#and yeah obviously jacob's 'gift' is more than it seems...but what...?

[carewyncromwell]

“Tell me, what has become of my rights? Am I invisible ‘cause you ignore me? Your proclamation promised me free liberty, now... I’m tired of bein’ the victim of shame -- They’re throwin’ me in a class with a bad name! I can’t believe this is the land from which I came! You know I really do hate to say it... The government don't wanna see, But if Roosevelt was livin’, he wouldn’t let this be, no, no!”

~“They Don’t Really Care About Us” by Michael Jackson

x~x~x~x

The day before Valentine’s Day 1996, Mia Flume finally came to grips with the horrible thought that Cornelius Fudge -- Minister for Magic and leader of the British Wizarding World -- was actively trying to cover up the return of He Who Must Not Be Named, all for the sake of his own personal ambitions. As the year wore on, Mia became more and more convinced that it was true...and to make matters worse, Fudge’s chosen representative, Dolores Umbridge, was making life hell for the students of Hogwarts.

Mia first heard about Dumbledore having to flee the school for supposedly organizing an illegal student “army” to rise up against the Ministry from Madame Rosmerta. It honestly sounded like the most outlandish thing in the world -- something that she couldn’t believe anyone sane would believe. Yet Fudge sure seemed to believe it -- and so Dumbledore was now on the run, a wanted man, and Dolores Umbridge had been named Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And one of the things she did first was punish the students who had supposedly joined “Dumbledore’s Army” -- one of whom, Mia was horrified to hear from her older sister Tia, was her fourteen-year-old nephew, Olin!

Both Tia and Mia sent Olin several letters questioning the validity of what they’d heard, but to their dismay, they received no letters in response. Instead Umbridge went to paid a visit to Tia and Dirk herself, where she asked them many pointed questions and even made some vaguely threatening comments.

“Your son is very bright, Ms. Cresswell,” Umbridge said in honeyed tones. “It’s not unlikely to presume he wishes to join the Ministry like his father someday, yes?”

Tia tried to keep her head high, but Umbridge’s overly sweet attitude was making her uneasy for a reason she couldn’t quite explain.

“...He hasn’t quite decided yet,” she confessed. “He’s always wanted to play Quidditch professionally, before...but recently, he’s expressed some interest in working in the Being division as an advocate...”

Something oddly cold flickered through Umbridge’s eyes. Knowing immediately that his wife had said the wrong thing, Dirk quickly brought a hand onto Tia’s and gave it a supportive squeeze.

“We shall support our son in anything he chooses to do with his life,” Dirk said very firmly, his eyes narrowing.

“Not aligning himself with traitors, I hope, Cresswell,” Umbridge said, her sweet tone twinged with something much more poisonous. “It would be a shame to see a man like you lose the Minister’s good graces, the way your son has his new Headmistress’s.”

Umbridge then put on a much more fake smile.

“...Fortunately your son has been diligently working to re-earn my favor in his detentions with me. I’m certain he’ll completely overcome this rebellious phase...especially with your guiding influence, as his parents.”

“We might guide Olin more easily if we knew our letters were getting through to him,” Dirk said, a bit of temper squeaking out of him despite himself.

Tia squeezed her husband’s hand, her face much more anxious upon Umbridge. “We haven’t heard from Olin in over a week now...please, Headmistress, I just want to hear from my son...”

“Of course, Ms. Cresswell -- of course you do,” said Umbridge. She gave Tia an insincere pat to the shoulder. “That’s something any mother should want. But sadly, children are very selfish creatures -- prone to keep things to themselves...especially any misbehavior. Sometimes they just go quiet, rather than admit they’ve done wrong...”

Dirk opened his mouth to speak, but Umbridge silenced him with a look.

“Not to worry,” she said with another sugary sweet smile. “When your boy is ready to speak to you, I promise you, I’ll make absolutely sure that his letters reach you.”

When Umbridge left, Tia actually burst into tears. Dirk ended up contacting Mia and Callie himself via Floo Powder, and when they met up at the Cresswell home, he was clearly beside himself.

“Olin would not just go quiet like this,” he said fiercely. “He would never worry his mother this way...”

“Worry us this way,” Mia interjected in agreement. “Olin always writes back to me, when I write to him, and always on the same day. This is not normal.”

Dirk slid his pipe into his mouth, giving it an anxious puff.

“His mail must be getting intercepted before it can reach us,” he muttered, “but if so...Merlin, what state must he be in now? Hogwarts was always safe, with Dumbledore in charge...”

He whirled on his youngest sister-in-law. “Callie, you have contacts at the radio station -- surely one of them knows what the deal is behind this ‘Dumbledore’s Army?’”

Callie looked unusually gloomy as she bowed her head. “Not really. No one who was in Dumbledore’s office that day has been very open about it...and everyone else...well, they’re just following the party line Fudge has been circulating. The whole Ministry’s really clammed up, lately.”

"Because of that interview you did with the Junior Undersecretary?” asked Mia.

Callie crossed her arms moodily.

“The boss even brought me into his office yesterday to scold me,” she grumbled. “Said I was too ‘hard-ball’ with Weasley, when I asked him about that rumor that Umbridge made Potter write with a cursed quill, during one of his detentions with her...”

The idea that Olin might’ve likewise been put through that in his detentions with Umbridge made Tia cover her face again, trying to hold in a fresh round of tears. Dirk’s jaw clenched as he brought an arm around his wife and squeezed her against his side.

“The broadcast was cut short, but trust me -- Weasley looked like he’d seen a ghost,” Callie said resentfully. “I don’t know whether it’s because he didn’t know about it at all or he just didn’t know I’d know about it...but either way, he didn’t even try to deny it or defend Umbridge’s character. I frankly don’t think he can.”

“How could he?” said Mia. “From the sound of it, not even the Ministry was aware Umbridge had quills like that. Where did you even hear that rumor in the first place?”

“A new informant of mine,” said Callie lightly.

When Mia raised her eyebrows, all traces of humor from Callie’s face faded immediately, and she crossed her arms.

“Ah, ah, don’t you dare ask!” she scolded her older sister in a tone rather akin to a huffy teenager. “It’s a secret.”

“A secret?” Mia recurred, her features creased with suspicion.

“Of course,” Callie said defensively. “I mean...he’s got contacts at both the Ministry and Hogwarts. The staffs of which I’m quite sure have no idea he’s been sending me messages.”

“True,” said Dirk. “Any Ministry employee could face severe consequences for being so open with the press...the professors too, now that Umbridge is in charge...”

Mia had to admit Dirk was right. She nodded in agreement.

“Well, if your new informant can tell us what really happened, Callie,” said Dirk, as he squeezed Tia gently against his side, “we would both be very grateful.”

Tia sniffled miserably.

“My son wouldn’t cause trouble for no reason,” she whimpered. “He’s a good boy...”

~*~

In May, at long, long last, Mia finally received a letter from Olin. The minute she received it, she ripped the envelope open so roughly, she almost tore the letter inside too. The letter didn’t hold any of the explanation she’d wanted -- instead, it seemed almost painfully restrained, talking only about the upcoming Quidditch Cup Final between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. When Umbridge was brought up, it was written in such flowery, over-the-top language that Olin’s sarcasm seemed to be bleeding through the page.

Don’t know if you heard, but we have a new Headmistress! Dolores Umbridge, you know -- the High Inquisitor I told you about? She really is marvelous -- a perfectly upstanding woman. I’d gush more, but...well, she’s just such a kind and sweet lady, I don’t think my testimony could do her justice!

Dirk was right, Mia thought. His other letters must’ve been intercepted before they could reach us. That’s why he’s saying all this now -- he must know Umbridge is reading any letters he tries to send, and she won’t let them reach us unless he says what she wants him to say...

The thought of a fourteen-year-old boy having to lie blatantly in his letters just to have any chance of getting through to his family was absolutely horrid to think about. Even worse was the thought that the person now censoring her nephew and preventing him from writing to her and his mother had been selected by the Minister of Magic himself, supposedly address the “falling standards” at Hogwarts promoted by Albus Dumbledore...

With a heavy heart, Mia put Olin’s letter away in her robes and set about trying to busy herself with the work of the day.

And of course, right in the midst of this -- right when Mia was feeling so miserable and worried about her nephew and trying hard to distract herself with some medicinal normalcy -- this just had to be when Jacob Cromwell had the audacity to show his rotten face in Honeydukes’ Sweet Shop for the first time in five years.

When he’d first come in around mid-day, Mia had had her back turned, arranging inventory on the shelf in the far corner of the shop. Her mother Jenie was busy ringing up customers at the desk while her father Ambrosius pecked away in the kitchen, so Mia had rolled over a whole cart full of brightly colored boxes across the shop, which she was now levitating onto the shelf.

It was while doing this that she suddenly realized dozens of boxes were flying up onto the shelves around her, rather than just the ones she’d actively levitated.

“What -- ?”

When she turned around, she found herself immediately face-to-face with a man exactly her height, who had not one but two wands -- one made of white aspen and the other of black ebony -- raised, enchanting the rest of Mia’s stock to arrange themselves neatly on the shelf. His dark curls cascaded down his back and shoulders like a waterfall and his blue eyes were so darkened and sunken-in, they resembled a skull’s, especially when juxtaposed on such a pale face.

When Jacob Cromwell looked down at her, he offered a sheepish smile.

“Sorry -- I didn’t want to interrupt you while you were working,” he said.

Jacob wordlessly enchanted the last few boxes he’d lifted up onto the shelves to dance around each other so they were in the proper order.

Mia immediately flicked her wand around, catching the one box that she’d still been levitating in her non-wand hand so she could turn her wand’s focus onto Jacob. Before she could cast any spell, though, Jacob brought both of his wands up, crossing them in an “x” shape around Mia’s so as to force her to lower it.

“Easy!” he said quickly. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“That’d be a first,” spat Mia. “What do you want, Cromwell?”

“To talk to you, actually,” said Jacob.

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you. Now get lost -- ”

Mia yanked her wand arm back and turned her back on Jacob. He seemed to have predicted this move, though, for within seconds, he’d stepped in front of her.

“Wait -- I’ve been talking to your sister,” Jacob said seriously. “Your younger sister, Callie.”

Mia’s dark eyes flashed. Callie? Mia knew full well that her sister was one of those who’d taken a stupid liking to Jacob, so she’d interviewed Jacob rather often, but had she actually told Jacob to seek Mia out? When she knew how Mia loathed Jacob Cromwell and would for the rest of his sodding life? The chocolatier felt the strong urge to throw her shoe at something.

“I gather you don’t like me, for whatever reason, but please, just hear me out,” said Jacob. “For Callie’s sake, if not mine.”

Mia glared at Jacob. Glancing around, she took note of several customers who’d started to eavesdrop -- upon being noticed, they all immediately looked away.

“What do you want?” Mia repeated lowly, as she put down the box of Peppermint Toads still in her hand down roughly on the shelf.

Jacob likewise glanced around the shop, taking stock of the people around them. He seemed to be thinking hard, for it took him a moment to conjure up a response.

“...Callie’s told me that you’ve...been looking for new things to read, lately.”

Mia’s face scrunched up with confusion. “What?”

Jacob kept his blue eyes dreamily aloft, dancing over the highest shelves, as he slipped his hands idly into the pockets of his jeans.

“Newspapers are lovely and all, of course...but their content just gets kind of stale, after a while. Same boring, feel-good stories, over and over again. Sometimes it’s good to read other kinds of fiction, just for a change of pace...”

He shot another furtive glance around before glancing at Mia out the side of his eye.

“...Even the Quibbler gets a bit old, after a while.”

Harry Potter’s interview flitted through Mia’s mind, and it made her stiffen.

“You read the Quibbler?” she asked.

“Not all the time -- just when they’ve written something interesting,” said Jacob with a grin. “Like that article about Stubby Boardman and Sirius Black? Those photos! Almost had me believing their wacko theory, for a second...”

Thoroughly unamused, Mia tried to move past him. “I don’t have time for this -- ”

But Jacob once again seemed to have predicted her movement before she made it and cut her off.

“Mia -- may I call you Mia?”

“It’s either Hermia or Miss Flume to you,” Mia spat. She did not want to be on nickname terms with Jacob Cromwell.

“Hermia,” Jacob took this in stride, his voice going down a full decibel, “if you want me to get to the point...I know what you’ve been worrying about. What a lot more people have started worrying about, lately....”

Jacob glanced around the shop again, which prompted Mia to do the same. Once again, she could sense many of the shoppers there looking away quickly, so as to pretend they hadn’t been trying to listen in.

Oh great, Mia thought irritably, they’re probably looking at this whole exchange and thinking it’s some sort of lover’s spat.

The thought -- and Jacob’s seemingly obliviousness to how their physical proximity made them look -- made Mia glare at Jacob and take a marked step back as she started busying herself with arranging inventory on the closest shelf.

“And I suppose you’ve been worrying just as much yourself?” she growled disbelievingly under her breath.

“Is that really so hard to believe?” Jacob asked, his mouth turned down in a confused frown.

“You forget, I remember your arrogant arse at school,” Mia said vindictively. “You’ve never worried about a damn thing in your life, Jacob Cromwell.”

Despite the lingering bewilderment in his expression, Jacob’s brows came together over his eyes in intense seriousness as he stepped closer to her again. 

“Look, Hermia,” he murmured so quietly only she could hear him, “I’m sorry for whatever I did to upset you so much...but this thing is a lot bigger than us, than all of us. However much you might not like me, there’s a War coming. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Real soon. And with how close you are to Hogwarts, I reckon you deserve to have some better reading than the stuff you’ve currently got.”

Very abruptly Jacob had pushed a pretty blue leather-bound book into Mia’s hands. She looked down at it, startled.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

“I would hope you’d have seen this on stage, given your name,” he said with a slight wry smile. “But even if you’ve only read it...I think spending an evening reading the annotated version might prove very enlightening.”

With this cryptic remark, Jacob turned on his heel and swept off toward the door. Mia looked up from the cover, mouthing angrily before finally being able to conjure up a response.

“Wha -- what in the world is that supposed to mean?! Cromwell! Get back here!”

But by the time she’d pulled herself together enough to chase after him, Jacob had already disappeared from Hogsmeade with a CRACK.

~*~

Mia was left stewing in her juices for the rest of the day. There were points she didn’t even want to look at the book Jacob had so unceremoniously gifted her -- after all, she already had her own worn copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, as well as all of Shakespeare’s other plays. But at the same time, she couldn’t deny that however annoying Jacob had been -- as annoying as he always was to her, quite frankly -- his word choice seemed way too pointed to not mean something.

“ -- you deserve to have some better reading -- ”

“ -- reading the annotated version might prove very enlightening -- ”

And so, later that afternoon on her lunch break, Mia opened the book and idly flip through the pages. Nothing seemed particularly special about the book, though -- it was the same text she’d read countless times when she was little, trying to entertain herself without leaving Honeydukes or her father. She used the Revealing Charm on the pages to see if any hidden text would appear, to no avail. There weren’t even any notations or markings of any sort on the pages that could hint to some sort of code.

You would think that a guy who runs around cursebreaking all willy-nilly would know the benefit of a proper code, Mia thought scornfully.

With a scoff, the chocolatier shut the book with a loud snap, leaving it behind on the counter in the kitchen as she returned to work.

~*~

Within a few days, Mia had completely forgotten about Jacob’s “gift.” It wasn’t hard to lose track of it, given the state of things both in Hogsmeade and at Hogwarts. As OWL season began up at the school, Honeydukes and the other shops became busier, and Mia heard even more more bad news. It seemed that Umbridge had ordered several Aurors to help her forcibly evict Rubeus Hagrid from the grounds, only for them to fire several Stunning spells right into Minerva McGonagall’s chest when the Deputy Headmistress tried to intervene, sending her to St. Mungo’s and sending Hagrid running off into the forest. However much Mia hadn’t spoken much to Hagrid at school, considering how fond Hagrid was of Jacob Cromwell, she’d still always found him sweet in his own weird way, and Minerva McGonagall -- how anyone could dream to attack her, Mia couldn’t even fathom.

The worst news of all, though, was the one Mia received through an owl from Callie in the wee hours of the morning of June 19, 1996.

The eagle owl had woke Mia up out of a sound sleep with the amount of noise he made tapping against her closed window. No matter how tired and irritable the chocolatier was at being awoken so abruptly, however, her mind bolted awake with alarm when she took in the first few words.

Mia,

The Evening Prophet has just confirmed our worst fears.

You-Know-Who is back.

Mia felt like her heart had stopped.

No. No, no, no --

Her mind racing at a million miles a minute, she tore through the rest of the letter.

He and his Death Eaters broke into the Department of Mysteries last night, supposedly getting all the way to the room that holds a series of prophecies. Nobody knows exactly what he was doing down there or what he was looking for, but the report says that Potter and Dumbledore and a couple of others were there to stop him. One of those people -- which confirms Harry Potter’s testimony about Peter Pettigrew somehow surviving! -- was Sirius Black, who died at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange while fighting the Death Eaters. You-Know-Who and his people fled after the Minister and his support staff arrived.

I’m sorry if this is hard to read -- I’m having a lot of trouble not shaking. Oh, Mia, Mia, what are we going to do...?

Please stay safe. Please, take care of Dad and Mum.

Your Loving Sister,

Callie

Mia felt like her throat had clenched up, making her unable to breathe. She collapsed back into the chair in front of her desk, Callie’s letter fluttering down onto the floor.

So it was true. All along, the terrible feeling she’d had, the outcome she’d feared, but had so desperately, desperately didn’t want to be true...

The Dark Lord was back -- really back. The terrifying Dark Wizard that had been a bogeyman for Mia and her sisters, while they were at school -- the man who terrified the Wizarding World, while the Flumes huddled together in the safety of the shadow of Hogwarts...was back, and back at full strength. His army had been restored, thanks in large part to the Azkaban breakout and the dementors turning against their guards...and if the reports of giant activity could be believed, that army was soon going to be a much bigger one.

And worst of all...the Ministry of Magic had lied to them. They’d lied! They knew the danger, they knew how bad things were getting for both wizards and Muggles, and they’d lied! They’d sent representatives to Hogwarts, not to improve its failings or promote higher education, but to persecute anyone who didn’t crow the party line, all in an effort to cover up the fact that everything coming out of their mouths was a LIE!

Mia felt herself shaking with both terror and righteous fury as she cupped her hands over her face.

“...There’s a War coming. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Real soon.”

The memory of Jacob Cromwell’s words were like cold poison in her blood. Tears spilled loose from Mia’s eyes as she gave a mad kick to the back of her desk, unable to hold in the violent emotions beating at the inside of her heart.

Mia had always been the sort to have faith in authority. Even despite all of the failings of the Hogwarts staff while she was at school, she at least always had faith that they cared about their students. But now...now she was forced to accept that the only thing the Minister had truly cared about was himself. And that was a truly bitter pill to swallow.

For the next hour, all Mia could do was sob at her desk. It wasn’t until she heard a CRACK outside of someone Apparating in the street that Mia shot out of her daze.

Her entire frame stiffening with irrational fear, Mia catapulted over to the window. When she looked out, though, she didn’t see a Death Eater standing in front of Honeydukes...but Florean.

For you see, Florean Fortescue had just received word about the Dark Lord’s return as well, and in an impulsive decision decided he had to make sure Mia was all right. It was only when he arrived that he realized just how early it was and therefore just how insensitive it would be to wake the whole house up, just to ensure Mia’s well-being. As fate would have it, though, Mia had been awake and seen his arrival -- and so within a minute, she’d come running downstairs in her oversized T-shirt, pajama pants, and slippers, right out into the street, to try to prevent him from leaving.

“Florean!”

Florean turned, startled. At the sight of Mia’s tear-stained, emotional face, though, he instantly melted. He swept right over to her, throwing his arms out and pulling her into his arms.

“Mia,” he breathed against the top of her head.

Mia clutched at the back of his shirt. “Florean...”

His arms should’ve been warm -- they’d always been so warm -- and yet now, in this moment, all she could feel was a numbing, paralyzing cold.

A War...what could she or her family hope to do, in the face of a War? Sure, Mia herself had been in the Dueling Club, but going up against Dark wizards? She’d never have thought she’d ever have to do that in a million years! And her sister and mother didn’t even have that distinction. And with her father’s condition...if Ambrosius turned into a dog, he’d be helpless against the likes of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named...

Mia hadn’t even realized how much she’d been shaking until Florean had fully descended upon her, securing her head in the crook of his neck and cradling her against his chest with his much taller frame like a blanket.

“Mia,” he whispered.

It was just her name, nothing more -- and yet the sound of it on his lips said so much. She could hear him wanting to comfort her, to reassure her, while also feeling as though he didn’t fully know how. She could hear his anxiety about the world: the heartbreak, seeing their whole peaceful world come crumbling down around their ears. She could hear his fears -- his fear for his grandfather, his shop, for her...the longing he felt, wishing that they’d be able to face this together as husband and wife, rather than just as associates and friends.

And what he said next, in such a soft, yet firm whisper, only seemed to make these feelings bloom into a blossom of understated, yet blazing courage.

“It’ll be okay.”

Mia choked. Fresh tears spilled out of her eyes as she clung to him more tightly than ever. Florean rocked her back and forth like a child, murmuring beside her hair.

“It w-will, Mia. I promise. He fell once before -- he will fall again. I p-promise you. ...I promise...”

Florean was never so articulate in words as he was on the page, but his sincerity rippled through every word all the same. And in that moment, all Mia could do was wrap herself up in his modest, understated courage, desperately longing to have the same kind of faith that he did.

[honeykngdom]

𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢 | 𝚎.𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 | 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚗

Pairing: Embry Call x Original Character Summary: Join Ainsley and Embry as they embark on a journey where they are forced to question everything they thought they knew, and embrace the pain that is inevitable to avoid in love. An imprint story. Self-discovery. Angst and romance. Word Count: 6.1k Warnings: Mentions of blood. prev. chapter | next chapter

𝙴𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚢

She looked absolutely gorgeous; her lightly bronzed skin practically glowed in the dim light, shoulders bare and inviting. Embry spent the majority of the night appreciating the effort she put forward. He had merely showered, shaved and put on a matching pair of socks. Ainsley curled her hair, lashes were thick and full like feather dusters, and her cheeks were a subtle pink. 

Admittedly, Embry devoted the last several years of his life to sleeping with beautiful women – he knew what beautiful looked like. Ainsley certainly took the cake. She wasn’t beautiful in just that simple girl-next-door sort of way, but in a way that made him believe she was strong, almost powerful. He was completely captivated by how intoxicating she was to him. How her scent alone was enough to ease the tremors, how her voice invited a new sort of calm and peace into his life. Her presence was certainly his most cherished gift. A world without her big heart was just simply a world Embry did not want to exist in. 

Jacob and Embry previously had conversation on that topic, trying to decipher the true meaning of an imprint apart from the mating and procreation the elders seemed to think it meant. With Renesmee in the picture, should that ever be a possibility, it was very obviously not just about procreation. Embry usually hated all things fairytale and hopeful. If there had been one thing Embry wished he had learned sooner, it was that life is not apologetic about fucking up everything good you’ve ever had. To live life with zero remorse. 

He had gone from fully hating the way his best friend had turned into a mindless robot intent on existing for one female, to completely sympathizing and letting himself get lost in the feeling of the bond. He hated being apart from Ainsley, hated watching any sort of pain pass through her eyes. And he could see it all: the disappointment, the sadness, the stress, the exhaustion. How daunting it was adjusting to her new life and his lifestyle. He appreciated how hard she was trying to be okay with everything, but knew she still didn’t fully understand it. 

Soon, that would change. Soon, he would give up this life so that he could fit more comfortably into hers. She already had given him more than he should have asked for; having moved in temporarily on rotating weeks so that she wasn’t disrupting the peace at home, he was certain she felt terrible, leaving her mother feeling abandoned. How lost she must have felt when she returned home one weekend and the family was absent, having gone to Seattle for an engagement party for one of TJ’s friends. 

Ainsley always teased him for watching her, always mentioned something about taking a picture because it would last longer. Embry never feared he would need a picture, because he was certain she wouldn’t leave him. Despite knowing he never deserved her or her kindness and patience, he knew Ainsley wouldn’t abandon him. Truth be told, Embry watched her carefully all the time, knowing in every moment which emotion she was feeling, knowing exactly how to respond (to the best of his abilities) to offer her comfort. 

Now he sat across from her, watching her lips break into a half-smile around her words, the sound of her laugh filling the room. Although they were careful to remain quiet, to not disturb those around them, he still felt as though her words sent vibrations through his core. 

Oh yeah, he had it bad. 

“You okay?” She asked, fingers reaching forward to rest gently on his knuckles. Embry inhaled deeply, the cool touch of her fingers soothing the fever of his skin. 

“Never better,” He smiled, bringing his drink to his lips. There was very little Embry was afraid of in this world. He was scared of death, first and foremost. He was scared of his mother and her disappointment. He was scared of losing the family he had built for himself on the reservation.

He was scared of waking up one morning and realizing he hadn’t been able to be good enough for her. That his carelessness had pushed her away, or worse – 

Killed her. 

Ainsley bit down on the last piece of chicken on her plate, hand folded together on her stomach as she chewed and forced herself to swallow. It always amused him, the way she tried to keep up with his appetite. 

“No dessert, then?” He chuckled when she shook her head quickly. She had pointed out the skillet cookie on the dessert menu left on the table when they first arrived, demanding that they not leave until she had devoured an entire cookie for herself. It was very clear now that Ainsley’s eyes were bigger than her poor stomach. 

“I can’t believe I have to go see Trent.” She sighed, playing with the straw in her drink. “All I want to do is go home and sleep.” 

Embry leaned forward, stabbing one of the pieces of broccoli she had left behind with his fork. “Why not just reschedule?” 

Ainsley grimaced. “I can’t.” She mumbled, looking down at her nearly-empty plate. “I do that enough as it is.” 

They sat in silence for a few moments, the unsettling reality that Embry occupied the majority of her spare time now the elephant in the room. He wanted to feel bad, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had spent the last six years being okay with never having a love of his own - he would be damned if he’d share her with anyone. Including her family. 

When he paid the bill and escorted her to the Jeep, he moved slower. The closer they moved to Ink Obsession, the thicker the anxiety that radiated off her. She gripped his hand tightly, fingers playing with his absently as she watched the city pass by her window. He tried to squeeze it in comfort, but never got much of a reaction out of her.

“Honey,” he pulled her from her thoughts once he cut the engine of the car, watching her gnaw on her lower lip in the darkness. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” 

Ainsley lifted her heavy lids to his: the blue had shifted into a hazy green and appeared weary. She was very obviously withholding information, or not telling the entire truth. Embry wanted to respect her privacy, but it was unsettling, not knowing for the first time in months what was going on in her head. 

“You trust me, right?” She asked quietly, eyes desperately trying to read his face. Embry focused on keeping his face even and smooth, hoping it provided some sense of relief to whatever internal turmoil she was facing. 

He nodded, “I do.” 

“Then don’t think too much about it.” She tried to smile, leaning forward to press her lips to his quickly, “I’m not sure when I’ll be home, but I promise you don’t need to worry about me.” 

The lights to the shop flickered on as Trenton’s figure emerged from the darkness on the other side of the lot with his keys in his hand. He stopped just outside the shop's door, looking towards the Jeep expectantly. Embry felt Ainsley shift beside him, her heartbeat increasing.

“Ainsley,” he leveled, but she was already exiting out of the vehicle. He sighed in defeat, rolling the drivers window down as she rounded the car to his side and leaned up to pucker her lips. He kissed her quickly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” she lied, heartbeat stuttering the slightest as she looked over her shoulder at her brother. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way home, okay?” Ainsley was backing away from the Jeep, skin slightly pale and clammy in the dim streetlights, but her eyes held a sort of promise. Embry nodded once, turning the keys in the ignition. He tried to push the unease away, pulling out of the parking lot slowly; in the rearview mirror, he watched as Trent and Ainsley's faces fell in unison. 

𝙰𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚢

I let my eyes travel over the shop again. It had changed so much from when Trenton had first started working here - the black walls had been covered with a pretty oak laminate, framed pieces of each artist’s most favoured pieces or inspirations linked together to pop against the dark oak. The carpet had been ripped up and replaced with clean white tile, the once open and shared space had been turned into personal enclosed rooms. Trent’s room sat the furthest from the front desk. His room was less cluttered than the others had been: his client chair was pristine and black, that matched all the other furniture in the room. All of his sketchbooks were neatly lined up in a bookshelf, the corkboard on the opposite wall held what appeared to be small up-for-grab ideas. 

“How do you know he’s even coming?” I asked quietly, folding my arms over my chest as I leaned over his desk to scanned my eyes over the open concepts he had drawn earlier that day. “How do you know this isn’t some sort of ambush?”

I could practically hear the eye roll from the other side of the room. “This isn’t an ambush.”

“You don’t know that.” I said firmly, fingers pulling back pages to look at other ideas. I paused momentarily when I stumbled upon a page that held the tribal sigdial that the pack bore – except more detailed. Four different designs that added their own uniqueness to the symbol. I wondered if he was trying to pull them together for Leah, to offer her some sort of individuality. “How long are we going to wait before we leave?” I asked impatiently, another wave of nausea rocking through me. 

Trent sighed, flicking the lamp on in his room to illuminate it. The shop was supposed to be closed to the public, and he wanted to draw very little attention so he had opted to use his phone flashlight and small office lamps to provide just enough light for us to navigate comfortably. “We’ll give it an hour. If he doesn’t show, we’ll leave.”

“This is stupid.” I grumbled in response. “We shouldn’t be here anyway – do you know how pissed Leah and Embry would be if they knew we were willingly meeting with him?”

My brother collapsed onto the short couch, arms spread across the back. “Are you his bitch now?”

“Shut up,” I grumbled, folding my arms again. “I’m respecting boundaries.”

“His boundaries.” Trent corrected, raising a brow languidly. “You are still able to live a life away from him, you know.” 

“I know.” 

“Are you sure about that?”

