god being trans in america really sucks rn

I think there's a misconception among some fans who mostly get their characterisation from ao3, that the reason Cass and Jason wouldn't get along is that Jason kills people and Cass hates murderers. And like. You're 50% right but the key context being ignored is that Cass would literally fight to defend the right of a serial killer to live and change like she believes desperately in second chances no matter how far gone the killer is. She'll knock a man out and break his hand so that he can never shoot and kill someone again but if she sees someone feel bad about their kill or even like. Hesitate to hurt a child. She is all over that like she will fight the world just to save this one kind of shitty assassin and give them a second chance at life where they can do better.

Whereas Jason believes that sometimes there are bad people that are simply too far gone, too much of a force of evil hurting and draining actual innocents. And the best way to deal with scumbags like that is a bullet. He feels that some people don't deserve to live, and he's comfortable ending their lives. Judge, jury and executioner. Because no one else is going to kill these people and they deserve to die so that they can never hurt any victims again.

Of course all of this is kind of irrelevant in current canon since dc basically skipped over the reconciliation and development and went yeah Jason is a batfam member and he doesn't kill anymore. So currently in canon none of this conflict of ideals is likely to be addressed. But a lot of people are interested in writing fics that actually detail the steps of reconciliation which is great and I love those fics. I've just also noticed a trend of fumbling a little when it comes to Cass.

Because the root cause as to why they wouldn't get along is not just because Jason kills people. If Jason was a random crime lord Cass would probably try to help him get free of Gotham and start over somewhere else. Killing people and having conflicting emotions about it is the easiest way to get Cass willing to be your number one sponsor at murderer rehabilitation anonymous. It's Jason being someone personal to the family, and someone who believes that some deaths need to happen, as long as the person is sufficiently repulsive enough to Jason. Or even just as a means to an end to prove a larger point, if they're pathetic and evil enough. That's what would make Cass see red, because she projects herself on every single killer and Jason dismissing the possibility of redemption for them, writing them off as deserving of death, clashes fundamentally with not just everything Cass believes in, but also her whole sense of self. Of course it's not that deep for Jason like he's not going to believe Cass should die because she killed someone as a child. But for Cass is simply IS that deep and you throw in the fact that they're both Bruce's kids and yeah. They can maybe be civil in a room together with the family right up until one of them actually talks. Because like 99% of what they could say is guaranteed to touch a nerve for the other.

It's like: Damian says something hilarious and rude towards Jason and Jason jokes about that time he shot him and Cass immediately connects that with him not feeling bad about shooting Damian and starts grilling him as to why. Because Damian's Bruce's son? Or because he's a killer? Or just to get to the rest of the family? And Dick, Duke and Tim are so tired like Alfred cooked a nice meal can we all just eat pie for one night without having to listen to you two go at it.

Tim: I've literally shot you before do you think maybe we can cool it on fighting about Jason's personal ethics tonight. Because generally that ends with me in pain even if I do nothing but sit here.

Cass: You shot me with consent. Different.

Jason: How are you even more obnoxious than Bruce? Do you ever get tired of being so exhausting to be around with your bullshit righteousness?

Cass: If you're tired I can knock you out. Nice nap for you and fun for me.

Dick: And that's ten minutes in a room together before any threats of physical harm start flying around! Great job you two, a new personal record.

good evening! your response is well said & you’re completely right. evan has gotten so much shit from so many people over the years, it’s exhausting constantly having to defend him & reveal truth to people. regarding the person who said those things about evan, i’m pretty sure that was actually my first time interacting with them, they are not my preexisting friend. & you’re right, age really does not matter when it comes to false accusations & i believe that wholeheartedly. the reason i mentioned his age is bc i was under the impression some of your readers were wanting you to drag him rather than educate him in a respectful manner & i have an issue with people cyberbullying minors for the sake of it. if i misread that then i apologize & i’ll change my perspective.

& i never unfollowed you queen, i just made a new acc & got rid of the old one which is probably why you thought i unfollowed. i appreciate what you do for this fandom & even if we disagree on some things, i respect you & believe that you have nothing but good intentions. not that you would know bc it hasn’t been public but i have defended you many times as well. my frustrations are not with you specifically, i am more so using your platform to speak to the anons who seem to have an issue with me as they are doing.

to the anons who are concerned about my posts, i would be happy to speak to you directly & have a civil conversation if you are ever interested but idk who you are so if you care to discuss further, please don’t hesitate to dm me! i am more than happy to have a discussion at any time.

tweam, i hope that you enjoy your edibles & bubble bath! i’m going to go spend some time with my loved ones before unwinding.

i sincerely do appreciate you clarifying your statement and why you responded the way you did. i understand, and truthfully, i think most fans who see people repeating false information get exhausted, and the default position is to assume that the person wants to argue, be defamatory, and has no interest in you educating them by presenting facts that counter their argument. while that is very common on stan twt, it's not always the case, and we have to do our best to operate with good intentions and not become malicious because of past experiences. i certainly do try to maintain my perspective, so thank you for saying that.

and to any readers who want to weigh in on this: please understand that this is not the place to hold forum about a social media user that you don't like. the door has already been opened for you to speak directly if you feel like there is something you need to say, so i ask that you do not attempt to use me as a go-between because i am not posting this type of message. i know it's the norm for people to share tweets that they disagree with or peoples' hot takes, and that's fine - but if there is a situation where a particular person just really rubs you the wrong way, there's no reason continually seek them out. one of the reasons i created this blog was because i wanted people to have a space where all could share thoughts/opinions/discuss topics about evan that were way too policed on other platforms, and particularly, to move away from the extreme negativity and bullying atmosphere of the post-frannie and dahmer fandom that was going to hell on here. i know everyone is bored because of the lack of evan content, but i really just don't care about someone being a fan of jared leto or who is beefing on twitter. it isn't relevant, none of this has anything to do with evan, and it for damn sure doesn't have anything to do with me. i have my own opps to deal with lmfao i truly appreciate everyone who contributes to this blog positively - whether you send in your fanfic writing, your random thoughts about evan, excitement when we get a new crumb, tiktok edits, legal services for koya, etc.. it is valued, and tweam is only possible because of what you guys add.

Here’s What the Insecure Insurrectionists Don’t Get About America

Opinion by Evan Thies - 10h ago

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Watching the Jan. 6 committee’s new footage once again showing the violent glee of America’s would-be coup-makers more than a year later, I flashed back to a thought I had on the day of the insurrection attempt, when we first saw the barbarians wearing and waving American flags breaching the gates and attempting to depose the American government.

© Provided by The Daily BeastShannon Stapleton/Reuters

The traitors hate other Americans. That is how they justify their violence. A series of lies pushed at them or internalized over their life experiences had separated them from the reality that this nation is governed by stewards selected by their countrymen, and the reality that American democracy isn’t endangered by our representatives but rather depends on them to maintain it.

My question for these rioters who cosplayed as a militia: Why do you care so much about how other Americans choose to live?

Why do you care if some men wear women’s clothes? If another state—not even your own—wants to prevent people from walking around with guns? If Black people want to protest?

Crown Windscreen For CM311A Mic Windscreen For Headworn Mic

Don’t you have better things to do? Isn’t there a game on? All this unnecessary anger seems exhausting.

July 4 will be the 127th anniversary of the poem America the Beautiful, often referred to as our national hymn. Most Americans could sing you the first stanza about amber waves of grain and purple mountains majesty. But most Americans—and most insurrectionists—could not recite the end of the third stanza: “Till selfish gain no longer stain, the banner of the free.”

America was not actually built on unlimited individual freedom, as a shocking number of Americans seem to believe it is these days. The foundation of our nation, the bedrock of its multi-century success, is the philosophy of democratic liberalism: the government will not interfere with your pursuit of happiness unless your pursuit interferes with that of other people.

Yet American freedom has been diluted, corrupted and repackaged into hyper-individualism—substituting a social poison for the antidote to strife. The salesmen peddling this snake oil are selling the opposite of what our founders wanted. They are selling the idea that your own freedom is more important than that of your neighbors.

The insecure insurrectionists swilling that toxic “medicine” tried on Jan. 6, and are still trying now, to force it down the throat of the vast majority of Americans. They are willing to undo our nation to enforce their minority rule. They are tearing at civility and comity like a toddler ripping off its shirt in a crying fit, unaware or uninterested in their own unhappiness that others also have a right to happiness.

Instead of sharing the bountiful “fruited plains” of America the Beautiful, they want to inflict the all-against-all landscape Daniel Plainview memorably described in There Will Be Blood: “I have a competition in me. I want no one else to succeed. I hate most people. I want to earn enough money that I can get away from everyone. I see the worst in people. I don’t need to look past seeing them to get all I need. I’ve built my hatreds up over the years, little by little…”

The law this mad minority wants to impose would not only make Americans less safe but in doing so also infringe on our right to happiness. For instance, a national right to carry a firearm will obviously endanger the rights of millions of Americans. The lack of an assault weapons ban already does—and not just because it’s led to the murder of innocents. The fact that children now fear being shot to death in school is a direct infringement on their right to happiness, and that of their parents. One cannot be scared and happy simultaneously.

At the same time, the insurrectionists are not just trying to change the rules of our country, but also its referees. Years of methodical work to install ideological justices has put the Supreme Court on the precipice of reversing laws on abortion and guns that act as sentinels of the liberalism our founders built. And they are empowering local officials to suppress voting rights, shifting us from Constitutional democracy to autocracy of the mob.

That is the true coup. Americans will always have disagreements, even moral impasses—that is why we have duly elected and appointed officials to act as intermediaries to step in and tell us when my rights run into yours. When we remove the refs, it’s game over.

As a New Yorker, who is surrounded by and inundated by all kinds of people and cultures all of the time, I just do not understand how America got here. I go to a Polish church named after an Italian saint with an Indian priest that celebrates masses in Spanish. It’s great.

The insurrectionists should take a lesson from New York City: judge everyone, disrespect no one. Save your energy for things that matter, like getting up early for the good fresh rolls or complaining about the trash pick-up.

Have a beer. Watch the game. Grumble to your spouse. And leave our laws, our country and our civilization alone. Enjoy July 4 and your freedom to be an intolerant idiot. Sing America the Beautiful. It was written by Katharine Lee Bates, a feminist from Massachusetts.

Read more at The Daily Beast.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

two - persuasion

Abstract: Draco and you are just friends so doing him a favour and pretending to be his girlfriend wouldn’t effect your friendship, right?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings: some swears but that’s all!

Word count: 2623

A/N: let’s go for part 2 then?! Thank you so much for all your lovely comments! Everyone who has asked to be on the taglist has been added and if you would like to be on the list, just send me a message! Dividers are by the super talented @firefly-graphics 🤩

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 3

The plan was set.

Draco and you had talked some more about what being ‘in a relationship’ entailed, whilst at the same time avidly avoiding Pansy in your free time. In fact, you were surprised with how little you’d have to change the dynamic between the two of you.

The first point was friendship, which was easy enough you thought. There’s no point in starting a fake relationship if you don’t get on well in the first place.

Second, communication. You agreed to be open and honest with each other, this whole plan wouldn’t work if you weren’t telling each other everything.

And finally third, intimacy.

This one was obvious enough and it was more than just hand holding or sharing the odd kiss or two, you knew that. It was about selling your relationship to be believable to everyone else around you, including your closest friends.

One of which was Hermione.

The plan on paper was simple, you both said you’d start off small and work your way into being a couple, so why did you feel this pit of anxiety in your stomach?

Nerves? Sure, you chalked it down to that.

So when you entered the Great Hall the next morning, late and in desperate need of caffeine, you somehow didn’t expect your ‘boyfriend’ to approach you with a steaming mug of coffee.

You completely missed the blonde boy too as you took your normal seat with a frantic expression on your face. Your roommates didn’t wake you up like they usually did so when you woke and found no one there, you almost screamed when you checked the time.

“Coffee coffee coffee” the mantra on your tongue “where the hell is the coffee?!”

Hermione looked amused as she packed up the book she was previously reading into her bag.

“Ron finished it moments ago, there’s no more”

“What?!” You blanched “there’s none?”

