#anyway my pretty lady is...probably nine or ten years old now?

[nientedal]

[babymetaldoll]

DIWK - Chapter ten: "Set me free my honey bee"

Word count: 11,6K

Summary: Let's jump 19 months in time and see how painful it has turned for reader and Spencer to hide their feelings for each other. JJ leaves the team, and a new member joins the BAU.

Warnings: Angst and hurt. Fools being assholes. Cursing, of course. Mention of CM cases and spoilers on S06E11.

A/N: Please don't hate me. Just remember things usually look like the shit before they get worst, and then everything is better. I hope.

Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen |

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(Y/N)'s point of view

Time is a weird thing. I remember when I was in school and time didn't pass fast enough. Semesters were eternal. It felt it had been years by the time summer vacation arrived. The complete opposite happened to me at the BAU. Suddenly, time passed too quickly. A whole year and a half went by in the blink of an eye.

I told Spencer about it, and he sent me a paper published by Professor Adrian Bejan that presented an argument based on the physics of neural signal processing. He hypothesizes that, over time, the rate at which we process visual information slows down, and this is what makes time 'speed up' as we grow older.

My answer was that I thought it happened 'cos as we grew older, we did things that actually gave us joy, which made us feel the time was passing faster than before. So we argued a whole Saturday afternoon about it and created our own theories for that event.

My theory was my personal favorite, 'cos it was the only one that could easily explain why so much time had passed in the BAU, and it felt like it had been just a few weeks.

It hadn't been easy, though. Those nineteen months had been filled with some of the worst situations we had been through as a team.

After I got shot, JJ finally admitted her relationship with Will and got pregnant. That was shocking, the first BAU baby: Henry.

Sadly, Henry was the only little good thing that happened that year. Because to sum it up, a bunch of awful shit happened to all of us: Hotch was in a car explosion that almost killed him. Spencer and Prentiss got trapped in an undercover mission into an underground cult to investigate child abuse, and Emily was beaten up pretty badly. Also, Spencer got infected with anthrax and nearly died. That was probably the most agonizing moment I had lived since the whole Tobias Hankel situation two years earlier.

Also, that year Prentiss had to investigate the case of the death of one of her best friends, and I was in a pretty nasty fight with an unsub that got me out of the field for three weeks. Not to mention, Spencer was shot in the leg.

Hotch was stabbed by the only unsub that has actually won against the BAU: Foyet. He attacked Aaron and got on the lose for months, but we all knew his next move as torture Hotch's family. That's why his ex-wife Haley and his little son Jack had to go into protective custody, and he couldn't see them for months while we tried to catch Foyet.

Things didn't go as planned. And without a doubt, the worst moment that year was the day Haley died. Foyet killed her, and Aaron lost it. He literally killed him with his bare hands the moment he got him. For a solid week, I was sure Aaron Hotchner wouldn't be the unit chief anymore. Strauss actually opened an investigation related to everything that happened that day. But in the end, somehow, she understood the "bloodbath" that had happened in that house was all in Foyet's hands.

However, there's no way to deny that the whole team had changed in many ways after that year. The concept of being a family was now more present than ever. After chasing Foyet for months, we were all onto him as if he was chasing our own family, because he was.

You don't work this kind of job with a team like mine and don't get attached to them. And this goes beyond how in love I was with Spencer. The (Y/N) who first stepped into the BAU, scared to show her true self, was long gone. And despite my deepest fears, letting them in and showing them who I really was had been one of the smartest decisions I have ever made.

Do you want to know which was my stupidest decision? Falling in love with Spencer Reid. It hadn't actually been my choice. I just didn't fight the feeling either. I don't think I could have even if I tried, though. Those nineteen months brought us so close, my mom thought we were living together, and the teasing from our friends was so common we weren't even affected by it.

For Christ Sakes, even Strauss thought we were dating! She forced us to attend a seminar on fraternization, concerned after she realized we always took our vacation together. We had a lot of fun trips, though. First, we visited his mom and had an amazing weekend in Las Vegas. Then we took a few days off after the anthrax incident and went to Hawaii. Picture Spencer Reid in an "all-inclusive," drinking all the coffee and eating all the pastries possible while reading a million books underneath an extra-large umbrella. We had fun that week, did some local touring, but most of all, sleeping in and relaxing. Spencer hates the beach but got those tickets anyway.

Did everybody think we were a couple? Yes

Did it help that we shared rooms, 'cos we were already used to it? No

Did it feel like a honeymoon without sex? Yes

Could I stop thinking about sex with Spencer? No.

And all that led us to the nightmare our relationship was going to become.

Penelope Garcia was drunk. She kept pouring shots and pushing them to us. Emily was wasted as well. But she kept acting like the classy lady she is. Not like JJ. My poor baby had mascara smeared under her eyes after crying for like an hour.

We found out she was leaving the team, and it was a hard blow on us. And by hard, I mean the worst thing that had ever happened to us. We had suffered without JJ when she was on maternity leave. And we struggled without her. Now knowing the Pentagon had taken her away from the BAU was torture.

We had a goodbye party for her at Rossi's, but this was our goodbye girl's night, and neither of us was holding anything back.

We had cried, we had sung sad songs. We drank all the champagne, wine, and vodka we could find. And now, holding our tequila shots, we knew it was time to call it a night.

- "I just love you girls so much,"- JJ whispered, crying- I don't wanna work without you.

- "Boo, come here!!"- I opened my arms and wrapped them around my friend, kissing the top of her hair a few times- "I love you too, and you are going to come back so soon you won't have time to miss us. You'll see. Papa Rossi and Dada Hotch are gonna fix everything."

I was drunk. Seriously drunk. But that wasn't the reason why I was so sweet with JJ. The truth is, I was broken-hearted. Like Penelope and Reid, I didn't manage change very well, and the fact that JJ was forced to leave made me feel frustrated and mad. But most of all, it made me think of every time I had been a little bitch with her during the years. And I regretted each one of them.

- "And we won't be far!"- Emily added and caressed JJ's arm, smiling kindly- "You will still be in town, and we will not leave you alone"- JJ chuckled and nodded.

- "I know, girls. Shit, I love you all so much!"

- "We love you too!"- Penelope sobbed and moved closer, wrapping the three of us in her arms.

- "Please, take care!"- JJ wiped off the tears from her eyes and looked at us- "Emily, don't do anything stupid! Don't rush in the field, and please don't take your fucking vest off!!"

- "I won't! I promise!"

- "You have to live to be Unit chief one day!"- JJ added, and Prentiss widened her eyes, shocked.

- "That's not really my gold."

- "But you'd be queen, baby!!"- Jareau added and turned to Penelope- "And you, please make sure Hotch eats. I kept a stack of granola bars on my desk to keep him fueled during the day. He usually forgets lunchtime and skips dinner, so..."

- "Don't worry, JJ,"- Penelope nodded, and we all felt our heartbreak a little thinking about all the things JJ did in her daily basics to take care of the team, and we didn't even know.

- "How are we going to survive without you?"- I mumbled, pouting. JJ chuckled and held my hand.

- "You are a rock, and you will do a fantastic job keeping this team together. Just, please, can you and Spencer start dating now?"

I wide opened my eyes and stared at JJ. The comment surprised me. I shouldn't, 'cos the whole "you and Spencer should start dating" joke was getting old. Only this time, JJ wasn't joking. She held both my hands and looked right into my eyes.

- "(Y/N), he loves you"- I was about to argue with her, but she covered my mouth with her Cheetos smelling hand.

- "Don't say a word! Spencer loves you so much you really must be blind not to see it. And I know you love him too. It's implied in all the little things you do for him every day. So don't take it for granted. Don't think this will last forever 'cos look at me! A week ago, I was happily working at the BAU, and now I'm drinking at my goodbye party! So don't waste any more time! You are in love with Spencer, and he loves you! It doesn't take a profiler to see it. So please! Act on it!"

There was a dramatic silence after. I didn't know how to break it. I could just joke around, but somehow, it didn't feel right. It had been too quiet for too long, and that made everything harder to deny. Finally, Emily put her hand on mine, just like JJ was still doing, and smiled at me.

- "There's nothing to be ashamed of, (Y/N). You are not the first person to fall for her best friend."

- "And the Junior G Man loves you so much,"- Penelope added, landing her hand on our hands too.

- "As his friend"- I corrected and sighed. I guess that was it. After three years, I could probably start facing my feelings in front of my friends.

- "No, (Y/N)"- Garcia tried to argue, but I shook my head and stood up, 'cos all that sudden attention and affection was bothering me.

- "PG, I was in Hawaii with the man, sharing a room, walking around in a bikini, and he didn't do anything."

- "That's because he is shy!"- Emily excused him right away.

- "My bikini leaves pretty much nothing to the imagination. Do you know what he said when he first saw me on it?"- I looked at my friend and poured us another round of tequila- "And I quote, "I don't think I brought enough books. This one is too interesting."

I air quoted with my fingers as we spoke, and the three of them looked at me, speechless. I made my point and drank my shot, feeling the alcohol burning down my throat. My friends opened their mouths but didn't produce a word. I sighed and looked at them.

- "But he hates the beach, and he took you there anyway,"- Emily pointed out

- "Did he give you his speech about how he hates sandy food?"- JJ asked me, and I chuckled, nodding.

- "And about pink skin, limited and unengaging topography, and of course, the real reason he hates the beach: drug-resistant bacteria spread by seagull feces."

- "And the man took you to the beach!"- Penelope argued.

- "But he didn't do anything! he didn't make his move, didn't even hold my hand!!"- I nearly shouted- "That's why, among a lot of reasons, is how I know Spencer is not interested in me! If only I'd tell you all the shit we've been through!"

- "Please!! Tell us!!"- Garcia begged and grabbed one of my legs- "I won't live another day 'cos I won't be able to deal with the mystery!"

- "No! 'cos you are gonna tell Morgan"- I slurred- "And he is going to embarrass and tease my honey bunny, and my honey bunny is gonna get all nervous and nervous around me, and we are never going to..."- I stopped talking and looked at my friends. I was sharing too much.

- "(Y/N)?"- Prentiss looked at me, but I just shook my head and looked down.

- "I think I better go home."

- "No, you can't drive like this,"- JJ argued immediately and held my hand- "I'm not gonna let you go intoxicated. Will is gonna come pick me up, and we'll drop you in your place."

I nodded at her and stayed still. My friends smiled at me, and slowly very slowly, I leaned on JJ's shoulder and rested my head on it.

- "I love you, boo,"- I whispered, and she giggled- "I don't think I'll stay sane without you there with us anymore."

- "Hotch is gonna manage to get her back,"- Penelope assured me, and I just nodded.

- "Meanwhile, we won't replace you, and if anyone tries to push someone new into the team, we are not gonna take them,"- I added, feeling JJ's hand holding mine.

- "Don't be mean with people just 'cos you miss me. If there's a new teammate, it won't be their fault I was pushed out of the BAU."

- "But, JJ,"- I tried to argue, but she shook her head right away.

- "No, (Y/N). You can't be mean to people just because."

Clearly, my friend hoped I could be the better person. The simple question was: did I want to be the better person? Right there, drunk and sad, the answer was no.

Spencer's point of view

I kept finding myself awake at four in the morning, walking around my apartment, not able to read or to write anything. For the last months, at least twice or three times each week, I would stay awake, no matter how tired I felt, and I would haunt my own apartment, listening to my vinyl records.

The sudden lack of sleep wasn't really something weird in me. I have always been nocturnal. Besides, the news of JJ's departure had hit us all pretty hard. I had already shared my share of tears and tried to manage the fury that caused me to know we were helpless to the government's decisions. There was nothing we could do, neither us, Hotch, or even Strauss. Not that she would if she could.

My family was in crisis, and all we could do was hope for the best and stay together.

It was scary losing JJ. It made me think of all the things that could go wrong every day on the field daily. It was bad that we could get hurt or even die on our work. But that they divided us that way made no sense. Like Rossi said: our loss was someone else's winning, and in the FBI, no one cared if we lost.

I poured myself a cup of herbal tea and inhaled the smell of it. It smelled like home. Like (Y/N). She had some of her favorite teas in my apartment. She had a bunch of all her things there, actually. When mom visited, she thought we were living together. She is still sure we are dating and that I don't wanna tell her. I don't longer argue with her about it. It's useless, and it somehow feels good to imagine in another world. It was actually true.

That year my feelings for my best friend had grown in a way that made it all more difficult to deal with. I didn't just love her. I was in love with her. She was in everything I did, in each and every one of my thoughts. I could hear her laughter in my head, like a record playing my favorite song over and over again.

When she was out there in the field, I couldn't stop running all the probabilities of her getting hurt, and most of the time, I would do my best to keep her safe, knowing it could somehow interfere with the case.

Hotch had called me to his office a few times, aware something was going with me. He could read it on my face, I guess. It was scary to know everybody could read my feelings for (Y/N) but her. And it was sad to think of the worst: that she knew how much I loved her, but she didn't feel the same, and she was just being my friend 'cos she was never going to be anything else but my friend.

I drank my tea and hummed the song that sounded in my house at four in the morning: Love is a losing game. Seemed pretty accurate for my mood. I remember the day I got that vinyl. We were out with (Y/N), Frank, and Lu, looking for a present for Mikey's birthday, and we ended up in a record store, getting a million vinyl records for ourselves.

- "Are you getting all those?"- (Y/N) asked me and looked at the seven albums in my hand.

- "Yes, why? I can't?"- I answered and raised an eyebrow.

- "Sassy!"- she giggled and grabbed them- "You can get all the albums you want. But I have to give my approval first. No, you are not getting this!"- she grabbed The Beatles' Revolver and left it aside.

- "What? Why? It's only one I need to complete my collection."

- "I know, but when you get it, you'll force me to listen to it, and I don't like the Beatles,"- she argued, and I just shook my head, taking the album again.

- "Sorry, chipmunk, I'm buying it."

- "Fine. I won't go to your house for the next couple of weeks then."

- "Why don't you tell me which album you wanna listen to when you are in my house then?"- I looked at her, smiling at me and looking for a record on the shelves.

- "This! You need some Amy in your life."

And I did. Now, at four in the morning, all alone walking around, I could see her in my apartment, singing along to her favorite songs while cooking dinner, feeling at home. I wished she was there, with me, doing nothing. Watching tv, or reading. Just hanging out. I knew it wasn't healthy being in love with my friend, seeing her every day, and also hanging out with her every chance I got. But even when I knew she was never going to love me the way I did, I was going to take every chance I had to enjoy her company. If that was all I was going to get.

My phone took me from my thoughts, and I quickly walked to my room to get it. I thought it was Hotch announcing a case, but it was JJ.

- "Hey! JJ, everything ok? Is Henry ok?"

- "Yes, hi Spence. We are all ok."

- "It's four in the morning."

- "Sorry I woke you up... I just..." - she made a pause and sighed at the other side of the line- "Spencer, you know I love you."

- "I love you too. You are one of my best friends. Is everything ok?"

- "Yes, I just wanted to... remember a bunch of years ago, when you asked me to that football game?"

A million years had passed since the one and only time I had asked JJ out. It was the only move I tried to do on her, and I failed incredibly. It was awkward, and she had no idea it was a date, so she invited Garcia to come along. I was so embarrassed I never even mentioned that single event ever again, and our friendship grew after.

- "Yes, I remember, JJ. Why?"

- "When you asked me out, did you have a crush on me?"

- "JJ, are you drunk?"- I had to ask 'cos that conversation was starting to scare me.

- "Yes, but that's not why I'm talking about this. Just answer the questions, Spence. When you asked me out on that date, did you have a crush on me?"

- "Yes, I did."

I closed my eyes, embarrassed to face feelings that were far forgotten.

- "You see, I had a crush on you too back then,"- JJ said and chuckled- "But neither of us acted on it, and life continued, and now I'm in love with Will, and we have a baby, and you are his godfather."

Of all the things I thought I would listen to that day, never in a million years, I imagined I would hear JJ drunk telling me she had a crush on me when we first met.

- "Now, do you want that to happen again?"- she asked, and I didn't get it, 'cos I was still trying to process what I had just heard. So I might have had a relationship with her if only I had said something, act on it. Kiss her, ask her out again?

- "What?"

- "Spence. Do you want to miss the chance to be with the girl you like?"

- "No, but JJ, what are you talking about?"

She sighed, frustrated, and used that tone of voice with me, that very maternal specific tone of voice she used to explain things she knew were hard for me to follow.

- "When you like someone, Spence, you have to tell her. 'Cos sometimes, life gets in the way, and if you don't do what you have to do to be happy, no one will do it for you."

- "Are you ok, JJ?"

- "Yes, Spence, I'm ok. I'm home with Will. We just got here after dropping (Y/N) off her place."

- "How was she?"

- "She might have had a few too many drinks, but she'll be ok in the morning. Maybe she'd appreciate it if you brought her coffee and donuts."

- "She doesn't like donuts,"- I corrected her- "She likes cupcakes and brownies."

- "Sorry. Coffee and cupcakes... just tell her you love her, Spence. She deserves to know."

I held my breath and closed my eyes. I didn't get why JJ was telling me that, but I knew I didn't want to talk about it. So I said good night and hung up.

What was the point of telling me we could have been a couple of years had passed already? Why didn't she say a thing before? Or even better, why didn't she ever say a word about it at all? So I missed the chance to be happy with her. Great. One more regret to add to my list.

I laid on my bed and tried to remember that date. I was so nervous that day, my hands shook inside my pockets as I walked to JJ's door. She looked beautiful that day, especially when she looked at me and announced she had invited Penelope to join us.

That was when I realized she would never see me as a proper date, just like a friend. And I learned to make my peace with that over the years. My crush for JJ lasted a few more months, but it vanished when I fell for (Y/N). What if she had never joined the team? Would I have been in love with JJ forever? Jeniffer always made me feel like her little brother, and I guess that's the mechanic that works for us. We were good friends ever since we met, and yes, I had a crush on her, but we work more like siblings than anything else.

What was the point in telling me I had missed a chance with her now? I just couldn't see it.

(Y/N)'s point of view

The next few weeks were us trying to survive without JJ. The team was making the best it could, but it was hard. Penelope took the lead during the second case without JJ. She turned into our tech analyst and communication liaison, only to collapse under the pressure of having two roles.

No one was going to replace JJ. We all knew it. Literally, no one, 'cos Hotch decided he and Garcia were going to split the job, and we were all going to collaborate as much as we could, 'cos we were a team. A family. And that's what families do.

And families were the target of the unsub we were hunting the day everything changed. Again. I hadn't recovered from the departure of JJ when Rossi and Hotch walked to the bullpen and introduced us to Agent Trainee Ashley Seaver.

My nemesis.

- "Agent trainee Seaver"- Rossi smiled at her like a proud father and looked at us as we stood up, wondering who she was- "Supervisory Special Agent Prentiss, (Y/L/N), and Morgan."

- "I've heard so much about the three of you,"- she said with the sweetest tone of voice I had ever heard. Something about that felt odd.

- "I hope it is all good- Morgan flirted right away, of course."

- "Very, sir."

- "Anything specific? I mean about me in particular?"- I turned to him and failed in holding back my chuckles.

- "Please, don't encourage him, or he will never stop talking,"- I said, and Derek elbowed me playfully. Seaver smiled at us and even blushed a little bit. She was nervous.

- "Agent Seaver is on loan to us from the academy while she is remedial training with an injury."

Hotch announced. And my stomach tightened right away. There was something wrong with that whole scene. I could feel it in my guts. But I didn't know why?

- "Concussion. Hand to hand got a little out of control."- Seaver explained and kept a silly smile on her face.

- "How's the other guy?"- Prentiss asked.

- "Don't ask."

- "I was remediated in the academy also,"- Spencer said, walking over us, and suddenly I understood why I had a bad feeling about everything.

- "Agent Seaver, Dr. Reid."

As soon as I heard Rossi say those words, there was a part of me who just wanted to hold Spencer's hand and push him away from her, even before they could say hi. She looked at him like he was eye candy, and I clenched my knuckles as I stared at the scene.

- "Uhm... What was your issue?"- she asked him, and I could see the pink on her cheek intensifying as he looked at her, confused.

- "What was my issue? Marksmanship, physical training, obstacle course, Hogan's alley. You know, pretty much everything that wasn't technically book related. They ultimately had to make exceptions to allow me into the field."

Seaver stared at him and kept nodding, though I wondered if she was listening to what he had said. Spencer looked exceedingly handsome that day. His hair was very short for the first time in years, and he still had no idea how to comb it, so it was all over the place, making him look as hot as fuck.

I was so in love with him, I didn't know what to do with those feelings at all. It was hard working with Reid at that point. I just wanted to kiss him.

- "Agent Seaver's going to accompany us to New Mexico,"- Aaron announced, and I couldn't help but question him right away.

- "She is?"

- "As a consultant."- he assured me.

- "On?"- Morgan raised an eyebrow and looked at Hotch, wondering what a trainee agent could help us with as a consultant.

- "She has a unique perspective,"- Rossi tried to explain, but it sounded like bullshit.

- "They don't know?"- Seaver turned to the elderly agents, and they shook their heads.

- "Well, we weren't sure how you wanted to,"- David whispered.

- "Uh... Seaver's not my original last name. It's my mother's maiden name. Mine used to be Beauchamp. My father is Charles Beauchamp"- Ashley was supposed to explain the circumstances of her consultancy to the whole team, but she just looked at Spencer as she spoke.

- "As in the Redmond ripper, Charles Beauchamp?"- he asked her, and suddenly, it clicked. It was like my whole body was telling me I couldn't be close to her for a reason.

- "That's him,"- she whispered and kept her eyes on my best friend as he continued talking.

- "He killed 25 women over 10 years in rural North Dakota. I think that you caught him, right, Rossi?"- and David nodded.

- "Hotch was on that team, too."

- "Based on her life experience, we were hoping that agent Seaver might recognize something in the family dynamics inside the community that could be helpful. We have a plane waiting,"- Hotch announced and looked at us, but none of us said a word.

I kept my eyes glued at my feet the whole time Aaron talked. Then, Spencer nodded and walked with Seaver and Rossi out to the hangar. I couldn't even blink. I think I was in shock.

- "Her father was a serial killer?"- Prentiss asked Hotch, not getting what he was thinking.

- "That's definitely a different set of parameters,"- Morgan added. Neither of them was sold on the idea, which made me feel a little bit better.

- "I don't want her presence to get us sidetracked. It's a long shot that she's gonna see anything helpful. We work it like any other case,"- Hotch was clear, and Prentiss and Morgan nodded.

- "You got it."

But I disagreed with that.

- "(Y/N), is everything ok?"- Aaron asked me, and I tried my best to lie and be cool.

- "Yeah, I'm ok."

- "Ok. We work this like any other case. Wheels up in twenty."

But everything was far from being ok.

I sat next to Spencer on the jet, and we reviewed the case files together. Hotch briefed us, and we all pretended it wasn't weird having Seaver there. And I guess we had to pretend it wasn't odd knowing her dad was a serial killer.

- "You are very young, (Y/N),"- she said and smiled at me. She was sitting across from Spencer and me, and you could tell she had been trying to join the conversation for a few minutes now.

-" Twenty eight,"- I answered and looked at the files again.

- "And you, doctor?"

- "You can call me Reid. I'm twenty eight too,"- Spencer cut her a short, awkward, and nervous smile, and I turned to him.

- "Honey, did I leave my Mets jersey at your house?"- it was the only question that came to my mind at that minute. It was completely random, but somehow it showed a part of our dynamic that Ashley didn't know. Our friendship. Our closeness.

- "Yes, I found it last night,"- he answered and sipped his coffee- "I was gonna bring it over, but then I remembered you always borrow all my sweaters when you are home or when you stay over, so I thought maybe it was a good idea to keep it at my place."

- "I don't know, Batsy. It's my favorite sweatshirt- I raised an eyebrow, and I'm pretty sure I even flirted a little bit."

- "So? You need to keep one there."

- "But I like wearing your clothes when we are at your place. It's extra large and extra comfy."

- "Is that why you keep taking my sweaters back to your house?"- he asked and chuckled- "Last Sunday, I found four of my sweaters in your closet."

- "Sorry, I'm not even sorry,"- I said and laughed- "And what were you doing in my closet?"

- "Lucy, Ricky, can we focus on the case?"- Morgan asked and waved at us with one silly grin on his face- "We love hearing your adorable daily adventures, but we've got a psycho killer to catch."

Spencer blushed and flustered right away. I stuck out my tongue at Morgan and just shook my head. The way Seaver looked at Reid was still driving me nuts, but I felt I had shown her he was mine, childishly.

It's embarrassing to think that's not the most childish thing I did around her those days. Or in the weeks to follow. But I didn't like Ashley, and I didn't want her around my team. And it wasn't just her constant flirting with Spencer. It was the fact her father had killed my mother's sister when she was in college, and I was making my best effort to keep that fact aside from work. My personal life had to stay out of the FBI, especially when working a case.

I had to do some serious mental work trying to remember it wasn't Ashley's fault her father was a sick bastard. She hadn't hurt my family, and her father had ruined her life too. It wasn't her fault.

But one thing is knowing. Another thing is being rational about it. Spoiler: I wasn't so rational about it.

- "So, (Y/N). Do you like working at the BAU?"- Ashley asked me and looked at me through the rearview mirror. We were in the SUV, and Prentiss was driving. I was in the back seat, trying to ignore her, but she made it impossible.

- "Yes, very much,"- I answered and nodded, not taking my eyes from the window.

- "Everybody is very friendly,"- Seaver added and made a pause. I don't know if she wanted me to say something or if she was trying to find a way to say what she wanted to say.

- "Yes, they are,"- I humored her, and she quickly responded.

- "Are you and Spencer dating?"- I could feel the blood raising my cheeks as she spoke. And Prentiss flashed me a look through the mirror as Ashley continued talking.

- "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. I just wondered because of the fraternization policy."

- "Right. Sure. Of course."

Those three words were meant to let Ashley know I wasn't buying her bullshit, So I literally spit them.

- "Spencer is my best friend. We are not dating."

Facing that simple truth had never been harder before, especially after how I saw Ashley's face light up.

- "You just seem to be so close."

- "Oh, they are close,"- Emily smiled at me and winked- "They are so close, they sometimes freak us out."

- "We freak you out?"- I raised an eyebrow and carefully hit her arm, pretending to be upset. But honestly, I was glad she was teasing me.

- "I am just saying, we are all pretty suspicious about you two. I am actually surprised you didn't share rooms tonight. They usually share rooms."- Emily explained to Seaver.

- "He was paired with Morgan,"- I pouted and looked at my phone. I thought maybe I could send him a funny text. I actually wanted to hang out with him.

- "He is very nice,"- Ashley added- "I mean, everybody is nice."

- "Yes, you mentioned it"

I was clearly not being nice. Seaver nodded and looked at the files again. I assumed she was trying to find a way to keep asking about Spencer, and I was making my best not to kill her.

- "Working with a genius must be somehow intimidating,"- she said after a few minutes. Damn it, she wasn't going to let that subject go.

- "It's fun working with Spencer,"- Prentiss said, trying to humor Seaver. And mostly, I guess trying to ease my mood and keep me from killing the trainee agent.

- "I'm sure it is,"- Seaver added. I hated her.

- "He is more than just a genius, he is a nerd."- Emily pointed out and chuckled at her words, making Seaver giggle too. I looked at my book again, but I knew I wasn't going to be able to concentrate on it at all. He was my nerd. Mine.

- "Well, it's very refreshing to be with a group who trusts and works so well together,"- she added- "I had never felt less judged and more welcome in my entire life."

I know I should have felt sorry for her. But I honestly couldn't. That was the day I realized I wasn't the good person I thought I was. There was a part of me that was a scumbag. I'm guessing knowing that is pretty helpful and positive 'cos you can work on your flaws. But I wasn't planning on working on anything at that minute, though. I just wanted to break Seaver's face.

Spencer's point of view

I didn't like working without JJ. I've never been good with change, and that was a massive alteration of our routine. I missed her, and adding Ashley to the team made things even weirder for me, even for a case. I didn't want to be judgemental, but her father was a serial killer. Of course, that would make things weird.

Besides, everybody kept bugging me, teasing me, trying to see if I liked Seaver. Penelope called while we were on the case and started taunting me, saying she knew I thought Ashley was cute. I could see she was beautiful, but I couldn't see her that way. And I didn't want anyone to say those kinds of things around (Y/N).

Why did I care so much?

I didn't want to face it 'cos I knew it was completely platonic, but I didn't want (Y/N) to think I had a crush on Seaver. I knew my best friend didn't have romantic feelings for me, and I also knew I wasn't going to make a move on her or anything. But I didn't want things to change more than they already had. And most of all, I didn't want anything to alter my dynamic with (Y/N).

But at the same time, somehow, it felt everything was already different between us.

- "Hey, honey bunny,"- (Y/N) walked to me and handed me a cup of coffee- "I thought you might need one of these."

- "You are a lifesaver,"- I whispered and sipped the cup. It was perfect.

We were on the jet on our way back home. The whole team was mostly quiet. The mood was weird. Ashley had done something quite reckless earlier and nearly got herself killed. She walked to the unsub's house all alone, not knowing he was our guy. She almost died, and none of us can even imagine what went through her head to do such a thing.

Rossi and Hotch walked to her. (Y/N) looked at me, and I could read on her face that both of us knew what was going to happen.

Ashley was alone when David sat in front of her, and Hotch stood in the middle of the aisle. Maybe that had been insensitive of us. Neither of us tried to contain her. Neither of us really knew her that well. Or at all, as a matter of fact.

- "You were not supposed to go off on your own."- Hotch went straight to the point.

- "I know,"- she whispered, and I could see how (Y/N)'s face changed. I tried to read her, but all I was able to see was... anger? I had to be wronged. She had no reason to be mad at Ashley.

- "You could have been killed,"- Hotch crossed his arms on his chest and stared at her.

- "I know that, too."

- "Why, Ashley? You're smarter than that"- Rossi sounded like a worried father. I didn't look at him 'cos I kept my eyes on (Y/N)'s, still trying to read her emotions. But what I saw made no sense. She really looked like she was angry at Ashley. Like she hated her.

- "I never got to apologize to any of the victims. The families of the women my father killed. I thought if I could just apologize to one family that had been hurt that way..."

And that was when (Y/N) snapped. She jumped from her seat and walked to Seaver. Aaron and David looked at her surprised, and Morgan turned to me, taking off his headphones. Neither he nor Prentiss got what was happening until that moment.

- "Ok. Shoot!"- (Y/N) sat right in front of Seaver, next to David, and looked at her. But she didn't get it.

- "What? What are you talking about?"

- "You just said you wanted to apologize to one of the families. So go ahead. Try."

The silence on the jet was so deep and awkward it felt no one was ever going to talk again.

- "I'm sorry, (Y/N). But I don't get what you are implying,"- Ashley's voice was a whisper. I knew she was sad and affected, embarrassed even. But I also knew (Y/N), and I could read it on her face. She wasn't joking.

- "You said you wanted to apologize to the family of one of your dad's victims, so go ahead. Apologize to me."

My first instinct was to stand up, which I did. But I froze and didn't take a step closer to (Y/N) when I noticed the severe and cold look in her eyes. I didn't know what she was talking about. But I knew she wasn't bluffing.

- "Why should I... apologize to you?"- Ashley asked her, and her voice broke at a certain point, probably scared of the answer.

- "Your dad killed my mother's older sister. She was in college,"- (Y/N) spit each word with hate and looked at Ashley, waiting for her reply. But Seaver didn't know what to do. She widened her eyes and stayed still. She barely kept her breathing steady.

- "(Y/N), maybe we should let Seaver rest,"- Hotch landed a hand on her shoulder, but my friend shook her head.

- "No, Hotch. By making that choice, she put everyone at risk,"- (Y/N) didn't take her eyes from Ashley as she spoke- "As far as I remember when you are at the academy, they teach you that in the field, we are responsible to and for your team."

- "(Y/N)... I had no idea..."- Ashley tried to apologize, I could see it, but it was clear she wasn't going to win that argument- "I am so sorry."

- "I don't know, Seaver. Did you think saying "sorry" would make those families feel better? 'Cos it ain't working here. "Sorry" won't make my mom stop feeling guilty about what happened. And, if things had gotten ugly back there, "sorry" wouldn't have made your mistake go away in case anyone would have gotten hurt. So no. Sorry doesn't help. Maybe it can ease your conscience, but when you really fuck it up, it never makes things better."

(Y/N) stood up and walked back to her seat in front of me. I let her pass and didn't say a word. I knew she wouldn't want to talk about it there. And, of course, Seaver didn't say a word. She just stood up and walked to the back of the jet, to the bathroom. Rossi and Hotch looked at each other and then looked at me.

David poured a glass of whiskey and walked to (Y/N) slowly. He didn't say a word, he just handed it to her, and she just took it and sipped it with shaky hands.

- "Thanks,"- she whispered, and Rossi nodded. Hotch raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, I thought he was going to say something, but he didn't. He just walked to his seat and opened a case file.

I moved back to my seat and opened my satchel. I had run out of candies earlier that day, so I didn't have much to give to her that could make her smile. So I picked a book and handed it to her. She took it and smiled at me kindly. I knew she was fighting back the tears, and I am sure she has held back all the emotions than being with the daughter of the man who killed her aunt since she knew who Seaver was. And she managed to do the job well. I was proud of her.

- "Wanna grab something to eat when we reach DC?"- I whispered, but for the first time ever, she shook her head.

- "I'm gonna have to catch a rain check for that dinner. I think I wanna go straight to my bed today, honey."- she sipped her glass again, and I nodded.

- "Don't worry, next time."

I was waiting for the train to go back home later that night when I saw Seaver sitting at a bench at the station, staring at her hands on her lap. I didn't see her leaving the BAU, though to be honest, I was really focused on finishing my paperwork to go home. (Y/N) had left as soon as we reached DC, but I had stayed a little longer.

I hesitated for a few seconds before I took a few steps closer and waved at Seaver. She looked at me surprised, as soon as she saw me, but didn't move. I smiled, trying to look friendly, and sat next to her.

- "Hi. What are you doing here?"- I asked her, and she shrugged.

- "I was going to go home, but I think I sat here half an hour ago and haven't been able to move,"- I turned to her and shook my head.

- "Do you want to eat something?"- after what had happened at the jet, I figured Ashley wasn't feeling so good, and maybe talking with someone could help her. She looked at me and blushed; I don't know why. But at least, she smiled and nodded.

- "Great, pizza?"

- "Pizza sounds good."

We were waiting for our food and making small talk. I kept giving Ashley pizza facts to fill the silence 'cos it was weird hanging out with Ashley. I didn't know her, really. We had worked a case together, but that didn't mean I knew her. And, of course, we had the whole jet incident. I felt a little guilty about what had happened, though it wasn't my fault at all in retrospect. I just felt like it was my job cheering her up a little bit after everything she had gone through.

- "How do you do it?"- she asked me all of a sudden- "How do you deal with the pressure of this job?"

- "You get used to it, I guess. I don't know if it's a good thing to get used to, but... it comes with the job, I think,"- I didn't know if I was doing ok comforting her. Then again, I have never been particularly good at it. Not then, not now.

- "Did you always dream about doing this?"- she asked me, and her eyes locked into mine in a way that made me feel slightly uncomfortable.

- "Y... yes. Ever since I was a kid, catching the bad guys,"- Seaver nodded and sipped her coke- "You? Why did you get into the academy?"

I regretted my question right after I asked, just 'cos I realized she might have done it to understand her father's behavior. It was only apparent that had shaped her actions.

- "I guess you know that..."- Ashley answered and smiled, her eyes looking straight into mine. I know I blushed. She is a beautiful woman, though I wasn't thinking about her that way. It was an odd feeling being observed that way.

I was glad our pizza made it to the table, and we were forced to stop talking, and I could focus on anything else but her. Not that I didn't want to look at her, but... I think the right way to explain it is to call it "uneasy." That's how I felt. I wanted to be friendly with her, she had a horrible experience consulting with the team, and I was sure she wasn't really having a good day.

- "This might sound weird, but... do you think I can call you sometime?"- Ashley asked after a few minutes. We were eating and talking about nothing important. I nearly chook at her words and looked at her, nodding.

- "Sure, why?"- I didn't mean to be rude. I just didn't know why she might need to talk to me again.

- "I just think maybe you could help me with a few assignments at the academy."

- "Yeah, of course."

Ashley Seaver smiled and nodded at me, pleased. She took a sip of Sprite, and I could read her, trying to find the words to continue speaking.

- "I'm glad. I was sure you were going to say no."

- "Why?"- I furrowed my brows, confused- "I'm not a big fan of phones, but I can handle a casual phone call."

- "No, I just didn't think your girlfriend would like... I mean, I think (Y/N) hates me, and as her boyfriend, I thought you... would... I don't know."

- "I'm, we are... we,"- I was completely flustered as I tried to rearrange my thoughts. Seaver looked at me innocently and waited for my words.

- "(Y/N) isn't my girlfriend"- it bothered me to admit that simple fact. Why? 'Cos it hurt to think we looked like a couple, but we weren't. Why did Seaver think we were together?