I licked my lips, letting my eyes wander to the door again. I didn’t want to admit that Trent had a point – that Embry spent a lot more time keeping very close tabs on me. I was certain it was in good faith, that he was merely concerned for my safety. “Don’t you spend as much time with Leah as I do Embry?” 

“Your point?” He asked tiredly. 

“What makes us different from you?” I asked, leaning against his desk. “Your girlfriend wears the pants in your relationship anyway –”

“Oh, fuck off Ains.” He growled, brows pulling together in a glare. “When’s the last time you or Embry took any interest in what was going on at home?” 

“Don’t,” I started, shaking my head, “Leah knows what it’s like to be a part of a family. She understands the obligation to check in.”

“Embry doesn’t?”

“No.” My voice had dropped, feeling bad for even thinking about it. I hadn’t spoken to anyone about Embry’s home life except for Jacob two months ago. I hadn’t bothered asking Embry about it, not knowing how uncomfortable it made him. “His mom remarried a few years ago, lives somewhere in Forks now. He doesn’t have any siblings.”

“He has us.” Trent said after a few moments of silence, staring down at his boots. “We’re his family now.”

I appreciated my brother's words, letting them offer momentary solace. “I know. It’s still new to him, and I know he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries.” 

“Maybe invite him over for dinner.” Trenton suggested. “You’ve been attached to the hip since Billy’s birthday. In the last four months, you’ve had no trouble sneaking him in through your window but can’t be bothered to actually have him properly integrate into the family.” 

“It’s risky.” 

“Why? Leah had no issues.”

I exhaled loudly. “Leah also doesn’t lose her temper as quickly as Embry has lately – if at all.” The pair of us fell quiet, watching each other before Trent finally nodded in defeat and sighed. “I’ll try, okay? I’ll bring it up to mom and see what she says.”

The chimes at the front of the stores broke the quiet of the shop. My head reared to watch the door to Trent’s room, eyes watching the casted shadow approach slowly. I held my breath, fingers digging into the skin of my arm when Maddox slipped through the door.

His hair was loose, slightly curled at the ends to frame his sharp jaw. His dark eyes scanned the room carefully, stopping a heartbeat longer to watch my controlled expression before he turned his eyes to Trenton’s. “Thank you,” he said quietly, pressing his back against the door to close it, “for meeting with me.” 

“Don’t thank me.” Trent’s voice held a sort of roughness to it, something I was not accustomed to hearing. “Thank her.” 

Both pairs of eyes shot to me quickly, the room settling into silence again. I shifted uncomfortably under their stares, swallowing the lump that had built in my throat. “I thought I told you to leave.” 

“To leave the diner.”

“I meant to skip town.” I clarified, pushing away from the desk to move into the seat behind it. 

Maddox clicked his tongue, lips spreading into a sort of playful smile. “No can do, love.”

“Don’t.” Trent sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows against his knees. “She agreed to come meet you, don’t give her a reason to walk out the door.”

That would be tough considering Maddox was leaning against it. 

“Wait, I thought he wanted to speak to us.” 

“I do – but I know that Trent can’t help with everything I need. You can.” 

“Like fuck if I’m doing anything for you.” I bit, glowering over at his tall frame. 

Maddox stood rigid for a second, before he shot forward. The speed shocked me, his sudden closeness throwing me off guard as I sat back in the chair as he leaned forward across the table. 

Definitely nothing like the wolves. Definitely a different kind of monster. 

“You’re going to help me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I haven’t had anything to eat in almost a week and I’m trying very, very hard not to feed on you.” 

I folded my legs under the desk. “How kind of you.” I muttered sarcastically. 

Maddox shook his head, “I don’t want this. And there’s no way to undo what I am without killing me – which also isn’t an option, by the way.” 

“Noted.” I said wearily. 

“So, what’s Ainsley supposed to do?” Trent asked from his corner, brown eyes locked on Maddox’s frame. “Convince her boyfriend not to rip you into shreds?”

I watched Maddox’s lips form a small smile as he stood straight. “That’s a good start. I actually need to get in contact with the Cullen’s.” 

I pursed my lips together tightly. Obviously Maddox hadn’t watched me close enough, otherwise he might’ve known that they were likely my least favourite people, save for Renesmee. Despite not speaking to her since Thanksgiving, Nessie was still the only half-vampire I could see myself tolerating. I very much didn’t not like Edward – and liked Bella even less. Especially after Embry explained all the theatrics and all the hoops Jake jumped through to prevent her from becoming who she was. Selfishly, she had done it anyway. 

“Good luck with that.” I muttered, locking my ankles together as I leaned my elbows against the desk. “We’re not exactly best-buddies.” 

“Jacob is.” He replied.

“That’s Jacob.” I nodded, lifting my chin. “But I’m not involving him. The Cullen’s and I don’t exactly see eye to eye.” 

“That’s Edward and his mate – not the others. You could get in contact with them if you really needed to, couldn’t you?”

I paused, narrowing my eyes up at him. “Why couldn’t you just ask Trenton? Why do you need me?”

Maddox leaned against the desk, the muscles in his arms straining under the fabric of his jacket. “Trent wasn’t formally bff’s with the vampire spawn.”

Trent scoffed. “Neither was Ainsley. She and Ness only hung out whenever Jake brought her around.”

“But you have her number.” Maddox pressed, looking down at me again. “You’d be able to make a phone call, get an address.”

“I’m not doing you any favours. You and your friends are going all over Forks slaughtering families –”

“I’m not.” He growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I told you. I haven’t fed.”

I clenched my jaw tightly, leaning back in the chair. I mulled over several different ideas that ran through my mind, trying to decide what the best course of action moving forward was. Which would get me back home the quickest – which would provide the fastest relief. 

“You don’t like them, do you?” I asked quietly.

Maddox shifted the slightest, pulling his eyes from mine to muse over the collection of drawings behind my head. “No. I don’t.” He said after two heartbeats.

“Why?” 

“We don’t see eye to eye.” He reiterated my words, face softening. “Megan and Damien – they’re in this for all the wrong reasons.”

“As if there’s a right one.” Trent grumbled, folding his arms. 

“Look, Garrett is out there scoping for the next addition.” 

“Who’s Garrett?” Trent asked. 

“He’s the one who turned us.” Maddox said simply, almost tiredly. “He came around one night mentioning that I could have it all. I could shut it all off, all the guilt and anger. I could leave behind the person I was and become whoever I wanted to be. 

What he didn’t mention was the agony. When he bit me, everything set fire inside me. Not just warmth – white hot searing pain. Every vein burned, I felt like everything inside me was going to explode. I thought I was dying.

When everything stopped, and I came to, he was partly right. I blocked out everything bad, I left it all behind. My family thinks I’m dead. I shut off the part of me that wanted to feel human emotion and I felt powerful. Like I had found something to give me a new start. When moved around for a while, jumping from town to town, only feeding when absolutely necessary – but Megan –” Maddox stopped, shaking his head, “she got carried away. Started feeding without the rest of us, brought Damien with her. Realized that the more they fed, the stronger they were. They kickstarted the whole process, they’re the one’s going around town killing everyone in pairs. And they’re getting sloppy.”

“What’s this got to do with us?”

“I want them dead.” He stated simply. “They’re risking so much, and this isn’t what I signed up for –”

“What did you think this was going to be, Maddox?” I asked. “You thought that killing innocent people to maintain your appetite and live forever was a better trade?”

“I only fed on the elderly.”

“Dude!” Trent shook his head. “That’s not any better!”

“Better someone who’s nearly dead than a fourteen year old that has their whole life ahead of them.” He said firmly, snapping his eyes towards Trenton’s figure. “I thought about everything, heavily, before I accepted Garrett’s offer. I knew what I was going to make of myself. I thought so carefully. But the part he didn’t mention was everything I felt as a human was amplified. The thirst was unreal – and still is. It’s like my throat is sandpaper and sitting in this room, with the two of you –”

I shivered involuntarily. “Enough. If you want them dead, that’s easy.”

“No. It has to be the Cullen’s. I’ve heard about them – they’re reasonable. They can help me, they’ll take mercy on me, and help me eliminate the threat.” Maddox sighed. “If your boyfriend and his pack have part in it, they won’t stop until I’m dead, too. That’s not the outcome I want.” 

“Yeah, well,” I stood from my seat, moving around the desk and Maddox to join my brother on the opposite side of the room, “we don’t always get the outcome we want.” 

“Ains.” He looked defeated. Tired. Worn-out. “I don’t know what else I can say, I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know.”

“I’m not interested in your apology.” I said sharply, another wave of nausea rolling over my stomach. “I’m interested in getting my life back to where it belongs. The sooner the threat is eliminated, the sooner that can happen.”

“Ains,” Trent started, “what are you suggesting?”

“A trade.” I folded my arms, turning to Maddox again. “I will call Renesmee – provided you give me the exact details on where the others are.” 

Maddox deadpanned. “Ainsley.”

“That's the offer. The only offer I am willing to put on the table. I suggest you take it, Maddox, or I’ll give Embry more incentive to hunt you down and kill you.” 

Maddox threw his shoulders back, tilting his head to the side. “He doesn’t know.”

“We try to keep our private life private, douchebag.” Trent mumbled, coming to stand next to me. “No one knows about you, or about what happened. Not Jennie, not TJ – it’s just us.” 

“And Travis?”

“And Travis.” 

Maddox considered this, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Okay. Call them. As soon as you follow through on your end of the bargain, I’ll give you every safehouse from here to Seattle.” 

I nodded, knowing it was better not to push for anything further. I grabbed Trent’s arm, and pulled him towards the door. “Fine – I’ll call Ness in the morning.”

“No.” Maddox said, shooting forward to hold the door shut, leaning down into my face. I froze, carefully watching his features contort into a firm grimace, nostrils flaring as he inhaled my scent deeply. “We will do this tonight.”

“I can’t. Embry’s expecting me –”

Maddox flashed his eyes, the slightest tinge of red seeping through as he brought his face near mine. “Better work quickly, then.” 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I walked next to Trent, our hands balled into fists at our sides. Neither of us felt comfortable about the way this night had turned out. I was trying very hard not to give my brother more of a reason to feel bad. We both lied to our respective partners. We had fraternized with the enemy – and now were both currently walking up the pathway to the Cullen house. It sat nestled deep in the woods, away from most of civilization. That didn’t bring any peace or comfort to either of us. 

“This is a really bad idea.” I muttered quietly, eyes scanning the giant illuminated house. It appeared to be mainly glass, the careful eyes of five different figures from different parts of the house watched us as we approached. 

“You think?” Trent hissed, glancing over his shoulder at Maddox. 

We stopped at the door, watching a tall blonde male extend his hands in an open gesture. He seemed kind, and careful. I appreciated that. I met his golden eyes, head tilting to the side just the slightest as he pulled the door open and moved to the side. “We’ve been waiting for you. All of you.” He said smoothly. 

I followed behind Trenton, sticking close to his frame as the three of us made our way up the stairs into what appeared to be the living room. My eyes fell over each figure, recognizing none of them. I shifted uneasily beside my brother, trying to keep my shoulders back and head high. 

“This is Ainsley Black – Jacob’s cousin – and her brother, Trent Johnson.” The man said, all six sets of eyes darting between us carefully. “And this is their friend –”

“He’s not our friend.” Trent clarified.

“- Maddox Knight. It appears he’s one of the nomad vampires.” 

After brief introductions between the remaining vampires of the Cullen family, I felt Maddox press into my side; I grimaced slightly, thankful there was about a foot height difference between us so he couldn’t see my distaste. I tried to casually put distance between us by standing in front of my brother. “I spoke to Renesmee on the phone, where is she?” 

Alice stepped forward. “Edward and Bella think it would be best if they stayed out of this conversation – especially if you’re trying to keep it hidden from the pack.” 

“They’ve never heard of telling a lie?” Trent asked sarcastically, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. 

Alice pursed her lips, folding her hands in front of her stomach, “Bella’s loyalty to Jacob doesn’t permit that sort of thing – it’s one of the main reasons we co-exist in peace.” I thought about my cousin then – how difficult it must have been for him, trying to vouch for a human that was so hell-bent on being anything but what she was supposed to be. 

Alive. 

And despite it all, on some level, he loved her. And her daughter. 

“We understand it’s Maddox that asked you to arrange this meeting?” Carlisle asked, looking past me to where Maddox stood. I glanced at him over my shoulder; his body was rigid and slumped forward. He was trying to make himself small again. 

My brows pulled together, voice coming out far quieter than I intended. “He’s looking for a new lifestyle. He –” I paused, licking my lips as I considered my next words. “We believe you’d be his best shot at that. That you would be capable of helping him – so long as he’s willing to make the change.” I added, looking up at Maddox with hard eyes. 

He nodded once, looking at the group in front of us. “I thought this was what I wanted – I didn’t fully consider every aspect of this change.” 

“It’s difficult to control for some, but if you’re willing to try,” Carlisle looked around the group, several members nodded their heads once – Alice’s smile confirmed his sentiment. “We’d be more than willing to work with you. If you need somewhere safe to stay, you’re welcome to our home.”

I exhaled loudly in relief. “That’s great.” I forced between clenched teeth, my smile tight. 

“Do we need to speak with your coven, first?” Carlisle asked, wrapping an arm around Maddox’s shoulders to bring him forward. “Or are you handling that?” He looked at Trent and I, trying to piece together the plan. 

“We’re going to bring the information back to Leah and Embry.” Trent explained, folding his arms. “We’d appreciate it if they didn’t find out about our being here.” 

“Still not our biggest fans, huh?” Emmett asked from the couch, a smug smile breaking across his lips. He reminded me so much of Paul and Maddox – so incredibly sure of himself. 

“Leah’s getting better.” Trent offered. “It’s mainly just the part of her that’s biologically trying to tell her she hates you – at least, that’s how she explains it to me. But Embry …”

“Embry’s not quite there. Especially not after yesterday, and I don’t think he would be too happy about my being here without his knowledge, so please,” I shifted on my feet, returning to my brother's side, “can we keep this amongst ourselves?”

“You have our word.” Esme said quietly, offering me a small smile in comfort. “Would you like something to drink while we figure out the kinks?”

“Oh, uh –” Trent cleared his throat, linking his arm through mine. “We should get going – this wasn’t exactly something on our agenda for tonight.” 

“Ains.” Maddox looked at me, almost pleadingly. I held his eyes for a moment, gnawing on my inner cheek.

“You haven’t fed, and us being here is likely not helping any –”

“You haven’t hunted?” Jasper asked, brows pulled together. The Cullen’s moved quickly then, Rosalie and Emmett standing between Maddox and Trent and myself, creating a sort of barrier. I looked at Maddox, watching his face contort into a thousand different emotions.

“He hasn’t tried to feed on you?” 

Trent and I shook our heads. “He’s mentioned it twice – but no.” I thought back to the car ride, where Maddox sat in the back seat and opened the windows to alleviate our scents – then tried to stifle my laugh when he had stuck his head out of the window like a dog. 

Carlisle looked at Maddox again. “Interesting.” He mused, turning to us. “Would you mind coming here for a moment? I’d like to test his control.” He asked, his eyes focused on me. 

“I think it’s better if I don’t – Trent!”

Trenton stepped forward, sliding past Emmett to stand next to Carlisle. “What do you need?”

Carlisle disappeared down the hall, returning in a flash with an object in his hand. “Can you prick your finger for me?” Carlisle asked, holding the letter opener out. I tried to follow my brother's steps, but Rosalie’s strong hands gripped my arms gently and gave me a look of caution.

“You’re better off where you are.” She warned.

I watched as Trent grabbed the handle, his eyes locked on Maddox’s. “Are you insane?” Maddox asked the room, his dark pupils fixated on the sharp point that pressed into Trent’s palm.

“If you’ve been this close to them for this long, having not fed in what appears to be quite a few days, then you’re already stronger than you think.” Carlisle said slowly, keeping a tight grip on his arm. “I need you to focus on anything except the thirst. When he breaks skin, his scent is going to fill this room very quickly and it’s going to be your responsibility to put your instinct aside.” 

“This isn’t going to help me –”

“We need to know just how much we’re working with. Better it be this way –”

“Better it be my brother instead of literally anyone else?” I asked, struggling in Rosalie’s grip. 

Trent inhaled slowly, adding pressure. He hissed when the skin broke, I watched Trenton’s hand shake the slightest bit, his eyes locked on the blood pooling in his hand. Maddox’s chest heaved, filling his lungs with the air – his nostrils flared, eyes flashed brightly. It was then that the other members in the room moved quickly – Rosalie pulled me away from the group, trying to cover my body. 

Maddox lunged forward, the snarl ripping through the room, followed by a loud boom as Emmett collided into his side, sending him flying across the couch. Esme wrapped Trenton’s hand in a cloth, whisking him away to another room completely out of sight. I gripped onto Rosalie’s arm tightly, eyes watching as Maddox tried – and successfully – threw Emmett off him, rushing towards the staircase. 

He was trying to run. 

“Maddox!” I yelled, halting his movement. He didn’t turn to face me; he didn’t move at all. He was incredibly still, body mimicking that of a statue. The group watched him carefully for a moment, before Jasper moved forward to rest his palm on Maddox's shoulder. There was a gradual ease in his posture – the tension in the room slowly released. 

“Let’s try this again.” Carlisle said, holding the letter opener towards me this time.

I pulled my brows together, “I – what?” When no one spoke, or made any movements to offer another solution, I laughed once. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Okay, first of all,” I started, taking a step backwards, “hell no. He’s obviously not able to handle this.”

“Not with Trent’s blood, no.” Jasper quipped, holding his hands behind his back. “But his personal … ties to you might be enough incentive for him to remain in control.” 

Maddox shook his head, snapping his neck in Jasper’s direction. “No way.” He seethed, looking at me, “I came here for help, not to get her killed.” 

“You won’t hurt her.” Alice said, standing next to me. I tried not to let her sudden presence scare me. It was still an odd thing, having everyone around you move more quickly and smoothly than human eyes could detect. “I promise.” She added, smiling at me in reassurance. We were nearly the same height – me being taller by just a few inches. 

That was a first.

“No.” Maddox said again, looking towards the kitchen where Trenton was being tended to. “I can’t risk that – if anything happens to either of them, I’m a dead man.”

“If anything happens to either of them, we’re all dead.” Jasper added cynically, watching me with careful eyes. “Embry would make sure of that.” 

“But this will work.” Alice said quickly, nodding her head. “Your feelings for her are stronger than the need to feed. That’s why you’ve gone so long without it - the first day you saw her, you stopped. Because you wanted to see her. You were able to sit in that diner with all of those humans.” 

“How –” he was confused.

“I’ve been keeping close tabs on you.” Alice smiled, pulling me forward by the hand. “So, I know this is going to work. But we need to show you in order for you to have faith in yourself. Because right now, you think you’re going to rip her head off and drain her body. And that’s not the mindset that’s going to get you where the rest of us are.” 

Carlisle offered me the letter opener again, and this time I wrapped my thin fingers around the handle and slowly brought it towards my left palm. “I swear to god, if I die,” I warned, looking around the group one more time, “I will come back and haunt all of you. Forever.” 

Alice squeezed my shoulder gently. “Trust me.” She said quietly, trying to keep her face as sincere as she could. 

I clenched my jaw, looking up at Maddox with unease. “Don’t kill me.” I repeated, watching his face crumble when I pressed the sharp edge into my hand. I winced when the skin broke, watching the blood rise to the surface. My pain tolerance was not very high – it was one of the main reasons I spent very little time participating in gym, why I always opted for Trent and Travis to fight my battles for me. They lived for a little pain, damn masochists. 

A full ten seconds went by and nothing changed. I looked up at Maddox again, studying his face just as carefully as the rest of the vampires were. His face resembled much of what it had earlier; his eyes were dark and focused, his nostrils were flared and full of my scent, his body was rigid, but he remained still. Incredibly still. 

He wasn’t running and he wasn’t trying to kill me. Both were good signs, by the looks of it. 

I carefully followed Alice when she moved forward, closing the distance between Maddox and myself. I swallowed uneasily, trying to keep the tremor out of my hand. Please don’t eat me. Please don’t eat me. Please don’t eat me.

Maddox exhaled slowly, his eyes falling shut as Alice prompted my hand closer to his face. His brows pulled together, breathing ceasing entirely when my hand stopped a mere five inches from his nose. 

“Very good, Maddox.” Carlisle said quietly from behind me. He pulled me away slowly, offering me a tissue for the wound. “Now, try to breathe. Slowly, evenly.” I turned, pulling my hand to my chest quickly, tending to the small wound. Trenton stood in the archway, eyebrow raised in disapproval as he clutched his wounded hand wrapped in thick gauze. 

Neither of us spoke. 

Several hours later, I exchanged numbers with Maddox. I still needed the safehouses, and Carlisle had requested that I stop by whenever I could to assist in pushing his control further as a sort of experiment. Neither Trent nor Maddox seemed entirely thrilled that I had agreed. 

We walked side by side down the dark path towards Trenton’s truck; he had remained mostly silent for a majority of his time at the Cullen’s, mainly speaking when spoken to. “Are we going to talk about that?”

“About what?””

Trent snorted, shaking his head. “How is everything so obvious to everybody but you?” When I didn’t respond, he sighed, “‘His personal ties to you are helping him control his thirst?’” He asked, looking down at me dubiously. 

“What about it?”

“Something tells me that his guilt is hardly what he’s holding onto.” 

I rolled my eyes, storming past his frame towards the truck. “You’re overthinking it – now take me to Jennie’s. I need to shower before I step foot in the wolf's den.” 

[hangezoeenthusiast]

God(hcs)

c!multiple x god!reader

notes: the reader will be the god of death to make it a little bit more spicy :). c!punz’s pronouns are he/they, i’m not sure about the others, but i know theirs. also why does ranboo take away my gender? /j

word count: 1,672

warnings: arson, violence, cursing, yelling, mention of death, voices in technos part, spoilers for wilbur if you haven’t watch tommy’s lore stream, revival for wilbur, making a religion, time travel, egg, prison, stealing, anarchy, playful name calling

Sapnap

so obviously y’all would be a great match :)

you have creative mode, so when sap would ask you to give him a lighter and tnt, you would GLADLY give it

also, can we talk about him being a nether hybrid

fire squared

like fires left and right, hide your mom and your children in your house lol /j

but besides the whole arson thing, you favor him above anyone else on the server

like if he asks for diamond blocks, well here’s a whole inventory of it, also, here’s some ancient debris and some netherite

if someone asked, you would probably grant them with poison and curses, just because you can’t be “unloyal” to snapchat 

wouldn’t be lonely anymore

Dreamwastaken

this duo is less chaotic, but chaotic enough where people avoid you

he still asks you for stuff, but most of the time, you don’t give him it because he annoys you too much about giving stuff

“hey y/n/n, can i pretty please get some emerald blocks.”

“nope bitch, get it yourself.”

but sometimes, you grant him some op shit, when it’s your good day

“because i’m being nice, here’s some diamond, now, don’t ask me again you little piss baby.”

“shut your trap y/n.”

“or what homeless teletubby, what are you going to do to a god like me?”

“you hang out with technoblade to much.”

Georgenotfound

maybe the least chaotic duo

you guys keep on relaxing and relaxing until the point where you don’t do anything

he barely asks you for anything, but only when it’s really really important, like a house or build

especially when he was building his little cottagecore house, he needed your godly presence to help

“y/n, what should the roof be made of?”

“i suggest brick, it makes it more aestheticy if that makes any sense.”

also barely any drama or tea with you guys

never arguing and never betraying each other is a must

Tubbo

also another least chaotic duo

literally help him with his bee farm, he will (platonically) love you forever

gotta be close to ranboo, that’s the rule

gives him SO much stuff, he’s a precious boi 🙄

also gotta be close to tommy, but not as much unfortunately

you help him pick out things for builds, like what material clashes with another, etc

“do you think that the wool and the netherite blocks look good together y/n?”

“nah, what i suggest is the wool with the gold, it looks perfect.”

sometiems, gotta put him in check because he gets a little ego built up

you definitely yank his horn a little too hard because of your IMMENSE STRENGTH

“OW, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT Y/N.”

“calm down sunny, you were just getting a bit over your head a little.”

Tommyinnit

chaotic duo like sapnap

snaps at anyone who annoys you and vice versa

you give him EVERYTHING, obviously except op and creative

he tries to persuade you to do something, but dreamxd wouldn’t allow it, since he is the main boss

“come on y/n, give me op.”

“no tommy, xd will kick my ass.”

“pweaseee.”

“no.”

you would DEFINITELY help him with the Big Innit Hotel, making the whole layout and color palette.

both of you have an intense hatred for ranboo, since he “stole” tubbo away from tommy

Ranboo

least involved in everything

just stay in the tundra and drink some tea, and you’re good for all of your life

helps him get netherite all the time so your boii can get the good stuff 😬

when he mines to get diamonds, he literally prays to you

“y/n, if you’re listening, please give me a 6 vein, i desperately need it for my collection of diamond blocks.”

and THERE IT IS

more than a 6 vein actually, a 12 vein

guess he needs to pray to you more

daily tea sessions, to talk about the good stuff, and NO, and i repeat NO skipping

threatening to flick water on him check ✅

Wilbur Soot

literally you spoil him

not to be angsty, but when he died and lost his last canon life, you revived him instead of Dream

now he’s practically at your knees

like he’s thinks that he owes you, but actually that’s the opposite

he was revived because you were lonely, and wanted your best friend back :(

prays to you when he goes to bed

“hey y/n, hope you’re having a great day, (platonically) love you.”

“love you too mortal.”

sometimes, to be at the peak of godness, you shower upon wilbur as gold to symbolize blessings, like zeus did before

“omg y/n, what are you doing?”

“i’m trying to bless you, shut up bitch.”

just saying, he would make a religion about you :/

Karl Jacobs

omg don’t get me started on this

first, you wouldn’t codone him going back in time

he would definitely forget your name a lot, so that’s why you hated it

“hey karl, how are you doing?”

“i’m sorry, but do i know you?”

ANGST IS TOO MUCH FOR ME

you were definitely the one to push him towards sapnap and quackity

this is also another spoiled boi

give him the entire world while you’re at it pwease

he wants a few diamonds, nope, give him a chest full of them

Quackity

why are there so much chaotic duos in here?

literally chaos times infinity

energy to the max

literally, did you take an energy drink

grants him every wish he can randomly think off

“can i get a bucket with lava and a fish in it?”

“weird choice, but ok man.”

gotta be close to sap and karl or he isn’t your friend anymore /j

helps with las nevadas a lot, and definitely tries to rig the machines so you get money

“hey big q, i got 10,000 dollars.”

“that’s impossible... y/n, did you cheat?”

“nooo 😊”

help him preen his wings, and he goes “I LOVE YOU, MWAH MWAH.” obviously in his mind 🙄

Awesamdude

definitely helps him maintain the prison

you both love setting up red stone contraptions and pistons and all that giz

“hey sam, do you know where the redstone torches are?”

“yeah, there behind the pistons in the back.”

also you helped build the prison, since he could do that by himself

“are you sure that lava wall will work y/n, your calculations seem inaccurate.”

“i’m sure sam, this will add some more security to this goddamn server.”

nerd squared lol

BadBoyHalo

wouldn’t condone the egg

you warned him multiple times to get away from its grasp, but most of the times he’ll decline

“i won’t y/n, the egg is the future.”

he still, even after all the advancements, even after everything, he tries to ask you to join the eggpire

“come on y/n, you’ll like being with us.”

“i don’t wanna be on a stupid egg side, like let me crack the egg, i wanna eat it and turn it into a omelette.”

he doesn’t like that joke :(

but before he discovered the egg, both of you were joint at the hip

sight seeing was a must

languages being thrown around everywhere, since you were the little language muffin

Punz

steals stuff from everyone

hide your stuff, because the punzo-y/n team is unstoppable

definitely they can be really stubborn and indecisive

like one day, he will be like, “i need gold blocks.” and the next, “nevermind, i need netherite actually.”

like hon, stop switching

also anarchy buddies

burning down forests and buildings are your guys’s specialty

when you give him gold when they doesn’t ask, his heart goes brrr and his brain goes, “pog pog, they’re so cool, lets hug them.”

Technoblade

now this is the most deadly duo in the entire Dream Smp

better not piss you guys off 😐

he’s the Blood God, and you’re the God/Goddess/God being of Death

so if some occasion where you need to battle someone, like Techno’s enemies, *clears throat and murmurs Quackity*, you will obviously back your boy up :)

help him with enchanting and potions and he’s set for life

also you got have to be close to the great Philza Minecraft since him and Techno are buddy buddy

anarchy squared

helps with the voices since you have some of your own

“so what you’re saying is that i need to pay attention to them?”

“yeah, when i first learned that the voices were in my head, i tried to ignore them, but that sucked. so what i did was try to distract myself with various tasks, and that sucked.”

“so what do i do, you’re saying that i should listen to them, but how do i do that when they literally shout at me.”

“just embrace it, obviously when they do their little chant of blood for the blood god, you have to ignore them.”

“you suck at advice.”

Philza Minecraft

so since both of you resemble death, him being the Angel of Death and you being the God/Goddess/God being of Death, y’all are fucking best friends, platonic soulmates if you will

death squared

watch out, because if you piss them off, prepare to d-

gotta be close to Ranboo and Techno, and obviously others who he platonically likes

he doesn’t need to ask you for stuff, he’s the fricking Angel of Death, but he will ask you to preen his wings :D

“ow, not there y/n.”

“oh shut up grandpa, let me do it.”

“I’M NOT OLD DUMBASS.”

Dream XD

two gods at once, damn there is so much chaos

left and right, you guys are noticed by everyone, like purrrr

y’all would be in some fancy shit, to show your power

you would get jealous of him hanging out with george

“why are you jealous y/n?”

