cold”

Here he took a deep breath. Warmth spread inside of him, pulsing with the beating of his heart. It demanded to be let out. But Eredin was still too amused and Jaskier knew he had not recognized his little brother yet. His form was too human.

“Remember me I ask

Remember me I sing

Give me back my heart you wingless thing”

His wings, the first thing to set him apart from his wintry siblings, were itching to come out. But he reigned them in. He needed the control because one slip could unleash his magic too soon. It needed to be the right moment.

“Think of all the horrors that I

Promised you I'd bring

I promise you

They'll sing of every time

You passed your fingers through my hair and called me child

Witness me old man, I am The Wild”

Eredin was a great deal older than Jaskier. He had always treated his little brother like an oddity, but in the beginning it hadn’t been unkind. But even when Jaskier grew up, Eredin had never taken him for full. He had always treated Jaskier as a child. Jaskier repressed the memories of their memorable fight for now.

“You are the son of every dressing up box

And I am time itself

I slow to let you play

I steal the hours and turn the night into day”

The memories still came. He saw the clash of warmth and cold in front of his inner eye. He saw the eternal battle between destruction and creation carried out through two brothers. He fet the pain he had felt back then and he felt the determination that had carried him through it.

“Day by day oh lord three things I pray

That I might understand as best I can

How bold I was, could be - will be - still am, by god still am”

That same determination rose in him again. Back then he had fought for himself and for his little sister, who had carried the same warmth and wings that he had. They were never meant to stay in the Winter Court.

“Fret not dear heart, let not them hear

The mutterings of all your fears, the fluttering of all your wings

Welcome to the storm, I am thunder

Welcome to my table bring your hunger”

And suddenly an odd calm setted over the bard. His magic stilled, curled in on itself. It was preparing to be unleashed. The strenous hold he had on his glamour began to slip, making the air around him waver as he descended the last steps that would lead him to the courtyard his brother was in.

“Think of all the horrors that I

Promised you I'd bring

I promise you, they'll sing of every time

You passed your fingers through my hair and called me child

Witness me old man, I am The Wild

Remember me

Remember me

Remember me

Remember me

Remember me

Remember me

Remember me I ask

Remember me I sing”

There were only a few steps separating Jaskier from Eredin now. He stopped, gathered the last strength he could muster. He gathered it all in himself, felt himself fill to the brim with magic. Eredin had taken off his faceguard and grinned at him. He was still underestimating his little brother although Jaskier had already bested him once and gained the freedom for himself and his little sister to leave their mother’s court. There had never been a place for them there anyway.

They had gone to the world of men and Jaskier had found love and a family there. He would not let his family take that away from him again. He would not let anyone die today. With a last deep breath and a sweeping glance towards Geralt - frozen solid - and Ciri - carelessly thrown to the ground by Eredin- Jaskier set to unleash his power.

“Think of all the horrors that I

Promised you I'd bring

I promise you, they'll sing of every time

You passed your fingers through my hair and called me child

Witness me old man, I am the

Think of all the horrors that I

Promised you I'd bring

I promise you, they'll sing of every time

You passed your fingers through my hair and called me child

Witness me old man

Old man

Old man

I am the”

As the word “wild” soundlessly spilled from his lips, Jaskier’s power erupted out of him. His glamour fell. Where the bard had stood just moments before, a fae was now standing. He still looked like Jaskier, but his skin was glowing with magic. The antlers of a young deer had burst from his front. Gigantic bluebird wings had all but ripped his clothes from his upper body. His hands had formed into talons and glinted wickedly in the dim light. His eyes, still blue seemed to glow from within. And his mouth was full of fangs that shone maliciously.

And with his eruption came the heat. It was like a spring breeze at first, but then it transformed into the scorching pressure of the midsummer sun. The heat brought growth with it. All around Jaskier vines, brushes, trees, mushrooms and flowers erupted. They were poisonous, vicious and they tore through the wild hunt like they were nothing. Poison spilled from blue, pale lips followed by the creeping roots of whatever plant was growing in those ribcages.

Eredin fled, his army utterly defeated, his body scorched and burnt from poison. His armour was mangled from the vines that had tried to grab him.

Jaskier smiled, blood spilling from his lips. All magic had its price after all. Just when his eyes closed and his body gave in to the magical exhaustion that had literally ripped him apart, he heard Lambert’s incredulous voice:

“Dammit Geralt! And you said he was helpless in a fight!”

Disclaimer: I don’t own neither the characters mentioned, nor the song. The song was written and performed by the amazing Joey Batey and Madeleine Hyland. I do not plan to make money with this.

[justjessame]

Starting Over Chapter 11

While being stopped cold in the middle of a very hot moment with Bucky sucked, hearing that a shield that meant more than I could ever truly understand was being handed to some no name soldier who had a weak chin and looked ridiculous in the uniform that his best friend had made famous made going on with what we’d been doing less urgent somehow.

Bucky was still holding me, but my nightshirt -bunched in his hands, was forgotten.  We listened as this man, Captain Jonathan F. Walker, beamed for the cameras at being named the new Captain America.  I’d watched the news the day before, when Sam Wilson had donated the shield to the museum, but this?  This was ridiculous.  

“You didn’t know?”  The announcement over, the daily anchors were back on the screen, going round and round with the news, on repeat I knew for the rest of the day.  I turned my head so we were face to face again, but Bucky was still staring at the screen like he was still processing the news.  That gave me my answer.  

Bucky and I got dressed, once we untangled from our spot on the floor, and after he finally managed to work through the idea that Sam hadn’t simply given up the shield, but that the shield was now in the hands of someone that Steve hadn’t picked.  He didn’t shut down, thankfully, and once we were dressed and downstairs he told me that he had to go see Sam.

He looked less than excited by the prospect.  He was groaning as I handed him a glass of juice, telling him that I didn’t just not drink beer, but I wasn’t a fan of coffee either.  “Sam,” he sighed.  “Steve gave him the shield and I was -” he shook his head, taking the glass from me with one hand and pulling me close with the other.  He pressed his face into my hair and inhaled.  “I have to go see him, Brooke.”  

I nodded, of course.  It made sense that he wanted to hash it out with the one other person who knew Steve, and the person who he felt screwed the pooch.  “You’ll call?”  I really wished that there was a tone to ask that question that wouldn’t make me sound so fucking needy and clingy.  

“I’ll call, I’ll text,” he promised, and I heard the smile in his voice.  “If I have to, I’ll even learn how to Tik and Tok.”  I giggled.  

“You’d TikTok for me?”  I pulled away and stared up at his face.  He was staring down at me like he’d rather eat a live eel, but he nodded.  “Wow, Bucky, I think you might like me.”  

“Just a little bit,” he agreed, leaning down for a kiss that we were both grinning like idiots for the duration.  

We drank our juice, and ate a little something, then Bucky pulled on his gloves and kissed me one last time before he went to find Sam Wilson.  I had another long day of job hunting to look forward to, I thought, as I watched him walk away.  

I managed to stay focused for half a day.  Half a day of scouring job websites and classified ads, and I was thinking that I was destined to end up bored senseless for the rest of my natural life.  Getting up to grab some leftovers, I heard the telltale chirp come from my cell phone and immediately thought “spam”.  So I went ahead and put together my lunch, while it was in the microwave, I picked up the phone.  

It was a picture of Bucky - I thought.  It was shaking, but I could make out his jaw and eye, sort of, and it came with the message of: “W/Sam Ugh.” 

I snorted and put down the phone, thinking that one day very soon, I was going to have to show Buck how to take a selfie that didn’t look like he was having a seizure while on a bucking bull while taking it.  My lunch was on the first ding, so I stirred it and put it back in for the second round.  

Picking up my phone again, I shook my head and tilted it.  Holding the phone at a distance that would get my full face, I took a pic and sent it back to Bucky with a “too bad, I’m making lunch” message.  

His next chirp came as I was pulling my lunch free from the microwave and carrying it to the table.  Once I was sitting down, I tapped the screen and laughed.  

“Not fair, UR cuter than Sam 2.”

I tried to get back to “work” after lunch, but honestly, there’s only so much job searching one human can do and not go batshit crazy.  While I was waiting for some company to see how wonderful I was from a bunch of letters randomly arranged into a ton of words - I started thinking about my life before the Snap.  

Before Thanos decided to come along and take away MY existence and so many others, I didn’t really have a set path.  I had a job, of course, I was working at an ad agency.  It wasn’t a huge one, but it was something to get my feet wet - or at least somewhere to figure out if I wanted to get my feet wet.  I was staying at home and commuting into the city because it was cost efficient and honestly, my world revolved around my neighborhood.  

The day it happened was my day off.  Mom and Dad weren’t retired, not because they couldn’t afford to, but because they both liked the social aspects of their jobs.  Mom as an RN, Dad as a supervisor at one of the many warehouses closeby.  They didn’t keep the same long hours that they once did, but they still worked, and they were working that day.  I was alone in the house, reading in my room.  Lame. So damn lame.

I know people think that at the first sign or sound of trouble, everyone in New York would rush to the windows or turn on the news, but honestly after the invasion led by Loki and the first round of aliens not all of us were in a hurry to see what the fuss was about.  By not all of us, I mean me.  I was in junior high when that happened.  When Bucky’s best friend, Captain America and his group of Avengers came to the rescue.  

I steadfastly DIDN’T go looking for the source of the commotion.  And in return, I had no idea what was coming - not that anyone really did.  

The month before I’d been the maid of honor in my best friend’s wedding.  I’d watched Connie walk down the aisle at the same church we’d both grown up in, taken first communion in, that we’d been so proud to be a part of - and I was so happy for her.  She married Joey Amoruso, a guy she’d dated since we were in diapers, I swear.  

Thinking about Connie, the one person who swore she hadn’t given up on me coming home someway, somehow, had me picking up my cell phone again.  Opening my contacts, she was still at the top.  Taking a deep breath, I hit send.

[artificialqueens]

Gimme Love, 9/9 (Miz Cracker/Blair St Clair) - Grinder

AN: Sorry for taking so long to upload! I've had a hard week but everything is fine. Here we are - the end! Wanna know something interesting? There was actually going to be more to this story. Like, we were gonna get more flashbacks from when Brie and Juju went to college. There they would meet Tatianna, who was a badass feminist. And she'd be the one to help Brianna with her glow up. But the story was already going on too long and I couldn't fit any of it in.

Also I was going to go down a completely different route for the story. If any of you have actually seen the music video for Gimme Love by Joji, it ends on a more darker tone. And that's how I was gonna do it with this fic as it was based on it. But I just couldn't do it.

So I hoped you guys enjoyed it. I know I didn't get a lot of reads on it, but I'm glad knowing it was recieved by some. Anyway, on with chapter 9!

Major TW's for this chapter: Alcohol, mental health discussion.

2020

It was the day of the pre-party. It was going to be held at my place. I was prepared for possible drunkenness, embarrassing moments, but celebrations of everything we had accomplished. This was something I had worked my ass towards for so long, and it was finally happening.

I smiled, proud that I had finally punched myself in the face (figuratively, of course). I opened my eyes and saw how easy it was to rekindle with Mom. I was scared about seeing her in a few weeks, knowing we'd have to talk about my issues. But I knew now. If I didn't, I would just continue to get worse and worse.

On top of that, the Ed Sheeran problem was over and done with. His team understood fully, and he was set to perform at the launch.

And finally, I would meet Blair again. And it would be different this time. I wouldn't be the shy, insecure teenager she had always seen me as.

However, despite all these promising signs, my smile dropped. I imagined this morning playing out entirely differently.

Jujubee would be the first person to message me. Fuck, she'd probably even break in just to make sure I was up.

None of that happened. I know one should manage their expectations better. But it still hurt.

After two cups of coffee, some soggy cereal and a shower, I tried calling her. It rang a few times but went straight to voicemail mail.

I didn't bother leaving another message. I didn't wanna freak her out.

I probably wasn't helping my case. She probably thought I was relying on her, that she was life support for me.

But that wasn't the case. I mean, I couldn't just stand up and be like, "OK later, bitch," after practically growing up together. How could I just let go of someone I held so dear to my heart?

My eyes travelled across the kitchen, at first only her disappointment during our argument, how I had never seen her so angry.

On the counter, beside the fridge, there was my memory box.

What would Grandpa say in this situation?

Remember how I would write things he'd say to me? Just little bits and pieces of advice as something I could hold on to? I gave it to Mom to put it away for me. It had to be in the box.

I stood up, the stool making a scraping sound along the ground.

But a knock at the door tore my attention away.

Why did I hope it would be her?

Well, because it wasn't out of the ordinary for her to come and visit in the morning. Maybe this was it. I was forgiven.

I rushed to the door with the slight fear that if I wasn't fast enough, I'd miss her.

I unlocked the door and flung it open, a smile on my face, ready to greet her.

5 people were standing there; the decorators. I tried not to let my smile falter as I let them in.

-_-_-_-

8PM and my place had never looked livelier. For my first time hosting a party, it didn't feel like there was much hosting to do.

It felt like any other party I had been to, a room crowded with people dancing or talking to each other.

The music wasn't too loud, so the disorientation wasn't there.

I held back from drinking with the fear of doing something embarrassing, especially around Blair.

My bathroom was still clean when I went to apply a fresh coat of gloss. Good. Nothing to worry about.

I made my way back downstairs to the party, crossing the barrier at the bottom. The only place off-limits to the guests was upstairs. I'd hate to think there would be some people who'd want private time, especially in my bed. It happened at college once.

After a small party in our dorm, I found a couple midst coitus in my bed. Never again, I had said.

"Brianna!"

My head whipped in the direction of the voice, every bit of hope I had inside building up.

"You look stunning." A raven-haired woman approached.

"Thank you," I said in more of a questionable form. My brain couldn't figure out who this was.

"My name is Raja. I'm a writer for Cosmo," that explained it, "I was wondering if I could ask a few questions for a piece I'm doing. It's on the most influential women of the year."

I wanted to say no in the case I missed the arrival of Blair.

As if she read my thoughts, she spoke again. "It won't even be five minutes."

She was right about that. 15 minutes it lasted. We were locked in my bathroom, the four walls making the place feel cramped.

She asked me questions about how I reached this level, my morning routine, and what I put in my hair to make it so voluptuous. And all the while, I just kept fearing that Blair had arrived. That she had searched around for me and left when she couldn't find me anywhere. I would discreetly glance at my watch, hoping too much time didn't pass. But around 5 minutes in, I didn't care for subtlety. Not that Raja noticed. The questions seemed endless.

When she turned her recorder off, she further complimented my outfit. I thanked her, inching my way to the door. This lasted another 3 minutes.

She said I was a tiny woman with a lot of heart. I held back from saying I was a tiny woman with a lot of baggage.

When I finally escaped, I searched the place for Blair, and when I didn't find her, the panic started.

"Did anyone come in in the last 15 minutes??" I asked the workers hanging by the door.

"Yeah, there were 2 people. And I've never seen them around work. Could be anyone, Brie." They said with worry in their tone.

"OK, was one of them a girl? Blonde hair. Around my age?" I questioned further.

They glanced at each other for clarification, then looked back at me and shook their heads.

"Nope. Just two guys." One said.

"Probably on a pussy hunt at their local party." The other said.

"Or dick hunt."

"Or both."

"Nah, how would they even get in?"

Realising this was not Blair they were talking about, I thanked them and excused myself.

So she wasn't here yet. That's fine. Probably just running late.

I gave in and had one glass of champagne. Just to calm my nerves.

And the last person I wanted to see started to approach.

Ed fucking Sheeran. He raised a glass to celebrate and thanked me for the hotel room we paid for. I said it was no problem. And just as he was about to suggest some pictures for his Instagram, I quickly navigated away.

But I was caught by another person who just so happened to be Joey.

"I am so glad you changed your mind about the whole Ed thing. Like...girl…" he sipped his own drink.

"Yeah, it was easier than I thought." I shrugged. "Kinda feel awkward being in his presence now, though."

"I'll distract him if you want. British guys are kinda cute." Joey smirked.

I tsked, cocking my head at him. "Joey, you didn't like the guy a few weeks ago."

"I never said I didn't like him." He smirked.

"I mean, you can try." I rolled my eyes, a small smile appearing on my own face, "don't expect it to go anywhere."

Joey winked and brushed past me, making his way in Ed's direction.

Setting my glass down in my sink, I made my way to the bathroom just to check my lip gloss. A woman couldn't be too careful.

Once inside, I felt cramped again despite being alone. Maybe it was the underlying feeling of worry from being trapped in the room with Raja.

I told myself to breathe but then questioned why I was even doing such an exercise. Everything was fine. Life was good.

Looking in the mirror, my gloss was fine. But I applied a new coat anyway, just a reassurance.

And upon leaving, I set out in search of Blair again. She had to be here, just somewhere lost amongst this large amount of people.

Maybe she found someone else to talk to. Maybe not.

I moved to the balcony, the cool night air a relief.

But she wasn't there either.

I sighed, wanting a cigarette or something. Anything to calm the rising panic I was feeling inside.

I closed the door and moved further into the night, peering over the balcony and out into New York. The twinkling lights were pretty. I took a picture and sent it to my Mom. And in a few seconds, she started calling me.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hi, baby. I just thought I'd see how things are going." She asks, sounding pretty optimistic.

"I mean... it's OK, I guess. A bit crowded at my place right now." I replied.

"You nervous for tomorrow?" I hear the mischief in her voice.

She believed I'm not nervous, that I was a confident, strong woman. But she was wrong. "Of course I am. I mean, we've gone through all the precautions, so it should be fine. But still…"

"Well, baby, I promise you, everything will work out fine. It's you we're talking about."

I smiled, trying to teach my brain to agree with her.

"I would say I'd have a drink for you, but I'm trying to keep away from it tonight." Even though that was a lie.

"Yeah, you don't wanna go do something embarrassing like flashing anyone or whatever." She laughs.

"Wow. I didn't realise that was something I did." I quipped sarcastically.

"How about Jujubee?" I could still hear her smile.

But mine slowly dropped. Fuck, I had no idea. Immediately I stood back from the balcony. "Ugh...yeah, she's fine. She's good."

I moved to the door and looked past the glass at the large number of people. Fuck, I didn't even know if she was inside.

"Am I gonna get to see a picture of your outfits? You two always look like the stars of a party."

"Yeah," I faked a small laugh. "I'll go find her and get a picture. I'm gonna get back inside, OK?"

"No problem, baby. Love you."

"I love you too." I clicked end call and quickly made my way back inside.

How the fuck had I forgotten about her so quickly? Not like she was in my mind that morning or anything.

Now I had to find 2 people. I rushed inside, looking out for both of them. I checked the kitchen, dining area, lounge, the bathroom. Fuck, I even checked upstairs in the case Jujubee was there.

But there was no sign.

Where the fuck was she? Where was Blair?

It was getting harder to hold down the anxiety. Was Jujubee right about Blair? Was this another instance of my childhood crush getting my hopes up and flaking out?

The next drink tray I saw, my hand went straight for another glass. Two wouldn't hurt.

"Hey, you made it!" I heard from the front of the room, by the door.

I quickly downed the champagne and practically ran for it, too afraid to miss who had arrived.

Just as my hopes were quickly up, they fell just as fast. It was just Alex, Joey hugging him at the door.

"Fuck...Fuck...Fuck…" I whispered to myself.

A third glass of champagne found its way into my hand, and in a matter of seconds, it was down the hatch. I grimaced at the taste now, feeling like I could throw up at any second. Was that all just the anxiety, though?

Another bathroom break, I was fixing my gloss once again, scared to ruin my makeup. My hands were trembling. Fuck.

It wasn't stopping.

Back out in the main room, I tried to scan the crowd, standing on my tiptoes to try and see past everyone. It didn't help much.

Despite the music and rambling chatter happening around me, I heard the front door open, my eyes shot in its direction.

I struggled to move past a small group of coworkers, trying to get a good view of the door.

I didn't even get my hopes up this time. And, of course, it wasn't Blair.

Jujubee was right. Blair wasn't coming. Once again, she had led me on to believe I did mean something to her and that she'd give us a chance.

My hand gripped my scalp, turning away from the door. I growled, "Fuck," which didn't go unnoticed.

There was Nina with a hand on my arm. "Are you OK?"

"Yes." I lied so quickly. "I'm fine. Just... it's a little crowded in here," I fidgeted with my hands, "Is Jujubee here?"

"Yeah, you haven't seen her?" Nina raised a brow, rubbing her hand up and down my bicep.

"No." My eyes looked around briefly. "Where is she??"

"I dunno. She's you're best friend." Nina squinted her eyes. She didn't mean to sound accusatory. I guessed she was more concerned.

"She is." I reaffirmed, even though now I wasn't so sure.

"If it helps, the last place I saw her was the kitchen."

"When?"

"Half an hour ago."

I rolled my eyes and groaned. "She could be anywhere."

"Girl, it's fine. Not like we're in a labyrinth. You'll find her eventually." Nina smiled, rubbing my arm again.

I paid her no more heed and hurried towards the kitchen in the hope I'd find her there. But like the rest of my apartment, it was crowded. I stood on my toes again to try and catch a glimpse of black hair.

But there was no sign. Stressed, a shaking hand reached for another champagne. Usually, my tolerance for alcohol was high, but right now, I was feeling it. I was wavy.

In my now weary state of mind, I decided what was the fucking point? Blair had 100% flaked, as per usual, and Jujubee was obviously avoiding me at all costs.

Nina had followed me, taking my hand. "Follow me."

I didn't fight it. She moved to the staircase, pulled back the barrier and let me pass through.

She ushered me to walk up to the top before moving no further.

Turning towards the crowd beneath us, Nina addressed the people with a raised tone. "Can we have your attention, please?"

The people went quiet, beaming up at us.

Nina talked about how much of a good night it was, all while the alcohol was taking me over.

My eyes scanned the crowd, in the final chance of hope, wanting nothing more than to see Jujubee's glowing smile shining up at me.

But I couldn't. Not because I had double vision. But because she was nowhere.

I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing hard out through my nose.

Nina put her hand on my shoulder. And only then did I realise that I had blacked out, missing everything she said. I blinked a few times, trying to clear the film that had glazed my brown eyes.

"But we all wouldn't be here without our leading lady." She smiled warmly. "Everything she's achieved, it's all brought us to this moment. Let's raise a glass to Miss Brianna Caldwell."

Everyone started cheering, only a few raising a toast, the others clapping. My eyes widened, feeling all those eyes on me.

"Hope you have a speech prepared," Nina whispered in my ear.

And me, being the queen of saying just 3 lines and quickly evacuating the scene, decided no. Fuck it. I had something to say.

When the crowd began to settle down, I began to deliver the messiest speech ever.

"Well, funny you should mention achievements, Nina, because, yeah, I'm standing here before you all, having done the impossible. But what does that matter?" I laughed, shrugging. "Yeah, it does matter a whole fucking deal. I mean, look at you all. You wouldn't be here if it wasn't?" I laughed awkwardly again, but as I continued, my smile began to disappear. "Well, sometimes you just want a certain someone to give a shit. And they make you believe that they do. Just for like 5 minutes. And it feels so so fucking incredible. It feels like...like you matter. You're not just plain old Brianna Caldwell. You mean the world to them…" My tone dropped, "And then...you realise you're the most gullible, unaware, stupid fucking idiot in the world. They don't really give a fuck about you. They don't see all the things that you've achieved in life and think…' Wow...What an incredible person.' They just... don't give a fuck about you."

Everybody looked confused, uneasy even, while others giggled. Glad to know I was serving as the entertainment for the night, and I was in the same room as Ed fucking Sheeran.

Then, as if some higher power looked at me with a shaking head, maybe my grandpa, there was a glimmer of light at the back of the room, a flash of movement. And my eyes were drawn to the source.

My heart stopped

There she was. Finally. Blair St. Clair smiling apologetically at the few people who were looking at her. They smiled back as they should. She was breathtaking.

And her eyes moved to where everyone else was looking.

Right at me.

Such a familiar feeling was falling over me.

Everyone else in the room. Gone. Like they just stepped into another world, leaving the two of us in this reality.

She panted, out a breath, like she had run to my place. Impossible, she looked like an absolute angel in her gold wrap dress.

Nina nudged me. I snapped out of my daze, reminded of the whole crowd of people looking up at me with confused stares.

Fuck...what do I say now? How do I backtrack?

"But...you know what?" I started to speak again. "You realise, you're just overthinking again. 'Cause, that's a very on-brand thing for you. Every little incident of the past has taught you to doubt that good things actually can happen to you." My smile was returning. "Because the people who give a shit are there. Because you've done the impossible. And they couldn't be happier to be part of your story." My eyes were moving through the crowd, "Do what makes the ones around you proud, and what makes you fucking proud. And don't let anyone or anything hold you the fuck back. Because you have a purpose."

