#sometimes i do wish i didn't have like any best friends and only had shallow relationships

[ariestrxsh]

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⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, degradation, humiliation, mean!matt, brattamer!matt, roughdom!matt, mentions of masturbation, enemies to lovers (but without the fluff)

✍️ Summary: ✍️ Your best friends, Nick and Chris, offer to let you come over to use their water while yours is out at your place. The only problem is you and their brother Matt have always absolutely despised each other, and because both Nick and Chris are gone for the night, you're stuck with Matt all alone.

.・✫・゜🚿・。.・✫・゜🚿・。.・✫

hatef--k part one

"Thank you so much for letting me run a load of laundry and shower over here, you guys. You're seriously lifesavers," I told Nick and Chris, emptying my mess of gym and work clothes into the washing machine.

"Of course. Any idea how long your water's gonna be out?" Nick asked me. "No, I wish. They said anywhere from a few hours to a few days" I groaned.

"Well, like I said earlier, anything you need, we got you. Even if you need to stay here until it's back on, you're welcome to," Chris said, packing up his bag to go over to Nate's place for the night.

"That's really sweet of you, Chris. I might take you up on that if it's not back on by the end of the day," I replied. "Yeah, Chris and I won't even be sleeping here tonight, so you can stay in either of our rooms," Nick mentioned.

"Ew, what is she doing here?" Matt said, entering the room, gesturing at me. "Dude, c'mon, her water's out, and she needs a place to stay for a bit," Chris snapped at Matt.

I got along great with Chris and Nick, but Matt and I weren't very fond of each other. I thought he was cocky, disgusting, and rude, and he thought I was bitchy, shallow, and a whore, and it seemed like we couldn't exist in the same space with one another without being at each other's throats. But we often had to be in each other's space because of our mutual love of Nick and Chris.

"Please tell me you're also staying the night somewhere else," I said, rolling my eyes at Matt. "Why? 'Cause you wanna sleep in my bed?" He asked, smiling at me. "Not in a million years," I shot back. "Nope, not going anywhere tonight," he smirked. "Staying right here so I can annoy you as much as you annoy me."

"Oh my god, you guys, don't kill each other while we're gone. My uber is here," Nick said, putting on his sunglasses and strutting out the front door. "Yeah, seriously. Just please pretend you get along for once," Chris begged right before following Nick out.

I scoffed at Matt and walked over to the couch in the living room and started flipping through channels on their TV. "Um, what is your TV broken too?" Matt gave me attitude, grabbing the remote from me. "C'mon Matt. I can't leave at least until my laundry's done, and I need something to do while I wait to move it along," I whined back, reaching for the remote.

"Okay, cool. So you don't mind watching the game with me then?" Matt asked, turning on some sports channel. "Oh my god, so fucking boring. I just wanted to watch The Bachelorette," I groaned at him. "Yeah? Well that sucks. Who wants to watch some pathetic guys all drool over the same girl?" Matt rolled his eyes at me. "I do!" I yelled, making a last desperate attempt to snatch back the remote.

"Yeah, I bet you like that show because you're a little slut, and you're always juggling a bunch of dudes," Matt sneered. "Hey! That's really mean," I said in a genuinely hurt tone. "Not my fault that it's true," Matt responded harshly.

Sometimes, when Matt would say things like that to me, which was fairly often, it would make me feel a certain type of way that was hard to pinpoint. I was authentically disgusted and got my feelings hurt, but sometimes I'd feel a sensation of yearning in my core, and I didn't fully understand it. It was similar to being turned on, but it was accompanied by all these gross feelings of humiliation and anger, so I tried not to look into it much.

"You know, I just haven't found anyone worth committing to. Doesn't make me a whore," I defensively responded. "Whatever. Why do you care what I think? Is it cause you want me?" Matt smirked. "Absolutley not," I answered, following it up with a gagging sound.

"Yeah, is that how you'd sound, choking on me?" Matt laughed. "Ew, you're sick!" I shouted, storming out of the room. I decided to take a nice, long, hot, everything shower to cleanse myself of Matt's deranged behavior and how sick he made me feel.

I had everything I needed with me already - my razor, my body wash, my shampoo and conditioner, my entire skin care bag, and a towel, along with a change of clothes. I was still in what I'd worn to the gym earlier, and it was nice to finally shed off all my layers and feel the hot water hitting the back of my head and running down the rest of my body.

While I was shaving my legs, I thought I heard someone rustling around in the bathroom with me. "Matt?" I asked. "Chill, I'm just grabbing something. I'll be out of here in a minute," he said. "Fuck you, Matt. Whatever it is, it can wait. I'm in the middle of something here," I complained.

"What? Are you touching yourself?" Matt snickered at me. "Ew gross! I could never do that while I'm in the same house as you. Just get the fuck out. I'm trying to enjoy my shower," I felt myself growing red. I did feel a bit of wetness between my legs as I went to clean myself, but I certainly couldn't do anything about it now. I wouldn't let Matt be right about anything if I could help it.

After shaving and scrubbing just about every inch of myself, I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. I went to reach for my towel and realized it was missing. And so were my clothes? "Matt!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, rifling through the different cabinets and shelves in the bathroom. The fucking pervert took anything I had to cover myself with when he was in here.

"You fucking asshole! Bring me my towel and my clothes!" I shouted out the bathroom door. "You didn't bring clothes or a towel into the bathroom with you? God, you really are a little slut!" Matt yelled back from a few rooms away.

"Not funny, Matt. C'mon. There's nothing for me to dry off with in here!" I yelled. "Well, I guess you're gonna have to come in here and get your towel," Matt responded. "Can you bring it to me?"

"Nope, sorry. In the middle of a game." "I'm not gonna wait 'til you're done with your game. Bring me my towel, jackass!" "That's no way to talk to someone who has the power to either bring you or not bring you your towel. You can always come in here and get it," Matt taunted me.

Fuck. "Fine, I'll wait here patiently 'til your game is over. Just please bring me my towel soon."

A few minutes later, I heard Matt's voice outside the bathroom door. I cracked it open and peered out at him. He was standing about six feet away from me, holding my folded towel. "Here you go," he smiled smugly at me, barely making an attempt to entend his arm. "My arms aren't that long, Matt. Please bring it to me," I reached my hand out, hiding my naked body behind the door. "No, you can meet me halfway," Matt teased.

I found myself getting so undeniably wet at this. I couldn't understand it. How was it that Matt, who was clearly very disturbed and also a fucking asshole, had me sexually excited over the fact that he was trying to humiliate me and see me naked.

"Fuck you, Matt," I said coming out from behind the door and trying to snatch the towel from him. He held it up in the air out of my reach. "You're such a dick, you know that? What? Is this what you wanted to see?" I said, giving up on getting the towel back and gesturing towards my body.

Matt couldn't help but to glance up and down my body and nibbled on his lip as he tried his hardest to contain his grin. "Why the fuck would I wanna see that? You're the one basically throwing yourself at me," Matt handed me my towel, winked at me, and walked away.

"Where did you put my clothes, Matt?" I said, wrapping my towel around me. "What clothes?" He rolled his eyes at me. "Not fucking funny. The only clothes that I have that are clean right now. Give them to me," I demanded. "No, I think you look better in that towel," he smiled at me.

"Perv," I called him. "I might be a perv, but you like it," he responded. "No, I don't," I quickly answered. "There's only one way for me to find out," Matt looked at me with a dark look in his eyes. "I bet you're wet right now, because you're a little whore, and you love being teased and showing off your body."

"I am not!" I argued back. "Let's make this interesting. Prove it to me, and if you're telling the truth and you're not wet, I'll do whatever you want," Matt said, "and if I'm right and you are wet down there, then you have to let me eat you out."

"Oh my god you're so gross, Matt," I pushed him back gently. "What do you want if you win our little game?" Matt replied. "You have to be nice to me for a month," I stated, "and you have to give me my clothes you took and finish the rest of my laundry while I go home and enjoy the rest of my night alone."

"Okay, deal," Matt said, reaching for the bottom of my towel and slowly pushing it up. I wasn't a religious person, but in that moment, I prayed that I wasn't wet enough for Matt to be able to tell. I bit my lip and held back a moan as he brushed his finger between my folds.

"Wow, naughty girl. You are wet," Matt observed. "Fuck you, Matt," I answered, my face reddening. "I knew you were touching yourself in the shower," he whispered back, continuing to run his fingers over my wetness. "No, I swear, I really wasn't," I responded, slowly losing my focus as Matt played with me.

"You mean, you got this wet and you didn't even touch yourself? You really are turned on, you dirty little whore," Matt growled back to me. "I hate it when you call me that," I moaned.

"You hate it? Your wet pussy is telling me otherwise," Matt teased me. "Sorry, correction, I fucking hate you," I lashed out. "I think you fucking love to hate me," Matt said, tilting my chin up with his finger. I pushed him again. I watched as something in his demeanor changed, the way his features darkened and became more serious.

He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder while my towel barely clung to my body. I protested and started hitting his back as he carried me into his room, but I secretly couldn't wait for him to have his way with me.

part two posted here 💖

[mangodestroyer]

I would like to have some irl friends. Unfortunately, I live in a small town. I can't think of where I can meet people, unless I do volunteer, find an lgbtq+ group, or some other thing that I apparently wasn't in the know about. It's been four years since I've had any kind of relationship with another person that was irl and healthy. I've grown distant with some friends, and my best friend has moved away four years ago and the connection just isn't feeling all that strong anymore.

I have a lot of anxieties holding me back. I constantly think about how bad things were with my ex roommate, for one. Of all the roommates I could have had, I ended up with one who was annoying, arrogant, and rude (but not what I'd consider toxic), and another who was boundary pushing, emotionally abusive, manipulative, and a pathological liar. My ex gf was also toxic, just in a different way. And with both of these people, I ignored some serious redflags, my gut feeling, and their odd behaviors and concerning patterns. I've done much to try and heal, fix my own bad behaviors (I admit, I wasn't perfect, maybe I was toxic too and that's why I attracted toxic people), and learn what to look out for in potential friendships and partners. A part of me feels like I've grown and learned my lesson. That I'm ready to start meeting new people and they will be healthy. Another part of me worries that I might let it happen again.

Work is an obvious no-go. I wish work could be like school, where you could actually be authentic with people and not worry about losing your job over backstabbing co-workers. I used to be myself a lot more when I was at work. Now I've learned to develop a work personality because my autistic self wasn't doing it. Not that I see a problem with keeping things shallow as you get to know people. I used to not understand small talk and fake work personalities. Now I realize that they're tools to help you analyze others while protecting the vulnerable parts of yourself. I'm not saying I'd act so fake on a first date. I'd approach that differently. I've started asking other people more questions about themselves because I think I didn't used to do that nearly as much as I should have. And I'm doing much better to keep certain information to myself until an actual connection is formed (a new friend or partner doesn't need to know my deepest, darkest secrets, or even if I suffer from anxiety or whatever).

Maybe it's also just fears of compatibility. Getting discouraged if it turns out I just don't click with a lot of people. It used to be easier, when I was in high school (but even then, I look back and realize that outside of a couple people, maybe some people were just being polite around me). Now, my standards are higher, and I feel like my interests are too weird and specific. Also, neurodiversity ruins my communication style and I think many people, the older they get, just get turned off by that. Which may be another part of why I get left with desperate and/or toxic individuals.

Could it just be bad luck? Maybe. But at this point, I know with 90% certainty that it's probably me. Idk if things will change now that I've changed some things about myself, and my approach, but my expectations are low. My self-esteem tends to fluctuate. Like, I know I deserved better than the way I was treated, but at the same time, the way I was treated is the reason I sometimes lack confidence. And I'm still heartbroken over the fact that I thought someone actually appreciated and loved me so deeply, for one and a half years, only to realize that, no, they probably didn't and were making the whole thing up. It only feels like a confirmation of the things my brother would tell me growing up. Same with the way my roommate treated me. It's exactly how my brother told me people felt about me.

Again, it's because of those experiences that I just want to keep things shallow at first, and take it very slowly. But it's also why I have all these anxieties now. And resentment. I know that's likely not doing anything to help, but it's hard not to be resentful at times. Even if you're happy for other people's successes, it's hard not to get frustrated that things won't work out for yourself. And I know that I'm not entitled to a healthy, loving relationship with someone, but it's still hard not to harbor resentment when you either get rejected or end up with people who are unhealthy. And also, I loath jealousy and think it's an ugly quality to have, when expressed so openly and viciously. And that's why I hate it so much when I start to get jealous. I try hard not to be open about it, but sometimes, I just want people to stop talking when they keep going on and on about how pretty, cool, intelligent, etc. this one particular person is. Like goodness, shouldn't people be allowed to have something going for them? It's great that they have those things, on top of people who clearly want to be around them. I know what it's like to have someone shit on your parade when something goes well for you. It's not fun.

I wish this wasn't a big deal for me. I do have other things going on. Things are looking up. I have a shot to make my life better. But why do I have to be such a loser when it comes to interpersonal relationships? Not even the worst people I know mess it up this bad.

[karomiiz]

why is it so hard talking to humans 🙃

[lovee-infected]

hi! could i see your insights about ace? i saw a anon say from another blog that kinda has unrealistic expectations in a relationship and it kinda stuck with me. i mean in his ghost marriage he already knows the things he wants in a partner but he didn't show guilt about dumping his girlfriend, even. i think if you date him because he sees these quality in you and as the relationship last, he'll dump you if you get boring to him lol

I never thought that I'd say this but, wow, I'm impressed. I've been really curious about Ace since I get to see a variety of different content with different representations of his personality, so I decided to stick with his canon stories and lines. This analysis was so much fun to write and I'd assure you all that not only Ace but rather all of the first year characters are WAY more than they seem to be! Many just decide to ignore them and pass away, calling them good boys or precious stupid beanies at first.

Speaking of Ace, we've all seen how trending he's been recently. Many theories, thoughts and new arguments exist through the fandom as many want to get to know this boy better.

Theories like "Ace's betrayal theory" as well have been mentioned a lot lately, some agree and some disagree. While we aren't going to talk about that theory or any other theories in this analysis, I'd like to take time to talk about the reasons why those theories might seem appealing and accurate. In other words, we're going to talk about where they are coming from!

1) Ace is incredibly smart and brave

It's true that characters like Jade or Azul's remarkable genius often stands out as it's clearly visible through their presence in the game, from iconic decisions to stunning strategies. But what we need to realize is how characters like Ace can be just as inspiring while their true intelligence is often shallowed by extras and giving them much of a dumb picture in the game.

To begin with, let us note that Ace's brother himself was one of the considerably strong magicians in Heartslabyul's history and even his presence through the magicshift is still remarkable even though years has passed. As the second child of the family, Ace's change to achieve success is even higher than his brother's as he already has a role model he really looks up to, so in that point Ace isn't one to underestimate. But, let me point that his relationship with his brother also contains lots of jealousy and sometimes negativity. His brother was one to always trick Ace and he continues to do so even nowadays! Ace on the other hand doesn't enjoy being pissed off over and over even as he's used to it. Well, we can say that it's another reason for him to train his hardest and become a greater magician than his brother therefore he won't be the bully material of the Trappola household anymore.

Regardless of how effective his brother might've been on him, Ace himself has shown plenty of strong hints that reveal not only his high IQ but also EQ:

He can solve math problems in second, which is a rather important feature to note because the way you deal with math can directly effect the way you deal with life. Not saying that one has to be great at math to be great at something else but it's rather about the perspective and ability of logical thinking that it gives to one. I'd say that this effect is quite visible if you take a look at the way he speaks in serious situations; he's got much of an analytical brain. Let's not forget that Cater as well confirmed that he's much of a skill stealer, is pretty good at remembering things and is a quick thinker! These are go on to show how much of an underestimated genius he is.

Whenever something goes wrong, Ace would be the first one to notice it even if it's a silly matter. And it always begins with a seemingly childish argument, but ends incrucial matters that not a single soul had noticed before! Just take a look at chapter one, what would've happened if Ace hadn't spoken up? He was just one of the hundreds of students having to be severely punished under Riddle's strict rules and he surely wasn't the first one to go through this. Him taking the urge to fight Riddle sounded stupid and naïve at first, many even told him off because he was just acting like a pissed off child. But as he continued to argue and oppose toward Riddle's way as a leader, even Trey realized how he's been keeping his eye shut on all this problems for so long. The way Ace stood against Trey was iconic, he confidently defended his point not by his personal demands and feelings but with facts and logical comments on why Trey's way of threatening Riddle is wrong. He did the same thing again at he ghost marriage, just think of it! Not a single soul ever cared to tell the bride about true love but Ace was there, and he was the one and only to do this after more than 500 years of the bride's existence! This Ace, this serious and mature face of Ace is something that can surely fascinate anyone. His bravery, the way he puts all that strength through words, hisextremely logical point of view and his enthusiasm to solve the problems no matter how unimportant they seem to be is indeed appreciatble. Seriously though, what would've happened to Riddle is Ace wasn't there? When Ace firstly begun to oppose to him, everyone thought that is was just a childish argument. They had no idea how severe and destructive Riddle's temper issues were and how harmful they were down inside.

2) He's one of the dumbest characters in the whole game

You know what? He is dumb. Yes he's incredibly smart but this isn't going to change the fact that he is dumb as hell, so I'm never going to argue when someone's nagging on how much of an idiot he is. But most importantly, we need to know what's making him so dumb:

His presence through the stories has proved that Ace is eventually pretty good at detecting the main source of problems both on the mental and physical side. He was the first to realize Riddle's issues, Trey's huge mistake with Riddle, Ghost bride's unawareness and Epel's gloomy and sad aura in chapter 4. Ace's also one to easily tell whether what someone is doing is wrong or not, he can see through people and bring their mistakes to their attention. The problem is... he can't be quite the same with himself. That's what makes him awfully dumb.

Back in chapter one, he did have a point about Riddle's way of leadership being so unfair and messed up, but when he decided to challenge Riddle and even take his place as the dorm leader he was a total idiot who didn't how weak and unpractical his own magic was, he was being too dramatic. When he talked about his ex girlfriend, he just talked about how she held him back from doing what he wanted and was too uncool to spend time with, but he didn't mention a single thing about himself doing anything wrong in that relationship. He often fails to realize that he's got his own incompleteness and lacks just like anyone else, or prefers to put an blind eye to them most of the time (not all of the time)

Ace sets the perfect goals, but chooses the wrong path to achieve them. He needs to realize that just like everyone else, he can be sometimes wrong. He should take his time to get to know himself better; his abilities, his attitude, his faults and his mistakes and learn to be more patient and logical in order to achieve his goals. He's still young an inexperienced, by learning to put that brilliance of him into the perfect use he'd be able to become the great magician he wishes to be, and I'd say that in case that he continues to grow stronger and smarter, he'll have a high chance of being hesrtslabyul's next dorm leader!

3) He legit wants to be the "Ace"

This part's more of an attempt to do a name analyis and see how much it's been effective on Ace's personality. It actually makes a lot of snese since the word "Ace" itself has several meanings, and he used these different terms quite a few times in his personal stories. This point would also be explained in part (4) so for now, let's take a look at direct name definitions:

First of, remember what what an Ace is in a card game? "A playing card with a simple spot on it, ranked as the highest card in its suit" This goes on to tell us a lot, it's telling us what an Ace is. A loner yet the most powerful one of its own, just like how Ace wants to be.

Wanting to be an actuall Ace is definitely one of the things that sometimes makes Ace sound so jerky and he's aware of it! If you give it a closer look, you'll see that Ace doesn't really treat his friends like friends, especially with Deuce and Grim. He's often insulting or challenging them, and even during his birthday SSR when MC asked him about what he thinks of each of other first years (Who are basically his closest friends) he mainly criticized them and all, not a single word was said about things he likes about them and he didn't even call any of them his friend!

Well that's much of a jerky attitude to have toward people whom you spend almost all of your time with, especially your best of time.

He to play the role of the bad guy, the type to hang out with everyone without feeling any attached to them as even friends. Seems like our boy is trying to be a loner, a true Ace of cards and hearts. And he doesn't mind his friends calling him a bastard or jerk because of this. It's even confirmed that he's more of the popular guy type therefore he's mainly used to having people around!

On the other hand, he's trying his best to achieve success no matter what the obstacles are. It's true that he often messes up and fails, but we cannot say that he isn't trying. He almost lost his head for real during his SSR story where Riddle's favorite hedgehogs were lost because of Ace's impatience, but at last with the help of monsieur Rook and his own ability to imitate Rook's mole language skills Ace saved his neck one more time, and ended his story with a dramatic "Of course, I always Ace it!"

4) Ace does care, but pretends that he does not

In contrast to the fact that he wants to sound tricky,manipulative and mean, or how he's denying his friends' true worth to him like stated in part (3), Ace is probably one of the most caring and supportive characters in the game. Not saying that he's just as bright as someone like Kalim, but his way of seeing through people and wishing them to be better, wealthier and happier than they already are is surely something. This fact is often ignored because, well...everyone's too busy calling him either dumb or sus/ jk!