“you’re hanging out with george to much, hang out with me please :(.”

gifts are a must, even though both of you have access to creative

[panlight]

i think one of meyer's biggest problems (i mean aside from the obvious) is that to her, the characters in her book that aren't bella and edward are just set dressing. she doesn't understand that anybody could see esme, for example, as a tragic character whose human life was defined by loss and abuse, because to her, she's just a plot device. she's The Mom, full-stop. jacob's imprinting doesn't register as horrifying because renesbait is the perfect daughter who deserves the perfect happy ending (a doting husband and probably kids), and jacob is just perfect for her! he's big and strong and loyal, and he won't age and die on her! she doesn't seem to get that people could see these characters as anything other than vehicles for bella and edward's story (and renesbait's, down the line). she has exactly one (1) story that she wants to tell, and anything else is just flavor text.

though to be fair, this started as her personal fantasy. when she got a book deal, she then had to go and beef up the story, which i think is where a lot of the worst stuff comes from.

Yeah, pretty much this.

And this is why romance novels and rom-coms that focus on just one couple (vs an ensemble like Love Actually or something), usually have a pretty limited cast because, who cares? The point is the relationship between the two leads, you don't really need or want anything else. Maybe a quirky or sassy friend (Alice) and a rival (Jacob) or some sort of inconvenient girlfriend/fiancee/ex (sort of Tanya? but not really) and that's all you really need. Family might exist for funny meeting-the-parents scenes but you don't need a backstory on the parents. You don't need a backstory on the quirky friend.

But after she invented Edward, she said she couldn't imagine him without a family. He MUST have a sister like Alice. But that's not enough. SM is from a big family, Edward deserves a big family, so then she invents all these other characters to be The Mom and The Father Figure/Mentor, then The Big Brother. Then oops, Quirky Sister and Big Brother need romantic partners, so here comes Mean Sister and The Vampire-y One. And now you have this huge cast with thinly sketched (but interesting!!!) histories that she doesn't plan to actually DO much of anything with, they just exist to be The Family. None of them have a story arc of their own. I mean I guess there's sort of "Rosalie learns to like Bella" but that's still Bella-centric and is more about Bella's fantasy of a perfect forever family. Does Jasper improve his control? Is Alice vicariously living through Bella's human experiences meaningful? Does Carlisle successfully convince others to try vegetarianism? Who knows, who cares, not the point.

And then she just keeps adding more characters! The cast of the Twilight novels is huge; it's like a Harry Potter universe of characters when the storyline is a pretty insular romance. She invents all these fascinating characters who can turn into wolves and then again, doesn't follow through with anything. Does Leah find peace? Do she and Emily mend their friendship? Who is Embry's father? Doesn't matter. Not relevant to Bella's story.

There's the Volturi, who at first to seem to be about world building and lore, but then they just sit on there thrones so much they've started to petrify. They literally don't do anything! And again, to tell this story you maybe need like one leader and one scary weaponized vamp, but we get THREE leaders and a whole bunch of named vampires with different powers who again, never really get to do much of anything. What's the point of the history between Amun and Demetri when it's never mentioned at all?

Then all the visiting vampires. She obviously LOVES Garrett and Benjamin, you can just feel the "aren't these characters SO COOL?!" pulsing through the page. But other than Garrett's big speech [which feels weird because we only just met this guy. Usually a character who had been there since the beginning would have this moment, a moment that we had been building up to for four books. Maybe Carlisle gets to make his final plea for vegetarianism. Maybe Esme, always quiet, always on the sidelines, steps forward and surprises everyone with her defense of her family and their way of life. Maybe Jasper, the one who wasn't totally sold on this diet, who wouldn't have tried it at all if not for his gift basically forcing him to, gives an impassioned speech from the POV of a former human-blood-drinker that appeals to the other vampires better than any of the veggie-from-the-start Cullens could. But no, it's Garrett, whom we met like 50? 100? pages ago, but since we're told he's a Revolutionary, and a Patriot, that's all the weight we need], none of them really matter or do anything. Benjamin could have left Amun in the end and that would have been something, but, no. It's still Bella's shield that gets all the credit for saving the day. It's still her story and her fantasy. And that's fine! Certainly there are plenty of male-centered power fantasies where some average guy turns out to be the chosen one and better at something than the people who have trained for it for years and gets love and power in the end.

It's just weird that the story she wanted to tell was pretty much just Bella and Edward Fall in Love and Get Married and Bella is the Best Vampire and yet she invented all these other characters without giving them any larger purpose. They have backstories that SEEM relevant but never go anywhere. Esme having met Carlisle when she was a human teen never comes up. Carlisle's mother dying in childbirth is never mentioned during the debates over Bella's pregnancy. Emily's scars are clearly supposed to be a warning about the dangers of being involved with supernatural beings, but it's a warning Bella ignores (and that's not even getting into using the suffering of an Indigenous character to teach a white girl a lesson). Leah's dad only died so Edward could be confused about 'the funeral' and think it was Bella's; it's never really brought up otherwise. There's no reason the rest of the pack has to be so crappy to her, it doesn't go anywhere. How much would the main story really change if Edward were the only vampire and Jacob the only wolf? Sure, some plot beats would be different without Alice to predict things, or without the tension between the Sam and Jacob factions in BD, but overall you could tell basically the same story without literally everyone else.

[anika-ann]

Conundrum (A.B.)

Type: One-shot, challenge fic

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!reader    Word Count: 7700 (:

Summary: conundrum - a confusing and difficult problem or question

Andy Barber is a difficult man whom you have yet to understand. He certainly doesn’t make it any easier; and right before Christmas, he manages to surprise you again.

Prompt: You have to look for a gift impromptu

Warnings: a smidge of angst, a drop of awkward humour, mention of death (mild AU - both Laurie and Jacob!), alcohol consumption, feels, explicit language, reader gets called a dumbass... that’s it I hope, lemme know

A/N:  This is my submission for the Happy Hoelidays challenge. There’s no hoeing tho, shame on me. Also, if you want some music to go with this, know that I listened to ‘God I Hope This Year Is Better Than the Last’ by SYML an obscene amount of times.

Andy Barber was an enigma.

Reporters liked to think he wasn’t; almost a year ago, they tore down all the walls he had built up to protect the privacy of his family and they shed light into startingly intimate details of his life – and where they couldn’t shed light, they used their imagination and sold it with a claim of having a reliable source. Naturally, it worked; there were always people willing to believe it just so they obtained more of juicy gossip material.

There were wanabe psychologists who would address his trauma and tried to analyse his personality, the consequences he would suffer in the aftermath of the tragedy, who attempted to strip down his soul just to get a few more reads and generally talked about him as if they were best friends, as if they knew him.

It was all a load of bullshit.

The truth, you thought, was that no one knew him. If you were being honest, you weren’t sure if even his wife ever had, truly – but that was you under the influence of the little information you bothered to gather from the influx of crap that the media provided the public with.

What you believed was that the reporters and all the self-proclaimed experts on him knew nada.

Andrew Barber was and always would remain an enigma; to the public, to the little what remained of his family after the death of his wife and son, to his co-workers – the category which included you. If you could even call yourself a co-worker; you were simply a secretary. Granted, one whose previous employer let her peek over their shoulder quite a bit so you learned a thing or two about law, but Andy Barber was the lawyer. The former DA from Boston, who moved over to rule the DA office of Portland, your home.

Even after having been working with him for nine full months, Andy’s thoughts and feelings didn’t get any easier for you to read or predict. When he wanted to let you know he was disappointed, he did. When he was truly angry with someone, well, he wouldn’t let it go unnoticed either.

Other than that, however, you would have had better luck trying to decode the actual enigma-encrypted messages sent during World War II.

Small talk didn’t last longer than three sentences from you each. Work-related affaires were discussed in his office with politeness and with calm, rather dispassionate mannerism. If you caught a hint of a smile when an important case that helped people went his way (or the office’s way really), you considered it a miracle that sent your heart reeling.

He would sometimes smile only for you if you brought him a coffee without him asking first, simply because he looked like he needed one; at those times, he would thank you softly and let slip in your first name instead of referring to you with your last. Those were your favourite moments.

Well, almost.

You found him with a tumbler and an expensive whiskey on occasion when you were leaving the office late; you never commented on it, but there were four times he actually silently invited you to have a glass with him. You refused the first time and accepted the other three.

Those nights, you got a glimpse of the mystery of a man hidden behind surprisingly soft mannerism, one which was in such a sharp contrast to his shark-like demeanour he displayed in front of the judge and the jury. His scars ran deep, his hopes had been shattered, his life in the past year as bitter as the overpriced liquor. Your heart cracked for him to the point of nearly breaking altogether.

And yet, it was beating for him too; behind all that hurt, you couldn’t but notice certain gentleness. Yes, he could be scary, downright terrifying and when his temper got the best of him, the true rage on display, he was a force to be reckoned with. But oh, that gentleness. The kind shattered soul he hid so well every morning, more so on the days right after your little heart-to-hearts. Trying to build a working relationship with him – a friendship of a sort, anything you wanted to call it – was a game of push and pull and more of a string of guesses than an effort that would bore fruit.

You might have already given up on that and instead, with the ferocity you hadn’t known you possessed, you kept punching the crush you had on him; that silly thing that would always call louder and louder after he revealed a piece of him on one of the precious nights, only to shut you out completely the next morning.

Andy Barber had never even remotely showed a romantic interest in you and by God, did you not blame him for not being interested in anyone at all as far you knew. While you considered yourself a fairly capable worker and half-decent person, you were aware you could never measure up to him. Just another reason to push down the feelings you had for him, ones that seemed to bloom with more intensity whenever he raised the corners of his damn lips, when he asked a question about you during those stupid nights as if he cared— nonsense. You had to get rid of those. He didn’t even like you, barely acknowledged you in the end. Or did he? You honestly didn’t know.

Bottom line was that if you couldn’t get close enough, then the reporters knew jack shit, no matter how much reading on him they had done or how many books on psychology, criminology and law and shit they went through. Many people knew Andrew Barber’s name, but no one could hope to know him.

And yet, those assholes still called and asked about him.

It was the fourth one that day; December 23rd, over a year from the accusation of Jacob Barber, and those fucking vultures still called Andy Barber’s office. They weren’t even good newspapers and news sites anymore; obviously, because every rational decent person would have let the poor man rest. But nope. Not them.

“Portland’s DA office, secretary of Mr. Barber speaking. How may I help you?”

“Oh, wonderful! Is there any chance I could talk to Mr. Barber personally?” the chipper of a man asked on the other end of the line and just by not giving his name, he raised suspicion; was it forgetfulness caused by his distress or intention?

Fortunately for him and unfortunately for you, you had to be polite. Hot-shot lawyers and other important people rarely returned the courtesy, but that was the world you lived in.

“There might be, Mr-?”

“Oh, Connor. Peter Connor.”

“Well, Mr. Connor, what is your legal issue?” you asked patiently, writing down his name automatically.

“Well, you see, I would rather talk with Mr. Barber about—my delicate situation, in private.”

Your eyes narrowed as you stopped scribbling and spared a brief glance towards the door to Andy’s office. It was opened ajar in what could be an invitation, but all blinds on both the door and the windows were down in typical fashion.

Talk in private?

Yeah, not gonna happen. You knew a few tricks that these assholes calling the office tended to pull and whoever this man was, you were growing more suspicious by the minute that he was not seeking legal advice.

You went back to your notes and wrote down the word liar right next to his name and a question mark. Was he a liar? One way to find out you guessed; you caught your phone between your ear and your shoulder, opening a new tab in your browser to google the name along with a wild guess of him being a reporter.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Connor, I’m afraid I will need more information before I put you through. And I will probably need to make you an appointment, my boss is a very busy man-“

“Oh, is he? Lots of cases in Andrew Barber’s new district, huh?”

The blood in your veins was set aflame even before the search was done, because in an instant, you knew for sure.

And then you had it confirmed by the results.

This jerk had even given you his real name, utterly shameless. Sure, he could have only had the same name as the journalist you found, but what were the chances? Two days after you told his colleague – who had made it through your vetting, got an appointment and even got past the reception desk before you spotted him for what he was – to get lost and not try again?

Your pulse skyrocketed along with your blood pressure. Technically, you didn’t owe Andrew Barber anything, but he was respectful enough, didn’t make much trouble and for most time, was an okay boss to you.

You owed him this much: he was a decent guy. Why couldn’t other people show a shed of basic human decency too and leave him the fuck alone?

“That depends, Mr. Connor,” you purred, barely holding the outrage locked inside. You felt both energized by your anger and achingly tired and done with humanity. You rested your elbows on the desk and leaned onto it with a sigh, massaging the bridge of your nose, eyes closed. “Is he going to have to sue your rag of a newspaper or will you and your colleagues finally get the memo and leave. His. Personal. Life. Alone?!”

You most definitely strained the last words through your teeth, but you didn’t care anymore if you were being rude. He was the fourth reporter today ready to ask about Andy’s personal matters. The FOURTH!! He was lucky you didn’t tell him to go fuck himself… explicitly.

“Are you threatening me?” the man demanded, his voice insulted, losing all traced of pretence.

As if you ever. You knew better than that, working with lawyers.

“Nice try, Mr. Connor.  I will thank you to never call this office again unless you have legal issues or a relevant question which you should direct to our PR department anyway. And if you could extend this to all editorial staff, please, preferably to all editorial staff in the United States, that would be splendid. Have a good day. Happy Holidays.”

You slammed the phone down, missing the slot for it, not caring. You were sure he would hang up on his own.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath and hid your face in your palms, grunting, fingertips sinking into your hair.

“I hope you don’t mean me,” sounded from the doorway and you yelped, honest to god yelped and straightened in your seat, head snapping up-

-only to meet your boss’ curious gaze. Hurt and anger casted shadows over his beautiful cerulean irises, but there was no mistaking the melancholy and resignation on his face either.

“Of course not!” you blurted out quickly, panic rising in your chest.

How much had he heard? Was he going to fire you for being unprofessional? Did he figure out what was this about— of course he did, there was little room left for doubt. Your choice of words was pretty straightforward.

Andy bounced off of the doorframe he was leaning onto, not easing his stance – his arms remained crossed over his chest and had you not been so alarmed, you would have indulged in the sight of his biceps nearly cutting through the seams of his shirt.

“Why do I get the impression that whoever you were talking to was not the first person to call the office to feed on ‘the misery man’ that Andrew Barber is?” he more stated than asked, his tone unmistakably bitter.

You gulped as he approached your desk, nails digging into your palms. You had no idea what to say. Once again, you couldn’t quite read Andy; you had no idea where this was heading and how you should answer without setting him off, making him sadder or even more bitter. And without getting fired, obviously.

“I—uhm, well, I suppose you heard me, so you know he wasn’t the first—Mr. Barber. I apologize-“ His eyebrows rose a fraction and you didn’t dare to analyse why. “-if I was too loud. But--- humanity sucks.”

The moment the last two words left your mouth, you instantly regretted them, snapping your eyelids close and squeezing. You were sure you were about to have bloody crescents in your palms from your nails at this point.

Did you really just say that? To your boss, no less?

Way to go, me.

“Not wrong there. Why don’t you take your lunch break now?” he offered casually.

You nodded as you felt the tell-tale burn of tears forming in your eyes; fuck, this was humiliating. Why had he had to walk in exactly in that moment? And now using that tone?

He didn’t say anything else and you didn’t dare to look at him. Only when you heard him walk back to his office and close the door behind him, you opened your eyes and released the breath you were holding, your heart hammering in your chest.

Gulping and swallowing your tears before they could escape, you grabbed your purse and your coat, rushing out to the cold air of Portland winter.

✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  

Andy didn’t bring up the incident again when you came back. You had a short list of assignments for the upcoming days off which you went over with him before parting ways for the holidays. You mentioned you would probably drop in tomorrow despite not necessarily having to, but wished him Happy Holidays in case you’d miss him during your brief visit.

The corners of his lips twitched at that, but he wished you the same. You supposed his holidays weren’t about to be happy – more like the opposite. Last year, he celebrated with his family, even if it might have been already falling apart. This year however…

Your heart cracked another fraction for the man and you wondered if you should leave some cookies for him in the office tomorrow at least. Then you realized he would probably hate it, either being bitter about feeling like a charity case or hating the reminder of what he had lost, what wasn’t waiting for him at home anymore. Not to mention that maybe even the poinsettia, which you had placed on his office window two days ago and neither of you commented on, was already too much.

The only cookies you baked that night were the ones you knew should stay in a box with apples for over a day, the cookies you were supposed to bring to your sister’s house for Christmas, because your nephew Harry loved them.

With cheesy Christmas songs in the background and a bottle of wine for the party of one, you kneaded the double batch of dough and couldn’t but spare your achingly handsome and likely lonely boss a thought and maybe… maybe a tear or two.

✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  ✦  ✧  

The office was empty when you arrived on 24th at around half past four; everyone left as soon as possible, which was to be expected. Admittedly, despite not knowing what you would talk about with Andy, you found your heart sinking when you didn’t see light peeking through the blinds of your and his offices. You had expected him to be working to avoid being at home; but then again, you knew next to nothing about him. Maybe he was with a girlfriend. With a boyfriend. With former colleagues. With his deceased wife’s family. It was only assumption of yours that he might be lonely on Christmas.

You shook your head at your train of thought as you unlocked your office, mentally going over which files you needed to bring home, trying to eliminate the amount as not to endanger confidential information by taking them away from the safety of the bureau.

You froze in your tracks when you found a rather large piece of paper folded into a roof on your desk. A note, you realized, frowning and slowly walking to the suspicious object.

There were very few people who could enter your space, namely three: the janitor, you and Andy. The first option was unlikely, the second impossible, the third confusing. You didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just shoot you a text if he needed anything.

You halted in your steps, the air knocked out of your lungs when you noticed that the note was not the only new item on your desk.

There was a box.

A box roughly size of your extended palm. And if you weren’t mistaken… it looked like a jewellery gift box.

“What the hell?” you asked yourself breathlessly, your curiosity getting the best of you; more so as you recognized what was most definitely Andy’s handwriting on the paper.

Andrew Barber, your boss, with whom you weren’t sure what your relationship was – if there was any at all – might have got you jewellery.

Say that again?

A tiny voice in your head told you he might have just used the box for something else entirely, but that didn’t seem to be his style.

So you picked up the gift carefully, almost reverently removing the lid, your heart pounding in your chest, stomach twisting with pleasant anticipation; with the familiar rush that kids feel when opening a present with high hopes of what could await them inside.

Your lips parted in pure shock, you mind turning blank.

There were no words in English language to express how… how absolutely magnificent the bracelet inside was.

Five thin circles with symbols made of slender lines inside, looking like charms, but withing the body of the bracelet, one clasped to the next one with delicate ellipses. The metal reflected the fluorescent lights of the office, glimmering softly, appearing almost fluid, a thin stream of water trapped in a box.

You actually had to blink and it took all your willpower not to pinch yourself, because—how-

How had he known? Where had he got it? Holy mother of Jesus, how much had he spent on it?

And why get you a gift in the first place? You were… acquaintances at best. Yes, there were almost friendly moments, and then there were those nights, but this was---this- you couldn’t even---- think, apparently.

Keeping an eye on the opened box, you gently placed it back on the desk, afraid to even touch the metal itself. You blindly reached into your purse in search for your phone to dial the only number that made sense for you to dial at that moment.

It sure as hell wasn’t Andy’s.

Nothing but a dialling tone sounded for half a minute, the time seemingly endless. You fell heavily into your chair, still staring at the absolutely gorgeous and thoughtful gift.

How did he know?!

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as your sister still didn’t answer the phone and your hand automatically reached for your necklace to toy with.

And that was when it hit you.

Your necklace; one you got from your sister during the period of your biggest obsession with the Divergence series. Two arrows in a circle pointing different directions, the symbol for a ‘divergent’ person. Your eyes wandered over the five circles of the bracelet – scales, an eye, hands connected, a flame, a tree –, an incredulous chuckle escaping you.

But--- you didn’t think he would notice. You didn’t even wear it all the time, rather often, yes, and yeah, perhaps you did have a bit of a bad habit of fumbling with it when nervous-

“Hey sis! What’s up?” Amber’s voice sounded cheerily from the microphone. You jumped in your seat, startled by her as she interrupted your musing. “Please tell me you’re still coming, because Harry wouldn’t shut up about his favourite chocolate chip.”

You cleared your throat, barely able to comprehend what she was talking about, too caught up in your head.

“I—hi. Uhm- I need help actually,” you finally stuttered and you could practically feel her frown even over the phone.

“Oh? Is everything okay? You sound… a little strange.”

“That’s-“ not wrong. You scanned the office and listened in for the tinniest noise, making sure you were still alone. “I’m at the office and I--eh, I found a gift for me.”

“Awww, a secret admirer? Nice!” Amber chuckled, then abruptly stopped. “…unless it’s a stalker. You don’t think you have a stalker, right? Is that why you called me, so I could tell George? He’s not on duty-“

This time you did roll your eyes at the mention of her husband who happened to be a police officer.

“No, Amber, I have no stalker as far as I know. I’m pretty sure I can recognize my boss’ handwriting at this point.”

Nothing but silence could be heard from the other end for a good minute. You bit your lip in anticipation of… something.

And then: “You’re shitting me.”

“Not really-“

“Holy mother of-!” your sister squealed loudly and you winced, instinctively withdrawing from the phone. “Your boss got you a Christmas present?! --Wait. Is it a Walmart card? Because if it is, then this call is pointless, because that’s boring as-“

“No, Amber, he—he gave me a bracelet,” you admitted softly, your gaze once again wandering over the said object. Beautiful. Fragile. Yours, apparently. What?

When Amber only responded with silence again, words suddenly spilled from your lips, all the mixed feelings you had about receiving the bracelet released, relief singing in your veins as you vented.

“And-and it’s actually really beautiful and--- it’s thoughtful, because it has all the fractions from Divergence on it? But not like something you buy for ten dollars, only paying for the copyright or whatever and the quality is shitty, no, I mean--- it looks pretty, eh, delicate.”

It did, awfully so, which was why you still couldn’t make yourself to touch it even if you really, really liked it and wanted to do nothing but to wear it for the rest of your damn life.

“And expensive. I-- I think it might be real silver and…” you wavered, almost scared to share your last observation out loud for it seemed impossible for it to be true. “Amber, you know I looked through a lot of Divergence-related goods so I would know. It- it doesn’t look familiar at all, it’s--- I think it might be custom-made.”

You choked on the last word, tasting so strange on your tongue as you couldn’t quite believe that you were saying it. You felt--- incredulous to put it simply… and touched and- absolutely bewildered.

Silence stretched in the follow-up to your rambling and you felt your brows drawing together.

“…Amber? You there?”

“Oh yeah, I’m here,” she assured you swiftly, mischief curling around the tone of her voice like a smirk on her lips you couldn’t see. “Just wondering how could you not tell me you started sleeping with him-“

“What?! No!” you protested instantly, straightening in the chair. “I’m not—I’m not his sugar baby or whatever! This is not a ‘thank you for letting me fuck you raw’ gift-“

“Not that you would complain from what I heard and saw-“ she hummed playfully.

She was right. But shush!

“Screw you!”

“George does, that’s why we have Harry in the first place,” she sassed you. “But… sis? What kind of a gift it is then?”

And wasn’t that the question.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Well, you should, because from what you told me, you guys aren’t even friends. Nota bene, this isn’t exactly a gift you give to a friend,” she pointed out, addressing one of the million issues concerning the damn (gorgeous) bracelet.

“I-- I guess?” You were sure, in fact. This was something to give to a… well, to a lover, to a partner. “But- Amber, he doesn’t--- that’s not-“

“What did the note say?”

“Huh?”

“You said you recognized his handwriting,” she reminded you slowly as if speaking to a five-year-old. “What does the note say?”

You glanced at the note again noncommittally, remembering exactly what it said. Pretty much nothing. Definitely nothing to go on.

“Uhm… Thank you. Happy Holidays.”

There was a beat of silence, again. “That’s it?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Eloquent.” You rolled your eyes at her sarcastic tone. She should see him at court. True though, on personal level, he wasn’t exactly chatty. Unless he opened up a bit over a glass of whiskey--- anyway, she had a point, obviously. “What are you gonna do?”

That snapped you from your musing like a shot of life into your bloodstream.

“That’s why I’m calling! I should-- I should get him something too, right?” Right?! Absolutely. “Oh god, I hate last-minute shopping. And I don’t even have a fucking clue what to buy! Well, a good whiskey is always a safe bet I guess, but supporting his drinking habits doesn’t sound like a good idea. Plus, it’s kinda… impersonal with comparison to what he gave me.”

Though if there was one thing you learned about Andy Barber, it was that he could appreciate the high-quality liquor, so perhaps it wouldn’t have been as impersonal as one might think.

“Well, I don’t know him so I can’t really help, but what you got from him should definitely give you a clue.”

“A clue?” you parroted, confused.

“I don’t mean like a clue for what you should buy him. But… look, even if you didn’t suspect that it’s custom-made, which whoa, he has to pay a lot of attention to buy you something like this. Much more attention than you thought.”

“…okay?”

“He likes you, you dumbass! It doesn’t matter what you get him, he’ll be happy you got him anything in the first place!”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” you deadpanned, unsure which statement you were referring to. That he liked you or that you shouldn’t take care to choose something that would really bring him at least a little joy.

You tried your best to ignore how your heart skipped the beat at the former.

“Whatever. Harry’s throwing a hungry eye on me, I gotta go fix him a snack unless I want him to eat all the candy again. Good luck!”

“Amber!“ you called out in honest despair, panic rising in your chest, only to get no answer.

You pulled the phone from your ear to look at the screen, already knowing what awaited you.

Disconnected.

Fuck.

It seemed you were on your own. Wasn’t that wonderful?

You shot your sister a simple ‘I hate you’ text, the gears in your head already turning frantically in order to figure out what you could get Andy.  

Amber replied with a set of laughing emojis within seconds. Bitch, leaving you alone to deal with a situation like this! What a sister she was.

You sighed, admiring the delicate lines of the bracelet again, torn between indulgence and guilt. There was no questioning whether you should buy Andy something too.

Say yay for the last-minute shopping for a man out of your league and whom you had no idea what you should get.

You were utterly at loss, growing anxious not only about the difficult choice of a gift, but also about possible delivery, wondering what should you even tell him and when.

Maybe though…. just maybe, you were getting kinda excited about what you were about to do too.

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Three hours.

You spent almost three hours at the mall where you could barely breathe because of the crazy crowds and yet you were none the wiser; your excitement left you quickly, once again replaced by despair. It took you three hours and passing the lingerie shop four times, a shop with pieces on display that barely covered anything, intended for either bedroom games or a swimming pool, before it finally hit you.

You cursed under your breath, calling yourself an idiot in murmur loud enough to have few people around you look at you in surprise.

“Dumbass, I’m such a dumbass,” you continued your monologue as you fished out your phone, quickly scrolling through your contacts.

To say that the person on the other end was shocked to hear from you at this time of month and hour was an understatement.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Lee. I have… eh, a favour to ask…”

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You were being ridiculous.

Absolutely and utterly ridiculous as you stood on a modest porch in front of a small family house, the roof hiding you from the intrusive drizzle but not keeping you quite safe from the wind as you clutched your handbag to your side as if it was your lifeline, cursing yourself for not wearing a scarf in December.

Your nose was practically freezing, your cheeks burned from the wind and your hands were cold too, because you were stupidly underdressed; as if you haven’t lived in Portland your whole life.

But that wasn’t the main issue; an Uber dropped you off about five minutes ago and still, here you were, standing outside and trying to convince yourself to ring the bell.

The plan had been to finish packing a bag and leave around 10 p.m. to your sister’s house, where you would spend the night so you could be with her family on Christmas Day from the very beginning. But then Andrew fucking Barber, your fabulous boss, left a gift in your office, a breath-taking bracelet now sitting low on your right wrist, and it all went to hell.

Maybe you could still make it to your sister’s house – it was shortly after nine, your bag waiting on your bed, so maybe you should just call another Uber and be on your way. Maybe you could leave the silly envelope in the post-box just so you wouldn’t have to deal with Andy’s reaction; after all, he had chosen the same approach; cookies be damned, there would be more left for Harry then-

But you really, really wanted to thank him. And you might be shitting your pants, but the prospect of seeing him in a domestic environment, possibly more relaxed, perhaps nearing the man you had had the honour to see on those nights… you couldn’t make yourself to pass on that opportunity.

At the same time, you kept reminding yourself that Andy did not expect to see you tonight, he might not even be home – you were pretty sure a dim light was coming from the living room, the TV on probably, but yeah, you could keep lying to yourself – and that he might be grieving and genuinely might hate you for invading his privacy since you had to search his home address in the official documents.

Yeah, you definitely should just spin on your heels and-

“Oh for God’s sake,” you muttered under your breath and pressed the doorbell, your heart suddenly hammering in your ribcage as you realized there were no takebacks now. “Shit.”

Maybe you should just run. What if he had fallen asleep already and you just woke him up?! Oh, he was so going to be pissed and he might even show that emotion, screaming you down like he did one with that intern-

A scruffle on the other side of the door snapped you from your hopeless expectations and you sucked in a horrified breath.

And then the door slid open before you could react and you were certain you looked like a deer caught in the headlights, a semi-frozen deer to make the situation worse and--- there he was.

You quickly dropped your gaze, only then realizing how rude that was and that you should meet his eye no matter how much you did and did not want to do so at the same time. As you gaze travelled up, you found that a domestic Andy was everything you imagined he would be; black socks, loose dark grey sweats, pale t-shirt slightly wrinkled. One of his arms hung loosely by his side, the other still at the door-knob as you continued your inspection, gaze caressing the line of his bare forearm, reaching the sleeves that were hugging his biceps precisely. Broad shoulders, perfectly trimmed beard framing plush lips with the slightest hint of a curious smile.

You smiled awkwardly as your eyes met his watching you with interest, dimmed with a hint of a doze-off you must have woken him up from. You tried not to dwell on the inconspicuous redness surrounding his irises.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up!” you blurted out quickly, rewarded with a light shake of his head and a stifled yawn; subtle.

“You didn’t. Hi,” he greeted you, only to make you realize that 1. you forgot to say hi and 2. his post-nap voice was a thing from wet dreams-- which was definitely not relevant at that moment.