- "Really? But..."

- "She is my best friend,"- I explained poorly. She nodded and hesitated before saying what she was thinking. It was obvious she was trying to arrange the words in her head.

- "It's just that you two... sorry, I'm overstepping,"- Ashley blushed and shook her head- "She is... strong."

- "Yes, very."

- "I think I started with the wrong foot with her."

- "Well, I don't mean to justify anything, but if your father hurt,"- I made a pause, trying to find a way to say it that wasn't so painful.

- "Killed. My father killed her aunt,"- she corrected me with a cold and monotonous tone of voice. I just nodded and sipped my water.

- "She is an amazing person,"- I don't know if I was trying to excuse (Y/N)'s earlier behavior or if I just loved her so much I needed to tell people how awesome she was.

- "I'm sure you will pass this,"- I assured her- "Once you get to know her, and she gets to know you."

- "I don't think she will give me that chance. Besides, I was just clear to assist with only one case."

- "If you want to stay, you can request your remedial training be here. And if Hotch approves it, I could talk to (Y/N). I'm sure she will like to know you better."

Why did I say all that? I had no idea.

- "Thank you, Spence. You are really sweet,"- Ashley moved closer and held my hand. I stayed very still, absolutely awkward.

- "Yeah, I don't... like... holding hands,"- I quickly moved it away and tried to smile at her. She stayed still, not understanding my reaction but trying to act normal.

- "Sorry."

- "That's ok. I'm a germaphobe, that's all."

After pizza, we left the place and said goodnight. I told Ashley I was weary (which was, in fact, the truth) and got her a cab to take her home. After that, I walked to my place. I felt like I needed to be alone for a while. My head was overwhelmed, and in the latest couple of weeks, I had severe trouble sleeping.

I had migraines that nearly blinded me. I was scared they meant I could develop the first signs of schizophrenia, like mom, 'cos they were coming more and more often. It wasn't that bad yet, the light didn't hurt my eyes, and I didn't have any sign of hallucination, but still, I knew it could be serious.

I tried to think of a reason why I might be having those severe headaches. I was eating correctly, mostly 'cos (Y/N) forced me to eat. No, she didn't force me, but she made sure I had all my meals at work, not just coffee. And usually, at the weekends, we would spend our time together, and she was a fantastic cook. So it wasn't an alimentary issue.

I wasn't sleeping well. That wasn't new, but it was getting serious. I wrote and read a lot at night 'cos I couldn't fall asleep until late. I didn't know why. I just couldn't rest. My body ached, and my brain wouldn't sleep. The only nights I could actually get some rest were the ones when (Y/N) stayed with me. It was a blessing when Hotch paired us to share rooms, 'cos I could easily fall asleep when she was around. Her presence soothed me in a way that I didn't understand. Let me put it this way, I know it might sound cheesy, but the beating of her heart set the rhythm for my own, and at night it would bring me peace.

I reached home that night and sighed. I knew I wasn't going to rest easy. (Y/N) wasn't there with me. So I made myself a cup of herbal tea, (Y/N) had a lot of those in my house, and I drank them when I missed her. The smell coming from the cup made me feel like she was close.

How pathetic I had become! But I could only share those thoughts with myself. No one knew I had feelings for her, and I was going to deny it till the end, no matter what had JJ said. I couldn't take that phone call from my mind, and on those sleepless nights, I kept overthinking and overanalyzing everything.

I got into bed with a few books and my cup of herbal tea. I took a look at my cell phone, two new messages.

- "I miss u"

(Y/N) sent, and a warm feeling spread on my chest as I imagined her whispering those words as I read them

- "Breakfast tomorrow before work?"

- "See you at seven-thirty."

I typed and sent it.

What could ever happen if I told her how much in love I am with her? I would lose her, and I'd be alone. She didn't feel that way for me. It was a fact. I was just glad she was my best friend, and I could share everything with her. Was I pathetic? Yes, very, but in a way, it felt it was just all I deserved. Not more, not less. Just being in love with a girl who didn't love me back.

At least she wasn't dating Paul anymore. I hated that guy.

(Y/N)'s point of view

Spencer was waiting for me outside our usual coffee shop, already holding two cups of coffee. His short hair looked dreamy as she smiled and took off his sunglasses. It had to be illegal being that hot. But, seriously, how didn't he get laid? He was fucking dreamy. In the four years we had been best friends, I saw Spencer in many hairstyles, and each of them made him look like a model.

Falling in love with Spencer Reid had been a process I hadn't actually been fully aware of. But I was completely conscious I needed to hide those feelings from him and from everybody at the BAU.

Ok, fine, I had somehow faced part of those feelings in front of my drunk best buddies at Penelope's house, but I never actually confirmed anything. I had just... shared some of my frustrations, I guess.

- "Good morning, honey bunny,"- I smiled and sighed as I stood in front of Spencer, watching him grin back at me and hand me one of the coffee cups.

- "Good morning, chipmunk. Did you get some rest?"

- "Yes, I fell asleep as soon as I reached my bed. I was exhausted."

- "I'm glad you are fully rested."

- "What did you do yesterday?"

- "Nothing,"- he answered quickly and turned around- "I got you a carrot muffin to go."

- "Thank you so much. I'm starving. I didn't even have dinner yesterday."

- "Really?"

- "I told you, I reached home and crawled into my bed."

We walked outside the coffee shop in silence. Spencer bit his donuts, and I ate my muffin. It was nice and calming being with him doing domestic things in life.

I hated how much in love I was with him 'cos I knew I had to shake that feeling away. He was never going to have feelings for me. I was a regular human being, and Spencer Walter Reid was a genius. He deserved better, he was actually never to think about me that way, and I refused to ruin our friendship with those feelings.

- "So, Comic-con is coming. What are we doing this year?"- I asked as I drove us to Quantico.

- "I was thinking we should do something classic,"- he looked at me, nearly beaming on his seat- "We haven't done Star Wars yet."

- "Really?"- I frowned, confused- "All these years? Are you sure?"

- "(Y/N), eidetic memory,"- he argued, and I chuckled- "So, how do you feel about Leia?"

- "Do I have to be Leia 'cos I'm a girl?"- I asked him, and he flustered right away.

- "What? No, you can be whoever you want to be. I was just, it came to my mind... I didn't,"- I giggled and looked at him for a second.

- "I'm messing with you, Batsy. I always wanted to dress as Leia. Surprisingly, I never had. Padme once, it was a mess, but never Leia. Who are you planning to be?"

- "Maybe Luke... or Obi-Wan. Morgan suggested C3PO once."

- "If I'm Leia, you should be Han,"- I don't know why I said that out loud. I thought about it, I pictured it in my head, but I knew I shouldn't have said it. Then why did those words leave my mouth? I don't know.

- "Han Solo... yes... yeah, sure. Of course! We can pick our outfits this weekend."

- "Great! What do you think would look better? Slave Leia or classic all in white Leia?"- Spencer didn't answer. He just sipped his coffee and looked outside the window.

- "You would look good in both,"- his cellphone interrupted our conversations, and I thought it might be a case. But I was so wrong, it hurt.

- "Hello? Oh, hi, Ashley,"- I nearly hit the break as soon as I heard him saying her name, but instead, I turned around and looked at him.

- "Good, yes. On my way to work with (Y/N). Oh, that's good."

I didn't care what she was saying. I just needed to know why that bitch was calling him. I was blind in jealousy, and I was having a hard time hiding it.

- "Really? Emily? That's... that's great. Sure, we'll see you around, gotta go. Bye."

- "What the fuck?"- I swear, I didn't think what I was saying. Those words just slip through my lips straight from my guts. I hated Seaver.

- "That was Ashley."

- "Figured when you said "Hi Ashley." What? Are you best friends with her now?"

- "What? No! No way! She just wanted to say hi... and... She.... asked for my number 'cos she wanted to help her with some of the academy's projects,"- Spencer was so nervous he actually stuttered as he answered my simple question.

- "Of course, she did,"- my voice was bitter and hurt, but most of all, ironic. And I don't know if Spencer didn't want to understand me or actually didn't get the hint, but he just continued talking.

- "She wanted to tell me she requested her remedial training be at the BAU."

- "What?!"- that wasn't subtle. I actually yelled- "I'm gonna have to see her again?"

- "If Hotch approves..."

- "Fuck!! That's awful!!"- I hit the wheel, frustrated.

- "She's not a bad person, (Y/N). Her dad was a murderer, but that doesn't mean..."- I turned to look at Spencer for a second, and he just shut up- "Sorry."

- "I don't like her, Spencer."

- "Yes, I know."

- "Her dad killed my aunt!!"

- "I know..."

- "And on top of that, that bitch is..."

I had to bite my lips and focus on the road, actually holding my breath for a few seconds, just not to open my mouth and ruin it all.

The main reason why I hated Ashley Seaver wasn't just because of what her father had done. That itself was enough to keep her away. But on top of that, she was flirting with Spencer. She wasn't even subtle about it; she was nearly all over him. I saw her! She wanted him, and he had no idea! He was blind to her attention. Unless he liked it. Did he? Shit, I hoped not.

- "She what?"- Spencer whispered, scared of my reaction.

- "She plays the pity card the whole time. Bad things happen to all of us. You don't have to make it who you are, she does, and she expects sympathy."

I grabbed my muffin and took a big bite of it. Spencer sighed and stayed quiet for a moment, giving me space to decompress, I think.

- "Did you know the origins of carrot cake are disputed by many countries?"- I looked at Spencer, and he nodded- "Many food historians believe carrot cake originated from the English recipe of carrot puddings, eaten by Europeans in the Middle Ages when sugar and sweeteners were expensive, and many people used carrots as a substitute for sugar."

- "My mom would fight all those historians and convince them she invented it. Her carrot cake is the best."

- "And I would agree, the cake she baked for your last birthday was amazing."- I nodded and heard him chuckle as I kept my eyes on the road. I wanted to focus on the memories of my last birthday and how fun it was, but something was bugging me.

- "And why did she call you to tell you what she wanted to do?"- I parked the car outside the BAU and turned to Spencer. He opened his mouth, but no word came from it. So I asked him again.

- "Honey, why did Seaver call you to announce she would take the remedial training at the BAU?"

- "It... might... had been my idea,"- he whispered and held his satchel tight against his body. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't believe it.

- "Why on earth did you do that, Spencer?!"- I shouted as I got out of the car, grabbed my purse, my clean go bag in case we had a case, and started walking towards the building.

- "It wasn't like a suggestion. She just..."

- "I can't believe it!!"

- "It doesn't have to be that bad! It's just for a few weeks..."

- "Hopefully, Hotch won't accept."

- "(Y/N), come on,"- Spencer held my hand and stopped me- "This is not like you. Yeah, you don't like her, but you are making it a big deal, and it's not."

- "I'm starting to think you are crushed on her,"- I didn't want to say those words. They just slipped.

- "What!? Why? No!! I'm not!"- the high pitch on Spencer's voice was a clear sign of how uncomfortable he was with the conversation.

- "Then why are you defending her?"

- "I am not! I'm just saying maybe you are acting a little bit... irrational about this whole thing. She hasn't done anything bad."

- "Other than jeopardizing the whole case yesterday?"

- "Right, other than that..."

I felt Spencer's hand in mine, and I swear, I couldn't stop thinking about how it felt. It kept sending shivers all over my body. His thumb rubbed small circles on my skin, probably trying to calm me down, and it worked. I followed it with my eyes for a second as I took a few deep breaths and nodded.

- "Ok, I won't make a big deal if she stays."

- "Thank you."

- "Just... don't ask me to be her friend."

- "You don't have to be her friend."

Spencer stood in front of me and smiled. I swear all I could think of was kissing him. And a part of me felt it was getting harder and harder to resist. He put on his sunglasses and kept his hand in mine for a moment until Penelope's voice took us from our little bubble.

- "Good morning, my wonder babies!! Ready to fight crime?"

I actually didn't know what I was getting into.

Hotch had taken the day off. We were around the one-year anniversary of Haley's death, and according to what Rossi explained to us, Jack wasn't feeling so good. It was said it would be just a day or two, but I had the feeling it might be a couple of weeks. Hotch would always put himself second, but he would do whatever it took to keep him safe when it came to his son.

Morgan had been asked to take a trip to Petersburg Federal Correctional Complex to do a risk assessment on a case, so Spencer, Prentiss, and I were in the bullpen. Garcia was in her office, and Rossi was in a meeting with Strauss. I'd say it was a very calm morning, catching up with all the pending paperwork we had. Spencer had just gotten me a cup of coffee when I heard Seaver's cheerful voice.

- "Hi guys!"- she walked in with a big smile and waved- "How are you?"

Spencer looked at me as we all said our hellos. I could almost read "Please, be nice" written all over his face, and for a moment, I was willing to do as told. I didn't want him to suspect why I was so annoyed by her after all.

- "I talked to Hotch"- Emily smiled at Seaver and moved a chair for her- He signed off your remedial training, and I'll be your training agent. I'll supervise your work. I already told Rossi too, so it's official.

Ashley jumped from her chair and hugged Emily. I rolled my eyes and stared at the file on my desk. I really wasn't ready to deal with her. I wasn't prepared to deal with someone trying to steal Spencer from me.

Ok, Spencer wasn't mine to keep, but we had been inseparable for four years, and I didn't want to lose that. I didn't want to lose him.

I had never been ready to deal with Spencer dating other girls. The few times girls had hit on him had been awful. Once, Morgan took him to a club when we were on a case, 'cos the unsub was picking his victims there, and he taught him how to pick up girls. The bartender ended up giving him her number 'cos my dorky best friend was charming. Derek still remembered that moment from time to time, quoting it as "The day he turned Spencer into a man."

I loved Derek, but fuck, I hated him sometimes.

- "Welcome to the team,"- Spencer waved at Seaver from his desk and turned to me, raising an eyebrow.

- "Yeah, welcome,"- I added and cut her a short smile.

- "I'm thrilled to join you guys for a few weeks. I always dreamt of being here. I'm ready for making it up after the last case."

- "Don't be so hard on yourself,"- Prentiss interrupted her and smiled friendly- "You remained calm under pressure, and the case was solved. That's all that matters."

I had to control myself not to snort after Emily's words. Instead, I kept my eyes locked on my desk like I had done before. I was so focused on it that I could have actually developed telekinesis skills and moved the freaking file with my eyes.

- "I just wanted to say thank you to all of you,"- Seaver's voice was soft, in a mix of fear, excitement, and... something else I couldn't read.

- "Especially you, Spencer. I really enjoyed our talk last night, and I have the feeling I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. Thank you for the pizza. I owe you dinner."

- "Don't, it was nothing,"- Spencer flustered and stood up quickly, grabbing his pile of files and walking away, arguing he needed to ask Garcia something.

I did my best not to move a muscle. I didn't want Seaver to know how much I hated the fact she had shared what seemed to be a lovely evening with Spencer. One he didn't actually mention when we talked about what we had done the previous evening. Why did he decide to keep me in the dark? I couldn't understand that. Maybe he just didn't want me to know he actually had feelings for Seaver. Maybe he had asked her out, and because he knew I hated her (though he really didn't know why), he decided not to tell me what was going on.

I had been wasting all that time in love with Spencer. I knew I would never act on those feelings, and clearly, he didn't have feelings for me. So... maybe it was time to let him go.

How could I let Spencer Reid go when I never actually had him?

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Next update: June 16th, 2021

[namjoonchronicles]

late | th

↳ genre fluff, established relationship, dad Taehyung

↳ words 4k

↳ summary a trip back to hometown for a friend turned into something memorable which embarked something deep in Taehyung’s heart. 

↳ notes i discussed the premise of this story with my good friend @hellotherehoneybee​ and based on her ideas, i prolonged the length and added some plots to push a heavy turn so appropriately, the summary here is thanks to her. 

↳ warning mentions of childbirth, vivid descriptions of the scene, major character death

↳ song taylor swift ‘gold rush’, imagine dragons ‘levitate’, taio cruz ‘telling the world’, taylor swift ‘ you’re in love’

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“Taehyung… tea?”

Sand cuffed the shore. Half painted coast on the canvas. The wind blew rather harshly and every strike of wind, Taehyung’s wild mane of hair ruffled against themselves. They were long enough to cover his eyes but it didn’t stop him from painting the colours on his canvas. He blinks at the view of the sea and how it doesn’t change despite the years passed by. He wore slippers with an open toe, a baggy shirt and baggy trousers. His eyes looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Sunken cheeks and empty eyes, his jaw was immaculate and his face was crafted by God. He is beautiful in this light. So beautiful. 

“What are you drawing so seriously?” you asked. But no answers from him. As it should.

Six, maybe ten years back, this caravan was parked here. Pair of hands raised to the ceiling. The sunlight sieved through the blinds. The pair laced themselves, and toyed around. The make out of the knuckles under this light, showed how veiny his hands were than yours. Small chuckles and soft whispers accommodate the serene and tranquil moment. The caravan was parked by the sea. His easel leaned against the kitchen counter next to the sink. His whole body covered yours as you snuggled in bed. You thumbed his supple cheeks and traced the shape of his lips as he lay half-awake. You ran your index finger down the slope of his pretty nose and counted his eyelashes, you lined the edges of his brows and ran your hand through the locks of his brown hair that looked lighter in the sun. He moans sweetly at your touch. 

You proceed to trace your fingers down the helix of his ears, his excellent jaw lines and chin. There's prickling hair ends at the chin and you thought that he might need a shave. You remembered how bad he was at shaving. You even suggested that he should stop shaving all the way. The smile he had on when you said it was priceless. Then he remembered that society wouldn’t have allowed him to live. Taehyung’s eyes half-opened at the stimulating touch. He breaks a smile in his sleepy state and he crunches his nose at the view of you. You swore, you had never seen anyone that beautiful. He nuzzles into your face and neck, planting kisses where he can and he spoke, in his drowsiness, “I’m so sleepy.”

He gets on top of you and buries his face in your neck. Through lighthearted giggles, you say, “You’re heavy, big bear…” While making no effort to push him away. He feels like a weighted blanket you always wanted when you’re younger. Warm and snuggly. Gentle and tender. He smells like a pillow and his hair is soft. He loves it when your fingers thread through his hair, just caressing the glorious length, he’ll make sounds that are so lovely. You brushed your lips on top of his head and one arm around him. They never meet the total length of his shoulders because they were too broad. So you end up scratching the fabric of his thin shirt. Had the weather been warm enough, he would have rather slept in his skins. You whispered softly, as you felt him drifting back to sleep in his new found comfort, “If you don’t get up now, we are going to be very late…” 

And we won’t be able to help around like we planned.

Jeju’s beaches are breathtakingly beautiful. Especially in Handam. Where the waters are brilliant blue and the skies azure. The black rocks, rubbles, kissing the shore. It would make a fine painting, this scenery. Taehyung poked his head out the caravan door at you, 

“I thought you said we’re late?” 

You glanced over your shoulder and gave him a sheepish smile. Jogging lightly back into the caravan, you pinched his sides as you walked in. 

In fact, you weren’t late. You were not late at all. Taehyung’s eyes had always been inviting. Beautiful brown irises so encapsulating they almost felt unreal. It was those eyes that your friends recognised. They quickly adopted him once he carried in all the groceries like he is one of them. The crowd roars as they see you because they know it will shrink you. You were never good at crowds, so you covered your ears and physically shrunk while laughing till your eyes turned to crescents on their own. Quickly, the host came to the rescue, gathering you in her arms and calling off those people that are bothering you. At once, Taehyung had disappeared to make new friends and greet the old ones. 

“A baby shower, this late?” you stared at your friend, Junhee quizzically. She pursed her lips and stared off to the corner of the room while tucking your arm in hers.

“I wanted an excuse to see my good friend,” she said with a cunning grin, then she cowers, falls silent in a sudden, her palm rubbing over her swollen belly. Nine months in, any day now. You knew in your heart that it was a bad idea, but still, her husband, Jimin, felt like it was okay to hold these gatherings for her. Jimin would do anything to make her happy. Then, she hisses. And you start to cower over her, pulling the chair closer for her to sit. 

“Is it the contraction? Has any contraction happened today?” 

“No, this is the first…” 

Junhee seemed to have calmed down after she rested. You still wanted to talk to Jimin if you had the time, asking why he’d think it was a good idea to hold the party anyways. You had your answer when he walked in, snapping the fridge door open for a cold drink refill.

“She looked so miserable these past few days, I just wanted to see her smile,” Jimin carried two bottles of fruit punch as he brushed shoulders with you. Then, a toddler came crawling in, on all fours, stopping just by your feet and falling onto her bum and sat. Her twinkling eyes ushers you to carry her up. 

“Where did you come from, little one?” You cooed. She curls up to your neck, and starts babbling. Then you suddenly felt her little hand roaming around your clothed boobs, and when she felt she found the tip, she began suckling. And you laughed out loud. Loud enough to have everyone's attention on you, including Taehyung’s. The baby’s mother rushed to you in her loose ponytail, handling another two slightly older children that were at her feet. One is tugging at her blouse and the other wailing so loud, you became concerned. You helped her into a nursing room, Jimin’s wife had prepared. It was a short tattling walk away from where you were. The baby was hungry. She’s four months old and today was her first day out since she was born and was brought home. You were glad that the number of guests didn’t scare one bit. 

Taehyung had distributed the barbecued sausages to the kids around. He had the sharp sticks taken out and was helping to blow the heat from the sausages from one of the kids. He looks pretty much at home with everything. It’s probably been awhile because he finally saw you out the room carrying the baby, her little stodgy fingers curled around your thumb and she is gurgling. What a beautiful sight it was. It seemed you might have heard his thoughts when you looked up to the side and had the baby waved to Taehyung. He chuckles through his nose and crinkles his eyes at the little one, making a funny face. The little toddler extended her short petite arms and grabbed air repeatedly at Taehyung’s presence. Then you motioned her closer to Taehyung.

“I think she wants you to carry her…” 

“Me?” He sounded unsure, uncertain, but, he brushed invisible dust off his palm on his butt and, “It’s been awhile but. Okay.” Arms open, collecting the toddler in.

The pinkish hue of her skin, her soft supple cheek, her little angel hairband, and twinkling, gleaming smile. Taehyung memorised her scent like a wolf would to a pup, with his eyes shut, his nose nudging on her softness. His arms held her gently but firmly. It felt like there was only him and the baby, he shut every other sound. When he held that baby, there’s stillness in the air, the noises ceased to exist, the visions clouded and the heaven’s hinted; it was his calling. It felt very much like sinking and flying at the same time. It was as if the world stood still, the time stopped and the anticipation grew. A lifetime in a second. Gold rush, a dam broke and first rain in the desert. Taehyung eyes fluttered open to the view of the baby’s rosy cheeks and immediately searched for you. Any semblance of you. 

But you were kneeling by Jimin’s wife laying body on the floor. 

Taehyung padding over the wooden balcony into the living room. In daze, Taehyung passed the baby over to her mother and closed into you. Your mouth was moving but for some reason, his brain couldn’t string the words. You were screaming but he heard nothing until seconds after.

“Call 911!” You ordered. There was a puddle of water where she once stood. 

Meanwhile, you’re massaging her tummy. Jimin’s at the other end, and people pooling in to watch. The men are asked to wait outside with the kids for the ambulance. Taehyung had his hand on the house phone, and as he tried to arrange his words, his attention flew to you and your alarmed eyes. Your lips read, 

“Speak slowly… clearly.”

The dial tone ended and, “We need. Ambulance. Birth. A woman is giving birth, please send in an ambulance.” He turns to you again and right now, you have all the ladies lined up. 

“Okay, listen. Towels, all of it, blankets, pillows, sterile gloves, plastic bags, and Jimin,” you listed. Everyone spreads around to get everything. Towels from upstairs, blankets from the laundry room, pillows from the guest room and plastic bags from the kitchen drawers. Even Jimin who was outside waiting for the ambulance is being carried in by Jungkook. Taehyung handed a plastic cup of water. Jimin has his wife’s head cradled in his lap, padded with pillows and she’s holding her hand.

“I told you this was a good idea…” she joked, “I only trust her around…”

“I have only delivered a baby once in my life and that was in nursing school, that does not mean this was a correct choice, Junhee…” you half scolded her.

“I wouldn’t have it in any other way,” she said with a big smile before she hisses in pain and clenching around Jimin’s fingers. Then she groaned till veins were popping on her forehead. Jimin kept on peppering kisses and wiping her sweat with warm water. She continues to wretch and shiver. She felt cramps in her abdomens, churning. So she retched. What a relief she had her husband on the side. Jimin’s whispering words of affirmations and it really helped her calm down. Although she is really not far from giving birth. She is 9 centimetres dilated. 

“Where is the ambulance?” You asked in a rushed tone. 

“Any minute now!” Someone at the door informed. 

That’s not good enough. She will be 10 centimetres in no time and if the ambulance isn’t here by then, the baby will drown. She is perfectly ready for vaginal delivery, you grab a towel, place it underneath her openings and tell her to push until she feels the contraction. Work with the contraction and push as hard as she could. You also massaged to make sure the baby’s head was out first. From the physical examinations, the baby’s head is visible. All that’s left to do is for Junhee to push. You thought her the breathing method, and counted with her. Even Jimin’s following suit. 

“Deep breaths, sweetheart. You can do this…” you reminded her, “And then we’re gonna go again, okay?”

“I think I’m going to vomit…” Jimin fetches the bag from the side and vomits. Taehyung gulped, watching the fiasco from the side. He watches his wife carefully guiding, and assuring and giving space towards the mother to feel as comfortable as she can. 

Junhee was obedient and she was cooperating. She was entirely under your care. You can see from her eyes that she trusted you with her life. She had been, ever since you knew her. And now, she entrusted you with her life and her baby’s life. Junhee delivers a big push and this time the baby slides out into your arm along with it’s placenta. The detachment is healthy, and you quickly glance to the time, on the grandpa’s clock on the corner, 

“Someone note the time!”

“3:47PM!”

You placed the baby on his mother’s arm, a healthy baby boy. Another warm towel on his tiny body and his mom’s tired laugh. He is red and warm and crying, lungs are not congested. But still you need to wait for the ambulance. You placed the placenta into the bag Taehyung opened and told Jimin to hold them up. You refused to cut the umbilical cord without proper tools. It’s not sterile here to do so and there’s no medical back-up should anything go wrong. You told everyone to stay put until the ambulance arrived. Taehyung caught your eyes from across the room and slowly, you drew a smile on your face, contradicting his worried one. And again, in this lifetime, even when he was most concerned about you, you told him with your eyes that you’re okay. Even at this distance. 

“Who delivered the baby?” the ambulance personnel yelled, his voice seeped in, through the windows to you, while you were cleaning up the living room. 

Taehyung rushed to the door with a panicked look on his face and you sprinted out.

They gave you the scissors.

“The ma’am wanted you to cut the umbilical cord instead of the father, will you do the honors?” The man in medical assistant uniform smiled at you. You took the scissors in your hand and you glanced up at her, tears welling up in your eyes and you cried, “Yes, of course, yes…”

“She’s a retired nurse, I never once worried about my life when she’s around,” Park Junhee boasted as she was carried into the ambulance. Jimin climbed in, too. You followed the ambulance close while Taehyung drove Jimin’s car. It’s to help them later, if Jimin needs to return home. Taehyung left the car parked in the hospital parking area and climbed into your shared caravan. He offered to drive. And as he was driving, and talking about how cool you were as the night fell, he heard nothing from your side. You had already fallen asleep. Defeated by the tiredness. He stops at the same spot this morning and lowered your chair. He fetches a blanket from the bed and tucked you in warm. You moaned and switched to your side. He leans over you and plants a firm kiss on your head. As you swam deeper in your slumber, the stars twinkling in the sapphire blue sky, the moon stood witness to the feeling Taehyung had over you. He lowered his own chair to watch you sleep with a smile and fondness in his eyes. 

His soft curls fall over the hood of his eyes, touching the bridge of his nose as he clamors in renewed emotions he felt for you. Such pure love, the kind that authors would write about in novels, many years ago. He is so in love, his feet are levitating from the ground it seemed. One of those wishes thrown at the shooting skies had come true. Broken pieces of him, finally held together, and the last piece was in a form of a person. He extended his arm to reach yours, and you took them in like a soft toy. He gladly cuffed himself to you, it's been his fate. Lips, body and soul, is yours. The bell resonated from the far back of his mind, of when soulmates found each other. His heart thumping so loudly he feared you might have heard them. You have stirred something inside him he doesn’t quite understand yet. Rain or snow, storms or deserts, it's your hand he wanted to hold. He wants to create a home so comfy for you and maybe, in between you two, a baby that’s both his and yours. Someone to carry his name. Symphonies of violin when he watches you sleep. Like an orchestra coming together. 

Walking down the street in the morning, you wore beige knitted cardigan, hands intertwined. He swings your hand with a big toothy grin on his face. His soft curls flying in the wind, his deep chuckle sparking your insides with excitement. You wanted to choose a gift for Jimin and Junhee’s baby boy who is now at the hospital. With this man’s hand who made your heart ascend in the small of your back, it felt like you could do anything. An older woman who was also a customer in the small shop gave you both a big smile. 

“Newly weds?” She asked.

“Why? Do we seem like so?” You asked her warmly.

“We've been married for almost 2 years now…” Taehyung corrected her.

The older woman chuckled, and then her smile faltered, crestfallen on a vision it seemed, “Such soulmates are rare… You looked so good together, such a beautiful couple…” Taehyung wanted to buy a small necklace for the older women. He grabbed one that caught his eyes and dashed out the shop’s door, but the old woman had disappeared. 

“She walked really fast for someone her age…” Taehyung spoke to himself, squinting hard at the distance in both directions. To see if there’s any semblance of the friendly old woman anywhere. It’s like she vanished. When he returned to the shop, you asked him to buy you a glass ball with a bear reading and confettis inside. It was nothing special for Taehyung but you wanted it so he bought them without much thought. In the caravan, it was placed on the dashboard with a double tape, securely glued. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we have our own little one?” Taehyung stared at his friend Jimin, cooing his little baby.

“Could we?” Your smile faded as you bore into the view of the glass. You turned to him with a broken smile, “At my age?”

“You’re not as old as you think you are…” Taehyung said. And did he prove them well. Nine months later, you were holding his arm as you walked out of the apartment door with Jimin’s wife on the phone, telling you that she had arrived. Unlike her, you wanted to be at the hospital when the water broke. The same beige cardigan you wore on her child’s birthday,you wore today. It’s already old and strings were coming out at the ends but you insisted. Taehyung carried you bridal style into the car, towels ready. His arms were yours to clench on and while you were groaning, he was biting his lips at the same force. You clawed into his flesh as he calmed you down. Jimin was driving and his wife was teaching you the same breathing method you taught her. You plastered your face into Taehyung’s neck. Hair stuck into your forehead as you sweat profusely, fighting through the incessant pain. 

“Please hurry Jimin, please hurry…” Taehyung begged.

“I have the hazard lights on, we will make it on time, don’t worry bud…” Jimin said in a rushed tone. 

In the delivery room, Taehyung was dressed in all blue, masks and gloves, just like the doctors and nurses. There’s only his eyes, but you recognise them so well. One look, in that delivery room, meant only for you. Light hearted jokes and hand held tight. He pressed his lips on your whitened knuckles the whole time. His tears fell like diamonds as he watches you push with all your strength, a baby that is his. No words exchanged, but you saw enough. He was in love, so direly in love. Memories flash in the back of your mind, under clenched eyes, kisses on the sidewalks, love declarations under the heavy rain. The way he lifts you to the sky in that storm, slowly sliding you down his body, enough for you to place your forehead on his. His wide gaping smile, drenched in the night under the lamp post, warm wafts of breaths escaped his lips. You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him hard. You couldn’t hear what the midwives are saying, but you know one thing, this is the ultimate gift you could give the man that has given you everything. 

One last push, and a shrilling tiny cry accompanied. Taehyung looked at you and linked his forehead on yours. You’ve gone pale. So pale. Your lips were blue and your eyes were drooping. You are coming in and out of consciousness. The doctors had to lead Taehyung out of the delivery room, they had to perform operations. You were too tired to continue pushing. But before he leaves, you brushed your lips on his left cheek, and you tell him in your last bits of strength, 

“I-I love you. So-so much...Thank you…” 

Taehyung’s hand was separated from yours. He was grabbing air just as yours were holding out. 

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Today. 

“Taehyung, tea?” His mother greeted him. He and his easel in use. He shook his head. And from inside the caravan. Small pair of hands curled on the handles, to push the door open. Carrying a beige cardigan. Four feets putting on shoes and padded to their father. With brown irises twinkling at Taehyung’s back, no older than four years old, Taehyung glanced over his shoulder and spread his arms. One in each arm. 

You watched them from the caravan, and it felt like you were right there. You could almost touch him, his hair, the slope of his nose. The babies. The babies are all grown. You could almost smell the sea. The breeze you knew so well. But you can’t. 

Six years ago.

Taehyung returned home with the babies. Dressed in all black, he has to head back out again, to send his wife. When he returned, he saw the babies sleeping on their side, covered by the beige cardigan. He rushes outside to where the caravan’s were. His mother caught him just in time as he fell to the ground, shivering and calling out your name repeatedly. His mother cradles him in her lap.

“Release, my child. Release your agony…” Taehyung’s mother cradled her baby boy in her arms and Taehyung let out a cry, heart-thumping, guttural screaming cry as he let out the grief he had kept in the silent since he saw your casket lowered, six-feet underground, a baby in his arms, sleeping, coddled in her late mother’s knitted cardigan she wore when she was at the hospital, trying to have her. Taehyung looked up at the sky that strangely bright day, and a single drop of rain fell to the left side of his cheek where his wife had kissed before she went away. 

God is neither late nor early. 

God took one of His angels back home to Him. Left two behind in Taehyung’s care.

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Copyright © January 9th, 2021 namjoonchronicles do not repost, leave feedback :’) please

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily 

Summary:

Emily Prentiss, college sophomore, absolutely does not have a crush on the girl across the hall.  

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months. 

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

“Come in, it’s open!” Emily Prentiss yelled out over her music blasting out of the laptop on her desk. She was listening to her pregame playlist, which was chock full of throwbacks, middle-school jams and of course, The Killers to keep things interesting.

Derek Morgan pushed open her dorm room door and waltzed in. He had a pair of light blue jeans on, held up by a brown belt, with a white t-shirt on top. He jumped on top of Emily’s slightly-too-high bed, and bounced as he grinned at her. Derek was many things, shy was definitely not one of them.

“You look hot,” Emily said, with as much sarcasm as she could manage, looking him up and down. She could tell he dressed up.

“You know it, princess.”

Rifling through his backpack, he grinned as he pulled out two blue college-branded metal water bottles, filled with what was probably not water at all.

“I made us sangria!”

Emily laughed, then spun back around in her desk chair. She still needed to finish her makeup. She had her foundation and eyebrows done, but she needed to focus as she applied her eyeliner.

“Did you just mix some juice into the wine?” She asked, taking the bottle from him, having a sip of the fruity liquid.

“Yup! There’s going to be a keg there, but I wanted to give us options.”

Emily laughed before focusing on her mascara wand gliding across her lower eyelashes, trying to finish up so they could start preing for the party. She wasn’t quite dressed yet either, still wearing her class jeans and not her going out jeans (there was an important distinction between these that mostly involved whether or not she could wear them with a belt.) Morgan was about five minutes earlier than she expected. Moreover, the boy had only sprung the invitation to the party during their lab that afternoon.

As much as she hated to admit it, Derek was basically 90% of Emily’s non-academic social life, the second year boy already very well connected due to his football scholarship, letting him in on all of the good parties. Unfortunately that also meant for Emily that he would spring themed parties like anything but clothes, or no cups allowed on her with absolutely no heads up most weekends.

Emily will not wear a tote bag as a skirt again if she can help it.

Despite the excessive drinking and mixed bag of party attendees, Emily genuinely enjoyed the boy’s company. Anyways, he was the best beer-pong partner that she’s ever had.

“Can I hop on aux?” He asked, leaning over her computer before she could even protest.

“Sure,” she replied, knowing he was already on his own Spotify account and putting on his playlist titled ‘FOR THE BOYS and emily’ that he found hilarious. She knew she could get him to sing along to the Mamma Mia! (2008) soundtrack once he was a few shots in, but for now she resigned herself to wordless EDM.

He sat on her desk, bobbing his head along to the beat.

Emily reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a smallish bottle of vodka and two shot glasses, with their college’s crest etched into the glass. For a school that denounced drinking-culture, they had a shocking amount of merch for sale that encouraged it.

She filled each to the line, and slid one towards her friend.

“Bottoms up,” she said, as they cheersed the foul tasting liquid. Morgan grinned and winked at her before shooting it back with the confidence that only a nineteen year old could have.

Vodka still made her queasy, but being underage meant that the college students would take what they could get. Morgan’s senior friends would boot alcohol for them for an extra five bucks, but only every few weeks.

The one thing about the states that Emily still couldn’t wrap her head around was the backwards alcohol policy. Almost everywhere else on earth she would already be legally drinking. Hell, when she was 16 she was passed out in a ditch in rural England, drunk off her ass on legally acquired beer. Even now, if they drove north of the border, Emily could be off to the bars, no questions asked. America was absurd.