Hermione shook her head, the answer a definite no.

With energy lacking and spirit deflated, you grabbed a couple slices of toast and buttered them quickly, at least trying to put some food in your stomach even if it wasn’t your usual caffeine shot.

However when Hermione froze slightly, eyes narrowly following something behind you with a glare, you frowned at her confused. That was until Draco perched on the seat next to you, holding a mug of coffee between his hands.

“Granger” he greeted in a civil manner causing the witch to freeze in shock, half expecting an offhand snide comment about her blood status. He then turned to you and offered the coffee, “thought you might need this”

“But I thought there was none left!”

“I saved you it”

“You saved me a coffee?”

“Kept it warm too”

You could’ve cried when you took the mug from him and immediately the drink warmed your hands. Eagerly taking a sip, you found the coffee itself was exactly to your liking.

You went to point it out but before a word could leave your lips, Draco rolled his eyes at you with a smile.

“What? You thought I didn’t know how you took your coffee?”

The question was rhetorical, not that you cared. Exhaustion was the only thing you felt that morning up until then, quickly being replaced with utter fondness for the Malfoy boy next to you.

“Thank you” you told him as he grinned back at you

“Don’t mention it”

Draco raised his hand and swiped away a lock of hair which had fallen out of your two second attempt to pin it back this morning in your rush.

Your breath hitched slightly as his eyes found yours and he leaned in towards your ear.

“How am I doing?”

Your brain stalled.

Right.

Of course.

He was acting like he cared about you in front of Hermione.

To convince Hermione.

Who of course, confirmed with a quick glance, was looking between the two of you with suspicion in her eyes.

Quickly painting a smile across your face like he’d said something sweet, you pulled back and shot him a dazzling smile.

“Alright, I guess” you said, vague enough so Hermione wouldn’t clock onto what he really said.

“Good” he grinned back at you before standing from the seat. “I’ll see you after class later, yeah?”

You nodded at him, and with a fond smile at you and a courteous nod to Hermione, he left the two of you be, heading to his first class.

With the thought in the back of your mind that you should probably also get to class, you were stopped by a substantially confused Hermione who looked at you like you’d grown another head.

“Was I just in some parallel universe?”

“What?”

“‘What?’ Seriously, that’s how you’re going to answer that question?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you shrugged your shoulders before standing and picking up your bag and the mug of coffee from Draco.

“What aren’t you telling me?” The Granger girl continued to interrogate you as she too stood, though with a lot more vigor.

“There’s a lot of things I’m not telling you Hermione, but if it’s anything to do with Draco, I don’t know what you mean”

Striding out the Great Hall, she quickly followed you, pestering for more information which you avoided expertly until you got to your first class you shared.

“Why did Malfoy get you coffee?”

“Because it was a nice thing to do”

“Why was he civil with me?”

“Maybe he’s seen the light”

“(Y/N)! Tell me! I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight otherwise and you know it!”

With a sigh you turned to face her.

Putting on a performance like it was tough for you to keep a secret, you ‘umm’d and ‘ahh’d under her questioning until you really had had enough of the interrogation.

“Okay, fine, we may or may not be dating” you said like it wasn’t a big deal

“What?!”

“Miss Granger!” Professor McGonagall’s voice snapped “if you’re so done with your conversation, perhaps you could start writing your essay?”

“Yes, Professor. Sorry, Professor”

With a glare shot your way, meaning she’d grill you later for information, the bookworm turned back to her work and started writing furiously.

It was later that day that you found out that Lavender Brown had overheard your conversation with Hermione and so naturally, the gossip that you and Draco were dating was spread across the entire school.

Some believed the rumour, others didn’t so much. This of course included Blaise, the Weasley twins, and of course, the ever stubborn Pansy.

When the boys finally cornered each respective friend, they of course had some questions that needed to be addressed. 

Blaise cornered Draco first at Lunch. 

The Malfoy boy had just started to tuck into his food when a book slammed down on the table next to him, startling the boy. 

Blaise pinned him with a hard look.

“Is it true you’re dating (Y/N)?”

“How’d you hear that?!”

“Word gets around fast... so, is it true?”

“Yes it’s true” Draco rolled his eyes at his friend

He was honestly shocked at how quickly the rumour had gone round the castle, though he suspected some of the Gryffindor girls were behind it. They always seemed like they pounced on any gossip going.

This also meant, Pansy had probably heard it by now.

Draco’s interest peaked.

“Who’d you hear it from?” The blonde asked his friend

“Bulstrode of all people” Blaise rolled his eyes “thought I might’ve found out from my friend himself but apparently not”

“Sorry man, it only really happened yesterday”

Blaise waved his apology off

“So tell me, is this for real? It’s not a prank or anything, she knows you think you’re going out with her right?”

“Yes, (Y/N) knows we’re going out” Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation “she’s also not being forced or blackmailed into going out with me if that puts your mind at rest”

This wasn’t technically true and Draco fought the urge to cringe slightly as he remembered the deal he had made with you.

Despite the other copious Christmas presents he had to get you, being civil to Granger wasn’t so bad he remarked. They only shared a few classes, all of which were with you present, so all he really had to do was ignore the fact the muggleborn witch existed and he’d keep his side of the deal up.

“Good” Blaise huffed, finally sitting down next to him “can I ask you something though?”

“You just did”

“Smart arse” Blaise rolled his eyes but continued on “what made you ask her out?”

Draco paused.

You hadn’t actually discussed this so there wasn’t a definite plan on what response to give. The boy trusted himself to come up with a decent answer though so instead of panicking, he said the first thing that popped into his head.

“I’ve been in love with her for years”

Well... he didn’t expect that to be his response.

“You have?” Blaise asked also taken aback

“Umm, yeah, sure, she’s the one for me you know?”

Draco kicked himself once again

Why couldn’t he think straight?!

“She’s just... she’s so funny, you know? One of the funniest people I’ve ever met. Her laugh, man, is enough to make me laugh even harder because have you heard it?! It’s hilarious!”

Unconsciously, Draco began to smile at the thought of you.

“Also, she’s super talented at anything she does, which would be wildly annoying if she wasn’t so modest about it. She’s also the most sarcastic person I’ve ever met, yet also the kindest. She’s got so many good qualities it’s hard to even think about anything bad about her.”

Draco stopped, breaking out of his train of thought.

Now that... that, he really hasn’t expect to be his response.

“I’m glad you’re happy then, Draco” the Zabini boy smiled at him “seems like you really like her”

“Yeah... I do”

You were pounced upon by both the Weasley twins not much later on, both demanding answers.

“You’re dating Malfoy?!”

“As in Draco Malfoy? The ferret?”

“He’s not a ferret!” You rolled your eyes at the pair. “And yes I am. Why? Do you not believe the castle gossip?”

“We heard it-“ Fred began

“Still working on believing it” George finished

You rolled your eyes and continued on to the library, your original destination before you got jumped by the identical redheads.

“Believe what you want” you shrugged trying to play it off.

“See (Y/N), here’s the thing, I don’t know if I believe you’re actually going out with him” Fred stated causing you to frown.

“What do you mean?”

“Freddie here believes you guys are faking it for some reason” George chucked an arm round your shoulders as they continued to walk with you.

“Why would we be faking it?!” You laughed like the idea was ridiculous.

“I just know you wouldn’t go for him” Fred shrugged “your standards are too high.”

“My standards are too high?!”

You were mildly offended at the suggestion, no matter how correct Fred was about the two of you faking your relationship.

Reaching the library quickly, you turned to the boys who had halted at the sight of the only room in the castle they adamantly wouldn’t enter.

“Well, unless your plan is to follow me into the forbidden room of books, I’ll see you guys later?”

Not waiting for an answer you swung open the door, mind now focused on studying for that test you had coming up in Herbology later that week.

“I still don’t believe you!” Fred shouted after you before the door closed shut behind you

All you could do was roll your eyes.

It was dinner later that evening when you saw your ‘boyfriend’ again since breakfast when he’d given you the coffee.

By now, you two were the talk of the castle which is why you weren’t surprised to see a fuming brunette strut up to you. The Slytherin girl looked as if she should have smoke coming out her ears you thought, not that you’d tell her that and anger her even more.

“(Y/N)” Pansy sniffed almost impatiently as she reached you.

“Pansy” you replied innocently which seen fo infuriate her more.

“I heard you’re supposedly dating my boyfriend?”

“Your boyfriend?”

You couldn’t help but phrase the question like you really didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Draco!”

“...Draco?”

“Draco Malfoy!” She practically growled at you

“Ohh, Draco as in my boyfriend?”

“Yes! Wait no-“

You snorted at her slip up and ignored her as you sidestepped and entered the Great Hall spying the familiar mop of platinum blonde hair, sending him a smile,

Before you could make your way over to him though, a hand grabbed your arm with nails roughly digging into your skin.

“Hey, I wasn’t done talking to you” Pansy seethed

“Well I was done talking to you” you shrugged truely bored with the girl “I’d appreciate it now though if you let go of my arm.”

“No, I’m not finishe-“

“Yes you are” Draco cut her off this time

Pansy’s expression looked like her brain had short circuited for a moment before she gathered herself and smiled flirtily at the boy.

“Hey Drakey baby”

“Firstly, for the millionth time, don’t call me that” Draco narrowed his eyes at her into a glare. “Secondly, (Y/N) also asked you to let go of her arm so I suggest you do so.”

At once, like your arm was on fire, Pansy dropped her grip which she had forgotten about as soon as the Malfoy had entered the conversation.

You rubbed your arm as you pulled it to your chest. Pansy’s nails had dug deep and actually split the skin on your arm slightly by the force she had held you by.

“And finally, I’d appreciate it if you’d fuck off and didn’t harass my girlfriend, especially about lies that we’re somehow involved.”

With that being said, Draco wrapped his arm around your waist and escorted you over to the spot he was originally sitting at, letting you take his seat while he forced Crabbe to move down a space so he could sit next to you.

“Thanks for that” you sent him a smile “though I can handle Pansy”

“I know” he replied with a grin of his own “I just needed to get that off my chest. Let me see your arm.”

“It’s nothing-“

“(Y/N)”

With a sigh you reluctantly held out your arm so he could see the damage Pansy had done. Spotting the crescent shaped breaks in your skin, his jaw clenched in anger.

“Psychotic bitch” he mumbled under his breath barely loud enough for you to hear, “episkey”.

The wounds sewed themselves back together in no time and you send him a grateful smile.

“Heard you got cornered by Blaise earlier”.

“Heard the same about you with the Weasley twins”.

“Mmm” you shrugged “there was bound to be a few that didn’t just automatically believe we’re dating. Some might need a little more persuasion, especially Pansy. Also it is still only the first day since the gossip broke though, it might just be that we wait for the news to settle.”

“I guess” he rolled his eyes playing with the pasta on his plate with his fork, before pausing slightly, setting it down and turning to you.

His eyes glanced round the hall quickly before snapping back to you with a grin. Leaning towards you, he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you slightly closer to him as his lips became level with your ear.

You fought the urge to shiver.

“Or... it just means we’ll have to make it all the more believable, Sweetheart.”

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Civil War (Chapter Six)

Summary: Bucky’s suspicious escape from the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre and the fallout surrounding it makes (Y/N) reevaluate her opinion of the Accords.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Last week’s chapter was really angsty and it kinda took a toll on me so here’s a sort of short filler chapter with slightly less angst! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Six (Previous Chapter)

While she couldn’t claim to be a spy or secret agent, (Y/N) had picked up a thing or two from hanging around so many of them over the past couple of years; she knew that Bucky would eventually need an exit once he was finished tearing through everyone in the building, and it was a safe bet to assume that the skilled assassin would choose to fly himself out of there instead of travel on foot at the risk of being apprehended. She was quick to locate the building’s stairwell, hurrying up the steps as the emergency lights and alarms continued to blare; when she reached the top floor, she flung open the door and stepped out into the dark and deserted hallway.

“God, I hope this thing works…” Mumbling under her breath, (Y/N) fiddled with the dials of the walkie talkie until she could hear the indistinct chatter of voices, only letting out a sigh of relief when she finally heard the one she needed to speak to. “Agent Ross, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I need backup on the-”

“(Y/L/N), what the hell are you doing?!”

