#and now I’m so scared of falling into that trap that I prioritise everything over it

[here-there-everyfuckenwhere]

I’ve honestly been feeling really burnt out and stressed recently for no reason. I literally don’t understand why!!

I used to love uni and studying and all that but honestly these past few weeks I’ve just been dreading it completely and I’ve been so unproductive. I’ve turned in three assignments late for the semester already, and I’m very close to failing an elective because I’ve just given up. And the more I put things off the more overwhelming they get until it just feels like I’m drowning..

[spencers-renaissance]

let him be soft (and let him be mine) p2

Summary: After Derek pulls another self-sacrificing stunt at the culmination of their most recent case, Spencer runs out of their apartment as he desperately grapples with how it makes him feel

or; Derek's self-sacrificing tendencies meet Spencer's abandonment issues. It gets messy before it gets better

Tags: hurt/comfort, crying, abandonment issues, injured!derek, hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, fluff, protective!derek

TW: abadonment issues, allusions to grief/loss, some religious imagery (a catholic church and a priest have a small role in the plot)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k Total Word Count: 4.5k

Part One // Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Emily's Edit 1 2 3

Emily (@criminalmindsvibez) and I have worked together on a project based on this poem. Her edits and my fic go hand in hand, so go and check hers out! She posted part two yesterday and just posted part three! It's been so fun to work together, so please go and reblog her beautiful edit <3

Spencer smiles, feeling a little bit lighter after getting everything off his chest. “Thank you.”

As he watches the priest walk out of the nave and into what Spencer suspects is the Sanctuary, he hears something that simultaneously warms his heart and twists his stomach in anxiety.

Derek, calling his name.

“Oh, God,” Derek cries as soon as he’s rushed over to sit next to Spencer, wrapping him up in a tight hug, “baby, I was so worried. I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt and let you come back to me but I just couldn’t do it. I had to get Pen to track your phone in the end.”

“I’m sorry, Der,” Spencer says, pulling away and blinking tearily at the anxiety mixed with relief written across his boyfriend’s face. Guilt floods his stomach as he thinks about the terror he’s just put Derek through: the exact same feeling he’s been lamenting over Derek inflicting upon him. How is he any better? If anything, he’s only worse; Derek does what he does to serve others, Spencer’s been nothing but selfish all evening.

“No, baby,” Derek protests, lifting a hand to his face and brushing away a falling tear, “you don’t need to apologise, just… talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

Spencer doesn’t waste any time in agreeing. It’s the least his boyfriend deserves. “Can we go home? I want to eat that Thai food in bed while I tell you. I’ve already cried one too many times in a church for the day”

Derek chuckles at that. “Of course, pretty boy. Come on. Let’s get you home.” He takes Spencer’s hand gently and leads him towards the exit, and when Spencer turns back briefly before walking out of the building, he doesn’t miss the smiling priest lingering near the altar.

⭐️

Derek doesn’t let go of his hand the whole drive home, clinging tightly even on the elevator up to their apartment, and it only serves to make Spencer feel guiltier. How had this not clicked earlier? He never stopped to think about the worry his boyfriend was going through back home, only prioritising himself and his own selfish feelings.

He starts to wonder whether he should actually tell Derek after all. His boyfriend is so endlessly kind and selfless and wonderful and Spencer wants to point out his one flaw? After he’s left him panicked and concerned for his well being all evening?

He anxiously gnaws on his bottom lip as Derek tucks him into bed, seemingly oblivious to his distress as he kisses his head gently before making light work of reheating the take out he’d ordered earlier. Spencer’s stomach spins and turns with anxiety as he burrows himself under the covers, desperate to hide from all that’s to come, unable to escape the helter-skelter of emotions consuming his mind.

Soon enough, Derek makes his way into the bedroom, turning off the main light in favour of their various cosy lamps and flicks on the TV, setting it on reruns of Fawlty Towers with the volume turned down before arranging the takeout on trays before finally slipping under the duvet himself.

“Baby, I know that for whatever reason you don’t want to tell me what’s really going on,” Derek says softly, turning Spencer’s chin to face him and gazing imploringly into his eyes, “that poor lip of yours will be bitten off by the morning. But I want you to know you can trust me with whatever this is. I promise that there is no problem, no issue, no stressor that we couldn’t overcome together. Me and you, we’re a dream team, aren’t we? We can solve this, but not if you’re not completely honest with me.”

Damn it, now Spencer’s going to feel guilty no matter what path he chooses. He either lies and breaks Derek’s trust, or he tells the truth and breaks his heart.

But the priest’s words from earlier flash through his mind, and he takes a deep breath, knowing what he has to do. “I’m scared,” he admits, tentatively. It feels like a good place to start.

“Okay,” Derek replies soothingly, eyebrows knitted in concern as his thumb traces the side of Spencer’s face. “What are you scared of, Spence?”

“I’m scared… I’m scared of losing you,” he whispers, casting his eyes downward.

He feels Derek tense next to him, but he doesn’t know whether it’s because he’s confused or something worse. “Baby boy, you have to understand that you’re it for me, I’m never going anywhere—”

“No,” Spencer interrupts, meeting his boyfriend’s eyes again, “not like that. I know you love me, I’ve never doubted that for a second. I’m scared of losing you to something worse than another person. I’m scared of losing you to a gunshot, a stab wound, a bomb blast. I’m scared of losing you to the job, Derek.”

“Oh.” His thumb falters in its soothing movements against Spencer’s cheek before it retracts completely.

“You’re a hero, Der,” he says tearily, not bothering to try and fight them this time, “you’re an inspiration. You’re strong and powerful and the kindest, most selfless man I’ve ever met, but I— I’m gonna need you to start being a little more selfish.”

“I don’t… What do you mean?”

“Remember back in 2007 when that woman was trapped in her car with a bomb under her seat? You stayed right next to her the whole time, even though you knew that if that bomb went off, it was taking you with it. Because in that moment, looking after that woman was all that mattered.”

Derek nods hesitantly, his brows knit even tighter.

“Well, I could deal with that. I accepted it. We were newly in a relationship, and I knew the kind of man you were when I started dating you. I didn’t think you’d give that up for me so soon. But, Derek, it’s been seven years now. We’ve been together for almost a decade, and you’re still the same man. You run headlong into danger with no regard for how it will affect you. And I love your selflessness and generosity, I really do, but I need you to know how that makes me feel.

“It makes me feel like I’m not important to you, Der.”