Just imagine having a friend or at least, a classmate you know like Ace. How's he supposed to be? He'd realize it when someone's bullying/bothering/ or intentionally harming you, and he isn't going to be silent about it. If you see that you're permanently sad, angry, rude or loud then again he'd speak up, he isn't going to just pull up with anyone's unhealthy habit like nothing's happened. He's got much of a big brain as well so you should expect him to say a bunch of helpful and meaningful stuff when he's using that brain, mainly in serious situations. He may not be a permanently mutual to have around, but when the troubles arrive, know that having Ace around is always an advantage.

To top it off, he's even shown sympathy toward people whom he seemed to like the least at first like Riddle; he wishes Riddle to be happier, to smile more, to be more open about his emotions with other students. At some point he even admits that he looks up to him, he used to overestimate his powers and challenged Riddle, but during the ghost marriage he said that he knows how powerful and strong Riddle is, therefore he should work his hardest to study and train to become strong just like him! He already seems to be more cheerful and bright when MC is talking to him, but when it comes to Grim and Deuce...it gets quite complicated. What we see the most is often Ace insulting them or saying that he's going to kick their asses, but they're also his closest friends all though he refuses to admit to it.

Just wait for Deuce or Grim to get in a serious danger or pain, and see how much of a protective one Ace can be! He isn't going to remain silent when one is in danger, but he's surely going to deny all that effort and affection he gave into action afterwards. When Ace can feel this cautious and understanding toward Riddle, someone who isn't even a friend of his then imagine how supportive and caring he would be toward his close friends like Deuce, MC and Grim!

In his ghost marriage as well, his words and the way he spoke of the meaning of true love left everyone, even Crowley, impressed (Crowley even said that he's fallen in love with this side of Ace's personality), but refused to admit that he was speaking of his true feelings after the ceremony. Someone like Grim is too bold to recognize how much of a different person Ace can be inside, so he claimed that Ace was just rambling nonsense without thinking of what he was saying back then, and Ace agreed with him! This is a continuation to part (3) where we talked about how he wants to be a loner, he doesn't want anyone to see how caring and sometimes, emotional he can be inside! Poor boy is quite shy showing his true feelings we can tell~

5) Ace can be quite tricky and manipulative

This part will also explain some of the main reasons behind famous theories like "Ace's betrayal theory", and I wanted to have a certain part to talk about this point specifically because it's been quite trending through the whole fandom, and many are wondering why theorizers are considering his betrayal a possibility, so here we go!

As said, one of the main factors the makes Ace seem suspicious would be his incredible intelligence. The fact that he can actually be that smart all the time but isn't openly showing his talents and abilities can be quite questionable, more details regarding his intelligence and most likely high IQ and EQ were discussed in part (1)!

Enough with intelligence, let's focus on his personality! This is mainly what this part is talking about, his trickiness. Just like his father and older brother, Ace is pretty good with magic tricks. Small and fun tricks are a convenient yet easy ways to inspire others and Ace doesn't mind showing the crowd what he's got up in sleeve when possible. But the thing is...this isn't just about fancy tricks.

This ability can be expanded into any other field such as mental terms and enable him to indirectly control and play with one's mind. That's more of a possibility though! He hasn't yet shown any signs of being any manipulative but, well, we can't say that it's beyond his abilities. Ace himself can be quite sarcastic and mean at the time, he doesn't seem to mind slightly tricking his friends either. Nothing about him seems to be serious, but the possibilities remain still.

The way he learnt those tricks as well is mentionable; no one ever teached himm any of those tricks, he learnt them through being repeatedly tricked, and learning to copy and redo what he saw. Both Rook and Cater so far have confirmed that Ace's ability to learn so quickly and learn and redo techniques just by watching them is fantastic.

His genius and ability to learn and memorize everything that he needs to learn pretty fast, along side his tricky and sometimes personality can make Ace quite dangerous. If someone like him decides to choose such a remarkable talent for evil purposes, that's surely going to be bad news. That's much and less of what makes Ace's betrayal theory make sense although there're still fans who find it quite questionable. I'm not a supporter of this theory myself as I hadn't seen any signs of Ace having any bad intentions so far, but I do get where the theorizers are coming from and that makes sense. Ace has been trying to put on much of a mean and lowkey evil face on through the story and no one can really say what's exactly going on in that brain. We'll that about this uncertainty in part (7)!

6) His past relationship was...uh

For now, Ace is the only character who is confirmed to have experience in love and relationships, and this was a rather effective factor since many have been talking about Ace's past relationship afterwards. The thing is...Ace did talk about how his girlfriend held him back from having fun and living the life he wanted to live. Well there's actually a lot we should say about this one so I'm not gonna rush to the end, let's think about all of the aspects of this situation logically:

First of, the relationship itself. I'd say that it was a wrong attempt for them to date each other in the first place because obviously, Ace and his girlfriend weren't made for each other. They were total opposites in interests and they couldn't even have fun together. If Ace chose to go on a wild roller coater ride, the girl would've freaked out and when she chose a small, childish ride that she liked Ace instead didn't enjoy it at all. It's surely an issue when you and your partner can't even watch a movie which both of you can enjoy together since their tastes were totally different, just jow was this relationship going to last? Ace wasn't happy, and if he was going to do what made him happy the girl in return would've been sad. They were two different people of two different points, dating at this point was nothing but a mistake.

On the other hand, Ace as well is guilty. First off, she shouldn't have dated the girl in the first place if he was aware of how different her tastes were. Second, from what he said he never showed any signs of dissatisfaction when he had to give up on what he liked to listen to what the girl friend liked. The girl friend obviously told him that she was scared of a horror movie, but Ace just kept his mouth shut and felt awfully annoyed as he watched a romance movie with her while he didn't like it at all. If he'd at least told her girlfriend about this, she wouldn't have felt as injured and cheated when Ace broke up with her. Ace shouldn't have bottled it up, he deserved to enjoy the relationship just as much as the girl did. He shouldn't have expected things to get any better if he wasn't going to solve anything about it in the first place. If he'd talked about his personal desires and favorites as well, and had his uncomfortableness with most of the girl's choices discussed before hand, there could've been a chance of them coming into a conclusion and even not breaking up! The girl could've tried to be braver for him, and Ace could've agreed to be softer because of her. There would've been a HUGE difference if they'd talked about it logically.

Also, keep this in mind that the girl had no idea about Ace's uncomfortableness which was low key naïve of her (It's not cool when you don't even realize that your boyfriend doesn't like something) but this also made him awfully unprepared for a break up! Ace should've st least talked about his feelings and how he was unable to continue that relationship with her instead of just dropping her out of nowhere. That would've also decreased the chance of having to deal with the girl's friends after wards!

Finally, let's say that this relationship was wrong in too many aspects. They weren't each other's type, and we can't really blame Ace for dropping someone whom he couldn't be happy with. The main of being in a relationship is spending time with someone whom you can enjoy your time with. He as well was guilty because he can't just drop the girl like he just didn't care and had gotten tired of her while he had his own reasons for dropping her, he should've let the girl know that it wasn't necessarily her fault, it was about Ace not being able to relate to her tastes and habits.

Also, let's be honest. Not much is expected when a 15 year old is dating. Being in a relationship is an awfully sensitive and important choice and someone like Ace hasn't reached that level of maturity to be ready to date someone, let alone doing it at his 15s! Honestly... they should've learnt a lot before dating each other because it isn't a silly thing. Dating like this is nothing but playing around for a while for fun, it's a childish game of spending some time together until they break up.

For now, Ace is finds love quite silly and meaningless so we can clearly see that his past relationship has pissed him off. Well Ace needs to realize that his relationship with his ex wasn't a serious one, so it's normal for it to seem unimportant and silly. He needs to learn a lot without dating someone again, such as knowing how crucial it is to make sure that his hobbies would match his partners, to make sure tjat they get along, and simply, he needs to find his own type! Not all people are made for each other, and he isn't supposed to fall for anyone with any possible personality that pops up on his way.

Also, I'd say that he still needs to focus on studying instead of dating. He needs to reach the required level of maturity to be ready to start a healthy and successful relationship again. Also, he might end up being totally different from what we've seen about him being in a relationship do far when he grows up! Idealistics do change a lot olin teenagehood.

7) We need to talk about our first years a lot more!!!

This point isn't just about him, but rather all of the first years! If I were to rate the most ignored and shallowed personalities of twst, the first years should've gone on the top of this list. Even when we're speaking of the mischaracterized characters of the game, many consider Ace and Deuce to be the least mischaracterized while they happen to be the most mischaracterized as no one evencares to see through them and feel like we aren't mischaracterizing them just because we're ignoring them! Come on guys, Ace's design and personality is a lot more complicated and harder to read than characters like Vil and even Leona!

Out of all first years Sebek was the only one to get some proper shout outs so far but why isn't anyone talking about Ace and Deuce the way they deserve to be talked about? Their presence through the game is even more important than the dorm leaders as they are the closest characters to MC, and their personality design is just incredible, no just because of how perfectly detailed it is, but also because of giving them this unpredictability and incompleteness which totally matches their age!

Studies have shown that judging one's personality based on how they're doing at the age of 16 or younger is prettyhard and impossible, and it's a totally serious fact. At the age of 16, human's personality is under severe effects and changes until reaching it's final-developed shape. That's accurate toward almost all of the first years except Jack since he seems to have more of a mature personality.

NRC's first years are really complicated, especially a character like Ace. That why I said that we can't yet tell if he's a good guy or not, because at this level of life he can choose to be anything. He can be good, he can be bad, he can be neutral. That's why he's showing too much of opposite actions at the moment. One second he's being the biggest idiot in the whole world, the other second he's planning like a 50 year old genius. One second he's being protective over his friends, the other second he sighs and tells MC how annoying they are.

That's why Ace is hard to read, we can't tell what his true feelings are until he reaches the required mental stability to be judged as a mature and complete personality. 18 year olds like Vil have already reached that level of maturity and completeness, finding their unique magics as well is another sign of it. But our first years still need to learn and experience until they find their real selves, to see who they are.

This is one of the most adorable facts about their design because they really gave him this young and wild and incomplete nature to show that they're still young! This is quite incredible how careful Yana was to remember that they all needed some this childishness in their design, their designs are just as accurate and realistic as a real 16 year old's! They still need to learn, and that's why they're the closest ones to MC.

MC needs to learn and get to see more and more of this world, and so do the first years! They're just as unexperienced and new to this world, and they can relate to MC better than anyone else can!

So please, from now on, let's remember to talk about not only Ace, but also all of the first years more often. Ace and Deuce's designs especially are the most detailed and beautiful ones if you take time to know them better. Remember that after the 7 dorm leaders, Ace and Deuce's roles as the protagonist's closest allies are the most crucial in the game, so let's not just decide to ignore all these creative features and pass by them without thinking how much they can mean.

Woah, this one was quite harder to write than I'd expected! There are way too many things to say about him which made me have to summarize this into just this 7 parts for now. Ace is surely and odd yet interesting one to study, even more interesting than usually famous characters like Leona and Azul, which is partly because of how unpredictable he is!

[y0itsbri]

gallavich week 2021 - day 2 - fantasy au w/ inspo from this wonderful prompt list by @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

You're Not Getting Cold Fins Now, Are Ya?

word count: 6.3k

(click on art for better quality)

Mickey truly enjoyed being a fisherman. He liked the solitude that came with the job -- no one on his ass trying to tell him what to do or that what he's doing was wrong when it definitely wasn't. He was always a resourceful little bastard, and his confidence at sea was not unwarranted. He knew how to do shit, and how to do shit right -- crewmates be damned. Nothing but him and the water, just the way he liked it.

He often sold his fish at the market in the small coastal town where he and his sister, Mandy, reside. Her charisma luring customers to their stand, promising the best of the best -- and it wasn't even a lie anymore. Lately, Mickey's produce was the freshest and somehow the most beautiful, catching somewhat exotic fish with vibrant colors that none of the other fishermen were able to attract. Mandy had once trapped him in the corner, demanding answers to questions like how on earth he alone could come up with all this? She thought he was secretly a pirate, raiding other ships, stealing their best, and dumping the rest -- you can't fucking afford to go to jail again, dumbass! Time after time, he reassured her that it was just dumb fucking luck until she caved and let him go, not withholding a dubious glare. Despite what he told her, and even told himself, he was a bit suspicious. He was not a lucky man.

With an ungraceful leap, he had heaved himself out of his boat, the water well deeper than his knees, but his overalls keeping him as dry as he could be. His beef jerky strip hanged out of his mouth as he marveled towards the tree line in front of him. If he didn't feel so damn calm, he might have been a bit frightened at his new surrounding -- but it felt right. He also felt like he was being watched. His eyes scanned past the trees and over to the rocky ledge where water was splashing high and mighty, creating a silvery mist. He saw a patch of orange-ish red shimmering against the water. It was surely too shallow for any fish or octopus that size to be this close to shore. He turned around to make sure he boat was firmly anchored this time before he ventured over to the rocks. But as soon as he turned around again, the orange thing had disappeared. Huh.

With an ungraceful leap, he had heaved himself out of his boat, the water well deeper than his knees, but his overalls keeping him as dry as he could be. His beef jerky strip hanged out of his mouth as he marveled towards the tree line in front of him. If he didn't feel so damn calm, he might have been a bit frightened at his new surrounding -- but it felt right. He also felt like he was being watched. His eyes scanned past the trees and over to the rocky ledge where water was splashing high and mighty, creating a silvery mist. He saw a patch of orange-ish red shimmering against the water. It was surely too shallow for any fish or octopus that size to be this close to shore. He turned around to make sure he boat was firmly anchored this time before he ventured over to the rocks. But as soon as he turned around again, the orange thing had disappeared. Huh.

Mickey sat himself in the sand, reveling in the feeling of being on land again. As often as he flipped between land and sea, the difference never failed to startle him. He dragged his hands through the sand, feeling like some fancy exfoliator Mandy was always trying to get him to use. He was adamantly watching the colorful rocks bead through his fingertips. A larger stone caught in his palm. He held it up to the sun where it was peeking out from behind the clouds. At first glance, it looked like any other stone -- kind of a boring sea foam color, but in the sun, it sparkled like green embers. He rested the stone atop his knee and turned his attention to a bird squawking from the rocks. Noisy fucker. He furrowed his eyebrows wondering what could have happened for the bird to cause such a fuss. Stuck in his tangle of thoughts and oblivious to the world, a wave swept over him -- even above his overalls.

Mickey leapt up in surprise, "Motherfuck-!" In all his joust movements, he managed his lose the stone... and his dignity. He didn't have a spare change of clothes on his boat because it was supposed to be a short trip. He didn't plan on falling asleep and ending up on an island god-knows-where. So there he sat, pouting, in just his boxers and hat while he let the remainder of his clothes air dry with what little sun there was. He could've sworn he heard someone laughing at him -- giggling, even. He glared towards the squawking bird before determining it was his own paranoia. Mandy had him do all that therapy shit awhile back, so he knows how he can get sometimes and how it's a 'trauma response' or some bullshit that actually made a hell of a lot of sense now that he thought about it.

He pulled out an orange from the front pocket of his overalls, still half damp in the sand. He nibbled on it, tossing his peels as far into the tide as he could, watching it float... float... disappear. Whatever creature was down there must really fuckin' like oranges. It was quick, but exciting none-the-less. Mickey no longer felt sluggish like his impromptu nap that landed him on this island might have suggested. He felt alive.

The sun placement told him that it was time to head back if he had any chance of making it back to the coast before sundown. Fuck! His fish! He picked up his clothes and half-jogged half-stumbled back to his boat, expecting the fish he had caught earlier in the day to have gotten tainted by now. He shoved his legs into his mostly-dry overalls and waded out to his boat. To his surprise, the fish looked good -- almost better than when he caught them.

Now Mickey may not be the most observant, but even he knew something was a little suspicious (something a little fishy is going on here🤔). If he didn't know then, he definitely knew when he turned to see the green ember stone -- his stone -- resting on top of his ice box. The fuck? He picked up the stone, smoothing over it's edges with his thumb, leaving a sparkling trail where his fingers had just touched. So it wasn't just from the sunlight, interesting. He secured the rock inside the zipper pocket on his overalls, then double checking to make sure it was still there. Whatever force on his side might be into second chances, but he didn't want to test his new luck with third chances.

He really had to get going now. He gave the island a once over as he pulled out his map, subtly marking his new uncharted oasis. This was something else.

--

Since his initial discovery, Mickey had come back to the island several times, and all the more prepared. He kept spare clothes on him at all times now, in case the tide one again decided to have a personal vendetta against him and his overalls -- which of course it had. He also brought more beef jerky, tools, and a tent. He was determined to see more than just the coast the next time he returned.

He had told Mandy that he was going to stop at another port for the night so as not to wait up for him that evening, which wasn't unheard of. With the amount of overnight stays on his isolated island as of lately, however, Mandy thought he had a secret lover a few ports over, teasing and making kissy faces at him whenever she could. "Who is she, Mick? Oh, c'mon, I tell you about my hookups!" "Yeah, and I wish you fuckin' didn't." "Whatever, anyways, she's gotta have a name. Wait! Oh my god! He? Is it a guy? Mickey!" "Mandy, no." She could be annoying as hell when she wanted to, but she mostly knew when to stop.

As much as Mickey denied a secret lover, there was definitely a secret something, but he couldn't place his finger on exactly what it was. He knew there was like the red-ish, orange-ish glow that flickered beneath the surface of the water. And he knew there was feelings. Which sounded weird as hell -- even to himself. He should have just played along with Mandy's hookup in another port theory. Hell, he should find a hookup in another port. That would be a lot simpler than whatever this was. But he just couldn't get himself to stay away from this mystical island. His fish business was doing better than ever, so he had no real excuse to stay away.

He had managed to map out the geography and topography of the island after a few visits -- Mickey knew his shit. No one lived on this island. It looked like no one has ever lived on this island. It was a small, and it was beautiful, but he still couldn't find the source of whatever force drew him here -- at least when he was actively searching for it. He continued throwing his orange peels in the ocean to be devoured by his... friend? He tried to throw his apple cores in, but his creature was apparently not a fan. He didn't blame them, to be honest.

He began to talk to himself and even sing to himself more and more on the island. He thought he may have heard the laughter again, and even some off-key humming or whistles along to his tunes. Mickey didn't even care if it was the paranoia or if he was having some odd hallucination at this point. He just felt entirely too good.

--

Which is why he didn't see it coming. If he hadn't been so distracted by this siren-like callings, he would have noticed the storm coming. He was Mickey fucking Milkovich, damnit. He knew his shit! Which is why he knew that he could secure the boat as best as humanly possible, and it still wouldn't survive the storm surge unscathed. He hoped that whatever force looking out for him would look out for his boat. He said a quick prayer -- and he wasn't religious by any means -- as he double checked to make sure he had his 'lucky' stone, his backpack, and his map, then hiked inland where he knew there was a cave for shelter.

He had escaped the start of the downpour, but only barely. The dark clouds loomed overhead, chasing out any hopes of a light, easy rain. Mickey huddled against the inner wall of the cave, nibbling at one of his jerky strips, and cursing the lack of cell phone signal on this fucking island that doesn't even fucking exist according to any map he's ever fucking seen. To say he was having a bad day was an understatement. He couldn't do much but wait, and he quickly fell asleep to the pitter patter of the water dripping outside the cave.

He awoke to a sharp burning on his chest. The fuck?! His so-called 'lucky' stone was hot. And glowing. And so was most of the other rocks in the cave. Now this was definitely something. The stones obviously did not want him to stay still as they grew hotter and glowed brighter, but this time alternating and lighting up a path down a miniscule stream he hadn't noticed before. The storm had long stopped, and he hoped these bewitched stones would at least lead him to the shore so he can check on whatever remains of his boat.

Mickey followed the path to the shore, luckily, but more towards the rocks that he noticed on his first visit. He hardly saw the rocks now as he was drawn to a heap of familiar orange-ish red-ish laid up on shore. He fully expected it to disappear again so he refused to even blink, inching closer. It was alive -- for sure -- that was good, but it was battered from the storm. It looked scaley... but also had hair? It grunted and rolled over. Yup. That was a man. But also a fish.

Mickey thought his hallucination were playing entirely too many games on him now but he physically could not bring himself to turn away, as much as he swore he wanted to. He wanted out. He was insane. That was the only explanation, because obviously mermaids weren't real. He was sleeping, he had to be. He would wake up in his bed next door to Mandy's and all of this would go away. Hell, maybe the whole island was in his dreams. Maybe he was trapped in a very realistic coma. He looked around for something to wake him the fuck up when he heard the creature groan again.

Fuuuuuck, now Mickey was involved. The tide had pulled back far enough that left the creature stranded on the land. The stone grew hotter yet against his chest. "Alright, alright, I fuckin' got it, thank you," he grumbled. The creature turned it's startled head towards his. They locked eyes -- green embers. Of course.

"It's you, isn't it? All this time?" Mickey asked as the creature weakly tried to hide his face. Mickey didn't know why. It was a beautiful face, somehow covered in freckles that sparkled.

"Nah, man, it's cool, right? We've been having fun, eating oranges and shit?"

The creature unburied its head and quietly whistled one of Mickey's favorite songs, earning a chuckle out of Mickey as he awkwardly lifted the half-man half-fish in some semblance of a firefighter carry. Mickey expected the creature to be slick and cold, but he was soft and warm. Odd, but not unpleasant. They were almost to the water now.