“How was the rest of your day?” Emily asked him as she stood up, digging through her dirty laundry to find her other pair of jeans. She tossed aside her fuzzy pjs, a bra and an assortment of band tees but her jeans must’ve been at the bottom. She needed to do laundry but was ripe out of quarters.

“Eh,” he made a face, “I had to finish up that quiz for psych, but honestly I just needed to catch up on some readings. I had like fifty pages of a badly scanned book from like a hundred years ago to annotate.”

“Reading? In this economy?” Emily snarked at him, still rooting through the bin. She knew her blue jeans were here somewhere.

“Well I know you can’t read,” he replied in a haughty tone, “doesn’t mean the rest of us have to remain unenlightened!”

“Ha-ha.”

There they were, right at the bottom of the bin. She changed right then, with Morgan politely averting his eyes, despite the fact that both have seen just about everything in the year or so that they’ve been acquainted.

No, they didn’t hook up or anything, it wasn’t like that.

It was the strange phenomenon that only could happen in college where you get really close really fast. Emily’s RA had explained it to their first-year floor, likening it to soldiers in the war (Emily wasn’t sure if the metaphor was kosher, but it was apt.). Young adults first starting out in the world, free from their family supervision and previous lives, cling on to those around them for stability. The RA explained this as in a cautionary tale, explaining that this can lead to high emotions, to fights, and… a bit more.

This talk led into their floor-cest talk, which was apparently required in every co-ed dorm at their school. Emily was the first to point out the heteronormativity in that policy. Floor-cest, for the uninitiated, was the concept of hooking up with someone on your floor in the dorm. It was formally discouraged by residence life staff. It was easy to have meaningless sex, harder when you have sex with someone you live down the hall from. Things could get messy.

Emily and Derek got this talk on move in day, both sitting cross-legged on the floor of their common room as their RA, a bubbly girl named Carol, explained the fundamentals of dorm life. Emily has been dropped off by her mother’s driver, who helped her unload her things.

Emily was still reeling from being surrounded by happy families, of crying parents and bitter that her mother was too busy to even send her own daughter off to school. Not that Emily wanted her there or anything, but the gesture would have been nice.

She remembered the startling moment when Derek walked straight into her room and offered his hand, introducing himself to his new neighbour.

They shared a wall, the co-ed bathroom down the hall, and most of their free time for their first year at college.

He had assumed that the driver, Paul who was one of Emily’s favourites out of her mother’s staff, was Emily’s father, which started things off on an awkward note. Soon she was swept up in a whirlwind of his family: his mom and sisters who insisted that Emily pose for photos of Derek and ‘his new dorm friend.’

A year later, Emily and Morgan were basically siblings. Emily didn’t actually have any siblings, but after going to Chicago for thanksgiving with the Morgan family, she was pretty sure she had officially been adopted.

Last year, they had a much nicer dorm, one of the newer ones with big windows and nice common spaces. This year they were both living in the oldest residence, a beautiful red brick building, covered with ivy, but the inside was all painted this gross beige, and the paint would chip off whenever Emily tried to hang her posters. There was also no air conditioning, the showers didn’t get too hot and the kitchen smelt like eggs. It was definitely a downgrade, but at least Morgan was on the same floor as her again.

Morgan had lucked out and gotten a corner room with tons of windows, and Emily was right next to the bathroom and could hear when anyone flushed.

After donning the jeans and a black tank top, Emily grabbed her leather jacket and they were ready to go.

“Another shot?” Derek asked, grinning at her mischievously.

“Of course,” Emily said. “Where are we even going anyways?”

“Well, you remember David, the TA from our psych lab? His housemates are throwing a party in their backyard. I heard there was going to be a DJ!”

“David Rossi?” Emily said incredulously, “How did you swing an invite to that?”

“I can’t reveal all of my secrets, you know that pretty lady.”

Emily scoffed. It was probably through their mutual friend Aaron Hotchner, who despite not being much of a partier, was very in the loop about the happenings on campus.

“Did you invite you know who?” Derek asked, a bit too casually as Emily locked her door.

Emily refused to bite.

“She definitely has better things to do than hang out with the likes of us.”

---

“I’m a criminology major,” Emily repeated, the exasperation in her voice palatable.

The boy, who was on the rugby team as she already learned, had asked her what her major was. He misheard her and began asking her how she likes studying biology.

The music was loud and the boy was clearly wasted off his ass. She was pretty sure she saw him do a keg stand in the kitchen earlier.

Emily took another sip of her drink, keeping it close to her chest. She looked around. They were only five minutes off campus at a decent-sized student house. The room was close to being at capacity, the old home creaking under the weight of dozens of students crammed into the living room. Music blared on a strangely impressive speaker system. The party was at its peak in the backyard, and was probably only an hour from being shut down by the cops if it got much louder.

Emily had carefully positioned herself next to the open window, enjoying the slight breeze as the body heat was making the old house steamy with humidity. This also happened to be the location of the bong, but she accepted the trade-off.

Derek was currently playing king’s cup, a game Emily refuses to play, since last time she got roped into it she lost miserably. She was forced to drink the king’s cup: a mixture of shitty beer, whiskey, cider wine and whole cream from the fridge, as she had been a bit too slow with bouncing the ball into the red solo cup. Derek held her hair back as she puked off the porch that night.

Never again.

Emily squinted as a few people she recognized walked into the room. It was only a month into classes, so she really hadn’t had the opportunity to get to know the new random assortment of people in her building, lectures and in her general orbit but she was pretty sure she was starting to recognize some faces.

Entering the party was the blonde from the end of the hallway who always complimented Emily on her outfits when she passed and had the most colourfully decorated dorm in the entire building. ‘Penelope G.’ read her name tag pinned to her door in their RA’s loopy handwriting.

Next to her was a younger boy that she had seen in the cafeteria with Penelope before, and while Emily wasn’t that good at identifying ages, he definitely looked a bit too young to be at college. He was tall, skinny and had a mop of unruly brown hair. He was also wearing a sweater to a house party, which was a major beginners mistake. He looked around nervously.

A few seconds later, the door closed, only dumping an assortment of other boys into the already packed house.

Emily let out a breath she didn’t know she held, as she found herself hoping that Garcia’s other friend might have been joining her that night.

Derek had teased her already about the girl across the hall. Jennifer Jareau. “My friends call me JJ,” she had said. Second year varsity soccer player and communications major. The girl Derek was convinced that Emily had a crush on.

JJ was the kind of girl who propped her door open during orientation week and always waved at Emily when she walked down the hall.

She did not have a crush. She barely knew anything about her besides that she was blonde, athletic and was always smiling. Both had been so busy since school had started, and seemed to have completely opposite schedules that they hadn’t really gotten to really connect.

Whenever Emily was coming back to their floor, JJ always seemed to be leaving. And vice versa. Somehow they were on exact opposite schedules. Probably since JJ was a varsity soccer player with early morning practise, and Emily was a bit of a night owl (that was a polite way of saying insomniac procrastinator perfectionist.)

She seemed to hang out with Garcia around residence, Emily having spotted the two getting coffee or studying in the library together occasionally, hence Emily’s hopes that Garcia may have JJ in tow that evening.

JJ was also definitely, one hundred percent, completely straight. Fairy lights and Polaroid pictures on her walls straight. She even had a high school sweetheart that might survive the turkey dumping season. Emily didn’t know his name but JJ said the key word early on in the year: boyfriend.

Emily turned back to the boy in front of her, who was describing, in detail, how the stock market worked, without realizing that Emily was not paying attention at all.

He was quite conventionally attractive, with mussed curly hair and broad shoulders. He obviously was interested in her—or rather interested in talking at her and potentially sleeping with her—that despite herself, Emily decided to slot him into her roster for that evening.

Emily considered herself a reluctant bisexual. Women could make her heart skip a beat just by looking in her direction, and men could get it when the situation was right and she didn’t have any other options. The second half of this pleased her mother to no end, as when young fourteen year old Emily Prentiss had decided to come out to her mother—at one of their rare dinners together—she watched her mother grit her teeth and tell her to keep that to herself. Her mother had eventually accepted this part of her daughter’s life, but only under the assumption that Emily would eventually end up with a man, and keep the rest to herself.

Emily looked around the room and wondered if she was going to have any other options that evening besides the very talkative boy.

Excusing herself from the company of…Matthew, she thinks was his name, she tries to find Derek, who had disappeared into the kitchen. Emily weaved through the crowd, steering past a couple making out in the corner.

She turned the corner and found Derek filling his cup with more beer from the keg. He grinned up at her and did the same for her.

“I hate beer,” Emily said to him, grimacing at the scratchy taste of the fermented barley in her red solo cup.

“Suck it up buttercup, you’re in college. You also complained about the juice from earlier.”

“Yeah well, watering down eleven percent wine is as bad as this five percent crap.”

“It did taste a lot better,” he agreed. “Who was that guy?”

Emily rolled her eyes.

“Matthew attempted to explain macroeconomics to me.”

“Oh god, is that what men are like out there?” He asked. “Guess you’re stuck with me tonight.”

“Lucky me.”

“Pong?” He asked, gesturing towards the row of tables set up in the backyard, through the open door and passed the crowd milling about near the speakers. The game seemed to be wrapping up, as the two teams shook hands and reset the cups to their original positions.

“Always.”

They found their spot at one of the tables across from their new opponents: Penelope and her very young looking friend.

“Penelope Garcia?” Derek grinned, recognizing the girl from their floor and walking up to her for a hug. Their rooms were facing each other, and they had apparently gotten the chance to get to know each other.

She grinned and hugged him, clearly a lot more sober than him having only arrived minutes earlier. There seemed to be a lot of hugging at house parties, Emily discovered when she moved to America, acquaintances became close friends once alcohol was involved.

She had bright pink glasses and a matching dress, with bright artfully done make-up highlighting her large smile. Emily knew that she was a CompSci major and had loaded her dorm room desk with monitors and the largest computer set-up that Emily had seen in her life.

“Derek, my love,” Penelope replied, gushing over Emily’s friend in an unexpected, but not unsurprising way. “Fancy meeting you here! And Emily! Have you two met my fine young friend here, Spencer?”

She gestured to the boy, who waved awkwardly.

“Hi, I’m Spencer Reid,” he said.

“He’s like a boy-genius or something. He already has a degree in mathematics and he’s currently working on his second degree in engineering. Isn’t that très cool? We met at the club fair last week.”

“I’m double majoring in philosophy,” he added.

“How old are you kid?” Morgan asked him, quick to the punch.

“Uh- sixteen?” Spencer seemed to ask, shrinking into himself a bit. “I skipped a couple of grades.”

He had a pair of glasses perched on his nose, a brown sweater with a white shirt collar poking through and had tucked his brown hair behind his ears. He was still taller than Penelope, but the smattering of acne and wide eyes made it clear that he was very much a kid.

“More than a couple!” Morgan exclaimed.

He shrugged.

“Are you in intro to logic with Williams?” Emily asked, realizing that she had recognized him from somewhere.

“Yes, I am. Though I find his repeated chess metaphors a touch reductive.”

“You’re right about that. Like, we get it Willy, you play chess. Big whoop,” Emily said, then introduced herself.

He smiled at her, slightly less awkwardly this time but with a touch more confusion.

“And this is Derek Morgan,” Penelope piped in, “the most gorgeous football player I know.”

“Do you know any other football players?” Spencer asked.

“Now you hush!” She admonished him. “We have a game to play.”

“Do you two have something to drink?” Derek asked them, moving back towards their side of the long fold-up table, which was crudely painted in their schools colours.

Emily took a sip of her beer, wondering if the boy should be drinking.

Penelope babbled about how it was Spencer’s first college party, and how she was so excited that it was this one because look at the pretty string lights decorating the backyard and the fact that there was a keg, like in the movies.

Smiling at her new neighbour, Emily thought that this might also be Penelope's first college party.

Derek returned with a cup of water for Spencer, and some beer for Penelope. Spencer seemed relieved at the gesture, smiling as he took a sip. Emily marvelled at her friend's kindness, despite what anyone said about drinking culture on campuses either way, it was tough to attend a party and not drink, putting his drink in a matching red cup gave him the appearance of participation.

“Do we all know the rules?” Derek asked.

“The question you should ask,” Emily said, “Is if they’re willing to play by your rules.”

Emily had discovered that this game, depending on the people you were playing with, had radically different rules. While the premise of the game remained the same: there were six cups on each side of the table, into which you threw ping pong balls and whenever you got a ball in a cup, that cup was then taken out of the picture until there were no cups left. Depending on who you were playing with, the cups were filled with water or beer (Emily hated when they had beer in them, it make things sticky and it was very unsanitary), there were specific rules to what defined an airball, when one could get balls back, when you could call island and what was a permissible trick shot.

“Ha ha Prentiss,” Derek said to her, rolling the ping pong ball in his hands. “I wanted to know if they had played before.”

“Oh I’ve played before,” Penelope said, “and I am unbeatable.”

She waggled her fingers in a gesture that implied magic was involved.

“It’s simple physics,” Spencer added, “I’ve memorized the rules and common approaches. We’ll be more than fine. ”

“Ok pretty boy, let’s see what you’ve got. Eye to eye?”

Looking into each other’s eyes, rather than at their targets, the two boys aimed at the cups, with only Reid’s making it in.

“What the fuck Morgan,” Emily exclaimed as Penelope and Spencer whooped, “what even was that throw?”

With the other team having won the privilege of starting first, Emily was forced to toss her ball towards Penelope, who took it with a grin.

She threw first, missing the table entirely.

“Air ball!” Derek announced, leaping forward and waving his hands in front of the cups on their side, the rules granting him the ability to defend their territory.

Spencer frowned, apparently perturbed by this turn of events. He stuck out his tongue, aimed, and launched the ball, hitting Morgan right in the chest. The ball bounced off of it and fell straight down into the cup.

Derek’s draw dropped. Spencer and Penelope whooped in excitement.

“Derek, how did you lose us that cup?” Emily whined, pulling one of their cups to the side. One point to Spencer.

Derek, who had something to prove, lined up his shot. He gazed at his targets with the focus of a sniper, dunked the ball into one of their cups, dousing it with water, and rolled it in his hands, giving it a bit more weight. He aimed and fired off a quick shot into the centre-left cup. It spun around in the cup, floating above the water, but fell in. If the other team were crafty, they would have blown into the cup and Derek would have lost the point, but Emily sighed in relief when she realized that despite their first point, they didn’t know the rules well enough to beat the current reigning beer champs.

It was Emily’s turn. She took a gulp of her beer—she would always swear she was better when she was drunk because she didn’t think too hard about it—and threw. It neatly fell into the back right cup, scoring them two points for that round.

“Balls back!” Derek roared in delight.

Penelope tossed them, and the game continued.

They sunk one more shot on their turn. 3-1.

Penelope got another cup, Spencer missed. 3-2.

Derek’s ball bounced out, Emily sank hers. 4-2.

Only minutes later, after playing at breakneck speed, there were three cups left on the table and Derek and Emily were quite drunk, with Penelope not far behind. Reid, still very sober, was matching the duo with intense concentration.

It was his throw, with two cups left until his victory. He shots carefully, sinking it without a splash.

Derek and Emily had one cup to go. He went first, sending one barreling towards the cup. It hit the rim and instead of going in, it bounced towards Emily, who leaped forward and grabbed it before it fell off the table.

“Trick shot!” She yelled. Derek could try again, but only if he does it in an inventive way. At the frat house they spent a lot of time in first year, the only acceptable trick shot (under this house’s rules) was bouncing the ball off a poster of Obama. This time, Derek takes an empty cup, puts the ball in, and uses the cup to aim.

Somehow, it went in.

They leap into the air, yelling with delight. But they hadn’t won yet. The other team still had a redemption shot.

“How ya feeling kid?” Derek taunted, “Wanna give up now, save yourself the embarrassment?”

“Not a chance.”

He squinted at the table, lining up his shot with precision. With his left hand he licked his finger, sticking it up in the air like golfers do to measure the wind. Emily wasn't sure if this was a joke, something to psych Derek out, or something the boy was genuinely able to do. He frowned, seeming to ponder the information.

He aimed. He tossed it. He sunk the redemption shot.

They were in overtime.

“You can do it princess,” Derek told her, watching her with utmost intensity. Emily adjusted her stance, chugging back the last of that glass of beer, feeling the alcohol with greater focus than before.

She glanced around at the other team, but out of the corner of her eye she caught a familiar face looking at her: Jennifer Jareau from residence. Her not crush.

She was looking at her. Watching her play.

A swell of nervousness flooded up through her lungs, and she forced it out by huffing a breath.

She needed another drink. Moreover, she needed to focus.

Emily threw it. If it made it in, then they won. If she missed, Spencer and Garcia had another shot at redemption. They couldn’t lose this, not now, not in front of… uh, everyone. She was definitely not thinking about JJ in this situation. That would be something a frat boy thought about. She didn’t want to win beer pong to impress some girl, she wanted to win because she had pride.

The ball sailed through the air, Emily held her breath. It caught the lip of the cup, teetered. A splash announced that they had won.

Thank god.

With a whoop, realizing what they had done, Emily and Derek roared with joy, jumping into each other and hugging in their celebration. A few onlookers clapped, noticing how close the game had been.

They pulled apart and reached out their hands to their opponents.

“Great game,” Emily said, shaking Spencer's hand, “Really.”

He grinned despite his loss.

“Honestly I understand the principles, it’s simple parabolas and high-school level physics,” he frowned, “Unfortunately, I need to work on translating those parabolas into the real world.”

“We’ll work on it Spence,” Garcia grinned, shaking Emily’s hand while smiling at her younger friend.

Emily realized that in their celebration, Derek had spilled quite a bit of beer onto Emily’s sleeve and down the side of her shirt and it was currently dripping onto her boots. Emily sighed, handing her friend her cup.

“I’ve got beer all over me,” Emily sighed, “Get me a refill? I’m going to try to find a bathroom.”

Derek nodded and turned back to their new friends, chatting about how impressed he was with their game.

Emily felt a bit sticky, feeling the beer coat her bare arm. Walking back into the house, she glanced at the kitchen sink trying to see if there was any paper towel or something there, but no luck. The sink was full of dishes, the counters covered in assorted empties and cups, without a dishcloth in sight. Not wanting to rifle through their drawers, she made her way towards the staircase.

There was a couple making out on the staircase, which was not something Emily would do herself. It seemed a bit precarious since alcohol was involved, but, to each their own, she thought. Emily opened a couple of the doors upstairs before discovering one of the most disgusting washrooms she’d ever seen.

There was only one thing in the shower: dawn dish soap. The boys who lived here must use that for their bodies. Emily shuddered. On the sink were some toothbrushes, razors and some floss, but for some reason, no soap. Emily found a roll of toilet paper on the floor (ew), and wadded it up to try to reduce the wet spot on her side and hopefully from smelling like a brewery when she returned to residence.

For a moment, Emily found herself gazing at herself in the mirror, feeling hazy and a bit unsteady. She checked her make-up, noting that her dark red lipstick was holding up, but her mascara had smudged under her eyes giving her more of a goth vibe than the alt look she typically went for.

Emily sat down on the tub, patting the toilet paper against her wet clothing, feeling very drunk now that she was seated. Dammit Morgan, couldn’t he have spilled his beer on himself instead of her nice shirt?

The thud of the music was muffled, but there was a ringing in her ears that made everything feel very quiet. That was until there was a thundering of footsteps and the sound of a girl announcing: “I’m going to vom, right now.”

Emily sat, jaw dropped, as a red headed girl threw open the bathroom door, kneeled down on the floor next to the toilet, and relieved herself from the contents of her stomach without so much as a knock. The girl coughed into the bowl, yacking up what was probably way too much beer for the poor tiny girl.

“Oh my gosh,” said another voice, at the door, “I’m so sorry. We didn’t realize there was someone here! ”

Emily looked up, realizing the voice came from no other than Jennifer Jareau.

“JJ!” Emily said, not really knowing what else to do with the girl heaving at her feet.

“You ok?” JJ kneeled down next to her friend, carefully pulling her friend’s long hair back, tugging a hair tie off her own wrist and collecting it so that it didn’t get anything on it.

Emily felt stupid sitting on the tub, not helping anything. She tossed the rest of the toilet paper in the garbage, placing the half-empty roll on the edge of the tub.

“Can I get her some water?” Emily asked, “To rinse her mouth?”

JJ looked up at her and nodded. Emily felt herself blushing slightly as she turned away. Who let one girl’s eyes be so big, and so blue. It was rude.

She returned a minute later having had to rinse her own beer cup out in the gross kitchen sink to make sure that she wasn’t accidentally giving this girl some random person's sketchy cup.

Emily remembered that earlier Derek said that it was a varsity party, so it did make sense that JJ was also in attendance. The whole team probably was. The other girl looked like a soccer player, she had that vibe.

Emily handed the cup to JJ, who gave her a grateful smile. Emily felt their fingers touch for a moment, before JJ turned to attend to her friend.

She tried to get her to take a sip, and Emily took the moment to look JJ up and down, taking in her light blue skinny jeans, black tank and high heeled boots. She was basically wearing the uniform of a straight white girl at a houseparty. Not to say Emily wasn’t also basically wearing the same outfit, pairing the jeans with combat boots and attempting to set herself apart with her black nail polish and eyeliner that her mother once called ‘a lot.’

In contrast to Emily’s fairly undefined thin body, she took note of the strong looking shoulders that flexed as JJ kneeled down on the floor. She was definitely an athlete. Emily looked away, checking her phone, feeling suddenly embarrassed for looking at the girl.

‘Where u go bbg????’ Read a new message from Derek.

‘Girl puknigh up hre’ Emily typed, ‘Got her waterr’

Emily blinked at her typos, pressing the red underlined words, hoping her phone would correct them for her. She wasn’t that drunk.

The two girls were talking quietly, and Emily decided to take her leave, but before she could the red-head beat her to the punch deciding that she wanted to puke in peace.

“Leave me aloooooonnne Jennifer,” she wined. “Get out, I don’t want any more fucking water.”

JJ pulled back, making a face and holding her hands up in the ‘I surrender’ motion. Emily hurried out into the hall with JJ on her heels. The girl kicked the door shut angrily, and the sound of her retching ensued.

“There was a funnel,” JJ offered as an explanation. She leaned against the door. “How has your night been?”

Emily blinked. JJ was making conversation. She didn’t want Emily to leave just yet.

“So far so good,” Emily replied. “Doing better than your friend, at least.”

“That’s not hard to do. So I guess you didn’t chug from a funnel yet?” JJ quipped, smiling and revealing a perfect, white smile.

“Oh I have that scheduled for one-thirty, actually,” Emily said, pretending to check her watch and grinning.

“Let me know before you do, I’d like to watch that,” JJ said casually.

A wave of heat rushed to Emily’s face as she realized that drinking from a funnel would entail Emily on her knees, with JJ watching her… a thought that she needed to push out of her brain immediately.

“I’ll have you know,” Emily said in retort, “I can chug amongst the best. I am no stranger to these sorts of parties.”

JJ grinned. “Oh yeah?”

“I’m a reigning beer pong champ, I’ll have you know.”

They laughed.

“I saw your last victory. Very impressive.”

JJ, in a controlled fall, slid down the door and sat down in the hall, resigning herself to waiting for her friend. Emily wondered if she should return to Morgan now, but unable to tear herself away from the opportunity for a conversation with JJ.

“I’m awful at pong,” the blonde admitted. “I miss every time.”

“You probably just need a good teacher.”

JJ raised her eyebrows, “oh yeah?”

“I mean,” Emily said, sitting down onto the top step of the staircase, facing her floormate, “it’s all about hand eye coordination. It’s basically a sport. You need a coach.”

They both laughed.

“Well if that’s the case, why don’t you teach me?”

Emily gulped.

The door opened, and JJ fell back slightly before catching herself.

“I’m going home,” JJ’s friend announced.

JJ looked up at her dishevelled friend and nodded, turning back to look at Emily apologetically.

“Another time?” Emily offered, smiling before walking down the stairs and rejoining the party.

Next chapter ->

[a-libra-writes]

Salt & Snow - Chapter 1

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader

Summary: The only daughter of House Caspian, close allies of House Stark, visits Winterfell with her family and meets the four interesting children that live in the great castle. Childish shenanigans and silliness ensues. 

Hi everyone!! Im gonna give a short fanfic series a try! ;w; I haven’t done this in years lol, and I’m a little proud of this. I think it’ll be around 6~10 chapters? I don’t want it to be long! (yes I am working on other requests i promise hahaha this just got away from me~)

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The cold air hit her cheeks, and the only reaction she could give was delight. Normally she was scolding her little brother for throwing open the window to their carriage, but now she could only climb over him as she gazed out. The brilliant castle was in sight, and there was a sea of colorful banners all around it. She couldn’t imagine so many people in one place, all trying to fit into Winterfell. Even if it was a grand castle, how could it fit so many men and horses?

Her uncle leaned over her and her brother, chuckling at their starry-eyed expressions. “No leaning out the window. You’ll be there soon enough.”

Y/N recalled a time when her uncle let her lean over the bow of a ship to gaze at dolphins, but this didn’t seem a good time to remind him. It was hard to care about dolphins when she was so far from the sea, anyway. “Uncle, will there be room for us?”

“Of course, sweetling. Your father is a good friend of Lord Stark, remember? Do you remember the last time you were here?”

She shook her head, and so did her little brother, which was silly. He probably wasn’t even born then. Her father often mentioned Lord Stark and the great castle that was Winterfell. Supposedly he’d taken her twice, but they were such faint memories. Today was like seeing it for the first time.

“You were even smaller then, so I’m not surprised. I hope you two will behave yourselves while you’re here. Don’t make me write to your Lady Mother.”

At the mention of her, Y/N and her brother nodded again, except with more seriousness… Well, Y/N took it seriously, but Willam was already clambering back to the window. She felt her excitement begin to dwindle as she thought about her mother lecturing her over whatever thing she failed at, probably a botched courtesy. Her Lady Mother never lectured Willam when he ran through the horse stalls or wrestled in mud with the other boys.

Y/N patted at the neat braid at her shoulder, suddenly worried it was out of place. Her uncle would never lecture her about it being messy, but now she was thinking about it. She smiled at the shiny thread woven through the braid, and the pretty pearl at the end of it. Her father gave it to her. She wished he was here too, but he was riding on his huge black stallion ahead of their carriage. Uncle said Lord Stark gave him the beautiful horse. Y/N was wary of horses, but she liked that one.

Finally the carriage slowed to a crawl and made its way to the gates of Winterfell. Y/N gaped with her brother; it was so huge compared to their modest keep at Ramsgate. Y/N loved her family’s home, but it was like comparing a village to White Harbor. Her brother was bouncing like a proper five year old, tugging on her cerulean sleeves and pointing. “Look, look! A doggy!”

Huge banners flew on top of the parapets and unfurled on the walls. They were a brilliant white, and the creature running across them was as grey as the castle walls. She shook her head. “That’s a direwolf.”

Sometimes Willam looked at her as though she were a genius, which was a nice feeling. She pulled her rowdy brother into her arms and was pleased when he didn’t fight her. The banners and armored men on horses captured all of his attention. She used the distraction to untangle his hair and smooth out his tunic.

She was surprised when her uncle patted her shoulder approvingly, but it was a welcome gesture. The carriage had stopped, and she saw the black, teal and navy banners of their House passing the open window. She tried to be the calm lady, but she was feeling as bouncy as Willam.

Uncle Cole exited the carriage and opened the door for them on the other side. Y/N kept an iron grip on Willam so he didn’t just roll out and fall on his face; her Uncle picked the boy up and set him on his feet, then promptly held his collar so he didn’t go running off. With his other free hand, he helped Y/N down. She lifted her skirts and exited with much more grace.

Y/N looked over her dress, hoping it wasn’t too rumpled from the journey. Her Uncle said she could wear something comfortable for the trip and change into something nicer that evening, but Y/N was too excited to have a proper, real lady’s gown. She wore the beautiful blue and green of the sea, with beautiful little embroidered manta rays. They were her favorite part, and when she walked, her long sleeves swayed and made them look like they were swimming. With the threaded pearl in her hair, Y/N felt much older and more important than her eight years. She would be nine in a few months, and then ten, and by then she was nearly grown. Her lady mother said something to that effect, anyway.

She kept her skirts lifted as she walked through the yard and spotted her father. She would not run to him, because she was a lady, but she did allow herself a little happy skip. She thought he would pick her up like he always did, but his hands were dirty from riding, so she settled for his laughter.

“I’m sweating like a hog in summer, and my girl is fresh as a winter rose! That dress is lovely, Y/N. I know your mother would be proud.”

Y/N wondered about that. She was disappointed her mother was missing such a great harvest feast. “Maybe she should have come, father. What if she’s lonely?”

“Sweetling, the journey is too much for her right now, and she isn’t alone. She has your new brother, remember? He’s too young to leave, too, and she’d hate to leave him alone. Wouldn’t you?”

Y/N wasn’t sure how she felt about her baby brother. She hadn’t even had a chance to see him, but she remembered how her mother screamed when he came into the world, and it wasn’t a pleasant thought. The Maester said she was still bedridden, and she heard the washerwomen whispering about her condition. Willam was hard, they said, that’s why Lady Talia didn’t have a child for so long.

So why did she have another? She already has me and Willam. Y/N had asked the Maester, but he simply corrected her grammar and turned her attention to her studies.

It wouldn’t do to be unsure and gloomy today, not when they were in a grand new place and her father was beaming like she’d never seen before. “Can I write to her?”

“She would love that. Tell her all the details, don’t leave anything out.” When he laughed, his beard moved with him. Compared to other Northmen, her father’s was trim, and she liked that. He didn’t look old like the Maester or the horse master. “Little Y/N, do you remember the last time you were at Winterfell?”

“No.”

“Just so, you were barely to my knee, and Willam was still in your mother’s stomach. Do you remember their children?”

She knew the Starks had children, naturally, her parents and other adults mentioned them before. Y/N felt embarrassed she couldn’t recall any names, though. “No …”

“That’s fine, dear, it was a long time ago, and you weren’t here for very long. They have a girl your age, named Lyanna. You can play with her while you’re here. Their boys are too old for Willam, but I know you’ll get on well with them.”

It sounded like Y/N didn’t have much of a choice in playing with Lyanna or being nice to her brothers, but she didn’t mind meeting new children. Lord Manderly had no daughters to play with, only his two sons, and they were older and often annoyed her. One of her father’s men had a daughter, but she was younger and prone to crying at the drop of a pin. Y/N hoped Lyanna wasn’t like that.

She followed her father and uncle to the great hall of Winterfell, holding her brother’s hand firmly so he’d follow along. He was stopping and staring at everything, which she wanted to do too, but she was interested in seeing the hall and the Starks. It wasn’t nearly as crowded as she thought it would be when they entered, and gazing upon the banners hung up in the hall, Y/N realized they were one of the first families brought in.

Before her was the tallest man she’d ever seen. Her father was tall, she thought, he was bigger than the master-at-arms and her Uncle, but this one slapped her father on the back so hard she thought he hurt him. He had a great beard, too, and long black hair that was like the night. Beside him was a woman in beautiful white and grey silks, with hair so soft and brown, Y/N instantly thought of chocolate.

While her father and uncle loudly greeted the man, it was the woman who stepped toward her. Beside her were two children: A girl slightly taller than Y/N, and a boy slightly shorter. The girl looked just like the woman, down to her pretty brown hair and big grey eyes. She wore a lovely sky-blue dress that was simpler than Y/N’s, but she also had a braid that was tied back with a blue rose. The boy had long black hair that stuck up in a few directions and the same grey eyes. He wasn’t hiding his curiosity, and nor was his sister.

The woman bowed her head slightly, and Y/N attempted a curtsy while still holding her brother’s hand. “Lady Stark,” Y/N said, hastily trying to recall what she was taught. “It’s good to meet you. Thank you for having my family.”

“The pleasure is mine, dear,” Lady Stark said. She had a nice smile, and her steady voice reminded Y/N of her Lady Mother when visitors came. It was a comforting sound. Her daughter wasted little time in doing her own curtsy, but her excited words didn’t match the proper gesture.

“My name is Lyanna. What’s your’s?”

“Um, Lady Y/N of House Caspian.”

“I know which one that is,” Lyanna had a big smile. She seemed proud of knowing this, and she pointed to the little white manta rays on Y/N’s sleeves. “Your sigil is a black ray on a blue ocean, with navy waves. Your castle is on a beach!”

“Yes, that’s right,” Y/N held up her sleeve, and Lyanna happily admired it. Willam peered out from behind her skirt, and suddenly Y/N remembered him. “Oh, um, and this is Willam. My Lady Mother and youngest brother couldn’t come. Um, she wishes she could.”

“I wish she could as well, but I am praying for her health.” Lady Stark said. “I’ll look forward to seeing her next year.”

Y/N was about to ask why Lady Stark thought they were visiting next year, but the wild-haired boy took the spot beside Lyanna and spoke up. “I’m Benjen.”

“He’s the youngest,” Lyanna said, then added, “And the shortest.”

“You’re going to be the shortest soon, you know,” Benjen said. He seemed very good-humored. “Father said we’ll all be as tall as him. We’ll be able to put our elbows on your head.”

Lyanna scoffed loudly, and Lady Stark instantly raised an eyebrow. Before she could comment on that little noise, her husband took up Y/N’s entire vision.

He was tall.

Often, Y/N’s father and her uncle crouched on their knees when talking to her, but Lord Stark didn’t bother. He seemed to speak as loudly as the men at arms did when they trained. “Now, look here! You were up to here the last I saw you. Welcome to Winterfell, my lady.”

Y/N tried not to quiver in her own boots. She felt Willam’s little hand squeeze her’s, and she thought it was encouragement, but then she glanced over. The boy was trying to fight his own tears.

She opted to go for her courtesies. “Th-thank you, Lord Stark, you honor me.”

“Hah! Does she always speak so pretty? She’s a darling thing, Gareth. I wish Talia could have made it, but congratulations for your son. We’ll see them next time, I hope. Lyanna, Benjen, why don’t you introduce Y/N to your brothers?”

“I’ll watch Willam.” Uncle Cole said to Y/N before she could say anything about him. She worried her little brother would cry when his uncle took him from her, but she heard Cole say something about a knight and a wolf, and the boy’s eyes were filled with stars instead of tears. Y/N wondered if she was that simple when she was five.

Lyanna was quick to say “Yes, father!” and take Y/N’s hand in place of Willam’s. Before she knew it, Y/N was being dragged out of the great hall and out into the crisp, cold air. Benjen was hot on their heels, the air making his long black hair whip in every direction.

Benjen had a grin in spite of his words. “I thought father was going to make you cry, Y/N.”

“H-he wasn’t!”

“Brandon is pretty scary, too.”

“No, he isn’t. He’s just a big bother.”Lyanna said. “He thinks he knows everything because he’s eleven.”

“Lyanna’s only mad ‘cause he got to go riding this morning, and she had to stay and memorize banners.”

Lyanna made a move to punch his arm, but Benjen easily dodged her. Y/N was surprised she was allowed to move like that in a dress, then she looked down and noticed the hem of it was muddy.

They ran a circle around Y/N, Benjen not even bothering to really run, since Lyanna was hampered by her skirts. She knew it and gave up, tossing them down with frustration. The winter rose was sagging a little in her braid.

Y/N wasn’t sure what to say. “Um … I can meet your other brother, if you want.”

“Oh, Ned! Yes, Ned is better. He’s sweet and treats ladies properly.” Lyanna nodded, pleased with the suggestion.

“How old are you, Y/N?” Benjen asked.

“I’m nine in a few months.”

“Just like me!” Lyanna bounced. “Benjen is only seven!”

The boy wasn’t bothered by this. Instead, he took off running and called back, “Race to the training yard! Winner gets lemon cake!”

“You cheat!” Lyanna was already gathering her skirts and flying off. She whipped her head around, brown hair flying everywhere. “Come on, Y/N! Don’t let him win!”

“Um.” Y/N looked down at the pretty silver thread on her bodice, the little embroidered rays on her sleeves, and the neat hem of her dress. She looked around and, satisfying none of the servants were interested in what she was doing, pulled her skirts up to her calves, where her boots ended. She could run ladylike, couldn’t she? It was alright if her boots got a little dirty, because she could just clean them, right?

Y/N ended up doing something of a trot and skip, which didn’t look nearly as elegant as she pictured. She did her best not to lose sight of the Stark girl, and by the time she ran up to the training yard, she was trying not to huff and puff. Y/N hastily touched her braid and was relieved that the pearl was still there.

Lyanna’s winter rose had flown out at some point, and several strands of hair were in her face. She absently brushed them aside. “There you are, Y/N! Benjen cheated, as usual.”

An older boy was sitting on the fence, lazily swinging his legs. He bit into an apple. “Or you were too slow, as usual.”

“I would be faster if I had my tunic and pants!”

The boy snickered. “Mother would be angry.”