“Hi,” you offered unsurely, eyes roaming his face, searching for any trace of anger. All you found was bewilderment; if pleasant or not, you couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry for barging in. I just… uhm- I wanted to thank you and-“

The hint of a smile on his lips grew a fraction, expression softening at your admission and before you could find your footing, he opened the door further, subtly extending his hand to usher you in.

Your heart skipped a beat, the strangest feeling tickling your gut, teeth sinking into your lower lip, the grip on your handbag growing stronger. Yet you accepted, taking two reluctant steps inside. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing whatever fate awaited you.

Attempting not to look too nosy, you turned back to Andy rather than scanning the hall.

Words got stuck in your throat. As tired as he looked, worn to a bone by everything but physical exercise, you couldn’t but marvel at what a handsome man he was, even without his smart suits and ties and neatly styled fluffy hair; it was still very fluffy, just more of a mess than a fashion statement.

God, wasn’t he beautiful.

He kept looking at you too in mute anticipation of something, appearing mildly lost just as you were, giving the impression of a man who couldn’t tell what to expect.

Your gaze locked with his, unyielding, a gorgeous trap and you knew you had to say or do something before your heart gave out entirely.

Your mouth opened, no words coming out and you cursed yourself, simply opening the bag and pulling out a Tupperware box with half the cookies you baked last night, practically shoving it to Andy’s capable hands.

He accepted the item with eyebrows shooting up once before settling back, eyes misting for a moment. His fingertips brushed yours as he took a firm hold of the box, the not-quite-there smile of his remaining on his lips.

He seemed perplexed.

You felt like an idiot.

“This feels so silly now,” you admitted with a sigh, realizing the absurdity of the situation only accented by the fact that you stood there in the hall of his home in your coat and high-boots, ridiculously overdressed in comparison to him.

“It’s not,” he whispered finally, forcing the corners of his mouth to rise higher. “Thank you. Didn’t know you baked. Should have figured.”

You shrugged. “Never came up.”

Something shifted in his expression as did in the air; you knew he sensed it too. The unspoken hung between you, that you meant not in your daily routine at the office, but on your private nights, so rare and precious, so desperately pretended to be non-existent the next morning.

Your gaze lowered as the silence fell on your pair again and you awkwardly shifted your weight from one leg to the other. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“So, uh-“

“Thank you for the bracelet. Really. It was-” you licked your lips, meeting his eyes again, so deep, so blue and somehow soft and you forgot what you were about to say. “Eh- I wasn’t expecting it. I-- I didn’t think you’d… notice. And--- care.”

His brows furrowed for a bit and he placed the box on the shoe rack next to him; an action he soon regretted you guessed, because his fingers went for his wrist as if he wanted to readjust his cufflinks, a nervous habit of his, only to meet bare skin. Good to know you weren’t the only one iffy in this conversation.

“But you liked it?” he asked almost shyly and the corners of your lips rose on instinct as did you right hand, the sleeve of your coat sliding down a fraction, enough to reveal the new accessory.  “Looks pretty on you.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers gently slid over one of the symbols, brushing over the sensitive skin of your wrist. His gaze returned to yours, a flicker of something heated in his eyes, calling butterflies to your stomach.

Lord have mercy.

“Thanks- uhm--- thank you. Here, I got you something too.” You quickly reached into the handbag again to hide how flustered you felt – for a different reason than awkwardness.

He had touched your wrist and you turned into a blushing mess. Fabulous. And to make the matter more humiliating, now a twinkle of amusement played in his irises.

“You gave me a plant. And cookies.”

“Yeah. Kinda? But that was more of a… gesture?” you offered reluctantly as you handed him the envelope. “I uh—this is probably stupid, but, uhm--- here.”

“Stop putting yourself down,” he muttered darkly, causing your cheeks to burn hotter. “Thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything.” Pulling out the firm colourful paper, he blinked a few times, seemingly surprised. Ha, you bet he expected a Walmart card! Instead, there was a voucher for five entrances to the swimming pool where your friend Lee worked at. “Oh. Thank you. That’s really nice of you.”

A stone the size of Texas fell from your stomach and you couldn’t help the sigh of relief. Andy seemed genuinely pleased by your choice of gift and you felt your whole body relax.

“It’s just… eh, just for half an hour each and you can pick them on a horizon of three months. I’m not sure how often you like going, so… uhm, my friend works at the place, so you just give her a call and it shouldn’t be a problem to book it for mornings right before the opening hours,” you explained lamely, earning a puzzled look.

“How did you know I liked going when no one’s there?”

That caused one corner of your lips twitch in slight amusement and your eyebrow arch, even if his reasons weren’t exactly funny; his cheeks flushed a hint of red, a sight to behold for more than one reason. It was nice to have the roles reserved, you making him feel flustered for once.

Really? The rather quiet lone-wolf Andy Barber, followed by reporters still, just asked you this? Cute.

“…that’s fair,” he said and for a brief second, you were afraid you had shared your thoughts out loud. But he didn’t look offended, so probably not. The self-awareness then. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m-eh, glad you like it.”

You stood there again, both smiling – a little reluctantly, a little soft – and once again you had no idea how to proceed.

What you did know was that you enjoyed talking to him, even if it was awkward like this. You enjoyed seeing him in his natural habitat, in his home, relatively relaxed. You thrived seeing more of this Andy Barber, just a handsome guy, not Andrew Barber, the hot-shot lawyer.

He was the first to break the silence, hesitantly gesturing further into the house.

“Would you—would you like to-“

YES! was what you brain screamed.

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother…” was what you told him, mentally cuffing yourself on the head.

“You’re not,” Andy opposed lowly. The whisper of your name that followed made you shiver.

His gazed trailed all over your face, so intense you would swear he saw right into your soul and further. You felt naked, but for some reason not too vulnerable – Andy seemed to like what he saw, expression genuinely inviting and yet. Yet there was a subtle promise of this not being a friendly invite which was as exciting as unsettling. The air appeared the crackle and you found yourself yearning to taste the electricity on your tongue.

“May I?”

He beckoned to your coat, suddenly free hands already rising and all you could do was to nod, automatically placing your handbag on the floor and unbuttoning the garment. Once if fell open, revealing simple black jeggings and a light pink sweater, Andy sidestepped you, fingers sliding under the hem, cautiously skimming over the bare skin above your collarbones, leaving a burning sensation in their wake.

The warmth of his fingertips seeped into your flesh and yet you shuddered, goosebumps rising on your skin.

You watched Andy put your coat away with care, turning back to you torturously slowly. He filled all of your personal space, so close and too far. You weren’t sure when exactly the air turned so heavy in your lungs, but as your gaze travelled to his lips, not missing how his sought yours in return, you felt all the oxygen leave the room.

“Andy,” the word rolled off your tongue, nothing but a soundless breath of his name.

His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips again and back before he spoke, voice barely above a whisper, hoarse.  

“Am I imagining it?”

He didn’t have to say what and still you knew with absolute certainty that he was addressing the unbearable and delicious tension, the one that had been building and coming to life during those three nights you had spent talking in his office late--- and now it was back with smouldering intensity.

“You’re not.”

You shivered and gulped when he cautiously took a single little step further into your space, your gaze falling to his chest, lowering in sudden surge of the deep-rotted insecurity, whispering about your and his world being thousands of miles apart. And yet, your heart raced in anticipation, your hopes dizzyingly high that you might touch heaven, even if for a few moments.  

When his fingertips grasped your jaw, tough light and oh so careful, your eyelids fluttered close, already indulging in the sensation. God, his touch was so soft despite the roughness of his fingertips…

As if he wished to torture you or to indulge that sweet little moment before lips met lips, he stopped an inch from his destination, his breaths as wavering as yours, the words whispered straight into your mouth just a little broken.

“I’m fucked up.”

Your brain basked in blissful fog, but this got across, causing you to tense briefly.

You couldn’t deny what he was saying, you both knew he spoke the ultimate truth – well, you guessed. What had happened to him, having his life dismantled and then losing his family, that sort of thing was bound to leave a scar. Confirming it bluntly though, that felt unforgiving, only adding insult to injury.

“We all are,” you whispered instead, not only because you wouldn’t say ‘fucked up’, the words too harsh.

And it wasn’t trivializing the tragic turn his life had taken. It wasn’t downplaying the depth of his wounds. It wasn’t necessarily implying that you had been through something equally horrible either. Most importantly, it wasn’t you mocking him.

And somehow, he understood that; even if he could have interpreted it in every wrong way imaginable and shove you away, insulted, disgusted.

But no, in that fleeting moment that meant everything, Andy understood that this was your acceptance; this was you telling him that you were willing to try; take whatever he offered and give anything you could in return.

Finally, his lips brushed over yours, slightly chapped and oh so warm and delicious, withdrawing too soon, leaving you to savour the taste as your ran your tongue over your own lips. You inhaled shakily, overwhelmed by everything that was him, powerful, electrifying and then your hand was somehow on his chest, your palm laid over his racing heart, your fingers twitching as his ribcage expanded with a sharp inhale.

Blindly, your mouth searched his again, his whiskers tickling softly and scratching at once, a pleasant sensation on your sensitive skin as he grew bolder, and truly attached your lips in a kiss that made you feel lightheaded with the emotion poured into it. Your hand curled around his nape, an instinct to pull him closer, fingers toying with the short soft hair there, drawing a hum from within the expanse of his chest.

You granted him access to your mouth when he wordlessly asked, but it was him who retreated shortly after that, his heart now appearing as if in pain with its furious beats under your palm. His breaths started coming out short and it dawned to you what was wrong. How fast this could have felt to him, even if he was the one to start it.

‘I’m fucked up,’ he had said. Too caught in the moment, you hadn’t fully realized the extent of his words perhaps.

But you did now – at least a little better than before.

So when he rested his forehead against yours and a breathless ‘sorry’ slipped from his lips, you shook your head lightly and planted a kiss on his cheek, hand still on the back of his head, fingers running over his scalp in a hopefully soothing motion.

“I’ve got you, Andy. You lead.”

You had no strength to keep him close when he pulled his face away, your eyes snapping open in fright that you had said something terribly wrong.

But Andy’s cerulean eyes were big and glassy, grateful and softly speaking about him being… moved by your proposition. Your heart felt like it just grew twice its size, too big to fit into your chest at what a breath-taking picture he was.

The next thing you knew, he dropped a chaste kiss to your forehead and pulled you into his arms, an almost protective embrace, kissing the top of your head for a good measure and you melted against his large frame, smiling into t-shirt.

“Thank you,” he murmured breathlessly into your hair and your smile widened, remembering the note he had left with the exquisite gift that had started everything that led you right here into this moment.

“Happy Holidays.”

Thank you for reading! I’ve been sitting on this since the beginning of damn November. I hope you enjoyed.

It was my first (and maybe last) time writing Andy, so I hope it was alright. Feedback always appreciated.

P.S. – sorry if the nosy reporters thing offended you.

P.P.S. - …I know, the prompt was veeery loosely filled. Shush.

Pretty divider by whismicalrogers.

[suituuup]

crushing it

A day in the life of Bechloe with triplets and a seven-year-old. For the lovely @snowonebutyou as a birthday gift <3

rated: G

word cout: 1,600

ao3 link

*

Mornings in the Beale-Mitchell household are often chaotic. 

(who is Beca kidding. Always. Always chaotic.) 

When Abigail turned three, Chloe and Beca decided they wanted to have another baby. 

To their utter shock, it wasn’t one heartbeat that showed up on the ultrasound, but three. 

Three babies. Triplets. 

Following a few hours of panic (mostly on Beca’s end, because she would be the one birthing them), Chloe reminded Beca that they were the best team, and that they would, in Amy’s words, crush it. 

Fast forward four and a half years, Beca does believe they’re crushing it, even if it’s hectic from waking-up to drop-off and from pick-up to bedtime. 

Honestly, though? Beca wouldn’t change it for the world. 

“Mama, I’m lost!”

Beca glances over her shoulder to find Jacob struggling to put on her sweater as his head is stuck in the sleeve. 

She chuckles, abandoning Jamie for a second to crawl on all-fours over to her other son. “Hold on, baby.” She pulls on the sleeve and twists the sweater, Jacob’s head popping through in the right hole this time. “There you are. Now put your pants on, quick! We don’t wanna be late for school.” 

“Mamaaaaa!” Eleanor, the youngest of the tribe and by far the most mischievous one, zooms into the room from the bathroom. “My teeth are all brushed!”

Beca manages to bite back the f-word when she realizes Ellie also smeared toothpaste all over her top. She doesn’t want to stomp on her daughter’s pride by scolding her for being messy when she accomplished a task all by herself, and takes a deep, centering breath. 

“Good job. We might wanna change your top, though.” She pushes to her feet, rummaging through the dresser top drawer for something clean. “Here you go.” 

“That’s Jamie’s!” Eleanor cries, pouting. “It’s got a dinosaur on it, Mama!” 

“Yeah well lucky you, because dinosaurs are really cool.” 

That seems acceptable for Ellie, who accepts to switch without further argument. 

“Alright, let’s brush our teeths boys and go downstairs!” 

While one of them gets the triplets ready for school, the other puts their lunch boxes together and cleans up breakfast. 

“All good?” Chloe asks when they round the corner to the kitchen a few minutes later. 

Beca huffs, making a bee-line for the counter to take a much-needed sip from her coffee. Great, it’s cold. She grimaces and sets the mug down. “Ugh.” 

“I poured fresh one in your travel mug,” Chloe lets her know with a soft wink as she gives each triplet their backpack containing their lunches.  

Beca groans, snagging it. “I love you.” 

“Love you, too.” Chloe pecks Beca’s lips before calling upstairs, “Abigail, time to go!” 

“Alright monsters, shoes.” Beca ushers the triplets to the entryway where their shoes are stored. 

“I do it, Mama,” Jamie says, because they’ve obviously got time to practice shoe lacing this morning. 

Summoning the patience she definitely didn’t have before becoming a mom, Beca smiles, observing. She’s gotta admit, Jamie sticking his tongue out in concentration is adorable. “Cross, loop, loop and tie. Good job!” 

She high fives him, then grabs their three coats, handing them over. Their oldest appears and quickly puts her shoes on, standing on the tip of her toes to unhook her coat herself. 

“Alright, let’s roll, fam!” Once Chloe’s kissed each child goodbye, they step out of the house and pile into the van (yep, they’ve got a van now) with only two minutes behind schedule. 

“Mama play the song!” Eleanor requests once Beca’s pulled out of their driveway. 

Their children have impeccable taste in music, much to Beca’s pride. Ellie’s been obsessed with Lizzo’s Truth Hurts lately though, which… does include a few bad words and which landed Beca and Chloe a meeting with her Kindergarten teacher after Ellie apparently belted out “Turns out I’m a hundred percent that bitch” during recess. 

Later that day, Beca explained to their four-year-old daughter that the word bitch shouldn’t be said in public, even through song. 

They make it to school on time, Beca pulling up in the drop off section and watching her kids step out. “See you tonight guys, love you!” 

She enjoys the ten minutes of relative quiet over the drive to the office, contentedly sipping at her coffee as she hums along to the radio. After parking in her spot in front of the studio, she checks her phone to find a message from her wife. She chuckles, her cheeks warming up as she reads Chloe’s words. 

My love

Didn’t have time to tell you, but you’re rocking that work suit 🥵

Beca

Oh yeah? 

My love

Any chance you can stop by the clinic for lunch and… entertain me? 

Beca

Jesus, woman. 

I would, but today’s packed with meetings. 

I’ll make it up to you once the kids are asleep 😉

My love

Fine, I guess I’ll settle for that, then. Have a good day. Love you!

Smiling to herself, Beca replies with the same sentiment. 

Her work day is busy with meetings left and right and finishing up a project to meet the deadline, and Beca’s brain has turned to mush by the time she steps through the threshold of their home at the end of the day, a bit later than usual. 

Jacob, the most affectionate of their four kids greets her with a much-needed hug when she rounds the living room corner. Beca closes her eyes and inhales his shampoo, his hair still slightly damp from bath time. 

Bless her wife for handling the pre-dinner routine all by herself. 

“Thank you baby. Mama really needed that.” She lets him go, walking over to where Ellie and Jamie are playing on the floor and kissing each forehead. “Hey munchkins.” 

Abigail is coloring at the table while Chloe stirs something at the stove when Beca ventures into the kitchen next. She cards her fingers through her daughter’s red hair. “Hey baby. Whatcha drawing?” 

“Flowers,” the seven-year-old replies as she reaches for a different crayon. 

“Very pretty,” Beca says, bending down to kiss her head as well. She steps up to Chloe, wrapping her arms around her waist from behind. “Hey you.” 

Chloe leans back against her briefly. “Hi. Busy day?” 

“So busy. Thanks for handling everything by yourself, babe.” She brushes a kiss to Chloe’s cheek, squeezing her waist as she steps away. “Can I do anything to help?” 

“It’s almost ready so just get the kids to wash up?” 

Dinner is mostly entertained by their kids talking about the activities they did at school. Following a bit of playtime, both she and Chloe head upstairs to put them to bed. Abigail handles herself now, but she does still like for one of her moms to read her a story. 

“Mama?” She asks as soon as Beca closes the book to set it back on the shelf. 

“Yeah baby?” 

“What’s it like to be in love?” 

Beca blinks in shock, far from expecting that question from her seven-year-old. She supposes it’s better than the where do babies come from? bomb, but still. 

“Um, well…” she clears her throat, shifting so that she’s facing Abigail as opposed to sitting beside her. She thinks about her wife, and tries to put how she feels in clear words. “Basically, it’s… thinking about that person all the time, and feeling safe and really happy and… at home whenever you’re around them.”

“And you wanna kiss?” 

Beca purses her lips for a moment. “Um, sure. You may want to kiss them if you’re in love with them.” 

Abigail seems to mull that over for a little while. “Benjamin kissed me today, does that mean he’s in love with me?” 

Jesus Christ. Beca really wishes Chloe was here right now to handle this conversation. 

“No, not necessarily,” she says once she’s gathered her bearings. “People kiss other people without being in love. It might just be… an attraction, like, thinking someone is pretty.” 

Abigail grins. “I think he’s handsome.” 

Watching her seven-year-old daughter swoon over some boy is very unsettling and something Beca was definitely not ready for for another ten years at least. 

“So you wanted him to kiss you, then?” Beca asks tentatively to make sure that boy didn’t force Abigail to kiss him. 

Abigail nods. “It was cool.” 

Cool. Cool. Cool?! 

Beca sucks in a breath, mustering a smile. “Okay, as long as you agreed to it, that’s fine. You know that if a boy or a girl wants to kiss or hug you and you don’t want to, it’s okay to say no, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good.” She bends down to kiss Abigail’s forehead. “Anything else before I go?” 

“Nope. Night, Mama.” 

“Goodnight, baby.” 

She tucks the covers up to Abigail’s chin and hits the main light on her way out, her brain reeling as she heads back downstairs. She finds Chloe folding a load of laundry on the couch with the TV on low, and lowers herself beside her. 

“What’s wrong?” She asks immediately, frowning at Beca’s expression. 

Beca clears her throat. “Our daughter is apparently… kissing boys.” 

“Which one?” 

“Abigail,” Beca hisses, shocked that Chloe would think that Ellie is old enough to be kissing anyone. 

Chloe simply smiles, picking up a pair of toddler jeans from the basket and folding them. “She’s seven, it’s pretty normal for her to explore those things.” 

Beca squints. “How old were you?” 

“About that age, I think. It was just a tiny peck.” She tosses the jeans on the folded pile and picks up another item. “My first real kiss was at thirteen.” 

“Who was it?” 

Chloe laughs, cocking an eyebrow. “What is this, an interrogatory?” 

“No, I’m just curious, I guess.” She shrugs, grabbing a towel from the basket to fold it. 

“His name was Jeremy. Too much tongue. Did not kiss him again.” 

“Ew. What is it with dudes and tongue?”

Chloe giggles. “Beats me.” She eyes her wife. “Who was yours?” 

“My neighbor Trevor. I was fifteen.” Beca closes her eyes and shudders exaggeratedly. “If I could erase it from my memory I would.” 

“Good thing you’re married to an excellent kisser to make up for the trauma, huh?” Chloe smirks and waggles her eyebrows, pulling a chuckle from Beca. 

“Dude, not to boost your ego even more or anything, but that first kiss sent me into another dimension. I just about forgot my own name.” 

“Aww. You were still a useless baby gay back then. Discovering the power of women.” 

“Shut up,” Beca mutters, shoving her wife as she flushes. She eyes the basket and groans. “How do we have so much laundry?” 

“Four kids, babe.” 

Beca sighs, then glances at Chloe, a smirk curving her lips. “Wanna leave it for tomorrow and make out?” 

Chloe’s on top of her before she can register it, muffling her squeak of laughter with a heated kiss. 

[themorphine]

3rd Times a Charm, Chap 4

GUYS I AM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY I FINALLY HAD TIME TO WRITE, hope you enjoy!

I woke up shaking. No someone was shaking me.

"FEYRE." Someone screamed my name. Alis. I jumped out of bed. What was going on? Was Tamlin here? Was Alis's ex here? Did the bakery near us run out of blueberry muffins?

Alis's expression was not scared or frightened or angry but full of excitement. "Your tired ass fell asleep before I could get you to spill the beans on your date. So what happened? You don't have that it was a good date smile, why? TELL ME."

"Slow down Alis, your gonna give me a headache at 6 in the morning."

"It's actually 5 pm, and I made you coffee it's on your side table. I added a bit of creamer just like you like it."

"You're a lifesaver, Alis. A gift sent from the gods." she chuckled as I greedily took the mug from the side table and drank the coffee. I could feel the heavenly liquid coursing through my veins, making me more alert.

"Oh and that violet-eyed dude is in the kitchen." I choked on my coffee and whipped my head to her. "What." Rhys- Rhysand was here? For how long? Why was he here? To see me? Don't be stupid Feyre, I thought. I thought we agreed that disappointment was fake.

I leaped out of bed and stumbled to my closet, looking for something nice to wear. What hadn't I gone shopping with Alis when she asked? I rummaged through my closet when I noticed a bag near the door of my closet. I picked it up and looked inside. There was a deep blue blouse, baggy light-washed jeans, and tiny hoop earrings. Had I bought these? When? I never went shopping, Ha-

"I got that for you this morning!" Alis hollered. Alis was really a lifesaver. I thanked her 5 times and promised to make it up to her until she shouted at me to go change, and I ran into the bathroom, making sure not to run into Rhysand.

I put on the outfit, and I had to admit I looked good. Even though the jeans were loose, You could still see my curves and gods the blouse. For some reason, it reminded me of Rhysand and those impossible violet eyes. He was so beautiful, though I would never admit it because his ego would skyrocket. He looked inhumanly beautiful like he was something else, something much more powerful. I w-

"FEYRE WHAT'S TAKING SO LONG?"

I jumped and slammed back into reality. Stop daydreaming Feyre, he doesn't like you. End of story. I quickly put on the earrings and opened the door, Alis was sprawled on the bed and jumped up when she saw me. She squealed and said "Feyre you look amazing! I knew those clothes would look amazing on you for your date-"

"DATE?" I screamed. Date?! When had I agreed to go on a date with Rhysand? He obviously wasn't interested in me, what was going on?

Her eyes were filled with suspicion for a moment, but then turned to shock and amusement

"So you don't remember anything from last night?" What the hell is she talking about?

"Obviously not! How the hell did I get another date?!"

Alis told me about last night, how I woke her up when I dropped a wine glass when I went to get some at 3 in the morning, how we ended up drinking wine, laughing, talking, and then going on my phone. She told me how I messaged another guy, I found out was Azriel, and asked for a date, he agreed and I told him to pick the place. Alis had then passed out but I must have messaged more because there were so many messages, full of random talks, and I realized we were talking about Again but Better by Christine Riccio, a novel we both enjoyed immensely but he seemed shy to admit it. Gods Feyre, what have you done? Wait isn't Rhysand in the house?! Wait why do you care whether he hears you, he DOESNT like you!

Alis must have seen my confusion, because then she smirked and said casually "Oh yeah, Rhysand isn't really here I just said that because that is the only way to get you out of bed."

I glared at her, but I couldn't really be mad at her, she was right. And that surprised me.

I decided not to eat breakfast because my date, Azriel was taking me somewhere. I was scrolling through the pictures on tinder and our past conversations. I had to admit, he looked gorgeous. He was muscled like Rhys and Cassian, but his eyes were different. Not different like Rhys and the same hazel like Cassians, but like they had shadows in them. He looked as if he would have shadows around him, curling in his ear to tell him things. There you go again Feyre, your artist's eye is very weird these days.

I shook my head and stood up. It was almost 6, and I had to walk to the restaurant we were going to. He had offered to pick me up when we were talking last night, but I was still too suspicious of paranoid to go in a car with a man. I thanked that my drunk self spared my embarrassment and did not tell him that.

I said goodbye to Alis and she wished me luck, with her nephews in her lap. I smiled and hugged them both before leaving.

Velaris was the perfect weather tonight, warm but with a cooling breeze that blew the hair out of my face. It was 5:40, and the sun looked like it was going to set soon. The clouds looked like a painting, and I was enraptured in them. I could never paint clouds like that, could never get the shadows right, c-

One second I was thinking about the clouds, and the next second my body slammed into something. Yet again, not something, but someone. I lost balance from the blow, but someones strong, definitely a mans, hands reached and put his arm around my waist. The hand felt familiar. The scent was similar too. I looked at who had saved me from probably getting a really bad butt bruise and saw a pair of violet eyes. Shit

"Feyre Darling, it seems I am always bumping into you. not that I'm complaining." He had his signature smirk, his violet eyes dancing with amusement. I wanted to paint those eyes so badly, to find the right-DATE FEYRE. You have a date.

"Prick" I mumbled, and he chuckled. He released his hold on me, and a small part of me wished he kept it there. His eyes widened a bit as he took me in, drinking in every. Single. Inch. Of. Me. He lingered on my lips, and something pooled low in my stomach. Shitshitshitshitshit.

"So why are you so dressed up? Not that I'm mad, you look delicious." I might have blushed a bit at that, but I was also annoyed that he had such a hold over me. I needed to get back on track. Date with Azriel.

"If you must know you busybody I am going on a date." Again his eyes dimmed a bit, but I told myself it was fake, how could eyes dim? A growing part of me snorted at that and said, Oh you wait.

"Last Night's one was that good? Damn, what did your date do?" I appreciated that he respected and did not make assumptions about my sexuality, most men I knew, scratch that, all men I knew other than Cassian and Rhys would do that.

"Yesterday's date and I realized we could be way better as friends, but I gave him my sister's number." His brows furrowed at that as if remembering something. They smoothed instantly.

"Well Feyre Darling, I wouldn't want to make you late for your date-"

"No, you wouldn't" I cut in. I might have sounded rude, but it was the only way I was going to go on my date with Azriel and not cancel it. I dusted the dirt off my pants, and walked off, making sure not to look back at him, not hearing him sigh, not hearing him say, "I'll be waiting, Feyre Darling."

The restaurant was extremely fancy, with gold chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The furniture was all brown, and though it looked expensive they all had a worn aura to them. It was like everything in here was well used. I could smell the food from the kitchen and it smelt heavenly. I walked along the hardwood floor, my shoes creating a little click-clack sound.

I spotted Azriel a few tables away. He was reading the menu, his dark hair falling on his face. He looks like a shadow. I thought. My hands itched to paint it, to have swirling black shadows around him, whispering to him, curling around his caramel brown ears.

GET IT TOGETHER FEYRE, god. I shook myself for good measure and walked up to Azriel's table. He must have heard the sound my shoes made because he looked up before I was at the table. He got up and pulled out my seat. I blushed a bit and thanked him.

"So, Feyre right?"

"Yep, the one and only."

"You are an amazing drunk texter." I whipped my head to his face and stared at him my eyes a bit wide. He had a small smile, his eyes full of amusement.

"Why thank you Azriel," I said smugly, not giving him the satisfaction of my embarrassment. No way in hell was I going to tell him Alis had looked at every text before I sent them.

"You know, it seems like it was too good," he said in a low whisper, gliding his finger across the rim of his glass of water. "Like somebody helped you."

I sputtered, trying to come up with a good explanation, and all the smugness I had before had mysteriously vanished. How did he guess?

"I'm in the CIA Feyre, I know how to find out people's secrets." Oh god, I said that last part out loud.

Before I could say anything the waiter came to ask what we wanted. I looked through the menu and smiled. They had mushroom ravioli. I had gone through a big Twilight Phase, and sometimes I wondered if I ever got over it. I ordered the mushroom ravioli, and I forced Az to get the same thing.

We started talking about Twilight, and I found out that he secretly loved the books and movies. I thanked the mother when he said he was Team Edward, gods knows what I would have said to him if he was Team Jacob. We talked about how there should have been more carlesme, how Rosalie deserved better, and we both had a love for Garrett. He also talked a bit about his time at the CIA, though he couldn't share much. The more I talked with Az, the more I realized that we wouldn't work as a couple, but I would do anything to have him as a friend, family even. Even though I was smiling, I felt huge guilt in me. I was going to have to hurt this man. I also realized that Elain would work well with him, I would give him her number. Dang Feyre you really like to play matchmaker don't you.

We finished our dinner, and we were outside the restaurant when I decided I would tell him.

"Az-"

"Yes, I would like to stay friends Feyre." His eyes were warm and kind, not sad or mad at all. I stared at him in shock.

"H-"

"I work for the CIA remember? I saw it in your eyes and body language."

"Oh. Thanks, Az, I'm super glad I made a new friend." I smiled up at him and hugged him. He stiffened for a second before hugging me back. I made sure to give him Elain's number before I walked back home. I felt so much lighter, Even though I wasn't making any boyfriends I was making friends, friends I knew I would remember forever.

Taglist:

@feysandandnyxsworld

message me if u want to be a part of it :)

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

Professors and Shortbread

First, Previous (Chap. 18), Ao3

Word count: 2186

Warnings: smoking, swearing, bones (talked about)

Roman woke up to someone violently shaking him.