"Yeah, Rain on Me by Ariana Grande and Lady Gaga. Fuckin' banger. Don't tell my fuckin' sister about this. She'd never let me live this down."

The red-headed creature tilted its head in confusion.

"Lady Gaga? Ya know, Mother Monster?"

He seemed to startle at the word 'monster' as he wiggled, escaping Mickey's grip into the water, disappearing into the dark sea. Frowning, in a last attempt at communication.

Mickey wasn't having it. Nah. The creature had been luring him for weeks. Hanging out with him for weeks. Even called out to him with some fuckin' moon stone type things. And now it wanted to disappear? He didn't fucking get it. He kept talking to himself as he paced along the shore.

"You're not getting cold fins now, are you?" Mickey teased, "Wait, fuck, is that offensive? Fuck, I'm sorry, please just come back."

He was acting fucking pathetic. He buried his face in his hands. Fuck. His brain was fucked. His life was fucked. His boat was fucked. His boat.

Mickey nearly tripped as he stumbled back to his boat. Or more like where he docked his boat. All that remained was his anchor. The rest had been mangled and scattered along the shore. He could probably get it fixed eventually since he had the little foresight to keep his tools safe in his backpack. But until then, he was stuck on an island, that apparently didn't exist, with a companion, who apparently didn't want to be perceived, and a dwindling supply of beef jerky. Great.

--

It had been a depressing night. Without Mandy's overenthusiastic presence or his new friend's feel-good aura, Mickey was especially pessimistic. He hardly got any sleep, his brain racking all the ways he could possibly fix his boat. Mickey Milkovich knew his shit, but he was beginning to feel a little doomed. He took out his 'unlucky' stone from it's secure pocket, fidgeting with it like he does when he's nervous. The thing was cold (one could say it was stone cold😎).

Feeling hopeless, he stormed back to the shore, tossing his last orange into the water, intent on yelling at the water until he died a peaceful death.

"C'mon, man," his voice came out sounding more like pleading than yelling, but what can you do? "I don't give a fuck if you're a man or a fish. I need you to help me fix my fucking boat! You got me into this mess, you get me out of it!"

He collapsed in the moonlight. He was absolutely not on the verge of crying. He was focusing on his breathing so intently that he barely heard his voice.

Holy fuck, though. He finally got why the legends always referred to mermaids as sirens. He would follow this voice anywhere. It was as disturbing as it was comforting.

Mickey was knocked out of his trance as his previously-tossed orange rolled to a stop at his feet.

"I said, I'm sorry." The siren's red hair poked out of the ocean several feet in front of him. Mickey continued to stare. How the fuck did this motherfucker's freckles glow brighter than the stars in the sky above them?

"I never meant to cause you harm. Swear. I even brought you the best fish I could find. My family lectured me about cannibalism or some shit, but I just wanted any excuse to see you again."

Mickey stared in awe. The creature's voice ringing through his ears prettier than any choir he had ever heard. He had got to get himself together. He was supposed to be mad. Right!

"What about my fuckin' boat? You realize I actually have to leave this place eventually, right, Red?" Maybe Mickey was being a bit harsh considering he was basically in the middle of some magical doomsday. But he was still ridiculously frustrated at his current situation.

"Hmm," the creature considered, "my name is Ian." Ian. Ian. Ian. The name chimed through his head. "And I was thinking about your boat. I tried to save it before it was too late, but I ended up too close to the shore, and the tide was ridiculous, and hence I got stranded and we got off to the wrong... fin." Ian gave Mickey a dumbass smirk, clearly proud of himself.

Okay, it did ease the tension, Mickey would give him that. Mickey was silent for a bit too long again.

"And what is your name?" Ian mused, "I've got to stop calling you That-One-Hot-Fisherman in my head."

Mickey nearly choked, and tried to cover it up by rubbing his hand against his lips, "Mikhailo." He had no idea why he was compelled to share his real name. He hadn't used that name in years -- only liking it from the sound of his mother's mouth. He corrected himself, "Well, it's Mickey. That's what I go by."

"Okay, well, Mickey Mikhailo, shall we get started on rebuilding your boat now or do you want to wait until morning?" Ian looked both devious and sincere. It was maddeningly confusing.

If Mickey swooned at the way a fucking fish said his name, that was nobody's business. But he couldn't deny he was exhausted. His stone was warm against his chest, comfortingly so, not hot like before. He managed to mumbled out a "in the morning" before falling into the peaceful sleep he had been so desperately craving.

--

Mickey awoke to sunshine in his face and a bird pecking at his thigh -- the pocket where his final jerky stick remained.

"Fuck off you fucking fuck!" He shooed haphazardly while rubbing fucking literal sand out of his eyes. God, what a nightmare.

"I see someone's not a morning person," teased an orange blob from the water. Mickey rubbed his eyes again. Right. Ian.

"Fuck off, fish genius over there."

"That's not any way to treat your only chance of getting off the island anytime soon," Ian pouted.

Fish genius had a point.

"Sorry," Mickey grumbled. He was never one for apologies, but man did he need to stay on this creature's good side. But, he was all good sides as far as Mickey was concerned. In the daylight, he could see how Ian's orange hair curled into little rings when it air dried. It looked real fuckin' soft. He couldn't remember if he had the chance to touch it yesterday on their fucking rescue mission. He needed to distract himself before he said something he regretted. He was not about to be flirting with a fish. He wasn't!

"Ya got any more oranges you can toss my way? Fuckin' starving."

Ian pointed at the one sandy orange a few feet from where Mickey had slept, "Just yours that you tried to hit me with, thank you very much."

"You like the peels, though." Mickey said as he tossed a piece into the ocean, floating several yards away from where Ian's head bobbed out of the water.

That took Ian aback, "Damn, I thought I was slicker than that."

"Not that slick, man."

"Hmm." Ian briefly considered before speeding over to the peel and devouring it quickly, "I can get you some sea food -- as your people say."

"Ain't that basically illegal for you, Red? Ain't you technically sea food?" Mickey musing, tossing another piece of his orange peel into the water.

Ian rolled his eyes. "I-an." He sounded it out slowly. "But I mean, circle of life and all that." He chased the orange peel, twisting it in his fingertips, awaiting Mickey's response.

"Nah, it's cool, don't worry about it, I-an. I don't really want any part in your whole fucked up moral dilemma situation. Got enough of those myself."

Mickey avoided Ian's attempt at eye contact, and Ian didn't push the conversation any further. He seemed tentative again. Mickey didn't want to lose him again.

"So... boat stuff?" Mickey huffed as he stood up, turning to his mangled beauty.

"Yeah," Ian did that dumbass smirk again that had Mickey fucking blushing, "Boat stuff."

--

Ian explained that he had spent most of the night gathering the parts that he could find in the water, and even some special mud and sea weed looking things that he promised would hold it together if Mickey's tools couldn't. Mickey took offense to the lack of faith Ian had in his skills, but he eventually agreed that it was at least somewhat warranted given their current predicament.

Mickey spent the morning gathering boat parts from land, and by midday, he felt hopeful. It was a 'finding treasure in the trash' kind of moment, but it was enough for now.

Ian and Mickey had fell into idle conversations as Mickey worked to restore his boat and Ian gazed onward, bobbing in the waves.

"So, you have a sister named Mandy?" Ian asked after a slice of silent had washed over them.

"What, are you a psychic, too?" Mickey laughed nervously under his breath.

Ian rolled his eyes like that was the stupidest thing he's ever heard. "No, smartass, I'm a good listener." He paused. "You talk about her a lot."

"Wasn't sure if you were real or if I was crazy." Was all Mickey managed to respond. Ian was really more of the conversation carrier and neither of them seemed to mind.

"Do you have any other family or friends?" Ian wondered, this time genuinely curious.

"Considering I'm talking to you right now, what do you think?"

Ian silently stared at Mickey until his watch became uncomfortable and Mickey felt the urge to continue.

"Mandy's the only one that sticks around. She actually cares about me -- fixes me dinner, drags me out to meet her friends, even makes sure I get enough sleep -- she's fuckin' crazy."

"It sounds like she loves you."

"Yeah. Dunno why."

"You're a good person, Mickey."

Mickey flashed Ian his knuckles reading 'FUCK U-UP' in faded black ink. "Yeah, I'm a real stand-up guy."

"No, I mean it." And Ian just looked so genuine that all Mickey could do was believe it for once in his goddamn life. All it took was for a fish to tell him. Yeah, that makes perfect sense.

"What's your social circle look like? Couple of dolphins, maybe a crab?"

"Maybe," Ian confessed. Shit, maybe this was some real life Little Mermaid. "But I also have five siblings."

"Y'all all got bright-ass fins? Or is that just you?" Mickey still couldn't believe this was his reality right now, but shit, might as well hear about all of Ariel's siblings.

"My little sister, Debbie, she's orange like me. My mom had a theory that our colors are reflective of like our auras or something. She was always hanging around this old-as-balls sea turtle spouting off whatever nonsense he remembered. Some of it makes sense, though. My oldest sister, Fiona, is purple. Then there's my brothers -- Lip is blue, Carl is green, and Liam is yellow."

"Mandy has black hair like me. But she has a nose piercing, and I ain't getting one of those anytime soon."

Ian smiled that Mickey was even trying to draw some sort of semblance between their drastically different worlds. But it felt so natural, Mickey couldn't help it.

Mickey felt his lucky stone grow warm, again. Ian wasn't in any trouble, though. He was literally right fuckin' here. And he was happy. Mickey was happy, too.

--

By nightfall, they had called it quits. Mickey had ended up using some of Ian's 'special' tools, earning a fair amount of teasing from Ian himself. Whatever. The red-head had been protecting him so far. He trusted him -- even if that thought was terrifying. The mud would dry in the moonlight, and Ian assured Mickey that he would be set by morning.

Mickey was fucking hungry after a long day's work. It was high tide and Ian had something different in mind.

"Now that we're talking," Ian started. "I've been wanting to show you this."

Mickey waited for further instructions.

"Follow the stones, I'll meet you there, promise."

Mickey trusted the fucker despite his innate inability to trust anyone else, so he followed the stones into the thick of the forest. He knew the island. He had mapped the thing. He didn't know what Ian could possibly want to show him that he hadn't already seen.

The path stopped glowing near the bottom of a cliff. He knew about the cliff. But what he didn't know was that the cliff was a waterfall.

"Woah."

"Pretty cool, huh? Only happens with lots of rain."

Ian had prepared them a fish dinner set on another rocky edge, like the one on the other side of the island.

"Ian. You're a fish. This ain't right."

"First of all, I'm a mammal. Second, it's fine. They tell me when they're ready to die so I have a clear conscious as far as I'm concerned."

"Dude. I knew this was fucked up, but that is fucked up."

"Dude," Ian mocked him, "We're in the middle of the fucking ocean. Do you have any better ideas, or are you just gonna be all pissy? Least you can do is eat with me."

Mickey's jerky supply was officially gone. Fish genius had another point.

Mickey wouldn't admit it to anyone, but Ian's dinner was even better than Mandy's were.

--

Morning came and Mickey found himself not wanting to leave. Of course, he knew he had to, so he would.

"So, Red, I guess this is goodbye?"

"Only for now. You'll be back." Ian winked. Mickey knew he would.

"This is stupid, but like, you can't go back with me? Like, we make a pretty good team."

Mickey was visibly uncomfortable at his moment of vulnerability, and Ian took pity on him with a gentle smile. "Unless I want to get hunted, I'm better off here. It's safer."

"Right, right." That made sense. Mickey didn't even want to think about the possibility of Ian getting hurt. There had been rumors about mermaids in the area, but he had always assumed them to be tall tales. He knew enough of the fishermen were heavy drinkers and supposed that played a factor in their truth-telling.

"My mother is on land now, but she wouldn't choose to help me. Learned that the hard way."

Mickey frowned. He knew what it was like to have a parent that would trade you for literally anything else. But he was more curious about another part of Ian's story.

"What do you mean your mom is on land? Like she was captured or something?"

"No, nothing like that. More like she's got two legs that she uses to chase whatever thrilling experience she can. Another one of her wacky theories was that her 'true love's kiss' gave her the ability to shapeshift between her land and water forms whenever she wanted."

"Huh."

"All my siblings think she's crazy. The idea was tempting enough for awhile, though. Fiona had gotten real close to this sailor named Steve. He promised her the world and she believed him. But their bond wasn't enough to shift. Fiona was sure he was her soulmate. He still comes around sometimes. And then there's Debbie, who almost got killed trying to woo some girl at the port. I think my mother is just a hopeless romantic. But hope can be dangerous sometimes."

Mickey listened on to this story that sounded more like a children's bedtime story -- all this princess nonsense about a true love's kiss made him think that maybe this red-head was Ariel. He suppressed a laugh when he saw the worried look in Ian's eyes.

"Well whatever it is, she sounds pretty lucky."

Ian smiled softly, sadly. "Yeah."

"Hey," Mickey said gently. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Okay."

And with that, Mickey sailed his patchwork boat back to whatever wrath Mandy was about to unleash on him.

--

The door creaked as Mickey made his way into the apartment he shares with his sister. He was nearly tackled on sight.

"Mickey, what the fuck!" Mandy punched his shoulder before crushing him into another hug. "I was so worried about you, you little shit!" "Ow! Jesus, I'm alive. Would you calm your tits?!"

Mandy gave him one more punch for good measure, "Where the fuck have you been? Three days, Mikhailo Aleksandr, three days! Tell me you didn't get that bitch up at the other port pregnant. I'm not taking in anymore rug rats."

"Bad storm. Boat wreck. And ya know what," Mickey threw his hands into the air, "I wish I would have got someone pregnant. Instead, I was stranded at sea, so maybe be a little bit nicer to me?"

"Fuck." She slumped a bit, "How did you manage to get back? Did you call one of your pirate buddies?"

"Jesus Christ, Mandy. I'm not a pirate -- even though they are dope as fuck, by the way. I just so happen to have a few brain cells -- something you don't know anything about."

Mandy rolled her eyes, "Competent enough to sail straight into a storm, huh?

Mickey flipped her off, "Good to be home, sis."

Mandy smiled, "C'mon, I'll make you some real food. I'm sick just thinking about you surviving off fuckin' jerky for half a week."

-- Mickey picked up a couple shifts at Mandy's bar the next week and a half to make up for three days of lost produce and another week for the time it took to properly fix his boat. He trusted Ian's magic mud well enough, but he didn't want to push his luck.

He wore short sleeve button-ups when he was bartending. He didn't have the comfortable luxury of built in inner pockets like with his fishing overalls, so he sewed his own. He couldn't stand the idea of not having his lucky stone close to his heart.

One night while he was slinging drinks, he mind at sea, he felt the stone grow hot and hotter. Fuck! It nearly burned his skin. He took it out from its pocket tossing it back and forth between his hands. It was glowing again. He felt nauseous. This had to mean Ian was in danger, right? Like last time in the cave? He wasn't on the island. He didn't have some magic pathway leading him exactly where he needed to go. What if he didn't get there in time?

He must have looked as insane as he felt because he felt a cautious hand on his shoulder. "Mick, take a fifteen."

"Got it." Mickey headed out back. Mandy would assume he was just having a smoke. But he ran. He hoped to hell that he was on the right track. The stone glowed brighter so he took that as a good sign.

He was out of breath as he rounded the corner and ended up at the docks. The stone's glow died down and it grew cold. Something was very wrong. What the fuck?

"Ian!" He probably looked like a psychopath screaming at the sea. Maybe he wasn't far from it.

This was the dock his boat was usually parked at. He was on his way to his old spot. Maybe--

A flash of red caught his eye in the dark water. No fish that red was ever this close to shore. His stomach crumbled. Oh my God, Ian.

Mickey dropped to ground, trying to get a better look at what was wrong. Wrapped in fishing nets was Ian, his skin a sickly shade of blue that wasn't from the moonlight.

Mickey made quick work of the fishing net with his pocket knife, careful not to cut Ian's slightly cold body. Was he too late? He couldn't be too late. He was here now. Everything would be fine.

Tapping into the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Mickey heaved Ian's large body onto the dock planks. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing at least.

"Ian. Ian, look at me. You're safe now, okay?" Mickey turned around, making sure he was alone. Luckily, no one was out at the water this time of night. Mickey pulled Ian's head into his lap and brushed his fingers through Ian's hair. Fuckin' finally. It was soft. So soft. "Hey, Red, wanna hook me up with whatever conditioner you got under the sea?" He laughed at himself to keep from crying.

Ian murmured something, lips barely parting.

Mickey stopped his caresses, "What was that, Mumbles?"

"Said you're a dumbass." Ian repeated. It was quiet, but his sass rang through. He was alive alright.

"I know." Mickey smiled for real this time. He placed a gentle kiss on Ian's forehead near his hairline. Ian's eyes fluttered open as they held each others' gaze.

They were distracted when Mickey's stone glowed bright again. Probably brighter than it has ever been before. The color shifted from it's usual green ember to resemble more of an icy blue. The boys watched as it began to shake on the ground -- where Mickey had dropped it when he spotted Ian's body. The stone continued to vibrate violently until it burst. Green and blue specks of light joining the stars in the sky above them. Mickey was so entranced by the light that he didn't notice when something else began to shift.

Ian's shimmering red-orange tail was replaced by two, long, freckled legs. Ian's eyes grew wide as he hit Mickey's arm.

"The fuck you hitting me for -- holy shit."

"Maybe my mom wasn't crazy."

"Maybe not." Mickey traced Ian's new legs with his fingertips. "How do you feel? Pretty big change, champ."

"It feels right... which is weird." Ian concluded after a moment, wiggling his toes.

"You're weird, so it makes sense." Mickey nodded, like it was obvious.

Ian rolled his eyes, "Shut up."

Mickey cocked his head as his lips upturned into a smirk, "Make me."

Mickey had expected Ian to still be chilled from the water, but he wasn't. He was warm and soft. So there they stayed, tightly wrapped in each others' arms under the dancing green-blue stars and the sound of gentle waves knocking into boats.

--

It was safe to say that Mickey had entirely forgot about returning to his shift at the bar that night. They had decided to sneak Ian into Mickey's room before the fishermen got their early start on the day ay the docks. It was still dark when they slowly opened his apartment's front door, knocking into each other and trying not to laugh at their bizarre situation.

Mandy flicked on the larger kitchen light, ready to give her brother an ear-full for leaving her alone to serve the bar creeps all night when she noticed he wasn't alone. He was accompanied by a tall, gorgeous, red-headed man, who appeared to only have eyes for her brother, not even noticing her presence.

"I thought you said you didn't have any bitches?" Mandy said, hoping to burst them out of their little bubble.

Mickey mumbled a quiet fuck under his breath. And surprisingly, Ian was the first to speak up, "Uh, you must be Mandy? I'm Ian. I'm uh- just visiting town."

"Mhm, whatever you say. Mick, next time, at least tell me when you're ditching work for a booty call, yeah?" She said after an appreciative glance Ian's way, bumping Mickey's hip as she walked past them to her room down the hall.

"Oh, work. Yeah, my bad." Mickey had genuinely forgot. Something about soulmates kind of clouding his judgement.

"Pasta's on the stove -- goodnight, dumbass and company!" She called before slamming her door closed.

Ian erupted into a fistful of giggles, "So much for sneaking in, huh?"

"Whatever, do you want some pasta, or are you sticking straight to cannibalism and orange peels?" Mickey teased.

"I'll have whatever you're having, stud." Ian squeezed the back of Mickey's neck.

--

After their late night/ early morning pasta, they had curled up in Mickey's bed, facing each other in silence, their eyes saying all the words that they didn't need to say out loud. Until-

"Fuck!" Ian's abrupt comment startled Mickey, even causing a hitch in Mandy's snoring in the next room over. Softer, he continued, "Your lucky stone, Mick. It's gone." He looked sad. He wanted to fix it.

Mickey brought his hand up to Ian's cheek, brushing it softly. "I don't need it, man. I have you."

Ian covered Mickey's hand with his own, then brought their hands to his lips, kissing each of Mickey's tattooed knuckles gently, like they held the secrets of the universe. Mickey smiled.

"I am the luckiest man in the world." And he was.

[astro-rain]

delicate; b. barnes

chapter nine- “to have or not to have indoor plumbing”

delicate masterlist

word count: 2.3k

synopsis: no fallout shelter is perfect. sometimes you need to think outside the box... or outside the bunker, that is.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: what did you think of this chapter? what do you want to see next? PLS let me know! :))

Light did not shine through the windows and cast a bronze glow on the floor like it did in the castle quarters. He didn't hear the soft buzz of the cicadas like he usually did in the morning. He didn't wake to an empty room with familiar beautiful Wakandan tapestries.

This was because Bucky Barnes awoke in an underground shelter with no windows, stone reinforced walls, and a sleeping psychologist in the bed next to him. Somehow... this wasn't that bad.

He woke up before her, as to be expected. His body was pretty much programmed to be up in the early morning. That, and any time he slept for too long his mind conjured up remnants of horrors from the past.

The super soldier stood up from the bed and stretched his back and arm. It was quiet. A relaxed, enjoyable quiet. Y/N was still sleeping. He wondered what time it was. He didn't have a watch, and he didn't see any clocks in the bunker. He assumed she probably had her phone, but he wouldn't wake her just to ask the time.