“Your job, it would seem! I’m on the top floor and have reason to believe that-!”

Just then, a metallic hand came out of nowhere and ripped the walkie talkie from her hands, crushing it to pieces before tossing it aside. (Y/N) acted on instinct, rolling underneath Bucky’s outstretched arm and pulling a stun disc out of her pocket; landing upright, she chucked the stun disc at his metallic arm and took advantage of the assassin’s distraction to sweep his legs out from underneath him with one of her own.

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, and you were a Sergeant in the U.S. Army during World War II!” She shouted, keenly aware that the distraction would only last a few more seconds. “You were Steve Rogers’ best friend and a Howling Commando!” Hastily backing out of the way, she watched with widened eyes as he ripped the electrified stun disc off his arm and leapt to his feet. “Bucky, I don’t believe that you bombed the U.N. but you need to stop and remember who you are!”

Bucky’s face was blank and devoid of any emotion, a far cry from the frightened man in the containment cell. He stalked towards her and while she had just enough time to duck the first punch he threw her way, she couldn’t dodge the second; the force of his fist’s impact on her jaw sent her flying back and crashing to the ground, her wrist screaming in protest as she tried and failed to break her fall. While he strode down the hallway to where she was sprawled on the floor, she hurriedly ripped all the stun discs out of her pocket and began throwing them as she crawled backwards. He avoided each and every stun disc she threw, but it bought her enough time to pick herself up off the ground and side-step his next attack; before she could land a kick or punch, though, his metal hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her easily into the air and slamming her hard against the wall.

(Y/N)’s hands came up to uselessly clutch at the metal fingers that were digging into her skin and her legs kicked out in desperation as she struggled for air; just as her vision was beginning to darken her eyes focused on the small tear in the sleeve of his shirt and the corner of a red star it barely revealed, and in desperation she cried out, “Sol…Soldat!”

The assassin froze, and (Y/N) watched as his hardened expression shifted into confusion. His metallic hand quickly loosened and she instantly crumpled to the floor, coughing and gasping for air, unable to move or even defend herself. Bucky’s heavy footsteps faded away and with a wheezing breath, she lifted her head in time to see Steve burst through the same stairwell door she’d come through moments before.

“(Y/N)!?” He hurried to her side and dropped down, his grease-smudged face filled with pure panic as he tugged her into his arms. “Oh God, you’re bleeding…!”

Steve’s free hand came up to touch her scratched jaw but she grabbed his wrist to halt his movement, ignoring how his brow furrowed in confusion as she whispered, “G-go, Steve…Bucky’s heading for…for the helipad…”

He firmly shook his head, blue eyes already set in determination. “No, baby, I’m not leaving you.”

“Bucky needs you!” (Y/N) insisted, suppressing her wince of pain as she stared up at him with a fiery resolve; sensing the conflict within the super-soldier, she released his wrist and gently rested her hand against his cheek with a sad smile. “Go.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Steve nodded and carefully eased her back onto the ground, giving her one final look before running down the hallway after the assassin; right before he turned the corner, she closed her eyes, unwilling to watch as the love of her life chased after the deadly assassin by himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the second time in two days, (Y/N) quietly sat and allowed herself to be patched up by a kindly paramedic. Not only did she still have a ruptured eardrum, she also had a large laceration along her jaw that required five stitches, a sprained wrist that was secured in a sturdy brace and a smattering of darkening finger-shaped bruises around her neck. Others weren’t as lucky as you were, she reminded herself, sadness washing over her as she thought of all the critically injured and dead CIA agents who’d also encountered the dangerous Winter Soldier during his rampage.

Once the paramedics finished treating her wounds, she made her way back to the control room and was immediately met by a sympathetic Natasha. “Here, I got you some tea with honey; it’ll help your throat feel better.” The spy handed her a warm to-go cup before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her into the glass-walled conference room, where Tony was already seated and resting his bruised head in his hand. “Secretary Ross’s gonna be here in a few minutes, hot-shot, so please try to be on your best behavior no matter what he says to rile you up.”

(Y/N) merely nodded and took a sip of her tea, wincing in pain as she swallowed. The injuries to her throat didn’t stop her from speaking but her own conscious did; she was beginning to realize that no matter what she could say or do to convince them that Bucky was innocent, they’d never listen and even if they did, there was nothing they could do about it under the Sokovia Accords. So, she made the decision to bide her time and wait until the right moment to bring up her theory.

The three of them sat together in weary silence, the turmoil of the past two days seeming to catch up to them, until Secretary Ross barged into the conference room with his trademark sneer on his face. “You two wanna fill me in on what happened and why a civilian’s still sitting in the middle of a covert CIA control room?”

As if sensing (Y/N)’s simmering irritation, Natasha stood and moved to lean against the back of her chair, placing a calming hand on her shoulder as she replied, “Barnes escaped custody with the aid of the U.N. psychiatrist sent to evaluate him; they knocked out the power grid to the city and used it as a distraction, and (Y/N) here was already in the building for questioning. She’s one of the many who tried and failed to stop Barnes from leaving the building.”

“After taking (Y/L/N) out of commission, Barnes tried leaving in a chopper but ended up crashing it on the helipad; he, Rogers and Wilson are all missing in action.” Tony glanced over at (Y/N) before returning his gaze to the Secretary of State. “That’s all we’ve got.”

“I don’t suppose you have any idea where they are?”

“We will, GSG-9’s got the borders covered, and Recon��s flying 24/7. They’ll get a hit; we’ll handle it.”

Secretary Ross scoffed at the billionaire. “You don’t get it, Stark, it’s not yours to handle. It’s clear you can’t be objective, so I’m putting Special Ops on this.”

The spy’s hand on her shoulder flexed. “What happens when the shooting starts? What, do you kill Steve Rogers?”

“If we’re provoked,” (Y/N)’s eyes widened in horror and in her shock, she almost missed what Ross said next. “Barnes would’ve been eliminated in Romania if it wasn’t for Rogers; there are dead people who would be alive now. Feel free to check my math.”

Tony’s eyes flicked over to meet theirs, an uncomfortable look filling his gaze as he turned back to Ross. “All due respect, you’re not going to solve this with boys and bullets, Ross. You gotta let us bring them in.”

“How would that end any differently from the last time?” The Secretary of State demanded.

The billionaire’s expression hardened at Ross’ silent implications. “Because this time, I won’t be wearing loafers and a silk shirt. Seventy-two hours, guaranteed.”

“Thirty-six hours,” Ross corrected, giving them all a pointed look before turning and walking out of the conference room, calling out over his shoulder, “Barnes…Rogers…Wilson…”

“Thank you, sir!” The glass door closed and Tony slumped in his seat with an exhausted sigh as he clutched his left arm. “My left arm is numb, is that normal?”

Moving around the table, Natasha patted the billionaire on his shoulder. “You all right?”

The two Avengers continued to talk in low tones but (Y/N) couldn’t focus on what they were saying; all she could think of were Secretary Ross’ cold-blooded words and the way he’d said them without so much as a hint of remorse. What horrified her more, though, was the fact that Tony and Natasha didn’t appear to be bothered by the threat against the lives of their former teammates. This is all wrong, she thought as her vision began to blur with unshed tears, her heart sinking into her stomach while she realized that Steve’s worst fears about the Accords were materializing right before her very eyes; blinking away her tears, she looked down at her now-bare ring finger and the longer she stared, the more her anger with the two Avengers grew.

“…head downstairs to talk to T’Challa. I’ll bring (Y/N) with me, since he seems to tolerate her more than the rest of us.”

“Before you do, though, she’s gonna need to sign the Accords; I don’t want Ross looking for any excuses to arrest her so we need to do this by the books.” She looked back up as Tony and Natasha turned to her, the billionaire’s brow raised in expectation while he continued. “That okay with you, Austen?”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment and when she finally spoke, it was with a forced calmness and a clenched jaw. “Did I ever tell you two what my new novel Bring A Folding Chair is about? It chronicles the rise and fall of second-wave feminism in America as told through the eyes of a young investigative journalist.” Getting up from her seat, she crossed her arms over her chest and began pacing. “I focus on the successes of the movement while also highlighting its failures and shortcomings, because even the most well-intended things can inadvertently end up hurting others.” (Y/N) shook her head in agitation and glanced over at the two confused Avengers. “When it came to the Accords, I knew from the moment Secretary Ross told us about them that they were wrong, but I turned a willful blind eye to the truth because I was selfish and only cared about saving my relationship with Steve. But now…now my eyes are wide open.”

“(Y/N), take it easy-”

“Do not tell me to take it easy when you just sat there and listened to Ross practically order a hit on three people – two of which are your friends – who haven’t been legally convicted of any wrongdoing!” She yelled as her sore throat ached in protest but she ignored it, all the frustration and pain that had been building up inside of her finally boiling over. “Steve was right when he said I was too idealistic; I thought the world was made up of enough good people who would keep the Accords from becoming too authoritative but unfortunately, it’s made up of cowards like us who are only looking out for our own self-interests.” Her gaze shifted from Tony’s stunned expression to Natasha, whose face remained neutral but whose eyes conveyed the pain her words had caused; she swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded before continuing. “Well, I don’t know about you two but I can’t do it anymore.”

Without another word, (Y/N) stormed out into the control room and down one of the hallways to Agent Ross’ office, her uninjured hand curled into a fist at her side as she walked; the door of the agent’s office was open and he was in deep conversation with Sharon Carter, who was tapping away on a tablet while they talked. They both looked over at her as she entered the office, and Agent Ross’ brow furrowed in concern while he took in her injuries and stony expression. “Miss (Y/L/N). Agent 13 told me that you got roughed up pretty badly earlier; are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Agent Ross. Am I free to go?” The agent raised his brow, looking more amused that surprised by her demanding question, and she gritted her teeth before continuing. “In the past forty-eight hours I’ve attended a friend’s funeral, was nearly blown up in a suspected terrorist attack, was unjustly interrogated for several continuous hours, broke off my engagement to the love of my life and was nearly killed again by a brainwashed assassin. I’m filthy, I’m injured, I’m exhausted, and I’m just one more incident away from completely losing my shit so can I please leave now?”

Sharon cast her a fleeting glance and took a step forward. “Sir, she’s already given multiple statements to our agents and…well, to be frank, the Joint Terrorism Task Force is already facing scrutiny for not stopping Barnes’ escape. The criticism will only intensify when the news outlets catch wind that we’re holding an injured, world-famous author without probable cause.” Agent Ross considered her words, and Sharon shot her a warning glance before continuing. “I’ll drive her to a nearby hotel and keep an eye on her in case Rogers tries getting into contact; based on the events of the last few hours, though, I’m not so sure that he will.”

“All right,” He finally answered, his expression softening a little as he looked back at her. “But for the time being, Miss (Y/L/N), consider yourself on the no-fly list.”

Nodding in thanks, (Y/N) glanced back at Sharon and the agent gave her a brief smile. “I’ve got a few things to wrap up here so I’ll meet you down in the parking garage in ten.” She reached into her pockets and withdrew her car keys, pressing them into her open palm with another fleeting smile. “My car’s the grey Audi parked by the stairwell.”

(Y/N) walked out of the office and down the hallway but since the mechanics were still working on fixing the elevators after the power-outage, she was forced to take the stairs all the way down to the underground parking garage. She quickly located the agent’s car and unlocked it, climbing into the passenger seat and buckling her seat-belt; now that she was finally alone, she couldn’t stop herself as she lowered her head into her hands and cried, allowing all the pent-up emotions inside of her to finally be set free. In that moment, all she wanted to do was go back to when everything was normal, back before Lagos and her constant fighting with Steve and the goddamn Accords; it wasn’t perfect, of course, but it was a hundred times better than what they were all currently going through. “I’m so sorry, Steve…”

As her sobs finally began to subside, the stairwell door opened and Sharon walked through the doorway; she took a steadying breath and wiped the last of her tears away just as the agent opened the driver-side door and got it. Sharon reached over and opened the glove-box to reveal a package of tissues, flashing her a brief and sympathetic smile as she pulled one out and blew her nose. “I tend to start feeling better after I’ve had a good cry. How ‘bout you?”