Thank fuck for the fact everyone started cheering again. I thought I had fucking bombed that I would see a recording of the same speech the following day all over Twitter, along with comments about how dramatic it was.

But it was fine. I saved it. I smiled at everyone and hugged Nina, suddenly overcome with happiness.

"Fuck you for not telling me you were gonna drag me up here," I whispered in her ear.

"Well, if I had asked you in the first place, you would have said no, honey." Nina grinned.

We pulled apart, and my eyes went back to the front door. I smiled, expecting to see Blair. But she had vanished. Fuck, I hadn't imagined her, right?

I tried to carefully make my way down the stairs without tripping, ready to look for her once again.

And upon reaching the bottom, Joey grabbed my hand and pulled me close, "someone on the balcony requires your attention."

He winked, and the butterflies in my belly went mad.

She was playing games with me. Not a very Blair St Clair thing to do, but the thought excited me.

I hurried to the balcony, ready to feel that cool air on my skin, her warm body pressed against mine.

And just as I was passing through the doors, feeling the cooling breeze, I stopped dead in my tracks.

I froze.

This wasn't what I expected; seeing her standing there, only noticing how radiant she looked in her orange suit dress.

Fuck. It felt so long since I had last seen her.

But it had been only a few days.

"Hi, Juju," I spoke quietly.

"Hey," she inhaled her cigarette, looking out to the city. If she hadn't replied to me, I would have guessed she failed to realise I was even there.

I swallowed, my eyes glancing down to the ground for a moment. The alcohol in my system was telling me to just turn and leave her alone. She didn't wanna see me.

But my brain said, "you idiot, she obviously invited you out here."

So I moved forward, rubbing the backs of my arms nervously.

I stood beside her, not even daring to look her in the eye. I looked at her orange suit, how Mom would have adored it.

"You invited me out here." I leaned my elbows on the ledge, my gaze following hers over the twinkling lights of New York.

"Yeah, I did." She did offer me a cigarette, but still, she never looked at me.

I shook my head, declining her offer, "Why didn't you just come and ask me yourself?"

"I was dying for a cigarette." She breathed out a stream of smoke. "Also, I've already spent most of the night trying to find you."

I couldn't help but breathe out a laugh through my nose. I glanced at her and was glad to see the smirk appear on those lips.

"I've been trying to fucking find you." I continued to laugh, a crack to my tone, however.

She finally looked at me, turning her body to face me. Her brows were knit together, yet the smirk remained. "No. I," she stressed, "have been trying to find you."

"So...what have I been doing for the past...I dunno, few hours?" I raised a brow. "Did I take 10 hits of acid earlier, or did I not search this place from top to bottom?"

She gave me a hopeless smile like she knew there was no point in arguing. She sucked on the cigarette, offering it to me.

I gave in, taking it from her hand, my fingers touching hers with a light touch. Her eyes moved to our hands as if she was thinking about it too. The feeling like this was a moment we needed to remember.

I took a drag on the cigarette, passing it back. She looked away, briefly turning her gaze to the ground.

But I kept my eyes on her like I'd never get another chance. "I really miss you, Juju," I spoke quietly, almost through a whisper.

She looked at me again. Her mouth moved around slightly yet remained closed like she wanted to say something. But she couldn't figure out what it was she was going to say.

I reached out, took her hand in mine. She seemed taken aback at first. But as my thumb stroked against the soft skin of her hand, a small smile began to resurface.

"There are…" she paused, "things that I would love to say to you. But I just... I'm afraid."

"Is it bad? Come on, Juju. You can tell me. You can tell me anything. I mean, we've grown up together. We've always told each other everything."

She looked apprehensive before taking another drag from her cigarette. And stubbing it out in the ashtray, she turned towards me once again.

She looked ready to say it. Whatever it was. I didn't even know the words yet. But I could tell this would mean a lot to her.

The muffled sound of the many people behind the closed glass doors became clearer, amplified even. Jujubee looked in its direction. My eyes followed.

"Blair," I uttered.

She looked slightly taken aback like she didn't know how to react to seeing us.

Jujubee dropped her hand to her side, a small puff of air leaving her nostrils.

"Jujubee." A smile appeared on Blair's face as she finally approached us both. "I didn't expect to see you here!"

"Likewise." Jujubee nodded slowly. She glanced at me, and I reciprocated.

Before I could figure out her exact emotion. But now, she was hard to read once again. My brows knit together, telepathically questioning what she was feeling.

Jujubee looked back at Blair. "Talk about awful timing though, I was just leaving." Jujubee smiled back at her.

Blair's smile was disappearing. "Oh." She paused, unable to say anything else.

"You don't have to go, Jujubee." I took her hand once again, stroking my thumb over her skin another time, just to remind her of the tender moment we were just having.

She smiled again, but only now, I knew the true words behind it. She pulled her hand away. "Early rise, actually. Gotta get up and ready for the big day tomorrow, right?" She raised her brows at me. Then she looked at Blair, "It was nice seeing you," and then back to me once more, "I hope you have a good night, Brie."

She averted her eyes, not even sparing me another glance. The clacking of her heels was deafening, each step away causing something inside to sting.

"It was nice seeing you again," Blair said before Jujubee could make it through the doors.

I heard a mumbled "yeah, yeah," before Jujubee went back inside.

My gaze still followed her, watching as she navigated the crowd.

"Did she...seem off to you?" Blair asked quietly.

"Yeah," I said without thinking. "I just...I don't know what's wrong with her...I can't...work it out…" my eyes never left the door, hoping Jujubee would reappear.

And feeling Blair's soft hand in mine, I was brought back to reality. I looked at her, seeing the concern in her eyes. Fuck, what a great way to reunite.

"Is something going on?" She asked softly.

I shook my head frantically, "N-No. We're fine...I guess I'm just overreacting. Yeah, she's just been...really busy with everything."

"That's probably true." She shrugged, glancing at the door, "Well, actually, I haven't seen what goes behind the public eye, but I bet it's taxing." Blair was facing me again, her eyes widening briefly.

I let out a small laugh, "Oh, you have no idea." And only then did I get a real chance to take her in. The girl had not changed. Well, call me corny, but she only got more radiant looking.

"I didn't think you'd come," I spoke with a hushed tone.

"Sorry, I was late. I couldn't get a cab for ages." She gave a half-smile. "I guess New York really is that kind of place."

"Fuck, I didn't think about traffic. I could have got you a driver or something. "I started rambling.

"No, it's OK. I'm here now anyway." Her eyes looked me up and down, "you look great, by the way. Pink always was your colour."

Funny how the last time she gave me a compliment, I shut her down. But now, I couldn't bring myself to do so. "Thank you."

I wasn't expecting her to hug me, but she did. It was very welcoming. If I could rate it out of 10, I'd give it a 9. Why the missing point? Cause she pulled away too soon. I needed that time, just to soak up the moment.

My arm was still around her waist when she put a hand to my face.

"It's so good to see you." She beamed, the city lights reflected in her eyes.

"You wanna go upstairs? We'll hear better up there. And it's kinda chilly out here." I hoped she didn't find that creepy or like I was suggesting something because that was not my intention, believe it or not.

I almost jumped, the sound of her sweet voice dragging me out of the storm that was my inner ramblings. "What about your party?" She looked over her shoulder at all the guests behind the closed doors."

"They'll be fine," I said too quickly.

"Oh. Well, if you say so."

She didn't find that weird. Good. I finally pulled my arm from her body but took her hand instead, leading her into the apartment.

I ignored the side glances we received, too focused on her presence behind me. Still so in disbelief that for once, she hadn't flaked out. She really did give a fuck. Walking up the stairs, I only noticed how my vision had cleared. I no longer felt drunk. Had it just been a quick rush of nausea that left me feeling so weary before? Or had the shock of seeing Blair literally walk into my life again shocked me so much to the point it sobered me up?

"Here we go," I said quietly, welcoming her into the upper level.

"Wow, you got another living room up here." Blair's wandering eyes landed on the couch.

"Yeah. The one downstairs is for fucking business and parties. And this one," I gestured to where she was looking, "is for hanging out mostly, and…" Why did I have to be so nervous?

"Hookups?" She looked at me with raised brows and a smirk.

I laughed nervously, moving to the fake fireplace and turning it on. Why didn't I just say no? She probably thought I was a slut or something. "Sit down if you want. Do you want a drink? I'd love a fucking drink right now."

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks, though." She replied, sitting down on the sofa and relishing the feeling of it.

"I need some fucking water." I rushed to the mini-fridge and pulled out a bottle.

Turning back to face Blair, she was looking at me in confusion. "You OK?"

"What?" That was all I thought to reply with.

"You seem kind of…" she paused, trying to figure out her words, "on edge."

"I do?" My hands played with the water bottle.

"Yeah, you've included the word 'fucking' in every sentence since we got up here." She allowed herself to smirk.

Subliminal, Blair. I like it.

Fuck, I dragged my mind out of the gutter and practically rushed to the couch. "Oh, it's just...tomorrow. The nerves, you know." I sat on the other end of the sofa, took a gulp of water and made myself comfortable.

Blair turned to face her body towards me. "Am I wrong, or was Ed Sheeran downstairs??"

"Yeah, he was. It's kind of a long story, actually." I laughed. "You a fan?"

"No, not really," Blair replied.

"Good, me neither. Not really into the whole wedding dance song vibe."

"Me too." She groaned, "If I hear Thinking out loud at another wedding, girl, I'm just...I dunno."

"I get it. 100%"

"Well, enough about him," Blair sat up straight, a bright smile on her face. She laughed for a moment before even speaking, "Fuck, I was just about to ask what you've been up to." She gestured a hand around the room, "I mean, duh."

"Yeah," I returned the laugh, "It's pretty much just that. This project has taken up most of my life over the years."

"God, I remember reading in the paper...fuck, I can't remember the exact title. It was this tiny article just squashed into a corner. 'Scientist seeks to prove the existence of other realities.' Yeah, it was something like that. And…" She shrugged, "I just knew it was you. And, I knew you'd go far."

I felt the blush creep onto my skin. Hearing this from Blair felt otherworldly.

"I mean, I knew before. When you told me at Prom, I knew you'd be able to do it." She added.

"How did you know?" I asked.

"Just hearing how you talked about it. Like, you really believed in yourself. It made me believe too." She swapped around the legs she crossed.

"It was hard. Trying to get people on board with everything. Not a lot of people believed it was even possible in the beginning." I unscrewed the cap from the bottle of water. "And now look at me; I got the government behind this whole thing." I shrugged and took a sip of the water. Before she could go on, I took the conversation on another route. "But what about you? Where are you in life?"

I knew where she was in life. Hadn't I Facebook stalked her not too long before?

"Well, it sounds far fetched, but I'm trying to get into the music scene." Blair sat back in her seat, eyes wandering off, looking at nothing in particular.

"You always did like performing," I noted. "Starting out in the school playgrounds. Soon you'll be playing an Arena with a sold-out show."

Did I sound cheesy? Was I too much of a kiss ass? Because to me, this was honesty. I always thought Blair had the potential to be a famous singer. She had the voice, the looks, style and personality. Who wouldn't want her as part of their label?

Fuck, it only hit me that I could have gotten her a spot to perform at the event.

Blair had stood, a small sigh emitting her lips. "An Arena? Imagine that." She smirked for a moment, stepping away from the couch. For a hot second, I thought I had stepped on territory I shouldn't have, and she was leaving. But she made her way to the window, staring out over New York. So I naturally went too. "Well, I've just been singing around bars for a while now, even had 2 gigs. Nothing too amazing." She explained. "I mean, I know you say Arena and all, but, actually, I wouldn't wanna be that big. I just...want people to hear my music."

Her smile faltered somewhat, and it spoke volumes. It wasn't happening fast enough for her, the growing number of ears that would someday listen to her words. She wanted it all now.

I sidestepped a bit closer. My fingers were so close to brushing against hers, then stopping myself in realising that was too much. "It does take time, these things. I mean, I didn't get here overnight. It will happen, Blair." She flashed me a gracious smile, and I was glad she didn't find any of that condescending. That was not my aim. "Anyway, I'd love to hear your music."

"You would?" Blair cocked her head to the side, turning more to face me, her hand on the window cill closer to mine.

"Of course," I reply. She should've known that anyway.

"Well, I'm not gonna break out into song for you right now. But I have a few videos on my Facebook. You should add me." She suggested.

I had never opened Facebook so fast. "There. I sent you a request." I scrolled through her timeline, my back now to the window, "Lemme see."

"Oh, God. Please don't. Not right now." Blair panicked.

I lifted my gaze, my eyes almost wide. Blair St Clair, the girl who wasn't hesitant to approach a mic, was embarrassed. I found this to be adorable and oddly made me feel more relaxed. "Don't be shy, Blair. I'm sure they're great."

"Brianna, don't." No joke, Blair attempted to snatch my phone away like a child.

I found it highly amusing. "Why not?" I smiled mischievously.

Blair continued her protests, trying to swipe at the phone more and more, all while laughing nervously.

Eventually, my teasing led to a chase. I still scrolled her Facebook as I ran around the room, Blair behind me.

"Which one should I look out for?" I stood at one end of the couch.

Blair stood at the other end, letting out a pant. "Brianna, you better not."

I stepped to the right, throwing her off, and she ran to her left, ready to run straight at me and take the phone out of my hand.

But I tricked her. When I took that step to the right, I pulled back and moved to the left instead. And without thinking, I threw myself down on my bed.

Before I could even get up, Blair was already there, too, crawling towards me. She reached for my phone, still pleading with me to stop.

And finally, giving the current circumstances, I gave in. "OK, OK. You win. I won't play your music in front of you." I giggled mischievously, shuffling so my back was against my headboard. "You're gonna have to remind me to check it out, though."

Blair remained at the bottom of my bed, kicking her heels off and folding them like a pretzel. It was as if we were teenagers again, catching up on all the hanging out we never got to do. She fluffed out her hair, "God, Brie, I came here to have a good time. Not to work out. Why are you still looking at your phone?"

Now that I was on her profile, scrolling back to the top, I saw a familiar picture. "Wow, this George guy's kind of cute."

Blair smiled warmly, her eyes looking upwards. And I had the slightest sinking feeling she was about to tell me this was her fucking lover or husband.

"Ah...George. What a guy." Blair blinked. "He does music too. If you like my stuff, then you'll like his too. He's got this song Gimme Love. It's my favourite."

"Is he your boyfriend?" There was no hesitation in asking.

Her brows briefly crossed. "What? No. He's one of my closest friends. Really helping me find places to perform. He's just...really cool."

I mouthed a silent 'Oh' before going on and cocking my head to the side, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Was it normal to ask shit like this? Maybe it was. But considering I had confessed to her I liked her very much in that accidental message, perhaps I shouldn't have said it at all. Didn't want her getting sus.

I got the feeling she knew I was trying to find a way in as she raised a brow at me, the corners of her mouth turning upwards. "Nah, Brie. I'm done with boys."

I lowered my phone. That could have meant anything;

She was strictly into girls;

She had just gotten out of a bad relationship with someone, and she was going through that typical 'men are trash' phase;

She used the term 'boys' when referring to immature fuck boys who still thrived in toilet paper bombing people's houses and still fought with feminists online. She was now looking for 'a real man' who would love and respect her.

She wasn't speaking, just lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Before the silence could go on and get awkward, I shifted in my own spot. "Do you wanna elaborate on that?"

"Oh. Yeah, if you want to hear it." She said like she didn't want to, and before I could stop her, she went on, "Well, the last was Conrad. He cheated on me. Before him, there was Ethan. I found out he'd talk shit about me to all his meathead buddies, said that my ass wasn't big enough. Then Bryce with his superior attitude. And…" she sighed, "Fucking Trevor."

Just hearing his name did something to me. I could feel how my shoulders had tensed, how the breath got stuck in my throat for a moment. But my ability to talk was unaffected because I spoke up, "I remember you saying he was controlling." I moved away from my headboard, shuffling closer to her, so close she could have put her head in my lap if she wanted.

Blair nodded, "he was," she breathed out a sigh, "I can't believe I'm even admitting this, but after high school, I started seeing him again. He promised me he would change, that things would be different. And I always feel like such an idiot for believing him."

That was upsetting. My hand squeezed in a fist. "So, what was the final straw? The thing that made you end things for the last time?"

Blair took in a deep breath, rolling over onto her front and propping her head upon her hands. She looked up at me with sad eyes. "He was just the same, Brie. Always controlling me, telling me how to act, who I could and couldn't hang out with. He was like that from the beginning to the end. I mean, you remember how he reacted about that one sex-ed class? And that time, he yelled at me in front of everyone for not sitting with him at lunch one day?"

I had no idea about the last thing. And I wasn't even surprised. Trevor was that type of guy, and you just knew it within the first few minutes of meeting him.

I was curious to know, but I kind of already had a feeling. Yet, I needed clarification. "Is that why you never came back to the library? Because he knew people would talk if you were seen with the school loser?" She leaned up now, but I continued. "Is it why you never came to speak to me about the prom?"

Blair was just watching me in silence. But I could see it, the realisation in her face.

"Fuck." She sat up and moved closer to me. "Oh my gosh, Brianna. I am so sorry. I had...no idea it would hurt you." We were both face to face, and she put her hands on mine, her eyes apologetic. She cussed, briefly looking away. "Fuck, I knew you hated me. The years of silence, of course, you did."

"Wait, no. Stop. I'm sorry. I don't wanna make you feel like a bad person. That's not what I wanted to do." I said profusely, my hands tightening just slightly.

"No, no. I'm sorry. You have every right to be upset." She spoke quietly, her blue eyes pleading with me. "Just be honest with me. I owe you that. You deserve to be heard."

"Really, Blair, it's fine. It's - -"

"Brianna. You're upset. You're not really good at hiding it, no offence." She smirked at the last comment. But the smile disappeared, and she waited for my response.

I stared back at her, my gaze shifting between both those eyes. My mind debated what to do, refuse to say a thing and let it all continue to build up. Or vent years of pent up emotions that needed to be said.

I looked away, deciding the latter decision was probably the best. I really didn't want to, what with the risk of upsetting her.

But maybe she wouldn't.

But maybe she would.

But maybe…

Her hand left mine and swept a strand of hair away from my face. I didn't even know it was there. "You're really hurt, Brie," she spoke softly.

I looked back to her finally, her hand lowering back down. And I finally found my voice. "OK." I shifted in my spot, highly uncomfortable. Come on, Brie. Just tell her.

"Do you remember the prom? When you asked me how we never talked more?" Just say it. "Because I always felt inadequate. Like I wasn't enough for you. And, not just you, even my…" I paused, feeling the lump form in my throat, "...my parents. Ummm…" saying that out loud to her, it hit differently. My voice was cracking. "I always associated you with my parents. I don't know where the connection came from, and I know now that that's fucked up, and I know I probably should go to a therapist about that, but..." I quickly explained. "But yeah, I just...never felt enough. Like 'why would Blair the cheerleader want to associate with someone like me? How could Blair ever love someone like me??'"

Fuck, it just slipped out. I studied her face for a reaction, expecting her to back away.

But she didn't. She just nodded in understanding, squeezing my hand reassuringly.

"But, um...I know now. It wasn't that you didn't care. It was just...fucking Trevor." I practically growled that name.

Blair breathed out a laugh, rolling her eyes. "Fucking Trevor."

"Yeah, fuck that asshole," I allowed myself to smile before continuing on. "I just... didn't understand how hard that actually was for you."

"It was very hard. God, it bothered me so much because I really did have a soft spot for you, Brianna. I really did, ever since we were kids." Blair smiled warmly. "And that's why I'm so glad you replied to my message. After all these years."

I gulped, thinking about that damn message, and now seeing her loving smile. "Y-You didn't think it was weird?"

Blair sighed, yet her smile remained. "Brianna. Do you think I'd be sitting here if it was?" She moved her hand to my elbow, up my shoulder, caressing my cheek gently.

I almost said something. I couldn't even remember what it was. Not that it mattered because I didn't get the chance. The moment I had been waiting for, it was happening. Her face was moving closer to mine, eyes slowly closing. And as soon as I felt her lips brush against mine, the feeling of her touch caused the butterflies in my stomach to flutter. I closed my own eyes and accepted what was happening.

The kiss my teenage self craved, dreamed about even.

It was reality.

We hadn't just slipped into some other world.

This was real life. The feeling of her hand on my cheek, that was real. The butterflies in my stomach fighting against the walls, also real.

And how I lifted my hand and held her face, also real.

She pulled away first, but her lips were still close, "was that OK?"

"Yeah," I moved my face back towards hers, initiating another kiss. I was savouring every bit of this moment. The sweet taste of her was too much to not let go of.

But she pulled back again, letting herself fall back against the mattress. I stared at her for a few seconds. Fuck, this was happening. Something inside me was hesitant to do this. The nerves, the fear of not being enough for her.

Blair reached out for my hand, and I knew I was just overthinking again. I took her hand and allowed her to pull me down to her.

Lowering my face to hers, I kissed her again, more hungrily this time. For a second, I didn't know where to go from there, still so in disbelief that my luck had turned around.

When I pulled away, my hand travelling down the side of her face. "Oh my God...is this real?"

"Of course it is." Blair giggled, her hands roaming up and down my back.

"OK. Good!" I panted, moving my kisses to her cheek, then her neck, and I could feel my heart beating a bit faster.

But because I am Brianna Caldwell, the most awkward person to have ever lived, I had to go on with the questions. "Hey, Blair, can I ask you something?" I kept my lips where they were.

"Mhmm?" She purred when I kissed that point where her neck met her shoulder. The pathetic noise she made almost made me melt, I swear to God.

"Were you…" come on, Brie, just say it, "were you gonna kiss me at the prom?"

She chuckled, "Yeah. But Trevor had to be an insecure loser."

I appreciated the cute giggling sound she made.

I lifted my head away from her skin and leaned up. I looked at her with a raised brow.

Blair was smiling still, but I knew she was getting impatient.

"So...you like-liked me back then too? Even when I was ugly?" I asked.

"Brianna, you were never ugly." Blair's brows connected, a hand stroking up and down my side. She really was getting needy. "And yes. I always like-liked you. God, that's so cute. You still say like-like." She took my hands and guided them to the knot tight at the side of her wrap dress.

"Shut up. Fuck, you're so beautiful." My hands began to untie the knot while I lowered my face and kissed along her clavicle and the only bit of exposed chest I had access to.

"Fuck. If only you knew how long I wanted this." Blair mewled. "I didn't think this was ever gonna happen. Even when I saw you and Juju out on the balcony, I was like...fuck. I'm too late."

Confusion immediately took me over. I pulled back again, looking down at her. A brief flash of frustration appeared on her face, but I ignored it. "Wait. What?"

"Yeah, I just…" Blair looked away for a moment as if debating on continuing or not, "always saw how you were around her. Always so happy. Like you were on top of the world. And I just didn't want to get in the way of that."

Her hand was trailing along my thigh, but I ignored it.

"Wait...Jujubee?" I knew that's who she was talking about, but even the sound of her name, it made something inside hurt. Not a hurt that she caused. Something...so different yet familiar at the same time.

"Yes. I never saw you that happy around anyone else…" Blair leaned back, balancing against my propped knees. "I mean, the prom? The way you looked at me, it was nothing compared to when you're with her. With Jujubee, it was...always so different."

Realisation dawned on me. I knew what she was getting at.

I opened my mouth to speak, ready to say I didn't like Jujubee in that way. But the words wouldn't surface. No matter how much I willed myself, I just couldn't. Even the thought of saying it made that feeling of hurt feel 10 times worse.

"You OK?" Her fingers danced around my thigh again, only with more wanting now.

"But…" I began, "I gave you my Valentine's card in first grade."

Now she was silent, her gaze shifting between both my eyes. She leaned up on both elbows, realising my questions weren't going to stop, and her pussy wasn't going to be eaten any time soon. She gave a nervous laugh, "um, no. You gave it to Jujubee."

I squinted my eyes. "No. I gave it to you, Blair."

"Girl, you gave it to me, and when I asked if it was mine, you shouted at me, saying it was for Juju and you just wanted me to check it out." She was laughing again. But seeing my still confused face, her smile began to drop. "You don't remember that?"

I was silent for a moment. Blair was in front of me, the love of my life, but all I could see was the image of Jujubee in my head. Her perfect little face, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed, that bright smile, her silky black hair that always smelt so good.

I thought back, all the way back to that specific Valentine's Day. I remembered handing the card to Blair, her confused face, how the kids snickered as I stood there feeling sorry for myself. And Jujubee shouting at them all for making jokes.

But that was all.

"I... don't remember that," I spoke quietly, my eyes squinted.