"Wake up," Remus hissed. "Wake up, wake up, wake up, asshole!"

"What is it?" Roman grumbled, trying to shake Remus' hand off. "Fuck, Remus, it's like three am! We have school tomorrow, you fucking dick."

"Roman, I just realized something! Stop hitting me, this is important!"

Roman groaned and finally sat up.

"What is so important that you have to wake me up at three am on a school night?"

"It's more like four am, but that's beside the point," Remus waved off. "I just realized that Professor Logic is really fucking stupid."

Roman blinked at him exasperatedly.

"Okay," he said after a moment. "Mind if I go back to sleep now?"

"No, this is important! When I called him Mr Logic he complained, saying that he didn't go to school for years to get called Mister. If that's true that would mean that he's actually a Professor!" Remus whisper yelled.

Roman glanced from one side to the other than back to Remus.

"Yeah?"

"There can't be that many Professors in this city right? Especially not that many young, male, tall ones!"

Finally, it dawned on Roman what Remus was saying.

"So... we can try to find out his civilian identity," he mumbled and a wide grin spread over Remus' face.

"Exactly!"

---

Usually, Roman stuck around after rehearsal for a little while, chatted with the other members of the drama club or helped out with something while Remus goofed around with his friends in the club but on this Wednesday he and Remus grabbed their bags as soon as the bell rung and were the first ones out of the door.

They all but ran out all the way back home, almost getting hit by a taxi and earning a few looks and glares on the way.

The elevator ride was way too long in Roman's opinion.

They dropped their bags in their rooms,  Remus got the list he had created of all Professors whose addresses he could find in the phone book or on the internet and Roman put on his 'good kid' mask to ask Ma for a little money, pretending that it was just for him. She gave him a fifty-dollar bill. The money was for the subway and a quick lunch on the go and Roman was pretty sure that it was way more than they would need but better safe than sorry. He wasn't sure how much fast food would cost.

And just a few minutes after they had come home they were already on their way out again.

Most Professors lived downtown or at least near downtown so they first took a train downtown and went to a small Chinese place for lunch (which was a lot cheaper than Roman had expected).

Remus pulled out a map and they began marking down the addresses to see which route would be the best. Roman doubted they could check out all of them in one day but they would do their best  either way.

33 Professors was a lot for one city but Remus guessed it made sense since apparently here in downtown housing was cheap and the university was very close.

The first name on their list was Professor Jacobs.

They sauntered through the streets, using their map as a guide.

The house they ended up in front of was a trashy apartment building with at least five notes at the doorbell signs saying that the bells didn't work.

Roman pressed the Professors bell and turned to Remus.

"I'll do the talking, okay? Cause if we do find Logic I don't want you blurting out the actual we're here."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Sorry, I'm honest."

He didn't really mean it, well aware of how many times he had gotten on trouble for blurting out the truth without thinking.

The door buzzed and the pushed it open.

"Who's there?" an old-sounding voice called and as he looked up through the stairs Remus spotted a man that looked like one of those fivehundred-year-old turtles trying to look down.

"We have the pizza you ordered," Roman called back.

"I didn't order any pizza!"

"Are you sure- Oh, my mistake, sir! I misread the name! I'm terribly sorry, have a nice day!" Roman did his typical Prince Charming smile even though the man couldn't see - It was simply part of the performance - and pushed Remus back out of the door. As soon as it fell shut the smile fell again.

"If that was Logic I'm eating Ma's hats," Remus said.

Roman snorted and Remus' grin widened at the real smile on his brother's face. They were too rare.

"Okay, who's next on the list?" Roman said and Remus crossed Professor Jacobs off.

The next door they rang at was opened by a young woman named Professor Jain who looked like the living embodiment of the muddle-headed professor cliche. Roman asked which apartment someone they had seen on the bell sign an L. Williams lived in, claiming they had found their purse and awkwardly thanked her when she didn't know. Remus glanced at the door across from Prof Jain's that clearly said Williams and tried not to laugh out loud.

They visited Professor Davis and Professor Brown, Professor Price and Morgan and Professor Underweather.

Too old, too fat, too much boob, too brown, too short.

It was around seven pm now and they had had seven flukes which somehow was both too much (because why couldn't they just fucking find that asshole? Remus lit a cigarette in frustration) and too little (because how could they only have stopped by seven people so far? It was already getting too late, goddammit).

"Let's do one more and then go home," Roman yawned.

"So whose last for today?" Remus asked glancing at the list Roman was currently holding.

"Some Professor Youngblood. About as weird a name as Underweather. Good news: it's just a block away."

They walked down the street and Remus watched the smoke from his cig curl and fade into the evening sky. A few times he tried to make rings but he still couldn't figure out how to. Maybe that was just a cartoon thing though he could have sworn to have seen it in live-action movies too. Were there YouTube tutorials on this kind of stuff?

"Here it is," Roman said and Remus blinked back to reality.

They stood in front of a simple townhouse. The most notable thing was the flower bouquet visible in one of the windows that looked like something Patton would make.

"Let's give it a shot," Remus said dropped his cig and extinguished it with his shoe.

They walked up the three steps to the front door and Roman rung the doorbell. It was only one with two names. Youngblood and Youngblood-Smith.

Probably a marriage, Remus thought with distaste and prepared himself for some old dick to open up.

The door swung open and to Remus' surprise, it was a teenager probably even younger than them who leaned against the doorframe and glared at them. His eyeliner was sharper and neater than Remus would be able to make it in a thousand years and his lips were painted in a nice shade of dark purple. Maybe Remus should ask him what brand it was. It looked awesome.

"What do you want?" the boy asked with a scowl.

Remus waited for Roman to answer with some kind of excuse or something.

Roman remained silent.

The boy's glare became darker with every passing moment.

At this rate, he probably wouldn't tell Remus what lipstick he was using.

Annoyed Remus glanced over at Roman to see what the fuck was keeping him from saying anything.

The look on Roman's face almost made him gag.

Roman stared at the boy in front of them like he was the most incredible thing in the world. Like he had put the stars in the sky or was made from pure moonlight or some stupid shit like that. He stared at him as he stared into the air when he had some stupid crush or played some lovestruck idiot. He stared like he was going to start waxing poetry at any second now.

Remus doubted he had even heard the boy speak at all.

So he would have to take the situation into his own hands.

"You don't happen to be Professor Youngblood, do you?" Remus asked.

The boy raised an eyebrow.

"Do I look like I'm a fucking Professor? I'm his son, dumbass."

"Is he home?"

"No, not at the moment. What do you want from him?"

The he/him pronouns were a good sign so far and Remus couldn't imagine this guy's dad to be a Doderer. The British accent, on the other hand, wasn't a good sign but Logic could probably cover his accent or something if he really wanted to.

Roman also seemed to finally be back on earth and not on cloud nine.

"We're students of his and we have a question about this homework he gave us," he lied before Remus could say anything.

"You are?" the boy raised his other eyebrow.

"Yes, we are. Do you happen to know if he'll be back soon?"

"Not sure," the boy shrugged. "If it's that important you can come in and wait though. I could also offer you some black tea."

"Really? Yeah, er that would be awe- I mean, that would be nice!" Roman agreed.

"What are your names?" the boy asked as he led them inside. He walked past a door that probably went down to a basement and a staircase up into a small living room.

"I'm Roman," Roman said with a small bow - Jesus fucking Christ was he going fucking insane over this guy?

"And I'm Remus. I'm the good-looking twin, obviously."

The Professor's son chuckled, hiding his mouth behind his hand. "Obviously."

"And what's your name?" Roman sounded like he was asking for a precious gift rather than a fucking name.

"It's Virgil. Do you take milk and sugar in your tea?"

"Milk in tea?" Roman asked confused.

"Yeah, sure!" Remus agreed. Maybe the milk would flake as it did in juice.

Virgil came back with two cups and poured them, giving Roman a little bit of milk anyway, saying that it would be way too strong otherwise and he couldn't allow Roman to drink it pure but somehow Roman didn't complain when Virgil stood over him to pour it in. God, he was being fucking gross and sappy.

Virgil picked up his own cup again and offered them some weird cookies he called shortbread even though they didn't taste like bread at all.

Remus dumped two in his tea - which sadly hadn't flaked - and mushed them around with his spoon.

For a few minutes, it was quiet until Remus got bored with the steady clicking of the clock hanging on the wall behind him.

"So, do you like bones?" he blurted out the first question that came to mind.

Roman looked at him with barely concealed horror but Virgil's dark expression lightened up slightly to both of the twins' surprise.

"I do. It's fun to find them and clean them. I have a few in a cupboard in my room I've found in subways and other places over the years."

"Really?" Remus lit up excitedly. "I collect them too! My favourite is a   near-complete snake skeleton with a rat skull stuck inside!"

"Wow! That sounds so cool!" Virgil didn't quite smile but he wasn't scowling anymore either. "I once found a dog jaw in a quite good conditiion. And I have this really nice possum skull."

"Ooh! Can I see them?" Remus asked bouncing slightly in his seat.

"Sure. Wait here, I'll go get them," Virgil stood up and left the room. Remus could hear him walk upstairs.

"He seems nice," he commented.

"He's beautiful," Roman sighed dreamily.

"Yuck."

"You get to rant about sexy people to me, I get to talk about crushes, that's the deal," Roman reminded him.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Fine, sure. But don't be too gross about it."

They heard Virgil come back downstairs.

He showed Remus the bones and gave him some tips when Remus asked how he had gotten them so clean.

"Oh, jeez it's almost eight. We should probably get going," Roman said after a while. "Maybe we'll get to talk to the Professor some other time."

Virgil seemed to study his face for a few moments.

"Yeah, maybe," he finally said and accompanied them to the door.

"Can I have your number?" Remus asked  holding out his phone. "Then I can send you some pics of my bones and stuff!"

"Sure," Virgil took it and typed something in. "Maybe we'll get the chance to talk again sometime."

The door closed behind them and Roman swirled around to face Remus.

"You got his number?!"

"Yeah, duh."

"That's not fair! Why did he give you his number and not me!"

"Well, I didn't drool over him," Remus shrugged.

Roman pouted the entire way to the train station.

Next

Taglist:

@patton-cake

[tragicallywicked]

bella asks alice about the time before she and jasper joined the cullens

Happy birthday to Bella!!!!

So here's a fun little family time. This turned out a bit different, though they do talk about Alice and Jasper’s two years together it’s more of Bella and the fam try to embarrass Alice and then be nice to her cause Esme said so. Very cute Bella and Alice sister-in-law/best friends bonding too. And obvs Jalice cuteness PS.: It's set in 2017 for timing purposes.

Birthdays were my favorite. Even if we couldn't eat cake, we could still celebrate and party. On previous occasions, Bella's birthday had been the cause of commotions in the family. But since we had an eternity of those now, I wanted the impressions to be new about the date. Bella was my best friend and now that she wasn't human or aging anymore, I hoped that she would be glad with a party. Of course, it was just our family. 

She spent lunch at Charlie's while I had the rest of the family organize the house with me.

"Are you sure she wants this?" Rosalie eyed me as she passed on with a pile of present.

"Over on the round table, Rose," I said simply as she rolled her eyes amusedly. "We celebrate everyone's birthday here."

"Yeah, but it's not like she likes it, Alice." Rosalie mocked lightly and I sighed. Of course, they were comparing it to the previous times.

"Sure as hell it's always eventful!" Emmett came in saying it, poking Jasper on the ribs. I rolled my eyes dramatically and waltzed to my love, pecking his cheek.

"Don't mind him, it's in the past," I whispered against his ear. 

Jasper planted a hand on my lower back and nodded, "I know. Thank you." We exchanged a brief kiss and were off to finish up the decorations.

There was a cake that would be mainly for Renesmee, but it was three tiers tall, light pink with petals around it. Some appetizer plates around it as well. Anyone could easily think we were all going to eat and Edward made a remark about that.

"Ness doesn't eat that much food." He mumbled and helped Jasper place some of the helium balloons around the birthday table.

She can have it throughout the week; I thought knowing Edward would catch that, Jacob can have it too whenever he visits.

"Well, Bella hates birthday parties, so you're setting yourself to lose." He murmured with an amused smirk. Irritating, really. That thought only made him smile further, obviously.

"Get out of my head and get to work, Edward."

I joined my niece into wrapping the presents and heard as Emmett made yet another joke to Jasper. I was glad he didn't take it to heart, nor Edward. That's just how family was. It would take them some time to let go of the incident on Bella's birthday a few years ago.

Bella obviously was appalled at the party, but she gave in seeing how Renesmee was happy about the entire celebration. That much I had predicted way ahead when I first decided to plan it, so I was very excited with the outcome.

We sang her happy birthday and opened the presents with no incidents. Bella joined me on the couch as I finally sat back to relax and watch the family.

"Thanks." She mumbled, snuggling to my side for a moment. I smiled and poked her ribcage.

"I knew you would like it in the end." Honestly, sometimes her lack of faith in me bothered me a little.

"I don't like parties." She insisted, making me roll my eyes.

"When you married Edward, I told you that you would have to live with it." I loved throwing parties, so that was something Bella would have to accept.

"How come you never have parties celebrating you?"

"Yes I do, we celebrated my birthday."

"We gave you gifts and you went on a trip with Jasper."

"Believe me, we celebrated me," I smirked and my eyes quickly moved around the room until they landed on Jasper. He wasn't looking at me, but I knew he had heard it when I gazed at the side grin across his lips. When my eyes landed back on Bella, she was rolling hers amusedly, having witnessed the exchange. "I guess my sisters are not as excited as party planning, that's all."

My tone was merely teasing, but Bella seemed to take it to heart. "Oh, Alice. I'm sorry."

"Bella, I was just messing with you." I laughed heartedly, giving her a side hug.

"Ah, right." She gasped and sighed in relief, leaning into my hug. "Hey, when is yours and Jasper's anniversary?"

"You don't have to throw us anything." I clarified after the vision invaded my mind. Bella frowned, clearly distressed.

"Maybe I want to."

"I don't need to be a psychic to know you most certainly don't."

Bella seemed convinced of that much but then added, "Well, when is it? I don't think you ever told me."

"October 16th," I told her, and the date now made Jasper look at me. I gazed at him briefly and beamed. "Of nineteen fifty-two."

"Oh! You'll be married for 65 years this year!" I nodded excitedly, eyeing Bella with joy. They had been the best sixty-five years getting to share it with the love of my life. "I thought you were already married when you joined the family."

I shook my head, "Jasper and I were living in sin." At the time, that was what people thought about a woman and a man living together without being married. "We met in forty-eight and then came to the family in nineteen-fifty. It was Carlisle that suggested we get married because of what people would think."

Bella nodded; it was a no brainer that people's marital habits had changed a lot. "But you didn't think of marrying before?" I shrugged.

"We were enjoying our time together before we met the family in Calgary. You know how it is when you first do it as a vampire." I smirked, and even if my tone was a little lower, I was aware all the vampires in the room had heard it. "But not just that, we had found each other recently, we were madly in love, but Jasper had gone through a hell lot. I wanted to take my time."

I noticed the presence behind me and smiled. "That's no accurate," Jasper said it, taking the seat next to mine, talking directly to Bella now. "Alice was worried I would desert her if she pressed too hard, even if she didn't ever see it happening." Jasper's hand rested on my knee, and I placed mine on top of his, briefly looking at him.

"Like I said, you had been going through a lot." My eyes trailed back to Bella. "You know that part. I just didn't want to have him think I was trying to manipulate him or push my agenda."

"Did she tell you she got the jitters?" Rosalie said from afar, siting with Renesmee as they organized the gits. I rolled my eyes as everyone was suddenly attempting to make me the embarrassed one. Bella looked extremely surprised at Rosalie's reveal.

"She was worried I could be hiding the decision to leave her at the altar," Jasper added and I groaned.

"I like this, making Alice embarrassed. Go on." Bella chuckled. It was Edward who began approaching us with a smirk.

Don't you dare, I told him mentally, but he couldn't resist.

"She went on rambling that this was a mistake, and it was too soon to marry," Edward told them. I was appalled about this turn of events with my family, brow furrowed in annoyance.

Emmett jumped in too. He was carrying a helium balloon and I saw it happening before he did it.

"Emmett, do not." He inhaled a fair amount of helium and blasted out words that I had said on that occasion. 

"He's the one, you know. I can really ruin it. There won't be anyone else, ever." They all cracked into laughter more at Emmett's voice than the actual words. I had to admit it myself that it was indeed a little funny.

"Oh, you lot, leave Alice be," Esme said as she was with Carlisle by the kitchen counter, organizing the party's leftovers. "She's always throwing all of you memorable events, be kind. Besides, it's completely normal to get anxious at your wedding. We all had it."

"She's right, sorry, Alice." Bella pinched my elbow with an apologetically grin. Emmett passed by me and brushed, more like messed though, my hair.

"It was still funny." He said it and I rolled my eyes.

"It's fine," I assured as Jasper's hand brushed my knee, making me look up at him.

"For what's worth, I was worried you would realize I wasn't worth all that dedication and trouble." Jasper leaned to peck my cheek as I felt the entire room get filled with tenderness, love.

"Never."

"Get a room, you two." Emmett squealed out, his voice still slightly pitched. It made us both crack up in laughter again.

"It's decided," Bella said. I looked at her, puzzled that I hadn't seen what it was."

"What?"

"Ah, I like this. Jasper distracts you, and I can actually decide things privately." Her tone only made it more challenging for me. I searched for recent events, choices she was making for the near futures and landed on October 16th.

A beautiful gazebo in our backyard, our family gathered together and some of our friends as well. Not a big party, no. A small ceremony, a celebration very modest and beautiful, like something Bella would plan. She was by the gazebo's steps, in a pale mauve dress that cascaded from bellow her bust all the way to the floor. Next to her was Rosalie in the same dress, both stunning, holding a white bouquet of wild followers. On the other side were Emmett and Edward, dressed in suits and smiling. But my heart raced fast on my eyes fell on Jasper standing inside the structure, my stunning groom.

I walked down the aisle with Carlisle holding me by the arm. And joined my love on the renewal of our wedding vows. Or the making of them for those who didn't know our relationship had been sealed already, long ago.

Bella was clearly frustrated when I came back to my senses.

"Well, so much for gloating."

Jasper, who seemed a little lost, asked, "What's going on?"

"Seems like we'll be having a wedding soon." Edward chuckled.

"It's too closeby to send out invites, Bella."

"No, no, no. You let me handle that." She protested and then eyed Rosalie over her shoulder as if asking for her aid. The blonde joined us quickly now.

"It'll be great, Alice!"

"I have to agree." Carlisle echoed and Esme too was beaming.

"Am I too big to be a flower girl?" Renesmee asked, standing up to come sit with the rest of the family around the couch.

"Of course not, sweetie," I told her and then looked at Jasper. "Are you on board with that? We could always just skip and elope in Alaska, or Vegas again."

Sharing a smile at the memory that got everyone but Edward, with his intrusive thoughts, with a confused gaze at us.

"Tale for another time." Jasper clarified, as a wave of relaxation hit us all. "There's nothing I'd like more than marrying you again."

Bella grinned, and for a second, she looked too much like me, happy and excited. "It's going to be great, you guys. I promise."

I leaned into her, giving her a tight hug, "You're just happy you're not the center of attention anymore."

"You're damn right."

We all laughed.

"I just want to do something nice for yet another birthday celebration." Bella sighed contentedly into our hug.

"Alright, alright..." We were silent for a moment before eyeing Bella. "I always knew we'd be best friends. Happy birthday, Bella."

Send me a Jalice prompt

[popculturebuffet]

Star Vs: Monster Bash Review or “Holy Shit Concentrated Into An Episode”

Hello everybody! I’m Jacob Mattingly and welcome back to my tom lucitor retrospective, where I go through every major apperance of everyone’s faviorite demon boy boy. In case you watch my schedule or reguarlly read this blog, and if so thank you.. especially you Kevin your a peach, you’ll know this one got pushed back two weeks because the day it was scheduled.. was the day AFTER the US Capitol Insurgency. So yeah an episode HEAVILY dealing with racisim, with a downer ending and a lot to dig into on the same day a bunch of racists stormed the captail to try and illegally keep another racist in office due to his bullshit claims the electoin was fraud, when it wasn’t he just can’t admit he lost, and their own idocy, violence and hatred was not something I could handle that day and I did some mickey mouse instead.  But while the effects of said riot are still being felt, and unlike many republicans are saying we shouldn’t just “move on” or “try to heal” because the wound needs to be properly examined so the people who carved our country open with a rusty knife can be prosecuted for it, enough time has passed that I can get back on the horse and eat that horse when it comes to this episode. Also expect new tomtrospective weekly with some exceptions till it’s done. So with the real world reasons for the delay out of the way, on with the show.  Previously on Star Vs: Star had a full subplot dealing with her super powered mewberity form, which was now golden and creating bunches of portals. While she wanted to just let it go loose on Eclipsa’s suggestoin, eventually it caused too much damage and Hekapoo was livid when Marco revealed he’d been covering for her and Star, realizing her friend was running himself ragged and ruined a friendship to help her, went to the source of all magic to fix things, metting the baby unicorns and with thier help gaining control over her form. While she does not use it given she JUST got it before this episode, it’s very relevant and makes her come off very stupid but we’ll get to that

In more directly relevant stuff, and our main event, we need to talk about Ms. Henious. Ms. Henious was introduced all the way back in Season 1 as head of St. Olga’s School for Wayward princsesses. She’s voiced by Jessica Walter, aka Malory Archer, Lucille Bluth and .. Fran Sinclair from dinosaurs?

I’ll process that later. Point is she’s a talented lady and voiced Henious perfectly. Henious ran the school as a nightmarish hellhole that stripped away princsesses indviduality when they became too much for their parents. Granted some did genuinely need to be reigned in, Pony went there and so did princess squishy a princess that tried to reinact the plot of face off despite her and star not even being the same species let alone looking remotely similar.. she also liked to say camera phone a lot despite all phones being camera phones for over a decade. 

But again like most reform schools it’s a hell hole dedicated more to beating and psyihholically tourturing the rebel or asshole out of you than actually helping so Star and Marco broke in to break out. It naturally was difficult and strenious but in the process our heroes freed the other girls and Marco became feminsest icon Princess Marco. And Marco’s possible gender fluidity, or being trans,  was well loved and while he was later said to hate the princess marco idntenity later.. I still dont’ quite buy it and feel Disney just wanted to nip any implications in the bud. Because their stupid and often non-inclusive to the queer community and have to be fought to get inclusivity in there half the time. Could’ve been clumsy writing and the writers not getting people really relating to marco possibly being gender fluid or trans, which given this season’s clumsy writing with marco in general I could buy, but i’m banking more on disney, where one executive can somehow stonewall gay representation because apparnetly one guy was the one who objected to enchanting grom fright.. and he can also go fuck himself with an old rhino’s horn. Which horn is up to you. Also we got two major hints at the future iwth her: a creepy mural star found of monsters and Henious being revealed to have cheek marks she supressed with her very own brainwashing machine. 

Our heroes revolution had uintetional side-effects as St.O’s became a party school, though it’s students actually still came back better for the moast part. Henious was thrown out, reduced to sleeping in her car with her manservant gemini and sending Rasticore, a septarian mercinary afer star.. and then carrying his arm around when he got reduced to that.. not because of star but because of a rogue gift card. We don’t have time to unpack that, so she later tried attacking one more time in season 2, in one of the single worst episodes of the series, as she attacked and Marco’s Parents, instead of being concerned about the strange woman and man and lizard man arm attacking thier children, were more concerned about.. tehir cool neighbors. which could’ve been funny but just got frustrating, especially because Marco defended himself well, pointing out while he trashed her school, and gets merchandising rights from princess marco merch, she you know, brainwashed innocent to semi innocent children and was in general horrible and his parents are only humoring her because they were both out of hte loop, which due to this being shortly before star and marco leaves amounts to nothing, and because of the stupid plot. 

So after that we got one more apperance in season 3 with her trying to expose marco as a boy to turn the princsses against him and get her school back.. but it was clearly a desperate and flimsy plan and they knew that already, and don’t care because their accepting. And again have done better without her so she gets thrown out and swore revenge on Marco, and here we are.  Finally, since returning Star’s been more active in monster rights, replacing their old batshit insane and patronizingly racist expert with Buff Frog and starting a position to get royal signatures. Obviously this dosen’t sound like the most effective way to do things but it’s both teenager accurate and not the worst plan i’ve heard from a teenager this week.. granted that’s also because I covered a teenager trying to win back her good for not a lot 23 year old boyfriend by stabbing his current girlfriend he left her for a bunch, so it’s not exactly a high bar to clear. So outside of the golden form thing, which i’ll get to in the review proper why I brought that up, that’s what’s all built up to this the mid season finale. While Stump Day DID come after this, I chose to cover it before it since it both takes place before that and feels out of place in the very story heavy episodes after it. So with that out of the way we’ll be taking a look at the full episode and Star’s horrible, no good, very bad night under the cut. 

We open at the Monster Temple, that place Ludo and Toffee were headquartered at for season 2 and the battle of mewni mini, where Star is holding a PARTY!

This.. this came up when I typed party. I don’t know why and I don’t WANT to know. I mean party is in the name.. is that a party line? Is this phone sex? No.. just no.. I don’t want dirty sweaty pigs in my phone sex.. I want Rocko like a gentlemen. 

Now THAT’S hot. And honestly with what i’ve admitted about myself at this point, can you genuinely tell if i’m joking or not?  Point is Marco and Rich Pidgeon are pitching in. Oh yeah those of you who didn’t get this far in the series, again hi kevin, might wonder wait whose that... well he’s a rich pidgeon, part of the pidgeon kingdom a kingdom of pidgeons that moved into another family’s castle, presumibly killed them, the book wasn’t specific on that and is now just a large bunch of pidgeons that don’t talk human except rich and get all creepy. They also have an excutioner which is as great a visual as you imagine. 

That and Marco tried faking singing rich singing it by shving a pien in his foot and making him sign it.. he didn’t know he was fully sapient but still. But it’s also season 3 marco. The fact he didn’t accidently burn the castle down trying to impress star and being mad when she wasn’t happy he comitted arson is an achievement. Rich apparently holds a grudge but says just kiddng.. maybe.. i’d be prepared for a pidgeon with a machete if I were Marco. Thankfully i’m not.. I mean I hate myself enough. 

Anyways the party is in full swing, as both monsters and mewmans are there. On the mewman sides are the royals we met at the Silver Bell Ball and on the monster side are a bunch of monster teens who look up to star we previously met during the Ludo arc in season 2. Pony arrives bringing a photo booth. And kelly! 

And also Johnny Blowhole...

That dolphin what showed up a few times, including in the comic and the show, like most of it’s supporting cast, just sorta forgot. Also was going to be my porn name, just in case till it ended up attached to a fictonal teenager. Did.. did not think naming a character “blowhole” through did they? 

Anyways the party is at “middle school dance” levels of awkward with the monsters and humans on other sides. Rock seems to be getting ready for a racist tyrade and singles out a yak like monster.. only to instead compliment the guy’s ripped jeans and the two compliment each other on horns... turns out the ones Rock always wear aren’t decorative but part of him due to a boating accident. Shame we never got more of this kid. that’s a good kid I tell you what.  But honestly and since the moment is right given their all in this episode.. we never get a lot of the other royals outside of tom and star PERIOD. While Penelope would show up one last time and Larry would make a cameo for the most part their just.. background filler. Even this pettitoin arc was two episodes long. Rich is BRAND new and he gets way more focus.. and even he only gets to show up again for the big “Gondor calls for aid moment” in season 4 where star summoned whoever she could get on short notice. And is the ONLY royal to besides Ponyhead. Larry has an intresting enough design but the underwater kingdom only got featured in the deep trouble tie in comic that got cut short, and he wasn’t created yet so he doesen’t even show up for it. Jagg’s is such a footnote to the creators she dosen’t ever show up after this, and finally Rock, despite being star’s COUSIN and despite his kingdom being specifically mentioned as the hardest to make sympathetic to eclipsa during her own entirely ignored arc trying to win over the other kingdoms, and despite it being where River comes from and thus possibly providing some more insight into that awesome, awesome man.. we get nothing. Hell the Cloud Kingdom of the Ponyeheads ONLY gets two visits despite being home of one of the main cast.. god I just realized Ponyhead was part of the main cast. 

So while I grapple with that, Star figures the punch is too warm and while Marco goes to get ice, she tries to remind him she can do magic and accidently puts it in your standard cartoon ice block.. and being star gets her tounge stuck. Thankfully her savior comes in the form of tom who being.. you know.. tom.. can simply melt it down and reminds her he’s been there the whole time. She’s just been a bit distracted with you know, trying to ease centuries of racial tension in a well meaning but ultimately pointless at best and risky at worst, partay. And dosen’t seem to get WHY she dosen’t want to dance.. even if they do have a REALY fucking cute moment where he leans in to kiss her, she catches him on it.. then blows a raspberry into his mouth when he does and smooches him on the cheek a bunch. 

But the whole thing leaves him as a grumpus venting to marco and boiling the punch.. though at least Marco gets to use that ice now so silver linings and all that. And when marco tries to explain he tells him he dosen’t “talk politics”

My baby boy.. i’m so disapointed in you. And Marco points out as he leaves “your a prince everything you do is political. “. Which is.. HALF true. I mean tom going to the bathroom or eating a taco or taking his grandpa fo ra walk on his leash so he dosen’t gouge anyones eyes out isn’t political.. but he’s also not wrong that being the half demon half mewman son of two royals, DOES mean tom can come off political and one previous episode which he made a cameo in even had Tom being profiled, with a shopkeep who shoed out another monster kid tried that on tom.. only to realize who he was dealing with and beg for mercy he probably only got because Tom’s trying to be a better person now. And I don’t think i’ts even malcious on tom’s part, tom isn’t the most empathetic guy. He’s nice, he’s sweet, and once he knows you he can be really thoughtful.. but as we’ve seen throughout this retrospective.. empathy is something he’s struggled with. He stalked star because he didn’t see HER side of him creeply and obessively persuing her until Marco got through to him. He missed the point of his therapy assignment, seeing it as a goal to get passed instead of hwat brian intended: for him to geninely make amends with someone he hurt. He didn’t get that while star didn’t, at the time, want to date him ignoring her would hurt her... though that on’es not on him. He’s not a bad guy at all but he’s not at all great at reading people or being selfless.