Lyanna had a retort ready, but Benjen waved to Y/N and called her over. “We found the wrong brother. Want to look somewhere else?”

Y/N glanced up at the boy, who wasn’t a real grown-up, but he was still bigger, especially when he sat up on that fence. He had black hair like Benjen, and while it was shorter, it wasn’t much neater. She didn’t like the look on his face, but she bowed anyway. “My name is Lady Y/N.”

“I’m Brandon. I’m going to be Lord of Winterfell.” He said in way of a greeting. He didn’t bother to stop eating his apple, or get off the fence.

Y/N was instantly annoyed.

Lyanna did that scoff again. “Right, he’s going to be an ‘important Lord’, so he’s busy. Let’s go find Ned.”

“He doesn’t want little kids tagging along, either.” Brandon said.

She ignored that. “Where is he, then?”

“How would I know?”

“Ugh. We’ll find him ourselves.”

Suddenly, Brandon asked Y/N, “Do you have a brother?”

“It’s ‘do you have a brother, Lady Y/N,’” Lyanna corrected quickly. “Where’d you leave your manners?”

“Same place you left your’s,” Benjen said easily, and both Brandon and Lyanna ignored that.

“I do have one.” Y/N didn’t like having to crane her neck up at this stupid wall to talk to this boy, even if he was the oldest Stark. “He’s three years younger than me. My other brother is a babe, and back at Ramsgate.”

Brandon huffed, and Y/N didn’t get what the attitude was for. It was Lyanna who explained, “Now that he’s almost good at sword fighting, he wants to fight every lordling that visits. He doesn’t even use a real sword.”

The older boy flushed. “I will soon! What do you know about swords, anyway?”

“I know as much as you, and probably more.”

That made him hop off the fence, and Y/N was dismayed to learn he was still tall without it. “Girls don’t use swords. Father already told you that.”

It was Lyanna’s turn to turn red with anger. Y/N was surprised at how quickly it came, and she wondered if this was a fight they had before.

“I bet I could use a sword and a lance better than you, if I was taught.”

“Well, you aren’t taught, and you won’t be, so you can’t be better.”

Y/N tried to speak. “Um, Lyanna, maybe we can do something else? Let’s walk around Winterfell —”

“Let’s try right now!” Lyanna said, not even hearing Y/N’s words. “I’ll use a stupid wooden sword, just like you. I’ll hit you right between the eyes with it!”

“You couldn’t reach me!” Brandon was yelling like his sister. “And Mother would have your head!”

“Are you going to tell on me? Afraid I’ll win?” Lyanna goaded, and that’s when Benjen tried to speak up.

“Brandon, stop yelling, everyone will hear,” He tried, nudging his older brother’s shoulder, but he was shaken off. Y/N tried to do the same to Lyanna, but the girl was as still as stone and couldn’t be moved. Y/N fretted, thinking of what her Lady Mother would do if she heard about this. She felt it was her fault, and she hated the idea of upsetting her father and the Lord and Lady Stark just hours after she arrived.

“Lyanna,” Y/N tried again to nudge the girl. She tried to hide her distress, but failed. “Come on, let’s go, I want to do something else.”

She looked to Benjen for more support, but the dark-haired boy was distracted. He was waving someone over, someone in the distance. Y/N looked with him — There was no way this person was an adult, and looking closer, Y/N saw he was a boy almost the same size as Brandon, but there was a small sword belted to his waist.

Lyanna stopped her arguing, and Brandon did too, but he was scowling. The new boy had the same soft, dark brown hair that Lady Stark had, and her pretty grey eyes. He said nothing, but Y/N could feel his disapproval.

Lyanna spoke first. “Brandon started it, he says I can’t use a sword and I know if I had one, I’d hit his stupid face —”

“— She’s a girl, and Mother said if she gets into another fight and ruins another gown, she’ll drag all of us by the ears around the yard —”

The new boy just let them talk over each other. When both Lyanna and Brandon saw they weren’t being heard, they huffed at each other. Lyanna crossed her arms.

Finally, the boy said, “We shouldn’t fight today. There’s lots of guests at Winterfell.”

Y/N didn’t expect him to say that, but it sounded like the right thing. To her surprise, Lyanna and Brandon looked equally sullen, as if they agreed.

“Brandon, you were supposed to be meeting guests with Mother and Father … and Lyanna, you already dirtied your dress.”

Lyanna opened her mouth to protest, then looked down at her muddy dress. She touched her hair, as if just noticing what a state it was in. Her mouth closed and she kept her arms crossed.

Brandon was ready to say something as well, but he just pursed his lips and made an annoyed sound. He and his sister glared at each other, but they said nothing. The new boy was giving his siblings a pleading look with those grey eyes.

“Fine,” They both muttered, and Benjen was smiling again. Y/N could feel the relief washing over her. She’d skip over this in her letter.

Lyanna lingered back to Y/N, her cheeks still red. She felt a bit embarrassed for acting like that in front of someone new, so she tried to move past it. “This is Y/N. She’s from the castle by the sea, at Ramsgate. Y/N, this is Ned.”

Y/N smiled and did her curtsy, grateful to the boy for restoring peace. She had a feeling he’d be nice to her, unlike Brandon. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She hadn’t expected him to hastily look down and mumble something. Had he not noticed she was there?

Brandon elbowed him, and Ned looked up, meeting her eyes with his own grey ones. She still liked the look of them, and now they were contrasting against the boy’s red cheeks. “Um. It’s nice to  meet you.”

“And?” It was Benjen’s turn to elbow him. Ned frowned at his younger brother, glanced at Y/N, hastily glanced away and added,

“AndwelcometoWinterfell.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at that. Lyanna was giggling at her side, and Brandon looked much more relaxed. The air cleared at once, and Lyanna nudged Y/N’s hand before taking it.

“Let me show you around Winterfell, it’s pretty here, even without the ocean. Oh, I know the best place to start!”

“She’s already in the best place,” Brandon said. “The stables are here, too. Let’s show her our horses!”

“I have the prettiest mare,” Lyanna said. “Do you ride? Oh, soon  Brandon is going to get a big horse, like the ones knights use in tourneys!”

Brandon beamed, and Y/N was glad the two had something they bonded over. Benjen added, “When you’re done looking at smelly animals, I know the best hiding spots.”

“And the kitchens, they’re making so many pastries for tonight!” Lyanna said.

“What about the top of the castle walls? And the big catapults.”

“The towers, too, especially the haunted one,” Benjen said. “Well, it’s scarier at night.”

Y/N noticed Ned hadn’t added anything to their list of suggestions. He actually seemed a little dismal, and he glanced up at the tall walls that Brandon mentioned.

“Um, Ned, where do you think we should go?” Y/N asked, wanting to include him.

He blushed again, and fiddled with the hem of his tunic. She thought it was odd how he had a little sword at his waist, but Brandon didn’t. “Oh. Um. I don’t know…”

“You’re coming with us,” Lyanna said, although Y/N didn’t think Ned would try to slip away. He looked forlorn about something, she just didn’t know how to ask or what to say. “We have to do as much as possible before you have to leave!”

He has to leave? But where? Is that why he’s so sad? Y/N wanted to ask him, but Ned was shrinking back behind Benjen and Brandon. The latter was already marching to the stables, calling the girls to follow him. Benjen tugged at his older brother’s sleeve to urge him along, just as Lyanna eagerly pulled Y/N.

Lady Stark was doing a very impressive job of managing a smile while fury burned in her eyes.

“Lyanna. Brandon. Benjen.” She said each name with great enunciation, and each child grimaced as their name was said. “To the baths. Now.”

None of them protested. Lyanna’s hair had long fallen out of its braid and her dress had a motley of grime on it. Brandon’s arms and cheeks were caked in dirt after deciding to show Y/N how to mount a real knight’s horse - and promptly falling. Benjen was dirty from his fingers to his toes because, while Lyanna and Ned were helping Brandon up, he decided to pelt his sister with mud and hay. She ran after him, tackled him to the ground, and that’s how her dress ripped, too. Brandon doubled over in laughter and Y/N expected Ned to intervene again, but he just sighed.

Ned was more or less clean, as was Y/N - she noticed some dirt on the hem of her dress, but she couldn’t do much about it, and she didn’t want to trouble Lady Stark. The woman sighed heavily, and she tried to return some sweetness to her voice.

“Sweetling, could you wash your hands for me? I’ll have a maid brush the dust out of your hair and fix the braid. Would you like that?”

“Yes, Lady Stark. Thank you very much.”

It was best to be courteous when the fire was under one’s “arse”, as her Uncle said, although Y/N wasn’t sure what that was and why fire would be under it. She liked the idea of her nails and hair being clean again, though. Lady Stark turned to her second oldest.

“Ned, it’s good everyone was having fun, but on important days like this, you should remind them how to act. I know Lord Arryn has taught you much about being a proper Lord.” She sighed, and much of the anger was gone from her at that point. “Brandon knows better, but he needs a cool head to set him straight. Do you understand?”

Ned looked as though he had been scolded, anyway. He nodded. “I know.”

“I’m not upset at you, love. I’m glad you’re home.” She gave him a quick hug, then turned back to Y/N. “I’ll show you where you can freshen up, sweetling.”

She was thankful Lady Stark didn’t take her hand; she’d already been almost reprimanded like a child, she didn’t want to be escorted like one. As they walked away, she glanced back. He looks lonely again.

His grey eyes met her own, so Y/N smiled and waved. He looked away, but eventually glanced back and gave her a little wave back.

The harvest feast was a flurry of colors and music. Y/N had attended such feasts at Lord Manderly’s beautiful castle, but everyone was so much bigger, so much louder here. Sometimes it was frightening, and she was happy to be seated close to Lyanna. They were at a table meant for the younger girls, but the ages were varied and Y/N could tell Lyanna was bored with all of them. Surprised at her own boldness, but getting antsy herself, Y/N was the one who suggested they seek out the boys.

“Great idea!” Lyanna said, and her enthusiasm made Y/N regret the suggestion.

No one paid them any mind as they left the table. Lyanna only seemed to be avoiding her mother and father’s gaze, but Lord Stark was loudly telling stories with Y/N’s father, and Lady Stark was in deep conversation with two other ladies. All it took was ducking behind two serving women and crawling under a table to make their escape to the door.

The cold air hit Y/N’s face again for the hundredth time, and it was no less refreshing. She missed the smell of the salty sea, but the mountains and snow had their own relaxing scent. She turned to Lyanna. “Do you know where they are?”

“I saw Brandon leave, I bet Ned and Benjen followed him. They always do.”

She was right. Close the feast hall was a yard, smaller than the big training yard, but still plenty of room for boys to poke each other with wooden swords and laugh. Brandon was taking on Lord Manderly’s two sons.

Like Lord Manderly himself, they were round, blonde and good-natured. They weren’t at all bothered by Brandon trying to take them on at the same time, if anything, they thought it was a fun game. They’d actually left her alone tonight, no doubt because all the other lordlings were playing knights and “sparring”.

“Wylis, Wendel!” Y/N called. Their father was the liege lord of her father, so it’d be rude not to say hello. Wendel stopped the game to answer back, but Brandon hit him square on the head.

“That wasn’t fair,” Wylis said. “You didn’t give him a chance to yield!”

“Hard to yield when you’re dead,” Brandon shrugged. Wendel rubbed his head, but still called “Y/N!” and waved. She waved back just to appease him, and Brandon took the chance to strike again, but this time Wylis called out and Wendel jumped back.

Y/N spotted Benjen, who was hanging upside down from a low branch on a tree. The three Ryswell boys were around him, wanting to do it too, and Lyanna announced her intention to climb higher than all of them. Y/N looked around for Ned, and didn’t see him.

Who she did see startled her. She thought he was a statue, but that was stupid. Who had a statue of a boy - no, maybe a young man? - in the yard outside of a feast hall? He was so still, and then, he moved.

His pale eyes looked down on her. Maybe it was the trick of the torches, or the moonlight, but they were almost colorless. When he stepped close, her head was just under his chest, and she was face to face with the emblem of a flayed, bleeding man.

Y/N could only manage a pitiful attempt at a curtsy. She recognized the house’s sigil, but the name of their lord and only son escaped her. She’d never met either, but it still felt like a failed test.

“What are you doing here?” His voice startled her, and she didn’t know why. She hadn’t expected it to be so … quiet, yet there was little if any warmth in it.

“I …” She was allowed to be here, she was a guest, the same as him, but Y/N still felt herself faltering. She frantically glanced back for Lyanna, but the girl was too busy playing.

She was smaller than him, but she felt even smaller, and she hated it. Y/N was ready to dart back inside when she heard snow crunching behind her. Just a moment later, someone put a hand on her head.

“Roose, your father is looking for you.” It was Ned’s voice. Y/N glanced up, feeling comfort in his presence and the warmth of his hand. Normally she would’ve shaken him off, but she stayed still.

The Bolton boy said nothing to that, not at first. He glanced down to Ned’s hip, where the thin sword still was. Y/N noticed he had one himself, but it was a real one. A proper one.

It was Wylis’ oblivious voice that broke the tension between the three of them. “Roose! Come join us!”

Y/N couldn’t believe he was speaking to a proper lord like that, and she fearfully glanced at the taller boy to gauge his reaction. He had none. His icy eyes glanced toward the children climbing the tree and Brandon, and he simply said, “I haven’t used a wooden sword in years.”

That was it. Not willing to indulge in children’s games, the Bolton boy brushed past her, and Y/N felt the night air get just a little colder. She shivered, then felt warmth close to her fingers. At some point, Ned had moved his hand to her’s, but he didn’t make an attempt to hold it. Y/N decided to.

“Thank you,” She said, and she liked the little smile he gave her. He only met her eyes for those few seconds before glancing downward.

“Don’t be afraid of him. You’re safe here.”

Y/N nodded, even if she still felt anxious. The sound broke her out of her fear, and Ned led her over to the tree. Soon Brandon and Wylis and Wendel joined them, too, and everyone ended up cheering on Benjen as he swung to the highest branch.

Y/N stayed for three more days, delighting in playing with her new friends. It was mostly her, Lyanna and Benjen, but sometimes Brandon and Ned would join their games and exploring. She wished Ned would talk to her a little more, but he always seemed embarrassed, or one of his siblings would talk over him.

When it came time to leave, Lyanna started to cry, and that made Y/N cry. “You have to visit next year!” She said, hugging her companion close. “You have to!”

“I will,” Y/N said, already promising it without knowing if she could. Didn’t Lord and Lady Stark mention it? “I’ll ask my father and mother if I can come next year.”

“I’ll ask mine, too! Maybe they’ll let me go to Ramsgate. We’ll built sandcastles and collect shells!”

Y/N wanted to stay in Winterfell, but she wouldn’t be picky. She gave Benjen a hug, too. Ned had a shy goodbye for her, and Brandon was off on his horse somewhere. Lady Stark kissed her brow and said she was welcome at anytime, and Lord Stark patted her head, very similar to what her father did, except his hand was huge.

It was usually Willam sticking his head out the carriage, but he was fast asleep, and Y/N had no shame hanging halfway out to wave at the Starks as she left. Eventually they were too small to see, and then the castle gate closed, and her Uncle gently urged her back inside.

“When are we going back?” Y/N asked him, and she didn’t understand why he laughed. She was being serious.

“Sooner than you think, little ray. Your mother will be very pleased to hear you had so much fun. What did you think of the Stark boys?”

“Ned is quiet, and Bran is too loud. Ben is nice.” Y/N shrugged. “Lyanna is my friend, though.”

“That’s good. Very good. You can tell your lady mother all about them.”

Why? I sent her a letter. Y/N thought, but she just nodded and glanced out the window to watch the passing countryside. She didn’t understand why her uncle was so pleased, and she recalled her father asked that question, too … and didn’t Lady Stark? “What do you think about Winterfell, Y/N? Are you getting along with the boys?”

Y/N frowned. Maybe they thought I wouldn’t like Lyanna’s brothers because the only one I have is so young.

Whatever the reasons, Y/N quickly pushed them from her mind as she admired the passing forest and streams. It began lulling her to sleep, and she tried to make herself comfortable as the carriage jostled and the horses padded along noisily. She was fast asleep by the time her uncle covered her with a blanket.

[olliepig]

Hog-Malarkey part 2

The conclusion of @willow-salix and I’s not so short New Year fic for you all. Hope you enjoy it!

The first part (posted yesterday) can be found here 

Or of you’d prefer, the full thing is available on AO3 here.

************

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN…” the assembled crowd chanted as they watched a large clock start counting down the seconds to midnight. The Tracy party had managed to stay huddled together as they were pushed and shoved from all sides as the crowd surged forwards like salmon swimming upstream, towards the doors that led to the courtyard outside.

“FOUR, THREE, TWO…”

“Gah,” Gordon yelped as someone trod on his foot and tried to remove him from the protective bosom of his family. He’d never admit it but he was pathetically grateful that Virgil had grabbed his hand and was refusing to let go.

“ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” the crowd screamed in unison, the loud cheering deafening to the ears. All around them couples embraced, indulging in many kisses for luck or hugging their neighbours. The two couples that were actually in attendance wasted no time in joining in, continuing the custom, their lips meeting as the air was filled with the noise of fireworks exploding overhead, painting the sky with colours.

“Happy New Year,” Scott murmured to Cat, holding her close for a moment longer before releasing her and turning to pull Alan into a hug.

Following the crowd they had found themselves out in the cold night air, staring up at what had previously been a rather dull sky. A breeze had picked up over the course of the evening, blowing the clouds away and leaving a perfect night for the celebrations that were going on around them.  

Whichever way they looked, the sky was filled with colour, the explosions filling their field of vision as the shockwaves hit them in the chest, leaving them slightly breathless.

“Get me out of this crowd,” John hissed in Selene’s ear, nudging her to get her to move. Rolling her eyes, she took his hand and led the way, winding through the crowd, smacking at an errant hand that tried to pet his head again.

“Stop ruffling my husband!” she yelled at the innocent old man that had unfortunately stepped in front of the tiny scottish lady who had dared to touch the Tracy goods.

Dragging him away she found an enclosed little nook where they could still see the fireworks but were pretty much out of sight of the crowd and out of temptation range of anyone who wished to feel him up again.

“Thank you,” he sighed, dropping his head to her shoulder, tugging her into his arms. She wasn’t fooled, she knew he was using her as a human shield. The romance astounded her sometimes. “I was worried that they would succeed in their quest to rip a piece off me if we’d hung around there much longer.”

“It’s your own fault for being so good looking in your highland finery and possessing such a beautiful head of hair,” she answered, smoothing down said hair, attempting to finger comb it back into some semblance of its usual neatly swept style.

“Yes, how dare I wear clothes that were forced upon me and look semi decent in them, what a scoundrel I am.”

“Total scoundrel,” she agreed, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Lower.”

Selene lifted one eyebrow at his demanding tone. “Well, you do look really handsome tonight, so I suppose one little kiss couldn’t hurt.” Leaning in she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling against them when his arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer while backing up further into their corner.

“I think I neglected to tell you just how beautiful you look tonight.”

“Why, Mr Tracy, how scandalous, you really are a scoundrel of the highest order. And me, a sweet, young, innocent...stop laughing!”

“Sorry, let me make it up to you.”

Try as she might she couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled up inside her as he captured her lips again.

“Where’ve John and Selene gone?” Scott asked, realising that two of the group were conspicuous by their absence, his eyes sweeping the crowd in a vain bid to try and find them.

“I have no idea, but if they’ve ditched us then I think they’ve got the right idea,” replied Cat with a glint in her eye, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the crowd, keen to find a similarly secluded spot where she could get him to herself for the first time since they arrived.

As they rounded the corner, safely away from prying eyes, she felt a tug on her arm, stopping her in her tracks. Turning in surprise, Scott slammed into her, wrapping his arms around her as his warm lips found hers with an intensity that left her breathless.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he grinned, pulling back to meet her eyes, the reflection of the fireworks making them seem to dance in the night. “Have you got any idea how good you look in that dress?”

“Probably about as good as you do in that kilt,” Cat shot back with a smile, reaching up to kiss him again, more gently this time, pressing herself against him as she savoured the moment of calm that they had managed to find in amongst the craziness of the night.

“Touche,” Scott laughed, kissing her forehead before spinning her round and pulling her into his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her waist again as they quietly watched the fireworks high above them, enjoying the sensation of her fingers intertwining with his own.

                            ***

“Remind me again why we came with couples?” Gordon groused as a quick head count revealed that their party was missing four members.

“Because you invited us?” Virgil shrugged, unconcerned by his missing brothers. They were adults and generally the most sensible ones he possessed, so he wasn’t that inclined to worry.

“They always do this, sneak off like that, every time we go somewhere,” Alan said, joining in with the bitching.

“They’ll be back soon enough,” Virgil soothed. “And frankly, I’d rather they sneaked off than putting on a display in front of everyone every time.”

“Ugh, yeah,” Alan said, pulling a face. “Nobody needs to see that.”

“Nobody needs to see what?” Scott asked, reappearing behind them, his arm securely around Cat.

“Nothing,” Alan replied quickly, hoping that the blush that he could feel creeping up his neck wasn’t visible in the dark.

“What now?” Gordon asked as the last firework exploded in the sky with a deafening bang.

“Back inside I guess,” Virgil shrugged, watching as the other guests filed back into the hall, their voices seeming muffled in his ears after the assault that the noise of the fireworks had waged on them.

“Seems as good an idea as any,” Selene agreed, materialising with John. “It’s bloody freezing out here so I’m going in even if you lot want to stay behind.”

Back in the hall, the group were mystified to find that instead of returning to their tables, the guests had formed a large circle around the dancefloor.

“Please tell me this isn’t some kind of dance?” John whispered to Selene, clinging tighter to her like she could anchor him to the spot, his eyes darting here and there like he expected a stampede of old ladies to rampage towards him intent on grabbing any piece of him they could reach.

Selene patted his arm where it was hooked around her waist, lacing their fingers for extra support.

“I don’t think it’s a dance,” Cat said, watching the proceedings.

All around the circle people reached out to take the hand of the person next to them.

“No idea,” Cat shrugged but joined in anyway, moving into the gap that someone made for them. Seeing the opportunity, Selene dragged John in too, who glared at the others until they too, admitted defeat.

The sound of bagpipes starting made them all jump but the familiar tune soon made the girls realise exactly what was going on and they joined in, singing along as best they could, stumbling over the slightly unfamiliar version of the lyrics as their arms were swung to and fro, forward and backwards in time to the music.

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And auld lang syne!”

Even though they were used to the English version rather than the original and more traditional Scottish, it was still comforting and familiar enough to make them smile and, when they accidentally slipped into the English and the Scottish man next to Scott still smiled at them, they relaxed and simply enjoyed. This wasn’t about getting the words perfect, it was about the celebration, the keeping of a tradition that spanned centuries.

“For auld lang syne, my jo,

For auld lang syne,

We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet

For auld lang syne.”

Guests all around the circle moved as one, letting go of the hands they were holding to cross their arms in front of them.

“And there's a hand, my trusty fiere,

And gie's a hand o' thine.”

“What are they doing?” Scott asked quietly, turning to Cat and Selene only to find them grinning.  Cat offered her right hand to him, while Selene accepted her left. Scott slipped his hand into her’s, finding his free hand being grabbed by a happy looking drunk man beside him.

“And we'll tak a right gude willie waught

For auld lang syne!”

Selene flapped her left hand at John who groaned, knowing he’d never get away with escaping now. Not having a clue what he was doing he copied her moves, crossing his arms and taking her offered left hand in his right, leaving his left hand free for the next participant, who happened to be Alan.

Scott, seeing what was going on, took the hint and joined in on Cat’s other side, catching her hand,

“I still have no clue what is going on,” Alan complained as Virgil’s meaty hand engulfed his own.

“It’s Auld Lang Syne,” Cat told him.

“It’s what now?”

“Auld Lang Syne,” Selene repeated, joining in the conversation. “Watch and learn, try to keep up.”

“For auld lang syne, my jo,

For auld lang syne.”

“Why is everything so weird here?” Alan whispered to Gordon, leaning over Virgil to do so.

“Hey! It’s not weird, it’s tradition!” Selene shot back, rolling her eyes at Cat. “We’re in love with uncultured swines.”

“We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet

For auld lang syne.”

“Excuse me, in my defense, I didn’t insult it,” John pointed out as Selene and Alan enthusiastically bounced his arms up and down.

“Me neither, so unless you’re in love with someone else, I think you owe us an apology,” Scott grinned, obviously thinking he had won that argument. Little did he know.

“Sorry to break it to you,” Cat deadpanned, keeping her face perfectly straight. “But you had to find out some time, didn’t he Virgil?”

“For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne,” Selene sang loudly, acting as if she’d heard nothing.

“What?” spluttered the innocent engineer, having been so busy trying to keep up with Alan’s arm bouncing and the song words he’d lost the thread of the conversation.

“We'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne,” Cat sang along with Selene, ignoring the wheezing laughter coming from Gordon and Alan and John’s soft chuckle.

A loud cheer went up as the music came to its end and everyone let go of their neighbours hands

The girls cracked up laughing, unable to keep a straight face any longer, one look at Scott’s indignant scowl breaking their control.

"That was mean,” Scott scolded Cat, trying to stay serious as the girls howled, collapsing into each other's arms, each holding the other up as they laughed hard.

“It wasn’t that funny,” Scott huffed but his lips twitched once, twice and then he cracked.

“Come on, trouble maker,” John hauled Selene away from Cat as the band started a lively song,  sacrificing himself in aid of his brother by sweeping her into his arms for a dance.

“That seems like a good idea,” Cat grinned, knowing he couldn’t stay mad at her as she looped her arms around his neck and pecked a kiss on his cheek.

                                       ***              

“My feet hurt,” Selene whined, lifting one leg and dropping her foot into John’s lap so he could help her.

“You were the one that kept wanting to dance,” John pointed out helpfully, receiving a scowl for his troubles as he unbuckled the thin strap of her shoe and slipped it off, holding out his hand for her other foot.

“It was a party, there was music and drinks and that leads to dancing,” Cat added, coming to her friend’s defence as she returned from the bedroom having retrieved the remains of the champagne from earlier. “Nightcap?”

It had been a tired but happy (and slightly tipsy) party that had wound their way back to the hotel with various degrees of stability, some far more steady on their feet than others. They had collapsed the moment they entered the shared lounge, commandeering every couch and chair available.

Maybe the nightcap had been a bad idea, because although everyone was what Selene called physically tired, they weren’t mentally tired, which led to them helping to polish off the champagne (and a few other drinkables that the minibar provided) and chatting for a few more hours. And so it was rather late, or early depending on how you look at it, when they eventually fell into bed and slept the dreamless sleep of the inebriated.

That inebriation didn’t partner well with a loud knocking that shook the suite door at an hour that none of them cared to be awake to see. Five bedroom doors cracked open and heads poked out to see what the noise was about but nobody was willing to move further, each looking at each other in confusion before focusing on Scott until he took the hint and answered the call.

“Yes?” he croaked as he opened the door, eyeing the smartly dressed member of staff on the other side with suspicion. The world seemed to be spinning quicker than he was used to, and, although he would never admit it, his hand resting on the doorframe was only there partially out of habit.

“Lady Creighton-Ward left instructions for you to be woken in good time for the event this morning, and to that end, I am here with your breakfast,” the concierge informed him, indicating a trolley behind him piled with covered platters.

“OK…” replied a bemused Scott, moving out of the way to allow the man entry, his eyes tracking his every movement as he placed plate after plate of food onto the table, the smell making him feel slightly queasy.

“Does anyone have any idea what event he’s talking about?” Alan asked once they were alone again, piling bacon and sausages onto his plate.

“Nope,” Virgil replied, eyeing the food with suspicion before settling on a large cup of coffee instead. “Gordon? Any ideas?”

“Oh, it might be that swimming thing Penny mentioned?” Gordon mused, trying to get his brain to focus on a half remembered conversation from several weeks before.

“Mmmf?” questioned John, his eyes barely open as he made his way gingerly across the room. Taking a seat at the table, he reached for the coffee pot, pouring himself a large cup and cradling it in his hands as he waited for it to cool.

“Yeah, she said there’s some sort of tradition to go for a morning swim on New Year’s Day to clear the hangover,” Gordon continued, feeling more confident now his brain had woken up a little bit.

Scott’s stomach lurched at the thought of bobbing around in a swimming pool. “I think I might give that one a miss this morning, Gords,” he shuddered, reaching for a glass of water to settle the nausea that rolled over him.

“Nnnngh,” groaned John, shoving his coffee aside and resting his forehead on the table.

“I think that means John’s out too,” Alan helpfully translated, taking in John’s now nearly translucent form. “I’m up for it though. Virgil?”

The engineer swirled his remaining coffee in his mug, considering his options carefully. “I’m in,” he eventually declared, the thought of plunging into cool water seeming strangely appealing to him.

John groaned again, shuddering like he was in the last throes of death.

“Alan,” Scott whispered, not wanting to speak louder now that his headache was catching up with him. “Get Sel, will you? I think he needs to go back to bed.”

Alan, as the only mostly sober, bright eyed and bushy tailed one of the five, set his full plate down on the table beside John’s head and jumped up, ignoring the gagging noise that came from his brother when the smell of sausages wafted up his nose.

“SEL!” Alan yelled in through the open bedroom door.

Virgil groaned as the noise drilled into his aching brain. “We could have done that, can you try to be a bit quieter?”

“Oh, sure, sorry,” Alan winced, realising that his usual volume probably wasn’t the best option. Snagging a cushion off a chair he took careful aim and threw it at the bed, hitting Selene on the head. “Score!”

A muffled string of curse words floated out of the bedroom, but the sound of rustling sheets and creaking springs announced the arrival of the witch.

“Sup?” she muttered, rubbing her eyes, smearing a little mascara around that she’d neglected to take off the night before.

“John’s dead,” Alan shrugged, going back to his plate, apparently unconcerned by his expired brother.

John lifted a hand weakly, extending his middle finger to point at his brother.

“He seems fine to me,” Selene commented, stealing John’s coffee and taking a sip. Putting the cup down again she lifted her man’s head and pushed on his shoulders to return him to an upright position, holding the cup to his lips. “Babe? Ya good?”

“Such sympathy from my loving wife and family,” he groaned, but took the cup from her and scooted back from the table enough to allow her to perch on his lap. Hotel rooms never had enough chairs.

“At least your loving wife is here and looking after you,” Scott groused, glancing to his bedroom door that remained resolutely closed. “My girlfriend hasn’t even gotten out of bed to see if I’m still breathing. Last she knew there was someone pounding on the door. I could have been kidnapped,” he finished melodramatically to snorts of laughter from Selene.

“That wouldn’t happen,” John assured him, “no one would be stupid enough to want you.”

“Oi,” Cat exclaimed, appearing from the bedroom with perfect timing, wrapping her arms around Scott and leaning over his shoulder to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“More misguided.”

“Fair enough,” she shrugged, picking up a sausage from the platter on the table and taking a bite before continuing. “And you’re at least partially right. Someone might kidnap him but they’d definitely bring him back again.”

“And I thought you were on my side,” Scott protested, clutching his heart. “You wound me.”

“Oh shut up and drink your coffee, you big idiot,” Cat told him, pouring two mugs and pushing one over to him before taking another bite of her sausage..

“I’d keep you,” Selene promised him. “You always sniff out the best snack in any location, you’re a useful asset to have on the team.”

“Can we please stop talking about food!” John yelled, dropping his head back into his hands.

“If no one but Alan wanted food, why did you guys order it?” Selene asked, snagging a slice of toast and laying a piece of bacon on it before folding it in half.

“We didn’t,” Scott replied, tentatively taking a sip of coffee. “It just arrived with instructions that we have to be up for some event this morning.”

Cat and Selene exchanged slightly guilty looks, unable to keep the smiles off their faces.

“What’re you two looking at each other like that for?” Virgil demanded, instantly on alert.  

“Us?” Selene squeaked innocently. “No reason, why would there be a reason?”

“There’s always a reason,” John replied, watching them both carefully. “What do you know that we don’t?”

“How much I love you?” she answered, fluttering her eyelashes at John.

“Bullshit,” Scott cut in, totally unconvinced at Selene’s attempts at diversion. “Cat? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she squirmed, suddenly finding her coffee very interesting.

“C’mon sweetheart,” Scott pressed, standing and gently running his hand around the small of her back, pulling him into him before kissing her neck where he knew would make her powerless to resist. “Whatever it is, you can tell us.”

Selene rolled her eyes, knowing her partner in crime was lost to her now. Weak ass ballerina.

Sending Selene a look preemptively asking for forgiveness, Cat crumbled. “It’s a costume thing,” she mumbled, hanging her head in shame at how easily she had been bought.

“Nope!” John said, refusing immediately.

“Absolutely not,” Scott agreed as he shook his head firmly, promptly regretting it as his brain seemed to slam against the inside of his skull.

“Costumes? Cool,” Gordon exclaimed, even more enthusiastic for the swim now. “Did you bring them with you?” “What do I get to be?” chimed in Alan, jumping up and eyeing up the door to Cat and Scott’s bedroom as if the costumes might magically appear.  "Maybe a superhero."

John’s arms were wrapped around Selene’s waist, holding her on his lap, his head resting on her shoulder, and if the soft snoring was any indication, he wasn’t planning on moving any time soon.

“I think you’re gonna have to do it without him,” she told Gordon.

“Rubbish, it’ll do him good,” Gordon poked his sleepy brother until he roused himself enough to slap his hand away. “Anyway, he’s not really asleep. He’s just pretending because he’s too scared I’ll look better in a costume than him.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Virgil replied doubtfully, stifling a yawn of his own. “He does look pretty tired.”

“Are you besmirching my husband's honour?”

“Oh, big word for so early in the morning,” Scott grinned, needling her just a little bit more, just  because he could.

“John,” Selene nudged her almost comatose space man. “All your brothers are picking on us, can I curse them?”

“Sure,” he mumbled. “Just do it quietly.”

“Aren’t you even going to ask what they did to deserve it?”

“Nope, I trust your judgement.”

“You’re going to let your wife fight your battles for you?” Gordon teased.

“Yes.”

“Well, there’s no shame in that, is there, Scott?” Cat asked.

“Sure there is. He’s just being a wimp.”

“What is your problem today?” John growled, lifting his head to shoot a squinty eyed glare at Scott.

“It’s just a little swim in a costume and you’re wimping out.”

“I don’t see you agreeing to it.”

“Fine! I’ll do it, there, happy?”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“God, you men are ridiculous,” Cat groaned, looking at Selene for support, who simply shrugged, more than used to it.

                                                                              ***

“Just a little swim, he said,” Scott hissed, glaring at Gordon.

“Costumes are cool, he said,” John joined in, appearing to have forgotten that Scott was mostly the reason he was there in favour of throwing his own glare at Alan.

Selene and Cat wrapped themselves up tighter in the blanket they were sharing, watching their menfolk as they stood shivering on the riverside, dressed in costumes that they would never have chosen even if they had a gun to their heads.

“Well, I hate to say it, but I’m not sure Scott has the legs for that tutu,” Selene whispered to Cat.

“Don’t tell him I agreed with you,” Cat laughed, pulling Virgil’s jacket closer around herself under the blanket, shivering against the cold breeze that whipped around them, finding its way into every gap.

“Do you think mine looks better in that dress than I do? It’s kinda hard to breathe in a corset at the best of times but, and call me biased, I think he makes a pretty sexy witch.”

“He is looking good, I’ll give you that one. Although he’s not quite got the cleavage for the top,” Cat agreed, casting a critical eye over John.

“He's got the thigh muscles to keep him locked to a broom, though.”

“Come on, guys, it’s not that bad,” Gordon could be heard defending himself. “Look at my tail!”

“I have no idea how he can even stand up in that, let alone walk,” Cat whispered to Selene.

“Describing what he’s doing as walking might be pushing it to be honest,” Selene laughed, watching as Gordon waddled towards the crowd, his mermaids tail glinting in the sunlight.

“I’m too hot,” Alan complained, pushing back the hood of his teddy bear onesie.

“Wait until you’re freezing cold and waterlogged,” John sniffed. "Then you won't be complaining."

“I’m OK at the moment,” Virgil added with a shrug, his bulkier frame apparently throwing off more body heat than his more slender brothers, even though he was wearing nothing but denim hot pants and a knotted plaid crop top.

“This is so scratchy,” Scott complained to Cat, fiddling with the underside of his tutu. “How the hell do you wear these all the time?”

“Well, it’s not my fault you wouldn’t wear the tights,” Cat shrugged, totally unconcerned at his discomfort. “I did warn you.”

“This boning is flattening my lungs.”

“That’s because you have a manly chest, my love,” Selene called back to John, pouring herself a cup of hot chocolate from one of the flasks the hotel had provided along with toweling robes and sweatpants.

“You’d better get going, everyone’s lining up ready to go,” Cat said, giving Scott a shove towards the water, choosing to ignore the look of betrayal that he shot her. “Can’t let Gordon get in ahead of you in the line and beat you into the water now, can you?” she added with a glint in her eye.