"Not even the card she gave you?"

My eyes widened at that. "She did what?"

"Yeah, she gave you a card."

Now that she mentioned it, there was a flicker of an image in my head; something pastel pink. My tiny painted fingers holding a heart shape. Baby Brianna smiling, only to lift her head and see the other kids making fun.

"Oh, shit…" I whispered. I climbed off Blair and got up from the bed.

I was on the verge of pacing, my hand in my hair, "Oh my God."

"Don't be embarrassed, Brie." Blair was fully sat up in the bed now, her legs spread as if trying to beckon me back. "Not a lot of people can remember so far back."

I needed to prove if this was real or not. I'd call Jujubee. But then again, would she have even answered? If what Blair was saying was true, that explained why Jujubee was behaving the way she was. She was hurt. She was pissed because I didn't remember her card.

But how the fuck could I have forgotten something like that? All my life, that was all I ever wanted - to know I was loved by someone. Such a memory like that…

"Brie, are we...you know...gonna…" Blair spoke quietly.

My eyes widened. A memory like that. A memory that would be worth keeping.

I turned to face her. "Blair, wait here. I'll be right back."

"OK. Sure." Blair blinked a few times.

I wasted no time rushing downstairs. Taking a moment to observe the crowd, it seemed, quite a few guests had left already. At least it would make it easier to navigate.

I made my way to the kitchen. The memory box was still there. For a millisecond, I feared someone would have stolen it.

I took it to the counter, no one was around, so I felt safe enough to open it.

My nerves were wrecked as I lifted the latch to the box. I only had a small idea of the things that would be in here. Old photos, movie tickets, childhood drawings.

But I hadn't planned on opening it up so soon.

No. I needed to know the truth.

Opening it up, I saw a bunch of photos, tickets and pieces of folded up paper. I removed them, planning to possibly look at them at a later date.

The more I pulled out, the more confident I felt that Blair had got it all wrong. And she was the one who remembered things differently.

But there was a flash of pink at the bottom of the box. I gulped, pushing aside the scraps of paper burying it.

And there it was; A pastel pink heart-shaped card, 'Happy Valentines Day' writing in glitter gel pen on the front. "Shit…" I said quietly, pulling the card out.

Opening it up, I breathed out a puff of air.

'Dear Brianna, I know people in class are mean and say nasty things. But I think you are the prettiest girl in the world. Happy Valentine's day. Love from Juju xxx'

I could hear the younger version of myself reading it out loud, the insults from the other kids, Jujubee yelling at them because they were just jealous.

I put the card down as I realised Blair was right. And memories resurfaced, reading completely different.

That Valentines Day in which she refused to tell me who she had eyes for

That time she didn't invite me to stay for dinner.

How her smile would drop every time I mentioned Blair.

How I never danced with her at the prom

And finally, our recent argument.

It all made sense. Jujubee was in love with me. And instead of recognising it earlier on, I was too caught up with Blair to see it.

And what about me? How did I feel about her? Yeah, Jujubee was my one and only friend. She had gotten me through so much throughout the years. If it weren't for her, who knew where I would have been.

I couldn't pinpoint any time that I had thought of her as more than just a friend.

Well, maybe the times we'd lie in bed and just...stare into each other's eyes. Or the time she held me as I sobbed into her chest after the incident at the prom. Or maybe the times she'd smile, and it would brighten up my day. Or the exact day that I noticed how cute it was when her lashes fluttered.

Or…

My eyes met the heart-shaped card again, how the very sight of it made my heart skip a beat.

"Fuck." I ran my fingers through my hair as it was clear to me.

My eyes ventured away from the card, moving to the scraps of paper.

'Grandpa's tips for life'

My hand told me to examine the piece of paper further, so I did so.

At the top of the list, there it was. A sign.

'Go get her, kiddo. You've got nothing to lose.'

I needed to tell her.

I packed the box up and quickly left the kitchen, noting that a few more people had left.

"Blair!" I called, rushing up the stairs.

She was still there, laying in the bed, in just her white lacey lingerie.

I covered my eyes. "Oh my God. That was unexpected."

"Fuck. Sorry. I kind of had a feeling that would have been inappropriate." She asked.

"What? No. You're fine. I just... wasn't prepared for that." I stuttered, still covering my eyes. "Could you just...cover-up for a second."

"OK." I heard her say. "You can look now."

I looked back. She did pull the duvet up, but just below the wire of her bra.

"OK," I breathed out, trying to ignore her cleavage, "I think you're right about Jujubee."

"You think?"

"Yes," I replied before shaking my head profusely. "No. I know. You're right, Blair. I...I like her. Maybe even love her." Fuck, saying that out loud, it did something to me, "And yes, I liked you for so long, but you're right. I was always happiest with her."

I was expecting her to be disappointed, but she smiled. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

"What?"

"Go get her."

Grandpa's words reiterated.

"You're not upset that we're not gonna have sex right now?"

"No, Brie." Blair threw back the covers, picking up her gold wrap dress off the floor, "I already learned how to deal with it. Knowing you belonged to someone else." She wrapped her body up in the dress effortlessly, fluffed out her hair and turned to look at me again. "I know you're meant to be with her. So, go. Go tell her now before it's too late."

Despite this revelation, I couldn't help but feel like a dick. Blair was smiling, but I knew she had to feel some level of hurt. I walked towards her and brought her into a hug.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you, Brie," Blair whispered in my ear.

I only held her tighter, "Don't be," and I pulled away, my hands still on her shoulders, "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have ever opened my eyes."

I kissed her on the cheek, and she smiled warmly. I turned to leave, and before I made my way downstairs, I looked at her once more. Her hand was on her face where my lips had been. I was glad I could give her that one last kiss, just something to hold on to.

"You really helped me, Blair," I said.

"Good." She said graciously. "Now go."

The urgency in her voice only fueled my determination.

I was under no time limit, but I couldn't help but want to reach Jujubee as soon as possible.

When I was outside, I shouted for the first cab I saw. Thankfully it pulled over. I got in and pulled out my phone.

But the car was still.

"Go! Drive!" I raised my voice.

"Lady. You haven't even told me where you're headed!" The cabbie turned in his seat.

Fuck, I sounded crazy. How he hadn't thrown me out was beyond me.

I only realised that I had no idea where my destination was. Jujubee could have been anywhere.

The driver was still looking at me, his patience growing thin. So I barked out Jujubee's address.

He seemed relieved to be on the road again. Only then was I aware of the honking cars behind us. Typical for New York, but this was too much.

I found Jujubee's number, trying my luck at the chance she'd answer.

It rang.

And it rang.

And it rang some more.

"Come on, come on," I repeated quietly to myself. Relax, Brie. It's not like she's catching a plane to the furthest state.

The phone went straight to voicemail. "Fuck!"

The cab driver glared at me in the rearview mirror.

I ignored him and tried again. Still nothing.

A few minutes passed, and I tried once more. But again, my luck was shit on.

I dropped my hands to my lap, sighing frustratedly. All I could do was just see if she was home.

My eyes trailed to beyond the window, just hoping to get there as soon as possible.

And there she was. Walking out of a pizza place, a solemn look on her face.

"There she is," I said aloud to myself before turning my attention to the cab driver. "Stop! Pull over!"

He came to a grinding halt. "Jesus Christ, lady! You really need to stop all that yelling and - -"

I handed him a $20 bill, "keep the change. Thank you."

I got out of the vehicle, eyes looking to where Jujubee once was. She was gone.

"Fuck." I looked down one path, not there. And looking down the other, there was Jujubee, rounding the corner and eating a slice of pizza.

I ran in my heels, people moving out of the way to dodge me.

I knew I was an inconvenience to so many, but Jujubee at that moment was my priority.

Rounding the corner, I saw she didn't get far. I couldn't help but bend over for a hot second, trying to catch my breath.

And when I recovered, I shouted out, "Jujubee!"

She turned, eyes wide like she had never heard my voice before. And when she saw it was me, her face sort of fell.

My hand reached into my bag, and I pulled out the Valentines Day card.

She looked confused at first, but then recognition settled in. And the disappointment was replaced with fear.

I stopped panting. And finally, I could speak. "You were right. Approval; That's all I ever wanted. And I thought that if Blair gave that to me, I'd be good enough. Because I never felt that. I never felt good enough. I wasn't good enough for Blair, I was never good enough for my parents, and I'd never be good enough for anyone."

Jujubee was silent for a moment, eyes falling to the pavement and then back up again. "You were good enough for me."

I breathed out. "I know. But I was...too caught up in my own shit to think about how you felt. Too caught up that...I didn't even think about how I felt." I paused, thinking of how the fuck I should say it. No, I didn't need to think. This wasn't some cheesy movie. "I...I love you, Juju."

She let out a breath, a shaky one like she was on the verge of tears. And her eyes became glossy. I really wanted to tell her not to cry, to be happy. But this moment, she wanted this all her life.

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she laughed. "Fuck, I got this fucking pizza 'cause I needed heartbreak food."

I returned the laugh. "Hey, it's OK. You can still eat it. It can be normal pizza."

"No. I'm not even hungry anyway." Jujubee admitted, passing the pizza to a random passerby (who was taken by surprise but accepted the free food anyway).

Jujubee walked towards me. I smiled, already smelling that sweet perfume.

But she pushed me back. "Fuck you for forgetting about the card. I knew you did. I always remembered yours."

"I'm so sorry. I don't know why I forgot. But," I paused, "Blair reminded me."

"She did?"

"Yep."

"Wow. She remembered. But you didn't."

"Yeah. I'm...really really sorry."

"Wow. Is this our first couple fight?" Jujubee put her hands on her hips.

"It could be. If... that's what you want to call us." I suggested.

"Perfect. Seal the deal?" She raised a brow.

I knew where this was going. "Oh, absolutely."

Jujubee stepped closer, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and pressed her lips against mine. And that unfamiliar spark coursed through me, like it came from somewhere inside her and travelled through my body.

And I didn't care for the fact we were in the middle of the street, probably inconveniencing others. All that mattered was the happiness coursing through me, the feeling of...being complete.

I pulled out of the kiss first. "Wanna get in that rocket and be the first to go to the other world?"

Jujubee smiled but quickly stopped. "I-I'm kinda unprepared. I mean... I'd need a toothbrush, my clothes..."

"Where we're going...you don't need 'em." And then I played the words back in my head. "Oh. Oh shit, no. Not in that context. I just meant... you'd get new ones, you know? Fuck, I'm terrible at this."

"No. You're just you." Jujubee laughed, and fuck, I adored how her eyes were crinkling at the corners.

We grabbed the nearest cab. When we told him where we were going, his eyes widened. It would be a journey. But we paid upfront, so the driver remained silent.

When we got to base, I almost cursed myself for not thinking about how we'd access all the areas.

But there was that mastercard. And they couldn't say no. They knew who I was, after all.

When we were in the gowning area, Jujubee and I helped each other into spacesuits. I was high with anticipation, ready to see what was on the other side, ready to do it all with Jujubee.

This was our dream.

Jujubee grabbed two helmets. One for her and one for me. She tossed it my way, and I caught it.

"Ready to go?" She asked.

"Absolutely." I extended my hand, and we made our way to the door.

The cold cool air was refreshing. My eyes travelled up and down the rocket. It was bigger than I imagined, and for a small second, I felt worthless. Like I was just Brianna Caldwell, a girl from a small town with no real purpose in this world.

But Jujubee slid her hand into mine. And I was reminded that all I had to do was shut my inner demons up. Because I did have a purpose. And I was something to someone. As long as I had her, that was all that mattered.

Jujubee smiled mischievously, pulling me along the bridge, leading me to the already opened door. She ducked down and climbed into the small space, and I followed.

It was disorientating at first, what with the rocket facing the sky. I feared I'd fall trying to get into my seat. But Jujubee continued to pull me along.

When we were seated, I wasted no time putting on my helmet and initiated the activation process.

I could feel Jujubee's smirk as I flicked at switches and pressed buttons. It only fueled my excitement.

A voice came through the radio, one of the engineers. We were bombarded with questions, demanding to know what we were doing, how it was too early for take off with no press to film it, all sorts of complaints.

But we didn't care.

When everything seemed ready to go, I put my hand on the lever. But before I pulled, I turned my head to her.

"Ready to see the flying horses?" I raised a brow.

"Just as ready as I am for the cats that bark." She breathed out a laugh through her nostrils.

With another smile, I pulled the lever. The ship was rumbling now, and my stomach was doing somersaults.

We both turned our attention to the sounds of protest from the engineers. They were livid now, shouting about how the media wasn't going to like this.

I lifted my hand up, flipping the source of the sound off. Jujubee cackled to my delight.

I put the intercom on mute. And the ship took off. Mom was gonna kill me for this. I'd definitely bring her back a gift. A new vase, maybe? Yeah. A vase from an entirely new world. Something new.

I looked forward, unable to see the ground below us. How high were we already? How long was left until we reached that crossover, the gateway?

My question was answered as the ship was illuminated by a bright light.

We did it, Grandpa. We did it.

[thetriggeredhappy]

I absolutely love your writing! If you're taking requests, could you maybe do a speeding bullet soulmate au?

thanks a lot pal! and sure thing, i’ve actually had something half-finished in my drafts for soulmate!au for a while. in this AU, it’s the classic “your first words to your soulmate are written on your wrist”, with a minor twist–if your soulmate’s words are on your left hand, that means you will need to speak first. if it’s on the right, then your soulmate is the one who has to speak first before you say your words. this adds a little bit of clarity in-universe, since you can see your phrase is something simple like “how can i help you” and if you’re speaking second you can shoot them back with something buckwild. it can lead to people being more or less extroverted–knowing your line comes second means you can say whatever without being worried that it’ll be written on some poor sap’s skin, and knowing your line comes first means you don’t have that luxury. also limitations like “must be speaking exclusively to that one person” (unless polyamory), “can’t be through a phone or writing”, and “must be identifiable as the person” (do with that what you please). anyways, i like soulmate AUs and put a lot of thought into them.

actual fic is below the cut, and again, you’re very kind

”Are you doing alright, mate?”

To be honest, that wasn’t the worst line that Jeremy could’ve gotten, but fuckin’ seriously.

It wasn’t as bad as his brother Joey, he had “Your shoe’s untied” on the left, and Petey got the nightmare scenario and just got “Hey, how’s your day?” on the right, but the thing that really frustrated him was that it wasn’t even the reaction phrase. That was the opening phrase, meaning they had to say that to him first before he could respond with his own line, and if they were asking if he was doing alright that had to mean something bad was gonna happen and he’d probably look stupid in front of his soulmate and not have a good response or whatever because he’d just, like, fallen in the harbor or something.

Turned out, by the time Jeremy was twelve, he was starting to find out that bad things happening to him was gonna be a consistent issue. He had bad luck, worse than all his brothers combined, and over the course of all that time he got an awful lot of “Are you okay, dude?” and “Are you alright?” from a lot of people. But none of them ever got it exactly right,

missing the crucial few words, nobody ever saying “mate”. Nobody ever asking him that in a voice that felt dark orange.

“Y’know,” his Ma said to him one day when he was sulking, twenty-two and still soulmate-less and with a terrible time at job hunting to boot considering his most recent cast, luckily on his left arm so he could still glare at his mark. “It does have a hint at least.”

“That I’m gonna be a total klutz forever?” Jeremy sulked.

“That your soulmate isn’t gonna be an American, sweetheart,” his Ma corrected gently. “He’s probably gonna be British, or Irish, something like that. They’re the only ones who say “mate”, right?”

“Didn’t you also think my dad was gonna be a Canadian?” he asked suspiciously.

“Honey, I’m not magic, I don’t know everything. I thought it was unrealistic to think it would be someone actually from France,” she said, a little haughty.

She was one of the lucky people to get a really specific phrase, in a language that wasn’t her own no less. It was in French, and when he’d asked as a kid what it said, she’d laughed and said it meant “I promise I had a much more intelligent line to say, but I’m afraid I’ve forgotten it.”

She always said his dad had died, and worn the traditional covering to show that someone’s soulmate was dead, to hide where the words had gone black. But once or twice he’d glimpsed her wrist, and to be honest, the words looked more navy blue.

“Why the heck am I gonna talk to a British person?” Jeremy asked, sulking again.

“World works in mysterious ways, J-Bear,” his Ma shrugged.

She was right. Because a few months later, he was in a particularly terrible situation, and he received a phone call asking if he wanted a job.

-

”I’m seriously, actually, 100% going to murder you.”

It hadn’t shown up until he was four years old, which Mick’s parents had a bloody field day with, and once they were good and tired of dealing with that conundrum they moved right along to address the fact that in reply to whatever their son was going to say, he was going to promptly be threatened.

Great.

He ended up baking under the sun just like everyone else in his god-forsaken country, which only made the bright, cherry-red phrase stand out all the better. His mum tried to be supportive, honest she did, but even getting bullied at school every other day never led to him finding anyone, and she wasn’t all that surprised when at age nineteen he packed up the bare essentials and left home without a word.

He had an idea in his head. He’d heard before of people, terrible people, who used the idea of soulmate to do… bad things. To manipulate people, to make them stay in bad relationships because they thought this one person could and would solve all their problems. And if his soulmate’s first words to him were a threat…

He’d admit if he was asked that he was a lonely person. He didn’t ever seem to fit with anyone. Nobody ever seemed to understand what he meant once he started actually talking, being honest. And he didn’t know if he would have the strength to get out of a bad situation if he was promised up front that this person would understand him. He was pretty sure he would put up with a lot of bad things just for the sake of genuine connection.

So he decided he wouldn’t ever find his soulmate. He’d go off to do hunting and tracking in fuckall nowhere and nobody would ever bother him and he’d never need to deal with a soulmate. He didn’t need one. He’d be fine alone.

When he eventually turned to killing people for money, some part of him deep down wondered if he was just getting too lonely and giving in to what fate had in store for him. If becoming an assassin was the most pathetic, fucked-up bid for someone’s love that had ever happened in history. People did threaten to kill him a lot in that line of work. And more often, people actually tried.

Eventually he got a job offer out in America, more consistent pay and all for the same job, less moving around required, and he took it. He was getting up there in years, and he had a feeling that if he hadn’t found his soulmate by the time he hit thirty, he never would.

-

Jeremy got a new name: Scout. And his new coworkers—“teammates”, as the very pretty lady who unfortunately didn’t ask if he was doing alright had specified to him—were from all over the place. And he’d had high hopes for a minute as he realized one of his teammates was Scottish, but when he spoke face-to-face with the guy he’d instead greeted him with a cheerful “Pleasure to meet you, lad!” and his reply of “Yo, so you’re the Demoman?” had elicited exactly no response, so that was a bust.

He spoke to the Pyro, as briefly as possible since they freaked him out, but they’d similarly not seemed to react to what he first said to them, and neither had any of the rest of the team. Hell, the Heavy had outright brushed him off up front and the Sniper had given him exactly one up-and-down before he’d left entirely.

So cool. Great. New job with people who didn’t care. Nice.

And he found out more and more as time passed that they very much didn’t care. Most of the team could hardly tolerate him for more than ten minutes at a time, Spy he could barely put up with for two sentences, and even though he eventually got to be better friends with Pyro, and Engie eventually started putting up with him more, they still got annoyed with him pretty quickly. Pyro basically ignored him once they reached their limit, and Engie would essentially kick him out of his workshop.

And… to be honest, he didn’t feel totally comfortable talking to them about certain stuff. He felt a little bit like he’d get laughed at. And his once-every-two-weeks phone call home sometimes wasn’t enough to deal with various stresses and he usually was more interested in hearing their news than complaining anyways.

He didn’t know why he went out to the watchtower. Maybe because he was out for a run and it just happened to be in his line of sight. Maybe because it occurred to him that Sniper could keep a secret, wouldn’t tell the guys about whatever he ended up talking about. Maybe because he felt like he didn’t really have any other options.

Anyways, he ended up climbing the watchtower, asking Sniper if it would bug him if Scout sat around and hung out for a while. Sniper didn’t reply, just glancing at Scout over his shoulder briefly before returning to his scope. And then Scout made it exactly three minutes before he started in on talking. “I dunno I just think it’s funny that Spy thinks I’m rude when he’s always the one starting shit for no reason—“

And Sniper didn’t interrupt him, didn’t say anything, didn’t chase him off. He sat there, staring down his scope, occasionally pausing to take a drink of his coffee, for about two hours. Two hours of Scout just talking, thinking out loud.

It was nice. So nice that Scout cut himself off, eventually said goodbye and left the tower again, sure that Sniper would get tired of him and he’d never be allowed back up there again.

It became a weekly thing, every Monday Scout would go up there and talk to Sniper. Talk at Sniper, more like. And Sniper would listen.

One of the days, Scout said something, something he couldn’t even remember, because it was overshadowed by the thing that immediately followed it—Sniper laughing.

He’d never heard Sniper laugh before, he didn’t think. Not in the real way, anyhow. Sniper didn’t talk much. He’d occasionally mention something over the comms, and once or twice Scout heard him cheering along with the rest of the team when they won a match, but overall, he was a man of few words. So getting him to laugh…

He thought about it a lot.

-

Sniper didn’t entirely get why Scout started talking to him.

He tried so hard—so hard—to be left alone. He put on a scowl and wore the brim of his hat low and carried his knife off the clock and didn’t say hello or goodbye. He wanted to be left alone. He deserved to be left alone.

Scout, apparently, didn’t notice. And halfway through Sniper trying to figure out what to say to get the kid to leave, he started telling some story about his brothers back home, and…

He never got around to it. He never… got around to telling him to leave. And once Scout had that foothold, had that… constant nature, that consistency, once Sniper knew to expect him every Monday two hours after the team dinner or half an hour before sunset—whichever came first—he found himself…

God damn it. Enjoying Scout’s company. He liked some of the phrases Scout used. He talked in an interesting way. It was pleasant to listen to. And he was honest, uncomfortably honest at times. He told Sniper about all sorts of things that he figured it was safe to say nobody else knew about.

He talked about his family. His mum. His dad, who died, and then later he corrected himself to say his dad, who disappeared, who probably left, words in navy and not in black. He talked about growing up in the bad part of town, about never being allowed to walk home from school without at least one of his older brothers there until he was eight, when he started carrying a knife on him because sometimes none of his brothers showed up for him, until he was twelve, when he just started running there and back every day after baseball practice to save the trouble. About shoplifting, about getting a job delivering newspapers the second he was legally allowed to, about older brothers going in to work sick and Ma working two jobs to try and support them all when they got too sick for work, too sick for anything for a while. About what he did with his paycheck—he kept some pocket change for himself, to buy records sometimes, or posters, or snack foods for when dinner sucked, or fast food or drinks at the bar when he had time on the weekends. The rest of it—every goddamn penny—went back home. One day, maybe his Ma would never have to work again.

He wanted to tell Scout about his own sad life story. Climbing up the tree outside school and throwing rocks at the bullies who chased him, starting to skip classes and smoke towards the end of his schooling just to try and look a little more intimidating. About his dad scoffing at him when he tended to use a gun to chase off predators from their flock of sheep instead of fighting them hand-to-hand like a good Australian. About running away from all of his problems, and how killing animals, especially people, seemed to be the only thing he was ever any good at, and how sometimes that really did bother him, a lot.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t convince himself that Scout cared, somehow. Visits jumped up to twice a week, Monday and Thursday, same time. It was hot for a while, and he went into town one Sunday to pick up two cases of beer, hauled a cooler up into the watchtower, and left three beers next to where Scout sat and three next to himself about ten minutes before the kid showed up. When it started getting cold at night, he brought up his own quilt like he always did, but brought up the spare as well, left that on what he’d mentally started thinking of as Scout’s Crate. Scout drank the beers, and used the blanket, and would talk for his two hours and then say goodbye and not mention anything to Sniper when they went out to battle the next day.

It…

He didn’t like that he enjoyed it so much. He didn’t like looking forward to it, didn’t like perking up when he heard the ladder rattling, didn’t like hanging on to every word and the increasing frequency at which Scout was making him laugh. He didn’t like how much harder it got every time to bite his lip and hold back from chiming in.

He was a killer, he reminded himself. A hermit from absolutely nowhere Australia who didn’t deserve the company of other people. This was the best thing that could’ve happened to him, and he couldn’t push his luck. If he pushed his luck, then he’d drive Scout away and be left alone again. Scout only talked to him because he was quiet anyways, because he was a mystery. Remove the mystery, and the draw would be gone, and he’d be all alone again. Already this was selfish; he should just shut up and be grateful.

He stared down his scope and drank his coffee and was grateful.

-

A bad day at work, followed by a bad weekend, had Scout hesitating at the base of the watchtower.

Some part of him was rational, and knew he was being ridiculous. But another, stronger part of him couldn’t seem to make his feet move, was repeating a steady mantra to him.