“Oh, baby, no,” Derek says, distraught as he wraps Spencer in a tight, urgent hug, hand flying to run his fingers through his curls.

“But, no, it does, Derek. Because it feels like one of these days, you won’t be as lucky as you always have been, and I’ll be alone again. You’re all I have, and I can’t lose you, I just can’t.” The tears are joined by heaving, desperate sobs as he cries into Derek’s shoulder, both of them holding onto one another with clawing fingers, impossibly close as emotions fill the room.

When Spencer finally calms down enough, he pulls away to find Derek’s eyes red and his cheeks wet, too. “I— I had no idea you felt like this, baby boy,” he says earnestly, looking deeply into his eyes as his devastated emotions play across his open expression. “I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like you were anything less than the most important person in the whole world to me, because you are, Spencer.”

“It’s okay,” Spencer whispers sadly. “You didn’t know.”

“No, but I do now. I never stopped to think how this was affecting you, and I’m so deeply sorry for that.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence as they fall against one another, both accepting that the Thai is going to go cold again and they’ll probably end up with a greasy 2am pizza instead.

“It’s because of my dad,” Derek admits eventually, breaking the silence. “When I watched him bleed out in front of me, I swore I would never let that happen to another person. I would never let another person die on my watch, not unless I was going down with them. And that was an easy principle to live by when I was a cop, it translated well to the FBI, and it worked great when I was single. But now… I have you. And you’re more important than a promise I made to myself when I was ten.

“The thing is, though, that I don’t know how to override an instinct that I’ve built and enforced for my entire career. Spencer, you’re everything to me, and you’re more important than this, but I… I don’t know how to change.”

Another tear slides down Spencer’s tired, puffy face at Derek’s words, mostly because they were exactly what he was expecting. The only reason he’s kept this to himself for so long is because he knew that no possible resolution could make this okay.

“It’s okay, Der,” he says sadly, “I get it—”

“I think I should leave the BAU.”

Spencer sits bolt upright at that, turning to his boyfriend with shock written in every line of his face. “What?”

“Listen, I’m 43. I’ve been on the job for twenty-one years, and I’m getting tired, Spencer. I was planning to bring this up at a much better moment, but I’ve just finished that house on the Mount Pleasant border, and I think we should move in there. I’m ready for a quieter life, Spencer. I want to do things that make me happy, focus on the future of our family, me, you, and Clooney — kids, too, if we decide that’s the way we want to go — and leave this life revolving around death and crime and the bad in the world behind.”

“You’re serious?” Spencer asks, completely in disbelief as he stares at Derek like he’s grown an extra head. This was never a possibility he considered. Not even a little bit.

“I am,” Derek promises. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and this just seals the deal, really. I don’t want you to be feeling this scared all the time, especially not if it’s set off even by a couple of bruised ribs. Diving in front of a bullet when wearing a vest is hardly the most dangerous thing I’ve done.”

Derek chuckles but Spencer just smiles sadly at just how true that statement is. “No, it isn’t.”

“I’d love to focus on the property business full time, renovate more houses and really make a career out of it. Build a proper business, live in the suburbs, be happy and safe and alive with the love of my life for as long as possible,” Derek says, eyes warm and serious as he brushes his hand against Spencer’s face again. “I’m so in love with you it hurts.”

Spencer’s heart melts and he presses into Derek’s side, burying in as close as he can get. The tears that leak from his eyes this time are at least happy ones. “If you leave,” he says, after considering it for a moment, “I think I want to leave, too.”

“Really? You don’t have to, Spencer. You can stay at the BAU if you want to.”

“I know. But I’ve given over a third of my life to this job, and it’s given me all it can, I think. Before Gideon recruited me, I always thought I’d end up teaching, and I always knew I’d love it. Researching and teaching others what I’ve found out for a living sounds like a dream, and the thought of coming home to you, knowing that you’re safe every night as we sit down for dinner and chat about our normal, civilian lives… well, it’s everything I didn’t know I’d been longing for.”

A kind of peace that Spencer hasn’t felt in years settles over his chest as he basks in the thought of a safe and happy future with Derek, one not plagued by the trauma they’ve faced willingly for far too vast proportions of their lives, and he knows it’s the right decision.

“Wow,” Derek says, and woven in with the shock in his voice is relief, clear as day, “we’re leaving the BAU.”

“We’re leaving the BAU.”

Spencer eventually packs the Thai away and orders an extra large pepperoni pizza for delivery, letting Derek rest in bed as he takes over the beavering around. Fawlty Towers continues to play across the TV screen throughout the course of the night, Spencer resting his head on the top of Derek’s chest, careful to avoid his injuries. In that moment, with his favourite TV show playing, and an empty pizza box on the floor of their bedroom, cuddled up safely with the man he knows he’s going to spend forever with, Spencer thanks a God he’s not sure he believes in that Derek, right now, is soft, happy, and most importantly, his.

Let him be soft, and let him be mine.

— Please, let him be happy.

If you haven't already - check out Emily's post, and give some love to the original poem source here!

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @doctorenby @suburban--gothic@strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch (taglist form)

[ranjxtul]

Hard Feelings

So here I am, finally back with a sequel to The Necromancer’s Doctor (still indulging my favourite ship) but this time with 3k words of character study. As far as I’m aware no warnings apply. Ships of course are Anna Ripley/Delilah Briarwood

The castle’s hallways are hollow. Sounds seem to echo more than they did before and that hollow ache traverses not only the cavernous stone but the souls of those living within. Anna Ripley has watched Delilah Briarwood for two weeks. She has barely spoken a word in that time frame.

It has been two weeks since Sylas Briarwood’s demise. It has been two weeks since fate or perhaps some god to which Anna Ripley has seldom given more than a passing thought has intervened and irrevocably changed the paths of Delilah Briarwood and herself. In general, she has never considered the divine or any power above man’s ingenuity beyond a comfort at best or frivolous entertainment at worst. When she met the Briarwoods, their zealotry for the god which they only called ‘The Whispered One’ irritated her on her bad days, but otherwise she ignored it. Now, she finds herself wondering what will happen to that worship and to that devotion. She had deduced Sylas had been directly tied to it, and with his death what would this god do?

Anna almost laughs at herself as she considers it. She is actually considering a God’s influence. To what extent does she believe it though? And to what extent does believe it has and can touch her? To what extent has it touched the current situation? Or is the current situation one made purely of human desire and action? These uncertainties spin in the doctor’s head as she moves about her day.