“Not really, I still feel like shit except now my eyes itch and my nose is running,” (Y/N) half-heartedly quipped, dabbing at the corners of her eyes and sighing. “So, you know any good hotels around here?”

“The Kurhotel Strӧszek’s nice and it’s not too far from here, so that’ll make Agent Ross happy. On our way, we’ll stop at a pharmacy and pick you up some first aid sup-” The ringing of Sharon’s cell phone interrupted her words and she was quick to answer it. “Agent 13 here…Steve?” (Y/N) instantly perked up and with a brief gesture for her to stay quiet, the agent switched to speakerphone. “Okay, I’m alone. What’s up?”

“We’ve figured out what’s going on,” Steve’s voice answered through the phone’s speaker and (Y/N) bit her lip to keep from making a sound at the comforting timbre. “The doctor framed Bucky for the U.N. bombing in order to find out where Hydra kept him. They created five other Winter Soldiers back in the 90’s and had them cryogenically frozen; he’s planning on waking them, says he’s doing it to see an empire fall.”

“So, you three need your gear before you can go after him.”

The super-soldier sighed. “I know that it’s a lot to ask, Sharon-”

“You’re trying to stop a squad of murderous super-soldiers from taking over the world, Rogers; if this is how I can help stop that from happening, then I’m in. I’ll send you a message when I’ve got the gear and we’ll arrange a meeting.”

“Thank you, Sharon, I owe you one. How…how’s (Y/N) doing?”

“She’s okay; lacerated jaw, sprained wrist and a whole lot of bruising, but she’s fine.” Steve breathed a deep sigh of relief that made (Y/N)’s heart warm and the agent gave her a sideways glance before continuing. “You should know that she’s refused to sign the Accords. I’ve been assigned to escort her to a hotel, where she’ll stay until she’s taken off the CIA’s no-fly list and can go back home…”

There was silence over the line and just as she began wondering if they’d somehow been disconnected, Steve quietly spoke, “I’ve already asked you for one favor but can I bother you for another?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“If I write a letter, can you make sure that it gets to (Y/N)? There’s a lot that I need to tell her and since I don’t know what’ll happen where we’re going…well, she deserves answers one way or another.”

Sharon’s eyes flicked between (Y/N)’s saddened expression and the cell phone in her hand as she nodded. “Of course, I’ll pick it up when I hand over your gear. Talk to you later, Rogers.”

Hanging up, the agent tucked the phone into her pocket and quickly started the engine, buckling up and driving at a steady speed through the parking garage and out onto the street; (Y/N) fiddled with the hem of her wrinkled shirt for a thought-filled moment before stating, “You’ve already got a plan.”

“Let’s just say that I’ve been prepared to follow through on a favor like this one for a while now,” Sharon spared her a sideways glance and focused back on the road. “But I won’t say anything else about it on the off-chance the CIA decides to question you somewhere down the line; the last thing I want is for you to be charged with aiding and abetting in the theft of government property.”

(Y/N) glanced down at her bare ring finger and thought back on Steve’s words during his phone call; she was desperate to find out what was in the letter but at the same time, she knew in her heart that she needed to hear whatever it was directly from him. The thought reminded her of their conversation about the problems within their relationship in the London hotel’s bar, the last truly calm moment they’d shared before everything went sideways…

“Whatever it is, we can work through it together. We make a damn good team, after all.”

“Of course we do, sunshine.”

There’s something I have to do before Steve and the others go after those super-soldiers, (Y/N) thought to herself, her shoulders squared in determination as she turned to glance at Sharon beside her and pondered the best way to ask the spy for a third and final favor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Russian Translation: Soldat-Soldier

A/N: Next chapter will have even less angst so yay! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist:  https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4TsJ2TY1F2HDXhEYOfzCjY?si=b1abdaeccc4c4d21

Chapter Seven

Civil War Masterlist

Tagging: @mrs-obrien​​​​​ @lahoete​​​​​ @awkward117​ @cminr​​​​​ @natdrunk​​​​​​ @momc95​​​​​ @savedbystyle​​​​​ @miraculouscloud​ @awkwardnesshabitat​​​​​ @marinettepotterandplagg​​​​​ @khuang3​​​​​ @supersouthy​​​​​ @benakenalove​​​​​ @brooke0297​​​​​ @hufflepeople​​​​​ @becausewelie​​​​​​ @outoftheregular​​​​​ @supreme-tantrum​​​​​ @ladydmalfoy​​​​​ @mads-weasley​​​​​ @username23345​​​​​ @crist1216​​​​​ @aesthethickks​​

Late

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand

A/N: Thanks as always to @bluenet13 for beta reading!

Read on AO3

T.K. was late. It wasn’t uncommon for one of them to be running late; when you worked as a civil servant the end of the day was determined by when the work was done, not what the clock on the wall said. Dating someone who understood that was rare, a gift. They understood and forgave the tardiness without malice.

He’d texted, telling Carlos to go ahead and get a drink and order an appetizer if he wanted. But Carlos waited, anxious to see his date (boyfriend? booty call? friend with benefits?). It had been a long day and he’d been looking forward to this evening since T.K. had texted and asked him about it two days ago. That was a step forward, T.K. asking him out instead of the other way around. It had to mean…something, right? Maybe? 

Oh god, his sister, Francesca, had been right when she told him he was hopelessly gone on this guy. Her actual comment had included a few more swear words and a surprising amount of sexual innuendo, even for his sister, but the message was the same: He was in love with a guy who liked him back. And he was doing a pretty terrible job of figuring the relationship out.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” T.K. slid into the seat across from him, interrupting the gymnastics of his mental anxiety.

“No worries,” Carlos said, offering up a smile. “I got you a sparkling water and ordered a cheese plate.”

“Great, that’s great,” T.K. said, fidgeting in his chair like he couldn’t get comfortable.

Carlos hadn’t known T.K. for long, but the man read like an open book. He could tell something wasn’t right. “Everything okay?” he asked as T.K. picked up the menu and flipped it over without reading it before setting it back down again.

“What? Yeah, yes, yes everything’s fine,” he said, picking the menu back up again.

Carlos studied him, feeling his leg bounce up and down under the table. “You sure? You seem on edge. Rough day at work?”

T.K. set the menu down again and schooled his face into what Carlos assumed he thought was a neutrally pleasant expression, but was really a smile that strained around the edges. “No, I’m good. Sorry. So, what are you thinking about? The filet? Or actually the salmon looks really good. With the lemon sauce?”

Carlos let T.K. chatter his way through dinner about inane subjects such as the different types of hose nozzles, his Dad’s medicinal tea collection, and how to properly hail a taxi in New York. Carlos hmmed and nodded in all the right places, all the while mentally going through a list of possible reasons for T.K.’s uneasiness. A difficult shift seemed most likely, but T.K. had denied that. Could something have happened to someone he knew in New York? Or was there…was there someone else? He knew about T.K.’s recent horrendous break up, but was it possible that whoever he’d left behind had come calling? It happened more often than not, a quick rebound and then back to the previous relationship, he’d seen it time and and time again.

His heart squeezed a little bit at the thought and he mentally shook himself. T.K. had given him no indication that things between them were off, he shouldn’t assume and possibly fabricate a problem for himself that didn’t exist. 

They finished their meal, declining desert and coffee, and headed for the parking lot. “So,” Carlos finally said, his first word in quite a while. “Did you want to come over or…?”

“Yeah,” T.K. said far too brightly in the fakest possible way. 

T.K. seemed to have run out of bizarre facts and mundane topics to talk about because he was quiet on the drive back to Carlos’, seemingly lost in whatever was going on in his head, fingers absently playing with his phone, turning it over and over in his hands.

He didn’t even move when they stopped in the driveway, eyes staring straight ahead out the windshield. “T.K.,” Carlos said softly.

He startled and cleared his throat. “Hey, sorry.” He flashed another fake smile and leaned over, pressing a kiss to Carlos’ lips, quickly trying to turn it into more.

Carlos let him for a moment, not pulling back, but not fully giving in either, still trying to get a read on what was going on tonight. The current situation suggested it had nothing to do with them, which was a relief. But something was still wrong.

“Should we take this inside?” T.K. asked a moment later, his hand sliding up Carlos’ thigh, even as the enthusiasm didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Carlos cocked his head to the side. “Are you sure you want to?”

That got T.K.’s full attention and his brow furrowed. “I—yes. Yeah I wanted to come over and be with you.” He leaned over and kissed the tip of Carlos’ nose. “Come on.”

They walked inside and for once Carlos let T.K. take the lead as they landed on the couch, lips locked together, hands in each other’s hair, running up and down each other’s bodies. But it wasn’t fast and hard or even slow and gentle it was just…as if T.K. was going through the motions. And Carlos was not okay with that.

He pulled away, sitting up, putting distance between them. “What’s wrong?” T.K. asked in confusion. “You okay?”

“Are you?”

“What?”

Carlos fixed him with a firm look. “T.K. I want to have sex with you, I do. But I’m a big fan of enthusiastic consent. And right now you’re consenting but…I’m kind of missing the enthusiasm.”

T.K. sighed and sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, running a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I should have just gone home.”

Carlos felt a pang of sympathy as he watched the weight of whatever T.K. was dealing with settle fully on his shoulders. He reached over and put a hand on T.K.’s knee. “You know, you don’t have to tell me what’s going on if you don’t want to. But if you do, I’m here. Or if you don’t want to talk I can drive you home. No questions asked.”

He could see T.K.’s jaw working, like he was trying to hold back tears. He shook his head silently, misery all over his face and Carlos couldn’t take it any longer. He slid closer so their thighs touched and put his free hand on T.K.’s shoulder. “T.K. what is it?”

The other man sucked in a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. “My dad has cancer.”

Of all the things he’d considered, this had never crossed his mind. It felt like a punch in the gut. And if it felt that way to him, he could only imagine how it felt to T.K. 

“It’s lung cancer,” T.K. continued. “From the towers. And he didn’t tell me. He just moved us across the country like he could run away from it. I thought he made us come here because of me but really, it was because of him. And me. Both of us I guess, I don’t even know anymore.”

T.K. looked so wrung out and exhausted and Carlos’ heart ached, wishing for all the world that he could somehow take his pain away.

“He’s been getting chemo and dealing with this for months now, all on his own because he couldn’t tell me or didn’t want to tell me or didn’t trust me enough to tell me and I feel really REALLY shitty about it,” T.K. said. “Like the worst son in the world for not noticing and not being…okay enough for him to talk to me about it. Because you know that people with a support system have a better chance of beating cancer than people that don’t. And I haven’t been providing that for him. I’ve just been dealing with my own shit again.” 

His intake of breath was shaky, words continuing to pour out of him. “And I told him that I wasn’t scared, that I knew he was going to be all right, but I think that was a lie. Because right now I’m terrified. I’m terrified that I’m going to lose him. And I promised myself I would never lie to him again after what happened in New York but how could I say anything else? He needs me to be strong but,” T.K. finally looked up and met Carlos’ eyes, “I’m not very good at being strong. As evidenced by the addiction and relapses.” 

He shook his head again and ran an agitated hand over his face. “And I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this. I’m sorry, it’s been a long day and I kind of can’t stop thinking about it and it all just kind of…spilled out.”

Carlos squeezed his knee. “Well, they do call me “The Confessor” at the precinct. Bad guys take one look at me and give up all their secrets.”

T.K. raised his eyebrows. “They do?”

“No, T.K. it’s a joke.” He winced slightly. “Maybe not the right time for a joke. Sorry.”

T.K. snorted. “No it’s…thanks. I needed that.” He exhaled slowly. “I think I needed all of that. I don’t uh, I don’t have many people I can talk to about stuff like this. So thanks for letting me unload on you. Again.”

“You can talk to me anytime,” Carlos said. “I mean it. And if you need help with your dad, anything at all, I’m glad to do that too. I can drive to appointments, pick things up, make phone calls, or just be a shoulder to cry on.”