He glanced around the room, and his eyes landed on the panther key. Perhaps he could go outside for a bit, gauge the time, scope out the area, get some sun. He never was overly enthusiastic about the sun, but since being in Wakanda, he had grown to love the warmth.

Warmth was a welcome change from the brutalizing cold Hydra put in his bones. Cold was past agony and torment, but warmth. Warmth was the rich, golden promise of remedy that gleamed on his skin.

Just thinking about it made him yearn for the outside sun and the way it enveloped his skin in amber rays. It felt safe here.

Usually, he couldn't stop his mind from worrying and expecting all the good in his life to somehow crash down around him. However, he couldn’t help but feel safe in Wakanda, no matter what he did. He felt safe in Wakanda and with Y/N, even though they were in a bunker hiding from a country's takeover-

"Bucky?" A raspy voice called out.

He turned around, not realizing he had walked over to the table, where the panther key was sitting. It looked just as regal and ferocious as it did before.

"G'Morning," he smiled.

She sat up on her elbows, avoiding hitting her head on the top bunk.

"How'd you sleep?" she asked. "Nightmares still?"

"Last night wasn't bad," he shrugged. "Still... there, but I got some decent hours in."

"That's good," Y/N yawned. "I'd like to work more on the nightmares soon. See if we can find any improvement. But don't worry, no 'Interpretation of Dreams' shit because I refuse to dignify most Freudian theories."

He let out a breathy chuckle. Sometimes Y/N would go into what he, in his head, called her silly psychologist speech. She would momentarily forget that Bucky wasn't an academic, and use big words to talk about things he'd never even heard of. Sometimes she would slip into psychologist mode when she wasn't "on duty."

"Are we movin' the sessions out here now?" he joked.

"Damn," she snickered. "My bad. No more psych talk in here, I promise."

"It's alright, I don't mind," he shrugged. "S'just you bein' you."

"I guess. I don't know to be anyone else, so."

“I would expect nothing less of you.”

Y/N then moved the blanket off of her legs to stand up out of the bed, just before stopping short, staring at the bed she was sitting on. He could almost see the gears turning in her head.

"Did I make the bed last night in a frenzy of exhaustion and not remember it?"

He laughed. "No."

She furrowed her brows and cocked her head to the side, confused and waiting for an explanation.

"I made it - well, as best as I could... all things considered."

Her face changed, melting into an endearing look of gratitude.

"Thank you Buck," she smiled. "Way better than sleeping on the floor."

She didn't say anything else regarding it, and he was glad. What she didn't know was that he put her in the bed after he made it. She was so exhausted, he didn't want to wake her. The task proved itself exceptionally challenging with one arm. However, super soldier strength and determination was a worthy advantage.

"Do you know what time it is?" he asked.

"Umm," she dragged out, finally standing up from the bed. "Not sure, I'll have to find my phone and- oh shit"

"What?"

"I don't have a charger."

"Oh. I'll uh look around and see if there's one stored down here."

Y/N stood still and looked around the room. Her eyes landed on the space heater and her expression dropped.

"Bucky..."

"What's wrong?"

"Do you remember what I said yesterday about the heater?"

"Not... really. Jog my memory?"

She quoted herself. "I doubt they could get electric or plumbing out here."

"Oh yeah," he still wasn't following.

"There's no shower down here... or toilet..."

He looked around and it hit him. "Oh."

"That's..." she trailed off, "a bit inconvenient."

He saw her begin to fidget with her hands.

"What are we supposed to do?" she asked. "We can't like... pee in buckets or something."

Bucky scratched the stubble on his face, about to suggest something he knew she wouldn't like.

"Well, before you woke up, I was thinkin' about going outside to get an idea of the time and maybe get some sun. We can go out and see if we can find a fresh water source or something. It's not perfect, but it's better than buckets."

"Outside? Is that not dangerous?"

"Danger is a possibility, but we're pretty far out from the castle grounds. I doubt anyone comes out this far or even knows about the shelter."

She took a deep breathe in. "I don't know..."

He could hear the uncertainty and weariness in her voice.

"If you're not comfortable, I can just go look and come back, tell you if it's safe, if there's water nearby," he offered.

"No. I'm going with you."

"I thought-"

"You’re not going alone. I'll grab my shoes and we can go."

Well then.

"As you wish, oh wise one."

"Smartass."

He grabbed the panther key and tossed it to her with a smile.

-

"So... how does one locate a water source?" Y/N asked, her footsteps beside Bucky's.

The Wakandan sun beat down on them. They'd only been walking for a few minutes, and they were already sweating.

"Keep an eye out for mud. If the ground is wet, chances are there's water nearby."

She nodded.

"Hey," she smirked, "Have you ever heard of Bear Grylls?"

He could hear the smile in her voice.

"No, but I have a feeling whatever that is is being used to poke fun at me?"

She huffed in a fake gasp, feigning over-exaggerated shock. "I'd never do such a thing!"

"Hey! I'm doing this so we don't have to pee in buckets. A teeny tiny bit of gratitude would go a long way."

"Apologies. Please accept my most heartfelt thanks, my dear old friend."

"Who you callin' old?"

"I don't know, does a hundred seem old to you?"

"You know, it’s disrespectful to mock the elderly,” he fake scolded.

"Yeah, well don't disrespect your mental healthcare provider."

"I didn't! You started-"

"Water!" she shouted, cutting him off. “Look!”

In front of Y/N's pointed finger was the end of a tiny stream. The source was somewhere ahead of them. And so they followed, continuing their trek beneath the sun's sweltering rays. It really was oppressively hot.

-

"Holy..." Bucky muttered.

"Shit," Y/N finished.

He gave her a look and he she shrugged, fighting off a laugh.

They stood facing a beautiful scene: a modest waterfall flowed over mossy stone and poured out into a little pool of crystal clear water. It was quaint and secluded, surrounded by rocks and trees. This was wonderfully fortuitous for the two of them as they were still technically in hiding. The pool of water was relatively shallow; he could see the bottom, but it was still deep enough to submerge his whole body and them some. The pressure from the waterfall looked mild enough to go under; perhaps it could act as a makeshift shower.

"This definitely works. Much better than buckets," Y/N commented.

Then she began to untie her boots, take off her socks, and sit with her feet in the water.

"Holy hell it's hot," she groaned, wiping a hand across her forehead. He noticed that she had been squinting for the last couple of minutes. "Buck, do you know if the water is clean to drink or swim in?"

"Why don't you taste test it? Then we'll know for sure."

She turned her head to him, an emotionless expression on her face.

"I don't give a damn about the super serum, I can and will drown you, Barnes."

A laugh came from deep in his chest. "I'm just playin'. The water looks fine, you should be good."

She cupped her hands to scoop up some of the water and threw it at him.

"Hey!"

"Aw, you look so refreshed now," she cooed sarcastically.

"That was uncalled for."

"Perhaps. Hey, how long until we have to go back?"

"We're not really on a set schedule. Whenever you're ready, I guess. It's not like we have things to do."

"Do I have time to like dunk real quick? It's deathly hot and I don't wanna walk back in this heat."

Dunk in the water? There are no swim suits here...

"Oh-uh... uh y-yeah, do you want me to like... wait over there-or-“

"I’m goin’ in with my clothes on,” she deadpanned. Straight and to the point, like she didn’t want any type of confusion about the situation.

“Oh,” he breathed. “You’d rather walk back in soaked clothes?”

“Yes.”

"I mean sure, knock yourself out. But be careful, some parts look pretty deep."

"I'm know how to swim, Buck,” she smiled. “Don’t fret.”

He hummed an "okay," before looking around the entire waterfall area. Instinctively, he started walking the perimeter, making sure they would be safe. He didn't know how he hadn't done it sooner. He must've been distracted.

The soldier made his way through trees and over rocks until he returned to the spot facing the center of the waterfall pool. He watched as Y/N's head slowly ascended from the water. She opened her eyes, and as her gaze found him, confusion washed over her face.

"Bucky, aren't you hot?"

"I mean, it’s warm, but I think I'm more useful out keepin' watch."

"Are you sure?" she laughed, tossing more water at him.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, clumsily trying to jump and dodge out of the way of the water flinging at him.

Y/N shamelessly continued. "The water's just fine! It's so refreshing and cooooool!"

Bucky's attempts at dodging the water were very much in vain. Soon enough his grey shirt had splatters of Wakandan waterfall water all over it.

He only laughed some more. "Come on! You're comprising our security!"

She stopped.

"Wait- I'm sorry. Am I actually?"

His breathing slowed, but his smile remained. "No, it's okay. I just think it's safer for at least one of us to stay out and be aware. I can go in next time."

"Okay," she frowned.

At the edge of the water, closest to grass, the ground descended into layers, creating a sort of makeshift staircase that sloped into the pool. Y/N floated over to the stairs, and leaned her elbows on the second highest step so that the water settled just below her shoulders. He watched as her legs floated straight up behind her, and each edge of her clothing moved up and down languidly in the water as if they were breathing with its movement.

In response, Bucky sat down at the waters edge, removing his own shoes and socks, rolling up his pant legs and resting his feet in the pool.

"There, now we're meetin' in the middle."

Y/N spared a gentle smile.

"Buck," she asked softly, "can I ask you a question?"

His brows furrowed at the sudden change in tone. "Mm hm."

He was expecting some kind of serious question, but instead, he watched yet another mischievous smirk grow across her face.

"Don't you have to pee?"

He rolled his eyes, and splashed her with as much water as he could cup in his hand. Y/N let out a burst of loud, boisterous laughter, wiping the water from her eyes.

"Why, do you?! Do I have to worry about feeling some warm water!!"

"No! I already went..."

"Oh, ew!" he howled with laughter.

"Not like that! I did it behind a tree while you were makin' your rounds."

"Well thank you for not christening our only clean water source."

"You are quite welcome, James Buchanan Barnes."

His brain slowed at the sound of his full name. He almost didn't feel the barely-there smile that turned the sides of his mouth up ever so slightly. Time became lazy, and his line of sight came to a leisurely stop directly at Y/N's face.

He got a good look at the reflective water droplets all over her skin, and the way some were falling off while others stayed perfectly still. He got a good look at how her waterlogged eye lashes stuck together in bigger clumps, making darker shades of black that contrasted her eye color, and how her wet hair was slicked back and flowed down her neck. He got a good look at the teeny tiny drops of waterfall that settled in her eyebrows, and how he had only been this close to her very few times before.

He couldn't tell why, but he wanted to take a mental snapshot of this moment. The charming imperfection of her was so genuine, so endearing, so alluring. He found himself having a hard time finding the motivation to look away. He must be tired or something.

He hadn’t noticed how still she was as well. But then, gradually, her smile went away, and her face was replaced with a neutral but poised expression. She slowly floated back from him, putting space between them.

"Can we go back now?" she asked. "I think the sun is giving me a headache."

"Y-Yeah, 'fcourse," he said, unprepared to do anything but fulfill her request.

[yzkhr]

Part two of the Love Language miniseries!

Once again, I dedicate this to one of my favorite Shinran authors, @meitanteisachi

Part three might take a little while since I'm in my lazy mode. So please forgive me if the next part will be late 🤧

Warning: Probably my longest fic ever. So long that I need to divide into two parts. I kinda got carried away.

-

Receiving Gifts-You feel loved and appreciated when your partner or someone gives you a gift. It doesn't need to expensive, just something sentimental and thoughtful.

She was seven when Ran received her first memorable gift from Shinichi.

She remembered how It had been a month since her mother moved away, turning her life upside down. At a young age, Ran forced herself to be responsible; learning how to cook without burning the food, doing household chores that her father never knew how to do, and taking care of both a child who's too young and a grown man who's too immature and broken to live on his own.

It vastly made a growth and development in her character. Teachers and classmates alike noticed the way she had matured, from the way she handled her emotions—always putting on a smile and being the bigger one in the petty fights— to her mannerisms and gestures that resembled an older sister.

To them, her mother leaving became somewhat a good thing, with her maturity blooming early.

If only that were true.

No one knew that as soon as she opened the door of the empty detective office, Ran would be filled with her mother's presence; Hearing her voice, seeing her face, and even missing her scolding. Instead of saying anything to her father however, she brushes it off, puts on a facade, being a mother, a wife, and a daughter all at the same time to a drunk and emotionally unstable man.

But at the end of each day, entering her room and not crying was impossible. Her eyes watering at the sight of the empty bed that used to be filled with her mothers' scent, all gone. And like the child that she was—that she should be— she would sobbed and whimper silently, until exhausted enough to close her eyes and unaware that there's no one beside her just to sleep.

Ran was sure no one knew or was even remotely aware of her secret. After all, her smile shined and eyes glimmered in school so different from the distraught face she wears each night since last month.

But she had underestimated him.

On the day of her birthday, everyone greeted her with their own set of trinkets and gifts. Most were letters and drawings, filled with gratitude and love through the used of poorly executed writings and simple but meaningful pictures. Ran was happy to received all of them, whether they were small—like a piece of her favorite candy— or expensive and big, such as the dress given to her by Sonoko.

But unlike all her other birthdays, she didn't feel as contented and satisfied. There laid a gnawing feeling inside of her, aware that she'll never have what she truly wished for.

As they walked home from school, Ran expected Shinichi to give her at least some sweets. So, when he invited her to come by his house she agreed with a nod, genuinely having no idea.

So, she stood for a few minutes outside the mansions' gates, reading out some letters to pass time. She became so engrossed at reading that she didn't even notice him go outside until he was finally in front of her. Catching a set of feet just in front, she looked up. Her eyes widened as soon as she saw a fairly large and fluffy inanimate object in Shinichi's hands, holding it out to her.

"Here you go, Happy Birthday, Ran." he greeted, tilting his head on the side behind the cute teddy bear grinning from ear to ear. Instinctively, Ran accepted his gift and brought it close to her chest, feeling it's soft synthetic fur.

She slowly scrutinized it, it's features somewhat reminding her of...

"M-mom?" whispering incredulously, she glanced at Shinichi. Still wearing a smile, he nodded.

"That's right. Even if you don't talk about it, I know you miss your mom. You've been crying a lot too--"

"I wasn't crying!" she denied, but her mask slipped a little when he deadpanned.

"Yes you were," he stated calmly, as if he saw her doing so. She glared.

"How would you know? I never cried in school!"

"I'm sure before we go to school you do. Your eyes were always a little red and puffy when entering the class after all." he argued back. Instead of being embarrassed, Ran found something more important to point out.

"You were watching me?" she questioned, eyes curious. She didn't know why, but the thought of Shinichi watching and observing her made her smile(and a little nervous).

In an instant, gone was the confident and composed childhood friend of hers, image being ruined by his immediate coughing as if he swallowed a huge thing, cheeks flushed a healthy red, and a stuttering mess as he negated her claim.

"B-Barou! Those were just coincidences!!" then he slightly looked away, seemingly afraid to meet her violet orbs. Scratching his still blushing cheeks, he changed the topic.

"W-Well, Happy Birthday. You can use that stuff animal when you feel, you know, lonely." he dazed off, then glanced over her shoulder. As if realizing something significant, his eyes widened.

"It's already sun down! You gotta go home now or Occhan is gonna scold me!"

Ran followed his advice right after. As soon as she arrived home, she found her father in a sober state, and was even the one who tried to cook dinner for the both of them. Eri called later that night, which made Ran happy. She still asked her mother when the woman will come home and Eri would always reply with a vague answer. She didn't pressure her mother anymore, not wanting to ruin both their day.

That night as she entered her room, strangely enough, Ran didn't feel lonely. She also didn't feel the need to exhaust herself, now having a sweet stuff animal to comfort and fill her warmth. She settled on her soft bed, hugging the teddy bear tightly. And for the first time since her mother's moving away, Ran didn't cry.

-

They were thirteen, she recalled, when she received her second most thoughtful gift from him.

"Hey Ran, did you find the kitten?" Ran glanced up, hearing her name from Sonoko. She shook her head as an answer.

"It's still missing. I tried asking around but they said they never saw it." her bestfriend looked at her worriedly, knowing what she was thinking.

A few days ago, her, Sonoko, and Shinichi found a little ball of fur on their way home from school. They all took pity, Ran specially. So, the three teenagers took upon themselves to look after it until just a week ago, it disappeared. They searched everywhere around the area, trying to spot a little black kitten with huge and round green eyes. Unfortunately, they never succeeded.

Seeing Ran's mood depleted, Sonoko patted her back as comfort, grinning.

"Don't worry about it! I'm sure it has found an owner by now." Ran smiled, being reassured but still a bit dissatisfied. She decided to adopt the kitten after all but it was still nowhere to be seen.

To lighten the mood, Sonoko changed the topic to new shops, magazine, and gossips. Since the teacher was late, the Suzuki Heiress was unstoppable.

Rans' attention was grabbed however, when a certain someone entered the classroom. He was yawning, not bothering to hide his sleepiness. Rubbing his blue eyes languidly, she noticed how the dark circles under them became even more pronounced than before. Her eyes also became aware that there were some lines seared into his skin—scratch marks.

As if conscious that someone was watching him, Shinichi turned his head around, meeting weary blue with observing violet. It only lasted for a second, with the former looking away and going straight to his desk.

Shinichi had been acting weird lately. It started a week before, with him telling Ran that he would be late and she can just go ahead without him. True enough, he always came late ever since, which normally rarely happens.

Another thing to note would be his physical state. He looked restless, eyebags so obvious along with the constant yawning and even sometimes sleeping through an entire period. The last part wasn't new, but Ran heeded how easily he fell asleep, unlike back then where he needed to toss and turn his head for a comfortable position.

The last thing to caught her eye would be the little scratch marks. She would've been convinced that it was another case but seeing the scrape from his arms threw her off guard. They were shallow, but it didn't wave off her suspicions any less.

So, Ran decided that after class, she would visit him, whether he liked it or not.

The day went by rough, with Ran not being able to focus thanks to a sleeping classmate who looked far too exhausted for a normal student. Sonoko, looking at her stressed friend, ask her out to eat that sounded too appealing but she had to refused, knowing that if she didn't find out the reason for her best friend's odd behavior, she'll be the one to act weird next.

Knowing Shinichi's detective instinct, Ran knew better than to follow him on the get go and get caught. She waited an hour around the area, before making her way to the Kudo Mansion. The only problem now was how to enter without being seen.

She treaded through the stone path, finding the gate unlock. The middle schooler shook her head, both thankful and a little scared. What could he be so busy about for him to forget closing the gate?

Once Ran reached the front door and checked, that's when the immense feeling of worry kicked in. Shinichi also forgot to close the front door!

'What's happening to him? Is a case stressing him this much? Did something terrible happened? Why isn't he telling me--'

Her thoughts were abruptly stopped when the sound that something metallic fell reached her ears, making her anxiety increased tenfold.

Wasting no time and completely losing her initial target, Ran rushed in like lightning, fear evident in every step.

Upon reaching the kitchen and thoughts of her bestfriend in danger flooding her senses, she barged in.

Only to find the great detective Kudo Shinichi rubbing his head, and a couple of pans and plastic bowls scattered around the tiled flooring.

They gaped at each other, unable to register the current scenario. Ran was broken out of her trance however, when she noticed a light bump growing on the top of his head, which he was rubbing a while ago before he froze.

Previous distress setting in once again, Ran hurried by her childhood friends' side, helping him to stand.

"What happened?" she asked, examining and touching the bump. As if electrified by their contact, he flinched and backed away slightly, eyes a bit hazy.

"R-Ran, what are you doing here?" he seemed more concern of her presence than his own well being which made her glare.

"You've been acting weird this past week!" she accused as he treaded away from her, a bit too cautious. She took note of how his left hand slid behind him, fully intending to hide something away from her sight.

"Weird what, me? Barou, I've been perfectly normal. You're just overacting." the response didn't sound so convincing when he was literally sweating and avoiding her scrutiny.

"Yeah, then why were you always late this week?" the interrogation began.

"I was busy with a case Megure-keibu presented me, that's why." gaining his composure, Shinichi answered in a confident manner but that didn't drop any of her suspicions.

"Then what about you being constantly tired these days?" Ran pressed on, ambulating near her suspect. he kept his ground, so sure she was the one who was weird, not him.

"The case was so hard that I couldn't find time to sleep." he casually said, looking bored and done with the questioning.

She kept on walking towards slowly and when she was finally in front of him, she smiled innocently.

"Okay then, I have one last question to ask," he smiled, thinking he won. Then, feigning obliviousness, he consented.

"Fire away."

With those words as her signal, Ran forcefully yanked his left arm that he had been so carefully shielding and him having no time to react, she succeeded, revealing the scratch marks as her last piece of evidence and a.... kitten!?

Silence ensued. Until a mewl came out fromm the little ball of fur. Ran examined the little thing, coming to her conclusion.

"Please don't tell me this was the little kitten that's been missing since last week." she quietly pleaded for him to deny, but all he offered was a gulp and a weary nod.

Anger and bewilderment filled Ran, as she shook her head as an attempt to calm, but seeing the kitten that she had been desperately looking for, for the past few weeks made her burst.

"Why didn't you tell me you had the cat!? You knew that I was looking all over the neighborhood! I even told you I was going to take care of it--"

"That's exactly why I took it!" he interrupted, his excuse perplexing her thoughts even more than before.