“I knew I’d lose something delicate to frostbite by the end of this trip,” John muttered darkly as he begrudgingly accepted a small kiss for luck from Selene then, like a man going to the gallows, he moved to join his brothers.

Cat and Selene stood guarding the pile of belongings, staying a safe distance away from the water and crowds, just in case anyone decided they might require a dunking. They had both learned from experience that you could never be too careful.

The crowd was huge, they guessed somewhere in the region of three hundred people participating and an even bigger crowd watching, ready to cheer and offer moral support.

“Think they’ll hate us after this?” Selene whispered to Cat.

“To be honest, I think they hate us already,” Cat murmured, catching sight of the baleful looks Scott was still throwing her way.

“Guess we’ll just have to make it up to them with lots of hugs and warm things.”

“I’ve heard worse ideas,” Cat giggled.

“The sacrifices we make for these boys.”

“It’s a very hard thing, but someone’s gotta do it,” Cat mused, before realising what she’d said and exploding in laughter.

Selene snorted in response. “With that amount of cold water? I doubt we’ll ever see a boner again.”

“That would be sad. We’ll just need to make sure we get them nice and warm later, won't we?”

“Again with the sacrifices, what do they do for us, huh?”

“They get nice and warm…” Cat tailed off with a shrug.

“You do realise that our flight clearance is in an hour?  So we’ll have to deal with cold, wet boys all the way back to the island before we can look after them properly?”

“Fuck. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“We must remain strong,” Selene started, only to be interrupted as the crowd began to chant a countdown. On the final word the crowd moved as one, surging forwards, dragging the unwilling members of the Tracy crew along with them.

The girls heard an almighty splashing, immediately followed by screams and curses as the cold water hit the swimmers hard.

“Welp,” Selene sighed, popping the ‘p’ “Happy New Year.”

“And to you.” Cat risked the invasion of the cold as she pulled Selene into a one armed hug. “Who knows what this year will bring, but here’s hoping it won’t be anywhere near as weird as this.”

“It’s a weird family, but you get used to them,” Selene laughed, hugging her back. “And as for what it’ll bring, you can never tell, so I guess we just have to wait and see.”

The girls watched as their drenched boys struggled their way out of the water, gasping for air, cursing under their breath. Selene shrugged as she grabbed a robe ready for Gordon who was the first one out. As weirdness went, this was pretty low down the scale, but she didn’t want to tempt fate.

[dungeons-bat]

Not Just a Little Party (6th Chap)

Warnings: Cursing;

The complete fic

———————————————

‘Shit’, is the only thing that I can actually think about when I wake up. It takes me a while to realize where I am, and when I do, I feel a pair of hands hugging me by my waistline. And I had my face buried in his chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Oh, good morning, darling.” - I hear him saying. Lord, his port-sleep voice is gorgeous. “Good morning, slept well?” - Because I certainly did. “Incredibly well. If I knew that was the solution to the problem, I would have done it sooner.” - He said. Well Thomas, me too. “How did you know I was awake?” - I mean, he said good morning ten seconds after I woke up. “Your breathing changed.” - He simply said. That means that he was at least paying a bit of attention, so why didn’t he move. I mean, we were sleeping like a teenage couple. And we’re not any of those things. “And what time is it?” - Because it was five thirty when we went to bed. “It is nine thirty, darling.” - Usually, I’m completely okay with the fact that he calls me darling, but now I’m blushing. Maybe it is the position that we are in. “Four hours sleep, that’s not bad.” - I don’t like sleeping that much, but we need it, don’t we? “Do you wanna go out to have breakfast? Or we can bake some pancakes here.” - Thomas’ pancakes are probably the best thing I’ve ever eaten, but I don't know what he feels like doing today. “I don’t have a preference.” - He hates when I do that. “Little one, you have three seconds to tell me what you want.” - But I’m the last person you should ask when you want to make a decision. “I love your pancakes, but it takes time, and we have to clean everything after. I also love to eat out, but we have to look presentable to go out of this house. So, as I said, I have no preference.” - Really, I’m fine with anything. “Out it is, but just because I’m craving Jenny’s waffles”

We're at Jen, which is a restaurant specialized in breakfast, and probably the love of Tom's life. Jenny, the chef and owner of the place, is a 57-year-old lady, who cooks better than anyone I’ve ever met. I was eating a croissant with strawberry jelly, and a cup of coffee with vanilla extract. Tom was eating his waffles, and tea. We were talking to Jenny when out of nowhere she says. “So, what does the cute couple has planned for today?” - Oh, Jenny, my dream, but not reality. “We’re not…” - Both Tom and I said at the same time. “Oh sure, still at the denying feelings phase.” - She simply said, and left. I look at tom and see that his face is as red as the ketchup bottle at the table. I also felt my face burning, so I was sure I was blushing too. I mean, I know that I'm into him, but I won't fool myself thinking that TWH was into me too. So we just kept eating, no words coming from none of our mouths.

“Ready to go?” - Now, we were at my house, I needed to get ready for the party. Tom was waiting for me in the living room, but I had to lock Hades in a bathroom because he was leaving his fur all over Tom’s suit. I decided to go for an all black dress, black heels. My hair was down, and as I let it dry naturally, beautiful wavy locks covered my chest. I put some make up, but I wanted my face to look as natural as possible. Then it was the hardest part, in my opinion, jewellery. I decided that I was wearing my favourite colour, green, so everything I put on, rings, necklaces, earrings, all white gold and emeralds. When I stepped out of the room, Tom looked shocked and said, “Lord, you look gorgeous, loyally breathtaking.” - Well, I have to agree with him, I do look gorgeous now. “You don’t look bad yourself, Tom. I told you once, and I’ll tell you again, the suits suit you.”

Sebastian had some stuff to do in London, he had rented a giant house, where he was going to satay for two more weeks. Since he paid a huge amount of money on this, he had to have fun, so he decided to throw a party.

When we arrived at Sebastian’s house, I could not help but notice how big it was. Compared to the other actors houses, it wasn’t that huge, but lord, I was not used to this lifestyle. “Hello miss, you must be Isabela, am I correct?” - My god in a shining armour and purple pants. That is Sebastian bloody Stan. Asking me my name. Sebastian bloody Stan. “Hi, yeah, Isabela Grey sir. Thank you very much for welcoming me to the party, your house is lovely, mister.” - I say. I mean, I know his name is Sebastian, not mister Stan, but I’ve just met him, what am I supposed to cal him? “Well, I thank you for coming, it is a pleasure to finally meet my new colleague. And please, no need for “sir” or “mister”, Sebastian is just fine.” - Well, that answers my question. After greeting me, Sebastian starts to talk to Thomas, they chat a bit, then we go to the living room, where the party is actually happening. The other actors are there. Scarlet freaking Johanson is there, what surprises me a bit, I mean, that woman is my idol. I can also see Anthony Mackie, Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, Tom Holland, wait, I thought Seb hated Tom. I can also see Mark Ruffalo, Benedict Cumberbatch, Elizabeth Olsen, Paul Rudd and Jeremy Renner. Also, I see RDJ, who’s not a Marvel Actor any more, but apparently he’s still pretty close to the others. They all greet me, say that it is ‘so nice to see you’ or that ‘your dress is marvellous’. But I was almost dizzy, all this people that I’ve been seeing in the cinema since I was eight, are now here, in front of me, talking to me. Lord. Thomas noticed that I was going crazy, excused both of us and took me to the yard. “Honey, are you okay?” - He asked me. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry to worry you. I’m just surprised. I mean, wow, I’m an actress, you know. That was my dream since ever. And more, I’m a Marvel freaking actress. I grew up watching Marvel, Tom. And look at where I’m now. I literally have a plastic figure of every single one of those people that said ‘hi’ to me. That’s crazy. If you told the twenty-year-old Isa that this was happening, she would tell you to stop lying and giving her expectations. This is ten hundred times bigger than anything I had ever thought I could accomplish.” - I think I talk too much. “Well, darling, that's amazing. I just did not know that you had figures of them. Do you have a Loki one? But anyway, I’m happy that I could be a small part on all of that.” - Is he crazy? A SMALL part? He got me my life. “TWH, you’re not a small part, if it was not you, none of that would have happened. Really, thank you.” - I say, and he leads the way back inside. “And by the way, I do have some figures o Loki. He is my favourite character, and I thought you had noticed it by now.” - He has been to my house, I have tons of Loki merch.

After some hours of party, the guests started to leave, but I discovered that it was like a rule that we, the ones I named in the previous chapter, should stay. Since they work with him, and I'm going to do the same later, we stay a bit longer for chatting and playing something. Like a friends' reunion. Both Chris Evens and Hemsworth were getting more beer, I believe today was the day that I had more alcohol in my whole life, but unlike most of them, I'm not drunk. They were controlled until the other guests left, but after that, they drank three litres of beer in an hour and a half. They were not crazy drunk, but you could see that sober was something that they were not. Thomas, Hemsworth, Scarlet, and Benedict were as sober as I, but the rest of them were stoned as a rock.

We were telling embarrassing stories that happened to us, when Lizzie says, “But no funny stuff about you two?” - While pointing a finger at Tom and I. “Oh, come on. A cute couple, like the two of you, had never walked through something you could not solve and ended up embarrassing yourselves?” - Shit Lizzie. “We are not…” - I said, while Thomas just said, “Not dating.” - Well now I have an embarrassing story to tell, when Elizabeth Olsen asked me if I was dating Tom Hiddleston. “Oh come on, I can smell the sexual tension from miles. You’re lying. Either to us or to yourselves.” - RDJ is visibly drunk, so I’ll just ignore that. “Let's change the subject, shall we?” - My saviour, Ben, says. I look at Thomas’ direction and can see that he’s trying, but failing, to hide a blush.

[parjiljehavey]

Lost Shadows Left Behind ii

Summary: Dante meddles, once again. Hopefully, the results are what Nero is after.

I

Read on AO3 for details notes at the end!

3rd of May, 1:43pm

One year, ten months and eighteen days after the events of Redgrave City

—————————————————————-

It had been some months since Vergil had divulged the name of the woman who had clearly ensnared his heart. Things had improved between Nero and Vergil; they were actually starting to bond, sometimes at Dante’s expense, but hey, Dante was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Dante’s brother had gone off on his own for a hunt, heading over to Siberia after they'd gotten word that locals were claiming vampires were running around several villages. 

Vergil went because Dante didn't speak Russian; he only knew Spanish, Latin, and Italian with a smattering of German; mostly because Dante had liked how foul language sounded in German. Vergil, on the other hand, was a damn polyglot.

Nero had called off and on, busy with the mobile branch and the kids he and Kyrie were raising. Last time Dante had talked to Vergil, the elder twin had actually gotten a letter from Nero with a post script calling him an asshole for forcing Nero to write an actual letter like it was the 19th century because Vergil didn’t have a cellphone.

Vergil, of course, went out and bought the cheapest cell phone he could find after receiving it. Dante had been wheezing for air over Vergil’s grumbling over technology and uncooperative locals. The phone number scribbled on a piece that Dante handed to Nero was met with a nose wrinkled with disgust after the kid had racked the balls for a game of pool. Nothing like a game of pool after pizza, in Dante's opinion.

"Dante, a three year old can write better than this."

"Hey! That's not anyway to thank your amazing uncle for writing down your old man's new phone number. Especially when said uncle is letting you drink his beer." Dante was grinning despite the reprimand. Nero took a drink from one of said beers, raising an eyebrow. "Don't text him by the way. Stick with phone calls; he's still figuring out how to play Tetris on the piece of crap he got. Wait until he gets a smart phone for texting." He broke the rack. A stripe went in. "Solids are yours."

"You mean like the one you broke by falling into a river?" The kid was leaning on his cue, watching as Dante lined up another shot.

"I was thrown into that river, you little punk. I didn't go out that day looking for a swim. If I wanted to go swimming, I would have packed my broad shorts." Dante could have cleared the table if he had wanted to; but this was bonding time with his nephew, so he intentionally messed up his shot.

Nero gave him a look that conveyed that he knew what Dante was doing as the kid set down his beer next to Dante's own to circle the table for a good shot. After pocketing one, Nero did the same thing Dante had and missed on purpose. They fell into a good silence; the crack of the cues hitting the balls as they took turns making their shoots.

“How’s the search for momma doin’?”

Nero grunted, clearing not happy. Oh, he knew that look. It struck Dante for not the first time that this was Vergil’s son and they made similar facial expressions. Dante sighed. “Alright kid, spill it. Tell Uncle Dante what’s buggin’ ya.”

Nero snorted, as he always did when Dante called himself ‘Uncle Dante’ in a conversation. Dante waited, taking his time with his next shot to give the kid some time to get his thoughts into order.

“There’s only two women that it could be. One died in ‘94 and the other disappeared a month or so after I was born. The problem is that the woman who died was a nun; the Spardan nuns took their vows of chastity seriously and very rarely left the convent’s tower. When they did, it was documented for what reason and when, right down to the time. None of the nuns left the tower around the time Vergil would have been in Fortuna.”

Dante leaned against the table, twirling the cue stick in his hand. The kid was pacing, not even paying attention that it was his turn now. “So that leaves the one who disappeared, right? Where’s the problem there?”

“The problem is that she didn’t disappear in Fortuna. There was a group that helped those who became disillusioned with Sanctus get to the mainland; to start over. The majority of that group was... eliminated. A surviving member recalls taking a woman to the mainland shortly after I was born.” Nero trailed off, scowling as his grip tightened around the cue. Dante could hear the wood beginning to creak.

“Nero.”

“What?”

“Wanna put the stick down before ya break it?” Nero looked at the stick and set it down on the table after a moment. When his nephew remained silent, Dante sighed. This kid was too much like his old man sometimes. “I take it the trail went cold after she hit the mainland?”

Nero sighed, moving to sit down heavily on the new couch Vergil had gotten for the office. The old one had kicked the bucket finally while Dante was taking a nap, making Vergil actually laugh. Nero eventually nodded, head in his hands. “The trail went cold when she arrived in Genoa. There’s literally nothing left to go on.”

The earlier anger that the kid had was gone and now he was just deflated. Dante really didn't know what to do or say; so he did what he did best. He created a distraction by knocking the beers from their perch on the table. Nero snorted despite himself; kid probably knew what Dante was trying to do but if the kid was laughing, Dante'd take it. Dante looked at the mess on the floor, sighing. He shrugged, “Wanna get us some new ones while I clean this up?”

“Actually wipe it up, Dante. Putting the rug over it doesn't count.”

“What if I roll Vergil's chair through it? The wheels getting gummed up will annoy him.”

“Dante!”

—————————————————————-

3rd of May, 3:32pm

—————————————————————-

Dante stared up at the ceiling above his desk, processing everything from the past few hours. Nero had volunteered to go pick up pizza, and Dante was sure that it was both for the kid to clear his head and to talk to Kyrie without Dante teasing him too much for it. Dante really didn’t want to make a habit of meddling in affairs that weren’t his (First giving Vergil a kick in the ass about Nero's mom and now this?), but this was for family right? 

Family helped family when said family needed help. Dante picked up the phone and dialed one of the numbers that he pretty much knew by heart now.

“Hey Morrison! I want to know if you can dig up some information on somebody for me. You can have whatever you want.”

Got a name?

“Yeah, Lucrecia.”

Lucrecia? Dante heard the information broker repeat it several times under his breath and then heard a rustle of paper.

“From what I understand, she arrived on the mainland sometime in the nineties from Fortuna, ended up in Genoa. Trail went cold on our end of things there.”

Lucrecia Capello?

“Dunno. Never got her last name, if she had one. Why?”

I’m thinking that the Lucrecia you’re looking for is the same one I’ve got in mind. Remember that coalition that formed about ten years ago?

“Yeah? What about it?” Dante remembered it; some hunters pulled together to train up new hunters in a manner that meant less of them dying on their first couple of hunts as greenhorns and a more accessible list of jobs. Readily available backup and access to an arsenal of weapons were big enough bonuses that had a lot of human hunters signing up.

They had extended an offer for him to join when the coalition had first formed, one that still stood because he never responded one way or the other. Lady had actually considered joining up, but Dante couldn’t remember if anything came of that or not.

She’s part of it. One of their top ranged hunters, as it turns out.

“Ranged as in what? Bazooka?” Explosives were a popular choice amongst human hunters.

No, son. Sniper on the rooftops. She can shoot doublets .

Dante let out a low whistle. Doublets, as it was called amongst sharpshooters, was two shots hitting two targets in quick succession. Very impressive. “Where is she right now?”

Got that right here, son. ‘Bout a hundred miles up north of you last I heard; been there for a while actually. I believe she’s training a new hunter; took on a couple C rank jobs off my hands. Want her number?

“You mind?”

Nah. It’s for your nephew ain’t it?

“There’s nothing that gets past you is there Morrison?”

Afraid not.

—————————————————————-

4th of May, 7:38am

—————————————————————-

One year, ten months and nineteen days after the events of Redgrave City

For the second time in just as many days, Dante had given him a phone number. His uncle had handed him a piece of paper with a grin after Nero had come back with the pizza, stole a couple slices and went off on a hunt. All the hunter had said was, “Think this might be the woman you’re looking for, champ.” and out the door he went for a job. Nero looked at the number again, scrawled in Dante’s horrendous handwriting. 

It had taken Nero hitting a This number has been disconnected message twice before he realized that Dante’s nines were written like fours. Seriously, the five year old Nero and Kyrie were raising could write better than this. Nero grumbled, leg twitching as he listened to the phone finally dial.

Password?

“Are you Lucrecia Capello?” Jeez, it was hard to talk. It felt like he was swallowing his tongue.

Depends on who’s asking. Do you have the password? The voice was melodic, with a dry wit.

“No. Listen, this isn’t about a hunt.” There was a snort on the other line. “Don’t hang up! My name is Nero. I-” He cleared his throat, “There’s no easy way to say this. I think I’m your son.”

...When were you born?

“September 19th, 1992.” The sound of a sharp inhale.

And where were you born?

“I’m sorry?”

Where were you born?

“Fortuna.”

The other line was silent for several long moments, and Nero would’ve thought the call had been disconnected if he wasn’t able to pick up the sound of choppy breathing and someone in the background asking if something was wrong. Nero jumped when he heard a door slam shut. He thought he could hear a racing heartbeat; he didn’t know if it was from the other line or his own. It was just now hitting him that he was more than likely speaking to his mother.

“Hello?”

What would be a good time and place to meet, Nero?

—————————————————————-

tagging: @queenmuzz and @starrymindgurl

[commonalex]

future ready

future ready by common alex

Listen/download: future ready by common alex

It was around three months after I've been fired. I didn't dare to talk about it much, but it wouldn't that much of a mystery for someone to figure out why the short chick with the plaited hair isn't on the cash register giving wrong change to the old ladies anymore. To be perfectly honest, I was pretty devastated that I managed to fail even at working at the supermarket, where all you needed to get a grip was knowing how to count, wearing an "Olga" tag like a war medal, and acting like everything's okay at all times. Maybe that's why I ended up sneaking into it like a thief that day, out of stubbornness. It was the last sense of routine I had while everything was going under outside the window.

I could barely get out the bed before four in the afternoon. And when I did, all I had planned was dragging my body before the tv to catch some telemarketing and dumb commercials until the sun was out again and I successfully forgot who I am and what I'm going through. Because what other choices did I have really? For the last two years I was jumping from one dead end job to the next, either until I get fired or until I quit. I was leaving on benefits and a sad amount of savings, and I was starting to accept the fact that this would be my life from now on. Like, what else did I really have to rely on? Studies? Big deal, the world wouldn't end with just one english teacher less. Friends? Don't get me started. Family? All I was left with was a mother with a mission to make me feel horrible every time we spoke on the phone because I wasn't bothering to go see her. But even if I did, what would I have to say to her? I was mentally collapsing. So I said "leave it for now" and kept the thought pushed back for later. That's the reason why on that particular day I didn't pick up whenever my mom was ringing this cherry ericsson I had at the time. It wasn't like I really needed to answer, I already knew everything by heart.

"Have you seen how this girl you used to hang out at school does lately, Olga?".

No, mom, I haven't. It's been like ten years since I finished school.

"She's studying this thing you used to like, she got settled, she even has her own house".

Well done for her I guess, and?

"And you?".

I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life anymore, mom.

"But don't you ever think about your future?".

My long awaited future, huh? What a glorious future that was. It was so good, half of the people I used to know didn't make it halfway through.

Outside things were a bit more casual that the deep existential turmoil that was described by the news at the time, yet I was indeed shocked by that eerie amount of silence that was stretching through the cold winds that was piercing my purple coat. I could hear a tv screaming from two blocks away and the screeching roars of the phone lines echoing around the city, but there was barely any human voice left. I was only catching some mumbles and grunts here and there as I was jumping out of fear every time I had to turn around a corner. So it was just like everyday Athens, only with a little more of snow and fear of getting mugged. My social atrophy made me feel like I was being chased as the surrounding landscape was rapidly being stripped from anything that was reminiscing of a typical day. Like, that was the first time I ever saw people looting kiosks and butcher shops. I only managed to see like three to five people with their backs hunched, covering their faces while carrying those huge gray tv screens with the vhs player still attached or fifteen bags of chips, with their eyes moving around uncontrollably. All I had in my mind seeing these scenes was the word "brutalization". Maybe because all this time I wasn't fully aware of what was going on, or maybe because the news told the truth for once.

I snuck from the side door where the staff entrance was, because all the glass on the front of the supermarket was smashed to pieces and I didn't like the thought of my hands sliced open. It was a mess on the inside and the aisles stood empty like sad metal canyons. People must have broke in trying to get all the toiler paper and canned foods left in the previous weeks. From the expired milk bottles at the back to the unstoppable static noise of the refrigerators in front of me, there were all those special little touches to make me feel like I was working in this hole of a job again. And no, I did not bother searching for supplies. Instead, I walked around like I was out shopping with my mom, opening the boxes of the diabetes flavored cereal that no one bother to take, just to steal their toys. I also found a bunch of unopened boxes of the supermarket's very own faux chocolate milk (yes, the one with the dark industrial waste left on the bottom) that was probably expired as well. But, I was a lady, right? So I took some of them to the cash register, because Olga ain't no petty thief. I got around my place of work and scanned the bottles to find out that they cost something less than three hundred and seventy-five million. "Luckily, I don't have to calculate any change now", I thought. Never before have I ever experienced such relief while being there. I was sitting in the same place I was rotting for hours before the world turned to shit, and I was patiently waiting for a huge line of old ladies to pop out of nowhere just to ruin my vibe with their pension money bills. I almost started to miss all of those stuff. This must meant that things have really turned to shit.

The new millennium have begun just like any other year, against the disappointment and secret eagerness of some people. All that screaming about the revelation, the second coming of Satan, the aliens, and the revolution of the machines faded miserably as the days went by and absolute destruction was not to be seen. Yet, at least. Because the first planes that crashed mid-flight in South Africa and Indonesia didn't appear before the end of January, but all were like "okay, technical problems". And when missiles were accidentally landing on Iraqi cities, people were like "well, what to do, technical problems yet again". Only when the bank deposits got erased people started to cry and run like headless chickens. Young people now would call me cynical, but you had to be there to see it. It was crystal clear that people had all of their hopes and dreams for tomorrow stored into a single digit of a computer. A kind of tomorrow which was now failing to promise anything anymore in front of millions of simultaneous personal bankruptcies. Then the reactors in Italy exploded due to a system failure and tomorrow officially died. This tomorrow that we were told would bring everything to us, from cancer treatments to all of Britney's music stored in a tiny mini-disc. From flying cars to underground metros. From huge tv screens for each living room to the giant digital information highway better know as the INTERNET. Nowadays all of these sound so silly, but the pain in the faces of people from the betrayal of their dream did not seem to go away. Until mid-February, everyone lost their minds. Those who saw all of this coming ran away in fear of the new Chernobyl to leave the rest of us behind to die. Shops, services, offices, all ceased to have any actual reason to exist in from of the impending disaster. All you could see around anymore were padlocks, deflated bodies on the street from people that couldn't take it anymore, and some shadows of people left to wander like animals while pretending to be alive. Maybe that's why the tv was constantly playing commercials and other irrelevant bullshit during all of this, it was the last useful thing they could show to the people that were preparing for the grand finale.

But that grand finale wasn't so tangible for me. Everyone had this type of end predetermined, but this panic of theirs seemed more like a slightly less shallow version of the preexisting self-preservation to me. I wasn't convinced by those who screamed that the world was over simply because it already happened to their world. Like, just as Rome wasn't built in one day, their illusions weren't shattered overnight. I mean, at that time the supermarket was filled with those obnoxious promotional banners featuring the new slogan that was everywhere lately, before things change for the worse. They had the "FUTURE READY" catchphrase in large white letters that spread noisy and ridiculous lacking any particular meaning as everything was collapsing. What future exactly was that slogan referring to? The future in general, as a concept of time and space? They wouldn't have thought that out that much. Was it the future of humanity from now on? I wouldn't be so concerned for this with all those rich fucks that had already kissed as goodbye from their shelters, we were far from being extinct and in maybe less that ten years we could wake up with someone like Will Smith ruling the world. No, the catchphrase probably meant that future with the flying cars and the internet. The future only fools would believe it would come (and yes, people actually believe that). That future we lost just as fast as we were promised for it.

So in short, we were crabs in a bucket, pulling each other down in excruciating depths. This wasn't living nor surviving; we more or less kept on functioning like bio-robots with depression. But for me, things weren't looking so grim. "Look at me", I would say, "I reached twenty-nine and haven't done crap to be proud of, I drink expired chocolate milk and I'm secretly glad the world is ending because every day was borderline unbearable for me anyway, so how good would the future be for someone like me?". Nowadays the denial of any form of reality in this reasoning stands out, but at that moment I was reaching redemption. I was now reassured by the thought of the end, acting like a barrier that could block this endless loop that was running relentlessly against me. "So finally", I said to myself, "let's calm down once and for all". I was spinning around in the cashier's chair like a silly kid and was finishing up the bottles of milk like there's no tomorrow, while convincing myself that once everything goes to hell, my torment is over.

My phone’s vibrating through my coat cut me off the carefree twirling around my craziness. "Mom" was flashing on the screen again, but by that point I couldn't be bothered for explanations. Still, the dialogue kept running automatically like a script inside my head.

"I just can't get you. Do you keep on acting unbothered by the world? Even now? Who are you trying to convince anymore, Olga? Me? Because I know you have roughened up out of fear".

Well, truth is I was actually fearing you would start with that kind of shit again.

"You are getting more and more difficult to talk to. You are basically denying something we both clearly see at this point".

We seem to say the same exact thing, ain't that something? I guess I was kinda doomed from the start to be and look just like you.

"You really do me dirty with all these conclusions you're drawing out of anger".

Okay, so what? Did you get upset?

"Why are you angry at me, Olga? Can I hear you say it, just for once?"

I don't have the time for this thing again, mother, I need to enjoy my remaining days over here.

"How much do you think this will last for you? When will you stop stalling and start looking after you and your future again, Olga?"

What future do I have, really, are you kidding me?

-Are you talking to yourself, ma'am?

I almost slipped out of the chair. I had never experienced such horror before. I was barely held off the bench to help me  get up again slowly with my heart sinking to my stomach, only to see a little girl with plaited pigtails looking at me half-frightened. She wasn't over nine years old, judging by the face and the childish dress she wore under this puffy purple coat.

-Why are you here? Where are your parents?

-Over here, come and take a look! But mom told me not to talk to strangers!

That of course made zero sense to me. Just like it made zero sense for a child to be left alone in a destroyed supermarket with the sun setting outside. I asked for the girl's name, nothing. I asked again, she hid her puzzled frown behind her pigtails trying to playfully imitate my posture with her hands on my waist.

-I'm Olga, I work here. And you?

She started to say something and suddenly changed her mind, running like hell to the back. I was confused thinking how would I look like to someone who saw me chasing a little girl in there, but then I reminded myself that probably nobody would be left to live to the end of this month, so I wouldn't be considered crazy for too long. I began running under the flickering ceiling lights and with each step I had to swallow my vomit. This little girl felt sorry for me in the end and stopped to wait for me at the end of the far right aisle, leaving one sleeve of her huge coat to stick out on purpose. I approached with an awkward smile and glanced at the strange grace she had on her face, with those weird baby hair that can't be caught for nothing in plaits pointing upwards. Despite my awkwardness, the girl stood unworried and expressionless as if I put her on timeout. I asked her name again. She slips away from a second time and runs like the wind, squealing something at lime while zigzagging the aisles.

-You should probably pick it up!

My phone was stabbing my pocket. It was "Mom" yet again, but I really wasn't in the mood for "Mama". I had to pick up my lungs from the floor at the top of my priorities, because this little devil wasn't running but galloping like a damn horse. I finally caught up with her in the aisle with the products of the day and tightly grabbed her by the shoulders. The little devil screamed and was banging her feet in pain. My hands had been too coarse for people after all this time.

-Hey, ma'am, did you get angry? I was just playing with you.

-I'm don't have time to play right now, please go to your mom.

-But I told you, My mom's right here.

"Where is "here"?

With just one finger sticking out of the sleeve, she pointed to the right middle shelf at the end of the aisle. She put her finger before her mouth to stop me from talking and I followed her on tiptoes. When we approached the end of the aisle and my eyes got used to the darkness I saw a woman laid inside the empty shelf. She was in her sixties and wearing an old black nightgown with holes on it. From her short hair down to her nails, there were ice flakes stuck everywhere as if she was just found buried in the snow. Her face with her eyes closed was carrying such an expression of pain and torment. I was so weirded out that something made me want to follow those ice streams that filled her skin's scratches with my fingers, however her body felt so stiff I jumped back. She looked more like a porcelain doll than an actual person.

-Ma'am Olga? Are you alright?

I threw up all the chocolate milk I drank. My body got the chills and my teeth were trembling so much that my breath was coming out in sharp puffs in front of the flickering lights of the refrigerators. I must have look like shit, because I scared the little girl for good and made her get five steps back from me while I was going crazy and trying to clear my eyes from the shock.

-Why is she here?

-Nobody wanted her. Nobody called to take her.

I didn't pay much attention. I pulled out my cherry ericsson to call for help, but the chaotic hum of the phone lines echoed in the aisle before I even put the phone to my ear.

-Who put her here?

She was just staring at me. I asked again and again. She let her lower lip half open. I grabbed her by the shoulders like before and she pulled out a choked scream due to my clumsiness. She started crying and feeling loose in my hands. It was then that I felt like something broke inside me and I crawled away from her because she would pass out in any second just by looking at the state that I was. I sat on the floor watching her wipe her tears from a distance, all while fixing her plaits and stressfully straightening the dress inside her coat. Every now and then she would throw these incoherent excerpts from conversations that seemed weirdly familiar, waiting for me to remember the answers I had given to each of the discussions. I felt sick, like my insides would explode at any moment. My mind was working overtime and I started seeing red. I understood, but I did not want to accept it.

"But how?" I was saying again and again. I can't just live through this stuff. I was thinking that maybe that's it, we are officially past this tomorrow. Maybe that was the end of the world and the time I had at my disposal. Only instead of cloud islands or pits with flames I was stuck inside this supermarket with a little girl and a dead woman. Was this fitting? Not really. It might be considered symbolic, but still not at all subtle. That's why I was stuffed with anger and distress. I couldn't digest what to feel after all that I saw. And what was the meaning of all of this? To make me feel remorse? To help me maybe? But how? So many questions hanging above my head I began to feel like I was melting from the uncertainty. Luckily, the little girl found some courage to pick me up from the floor.

-You still don't recognize her, do you?

-I recognized her just fine the first time.

-Are you sure, ma'am Olga?

-I don't know, what do you say?

-You tell me.

-We have to get out of here, kiddo. We can't get through it like this. Even now, with everything else going to hell with us.

-Do you really want me to come with you?

-I don't know. Maybe I want to, maybe I should.

The phone started screaming again. It was dimming "Mama" with small flakes of ice filling its broken tiny screen. The girl bent down and put this in my palm with no emotion on her face. I answered it. I waited for an eternity so thin you could fit it inside a moment like this. "Hello? Mom?". Eventually the same confusing static noise creaked from the other side of the call, and I stuck there waiting through the buzzing to find her smoker's coughing that she used to do before starting to complain about how I constantly forget about her. Waiting just to tell her that I was here, I was fine, and the world might not end there. Maybe, somewhere, somehow, there's even some future we can fit in it.

-So are we ready now, ma'am Olga?

-Ready for what?

She pointed at the banner hanging from the ceiling.

-Future ready.

I didn't catch my mother's voice at the other end of the line, of course. I hung up and weakly threw the phone on the shelf where the woman was laying, just to hear its dying snout. This felt way more fitting.

-Nah, not really. But it probably does not matter right now.

-But. I'm scared.

-I'm scared too, being in here and all.

-So when will we be back? When everything was normal again?

-"Normal" may no longer exist. We'll just have to see. For now, get up.

-You know better, ma'am.

-Ma'am my ass.

The little girl glanced just once at the self with the phone on and continue to walk with me, with her palm lost and warmed up somewhere inside my own palm. An analog clock on the wall pointed somewhere after nine o clock and the sky was bruised from the clouds that were pouring snow on everything around us. I put my hand with hers in the pocket of the miserable purple coat and lifted our hoods to escape the cold on the way home. I don't really remember how long we walked with our backs hunched over somewhere between the white and the gray. I only recall that we took the long way home, like a punishment of some sorts.

Thinking that I would never hear again the saltiness in my mom's voice was my most bitter torment. I never thought of such a possibility. I always had in the back of my mind that she would find a way to defy any rule of the universe, just so she could care for me. That's science fiction, after all. It seems I was holding on to my illusions for so long, so waking up hurts like hell even today. And if my mom died, I believe she must've left with that pain and concern during her last moments. "Look at me now", I catch myself saying here and there "I avoided her only until I had to mourn her". Until then, the only thing I had on my mind was working on what I should say when I would get asked about her, only to answer that we "fell off" with no emotion. What exactly happened to fall off with her would be like unnecessary little details. Still, to this day, that's exactly what I tell people when it's being brought up. I can't talk about it without sinking in remorse. I can't get the right words to come out anymore, not even by force.

Of course I tried to find her. Especially with the years that were to come upon me, I needed this to have my mind calibrated just to not go crazy over the batshit hysteria that was building up inside of me. Deep down, though, I knew I didn't have the courage to look at past trauma anymore, and I was secretly hoping I would never fine here. Maybe because the end of the world not coming anymore, at least as I thought it would, and now I have to live with it forever. Maybe because the worst that could have happened to me in the end was the postponement of the apocalypse. And this falls heavily on my shoulders to this day. Every day I have to justify why it was worth it to stay behind, either as punishment or by luck, trying to convince myself that there is something left to do with the leftovers of my future.

[doctors-star]

13 and/or 17 (... cowboys 🥺 pretty pls?) (but totally fine if u wanna do smthin else)

prompt list

cafune - the act of running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

cruore - it literally means “flowing blood”

It’s a warm day out, dusty and dry under an impossibly large, impossibly blue sky. Now that it’s early afternoon and the worst of the midday heat has burned off and dissipated, the town is bustling out again into the streets, in and out of shops and ducking around riders and carriages. It sure isn’t the ideal time to unleash a room’s worth of unruly children who’ve all been cooped up since lunchtime upon the town in the vague hope they’ll make it home in one piece, but in all honesty there’s no good time to do that and they’ve got to go eventually.

Ainsel will get ‘em reading and writing, but they sure as hell ain’t some kind of charitable institution for bored youths.

Opening the door on such brightness and warmth requires serious blinking and squinting and no small amount of internal sorrow as the wall of heat hits Ainsel square in the chest and invades their cool, shaded front room. Not for the first time, they consider the merits of simply opening one of the rear windows and posting the children out of it one by one; not for the first time, the idea is dismissed. The kids would enjoy it entirely too much. Said children are presently scrambling up off the floor and making a break for the door, slates and tin lunch pans hastily shoved into small satchels, baskets, or simply jammed under one arm, and Ainsel steps neatly to one side to allow them free access to the door. For all that the kids bullied Ainsel into teaching them, they sure are always glad to get out at the end of the day.

“See you on Monday, then,” Ainsel says easily. The elder Diaz boy and Mary Wilder both twist to wave at them over their shoulders, but then they’re back to corralling their littler siblings and trying to get them to hold hands nicely for the walk out of town and up to their family ranches. The other kids pay him no mind at all - just tumble out into the street and turn their faces to the sun like little sunflowers. Little Jesse Rainey turns a little circle in the dust, swirling her skirts carefully so as to show off the new printed calico to best effect; she’s a little too used to being the saloon’s darling, if you ask Ainsel, all dressed up in pink with blonde hot-ironed ringlets, but she’s also one of the brightest kids in the class at only six years old. Ainsel reckons she could be the next schoolteacher in ten years or so, if an established schoolmaster could be prevailed upon to examine her and find Ainsel’s informal schooling up to scratch.