 He’s getting there, stump day showed him put stars needs before Marco’s and not out of any selfish dick measuring contest but because he knew what she wanted and what made her happy, but it’s hard to have empathy for a problem you don’t get how bad it is. To tom it’s just getting stopped once in a while and then having to glower or literally roast someone. To these monsters... it’s a life of being denied a decent standard of living, housing and being treated as a crminal and a beast just for existing. Tom has a fancy castle, loyal subjects, tons of money.. his privlage has insulated him from the real dangers of being the minority he is, of getting beaten up by the cops or arrested just for being a monster. And yes i’m using real world paralells.. but so does the end of this episode so shhh. It’s also a moral that hits home since as a white person, the last year has hit me HARD with just how much I didn’t know about the racial situation in america and how complacient i’d become. I wasn’t actively racist.. but like many americans I had the bad tendency to forget the horrible things that happpend on a daily basis to people of color in this country when it got out of the news. Privlage can blind you, and I cannot speak for if it does so for any real life minorties as i’m not touching a subject i’m not qulaified to talk on due to being super white with a ten foot pole, but I can speak for me that sometimes you just.. dont’ notice a problem unless i’ts happening to you. And while it has happened to tom it’s such a minor inconvience he probably just forgets about it and moves on. And these next two episodes with him, though we have some plot stuff to get too before we get back to Tom in feburary, are him getting his bubble popped and realizing just WHAT Star has been fighting against. And Star’s own privlage will be an issue later.. but we’llg et to that in it’s own time.  So while Tom skulks off Rich startles Marco to get him to do his kung fun hand pose “the sword hand dance” and everyone uses it to dance which Marco understandably objects to until kelly asks him to dance. Cue adorable ship tease.. again this is why i’m thrownig in the kelco episode in the next batch: because the trajectory of this relationship eeerily lines up with tom episodes. No sense avoiding the ONE other episode about the ship , especially if i’m going out of my way to cover the Meteora arc on top of it and my other 80 projects. And regular coverage. And comissions. And you get the idea it’s a lot but i’m happy to do it. 

Meanwhile we meet Slime, a friendly slime monster who introduces himself to penelope and her massive spider bite... and then drips a bit giving her the wrong impression. Thankfully.. this does not turn into the PG-Rated versoin of BLue from the heathers musical. 

No he just was offering to aloe up her spiderbite, and she’s all too happy to accept since her family never thought about it.. though as we see next season their not against it suprisingly. They are still dicks though. But not racist, though that’s a very low bar to clear and only gives them credit because mewni as a whole is pretty racist when it comes to Monsters. Point is I hate their parents but love these ship as the two share some ship tease and go downstairs.. only to get attacked.  Meanwhile, Marco’s getting a goblin dog while being watched by Henious.. who despite Gemini’s objections.. no longer cares about her cheeks as she grins sinesterly and has him play her music, some heavy metal. FORESHADOWING!

Back at the party, Star adreses her public and is all proud and blushy.. till Penelope stumbles in, covered in scars, telling the crowd something took Slime.. and both sides start blaming one another, especially since it turns out a LOT of the monsters have gone missing. So with everything she worked towards and had achieved crumbling, Star calms the crowd and says she’ll investigate. Outside Marco is getting a goblin dog with roy, and wondering why he has strawberry, who orders a strawberry.. who wants that? And then decides to get one out of curiosity which I would but i’m also fat and love strawberries so i’m not a beacon of good decisionmaking. 

So Star grabs him before he can roll that metaphorical dice and passes tom who tries to downplay her concerns and get her to go make out, thinking that’s what’s going on despite that.. making no sense, as a ton of them are missing and 6 is a bit much for polyamory.. I mean it works for some people 

But not everyone can be a majestic space grandma whose also a caterpillar. And their too young to orgy so that’s out too. Point is Tom is an idiot this time and Star RIGHTFULLY calls him out for belitting her cause, not really caring about it, or the other teens who are in danger right now from god knows what and tells him to either help or get out of the way. 

So while Tom licks his well earned wounds, Star and Marco journey into the depths and find a campsite with fresh dog eared pages indicating whoevers behind the abudictions is not only sapient, but still here... oh and it somehow gets worse as they find out WHOSE behind it. 

And a second question you might be having: Who dis. Well this is Mina Loveberry, solarian warrior, whose a legend in Mewni and was one of star’s childhood heroes who she found wondering around homeless and clearly not mentally well in the park on earth.. and then tried to conquer it, but the electoral process stopped her... I don’t know why but a half crazed maniac being defeated by due electoral process makes me feel all warm and fuzzy right now, on this specific day this is coming out late on. Hmmmm.. INTERESTING aint it? 

Point is Mina is a super powerful, super not in her right mind super warrior, who is naturlaly the kidnapper, as this episode also reveals she’s violently racist and assuemed something was up and whiel Star, who despite said cou still loves and respects her and gets she’s not well, tries to talk her down it increasingly becomes clear there’s no reasoning with her. And really with most racists.. there isn’t. Racisim isn’t something that’s rational and while some people are just indocrinated at a young age and CAN be turned around on it.. some are just so deeply up their own ass with hatred you can’t reason with them or save them. You just have to stop them. Via impeaching them, making sure they get called out and taken out of office.. or in this case using rainbows on them.  But we’ll have to wait a second as a bunch of debris falls on mina taking her out!

.. Only to reveal Henious and while Marco’s willing to fight her and her posse, Raasticore grabs star and henious hooks him up to the brainwash machine, probably planning to kill him with it while playing the music

But before she can kill or do worse to one of our heroes.. the door behind them opens up.. and reveals a child’s play room. 

And Henious.. gives up on the attack and enters, disturbing Gemini as she looks around in what’s easily one of the best scene sin the entire series: her slow walk, the way the animation follows her as it sinks in just what Metora might be.. and her picking up two dolls, the ones seen above.. her dolls to Gemini’s increasing discomfort. And while the animation is stellar and utterly moving as we slowly put the pieces together... it’s Walter’s delivery that REALLY STUNS.Gone is the harsh, unforgiving nightmarish woman we’ve known.. and instead is someone whose confused.. and remembering. Remembering WHY she has those cheek marks, remembering this was her room, her home.. and those were her parents. She remembers now.. and Mina rises to say of course she did “I knew you’d be back here one day meteora!” And as Gemini tries to refute this.. Meteora agrees with MIna, no longer henious at last freed form her deep and abusive brainwashing we’ll cover soon enough. And deeply confused. And as everyone else is deeply confused... Mina, not realizing this whole thing was covered up, again we’ll get to that soon too, spells it out for them and the audience in case you missed it. When Star asks how Eclipsa plays into any of this? “Don’t you ding dongs know anything? She’s her mamma!”  (Marco and Star stare in shock as it sinks in) Marco: “Wait HENIOUS is a princess?!”  Star: “she’s a butterfly”

Yeah quite obviously this is one of the biggest wham episodes in the entire series. In one moment we not only find out Henious is indeed a butterflfy as fans thought.. but Eclipsa’s daughter, half monster, and her entire existance raises questions of how much her family hid and if not WHO DID. I mean some of you alreayd know the answer but the rest of you can wait a week.. or a few mintues it’s hinted at soon enough. Point is Star has questions.. questions the violent racist whose pretty messed up in the head for a variety of the reasons and spent decades hunting her.. is not willing to hear out and instead prepares to smite her. While Star tries DESPERATLEY to talk her friend out of this it’s very clear Mina’s not going to listen... so Star rainbow fists her.. and prepares to face her former friend and inspiration for Meteora’s saftey and the answers she BADLY needs right now. Oh and just in case you thought “oh well the magical girl who sounds like amy sedaris can’t be that big a threat”... Yeah I didn’t mention broly for nothing. 

Mina bulked up. Meet Solarian Mina. And like the Legendary Super Sayian form from Dragon Ball.. i’ts a beserker of a form that turns the already obessive and insane Mina.. into an unstoppable rage fuled killing machine with horrifying levels of power who can beat down anyone nearbye. And unlike Broly, where he was just a one in a million fluke in both versions... Mina was PLANNED to be this. The solarian program was something Eclipsa’s mom came up with, a series of spells that slowly turn the target into a rampaging super soldier. It’s like if Nuke from marvel comics, a vietnam era version of captain america who dind’t turn out so good, was INTETIONAL; 

As you can see it removes fear.. but also the targets concisce, so Mina is incapable of empathy or being cure dof her racisim. Solaria turned her from a humble volunteer just hoping ot help and improve her station into the crazed monster star now faces.  And as the Broly comparision should make clear... yeah Star dosen’t do so good and neither does Marco. She shrugs off Star’s hits and while botht he kids and meteora escape, both just piss Mina off MORE, and put star in more danger as she’s thrown around like a ragdoll.  She then runs into tom who shows off his growht: While he was a dick up there.. unlike before where he assumed he was always the wronged party.. he realized he crossed a line and while he dosen’t know WHY he did, is still willing to apologize and presumibly talk about it. A bit clueless yes but it’s effort and his tone is sincre so it’s less “I’m apologizing for whatever I guess” bullshit and more “I genuinely don’t know wha ti did wrong please tell me so I can say sorry”.. which given how awkard tom is with people and how I pointed out his trouble relating to them over htis retrospective, is the more beliviable one.  Naturally while Star does appricate it she’s kinda busy.. and when Tom see’s what’s going on he leaps in with NO hesitation. And given how close the luictors once were and are again with the butterflies it’s doubtful he hadn’t heard of mina so he likely KNOWS what he’s going up against..a nd dosen’t care. His girlfriend needs his help and this person’s trying to hurt her. That’s all he needs to kick her ass. Or try.. unlike with the z warriors.. our heroes don’t win this one. Tom tries a really cool move i’m dubbing the onyx coffin, a black coffin with runes and chains.. that does nothing to her. She breaks out and our heroes flee and Mina causes a massive ruckuss above, and the only reasons our heros don’t die.. is that the knights and Rhombulus of the high comission arrive.  And since the high comission are going to be vastly important a refresher: The high comission were created by glossaryck, the little man who lives in stars book who used to be voiced by an asshole and next season is voiced by keith motherfucking david, to police the multiverse and it’s various issues. The four we know are Lekmet: a goat man who died last season and controlled entropy and could heal at the cost of his own life hence the death, Hekapoo, a close assiocate of marcos who controls the scissors beings use to cross dimensions and can do so herslef effortlessly, Omnitraxus Prime, a powerful and giant antler skulled being who watches space time and timelines and is voiced by Karl Weathers so...

And Rhombulus, a diamond headed he-man reject with snakes for hands becaue his dad is a well documented dickhead.. no really that’s the entire explination i the book of spells: Glossaryck turned his hands to snake to teach him the lesson i’ts hard to get through life with snake hands. He’s a gung ho guy who imprisons the wrost of the worst criminals thus his presence here as Mina clearly had a falling out with the comission and thus flees.  So while Star and Tom are given blankets afterwords and some cocoa, Tom comforts her and admits if nothing else.. he gets it now, having been finally faced with the type of horrible shit monsters have had to deal with in the past and sees why his girlfriend tried hard to help it. But Star.. realizes she can’t fix this that easy. That she dosen’t know enough and clearly ther’es even more than she ever could’ve thought possible she has ot know if she’s going to fix this.. and that it’s not an EASY problem to fix. You really CAN’T fix racisim you can just make society better, but you’ll never be rid of people like Mina. Though this arc will.. yeah in one of the more baffling decisions Mina is given this huge reindrocution, with Amy Sedaris showing that while a very funny lady and a very talented actress as bojack had previously shown off for both.. she can be FUCKING TERRIFYING. But nope, she’s just..g one outside of a cameo, gets beatne off screen and dosen’t become big bad for a season. And I get it, the metora arc needed room.. but you had a WHOLE EXTRA EPISODE to have her defeat mina. Inastead you used it for Marco Jr which amounted to almost nothing and could’ve been saved for season 4 wher eit probably woudln’t of been terrible. I”ll get to that one some day. Point is it’s bad storytelling. 

So yeah Star’s feeling lost, her family history is in flux, she got beaten badly, not horribly injrued but still lost handily, her party ruined and  she was hit with the realization her plans were overly idealistic. Well meaning sure but a party was never going to cure this. Oh and Rhombluus naturally isn’t coming clean about why the temple is off limits or what’s going on here so that dosen’t help.  And somehow.. IT STILL GETS WORSE. The Wizard Cops try to take the monsters in , profling them and not having done so and star thankfully talks them out of it but the monster kids turn down any afterparty or anything. They get she means well tbut hte moment’s over. And their not even excesivley sad.. their just.. used to the police treating them like this. Like less than human, like automatic suspects when THEY were the victims. IT’s nothing new... and god does this feel relevant as hell.

And this i where I meant Star’s privlage bites her: While not as bad as tom, it took some very harsh reality for her to see that solving racisim.. is not only nigh imposisble but not that easy. To her it was easy as a party and friendship and what’s worked before in her fairly shelted world. Advetnures or not she’s still a princess whose never experinced prejudice. In both worlds she’s in the majority. It’s probably why Marco conttoned on to monster racism in seconds during “Menipendence Day’ when Star hadn’t her whole life: to Marco, whose latix and thus dealing with all kinds of racist shit his whole life, it was easier to pick it up. He’s firmly part of his culture.. and thus probably firmly aware of the racism he faces. Star is so insulated she just dosen’t get it till it nearly beat her to death. So yeah Star’s at her lowest point, having failed to make things better, the answer to her questions being lost and not sure what’s real. Metora on the other hand as they dodge the cops.. has ascended. As Gemini calls her henious once last time.. she says that’s not her name. 

“My name is meteora”

SHe’s been dreaming the wrong dream.. and it’s long past time she woke up. 

Final Thoughts;  Monster Bash.. is one of the best episodes in the series. Unlike a lot of Seasons 3 and 4 it dosen’t suffer from lack of proper payoff, as the next few episodes deal with how the fuck any of this is happening and why the fuck any of it happened. Mina’s absence nonwithstanding.. this is one of the series best and most gripping arcs. And the swerve is great: you think i’ts Henious doing the kindappings, only for her not to be the threat again just yet. And for her to be something far more. It’s just masterful, starting iwth fun hyjinks and ending in one of the best nad most nightmarish fights in the series if not the best, watching as our heroes slowly but surely LOOSE.. and THEN it gets worse. Out and out a must watch for the series and a sad sign of what it COULD’VE been had it moved past it’s worst insitncts next season and become what i should’ve been.  Next week: We take a tom break as Eclipsa nad Mon investigate all of this and we get the SECOND biggest wham episode in the series. 

Until the next rainbow, be excellent to each other.

[penzyroamin]

your wish is my command!!!!

some warnings for this one-- it is heavy shit. there is some mention of potential physical abuse from a parent to a child, so if that’s an issue for you, you’ll probably be okay if you skip the second paragraph and the area between “The night was still too hot and humid, but Davey could hardly bring himself to care as they breathed together.” and “Why? We’re happy.” there’s also some homophobia mentioned throughout, so.

this is.. gosh, the time period is kinda ambiguous, but it felt sorta 90′s to me? and it’s set in the deep south, also kinda ambiguously-- if u want my two cents, i wrote it based off of this teeeeeny tiny town some of my family lives in in north fl.

anyways. this is about loving recklessly and desperately and with much difficulty. please enjoy!!!

no rules in breakable heaven -- read on ao3

In the grand scheme of poor ideas Davey had had over the course of his twenty years of life, kissing Jack had been a bad one. Kissing him again had been a worse one, and continuing to do so, kissing him over and over until they had the closest thing they could to a real relationship, was likely one of his worst.

They had accepted early on that they couldn’t have much in public, not when Davey’s father would try to beat the shit out of both of them if he heard a word of it. Jack lamented it occasionally-- that they lived in the modern world, the present goddamn day, and yet ideals liked freezing in their idiotic, humid little town.

So yes, they accepted that they couldn’t be anything but best friends in public, but that didn’t prevent them from playing with fate.

Davey was in the middle of a shift in his family’s antique story, growing bored quickly of his daily pattern of waiting for someone, anyone, to come in so he could convince them into paying his family’s rent.

But it was miserably hot outside, and no one was out, so there were only empty streets.

And, of course, Jack sitting on the counter, trying to tempt Davey into making horrible decisions. He nudged Davey’s hip with his foot, his old Chuck Taylors ripped up and covered in paint, and when Davey looked over, Jack raised his eyebrows, grinning devilishly and groaning when Davey looked away.

“C’mon, baby, ain’t no one here to see.”

“There could be,” Davey said, opening up the cash register like there’d be something new there. Jack whined pathetically, laying down on the counter and wrinkling his nose.

“Nobody’s out there, and ‘sides, you got the bell to tell ya if anyone comes in.”

Davey busied himself with nonsense. “Don’t got a clue what you’re implying, Kelly.”

“I’m implying that you got a whole bunch of shit in those back rooms that looks real comfy.” Davey’s face screwed up, and Jack cackled. “I love when you get prudish.”

“Who the fuck says prudish anymore?”

“Me, when you’s being prudish. Come on, Dave. You ain’t possibly sold that old armchair yet, it looks fancy.”

“I am not going to make out with you in my parents’ business,” Davey insisted, and he pursed his lips to avoid smiling when Jack took his hand and kissed his knuckles.

“When does your shift end?” Jack asked, and Davey checked the old clock next to the register.

“Four hours.”

Jack rolled his eyes and swung his legs over the counter, tugging Davey a little closer. “You sure know how to torture a guy.”

“It’s a gift,” Davey said quietly, grinning at Jack. “You gonna do anything about it?”

That got him a glare. “Evidently not.”

Davey looked past Jack’s head, at the empty street and the heat hanging in the air. He looked back at Jack, and finally relented. “Ten minutes.”

In seconds, Jack seized Davey's hand and dragged him to the back of the store. They passed through perilously stacked furniture and decorations and knick-knacks that his family had acquired over the years and still had little success in selling.

Davey was shaken out of that thought when Jack fell into one of the nearby armchairs, tugging Davey's hand again.

Despite the relatively poor circumstances in which the Jacobs family lived, the antique shop was an expansive place, plenty of hidden corners, and Davey was all the more lucky for it.

Some amount of time after they ran off-- seven minutes, maybe?-- the bell attached to their door rang, and Davey swore against Jack's throat.

He scrambled backwards, desperately tugging down his shirt from where Jack had rucked it up. He frantically surveyed Jack to see how presentable he was.

In short, Jack looked wrecked. And gorgeous, and definitely not presentable. Anybody who saw him would immediately know.

Davey started to look desperately for a mirror, praying he didn't look similar, and Jack seemed to understand his thoughts. He jumped up and held Davey still, tugging a few of his curls back into place.

"You look fine," he said quietly. "Say you were carrying something, it'll explain…" He pinched Davey's cheek. "Y'know, the roses."

A women's voice called from the front of the store, and Jack tugged him in for a quick, hard kiss. "Go sell something, I'll hide in the back."

Davey grinned at him madly, terrified adrenaline pumping through his veins. "Love you," he said, rushing to the front of the store before he could consider his words for even a moment.

It was only when he was halfway through talking up a table that he remembered the implications of what he'd said.

When the woman finally left, Jack had already escaped through the back.

Davey raked his fingers through his own hair. "Shit," he said, with no one to hear him but the odd cat-shaped clock.

After four more hours of work, and then a truly awful evening of financial planning and "family dinner", Davey had pretty much accepted that his day was over and he wasn't doing much other than paperwork and going to bed.

Their office was the only extra room in the house that they rented, in the back with a window that overlooked their tiny yard. Davey didn’t quite like the look of the yard at night, though, so he had the blinds down while he worked on inventory and returns and other things he cared about only by necessity. 

And then he heard a few swift little taps, and he rolled up the blinds to see none other than Jack beaming at him. He beckoned with one finger, and Davey only considered things for a moment before he turned his lamp off and headed for the door.

He slipped his shoes on as he left as quietly as he could, looking around in the darkness and nearly gagging at the thick nighttime humidity. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and had to muffle his own shriek when he turned around and saw the faint outline of Jack beaming.

“Bastard!” Davey whispered through the darkness, and Jack laughed, his hands finding Davey’s face and pulling him into a kiss.

For a few minutes, Davey was content to stand like that with him, gripping Jack’s hips and pulling him closer and closer, shielded from his family’s view and the streetlights by overgrown bushes and trees on either side of them.

Jack finally pulled away, breathing quickly. “C’mon, I wanna take you somewhere.”

“Lead the way, baby.”

They ran into the street together, where Jack’s old pickup truck was waiting for them, and Davey giggled when Jack skidded over to hold the passenger’s door open for him. Jack’s truck was an absolute rustbucket of a disaster, but it was kind that night, staying mostly quiet as they raced far away from Davey’s world.

Davey didn’t give much thought to where they were going until Jack came to a stop in the middle of a field, a mostly barren one primarily occupied by weeds and tall grass.

He peered out of the window. “Where are we?”

Jack shrugged. “Beats me. Told me I’d take ya somewhere, right?”

“So there ain’t any purpose to this?”

“‘Course there is. I wanna see you.” Jack reached over and squeezed Davey’s hand, then jerked his head back towards the bed of the truck. “C’mon, I got an air mattress back there, we can get comfy.”

Jack jumped out of the truck, heading to the back, and Davey shook his head as he exited a bit more gingerly. “You really planned this, huh?”

“Duh. How’s a man supposed to woo his lover?”

Davey clambered into the bed of the truck, taking in Jack and the flashlights he had set up to give them a little visibility and the air mattress that Jack was lounged out on. He wasn’t sure quite what to say to any of it, but he managed, “So I’m ya lover now?”

“Obviously,” Jack declared with a smile, tugging Davey forward to lay down with him. He pressed a few soft kisses to Davey’s collarbone.

That reminded Davey of what he’d said, and he pursed his lips a little as Jack continued his ministrations. “When I, uh… what I said…” He trailed off, sighing when Jack bit down. “If you don’t wanna… mention it…”

Jack pulled away, his brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?” Davey gaped, scrambling for words, and Jack took his hand, kissed each of his knuckles. “I love you, too. Best thing I ever heard you say.”

That was… puzzling. It must have shown on Davey’s face, because Jack tilted his head. “You did… mean it, didn’t ya?”

“Yes!” Davey rushed to exclaim, clinging to Jack’s hand. “Yeah, of course, it just… complicates things, don’t it?”

Jack blinked, looking down at their hands and then sighing. “I mean… yeah. Yeah, but… God, Dave, I love you. I’m so in love with you, I feel antsy every second I ain’t with you. I just wanna be with you, that’s all. That’s it.”

Maybe it was the way he said it, so earnest and kind. Maybe it was the way his eyes were even darker at night, or the way their dim, artificial light cast odd shadows across his skin, or the way that his hair stuck to his forehead in the humidity. Maybe it was just that Davey loved him, and he had for longer than either of them knew, and he wanted, he had always wanted, only for Jack to love him, too.

Whatever the reason, he lunged forward and kissed him, as good as he knew how to. He clung to Jack, one hand in his hair and the other on his hip, pulling him closer and closer until there wasn’t any space left for them to breathe in.

Jack groaned, wrapping his arms around Davey’s waist and rolling onto his back so Davey was laying on top of him, letting everything fade to a dull roar around them. Cicadas and waving grass and crickets quieted and finally went silent in Davey’s ears as he dipped his head to kiss along Jack’s jaw and then down his neck.

There they were, in the bed of Jack’s rustbucket pickup truck, and their world was finally quiet.

When they were finished, Jack tucked his head into the crook of Davey’s neck, and Davey ran his fingers through Jack’s hair. The night was still too hot and humid, but Davey could hardly bring himself to care as they breathed together.

“Davey?” Jack asked eventually, and Davey nodded a little in response. He felt Jack’s breaths get softer against his shoulder, and then: “What happens? If folks find out? If your dad…”

Davey exhaled softly, brushing the tips of his fingers over Jack’s back. “I dunno. He… It’s… I got no clue what he’s gonna do. And that scares me.”

“If he…” Jack trailed off, and Davey sighed.

“If he tries to beat the shit out of me, I might… I might take it. He’s my dad. I can’t fight him back.”

“Yes, you can. You can, Davey, you should. He’s an awful bastard.”

“Jack.” Davey tipped up Jack’s chin so he could look him in the eyes. “I know he’s wrong. And I wish I could. But if it comes to it…”

Jack exhaled slowly, his shoulders slacking. “He’s your dad. I know.”

They returned to holding each other like they had before, and Jack pressed a few comforting kisses to Davey’s bare shoulder. “If he comes for me…”

“Fight back,” Davey said firmly. “But don’t… please don’t go too far.”

“I won’t,” Jack murmured. Davey felt Jack’s lips pursed, and he waited for the exception. “I… I dunno what I’m gonna do if I see you hurt ‘cause of him.” Hot tears fell against Davey’s skin, and he gasped, holding Jack tighter. “Y’already are, but… bruises, cuts, I’d…” Davey’s own eyes burned as Jack choked out small breaths. “I hate him, Davey, I hate him for makin’ us think about all this.”

“I know. I know, doll, I know. It’s just… We can’t escape.”

Jack stilled, and after a moment, he said, “Why not?”

“What are you… What?”

Jack pulled back, taking Davey’s face in his hands, his eyes dangerously aglow. “Why can’t we escape? Why can’t we just run?”

“My-- Jack, my family--”

“Your parents ain’t given you nothing but hell.”

“My siblings, they’ll--”

“You can send them money, Davey, talk to them before. You can keep them afloat from far away.”

“This is crazy. This is insane. You’re crazy.”

“Why? We’re happy. We can keep being happy, far away from your folks. Happiness without all the dark shit they bring. We can live together, get real jobs, kiss whenever we want!”

Jack’s enthusiasm, like always, was infectious, and Davey felt himself falling. “Where’d we go?” he asked, his voice soft like when he prayed.

“Anywhere. New York, Santa Fe, San Diego, Chicago, some tiny suburb somewhere. I don’t care where we call home, you’re home.”

That slipped right through Davey’s ribcage and found his heart, piercing and tugging with the deep, necessary love he had for Jack. “I don’t have my stuff.”

“Then we leave tomorrow. Pack up what you need, sneak it with you when you go to work tomorrow. I’ll pick you up there, and we just…” Jack snapped his fingers. “Vanish. Become town legends.”

Davey hated that he had to choose-- be loved by your family, be loved by your lover. But then again, Jack was the only person who had ever loved him bravely, loved him when it was difficult, loved him unconditionally. No matter how many times he had to sneak out Davey’s window at night, no matter how many times he couldn’t hold Davey’s hand, no matter how many nights and days were interrupted. He just loved Davey, and Davey loved him back.

“Okay,” he said, the word leaving his throat like it had been waiting there forever. “Okay. Yeah, let’s go.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Davey said again, a beam spreading across his face. “Yes, let’s go. Tomorrow at ten in the morning. Let’s just go.”

Jack crashed forward and kissed him firmly, and as Davey pulled him closer, he felt Jack melt into his arms.

Davey turned over the bracelet in his hands. He’d only had a few minutes with Les and Sarah while he was driving them to school, but they’d all cried in that time, and when he let them out, they ran around the side to hug him tightly. Les had demanded that Davey get back in touch once everyone was out of Esther and Mayer’s home, and Sarah had given him the bracelet, saying that purple looked better on him.

There was a rumbling outside as Jack’s truck pulled to a stop, and Davey looked around the store one more time, shouldering the backpack that he had fit his life in. For good measure, he snatched a little pocketwatch from their jewelry display before flipping the sign to “CLOSED” and locking the front door one last time.

Jack grinned when Davey got in the truck. “Where to?”

Davey took Jack’s free hand and stared at the empty road. “Just drive, baby.”

“As you wish.”

They jolted forward, and Jack cranked the air conditioning up so high that Davey’s curls blew back with the force of it.

A weight slowly lifted off his heart as they merged onto the highway, and it felt a little like finally loving freely.

[wordsinwinters]

Then Again, Part 25  (Peter Parker x Reader)

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Total word count: 47,470

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 26, 

Summary: After an intense argument and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else. 

Slow burn fic in which all characters are included and their dynamics explored; multiple character POVs. 

Betas: @girl-tips-from-satan and @fanboyswhereare-you

Without further ado,

Then Again Part 25:

(Words: 3,948)

“It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

The thought of Peter making more of an effort, of him consciously choosing to pay me closer attention with the active intention of improving our friendship-- it isn’t the worst idea. If anything, it’s a rather attractive solution to a nonexistent problem. The suggestion alone is already prompting imaginary scenarios I refuse to acknowledge right now; though, inevitably, they’ll become daydream fuel within a couple days. Still, the whole plan is unnecessary, and I know it. I’m not angry with him anymore. I may have a few questions (some I plan on asking, some I’ll keep to myself), but if I do have any hidden resentment for his behavior stowed away in my subconscious, it’s as small and inconsequential as a handful of sand in the sea. Allowing him to carry this plan out would be using him. The pretenses would be false. 

Even apart from that, though, his texts gave off an odd, metallic aftertaste. The proposal reads mechanically-- it’s a scientific study with a simple hypothesis (and a reluctant dependent variable). It’s the idea of being a lab mouse, I think, that earns it the title the dumbest thing in my mind. It’s condescending. Even if tempting. 

Then again, I know Peter. I understand he doesn’t actually view me as a test subject to analyze and discard after the results come in. We’re friends. He feels bad and tossed out a poorly worded solution because he thinks I’m secretly pissed at him. It’s only an idea he offered, one I have full power to reject. 