T.K. gave him a soft, smile, the first genuine one of the night, and cupped his cheek. “You are so sweet. You know that?”

“I think you’ve mentioned it once or twice,” Carlos told him. “I’m not just saying it; I’m serious T.K. Anything you need, anything at all.”

He couldn’t fix this, couldn’t tell T.K. that it would all be all right in the end, couldn’t give him the assurances he longed for, but he could offer his presence and support.

“I know,” T.K. said, and he seemed to genuinely believe it. “Thank you.”

Carlos leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering for just a moment before pressing their foreheads together. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

T.K. nodded against him and didn’t pull back. “Do you mind if we don’t…I just don’t think I…”

“How about we watch a movie?” Carlos suggested. “I’ll make some popcorn, we can relax. Decompress a little bit.”

“Are you sure that’s okay?” T.K. asked.

Carlos smiled. “Believe it or not I like being with you even when we’re not having sex. And I am very capable of going without for a night or two.”

“But not three?” T.K. asked as Carlos got up and moved to the kitchen.

Carlos gave a fake wince. “That would be pushing it. I might have to find another hot shot firefighter from New York to hook up with.”

“You get a lot of those in Austin?”

“Oh they’re a dime a dozen around here,” Carlos said with a teasing grin as he started the microwave. “Walk down the street and you’re bound to run into at least a few. Although, I don’t think all of them have such a passion for hose nozzles.”

Now T.K. winced for real. “Sorry. I ramble when I’m anxious.”

“I noticed. It’s okay. And next time I’m at a scene and someone asks me for a hose nozzle, I will definitely be able to help. In fact, I think I’ll add that to my resumé. Hose Nozzle Expert.”

“Oh god,” T.K. rolled his eyes. “I’m a terrible date.”

Carlos returned with the popcorn. “Well I’ll guess we’ll just have to go on another one. Give you a chance to make it up to me.”

“Friday?” T.K. asked.

“I have a shift starting mid-morning.”

“Breakfast then?”

Carlos handed him the popcorn bowl. “Breakfast it is. Now,” he settled back into the couch and pulled T.K. toward him until they were cuddled together. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

Before I had even started this trip, I already had the worry of getting lost. Driving for hours on end through places I had never even heard of, it seemed inevitable. Despite that, I had no other choice but to go. What life I had here was gone, and staying would only have me stewing in the rotten memories and people that plagued me. Though this opportunity was a weak one, it was my only shot out of here. So I packed up my meager things and drove off into the unknown. Best to take my chances out there, then remain in this prison a minute longer. My anxiety born from this journey drove me to prepare for every possible scenario. The biggest worry was getting lost on the way there, but with a mountain of maps, a GPS and a folder of addresses, numbers and contacts, I figured I would be safe. After all, once you get into the barren countryside of flat fields and endless dirt, all you had to do was pick a road in the right direction and drive. I needed to go west, so that was what I did. I drove on for hours, but it felt like I had hardly moved. What a strange feeling it was, to travel hundreds of miles and see absolutely nothing. This trip was supposed to be a transformation, a needed change for me to finally regain control of my life. Yet, I felt no joy or wonder. I guess I was expecting to encounter breathtaking landmarks and travel through strange new places, evidence that the world was bigger than my ignorant little hometown. Instead, I drove through a flattened world of grass, corn, dirt and the occasional pathetic tree. Not exactly the scenery that inspires awe. This repetitive land was probably the reason why things turned out this way, as it was impossible to get a bearing when everything looked the same. Hours had passed since I turned onto that empty road, and yet I failed to notice that things were not right. I ignored the fact that I hadn't seen a single street sign the entire time, or that there were no forks or splits to be found. To be fair, it was long into the night, so most of the blank landscape was smothered by the darkness. I just held onto the idea that I was almost to the next town, if you could all any of these places that. What little civilization I had seen was a sad collection of wore down store fronts, crumbling bars and ancient gas stations. They sat in clumps along these forgotten roads, sharing much with the greasy roadkill that was spattered on the asphalt. Pathetic as these places were, I still yearned for them as I drove down that endless road. Surely one had to be nearby, I just needed to go a few more miles. I followed this delusion for quite some time, pretending that the lack of signs or markers wasn't something to be concerned about. Eventually, I just had to give up. With the clock on my dash showing some obscenely late time, I knew I needed to pull over to collect my thoughts. Looking over my supplies, I found my GPS worthless and the maps just as useless. With no service or any indicators that could help me pinpoint my position, these intricate foldouts might has well have been blank. It was then that I realized that I wasn't lost, as it felt like it was something far worse. When one is stranded in a place they don't know, one of the biggest issues is the overwhelming amount of options. Be it the woods or some unknown city, you are faced with many directions and choices, but you have no clue where any of them lead. Do I go north or south? Do I take the parkway or the back roads? Which exit on the roundabout gets me going the right way? With all this, it is obvious why clueless people wind up going in circles. That was what I considered being "lost" was. This, was something quite different. I didn't have a ludicrous amount of options, rather, I only had two. Go forward or back. The problem was that both choices felt wrong. The path forward had no hope or potential, no signs that suggested anything was to be found up ahead. That choice led to an unknown future, but it seemed more enticing than turning back. Though I didn't know what lay ahead, I did know what was behind me: absolutely nothing. Turning around would mean driving a countless amount of hours until found out where civilization had stopped, but I had no clue where or when that was. I would just be retracing my steps through a known wasteland, losing both time and gas. In the end, the unknown path ahead seemed more comforting. Surely I was bound to run into something eventually, even if it was a rusty road sign or some hermit's shack. Though my mind was made up, I chose not to continue just yet. I was drained of all energy, and I knew it was a poor choice to drive in such condition. It was the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere, so what harm was there to grabbing a quick nap? Perhaps sleeping until the sun returned was a good choice. Daylight could reveal clues about my whereabouts, ones that were currently blotted out by the dark. A rested mind would also work way better, and it would probably solve this problem in a second. So I made sure my car was properly off the road before I turned it off. I locked the doors and leaned my seat back as far as I could. It wasn't long after I closed my eyes that my exhausted body finally received some reprieve.   I awoke awkwardly, as if some unremembered dream or nightmare had snapped me from my slumber. It was still night, though I didn't know how much time had passed. I looked at my phone, but my groggy mind couldn't interpret the numbers it showed. I tried to stretch my limbs in the cramped space, but it gave very little relief. My drowsy state made me think that I had only dozed off for a few minutes, as I sure didn't feel any better. Perhaps this cluttered, stuffy car wasn't the best place to get some beauty rest. I figured I would try to go back to sleep, as my options at the moment seemed just as bad as before. As I wriggled around in an attempt to get comfortable, my eyes looked out into the night and saw it. It was funny how strange it seemed at that moment, though I knew fully well what it was. The slow flash of a yellow light, a sight I was quite familiar with, but my tired brain struggled to understand it. I leaned forward for a better look, but it didn't help in the slightest. With my car turned off, the world was pitch black, save for the errant star and that pulsing light. It sat way off in the distance, but there was no mistaking what it was. It took me a second to understand that this was a good sign. A human construct like this suggested civilization, and also a cross road. Perhaps up ahead was where I could find some identifying signs or directions to a nearby town. With sluggish joy, I went to turn on my car and pursue this miracle, but then the thought struck me from out of the blue. How come I didn't see this before? Sure, I was tired and disoriented at the time, but a bright yellow light blinking in a dark void seemed impossible to ignore. I had sat in this spot for a good while before I had decided to get some rest, so how come I didn't see it then? As I struggled to properly answer this question, I looked to the light and noticed something odd. Looking at it now, after a few minutes of gathering myself, it seemed to be bigger. It flashed brighter and larger than before, but perhaps it was just my imagination. I sat there for a moment and soon confirmed that this was no illusion. The light seemed to be getting closer to me. I looked to my dashboard, thinking I had accidentally put the car in neutral and I was slowly rolling forward. The little arrow pointed firmly on the P, so that couldn't be the answer. When I looked back up, the light was nearly blinding. It also seemed to bob and sway about, as if blown about by a weak breeze. The realization that it was the one moving froze me in my seat. I had no clue what it was or what was happening, so panic took over and short-circuited my body. A turned into a statue in the front seat and only stared with wide, terrified eyes. I did nothing but watch as the light bobbed closer, until it was at last upon me. At first I believed it to be heading right towards me, but in those few horrified moments, I saw it walking upon the very road I had traveled. It strolled down the middle, treading upon the cracked asphalt and faded lines. When the light came perpendicular to the front of me car, I at last could see what it was. I recognized the three colored traffic light that hung over every nearly every road, but the rest of it refused to be understood. I saw a metallic skeleton, built of rebar and steel. It bent and twisted into a bizarre lattice, creating limbs and body from an iron spider's web.  It walked upon four legs, and the blinding light hung from a long, arching neck. Something black and wet hung in clumps from its body, creating a sticky cloak over its wiry bones. As I sat frozen in terror, the metallic beast strolled down the road. It walked with slow tired steps, its blinking head hung low. Though it was clearly no creature of flesh, it made me thinking of an exhausted horse, weary from a long day's work. It didn't approach my car, it just kept walking by. It was only when it was passing my driver window that it paused. It stopped in its march and slowly turned its pulsing head towards my vehicle. I could not tell if it was looking at the car or me, but I clearly caught its attention. It gazed at me with a single yellow eye. Above and below sat the green and red, but they remained dark and cracked, like eyes that had long gone blind. It made no move, it just sat there for a moment to watch. After a few seconds, it sadly lifted its legs and continued on its march. The bobbing light continued down that endless road, the blinking growing weaker as it went deeper into the night. I sat there until that yellow light grew small in my mirror, becoming just another star in the darkened sky. I didn't know what to do, or even think about it. Though it showed no aggression, I dared not turn around and pursue it. Instead, I simply turned the car on and pulled back onto the road. I gave up on any thought or reasoning, my mind refused to accept what I had seen. I just got into that dusty old lane and began to drive onwards... -------------------------------------------- “Caution” A design I came up with a way back, which fittingly enough was around the time I went on my roadtrip. I think it came to be through a mashup of traffic signs and weird art sculptures.

Anonymous requested: Carrie and Flynn play love interests on TV, and viewers ship them together hard core, not knowing that off camera there is some MAJOR pining (hidden by fake “hatred” for each other) happening. featuring background willex being exasperated by their lesbian friends not knowing how to function around each other?

I’m sorry you sent such an amazing request and then I effectively left you on read for literally months. Seriously anon, this is glorious, I had so much fun writing it. I got like 1.5k words in and realised I had not yet got to anything even close to your request, so there’s quite a bit of background, but I’m still happy with how it turned out (even if it is a lot angstier than you were probably expecting). I really hope you like it, thank you for being so patient!

She Was a Goddamn Dream

Despite the way she acted, there weren’t actually that many things that Carrie Wilson was completely and utterly certain that she was good at. There was her singing and dancing, but every time she watched back recordings of her performances she would pick out a dozen things she could have improved upon; there was her acting, but every time it got to the tenth take of a scene she began to feel like she was messing up time and time again, tripping over her words, delivering her lines flatly with no emotion; there was her frequent attempts to connect with her fanbase, but every now and then a fan would take it too far and she would feel like the one who had ruined it all. People could tell her those things didn’t matter or that they weren’t her fault as many times as they liked, but it never stopped them gnawing away at Carrie’s self-esteem, making her feel like sometimes she didn’t deserve the fame or renown she had built for herself over the years.

But there was one thing she knew for a fact that she was good at: being in love with Flynn Taylor and hiding it.

Carrie had first met Flynn in elementary school. She had been playing with her long-time best friends Alex and Julie when little Flynn, a new student, had walked up to them and asked if she could join in because their game (something about aliens and cowboys if Carrie remembered correctly) looked really fun. Carrie could still recall how Flynn had looked that day, even if it was going on twenty years ago – her hair hung down by her shoulders in cute twists, she had worn a bright pink t-shirt and blindingly yellow dungarees, and she wore sneakers that lit up when she stamped her feet.