Two of the boys have immediately begun a small scuffle, the way young boys are apparently wont to do; Ainsel sighs, and steps forward to separate them (curse all, if one of them isn’t a loose Wilder at that) - but is beaten to the punch. There’s a sharp whistle and the clink of spurs as boots go from horseback to street, and to Ainsel’s great surprise Max Wilder jumps back and sticks his hands in his pockets, looking up at the sky as his bare feet scuff at the dirty street. Were it not patently absurd, given the quantity of eye witnesses, Ainsel would say the boy was attempting to look entirely uninvolved.

Ainsel, amused, turns to raise an eyebrow at the newcomer. Will Williams catches their eye for a fraction of a second - enough for Will to roll his eyes, barely, in commiseration - and then he turns his unimpressed gaze upon the Wilder boy.

Max feigns surprise and delight well, for a nine-year-old of no particular theatrical bent; he beams at Williams with his hands tucked neatly behind his back. “Hiya, Doc,” he says through a gap-toothed smile. “How d’ya do.”

“All the better,” Will says, all dry and proper, “for knowing that you are safe at home after school and not fighting with the other boys, just like you promised me you would be. After all, we agreed on good behaviour if you were to come out to Plum Creek with me tomorrow. Didn’t we?”

Ainsel presses the knuckles of their fist to their mouth to ward off a smile as Max darts apologetically forward, spouting apologies and promises of better behaviour for ever and ever if only the Doc - that is, Mr Williams - wouldn’t tell his pa and would still take him out to the river to look for tracks. It’s more grovelling than Ainsel’s ever managed to extract from a pupil for bad behaviour, but then, Ainsel only ever promises letters and numbers, and Max seems under the impression that Williams is going to provide frogs and snakes and half a dozen other natural wonders, so.

Will scratches the back of his neck. “Well, alright,” he relents. “I - I am going to tell your pa, mind, but if he doesn’t say otherwise I don’t see why you shouldn’t come.” Max does a little victory dance and then returns to his classmates, bragging all the while about the things he’ll see out by the creek. Will himself tips his hat politely at Ainsel. “Afternoon.”

Ainsel is aware that they make Will Williams nervous. Many things do, but Ainsel reckons they do a better job of it than most folks; this is somewhat ironic, in many ways, as a fair few things make Ainsel anxious too. If they could get the measure of each other, Ainsel thinks they oughta be friends - they’d like a person to commiserate with about being thrust into a job they ain’t really qualified for, and not-a-doctor Will Williams seems like a good choice - but Williams keeps careful distance from Ainsel, even in broad daylight in a street full of children, and Ainsel ain’t hopeful. They offer a smile anyhow. “Afternoon, Williams. What can I do you for?”

Will nods gently at Miss Rainey, his own face turning gentle. “This one’s wanted at home,” he says with a smile and Jesse blushes and beams, pleased with the attention. “She’s to pick out a new ribbon at the store if she can keep tally of how much we spend and write it up neatly in the saloon books. How’s that, Miss Rainey?”

Jesse puffs up her chest with pride. “I shall have a blue ribbon like Mary Wilder’s,” she says with certainty.

Will offers Ainsel a flicker of a grin. “Jayne Rainey figures your schooling ought to be good for something,” he says, and if anyone else in the town had said it Ainsel would have winced - but Will’s got more books than clothes, same as Ainsel, so they offer a quick grin back. If only Ainsel could remember what they were doing before they woke up in Danser some years back: that way, they could say for sure if they went to college like Will, and Ainsel might feel a little less like, maybe, the local nice, nervous naturalist oughta be taking classes instead of the local amnesiac with a scary-clever horse and the books which they may or may not be qualified to own and read. Knowing that kind of thing, actually, might go a long way towards some kind of friendship with Will Williams, too.

“I figure so too,” Ainsel agrees, instead of voicing that, or anything like it. They beat down the impulse to seek answers, confess worries, force a confidence - to say hey, Williams - you wanna take a look at Edelweiss? Nah, nothing’s wrong; only, sometimes I don’t reckon she’s really a horse. You know anything about that? Only Will wouldn’t. Ainsel knows as much as they reckon they’re gonna, honestly - there was a trade, and for whatever they gave up they got Edelweiss in exchange. And maybe something else, too, but they’ll be damned if they know what.

Ainsel tries very hard to unthink that particular thought.

“Ainsel says I could keep a school,” Jesse is telling Will with pride.

“I’m sure you could,” Will replies with a little smile. Ainsel hadn’t figured Will as one for children, but then Jesse Rainey and Max Wilder are small forces of nature; if they take a liking to a person, it’s hard not to be endeared. And Jesse is the saloon proprietor’s daughter, and Will rents a room in the saloon, and Jesse is the saloon’s darling. Will shoots a glance at Ainsel. “You’re - you’re training up a replacement already?”

Ainsel inclines their head at Max Wilder, who is crouching in the dust with a stick and drawing around the hooves of Will’s square, broad-chested stock horse. Ainsel remembers Will defending his choice to Finn - Will’s horse looks more like a small draught horse than a good or fast rider, but she’s quiet and she stays still while he’s out watching animals - and indeed, though the horse is gently nosing at the boy, her hooves are staying obediently planted as he natters away at her about prints. “Should say you were, too.”

Will huffs gently at Max, who entirely fails to notice. “It was an accident. Alright, let’s get going before your parents come after me wondering where you kids are. Max, are - are you going to walk us home?”

Max bounces up, catching up the horse’s reins and bringing her over with the practised ease of anyone born and raised on the Wilder ranch. “Sure! Can I ride?”

Will carefully lifts Jesse up into the saddle. “Ladies have to ride, Max,” he corrects. “When I was little, my brother always-”

And though Will stutters into silence, Ainsel - sort of hears the rest of the story anyway. Their cards have made their way into Ainsel’s hands without them noticing and the odd paintings are switching and shifting before their eyes as they shuffle idly, and then stop. The card is of what might be a tower, and what might be a cart, and what is almost certainly a lady; the colours twist the eye and every line slides into the next until what had started as one thing is something else entirely by the end.

If you were going to play poker with these cards, you’d probably call this one the Queen of Spades.

Do not play poker with these cards.

But Ainsel looks at the cards, and the strange, illusory lines that leave only impressions, and sees with odd and abrupt clarity a young man with Will’s face but without his glasses and with a shadow of unruly stubble. He is perhaps broader than Will, too, but the resemblance is clear. And in the card, the young man grins and sweeps a small child up into a massive bear hug. He kisses the child’s hair - once plaited, Ainsel thinks, but now entirely loose and wild after a day of playing - and places them with great care and reverence on the back of a tall, thin black horse. The child, the little girl, giggles as the boy kisses her hand, says she is a princess, and runs an affectionate hand through her loose, dark hair to tidy it away before placing his hat on her head. The girl’s hands push the brim up out of her eyes - eyes which are doubtless, doubtless, Will Williams’ eyes - and Ainsel closes their own eyes, and wishes they had done so sooner.

When he opens them again, it’s just the Queen of Spades once more. Like nothing ever happened.

“Well, I, I guess you can ride behind and keep Miss Rainey steady,” Will is saying when Ainsel folds his fingers over the painted cards and looks up once more. He doesn’t seem quite so steady as he did before as he hoists Max up onto the horse’s back.

There’s no way to tell him what Ainsel knows. They wouldn’t, anyhow - Will never said, and wouldn’t thank them for disrupting the life Williams has carefully built for himself. But Ainsel would like, somehow, to communicate that Will’s big brother had seemed nice; that Will, as a kid, had seemed happy with him; that Will didn’t have to give up on his childhood and on the nice boy who had run his fingers so gently and fondly through his kid sibling’s hair, just because he’d changed over the years.

Ainsel kinda misses the memory of their own childhood, sometimes. Maybe someone had once been so affectionate with them, too.

Will catches Ainsel staring and tilts his head in query. Ainsel shakes themself and offers a small smile. “Y’all ride safe, now,” they say. “Oh, and Max Wilder - you tell your ma you’ll need shoes for the walk before the next week is out, ‘cause it’ll be getting colder and you can’t have Will Williams carting you home every day.”

“Sure will,” Max calls back, grinning and swinging his bare feet from high up on the horse’s broad, grey-dappled rear. “Bye, Ainsel!”

“Goodbye!” Jesse says, holding firm to the pommel as she shifts to look back. “I’ll show you my ribbon on Monday.”

Will just inclines his head and takes the reins in one hand.

Ainsel fidgets the cards in one hand. “Be seeing you, Williams,” they say carefully. As the party moves away, heading for the general store, the Wilder ranch, and home, Ainsel flips the top card over and over in their fingers, and hopes against hope that they wouldn’t be seeing Will Williams at all.

--

There are days, Ainsel knows, that they don’t sit fully right with Finn Holden. It’s a different kind of discomfort to wrong-footed Will Williams, but it’s there nonetheless - sometimes they catch Finn trying to look at them without looking at all, out of the corner of his eye or in a mirror or in the eyes of someone else who is looking at Ainsel, and they know that he knows that they know.

Like now: hunched over a little table in the saloon littered with glasses and an incomplete set of dominoes, just the two of them, and Finn’s looking over Ainsel’s shoulder. Ostensibly, eyeing up the liquor behind the bar; in reality, examining the back of Ainsel’s head in the smokey mirror behind the glasses. Ainsel prods the double six morosely and tries not to let it bother them. It does seem unfair, really, that Finn doesn’t bother people the way Ainsel does. That Ainsel bothers Finn, but not vise versa.

They think maybe choice comes into it. But Ainsel doesn’t even know if they made a choice, way back whenever they did whatever it was to land them in Danser Town with a horse and cards and no recollection at all of how this came to be. They might have been totally helpless to their fate, same as Finn had said he was, when Ainsel had cornered him after two weeks and demanded to know what, exactly, the fuck had happened to Finn to make him smell permanently of clay and sawn pine planks and blood.

(If Ainsel is honest with themself, they suspect that they did have a choice. They suspect they made a deal. The knowledge that their fate has been entirely self-wrought is not helpful.)

“Hey,” Finn says, looking at the table rather than Ainsel and tacking a domino on the end of the six. Is that better? Ainsel isn’t sure. “You been...well, lately?”

Ainsel regrets that Finn has cause to have concern for him. Unfortunately, there are only so many times a person can be seen screaming blue bloody murder at a horse for being a demon in passive, judgemental mostly-horse form before people start taking that person aside and asking about how things are going at home, and that number of times is one. “Grand,” Ainsel says levelly. They’re not wholly lying, either; they haven’t found themself lost and memory-less in a forest for nearly three weeks, Edelweiss hasn’t tried to bite them for their many and varied sins today, and Johnny McPherson had offered them a friendly holler across the street that had actually done disproportionate wonders for Ainsel’s mood. But, also, Finn isn’t looking at them straight. He’s looking the way that Will says you oughta, when you’re a little too close to some creature that can kill ya but hasn’t tried yet; with the kind of caution which is always recommended in old wives’ tales about ghosts and devils and the fae.

Finn nods. “Glad.” Then, abruptly, as if bored of being careful (not unlikely) Finn slumps back in his chair and eyeballs Ainsel straight on. It’s - oddly comforting, actually. “I’m sick of dominoes. We don’t even have half the damn pieces.”

They have all bar two. Ainsel sweeps the tiles together into a pile and starts dividing them into two sets of seven and a discard pile, pushing them across the sticky table with long, pale fingertips. “You want to play that Matador game Johnny was trying to teach us?”

Finn huffs. “Tryin’ is the word. If you can remember the rules, then I’m Saint Bridget. I sure as hell can’t.”

Ainsel tips their head, conceding the point. Something about sevens, and it being annoying that their set lacked the five-two; Ainsel had been a bit drunk at the time. “Well? We’ve got to play something. I ain’t gonna just sit here and talk to ya, no-one’s got that patience.”

Finn laughs, loud and inelegant, and Ainsel grins. “Aw, you ass,” he says cheerfully, spinning his glass on the table with careful flicks. “Let’s play cards or something. I’m a demon at rummy.”

“The saloon hasn’t got any cards any more, remember?” Ainsel points out.

Finn frowns. “It don’t? Why not?”

“Jesse Rainey nicked ‘em and gave out the picture cards to the other kids as favours. And, also, as a kind of basic hierarchy system, far as I can figure it.”

“Aw, hell. Why does that kid get away with everything?”

“Y’all reckon she’s cute.”

Finn grins. “She is! It’s like being mad at the kid on the Pear’s soap ads, or a gopher.” Ainsel spreads their hands - well, there you go - and Finn laughs. “Alright. You got cards, though, right?”

Ainsel rides the sudden lurch of horror at the idea of anyone else even seeing the cards, let alone using them. But - they want Finn and Will and everyone else to see them as normal folk, they gotta Be Normal. Have a normal horse, and a normal life, and normal playing cards. Any number of things can cause amnesia - hitting your head real hard because your horse, which maybe hates you, kicked you or bucked you or something. Trauma. Heatstroke. Normal shit, which ain’t magic no matter how much you side-eye it or examine it in mirrors. Finn might’ve just - imagined it, or had a vision like some religious folks do. Ainsel could have dreamed up any number of things and thought them real - what he’d seen of Will could be nothing. Probably says more about Ainsel than it does about Will anyhow.

Be Normal. Ainsel reckons they can do that. Most all other folks seem to.

Ainsel brings out their pack from the inner pocket of their duster, shakes out their wrists with a confident movement, and manages two whole shuffles before dropping most of the pack. The beautiful cards flutter and spin as if caught by some wild, summer wind and scatter over the table and floor in an unstoppable cascade. Finn tips his head back and laughs like a hyena.

“You’re the clumsiest fuckin’ card shark I ever seen,” he says delightedly.

“I am not a card shark,” Ainsel says rather absently as they scrabble to collect up the cards on the table.

Finn snorts. “I believe it! But what else you carryin’ all these damn cards all the damn day for, huh?” He gets off his chair and drops to the saloon floor, hunting down Ainsel’s precious cards before they get trampled or lost between the boards.

“I don’t know,” they bite back rather crossly; one of the cards, the Jack of Hearts, has just jumped away from Ainsel’s grasping fingers and they have to stand and lean over the table to snatch it up from Finn’s chair. Ainsel glances at it habitually as they sit back down and briefly forgets how to breathe.

The card, like every other, is not a standard face card. The young knave depicted always seems to form out of the swirling lines upside-down, no matter how Ainsel looks at the card, with an inverted heart on his chest like a drop of ruby-rich blood. And for a moment, whilst Ainsel watches, the Jack looks out at them with Finn’s eyes that are not Finn’s eyes. The heart pulses, once, and slides away and dissipates; the eyes go dark and glazed; and Ainsel is looking at a dead man in a churchyard. Some shadow oozes into the edges of the card and at the same pace blood leaks thick and dark from the man’s chest. There is no helping him; he is gone. Ainsel knows it. And then, he sits up. Abruptly, like he’s awakening from a nightmare. He inhales hugely, or tries to, as though he had been drowning, but chokes on his own blood. The man spends quite some time on all fours, coughing and retching and hacking up blood, but this slows and he sits back on his haunches to assess the pool of blood. He wipes at his chin with the back of his hand and grimaces - not with pain, more like disgust. And then he looks up - and this time, it is Finn with Finn’s eyes who is looking straight out of the card at Ainsel.

Ainsel’s fist closes around the card, barely managing to avoid crushing it. They look up in time for Finn’s head to appear in triumph over the edge of the table, clonking his temple gently against the underside as he does. Finn brandishes a handful of cards at Ainsel with a grin, and Ainsel sees him bleed out and wake up over and over in their mind.

They take the cards. Slide the pack back together. Tuck them deep down in an inner pocket.

Finn blinks at them for a moment. “So no cards today, then.”

“No,” Ainsel says shortly.

Finn nods solemnly. “You wanna talk about it?”

Absolutely fucking not. Ainsel slides the dominoes back across the table a little too violently, sending ivory tiles skittering against their empty glasses and shoves a couple Finn’s way. Finn, who is alive and well and not all that damn normal either, so damn it all; maybe no-one in this town is normal enough to start shit with Ainsel, and everyone ought to fuckin’ remember it. Ainsel fixes their gaze on the base of a glass, in whose curving reflection they can watch Finn without actually looking at him. “Come on, Saint Bridget,” they say roughly. “Double six starts.”

There is a short pause, and then Finn’s hand closes over the glass which Ainsel is using to look at Finn without looking at him, and they can’t see Finn’s reflection anymore. “Alright,” Finn says quietly. “Matador it is.”

[itzleon345]

Dianakko Week  @dianakko-week

Day 6: Space/Stars

I’ll Be Back

Read it in AO3 here!

Summary:

“Who are you talking to?”

“The Rod, I’m sure he was taking care of me”

“Yeah, I’m also pretty sure he was”

“Hey hey hey! Don’t worry Diana, I’ll be back before you even notice I left, it’s just a small trip to the Moon Forest, in and out!”

A young Asian girl was saying to her blonde girlfriend while she was shoving random things inside a medium size red backpack

“I know Akko, but either way, I’m not comfortable with you going to a fairly new magic forest in the middle of nowhere just because you can speak with fairies, there are a lot of witches that can speak with them! I know how to speak with them! Why did they have to choose you?”

Diana exclaimed angrily, she just couldn’t believe why out of nearly every witch in Europe the “oh-so-prepared” explorers had to select her girlfriend, yeah, she knew Akko was a great witch and a really brave person but, why?!

Then of course, she didn’t doubted about the capabilities of her girlfriend, she just was worried about the fact that the Moon Forest was discovered barely two years ago after the restoration of magic, and it wasn’t explored at all, there were still places that no one dare to pass thanks to the fact that maybe in those specific spots were living all kinds of magical creatures, dangerous magical creatures to be more specific.

“It’s just going to be a month, and Diana you know why I’m the chosen one, and always remember, it might be dark inside, but there are still stars shining in the sky, I’ll come back here in a month and we are going to have a date, what do you think of that?”

Akko said with her bag already in her back, she was wearing the most comfortable clothes she had, denim jeans, a pair of black sports shoes, a white t-shirt and a red hoodie, her wand was tied up in her waist with her old Luna Nova red ribbon.

The reason why she was the witch chosen among all of the ones in Europe was that she was once the wielder of the Claiomh Solais and the savior of magic, therefore a lot of people believed that she had some kind bond with magical creatures, this belief has not been proven yet but either ways the explorers preferred to have her by their side, also is worth to say that even if Diana was also once kinda the wielder of the Shiny Rod and the savior of magic she didn’t were selected because of her responsibilities as the head of the Cavendish house

“Also, the forest is not so far from the manor, if somehow I’m late you can always go to look for me”

She said while she gave her girlfriend a kiss on the lips

“Now let’s go, I’m running late and I’m sure James must be mad by now”

It was a peaceful Saturday night, and even if Diana was a little sad because Akko was going away she knew her cute girlfriend was right, there were still stars shining on the outside, her personal star was not going to abandon her, it was just a couple of weeks and then she would be back with a lot of scrapes in her arms and mud in her face, just like it always has been

“Alright sweetheart, but promise me you won’t be doing anything too reckless, I love your scars and all of that but I would prefer not to have to heal more of them… and… you know I’ll miss you, so just come back to me, okay?”

Both of them were now on the front door of the Cavendish manor, the night was a little cold but it wasn’t annoying at all

“Yes, Diana! Don’t be too worried about me, I’ll be fine! There’s nothing that Atsuko Kagari can’t handle!”

The crimson eyed girl said with a mock tone while she was making exaggerated poses

“I know you’ll be fine dearie”

Diana let a sight escape from her lips as she looked up to the night sky

“And you know I’ll always come back to you, so, when you look to the night skies don’t think of goodbyes, think how I’m right here by your side, if my memory is still in your mind then it means that I had never really leave you”

The brunette said with sweetness, and before she left the house she took the face of her beloved girlfriend and she gave her a quick kiss on the lips

“I love you Diana! See you next month!”

She took her broom as she muttered “Tia Freyre”, and the she left

“I love you too”

Diana went back to the inside of the manor with a strange concern

—————————

It was Saturday in the morning, Akko was coming back from her trip today and Diana was a little to excited, since Akko left something in her gut started telling her this trip was a very bad idea, she didn’t knew why but she was really worried about her girlfriend, anyways, today was the day and she was extremely happy.

From what she knew Akko was probably arriving at noon, so she started her day as usual, she ate her breakfast and she started working on a couple of papers about the new magical-centric hospital she was going to open next week…

*10:30 AM*

It was an hour and a half for Akko to arrive, and Diana knew it, the anxiety didn’t let her continue working so she decided to go change to a casual attire, Akko promised her they were going to have a date once she got back, the Cavendish knew it wouldn’t be an elaborated date because Akko was coming back from a long trip to the forest and the girl was probably tired.

The clothes she choose where a simple button-up white shirt with a blue vest above it, a pair of denim jeans and casual shoes, nothing too formal

*11:50 AM*

Just ten more minutes and Akko would be knocking the door calling for her saying that she was hungry or something like that

*12:15 PM*

Akko was just probably running late as usual

*1:00 PM*

What is one hour? Diana waited for weeks, she could handle a couple more hours

*8:00 PM*

“She is running late, there’s nothing to worry about”

Diana said to herself one more time

*10:00 PM*

After ten long hours Diana finally heard an insistent knock on the front doors

“It has to be her, Anna can you please receive Akko? I’ll be in the kitchens serving some snacks for her”

Diana asked to her maiden as she started walking to the kitchens

“As you please young lady” . . .

“Lady Cavendish, your presence is required at the entrance, someone is asking for you”

One of Diana’s butlers said to her as he entered the kitchen

“Isn't Akko the one that had just arrived?”

Diana asked with confusion

“I’m afraid the one requiring your presence isn’t miss Kagari”

He replied

“Then who is it?”

“They claim to be James McClain”

Diana was confused, James McClain was the leader of the crew Akko was going with to the forest, why was he in her house and not her girlfriend?

“Tell them I’ll be there shortly Carter”

“I’ll tell them young Lady”

The man said as he stepped out of the kitchen, leaving Diana alone with her thoughts . . .

“Diana! Thank the Nine you are here!”

A black man exclaimed with relief when he spotted the blonde girl

“James, it’s nice to see you too, before you say anything I need to know, where’s Atsuko?”

Diana greeted the guy with coldness

“That’s exactly why I am here, Akko is still in the forest”

James said with nervousness while he scratched the right side of his head

“W-what!? Explain yourself now!”

Diana demanded to the guy with brown eyes, also, until now Diana notice the way he was dressed, his shirt was ripped from the left side of his neck letting see a really ugly-looking scrape, his curly hair was a complete mess, and his jeans were burned to the upper part of his calf

“Wait, I think it would be better if we have this conversation inside, also those wounds need to be healed”

She said a little more calmed as she let James enter the manor . . .

“And you guys just leave her there?! All alone!”

Both the blonde and the brunette boy were in a living room talking about everything that happened in the forest a couple of days ago.

After Diana healed James wounds, he finally told her why her beloved girlfriend wasn’t in her house, he said that four days ago when they were exploring a new part of the forest they were attacked, he at first didn’t recognize the beast that attacked them because they escaped from the place as fast as they could.

————

“Is anybody else hearing that sound?”

A guy with blue hair asked to his crew after hearing something scratching a tree

“Don’t worry Arthur, it’s probably just a squirrel”

Someone said to him with no worries

“Yeah… just a squirr-“

The Arthur guy started saying but a scream interrupted him

“Everyone! Run!”

Akko, the witch that accompanied them, yelled as she started casting offensive and defensive spells…

————

James said that that was the only time Akko used any kind of defensive spells, he said that before the attack the trip went without any problems, then, he told Diana that today in the morning when they were going back to the entrance of the forest they again hear the mysterious scratching sound they hear the day of the attack

————

“Guys…”

Arthur said in a fearful whisper

“Shush Arthur, Akko, what do we do?”

A girl with green eyes asked as she shut up her partner

“I don’t think there is a safe escape route right now, unless we want to either go back to the forest or guide the beast to Wedinburgh”

Akko whispered back to the girl with nervousness

“Do you have any ideas James?”

The brunette asked after a couple of intense seconds passed

“I don’t know! You are the witch here!”

He whispered-yelled to her

“Whoa, thanks for th-“

“Roaaaaaar!”

Before Akko could end her sentence a petrifying roar interrupted her, it was so powerful that no one dared to move, and thanks to that they finally discovered what the beast was.

An imposing chimera was in front of them, his lion head was the one that roared, his goat one was pointing at them with its horns and the one from the dragon was looking at them with rage

“Hey there little kitty”

Akko finally said as she get out of her shock, she took out her wand with clumsiness while she was slowly approaching to the beast

“Hissss!”

Now it was the dragon head that made a sound

“Yeah, that’s completely understandable, of course I know what you are saying”

The crimson eyed girl was getting even closer to the chimera, wand now in her right hand

“Now we don't have the time to play kitty, maybe you would like to go back to your house? I’m just saying…”

“Rooooaaaar”

The lion head roar again as the goat head started hitting some trees with its horns, while the beast was doing that Akko took out some sort of note of her sweatshirt pocket

“We don’t have much time, James take this and give it to Diana, tell her I’ll be fine that I’ll be going home someday”

The beast once again turned its three heads to the explorers and when it was about to jump to them Akko screamed the first spell that came into her mind

“Blaecus!”

Akko’s wand glowed in a blinding shine as the spell hit its target, the beast screamed in rage as the dragon head released powerful flames to the forest floor

“And now is time for you to run guys! I’ll catch up with you later”

The witch said as she suit herself in a battling position

All of that happened at ten in the morning, he said, but they didn’t leave the forest until 8:00 pm waiting to Akko to come back, thing that obviously didn’t happen so they just left as fast as they could to alert any other witch they knew

————

“Yes, she is probably still in the forest, but don’t worry Diana she is a powerful witch, I’m sure she’ll be back, and if for some reason she takes to much time to return we could always go to look for her”

James answered to the young woman as he took the note out of his pants pocket

“Also, here is the note Akko told me to gave you, I don’t know what it says, so take it, it’s yours after all”

He handed the note to Diana

Dear Diana, if you are reading this then it means I’m not home yet, therefore it also means something happened here in the forest, probably some sort of problem with some kind of magical beast, if the one delivering this is James then it probably means there’s nothing to worry about, anyways, I promise you I’ll make it through the night, and you’ll never have to feel alone again, I’ll come back soon, see ya!

-Sincerely yours, Akko

Diana read the note slowly making sure she read it right.

Akko was still all alone in a unexplored forest full of all kind of beast, yeah it was totally fine, she is promising she is coming back soon, nothing to worry about at all, she is promising she’ll make through the night, she is sure that Diana would never have to feel alone again, Diana star is still shining she is just a little too far to spot it but she will come back

“Thank you James, I would offer you to stay the night because it is pretty late, but I can’t, sorry”

Diana said with no apology in her voice while she accompanied the man to the doors

“Yeah, I understand, anyways, I need to get home to tell my sister I’m back, I’ll tell you if I find out something about Akko, bye!”

“Bye!”

After he left Diana went to her backyard to stargaze a little, for some reason the night sky always got to calm her nerves but tonight it didn’t worked, everytime she spotted a star she thought about the eyes of her cute and clumsy girlfriend, about how she was all alone in the middle of nowhere probably looking for a way to come back home, but after some anxious and depressing moments Diana finally saw a constellation that did pacified her, it was the Big Dipper, it was the Shiny Rod, it was all Diana needed to see to know Akko was still safe and sound wherever she was

—————————

Three days had already passed and there was no sign of Akko, James told her the Monday morning that if Akko didn’t appear by Friday night they would be going back for her with a new crew full of witches and wizards, Diana was thankful for the gesture but it didn’t calmed her nerves at all, that’s why she was still awake in her room, waiting for someone that was probably injured in the middle of a dangerous forest.

It was two in the morning of the Wednesday and Diana was about to cast a sleeping spell on herself when she saw a green light moving on the forest, it wasn’t very bright and it was probably going to fade very soon, it was moving in the direction of the manor in slow motion, it was like if someone was trying to get out of the place in most stealthy way they could muster, she didn’t reacted until she spot the figure of the person that was approaching to her state

As soon as she saw that disheveled brunette hair she knew who was coming home, she got out of her room the fastest she could and she run to her garden, when she tried to cast a quick light spell she realized she left her wand in her room, but she didn’t cared at all, the light was coming closer and the features of the person were becoming clearer, a cute and tired Asian face, long and dirty brunette hair, and a pair of beautiful and shining red eyes was all Diana needed to start crying, the relief she was feeling was nearly overwhelming.

“Diana!”

She heard the person screamed with happiness

“Diana I’m home!”

She heard again, and she knew this wasn’t some sort of vivid dream, her star was finally home

“What took you so long?”

She asked with relief in her voice as she opened her arms for a very needed hug

“You know, the usual, I was playing with a Chimera and it’s cute babies”

Akko answered with a chuckle as she throw herself into Diana’s embrace

“It sounds tiring, do you want to go to sleep?”

“Yes, just give me a second”

Akko looked up to the night sky and she said

“Thank you for leading me home! I owe you a big one!”

She yelled to apparently no-one

“Who are you talking with?”

“The Rod, I’m sure he was taking care of me”

“Yeah, I’m also pretty sure he was”

——————————

I know it’s late, I know it probably has to many mistakes and I know maybe doesn’t counts as “Space/Stars” but I don’t care, gays (guys) I hope you enjoy this thing product of my Mexican Insomnia©️ There are 3 Easter Eggs I hope you guys can find them!

Background Song: here!

[miss-choco-chips]

Good influence, bad influence.

Tim is one of those, and he gets the other one. Guess which is which. Ft a murder kitten, two oblivious birds, a divorce-preventing baby and a murderous mother.

(Thanks to @the-quiet-carrotcake who helped me think this through on chat and gave me ideas (THANKS BABE), and tagging @animemangasoul because they understand my need to ALWAYS include Kon when writting about Tim.

This sat on my wips for so long now, so I’m not even proofreading it. Just take it away, please)

-----.-----

-Are you sure I can’t just stab her?

-Really sure.

-How much?

-Like, 100% sure.

-You told me once it’s impossible to ever/

-...be 100% sure of something, I know. Which is how you know I mean it now.

Damian puffed his cheeks. Tim was sure that, in his mind’s eye, he looked dignifiedly annoyed. In reality, it was adorable. But since Damian currently held his right hand hostage, and was probably holding onto his dagger inside his pocket with the other one, he didn’t want to risk pointing it out. He just tugged him away, swimming through the masses, as Damian had called them upon entering the ballroom.

-But why not? 

It was as close to a whine a sound as the kid could make, which upped his adorable factor another notch. 

-You’d get blood on your suit, for one. And then, my mom would kill you.

A little shudder at the mention of Janet Drake, though the kid composed himself quickly- I wouldn’t let a single drop fall on me, cousin. I’m not an amateur.

Since Damian would have used another, more offensive word not so long ago, Tim ignored the pointed look he got when he said ‘amateur’. Also, the use of modern slang was something he was painstakingly drilling into him, so he was quiet proud when it bore fruits.

-Also, you’d draw attention to ourselves. And that woman didn’t even do anything worthy of such a reaction.

-She dared touch me! Treated me like, like… like a kid!

Pointing out that he, in fact, was one wouldn’t go well, so Tim’s mind offered an alternative route. 

-You don’t know? -he blurted out, feigning surprise. Damian looked up at him, eyes squinting suspiciously, and there, very well hidden (but not enough he didn’t notice) a little hesitancy.

-Know what?

Tim let go of the little, calloused hand, and placed both of his on the slimmer shoulders, bending down a bit to be face to face with his charge for the night. The blond wig and round glasses weren’t enough to hide Damian’s almost aristocratic features, but they sure managed to misdirect someone about his bloodline. No one would be able to tell he was Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul’s son, which was kinda the idea.

It had been a chore, to put the disguise in the proud boy, but Tim had been the one to achieve it when he dressed it as a training exercise: they had to make it through the party without its host, Mr Wayne, recognizing him.

Easy peasy, or so he had told mother when he assured her she could go make business with aunt Nicole and leave them be. He hadn’t calculated… well, other people.

-About Mrs Stingdom’s homeland.

Damian was too dignified to look over his shoulder at the lady in question, but Tim could see he wanted to.

-She’s a gothamite -he pointed out, because as Tim had suggested, he did his homework about who was attending to the party. A bit, at least. The story of so many boring socialites was too much to bear.

-She married a gothamite -he explained, doing his best to look stern about Damian’s apparent misinformation-. She’s actually from another land, which is why she pinched your checks. In her culture, it’s a sign of utmost respect towards people under ten years old who are still considered to be superiors, despite their age.

It sounded far fetched, even to his own ears, but he was playing into Damian’s social incompetency and his arrogance at believing himself above all others, which is why the kid nodded slowly after a few seconds, eating the whole lie in one bite.

His bespectacled eyes bore into his, brows furrowed. His hands went to Tim’s, still on his shoulders, a little unsure.

-Should I expect more of this… cultural difference? So I won’t be underprepared, should anyone else wish to pay me their respects in a new manner?

Sensing a chance to prevent a future stabbing, Tim was quick to nod. Mom was going to be so proud!

----.----

A little later that night, a new issue arose. Since Tim was pretty busy handling the seven year old, he had to forgo his usual Wayne-party routine, which was basically to find one of the sons and hide with them for the rest of the night.

Of course, neurotic bastards like them wouldn’t take a change in routine go like that. Because Bruce has instilled paranoia and curiosity on them like Alfred did with manners, and sadly, the last one’s teachings rarely showed up.

-Timmy! Here you are. I was worried, since you never approached us. Aww, who’s this kid? You made a friend?

He groaned internally. Dick, and behind him he could spot Jason, eyebrow arched at the novelty of Tim not looking for them immediately. He wanted to, thrived in the chance to spend even a few minutes with his idols, but duty calls, and his mind didn’t like the possibles outcomes would Damian and the Waynes meet.

-Hey, Dick… Jay. Good evening -he smiled politely, hand clutching tighter Damian’s. Don’t notice, don’t notice, please don’t notice.

To his immense relief, none of them seemed to find anything noteworthy in Damian’s face, which… was also kinda disappointing, despite him wishing for it. Like, yeah, the wig and glasses were good misdirect, but really? He would have noticed the similarities with Bruce despite them, and those two were supposedly detectives…

-Stop being so formal, kid -grumbled Jason, big hand making a mess of Tim’s styled hair. He would have complained, but… Jason’s voice and hand, okay? He was a weak teenager. Don’t judge him- Know ya since y’were  half that heigh, and lighter than my jacket.

Tim’s hormones ignored the comment on him being small, and  focused on the mental image of the mentioned jacket, most likely leather and well worn. 

…This was so not the time for  fantasizing. 

A tiny, calloused hand slapped Jason’s away, which promptly changed the mood.

-Don’t touch my cousin, you/

But Tim had prepared for this outcome, so his own hand rose just as quickly to cover Damian’s mouth.

At the word ‘cousin’, both heroes looked very interested. Tim was under no delusions, well aware Bruce and each of his adopted children had made their own background checks on him and his entire family, so they would know Damian’s claim to familiarity to be a lie, but they also couldn't really call them out on it without making it obvious they investigated him.

His head was already hurting for all the social maneuvering he had to do to keep out of trouble, and now, adding two concerned birds and one murderous kitten, it was even worse.

This was going to be a very, very long night. But both mom and Nicole had asked him, so he wouldn’t try to get out of being a (as) good (as possible) role model.

---------------.----------

Tim winced, muscles locking in a poor attempt at not showing it. From the look Conner gave him, at the other side of the room where he was being chewed out by Lex, he failed miserably at hiding his pain; which, in turn, enraged his mom even more.

-What. Did. You. DO?!

The hand not currently held by his mother went to his ear, protecting it from the almost demonic screech. He could see Auntie Nicole doing the same, sitting with Damian on the couch, sharing tea and cookies as they watched the whole show. The nine year old showed a surprising amount of sympathy towards Tim’s injuries, for someone who had been harshly trained since birth and had recently begun a career as vigilante (not that Tim was supposed to know about it, though). Or was it pity because of mom’s rage?

-You told me no tights and spandex! Never said anything about a mask and a hoodie, and Conner and the guys really needed my help with strategizing -he defended himself, because even if he shouldn't know about the waynes being heroes, he had been Conner’s friend since he found and subsequently freed him from Lex’s secret lab, which in turn warranted mom’s rule against heroing that he had just broke-. And don’t yell at me, I can hear you perfectly fine.

-I’M NOT YELLING! -she lied, tightening the bandage, scowl growing in power-, AND MASKS WERE IMPLIED AS A NO! Also, what are those if not thighs?

-Skinny jeans!

-They are indecent, that’s what they are!

On the other side of the room, Kon seemed to be having a less exhausting time than Tim. Lucky bastard, Luthor had less experience in parenthood, hadn’t yet reached the Scolding Mastery level.

-Hey! Auntie Nicole dresses like that -he points to the woman, who raises an eyebrow- and you don’t tell her anything! Look at her cleavage, you can almost see her bellybutton! 

-Leave me out of this -asked the woman, taking the teapot to refill Damian’s cup; he, in turn, handed her the cookies platter.

Ignoring her best friend, Janet snapped again- NICOLE ISN’T MY STUPID FOURTEEN YEAR OLD SON, WHO IS NEVER SEEING THE LIGHT OF DAY AGAIN!