Maybe I’m trying to dismiss it quickly because, if I’m being honest, I’m selfish. Selfishly, I want to say yes despite knowing the sort of negative message it would send to Peter. A small part of me is willing to let him feel worse so I can pretend his own guilty feelings are more significant than they really are. The possibility, the mirage just within reach, of balancing that tightrope between reality and fantasy with him is... alluring, to say the least.

And impossible. It would be wrong. Wouldn’t it? Of course it would be.

Like blades slicing fruit in a blender, my brain whips through these thoughts within seconds. Across on her bed, Michelle’s expression can only be described as disapproving or faintly disgusted as she too digests Peter’s idea. It’s the male stupidity is endless look we share when near particularly annoying men in public. It’s not often one we have to exchange in reference to the boys; their moronic moments tend to be entertaining rather than obnoxious, ignorant, or misogynistic.

She meets my eyes, and I wonder if my face gives anything away. 

“That feels weird to me.” 

The sentence is a verbal tiptoe forward, an almost-question probe.

“It did sound weird saying it out loud,” I agree. 

“You know,” she says, her tone mildly serious as she sits up straighter. “You’re not obligated to say yes to everything because you don’t want to disappoint someone. Especially a boy. And especially if he’s trying to fix his dumb mistakes by pressuring you into something you’re not comfortable with.” She pauses, glancing at the ceiling and raising an eyebrow. “If you want, I can make him come to his senses.”

Michelle tightens her fists and mimes three exaggerated punches. I imagine it, amused: Before the bite, Peter wouldn’t have stood a chance against her if she really meant it; now, he’d probably put his arms up to block her blows, minimally annoyed, and wait for her to tire herself out. I roll my eyes and can’t help mirroring her smile. 

Nevertheless, her wording is…. 

The same question pops up for the millionth time. 

Do I want her to know?

“It’s Peter, it’s not, like, ‘a boy,’” I say first, air quoting the last words. Maybe later, depending. But for now, I’ll avoid it. “And I’ll pass, but I appreciate the offer. I’m not uncomfortable and he isn’t being pushy or anything. I only meant that the…” nearly impersonal approach to our personal relationship? “the hyperconscious wording is weird. I wouldn’t turn down free snacks if the offer wasn’t described as a….” situation in which he views us as mere associates or abstract friends--

Again, I remind myself he probably doesn’t see it that way. 

“Monitored social experiment with unequal power dynamics?” she offers.

That fits.

“Precisely.” 

She snorts. Shaking her head, Michelle pauses for a few more seconds. Mentally chewing it all over again, her expression bounces from annoyance to curiosity to neutrality to annoyance again to what looks surprisingly close to compromise or understanding. In the meantime, I focus on watching her facial journey and not thinking. 

In the tune of surrender, she sighs before she speaks.

“I’m sure he’s trying his best,” she says reluctantly, her hands opening outward like a shrug, “his best is just bad. If it were anyone else, I’d tell you to refuse and block them. But, as much as it pains me to admit, I think we both know him too well to think his motives are as stupid as his phrasing. If anything, he’s probably excited about his ‘new genius friendship plan.’”

Nodding, relief hums under my skin: I know she’s right. I mean, how many people would fight crime to protect countless strangers in their city, then turn around and have cold, detached views of their chosen, personal friends? 

“That’s true,” I say. “I should probably text him back, then.”

She holds up a finger as I reach for my phone.

“Still,” she adds with a tone of subtle authority, “it’s up to you. I’m not saying you should say yes -- no obligations, remember? -- I just don’t think you need to worry that he isn’t trying or isn’t being genuine. That’s all.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Michelle’s stare lasts a moment longer, her sincerity as visible and certain as the brown of her eyes. After a second or two, she sits back onto her pillows and relaxes, turning to face the t.v. once again, leaving me to work out my final decision on my own. As I allow myself to reiterate my own arguments in my head, the Cullen family discusses the mythology of half human, half vampire fetuses with Jacob. 

It doesn’t take me long to reach a conclusion. Maybe it’s because I’m pretty tired, but the answer seems obvious, straightforward and simple in logic. I unlock my phone with the feeling Michelle knows exactly what I’m about to type. I begin to write the message I had settled on before: “I’ll think about it.” Simple and honest. And temporary.

But then something else pops into my brain, and, foolishly, I write that instead.

“What about you? Do you need new reasons to be around me?”

I send the text without a moment’s reflection. Rereading it, it sounds a little… coded, to say the least. Like a Freudian slip. Don’t overthink it. God, I hate Freud. But it does sound desperate. And awkward. Damn. It definitely does. It reminds me of the embarrassing things I used to post on social media in middle school, which I really shouldn’t think about either. 

I only wondered if the idea should go both ways. Instead, the message sounds insecure... which I am, I suppose, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Bubbles appear on his side. I resist the urge to send a series of backpedaling messages. They disappear. Again. My self control dissipates and I quickly send the original one: I’ll think about it.

Unthinking, I pull the small keychain out of my pocket as I wait for his reply and massage the edge. Sticking the pointed corner into my thumbpad, I accidentally dig it in harder than intended. And I realize something. 

The keychain was the first. The gifts or incentives or things. 

A flat click of a nearby door closing snaps my attention. The boys’ room? Glancing up, I see flash of Edward pleading with Jacob on the t.v. screen, and to my left, a shadow stepping up to the door. A gap in the golden line of outside light.

For half a minute, nothing happens. Aside from Rosalie shouldering past Jacob as he walks in to speak to Bella. After that, when it does come, the sound is soft.

Knock. Knock knock knock knock, knock knock.

It’s Peter. Ned’s knocking pattern is shorter.

The sound jolts my heart rate a smidge, like a phantom defibrillator.

Michelle’s head rolls to one side to stare at the hallway, her shoulders slumped in an I’m giving up posture. 

“That’s very obviously for you,” she says, pushing herself up and tossing the Twizzler bag on the nightstand, “so I’ll let you go deal with it. I think I’ll brush my teeth and get ready for bed.” She hops off the mattress, raises her arms, and stretches them from side to side. “You okay if we call it a night?”

“More than okay,” I say, standing up as well, the carpet cool under my toes. Once I speak to Peter, I’ll need to knock out. Otherwise my brain will spiral. And maybe, if all goes well, my dreams tonight will be better than staying up to snicker at this hilariously shitty movie. “But what if it is for you?” 

She rolls her eyes.

“Tell them I’m gone. Missing, dead, whatever.” Michelle clamps her eyes shut and sticks her tongue out to mimic cartoonish death. Then she pops back to life with a fake warning glare. “So long as no one bothers me.”

She hits the off button on the remote, Jacob and Bella dissolving into nothing, and as she trudges to the bathroom, I slip the keychain and a keycard back into my pocket before copying her arm stretch to calm my buzzing nerves. Michelle salutes me before turning and closing the bathroom door. I walk to the hallway’s. The handle is cold to the touch.

I swing it open. As expected: Peter. The empty space surrounding him is relatively quiet, only muffled laughter and television sounds coming from rooms at the opposite end. The air smells like linens, cleaning supplies, and artificial lavender. This too is as expected: the typical, sanitary comfort of staying in a nice hotel at night. I tell myself it’s a calming environment. 

Peter’s in his usual pajamas, an old beat up t-shirt and sweatpants, standing slightly to the left, hands clasped in front of him. His height drops a tiny bit at the sound of the door, like he was rocking from heel to toe a second ago, and as his eyes lift from the floor to meet mine, he smiles. A warm swooping sensation envelops my stomach. 

“Hey! You answered.” 

He almost sounds surprised. I make a face in response. 

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

I mean this as a joke, a reference to the couple late nights he’s shown up at my door (window, really) to clean or patch himself up before going home. As he knows, I’m not in the habit of shutting him out. 

Still, his head tilts and his eyebrows go up into an expression of, Well, you weren’t exactly answering me before. It isn’t a challenging or upset look. If anything, it’s almost flustered.

“Fair enough,” I concede, lukewarm guilt sticking in my throat. “I was thinking about it though, I promise, I just hadn’t decided for sure yet.”

He nods, fidgeting with his fingernails and momentarily glancing at the floor.

“Yeah, I get that,” he says, looking back up. His ears redden. “I, uh, phrased it pretty moronically. Or at least that’s what Ned said.” 

He takes a step or two back, closer to his door. It seems like an invitation to make the conversation more private, so I close mine and Michelle’s and step forward.

“All I meant,” he continues, his hands rolling over one another in gesture, “was that I thought it might be helpful if I did a few nice things for you when we get back. Not like I’m actually trying to condition you, like a, like a--”

“Dog?”

His hands halt and his face pinches into an expression that practically reads I am painfully aware of every mistake I have ever made and how the number continues to grow in marker across his forehead. His eyes retain a lightness though, the sort that suggests he’s able to laugh about it. He runs his right hand through his hair. Mine twinges.

“Exactly. I feel like that makes it seem kind of, um--”

“Bad?”

“Very bad,” he confirms, nodding. He takes a deeper breath, half smiling in an embarrassed, self pitying way. “I honestly forgot about that Pavlock stuff, I was just trying to use psych terms to make it sound more persuasive and, um, I don’t know, impressive?”

He shrugs and offers an I know I’m an idiot, but thank you for being patient smile. I bite my tongue against correcting Pavlov, which he seems incapable of pronouncing properly. Even when we studied for that exam, he only said it properly a handful of times, despite Michelle flicking bits of paper at him each time he said Pavlock.

I smile too, noting the irony. And I think of what she said: he’s trying his best, his best is just bad. It doesn’t seem so bad when he’s standing in front of me, though. If anything, it’s easy. 

“You mean,” I begin to ask, more to tease than to clarify, “as opposed to the highly offensive and disagreeable, ‘Hey, I want to make up for being a jerk, so I’m going to stash some snacks for you in my locker’?”

He bites his lip as if it’ll keep his grin pinned down, though it doesn’t really. A blush spreads across his cheekbones and for a split second, he looks away to the other end of the hall. When he looks back, his smile falters, just a little. The vulnerability reminds me of his apology last night, when he thought I was sleeping. 

“I was thinking maybe it’d be more than snacks?” he offers. “Like, I don’t know, I don’t really have it figured out yet, but hanging out a bit more? Movie nights or that sort of thing? Or if you have a lot of homework, we could study together and help each other stay focused?”

That last suggestion seems like an oxymoron. Study together to keep ourselves on track? It’s a laughable concept. Well, only if it’s--

“Just us?”

Peter freezes, his shoulders straightening slightly, his height rising a few millimeters. 

That is the central question, though. Whether it’s a positive or negative point toward my decision, I can’t tell. All the same, it’s been ages since we last tried studying together, just the two of us. It works best with Michelle and Ned there as well, seeing as we tend to get distracted. 

His eyes move quickly between mine as if he’s trying to read my thoughts before answering. He squints.

“Is that okay?” he asks, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “I understand if not, if it’s uncomfortable or--”

I shake my head, putting my hand on his arm to stop him, only realizing it when his eyes flicker to that hand.

“Of course not,” I say, removing it. “I mean, of course it’s okay. We’ve hung out without Ned and MJ tons of times before. It’s been a while but it’s no big deal. That’d be fine.”

“Okay, good!” he says, the tension in his body evaporating. “That’s great!” 

His eyes have lit up. I imagine he’s relieved those two won’t be around the whole time to make fun of his movie choices or whatever he has planned. I try to hold a smile to reassure him and clear his doubts while internally pinching myself to remember to not think too much on this. There’s no need to dust off those old, useless daydreams of movie nights and falling asleep on his shoulder with his head atop mine and May lightly laying a blanket across us and all the rest. Absolutely no need. Shut it down.

He runs a hand through his hair, nodding in a way that’s usually accompanied by him saying cool, cool, cool, cool.

“Would Fridays be good for movie nights?”

I barely register the question before I answer it.

“Probably, sure. That should be alright.”

His smile widens and he shakes his head once and continues nodding. 

“Perfect! We can have it at my place.”

I nod back, chest tightening as I process. At the same time, I beg my brain not to process. Just for a minute. But then, since I refuse to let them move forward, the gears in my head turn backward, thoughts reeling like a bicycle chain. Judging by the look on Peter’s face, we’re realizing the same thing:

“Wait,” he says carefully. “So you’re saying yes? Like, you’re cool with it? You want to try?”

God help me.

“I suppose so,” I say. At hearing my own answer, a different type of swooping feeling runs from my feet up. The looking over a high balcony type.

“And we’ll figure the rest out later?” he asks.

“Peter, really, if you’re still planning on the locker snacks, that’s more than enough.”

He laughs.

“Yeah, that’s what you think because you’re being lame. And limiting. And--”

“Leaving?”

It’s time, definitely. I’d forgotten how blinding Peter’s excitement and positivity can be without interference. Today has been full enough, I should end this now. 

“That’s fair,” he says. “I think Ned rubbed off on me. All that obnoxious energy.”

He shakes his whole body as if ridding himself of said energy and I restrain myself from making a joke about his word choice. Instead, I nod and with an exasperated “Night, Peter,” and step back toward my room. He does the same, heading toward his. Just before he makes to use his keycard, he pivots back. 

“Wait! I almost forgot.”

I turn around and he’s closer than before. Peter suddenly looks particularly nervous, his head angled to the side like a question, his hands fumbling over themselves. His cheeks are reddening again too, spreading from his cheeks to his hairline.

“Yeah?”

He steps forward to place himself directly in front of me. His eyes flit a quick path which his hands follow-- they reach out to touch my elbows before jumping up to my shoulders, settling there almost steadily before shooting a little higher to suddenly but gently hold my head. And then he leans over and firmly kisses my forehead. As he pulls away, one hand disappears and the other musses up my hair.

What is he--? 

We both take a tiny step back. My pulse pounds as my thoughts blur into nothing but impressions of nonsensical, ridiculous questions my brain won’t dignify with clarity. Peter’s expression is halfway between an apology and.. a dare? His eyes are as wide as I know mine must be, but there’s something playing at his lips. For a second, it feels as though we’re balanced on a challenge neither of us is willing to answer. 

The bubble of the moment pops as he shakes his head and gestures vaguely to his and Ned’s room, his floundering arm movements returning him to the strong appearance of embarrassment.

“May,” he blurts, “Aunt May threatened to, uh, um, well, that part’s not really important, if I didn’t pass that along with ‘all her love.’” The red in his face deepens. “Apparently she’s not too happy I didn’t do that last night too.”

Of course. It makes immediate sense. The memory rushes back. She told him to do that to all of us when she dropped us off at the bus that morning. I might laugh at my own stupid shock and poor memory but I can’t seem to manage it. 

“Do you want me to get MJ too?” I ask, realizing May likely demanded that he make the rounds. Maybe this is what started that play fight between him and Ned tonight. Either Ned dodged it or made a joke about wishing May were there to do it herself. 

It clicks together.

“What?” He looks lost, his head tilted to the side, brow knotted up. “What do you mean?”

“Unless, do you want me to pass it along from May?”

The realization hits across his face. He shakes his head rapidly.

“No, no, no, she’d probably kill me if I tried to do that to her. But, I mean, if you want to pass it along-- or just tell her to lie if May asks. She probably won’t, honestly, but, you know, just in case.”

His shrug and half smile are practically helpless. May ought to have more mercy on him. And me. 

“Alright.” A grin breaks over my face in a way I don’t quite understand and can’t stop. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Right. Goodnight, then. See you in the morning.”

“Night, Peter.”

Rather than stepping back, as intended though, I rush forward. Involuntarily, or at least I’ll pretend, since it’s just as surprising to me as it is to him, I lean forward and kiss his cheek. Or try to. It happens too quickly to register fully, but I’m almost positive I knick the corner of his mouth? That would definitely be unintentional.

“ThatwasforMay,” I explain, stumbling backward. Seeming to sense it, Peter grabs my arm to steady me before I trip outright. He releases his grip and stares, stunned. 

If I thought his eyes were wide earlier, it turns out they can open much wider. His pupils are comically blown open. 

“What?” he asks, seeming concerned. “What was that? I, uh, I didn’t catch what you said.”

“That was, um, that was for May. You know, in exchange.”

That’s perfect. For the first time in a while, my brain saves me.

His face, though still flushed red, relaxes.

“You’ll see her tomorrow,” he points out. “Like, we’ll all see her at the same time. It’d be kind of pointless to pass that on, wouldn’t it?”

Shit. My brain is useless.

“Then, uh… keep it?”

His facial muscles twitch as if he’s glitching between a smile and bewilderment. Then a flint of mischief.

“Unless,” he says slowly, “you want me to pass it along to Ned?”

“And it’s official,” I say, resisting the urge to smack him. “Goodnight!”

He grins as near as he ever gets to a smirk (a term I associate too closely to ass-hattery to assign to him) and I turn to my room as he repeats it back.

We both step to our doors and open them. I glance back just in time to see him practically jump into his room with a speed that reminds me he’s a superhero, even if he’s an idiot. Filled with tangled emotions, I pause, listening or waiting or catching my breath. I only need a moment.

Behind his and Ned’s door, there’s a sudden crash, a sound like leaping bedsprings and something smashing, immediately followed by Peter groaning and Ned’s mocking laughter. Right before I go to my own room, I hear Peter’s exasperated voice: Shit! Dude, can you help me fix it? 

The room is dark when I slip back inside but the alarm clock shines enough red to see vague outlines of the walls and dressers and beds. Legs slightly numb, I stumble my way to the small bathroom to get ready for bed. It only takes a couple minutes, distracted as I am. 

I slip into the blankets of my bed. The warm body heat next to me can only mean one thing: Michelle.

It’s just one of those unspoken things. 

Next update: God only knows.

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[fc5holidayexchange]

FAR CRY 5 HOLIDAY EXCHANGE 2019 [FIC]

‘come things only happy and whole’

Original Character/Sharky Boshaw -Pre Relationship. Deputy Rook, Sharky Boshaw, Earl Whitehorse, Original Characters

@ask-chibi-rook

This was a really fun experience with a really cool character concept! I think I scrapped like five ideas, which almost never happens. TYSM and I hope you enjoy! 

Notes: general warning for Jacob Seed who is Sir-Not-Appearing but still felt, brief non-graphic discussion of miscarriage, gentle flirting, as close as I get to fluff.

–

The circumstances are specific.

Eden’s Gate has a now unusually large population of pregnant women. The Resistance has few in the family way and explicitly no children in or around the compounds. So colour Pastor Jerome Jefferies and Father Joseph Seed surprised when they received identical messages asking them to parley a little north of Dutch in a zone they’d been habitually calling Bear Trap. Because of the bears. Twelve women who had been friends on Facebook before the Reaping started had kept to the agreement they’d made to meet up at Sally Sue’s old cabin and stay the days or weeks it took for all of them to give birth. This would have been a ridiculous thing to organise if a) every single woman involved hadn’t been previously part of a larger prepper group before making a smaller, more intimate one and b) that smaller group hadn’t been specifically for women who’d survived multiple miscarriages. 

“They’re ah, not coming down.” Some poor son of a gun has to tell Whitehorse at two am on a Thursday. They’re out in the chill, on the porch of a little house. “They’ve got four doula’s and a bunch of equipment they’d set up beforehand as well as a doctor. Marcie, that’s, uh, Walter Whit’s Marcie, says that we can shove it up out be-hinds if we want them to come down. It’s between them and God now.”

“She tell Seed that too?”

“She told Walt that.” The boy sighs. “She told Seed that he should have kept that prize winning show dog of his brother under better control as he stressed Wendy and Carlie something awful with their atonements. And that keeping any pregnant women near Faith, who she did have something unpleasant to say about as per her use of Bliss, was just about his greatest crime.”

Whitehorse snorts. “Has she seen the bodies?”

The boy holds up his fingers to make quotation marks. “That’s killing folk, not killing babies, and Seed was coming awful close to asking them to kill babies.”

“That explains the Peggies. When it came right down to it they picked their kids over the Father.” Whitehorse muses. “Would’ve been nice if they’d stood up for us. No, don’t relay that Jimmy, that’s me being an old grump. If those girls need things from us, you get it to them, alright?”

“Yessir.”

“And you,” he turns to point at Rook, tucked under a blanket on the front step with him, “go get some sleep.”

Rook points at herself, flips to the page in her small notebook that says me?

“Yeah, you. Relax Rook. Ain’t nobody around here going to need you to fix this.” 

She probably should have figured that Whitehorse would catch on. It’s been a week, maybe two, since Jess took an all terrain bike and an exhausted, largely non-responsive Rook back to the Henbane. She has marks she doesn’t remember and bigger, scarier blanks in her memory, left to white knuckle it through whatever recovery is possible. Rook spends a lot of her life kind of tired. When it’s hard to communicate you have to be quick and clear about what to say. She’s gotten it right down to essentials by now but that leaves out everything complex. There’s a lot of things sitting just behind her teeth, just behind her gums, that she’ll never have time to tell anyone. Certainly not if Joseph gets his way. 

From what she understands they are at a critical junction in Joseph’s plan. Months at most from his intended end of the world and he has been reacting with his expected fanaticism. A bunch of women trekking off into the woods should be a minor concern. All of this would be a minor concern, solved by Jacob, who had no one among the Prosperity Prepper Pregnancy Yarning Circle, but for one Miriam Lee, of John’s faithful, who led security. She’d changed the locks on any number of critical supplies and literally taken John’s secret stash of solar panels with her, leaving John to explain why he had solar panels in Joseph’s unreasonable and unlikely future, and why Miriam Lee was the only person who knew how to change all the passwords. This still wouldn’t have stopped Jacob but for Joseph, who had decided he’d had a vision and his eldest brother would be cast from paradise should he take arms against the innocent. The absurdity of that statement about that particular redhead aside it seemed the Father was dead serious. 

For all his numerous faults it seemed Joseph Seed was unwilling to harm a child. 

(Ha)

So the circumstances? Very specific.

Rook takes his advice and heads in to sleep. In her dreams places red and deadly pass and prosper, knives sharpen and music plays, a familiar voice sweet and betraying. It’s further away than usual, buffered in her dreams by smaller, stronger feelings currently unsaid. Her mind is dark, not quite unpleasant. When she wakes in the morning, just a few hours later, the Montana morning is fiercely pleasant. The weather is beginning to suggest it’s turning but it hasn’t done more than throw up some surprising afternoon wind changes. Enough that a light jacket and a scarf stashed somewhere is enough for almost any day. 

Someone knocks on the door of the small space she’s been allotted. Rook pulls on her clothes. Soft flannel, thick socks. Two shirts for those aforementioned wind changes. She makes sure she has a small notebook and pen on her. There’s a small box of blue ones under her bed here, liberated from John, so she never feels quite bad enough about how often they get snapped. The door knocks again and she rushes to open it.

On the other side Sharky Boshaw has a chipped mug of tea and a little bit of a nervous look.   

The soft feelings from her dreams return in daylight’s full glory. She waves hello, takes the mug and invites him in. Sharky takes in her messy nest of blankets, the pens scattered on the floor from her dash to answer the door and how, apart from her bed, there isn’t anywhere to sit. She can see him thinking, her own embarrassment flooding her face with colour, before Sharky kneels down and starts picking up her pens.  

“I heard from Isaiah -that prepper with all the grenades? The one the Peggies stopped going near because he set landmines attached to flamethrowers, well he’s been rehabbing a Judge. Found her ripping through Jacob’s territory baiting his people into traps. Clever as hell. He invited me up there ‘cause I brought him some beer a week or two ago and I made a bet against Hurk about it. Says she’s nearly ready to get the hell off his property on account of how she keeps activating his traps to scare the wildlife.” He pauses, glances at the ceiling while he scratches his chin. “Also I owe Hurk money.”

Rook hears all that and as usual has specific questions. She opens her book. Sharky hands her a pen. She writes: You brought a man surrounded by landmines beer?

Sharky looked faintly offended. “I ain’t afraid of fire.”

But the landmines? She asks with genuine concern.

“Landmines are fine if they’re attached to flamethrowers.” He waits a moment to see if she has anything to say to that, then adds, “Obviously I just figured out how those worked and went backwards. Easy.”

Easy, obviously.  

Sharky rubs the back of his neck. “So, wanna pet a dog?”

–

Whitehorse is a paternal combination of pleased and worried that Rook is leaving the relative safety of the Prison to pet a dog with a pyromaniac. On one hand, she’s been a mess since she came back from the Whitetails -the Whitetails that want her back pretty badly, not including Jacob- and a strong interest in doing things that involve walking outside in a relative state of peace is indicative of the good mental health she never exactly had. On the other hand Sharky Boshaw is taking her through woods not quite Resistance and not quite Peggie to pet a wolf that kills people. 

“Kills Peggies.” Sharky corrects when Whitehorse manages to stop grumbling long enough to state his problem. “And Boomer does that too.”

“Boomer is a good dog.” Someone Rook doesn’t know says from their left. “Let the girl pet a dog, Earl. It’s not the most dangerous thing she’s done for us.” 

Whitehorse makes a face she dimly recognises from her early days, when she stayed at the station all hours and didn’t so much as a glance at forming a relationship outside of work. At her one month review he’d said that he hoped that she’d one day find people here she could trust, that he hoped to be one of them, but until then he’d do his best to at least be a soft place to land. It’s months later, and there’s a war on, and his face still says that. Rook spends all her time trying to be what the Resistance needs, the person it needs. There’s not much room for being soft. 

Whitehorse relents, settles on take the shovel and gives Sharky back the rocket launcher and the nun-chucks that Whitehorse personally took out of his trailer about three months before all of this started. Sharky treats both of these gifts with a reverence that they have all learned to tolerate while living in close quarters. He also gifts Sharky with a ten minute long lecture while Rook goes and resupplies her day pack. There’s no explicit mention of her but she gets the feeling Whitehorse has been telling everyone to just be nicer, try to get her out of her shell.    

They take a car part of the way and leave it tucked in an overhang that the Peggies have yet to figure out. The way requires crossing the river and taking a circuitous route through some unallied areas. The trees are just sparse enough to let the sun bite her on the neck. The dirt is coming up off the ground at a rate that’s alarming covering them to their knees in grime and debris. The greenery sings with the sounds of small animals, cautious bird calls and absolutely no gunfire. Silence will fall all across the county for a few moments every now and then, as if the whole world is being as cautious as the birds.  

Sharky just talks and talks and talks. But he’s Sharky enough, whatever weird thing in the Drubman-Boshaw family makes them simultaneously caricatures and decent folk, to look back at her every so often and make sure she’s okay with him. Maybe it’s that he’s used to sound without answer, even if it’s from the opposite side. Maybe he’s just a guy who needs social skills and less access to nitroglycerine. 

“Whaddaya think?”

Rook hasn’t actually been listening. 

“Ah well, not important anyway.” He holds his hands out to her, baffling, before she realises he means to help her up into the knot of a tree. “Oh shit. Come look at this. Haven’t been back here in ages.” He plants himself and all but throws her up into a curvature of branches. “Man I got a twisted twunkle in this tree once.” 

Rook takes his hands. He guides her carefully among the brown bark and the sparing leaves.  

The tree itself is huge and old. It might once have been several different ones that melded together as trees sometimes do. Under her hands the bark feels warm and dry, aged away and tough. It feels alive but waiting, like it’s been here before and will be here again long after. She tries to take that feeling inside herself. Being steady and rooted instead of the constant swaying that digs deeper and deeper after every nightmare. Sharky helps, first by literally pulling her further in until they can sit on a thick branch together, and then by telling her all about the things he knows about this place. She’s not sure how much is true but it’s nice all the same. From the height, and the little raised hill the tree sits on, they can see a little bit of the space around them. The occasional smoke of a fire, or a plane flying in circles. She pulls out her radio, more habit than need, idly flicking it on and off, frequency to frequency, in case someone needs help.  

The radio speaks for a moment: -coming off the mountain-zzzt-no sign yet-zzzt-heads on a swivel A-Team, targets tricky and lean- Jacob hunting Whitetails, even in so-called peacetime.

Sharky turns it off, not soon enough to stop her sense of self crumbling at Jacob Seed’s voice, but soon enough that when he gives her a quick hug she clings to it. Sharky smells like a heavy mixture of adult male body odour, what was left of the laundry powder and wet ash. It’s pungent enough to clear her head. Sharky holds onto her for a moment or two past appropriate then slides away not quite smooth enough to be cool.   

“Hey, Rook, look at that.” He points straight out, and she assumes it’s just to change the subject, but soon enough a small dance of butterflies flies across the sky. They twirl in a circle and pass the tree close enough for Rook to see that they’re spotted with blue and bright green, creatures of the Bliss for certain. They dip down intending to take a pass right through the tree Rook and Sharky are sitting in. Sharky says oh shit just before they’re hit-

The butterflies fly around them, the whole world the colour of wings and white, before it’s the clear Montana sky again. One lands on Sharky’s nose and he pulls a face of intense disgust.

She can’t help it, she laughs at him.

He looks at her for a moment trying to figure out what the fuck she’s doing with her face. When she’s done she begins to climb down, the small bubble of mirth still sitting high, right behind her teeth. 

–

It’s just past dusk when they get there. All of the Resistance keeps odd hours. Isaiah’s house involves a hike that’s near vertical. They see signs of Peggie work as they circle closer -spray cans next to symbols on trees, a copy of Joseph’s Bible, the occasional item of clothing for some reason- but those signs thin as they get closer to the house. Instead scorch marks and gun holes pepper the land like confetti at a wedding. Rook pulls out her shovel. 

Eventually Sharky takes a sharp turn, ducks behind a thick crop of trees and leads her to a neatly kept front yard in front of a shabby barnhouse-cum-fortress. There’s even an American flag hanging from the roof of the added-on porch. Sharky whistles loud and clear across the space. After five minutes or so a man emerges.    

His thick beard and scarred hands tell a story all their own. He shuffles across the porch with a bag under his arm and a cane in his other hand. His leg acts like dead weight across the wood, scraping and scratching along. He makes an unhappy groan low in his throat. Acid burns. Isaiah never had a last name. Or if he did, he refused to give it.