Carrie remembered thinking how cool Flynn looked (for a six-year-old) and something inside her had turned defensive. She had advocated for leaving Flynn out of the game, claiming they already had enough players and it would ruin it if they had any more, but Julie had pointed out that if Flynn joined, they would have an equal number of aliens and cowboys so Alex wouldn’t be so outnumbered by the two of them anymore. Carrie had quickly been outvoted, Flynn had been allowed to play with them, she and Julie had clicked in an instant, and Carrie decided that day that she didn’t like Flynn Taylor, not one bit.

For a few years, things had been a little rough. Carrie wasn’t shy about how much she disliked Flynn, but in return Flynn didn’t mind telling anyone who would listen about how much she hated Carrie. The two of them would bicker and squabble and argue over the tiniest of things, and Carrie only realised how bad it was getting when Julie blew up at them.

It was sometime in their freshman year of high school and their feud had been going on for years without showing any signs of letting up. Julie had been going through the worst time of her life; her mother (Rose, who was the closest thing Carrie had to a mother as well, but she knew it wasn’t the same thing) had passed away, she was facing getting kicked out of the music programme for lack of participation, her family was considering moving house, and every day it seemed like more and more things got added to her list of things that were going wrong in her life. Carrie and Flynn had made a silent agreement to put their arguing on hold for Julie’s sake, knowing their friend didn’t need that extra stress in her life right then. And for a while, it had been going well.

Until suddenly it was going badly again.

The three of them were having a movie night at Carrie’s house and everything was great. They were watching their favourite films, eating copious amounts of junk food, talking and laughing and having fun, and Carrie couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Julie smile so much. It had all been going so well.

But then Flynn suggested a movie, but Carrie had wanted to watch something else, and one thing had led to another until they were yelling at each other in the middle of Carrie’s living room, the whole world dropped away around them to the point that all they could focus on was each other. They were so enraptured in their argument that neither of them heard Julie’s phone chime, neither of them watched her open a text from her dad, neither of them saw the tears slide down her cheeks as she read it. Neither of them noticed anything was wrong until Julie tried to suppress a sob but instead just made it come out louder than it would have. Flynn and Carrie had turned to face her, argument forgotten in an instant, and rushed to comfort their friend.

Julie had kind of lost it that night. She had told them everything on her mind from the text she’d just received from her dad telling her they’d officially found a buyer for the house to the fact that she had been exhausted for years from all their arguing. She explained that she thought recently the two of them were finally getting better, finally working on having a civil relationship, and maybe something was finally going right for her because they wouldn’t be at each other’s throats all the time anymore.

“I guess not,” she had said defeatedly, fiercely scrubbing at her face in an attempt to dispel any of her tears, “because you two were just faking it for me. I told you I didn’t want anyone to tiptoe around me like I’ll break if I’m dropped, but you still did. I thought you guys would understand that I just want things to be normal again.”

“We were only trying to make things easy on you,” Carrie explained, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Yeah,” Flynn agreed, “we never meant to upset you, Jules.”

Julie had scoffed. “Yeah, well, you’ve done a great job of that.”

Julie had apologised for it all in the morning, but Carrie didn’t blame her for anything she’d said the night before. She had clearly got a lot off her chest that she really needed to, and everything she had said to Carrie and Flynn had been deserved in a way. Carrie knew that her and Flynn’s intentions had only been good, but Julie had asked for reality, and they hadn’t given her that.

Which had got Carrie thinking – in this situation, what was her reality?

For years and years, she would have said she hated Flynn. She would have believed it, too. She would have said that from the moment they’d met on that playground, Flynn had been her worst nightmare. But when she thought back on everything, how she saw Flynn even when they were fighting, she couldn’t call Flynn a nightmare.

She was a goddamn dream.

Carrie had spent night and day thinking about what Flynn really meant to her, why she made her so angry, whether it was really anger at all, and she had come to a revelation that really wasn’t as surprising to her as it should have been. It turned out that it wasn’t anger at all, it was a severe case of repression and Carrie Wilson was very much a lesbian.

That was another thing she knew she was good at – repressing things.

Though she was kind of underwhelmed by her epiphany (really, she thought, she should have worked it out a lot sooner), it did make things harder. Now she knew that she didn’t want to argue with Flynn, she wanted to kiss her, and that was very inconvenient. They didn’t argue as much anymore anyway, making a genuine effort to like each other rather than pretending for Julie’s sake, but that just meant that Flynn smiled at her more often and laughed at Carrie’s snarky jokes and it was nearly impossible not to fall at her feet in worship every time she so much as breathed.

So Carrie got very good at pretending she wasn’t in love with Flynn. By the time they were halfway through freshman year, they were friends and nobody ever pointed out that Carrie felt much more than friendship. Things in all their lives began to improve – Carrie and Flynn were no longer feuding, Julie ended up not moving house and got back into the music programme when she started a band, and she got herself a boyfriend – Luke – who made her the happiest Carrie had ever seen her.

(It had prompted many a discussion about whether or not Carrie and Flynn had anyone in mind they wanted to date. Carrie had panicked and said Nick, the school’s star lacrosse player who she had spoken to maybe three times and was definitely not her type. Flynn had given a suspicious hum and said she was still figuring out what it was she wanted; Carrie had excused herself and had a ten-minute panic in the bathroom over the implications of that.)

By the time university rolled around, Julie entered the big leagues with Julie and the Phantoms, deciding not to pursue further education but instead focus on her career, while Carrie and Flynn had gone to the same performing arts school. The same performing arts school where they’d been hired by the same agent. The same agent who kept getting them roles on the same shows together. It was a ticking time bomb, Carrie knew, and it went off a few days after her twenty-fourth birthday.

Carrie had been hired to play Flynn’s love interest in the third season of a show that Flynn had been cast in two years previously.

The truth was, it was both a dream come true and a living nightmare all at the same time. For one thing, Carrie adored the show and had been aching for a role on it since it came out. But on the other hand, she would be Flynn’s love interest, and according to the scripts they would have their first on-screen kiss at the end of the season – Carrie always made sure to separate her work from reality, but in her mind, kissing Flynn was kissing Flynn, no matter what disguise it was hidden by, and it was what she would have to do if she wanted the job.

She tried not to panic, she really did, but it wasn’t the easiest thing to not be panicked by, which was where everything started to fall apart.

It was the day of the kiss scene and Carrie was a wreck (which was putting it kindly). She had been pacing back and forth in her trailer in front of Alex for more than half an hour, trying not to mess up her hair every time she ran her hands through it, saying words but not making any sense.

“Carrie,” Alex said, equal parts firm and amused. Carrie stopped her pacing and turned to face him so fast she was surprised she didn’t get whiplash. “Will you please stop moving? You’re making me travel sick.”

“Very funny,” she deadpanned, but nonetheless she crashed down next to him on the little couch, flopping against him and resting her head on his shoulder. He easily threw an arm around her and she closed her eyes, trying to ignore the stress she was under, but the pounding of her heart made it very difficult.

“Talk to me,” Alex said. “What exactly is it that’s getting you so worked up here?”

“I have to kiss Flynn,” Carrie grumbled.

“And that’s a bad thing?” Alex asked.

“No,” Carrie groaned. “Don’t ask stupid questions. It’s a good thing, which is why I’m mad about it. Keep up, Alex.”

She felt him shake with a badly hidden laugh and scowled. “There’s no point asking me to keep up when you’re at least a hundred steps ahead of me. Explain it to me, get it off your chest.”

Carrie groaned dramatically but nonetheless she lifted her head and turned to face Alex, looking him in the eye.

“Fine,” she said heavily. “I’m in love with Flynn.”

Alex nodded. “Yep.”

“We have been acting like we’re in love with each other for the entirety of this season.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s been longer than that–”

Carrie smacked his arm and he grinned devilishly. “Don’t interrupt me. We’ve been acting like we’re in love with each other for the entirety of this season, and now I have to kiss her.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Helpful,” Alex said with an expression that suggested it was anything but helpful.

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” Carrie asked. She was almost certain that Alex was messing with her now, forcing her to admit what he already knew because he probably thought it would do her some good, and she didn’t know if she was grateful for that or not.

Alex just nodded once.

“Fine,” she conceded. “I don’t want to kiss Flynn because I want to kiss Flynn. If I kiss her on the show, it won’t be real, but I won’t be able to stop thinking about it anyway. I won’t be able to stop myself from wanting to do it again, but not as our characters – as us. I already want to kiss her half the time and I know that’ll only get worse once I’ve done it for real. But I won’t be able to do it again unless it’s scripted because Flynn doesn’t love me back. Do you see my problem now?”

Alex was silent for a beat, his face working through a thousand different emotions in one go. He opened his mouth to reply, closed it again, and whipped out his phone, opening up a message.

“Oh, this is how it is?” Carrie said indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest. “I spill my secrets to you and your response is to text someone instead of reacting at all?”

“I’m texting Willie,” he explained. “I’m asking him something.”

“What?”

That moment, Alex’s phone pinged with a text from Willie. He opened it up, smirked, and showed Carrie the screen.

Alex’s text read: hey, Flynn is in love with Carrie right?

Willie’s reply said: only for like ten years, yeah

Carrie read the messages. Then she read them again. Then she read them a third time, refreshed the chat, and read it again. Then she swiped Alex’s phone from his hand and turned it off, chucking it across the trailer so it landed in a pile of clothes she’d been meaning to get washed.

“Okay,” Alex said. “What was that for?”

“That’s not helpful,” Carrie whined. “How do you expect me to focus now that’s in my head?”

Alex blinked bewilderedly. “Because now you know Flynn loves you back. Which means you two can get together. You’d be able to kiss off-screen, and you were literally saying that’s what you wanted about two minutes ago.”

“But she doesn’t love me back,” Carrie said like Alex was being particularly dense.

“Were we reading the same messages?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“Yes,” Carrie stressed, “but you’re wrong. She’s never flirted with me or said anything that might sound even a little bit like she thinks of me that way or anything like that. There’s no way she likes me.”

Alex opened his mouth, presumably to argue with her, but at that moment the door of the trailer opened and someone popped their head in to call Carrie to set. She thanked them and they closed the door as she got up to get ready. Alex heaved an exasperated sigh and said, “It’ll be fine, okay? If it helps in any way, just focus on the fact that it’s not you and Flynn – it’s Monica and Kai. It’s your character, not you. Got it?”

“Yes,” Carrie lied, leaving the trailer. “I’ve got it.”

Walking to set felt like walking to her death. Carrie was certain that nothing good would come out of this scene. The kiss would look realistic, yes, but she couldn’t truthfully claim that was because she was a good actress – it would only look real because it was real for her.

She arrived on set and steeled herself, going over her lines in her head and trying to ground herself. She’d been on this set so many times throughout the season; it was Kai’s apartment (Flynn’s character, a charming DJ with a rebellious streak and secret penchant for art and literature), utterly trashed after it had been broken into the previous episode. According to the script, Monica – Carrie’s character – would be helping Kai clean things up when Kai got upset about the whole situation, and it would fall to Monica to help her calm down and search through all her feelings. It would end with a big revelation as they admitted their love for one another, and their kiss would fade to black, ending the episode and the series.

On paper, it looked good. In Carrie’s mind, it was the worst thing that could have ever happened to her, but all she could do was go with it.

All thoughts of calming herself down bled out of her mind the moment Flynn walked onto set. She was in costume, a bright red tracksuit and minimal makeup, and she was smiling from ear to ear. The look was nothing special, but it was beauty if Carrie had ever seen it. Comparing herself to Flynn, she felt underdressed, even though her costume of a floral summer dress and cream-coloured cardigan was much less casual than Flynn’s.

When Flynn turned and met Carrie’s eye, she smiled that wonderous smile of hers, the one that made Carrie feel like they were the only two people in existence, everything else dropping away from them. She tried to smile back, but it was weak and close to a grimace, so she turned away to save herself the embarrassment.

And five minutes later, they began the scene.

To begin with, it went well. Carrie immersed herself in the role of Monica, playing up her concern for Kai, making sure to watch her with the most obvious heart-eyes she could manage (which wasn’t difficult). When Kai broke down crying, Monica rushed to her side, wrapped her in the tightest embrace possible, and tried not to cry herself. She leaned in close and whispered the words she had so painstakingly memorised into her ear.