Perhaps she is foolish for even considering a higher power. After all, it was her gun, her actions, Delilah’s magic, and their lust that brought them to that moment. That modicum of thought brings her to a new tangent: her own emotional state. Ever since she was a child, she has learnt to rationalise and put emotions secondary and of course Delilah is just the opposite. Her blunt, cold intelligence is what gave her the job she had for King Bertrand though, that wretched king. It has carried her so far, but Delilah Briarwood uprooted all of that.

The necromancer spun her own arcane traps over Anna and whispered sweet nothings in her ear. She undid her at the seams and made her vulnerable whilst Anna attempted to do the same. She searched and searched. The woman in her bed for so long was a puzzle to unravel until she was something more. But it is possible Delilah beat her unintentionally at her own game. She found and unlocked a very deep part of Anna Ripley which the woman has not faced in years.

She’s scared. And she hates herself for it. She isn’t supposed to be scared. She is always sure, but now she only finds herself sure when she is dissecting a vein or working with chemicals but around the woman who laid her bare in every way, she is unsure. She wants Delilah. She knows that much. She wants to feel more of the warm rush in her chest and she wants to have what she grew up believing she could never prioritise: love. Then again, she doesn’t know when any of this has changed, and some small voice laughs in the back of her head telling her to stick to anatomy and medicine; however, as she glances over at the dark haired woman lying listlessly in bed. She has no instinct to flee.

And she has no idea what scares her more: the fact that she wants to stay or the fact that she cares as much as she does for the pain in her darling’s eyes.

Delilah’s dark eyes stare glassily up at the ceiling. The embers of thoughts flicker and fight to stay alight as grief and all-consuming conflict take residence in her mind. Slowly, she processes what she can. Little by little she labours through the emotions and sickening feeling in the pit of her mostly empty stomach which accompanies them.

Sylas is dead. He is dead. The more she says it, aloud or in her head the less real it becomes. Soon it is meaningless. It is almost like the first time he died and she cried out to the Whispered One for help, it just doesn’t feel real. But this time, somewhere in the hollow numb feeling, she knows that it’s real.

On a certain level, she’s processed that fact and she’s okay with that. Love in life is not subject to eternal permanence, even as much as she’d like it to be (oh it’d be so much easier if it were). On a more surface level she is flickering between surging grief, guilt, and numbness. Grief for the man who consumed her life, loved her, and guided her. Guilt for still feeling the love for the cold doctor in her bed; after all, without the doctor, there wouldn’t be grief. They’re contingent concepts. It’s fitting, Delilah muses, for grief to follow a doctor; a doctor is a mortal herald of death. And from the grief and guilt sprouts the withering numbness.

She sinks gladly into the unfeeling abyss. In the first few days she cried her tears out and screamed her throat raw in grief. Then, in the succeeding days she cried more as the demons waged war in her head. Now she’s given in and she lets them fight. She lets them dig their rapiers in and lets the pain course through her body in rushes, and then she happily sinks back into the numbness. It’s easier to process it all that way.

She can’t go back. Her life-string has been woven in this way, perhaps by her own choice and heart but perhaps by divinity. Either way, she is on an unsure path. She Sylas and Anna fled the Empire with the intention of just that.

Taking over Whitestone had several purposes. One was to take advantage of its political isolation to continue to hide, and another was for the Whispered One. Delilah wonders now if it was all worth it. She doesn’t in that moment quite consider the bloodshed in its full glory but she considers: was it worth it? She grew up in Wildemount and trained in the Rexxentrum at the Soltryce Academy. Years later, the teachings still ring in the necromancer’s ears. Though, looking back even after all these years of attempting to remember she cannot remember everything properly. She does remember the extreme magics, the harsh measures, and the suppression of any trait teachers deemed ‘soft’ or ‘unsuitable.’ Perhaps why none of her actions seem outlandish.

Still, worth it or not, she is ‘leading’ a people alone, her partner is dead, and her lover is responsible. The absurdity of it all almost sparks a bit of laughter for intellect’s sake. The principal of absurdity is simple (at least in this particular context) and she mulls it over in her head: anything that is outside of a society’s perceived norms and values. She can almost laugh at how absurd her situation is. Her response is also absurd with respect to her desperate search to find a meaning in any of this or a reason. It is human nature to look for such an abstraction in these situations, but she has yet to find any and she doubts she’ll find any.

Even thinking of her God. Even praying to him. He does not answer, and so Delilah awaits his retribution and punishment. She’s known since Sylas’ death that he would have his justice. Sylas was his tie and his prize. She knows she could continue in their quest alone and hope for the best, but is it worth it?

That is the question she finds herself facing at all corners no matter how hard she attempts to avoid it. Suddenly, everything she envisioned at the Whispered One’s side seems distant and useless. Perhaps Anna’s cold logic had a point. Gods and man seldom stood side by side.

She knows she still believes in divinity, but she doesn’t know is if she is disillusioned.

Delilah has been disillusioned about many things in life. It’s bound to happen when one is so strongly rooted in the emotions that run red and blue through the system of veins in the human body working in conjunction with the rapidly firing delicate neurons. Her response to disillusionment is always the same. She falls and falls hard until she hits the ground with a hollow crack. The same hormone filled blood that pulsed in her veins spills onto the cold stone and she weeps. She berates herself for believing in the follies of what was promised. She’s naive by no means, but she’s not half-hearted.

The blood on the stone dries and then she rises and claws her way up, promising herself to be better. Promising herself she’s never going to fall down the same hole again. She learned her lesson with her schooling. She knows the academy is not a place for the faint of heart or the naive like she perhaps was as a child. She rose atop and conquered the academy, however. Deliah Brairwood was a professor at the academy.

When she married Sylas, she found herself caught in the happiness of love and marriage and peace, something she’d seldom experienced since she was a child. Then he’d gotten sick and her rose, love filled glasses shattered, but from the ashes she schemed her way out. She raised Sylas from dead.

Now, here in Whitestone, she had believed she is wise enough, but she seems to be wrong. Once again, she found herself caught up in her heart and the fallout crushed her wings and silenced her heart. She’s like a phoenix; a dark feathered, dangerous bird, and she’ll rise from the ashes but right now she can only lie in the rubble and reform.

     Delilah isn’t sure if she feels that way with her God. He has been silent. There have been no whispered dreams. No signs. Silence. Her ideals as dictated by the Whispered One stand, but on a hill of sand, falling grain by grain. If she becomes disillusioned with him, maybe the fall won’t be so hard. After all, she’s already bleeding onto the stone. What’s one more layer of rubble?