"What?" he sighed and put the little kitten down gently, moving to the counter and sitting on one of the tools.

"Well, remember when you first tried to take it home? It was really aggressive, wasn't it?"

She did remember her hand getting scratch and almost bitten when she endeavored to adopt it. So, she gave a nod.

"Well, knowing what you were planning to do, I decided to take it to a friend of mom's who happened to be a vet and get it checked just to make sure. She said it was fine but it seemed a bit violent to humans so she advised me to take care of it so that it will get used to the environment. Knowing you, you would've been dumb enough to just take it without any examination and might get yourself really injured." she tried to refute his last statement but decided against it, knowing he was probably right.

But there was one thing that didn't made sense. "Then why didn't you tell me about it? If I had known I wouldn't have wasted my time, you know." hearing her question made him clearly uncomfortable, eyes now travelling anywhere but hers and cheeks tainted a light pink. They kept quiet, him contemplating while Ran patiently waited.

Knowing his loss, the detective whispered but she still heard it. "I was planning to give it to you next week. I just wanted it to be a surprise."

For some really unexplainable reason, Ran felt her heart beating faster than normal that she might die, face heating up, and even having a stampeding elephant on the pit of her stomach.

"Shinichi..." she uttered, not knowing what to say. Still looking the other way, he misinterpreted her calling as scolding.

"I know, I know. I shouldn't have done that. I should've told you properly and you wouldn't have to put so much effort into finding--"

His next lines were suddenly gone when she wordlessly went in front of his sitting figure and patted his hair softly, just like petting a feline. He stammered and tried to speak but found himself to be voiceless by her next words.

"Thank you, I really appreciate it..." she wanted to say more but was being suffocated by the swarming butterflies in her stomach, not allowing her to do so.

"You better be..." he mused, trying to lighten the mood and to calm his racing heart. As if by magic, he felt a sudden urge to close his eyes and lean on her posture, loving the way she stroke his hair so gently. And so he did.

Ran was taken aback by the unforeseen intimacy but didn't complain. They stayed like that for a few minutes, until she felt almost all of his weight on her, coupled with his heavy breathing that she concluded he fell asleep.

Slowly, she moved him to the sofa of the living room, all the while trying to not burst at the feeling of his breath on her neck. Succeeding, she grabbed a pillow and a blanket from his room, finally setting him down on the couch.

Ran couldn't help but feel guilty, finally figuring out that she was the reason of all his strange behavior all along. It explained his worn out expression throughout the entire week, having to take care of an aggressive kitten without having any prior experience must be exhausting, and it showed through his sleepless nights and lack of energy at everything in class.

Then, her eyes travelled to the little scratches and wounds all over his arms. They were nothing serious, but they must have at least sting. Wanting to at least alleviate the pain, Ran brought the first aid kid from his room and tenderly tended to all of the gashes and marks, and him not even flinching one bit despite being supposedly a heavy sleeper, became proof of how much time and effort he put for her surprise.

Ran went home that day, carrying his gift with her. She knew that he was supposedly giving this next week, but the teenager was pretty sure that Shinichi wouldn't be able to handle another week of torture like that. So, she left a note to make sure he didn't worry.

Years passes after that, but Ran would never forget the kitten he gave her, and the inexplicable giddy feeling with it. Sonoko would remind her how happy she was that she couldn't physically stop smiling for a while that it weirded many out but personally for Ran, it was worth it.

-

(Has a part 2 because it's so unnecessary long)

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Chairman Graham, Ranking Member Feinstein, and Members of the Committee: I am honored and humbled to appear before you as a nominee for Associate Justice of the Supreme Court. I thank the President for entrusting me with this profound responsibility, as well as for the graciousness that he and the First Lady have shown my family throughout this process. I thank Senator Young for introducing me, as he did at my hearing to serve on the Seventh Circuit. I thank Senator Braun for his generous support. And I am especially grateful to former Dean Patty O'Hara of Notre Dame Law School. She hired me as a professor nearly 20 years ago and has been a mentor, colleague, and friend ever since. I thank the Members of this Committee—and your other colleagues in the Senate—who have taken the time to meet with me since my nomination. It has been a privilege to meet you.

As I said when I was nominated to serve as a Justice, I am used to being in a group of nine—my family. Nothing is more important to me, and I am so proud to have them behind me. My husband Jesse and I have been married for 21 years. He has been a selfless and wonderful partner at every step along the way. I once asked my sister, "Why do people say marriage is hard? I think it's easy." She said, "Maybe you should ask Jesse if he agrees." I decided not to take her advice. I know that I am far luckier in love than I deserve. Jesse and I are parents to seven wonderful children. Emma is a sophomore in college who just might follow her parents into a career in the law. Vivian came to us from Haiti. When she arrived, she was so weak that we were told she might never walk or talk normally. She now deadlifts as much as the male athletes at our gym, and I assure you that she has no trouble talking. Tess is 16, and while she shares her parents' love for the liberal arts, she also has a math gene that seems to have skipped her parents' generation. John Peter joined us shortly after the devastating earthquake in Haiti, and Jesse, who brought him home, still describes the shock on JP's face when he got off the plane in wintertime Chicago. Once that shock wore off, JP assumed the happy-go-lucky attitude that is still his signature trait. Liam is smart, strong, and kind, and to our delight, he still loves watching movies with Mom and Dad. Ten-year-old Juliet is already pursuing her goal of becoming an author by writing multiple essays and short stories, including one she recently submitted for publication. And our youngest—Benjamin, who has Down Syndrome—is the unanimous favorite of the family. My own siblings are here, some in the hearing room and some nearby. Carrie, Megan, Eileen, Amanda, Vivian, and Michael are my oldest and dearest friends. We've seen each other through both the happy and hard parts of life, and I am so grateful that they are with me now. My parents, Mike and Linda Coney, are watching from their New Orleans home. My father was a lawyer and my mother was a teacher, which explains how I ended up as a law professor. More important, my parents modeled for me and my six siblings a life of service, principle, faith, and love. I remember preparing for a grade-school spelling bee against a boy in my class. To boost my confidence, Dad sang, "Anything boys can do, girls can do better." At least as I remember it, I spelled my way to victory.

I received similar encouragement from the devoted teachers at St. Mary's Dominican, my all-girls high school in New Orleans. When I went to college, it never occurred to me that anyone would consider girls to be less capable than boys. My freshman year, I took a literature class filled with upperclassmen English majors. When I did my first presentation—on Breakfast at Tiffany's—I feared I had failed. But my professor filled me with confidence, became a mentor, and—when I graduated with a degree in English—gave me Truman Capote's collected works. Although I considered graduate studies in English, I decided my passion for words was better suited to deciphering statutes than novels. I was fortunate to have wonderful legal mentors—in particular, the judges for whom I clerked. The legendary Judge Laurence Silberman of the D.C. Circuit gave me my first job in the law and continues to teach me today. He was by my side during my Seventh Circuit hearing and investiture, and he is cheering me on from his living room now.

I also clerked for Justice Scalia, and like many law students, I felt like I knew the justice before I ever met him, because I had read so many of his colorful, accessible opinions. More than the style of his writing, though, it was the content of Justice Scalia's reasoning that shaped me. His judicial philosophy was straightforward: A judge must apply the law as written, not as the judge wishes it were. Sometimes that approach meant reaching results that he did not like. But as he put it in one of his best known opinions, that is what it means to say we have a government of laws, not of men. Justice Scalia taught me more than just law. He was devoted to his family, resolute in his beliefs, and fearless of criticism. And as I embarked on my own legal career, I resolved to maintain that same perspective. There is a tendency in our profession to treat the practice of law as all-consuming, while losing sight of everything else. But that makes for a shallow and unfulfilling life. I worked hard as a lawyer and a professor; I owed that to my clients, my students, and myself. But I never let the law define my identity or crowd out the rest of my life.

A similar principle applies to the role of courts. Courts have a vital responsibility to enforce the rule of law, which is critical to a free society. But courts are not designed to solve every problem or right every wrong in our public life. The policy decisions and value judgments of government must be made by the political branches elected by and accountable to the People. The public should not expect courts to do so, and courts should not try. That is the approach I have strived to follow as a judge on the Seventh Circuit. In every case, I have carefully considered the arguments presented by the parties, discussed the issues with my colleagues on the court, and done my utmost to reach the result required by the law, whatever my own preferences might be. I try to remain mindful that, while my court decides thousands of cases a year, each case is the most important one to the parties involved. After all, cases are not like statutes, which are often named for their authors. Cases are named for the parties who stand to gain or lose in the real world, often through their liberty or livelihood. When I write an opinion resolving a case, I read every word from the perspective of the losing party. I ask myself how would I view the decision if one of my children was the party I was ruling against: Even though I would not like the result, would I understand that the decision was fairly reasoned and grounded in the law? That is the standard I set for myself in every case, and it is the standard I will follow as long as I am a judge on any court.

When the President offered this nomination, I was deeply honored. But it was not a position I had sought out, and I thought carefully before accepting. The confirmation process—and the work of serving on the Court if I am confirmed— requires sacrifices, particularly from my family. I chose to accept the nomination because I believe deeply in the rule of law and the place of the Supreme Court in our Nation. I believe Americans of all backgrounds deserve an independent Supreme Court that interprets our Constitution and laws as they are written. And I believe I can serve my country by playing that role. I come before this Committee with humility about the responsibility I have been asked to undertake, and with appreciation for those who came before me. I was nine years old when Sandra Day O'Connor became the first woman to sit in this seat. She was a model of grace and dignity throughout her distinguished tenure on the Court. When I was 21 years old and just beginning my career, Ruth Bader Ginsburg sat in this seat. She told the Committee, "What has become of me could only happen in America." I have been nominated to fill Justice Ginsburg's seat, but no one will ever take her place. I will be forever grateful for the path she marked and the life she led. If confirmed, it would be the honor of a lifetime to serve alongside the Chief Justice and seven Associate Justices. I admire them all and would consider each a valued colleague. And I might bring a few new perspectives to the bench. As the President noted when he announced my nomination, I would be the first mother of school-age children to serve on the Court. I would be the first Justice to join the Court from the Seventh Circuit in 45 years. And I would be the only sitting Justice who didn't attend law school at Harvard or Yale. I am confident that Notre Dame will hold its own, and maybe I could even teach them a thing or two about football.

As a final note, Mr. Chairman, I would like to thank the many Americans from all walks of life who have reached out with messages of support over the course of my nomination. I believe in the power of prayer, and it has been uplifting to hear that so many people are praying for me. I look forward to answering the Committee's questions over the coming days. And if I am fortunate enough to be confirmed, I pledge to faithfully and impartially discharge my duties to the American people as an Associate Justice of the Supreme Court. Thank you.

[pocminiseries]

Body Smile.

REQUEST.

••••••••••

Chapter 3.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Ace...I don't think I can do something like that."

When Kaiden had asked to speak to her privately, she wasn't expecting him to ask her some shit like this. Especially during her graduation party. She was supposed to be downstairs enjoying herself with her family and friends, yet here she was alone, in her room with him. And lord knows she was expecting anything to happen, except for this.

"Why not?"

Aliyah looked at him stupidly as if her hesitance wasn't understanding enough. "What do you mean "why not?" I mean, who the hell would Kaiden?!"

Kaiden smiled a bit at her raising her voice, it was cute. "It would be no different from when you watched me, except you'd be the one to record me instead of my webcam."

Just the mention of his web show had her squeezing her thighs together. Now wasn't the time for her to be aroused like a horny ass teenager.

"That's why tripods exist, invest in one." She told him, folding her arms across her chest.

"No. I need a human to move the camera in certain ways to get the best shots, and all of my best shots are to be taken up close." The question had been on his mind for a while and she was the only person who came into mind when the idea had popped into his head. He couldn't trust his other friends because half wouldn't be comfortable filming him and the other half would probably have him laughing too much to focus on his show.

So Aliyah was the perfect fit.

She could film him and be the focus of his desire while he did his job. It was a win, win situation.

"I bet." She snorted, eyeing his appearance, reminding herself of how fine Kaiden was. Her mind still couldn't wrap itself around how much he has changed.

Kaiden, knowing how much he could affect her, decided to do what he does best, tease.

He took a few steps forward until he invaded her personal space, visibly making her nervous. Her breath became shallow and her throat dry as she tried to move backward, only to be met with the end on her bed. Kaiden grinned, lifting his hand to brush across her exposed collarbone, feeling her heated skin against his fingertips.

"Stop that."

Aliyah licked her lips before biting them, sifting her gaze towards her feet. "Stop what?"

Kaiden laughed through his nose, moving his fingers lower until they met the top of her breast causing her to gasp from his simple touch. She has always been so sensitive whenever he put his hands on her, shit, he wouldn't even be surprised if she was already wet.

"Being nervous." He wanted her to trust him as she did once before but knew it wasn't something that he could ask for, at least not yet. "Lay back." He requested, pressing his body against hers.

Aliyah shook her head, grabbing ahold of his shoulders. "We can't. My people are downstairs." The last thing she needed was for her family to hear her and Kaiden messing around in her old bedroom at parents house especially. Plus he had the ability to cause her to make plenty of noise, last week was proof of that. Her neighbor made sure to let her know that he heard her loud and clear through the walls.

"Besides, I know what you're trying to do."

A sly smirk formed on his face, not at all fazed by being caught. "Is me wanting to please you a bad thing?"

"It is if you're trying to bribe me." She retorted. "No matter how good you are with your tongue, the answer will still be no."

With a slight tilt of his head, Kaiden looked her over slowly, biting into his lower lip at her hard nipples peeking through the thin material of the figure-hugging maxi dress she wore. "Are you saying no because you're scared?" He questioned, placing a kiss on each of her cheeks, feeling her hands firmly grip at his shoulders.

"I couldn't even watch your show Ace and you expect me to be the one to record you? Do you want a shaky ass cam show? Because that's what you'll get if I do it." Seeing him like that had her heart racing like crazy and her body feigning for his touch. She'd be too busy wanting to pounce on him and mess around and forget that she was supposed to be recording.

"You could always join me." He teased watching her roll her eyes at his suggestion. "Stop, I'm kidding." He laughed, holding her in place when she lightly pushed away from him.

"We'll practice then." He suggested, leaving butterfly kisses along her jawline.

"How?" The fact that she was even entertaining his request was beyond her but she wasn't going to front like the idea didn't peek her interest. Still, she was hesitant because she honestly didn't trust herself around him. Kaiden had just come back into her life and just like that she allowed him to do things to her with no questions asked.

"Come by my place later and I'll show you." With his next show being a few days away, he had time to teach her until then, especially for what he had planned.

"This isn't me agreeing to it...just seeing if I'd consider it." She told him, giving him a warning look when she felt his fingers brush against her exposed leg, while his other arm wrapped securely around her waist.

"So you say." He breathed against her neck before attaching his lips to suck on her skin, earning a sweet moan from her. "Let me touch you." He says, moving his hand higher up her thigh, indicating what he meant.

"Bu-"

"Please." He whined, cutting her excuse short. Everyone was too busy downstairs talking amongst each other, with most being outside in the backyard, plus there was music being played. The chances of her being heard were slim.

Aliyah sighed lowly before opening her legs wider, to give him better access and he wasted no time moving her panties to the side, discovering just how wet she was. "Did I do this?" He chuckled, running a lone finger over her folds.

"Yes." She breathed, wrapping her arms around him to keep herself steady. Her core throbbed with need as he teased at her sensitive bud. "Don't tease me." She muttered, knowing that they didn't have much time. Someone would come searching for them since the cookout was being thrown for her as one of her many graduation gifts.

Knowing that she was right, Kaiden rubbed her clit causing Aliyah's body to jerk against him. "Shit." She moaned lowly, almost losing her balance when he pushed two fingers inside of her unexpectedly, catching her off guard.

Kaiden picked up his movements, sinking his fingers as far as could into her, brushing the pads of his fingers across that certain spot that had her chanting his name under her breath. She was so sexy to him during moments like this, high off of pleasure that he caused.

"Do you want it?" He whispered, removing his fingers to rub her clit in a slow, sensual circular motion. She was close and he knew it. "Tell me."

Of course, she did but now wasn't the time and his words were only pushing closer over the edge after a few minutes of using his hands. "Y-yes." She stuttered, rocking her hips against his movements, wishing she could feel his tongue on her as well.

"You remember the first time I did this?" He questioned, bringing back up that one particular encounter they shared back when they were Seniors in high school. It was only weeks before he had left at that.

Nodding her head, Aliyah remembered that day as if it had happened yesterday. It was the first time her sweet Ace had ever done something to her on that level before. Usually, he'd tease and touch her sometimes but on that particular day, which happened to be on the day of his best friends Taemin's party, he took his teasing to a new level.

"We were so close..." He purred against her lips, teasing her with his own. "But I knew that you weren't ready."

But she was, he just didn't know it.

When she had hidden inside one of the bathrooms to get away from everyone, Kaiden had found her not long after. The two were never that far apart from one another, just how they liked it.

Aliyah wasn't even sure how they ended up kissing but she partially blamed it on the alcohol that was in their system at the time, it gave her courage. Next thing she knew, her shorts, along with her panties were pooled at her feet before Kaiden lifted her up on to the sink's countertop. He played with her pussy just as he was doing now, all while tonguing her ass down.

It was the first and only time Kaiden had experienced a girl being that damn wet before and he was so tempted to get on his knees and taste her with his tongue but realized what they were doing and stopped everything.

Of course not before he had her releasing over his fingers just once.

"You like this?" His words and those little noises he makes was doing something to her spiritually.

Aliyah was trying her best to keep as quiet as possible but Kaiden wasn't having any of it, curling his digits as soon as he slid them back in, bringing her closer to her peek. "Please, don't stop." She begged, raising her leg around his waist. She could hear how wet she was each time he moved in and out of her. Her breathing becoming more rapid at the pace he was working his fingers, bringing her closer to her climax.

"Shit, Liyah, I-"

"Baby? Are you ok in there? Everyone is asking for you downstairs." Aliyah's mother suddenly asked from the other side of the door, cutting whatever Kaiden was about to say short and Aliyah to freeze from the unexpected interruption.

But of course, Kaiden didn't seem to care that her mother was standing only a few feet away. He continued his ministrations, taking it upon himself to flick his tongue across her neck making Aliyah bite her lip as her body shook.

"Yes mama, I'll be right thERE!" She answered, moaning the last of her sentence when Kaiden's thumb started to stimulate her clit.

"Are you sure?" Her mother questioned more seriously, sensing that something was going on as she tried to turn the doorknob. "And why is your door lock? You know I don't play that in my house."

Kaiden softly chuckled against Aliyah's neck, leaving love bites wherever he could. "Baby, I need you to cum for me." He encouraged, speeding up his fingers.

Aliyah struggled to keep her moans to a minimal but he was making it so difficult. "Liyah? Did you hear me? Open this door right now."

Panic began to erupt in her when Aliyah heard her doorknob jiggle. "I promise, I'll be right down mama. I'm just changing." She quickly rushed out, holding onto Kaiden tightly, feeling herself about lose. "Goddamn Ace!" She called out louder than she intended to, throwing her head back in pure bliss.

She wondered how his hands could make her feel this good while hating how she wanted to feel so much more.

"What? Are you sure you're ok sweetheart?" Her mother insisted, trying the door again. "Girl, don't make me break this door down."

"You might want to answer her Beauty," Kaiden advised, curving his fingers again to hit that spot that had Aliyah seeing stars. It was all too much.

"Yessss!" She whined out loud as her walls tightened around his fingers. "I'll be right there." She added quickly, trying to catch herself. Kaiden was about to get her ass whooped and he didn't care at all.

"If you're not down those stairs in three minutes, I'm tearing this door off its hinges, you hear me?"

Kaiden, seeing the fear in Aliyah's eyes decided to take advantage of her vulnerable state and tease at her gspot continuously while he worked his thumb over her bundle of nerves causing her to cum fiercely over his hands.

"Oh fuck....yes!" Aliyah shrieked, remembering that her mother was still there, catching herself just as she tried to grasps onto reality, whimpering from Kaiden's continuous movements.

"I'll be counting."

Aliyah let out a much-needed breath when she heard her mothers footsteps finally move away from her door. She sent a glare towards Kaiden who slowly pulled his hands from between her legs and placed his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. Visibly swallowing, Aliyah stumbled back onto her bed, watching him closely with parted lips.

When did he become such a freak? She silently thought, feeling herself beginning to become aroused once again.

"You're so sweet." He mumbled once he was done. She was lucky that she had guests or otherwise, he would be between her thighs for another taste.

"What happened to you?" She whispered, seeing his eyes darken as he stared at her. It was the same look she has seen him give her before, even when they were younger. Back then she never thought much about it but now, she knew exactly what it meant.

"I grew up."

[whitewolfofwinterfell]

hey, shannen! regarding your last post about skins (effy/cook): it's really interesting to hear other opinions. Personally, I liked that that specific pair didn't end up together; I always thought their relationship was too dysfunctional and damaging to make a good fit! But I have to admit, I didn't watch all of the fire/ice etc episodes and maybe it's been too long to remember s3/s4 correctly haha;) just love to hear your take on it if you find some time! best wishes :)

Hey there, anon!