Not wanted.

Sniper didn’t like him. Sniper didn’t want him around. Sniper was just too polite to turn him away, too nice, and was annoyed with his constant talking and wished he would go away but didn’t have the courage, didn’t want to be rude. He wasn’t wanted. Or maybe Sniper just pitied him, maybe Sniper just heard his assorted sob stories and thought, man, poor little idiot kid, might as well set out a blanket for him and let him talk. Maybe Sniper was collecting everything he said for blackmail.

The worst idea to run through his head: maybe Sniper had never been listening to him in the first place.

If Sniper wanted him around, he would’ve said something, right?

Scout didn’t go up into the watchtower that day, or the following Thursday. He didn’t bother looking for Sniper in battle, sure that Sniper would be ignoring him the same way he always did, pretending he didn’t exist the same way he always did.

When he went to the store that weekend, hoping to pick up some chips and soda, he found himself staring at a six-pack of beer. He didn’t even particularly like beer, usually, he preferred other drinks. But he was looking at this six-pack of beer, and he wound up buying it.

It wasn’t some cheap garbage, it was craft beer. It was more expensive.

He drank exactly three of the six and tried not to think about it.

-

Scout was gone. He never showed up. Sniper ended up getting so freaked out about it that he went to check the Medbay, sure that something bad had happened. Medic was there, working on something bloody, but not Scout. And Scout wasn’t in the workshop either, or the workout room, or the rec room. He got a lot of strange looks from his teammates as he asked around. For some, it was the most he’d spoken to them in months.

He was halfway to Scout’s room when he realized he was probably being strange, manic. Scout was allowed to not want to come visit him. He wasn’t offering anything. In all the time—six months, he realized, they’d been doing this for six months—that Scout had visited, all he really had to gain was Sniper occasionally humming or laughing, and exactly three beers on the hotter days and a tobacco-scented blanket in the winter. There was no reason for Sniper to expect him to show up on the little schedule that had been established. He started to feel silly.

Then he didn’t show up on Thursday either, and…

He felt worried, of course he felt worried, obviously he felt worried. One of the only good things to ever happen to him, and it just stopped showing up one day. And he wanted it back. God, he wanted it back. Two days and he already felt more lonely than he ever felt in his life. Maybe having felt even the smallest glimmer of companionship had made him soft, but damn it, he wanted to feel it again.

He made a decision.

-

Scout was lacing up his shoes before battle on Monday when a pair of boots stopped in front of him. This wasn’t strange. What was strange was that it wasn’t the calm amble of Engie, the sturdy stride of Heavy, the confident stomp of Soldier, or the crisp stride of Medic. No, it was an awkward shuffle. A rough clearing of a throat. He looked up, and it was Sniper.

He froze up. “Uh,” he said. “Hi.”

Sniper was looking at him. That was strange. In something like 95% of their interactions, Sniper was facing away from him down a scope, occasionally viewed in profile as he took a sip of beer or coffee, depending on the weather. And the other times were in battle itself, both of them otherwise preoccupied. But now Sniper was looking at him, thumbs shoved in his front pockets. After a second he moved to take off his sunglasses and immediately glanced off to one side, tapping them against his palm.

It looked like a nervous tick. This was strange. Sniper was never like this. Scout was confused.

Sniper glanced towards the rest of the team, all a short ways away, chatting amongst themselves at various volumes. When he spoke, his voice was rough and low and quiet. If Scout had to describe it, he would call it a dark orange.

“Are you doing alright, mate?” he asked, tone hesitant.

Scout remained frozen. Stared. Stared.

“It’s just,” Sniper continued, stumbling awkwardly with his words, unable to make further eye contact with Scout. “You haven’t come around in a while, and I suppose I just got… worried, that something happened—“

Scout got to his feet, whirled around, and angrily started digging through his locker, jaw clenched. He eventually pulled forth a pocket knife and angrily started ripping the grip tape from his right hand. He didn’t say a word.

“I’m sorry,” Sniper said quickly, holding up his hands, taking a step back. “I, I just thought it was odd is all, I didn’t know if—“

Scout silenced him by holding his now-bare wrist directly in Sniper’s line of sight, a few inches from his face, Sniper flinching back minutely at the motion. When he realized what he was looking at, his eyes widened. He looked at Scout. Scout looked at him.

“I’m seriously, actually, 100% going to murder you,” Scout said calmly, matter-of-factly, and Sniper had never thought about it before, but he would absolutely describe Scout’s voice as a bright red. Shaking hands moved to undo his watch, and he held his own wrist, the left, out for Scout to see.

Silence for a few seconds. “I—“ Sniper started to say, but was cut off by Scout.

“I cannot believe that you’ve never once since I’ve met you ever talked one-on-one with me. You’ve never said a fuckin’ word to me, Snipes,” Scout said, more than a little pissed off.

“I didn’t realize,” Sniper defended, a little weakly. “I thought… I thought I had.”

“Man, how many people can say they fuckin’ monologued to their soulmate for hours and hours before meeting them, huh?” Scout asked, hands on his hips now.

“I’m sorry,” was all Sniper could think to say.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Scout declared, glaring at Sniper hard. “I’m gonna meet you after work like usual at the watchtower, and you’re takin’ me to go get pizza, and I’m gonna eat pizza while you talk about yourself. You’ve got about—“

He did some math in his head.

“Somethin’ like sixty hours or so of talkin’ to do to make it even,” he decided. “Got it?”

“Got it,” Sniper agreed weakly. Scout moved to sit down and start lacing his shoes up again, but before he could get to it, Sniper spoke again. “I’m… glad you’re okay.”

Scout looked back up at him. The sudden influx of nervous honesty on Sniper’s face made him feel surprisingly guilty. “Sorry. I just… got all up in my own head. I figured I was probably pissing you off, so I stopped going.” A pause. “I wasn’t pissing you off?”

“No,” Sniper replied. “Not at all. I… liked… having you around.”

Scout fought hard against the smile threatening to take hold. “Good to know,” he finally said.

“And I should’ve said something earlier,” Sniper continued, words flowing forth in a rush. “I should’ve told you, I should’ve—let you know. I really should’ve.”

“Well,” Scout shrugged, and finished tying his laces up, and stood to face Sniper head-on. “Now you told me.”

A pause between them, Sniper clearly working very hard to maintain eye contact.

“It doesn’t have to be pizza,” Scout amended, picking at his remaining hand’s worth of grip tape. “It can be anything. I just wanna hang out, like, away from base.”

“Like a date?” Sniper asked, slowly, hesitantly.

“Sure,” Scout shrugged.

A pause again. “Pizza’s fine,” Sniper seemed to decide.

“Alright,” Scout said, and smiled at him. “Alright. I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah,” Sniper agreed, and took his cue to walk away. He stood off to one side of the rest of the team, moving to take a drink of his coffee. His wrist caught his eye, and he looked over the words again, and for the first time in his life, they didn’t bring him dread. They brought him hope.

[heartofsnark]

This Is Love (Chapter Six):Burnt Offering

Notes: So, given that the last chapter was kind of short, at least by my standards. I decided to go ahead and post the next chapter this month. We're starting to near the point where what I post and where I'm at in writing are meeting up, I have chapter 7 done and am currently about halfway through writing 8,  so don't be shocked if we end up with a slowdown in chapters like what's had to happen with my other fic series. It just happens, such is life. 

Word Count: 9243

Chapter Warnings: Blood, Domestic Violence, Alcoholism, POV Switches, Talks of the Testicle Festival,

For chapter one and the warnings about this fics overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here!

The cruiser door shuts with a heavy thud, followed by Rook’s boots hitting the asphalt. Staci stifles a laugh, the newest addition to the Sheriff’s Department has a pea sized bladder and a penchant for guzzling energy drinks like an idiot. He’s had to pull into the Golden Valley Gas Station for her to run off to the bathroom, again.

His joints pop and crack as he gets out of the car, taking the chance to stretch his legs. The sun hangs high and bright in the great blue sky, warming his skin as rolls his shoulders to get out the kinks. It’s nearly noon and if he has to be here, he might as well find something to eat, the door of the gas station chiming as he walks in. He looks over the hot food options, garbage mostly, but tasty garbage. Hamburgers, pizza, hot dogs-

“You getting lunch?”

Staci jumps at the sudden question, a voice over his shoulder that he wasn’t ready for catches him off guard. A soft laugh as he turns to look at Rook who’s just scared him, sometimes she’s like a bull in a china shop and other times she’s silent as the grave. He can’t keep up and ends up glaring at the smirking woman. She finds way too much enjoyment in his misery, she’s the probie, he’s supposed to be giving her shit not the other way around.

“Someone needs to put a fuckin’ bell on you, I swear.”

“I thought you could ‘hear me coming a mile away’,” she says trying to imitate his voice when he mocked her earlier.

“That was then, this is now, and right now, you’re a sneaky bitch.”

He can’t resist the chance to wipe that dumb little smirk off her face and grabs her cheek between his fingers, stretching the soft tan skin. A small sharp pain in his wrist when she smacks him away, but it’s more than worth it to see her looking a little less cocky.

“Bite me.” She says and knocks against his side as she grabs a hamburger, nearly throwing him off balance.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Ew.” Rook grimaces at his little attempt at flirting, like an asshole. Then again, with her, she may not realize he was trying to flirt.

He grabs himself one and follows after her to the drinks, he watches her line of vision immediately go to the large sized slushie cups. They’re nearly the size of the short deputy’s head.

“No,” he tells her, voice low with warning, he already has to worry about pulling over  for her constantly.

“What?”

“You drink that and you’re gonna be needing twelve more bathroom trips before our shift ends.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You nearly pissed yourself, five minutes ago.”

“I’ll be fine.” Rook rolls her eyes as she fills up the giant cup with blue slush. No matter what he says, he swears she’d break her neck just to do the opposite.

They buy their lunches, if it can even be called that, and leave the gas station. The weather’s too nice to eat in the cruiser, a soft breeze and a clear sky to eat under instead.  Staci instead sits on the trunk of the car, balancing his drink on his thigh as he eats. Rook follows his lead, for once since she’s been here, and sits down on the car as well. She pulls one of her legs up onto the car and under her, keeping her drink in hand.

It’s quiet as they eat, but unlike the awkward still of when they first started patrolling together, this silence is surprisingly pleasant.  Staci has never liked quiet, making those first patrols painful to sit through, but their time spent in silence has grown more bearable with every shift.

Rook is weird, but not bad; he’s decided. She’s quiet and serious, especially so at the start. But, she never misses a chance to talk back or give him hell, which might be his own fault.  She’s dedicated to the job and never seems to shy away from what it entails, only ever seeming bothered by the work when she was stuck pushing papers.  Despite her constant scowling and resting bitch face, Rook is eager to help people.

He doesn’t know much about her, which is only natural with her short time with the department and her lackluster communicative skills. She likes her job, Hudson, animals, and giving him hell. She hates crowds, churches, and talking. That’s about all he’s got. And dress codes he guesses? Though since the Drubman incident she’s stuck with modest tanks and tees under her uniform, other than buttoning it up, it’s the same damn thing. Hell, even Hudson and him don’t button it up all the way. 

When she was first hired, the week separating her hire and her actual first day, he asked Whitehorse what he was thinking when he hired someone so young. The sheriff just laughed, saying she had a good heart. He supposes her jumping to help Mary May the day of her interview was proof of that.

There are a lot of reasons why people become cops, not all of them necessarily good or right. Staci himself is exhibit A of that. He’s always been honest with himself and others that he became a cop to get laid, it was nothing short of a whim. Something women are attracted to and didn’t require too much education, so he could avoid debt. No ideas of helping people or delusions of keeping the peace; he chose his career based entirely on the prospect of getting his dick wet.

Hudson is better than him in that regard, well, in many regards but that’s beside the point. But, her choice mostly stems from her family. Almost everyone in her family has had a career in either the military or law enforcement. Her mom is a veteran and her dad a veteran turned police officer, retiring early due to injury.  One of her brothers works as an officer in Billings and the other currently in basic training. It only seemed natural she’d follow one of those paths, becoming a cop because it’s what they do in her family. A fact she’s always taken pride in. 

Danny, not to speak ill of the dead, was probably a hall monitor in high school. He was a stickler for details and rules, he enjoyed being the one enforcing order. But Staci isn’t confident that Danny enjoyed it because he believed in what was best for the public so much as he liked rules for the sake of rules and being the one to crack the whip. It’s strange to say after so many years of butting heads, but Staci misses that asshole. It hit Joey hardest, Danny being her partner, but it hit him too. Danny was with the station since before him or Joey were hired on, for him to just be gone one day… Hope County is a sleepy little place, it can be easy to forget how dangerous this kind of job can be when speeding and hunting violations are the biggest crimes. Danny was a grim reminder and hopefully, the last one Staci will ever get.

“That’s gonna fall,” Rook’s voice cuts through the quiet, her finger pointed at the drink balanced on Staci’s thigh.

“It’s fine,” he dismisses her out of hand, and she rolls her eyes, sunlight making the brown look nearly gold. 

She’s cute, it’s something he’s had to admit, as much as he’d rather not. While he’s always been a bit of a womanizer, it still feels weird acknowledging he’s attracted to his newly acquired pain in the ass. But…Rook is real easy on the eyes. Even with her constant sourpuss of a face, she's cute. Though the rare times he’s seen her smile… It’s a good look on her.  Hell, it's a good enough look that he asked her out on an impromptu date to the F.A.N.G Center the moment he saw it. Though that ended up being botched; the Junior Deputy inviting Joey along and then abandoning them partway through the day.

He’s gotten to spend hardly any time with her outside of work, between that and her never tagging along to The Spread Eagle, a part of him has to wonder if she just doesn’t want to deal with him when she doesn’t have to. God knows, it’s not Hudson, he’s pretty sure Rook would break her neck to spend more time with Joey.

Staci’s mind is drawn back to Rook’s dismissal of his mild flirting, she seemed uncomfortable with Adelaide’s more…forward tendencies too. But there’s no denying she has a huge annoying crush on Joey. Her face going redder than a lobster anytime the two are near each other. He’s asking her on dates without even meaning to and he’s not even sure what way she swings.

“So, what’s your deal?” He decides to just ask, it might be a long shot, but no harm in seeing if he has a chance. Right?

“My deal with what?” She raises an eyebrow and takes another slurp of her drink.

“Well, I know you’re into women; so are you gay?” Rook chokes on her slushie, blue dribbling down her chin as he continues, “Bi? Pan?”  

“What the fuck, dude?!” She yells, scrubbing her slushie covered hand against her jeans, her blue stained tongue catching his eye as she freaks out.

“It’s just a question.”

“A real fuckin’ personal one.” Her face is a vivid red, making her blue chin and tongue stand out even brighter.

“What? You worried ‘cause, ya know, Montana?”

“No, I’m not worried because of that.”

“Good, because I promise you most people here don’t give a fuck.”

“No, it’s not, I just don’t like talking…”

“You can honestly stop that sentence right there.”

“Pff,” she lets out a soft laugh and the corner of her mouth curves up as she says in a gentler voice, “I don’t like talking.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” He gives her the out and she groans.

“Look, dude, not that it’s any of your business but I barely know what the fuck’s going on in my own head. If I can’t figure that shit out, how the hell am I supposed to explain it?”

“I know you like Hudson.”

“Yeah, I do… I can’t say I’m not attracted to men? I don’t think, I’ve thought men are attractive. I just, women catch my eye more,” she shrugs, face still red, “though I don’t know if that’s because of me or ‘cause of the….selection here.”

“What do you mean?”

She glares at him, dark eyebrows furrowed as if she’s trying to figure out if he’s serious while she slurps on her slushie. He can nearly see the gears in her head desperately trying to turn.

“Dude, seriously?” She asks raises an eyebrow when he doesn’t budge.

“Seriously, you make it sound like the men here are drooling apes.”

“Women in Hope County.”

Rook points out a woman stepping out of her car, long tanned legs and daisy duke shorts.

“Men in Hope County.”

She gestures towards a man at the gas pumps, bent over with his jeans half falling off his ass with plumber crack on display for the world.

It’s his turn to choke, pop catching in his windpipe as her sputters and gags on his laugh, leg jerking and sending his entire drink falling into his lap.

“Jesus fuck,” he manages to cough out as cola soaks his crotch.

“Told you it was gonna fall.”

“At least I don’t look like I blew a Smurf.”

“Fuck off.” She roughly shoves him as they both laugh.

“So, all us Hope County men are just too ugly for you?” He says with mock hurt in his voice as he stands from the trunk, walking around the cruiser.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“No, no, I get it, I mean, how could anyone stand to even look at me.”

“What do you want from me?” She’s glaring at him now from over the cruiser, each at their respective doors as they talk.

“Nah, it’s my cross to bear, I have to learn how to deal with being hideous.”

“I mean, we can always get you a paper bag.” Her face breaks into a smile and she starts laughing halfway through her own joke, blue tongue pressing against her canines.

“Wow, fuckin’ wow, just double down.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry,” she rolls her eyes, face still flushed from laughing, “for what it’s worth, you’re one of the more attractive guys in Hope County.”

“Thank you,” Staci can’t help but genuinely smile, between the compliment and her expression, something about the moment settles warm in his chest.

“Which is kinda like being a tall dwarf.”

“Fuck you,” his outburst makes her laugh and he can’t help but laugh right along with her, “you can’t let me have anything can you?”

“Nope.”

They’re still smiling, stomachs and cheeks aching as they climb into the cruiser. He turns the key and starts up the engine, pulling them out of the parking lot. The soft tapping of Rook’s finger against the door is the only sound as they drive through the valley. She’s always moving, he’s not sure he’s ever seen her completely still.

The cola on his jeans has barely started to dry by the time the radio starts to crackle, dispatch putting out a call.

“Units please respond, we have a domestic disturbance at the Ramsey Residence, neighbor reported yelling coming from the home and threats of violence.”

The Ramsey place is about fifteen or twenty minutes out from where Benjamin and Julie live. They’re familiar with the Sheriff’s department. He hates to sound so jaded and cynical, but they’ve done this song and dance so many times.  Benjamin has been an abusive drunk since as long as Staci’s lived in Hope County. No matter how many times they cuff and drag him away; Julie refuses to press charges, bails him out, and welcomes him back with open arms. It’s an endless cycle and Hope County doesn’t have the resources to break it. With that in mind, he grabs the receiver.

“Deputy Pratt and Hale responding, over.”

He flips on the sirens, lights flashing and the speaker squealing as they rush towards the Ramsey house. Tires spitting up gravel as he drives along the backroads, following them to the old farmhouse. It was once a beautiful house, he’s sure, but it’s started to fall apart over the years. The white paint peeling and the wood of the porch starting to rot away.

There’s a tension in the air as the deputies get out of the cruiser, grass crushing underfoot as they make their way to the home. Despite being Staci’s subordinate as far as standing in the department goes, Rook is in front of him and taking the lead. Not because he wants her too; she just does that.

The porch lets out a loud creak when the junior deputy takes a step, straining under her weight. That doesn’t bode well for him, while not a particularly heavy guy, he’s over a foot taller than Rook and fit. She may have muscle mass, but he’s sure he still weighs more at the end of the day. 

“You might wanna be careful,” she warns him, standing next to the door, clearly having gone through the same thought process as him.

“Yeah, this porch has seen better days.”

It strains and creaks, echoing a louder under him as he takes the steps up. Then his foot goes through the porch. He curses as he starts to fall through, broken rotted wood splintering into his jeans and boot. A hand wraps around his wrist, Rook steadying him as gets his bearings. He grips the railing as he his rips his foot back out of the wood; breaking and ripping apart boards with the force of it. The smell of mildew, rotted lumber, and muck getting kicked up from it.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

He has to shift back onto the steps that were able to hold him, he could step over or around the broken gap, but the chances of it just breaking through again are high. Rook lets go of his wrist once he’s on stable footing and turns back to the door. She knocks on the door three times, before calling out.

“Hope County Sheriff’s department, we got a call, just here to make sure everything’s okay.”

There’s no response, of course they’re in no rush to open the door for police. A beat of silence  and then something breaks from inside the home, like glass crashing to the ground.

“You ever deal with them before?” Rook asks as she tries to open the door, but it’s locked.

“Plenty, he always has to be taken kicking and screaming. ”  

“Is he dangerous?” She’s slid a pick into the door lock, twisting and turning it. Why the hell does she know how to pick locks?

“Only to his wife, every time I’ve dealt with him, he’s no worse than a drunk toddler.”

“Hmm,” she nods in understanding, “go around back and see if there’s a back door or something, we can’t take anyone out this way. I’ll head in.”

“Since when do you give the orders, probie?”

“Pratt,” she says his name like a warning, just as the door clicks open. She’s right and he Staci knows that, but that doesn’t mean he has to like being bossed around by the probie he’s supposed to be teaching the ropes.

He waves her off and goes walking around the house, all this trouble and splinters in his shin over some damn drunk who should have been locked away years ago. There’s a set of concrete stairs up to the backdoor, not attached, but sturdier than forty-year-old rotted wood. He shakes the backdoor and finds it’s locked, because of course it is.

Staci slams his shoulder against the door as he hard as he can, putting all of his weight into it. The lock and frame give out from the force, a boom and splintering sound ringing out.

“Fuck!”

It’s Rook’s voice, no mistaking it, a groan of pain punctuating the curse. Staci’s blood runs cold and he runs into the house; feet hitting the floor in heavy thuds as he runs to where he heard the sound. Nearly tripping over himself as he enters the living room.

Adrenaline coursing through him, Staci recognizes two figures instantly as he enters. Ben Ramsey standing over a curled up figure dressed in the familiar green of their uniform, blood is on the carpet, soaking it through.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! What’d he do? What did that son of bitch do to her?

From his angle, Ben’s back to him, Pratt can’t make out anything other than her fallen body. He can’t tell if she’s breathing, if she’s moving, where the blood is coming from, if she’s even alive.

Words stick in his throat and his mind only spins curses, his hand pauses, body frozen. Only a moment in reality, but in eternity to Staci; just enough time for the old drunk to pull his leg back and slam a boot into the young deputy on the ground. A sickening crack and curse from the young woman.

And for the first in his career, Staci pulls his gun out. It may be too quick of a move and maybe in the hours after he’ll think of how he should have gone for the baton or taser, but his hand is on his gun. Pointed at another human being. There’s a shake to his hands.

“Ben Ramsey, you’re under, under arrest! Put your hands up!” His words stall for a moment and he curses himself for the way fear seeps into his voice at the worst times.

“Fuck you-“

His words are cut off by a yell, Ben’s body convulsing for a second before he hits the ground with a heavy thud. Rook taser in hand moving as it happens, quickly cuffing him, and Staci can breathe again. He’s not going back to the station alone. The side of her head is stained with blood, hair matted in it, her left eye shut and that half of her face red. Her nose and lip are busted open, blood streaking down her chin.  She’s hurt, but she’s alive. His head is swimming, drops his grip on his weapon, his shoulder aching and making him realize just how tense he was. He’s not even certain his finger was on the trigger, he realizes as he holsters the thankfully unused gun.  Her lips move over and over again, but the words don’t cut through the fog of his brain until another moment passes.

“Pratt, radio backup, now!” Her hands are on the man’s cuffed wrists, keeping him in place on the ground, subdued for the moment as the man’s thankfully still dazed from the shock.

He’s hesitated, his delay to grab his radio no doubt wasting precious seconds. Why does he always fucking hesitate? He’s tripping over his words as he talks, because of course he is.

“Officer Pratt, we need backup and, and emergency services to the Ramsey house, immediately. Officer injured, suspect is belligra-belligerent and dangerous.”

“Suspect’s wife is injured as well.”

There’s more than three people in the room, Julie Ramsey curled up in a ball beside the couch, sobbing desperately at the entire scene. He didn’t even notice, fuck, he fucking hell.  He gives the exact address and gets confirmation that someone is coming.  Staci crouches down, closer to Rook’s level where she’s kneeling next to the suspect, he’s able to get a better look at Rook’s injury. He can smell beer, both from the suspect and from her head, shards of brown glass clinging to the blood-soaked skin. He bashed a beer bottle over her head, then kicked her in the face while she was down.

He needs to get something to hold against her head, to help stop the bleeding. Staci’s starts to move to get his overshirt off, thinking it’d be better than nothing, but then sirens screech at them. Police officers for the station and EMTS coming through the house. It’s going to be okay.

No thanks to him. He did nothing. He wants to pull his hair out, scream at himself, why the hell is he this fucking pathetic?

Ben Ramsey is arrested and charged, taken to one of the officer’s police car. Meanwhile Julie and Rook are assessed before being taken to the back of ambulance. Staci follows them, moving on instinct to follow and make sure Rook is okay.