Delilah does realise that she has Anna Ripley by her side. She is not alone, and if she can just speak, perhaps the woman beside her can help her rise. At that thought though, a pillar of self-pitying guilt rises in her gut along with some bile. If only she hadn’t started to fall for the doctor.

If only it had been left at midnight kisses and being fucked into submission then in the morning returning to their working relationship. Delilah laments the simplicity of what it once was for Sylas was supposed to be her love, but gazing at the dark-haired pale woman beside her she cannot regret feeling for her. It is human nature to be this complex she supposes, but it becomes tiresome.

In some ways, Delilah admires Anna. She admires her rationality and her ability to block out the emotion of a situation. Anna can observe a situation for what it is easily; whereas Delilah has issues doing so. Of course there are a multitude of other traits which Delilah loves about the woman, but that is one trait she specifically admires.

She wonders if she had Anna’s perspective if perhaps the situation would be less arduous. She swallows the thought painfully as her own inner monologue chides her: she is stuck with herself. Little does she know though, Anna’s rationality is clouded.

They’ve not communicated enough, and it is not for a lack of trying. Anna is trying to understand where Delilah is in mourning, and she is trying to understand how the woman copes. From what she can ascertain observationally, it seems to be in short bursts of emotion and now she’s shut down. Delilah is following the model for the stages of grief it seems.

At least that’s what Anna’s medically trained brain says, but this newly awakened young, quiet voice in her head reminds her it’s more complicated. Humans aren’t psychological models in a book and of course Anna knows this but she’s never paid much attention to the fact. This voice however, is forcing her to do so. Delilah is more than her grief for Sylas.

After all, she recognises there wouldn’t be any need for grief had she and Delilah not begun an affair. She assumes there’s emotion behind that and most likely some sort of processing and dreadful anticipation with that God of hers. Though, that loathsome fear that lives in this new voice in Anna’s subconscious stops her from unpacking any assumptions. She doesn’t know anything, even when Delilah tells her what she feels, or in the past has told her, she truly doesn’t know. Feelings are a guessing game. She doesn’t want to wade through hints and clues and jump to any incorrect conclusions, nor does she want to be unable to solve a particular puzzle of emotion. She hates uncertainty and in this case, she doesn’t want to be hurt.

She’s spent her whole life letting any and all weapons (both figurative and literal) richot off of her titanium shell. It’s not an arduous task; in fact, Anna prefers this to letting things affect her. Focusing on what is important to her is more rewarding and much easier than focusing on what others have to say. In some light, she supposes it is a flaw. Her hubris did get the best of her. It is what set her on the path with the Briarwoods to Whitestone.

But, underneath layers of hubris and the very essence of Anna Ripley the voice now awakened and filled with fear of being hurt by the woman beside her. Is this what it is to love? Is this what it feels like to want someone on a level beyond flesh and stolen kisses?

She always told herself she’d be in love with her work. After all, the sinew and bones she loves working with were her first love, but now she has someone. She’s always been a practical woman and she’s never seen the practicality of having someone to love. They can hurt you, but now she wrestles with herself. Delilah Briarwood is something to her. She is more than just something.

Are the fear and the vulnerability and the uncertainty that now plague her being signs that she loves the mourning woman before her?

It is on the fourth day of the third week that Delilah drags herself out of her bed. Anna is about the castle, and a surprised Cassandra De Rolo watches with weary wide eyes as an exhausted (despite having slept for days) Delilah makes her way through the halls. Her footsteps echo. She notices and thinks that maybe the echo is more prominent than before.

She finds Anna in her lab below the castle. The only sounds that reach her ears as she slips through the door are the sound of a saw and metal against metal. Those sounds echo too. When she takes in the scene before her, a sigh of relief almost escapes her lips.

It is so familiar. Anna is sitting hunched over on one of her stools, hovered over a flayed open arm of a body. Delilah can’t tell if the subject is dead or alive, and frankly has no desire to know. “Anna.” She says in a voice that is her own but carries a false bravado.

The doctor’s head sharply whips up. Her face morphs from a thin line to a more neutral expression and she raises an eyebrow, “Oh, Delilah. You’re up.”

“Yes.” She considers belaboring the point or making small talk, asking about the affairs of the castle, but all of that seems pointless in the moment. “Are you doing anything important?”

Anna glances back over to the open arm, and back over at the necromancer in front of her. “No.” She stands abruptly. She can finish what she was doing later. After all, human flesh is all the same reddish brown no matter what. “Is there anything you need, darling?” she raises her brow further as she makes her way into the hall, Delilah following.

“I wanted to just talk to you.” The voice is soft and the words are words Anna has been dreading. Not because she doesn’t care for Delilah, but because most likely she’ll have to sort out emotional assumptions.

“Go ahead. I’m listening,” she says anyway with a nod.

“I- I’m sorry for grieving him,” Delilah says almost immediately the cadence of her voice becoming much more rushed.

“You’ve every right to do so.” Anna says with a small nod which she hopes is encouraging. Then she adds, “You loved him for so long, and did so much for him. You’re allowed to mourn his loss.” She observes the woman’s face for a reaction.

The one she receives is only a brief wince, “Yes, that is true; however, I don’t want to come off as…” she trails off, for once at a loss for words, “as insensitive toward what I feel for you Anna. Because that hasn’t changed, and I don’t believe it will. His death is just… quite a bit to process. You know it was never my plan for him to die. I hadn’t quite fully formed what exactly my plan was, but his death wasn’t part of it.”

This grief ridden Delilah is a shell of the woman Anna knew, and she doesn’t shy away from this for once in her life. She decides to stay in that moment, but she’s not a woman of words in situations like these. After all, she knows the flesh, it is her trade. So, she pulls Delilah down for a kiss, gentler than usual. She hopes to convey an apology for her lack of words and any semblance of understanding she can muster. Thankfully, Delilah reciprocates.

When the women pull away, Anna’s brown eyes meet Deliah’s green eyes with intent. “It is okay to mourn.”  

[spideyspence]

no one nowhere knows me better than you ; tom holland

and it’s done wow. my lil bby is done oh my gosh. this is my first little series that i wrote and sorry that this has taken quite a while. i had 3 assignments to do for school and and i was prioritising school over this fic. so it’s done, i hope you guys enjoyed. i’m going to say thank you again to @jazzyjoc for proof reading this and i apologise for any spelling mistakes. 

thank you all for joining me on this lil journey.

masterlist 

part one ; part two

You stood there in your apartment with the music blasting through the speaker in the kitchen, dancing and wearing a hoodie.