-What light of day? This is Gotham, we don’t have sunlight anyway. And I’m not stupid, my IQ is higher than everyone’s in this room.

-IT SURELY LOOKS LIKE YOU ARE FROM WHERE I’M STANDING, HERE, RE-BANDAGING YOUR ARM!

Tim sighed, locking eyes with Conner in solidarity; or he wanted to, but the smug bastard’s scolding was over and he and Luthor had joined the Al Ghuls in their tea party.

-Come on, mom. This’ but a scratch.

-YOU GOT SEVEN STITCHES!!!! I can’t believe this.

She barely got her son out of vigilantism by monitoring his Wayne-Interaction and threats of boarding school and then he went and befriended a group of teen heroes and threw all her hard work straight to the trash. No, he skipped that part, he went directly to the dumpster and burried her good intentions under a pile of shit.

But really, she couldn’t very well make him entirely responsible of this, not when he got carried away by Conner’s ‘do the right thing’ speech. And Conner had came into their lives because of…

In blind rage, she finished her patch job on her son’s arm and turned in a flash to face Lex, whose face went quickly from amused to scared.

-WHY DID YOU THINK IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO HAVE A KID WITH SUPERMAN?

Sensing she was done with him, Tim went to sit by Kon, who moved a bit on his individual couch so they could share it, though it was a very tight fit.

-Clone -he corrected helpfully, TTK bringing Tim his coffee cup closer.

-Did I stutter? And I wasn’t talking to you, was I?

Nicole seemed like she was having the time of her life right now- So hey, listen, between you and LITERAL SUPERMAN, who was the one on the receiving end when you pictured yourself having a kid with him? Like, who was getting it? Because, pal, odds aren’t in your favor, you know.

-Don’t be stupid, dear -huffed Janet, looking at her friend’s green eyes and calming don infinitesimally- If he was actually getting it, he wouldn't have resorted to having his kid to get his attention.

-IT’S A CLONE, AND I ABSOLUTELY DIDN’T MAKE HIM TO GET THAT ALIEN’S ATTENTION! He’s my enemy, not my lover, what is wrong with you people.

-Am I a divorce-preventing baby? -asked Kon to Tim, raising an eyebrow. The other kid just shrugged.

-Looks like it. Not like Uncle Lex had any other way to keep Superman from leaving him…

-I’m right here.

-I know, Uncle Lex. I love you, but you need to rethink your choices. If the man wants to go, let him go. Kon doesn’t need any brothers. I can’t deal with more of him, one is more than enough.

[lumiolivier]

The Good Old Days Chapter Twenty-One: The Borderlands Job

A/N: Hi, friends! Alright. I know. I'm a little late with this, but it's also been a hell of a week. And again, I know. I need to put these on a schedule. Load them into the queue as soon as I finish them. That'd be a good idea. But anyway, here we have it. Enjoy.

ICYMI: Chapter 20: Heart to Heart

So, this was it. Walking into hell with the two people I trust most in this world. Well…Not quite hell. Hell adjacent is more like it. Here we are. Out in the borderlands. And for what? That’s right. The Old Man has a big ass payout from this place. It seemed like a classy place. When we walked in, the furniture was all leather. The walls were crushed velvet. Damn, Old Man. What the hell did you send us to? But the humidors behind the bar and the heavy smell of smoke told me all I needed to know. Cigar bar. Got it…Until I saw the stage and the runway in the middle of the room. Alright. Gentlemen’s club. Got it. Not judging.

“Alright, boys…” I stood in the doorway, doing a quick check of the place. It’s awfully quiet in here. Maybe that’s a good thing, “We’re going to collect and get the hell out of here. I know he says it’s cool if we enjoy ourselves a little, but this place is making my skin crawl.”

“That’s because you got a girlfriend, Frankie,” César pointed out, keeping his voice down. And getting an eyeful of the lovely young ladies center stage. Between César and Tony, César always was the poon hound, “Not all of us are so fortunate.”

“This place feels like the type to pay for regular health screenings.” Granted, César was a slut, but that didn’t mean Tony couldn’t appreciate the art in the museum, too.

“Probably,” I still couldn’t believe those two. They’ve both tried taking me to strip clubs before, but…Even before I started dating Vanessa, they just…weren’t something for me. They made me feel weird. And not the good kind of feel weird they were supposed to make me feel. Nine times out of ten, I’d be asking the girls when they’d get off and buy them a drink afterward. I’ve made a few friends like that, “But focus. We got work to do before you two can drool. And remember what your jobs are.”

“Yeah, yeah,” César brushed me off, his eyes wandering a little more, “Make sure our hermanito doesn’t get into trouble. Got it.”

“You two disgust me,” I shook my head in disappointment, “I hope you know that.”

“Excuse us for having a libido.”

“Hey!” a big mother fucker from the bar stepped up to us. Under normal circumstances, I’m sure he’s intimidating as hell, but I had an ace in the hole, “Who are you? I’ve never seen you in here before.”

“What?” I shrugged, “I can’t try somewhere new?”

“It’s not that,” Big Guy pointed out, “You don’t just walk in here off the street. You get invited here. And I don’t remember anyone saying you or your buddies were invited tonight.”

“It’s fine,” I knew how to handle assholes like this. And I was taught well. On top of that, I’ve been given express permission to name drop if I had to. Or, in dire situations, assume someone else’s identity. Especially if it was for the sake of saving my skin. And it always helps that the Old Man is kind of a recluse, “I’m sure a man of my standings has a permanent spot on that list.”

“You seem to think so,” he scoffed, “Get the fuck out of here before you’re forcibly removed…”

“People call me the Old Man,” I carried myself with the same sense of well deserved respect the Old Man did, “I’m here to pick up a little something, something, if that’s alright with you. Now, I’d like to speak to the bartender please.”

“You…” Big Guy backed off a little, “You’re the Old Man?”

“That’s right,” I held my ground.

“You look a little young for that kind of title,” he argued, “Are you even legal to drink in here?”

“More than legal,” I growled, still keeping a level head, “I can’t help I got good genetics and a pretty face, friend. Boys!”

“Yeah?” Both César and Tony hopped to my side. Alright. That’s comforting. If this guy wanted to pick a fight or found out I’m not the Old Man, it’s good to know I had backup.

“Why don’t you two keep our new friend here company?” I suggested, “I’m going to go pick up what we’re here for and then, if there’s time, maybe have a drink or two. After that, we’ll leave. I’m sorry. I haven’t even asked your name yet, man.”

“It’s Todd.”

Really? I didn’t think someone that’s easily six and a half feet tall and a perfect bowling ball to be named Todd. But who was I to judge? I gave him a nod, “Alright, Todd. Why don’t you make sure these two are taken care of? I got a package to pick up.”

I didn’t even give him a chance to answer. I had bigger shit to worry about. And if all else fails, I know Tony and César can hold their own in a fight. That’s just something I don’t want to have to explain to Mama in the morning. Although, I’m sure if I point all fingers toward the Old Man, I’d be absolved of all crimes here and everything would be fine. Except for the fact that my brothers’ faces would be fucked up. A sacrifice I’m willing to make.

I went into the back where an older man stood behind the bar, “Excuse me…”

“Yes, sir,” he smiled politely, “How can I help you? If I overheard you right, you’re the one they call the Old Man around here, right?”

“That’s right,” I kept up the façade. At this point, I think it’s what’s keeping my ass alive, “And I’m thinking there’s something waiting for me here.”

“No,” the bartender shook his head, making sure to keep his voice down, “You’re not the Old Man.”

My stomach dropped. Oh, shit. This guy knows. But I couldn’t let him see me sweat, “Excuse me? Yeah, I am.”

“I know Gregorio,” he pointed out, “I know him very well. Sit down, son. Let’s talk.”

“Ok…” I wasn’t sure where this was going, but the Old Man didn’t tell me he was sending me to a friend, “I mean, I am Gregorio, but I don’t remember us meeting.”

“I’ve known Gregorio for a very long time,” the bartender got an envelope from under the bar. And a damn thick one, too. Then, he poured me a glass of brandy with a splash of peach tea in it. I never was the type for brandy, but I could stomach it for the sake of keeping up appearances, “He and I went to school together for a while. Around the time he first came here. I found myself falling on hard times years later and I told him about it. My landlord was about to evict me. I was lucky if I could feed my kids. You know what he did?”

“What?” This story was feeling a little familiar. It was at that moment I realized the Old Man had a soft spot for a lost cause.

“He took my wife and my two kids for dinner that night,” he smiled, “He was telling me all about this new job he got and the man he was working for and how he had a little bit of power in this town now. When we were still in school, I was always the one mixing drinks for people. He got me the job here. And I’ve been here ever since. Mostly just to oversee things. Kind of like when some random punk off the street comes in and impersonates him. Before your mind jumps to conclusions, I’m not going to out you and I’m not going to take you out in the alley. I just want you to be honest with me.”

“Ok…” I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I was starting to love the Old Man a little more every day, “What did you want to know?”

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Me?” I thought it over for a minute or two. Do I be honest with him or do I tell him I’m still the Old Man? Obviously, he knows I’m not him, but if I fold, I could be fucked. I think I could trust his story, “Francisco Mendoza.”

“I’m guessing you work for him, don’t you?”

“I do,” I nodded.

“And just out of curiosity,” he wondered, “How did you know I wasn’t going to pull a gun from under the bar and put a bullet between your eyes for impersonating one of the best men to walk the streets of New York?”

“You really want to know?” I smirked a bit, “I watched you pour my drink.”

“That could’ve also been poisoned.”

“It wasn’t, though,” I explained, “The Old Man’s drink of choice is brandy and peach tea. It was the same thing he was drinking the night I met him. You’re not the only one he’s pulled off the streets and given a better life.”

“He’s a good man,” the bartender told me, “Stick around with him. He’ll make sure you’re taken care of. But trust me, Francisco. You don’t ever want to betray him. I’ve seen what happens when that kind of shit goes down. It’s not a pretty result. But on a less fatal note, can I let you in on a little secret?”

“Please,” I insisted, “Be my guest.”

“If Gregorio didn’t see something special in you,” he kept his voice down, sliding the envelope across the bar, “You wouldn’t be here right now. Don’t squander what you got.”

“I didn’t plan on it…” I liked this guy. He was alright. I took the envelope off the bar and felt it a bit with the utmost discretion, “Since I told you mine, would you tell me yours?”

“Sure,” he gave me a nod, “It’s Ricky. When you get back to the Narrows, tell Gregorio that Ophelia still has those legs for days.”

“Ophelia?” I wondered, assuming it was some kind of code, but I didn’t know what it was. I’ve never heard the Old Man talk about anyone named Ophelia before.

“My wife,” Ricky chuckled to himself, “He was never the type to go domestic, but there was a young lady that we had a class with that had her eyes on both of us. And she knew Gregorio wasn’t the domestic type, so she went with me. And he’s been kicking himself in the ass every day since then. I like to rub that in his face every once in a while.”

“And what if the Old Man hands my ass to me for that?” I got nervous.

“He won’t,” he swore, “He’ll get a cheap laugh out of it if anything. It was a pleasure meeting you, Francisco. Truly.”

“It’s actually Frankie,” I corrected him, “That’s what everyone else calls me. Except my mother.”

“Alright,” Ricky let me go, “Hopefully, this won’t be the last time we see each other.”

“Likewise,” I finished off my drink and took off with the envelope. But before I left, I needed to get my boys, “Oi…Pendejos…Vamanos.”

“We’re leaving already?” Tony asked, both him and César drenched in sweat. Oh, Jesus…What did they do?

“Yeah,” I nodded toward the door, “Ahora.”

“Ok,” César, the one that I thought was going to be like pulling teeth to get out of here, was awfully quick on his feet. I’m not sure what transpired while I was in the back, but I feel like it’s better that I don’t ask.

“And Todd,” I gave the big guy a pat on the shoulder, “Pleasure meeting you, man.”

“You, too, sir,” Todd sent us off. It’s good to be the Old Man some days. I liked it. Maybe if I get lucky, I’ll take his spot one day. He did say he wanted me to succeed him. I could get used to it.

Once that night air hit my face, everything was right in the world again. I peeked in the envelope and did a quick count of the money. Every last cent was there. Good man, Ricky. Good man. But then came the hard part, “Alright. What happened?”

“Nothing,” Tony kept his mouth shut, “Everything was fine.”

Which was how I knew he was lying. Or hiding something from me. Thankfully, I had César, who would occasionally lack a verbal filter. Not nearly as bad as Tony, but enough, “Tony wanted to take one of the girls home with him.”

“Goddammit, Tony,” I hung my head, “I ask you to do one thing. I take you along for one reason.”

“Don’t goddammit, Tony me,” Tony got defensive, “I did not!”

“He struck out big time,” César laughed, “It was probably worse than watching you try to flirt with Vanessa the first time you two met, Frankie. It was beyond a crash and burn. That was the Hindenburg.”

“See if I take you back here,” I rolled my eyes, “On the bright side, I think I might have my own spot on the list here. Me, not the Old Man. I mean, the Old Man’s got one, too, but because the bartender knows him and knows him well. He’s a good guy, too.”

“He knew you weren’t the Old Man?” César gasped, “Frankie! And I thought I had to keep Tony from getting bitch slapped by a stripper. You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

“But he knew the Old Man,” I explained, “Don’t worry. I knew what I was doing. I had this.”

“And what if you didn’t?” César snapped, “What if the guy was testing you? What if he was calling your bluff and you just fucking folded? I don’t ever want to have to make that phone call to Mama…”

“César…” I knew where he was coming from. It’s what I’ve been doing for those two for years. But César was different. Tony was lucky his head was attached more often than not, but César knew he wouldn’t have to worry about me. That wasn’t going to stop him from worrying, “I told you. I had this. And if I didn’t, I knew I’d have you and Tony watching my back. All I’d have to do is say the word and I knew damn well you both would come running. I know you want to make sure I’m ok. And fuck, I love you for that. But I can handle shit, too.”

“If you ever do something so fucking stupid again,” César threw an arm around me, his demeanor a little lighter, “Don’t ever do it alone.”

“Of course not,” I laughed it off, “I’m stupid, not suicidal.”

“Bueno…” he mumbled to himself, “So? Where to now?”

“Back to the Narrows, as far as I know,” I decided, “Unless you wanted to actually grab a drink. But something tells me that even though the Old Man has told us to skim off the top from time to time, tonight isn’t one of those jobs. He’d probably kick all our asses for something like that. He told me tonight was the biggest score I’ve ever had.”

“You’re not wrong,” Tony knew that as well as I did. Usually, when the Old Man had big collections, he’d tell me to get my brothers. They knew when I was working a big job. And Tony’s beautiful mind could keep track of that shit like nobody’s business.

“So,” I thought it through, “You two come back with me to the Narrows, we’ll have a drink there, then we go home? Sound like a plan?”

“That does sound like a plan,” César agreed, his nerves a little shot tonight. He could use the liquid hospitality.

I don’t know why the Old Man would’ve been so nervous about us visiting a part of our own territory just because it was on the outskirts. Regardless, the boys and I headed back toward the Narrows and made ourselves at home in the bar. This place already was my second home. Even more so today than any other day. I wasn’t complaining. I liked this little bar. I didn’t drink publicly much, but when I did, it didn’t hurt to be somewhere familiar. I left my brothers at the bar and headed to the Old Man’s office.

“Old Man?” I poked my head in the door, “You alive?”

“Pretty alive,” the Old Man let me in, “How’d it go, Frankie?”

“Pretty good,” I threw the envelope on his desk, “I got the money. I got out of there with my life and my brothers intact. I can call that one a win.”

“That’s the attitude to have in this business, kid,” he applauded me.

“Oh,” I remembered, “And by the way, the guy that gave me the money told me to give you a message.”

“Did he?” the Old Man wondered, looking at me strange, “And what’s that?”

“That…” I had to get this right or it’d probably just sound like nothing, “Ophelia still has those legs for days?”

“That son of a bitch!” he snapped, only to laugh his ass off in the next breath, “You met Ricky tonight, didn’t you? Damn, I was hoping he was the one behind the bar.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, a wave of relief washing over me, “Why?”

“He’s a good man,” the Old Man explained, “You kind of reminded me of Ricky. Damn good head on his shoulders, but life doesn’t give him the best hand. You know? How’d he know you were there for me? Did you tell him?”

“I, uh…” I twiddled my thumbs, “I was walking into foreign territory, Old Man…So, I kind of…Told the bouncer that…”

“You were me,” he figured, “Alright. I understand, Frankie. You were right to do that. And that explains how Ricky knew you were there for me. But you do know that one day, your own name’s going to have that kind of power, too, right?”

“I hope so,” I winced, “But today’s not that day.”

“Soon enough,” the Old Man threw the envelope, “There. That’s yours.”

I froze completely, “You going senile on me already?”

“I’m not senile,” he rolled his eyes, “I’m serious. Look, Frankie, you got shit to take care of. I don’t need the money. I’m not near hurting. Your little aristocratic princess deserves a nice fucking engagement ring. You go get her something nice and head home for the day. You’ve done your bit for god and country. Besides, if I give you tonight’s collection, then, I don’t have to pay you for working the bar.”

“Hell of a tip, Old Man,” I still couldn’t believe he was doing this. But at the same time, I could. It’s the Old Man. To hear Ricky talk about him only solidified his ranking in my mind, “Thank you. I will.”

“And if you want,” the Old Man kicked back at his desk, “Throw a few bucks to your brothers. They work hard, too. I’m sure they kept a close eye on you.”

“My brother bitched at me,” I told him, “And they kept the bouncer off my ass, but…Ok. So, we do a three-way split?”

“They don’t know how much I’m giving you,” he gave me a nod, “You split it however you feel. You’re the one that’s going to be paying them one day anyway. Might as well start now.”

“What do you mean…?”

“I would’ve thought you’d bring your brothers on with you when you take over,” the Old Man sighed out, “Guess I was wrong. I mean, if it were me, I’d want the people I could trust most close to me. That’s what I got you for. I’d trust you with my life. But you know…That’s just me. Now, I want you to take your cut and get something nice for Vanessa. She’s a good girl and deserves it.”

“Thank you, Old Man,” I did my best to not start crying right then and there, “Really…For everything.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he sent me out, “Good luck, kid.”

“Thanks…” Because I don’t know how I’m going to do it or when, but dammit, I’m going to propose to Vanessa. Eventually. And the Old Man’s right. She does deserve something nice.

I grabbed my brothers, dropped ten grand in their hands (with intentions of paying them with whatever’s left over after I get Vanessa’s ring), and the three of us headed home. Tonight’s been a night. And the thought of crawling into bed was awfully tempting. Yet, I had a little something still left in me. Maybe I could find Abuela’s food truck before she closes up for the night. Before the club crowds start damn near shaking her down. But when we got back to our building, there was a perfect package on our front steps.

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” I took her hands and pulled her onto her feet, “I don’t think you live in these parts.”

“My boyfriend does, though,” Vanessa stole a quick kiss, “Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” I melted inside. Damn, this girl’s got a hold on me. She always did.

“Hi, guys,” she smiled.

“Hey, Vanessa,” César gave her a little smile back. He and I had a brief moment of mental telepathy and César, God bless him, dragged Tony inside.

“So,” I wondered, “What do you think about going to the Downtown tonight? Rumor has it, they have some killer coconut cream pie.”

“I’d love to,” Vanessa put my arm around her. I love when she does that.

“Are you sure this is ok?” I worried, holding her close, “I mean, I’m not kidnapping you again, am I?”

“Nope,” she kissed my cheek, “Come on. I’ve been thinking about that pie all day and if I don’t get it in the next ten seconds, I’m cutting a bitch.”

That’s my girl, “It’ll be a few minutes in the cab, though, Vanessa.”

“Fine,” Vanessa let it slide, “Then, we have a few minutes and ten seconds to get me some fucking pie.”

“I love you…” Hard to believe I’m already thinking about marrying her.

“I love you, too, but pie, Frankie…I want pie…”

“Alright then,” I got us a cab, “Then, let’s get some pie.”

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XXIV: Year of the Tiger

For the longest time, all I remembered was that I was eight when it happened. Eight and a few months sounded right. Then came Remora and Ray. Weird boring lady and penguin man. Few months later came Demetria. Silly small person. By then, I must have been nine. Maybe I wasn’t, but I wanted to be so I was. My brain was dumb, though. It totally forgot about birthdays.

Not that it told me what my birthday was. That was also dumb! It just made me not think about it. I still didn’t know when and I was sure if I remembered more things, my birthday would be the number one. It hasn’t been a year since I was nine, but it was almost, so I needed to say something because it was important that everyone knew.

I should get a pot and a stick and bang it so everyone will know to come over to me! That would be smart! Was what the old me would think. I still thought that way, but I was smarter. I was ten. Or I was almost. Ten year olds did smarter things. I will knock on everyone’s doors and tell them one by one. That will be easiest and most polite.

Sunny and Ray didn’t have a door, but they had a thing that opened up in the ceiling. I could knock on that. So I went into the kitchen and grabbed a ladder. Then brought it over to where their little attic room was (it was big actually but it’s little when I can’t see it) and started knocking. Yes, a few knocks in, I remembered that stairs opened up from the little string thing on the ceiling, but it was too late for that. The knocking had begun.

“Attention! Attention! We need to celebrate my birthday!” I yelled while knocking. I tried to yell quietly, since Demetria’s room was real close to where I was, but that was hard to do. Not wanting to be rude, I added, “please and thank you!”

Behind me, the door opened. It was more like a slam as the one who slept there rushed out.

“What’s going on? Why’s there yelling so early in the morning? Is everyone okay?” Demetria asked, sounding all worried.

“Hi, we need to celebrate my birthday,” I turned around and explained in the easiest way possible.

“What?! Today’s your birthday?!” She just about yelled too. I shushed her.

“No, but we need to celebrate it,” I cleared up the confusion for her. That should’ve made her happy but she just closed her mouth and stared at me. Then, she opened her mouth and asked:

“Can I go back to bed?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

I waited a little longer and no answer from the adults upstairs. So I decided to go down and go back to bed as well. Or really, the sleeping bag I slept in, since I slept on the floor. Remora was a bed hog. It was better back when I had a room in her house, but I guess that can’t really happen anymore. Gotta make do, even if I also gotta complain about it.

When I walked in, Remora was spread out on the bed with one leg hanging off and one of the many blankets she slept with fallen on the floor.

“Mine now,” I muttered.

Remora also muttered. Sometimes she talked in her sleep. A lot of times she wakes up and wakes me up. I’d just hear a gasp and then a jolt up. I didn’t know a lot of what she said, but I heard something like, “no, a snuggie won’t help, but I do want one” and “no talk. Only snuggie.” Whatever a snuggie was, she sure wanted one. Other greatest sleep talk hits included things like, “you’re like Thumbelina and I’m the snow queen,” or “I want to cry but I can’t.”

She sure liked to call others confusing but she ought to look in the mirror sometime because most of the time she just says and does weird things.

Anyway, I went to sleep pretty fast. It wasn’t hard because I was good at sleeping. I had to be, since Remora’s own habits of waking up also woke me up a lot. Just a little after getting back to sleep, though, I heard something crash and someone yell and I sat up and my eyes were wide.

Remora ran out of the room. I was still too tired for that, but I was smart enough to know what that sound was.

“I forgot to put the ladder away…” I muttered.

Out in the hallway I heard Ray yell. Yes, something I didn’t hear much.

“Who put the ladder there?!” He cried out. He sounded less angry and more like he just hurt himself. He probably did. “Was it you, Demetria?”

“I’ve been in my room this whole time!” Demetria shouted back with her squeaky and also tired voice.

“Indeed, she wouldn’t. Demetria is a good bean. Those are just the facts,” Remora added in with her dull voice.

“Uh, thanks?”

Again with the weird talk. I didn’t know how she was a good or bad bean because she was a person and not a bean. Jelly beans were good beans, but she wasn’t a jelly bean. But jelly beans were sweet, so maybe Remora was calling Demetria sweet! Whatever she meant, it didn’t matter because it made no sense and the ladder thing was the real issue.

I was still in the room in my sleeping bag while they continued to talk. I wanted to tell them that I was the one who got the ladder out, but then they might think I was trying to injure people on purpose. So instead, I thought of a better solution.

I walked out of the room and stood in front of the four (Sunny was there too). None of them seemed to notice me even though I knocked on the ceiling earlier.

“You’re probably wondering why I gathered you here today!” I put my hands on my hips and announced. Everyone then looked at me.

“I wasn’t wondering that at all,” Sunny replied and blinked. Like it was some big surprise to her.

“How cunning. To think Tigershark was the true villain all along,” Remora despite her flat voice also sounded really surprised.

“That’s right! You’re all here to celebrate my birthday!” I told them.

Ray and Sunny looked at each other. Remora looked at the other three. Demetria looked back in her room.

“Can I go back to bed?” She asked.

“No!” I yelled this time. “You haven’t told me happy birthday!”

“But you told me earlier it wasn’t actually your birthday,” she whined.

“That doesn’t matter! We never celebrated my ninth birthday and I’m pretty sure I’m more than nine now! I might even be ten!”

Again, everyone looked at each other and then panicked.

“Did we all just totally forget about her birthday?” Sunny asked.

“I don’t even know when it is,” Ray shrugged and shook his head.

“Your birthday never crossed my mind. I’ve never even celebrated my own birthday,” Remora told me.

“What? We should celebrate your birthday too!” Demetria turned to Remora and said. Then she looked back at me and added, “yeah, I’ll be honest, it never crossed my mind either. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“That’s okay!” I grinned. “We’ll just celebrate it now!”

Ray gave a soft laugh. “That’s a novel idea. I’ll bake a cake for you,” he lifted a finger as if he was really smart.

“Are we doing presents and the whole shebang?” Demetria asked. As if it wasn’t obvious.

“I’ve heard of people having presents on their birthdays before…” Remora sounded like she was lost in thought. “Can’t remember where I heard it, though.”

“Yes! Presents! Cake!” I jumped for joy before dialing it back. “But none of that’s important! Just as long as you acknowledge my birthday and sing happy birthday to me!”

(Even though I said that, I’d still love some cake and presents)

“Cool. Which year we celebrating? Nine or ten?” Demetria asked. Again, I thought it would be obvious but I guess not.

“Ten! Definitely ten! I’m probably almost ten anyway!” That should’ve cleared everything up. Though knowing how dense Demetria could be, it probably cleared nothing.

“Uh, right. Don’t you know when your birthday is?”

“I’ve got a general idea! It’s not important!” It was rather embarrassing that I couldn’t quite remember. If my head wasn’t such a fog when it came to before the whole thing with my...err...I didn’t want to think about it. So maybe that’s why it wasn’t coming to me.

“Later today we’ll do cake and sing happy birthday to you, okay?” Sunny winked at me and grinned. It was hard to say ‘no. Not okay’ to that.

“Yes! Later! We also need a dinner!” I can’t believe I almost forgot such a thing.

“Ooh! What do you want for dinner?” Sunny asked.

“Macaroni!” I decided at random. I couldn’t be bothered to give it a lot of thought and for once I wanted a simple kid type meal. Macaroni was good for that.

Sunny gave a thumbs up and said, “I’ll have Ray make that for you!”

So the day went like normal, except at lunchtime when I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,  Demetria came over and told me to close my eyes.

“Why?” I asked her.

“Just keep them closed! I’ll be right back!” She told me. So I closed my eyes and heard her run off. When she got back over, something was put on my head.

“Okay now open!” She said and I did so. I felt around on top of my head and pulled down what she put on me. It landed on my lap and it was a big hat.

“It’s a sombrero,” she explained to me. “I sto – er…impulse bought it a while ago. It doesn’t really suit me now, so I think it would fit better on you.”

I grinned and put it back on and shook my head really fast so the strings on it would shake about.

“Thank you!” I reached over and gave her a tight hug around her waist. She started making gagging sounds.

“Too tight!” She gasped for breath. I let go.

“Fine, I guess that free hug can also be your not-birthday present. Jeez, why you gotta be so strong?” She asked, and without waiting for an answer, left while shaking her head.

I finished up my sandwich and then decided to go off into the room to knit something. Ray taught me a while ago but I never really got the hang of it. I got really good at it at first and then got bored of it and learned more cooking.

“I think I’ll knit a snuggie...oh, but I don’t know what a snuggie looks like…” I thought out loud.

Remora must have overheard as she came into the room and showed me a picture on her phone of a snuggie. Her hand shook while she held it up to me.

“Study it,” she told me. “Study it and make it for me. Please.”

“It’s my birthday. I’m making myself something. Maybe I’ll make a cape,” I said right back to her. She looked down and tried to make a pouty face, but I stuck my tongue out. Defeated, she left the room and I was free to make whatever.

...I didn’t make anything. I spent all that time thinking of what I wanted to make and I forgot to get string. In the end, I tied the blanket that fell from Remora’s bed over my shoulders and wore it as a cape. Then I took a nap.

Later at dinner, there was a big bowl of macaroni and I almost ate the whole thing. I think I could have but I needed to save some room for the cake. After I finished eating macaroni, Ray brought the cake out and Sunny brought everyone else out. The cake was chocolate and had a frosting sculpture of a tiger with a shark’s tail. Written on it with green frosting said ‘happy something, Tigershark’.

Ray cut up slices for everyone and of course gave me the biggest slice. There was also a candle on mine.

“Well, not something I had planned for the day, but let’s all sing happy birthday, ‘kay?” Ray told everyone else. They all nodded and began singing. Their voices were bad but I appreciated the effort and Sunny was the loudest. She sounded the most into it and liked she was having fun. After that was done, I clapped and blew out the candle.

“Did you make a wish?” Sunny asked. I looked up at her and was surprised.

“I was supposed to do that?!” I yelled.

She nodded and to make me feel better, said, “It’s not too late. Just don’t say it out loud!”

I thought about what I wanted to wish for. Closing my eyes and thinking about whatever made me think of when I met Astraea and how she taught me about praying.

It would be nice to meet Astraea again. Or someone my own age, too. I guess that’s my wish, I thought to myself, then out loud said, “amen.”

“That last part wasn’t necessary,” Ray did a little laugh to himself and said to me.

“I know! I just felt like it!” I told him right back.

Ray then reached behind him and handed me a cloth and another hat. Both of them were white and the hat looked like a loaf of bread.

“It’s a chef’s hat and apron, since you like to cook,” he told me.

It was true that I liked to cook but I didn’t think about that at first. I was focused on the hat.

“That makes two now!” I announced. “I’m going to be a hat collector!”

Ray laughed. “There you go. Do whatever you wish with your gifts.”

I got down from my seat and went over and hugged Ray.

“Oof!” He went, then patted my head. “Go back and finish your cake, okay?”

I nodded and smiled, then went back and sat down.

Remora then leaned over and picked something up. I didn’t quite make out it was but then she looked at me with her glare like I said or did something wrong.

“Ha...happy...here…” Her hands wobbled like they were going to fall off and it seemed less like she was cold and more just nervous. She then pushed whatever was in her hand onto my lap.

I looked down. It felt soft and fluffy. Black fur and all. It had a smell to it, like what clothes get when they’re wet and sit out too long. But I didn’t mind that. I ran my hand through it and it felt so familiar…

It wasn’t hard to figure out why. Memories of that day showed up in my head. The fact that it looked a little dirty, too, made it hard to not remember. Even if it was a different one than the one I had, I think I would still remember the one I had before. But no, I could just tell that it was the same one.

Just like I did with two other people today, I hugged the thing in my lap. It was a penguin, but not a real one. Just a stuffed animal. But it’s been such a long time and I didn’t think I’d ever see that penguin again. Last time I saw it, I lived with my mom and dad in a research base. They were busy people and they wanted me to go live with my grandma and grandpa so I wouldn’t have to stop going to school, but I didn’t want to do that. I kept yelling at them and telling them I was okay with not going to school, I just wanted to be with them.

They gave up like they often did when I wanted something and I came with them. There was a little room for me there, much like the room I slept in with Remora. It was nice having my own room and I got to run around and watch them research. They were busy a lot though and didn’t want me to interrupt. Even though I called them dumb, they weren’t but I just wished they would pay more attention to me and that I could spend more time with them.

More things came to me, but it was still not very clear. It was all jumbled and there was a lot I still couldn’t seem to remember even though I felt like I was close to. What I could remember was that I was born sometime in the beginning of December, which meant my actual tenth birthday was a few months away. I remembered playing basketball with kids at recess. Then, there was my name. Also started with an ‘R’. But what stood out more was that I was called “Dizzy” a lot, because I ran around a lot.

“Oh no, she’s crying,” I heard Sunny’s voice even though I still had other thoughts I was focused on.

“Rotellina Littlewheel…” I mouthed the name. I also mouthed, “Dizzy.” No one else heard me.

“God damn it, this is all my fault. Well, I’ll just take it back and burn it,” Remora said, sounding like she just lost a game. My face really was all wet and I tried to wipe it off with the penguin’s arms but it didn’t quite work.

“No!” I yelled at her. Tears got in my mouth but I didn’t care. I got quieter because I didn’t want to seem mad. “I love it. Thank you.”

She looked at me and looked a little bit surprised.

“Well, yeah. I know I’m still a bit of a liar. Back when I first met you and I said I’d look for it for you, I said that I couldn’t find anything, but I did find it. I just thought it was better to hide it because it might have been too painful for you to look at. It didn’t mean a thing to me, but it might have meant something to you, so I wasn’t sure what else to do with it but hide it,” Remora explained. Her whole explanation was silly.

“It is painful, but I still like it,” I told her. “And also, you’re dumb. But I love you anyway.”

Remora took a step back and folded her arms.

“Don’t...don’t say things like that,” she said with what sounded like a stutter.

“What? The dumb thing? Sorry.”

“No. The other one. It’s not a good idea.”

Well that made me mad.

“So what! It’s true!” I squeezed my penguin as I yelled at her. My penguin needed a good wash, but first I needed to finish that cake.

“Sorry, Tiger, I didn’t know what to get for you,” Sunny told me while I ate cake. It was pretty yummy cake. I looked up at her and it seemed weird that she didn’t know what to get for me. She always seemed so full of ideas. Sunny was full of fun and she liked to go on adventures! That was well known.

“We can go on an adventure,” I told her while chewing the bits of cake in my mouth.

When I said that, everyone turned to Sunny. It got really awkward fast.

Ray looked like he was about to say no and when he opened his mouth it was pretty much that.

“Are you sure you want to do that? Her adventures aren’t exactly family-friendly.”

Good old Ray and his gibberish. Sunny looked at Ray and it looked like she was going to say something, but then Demetria interrupted.

“One time she took me on what she called a ‘girl’s night out’. Never again.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re chicken,” I stuck my tongue out and replied.

“That’s not it!” She argued with me. Then she turned her head away and added. “Honestly, you’re better suited for a trip with Sunny anyway.”

“Sunny is carefree and reckless and a bit of a loose cannon. Those are just facts,” Remora added.

“Hey! Hey! Stop scaring the kid! I can keep her safe! This is totally fine!” Sunny finally spoke. All it took was Remora stating ‘facts’.

“Got anywhere in mind?” Ray asked her.

Sunny closed her eyes and grinned.

“In fact, I do! We’ll spend the day in Switzerland! There’s talks of an ancient block of Swiss cheese in a cave somewhere. I hear it’s worth a fortune. There shouldn’t be any danger whatsoever and we’ll be back in no time!”

“Yeah!” I agreed. Everyone else was wrong. Sunny had the best ideas. “Let’s go and eat Swiss chocolates and get fat!”

“Yeah!” Both me and Sunny put our arms in the air.

“Oh really? When are you guys leaving?” Ray asked us. It was my birthday celebration, so I got to choose the time! That was so cool!

“Right now!” I told him and was quite loud about it.

“Yeah! Let’s go now! That way we can get there by morning!” Sunny was just as excited as me. It was really nice.

“You really think Cybele’s gonna take you guys out of the blue?” Ray really didn’t want us to go, huh?

“Sure she will! Doesn’t matter the time of day, she’s always ready to fly! She’s my girl!”

Ray put his palm on his forehead and shook his head.

“All right, then. Just...try to make it back without too many injuries. I don’t want to see either of you bleeding on my doorstep.”

“Got it! C’mon, Tigershark!” Sunny was already toward the door, but I didn’t have my parka on or packed or anything.

“Be back first! I need to pack!”

Packing and going to the airport happened but it was all a blur to me. Sunny told me I slept on the plane the whole way through. When I woke up, I was already in a new land: Swiss Land. It was a bright and sunshiny day. Because Sunny was next to me and it was daytime.

“I can’t believe I slept so much!” I looked up and said to her.

“I know! You were out like a light!”

We were at some place called the Old City of Bern. The streets were wide and there wasn’t much traffic. People walked around wherever, anyway, so it must not have mattered. Surrounding us were a lot of brown buildings of various shapes and little tunnels and passageways. It was really neat. We saw big clock towers and fountains and scary statues (though the goblin one was cute) and there was also cute little shops to visit.

Sunny told me we were in the shopping district and I looked through windows and breathed on them and saw cafes. It really was a cool adventure!