He doesn’t speak the entire way, just grateful to be allowed in the ambulance, he listens as they access her. Lacerations, contusions, possible skull fracture; the words swim around his head as they look her over in the ambulance. He watches as the EMT forces Rook’s left eye open, seeing why it’s been shut, blood vessels damaged across part of the white, red irritation in the other half that goes into the brown, blurring the edge of the iris.

Ideas of her losing vision in that eye flood through his mind, how severe is the damage, could it impact her career? Is she going to be out of here before she’s even finished probationary hire? He was supposed to be looking out for her.

He sits outside her room at the Hope County Clinic, privacy or some sort of doctor crap, he can barely even remember the rest of the ride there. His back against the wall as he sits on the floor, ringing his hands, mind racing through a million possibilities. 

“What the hell happened?” Whitehorse’s voice is what ends the frenetic mess in his head, if only for a second. The presence of the sheriff easing some of his nerves, knowing the older man will be able to handle this, whatever the situation may be.

He scrambles to his feet and explains everything that happened; from the porch falling in, him pulling his weapon but not firing, and an injured Rook having to subdue the suspect. Each word of it making him feel just a bit more pathetic, a bit weaker, he really fucked this up.

Whitehorse squeezes his shoulder, a warm heavy hand to comfort him.

“It’s okay, Pratt. Everything is gonna be fine, Rook’s made of tougher stuff than this.”

He sighs, unsure of how he feels by the statement. It’s meant to comfort him, and it does some part of him. He wants Rook to be okay, fuck does he need her to be okay.  But, Whitehorse’s unwavering faith in her strength, makes him feel all the more pathetic in comparison.

The hospital room door opens, a doctor walking out, looking over at Whitehorse and Staci.

“You can come in now, if you’d like.”

Staci follows behind Whitehorse as they walk into the little clinic room, off white walls and floors greeting them. Rook’s sitting on the side of the white sheeted bed; seeing her cleaned up and moving is instant relief for Staci’s frayed nerves. Her face is bruised, her eye still messed up, but she’s no longer painted red with her own blood. His hands twitch, he realizes he wants to hug her, to pull her close and feel that she’s truly okay. But he can’t find the nerve to do it, unsure of how the young woman would react. 

“So, what’re you dealing with?” Whitehorse asks her and she sighs. 

“Needed some stitches, some glass scratched my cornea so vision in this eye is gonna be a little blurry, but it will heal. Minor skull fracture.” 

“Skull fracture?” Staci can’t help but blurt out, that’s  bad, isn’t it? Skulls are kind of important, being the thing that protects your brain. Why the hell is she just shrugging it off?

“It’s not bad, they don’t do anything for it. My head is gonna hurt like hell for a bit,” she shrugs, “if spinal fluid starts coming out my ears and nose, call 911, though I think that’s the rule for everyone.” 

“Alright,” Whitehorse speaks up, “there’s gonna be some paperwork to take care of with your injury and your time off.” 

“I’m not taking time off.” She’s emphatic, shaking her head like the sheriff is ridiculous to even suggest something like that. 

“I’m not sending you out like this, Rookie, you need to worry about healing up.” 

“You want me to take time off, during my probationary hire, that’s ridiculous.” 

“Don’t stress, it’s not going to affect anything, just take two weeks off-” 

“One week, max.” 

“Fine, one week," Whitehorse gives him with a hefty sigh, "just take it easy. And actually take it easy, not doing anything to hurt yourself in the meantime.” 

“Pfff,” she huffs out a breath and rolls her eyes, hopping up from the bed. 

“We’ll go back to the station and take care of the paperwork.” 

Whitehorse puts a hand on Staci’s back; the other on Rook’s as he walks them out the door. Staci feels exhausted as he gets into Whitehorse’s truck with them, someone having taken the cruiser back to the station for them. His body slackening into dead weight as he leans against the door; his nerves are shot to hell and back, he just wants to collapse after everything. She’s okay and that’s what matters most; his own insecurities be damned. 

They arrive at the station; since it’s regarding just her injury and leave, Staci isn’t needed for the paperwork on this one. He instead waits outside, he’s not sure why, but he doesn’t feel ready to just go home yet. It’s after shift and usually he’d be at The Spread Eagle by now, sipping cheap beer and shooting the shit with Joey. 

Speak of the devil, the older  deputy is coming down the hall, nearly jogging towards him. And he’s wondering if she’s felt the way he did when he heard something happened to Danny, before they told him about the former deputy’s death. That anxiety of knowing something is wrong but not knowing the details, fear building ideas of what could have happened. 

“What the hell is going on?” 

“Rook got hurt, she’s gonna be okay, but, uh, Whitehorse is giving her the week off.” 

“Thank god,” Joey lets out a sigh of relief, tension noticeably leaving her body, “I thought, jesus, I don’t know what I thought.” 

“Yeah, uh, been a rough day…” 

“How you holding up?” 

“I fucking choked, Joey. The asshole was trying to kick her damn brains in and I choked.” 

“You can’t blame yourself,” she tells him, a faraway look in her eye, “I get it, I do, but you can’t blame anyone but the asshole who hurt her.” 

“It's not just that…” He sighs; is he really going to have this conversation? It feels so damn pathetic. 

“So, what is it?” 

“I...don’t worry about it.” 

“Well, I’m certainly not gonna complain about skipping the feely talks. But, uh, for what it’s worth, hindsight is twenty-twenty. Beating yourself up over what you should have done, what you wish you’d have done, is pointless. You do your best in the moment and it’s all you can do.” 

“I guess…” 

“So...how this affect your little crush on Rook?” She asks after a beat of silence, trying to turn the conversation light-hearted.

“Ugh, don’t call it that. The only crush around here is Rook’s on you.” 

“Yeah, right. You got it bad and we both know it.”

“I might have asked her if she’s gay.”

“Seriously, Pratt?” 

“What,” he says halfway through a laugh, “she always follow you around like a puppy dog, I had to make sure I even had a chance.” 

“Well, do you?” 

“Maybe…if she stops crushing on you.” 

“Eh, that’s nothing, she’ll be over it before you know it.” 

“What makes you so sure?” 

“The only reason she’s like that with me is ‘cause she thinks I’m pretty, it’s completely superficial, like a little kid.”

“Well, do me a favor and stop being pretty?” 

“No can do, you just gotta sack up and ask her out.” 

“‘Cause the F.A.N.G Center went so well.” 

“Okay, so ask her out and this time, be specific and talk slow.” 

“She’s oblivious, not brain damaged.” 

“Ehhh, debatable.” 

He thinks for a moment, he likes Rook, he does. She’s cute and spending time with her is nice; being able to tease each other has made his job way less mind numbing. Relationships that go beyond the bedroom have never been his forte; it’s honestly been a while since he’s been on an actual date. But, he thinks it could be nice with her. There’s no telling if they’d actually click romantically, that’s not something you find out until you try it. It could be worth a shot. 

But he thinks about today and thinks about the future for a moment, something he’s not fond of doing. Rook is still on probationary hire; who’s to say she’ll be here after the six month period. He doubts Whitehorse will get rid of her, maybe due to her age, he handles her with kid gloves and he’s always been a bit soft as far as sheriffs go anyway. But,  it’s always a possibility if she crosses too big of a line or does something unforgivable. 

Hell, she might decide she wants to leave, might realize Hope County is just not the place for her and head back to Louisiana. 

 At the moment he just likes her, nothing intense, nothing he can’t deal with losing. If he found out tomorrow she was fired and leaving, he’d be bummed sure, but he’d recover relatively quickly. But if they started dating, if it worked out and one date led to another. If they hit it off, meshed as well as he thinks they could and that ‘like’ grew into something more and then she had to leave... 

“Once her probationary hire is over, I’ll do it,” he says out loud, committing himself to the action in front of Joey. Once that threshold has been crossed, once he has a little more reassurance that he can pursue Rook without fear of her leaving, he’ll go for it. 

“You sure you can hold out that long?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You tell me, Mister asked her out on the first day.” 

“Shut up.” 

Dahlia signs the last of the paperwork, her hand cramping, all of this fuss because someone hit her with a beer bottle. She’s still sick from the idea of having to take off a week, better than two, but she’d rather just do her job. So, her vision in one eye is a little blurry and her head hurts like crazy, big deal. 

“There’s something else to address.” 

“What’s that?” She raises an eyebrow at Whitehorse, let her out of paperwork hell, please. 

“It’s up to you if you want us to press charges against him for assaulting you.” 

“Oh.” 

“If it matters, we’ve dealt with Ben a lot, he’s been beating his wife black and blue for years. But, she’s never willing to press charges and nothing’s been severe enough to bring him up on charges from the state.”

“Let’s do it, then.” She’s not sure how much it will help, without counseling and after care, who knows if the cycle can break. But, if she can get the guy put away, it will at least give her a chance to get out without fear of repercussions. 

There’s some more paperwork associated with that, filling out a statement and the like. But, that’s more than worth it. She finishes it up and is massaging her hand to help alleviate the muscles that are cramping in distress. 

“Also-”

“If I have to sign one more piece of paper, I’m gonna kill you.” She cuts him off and earns a chuckle in response. 

“No, I just wanted to tell you, hell of a job, today.” 

“All I did was get beat up.” 

“You were in a high stress situation and you resolved it as best you could, you subdued him without deadly force, and showed you know how to handle yourself.”

“The standards are low, aren’t they?” 

“You did good, be proud of yourself for a moment,” he tells her, squeezing her shoulder as he passes by.  Her heart warms at the gesture, he thinks she did good. Despite being stuck taking a week off, he still thinks she did well. 

Hands in her pockets, she’s grinning as she leaves the office, Hudson and Pratt are just outside; talking about who knows what. They’re usually off drinking right now, but he seemed freaked out about her injury, maybe he’s trying to make sure she’s okay. She’d appreciate it if that were the case. 

“Hey, Rook,” Hudson greets her, bright smile, and Dahlia gives a small nod of her head. Unable to force words out of her throat. 

“Everything taken care of?” 

“Yeah...guess I’ll get to see you guys in a week,” she grumbles, still upset about it. 

“Hey,” Hudson stops her before she can leave, “why don’t you come out to The Spread Eagle with us?” 

“You know I can’t drink, right?” 

“They serve water and pop,” Hudson says, shrugging. 

“Um, okay…”  Dahlia scratches sheepishly at the back of her neck, she gets to go out with them, her heart is warm. Between Whitehorse’s praise and being invited out with the other deputies, this is a pretty good night. 

“Is that why you weren’t tagging along with us?” Pratt asks as they start to head towards the door. 

“I didn’t know you wanted me to tag along…” 

“Oh my god, you awkward little disaster.” Pratt ruffles her hair as he insults her and she playfully smacks his side, happy to see him joking around again. 

The neon sign of The Spread Eagle flickers above Dahlia’s head as they walk to the old bar. It’s cheesy and ridiculous the logo of a scantily clad woman with she assumes eagle wings.

 “So, I'm gonna live my life like it's my last damn night.”

“Cause when the clock strikes twelve, we're all gonna go to hell”

 The jukebox and lowlight greet them, people spread around drinking at the bar and cozied up over the wooden tables. A little stage in the corner for those nights when they have live music. Behind the bar, Mary May works away at getting people their drinks, honey blonde hair tied up in a bun and her flannel’s sleeves pushed up to her elbows. A window behind her shows a glimmer of the kitchen, an older man with dark hair slaving over the orders.

“You’re late,” Mary May teases Hudson and Pratt as the deputies all grab seats at the bar, Dahlia between the two of them.  

She’s never sat at a bar before and something about it feels decidedly mature to the young officer. That is until she can barely climb up there and unlike her two coworkers, her legs aren’t long enough for her feet to comfortable rest on the ground or even part of the stool. Her legs left to swing like a child’s.

“You can blame the probie for that one.” 

“I’m sorry, I’ll try not to get my ass kicked in the future.” 

“You finally gonna get your round of free drinks, hero?” Mary May asks her, a slight smile on her face and dear god, why must the women in this county be so pretty? The apples of Dahlia’s cheeks are growing warm. 

“‘Fraid I can’t, still got a year before that’s legal,” she says, never mind if it’s maybe a bit closer to a year and three months. 

“Well, a free meal it is then.” 

“No, no, I can’t do that,” She quickly dismisses the idea, local businesses tend to need every dime they can get, she’s not letting Mary May cut herself short just because Dahlia did her job. 

“Seriously, if it weren’t for you, I’d be shut down for the month, it is the least I can do.” 

“Give it up, Rook, she’s not gonna budge,” Pratt tells her. 

“She’s stubborn as a mule,” Hudson warns. 

“You heard them, cowboy, your money’s no good here.” The cowboy nickname is a new one, but Dahlia doesn’t mind it, or the way it makes her smile. 

“Fine, free meal, but I’m tipping.” 

“Okay, okay, I can work with that.” 

Hudson and Pratt get cheap weak beers and Dahlia gets a pop as they look over the food options. Everything makes her stomach growl; desperate for something more than convenience store food or microwave meals. There’s a sign below the window into the kitchen, saying they deliver, she wonders if the trailer park is too far away for it.

She decides to try something she’s never eaten before, a burger with huckleberry barbecue sauce, never having heard of the condiment before. Orders in, she can’t help but look around the room, taking in the decorations. Newspaper clippings beneath a neon blinking sign for Lease Lager, a little flag for Hope County Cougars, and a smaller flyer advertising something she’s seen billboards for all over; the Testicle Festival, advertised with a little screaming cartoon bull.

“The fuck is a Testicle Festival?”

“Pffff,” Pratt laughs and chokes on his beer, pulling it away and licking the beer away from his lips. Hudson cracks a big grin, pressing a hand to her mouth to hold back chuckles.

“I mean, it’s basically exactly what you sound like,” the older woman says, shrugging her shoulders.

“People get together and eat bull balls,” Pratt adds.

“Willingly?”

They both laugh as Dahlia looks at them wide eyed, that’s so fucking gross, why the fuck would someone eat that? She’s never been one to turn her nose up at any meal, but that so disgusting, her stomach churning at the very idea.

“Yeah, it’s a thing, I, don’t know what to tell you.”

“Montana is gross…”

“Oh, shut up, I’m sure they eat gross shit in Louisiana too.”

“Not really,” she shakes her head at Pratt, trying to think of the weirdest food she’s ate, well weird to them, “I mean, I’ve had alligator before.”

“You’ve ate alligator?”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t think that’s weird?”

“I didn’t eat it’s balls!”

They cackle and laugh at her outburst, she’s joining along before she knows it, face flushing as she cracks up. She barely can remember the ache in her head or the blur in her vision, the more painful moments of the day forgotten as she loses herself in dumb banter and jokes. The burger is incredible, she’d lick the plate clean if she wasn’t in public. Hell, that fact is barely holding her back. She’s not sure how many colas she’s drank her way through, but at some point, her bladder is screaming at her.

“Let me guess, you gotta piss,” Pratt taunts her, reminding her of their little bickering match this evening, she’s an adult she’s allowed to piss.

“Fuck off.” She grabs a grimy fry off the ground andt she drops it down into his beer as she walks by.

She uses the bathroom and washes her hands, catching her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she does so. It’s the first time she’s got a proper look at herself since she was beat up. Stitches over the laceration under her eye, the skin bruised, the white of her eye purple with busted blood vessel with the brown of her eye blurring into it. An absolute mess and she grins.

There’s something fulfilling about getting in a fight, not starting but, making it through one.  Having the marks to show it, knowing she held her own. Whether it was fights in school or when she’d fight back against her step-father, no matter how it ended up, she’d feel proud of herself. Whether because she fought back or simply because she survived. The aftermath was nothing more than a badge of honor marking what she went through. She’d take a thousand more stitches and bruises over the week off, if she’s being completely honest. Dahlia leaves the bathroom once her hands dry, shoving them in her pocket as she goes.

Oooh, oooh, ooh~

If I told you a lie, you could smile, my love.

You’d never understand.

The jukebox hums and Dahlia finds her eyes looking around the room, taking in the faces of the patrons. A shift of a door and the step of boots draws her eyes towards the door. Her breath catches in her throat, what the hell is a Seed doing here?

John Seed, the youngest of the brothers, is walking through the door. All of the siblings make her uncomfortable in some fashion, largely to do with their religiosity, but then they each have their own unique brand of unsettling. John reminds her of a sleazy car salesman, too sharp smiles that don’t reach his eyes. Even when he shook her hand at the church, something about him felt off, like he’s wearing a mask but she can’t quite tell what’s under it.

If I told you a tale, you’d cry, my love.

You’d never hold my hand.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Mary May yells over the bar, when she sees him.

There’s a glimmer of something in his eyes when he looks at her, not unlike a cat finding a mouse to tear apart.  He strides to the bar with purposeful steps and he smirks, but unlike those salesman smiles, it reaches his eyes.

“I just thought I’d check in,” his eyes lazily scan the room, looking at the beer bottles and glasses of whiskey in patron’s hands, “do we really need to have this conversation again?”  

“It’s a bar, the hell you expect me to serve?”

“I expect,” John puts his hand on the bar with a sharp sound, “you to listen to reason and start to understand your position.”

“Is something wrong?” Dahlia’s question escapes her without another thought, everything about John’s body language putting her on edge. 

When it all bleeds out, you don’t know.”

When it all bleeds out.

John’s eyes leave Mary May and land on Dahlia, those piercing blue eyes cutting through to her core. He looks her up and down, as if she’s the mouse now. But she doesn’t shrink away or avoid his gaze, unwilling to show any signs of backing down in the face of his intensity. 

Wake up, little man.

Don’t you break her heart. 

“Dep-yoo-tee,” John speaks in a low drawn out way, emphasizing every syllable with the slow drag of his gaze on her.

“Stay out of it, Rook,” Pratt warns her as she walks past him and Hudson at the bar. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, why the fuck would she stay out of it? Supposedly, John already tried to get members of Eden’s Gate to steal Mary May’s alcohol shipment and now he’s showing up to push her around; fuck that shit.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Oh c’mon, little man.

Don’t you fall apart. 

“I was just trying to have a little talk with Mary May, though she’s never been one for civility. More importantly, what happened here?”

He reaches out towards her face and she flinches out of reflex, John’s fingers grazing her bruised cheek before she smacks his hand away. Not sharp enough to truly hurt, but enough to force him away.

When the devil’s got you, but only by the hand. 

“Hazard of the job and, please, don’t touch me.”

John’s eyebrows furrow, eyes growing dark and face scrunching for a moment in anger before he forces a soft smile. It doesn’t touch the stormy look in his eyes; another little mask hiding whatever’s lurking beneath the surface.

Let go, little man.

Let go, little man.

“Ah, you poor thing, you” his voice deepens with concern, but it feels more like pity. He fidgets with his sleeves and lets out a sigh, irritation seeping through the false concern. She has to resist the urge to smile, something satisfying in seeing his true emotions bubbling up.

“It is what it is, are you done with your ‘little talk’ now?”

His nostrils flare and he bites his lip, it feels like poking a bear, but she’s having fun with it. He gives another fake smile and she wants to wipe it off his face.

“With Mary May, yes, but I was hoping to speak with you more. Though,” he looks around, “this is hardly an ideal setting. Have you given any more thought to tomorrow?”

“Like, I said before, I have to work,” she says the white lie and dismisses him with a shrug, hopeful it will appease the Gucci wearing gremlin in front of her.

“You know, it’s not often The Father goes to the trouble of inviting someone himself,” he tells her, as if it’s meant to entice her. Instead the title ‘The Father’ just makes her skin crawl, not unlike the title her step-father took on with his own church. As if she needed more reasons to avoid these people.

“What are you talking about, Rook? You got a week off for your injury, remember?”  Pratt pipes up and Dahlia’s blood runs cold, why the fuck would he do that to her? Why would he do that? John’s eyes go bright and a sly smile stretches across his face.

“Wonderful, I’ll see you there, dep-yoo-ty, service begins at nine in the morning.” John gives her arm a hard squeeze before he leaves, Dahlia’s skin crawling beneath his touch. Empty air where he once was within the next moment.

Yeah, I vow to the moon, yeah, I howl at the wind.

I’m bleeding and I can’t stay clean.

 She’s expected to come to the service, dear god. The air is punched out of her lungs. Even being outside of a church put her nerves on edge, she’s not sure if she could step foot in one without getting sick.  She moves behind Pratt and puts her hand on his shoulders.

“Hey, Rook, what are you-uuck-” Pratt’s words cut off as she moves and wraps her hands on either side around his throat. Not hard enough to genuinely hurt him, but enough to feel it as she shakes him and pretends to wring his neck .

“Why the fuck would you do that?!”

“It was funny,” he defends himself when she lets go and throws herself onto her chair, bringing one foot up into the seat as she leans back. Her body going slack with exasperation, she’s seriously going to have to go church?

“I fucking hate you, I actually fucking hate you.”

“God, you’re dramatic. It’s church, not like I volunteered you for a root canal.”

“I’d rather have the root canal.” She tosses her head back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. Pratt doesn’t know her issue with religion, she knows that, so she can’t truly be angry at him. But, fuck, would it have killed him to keep his mouth shut?

“Well, I think I should probably get out of here before Rook kills me,” Pratt says as he pays for his meal and drink, standing up from his seat.

“I’m gonna head home too,” Hudson stands up and ruffles Dahlia’s hair, “cheer up, Rookie.”

Dahlia doesn’t even have the energy to get worked up about Hudson’s touch, peacefully letting the casual touch come and go with a mere blush. Then the two have left and Dahlia is trying to gather the energy to get up, with the looming reality that she’s expected to go to church in the morning, she no longer wants this night to end.

“Deputy,” Mary May says after a moment, baby blues watching Dahlia sigh and rub a hand down her face.

“Hmm?” Dahlia straightens her posture enough to look at Mary May properly, realizing how somber the bartender’s expression and posture really is. The blonde chews her lip, looking away, visibly searching for her words.

“Eden’s Gate has been in this county for a long time, hell, I was in high school when they moved in on us. They started buying places out left and right, they own half the damn county, now.”

“They have that much money?” Dahlia can’t help but ask, aren’t churches relatively low profit ventures, assuming you aren’t selling snake oil or asking people to donate money for Jesus.

“Got that much money, that much power, and they know how to twist the law to suit their needs. They want the entire county and everyone in it under their thumb…”

Her knuckles whiten as she grips the edge of the bar, a far away look in her soft blue eyes. Dahlia puts her hand over Mary May’s, hoping the warmth of her touch can help ease the sting, even if she’s not sure what’s hurting the blonde. It’s enough in the moment, it seems, Mary May looking up at her and giving a soft smile, speaking again after a beat of silence.

“You’re one of the few people around here who’s not rolling over and letting them do whatever the hell they want. I don’t wanna see that change. Just do me a favor, don’t drink the Kool-Aid.”

“Look at me,” Dahlia looks directly into Mary May’s eyes, “I’d rather play jump rope with my own intestines than join a church.”

“Good.”

Mary May is satisfied with that answer, smiling as she’s called away to get someone else a drink. Dahlia’s not sure what the history is there with her and John, but clearly something has happened. Other than the Eden’s Gate members stealing alcohol and Lonny’s asshole behavior, there’s not conclusive evidence that they’ve done anything more than petty theft. John’s opinion on Mary May selling alcohol, supporting that he might ask them to do that. Otherwise, anything else is just bad feelings and hearsay. She wants to trust they’re good people, just staunch in their beliefs and a little strange, always wanting the believe the best of people. But, she’s going to be sure to keep an ear to the ground and stay wary of them, knowing she’s apparently not the only one concerned about their shit.

Dahlia shakes her head and gets out her wallet, getting out enough for the meal and then some, calling it all a tip for the sake of getting past Mary May’s generosity. She puts it down on the bar under her plate, letting the bartender know she’s taking off for the night.

The night air chills her skin as she leaves the bar before she’s caught. She pulls a cigarette out as she loiters outside the bar, leaning back against the building’s porch. Dahlia takes a deep inhale looking off into the distance.

Even in the valley, the statue of Joseph Seed is looming in the distance, the tallest thing in the entire county. There must be light around it, setting the statue aglow at night. She lets out the smoke in her lungs as she’s reminded of the real man. It wasn’t long ago she could barely believe he was a real living person. The statue makes him seem too large, too imposing, too important to be tangible. Meeting him and his family still feels like a fever dream.

Faith is like a living fairy, floating along in a white dress with flowers in her hair. An ethereal being with long dirty blonde hair and bright green eyes. Dahlia’s dream or perhaps exhaustion induced hallucinations of chasing after her still making the woman feel like a specter.

John feels like someone pretending to be human or maybe it’s just how out of place he seems in the rustic little county.  Dark slicked back hair, designer shades always on top of his head, silk shirts, and tailored vests; he looks like a Ken doll someone drew tattoos on.