This time, the hoodie wasn’t Tom’s.

You loved oversized hoodies and you knew that the way to get over Tom (for good) was to pack away the clothing he never came to pick up. You put them in a card box, to be forgotten at the back of your wardrobe. You went out shopping and bought five new ones, and you called it ‘self-care’ which seems funny, but it was what you needed.

You had tried to rush getting over Tom, but now you knew that it wasn’t an overnight thing. It never would be because your relationship with him meant so much to you.

Over the music you don’t hear the door knock on the door, nor were you expecting it. It was only when your speaker turned off to sound your phone ringing that you heard the knocks on the doors. You see your close girlfriends all standing around, one ending a call which quietened your phone.

‘Oh my gosh, sorry guys I’ve just been caught up lately.’ You apologise.

Your friends brush it off as you continue back into the kitchen and they follow you into your apartment.

-

It’s been a couple of hours and you and your friends are completely smashed. Starting off with a nice glass of red wine and then someone revealing that they had a bottle of vodka in their bad.

Your original plan for the night was a nice chat with your friends with a glass of red wine, and that being it. The bottle of vodka was not on the agenda but with the events of that night, you don’t regret it at all.

‘So, Y/N, how are you going with Tom?’ One of your friends said to you, wanting to know how you were going, if you were getting over the man.

‘Tom? Tom who? I’ve moved on. I don’t need anything other than you girls, my hoodies and this great shot of vodka I’m about to drink.’ You laughed as you drowned the liquid that burned your throat.

Your friends joined you in your laugh but in your drunken state you still managed to lie well. You were getting over the boy, but you still needed him.

You missed him.

After a few more shots, your friends decided to call it a night at 11pm. You were a bit shocked at their early departure, but they said that they were officially tired and a couple of them were about to crash.

You offered for them to just stay where they were and to let them borrow some of your clothes so they could just fall asleep in the spare room or even the couch. They insisted on going home though.

So, they called an Uber and went home. It again, wasn’t the night you had planned, but you still enjoyed the night.

You were still buzzing from the alcohol and you weren’t ready to go to sleep yet. You were also lonely, which you weren’t surprised about because that’s one of the things that usually happens when you’re alone and drunk.

That’s why sober you would be disappointed in your decision to call Tom, but she would understand.

She also wouldn’t regret the decision.

‘Tommy, it’s an emergency.’ You whine when he answers the phone.

‘Y’N, what’s wrong?’ He says, panicked but also confused.

You both hadn’t talked nor caught up in too long. You were both distant and it was hurting the two of you. Everyone around you both could see it, but you couldn’t see the pain you were causing one another.

‘I’m all alone. My friends have gone home, and I miss you and I’m lonely.’ You mumble but after so many years of Tom knowing you like the back of his hand, he understood.

‘Do you want me to come over?’ Tom says, slowly and carefully.

‘Yes please.’ You say with a drunken, soft smile.

-

Tom turns up at your place half an hour later, and when you open the door you give him a hug.

In your intoxicated state, you didn’t focus in on the look of tiredness on the curly-haired boys face, like he hadn’t been sleeping properly. His hair was all over the place, but when he wasn’t working, he just let them roam free. You would always run your fingers through his hair, one, because he loved the feeling, two, his curls are so soft.

You missed your best friend, even if you still felt that little pull of your heartstrings whenever you saw him, missing him hurt more than that pull.

Tom smiles as he looks at you, neither saying a word. You invite him in as you jump on the couch and wrap yourself up in a blanket.

‘Guess what Tom, I’m a burrito.’ You joked as you rolled around, trapped on the blanket. You laughed as if it was the funniest joke you had made, and Tom laughs along with you.

How could he not? The reflection from the light in your eyes is a place that Tom never wants to leave. Your laugh always being contagious and managing to stir emotions in his stomach that make him feel like he’s just seeing you for the first time all over again.

You grab the remote and turn on the TV because when you were drunk, you tended to be a lot more stubborn than sober you.

You continue watching Orange is the New Black, a show your friends had been nagging you to watch but when two of the characters start to have sex, you had to protect your best friend.

You jump over to him and cover his eyes with your hand.

‘Y/N, what are you doing?’ Tom chuckles.

‘It’s a naughty scene, I have to cover your eyes. It’s a sex scene and you’re still this small,’ you say as you indicated with your index finger and your thumb that Tom is about a centimetre ‘small’. ‘You need to be protected, you’re not old enough to watch this kind of stuff.’

Tom laughs at your childish acts and when the scene finishes, you return to your previous spot on the couch and watch the rest of the episode.

Tom could be watching the show but instead he’s watching you. How you seem so much more relaxed around him but what scares him is he doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or not. He wants things to go back the way they were prior to him and you dating but he doesn’t want to have to continue to look at you every time with this sense of longing.

-

It’s now one in the morning and you have both watched two episodes of the Netflix show and you’re about to pass out. You’re warm with the blanket around you so you fall onto your side with your head landing in Tom’s lap.

‘Night, night Tommy, I’m tired.’ You mutter sleepily as your eyes start to flutter shut.

‘Do you want me to put you to bed sleepy head?’ He says as he (still out of habit) starts to run his fingers through your hair.

‘No, I’m gonna sleep right here.’ You mutter as your curl your arm around Tom’s leg, much like a teddy.

‘Okay then,’ Tom smiles. ‘Night, night.’

‘Love you.’ You mutter as you doze off into a deep sleep.

Tom sits there in silence, unable to comprehend what he heard. So, he doesn’t say anything, as he removes you hand from his thigh as he lays onto his side.

Your couch is only small so in your tired daze, when you feel Tom move away you make grabby hands in his direction for him to come back.

So, he doesn’t move to the other couch, instead he lays beside you with his back facing you. He doesn’t wrap his arm around you (as much as he wants to) because he doesn’t know what you’re going to be like in the morning, or what your reaction will be.

So, he smiles, as his mind repeats the two words you had muttered just before, as he falls asleep right by your side.

-

You wake up and you feel a weight over torso as you lay on your side. You look down to see an arm and you tilt your head back to see that it was Tom. He’s fast asleep and looking as soft and peaceful as ever.

Tom being a heavy sleeper, you sit up slowly and rest your back against the arm of the couch you two had passed out on. Tom stirs for a moment but doesn’t wake up as he moves and places his head on your lap and continues to sleep.

It’s all familiar, this position. Mornings like these had happened so often and you couldn’t help yourself, but you started running your fingers through his hair.