I couldn’t have recieved this ask at a better time, because I literally just finished re-watching seasons 3 and 4 of Skins yesterday! 

Thanks for sending this ask, I always love to discuss these topics and I’ve never really had the opportunity to discuss Cook and Effy in-depth before. Strap yourself in, because this is pretty lengthy, but hopefully you’ll enjoy reading my take on it. :)

Cook and Effy are a very complicated ship for me, because part of me thinks they’re very toxic and that practically they could never work as a couple. However, the other part of me thinks that they were only portrayed that way on the surface, and that in actuality, there is no basis for thinking that. Cook and Effy absolutely could’ve worked together if the show had given them that opportunity.

Personally, I don’t think it was their relationship that was dysfunctional or damaging, but Cook and Effy themselves. As people, Cook and Effy were both deeply damaged people by the time they met in season 3. Having known Effy from seasons 1 and 2, we know that she suffered from some form of Selective Mutism and that she generally had a lot of emotional difficulties in regards to opening up to and connecting to others. Nothing describes that as well as her line in season 2 when she said, “Sometimes I think I was born backwards, you know, came out my mum the wrong way. I hear words go past me backwards. The people I should love I hate, and the people I hate–” In seasons 1 and 2 Effy was around 14-15 years old and she was already demonstrating reckless and self-destructive behaviours - regularly taking drugs, having sex with people she barely knew and generally entering into dangerous situations (e.g. Spencer in 1x08) with no regard for her safety or well-being. Also, at the end of season 1, she suffered the trauma of seeing Tony get hit by the bus, which we know hugely impacted her because she made reference to it in season 4.

As for Cook, although we never physically get to see his past in the same way we do with Effy, we know enough to know that his childhood was far from happy and that it deeply affected him. His mother was a neglectful and unstable alcoholic who was known for having sex with men for money and his father abandoned him when he was a young child (we also know he was a complete asshole from his appearance in the season 3 finale). He had an uncle, who was a bigoted drug dealer who not only supplied him with drugs but encouraged him to partake in it. Everything we know about Cook’s family suggests that he was neglected and it’s very likely that he raised himself for the most part, which explains why emotionally he was closed off, afraid to connect to others and incapable of maintaining healthy relationships (this was particularly clear with his friendships with Freddie and JJ).

So, to summarise, Cook and Effy are two people that both struggled (for different reasons) with emotionally connecting to people and that were terrified of opening themselves up to love because they didn’t want to get hurt. Their relationship for the majority of season 3 (up until 3x08) was a manifestation of that inability to forge connections and/or fear of it. It was a shallow relationship built almost exclusively on sex, and although some may perceive it as unhealthy, it wasn’t. It was a mutual understanding between two people whose reasons for being together were the same - they were using each other.

For Effy, her sexual relationship with Cook was all about avoiding and repressing her feelings for Freddie. We know this because Effy said in 4x05 that she knew from the very first time she saw Freddie he was the closest she would ever get to being close and in 3x07 Cook revealed whilst under the influence of “truth” pills that Effy was having sex with him because she couldn’t stand the fact that she loved Freddie.

With Cook, his reasons for entering into a sexual relationship with Effy were simply because he was attracted to her (which we know from the first moment he saw her) and that was what Cook did and was used to doing - he had casual sex with lots of girls. Cook’s perception of sex was a clear indicator of the complex emotional issues he had. His obsession with having sex was a result of him desperate craving intimacy whilst simultaneously being afraid of it. He had sex to attempt to have that intimacy with another person, but then labelled it as casual and meaningless to invalidate that intimacy and close himself off to it.

When looking at it like this, it might seem ridiculous that I then claim that their relationship wasn’t damaging, because it certainly wasn’t what constitutes a healthy relationship, but by the same token, it wasn’t bad either. From the first time they had sex, there was a mutual understanding between Cook and Effy that their relationship was just no-strings attached sex. There was no manipulation or coercion, it was all consensual and mutual. As their relationship continued, it became complicated because feelings got involved and both of them were hurt by each other, but it was the kind of hurt all relationships experience and nothing particularly awful. In season 3, Effy was hurt when she found out Cook was sleeping with Pandora but she knew that she and Cook weren’t exclusive and that they could both sleep with whoever they wanted. Effy’s reaction to that was much more about Pandora’s betrayal, as her best friend, than Cook’s. And Cook was hurt continuously by Effy’s feelings for Freddie and her relationship with him. Besides that, there was nothing that happened between Cook and Effy that constitutes damaging. In fact, I’d argue that Effy’s relationship with Freddie was much more damaging to her than her relationship with Cook was. What I’m trying to say is that Cook and Effy’s relationship was exactly what a friends-with-benefits or casual-sex-buddy relationship looks like, and therefore not dysfunctional. Even when their relationship developed beyond the casual type due to Cook falling in love with Effy, it was still what any non-reciprocated relationship is. Cook was heartbroken, he attempted to express his love for her on occasions and she made it clear that she didn’t return his feelings in a respectful but firm way (excluding 4x07 when she rudely told him to piss off after he told her he loved her, which always really bugged me because it felt so OOC).

Regarding your comment about Cook and Effy not being a great fit, I’ve actually always felt the opposite. Although they’re very similar (x) and the popular saying is that opposites attract, I think Cook and Effy worked together really well. I don’t think we got to see just how well they could’ve worked, because they were never truly together and most of their relationship was about the triangle with Freddie/Effy. Effy said in 4x07 that Cook was never good for her, but I never understood that because there’s absolutely nothing to support that claim. If you look close enough, you can see how good they were together. The two of them actually spent a lot of time together, although we never see it on-screen, it’s spoken about or hinted at. For example, in 3x08 Cook turned up at Effy’s house and was on a first name basis with her mom and had brought groceries to cook for her, suggesting he spent a lot of time at her house (and not always in her bedroom since he knows her mom) and also that they did do other things other than just have sex. Cook also knew that Effy’s favourite film was E.T. which means they either watched it together or Effy told him. At the end of season 3 they spent a significant amount of time (we can assume weeks, maybe even months) on the run together, only in the company of each other. My point is, they clearly got on well and knew each other too. Whenever Cook and Effy had scenes that weren’t the melodramatic angsty type that Skins is well known for, they were light and natural together (x). Throughout the whole of the season 3 finale (which is a very Ceffy centric episode), they worked. If you take the Freddie/love triangle drama out of the equation, they were affectionate towards each other, they had fun, Effy was supportive and protective over Cook when it came to his dad and Cook was making plans for his future with Effy (to get a job and a boat). Putting aside their individual issues (which I mentioned above), when Cook and Effy were together they were good together. Even if they were just having sex, that was okay, because it was what they both wanted. They knew how to have fun and be in a moment together, and that was what drew them together from the beginning, because they could lose themselves in a moment and forget about everything else. Also, for all their similarities, Cook didn’t have the same depressive tendencies as Effy and was able to keep her on an even keel more so than anybody else (this is particularly obvious in comparison to Freddie, who I felt fed Effy’s depression). That’s why I find it so strange that there’s this perception that Cook was wrong or bad for her, because firstly, Cook never actually did anything to warrant him being “bad” for her. He drank too much, did drugs too much, partied too much but so did Effy, so did Freddie, so did every character on the show (excluding JJ). Cook never did anything to push Effy to a dark place, he never did anything to hurt her or harm her in anyway. Everything they did together was what Effy was doing before she met Cook and what she did with everybody else. In fact, I sincerely believe that Cook was capable of helping Effy and reaching her emotionally more than anybody else. In 4x07 when Effy was in a fragile mental state, she trusted Cook (despite not knowing him because of some hypnosis bullshit her psychopathic therapist did to her) and later in on the episode Cook was the one that brought her back.

As for Cook and Effy ending up together, I believe 100% that they should’ve been together, even if they hadn’t stayed together. If I had been in charge of the show, I would’ve completely scrapped the Freddie/Effy relationship and pursued a Cook/Effy romance from the beginning. From my perspective, it made complete sense that these two damaged people that were unable to emotionally connect would strike up a causal sexual relationship and eventually come to fall in love. Obviously, it wouldn’t have been a straightforward road for them or a particularly happy relationship, but it would’ve been very interesting to watch their ups and downs. Cook loved Effy completely, she was the first and only girl he had ever loved, and that was significant for his character and to have her return that love would’ve led to development for both of them. Skins as a show is all about young love and it’s realistic in its portrayal of that. All of the Skins relationships have their problems and none of them last (because the reality is a lot of young relationships don’t last as their lives go in different directions), so I couldn’t see Cook and Effy’s relationship lasting and them staying together, even if they had been together in seasons 3 and 4. Season 7, however, is a completely different story.

I’m a huge Skins fan and have been since I was a young teenager, but I strongly dislike season 7 and the choices that were made. In my opinion, to bring Effy and Cook back for the final season and not have them interact was criminal. Regardless of Effy’s romantic relationship with Freddie, Effy and Cook were strongly connected and fans would have loved to have seen them reunite. Since you didn’t watch season 7, you won’t be aware of how Cook and Effy developed, so I’ll briefly summarise. In season 7, Cook and Effy had both hugely mellowed in comparison to how they were in seasons 3 and 4, whilst keeping their core personalities. In season 7, Cook and Effy as a couple would’ve just worked. It was a chance to explore their unfulfilled potential and finally make the most of Kaya and Jack’s chemistry whilst remaining respectful to the Freddie/Effy relationship. If I could’ve written season 7 I would have had Cook be on the run (like he was in Rise) and Effy pursuing him because she’s seeking answers about Freddie’s disappearance. I would’ve had the two reunite and have Cook fall to pieces, because it’s Effy - the only girl he’s ever loved - and she brings to the surface everything he’s been keeping bottled up. But I would have him suppress those emotions and react angrily to her having found him, telling her she was stupid for looking for him and that she should’ve let it go. I’d have Effy respond angrily telling him that she couldn’t let it go and that since he and Freddie have gone everything’s gone to shit. Eventually, Cook would tell her the truth about what happened with Freddie and the therapist, and then in their grief-stricken and heightened emotional state they sleep together. Afterwards, Effy is conflicted because on the one hand she’s still grieving for Freddie but on the other, her feelings for Cook are resurfacing and the fact that Cook loves Freddie and is grieving him too means that they’re connected in a unique way. I would then have Cook get angry at Effy (again, because let’s face it, this is Cook lol), tell her to leave and go back to her life and forget about him like she should’ve done the first time, that he deserves to be punished and on the run for the rest of his life for what he did. Then Effy defends his actions saying Freddie’s death was her fault, she was the one that brought the doctor into their life and when Cook killed him he was only defending himself. I would’ve had Effy choose to stay with Cook and live with him on the run because she feels she has nothing at home to go back for. At that point, they wouldn’t be together, but the implication would clearly be there. It wouldn’t be a happy ending and it would be open ended, but I think it would’ve worked perfectly. Not only would it have provided the fans (and Cook and Effy) with closure for Freddie’s death, but would’ve explored that potential of Cook and Effy and ended on a semi-positive note.

One final thing I wanted to talk about, is that despite the fact that I think Cook and Effy were a good fit and definitely weren’t dysfunctional, shipping Cook and Effy isn’t about happy endings or them being ‘good’ for each other or even ending up together. The appeal of the ship (for me, at least) is the messiness and realness of it. When two people have such complex and unresolved issues as Cook and Effy, it’s impossible to be in a healthy, happy, functioning relationship, because they’re not those things themselves. However, Cook and Effy show what love can be when it’s not neat or simple or easily defined. They also show that you can love another person with your whole heart despite feeling broken inside. Plus, Cook and Effy had such a palpable chemistry, history and connection that it’s difficult for me not to ship them and root for them to be together, even if only temporarily.

[amillionmillionvoices]

for the trope mashup meme: stranded due to inclement weather + i didn't mean to turn you on, hicsqueak :)

(also + bed sharing + huddling for warmth + big damn smooch for @matildaswan!)

tw: internalized homophobia, negative self talk

“You know,” Pippa says, clutching her blanket tighter. “I’ve heard the best way to keep warm is to climb naked into a sleeping bag with someone else who’s naked.”

Hecate chokes on her tea. “Pippa!”

Beside her in the floor in front of the fire, Pippa grins. Or at least, Hecate thinks she’s grinning - her face is buried in her blanket, eyes peering out, sparkling with mirth.

Hecate feels her cheeks burn, and for the first time in hours, she’s glad there’s no light. Nothing but the crackling fire to give her away, and she hopes Pippa will simply attribute her suddenly scarlet face to its warmth.

It’s not that the idea is unwelcome - they’re both still shivering, the storm having knocked out the electricity in Pippa’s cottage, it’s magical nature rendering their own ability to cast almost useless. Hecate has managed to keep the fire going, but beyond that, she’s drained and exhausted and it’s all too reminiscent of the last time she lost her magic, and almost her home.

She thinks Pippa knows this. Knows how easily she gets lost in her thoughts, and keeps the conversation light.

But the image is in her head now, the two of them, curled up together, and Hecate has to clench her jaw to keep from feeling…everything she isn’t supposed to feel.

Pippa is her friend—for the first time in 35 years, she feels comfortable saying that. Feels at ease in her presence again. Doesn’t feel like a burden.

It’s why she accepted Pippa’s offer in the first place, to spend a few days in her seaside cabin, just the two of them.

She thought she could handle it. Thought being around Pippa constantly wouldn’t make her chest ache or her fingers itch the way they used to. Wouldn’t make her stomach flip every time Pippa smiles or her breathing hitch every time Pippa brushes a hand over her arm or back.

Fool, she thinks to herself.

She’s been an utter fool, and now they’re here, in the dark with only a flickering fire for warmth, the howl of a treacherous storm the only sound, and Pippa, trying to lighten the mood. Trying to distract her. Trying to help.

And all she wants is for it to be real.

Pippa sighs and pokes her head out from the blankets, looking apologetic. “It was just a joke, Hecate,” she says. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She is, uncomfortable, but for all the wrong reasons.

Hecate shakes her head. “It’s not that. I’m unsure how much longer I can keep the fire going.”

It’s not a lie, but it is a deflection, and Pippa frowns. “Are you alright?”

“Just tired.”

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep, and I’ll take over for a bit?”

“That won’t be necessary. Perhaps in a few hours.”

“If you’re sure,” Pippa says, and Hecate can hear the concern in her voice. Where it once made her bristle, now it soothes.

She tries to smile.

Pippa distracts her with a debate on modern magic, and she does her best to keep her tone equally light as she pokes fun at Pippa’s theories on modernized potions and chanting.

Pippa laughs and shoots back about traditionalism, but she notes with seriousness that she hates the way it lets some students slip through the cracks.

Hecate groans, thinking she’s talking about Mildred Hubble; but Pippa shakes her head.

“I’m talking about you.”

Hecate blinks. “Me?”

Pippa nods. “You control your magic like no one I’ve ever met,” she says. “But your teachers didn’t show you that. You had to learn on your own. We need teachers for all kinds of students, not just traditional ones.”

Hecate thinks about arguing - she wasn’t special, and therefore needed no special attention - but Pippa’s eyes are drooping and her smile is sleepy, so Hecate merely sighs.

“I suppose.”

Pippa clicks her tongue. “I’ll convince you one day,” she says. “After I sleep.”

Hecate snorts, but nods, and shifts so Pippa can extricate herself from their bundle of blankets. She doesn’t go far, curling up in front of the fire and pays the space next to her.

“You should lay down, too. It’ll be a long night.”

Hecate protests - more out of fear of being so close to Pippa than anything else - but Pippa pouts, biting her lip.

“It’ll be warmer if we stay close,” she says, and gives a dramatic shiver.

Hecate rolls her eyes, but she can’t say no - the thought of Pippa, cold and alone, is enough to make her give up her position, laying down on her back. Pippa doesn’t touch her, but she stays close, facing Hecate, hands under her head.

“Wake me when it’s my turn with the fire,” she mumbles.

Hecate nods, but Pippa is already asleep, expression evened out, and she looks so peaceful, so beautiful, Hecate looks away.

She can’t stand any of this.

Rolling over on her side, her back to Pippa, Hecate stares at a spot on the wall, and listens to the storm rage outside.

—

Hecate doesn’t sleep.

She can feel Pippa pressed against her back, warm and snoring softly.

It’s too much. There are thick blankets between them and yet Hecate feels like her skin is on fire. Feels every point of contact between their bodies, and she wants.

Wants to turn over and gather Pippa close. Wants to run her hands through her hair. Wants to touch her, and see her smile.

Sometimes, she wants Pippa so badly it hurts. A knot that forms in her chest and radiates pain through her muscles, her throat, her jaw.

She wants more. Wants lazy Sunday mornings and long walks hand in hand, more mirror chats and more weekends and more words.

She doesn’t feel like this often - can’t remember the last time she truly wanted to touch someone. To kiss someone. To feel someone else’s hands on her body. To feel vulnerable around them.

Around Pippa.

But it’s wrong. It was wrong when they were teenagers and it’s wrong now and she won’t, not for anything, jeopardize the friendship she has with Pippa now. Not even for her own happiness.

She’s so lost in her own thoughts it takes a moment before she registers the motion behind her. Hecate freezes, and turns to peer over her shoulder.

“Pippa?”

Pippa mumbles something in her sleep, and Hecate rolls over onto her back to better see Pippa’s face, to make sure she’s alright.

Before she has the chance, Pippa turns into her, tucks her face into the crook of Hecate’s neck and throws a leg over Hecate’s, flush against her, her arm slinging heavily over Hecate’s waist.

She snuffles a few times, then goes quiet.

Hecate freezes. Her body tenses, every muscle pulled taught and confused and she doesn’t know what to do. Whether she should wake Pippa, push her away, let her stay.

It means nothing, she tells herself.

It’s dark and cold and Pippa is merely seeking out the closest warmth.

The thought doesn’t comfort her. Instead, to her utter horror, it makes her eyes well up, tears clinging to her lashes that she refuses to let fall.

Pippa sighs, her breath floating over Hecate’s collarbone, and Hecate squeezes her eyes shut.

—

She falls asleep at some point, and wakes to complete darkness. The fire has gone out, and yet somehow, she isn’t as cold as she’d expect. Feels warm and somehow safe, despite their circumstances.

She shifts slightly and closes her eyes, thinking another hour or so won’t hurt; and then she feels something heavy on her leg, her chest, her shoulder.

Pippa.

She’s curled around Hecate even more so than when she fell asleep, half on top of her now, a hand on Hecate’s breast. For her own part, Hecate’s looped her arm around Pippa’s waist, holding her close, and despite the layers of clothes and blankets between them, Hecate feels her touch like a brand.

Her stomach knots and her throat goes dry and she blinks, tries to make out Pippa’s shape but she can’t. It should be oppressive, should, she thinks, be terrifying - she’s never liked being smothered, never been fond of so much physical contact, but this time it’s soft and warm and safe and Pippa.

And she loves her.

Loves her so much, sometimes Hecate thinks there’s no more room for it in her chest. No place else for it to go. It pressed against her rib cage and wants out, out, out but she never lets it. Keeps it close because if she doesn’t she’ll ruin everything, again.

She always ruins everything.

Always feels too much.

Wants too much.

Hecate bites her lip and squeezes her eyes shut, motionless in the dark, hyper aware of every place her body touches Pippa’s. Aware that it’s not enough.

There’s a sob crawling it’s way up the back of her throat and she forces it down, tries to take even, measured breaths but they’re shallow and shaky and every time her lungs expand she feels Pippa’s hand, so innocent, and yet it makes her stomach clench and her face feel hot with shame and desire.

It’s been so long she almost doesn’t recognize the wanting for what it is. But as Pippa snuffles in her sleep, nuzzling her nose against Hecate’s neck, she can’t stop herself from trailing her hand up and down Pippa’s spine. She tells herself its to calm and comfort, but she knows that in reality, she wishes. Wishes there were no barriers between them. Wishes she could feel Pippa’s skin against her own.

She sniffs, can’t quite stop a few tears from falling, sliding down into her hair. Her body shudders with the repressed sob, and she’s grateful for the storm that frowns out the smallest sound.

“Hiccup?”

Pippa’s breath ghosts across her cheek, and Hecate stiffens, her hand stilling, hovering an inch away from Pippa’s back.

“Everything’s fine, Pippa. Go back to sleep.”

Pippa shifts against her, a hand fumbling across her cheek, thumb brushing her temple.

“You’re crying.”

There’s a fizzle of magic in the air, and the fire lights, casting a dim glow, and Pippa is staring down at her, a worried frown on her face.

“It’s nothing,” she manages, forcing herself to sit up, to lose some of the contact with Pippa. “I’m fine.”

Pippa looks so concerned, but also sleepy - her hair tousled and eyes half lidded, the blanket askew.

“You don’t look fine.”

Hecate tries to smile. “A bad dream. Nothing of note.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Hecate shakes her head. “I’d rather not.”

Pippa nods, hesitates, then leans down and presses a kiss to Hecate’s forehead.

“For protection,” she says, pulling back with a sheepish smile.

Hecate’s heart cracks.

Against her own judgement, her hand reaches out and tucks Pippa’s hair behind her ear, feels a spark when her fingers brush her cheek.

Pippa stares at her, eyes wide, and she knows. She has to know, and Hecate yanks her hand away, tries to sit up, to untangle herself from the blankets.