“Hey, buddy.” Sharky hops over some line only he sees turns and holds out his huge hands for her small ones. Like before she hands him her trust and no small amount of affection and amusement and then they do the world’s silliest looking dance:

“Over here -that’s a trip wire, don’t hit that, good-”

“-now this’ll sound strange, two inches left with your bum or you’re gonna lose a bunch, and you’re small enough, ow, from your leg Po-Po-”

“-did you just trip? Dep, this is a real hotzone, come on-”

“-look, I know what it means when a woman makes that face at me, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to grope you, but they’re nice, so-”

“-Good, great, no, nope, that way goes Sharky’s testy festy and he needs ‘em for the Testy Festy seed swap, so come over here-

Finally they come up to the porch. Isaiah sits on his rocking chair under a blanket with ice tea next to him. His chest keeps expanding in little giggles.  Both Rook and Sharky are sweaty and breathing hard. Rook’s hair is stuck to her neck and she’s sure she’s never been this embarrassed before. No wonder the Peggies stopped trying. Sharky stops her with a solemn hand. “Okay now we’re gonna hop twice.”

She abruptly realises he’s fucking with her. Gently, with good humor, but still teasing her. She kicks a clod of dirt at him now that they’re close to the porch and reasonably unlikely to die in a fire. Isaiah makes this noise, like a cat yarking up a bird, his whole upper body moving. He’s laughing. Sharky laughs as well and proclaims he’s going to see if there’s any beer. With nothing else to do Rook climbs up onto the porch and takes a seat against the railing of his porch. Isaiah passes her a glass of the tea. He taps his own throat, the angle revealing its scars and warps, then pulls out a  pen and a board. With unpracticed fingers he writes on his own whiteboard: I heard you speak like this.

Rook nods. Isaiah nods back and returns his writing implements to their bag. Within reach but out of the way. The tea is blessedly cool against her forehead when she presses it in.   

“He-ey girl!” Sharky calls from inside the house. “Guess who found beer! You don’t have to guess, it’s me.” He sticks his head out, probably to ask if she needs something, so she holds up her half full glass. 

The Judge trots onto the porch. Her coat has been shaved down, patches still that bone terrifying white where the hair is longest, but all over are swathes of grey brindling. Her sharp blue eyes are clear as water in a face returned all the way from the Bliss. Around her foreleg a bandage is slowly turning pink from the injury beneath. She comes to rest her huge body near Isaiah but with her sightline out to the world. 

Sharky pats her cautiously then fits himself down next to Rook. “What’s her name?”

Isaiah considers. Then he opens his throat. “Boudica. Queen stayed free.” His voice isn’t clear. It’s pained and filled with the feel of disuse. He names the wolf anyway.

Boudica rolls on her back and shows her fluffy, scarred belly. 

Rook stands and shuffles closer. Her hand shakes as she brings it down, firm, on her upper chest. Boudica wriggles but stays still. Rook keeps patting. Her skin is scarred all the way up to a sharp cut right across her throat. She didn’t die. She can see it: Jacob’s knife, his music and his soldiers. Running as far and fast as you can because you can never be free but you can be away. Boudica defies that, though. Her fur is turning back from the Bliss and there’s not a hint of madness in her eyes. 

Rook returns to her seat. Isaiah gives her more tea. 

Boudica snuffles, rubs her nose with a huge paw. She picks herself up and trots through the front yard they had to dance through. Her path is noticeably straightforward. 

“What the fuck?” Sharky says.  

Isaiah laughs again. “Bad leg. Don’t have time.” He flings his hand towards Rook, the yard and possibly the entire concept of the war beyond it. 

“‘t’s not fair.” Sharky whines. “When I brought you stuff you made me strap it on my back and crawl!”

Isaiah slaps his knee, giggling again, points at Rook and then back at Sharky. “You danced.” Isaiah rubs his throat, as if it pains him. Then as if it would pain him more not to tease, “Fair.”

“I- Well-” Sharky chugs his beer instead of talking. Isaiah refills her glass to the top and bullies Sharky into pulling out Boudica’s bespoke sleeping pen, giving lie to the idea that she’d ever be coming back down with them. 

Night falls properly. They eat together. Isaiah has no room for them inside but Rook’s slept rougher and he brings out a little heater and a bottle of bourbon. Sharky unearths a pile of excellent quality sleeping bags in a shed hidden on the side. Rook watches him whine his way through the whole thing since they don’t actually know there aren’t landmines. The bourbon makes Sharky feel better, though.

He’s talking about…something, honestly she’s not sure how he transitions from topic to topic. She pulls out her notebook. She wrote it earlier in the day, never said it. Thank you, Sharky. 

He smiles, face lit by what little ambient light there is. “Ain’t no thing but a chicken wing, Rook.” 

Rook stays sober under a pile of blankets. Sharky has long since collapsed into snoring. The night is starry and silent. If she sleeps now she’ll have nightmares: falling through red rooms, black blood dripping down her mouth, her tongue returned but unable to make human noise, another layer between her and other people. Another place for someone to slide a knife. The night is starry and silent and in Hope County that will have to be enough. 

Boudica comes back in the early hours. Rook is still awake. Her muzzle is a little bloody but mostly she seems tired and pleased with herself. She comes over for a very quick pat but returns to the nest of hand sewn blankets and repurposed pillowing that she calls a bed. She tunnels in, turns and wiggles her body, huffs, sleeps.

Not his wolf, she thinks, and goes to sleep herself. She was right about the dreams. But between terror and noiseless pain is her own feet under her running like she thinks Boudica would.    

[serpentes-lupus]

OC Interview: Tarra Lyall

Repost, don’t reblog

Tagged - By no one

Before Year 6, Chapter 18

name ➔ Tarra let out a long yawn before rubbing her eyes. “Can I go back to bed? It’s too earlier.” She grumbled before sighing. “Fine. My name is Tarra Lyall.”

are you single ➔ At the question, the young girl blushed a bit and averted her gaze. “I...think so? Like Talbott and I have been on two dates now and he did kiss me on the cheek. He does know how I feel and I guess he has admitted the way he feels for me in his own manner. But we haven’t gone on any other dates nor made it official. Well, with the Cursed Vaults going on and Talbott preferring his privacy, I think it would be best to keep our relationship on the down-low for now.”

are you happy ➔ Tarra looked a bit confused before taking a few seconds to think about her response. “Yeah. I mean, I found my brother and he’s alive. I have friends who care for me and my parents are still around. Like, things could be better but I can’t complain.”

are you angry ➔ Again, Tarra became confused and even more off-guard. “Yes. I am angry. I’m angry that Jacob just up and left without making an attempt to stick around. I’m angry about what Rakepick did to him and us. I’m angry that...that I’m not strong enough.”

are your parents still married ➔ “They sure are. Happy at that too. Especially after they got over Jacob’s disappearance.” She said before realizing how she said then frantically waved her hands. “Nononononono! I didn’t mean that they were happy to get rid of him! Like, it broke their hearts and they were...rather apathetic with each other. But after accepting what happened and that Jacob was, probably, never coming back, they moved on.”

-

NINE FACTS

birthplace ➔ “I was born in Cuenca, Spain. I currently live in Dumfries, Scotland. I moved when I was a baby but I would visit Cuenca during the holidays.”

hair color ➔ “Obviously, it’s dark brown,” she grinned as she twirled one of her curls with one finger. 

eye color ➔ “Hazel brown. Although, I’ve been told by various family members that they look bronze.” Tarra hummed before lightly shrugging. “Must have gotten it from my father’s side of the family because none of the Lyalls has my eye color.”

birthday ➔ “March 10th.”

mood ➔ “Eh? Like what I’m feeling right now? Tired. You did wake me up for this bloody interview...”

gender ➔ “I identify as androgynous. I have both masculine and feminine traits, and my style says so as well.”

summer or winter ➔ “Summer!” She exclaimed excitedly. “I visit my family in Spain during the summer, and I spend time at my uncle’s ranch and play soccer with my cousins! Celebrate birthday parties and go to festivals! Travel around Scotland, visit the grandparents and explore the old Lyall manor. I’ll probably get some souvenirs for the gang this upcoming summer. They’ve given me gifts before and I have returned few but I always enjoy sharing my cultures.”

morning or afternoon ➔ Tarra laughs before answering her question. “Strangely enough, I prefer the morning. I don’t know why but I like the stillness of dawn. Where it’s quiet and you have that momentarily peace to yourself. Now I can understand why Talbott prefers his privacy.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔ Tarra become so flustered that her glasses fogged up. “I eh..ah..um..” she struggled to say before shaking her head. “Yes!” She exclaimed in embarrassment. 

do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “To a certain degree. You might have an attraction to someone but it might not be love. Perhaps it’s until you start to learn more about them, befriend and such that your feelings might develope to love.”

who ended your last relationship ➔ “I didn’t have a previous relationship.”

have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ Tarra looked down in shame. “Yes. It was Barnaby’s. It was when my love note was read by Professor Snape and Barnaby confronted me about it. He thought I had a crush on him because I went to the Ball with him. I thought I fancied him but it was not romantic love. I should have been honest after that. I know that he didn’t take the rejection well. His cries still haunt me.” 

are you afraid of commitments ➔ “Who isn’t? But if you truly love that person, then you have to conquer your fear!”

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔

have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “If I did, I guess that it was Barnaby. Especially after he talked to me after the love note was read out loud.”

have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “Yes.”

-

SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ “What kind of bloody question is that? Love, of course!” Tarra exclaimed, a deep blush on her cheeks. 

lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Lemonade! I like that sweet taste with that pinch of citrus. Tea is just bland and bitter. Blah!” 

cats or dogs ➔ “I like both of them! They can be equally as goofy and playful. And each serves different purposes in different circumstances. You get to see a lot of their personality while they live on a ranch.”

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “To be honest, I prefer a few best friends. Too many regular friends might just cause trouble. Like, I’m glad that I have friends in my life right now, but I believe a few of them I would consider my best friends.” Tarra said before scratching the back of her neck. “I don’t like the idea of choosing one over the other though.” 

wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “Depends on who I’m going with. A wild night out would be with my friends. A romantic night in would be someone that I fancy, like Talbott. And if it’s a wild night out, then I have to be careful about which friends I go out with.”

day or night ➔ “Day. Despite me saying that I enjoy the stillness of the morning, I do like the activities and hustle of the day. The night doesn’t offer much for a teenager.”

-

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ “Yup. By Professor Snape, no less. He destroyed Andre’s broom! I still owe him one but I saw that he got another one. Still, best to have a second broom in handy just in case!” 

fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “Like I’m gonna tell you.” Tarra huffed. 

wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “Maybe a toy when I was a kid? But I can’t really recall.”

wanted to disappear ➔ “Who doesn’t? There have been times that I just want to be left alone, especially with all of the recent events.” 

-

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ Tarra softly blushed. “Oh, we’re getting personal again. I guess a smile would be my preference.”

shorter or taller ➔ “That’s a tough one. Either height is okay with me. But if you want me to be specific, I guess if I’m dating a boy, then I would prefer them being taller. And if I’m dating a girl, I guess either height is no issue for me.”

intelligence or attraction ➔ “I guess intelligence? Super attractive people make me intimidated. Intelligent people might be playing a gamble though since they can be self-centered with their smarts. Or they can just be humble about it.” Tarra grumbled in frustration. “I don’t know!”

hook-up or relationship ➔ “Relationships, of course! Hook-ups may be fun for others, but not for me.”

-

FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔ Tarra softly sighed, becoming quiet before answering. “Well, depending on the family members. I get along just fine with my parents if that’s what you were wondering. My relationship with my mother’s parents is good too. They’re a bit uptight but know when to ease up. The same goes with my cousins on my mother’s side. As for my father’s parents....that’s a different story. I get along with my uncle, my father’s younger brother, and his kids but that’s it. I know that I have more relatives on that side of the family but I never met them.”

would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “Not really? I mean, all is good back at home but after Jacob’s disappearance, things became rocky and lots of wizards and witches gave me and my family a hard time. Then again, muggles still too due to being mixed blood. Then there’s Rakepick and the “R” organization. But I wouldn’t consider that a “messed up life”. In fact, I really have myself to blame since I decided to seek out Jacob by unraveling the Cursed Vaults.” 

have you ever ran away from home ➔ “I have no reason to.”

have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “No. Wait...I faintly remembered being with my parents. We were visiting someone but I can’t recall who it was. I might have been too little. But I remember shouting and screaming, and then, we were all ushered out. I guess we were kicked out. Does that count?”

-

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “How could you ask such a question?! I don’t hate any of my friends!”

do you consider all of your friends' good friends ➔ “I think so. Many of my friends are good people with good intentions. Although, it is true that I do talk to some more than others. But overall, they haven’t done anything to wrong me.”

who is your best friend ➔ “My best friend? That would be Rowan. She was the first friend that I ever made coming to Hogwarts. She was the first to give me a chance when everyone else was quick to judge me because of the lies that the Daily Prophet had said about Jacob and my family. Honestly, if it wasn’t for her, I might not have had any friends today.”

who knows everything about you ➔ “That might be Penny. I wouldn’t be surprised since she’s a popular kid in Hogwarts. It’s her job to know everything and everybody. It feels weird knowing that she might know about you before ever meeting her. It seems like an invasion of privacy. Aside from her, then the next person would be Rowan.”

[petersshirts]

Stolen Kisses | tom holland

summary: you take a weekend trip with your friends from the Spiderman cast to Lake Tahoe and your crush, Tom, seems to be always around you, making it hard for you to not act on your feelings

words: 2,7 k i got a bit carried away oops

A/N: hello peeps, finally, christmas is coming, my favourite season! this little christmas one-shot is for @fratboievans  and @wayfaring----stranger Christmas Writing Challenge! I chose the Prompt „Look at that.“ „Mistletoe.“ with Tom Holland, I hope you like it! And I’m sorry it took so long to write this, I made three attempts to write something, and now finally, I did it!

„Y/N, wake up!“ Somebody shook your shoulder and you mumbled a few words, fighting against waking up. You felt warm in your bed and sleep was about to pull you back in-

„Y/N, the plane has landed, we need to leave!“ You slowly opened your eyes, realising that you were not in your bed in your warm apartment but in a plane full of people.

„Hm?“ you mumbled and turned your head towards the voice that had rudely awakened you. You looked right into the face of your best friend and boss Zendaya. She had an annoyed expression on her face, most likely because you had fallen asleep even if you had promised that you wouldn’t on the one-hour flight.

Slowly, you started to wake up a bit and ruffled your hair, looking around you. „Are we already there?“ Your friend rolled her eyes and grabbed the purse that laid on the seat next to her. The people around you were already starting to leave the plane and you quickly put all your stuff in your backpack and stood up, the sleep still lingering in your bones.

While you left the plane with Zendaya walking right behind you, you started to remember where you were - Reno, Nevada. Zendaya had already finished the Spiderman movie two months ago, but when Z accepted a new collaboration with a clothing brand, they gifted her a big cottage right at Lake Tahoe for three days.

And since the cottage was very big, Zendaya called the Spiderman cast and asked her friends if they wanted to come. And now here you were, on a Friday in December about to have a weekend full of snow and fun with your friends. And Tom Holland.

Since you were Zendayas’ assistant but also best friend, she had also invited you to come and since you had nothing to do, you obviously said yes. But you started to regret that decision when she told you that Tom was coming too.

Since you met Tom at the set of the first Spiderman movie, you had a huge crush on him. He was always so nice to you and asked you if you were fine, it was hard to focus on your job. His charm was hard to resist but you were certain that he was just being nice. But it was even harder for you to pretend that you didn’t feel anything when you saw the brown-haired boy.

When you said yes to the invitation, you had been certain that Tom would be busy; he had always work to do and was always on the run so you didn’t think that he would have the time for this little trip. But of course, he said yes, to Zendayas’  joy.

She knew that you liked Tom and tried everything to get the two of you closer together. And you had to admit that it was hard to resist and the only thing that would always distract you was work. But this time, there was no work, just your friends around you who would make the meeting of you and Tom unavoidable.

And now here you were, on the way to see Tom again. You hadn’t seen him for two months and you had wished to not see him for a longer time because the crush got worse every time you saw him.

When you finally left the plane, Z got her phone out to check where the others were. Everyone had arrived from different cities or countries and you had to admit that you were pretty excited to see all your friends together in one place. Everyone had made such an effort to come here and you hoped that you could make it great for everyone.

You didn’t have a lot of plans other than going out into the snow, maybe going skiing or snowboarding and a little Christmas party on Saturday Night. Everyone was just here to relax and have a great time.

You were one of the earliest to arrive just like Tom and Harrison, who had flown in from London. Z had talked to them and you would share a cab that would take you to the cottage at Lake Tahoe. The others would arrive later.

The closer you got to the exit, the faster your heart started to beat. You were not ready to see Tom again, especially not in this sleepy state of yours. But Z was walking so fast that you couldn’t even think about it because in the next moment he stood right in front of you.

Even though he had dark circles under his eyes and wore sweats and a hoodie, Tom looked really good. You swallowed, trying to find the right words to greet him. Z hugged her two friends and without even reacting, they hugged you too, causing you to lose your breath.

„Long time no see,“ Tom mumbled and looked at you with a small smile, making your heart beat double as fast. „Well here we are.“ was the only thing that came out and you could slap yourself for the stupid words, but there was no going back now. You were so uneasy around Tom and he had to be completely stupid to not notice that.

„Shall we go?“ Z asked and the tree of you nodded and you made your way to the cab that was already waiting for you.

______________

An hour later, you finally arrived at the cottage that was directly at the lake. Everything was covered in snow and it felt like a Winter Wonderland - you never had any snow in LA and it felt so good to finally be out of the city.

Just like Z had told you, the cottage was huge. It had 5 bedrooms with twin beds and a big living room that could fit 20 people. Everything was decorated beautifully and the fireplace was already on, warming up the whole room.

„It’s so nice,“ you muttered to yourself, but one particular boy heard you. „I think so too.“ Your head turned to see Tom standing next to you with a grin on his face. You blushed and stared on the ground, trying to find the right words for one hour. But you were way too flustered to say something like a normal human being.

„D - do you know what you wanna do this weekend?“ It took you a few seconds to get it out, but you were proud how platonic it was. Nice and easy Y/N. Don’t let him think that you’re out of your mind.

„Hm, I think I’m gonna go snowboarding for a bit. I haven’t done it in a while so please don’t watch me, okay? I’m bound to fall.“ You giggled at his words but shut your mouth a few seconds later, hating the sounds that came out of your mouth. Wow, you were so whipped.

„I bet you’re gonna do great.“ You two just smiled, no more words needed.

The rest of the group arrived only an hour later - Jacob, Tony, Laura, Remi and Zach. You knew that it would be great the moment they hugged you, happy to see you again.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with chatting and getting yourself comfortable in the cottage. You didn’t talk to Tom, but your eyes often wandered to his form and watched him talk and laugh to his friends. You smiled and one of the guys had to repeat themselves, causing you to blush and mumble a small sorry.

For dinner, you ordered a lot of pizzas and turned on the tv. Everyone was literally exhausted from the long flights that you all went to bed pretty early, promising to make tomorrow better. But you had to admit that you had already loved every second of this small trip - all the people you loved were around you and it was so good to catch up and talk about your family life with the people that cared about you.

Zendaya and you walked to your room and you fell on the bed, closing your eyes while Z changed into her pyjamas. „Did you talk to Tom?“ You sighed at her words, knowing that she couldn’t let the subject go. „Yeah, I did. We’re cool, Z, please don’t make this awkward.“

Your friend fell down onto the bed next to you and you turned towards her. Her hair was all over the place and you grinned at the girl that always managed to look flawless even at a bad hair day. You managed to look like a sloth, even on your good days.

„Oh come on, Y/N, there’s something between you. And if you won’t make a move, then I will.“ As an answer, you just turned away from her and closed your eyes, done with this conversation. Z just sighed, understanding that you didn't wanna talk about it. But she would find a way to make it clear to you that Tom and you were meant for each other.

_______________________

The next day, everyone woke up early to get on the slopes. While you were not the biggest fan of doing winter sports, literally everyone else rented ski or snowboard gear and went on the slopes. The only one left was Jacob, who had never seen snow before in Hawaii. But the two of you decided to put on your warm clothes and walk along the Lake, enjoying the calm atmosphere and the sun that was thawing your frozen feet.

„So what’s been going on with you and Tom?“ Jacob spoke up the second you were alone and you looked at him with widened eyes. Were you that obvious? „N - nothing, why?“ Jacob grinned and nudged your shoulder playfully. „Come on, Y/N, you can’t tell me that there’s nothing. Ever since Tom met you, he’s shy around you and always smiling. And I know from the looks that you give him, you might feel the same.“ You wanted to protest at first but decided to give it up.

You knew that you liked Tom and you just couldn’t lie to Jacob. He would see right through you.

„I’m pretty hooked,“ you mumbled, letting down your facade. Jacob grinned at you. „I knew it!! Okay, we need to do something to get you together!“ You laughed at his ambition but shook your head. „Jacob, it’s fine. I’ve had a crush on him for three years now and I’ve been fine.“ Jacob raised an eyebrow, not believing your words. You had to admit that you were not believing them either.

The whole day, Jacob spoke about all the ways Tom and you would come together. The ideas were getting more and more ridiculous and you were laughing your head off, happy to be out of your head and not so focused on the British Boy.

Jacob and you headed back to the cottage at 4 because of a text from Zendaya, telling you that they were all on their way back. When you came back, the whole cottage was decorated and there was alcohol everywhere. You knew that this party would be big, even though these were only your friends.

For the rest of the afternoon, you took a nice long bath and played some cards with Harrison, who was a terrible loser. All he said was that you were cheating, not admitting that you were just better than him.

At 8, everyone started to gather in the cosy living room, all of you a little dressed up. It was weird, looking so fancy around the friends you had spent a lot of drunken and hazy nights with. But it was a formal Christmas party and that’s why you were wearing a dark red dress, the riff just ending mid-thigh. It felt like you were wearing nothing, but on the inside, you felt good. The dress and your silky hair made you confident. But still, you could only look at Tom from afar.

He stood next to Remi, beer in his hand and a lazy grin on his cheeks. You could see that he already had a few beers, but it didn’t seem like he was drunk. On your side, you had only had one of Lauras’ famous cocktails and that was enough for the night. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him, even though you had done that many times.

The night went by pretty fast, and everyone started to clear out at 1 am. You helped Z clean up the kitchen but when you looked into her exhausted face, you send her to bed. „You need your beauty sleep.“ you teased her and she just grinned and winked, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

There was still sounds coming from the living room, showing you that you were not completely alone. You put the last few plates into the dishwasher and moved out of the kitchen to let your eyes fall on Tom.

He was still picking up the last plastic cups and putting them into a bin. You looked around, trying to find another human being that could shield you from this confrontation, but there was no one. Just tell him how you feel. Jacobs’ and Zs’ voice were already in your head, begging to just admit your feeling to the only boy in your mind.

Tom noticed you and looked up at you with a smile that made your toes curl. He looked exhausted but the smile on his face was still genuine.

„So we’re the last ones down here, hm?“ His voice was quiet to not wake the others up and you could just nod, stuck in the middle of the living room.

„Yeah, I just finished cleaning up. Are you almost done?“ Tom nodded and stretched his back and groaned, causing your heart to beat double as fast. „Yep, I will just put this in the kitchen and then we can go to bed.“ It sounded so weird coming out of his mouth, like you would go into one room and not just walking up the staircase together, both of you sleeping with their friends in one bed.

You moved to the start of the stairs and sighed. This had been such a long day but you were still on edge, your nerves could not settle. Tom appeared from the kitchen and stood next to you with a cheeky grin. You turned around to start walking but there was a soft tuck on your hand, holding you back. You looked into Toms glinting eyes and he nudged his chin to the ceiling.

„Look at that.“

Your eyes turned towards the ceiling, your breath hitched in your throat. There was a small green branch, right above your head.

„A Mistletoe,“ you mumbled, averting your gaze to the ground.

„Tom we don’t have to do d…“ but your words were cut off when Tom pressed his lips to yours, pulling you close to him. You whined at the connection because finally, his lips were on yours. Tom moaned into your mouth when you opened your lips for him, letting him in and showing that there was so much more than just a friendship.

Oxygen started to run low so you stumbled back, but kept your forehead on Toms’. His eyes were shining and he looked right into yours, feeling like he was staring right into your soul. You couldn’t wipe the smile of your face, feeling like the luckiest girl on this world.

„I’ve been waiting so long for this.“ Tom mumbled and pressed another light kiss on your lips, not wanting to let go yet. „Me too,“ you mumbled, not believing your own eyes or ears. The feeling was mutual and you couldn’t feel any happier.

„Merry Christmas, love.“ Tom hugged you close and you shuddered, feeling completely at ease after a very long time.

„Merry Christmas.“

______________________

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[wild-springflower]

My super late B99 Secret Santa Gift!! XD

@startofamoment As promised! Sorry it’s so late!! 

His alarm awoke him early, as planned, and Jake was quick to shut it off so it wouldn’t disturb his sleeping wife. God, it’d been six months and he still couldn’t get over how happy one word could make him.

Jake rolled over slowly, wanting to get a good look at Amy sleeping before he ventured off to their kitchen, but upon facing the other side of the bed Jake’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Amy wasn’t there. Not a huge deal, she was probably just using the bathroom, she drank so much water during the day she usually had to pee at least once during the night. He’d just have to wait for her to get back and then fall asleep once again; it’d set his schedule back a little, but he could make it work.

Except ten minutes came and went and Amy still hadn’t returned. No way she was taking that long the bathroom, something else was up.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Jake rolled out of bed and padded into their apartment. At first nothing seemed weird or out of place, then a whispered curse fluttered down the hallway from the direction of the kitchen. Curiosity piqued even further Jake decided to do a little sleuthing before he revealed he was awake.

The kitchen was separated from the rest of the apartment by a half-wall, so Jake had to sneak in a crouch to remain unseen.

“Shit!” He heard his wife hiss, frustration clear in her tone. “What the hell!”

The room lapsed into silence once more before Jake heard the rustle of paper and the tell-tale huff of an Amy who was valiantly denying defeat.

Finally, curiosity got the better of him and Jake stood to survey the mess that was their kitchen. Several large bowls were scattered about their counter space, each one filled with what appeared to be a batter of some sort. The floor was coated in a layer of flower, and over in the corner heir waffle maker sat, patiently waiting with its little light blinking to signify that it was fully heated up.

“Uh, what’cha doin’ Ames?” Jake questioned with an amused smile.

Amy jumped, whirling to face him immediately with fire in her eyes. “Jacob Santiago what are you doing up this early?”

Jake placed his hands on his hips and took on the same commanding tone his wife had use, “Amy Peralta I could ask you the same question!”

But instead of continuing their banter as was usual Amy’s shoulders deflated and she set her piece of paper down with an annoyed sigh. “I was trying to make waffles the way you like them to surprise you with breakfast, but I can’t get the batter right.”

Jake couldn’t help but chuckle, although the intention behind his humor was obviously misinterpreted because all of a sudden the entire focus of Amy’s frustrated rage had turned on him. Quickly raising his hands in a placating gesture Jake smiled, “I wasn’t laughing at your inability to cook a basic breakfast item, promise. I’m just amused because I woke up this early to make you breakfast.”

“Oh.” Amy blinked before rolling her eyes with a smile, “Well then, get your sexy butt in here and help me with this batter.”

Jake beamed, “She thinks my butt’s sexy.” He half whispered, before dashing excitedly into the kitchen. “Seriously though, it looks like the Pillsbury doughboy was hit with an atomic bomb, what happened in here?”

“I told you, I was trying to make your waffles, but this stupid recipe must be wrong or something because no matter what I tried they wouldn’t turn out!”

“Where’d you get a recipe?”

Amy paused, looking sheepish, “Uuuuuh, your mom’s basement?”

There was a moment of silence before Jake burst out laughing, “Well that would be why they don’t taste right! We haven’t used that recipe in years, the batter’s been changed so many times since that!”

“Then why have a recipe at all!” Amy demanded, cheeks burning in embarrassed rage. “Or copy down the new recipe or something, I’ve been at this for almost two hours.”

“Yeah I can tell.”

Amy dropped the useless piece of paper with a roll of her eyes, “Well, would you like to make your waffles then since there is no recipe for me to follow?”

“I will get an updated recipe for you, and yes, I can make the waffles.”

“I just feel bad,” Amy said with a pout, “I wanted to make you breakfast.”

“You can chop up the fruit.”

“Jake, we don’t have any fruit.”

Jake grinned, the little sideways smirk that Amy used to hate but had grown to love, the one he only wore when he knew something she didn’t. “What, there’s no fruit in the fridge!”

“That’s what you think, I hid it in the one place I knew you’d never look!”

Amy thought for a moment before her eyes brightened, “The take-out bag!”

Jake just laughed, “I knew if I put a bag from Wok on 9th you’d never go anywhere near it!”

“That’s because that place has gotten three C ratings from the health inspectors in a row.”

“Yeah but the food is so good.”

Amy shuddered, “I don’t know how you can stand it, but that was good thinking of you, I never would have gone in that bag.”

Jake smiled, pleased with the praise, “I know.”

The kitchen lapsed into silence as the couple got to work on their own separate jobs, Jake mixing a new batch of waffle batter and Amy washing and cutting all the various types of fruit that Jake had bought for their breakfast, all of them her favorites. He’d tried arguing with her that you couldn’t have more than one favorite of something, but Amy said there was no way to distinguish a favorite fruit because they were all so variously different in taste and texture, but they all contained their own specific health benefits as well. So, she had multiple favorite fruits. And vegetables.

Jake poured the batter onto the waffle maker while Amy mixed up a lovely fruit salad, and sure her part of breakfast didn’t require any cooking, but it’s not like Jake was some expert either. The only reason he knew how to make waffles in the first place was because they were a Peralta specialty and his mom would have killed him if he couldn’t pass the tradition on.

Amy glanced at her husband, pulling the real maple syrup from the fridge she’d bought just for this occasion. Jake was humming softly to himself but seemed to sense her eyes on him and stopped to look her direction. They made eye contact for a moment before smiling, “I love you.” Amy said.

Jake’s grin grew wider, “I love you.” He responded.