You haven’t noticed the light throbbing in your head due to the alcohol you had drank last night and thought about what had happened the night before.

With all events coming back to your head, you laughed at the memory of you two watching Netflix and your stupid reaction to the sex scene.

Then you remember passing out and that being the end of the night.

You notice Tom start to stir and you feel panic starting to form. You stop running your fingers through his hair, but you don’t have anything to, nothing to distract yourself with.

‘Don’t stop.’ You hear come from his mouth and he moves his arms and grab onto your thigh and hugged it like a teddy.

You smile as Tom moves his hand around to locate yours and then moves your hand so you can continue to run your fingers through his hair.

You didn’t want this to end. You thought you were in one of the final steps of getting over him but now you were thrust straight back into the deep end. You didn’t want things to become awkward between you again and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to handle being ‘just friends’ without having to take bathroom breaks to pull yourself back together.

You were going to treasure this until the end, the moment where everything felt right for the first time in what felt like too long.

But you also knew that you shouldn’t feel like this. Tom was over you. He didn’t like you anymore. He was over you and had found someone else.

You were now confused on why this man was lying on your couch with his head in your lap if he didn’t like you anymore.

Shouldn’t he be with the one he actually has feelings for?

Your curiosity was starting to eat away at your insides and as much as you didn’t want this end, you had to know.

‘Tom?’ You say with a sick feeling, not wanting to face the outcome of this information.

‘Yeah?’

‘Why are you here?’ You ask quietly.

Tom sits up and you almost whine as your thighs are greeted with the cold air, no longer kept warm by Tom’s body heat.

‘You called me last night, or do you not remember?’ He asks slowly, as if he’s now worried where this conversation will go.

‘No, no, I remember what happened. Watched Orange is the New Black, covered your eyes from the sex scene and fell asleep.’ You smiled, almost wishing that you hadn’t started this conversation.

‘That’s all you remember? You didn’t remember what you said?’ Tom asks, now very nervous.

‘Did I say something embarrassing?’ You joke, trying to swallow your nerves.

‘It wasn’t really embarrassing…’ Tom says, trailing off while playing with his hands.

Something he does when he’s nervous.

‘What did I say?’ You smile nervously, as your fingers start to tap your thigh, another nervous habit.

‘When you were about to fall asleep,’ Tom started as he ran his fingers through his hair.

‘You muttered ‘love you’.’

You feel your breath catch in your throat.

‘But I understand it’s just the general best friend love we have for one another. Don’t worry, I understand.’ Tom starts ranting.

‘And I know that you’re over me, I know this now. God, I texted you. I texted ‘her’, like you told me to, and she didn’t reply in the way I wanted to. You didn’t reply like I wanted you to.’ Tom says, his voice now weak.

He’s shaking and it scares you.

As it clicks in your head, you look down at your fingers that are now resting in your lap. You move them forward and hold Tom’s hands in yours.

‘Y/N, I asked you for ideas even though I know you so well. I wanted you to know and realise but you didn’t. You know I’ve never been that good with properly talking about this stuff and I didn’t want to have to see that look on your face if you didn’t like me anymore. It just hurts so much because I know that you’ve moved on, but I feel like I can’t even put one foot forward without taking two steps back.’ Tom says with tears in his eyes.

You knew that you needed to say something, before he starts to continue on with his rant and you really couldn’t stand to see him with any tears in his eyes.

‘Tom, goddamnit I know that you’re bad at it, I know you’re with communicating our emotions like this, but I wish that you would’ve just come out and said it.’ you said, looking to so Tom could also see the tears in your eyes for the first time.

‘All your stuff is in a box, packed away so I can’t touch it. I forced myself to put in away because here, when I was alone, I would only wear it. I couldn’t stand being without you. I brought too many new hoodies, so I had an excuse to not wear yours. I brought them in a larger size so I could feel like I was wearing yours even though I wasn’t. I kept that though pushed away because I didn’t want to admit it.’ You said, wanting Tom to know that it hasn’t been easy for you either.

‘And that night in the pub, when you were with her, I swear it was like my heart broke all over again. I drank shots so the burn in my throat would numb the pain that I felt in my chest. Waking up next to you that morning scared me because I didn’t want to find out that it was just a ‘drunken mistake’ for you. I left before I could find out. I don’t even know why we broke up. Tom, I still love you and I doubt I will ever stop loving you. You’re the one who knows me the best and sometimes it scares me, but I wouldn’t want anyone to know me as well as you do.’

Tom smiled and you returned it. It was as if you could feel your heart being pieced back together after it being broken for so long.

He leant forward and kissed you and you knew that your heart was back in one piece. Kissing him felt like home and with his arms wrapped around your torso, you always felt safe.

You sat on his lap, just like you did that other night, the last time you kissed, and you couldn’t get over how good it felt. You were overwhelmed with how right this felt and how at home you felt.

When you both broke away from the kiss, you both look deep breathes and smiled at each other. You could feel Tom toying with the bottom of your t-shirt, and you took a deep breath as you lifted up your shirt.

You softly kissed his cheek and lasted the dried saltiness of his tears. As you wiped his cheeks to rid any dry tears, Tom started to lie back down on the couch. You went back to kissing as your love’s arms were still wrapped around you.

You both smile into the kiss as Tom slowly started to move his hips, testing out the waters, to see how you were feeling about where this kiss may lead.

You join Tom and move your hips in time with his. Your kisses slowly start to speed up and become much needier. Your breaths come out heavier and a moan slips from your mouth and at that noise, Tom also groans.

With your smiles and your movements, you knew that this time it’s going to end well.

You both knew.

-

Tom runs his fingers through your hair as your rest your head on his bare chest. You traced random shapes on his chest, enjoying this moment in time. One hand was still linked with Tom’s as it was during your actions prior.

Sure, the sex was always good but that silence after was what you loved the most. It was what made you feel at home.

Nothing was needed to be said between you two.

You knew that you didn’t need Tom, you could have continued on without him, but without him, you felt as if half of you was missing.

It was no longer in your head, instead your head was on his chest.

[artificialqueens]

Not Afraid Anymore Ch.2 (Pearlet) - Columbia

They sat there for what seemed like forever, but it only amounted to a few hours.  The two girls had moved so that they were laying down in the middle of the ramp, with Pearls backpack behind their heads.  The sun was beginning to set, turning the sky a deep lavender colour with ribbons of orange seeping into it.  It was a beautiful scene and anyone who were to walk past, would be lucky to have witnessed it.