The brother who didn’t bother to offer his name cuts possibly the most intimidating figure of them. He seemed larger than life. At least six foot six and wider than a door, dressed in army attire with his ginger hair shaved at the sides. The man could snap her spine in half if he had a half a mind to.

Then there’s Joseph, The Father, goosebumps raise on her skin when she thinks of his title. It’s bias, projections of her trauma that bring up those gross feelings when in reality he’s done nothing to her. His statue is true to his likeness in some ways, dark hair pulled back in a small bun and the full beard that seems standard for all men in Eden’s Gate. But at the end of it all, the statue is a composed sterilized version of the intense man who stood in front of her. The concrete can’t capture the intensity of his blue eyes, the way they cut through her, the way his choice of sunglasses turn them green. His unblinking stare as he stood out in the cold of night, shirtless with ink and scars marring his skin, sweat still sticking to him and strands of hair falling into his face.

But despite the wild appearance, he spoke calmly, he spoke deliberately and with devotion. He’s intense and he’s all encompassing, everything about him is too much, from his stare to the way his touch lingered for a moment more than it should have. His presences like a raging fire that can’t be ignored. 

She has no real reason to dislike him, he’s done nothing cruel, he hasn’t wronged her. But every fiber of her being screams at her to stay away, that he’s everything she doesn’t want near her. A forest fire that her body is urging her to run away, lest she be burned to ashes.

It may be paranoia and experience perverting her feelings; and it may be gut instinct trying to save her.  

But regardless, it seems she’ll be burned alive come morning.

[spideymarvelws]

Royal!Bucky barnes x reader

Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Word count 2.1k

Warnings: kinda sad, kinda fluffy, kinda bucky finally receiving his long awaited plums

The castle at day was a sight to behold. After being built over centuries handed down from one architect to another, the design and structure couldn't be compared to any other castle in the continent. People from all over the kingdom would come to see its magnificence in person and after viewing it nothing could describe the beauty of the structure they had the blessing of witnessing.

However, the best time to see the castle was at dusk where the sunset directly behind the towers standing tall and proud. The rays of orange, yellow and red shone brightly, making the building stand out even more. It truly is a sight to behold.

But during the night, the town of NorthTrade was pitch black, even with the help of candles located outside on the walls, ceiling, and floor of not only the castle but the huts and houses, it seemed more for decoration than of physical use.The guards walked around the stone walls with lamps in their hands that barely illuminated five feet in front of them.

While this night progressed in particular, a figure dressed like the night made its way through the halls of the humongous castle, avoiding anybody that may find it and take it away to the dungeon. Like a clumsy assassin, slowly but steady, it reached the stable where it bumped into something or someone.

The man grabbed the figure firmly by the shoulders pushing it against the wood walls of the stable.

The figure let out a small yelp before the man pulled the hood of the black cloak it wore off its head.

“I’m sorry for startling you my love, a guard was passing,” The man whispered gently, ”Was the journey alright Wini?”

“It was going great until you scared me, my prince, ”Wini responded, looking up at the handsome, young man in front of her.

“Okay, okay one I told you to stop calling me by my title, it's george and george only,” George said moving his hands from Wini’s shoulder to her waist, ”and two, is it so wrong to make sure the love of my life is safe?”

Wini’s smile quickly faltered, tears filled her eyes as the reality of the situation she was in struck her harder than ever before.

“Don't say that George, please don't say that,” Wini whimpered looking down at her feet, ”Its what got us into this mess in the first place.”

“Hey, hey, hey look at me sweetheart,” george said, taking her chin between his fingers and kissing the tears falling down on her cheeks,” I promise, we will find each other again, be it next month, next year, next decade, hell in another life, we will be together again.”

His face was so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her own. Without a moment to lose, he pressed his lips against hers making sure to take care in every movement that he made. He wanted to remember what holding her felt like, what kissing her felt like. What knowing what it felt like to know that he was hers and she was his.  

The kiss lasted longer than it should have to get hotter and more desperate until the clearing of a throat interrupted the passionate lovers.

“Sorry to barge in but we don't have any more time my lord, we must leave and settle in before daylight,” Joseph Rogers said from his position near a saddled and prepared horse, munching on an apple then feeding the rest to the animal beside him

“Were you standing there the whole time joe?” Geoge said, turning around to greet his long time friend.

“For about a minute or two, didn't want to interrupt the almighty highness and his lover. God knows what might happen if I ever deface the future king.” Joseph joked walking up to the couple.

Slapping a hand on his friends back, George let out a soft chuckle, ”You’re lucky you’re my friend joey, or else I could have your head with you speaking to me that way.”

George pulled joseph into a tight hug then pulled away, holding him at arm's length by his shoulders.

“Thank you for doing this, I owe you everything,” George said somberly

“You owe me nothing,” Joseph responded, walking back to the horse and grabbing the lead by its head, ”its time to go, Winifred, your chariot awaits.”

Wini turned to George, holding her stomach with one hand and grabbing his hand with the other, “I love you, George, I love you so much.” she said giving him one last kiss before walking over to Joseph who helped her mount the horse.

“Stay safe my love, and remember I will see you again,”

Wini nodded before bringing the hood of her cloak up around her head. Joseph mounted the horse in front of her. Nodding at George he turned the horse around then rode off into the night, disappearing into the darkness of the forest.

Wiping away a tear, George walked back into the castle with the taste of his love still lingering on his lips.

21 YEARS LATER

“And these plums are from the town over?” Bucky questioned, stroking his chin were his beard use to lay. He still hasn't gotten used to his smooth jaw after having a thick beard for so long.

“Yes sir, hand picked from the fields, it’s there season this time of year,” the salesman said, picking up a plum from the display in front of him and holding it up to his face as if to admire it like a piece of jewelry.

“I’ll just take these, how much will it be?” Bucky mumbled, fiddling with the pouch containing the money he was gifted by his mother to buy food for tonight, he nearly dropped it before centering himself and moving with more care.

“5 coins sir. In a hurry I see?” the salesman chuckled noticing the man's frantic movements.

Bucky handed the salesman the money before responding, “Just a big day ahead of me”

“you got a girl at home sir?” he snickered, giving bucky a smug look.

“uh no not exactly,” bucky muttered looking away from the stall and shifting his stance,  clearly uncomfortable and eager to get out of the conversation. He couldn’t just walk away, his mother taught him better.

“ah! You know a man with a face and build like you can get a wife easily,” the salesman rambled turning away to grab a clean clothe from the counter behind him then turning back to continue, “you know there’s a lady who lives in the house besides me, you’d love her. Slim, fair and gorgeous eyes quite like yours and a monster in bed from what I hear every night. I can get you too together in a heartbeat. She works at the bar down the road if you are interested. I would take her up but unfortunately, I must stay loyal to my wife”

Bucky gave an uneasy smile and the man chuckled loudly shaking his head, “uh, yes, of course, I’ll um check her out?”

“I expect an invitation to the wedding,” the salesman winked before turning to accommodate another customer.

Bucky let out a harsh blow of breath he didn't even know he was holding before turning away and walking back home. While taking step after step on the dusty, rough streets of Glendale he felt stressed and nervous to get back home.

Bucky wasn’t exactly a well known person throughout the town. People knew his face when they see him walk around town and work in the back at the local bakery, but he never spoke to anyone unless necessary, he usually kept to himself most of the time. The only people he would talk to on a regular were his parents, his best friend steve and you.

You were one of the town’s healer at the nearby med hut, learning everything you knew from your mother about caring and tending for people at a young age and decided to continue in her legacy after her unfortunate passing. Despite the miseries of your own life, you still treated everyone with kindness and hospitality no matter who they were.

Even outside your job, you still cared for the children of the town whether it be a simple walk in the park or telling stories about silly stories gossiped by the women outside in the garden, you never failed to make them smile.

Sometimes bucky would stare from the window right next to the oven he was given to work with, just to get a glimpse of you passing by, bending down to tuck a fresh flower behind a little girl’s ear before kissing her nose and walking off hand in hand followed by the rest of rowdy kids fighting for your attention.

If he wasn't quick enough, he would end up burning the bread he set in the oven while getting lost in your beauty.

Yes, it may have seemed creepy, but he promised himself that wasn't his intention. You were different from all the other girls he’s meet and It was no surprise as to why steve befriended you in the first place and boy was he glad that he had a special place in your heart outside of all the thirsty, greedy men in the town. Maybe not as special as he wanted it to be but he would always take what he got.

Before he could get more lost in thought about you, large, muscular arms made it way around his head. He knew exactly whose they were when he was tugged into a massive hug, almost dropping his bag of plums.

“well what do we have here, a wild buckaroo!” the voice happily boomed, letting bucky out the hug keeping an arm around his neck. 

bucky huffed in annoyance at his older bother’s antics, “this is why mom was so eager to get you out of the house steve, and yet you still attack me like a baby cub hunting for the first time,” bucky responding sarcastically pushing his brother away playfully.

“sorry little brother, I tend to get excited on special days like this,” steve said happily crossing his hand over his biceps, stopping in his tracks, “you’re going to tell her today right?”

Ah yes, bucky thought, today was the day that he was going to confess his undying love for you. Despite your intelligence in your field of healing, you were quite oblivious to any man's intentions when it came to love.

When the topic always came up between conversation you two had, you always responded with the same line, “maybe later, not now but later.”

You never took care in getting a husband anytime soon. It was never a top priority of yours. But bucky couldn't help but think about the prolonged stares that you would give him or the light touches on his hands and cheek that stayed a moment too long for it to be a friendly gesture, not that he minded. He obviously talked to steve about it and with much convincing, he decided to invite you to dinner tonight.

He could've only hoped that actions spoke louder than words when it came to your love language.

“of course, everything is already prepared, it would be stupid to not go through with it,” bucky mumbled, his insecurities getting the best of him as he looked down to the ground, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

Steve sighed heavily before placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“bucky, there’s no way hell that she’ll pass you up. You’re the only man that she actually tolerates in this bloody town, well besides me and I already have peggy which leaves room for you and really only you,”

Bucky huffed, “but what if-”

“no no no, no buts, no ifs. She’s going to enjoy it. She does love you more than you think buck but I ca’t be the one to tell you that, you got to figure it out yourself. And if not she’s an even bigger idiot than you, and that says quite a lot,” steve responded, shaking bucky’s shoulder lightly, “ and no matter what happens, just remember ill be with you till the end of the line pal, or if this works out, just until you and y/n walk into the bedroom.”

Bucky shoved steve’s hand off his shoulder with a chuckle. Looking at his brother with hopeful eyes, he took a deep breath and looked up at the sky before back at him, nodding and silently telling him okay.

With that, the two brothers walked back home side by side, one giddy with excitement while the other quietly worried about the night to come.

Taglist (comment if ya wanna be added or message me:) 

@affabletimelady @jadegill

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Lick Your Wounds (part three)

[Breakaway]

Part 1 Part 2

TW: Vomiting, blood

——————

These Shark-Infested Waters

Joan’s sick of being injured.

She’s currently laying on her cabin bed, looking out the window at the sparkling ocean stretched all around the ship. She’s hot and clammy, despite it being rather cool in the room. She takes her drugs on time, or at least she thinks she does. She can't really remember what she does anymore. Her mind is so fuzzy and disjointed that she can't even seem to remember her own name at times.

She peers at the vibrant sea, blinking her eyes into a squint as the light from the setting sun bounces off the glistening water, blinding her temporarily. It’s the evening of the third day out of seven and she already feels the effects of isolation setting in deep. It didn’t help that the day before was spend completely alone, since there was a double show, which meant Maggie or anyone else was too busy to visit her. It’s the first time since she got on the ship that she didn’t see Maggie in twenty-four hours.

And it did not feel good.

“Dammit,” Joan muttered under her breath as she feels her mouth go dry.

She hated this feeling. She felt hopeless and insecure and forgotten and useless. She’s always had issues with her confidence, but right now she’s at an all time low. She can’t sleep alone. She can’t write or work or perform or lift anything too heavy. She can barely go to the bathroom without smashing herself into the wall! Hell, she doesn’t even know what she’s going to do when she has to start bathing herself! She’s been wearing the same thing for three days- the clothes are probably now permanently saturated with sweat.

Oh how she ached to get back out to the world, to explore the boat and try all the things it offered. She has music director work to go through, still. Being cooped up in a cabin was not something that she had on her to-do list.

Joan let out a low, pained groan as she slung her good arm over her eyes. Isolation was digging in deep, now. Not even the pretty houses on all the house hunting shows she’s watched could distract her from the gnawing sense of loneliness that ate away at her.

She misses Maggie.

Joan rolled over suddenly, sending pins and needles up her left arm. She ignored it and grabbed her phone.

[Mag-Dog]

Joey: I miss you

Joan waits thirty seconds after the message is read.

Nothing.

She tries again.

[Mag-Dog]

Joey: I miss you

This one isn’t read this time.

Maybe she’s coming off too strong? Or maybe Maggie just doesn’t care...

[Mag-Dog]

Joey: When are you gonna come over again? I wanna see you

Joey: Please

Joey: I’m so bored

Joey: And I miss you :(

Nothing.

Joan whimpered softly and put her phone back down, then buried herself in her blankets. She clutched her stuffed tamarin, Sunny, close to her chest, feeling like it was her only friend.

“At least I have you, Sunny...” Joan whispered, her voice shaking slightly. “You’ll never leave me, right?”

God, how pathetic could she be? She’s talking to a stuffed animal.

Sudden rage bubbled up in Joan’s chest. Maggie probably forgot about her. She was probably just waiting for something like this to happen so she could get away from her.

Maggie didn’t care about her.

Maggie never cared.

In a fit of anger, Joan threw Sunny at the wall and then slammed herself back into her blankets, crying. And she hates that she does this because- because she can’t- because it all-

It just-

It didn’t start like this.

Like her lungs are full of water and her chest is thick and heavy with sludge and mud. Like each breath is razor sharp and threatens to drown her with the muck bubbling up in her throat. Like everything and everyone is against her.

It started out slow. First the whispers, then the doubt, and then the nausea. Slowly, she feels more like a corpse and less like a human, and she wishes things could go back to being good again.

Things are just changing so fast and Joan can’t keep up. The queens told her to dive, but every time she tries to swim forward, she’s battered by the waves and slammed back against the jagged rocks along the shoreline, where her cries are muffled by salty green water and her skin is torn. She barley gets time to breathe before she’s dragged back in by the undertow, whipping her around in the current until she’s a broken carcass lying upon the sand.

The only thing that keeps her up is the violent spray of the sea was Maggie. Maggie keeps her sane when she’s tormented by her insecurity, keeps her waking up in the morning instead of wallowing in bed, keeps her functioning even when mockery degrades her, keeps her from throwing herself over the edge of the ship when everything feels like it’s too much, keeps her from completely shattering when the deaths of Anne and Jane and Katherine flash back to her because THAT’S still a thing to break her down.

But not anymore. Because Maggie doesn’t care.

And then the cabin door’s locking mechanism clicks and the door pushes open.

Joan froze.

“So...you miss me?”

Maggie is standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised. Joan snaps up instantly- well, after she scrubs her face in her blankets to rid it of tear stains.

“Maggie!” She cried in relief.

“That’s my name, yes.” Maggie replied. She looked down the stuffed tamarin lying tail-up near her feet. She picks it up and dusts it off. She might have even straightened out some of its stupid fur. “What’d your tambourine do to get banished to the floor? Say something mean to you?”

Joan blushes and looks down at her lap, which is quickly situated by Sunny, who Maggie sets there.

“Nothing.” Joan mumbled, hunching she shoulders in. This action makes her left arm ache, but she really didn’t care.

“Hm.” Maggie isn’t convinced, but she doesn’t press. “Alright.” She moves on. “So...wanna watch a movie?”

“Actually,” Joan fidgets slightly. “I was wondering if I could go out.”

“Out of the cabin?”

Joan nodded

“I don’t know...”

“Please, Maggie?” Joan is giving the guitarist her best puppy dog eyes. “I won’t do anything! I’m just getting cabin fever. Literally. This is a cabin! Can we just walk around?”

Maggie tries to avoid the pianist’s big, soft, glistening eyes, but it’s impossible. She sighed.

“Fine.”

“Yay!!”

“But if I see you try to do anything with that hand I WILL drag you back to this room by the ear.”

Joan giggled. “I won’t do anything, I promise!”

And that’s how Joan and Maggie ended up on the front of the ship during the middle of one of its routinely evening dance parties, which were mainly for kids, but they both knew Bessie and Maria were guilty of jamming out during a few (and ultimately being the best dancers there- Maggie had no idea how they managed to control their long limbs so well). Strobe lights were flashing maniacally, the speakers were pounding with the volume of the music, a mass of dancing people were writhe on the deck, and Joan’s left hand was throbbing with the beat blaring through the air. At first, it brought her a sense of thrill to be out of her cabin, but then the pulsation in her hand grew stronger and felt like it was going to rip in two, or maybe just explode, with each intense hum of the bass. What makes it worse is that Maggie keeps glancing at her, her form of worry glinting in her eyes, and she knows that this fun evening is just going to be a chaperoning experience.

Her first time out of the cabin since the incident is going great, really. Yes, Joan loved being spotted by the boy with the scraped knee from the medical wing and then getting pointed at- or, rather, her bandaged hand getting pointed at. She could already hear the stupid rumors the children would start- would they ding dong ditch her cabin door and if they didn’t run away fast enough she would drag them inside and cut off their left hand to use as her new replacement? Would they dare each other to break inside the room and take a piece of her “cursed bloody bandages” to prove their courage? Would they try to unwrap it completely to see what horrors lied beneath? Would they say she hunts down people to peel the skin off their hand to use to cover her own? Would they call her the “One-Handed Siren” or “Juana the Degloved” or “Ripskin”?

She didn’t know.

But then it just got worse. Some jerkoff thought that Joan, despite her, and he quotes, “fucked up hand”, was cute (which she is) and that she was a vulnerable target (which she most certainly is not). He’s currently twelve feet away, nursing his wounded ego and muttering to his other jackass friends. Props to Maggie for that one.

Maggie is sharing a side table with Joan, now. It may seem like she’s shielding Joan from the other cruise patrons, but honestly, she’s shielding the rest of the cruise patrons from Joan. The girl in question is slumped against the railing, listlessly watching the black waves below roll by.

“God,” Maggie eventually sighed. “It’s gonna be a miserable fucking night tonight with all this noise.”

Joan snorted. “You can say that again.”

“God,” Maggie got out before Joan slapped a hand over her mouth. After a moment of contemplation, she sticks out her tongue to lick it.

“Maggie, gross!” Joan exclaimed, jerking her hand back and wiping it on her sweat pants (the same sweat pants she’s been wearing for the past three days...she had refused to change, just put on a grey hoody over her wrinkled bumblebee shirt). She’s smiling, though, which Maggie takes as a victory. “What are you, five?”

“Yes,” Maggie told her flatly. “But I’m very mature for my age.”

Joan snorted and affectionately bumped the guitarist’s shoulder with hers. Instead of returning to the ocean, she allows herself to slump against Maggie’s shoulder. She bumps her cheek against the top of her head in return.

Maggie never saw Joan interacting with her queens or anyone else in a normal context before the ship, since they had only really saw each other at rehearsals, so she doesn’t know if she had always been so touch-starved. She’s certainly never liked touching people very much, in her past life the only exception to that had been Anne and her brother (even her husband hadn’t been included in that...and yet they still had so many kids), but after reincarnation and Joan’s obvious need for human contact, she’s gotten used to her friend using her as an all-purpose piece of furniture. It’s nice, she’ll admit. She wouldn’t put up with it from anyone but Joan, but if her little sister friend suddenly stopped, she’d miss it.

She wiggled out her arm from the side of the chair to drape it across Joan’s shoulders and pull her closer. She can feel the gaze of some of the other people on the deck on them, but she doesn’t give a fuck.

After Anne’s execution, she hasn’t been able to give a fuck about most things.

They spend thirty minutes on the deck playing stupid games like I Spy, and then, when those get boring, trying to guess details about the other people from their appearance or behavior. Joan has to hide a laugh in Maggie’s hair when she mutters that Jackass is likely related to lemurs (“no, really, Joey, you saw his eyes when I flipped him off”). There’s a song playing again and again by some annoying kid requesting it on repeat like a wannabe John “Salt and Pepper Diner” Mulaney and the screams and laughs of the more rowdy boys, and normally Maggie would be so irritated that she’d pick a fight just to make it all stop, but Joan is here, and that makes it all bearable.

And then Joan tugs Maggie’s sleeve.

With the deck light and multicolored flashing strobes, Maggie is able to see that Joan is significantly paler than she had been thirty minutes ago. Her eyes were glossier, too. And her breathing was definitely much more shallow.

“What’s up?” Maggie asked.

“Can we—” Joan swallowed hard. “C-can we go? I-I don’t feel so good...”

Maggie’s eyes widen slightly (not fully, but even halfway was enough to show that she was genuinely shocked) and helped Joan to her feet instantly. The girl is wobbly and unsteady, so she lets her lean on her.

“Yeah, of course. Come on.”

As they’re leaving, Jackass makes one final comment, begging Joan to stay a little longer- that he wanted to know what it felt like to get a handjob from her “gnarly, fucked up hand”, and that’s what made Maggie finally snap. She told Joan to wait one moment, snatched a cup of lemonade from an unsuspecting woman, and threw it directly into Jackass’ face. She didn’t speak a word to him and quickly marched back over to Joan, hearing the guy yowl over the sting of lemon juice in his eyes.

There were two main reason that she had done that: 1) Nobody treats her little sister best friend that way ever and 2) she was hoping the action would cheer Joan up a little. But Joan wasn’t smiling or giggling or even giving her a grateful look. In fact, she didn’t seem to be seeing at all. She looked...blind.

“Joan-”

Maggie gently touched Joan’s good shoulder and the girl blinked. She looked up at Maggie and her eyes were so glazed.

“Wh-what? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you...”

“Shit,” Maggie whispered. “Okay, come on. Let’s get you back to bed, alright?”

Joan just nodded wordlessly.

The walk back to the cabin was painstakingly slow, punctuated the entire time by Joan’s whimpers and shallow breaths. And then a sharp breath.

“M-Maggie-”

“What? What’s wrong?”

Joan is doubled over slightly, face ghost white and shimmering with sweat. Her good hand is now groping at her stomach.

“I don’t- I don’t think I can—make it.”

Maggie knew what she meant.

“Okay- Okay, come here.”

Maggie steered her over to the railing of the ship, since they had been taking the outdoor passage to avoid more people, and held her hair out of the way. It didn’t take long for Joan to start vomiting over the edge of the boat.

Maggie was never queasy around vomiting. Anne had an abundance of pregnancies as queen, which meant for lots of morning sickness and throw up, so she just got used to it. The sight, the smell, the sound- none of it bothered her. But when it was Joan violently ejecting her stomach contents, it genuinely hurt to watch.

After a minute or so, Joan pulls back, gasping for breath. Her knees are buckling, but Maggie is able to catch her before she crumbled to the ground.

“You can’t lay here, Joan.” Maggie said.

“P-please,” Joan begged weakly, and her pleading, desperate tone of voice sent cobwebs of cracks sprinting through Maggie’s usually-stoney heart. “I just— C-can I please sit down for a moment?” She’s bracing herself against the railing, teetering over it slightly, like she can’t decide if she’s going to vomit again or not.

“You can sit down when we get back to the cabin.” Maggie told her. “You can lay down, even! Doesn’t that sound so much better?”

Joan looked at her with glassy eyes and nodded.

“Let’s go, then. I’ll help you.”

It took five minutes to get back to the cabin, with odd stares from passers and murderous glares from Maggie along the way, but they eventually made it there. Joan immediately sat down on her bed, taking deep breaths. Maggie grabs a water bottle on the bedside table for her, which she takes gratefully. The ingestion of water seems to clear her up a little.

“M-Maggie?”

“Right here, Joan.” Maggie said, gently touching her right shoulder. “I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry...”

“Don’t apologize. It’s alright.”

“Th-that was a stupid idea. I should have listened to you.”

“Probably.” Maggie said bluntly. “But I got to throw lemonade in that asshole’s face. So that was cool.”

“You did?”

“Yup.”

“F-for me?”

“Mhm.”

“Aww...” Joan nuzzled Maggie weakly. “Can we lay down now?”

“Let’s get you into fresh clothes first, okay?” Maggie said, standing up.

“No,” Joan whined pitifully. “Please no, Maggie. I’m too tired...”

Maggie pursed her lips, then sighed.

“Fine. But can you at least brush your teeth? To get the taste of vomit out of your mouth.”