“This wasn’t your fault,” she breathed. “You could never have known this would happen.”

“But it did happen,” Kai sobbed, her breath rattling heart-wrenchingly. “They targeted me. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Monica said softly, holding Kai tighter. “I can’t imagine how anyone would ever want to hurt you like this. Or hurt you at all. You don’t… you’ve been through so much, Kai, and you don’t deserve any of it. You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I wish I had those magic words that would somehow fix all this, but I don’t. All I can do is be here for you because that’s what you deserve. You deserve someone who’ll pick you up when you’re down, someone who will go out of their way to make you happy in life, someone who would love you forever and not think about stopping that for a second.”

Kai drew back a little but remained close enough to look Monica in the eye. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… I… Kai, I…” The words died in Monica’s throat.

“I love you,” Kai finished, the start of an incredulous half-smile on her face.

“Yeah,” Monica whispered. “I love you, Kai.”

“God, I love you too.”

And then when they surged together, meeting in a fierce kiss, it suddenly wasn’t Monica and Kai anymore. This was Carrie and Flynn, kissing each other like they meant it, hard and fast and unrestrained and everything Carrie had ever imagined. More than Carrie had ever imagined. Flynn’s intensity hit her like a truck, but for once she wasn’t one to complain. She gave as good as she got, all that built up longing releasing itself in one fell swoop. Carrie Wilson was kissing Flynn Taylor and it was the most incredible thing she’d ever felt.

The call of, “Cut!” broke them apart. For a moment, Carrie looked into Flynn’s eyes, trying to read what was written in them, but it was useless. Her hands were still on Flynn’s waist, but she let go, and a moment later felt Flynn’s hands untangle from her hair.

They did the scene again and Carrie cursed herself for not foreseeing this massive issue. They never did one-take scenes, everything was gone over time and time again. She wasn’t kissing Flynn just once that day; she was reliving it over and over, and every kiss was better than the last as they got more acquainted with each other, figured things out, became less messy but kept all of the passion. It was a change of pace, but Carrie was handling it.

Until she messed up her lines in the worst possible way.

It was supposed to be, “Yeah. I love you, Kai.”

Carrie said, “I love you, Flynn.”

The director picked up on her mistake immediately and was good-natured about it as he made them take the scene from the top. Flynn said nothing, just laughed it off, mentioned that Carrie must be getting a little tired, all that kissing really taking it out of her. Everyone was fine with it and it didn’t happen again, but Carrie was mortified. She knew that those words had held all the sincerity it was impossible to fake, even with years of acting experience under her belt. She knew she had sounded honest in a way she never could have pretended to be. She knew that it was probably the take they would use, editing her use of Flynn’s name to Kai. And it felt like the biggest mistake of her life.

As soon as she was cleared to leave set, she all but legged it out of the room and back to her trailer where Alex was still waiting for her. She sat down beside him, head on his shoulder, and she cried.

The worst part was that she was no longer certain whether she was any good at pretending not to be in love with Flynn.

*

Promos and trailers for the show gradually released over the next few weeks. Carrie avoided social media as often as she could – it hadn’t taken people long to figure out that she would be Flynn’s love interest, and she simply couldn’t handle their reactions.

Some comments she had seen were harmless, related only to the show. ‘Monikai for life’ seemed to be a common one, as well as ‘she better treat my girl Kai with the respect she deserves’ or some form of ‘I swear they look literally perfect for each other’. Those comments were the kind Carrie could get along with. She liked a few posts, teasing just enough to get speculation up, but not enough to confirm anything.

Then there were different comments. Comments that weren’t about Monica and Kai, but instead about Carrie and Flynn. ‘Oh my god, I have been waiting for these two to play girlfriends forever’ seemed to crop up a lot. If it wasn’t that it was ‘we are finally going to see Carrie and Flynn kiss!’ and sometimes it was the worst comments like ‘they should date in real life’.

Everything about it made Carrie feel bad. For one thing, she hated people saying things like that about her private life – she might have been famous, but she was still a human being, and these people didn’t know her, so nothing gave them the right to talk about her and Flynn like that. But also, it was a constant painful reminder of what she didn’t have, and that was too much for her to process.

She had hardly spoken to Flynn since the wrap party despite Flynn messaging her every day. She was ashamed of her slip up and terrified that if she spoke to Flynn the same thing would happen again. Now that those words were out there, she didn’t think she’d be able to rein them back in ever again.

So Carrie was scared. Scared that she had ruined everything with Flynn, scared people would figure out how she really felt, scared that this was something she couldn’t bounce back from.

And she lashed out.

Admittedly, she knew could have handled the situation better. She could have ignored all the rumours and comments, stuck to one side of the fanbase, been proud of what she and Flynn had created. But she didn’t do any of that. There was one thing she knew she was still good at, and that was acting as if she hated Flynn Taylor. It had seemed like a good idea at the time – reveal to everyone that she hated Flynn to get them off her back. If she had thought it through for more than a second, she wouldn’t have done it, but one night something inside her broke and she let it all out.

She had reverted back to old habits and written a load of unsavoury tweets about Flynn, saying she hated her and couldn’t imagine anything worse than dating her, telling everyone that the idea of them being in a relationship was really creeping her out and she wanted nothing to do with it. She had posted them all before she could think any more about it, but the regret had been instant, as had the furious messages from her PR team and agent, the thousands of unfollows, the way people immediately tried to cancel her, and the way all of Flynn’s attempts to contact her stopped after those hateful words had been said. She deleted the tweets, but they’d already been screenshotted many a time, so it didn’t do much good.

The only surprise that came from it was a follow-up tweet from Flynn reading: You guys don’t need to cancel Carrie. It’s not as if I’m upset. I’d only be upset if I liked her, which I never have done.

Somehow, she had managed to ruin everything, just with a slip of the tongue.

The night of the season premier, Carrie got a knock on her door. That in itself was weird – she hadn’t invited anyone over, planning on spending the night alone, not even necessarily watching the show she’d worked so hard on, and none of her friends were really the type to just show up unannounced.

Well, none of them except–

“Willie,” she greeted with a smile when she opened the door. He stood on the threshold with his skateboard tucked under his arm, helmet lopsided on his head, and a smile on his face that looked half genuine and half like he was up to something. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come and watch the premier with you,” he said, inviting himself in and removing his helmet, hanging it on a coat hook as he propped his skateboard up against the wall. “Wouldn’t want you to be lonely for something as huge as this, right?”

“Okay,” she said, unconvinced, “and what’s your ulterior motive?”

Willie knew better than to argue. He frowned slightly and said, “Flynn told me what you said and that you’re not talking to her now, Alex told me that you totally freaked out – like freaked out, freaked out – and then went all despondent and sad, and I wanted to see if I could help. Maybe, you know, talk some sense into you.”

She rolled her eyes, leading Willie into the living room and sitting on the couch with him. “I’m not ignoring Flynn, I didn’t freak out, and I’ve got plenty of sense in me, thank you very much.”

Willie raised an eyebrow. “Sense? Or denial?”

She didn’t reply.

“Carrie,” he said, shuffling closer, “listen to me, okay? That day, when you said to Flynn that you love her, you ran to Alex while she ran to me. She was a total mess, telling me she had no idea if you had meant it or if you’d really just messed up. She said she wanted to talk to you, and after that day she said she kept trying but you wouldn’t pick up and she thought she had done something wrong. And then all those tweets… Carrie, what’s going on?”

She sighed, threw her head back to try and tip the tears welling in her eyes back into her skull, and then turned back to Willie.

“I meant it,” she breathed. “When I told Flynn I love her, I meant it. But she doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

“Yes she–”

“No,” Carrie said firmly. “She doesn’t. I shouldn’t have said it, I shouldn’t have lost myself like that. I should have had some freaking restraint. And now that I’ve told her, she’s going to hate me because I will have made her uncomfortable and she won’t want to be around me anymore. I’ve ruined it, Willie. And the tweets were a stupid idea, even I know that. I was scared, which is a terrible excuse, I know. I thought people were figuring out how I really felt so I… god, I’m such an idiot. I never should have done it. And now I know she hates me, she said so herself.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Willie said softly, shaking his head.

Carrie just raised an eyebrow.

“Look, I’m… I’m not going to make you talk about it tonight if you really don’t want to,” Willie said. Carrie breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing a little. “But you’ve got to promise me you’ll talk to Flynn. Just to explain yourself. No matter which way your conversation goes, I really don’t think you’ll regret it.”

Carrie just hummed, not willing to provide an actual answer, and flicked the TV on, putting on the season premier of their show. She and Willie settled down together and watched. If Carrie teared up a little watching her first interaction with Flynn, Willie was kind enough not to mention it.

*

Eventually, Carrie took Willie’s advice, more because she missed Flynn than anything else. And in any case, she felt she owed Flynn an apology and an explanation. She had been awful to her in a way she hadn’t since they were teenagers, and she was ashamed and guilty and just wanted things to go back to some semblance of normal. On the night the season finale aired, Carrie drove to Flynn’s house and knocked on the door before she could change her mind.

“Oh,” Flynn said when she opened the door. Carrie couldn’t read her expression but fought down the panic that arose. “What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” she asked, hating how cliché it sounded, but that didn’t matter when Flynn nodded and opened the door wider, letting her in.

They settled together on the couch in front of Flynn’s television. It was set to the channel their show aired on, but it hadn’t started yet. When Flynn didn’t say a word, Carrie took that as her cue to start the conversation.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“Go on,” Flynn encouraged, sounding unimpressed.

“I’m sorry for everything I said about you online,” she continued, doing her best to look Flynn in the eye when all she wanted to do was look away. “I didn’t mean any of it. You’re such an amazing person and one of my best friends and I can’t believe I let myself do things that would jeopardise that. None of it was true, anyway. I just… I got scared.”

“Scared of what?” Flynn pressed, voice slightly softer than it had been a moment before. Carrie hoped she hadn’t imagined Flynn scooting ever so slightly closer to her on the couch.

She took a deep rattling breath. She had come there that night having promised herself that she would be completely honest with Flynn because she owed her that much. Well, now was the point when she needed to be honest and it was the most terrifying prospect she’d ever faced.

“Scared of people working out how right they are about me,” she admitted. “I saw people saying that we… that we would be good together as a couple in real life. And it hit too close to home because I’ve always thought that exact same thing, but I’ve never been able to do anything about it.”

“What are you saying?” Flynn breathed.

“I’m saying… I meant what I said on set. It wasn’t me slipping up, it was genuine. I couldn’t hold it back that day.”

“You mean when you said ‘I love you’?” Flynn asked slowly.

“Yeah,” Carrie said. “I meant it when I said that I love you. I love you, Flynn, I really do.”

Flynn was silent for far too long. Carrie felt her heart sinking, knowing she had made a mess of this, that they would never be able to return from this, that Flynn probably wanted nothing to do with her now, despite what Alex and Willie seemed to think about the whole thing. She prepared herself for the shouting, the accusations, the breaking off of their friendship.

But then Flynn said, “You shouldn’t have run out of set that day.”

“I know, I know, I should have explained myself and apologised there and th–”

“No,” Flynn interrupted. “You should have stayed so that I had the chance to say it back.”

“So you… what?”

Flynn’s hands, soft and gentle, came up to cradle Carrie’s face. She felt Flynn run the pad of her thumbs deftly over Carrie’s cheeks, looked deep into her gorgeous brown eyes and lost herself in them. When Flynn said, “I want to say it back,” Carrie was so up in her own thoughts that she almost forgot what they were even talking about.

“Then say it,” she returned, leaning into Flynn’s touch.

“I love you, Carrie.”

“God, I love you too.”

They kissed again, leaning forward to meet each other, and it was like their first kiss all over again. This one wasn’t tinged with the bittersweet sting that their on-screen ones had been, but rather peppered with the joy they shared having finally revealed their truth to one another. It was a ‘thank you’, a ‘sorry’, an ‘I love you’, a ‘you are it for me’ all in one go, made of love and care and everything good in the world. Carrie lost herself in Flynn – she thought that would never stop happening – and it made her feel free.