They’d spent the afternoon talking about their lives, past and present, and getting to know everything about each other.  Violet felt like she was almost reminiscing with an old friend, with the excitement of meeting a new person.  It was perfect.  “So yeah, it’s been just me and my mom for 3 years,” Pearl said turning her head to meet with Violets eyes.  They stared into each other’s eyes for a brief moment, although it felt like the minutes were going by too fast.  “Your mom sounds cool,” Violet said finally quietly.  Pearl chuckled and shook her head before looking back up at the sky.  “The only thing cool about her is the fact she trusts me to have the house to myself for weeks on end,” Violet sat up, not knowing how to continue the conversation and changed the subject.  She turned to Pearl who was now leaning on her elbows and looking up at her with her brows furrowed, startled by the other girls sudden movement.  “hey what the time,” Violet said.

“Just turned 4, why?” Pearl replied clicking her phone off.  Violets eyes widened and she scrambled for her bag, standing up quickly, looking for her phone.  “Shit,” she mumbled under her breathe seeing 3 missed calls from her dad.  “Hey what’s wrong?” Pearl asked, noticing the sudden worry on the others face.  Violet simply shook her head, eyes still fixed on her phone.  “I’ll be right back I just need to call someone,” She said walking towards a tree in the distance, talking into the phone after a moment.  Pearl stayed there and picked up her bag and jacket patiently waiting for the other to return.

After about 5 minutes, Pearl saw Violet strolling back, with a sour expression on her face.  “Sorry about that, I forgot to let my dad know I wasn’t coming home straight away and now he’s pissed” She said shaking her head slightly.  “I just don’t wanna have to face him tonight you know?” Violet looked up at her locking their eyes again.  Pearl noticed the familiar feeling remembering all the times her rare moments of pure happiness would be subdued by her mother constantly scorning her for doing something even mildly rebellious.  Obviously, it had gotten better once she’d gotten a new job because she was never there half the time, giving the both of them a break.

“You can come back to mine if you want,” Pearl suggested hesitantly, wondering whether or not she should get involved in whatever issues Violet was having with her father.  When Violet’s eyes lit up from the suggestion, she took this as a signal to continue her thoughts.  “Of course I don’t want you to get into even more trouble, and I know that if I was in your position, the last thing I’d want to do is make it worse… not that this would make it worse but-,”

“Thank you, Pearl,” Violet said cutting her off and giving her a hug.  Pearl was taken aback by the sudden affection and wasn’t sure how to respond.  She wrapped her arms around the other girls, impossibly small waist and let out long breathe she didn’t realise she was holding.  They pulled away and started walking towards Violets car.

They were halfway to Pearl’s house when Violet said “I think I’m gonna go back home, its already getting kind of dark and my dad’s not gonna be happy if I stay out any longer without an explanation,”.  Pearl nodded, keeping her head down in an attempt to hide her disappointment.  She didn’t know what it was but she felt the urge to try and impress Violet, which was an absurd feeling to have considering they had known each other a total sum of 9 and a half hours, but there was something so compelling about her that Pearl couldn’t quite figure out.

Once they had reached her house, Pearl turned to open the door, when Violet grabbed her hand.  “Wait, give me your phone!” She demanded as if it was expected.  Pearl did as she said knowing exactly what she was doing or at least hoping she was putting her number in.  “There” Violet said handing her back the phone “Now you can talk to me about this Kurtis guy without getting embarrassed,” She said with a wink, then turned to go back to the car.  Pearl shook her head; a light laugh erupting from her as she actually considered it.  She turned to open her door as she heard Violet get into her car.  She turned back around to wave her off and saw the brunette wave back with a fond smile before driving off.

Once she was in her house, the echoing silence began to settle in.  I guess it’s just me then she thought to herself.  Dropping her belongings, she went into the kitchen to make herself dinner; she wasn’t exactly a culinary genius but she could fix something up just for her.  Her phone buzzed against the marble counter top, making her jump as she was carrying her plate to the dining table and leading her to almost drop it… almost.  She sat down and looked at her phone.

From: Violet 💜

Thank you for today, I thought it would take longer than 3 hours to make a friend.  Btw check your jacket pocket ;) xx

Pearl smiled down at her phone, furrowing her brows slightly in confusion.  She put her fork down and walked back into the hallway where she’d left her jacket lazily discarded across the floor.  When she reached into her pocket she felt a what appeared to be a scrunched-up piece of paper.  When she opened it she saw the message Kurtis had written and left in her locker earlier in the day.  She still wasn’t totally convinced that his intentions were genuine, but there was a sparkle in her that was almost desperate for that perfect idea of young love.  From the stories her parents and even grandparents had shared with her, every word sculpting prince charming.  Tales of stolen kisses behind the Ferris wheel in 1954, and sneaking out at midnight to watch the stars pass in 84 through to 92.  Pearl was trapped in the nostalgic paradise she craved for herself.  She contemplated texting Kurtis but didn’t know where to start; surely it would be hello but what comes after that? She made her way back to the dining room, the note still in her hand, and went back to her dinner although there was something more interesting than food to distract her.

To: Violet💜

I hate you

It was later in the night, almost 9:00, and Pearl was laying atop her bed staring at her phone in frustration.  Writing and rewriting the same message but never having the courage to hit send.  She eventually gave up realising she wasn’t going to do this on her own.  After texting Trixie asking for her advice as she had the most experience with boys out of everyone Pearl knew, and Katya even though she wasn’t expecting much of an answer (and she wasn’t disappointed when Katya eventually replied with an apology and a link to a video of cats being scared by cucumbers), Pearl hesitated asking Violet before deciding against it not wanting to bombard her new friend with her problems out of the blue.  Instead of continuing to let worry gnaw at her, she decided to write her excuse note as to why she wasn’t in for half of the day.

Before she could get comfortable at her desk, she heard vicious knocks from her front door.  Almost falling down the stairs after being startled several times by continuous knocking, she made her way to the door only to find a rather flustered looking Violet standing there before her with a fist in the air.  “Umm… hi?” Pearl said nonchalantly, in confusion as to why the girl was there.  “Hey, I’m sorry this is unexpected but I didn’t know where else to go… I.. I had nowhere else to go.. I just..” he began to say before slowly looking down as she began to cry.

“Hey no, shhh, its fine,” Pearl said pulling the other girl into a tight hug, to which she reciprocated quickly.  They stood in the doorway for a while, waiting for her to calm down a bit.  They pulled apart enough for them to look at each other.  “Do you wanna come in? Maybe tell me what’s up?” Pearl suggested in her usual casual tone, but this time it felt sincerer; it had meaning and intension behind it now.  Violet simply nods and follows the blonde into the house, grasping her hand.