Joan agreed to that, although Maggie was the one who ended up doing most of the work with the brushing part, while Joan just swayed and stared at her corpse-like reflection in the mirror.

When the two eventually got into the bed, Maggie noticed Joan hugging her midsection, so she tentatively reached out and rubbed her stomach gently. It got a small gasp from Joan, but no complaints or pleas for her to stop, so she continues kneading in soothing circles.

“Who knew pianist’s liked belly rubs,” Maggie mused into the dark cabin. Her answer isn’t in words, but rather a grumble. She takes it as a sign of annoyance. “Oh, that’s too bad.” She pulls her hand back. “Guess I was wrong. Goodnight, Joan.”

“Mmm..?!” Joan whined (she was far too weak to speak, so she could only make little noises like that. She would be embarrassed about it later). She found Maggie’s hand in the dark, grabbed it, set it back onto her stomach, and made it rub herself. “Mmm.”

This got the smallest chuckle out of Maggie, who resumed massaging Joan’s aching tummy.

“Goodnight, darling.”

“Mmmm...”

———

It’s just past three-fifty in the morning when Joan starts moving- digging her face into the pillow, flexing her legs, shaking so much it rattles the mattress. It’s a few more minutes later before Maggie up to a stifled whimper.

“Joan?” She whispers, propping herself up on an elbow in the darkness and rubbing her eyes. She squints when the only response she receives is the creak of the mattress, Joan curling further into herself, and another whimper. “Joan?”

No answer, but Joan is definitely still whining and keening, although it’s much softer. Weaker.

Maggie reached over and flicked on the lamp on the bedside table on her side. The sudden burst of radiance illuminates the room and the small pool of coagulated vomit Joan’s face is sitting in.

“Shit!”

Maggie is out of the bed in an instant and racing around to the other side, which has a puddle of bile below it.

“I’m sorry,” Joan just barely manages to squeak out. “I-it hurt t-too much... I-I couldn’t g-get up...”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Maggie calmed her. “But you gotta get up now, Joan. To go to the bathroom. Alright?”

It was very obvious that Joan did not want to move, but she obeyed anyway. With Maggie’s help, she managed to get up from the mess and stagger into the bathroom, where she promptly collapsed to her knees in front of the toilet. She doesn’t throw up, but she does rock over the bowl treacherously. As she does that, Maggie wets a flannel with warm water and began wiping off her face and neck.

“I’m sorry,” Joan whispered. Her voice was so weak and hoarse. “I-I didn’t m-mean to, Maggie. I didn’t mean to...”

“Shh,” Maggie hushed her fearful babbling. “I know, baby. I know you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry...!” Joan whimpered out again. A few tears slip free from her eyes and Maggie wipes them away.

“Don’t speak.” Maggie said. “Just relax. Take deep breaths. Think you can do that for me?”

Joan nodded. Maggie’s eyes crinkle softly at her efforts.

“Good girl.” Maggie praised. She examined the shirt Joan was wearing, which was soaked with vomit at the collar and right shoulder. “Can you take your shirt off or do you want me to?”

“I can’t-”

“Alright. Just hold still and...”

“No, Maggie, I can’t—” Joan swallowed thickly through a wave of nausea and took a few more quick breaths. “I can’t raise my arm. I-it hurts too much.”

Maggie cussed softly under her breath. Joan must think it’s directed towards her because she cowers away.

“I’m not mad at you, Joan.” Maggie told her. “I understand. Your hand...” God, the bandages are so dark. “...it must hurt a lot.”

Joan nodded with a pitiful whimper.

“Okay, just-” Maggie got up, despite Joan’s pleas for her not to leave, and found a pair of scissors. She returned to her weeping music director and began cutting off her shirt, making a note to buy her a new one after this was all over. “There we go.”

Joan isn’t even embarrassed over Maggie seeing her without a top on, which means she was really far gone. If the thick glaze over her eyes that almost made her look blind didn’t give that away already.

“I’m going to go get the water bottle for you and try to fix the bed.” Maggie pressed a kiss to Joan’s soaked, sweaty hairline. “I’ll be right in here, darling.”

Maggie being more than a foot away was disagreeable. Her being in the room was like she was halfway across the world. Joan couldn’t handle it.

“Maggie,” Joan drawled out languidly, but it sounds more like a muffled groan.

She sunk to the ground, almost landing on her bad arm, but she manages to sprawl out on her poor stomach instead. The floor is so cold and nice beneath her heated flesh. She presses her burning forehead against it.

“Maggie,” Joan coughed out, feeling dizzy again.

She can't move as bile rises up once more. Her body shakes harder and she felt vision cut out faster. Everything is growing dark as she fidgeted and thrashed on the bathroom floor, the electrifying agony surging through her veins like liquid fire.

Joan is just barely able to kick the bathtub as hard as she could before acid curled up in the back of her mouth and she choked violently, unable to breathe as she is unable to purge it out. The acid trickles back down her throat, leaving a burning trail down her esophagus. She can hear Maggie yelling and running to her side as she spasmed weakly.

In her daze, she barely felt Maggie shove her fingers into her mouth and scoop out the liquid.

Joan coughed and barely managed to regain herself enough to drag her head up and vomit into the toilet. Her stomach aches with the force of her heaves- she’s throwing up so hard she feels bile trickle out of her nose and eyes.

“Maggie,” Joan sobbed after she finally got everything out. The nausea was gone for the moment, but the pain it caused lingered. Her eyes and nose were stinging so badly- the blood vessels in her eyes were ruptured. Her hand hurt so much, too. Like it was on fire. “Maggie, it hurts... Make it stop, please...”

She slumps sideways and ends up with her head in Maggie’s lap, the rest of her body curled around her like a kitten seeking heat. A warm cloth wipes down her messy face again.

“Oh, my poor girl...” Maggie murmured. “I’m so sorry, Joan.”

“Nng...” Joan gurgled weakly. She shivers against Maggie’s thighs, screwing her eyes shut. “Hurts... Hurts...” She mumbled again.

For the first time in her life, Maggie was genuinely stunned. She didn’t know what to do besides stroke Joan’s hair or rub her back or massage her stomach or whisper loving things to her. What could she do? It was now four in the fucking morning. She was sure the nurses weren’t awake by now. And even if they were, they’ve already proven to be completely useless.

Maggie looked down at Joan, feeling a freezing cold chunk of ice stab into her gut, and realized that they still had three more days to go.

And that Joan had gone very still in her arms. Too still, considering just a moment ago she was shaking so hard it vibrated both of them. Maggie loosened her grip, only slightly, and she sees that Joan’s form is completely limp in her grasp.

Panic like she has never experienced invades all of Maggie’s senses, filling her with searing lava. A hundred thousand butterflies flap violently in her gut, swimming into her throat, into her blood.

“Joan?” Maggie lifted her chin up to get a look at her face. Eyes closed, lips parted barely. Joan’s chest isn’t rising and falling to way it should be. “Oh shit- Joan!”

When shaking does nothing, Maggie laid Joan back on the bathroom floor and loomed over her frail body, an ear pressed to her chest.

She can’t hear anything.

Maggie is up and out of the cabin in an instant. She sprinted down the hallway, not giving a shit about how loud she was being, and began pounding on Anne’s bedroom door, screaming and yelling as she did so, and she didn’t stop until Anne pulled open the door.

“Maggie-?”

“You have to come with me. It's Joan. Something’s wrong. She’s-” Maggie’s voice falters. Anne caught it. “She’s sick. Not breathing. Just- come on! And get Jane!!”

A few people were peeking out of their rooms from the commotion, but Maggie just ran right past them, only looking behind her to check if Anne and Jane were coming (they were. Thank god their cabins were right next to each other).

Joan’s laying just as she was left when Maggie enters again. She dives down to her side instantly, quickly followed by Jane and Anne, who take turns feeling Joan’s burning forehead.

“We need to cool her down.” Jane said firmly. “Anne, fill the tub with cold water, please.”

It takes six agonizing minutes to fill the bathtub. Jane quickly lowered Joan’s shockingly lax body into the water, clothes and all, but kept her left hand out. Maggie watches with her normal blank expression, but her eyes are significantly wider than usual and she’s quite pale. Anne gently touches her shoulder, causing her to jump.

“She’ll be okay, Mags.” Anne whispered as Jane was wetting Joan’s pale face with a rag. “She’s got a heartbeat.”

Maggie perked up. “She does? Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Anne nodded. “She’s breathing. It’s all okay.”

“Thank god,” Maggie whispered. Her persona was starting to crack. “I…I thought she was already…” She bit her lips together.

Don't say it. Don't jinx it.

“She's a strong girl,” Jane said. “She’ll make it through this. However...” She casts a grim look at Joan’s left hand. “We need to redress her bandages. Flush the wound out, too.”

“She said it was too painful, which is why she hadn’t done it yet.” Maggie said. She grabbed all the necessary items the nurses had given them- gauze, disinfectant, bandages, swabs, medical tape, painkillers. “But I agree.”

It was at that moment that consciousness decided to return to Joan- something they all dreaded and knew would make the process of cleaning much more difficult.

Maggie went to Joan’s side instantly as Jane pulled the drain out and began emptying the bathtub. Joan looked dazedly at the lowering water she’s reclined in.

“I’m...water?”

“Yes, darling, you’re in water.” Maggie said, brushing wet hair out of Joan’s tired eyes.

“Water...” Joan whispered to herself and then lolled her head backwards. The poor thing was completely exhausted. She could barely even think straight. “Annie...? And Jane?”

“Hey, sweet girl,” Jane cooed, brushing Joan’s flushes cheek with one of her fingers. “You’re going to feel better soon, alright?”

“Feel...better?” Joan didn’t seem to understand what was going on. She anxiously looked between all the women, then focused completely on Anne, who was preparing some bandages. “M-Maggie?”

“Let’s get this over with.” Maggie said. She climbed into the tub behind Joan so the girl was pressed against her. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, holding her securely. Joan thinks it’s some kind of hug, so she snuggles into it. She can’t see the dark expression on Maggie’s face. “I’ll hold her.”

Jane nodded, then motioned for Anne to pin Joan’s arm down to the edge of the tub. This immediately elicits a whimper from Joan, who’s squirmed slightly.

“Ow,” She squeaked. “A-Annie, that hurts...”

Anne gave her a sad look, but didn’t say anything as Jane began to unwrap the stained bandages around Joan’s hand. It immediately made Joan flinch in discomfort.

“Ow, ow...!” She whined. “J-Jane— Please don’t—”

“We have to clean your hand, darling.” Maggie told her. “Please, try to sit still. It’ll be over quick.”

Joan nodded reluctantly and held her breath as the bandages were unraveled. She did good at not moving up until the very end of the unwrapping and she flinched hard. The last of the bandages appeared to be...stuck to her palm.

“Fuck-” Jane breathed. “Anne, hand me the scissors.”

“What’s wrong?” Maggie asked as Jane is given the scissors. She looks down at the dark red mess that is Joan’s slightly uncovered palm and realizes what the dilemma was herself- skin was scabbed over and clotted in the bandages, with dried blood additionally acting as glue to plaster the mesh in place.

Or, to put it more simply: flesh had grown over damp parts of the bandages that sunk into the wound and practically fused to her hand.

Jane cuts away what she can, but there’s still patches remaining that she won’t be able to slice off without possibly jabbing the wound with the scissor blades.

“Alright,” Jane said. “Anne, Maggie. Hold her still.”

“Wh-what?” Joan squeaked.

Jane searches for a give one last time, but couldn’t find one, so she grabs the edge of the remaining bandage pieces and pulls. They come off successfully, as does a fresh layers of flesh.

Joan shrieks and began to thrash violently. She slammed herself back against Maggie and kicked her legs in the tub, screaming like she was being gutted alive.

“Stop it!!” Joan sobbed. “Stop it, stop it, please! Please! Maggie, make her stop!!”

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” Maggie whispered, holding Joan tighter. “I’m so sorry. You gotta clam down.”

Joan doesn’t. She continues to spasm and writhe violently.

“Please-!! It hurts! IT HURTS!!”

Maggie has to cover her mouth at that point, but she continues to howl and cry and beg for Jane to stop and just leave her alone. She struggles more, too, absolutely terrified. Maggie’s murmurs don’t reach her ears. In fact, she doesn’t even know if she can trust Maggie at this point, so she bites down on the woman’s hand.

“Fuck-!!” Maggie hissed. She grits her teeth tightly.

“Maggie?” Jane looked at her in alarm.

“I’m fine,” Maggie grunted. Thin trails of blood are running down her hand from where it’s still in Joan’s mouth. “Keep working. She’s distracted.”

Jane nodded hesitantly, then continued...only to stop and stare at the gaping red horror that was Joan’s hand. If being able to see through her palm or watching bubbles of blood belch from the wound or just seeing the frayed, mangled flesh that was so dark it was black in such a bad state didn’t make any of their stomachs churn, then the smell of drooling discharge and dripping pus did.

Anne and Maggie had to hand it to Jane (no pun intended). Despite the smell and the sight and the sound of Joan crying and screaming, she worked diligently: flushing out the wound with water and disinfectant, cleaning the dirty edges, not flinching when blood or pus splatters onto her, plucking away the peeling medical tape and replacing it with new pieces, wrapping the hand up carefully. The entire process still took around fifteen minutes, but she did a good job. And, by then, Joan was unconscious again.

“Poor little thing,” Jane murmured after washing her hands and throwing away all the dirty remnants of the former wrapping. “I think her wound is infected.”

Maggie swallowed hard. Anne paled.

“But...she’ll be okay after you cleaned it, right?” Anne asked.

Jane pursed her lips together. “I hope so.” She steps over to Joan, who’s still being held by Maggie, feels the area just below her ears on both sides, her brow knotting slightly as she went.

“What is it?” Maggie asked.

“Her lymph nodes are swollen. Means her immune system’s getting kicked into overdrive.” Then, after a moment of hesitation, “Her hand is definitely infected. But she’s fighting it. So that’s good.” She looks back into the bedroom. “I’m going to go clean that mess up.”

She walked out, not really caring about her new mission to clean up vomit. Perhaps it was her way of repaying Joan when she had been sick after giving birth to Edward. She was sure it was just as messy, if not messier.

Anne and Maggie are left in the bathroom with an unconscious Joan. The girl is starting to shiver, so they take her out of the now-empty tub and tag team dressing her in fresh clothes. When they’re finished, Joan has come back to them slightly, now mumbling incoherently, but not awake enough to stand, so Anna carries her trembling body back to the cleaned bed.

“Do you need us to stay with you tonight?” Jane asked.

“No,” Maggie shook her head. Joan is curled up in her arms, sleeping peacefully for the first time that night. “We’re okay.”

“Alright.” Jane nodded. “We’ll be up for the rest of the morning, so call if you need anything.”

With that, she and Anne walked out and Maggie is left with her unconscious girl shivering against her. She wraps her arms tightly around Joan and pressed a kiss to her sweaty forehead.

“I love you, my darling.”

For the first time since she was reincarnated, she felt tears well up in her eyes.

[musedblues]

Always Something There To Remind Me [Part: 4]

summary: Home is where the heart is. You’re working on finding yours. After a handful of misfortunes, your old friend Joe helps to unravel life’s greatest mystery while adding a bit of extra grief to the mix.

warnings: Some fun, a little angst, and a whole lot of mixed feeling!

w/c: 6k

a/n: We’ve reached the halfway mark of this story! I hope you enjoy this update. Let me know what you think, lovies!

​taglist: @im-an-adult-ish​ @mrsmazzello​ @lettinggosthehardestpart​ @the-moving-finger-writes​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​

Part 5

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The spring was blossoming to life and after your fair share of sulking, you went on the hunt for a job. Funeral expenses and travel had cleaned out your account, and you needed income. In the local mall, you scored part-time at a tiny flower shop. A lovely couple of old men owned the place and handled deliveries, insisting your only job was to sit behind the register and wait for customers to buy something.

There were plenty of shoppers, but even more spare time to listen to podcasts and text Tegan. You were in the middle of sending your friend photos of the floral arrangement one of your bosses let you mess around with over lunch break, when a familiar voice floated past your counter.

“Oh my God!”

Lacy Duval was standing in front of you with a strangely excitable grin and a perfect ponytail flowing from underneath a Yankees ballcap. Oh my God was right.

“Hello, Lacy.” You gave her a cagey smile. There was no reason not to be polite, but something about the girl really got under your skin.

“I saw you here on my way to Urban Outfitters and I couldn’t not say hello.” The girl was pretty. It almost blinded you to look right at her. But she’d taken to leaning against the counter to shove her smile in your face.

“Well, hello.” You offered once more. “Please, don’t let me get in the way of your shopping.” You nearly plead, glancing past her, willing another customer to show up.

“Oh, no I work at Urban. I totally don’t mind clocking in a few minutes late.” Lacy giggled like this was some kind of big, secret, inside joke. You only let out a very nervous chuckle, afraid if you opened your mouth again you would be a little too rude. Lacy leaned against your register for five solid minutes, gabbing on about the mall and the people she worked with and how she’d never see you here before.  All while looking over her shoulder and around yours, like she had somewhere better to be. That’s what stopped you from dropping your guard and actually listening to what Lacy had to drone on about.

She left with a reluctant sigh and you wondered how she justified talking to you for so long with absolutely nothing to say. You shook it off in a hurry, going back to your texts with Tegan and selling a few promposal bouquets near the end of your shift.

Except after then, something horrific happened. For the next two weeks, Lacy kept coming in to say hello. Every. Single. Day. She even learned your schedule and made a habit of stopping in to greet you before her shifts across the mall started. And for a while, you didn’t totally mind the tradition. She kept it up so long, with a pleasant smile. She must have really wanted to talk to you, right? But by her fifth visit, her all too obvious intentions were finally brought to light.

“So how’s Joe, then?” Lacy kept her smile wide and her eyes glued on yours.

“Oh, you know, some kind of superstar.” You half-joked, almost through your teeth. Joe was off with his castmates, winning awards and attending red carpet parties. You couldn’t have been happier for him. He deserved a bit of fun after the winter was so cruel. You just didn’t like that Lacy was asking.

“He’s always been popular but he’s properly famous now, isn’t he?” Lacy pointed out, giddy. “Every time I post a photo with him I swear I gain at least a hundred more followers!” She practically swooned.

It took every ounce of your strength not to throw your head back and groan out loud. Yeah, he was an actor. Yeah, he was good- and recognized for it. You’d had this conversation more times with more people than you ever really realized was possible.  And if ever he dared mention your old pal, Kris always referred to Joe as “that famous friend of yours.” Was Joe’s celebrity really all that mattered to anyone? What about his favorite Chinese food, or his theory about the end of Easy Rider? He was a motherfucking person.

And just when you thought it couldn’t get much worse, it got so much worse.

You had just closed up shop, paying no mind to the last-minute mall rats who still bustled around the other open storefronts. Before you could make your way too far past the flower shop, someone tapped you on the shoulder.

It was Joe, who proceeded to wrap you in a big hug the moment you registered his surprise presence.

He was gone for what felt like longer than ever before, but he looked way more happy to see you now, than the last time you reunited. You threw your arms around his shoulders and he lifted you off the ground for a moment, exchanging merry hello’s.

“Alright, alright! We have a guest.” Joe set you back on your feet, gesturing to a very tall and happy looking fellow you recognized from many photos.

“Gwilym.” You proudly smiled up to him, confirming you knew of him well enough to be happy to see him here now. 

“Y/n!” He pointed at you, as if this meeting were a long time coming.

Joe went on to explain how Gwilym had been staying with him the past couple of days after all the press tours and premiers were over. And how they drove all the way back here to Joe’s measly hometown because his mother insisted they both stop over for brunch, so she could get the chance to see Joe’s friend. Apparently, she adored Gwilym. You could see why, even just having met the guy, he oozed a certain gentle charm.

Joe knew to find you here at the mall, because you’d kept up your promise of sending the occasional text message update when something more than mundane happened in each of your lives. You listened to him and Gwilym yammer on about how exciting the past couple of months had been for them, taking a beat to notice how good Joe looked. There was a light in his eyes you hadn’t seen since you’d been back in the states.

And then you saw her. Lacy was leaving her shift down the way. You watched her realize just exactly who was talking to you, stop, and turn in a very big hurry in your direction.

“Joey!” She shrieked, rushing up to your best friend. Gwilym was practically shoved aside by the girl on her mission to invade Joe’s personal space. What was even more unsettling was how Joe seemed glad to see her. He pulled her into a friendly embrace that she squealed during. Even though you and Gwilym had just met, the two of you shared a befuddled expression trying to reason why you’d both been left on the sidelines all of a sudden.

Even when Joe pointed to Gwilym, introducing the strangers to each other, Lacey didn’t dare turn her gaze from Joe. She didn’t miss a beat as she went on saying;

“I’m so glad you’re here! So listen, my sisters are throwing this big party and I promised them I’d get you to come. I wanna show you off!” Lacy swayed in place, looking up to Joe through her fake lashes.

“Oh, wow uh sure, when is it?” Joe smiled, pulling his phone from his pocket as you crossed your arms, realizing you were invisible to her now. Lacy gave Joe the details and had the nerve to sweep her eyes over you as she skipped away. What the fuck? She’d spent all month popping in to “say hello” to little old you, but now that Joe was around you’d become irrelevant. She was only trying to get to Joe and you knew it all along, but you were still fuming at her disregard for you during the past couple minutes.

“That was weird.” Joe realized with a shrug, watching Lacy walk away. You knew if you responded you’d only blow a gasket, and luckily Joe was interested in moving on. Gwilym stood watching on in near comical horror as Joe snapped everyone back to business.

“Alright, listen this is very important.” Joe grabbed your shoulders, wearing another hopeful grin. “I want you to come back and stay with us, this weekend. But the thing is you need to say yes right now, cause we’ve got to leave right now.” Joe nodded. You realized he was serious or he wouldn’t have tracked you down at the mall, with the excitable, dashing Gwilym in tow.

///

Gwilym was put to work charming the socks off your mother as Joe raced you up the stairs to help pack your bags. He was desperate to make it to some very specific pizza place before it closed for the night. You just laughed as he threw your clothes into an old JanSport, before stealing it from his grasp to finish packing your thing; full of mostly new clothes you splurged on with your first big paycheck. As you packed them to wear, you felt strangely like life was finally taking a turn for the better.

When you scurried back down the stairs, Gwilym had managed to make a cup of tea and was busy trading some recipe with your mother who was sad to see him go. Joe rushed the pair of you out the door and off onto an adventure.

Gwilym insisted you take the passenger seat on the way to the city and begged you to expose the depths of your Spotify playlist, from the back. The car ride was spent laughing about the musical phases you’d all gone through, and rocking out to the classics everyone loved.

“Hey, this is fun.” It hit you as you gazed at the cars zooming past the speed limit on either side of the freeway, and you didn’t feel usually dreadful. You let the comment slip out without thinking about it, without thinking of Gwilym in the back who might have wondered why you’d be shocked to find a road trip suddenly appealing.

But Joe knew, and he smiled as if to disguise a frown. He seemed to get this same strange look on his face when you even slightly alluded to your recent past.

“John told me what happened, why didn’t you?” Joe asked, quietly, worriedly.

Oh, yeah. Your car slid off the road last month.

“I didn’t want to make a big deal about it.” You shrugged, almost too much like a little kid. But you caught a glimpse of Gwilym in the back, pretending not to notice the shift in conversation. So you reached to turn the music up, and Joe reached for your hand.

Then you all declared this weekend was to be dedicated to nothing but having fun.

///

You made it to the city in time to hurry into Joe’s favorite pizza place an hour before closing, where you and Gwilym played the basic twenty questions of getting to know each other. And there was no stopping the way you each roasted Joe into oblivion, making him laugh all the while.

Joe’s apartment looked different than it had in all the photos you’d seen. The walls were decorated in old family photos and there were plenty of knickknacks you recognized from the years gone by, and some you didn’t. Stepping foot into his home felt strangely invasive, and you felt funny for wishing you’d been here more times than just this once.

You thought it was only natural that Gwilym took the only guest bedroom. The guy was one hundred feet tall, and you had no business taking up Joes spare California King. But Gwilym insisted the couch was just fine by him, and it was a big sofa after all. All of his bags seemed to be resting in an armchair nearby, anyhow. You couldn’t justify arguing, and soon you were shutting yourself into the spare room with sleep on your mind.

That was until rain pelted against the sealed window next to you, and you swore you saw a draft blew the blinds back. You cursed your hasty packing. You’d only grabbed an oversized tshirt instead of a sweater. After a moment of bringing your bare knees to your chest to get warm, desperate times called for desperate measures.