“Hecate. Hecate, stop.”

She can’t, not until she’s away, out of this room and away from Pippa’s kind, suddenly understanding eyes and her warm hands, pulling her back.

“Hiccup—“

Hecate shakes her head. “Pippa, please, don’t—“

Two hands cup her cheeks and turn her head and there are lips over hers and it’s strange and uncomfortable and surreal because Pippa is kissing her, so light, but with so much intention. Hecate gasps, rearing back, and Pippa’s hands fall away.

“Hiccup?”

“You—why did you do that?”

There’s no way Pippa doesn’t hear the strangled emotion in her tone, the way her words crack and splinter, but she smiles, smiles so gently, and reaches for Hecate’s hand.

“Because I wanted to,” she murmurs. And then, even quieter, “I’ve always wanted to.”

Pippa stares at her and Hecate stares back, a million thoughts and doubts and insecurities jumbled in her head and just this once, just once, use your heart instead.

Hecate listens.

Lunges forward and holds Pippa’s cheeks in her palms and kisses her, and Pippa squeaks, then melts against her, mouth opening under Hecate’s and her arms winding tight around Hecate’s neck.

They kiss until they’re breathless, until Hecate’s hands are trembling and her skin is warm and when she pulls back far enough to see Pippa’s face, she’s smiling. Smiling so wide, fingers drifting through Hecate’s hair.

“Hiccup.”

Hecate shudders, at the warmth in her voice, the tenderness - she dares not call it love, but it’s something close to that.

“Pippa,” she tries. “Pippa, I—“

Pippa shushes her with a kiss. “I know.”

[mystiquespaceandtime]

say yes?

he was easy in so many ways, but so difficult in others. I rarely had ever found men that I related to, and even more rare, that I was attracted towards. Being in his presence was easy, no clinching stomach anxiety, or dread of it being over, and the conversations were flowly and meaningful- even if they were silly and stupid.

Every moment I spend with him feels special, almost like I know there is no better place to be than with him there. A thought that scares me though is that it is because I know it doesn't last forever.

In all the ways he was easy, other men were hard. I found most other men materialistic, shallow and lacking depth, and the ones that had depth seemed to lack the sweetness found in this man. Other men just have always seemed to find me puzzling, or strange, this either allured them or pushed them away- yet it seemed to intimidate them all nonetheless. He was easy in the way that he was not intimidated by me, or at least he was really good at making me feel that way; he genuinely liked me for who I was, and not in a weird fetish way.

However, in all the ways the other men were easy, he was hard. It was always the same guy, head over heels and barely knowing me. So available, so easy to figure out. They barely knew me, but they loved me, it was hard to believe that they would be able to handle all of me truly. He took the time to know me, and asked me good questions. His mother is a psychologist, I am sure that got passed down to him. He gave me room to speak, but also didn't shut up. In the ways that other men were easy, he was hard. Always going through an internal battle, that would, unfortunately, release itself. It was hard to leave him, knowing that my pain was just a reflection of his internal struggle, but enabling the toxicity was just too much to bear. I loved him, and maybe he even loved me, but how can you water the garden you love, if you're lying on a deathbed. His depth made him confusing, sometimes scary. While other men seemed to have agendas, he lacked one, but his secrets were in other places. It was almost worse because there was no way I could even figure it out.

My best friend hates that I love him, sometimes I hate myself for loving him. He is troubled, and he takes it out on the people who love him. I wish he was better that way. But when he can he is so generous. He is generally always sweet, but he is so timid with being relied upon.

I don't love anyone else but him right now. I just cant think of loving anyone else. My best friend hates me for that. It makes me sad. It's hard enough loving someone so easy yet difficult, and then having your friend make you feel worse and worse about it everyday.

I feel like the only thing I can do to make any of it better is to enjoy him, until I do not care anymore. I know it will hurt when he leaves, I know he will make mistakes, and I am sure I will too. But there is something I love about the journey maybe. I am not ready to let him go, and in a bittersweet manner it blesses and haunts me.

[foxgloveinspace]

I wish I could describe my more breath taking dreams sometimes. I wish i could tell about my dream of giant mermaids beaching themselves and me and my sister getting on a mission to find their home and find out why, and traveling in a steampunk submarine and finding the most beautiful hidden kingdom under water where its one of those places where you go down under a mountain and then up in a hole and the inside is hallow, and there was a sun in it and when we surfaced, the water was so clear it looked like the water was shallow even though we knew it was thousands of feet deep and there was beautiful mosaic of a huge sun on the bottom of their ocean, and then a giant mermaid swam up to the ship, and we where going to try to communicate with him to find out about the mermaids beach themselves. I woke right as the crew opened the hatch and I popped my head out as the mermaid/man reached out to grab me from the ship. I knew I was afraid and excited. I knew there was a possibility I was about to get squished. But I wanted so badly to be able to ask him what was happening.

Or about the one continuing dream, the one I have in the same universe, and I visit about once a month. I don't even know how to describe it except that everything is just slightly. Wrong. And it is consistent in how it is wrong. I went there last night, and I was at my old best friends house. I don't know why. I had a boyfriend, we where sleeping in the floor. He was curl up against me and I can still feel him in my arms almost. I know that something was after us. I know we didn't have a lot of time, and need to sleep before getting the fuck out of there. I know that before we got to her house, me and boyfriend had been sitting in the middle of the train tracks in the town I grew up in. But the town wasn't the same, bigger in the way that things where legit spaced out farther, more shops on main street then there have ever been. We where waiting for my dad to get off work, the sky above us was dark, cloudy with storms threatening to rain at any moment.

Or the ones where we go to this continuously dying mall in the city where my grandpa lives. Every time I go there in these dreams, there are less and less stores. Its creepy, the play aria is abandoned, and the giant slide is caving in. We go to the store that used to be a build a bear and look inside the bars to see stuffing strewn across the floor and the stuffed animals falling off shelves. I think this one has to do with the decay of childhood. I think this in the dream but immediately tell myself that's stupid and this is real. We go to the Chinese restaurant, and the white lady's working there know us by name, even though we only come twice a year. We get sushi. The same people are always there, and when we leave they wave and tell us to come back soon. I don't ever want to come back but we always do. I think they know this. I wake up before we can get outside.

[fluffshewrote]

fic: it's a different kind of danger and my feet are spinning around

fandom: miraculous ladybug

characters/pairings:  adrien agreste, marinette dupain-cheng, ladybug, ladrien, 

summary: It was sometimes easier to talk to a stranger than to a friend.

notes: i belated realized that i had posted this fic to ao3 but not to here

After patrol, her route home takes her past the Agreste Manor and most nights when she threw a glance at Adrien's window, she doesn't know which windows are his, but all the lights are off. An early riser, she decided, which is something she and Chat could never be, not with their schedules.

But then one morning, she overheard a sleepy conversation between Nino and Adrien, when Nino asked if Adrien slept well. Adrien yawningly complained of a midnight shoot, his breath coming out in white plumes in the early morning, his blue scarf wrapped around his neck snugly and it's only because of Alya that Marinette doesn't walk into the wall or the door.

Alya half-heartedly moaned at Marinette, at her Adrien State, but Alya knew she's not listening. Alya sighed, tightening her grip on Marinette to make it easier to steer. Marinette adjusts her previous assumption that Adrien is an early riser, he's just working so hard that he can't help but pass out when he's finally home. Her heart ached in sympathy for him, couldn't they give him a break?

She wished she could help but she couldn't even form proper sentences around him, what could she do?

~~~~~~~~~*

 "You okay, man?" Nino asked one morning, "You're even quieter than usual, today."

Marinette wasn't trying to eavesdrop but she was incurably curious, so she listened carefully while Alya stared at her bemusedly with her head in her hand.

Adrien closed his eyes and nodded, leaning on his desk.

"Should I get Ladybug to cheer you up?" Nino teased and Marinette froze, her emotions like butterflies at Spring Break.

So preoccupied with her own feelings that she nearly missed the way Adrien pinked before he covered his face with his hand and chuckled softly. "I'm fine, Nino."

Her heart stuttered as she stared at him, how even the smallest smile from him was like sunlight and she felt like a starving plant. Suddenly Alya had both her hands on Marinette's cheeks and was telling her to breathe, did she forget to breathe again? She inhaled softly and Alya patted her head with a smirk.

"I hate it when you do that," Alya complained and Marinette apologized while leaning on Alya's shoulder, breathing into Alya's neck until Alya giggled and squirmed away from her.

"Stop it! Alright, I forgive you!" Alya said, straightening and fluffed her hair as she eyed Marinette.

She would visit Adrien, Marinette decided. Chat had also been upset although he tried to hide it from her, and although she couldn't help him because they weren't meeting up today but just maybe she could help Adrien. It was sometimes easier to talk to a stranger than to a friend.

~~~~~~~~~*

 Ladybug was outside his window. 

He gasped, trying not to freak out because SHE.IS.RIGHT.THERE .

He stammered in his rush to invited her in. She's very shy, with a soft voice and bright blue eyes and apologized for visiting so late. He's taken back to the first they met, as Chat Noir and Ladybug, where she was so unsure and kept apologizing.

Finally, he placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her. He's trying not to freak out and trying to cling to his cool but he pretty sure it's not working. His mouth opened finally to speak but she cut him off.

“Sorry but if you start then I'll lose my nerve and everything will be for nothing,” She apologized quickly and he chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I've heard you had a bad day and I know you like Ladybug, I mean me and I just thought-I just thought that maybe you'd like a friend who'll listen or I mean-” She cut off as he laughed softly, she tried to bury her face in her hands.

“S-so you're offering to be my friend?” He stuttered, his cheeks aflame, trying to make sure he understood her and he couldn't stop the smile that grew on his face when she nodded.

“A friend who you can talk to, no matter what,” Ladybug said, staring at her feet, peeking at him when she thought he wasn't looking. “The mask helps with that, it's easier to talk to someone you don't know about your problems, than someone you do,”

“I-I'd like that,” He replied softly, a lot softer than he meant to and his face still too red for his liking. He was gifted with her dazzling smile and his heart soared. He gestured for her sit somewhere and she curled up onto a corner of the couch.

He sat down on the other side of the couch and glanced at her where she's examining his room. “So....so where I do begin?”

She smiled softly at him and he swore his heart stopped. Would his cheeks ever not be red?

She regarded him for a minute before speaking. “You can start wherever you want. You can just talk, Adrien, talk about anything you have on your mind or, want to talk about.”

He stared at her for a second, considering for a second before he raked his hair back before Adrien sighed out a word.

“Mom. My mom, she-, it was her birthday today.”

~~~~~~~~~*

 She left somewhere after midnight, or just before, but she left him lighter. He felt as if he would float away if he didn't concentrate on keeping his feet firm on the ground. He climbed into bed with a small smile and even Plagg snuggled closer to him before they both fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~*

 The moment she saw him, she just reacted, not really thinking about anything other than the fact that Adrien is in danger.

She swung, grabbed him around the waist and flung them both of them in the air. Honestly, it's probably really not her best rescue but cut her some slack her, it's Adrien. She tried really hard not think about the fact that his arms were around her neck. She more aware of his touch than she should be and she tried to take a shallow deep breath.

She really didn't think around him. She felt like smacking herself up the head. 

Her feet barely touched the top of the building they landed on before they're flying again, this time they headed to the closest tall building, to the Agreste Manor.

She tightened her grip on his waist, ridiculously scared she would drop him even though she never dropped anyone as Ladybug before. His breath, she feels hotly on her neck, hitched and she worried for the next seconds that she hurt him.

The moment they're both safe on the building, she turned to look at him critically, trying to spot his injuries. His cheeks were ruddy from the flight, Marinette decided but she didn't find any wounds.

“Are you okay?” She asked, her voice soft as she stepped away. He shifted from foot to foot before looking up at her from under his lashes. Marinette was struck speechless by him and his sheer beauty. Even after meeting him as Ladybug, he still was the sun to her.

“You saved my life again.” His voice was breathless but the awe in his voice was still heard. Ladybug's cheeks were aflame as she smiled slightly. In the distance, Ladybug hears the Akuma raging and ranting and she sighed.

“You should probably go,” He mumbled, sounding as if he didn't want her to leave but knew she would. She blew out her breath slowly and reached out to put her hands on his shoulders, but stopped mid-air. She froze.

“My La-Ladybug?” 

Her small smile stayed, though she stuttered as she looked him in the eye and slowly pulled back her arms. “In a minute, I know my partner is probably already there and I trust him. I need to make sure you're okay.”

There's no mistaking it now, his cheeks were still red as he caught her hand lightly. She tried not to react, she tried not to blush and failed massively, though she had hoped her mask covered most of the blush.

“I'm okay,” He mumbled softly and she nodded slightly before stepping away, her hand tingly and cold.

“Then, I'll see you later, h-,” The last word got stuck in her throat and her cheeks were aflame with the near slip-up and she gave him slight salute before she threw her yo-yo so fast that she didn't have time to look back.

She was going to die when she actually thought about it but for now, she needed to focus on defeating the Akuma. She needed to focus, she slapped her cheeks slightly to get her head in the game. Focus.

She and Chat arrived at the same time. Chat couldn't stop smiling stupidly and she herself couldn't keep her own focus properly on the Akuma. It took them longer than it should have, but they defeated the Akuma finally with goofy tired smiles and the customary fists bumped.

And after, she swore her hands didn't stop tingling where Adrien touched her until way after the battle.

~~~~~~~~~*

 She visited him now, mostly on bad days, he didn't know how she knew but she always left him feeling lighter. She always left with hands that were too cold and were tingling until long after they said goodbye.

[hottmessexpresss]

**Trigger Warning** Those who are sensitive to topics such as: drug-use, over-dose, and language/descriptions/scenarios involving drugs and drug activity, please do not continue reading, or read at your own risk**

I remember I was in the parking lot of a 24 hour fitness in Bakersfield, Ca. I remember distinctly feeling like I was wrapped in a warm, weighted blanket. My breathing was shallow, but it felt "nice". I felt as if some large fluffy llama was sitting directly on my chest. Oddly enough, I felt at peace...and I felt very, very, sleepy. I didn't feel scared. I felt "whole" for the first time- I felt...happy.

Unknown time had lapsed and I woke up with vomit all over my shirt. I was dazed and confused, and blisfully unaware of my surroundings. I came to, and the passenger next to me was crying and repeatedly saying, "I don't want to go to jail. I don't want to go to jail."

That was my first and only opiate induced over-dose, and before Narcan has been heavily encouraged and issued. If you think that was enough to scare me, you're dead wrong.

Fast forward 6 years, give or take...and here I am sitting in the hospital watching my husband writhe in pain. He just had a total shoulder replacement surgery for a second time, at 42 years old (that is considered "young" for this type of evasive surgery.) My husband never shows he is pain, and has been dealing with this pain for over a year. Doctors never took him seriously. He didn't "look" to be in pain, and his physiological responses didn't "show" he was in pain. Often, there was frustration. Anger. Resentment. Not a soul believed him, and he had accepted he was going to have to deal with it for the remainder of his life. My husband served 21 years in the United States Military. His body is proof of what men and women can endure ensuring our freedoms are protected.

My husband has said, "If it weren't for these junkies, I wouldn't have to be jumping through hoops to be taken seriously." It didn't offend me. It didn't hurt my feelings. With the recent (but not new) opiate epidemic, my mind has been reeling with questions, thoughts, and residual pain. How* do we as a society, fix this problem? What can be done to HELP? What types of out-patient, low cost programs could make an impact in communities of these (addicts) people?

Drugs do not discriminate. When I was detained by the oh-so-lovely, Bakersfield Police Department back in 2014, I was treated as less than a person. "How long have you been doing drugs??? You're too pretty and young to be a tweaker." I was humiliated. I sat in silence, and in that moment "they" had won. I wanted to tell them....."If you only knew me.....if you only knew my story....my amazing, loving, parents...my upbringing, my home...my college education....." but to them, I was just 'another tweaker,' and another case number to report on. The stigma is there. I've seen comments on numerous facebook posts, "tweakers deserve to die." But my friends, they do not. If it weren't for the passanger in my car 6 years ago (even if it were for selfish reasons...AKA not going to jail) I would not have had my beautiful babies, and I would not have had a fighting chance to change my life in a productive and meaningful way.

Not even a full 24 hours after surgery, my husband's nerve block started to wear off. We paged his nurse for relief......and what happened? The on-call resident had a nurse bring my husband Tylenol. Tylenol. After a major surgery. I was offended, and in that moment, I felt embarrassed. There are people out here in this world in legitimate pain. Because of the sudden intensity of the current opiate epidemic, they (pain patients) were forced to taper off of their medication completely, or cut back harshly on their medication. Is this the right thing to do? Is this fair to those battling pain daily with the medical records to back it all up? This is where most addictions can start. "It's a prescription by my doctor... so it's fine." I can bet most do not abuse them, because of course, they need them. But there also people out in this world with emotional pain.

The first time I tried Oxycontin, I felt the effects relatively quickly. Battling depression since 12 years of age, I was dealing with my parents divorce and remarriages, new family dynamics, being a fat, and bullied nerd....I never took medication long enough to know if it would be helpful to me. So in that moment, naiive to what was to come, not knowing my genetic predisposition, I thought to myself, "so THIS is happiness....THIS is what "normal" feels like." And so began my endless and bottomless search for that euphoric happiness, and my self-medication began.

My husband was finally given an Oxycodone 11 HOURS later. It was horrible seeing his face knowing he was in unbearable pain. "We're giving you two doses of Oxycodone, Mr. Steele." My ears. I heard the name, and I knew it all too well. A former best-friend of mine; one whom I loved more than myself and loved more than anything else in this entire world at one point. The word itself, triggered me. Almost 6 years of being free and clear off that shit, and the word alone sent my neurotransmitters firing rapidly and excitedly. My brain started to illict a chemical and emotional response... to a fuckin' word*. I started to feel anxious. Uneasy. Worried. Angry. Jealous. To those who have never been addicted to drugs, this probably sounds absolutely CRAZY to you. How can someone be jealous of someone in legitimate pain and taking pain pills? Well, someone who had once before been EXCITED to fracture her thumb knowing she was getting pain pills (me). I knew* my husband needed them. I knew he had a legitimate reason to need them-but I felt* out of my mind. That* is addiction... That* is your brain fighting against the rational fibers of what is "normal". After addiction sets in, your brain under goes chemical changes. Your "Hedonic Set-Point" of happiness is altered and flipped the fuck upside down. You become addicted because you realize that the intense euphoria and happiness, that warm, fuzzy feeling in your stomach, the rush to your head...have all caused a peak beyond your "set point" of euphoria. You crave it, and you NEED it just to even function and feel "normal" If you don't use (drugs), your entire body shuts down and you become so sick (the flu times 500). So you continue to use and abuse anything to reach the level of "normal" (and beyond) in order to not feel like a depressed piece of shit. Rock bottom hits (whenever and however that is and may be, and some will never experience the same rock bottom) and you get clean, and your "hedonic set point" is reset and now, unrealistic. You soon realize you will never* feel that level of happiness again (sober). Social context, and psychological predispositions can trigger a response in your brain to want to achieve that chemical, unrealistic level- over and over again.

Recovering addicts face this day in and day out, and in this case, recovery** is a CHOICE. No one wakes up one day and says, "you know what? I'm going to steal from my family and act like a reckless fool and ruin my normalcy and fuck up my entire family (and my fuckin' credit score) Addicts can do bad things, but that doesn't make them bad people. They are the walking wounded. In the words of my favorite author, Charles Bukowski, "we don't even ask (for) happiness, just a little less pain." A close friend of mines addiction was so deep, she lost custody of her child and lost sight of everything she once loved. No one in their right mind* would EVER jeopardize the relationship and well being with their own flesh and blood. People who weren't addicted could never phatom this scenario, but addiction is* ugly. She passed away almost two years ago, leaving her daughter and family behind. Again, addiction can be so powerful and it trumps all things good. Addicts become selfish. Because they only care about themselves and their next fix. Unless they get the proper intervention, have kick ass insurance, and the will and reason deep down to stop, they won't. That's why in NA, they say some people's only way out of addiction, is jail, institutions, or death.

I feel embarrassed sometimes to admit any of this. Those who knew me in my active addiction phase, constantly said, "where* is Katelyn? Where* did she go? This is not* the Katelyn we know and loved..." Addicts have to first admit they are powerless over their addiction. Along with this, comes a mountain of shame, guilt, embarrassment, shame, and a total slap in the face of everything* they were covering up during their abuse. We have to essentially re-learn how to live life again. How to cope with underlying mental illness, how to cope with triggers, how to live day to day without their former best friend.