They make their way to the kitchen and Violet eventually let go of her hand with much hesitation, as Pearl went and poured her a glass of water.  She made her way over to meet with Violet as they sat at the table.  “So,” She said, “You wanna tell me what’s made you upset enough to ruin your makeup?” Violets eyes widened before she quickly tried to wipe away the slight streaks of grey that had cascaded down her cheeks.  Pearl slowly moved Violets hand away from her face as their eyes met again.  Pearl quickly looked down at their hands before standing up, gesturing for Violet to join her.  “Come on, you can tell me whilst you clean up.” She said and led her upstairs to the bathroom.

Violet patiently sat on the sink counter whilst Pearl retrieved some makeup wipes from her room.  She came back a stood in front of Violet, her thighs gently grazing the other girls knees.  She began to wipe away her makeup, but still invited her friend to speak.  “Spill,” She mumbled quietly, barely audible if it wasn’t for their closeness.  Violet simply sighed and stared at the girls face, almost transfixed on the girl before her, before speaking.  “I’ve never seen him like that before you know?”

“Your dad?” Pearl asked, concentration prioritised on unmasking Violet, who nodded in response.

“I mean now I can see why my mom left him but…” she bit her bottom lip to stop it from quivering but that didn’t hinder the tears that were threatening to spill.  “But I just wasn’t expecting to see it so soon, I mean I’ve only been here for less than a fortnight,” She locked eyes with Pearl again, eyes melting with disappointment and sadness.

Pearl quickly wrapped her arms around the girls neck, not knowing any other way to comfort her.  She felt Violet snake her arms around the other girls waist and bury her head in her neck as she began to cry.

Once Violet had calmed down and explained her father’s aggressive outbursts and the history between her mother and father, her and Pearl both returned downstairs.  “hey, umm you don’t have to let me just because I had a meltdown on your doorstep, but if it’s okay do you think I could stay here tonight?” Violet spoke up expecting rejected but was surprised when pearl simply shrugged and said “Sure,” before making her way into the kitchen.  “But wait,” Violet began, “It’s that easy? What about your mom?” She asked trying to hide her excitement.  Despite being a rather forward person she wasn’t easily befriended, but it was different with Pearl.  She felt like she could trust her; whether it was her serene demeanour or the glint of purity in her eyes that made Violet want to stare into them forever.  Whatever it was, she was glad that Pearl was walking down the street this morning and not anyone else.

“I mean what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Pearl said, turning her head and winking at Violet.  “Anyway, if we’re having a sleepover, we’re gonna do this properly,” She continued leading Violet into even more confusion.

The two girls were soon sitting on the kitchen floor with a tub of ice cream between them, Pearl filling her in on all the gossip from school, or at least the stories she knew.  “I mean it’s not like I even know everyone in the school, I just know who to avoid and who not to avoid,” She said placing the spoon in her mouth and slowly licking the ice cream off.  “Do you have any friends?” Violet asked laughing, inviting a playful slap on her arm from the other girl.  “I’m just kidding, I saw you with that other girl, what’s her name?”

“Trixie,” Pearl said, “Or maybe it was Katya… Question: what was she wearing?”

“An abundance of pink that probably should be illegal because no human could possibly pull it off-,”

“But she does right?!” Pearl cut in with much more enthusiasm that Violet expected, making her giggle.

“Yes,” she said eventually, “Yes she does,”

“Okay that was Trixie, if you see another blonde girl who looks like she been dragged through a bush backwards, but somehow it looks good, that’s Katya,” she continued placing her spoon back into the tub and sitting back leaning against the cupboard behind her.  “Now I don’t know about you but if I eat anymore ice cream and laugh at the same time, I’ll either throw up or it’ll come out of my nose!” She said standing up with the practically empty tub in her hands, after Violet had placed her spoon in there too.  “No you’re right, we should probably get changed anyway, it’s like 11:30 and we have school tomorrow,” Pearl groaned at the thought but obliged anyway.

Pearl offered to get changed in the bathroom, to give the brunette some privacy, pointing to her room at the end of the hall.  When she entered, she immediately felt welcomed; the lights were dimmed and a comfortable smell of vanilla and lavender filled the air.  Violet looked around the room, it was full of things that were fundamentally ‘Pearl’.  Her bed was placed underneath her window, with fairy lights draped around, and above that was a beautiful tapestry draped over the wall above, swirling with turquoises and lilacs.  Her other walls were decorated with various pictures of her and people that Violet did not know yet but hoped to soon, along with what looked like sketches.  Her desk was scattered with an abundance of pencils and opened sketchbooks, revealing unfinished work, some that may never be complete Violet thought to herself.  She always loved seeing peoples bedrooms, it always made her see a different and more personal side to a person.

She began to get changed into the clothes Pearl had provided her; an oversized t-shirt with a band called ‘Pulp,’ whom Violet had never even heard of.  She was in just her panties and bra when she was disrupted by Pearl barging into the room without warning.  If anything the noise made her jump more than the fact her chest was exposed to someone who was a stranger 24 hours ago.  Pearl’s eyes widened before she looked down, embarrassed. “Oh, umm… sorry, I should’ve knocked,” She said still in the door way fidgeting uncomfortably.  “Its fine, honestly I don’t mind, I’m not embarrassed,” Violet said, although the blush that was rising in her cheeks suggested otherwise.  She never normally was self-conscious if someone were looking at her body, in fact she took pride in it.

She quickly threw the shirt over her head, to save Pearl and apparently herself from further awkwardness, and gathered up her clothes from the floor when she noticed Pearl still wasn’t looking at her.  “You can look now,” She said giggling to herself.  Pearl looked at her quickly to check if she was covered, which she was and sighed letting out a laugh.  “umm,” She said not really sure what to say.

“It’s okay, you know?” Violet said moving closer to her, before connecting their eyes again after they’d been separated for a considerably long time.  “I don’t mind you looking,” She said quietly, unsure of what the other girls reaction would be.  Pearl’s breathe was visibly quickening as Violet got closer and closer.  She didn’t know what she was doing but all Pearl knew was that she didn’t want to do anything to stop it.  They were inches apart when Violet cracked, letting out a loud laugh indicating that much to Pearl’s relief and disappointment, she was joking around with her friend.  Pearl eventually laughed along with her.  “Come on, let’s get some sleep,” She said dragging the other girl to the bed.