The apartment was dark, and Gwilym was peacefully sleeping on the L shaped sofa, borrowed knitted throw blankets decorated across his form. The glow from the streetlamp outside the kitchen window provided enough light for you to tiptoe toward Joe’s room, where soft yellow light seeped through the bottom of the door. Was he still up, too?

You knocked softly, in case he was asleep and your silly request wasn’t meant to matter. But you heard a shuffled from close beyond the door, and soon it creaked open.

“What’s up?” Joe asked, seemingly a little surprised to see you, but it was hard to read his face in the dim doorway.

“I just forgot a sweatshirt. Could I borrow one?” You asked sheepishly, folding your arms out of shyness and a bit of a chill.

“Yeah of course.” Joe breathed in sharply, turning on his feet toward his closet. The door creaked open further and you noticed Joe rub his eyes, before reaching to grab an old college sweatshirt. What was up with him tonight?

“Hey…” You cautiously began, slipping into the room and clicking the door shut. “Are you alright?” You padded toward your friend as he barely turned toward the sound of your voice.

“Uh,” Joe seemed to decide as he gently shoved his sweatshirt toward your grasp. You instinctively held it to your chest but dropped it the moment Joe turned away and started drifting toward his bed. Before he could totally answer your question he started to cry. The second you registered his snivels you darted toward where Joe stood quickly falling to piece. Then he began to explain himself.

“We said our goodbyes and everything, I shouldn’t still be so sad.” Joe croaked, covering his face with his hands so you couldn’t see his broken expression. But you felt the weight of his sadness stomp your heart out.

“You just miss him, Joe. It’s okay to miss him.” You missed his dad too, but saying so seemed selfish. Joe was still catching his breath under his hands as you pulled him toward his bed where the covers were already turned down.

You laid him down and wasted no time curling up next to him, pulling his head toward your shoulder. Joe sheepishly latched onto you while he steadied his breathing, and neither of you spoke. You just smoothed down his hair while he grabbed onto you. Joe was stronger than before.

“You are cold.” Joe noticed, chucking a little into your hair. But you sort of forgot your reason for coming in his room or the goosebumps that decorated your bare legs. You were completely comfortable in his arms. His embrace made you warmer than any sweatshirt ever could. You felt attached to him, but simultaneously cautious of the affection, you didn’t deserve this kind of all-encompassing comfort. Why was Joe’s embrace so much more multiplexed than it had been some odd years ago?

Joe was quiet, but the silence was heavy with whatever was on his mind. You could tell he wanted to say something more, but he never did. You lay together in understanding silence, trying to unravel your tangled thoughts about it all. But the effort made you tired and you drifted off there with Joe.

You woke up later, completely unsure of the time, but noticing the sun had yet to rise. Joe was still lying against you, now in peaceful sleep. You almost felt bad for squirming out from under him. You would hate to disrupt him, and his body was warm against yours. But you knew you couldn’t stay. Tiptoeing toward his door, you scooped up the previously abandoned college sweatshirt, squeezed through the door and back down the hall to the guest room. It was still cold, maybe even colder now.

///

Later that morning you awoke to a clattering from the kitchen. You slid some short on under Joe’s sweatshirt and ran your fingers through your hair before padding out of the guest room to discover what was happening.

Joe and Gwil were dressed for the day, drifting around the kitchen, arguing over something like an old married couple.

“Good morning mom and dad.” You snickered, grabbing your bottle of water from the night before, and watching Joe and his friend point to the oven. Joe shot you a look but turned his gaze back to Gwilym to finish the argument.

“If the fork comes out clean, it’s ready!” Joe pointed to the oven.

“Yeah, but you stuck it in the side, not the middle! You gotta go for the middle!” Gwilym argued. You took a sip of water and watched on in amusement. Had they really woken up and headed straight into baking something?

Joe turned to you, making some kind of whine as if pleading for you to help him prove his point. But Gwilym was right.

“He’s right.” You pointed your bottle toward Gwil who proudly sauntered behind the island to join you there.

“Ha!” Gwilym boasted.

“Ha? That’s the best you’ve got?” Joe playfully jabbed.

“It’s Welsh for ‘fuck off I’m right.’” Gwilym falsely reported, trying to save his comeback. Hey, that was good. You might steal that one. Joe laughed but looked at you with that same funny little micro-expression like he couldn’t choose between horror or sadness. But you couldn’t help go on smiling.

“You’re from there, right? Wales?” You moved your eyes toward Gwilym, who leaned against the counter toward you.

“Well no. Me mum is. I’m a fraud.” Gwil rose a brow and made you chuckle.

“Well, that’s a shame. We could have had our own secret language.” You gently admitted. Gwil kept a curious eye on you as he moved to sit next to you.

“You speak Welsh?” He asked, reaching for his cup of coffee across the island.

“I lived there for a while.” You shrugged.

“What the hell! Joe’s talked for ages about you but never mentioned that.” Gwilym cast a befuddled glance to Joe across the room.  Joe talked about you back when you weren’t talking to each other? He was occupying himself with putting a couple of dishes away. You couldn’t read his face when he stepped closer toward the opposite side of the island. Joe responded by lifting his phone in the air and snapping a photo of you and Gwilym in the middle of the morning lit kitchen.

“What was that for?” Gwilym laughed.

“Something to remember you by when the oven catches on fire because we left this damn dessert in too long.” Joe fanned his hands around. You laughed out loud, utterly delighted to be amidst the chaos. You’d missed this side of Joe. His wit and spunk had sort of all but fizzled out through the winter. It was nice to see he hadn’t lost his touch.

The photo he took was accidentally wonderful. The bright kitchen looked like heaven around you and Gwilym, sleepily leaning on the counter.

“I’ve got to post this! Or do you want too?” Gwilym asked, pointing to the picture on your phone. You had an Instagram but scarcely used the platform outside of admiring other people’s posts. Something about how excited Gwilym became and how pretty the picture was made you excited to open the old dusty application. You sent the photo to yourself and posted it to your Instagram without hesitation. It looked like the start of something new. The bright white photo stood out among the rest of your grainy theme, mostly filled with photos of you and Tegan from the pub in Wales. You tagged Gwilym and Joe.

///

That day became a game of sneaking candid photos of each other. You snuck up on each other as you strolled through the city streets and snapped shots of one another buying ice creams and looking in storefronts. But the game got out of hand. Gwilym took one photo of Joe when he was least expecting it, as he was standing on his tiptoes to reach for something in a candy store you’d fallen into the trap of. Gwilym decided it was blackmail, and then the game was on. You got a photo of Gwilym taking a massive bite of lunch and Joe got one of you making some dumb face as you had to wait in line to use the restroom.

All the while, you felt hyper aware of your surroundings and started to take more photos of stickers on light poles and titles of books that were far too expensive but probably cheaper on resale somewhere. You watched Joe open a picture book of old school baseball players. You couldn’t help but snap a shot of the way he held the book open upon the stack of others. His long fingers ghosting over the pages like a treasure. The sun casting patterns across the scene.

“What is happening to you?” Joe laughed at your newfound hobby.

“We’re having fun, remember? I am anyway.” You chuckled, raising your camera inches from his face to snap a photo and giving him a mischievous grin before you scurried away. Joe’s laughter followed you out of the shop and all around the city.

//

That night Joe hyped you and Gwilym up into getting a little dressed up and going to a bar after dinner. Luckily the newer purchases you packed included a nice enough dress. Then you ended up at a piano bar. Something stuttered in your heart when you noticed the excitement in Joe’s eye’s as they peered into yours. You hadn’t played the piano since you sold your keyboard a couple of years ago. You barely even thought of playing, actually. But Joe clearly had picked this place for a reason, with the knowledge that it had always been your dream.

The piano bar was complete with green naugahyde and mahogany wood, totally stuck out of time but still classy somehow. The crowd varied in age, and you were charmed to find a girl younger than you playing the baby grand on the risen velvet stage.

You, Joe and Gwil sat in the middle of the room, at a cozy table. You ordered dark drinks and listened to each other’s stories while other peoples chatter blurred into the background. Joe ordered something fruity with a straw and held it in front of you, insisting you try it. You took a sip and looked to your friend with wide eyes to confirm it was super good. Gwilym snapped a photo of the two of you then.

“Awe, see, that’s the opposite of blackmail!” You chuckled.

“Or is it?” Gwilym shot you a menacing grin as he stood to order a new drink at the bar. Before you could decode his secret message, a voice caught your attention.

A nice looking gentleman with a German accent tapped on the microphone at the front of the stage as your friend walked away.

“Tonight we are inviting you lovely crowd to come up and play if you know how, or even just want to. Don’t be shy, but do take turns!” The man encouraged, slinking off stage while waving for the crowd to get up and muck about.

“You should.” Joe leaned forward, speaking quietly just to you. His soft gaze made your heart crack a little. You weren’t about to do that. But you almost wanted to, just because of how excited he looked. Had he known this was going to happen? Or was he just dazzled by the hands of fate opening this random door?

“Oh, I don’t know.” You shrugged sitting up a little. Joe did the same, following your gaze. “I haven’t played uh… for a while.”

“Oh, really?” Joe frowned. You didn’t want to disappoint him. You knew he chose this place just for you. But you couldn’t lie.

“I sold my keyboard years ago.” You sorrily shrugged, recalling the time you had no other choice to pay rent. And realizing now that you never told Joe out of some kind of shame. You’d moved overseas with big plans to play, and they all crumbled around you.

“Oh…” Joe bit his lip and got that look in his eye that you realized he always got at the mention of Wales.

“Okay listen.” You turned to Joe, gently demanding his attention. You’d had enough wine to delve into this conversation. And you had finally become fed up with how Joe always seemed more upset that you at the mention of your past.

“Kris and I were like… broken up or something for like, months near the end. Things weren’t good. All I’m saying is that things with him were over before they ended for real. And I don’t miss him. I don’t. I know I should. That’s what keeps me up at night. But I don’t miss him. So please don’t look at me like I’ve lost everything.” You spoke, reaching out touch Joe’s arm. He uncrossed them and turned to face you then with an answer.

“What happened to your 'it’s okay to be sad’ speech from last night?” Joe furrowed his brow, speaking a little louder than you had been to get his point across. But you didn’t feel better for talking about this, like you thought you might.

“This-” You sighed a groan, wanting to suddenly move far away from this topic. “This is different. My life in Wales died when Kris did, okay?” You decided, getting a little angry at the end of your sentence. You wanted to move on. That’s when Gwilym reappeared, a new drink in hand.

“Should we… maybe call it a night?” The lean Brit suggested, glancing between you and Joe. Your friend looked like he had more to say, but you couldn’t go on talking about it all tonight.

“No!” You demanded. “Sit down right now so we can have fun!” You’d gotten your first taste of good times after fearing they’d never come again, and you weren’t ready to give them up.

“This place is beautiful and I’m glad you picked it out, Joe.” You looked to him sincerely and his once-troubled expression softened. You hadn’t realized you left your hand on his knee until his fingers rested on top of yours.

///

After a few rounds of drinks and jokes about things you missed laughing about, you found yourself locked away in Joe’s guest room for the second night in a row; comfy in the sweatshirt you once asked to borrow (now sort of taken hostage.) Your phone rang as you turned down the bed, and you answered right away.

“Helllooo!” Tegan chirped from the other line right away, like she’d been waiting on to hear from you for weeks on end.

“What have I missed this time?” You laughed, snuggling against a heap of pillows.

“Me! You’ve missed me. Actually, I suddenly feel like I’m the one missing out.” Tegan playfully scoffed on the other line.

“Well, of course, I miss you but what are you talking about?” You wondered. Tegan knew the only activities that filled your days were sleeping, working and occasionally seeing Joe.

“I’m talking about the dreamboat in your Instagram post! What kind of bender are you on? Does he have a hot brother or would he be interested in-”

“Oh, God.” You cut her off with a laugh, afraid of what she might say next. “He’s Joe’s friend from the movie. And that’s all.”

“So he’s single and ready to dial my number then?”

“Well, he is Welsh.” You chided.

“I know, I stalked his profile long before this interrogation.”

“So then what’s with the twenty questions?” You laughed. Tegan never failed to keep you guessing.

“I was trying to get you to admit you miss me and this place so much that you’d found a tall handsome fellow to bring you back round.”

“No, no I’ll come back on my own someday, dear.”

“I know.” Tegan lowered her voice as if someone else might have been listening.

“I’ve got to find my sea legs though, yeah? I haven’t had a nightmare in a couple of weeks.” You proudly state, tossing the covers over your legs.

“That’s because you’re living the dream, honey,” Tegan stated, as if she really meant it, as if it wasn’t a joke.

After chatting a while longer about how she’d been managing the pub without you and filling you in on the happenings about the quaint little Welsh town, you had to call it a night when your eyes could hardly stay open.

After you hung up, your phone buzzed a few times in a row. Who could possibly try to be getting ahold of you now? You checked to find a notification from Instagram, about a new follower. Assuming Gwilym had just finally got around to liking the photo you posted featuring him, you went to go admire it one last time. But before your eyes focused on the photo in question, a shocking number arose from your notification button.

You had hundreds more followers and more than a thousand likes on your newest photograph. below hundreds of comments.

y'all are so CUTE!

Why is Joe tagged?

Is that his sister?

Where is Joe?

Oh shit, you thought. These boys really mattered to people who didn’t know them. They found you all because you’d tagged Gwilym and Joe. They wanted to know why Joe was tagged. They cared. The astounding influx of followers and likes alarmed you for a few seconds, as you stared at your profile, wondering if you should delete everything. But why? You were proud to finally have something to post about that wasn’t old a grey.

Just as you thought of closing out the app, another notification popped up, unlike all the rest. Joe had tagged you in a photo. He’d just posted the picture of the two of you that Gwilym had taken at the piano bar. The one of you drinking from the glass Joe is holding while you’re looking at each other. In his caption, only a couple of music note emojis.

///

Gwilym left the next afternoon, with a long face and a suitcase full of New York souvenirs. You hugged him for a long time at the loading gates of the airport and laughed when he lifted Joe off the ground for a hug of his own. You weren’t sure if you’d ever see Gwil again, because that’s how life worked. But instead of worrying over it, you felt happy to have gotten to know him.

Joe started the long drive back to your hometown. He blabbered on about how he needed to help his mom with something anyway so he was glad you came along in the first place, just so he could drop you back off again. But you started to feel bad about how long you’d spent mucking about Joe’s flat and wasting his newly valuable time.

“I can drive a little, if you want.” You nervously offered to spare him a little while of responsibility.

“Do you want to?” Joe shot a curious glance your way as he drove out of the city.

“I don’t mind.” Because, no you didn’t really want to. But you would.

“It’s okay,” Joe assured, settling back against his seat, both hands on the wheel.

“Well, then I can give you gas money, yeah?” You thought. You were suddenly desperate to pay him back somehow for the weekend.

“No,” Joe laughed unbelievably. “Why are you being weird?” He was still chuckling.

“Because! This weekend you’ve been absolutely way too generous. So let me do something for you! Are you hungry? I’ll get us dinner.” You waved your hands to make your point and turned to face Joe from the passenger seat.

“I guess I could eat, yeah.” Joe smiled, nodding his head toward the road as he drove. You were a couple of hours away from home, and thirty minutes from a few good stops.

“Alright! Cheesecake Factory. No buts! Step on it!”

“Do you have Stockholm Syndrome?” Joe outlandishly quizzed. You laughed. “Do I have Stockholm Syndrome?”

Joe continued to imagine insane scenarios all the way to the Cheesecake Factory. You skipped inside together and put your name in at the desk. There were three other families ahead of you in line, and a big party that had followed in just behind you and Joe. You didn’t mind the wait, and leaned against the wall next to Joe, clutching the restaurant buzzer in your fist.

“We’re going to tell them it’s your birthday, so get ready.” You smiled as if you were kidding, but you weren’t. There was a deep desperation in you that demanded you shower Joe with the kind of attention he’d shown you this weekend, and always now that you thought about it. You were tired of sulking. You were ready to get back to the way things should have always been.

“Why can’t we tell them it’s yours?” Joe jabbed your side, his sparkling eyes looking into yours with a question.

“Because tonight is very special all about you night.” You reminded as if this had always been clear.

“Alright well, I want to tell them it’s your birthday.” Joe decided, imitating a snotty brat, sticking his nose in the air as if to make his decision final. Just as you started to laugh and curse at him, someone snaked their way through the waiting area packed with people and stopped in front of you.

“You two!” A voice rang. You were looking at Joe when you heard it, and watched his eyes turn in recognition. A girl with mousy brown hair dyed blue at the tips stood in front of you, and she looked the same as she had in high school.

“Keeley!” You practically shrieked, pushing yourself from the wall to wrap her in a hug. Keeley was one of your closest friends from high school. She would invite you over to play guitar hero and help you cheat on homework. When you weren’t riding bikes around town with Keeley, you were usually with Joe, but on many treasured occasions you could be found at the baseball diamond as a trio, when her little brother was on the same team as Joe’s brother.

“I didn’t realize you were back in town.” Joe hugged the girl after you had your turn. She went to Chicago after graduating and you slowly stopped texting each other long-winded updates over the years, even forgoing checking in on social media. But there didn’t seem to be any hard feelings.

“I didn’t realize either of you were back in the country!” Keeley laughed, looking between you and Joe.

“Oh, God I’m sorry, babe-” Keeley turned around and wrapped her fingers around someone’s wrist. “This is my fiance Rebeca.” Keeley beamed a smile at a woman with big brown eyes and a timid smile.

“This is Y/N, who I will always be indebted to for getting kicked off the volleyball team when she took the blame for the time I slashed the principal’s tires.” Keeley fawned over you as you shook your head in remembrance.

“And this is Joe, our resident movie star and the only person who has ever beaten me at Scrabble.” Keeley gestured to Joe as her fiance cocked her head. You knew that look. Joe did too.

“Hey- weren’t you in that Queen movie?” Rebeca pointed up to Joe with a smirk. He let himself smile and started to give a coy nod as he turned his eyes toward you, for some reason.

“That’s why you were so excited to see it, huh?” Rebeca turned to Keeley and your old high school friend started to laugh.

“I’ll always go see your movies, Maz. I’ll even sit through shitty cop shows just to see that cute face of yours. You’re really good, ya know that?” Keeley gave Joe a playful punch in the arm when your buzzer started to go off.

“I’m still much better at Scrabble than anything else.” He smiled.

“Man, we’re being summoned.” You frowned, holding the timer in view.

“Call next time you’re in town!” Joe demanded toward the girls, preparing to follow you toward the desk. You reached out to give Keeley a quick hug. You waved to Rebeca and assured it was nice to meet her as the ladies turned to leave.

“Come on, birthday boy.” You grinned, looping your arm through Joes and foiling his plans to foil yours.

“It’s your birthday? Happy birthday!” Rebeca called over her shoulder.

“Thank you.” Joe sighed through his teeth, dragged you away giving you a look that made you laugh out loud. You totally won whatever game you were playing tonight.

But just nanoseconds before Keeley and Rebeca were out of earshot, you heard your friend’s fiance gush “They were so cute together!”

But you were too distracted by a friendly hostess to let the distant comment sink in.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[acabecca]

Jenny Davis - The Kids Aren’t Alright // Waking Up @stanley--barber​ Joey Kingsley - Poisoned Youth // Back Home Betty Nickelson - Neon Summer // Coming Home @wonder-boy-reid​

Hugging her knees to her chest, Joey rested her chin on them as she glanced out over the water. The sun was setting, it was unusually warm even for summer, and high school was over forever. She should have been happy.

She should have been ecstatic.

But all she felt was complete and utter fear.

“There she is – hey! Jo!”

“Josephine Kingsley, where the hell have you been?”

Joey turned her head slightly to glance over her shoulder and saw two of her best friends stood behind her – Jenny with her hands shoved in the pockets of her leather jacket as she stared at Joey inquisitively, and Betty with her hands on her hips, a concerned look on her face.

“I’ve been here,” she shrugged her shoulders, staring back out over the quarry. She heard a loud, exasperated sigh from behind her, that she knew came from Betty, and she heard the crunch of shoes on gravel as they made their way over to her.

Betty took a seat to her right, sitting cross-legged on the ground as Jenny sat down on the other side of Joey, her legs dangling over the edge as she stared down at the water.

“You skipped out on a perfectly good party,” Jenny nudged her. “Bill was dancing and everything. And we all know Bill is not a good dancer.”

“I didn’t skip out, I just didn’t make it there yet,” Joey laughed, the image of Bill’s arms flailing in the air as he tried to dance invading her mind. “Although I am sorry I missed the dancing. I can imagine Richie loved that.”

“Richie was too busy wondering what had happened to you to notice,” Betty told her. “He was coming up with all kinds of dark and morbid ways in which you had probably met your demise and that’s why no one could find you. He’s such a good person to have as a friend. A real positive influence on the group.”

“But, while we’re on the subject, where have you been?” Jenny questioned. “The boys voted and Bets and I had to come find you, we’ve been walking all round town for hours!”

Betty leaned backwards, raising her eyebrows at Jenny. “This is the second place we looked Jen, it took us like a half hour,” she smirked, and Jenny waved a hand dismissively. “But like, I second her question. What are you even doing here?”

Joey paused, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Do you guys remember when we used to come down here all the time? All of us, before Bev left? We’d just jump right off here into the water like it was nothing, it didn’t even enter our heads that we could hit the rocks on the way down. We were fearless.”

“Uh…” Jenny began, sharing a confused look with Betty. “You okay, Jo?”

“I’m scared, you know?” she admitted quietly. “Of going out there,” she gestured in front of her.

“You planning on an evening swim?” Betty asked with a laugh.

“Not the water, Betty,” Joey groaned. “Out into the world. Like I know I should be excited to go off to college and live my life but… I’m terrified. I’m scared of being out there on my own. Derry is so small, everyone knows each other, how am I supposed to survive in New York on my own?”

Jenny blinked. “You survived a demonic clown that ate kids, and you think living somewhere else is what’s going to defeat you?”

“Besides, you won’t be on your own!” Betty added quickly, shooting Jenny a glare. “Ben will be in New York, too! You guys can meet up whenever your schedules allow.”

“I guess…” Joey paused. “It’s not just that, though. It’s… Bev left, right? She left Derry, and she promised she’d keep in touch with us and it lasted for, what? A month? And then we never heard from her again, it’s like she forgot all about us. We were her best friends, Bill was… y’know? But our letters went unanswered, she never returned our calls, it’s like we were out of sight and out of mind. What if that happens with the rest of us? I know we said that we’ll all stay friends our entire lives, but what if we don’t? What if we get so busy with college and classes, new friends and work, stuff like that? What if we get so busy with our new lives, we don’t have time to keep up with each other?”

“You sound like Stanley,” Jenny threw her head back with a sigh. “I’m gonna tell you what I told him – of course we’re going to get busy with our new lives. College is gonna kick our asses, and it doesn’t matter if we don’t have time to call each other every week, every two weeks, once a month. What’s important is that, no matter how much time passes between calls or letters, we know we’ll all still be there for each other.”

“Exactly,” Betty nodded her head in agreement. “You don’t go through what we went through and just forget about each other. Beverly had a lot of other stuff going on in her, a lot of reasons why she would want to forget Derry. We have a lot of reasons to remember it,” she shrugged. “Besides, we’ll still see other at holidays! Thanksgiving, Christmas, stuff like that, right?”

Joey shrugged her shoulders in reply, turning her head to look back out over the water. Betty sighed heavily, scooting over closer to her and stick her little finger in front of her face. Joey jerked backwards, pulling a face as she glanced at her friend.

“Pinky swear,” Betty wiggled her finger. “Come on, Jen!” she demanded, and Jenny quickly reaching across Joey to hook her little finger around Betty’s. “Get in here, Joey. Come on,” Betty grabbed hold Joey right hand and shook it. Rolling her eyes, but sending a smile to both of her friends, Joey wrapped her little finger across both of theirs. “Pinky swear that no matter what happens, the losers club will be friends forever.”

“That we will hunt down every last member of the losers club who loses contact with the rest of us and force them to continue to be our friends,” Jenny added with a grin.

“Pinky swear that, if a killer clown couldn’t break us apart, then nothing will,” Joey whispered.

“And pinky swears are legit, you don’t break those,” Jenny poked her in the side.

Betty grinned. “I love you guys.”

“I love you guys, too,” Joey unhooked her pink finger from theirs and wrapped an arm around each of them, pulling them both into an awkward side hug.

“Yeah, yeah…” Jenny swatted her away, pulling herself to her feet and dusting off her jeans. “Now then! We’ve got a party to get to, Kingsley! You ready get out of here?” she asked, holding a hand out to Joey as Betty also stood up and brushed off her skirt. Joey looked up at them both before placing her hand in Jenny’s, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet.

“I’m ready,” Joey nodded. “Let’s get out of here.”

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