I wish deep down I wasn't this way. I wish deep down the muffled voice subtly nagging at my brain would stop. I wish i knew better. I don't feel this hardcore temptation anymore. In the beginning, everything felt "unfair" and life kept throwing punches at me and I struggled to handle them. I blamed others for my addiction and carried around SO much anger. One day, it clicked. No one forced me to do anything. Only I was to blame. I was responsible and accountable for what happened to me, and only I was responsible for changing my behavior. It was hard. Most of the time, it felt virtually impossible to stop. If any addict could take a magic pill to end the cycle and to start their lives over, I'm betting some- if not most, would. This blog isn't a debate on whether or not addiction is a choice. I could sit here and debate with anyone all day on this subject. This entry is merely pointing out a basic and yet complex struggle one can face years and years down the line during their recovery. I look back and feel accomplished. I overcame something not everyone has the privilege to escape from. Being clean, I was able to rediscover myself, reevaluate goals, mend relationships, and lead a meaningful life. I found my soul-mate and have two amazing babies. My hope for anyone struggling with addiction is to overcome. Take advantage of any and all local resources and dig deep down to find the desire to want to stop. It might take you more than one attempt to get clean. In NA, they mention over and over to never feel like relapse isn't possible and that it "won't happen" to you. Because it is possible. It can happen at any given moment, and there is always a chance of giving in to the demons you have worked so hard to manage and control. Make the concious choice to NOT give in to the monster, no matter how tempting it could be. You are loved. You are worthy.

"Just for today, my thoughts will be on my recovery, living and enjoying life without the use of drugs. Just for today, I will have faith in someone in NA who believes in me and wants to help me in my recovery. Just for today, I will have a program. I will try to follow it to the best of my ability. Just for today, I will be unafraid. My thoughts will be on my new association's- people who are not using and have found a new way of life. So as long as I follow that way, I will have nothing to fear." (Narcotics Anonymous, text)

Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA)

1-800-662-4357

NA (Narcotics Anonymous)- find NA meetings and local resources for recovery.

http://m.na.org/

[fakingitfanfiction]

Her Latest Flame Chapter 19: Four Seconds

Previous Chapters

Reagan thinks it, but she doesn't say it and yes, she does realize that pretty much covers most of the reasons for most of the trouble for most of the last few years of her life.

(So many mosts.) (Too many.)

But, really, she just can’t bring herself to say it, even though the words are right there, dancing on the tip of her tongue, and yes, before you even ask, she does know that things dancing on her tongue or, maybe, her tongue dancing on things, is pretty much all the reasons for all the troubles for all the last few years of her life.

(Maybe most was better.)

So Reagan thinks it - thanks for coming, I wasn’t sure you would - but she doesn’t say it, cause, when it comes right down to it, meeting your ex in a diner, in the middle of the night, just to talk about your other ex (the one this ex hates) (and you can’t blame her?) is lousy enough already, without adding in crappy, cliched rom-com dialogue, especially when said diner is the very same diner where you and that ex (the one you are meeting, not the one you wish you were) had your first date.

And thinking that makes Reagan think this: She’s living in a fucking country song.

And also this: Amy would love this place. Killer doughnuts.

And also also this:

She fucking sucks.

(Which ‘she’? Take your fucking pick.)

All of that is weighing on her, physically pressing down on her, it’s a clammy hand of the undead (the nasty zombie kind and not the supa hot, she can put her hand wherever she wants Carmilla kind) on the back of her neck, holding her head down so she can’t even look up as Heather slips into the booth across from her. But then, Reagan doesn’t have to actually see her to make it all so much worse.

Just knowing she’s there, that she drove out in the middle of the night, leaving what’s her name (like Reagan doesn't remember) alone at home, probably in bed, their bed - as in Reagan’s and Heather’s cause she got the bed in the split and that’s always sorta pissed Rea off cause it was a nice fucking bed - but, she supposes, it’s probably some kind of poetic justice or karma (ugh) or some shit like that cause Heather might have gotten the bed (and their friends) (and the fluffy towels) (and Reagan’s copy of Paul’s Boutique on vinyl), but Reagan got here, she got the diner with those killer doughnuts and the awesome milkshakes and that one really hot waitress with the extremely nice ass.

So, it's fine. It's all good. It’s totally fair and that’s her story and she’s totes sticking to it, right up until…

“I didn’t know you still came here.”

Reagan sighs the sigh of the truly defeated cause that’s what she is, that’s what she's been ever since the word 'college’ came out of Amy’s mouth years ago and she’s just so tired of fighting it and losing. Cause that’s what this is, a loss. That’s what getting caught in a lie (even if said lie was only in her head) by her ex, the one she called because there was no one else she could, is and, to make matters worse (cause that’s what she does), Reagan’s realizing now, she’s doing the mental math and - if you include the ten or so words over the phone and those seven - this is the longest conversation she and Heather have had in years.

And yes, that might actually include when they were together, at least the last six months or so.

She’s supposed to follow up the sigh with an actual, you know, answer. She remembers the polite polka well enough, the two step around the awkward, the tentative toe stuck in the pool before they dive in. Reagan knows she’s supposed to say something, she’s supposed to show Heather that it’s safe and it’s sound and it’s all… well… not good, but a step or two (two and a half, maybe) up from bad. She knows she should, but she doesn’t remember how.

Maybe, she thinks, that’s why she and Amy skipped the talking and went straight to the fucking.

Yup. That’s why.

Somehow, she doesn’t think 'straight to the fucking’ will work with Heather, but then, neither will the truth. A polite 'sometimes’ might swing, but honesty? The 'I don’t come here and I haven’t come here once since you and the cheating whore… the other cheating whore… up and left and took my everything with you’ truth?

Yeah, that doesn’t exactly scream 'the water’s fine, come on in’.

So, the truth is out and the polite lie is just one lie too many so that only leaves… “Why did you answer? When I called. I didn’t think you would.”

(Changing the subject.) (Good plan.) (Changing it to something else might have been better.)

Heather nods and fidgets with her menu, her fingers scratching over the cheap laminated pages like Reagan working a needle on vinyl. It’s a small, simple gesture, a habit she had long before they were even a couple and - clearly - long after. But small or not, what it is is familiar, so much so that it almost physically hurts. It’s a sharp thing, that pain, a razored knife tip slicing between her shoulder blades and Reagan recognizes it instantly, knows it well, she can call it by name.

It’s the quick and burning rush of almost.

That’s almost as in this was almost her life. Her and Heather and their diner and sitting across from each other, barely speaking, their few actual words nothing more than shallow lies cause neither of them wants to be the one to drop the hammer of truth and shatter the glass. That’s almost as in they almost made it and even if Reagan knows that actually making it might not have been best (see: barely speaking and truth hammers) that somehow doesn’t make it hurt any less.

She can’t help wondering if Heather feels it too, if every time she looks at her, she thinks 'I was almost enough.’ For her sake, Reagan hopes not. And, maybe, a little for her own sake, too.

You know, guilt and all.

She’s had quite enough of that, lately.

So why did she answer? Why did Heather pick up when she had every reason - almost all of them being the woman sleeping right next to her - not to?

“I almost didn’t,” she says, her eyes darting quickly from the menu to Reagan and then back again. Her fingers are still shuffling across it and it’s all Reagan can do not to reach out and take Heather’s hand in her own, if only to stop the movement. “You remember how I could never keep my phone on my side of the bed?”

Reagan nods. They’d learned that lesson early on when Heather had snoozed her alarm six times and ended up two hours late for work.

(And if only one of those hours was because of the snoozing and the other was more… awake related?) (Yeah, Reagan’s not thinking about that.)

“She saw it first,” Heather says and Reagan doesn’t ask who she is cause, well, duh. “Your name on the caller ID. She almost wouldn’t give me the phone, said it was probably a drunk dial.” She stares down at the menu, her hands stilling on the table. “I knew better.”

Heather says 'better’ but Reagan hears 'you’ and yeah, either one would be true.

“There’s only two reasons you would have called me,” Heather says, her tone oh so matter of fact, so totally certain. “Only two things that could have upset you so much that I was the best port in the storm.” She slides the menu out from under her hands, folding them together on the table. “One’s your mom. But the anniversary was three months ago and you always do mostly OK, except for right before and right after, so I figured that wasn’t it.”

Reagan is so very very proud of herself that she doesn’t react, not in the slightest, to the sudden realization that yeah, Heather does still know her. But when she doesn’t correct her, when she doesn’t say 'oh, it was about my mom’, Reagan hears Heather react, she hears her sigh, feels her pull back, sinking down into the booth and she knows the next words, before they’re even spoken.

“It’s Amy, isn’t it?”

Isn’t it? Isn’t it always?

“It’s funny,” Heather says, though she’s not laughing. “Those are almost the words you said. To her, remember? That day she came knocking on our door?”

It’s Karma, isn’t it?

Heather shuffles back, squaring herself against the seat, tugging one leg up against her chest, almost like a shield. “I think I knew, even then. When I saw you two… anyone could see how much she wanted you.”

“She wanted someone who wasn’t Karma,” Reagan says, the speed and force of the words rushing out of her surprising even her. “I was just the best option.”

Best. Only. One most likely to say yes who wasn’t headed off to rehab. Take your pick. Again.

Heather doesn’t buy it and Reagan knows it, but who or what Amy wanted then, is so far far far removed from the point now, that’s it not worth an argument. “I knew it had to be her,” Heather says. “Didn’t know the details or the specifics… who did what with whom or to whom or, you know, whatever… but I didn't have to. It was Amy. And you. And that was enough.”

If only. If only Amy and her had ever been… enough.

“You want to tell me what happened?”

In a word? No.

In another word? Nope. Or perhaps 'nuh uh’ (technically two, but who’s counting.) No matter what word - or words - you choose, it all boils down to the same thing. Reagan doesn't want to tell her. In fact, Heather might be the last person Reagan would ever want to tell, but she is still the person she called and whether that was a moment of weakness, a moment of drunkenness, or just the biggest brain fart in the history of brains passing gas, it’s still a fact.

And the other facts? Well… they probably won’t surprise Heather too much.

“I hurt her,” Reagan says. She’s proud of herself (again) for not speaking softly, for not trying to mumble her way through the litany of her sins. She fucked up, but she’s not gonna go and compound the fuck up - any more than she already has - by being quiet about it. She’s gonna own it. For once. “And I slept with her. And that hurt someone else. Maybe even worse.”

She pauses for a moment. Shakes her head.

Fucking own it.

“Not maybe,” she says. “Worse.” She pauses again, letting herself really think about it, maybe for the first time. Considering the damage done and not just to her or to Amy or to her and Amy, or whatever chances that ever had. But to Sophie.

To Sophie and Amy. You know, the actual relationship here.

Fuck. Just… fuck.

It all comes in a rush, a flood, a wave that swamps her and damn near drowns her and Reagan swears she can feel the water rising, up over her boots and to her knees, her legs gone heavy, like lead, weighing her down, trapping her in place. It’s not guilt or at least it’s not just guilt, not by itself cause, well, that would be simple, right? And this?

This is anything but simple. Or so she keeps telling herself. But, really, isn’t it? Isn’t it as simple as… a bouncing fucking ball?

Cause there it is, bounding along in her mind and Reagan can’t help following it, watching in her mind’s eye as it goes bouncing down the road, a poorly lit and pot-holed all to hell thing, but that ball, it just keeps right on going, skipping past that one day with Amy - far far too fast, if you ask Reagan, but then, nobody does - and then past that night with Sophie and now, she thinks, a bit more of that speed would be kinda nice.

Careful what you wish for. Cause now it’s practically leaping along, almost flying its way through all those nights with Heather, which at least keeps Reagan from having time enough to debate the 'with’ of it all - cause let’s face it, she was never really there - and then it slows, it lingers, it rolls on through those couple months, that teeny (in the grand scheme of things) speck of time that was her trying over and over and over again, in all the wrong places and with all the even wronger faces, to convince herself that ending it, breaking it off - dumping Amy - was the right thing to do.

And there it is again. That almost. Cause, even now, Reagan only almost believes it. ’

“It’s all my fault,” she says, her voice still strong and loud and maybe someday she’ll be proud of herself for that, but someday is so not today. “Everything. You. Me. Amy and Sophie and… it’s all on me.” She can see it now, so fucking clearly. Every step of the way, every easy choice she had and every wrong choice she made.

Including this one.

Reagan shakes her head and scrambles from the booth, cracking her knee against the tabletop and her shin on the edge of the booth, neither slowing her, not in the slightest. “I shouldn’t have called you,” she says and the fact that she can’t manage to look Heather in the eye is more than evidence for her to know she's right. “I shouldn’t have… well… a lot. But I can’t change that, I can’t undo what I already did or didn’t do. All I can do now…”

Is what she does.

Run.

It might not seem it, but Reagan knows she learned a lot from Amy.

For example, she learned that she is, sometimes, a bit… judgemental. And, just maybe, her expectations are a little out of whack. And, perhaps, she doesn’t trust as much or as easily as she should.

She didn’t say she learned anything good. Or anything that she actually, you know, might have done anything about.

But, as is quite fucking clear now, one thing she didn’t learn from Amy, like at all?

How to run.

Heather catches up to her by her truck and, in this case, 'catches up’ totally means gets there at just about the same time, maybe like three steps behind, which is only enough time for Reagan to slam her fist into the truck’s door the one time before Heather is right there, catching her wrist in her hand.

“I don’t think getting in a fistfight with Lightning is going to solve anything,” she says - almost whispers, almost right in Reagan’s ear - holding fast to the other woman’s arm. “And haven’t you punished her enough with that name?”

Reagan can feel the wait in the air, the expectation of the snarky comeback or the reminder that Lightning is a boy (she’s a lesbian, not a charter member of the 'All Men Suck Brigade’), the hope that floats along on Heather’s words that - maybe - there’s still just a shred of normal left between them.

There’s not.

Reagan pulls her hand free and turns away, pressing her back up hard against the truck, arms crossed over her chest and, if Heather didn’t know better, she might actually think Reagan was trying to get away. But she does. Know better, that is.

Rea not getting in the truck and speeding off into the night is kind of a good clue.

Heather leans her back against Lightning’s door, shoving her hands in her pockets just to avoid copying Reagan’s stance entirely. She’s not sure what to say - though not for lack of things she wants to say - and so they stand there in silence for a few moments, until those moments, they stretch to minutes and then those minutes stretch to minutes and she figures she ought to say something before they end up standing there watching the fucking sun rise.

“I always wished it was me,” she says. “I wished it was me that you loved like you love her.”

She hears the long slow shudder of breath that slips from Reagan and OK, maybe she ought to have said something else.

But, in for a penny, in for a may as well get all the shit off your chest, right?

“I remember so many nights,” Heather says, her eyes glued to the few stars twinkling above the diner’s roof. “It would be the dead of the night and you’d be sleeping so soundly, wrapped in my arms and I’d think to myself that maybe, just maybe… I really was the one. That maybe we had what you'd thought you had with her.”

Reagan would like to tell her that she thought the same.

There’s been enough lies lately though, don’t you think?

Heather lets her eyes fall, unable to stand the glow of life, so very far away, anymore. “And then you’d shift and you’d breathe and you'd…” She stares at the ground, scuffing her shoe against the gravel of the lot. “And you’d murmur her name.”

When she was little, Reagan’s mother read her stories every night before bed. Tales full of true happiness and true love and lives fulfilled. Princesses blessed with true love’s kisses - and she should have known when every one of them had to have a fucking prince - but in this moment, right here and right now? Reagan does know.

Fucking fairy tales, that’s all those were. Fucking fiction. And real life? It isn’t even close.

Not even almost.

“I used to hate you for that,” Heather says and Reagan can’t blame her, not even a little. “And I used to hate Amy even more. I couldn’t understand how I couldn’t be enough for you, why you couldn’t just be happy with me.”

“I should have been,” Reagan says, and this time it is a whisper and yeah, that’s probably got a lot to do with it also being a lie.

Heather turns, leaning her shoulder against the truck, her eyes flaming bright in the dark. “You couldn’t have been, Rea. You could have tried… you did try… but it was never, ever going to work. It couldn’t. Because I’m not her.”

“She’s not -”

“She is.” Heather cuts her off and even now, Reagan recognizes that tone. “She is and she always has been. She always will be.” She turns again, facing Lightning, her head resting against the cool glass of his window. “Do you remember how Jessie was such a morning person?”

Reagan nods. Morning person didn’t really cut it. Ass crack of dawn person was more like it. She used to wake them all up, every fucking day, clanking and clanging around in the kitchen and yeah, they got quite a few awesome breakfasts out of it but more sleep always outweighs pancakes.

OK. Maybe not always. But usually.

“The first time we slept together,” Heather says, “that’s when I knew.” She knows it’s probably bad form to talk to the woman you cheated on about the woman you cheated with, but she also knows that Reagan called her about Amy, so fuck form. “Not slept together slept together, but really slept. I already knew I was falling, I knew what I felt for her was… I knew it would be the end of you and me. But that night… that morning… that was when I knew.”

Reagan doesn’t ask 'knew what?’ but she doesn’t get into the truck and leave either and so that’s as good as asking.

“I woke up in the morning and there’s that moment, you know? Those four seconds between waking and your brain actually kicking in?” She doesn’t wait for Reagan to nod, cause, really, everyone knows those four seconds. “When I woke, she was gone and four seconds later, I knew she was just in the kitchen and she’d probably come back with something yummy, but for those four seconds…”

Seconds. Reagan knows from experience - from far too many mornings waking up alone even when someone was right next to her - that those seconds? They’re a fucking eternity.

“I thought she’d left me,” Heather says and Reagan just can’t miss - no matter how much she tries - the pain in her voice at just the thought. “I thought she’d realized that you were right and I wasn’t worth it or she’d suddenly remembered her religion or… I don’t know… maybe I snored.”

It doesn’t take four seconds - only about one and a half - for Reagan to come to the conclusion that mentioning that yes, Heather does, in fact, snore (like a motherfucking Abrams tank) is not the best choice right now.

Heather runs a hand along the glass of the window, tracing the foggy pattern of her breath. “I got it then,” she says. “I got you. When my heart started beating again and I could breathe, it hit me.” She turns, letting that hand drop onto Reagan’s arm, and old familiar touch. “Those four seconds were the most painful thing I had ever felt. I know that sounds… I don’t know, a bit stupid, maybe. But that fear… that panic… it lingered and even when I knew it was ridiculous, it still sat there, like a weight on my chest.”

Reagan glances at her hand, but doesn’t move it or move away. “And that explained me, how?”

A horn blares in the distance and Heather jumps - almost like she’s afraid of getting caught or something - and Reagan wonders just for a moment, how Jessie felt about her coming here, in the middle of the night, for her.

She hopes it hurt. At least a little.

“I jumped her as soon as she came back in the room,” Heather says. “I had to. I needed her that much, needed that fear and that pain to just… stop. And it did. Because she was there.”

Anvil. Meet head.

“It never could have been me, Reagan. Not for you,” Heather says. “And never you for me, either, as it turns out. But I understood you then, I got it, I got why you couldn’t just let it… let her go. I felt all that for four seconds.” Her hand squeezes Reagan’s arm and it’s meant to be comforting. Really it is. “You felt it… you feel it… every minute of every day.”

Every day without Amy.

Reagan pulls her arm away and this time, she knows how to run. She tugs open the passenger side door (driver’s side tends to stick) and climbs into Lightning, pausing only when she feels Heather’s hand capture her wrist once more.

“I know what you think, Rea. I know you think you did this. All of it.” Her hand slides down, her fingers slipping between Reagan’s. “And you’re not… entirely wrong. But just because it’s gone this way, that doesn’t mean it has to end this way.” She might be right, maybe, except Reagan’s pretty sure it already ended and maybe not this way but with a ringing phone and a flying punch and with - yet again - Amy running.

And even if she didn’t do that, she didn't stop it - she couldn’t stop it - either.

Heather doesn’t seem quite so sure. “You don’t have to end up alone in a diner or running off to find some cheap meaningless whatever in a bar. Or even trying too hard with some wonderful girl who maybe, might have, possibly could have been the one.” She pauses, ever the drama queen. “If you didn’t already have a one.”

Reagan’s hand pulls free and she slides over behind the wheel. “I don't have a one, remember? Amy ran. Again.” She leaves off the 'because of me, again’ cause she really doesn’t feel like crying again tonight. “That’s what she does. Every time.”

She swings the door shut - almost - but then Heather is there, half in and half out, leaning in across Lightning’s seat. “You’re right. She does. And every time? You let her.”

Her foot’s on the brake, her hand on the key, and Reagan freezes in place. “I what?”

Heather slips back, sliding from the truck. Reagan can hear her feet hit the ground, a solid thud against the pavement. “You let her. Maybe you think you should or maybe you think it’s what you deserve. Maybe you think it’s what you get for being so quick to push her away the first time. I don’t know.”

She doesn’t. But she suspects Reagan might.

Her hand grips the door and for just a moment, Heather looks at it, at her fingers clutching tight to the metal. She’s going to close it. She’s going to slam it shut and she’s going to walk away and Reagan’s going to peel on out of there and she knows - when that happens - well… then this won’t be happening again. And that's… well…

It’s almost too much for her.

But not quite.

“Maybe it was someone suggesting she wasn’t gay enough,” Heather says, closing the door just a bit. “Or maybe it was her own confusion or her feelings for that Karma girl.” She leans on the door, feeling it slipping past her. “Or maybe it was just… fear. The fear that someone else she loved wouldn’t see her as enough. Again.”

She’s talking about Amy. She swears she is.

Heather swings the door almost closed, holding it still at just the last inch and yeah, she’s a total fucking drama queen, but she’s pretty OK with that. “Every single time, Amy’s had something to run from,” she says, pressing the door tight, feeling it latch. “Ever wonder what might happen if you gave her something to run to?”