“Don’t worry, by the way. I booked us a hotel to stay the night and we can head over there any time today if you start to get tired.”

“Okay!” I smiled and said back to her.

We were about to head into a candy shop when I heard a familiar voice. It was really quiet and seemed far away, but close enough that I could tell what was said.

“Interesting. There’s so many human constructs here,” the floaty and fluttery voice said in kind of a whisper but without the scratchy bits.

I turned around and my heart was making lots of beats. What I saw was a small girl with hair like ashes and slumped over and smiling in a sleepy way. She was wearing a frog costume, or some kind of pajamas with a hood that looked like a frog. Even if it wasn’t what I was used to seeing, I knew who it was and I ran over to her.

“Astraea!” I called over and ran. Behind me I saw Sunny go, “wait up!”

Astraea waved up both arms in the air.

“I am!” She said back to me and then I hugged her tight. It felt like I was hugging a doll, but I knew it was a human, I just didn’t know why, but a doll was what popped in my head.

“Oh my gosh, it’s really you!” I felt like crying on her costume. Or pajamas. Whatever they were.

“Yes. Because I’m not anyone else. Amen,” she said in her little frosty voice.

I let go and my eyes were wide because I was surprised.

“What are you doing here? How did you get here? Also what are you wearing?”

She closed her eyes and did her usual smile.

“I am here because I walked here. I found these clothes because someone offered them to me. It’s but one clothe, but it fits the whole human body. Amen.”

Sunny was next to me again.

“Well, look who it is!” Sunny snapped her fingers and said.

Astraea looked up.

“You are the human named Sunny,” Astraea said to Sunny and I think a “hi” would have been fine but that was okay too!

“Wondering what we’re doing here?” Sunny asked.

“No. I see that you two are walking,” Astraea pointed out and she was right. We were walking. But there was more.

“We’re walking because we’re celebrating my birthday!” I corrected. “We’re going to go eat lots of candy and go on an adventure!”

“How interesting. What is a birthday?”

“Have you never had a birthday?” Sunny asked and sounded really confused.

“Indeed. I have had no birthdays and have no knowledge of them.”

“Well, you should!” I told her.

“Can today be my birthday?” She asked.

“That depends. What day were you born? Birthdays are where you celebrate the day you’re born,” Sunny told her.

“I was never born,” Astraea answered. “For I have always been.”

I didn’t know how that worked. Sunny probably didn’t either. That was okay, though, because silly things like being born didn’t matter to me. It was birthdays that mattered.

“We can celebrate yours today too! Come on, Sunny! Let’s celebrate Astraea’s birthday!”

“Yes. Let’s,” Astraea agreed with me.

“Well...all right! Sure! Why not? Come on, let’s go eat lots of candy!”

We went in a few candy stores and Sunny got us lots of chocolates. There were other shops around too that I wanted to explore.

“Why did Sunny give us chocolates?” Astraea asked me.

“It’s because we’re celebrating our birthday! When someone has a birthday, people give them gifts!” I told her and Astraea nodded, then wandered off.

I tried to look for her and when she returned, she was holding up two pajamas: one of a tiger and one of a shark.

“Would you prefer the tiger? Or shark?” She asked me.

“Maybe the...a...” I began, unsure which I wanted. Both looked cute.

“A?” She sounded curious about my response.

“I was just trying to decide!” I told her. “I like the tiger one a lot!”

“Then here you go,” she handed it to me. I was about to say thank you but then I wasn’t sure about something.

“Did you buy it?” I asked her.

“No. I gave it to you,” she said back to me.

“You have to put it on the counter in the store you went to!” I told her.

“I see. Then I shall do that.”

I followed her into the store she got them from and watched her put it on the counter. There were lots of other clothes in the store too! Cool looking shirts with cartoon pictures and many colored pairs of pants.

“Now that it is on the counter, I will give it to you for your birthday,” she said to me like she was teaching me a recipe.

Before I could tell her that she was missing a step, a large man in a button up shirt wearing sunglasses and a mowhawk appeared behind the counter. I knew it was the shopkeeper.

“That will be 70 Francs,” the shopkeeper told her. I didn’t know if Astraea had money or not.

“No. It is a tiger onesie,” Astraea said back to the shopkeeper like she knew better.

“Yes, and do you have any money to pay for it?” He asked her.

She closed her eyes and smiled. “No. Nor do I know what money is.”

“If you don’t have money, you can’t have it.”

“It’s not for me. It’s for Tigershark’s birthday. Isn’t it a human rule that people must be given things on their birthdays?” She didn’t sound like she was trying to be mean, just a little confused.

“I don’t care who it’s for, it needs to be paid for,” he growled.

“Don’t worry about it, you guys. I’ll pay for it,” Sunny pulled out some money from her pocket and handed it to the shopkeeper.

His mean face turned to a smile.

“Those kids yours?” He asked her.

“Err...not exactly. I’m just taking care of them today!” Sunny sounded surprised by the question.

Once we were out of the shop, Sunny turned to Astraea.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about being human, isn’t there?”

Astraea nodded and said, “yes, it is wonderful.”

As we walked around, I tugged on Sunny’s shirt.

“We need to get Astraea a gift too!” I reminded her.

“Oh yeah, huh?” Sunny said as she dug into her pocket and pulled out a compass. She handed the compass to Astraea and she stared at it.

“What is this?” She asked.

“It’s a compass. Since you like to wander around, you can use it to find your way,” Sunny explained. “N is North. E is East. S is South and W is West.”

“Which one is N, E, S, and W?” Astraea pointed at the letters on the compass.

Sunny pointed to each letter. I think maybe Astraea didn’t know how to read. After Sunny explained, Astraea held it close to her chest and said:

“Thank you. This is an interesting gift. Amen.”

We continued wandering around and checking out shops. Astraea ran off once again, this time she saw some plushies hanging from the ceiling of a stall.

“This one looks like Demetria!” She yelled and pointed to one. It was a plushie of a green haired character with pointy ears. I could see the resemblance. “I once saw her in video games! Her name was Sothis and then she asked mine and I told her it was Astraea but she didn’t listen and there were a bunch of symbols at the bottom that confused me!”

She kept poking the Sothis plushie really hard and was jumping up and down. That might have been the most excited I’ve ever seen her.

“Do you want that for your birthday?” Sunny asked.

Astraea stopped jumping. She lowered her head down, closed her eyes, smiled, hands clasped, and nodded.

Sunny found whoever worked the stall and bought the plushie, then handed it to Astraea. She looked at the plushie and said:

“Sothis! Sothis! My name is Astraea. You know it now.” Then she thanked Sunny and looked at both of us.

“These have been wonderful gifts and I think I would like many birthdays in the future. For now, I think I will walk on wherever my two feet take me.”

“Really? So soon?” I asked.

“There is much about being human that I don’t yet know, and I may learn more if I meet more humans. It was interesting seeing you two again and I pray that we shall meet again. Amen.”

“One more hug?” I asked her.

“Yes. Go ahead. Those are interesting.”

I hugged her really tight and while I hugged her she put her Sothis plushie on my head and bounced it around.

“Doot doot. I am Sothis. What is your name?” She imitated what she must have thought Sothis sounded like. If I had to describe, she sounded like a really bratty fairy or something. Or Demetria. Since I didn’t know the character, I didn’t know any better. For all I knew, that could have been what Sothis sounded like.

“I’m Tigershark!” Then in a quieter voice said. “Or Rotellina. You can even call me Dizzy.”

“Interesting names! Bye-bye now!” She said, still with the Sothis voice.

I let go and when she and her plushie walked away, I wiped away a tear. Somehow it got there without me noticing.

“It was really nice to see her. I hope we see her again,” I said to Sunny.

“I’m sure of it,” she said back. “For now, let’s take a break and have lunch in our hotel room. Sound good?”

“Yeah!”

Back at the hotel I jumped on a really big bed. There was another really big bed where Sunny was going to sleep. We both ate ham and cheese sandwiches on our beds. Swiss cheese wasn’t usually what I put on a ham sandwich but Sunny said I should because of where we were. So I did. It tasted like a ham sandwich with a swiss cheese and was yummy. Also in the sandwich was pickles and tomatoes and lettuce and olives as well as a vinegar dressing instead of mayonnaise.

“It was nice to see Astraea again, but I hope I can meet someone my own age sometime,” I said while eating.

“Hm, yeah. It’s kind of isolating where we live. If you lived in a city, you could go to school and make some friends there. Other than that, there’s my daughter, but –”

I spat out the bits of my sandwich.

“Your daughter!” I gasped. “I wanna meet her now!”

Sunny set her sandwich down on the plate (oh yeah, we had plates. We weren’t getting too many crumbs on the bed!) then got up.

“No, forget I said that. It just slipped out,” Sunny’s words got lower, she sounded more serious. “How about we go to an amusement park in a bit?” She grinned. I was too smart for that though.

“You’re changing the subject! What about your daughter?”

“I shouldn’t have brought her up. She’s at least three years older than you, anyway, so still not really your age,” Sunny explained, as if that was some kind of “gotcha”.

“So? Still younger than everyone else I hang out with!” I argued back at her.

“Your personality and hers wouldn’t match, either. She’s quiet and prefers to keep to herself and you’re energetic,” she added.

“I still wanna meet her!” I crossed my arms. I wasn’t going to budge. “You don’t even talk about her!”

“I haven’t talked to her in years,” Sunny said while she shook her head, then sat next to me on my bed and took out her phone. “Here’s a picture of her from when she was six.”

It was a picture of a little girl with curly dark brown hair wearing a little pink beret and had big, round glasses. Her eyes were a smooth brown and so was the rest of her. She had a little smile on her face and held up a piece of paper and a paintbrush.

“She looks cool,” I told Sunny.

“Yeah. That was taken a little before the accident. For whatever reason, maybe they were feeling daring, but there were a couple of wolves and although we managed to fend them off, they still bit her pretty bad. It’s been six years since then. Her face is a little scarred now. Red streak along her cheek and neck, like a crack.”

“So if I were to play with her, I’d just be careful, right?” I asked.

“No, that’s not it at all. I’ve not seen or talked to her in years, I’ve avoided her. Ray feels bad about it, wishing he could fix it somehow, but I just don’t like to think about serious things like that. I don’t like to think that I’ve made mistakes. She doesn’t even know you exist and if she did, she’d probably not like you because she might feel that she’s been replaced with someone else.”

“What?!” I got real mad. “How is any of that my fault?!”

“It’s not!” Sunny raised her voice, then got up again. “I thought it would be fun to have a kid! Like having a little sidekick to go on adventures with! I didn’t expect anything too serious!”

She walked around and looked all tense and shook, kind of like Remora did whenever I saw her. Her hands made a fist, then unmade one, over and over.

“I thought we were having fun! Why can’t we go back to having fun?” She asked and tears started to fall.

I didn’t know what to say. I felt my eyes sting and then little tears come out of me, too. It felt extra bad that both of us were going to cry.

“We still can. I just got curious,” I told her while crying.

She stopped and turned to me. Her eyes were wide and she walked over, then sat down. On the dresser was a tissue box and she reached over and grabbed one, then wiped my face.

“I’m sorry. I got defensive and I even started to raise my voice,” Sunny’s voice was much more calm and quiet. “It’s all complicated and none of it is your fault, you just got caught up in it. If there’s ever a chance in the future, I’d love it if the two of you could meet.”

I didn’t have any words and I just started crying more. She leaned over and hugged me just as tight as I did when I hugged others earlier. Over her shoulders, I cried more and snot ran down too and got in my mouth and it was gross and made me cry too.

“Would you like to go find some cheese in a cave?” She asked.

I closed my eyes and nodded really fast.

“I’d also love it if you could make more friends your age,” she said too. Then added, “I’m sure it can happen, too. Let’s just take it a day at a time, OK?”

I nodded again. We let go of each other and then I gave her a grin.

“Still got energy?” She asked.

“Yeah!” My face was still a little wet but I think I stopped crying.

She grinned back and gave a thumbs up.

A little bit out of the city we walked in a forest and then found a cave. It was a bit cold and dark, but there were lights on the cave ceiling, so it wasn’t too bad.

“At the end of this cave, there’s going to be some ancient Swiss cheese,” she told me. I was really excited to see it.

It wasn’t a very long way in, but by the time we got to the end, instead of the cheese, we saw a group of guys in suits all packing cheese into big sacks.

None of them noticed us and one of them wasn’t putting any cheese into the sacks and had his back to us and was using a cane.

“Dammit...Jerry Mander’s here,” Sunny said through her teeth.

“Who?” I looked up at Sunny and asked.

Before Sunny answered me, Jerry turned around. He looked startled when he saw us and jumped. He was wearing dark sunglasses and had a short, messy black hair. He wasn’t all that tall, or much taller than the other adults, so he wouldn’t have stood out if not for the sunglasses and cane.

“You!” He just about screeched. His voice was like if a Pterodactyl (what the ‘p’ did there, I wasn’t sure. ‘Terodactyl’ would have worked just fine) had a cold. Or if he had a cold. Maybe he had a cold. “I couldn’t believe you, Sunny! We had a healthy rivalry going on! But I’ve figured it out now...what you’re up to: you’re trying to build up an army of small people to take me down!”

He sounded really sure of himself for what didn’t make much sense.

“Dude, I’m just celebrating this little girl’s birthday,” Sunny told him.

I nodded my head.

That’s right, Sunny! You tell him! I thought, while still nodding and smiling.

“You can’t fool me! I can’t forgive what that Demisexual person did to me.”

I tried to figure out what he said. ‘Demi’...something. In times like these, I’d just have to ask Sunny.

“What’s a sexual?” I asked Sunny.

“It’s someone who doesn’t experience sexual attraction,” Sunny told me, and I felt like I had more questions than answers.

“Do you know how you won’t fool me?” Jerry spoke up again, still that sick voice screech.

“Because your guys have guns?” Sunny guessed, then turned to me and whispered. “In case they start shooting, turn back and run.”

“Not only that, but because we’ve got a small person of our own! Come on out, Hammond Cheese!”

From behind one of the sacks jumped out a kid with a red and yellow striped sweater and was carrying a baseball bat. He had blonde swirly hair and was also kinda chubby.

“Hammond, go beat up that orange haired kid over there!” Jerry ordered.

“Okay, and then after, we get sauerkraut?” Hammond asked in an accent I hadn’t heard before but it was okay because I still got what he said.

“Yeah, whatever,” Jerry groaned.

As Hammond ran toward me, Sunny said, “I’ll protect you.”

“Oh no, you won’t!” Jerry’s sick voice waved a finger at Sunny and then ordered his guys to shoot at her.

Sunny rolled around and I was so distracted that I almost got hit in the head with a baseball bat! But I caught it with my hands instead and even though it really hurt my hands, my head was fine!

“You’re really strong!” He complimented me.

“You too! You hit hard!” I said back.

I then tried to knee him in the stomach but his stomach was really hard and he barely budged. I tightened my grip on the bat so he couldn’t let go. He still tried to pull it back and we both tugged back and forth. While that went on, I looked over and Sunny had taken one of the guys’ guns, beat them over the head with it, then took a sack of cheese and beat the other with it. Then Jerry took a sack of cheese and the two took turns trying to hit each other with them.

“Keep your focus!” Hammond told me and then he pulled so hard that we both fell back.

We both got back up at about the same time and the baseball bat was in the middle of the cave floor, for either of us to grab onto. Just as I was about to reach it, he got up to it and stomped on it and broke it.

“We talk with our fists now,” he ordered. Figuring it was more fun that way anyway, I put my arms up to my head like I was a boxer and we got ready to punch each other out.

I swung my arm forward and Hammond moved his head away to avoid it. Bummer, too, ‘cause I was really hoping to punch him in the face! Then he tried to swing a punch at me in the face, but I leaned back and he just barely missed.

We continued to swing away at each other, and I got a couple jabs in, one of my knuckles even cut his cheek a little. When he punched, I managed to block it every single time, but I just knew that my arms were really hurting and were going to be bruised later.

“What’s your favorite cheese?” He asked, while still trying to beat me up.

“I thought you said we’re talking with our fists!” I yelled at him and tried to swing really hard, but I missed. He looked like even with the few beatings he took, he could take a lot more.

“We can talk with our mouths, too,” he explained.

“Oh! Okay! I really like most cheeses but it’s probably a tie between Edam and Reblochon! What about you?”

“Well...my mom’s name is Brie and my dad’s name is Ricotta, but people call him Ricky for short, so I’d have to say my favorite is Gorgonzola!”

Ooh...that was a good one! Really good for macaroni and cheese!

My arms were getting all wobbly and when I tried to block his next punch he managed to slug me right through the cheek and I fell down.

“Oww,” I moaned, and struggled back up. I looked over and Sunny looked to be in a tight spot now with the other two guys getting up and having to fight both Jerry and his guys. Though she still seemed to be doing a pretty good job and kept knocking them down or taking their weapons from them. I had to step up too!

I got back up and he tried to swing a punch at me again (he was polite enough to wait until I got up, so props there!) and I moved out of the way in time, grabbed his arm, then shoved him back. He didn’t quite fall, but he stumbled a couple of steps back. Then, with all my might, I concentrated on a right hook and socked him right in his cheek as well and he fell.

He huffed and sniffed, but didn’t cry and I was getting short of breath. Then he laughed and I laughed too. I helped him up and he was went, “good job!”

“You were good too!” I told him.

“Wanna call it a tie?” He asked.

I grinned. “Sure!”

He then flexed his arm.

“My parents own an Emmentaler farm so I get lots of practice punching the cheese blocks and rolling them around!” He explained. I could just imagine it already. The tough work that went into farming cheese.

I looked over and Sunny managed to knock all three of the men down at once with the sack of old Swiss cheeses (I was guessing Emmentaler was in the sacks). I felt a little bad for Jerry cause of the cane, but was still happy for Sunny.

“Woo! You did great, Sunny!” I cheered.

She looked over and gave me a thumbs up and a wink, then saw how bruised I was and had a worried look.

Jerry got up with the help of his cane and his legs shook. He looked real mad.

“We’ll get you next time, Sunny! And mark my words, I will have revenge on Demisexual!” He yelled out into the cave and his voice echoed.

“I better get going, too! My parents are expecting me back home before dusk! You should visit our farm sometime! We can all have a raclette dinner!”

“Sure!” I really liked that idea a whole lot.

Sunny took a couple of the sacks of Swiss cheese and carried them off, but let Jerry and his men have one of them. Jerry, his men, and Hammond, all left, and Sunny and I walked back toward the city.

“What are we going to do with all the cheese?” I asked her.

“I dunno, kiddo. Maybe sell it?” She shrugged, something I was amazed by since those sacks must’ve been really heavy.

Indeed, we ended up taking the cheeses to a deli and selling them off, then headed back to the hotel.

“I should really tend to your wounds. It’s gonna sting, but if Ray sees how beat up you got, he’s gonna kill me.”

“I don’t mind!” I assured her.

“What? The kill me part or how beat up you are?!”

We both laughed and then I said to Sunny:

“You know, today really was a fun day. I’m glad we did this.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she smiled and said in a soft voice. The warm glow of the sun shone on Sunny’s face and really brightened her smile.

Everything was just so amazing and I couldn’t wait to get back to the diner and tell everyone else what a fun time we had.

[r6s-imagines]

jackal x reader >> miscommunication

•••

requested: no

word count: 1,428

warnings: cursing, unnecessary spanish, sexual tension

•••

summary: jackal tries his best to get you in the mood for new year’s with his heritage

side note: considering jackal’s psychological description mainly noted his continuous hunt regarding his past and lack of sleep. i went off of what that told me and added some of my own quirks based on voice line delivery. i am also fluent in spanish (mexico) as well as english, but i attempted to keep the spanish as simple as possible.

•••

it started with a less-than-obvious gift to your doorstep. it was a small, purple gift bag stuffed with white tissue paper.  you were so unfamiliar to a gesture of kindness that you nearly called it for a bomb squad to make sure someone wasn't on your ass.

you stuck a finger into the bag, careful not to trigger anything unwanted.

you saw red, and lace.

now who the hell sent me a set of crimson lingerie? you asked yourself. clearly this had some joke or meaning.

you went straight to your computer, undergarments by your side as you played a process of elimination the further you got into your articles.

red as a symbol of lust in america, pulse would never, luck in china, you couldn't name a chinese person you knew.

new year's romance in spain? mira wouldn't—oh, that son of a bitch.

a meeting was called in the next day, something about a potential mission from the fbi. you found your marked seat at the debriefing table, conveniently text to ramírez's. reluctantly, you awaited the arrival of your coworkers, in doubt that jackal would arrive to the meeting due to his unusual sleep schedule. you smiled to yourself, knowing the little purple bag awaited to be thrown onto his desk for an ass-kicking confrontation.

your suspicions were proved correct when the seat remained cold. you lifted your hand for a brief moment, politely gesturing to excuse yourself to ash's approval. your smirk was hard to hide as you strode to jackal's housing, marked by his name. wordlessly and soundlessly, you entered his room to find him reading a book on his bed. he ceased reading his novela for only a moment, peering above the pages to meet your gaze.

"sí?" he lowly asked, a smile in his stare. you frowned.

"red panties, hm?"

he waved a hand, rolling his eyes.

"it's a—eh— tradición, y/n," he nonchalantly explained. "if it's any consolation, you could see my calzoncillos, we're matching."

"gross," you retorted. "i don't want any part of this perverted tradition of yours, ramírez. leave me out of it."

"it's all in good fun!" he protested, standing up. he placed his book on his shelf and laid a hand on you, smiling. "decade's about to end, live a little!"

"and my foot is about to end up in your ass," you spat. "unless you've got money or sweets to offer up, i don't want to know the extent to your new year partying." you spun on your heel and returned to the meeting, heated just thinking about the audacity of ryad.

lo and behold, a party was to be announced later that night. it was described as a "night away from troubles," but your stomach couldn't help but flip at the thought of confronting jackal again. surely it wouldn't be a problem, right? there'll be fifty something other people you could connect with and you'll never have to cross paths with the spaniard.

night fell during the time you took to warn yourself of other strange traditions, spanish or not. it would be your first new year's with the crew and you were unsure of just how wild everyone can be with the clash of cultures and alcohol.

you turned to your bed, noticing the bag unopened. caving in, you investigated the products inside. the price tag seemed hefty judging by the quality and consistency. you checked the back of the bra.

how did ryad know your cup size to the t?

no matter. laundry was overdue and it's not like you had time nor effort to fixate your own undergarments in time. you decided to make a good impression, donning a white jumpsuit with a misty purple jacket. your hair was down for the first time in months as opposed to your tactical pinup. makeup was minimal; you had not spent time in your life training to be a beautician, you were an operator for christ's sake!

you arrived at the party alone, later than expected but present nonetheless. smoke and mozzie welcomed you with a huzzah and a drink practically thrown into your hand. porter wrapped an arm around you and led you to the main room, covered with operators of various organizations.

mira, lesion, doc, blitz, sledge... no jackal. you found it strange, considering his reversed sleep schedule called midnight his prime work hours. you almost wanted to locate him and thank him, but you stopped yourself and took a fat swig, feeling the chilled alcohol slip down your esophagus.

"you're so cute when you're buzzed," mozzie slurred, stumbling to grab my hand. "if only i could kiss you at midnight, but you'll never know my fantasies."

"hey, max," you responded, stabilizing his balance. "how much have you had? it's only ten thirty. and for the record, i did not pregame this time."

"i'm right pissed," he admitted, laughing. "oh, that spaniard was lookin' for ya? whasisname...? martello?"

"martello is italian, pal," you replied, smiling. "d'you know where jackal is?"

"his quarters~~" max said. "probably waiting for a pretty little lady like you." you giggled and pat his back, sending him off to pester ela or dokkaebi. you snuck out of the venue area into the silence. you retraced your steps from the meeting room and into the lined up personal rooms.

"ryad... ramírez," you read aloud, noticing the closed door. you knocked twice.

"vete," he unenthusiastically replied. your hand hovered over the doorknob, ready to face him... but you paused. you recalled something from the various articles you perused. swiftly, you prepared two glasses of champagne. reaching into your jumpsuit, you exposed your necklace, the pendant being the gold ring your mother used to wear. you placed the necklace into your glass, leaving ryad's empty to use at his own discretion.

you returned to his door, knocking again. you heard a groan, followed by footsteps.

"dije ir—" he hissed, making eye contact with me halfway through opening the door. "y/n."

"ramírez."

"just ryad. please," he opened the door further, stepping aside. "what brings you around, cariña?"

"i don't know what that means," you admitted. "is that, like, car, or something—"

"darling."

"hm?"

"anyway, what brings you here? i thought you'd be out with that porter kid or that cabrón goose," he kicked back in his desk, beginning to type away. his weathered features became more evident through the artificial lighting and you began to wonder why a man in his late middle ages seemed to have gone through the struggles of a century old man.

"i wanted to thank you for the..." you paused, cheeks flushed.

"it suits you."

"i'm sorry?"

"you wore a red bra under a white jumpsuit."

"shit!" you covered your chest with your outerwear, face feeling hot.

"it's alright, you look nice. you know what the red means, no?" he raised an eyebrow. you nodded softly.

"were you serious about matching?" you inquired. finally handing him his glass. he chuckled, leaning back in his chair and hooking his pants with his thumb. he exposed his v-line, flashing his red boxers labeled with the same brand as yours.

"increases your chances."

"for?"

"for a romantic connection. una novia."

time passed by so fast you had not heard the clamor of the other operators preparing to count down to the new decade.

"they're getting ready to count down," you observed, peeking outside. "last chance to join them."

"i'd rather go into the new year here," ryad admitted quietly. "i prefer the quieter festivities." he reached down to his hand, removing a gold ring on his middle finger. he dropped it in with a satisfying splash.

“ten!”

he raised his glass, nodding to you with a smile.

“nine!”

“i’m sorry for being a dick,” he apologized.

“eight!”

“it’s alright,” you answered.

“seven!”

“you’re just so beautiful, y/n.”

“six!”

he moved in closer, and you could feel his hot breath.

“five!”

your eyes flicked to his lips, then to his eyes. you nodded.

“four!”

“to good fortune,” you said.

“three!”

“and to romance,” ryad added, clinking your glasses.

“two!”

“i love you, y/n.”

“one!”

your lips collided following the cheers and shouts. he pulled away, grinning. his mouth made contact with his glass and he took it down in one swig.

“thank you for distracting me from my work,” ryad thanked, looking into your gaze. “i can be a real hijo de perra when i’m behind on personal work.”

“but you just said—“

“it’s better you than anyone else, y/n. happy new year.”

[girlbossgaslightguillermo]

this love lasts so long

(A modern Catradora childhood romance AU)

Adora is cleaning through her old things when she sees the drawings. She doesn’t remember the girl’s face very clearly, but she remembers the feeling of warmth that came with childhood innocence and first love. Catra, she knows. She’d almost forgotten about the girl with the defiant eyes that masked just a little bit of fear. But now as she cleans through her old belongings, cardboard boxes that were never unboxed ten years ago when they had shifted to this city that had been so new to her, she sees the drawings. She’d thought that they had been lost to her forever, but they’re there, a little dusty, and the colours are smudged, but they’re there.

The first one is one of the earlier ones, done in messy crayon and Adora can almost recall the day Catra drew it.

“Catra!” Adora calls, her voice a little unsure. She stumbles around, looking for her friend. “Catra, where are you?” A twig breaks under her foot, and she almost jumps at the sound. She knows Catra is safe, and that Catra can take care of herself, but she worries anyway. She’s always worried about Catra. “Catra, I miss you,” she finally whines, hoping that it will draw her best friend out of whatever new hiding place she’d found.

“Hey, Adora,” comes a voice from above and Adora yelps. Catra quickly jumps from the branch she had been crouching on and Adora tries not to worry. She knows, rationally, that Catra is agile and quick, that she lands lightly on her feet and will not sprain her ankle.

“Adora, do you want to see the drawing I made?” Catra asks and Adora loves her friend in this moment. Catra is so excited, so energetic, and she makes Adora laugh and what more can a seven year old ask for in a friend?

“You know I do,” she replies excitedly as Catra opens her hand to show a piece of paper that’s been folded too many times.

“Look, that’s the tree next to the creek, the old one that you hate! And that’s me, up in a branch teasing you. And that’s you, asking me to come down,” Catra points out. Adora thinks this is the best drawing she’s ever seen. There are squiggly dark lines to show the waves in the water, and at this age, neither of them realise that creeks don’t have waves. The drawing is crude, but the colouring is neat and Adora likes how green everything is, even though in real life, the woods are more brown and yellow.

“Catra, I love it! You’re so good at drawing and colouring,” she says and notices the way her best friend blushes at the compliment, probably ready to dismiss it. Adora likes making Catra blush like this, she thinks it makes Catra happy.

“Yeah, well you can keep it. I don’t think Mom will be very happy about the drawing anyway.” And Adora wonders why Catra’s mother would be sad about a drawing, but she does not say anything. She thanks Catra and beams at her and Catra beams back and that is that.

Adora turns the sheet of paper to see the writing on the back, written in ink in her own shaky handwriting.

Picture me in the trees,

I hit my peak at seven feet.

She remembers now, that she had never been agile, or at least not as agile as Catra used to be. She remembers how she could never climb past seven feet, even as Catra scaled the taller trees with barely a scratch to show for it.

The second picture is a little better. Adora thinks they were eight or nine when this happened.

“Hey, Catra. Do you think we should build a swing on that large, scary tree by the creek?” Adora asks, as she and Catra are sitting near the ixora bushes.

Catra pauses in her flower-crown making. “Yeah! Do you have a tyre we can use? We’ll also need some rope. Do you think you can get some?”

“Yeah, I think we can find some and then we’ll make a big swing and we’ll fly into the sky!” Adora exclaims, waving her hands about in a flying motion and Catra laughs in joy. Adora loves these moments of happiness and she returns to stringing daisies, satisfied now that she’s made Catra laugh again.

They’d never ended up making that swing, not after they realised that they’d need an adult to help out and Catra had been too afraid to ask Shadow Weaver, while Adora didn’t want to bother her new foster parents. After all, she’d only been with them for one and a half years and they could always change their mind about her and she didn’t want to go back to her foster home. But the next day, Catra had shoved a drawing, this drawing, into Adora’s hands. The difference between this one and the older drawing is stark. This one is done with pencil, each line carefully sketched, with much more detail than the previous drawing which had outlines drawn in crayon. Everything is coloured in with colour pencils, and even though Catra and Adora aren’t in this one, Adora remembers how excited she’d been to see the drawing because of how easily she could picture the two of them swinging near the creek. There’s writing on the back of this one too:

I was high, in the sky,

With Etheria under me.

The third drawing is of a tea party in Catra’s house. The drawing is happy enough, but it breaks Adora’s heart, because this was the first time she’d been to Catra’s house.

Catra and Adora are playing at high society, with Catra wrapped up in a thin scarf that she wears like an overflowing skirt. She holds out a teacup, her pinky out, and pretends to sip at her tea. Adora giggles. Eleven years old and the world seems so bright to them.

“Lady Adora of Etheria,” Catra says.

“Lady Catra of the Horde,” Adora replies.

“Hey, how come I’m from the Horde?” Catra asks, with a confused frown, putting down her teacup.

“Well, we can’t be from the same place, can we? There can’t be two ladies in the same city.”

Adora puts down her cup too, eager to talk about the formalities of being a Lady in this fantasy world they’ve created.

“No, I think that’s princesses. Besides, Etheria isn’t a city, dummy. It’s a country. We can both be ladies from Etheria.” Catra says, rolling her eyes at her friend’s naivete.

“We can’t both be princesses of the same place?”

“Well, maybe if we’re married, we can be!”

“Then I change my mind. I want to be princess Adora of Etheria. You can be my wife! Then we’re both princesses.” Catra lights up at this perfect solution to their predicament, but before she can confirm that she loves this idea, there’s the sound of a key turning in a lock and suddenly, Catra shrinks.

“Quick, it’s my Mom,” she says, hurriedly taking off the scarf she had draped around her shorts. She bites her lips, as though bracing for something and Adora can’t quite understand why Catra seems so scared. Adora has never met Catra’s mother, but she has always pictured the woman as someone nice to have raised her best friend.

“Catra, who is this?” comes a biting voice. Catra’s mom sounds cold, almost, but Adora holds her cool and smiles at her anyway.

“Hi, Mrs. Catra! My name’s Adora. I’m Catra’s best friend.” Catra’s mother gives her a sharp look, almost glaring for a second before schooling her expression into one of neutrality and then finally breaking out into a smile.

“Adora, you can call me Shadow Weaver. It’s a pleasure to meet you, dear. I’m so sorry about Catra, she can be quite a nuisance. I’ll tell her not to bother you anymore.” Adora doesn’t think of Catra as a nuisance- why would Shadow Weaver imply that? But she knows when she isn’t wanted so she smiles an uncertain smile at a now gloomy Catra and pretends like she doesn’t hear Shadow Weaver yelling through the door, the words muffled.

At 26, Adora understands this better. She can’t remember any of the details, but she knows now what Catra was going through. She turns the page and sure enough, there’s writing on the back:

I’ve been meaning to tell you,

I think your house might be haunted,

Your mom is always mad,

And that must be why.

Back then, things seemed so much simpler, but equally horrifying. As an adult, Adora knows what was happening was child abuse. As a child, she just hated seeing her friend unhappy and knew that Shadow Weaver made Catra more unhappy than anything else.

The last drawing brings a smile to her face, though. It’s divided into two parts, and is done quite well. The first one depicts them as pirates, and has been outlined in ballpoint pen, so the ink still stands. Each stroke is confident, and Catra has become quite the artist at the age of thirteen. The second one shows them in a foreign setting and is bursting with colour. Neither Catra nor Adora had known what India looked like when Adora suggested they run away there, but they knew it was a place far, far away from Catra’s home and they thought it was a place where they could be happy.

“I wish you lived with me, Catra. Maybe things wouldn’t be that bad, then.” Adora states, sitting behind her friend on the grass. There they are, at the tender age of thirteen, the threshold of childhood and a life that is neither childhood nor adulthood.

“I wish I lived with you too, Adora,” Catra says sullenly, plucking at the grass in front of her. Adora sticks her tongue out as she gathers more strands of Catra’s hair. There they are, at the precipice of so-called womanhood, both of them so unaware of the years that will follow, years of high school and crushes, of studying for college instead of playing around, years that they will spend without each other, milestones that they will not achieve together.

“If things were up to me, we would be pirates! We’d sail the high seas, just you and me and nobody else. I think it would be fun.”

“Well, if it were up to me, we’d run away. Maybe we’ll go somewhere far away, like India.”

“What’s India like?” Adora asks.

“I don’t know,” Catra replies. “Away, I suppose.”

“I think it’d be hot. Well, your braids are done! The right one is a little thicker, but I just learned how to make fishtail braids, so they’re not perfect. But, uh, you look very pretty,” Adora says as Catra turns to face her.

Catra reaches to the back of her head, feeling the rough pattern of her braids with her hand. “I think they’re lovely, Adora. Thank you,” she says, smiling warmly. And Adora knows that this is more than just her liking Catra as a friend. They’ve known each other for six years, and Adora loves Catra.

It happens quick, and isn’t even a real kiss, just two mouths against each other, but Adora thinks, ‘soft’, and Adora thinks, ‘yes’, and Adora thinks, ‘more’. Catra pulls away, but she’s smiling, almost shy.

“I love you,” Adora says.

“You’re such an idiot. But I love you too. I guess, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” And Adora smiles giddily at Catra. She wonders whether this makes them girlfriends. She wonders if two girls can even be girlfriends. She thinks that she wants Catra to be her girlfriend. She knows that she loves Catra in a way that can’t be put into words, the kind that she reads about in folklore.

The next day, Catra hands Adora a drawing and they kiss again. Adora thinks that they’re getting the hang of this kissing thing. It’s less awkward, now. That is the last time they see each other.

Adora doesn’t even realise she’s crying until she sees the tear stain on the page. A few days after the kiss, her foster parents had found out that they wouldn’t be able to keep her, especially now that they were expecting a child. Things had worked out in the end, with Angela and Micah adopting her almost immediately, but she never got to say goodbye. She’d sent letters to Catra, later, and none of them had been returned. She’d forgotten all about the girl she’d loved as a child, but now that she thinks of Catra again, it feels like everything happened just yesterday.

She doesn’t know how long she spends looking at the drawings, and she doesn’t remember when she sat down, but Glimmer finds her curled in on herself. Adora is grateful to her adoptive sister for not asking any questions and simply sitting next to her until Adora can tell her what she wants. Glimmer holds Adora as she cries and lets out her feelings, feelings she thought she’d gained closure over a decade ago.

“Glimmer?”

“Yes, Adora?”

“Do you think you can help me find someone? It’s an old friend from The Horde.”

“Of course, Adora. I’ll ask Bow or Entrapta to get on it.”

Adora smiles shakily and gets up, picking up the pages with her. She keeps them on her new desk, and the last one reads:

Your braids like a pattern,

Love you to the moon and Saturn

Passed down like folk songs

The love lasts so long.