Here was another thing she was good at: loving Flynn and showing it to her.

At some point, long after they had broken their kiss, instead curling up together on the couch to watch their show, Flynn snickered and said, “You know, our agent told me that our little spat online had done wonders for the show’s publicity.”

“Where are you going with this?” Carrie asked, smirking, knowing that Flynn wasn’t just dropping that out of nowhere.

She shrugged. “I think we could do our bit to help out with ratings. For a while it might be a good idea to keep the act up, you know? Act like we hate each other and watch everyone freak out over it. And if it’s super funny for us then that’s just a bonus.”

“Fine, on one condition,” Carrie said. Flynn nodded. “We don’t tell Alex and Willie what we’re doing. They’ve been laughing at our stupidity for years, I think we deserve a little revenge.”

“I love the way you think,” Flynn laughed, leaning up to kiss Carrie again. “I love you. But as far as anyone else is concerned, no I don’t.”

Pressing another kiss to the side of Flynn’s head, Carrie said teasingly, “I don’t either.”

(Alex and Willie were not best pleased when they found out three months later that Carrie and Flynn were not in fact mortal enemies but girlfriends when the girls asked them for help moving all of Flynn’s stuff into Carrie’s house because they’d decided they wanted to live together. They’d been given the silent treatment the entire time, but it was worth it.)

*

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed just let me know): @ace-bookworm @williexmercer @boggie-brainrot @itstiger720 @the-reckless-and-the-brave @that-one-newsie @bluedarkness @lookingthroughmirrors @tmp-jatp @ghostlydahlia @julieandthequeers @lmaohuh @sunnysbright @sylphrenas @callmeontheleyline

I'd love to hear some ✨StarClan Slander✨ from you

starclan fucking sucks and i'm not afraid to say it.

ugh. where to begin.

okay, starclan sucks in a lot of different ways. like, a lot. it sucks from a narrative perspective, it sucks from a lives-of-cats perpsective, and it sucks from a worldbuilding perspective.

like: starclan is incredibly inconsistent as worldbuilding. it. gah. that part is most in my control when i write, so i try to really like. maximize said control. but if you compare the description of fireheart getting his nine lives to any modern starclan scene, it pisses me off. starclan is so fucking Cool, and now it's not.

i could go on for a while, but it's more of the same.

and then from a narrative perspective like. it causes so many problems. and i don't mean starclan causes problems for the characters, i mean starclan is simultaneously the cause of a lot of problems while the narrative wants us to believe they are the good guys. starclan causing problems? interesting. starclan causing problems but they're Very Good Actually? lazy.

this is a small thing but like it bothered in tbc? okay so. the fact that the clans' relationship to starclan has changed doesn't bother me. it's really interesting. they've been through this time of massive upheaval, something which often correlates with this uptick in spirituality.

i do not need convincing to believe that as the clans have gone through these past ten or fifteen years, with an exodus and the whole great battle (even setting aside the religious implications and just focusing on: big battle, lots of betrayal, lots of death), and everything with skyclan and darktail, yeah!

like, there was a spiritualism wave in the us after the civil war because that's what people/humanized cats do in those times. they latch on to spirituality and religion. why do you think witchcraft is on an uptick again in modern times?

however the problem is the Narrative never acknowledges this, which makes it feel not like an intentional culture change but authors being lazy. i'm not sure what's worse: authors just leaning on starclan because it's interesting and easy, or authors simply failing to convey the nuances of culture change.

whichever makes the erins sound better, pick that one. i have no lost love for them, but i try to keep my criticisms factual.

anyway, i digress, here's my favourite example:

in tbc, it's this Big Deal how the moonpool is the place of the medicine cats, and other cats cannot enter, Nope No Sir, which, like, really fucking confused me.

what?

do leaders not speak with starclan anymore? is that. is that not a thing?

i mean, in tpb, leaders visit the moonstone all the time. apprentices visit it before coming warriors. it's pretty normal.

and i'm fine with the culture of the clans changing for the moonpool to be a medicine cat exclusive: that does not fundamentally bother me. there's even the smallest nod to this idea in po3, during outcast, when they mention that the tradition of going to the moonstone/pool has fallen out of favour, and maybe that's bad.

and like, yeah, okay: i don't really understand Why it fell out of favour, especially in thunderclan. thunderclan had the Longest journey to the moonstone, and now they have either the shortest journey or one of the shortest, so there's really no excuse, but like. that's diaspora, you lose things, i'm okay with that.

what i'm not okay with is the sudden transformation of the moonpool to a Holy Place only Medicine Cats can touch. like, mothwing has been to the moonstone: she knows this isn't how it was. the others are young enough to not know, but then, when did this idea get started? who put it in their heads? why?

jayfeather has had so much pov, it wouldn't be hard to explain. he could've even taught alderpaw about it. or something could've been slipped into an early shadowpaw chapter. it really would not have taken much: a single line in outcast or something was all i needed to accept the moonstone/pool visitation tradition was dead (even if i think it should've continued), but unless i've forgotten, this is just. never explained.

this is how it Always Was (even though it wasn't, and there are cats who should Know it wasn't).

heck! heck! mistystar shared tongues with starclan in her novella. i don't remember where riverclan was during this scene in tbc, but my point is more. someone should've been able to say something. anything.

probably before the actual scene, given how few cats would know about this: bramblestar should since he was made a warrior in the forest territory, but i'll give the other leaders a pass. all i need is like. one line. from one cat. that's it. that's all i need.

finally, starclan obviously is uhhh. evil? it's evil, right, we can all agree? there is no evil starclan au we're In the evil starclan au, i should write a good starclan au.

the thing about this one is like. it's a product of the others. if starclan wasn't Real and Tangible, then like. then like. it wouldn't matter that they gave shitty advice and did terrible things, because now you just have cats dreaming of others, searching for answers in the Strict Code, and that would all make sense.

(did that paragraph like. read? i can't tell. basically, if starclan wasn't confirmed as a real thing with real dead cats, i would be fine with starclan cats being shitty and ooc, because now it's not actual cats we know and love, it's other cats' perceptions, memories, and inferences of them as they search their ancestors for guidance from the warrior code.

so of course their advice is going to be terrible and inconsistent and leafpool is going to decide spottedleaf said she should have kits and then starclan is going to backflip when the kits are born: all of that makes complete sense as long as starclan isn't an actual place. as long as it's just religion, just dreams and omens, there is no problem with that.)

and then if starclan like. if their role in the clans had been covered more thoroughly by the narrative. if how they gave shitty advice a lot was covered. i would also be okay with it.

but the best we get is mothwing's whole "yo uh. starclan doesn't save cats. i save fucking cats. give me my god damn credit for saving your fucking life." like that's a bad thing no. mothwing. queen. please continue ur so right.

and just as a cherry on top, the ableism in starclan is exhausting. it's its own thing, really, but like. i was talking with @foxstride about this. and like. how disabled cats will just have their disabilities erased.

personally, i'm okay with briarlight not being disabled in starclan. i think that makes sense for her character. i think it is Bad that the narrative's response to that was "now that she's dead she's finally happy again!", it should have been "thunderclan failed to give briarlight the actual support she needed to be happy", but the fact that she's not disabled in starclan doesn't actually bother me.

she was sick basically 100% of the time after her accident, and thunderclan was really shitty to her. do you remember how happy she was to "get" to sleep in the warriors' den? she was a fucking warrior that was her right.

thunderclan failed her, but the takeaway is "she couldn't be happy until she was dead and her disability was magicked away." that's bad. that's. i'm not okay with that part of it.

(briarlight deserves so much better than thunderclan.)

but for pretty much every other instance of it, there's none of that. maybe, maybe, you could make a similar argument for cinderpelt, but i would disagree with it.

my cinderpelt opinion is and always has been: she would never have chosen the path of being a medicine cat for herself, but she ultimately finds happiness and fulfillment with it. like, it wasn't right that she was forced to become a medicine cat because of her accident, but it was something she did ultimately enjoy and was happy to dedicate her life to. if she was given the chance to become a warrior after she had been a medicine cat for a while, she wouldn't have taken it.

it's part of why when i'm doing like. big time aus for warriors i still make her a medicine cat. because i like her growing to love it. i like that it's not right, how it happens, but she still loves it eventually. it's a very interesting idea to me that there aren't many characters to explore it through. jayfeather and alderheart are similar, but not in the same way. anyway i'm rambling because these are all the things i thought about when writing stolag, back on topic.

so i don't think cinderpelt should have her disability poofed by starclan, i think she should keep it. i also think that cats who are injured and then aren't disabiled in starclan should be representitve of that. they should be the age before they got injured.

briarlight should be apprentice aged, a hypo-cinderpelt should also be apprentice aged. this is something i'm fine with. i make hollyleaf apprentice aged in starclan because i think she was happiest before the ending of po3.

moving on: snowkit? can apparently hear? wtf?

and y'all already know how much i hate that jayfeather can see in his dreams. i said No that's Not Canon anymore and no one (no one) can stop me.

in conclusion: starclan is bad in a lot of ways, and if it weren't so damn inconsistently bad, i think i wouldn't hate it half as much.

<3

Thinking about...

How Ron started working for George at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

My theory, or headcanon (however you'd like to look at it), is that Molly proposed the idea...and George absolutely hated that suggestion.

But not because it's Ron.

He hated it because never in his life would George have imagined himself doing what he does without his Twin, and the thought of 'replacing him' causes bile to rise in his throat.

It would take many days of denial, small arguments and George finally reaching his breaking point to consider the idea that: perhaps Ron wouldn't be such a bad addition to the team...

I imagine it's sometime after the War and George has finally brought himself to reopen the store. Maybe it's only been back in business a couple weeks or for a few months now, but he's struggling a little bit. Because he doesn't want to admit he needs another worker around to take some of the load off his shoulders. And a little more than that: he just doesn't want to do it with anyone other than Fred.

Meanwhile, Ron is struggling to find work or get placement in Auror training. Because let's face it: even though he is Harry Potter's right hand man and helped win a War; his grades were...unideal.

I see Ron venting to Molly one day in the kitchen, perhaps after receiving another rejection letter, and she's running a loving hand in comforting circles over his shoulders while he's slumped over a hot chocolate. She's telling him to hang in there and that these things take time, offering that perhaps he should look into a part-time role with his Father within the Ministry. Or reminding him that Percy offered him an internship in his office.

But Ron hates both those ideas.

At this point George walks through the door looking exhausted. Greets the pair casually as he shrugs off his jacket and throws it over the back of a chair. He places a quick kiss to Molly's cheek and ruffles Ronniekin's hair as he moves to make himself a hot drink to wind down after a busy day.

"Hello Dear, busy day?" Molly smiles somewhat sadly, taking in her son's tired figure.

"Extremely." George huffs as he sits down across from the pair with slumped posture. "What's wrong with you, Ronnie?"

"Another rejection letter." Ron replies sadly as he annoyedly flicks the cause of his dejection to the centre of the table and drops himself against the backrest of his chair, taking up a similar slouched position to his older brother.

That's when Molly's struck by the idea. As she looks between her two boys and wishes she had a solution for them...the answer so simply presents itself. But she doesn't say anything.

Not yet.

She doesn't want to get Ron's hopes up if that's something he'd be interested in, and she knows he would be given how much he loves the Twins Shop. But more than that, she doesn't want to just spring the thought onto George because she knows how touchy the topic is going to be.

And it was.

A few days after this thought comes to her she gets her opportunity to run the idea past George. The two of them are alone doing a mindless task together, like washing the dishes. George scrubbing as Molly dries.

They've worked in comfortable silence thus far, but that's because Molly's too busy running a million different ways she can bring this up to George, through her mind, and which is the least likely way to upset him. George meanwhile is just enjoying the time with his Mother and the familiarity the task at hand brings. A strange sort of nostalgia washing over him, one which he'd never consider to be as therapeutic as it was.

But there's something nagging at the back of George's mind. And it has everything to do with the fact his Mother has been dutifully drying the same glass for 5 minutes now.

"Mum..." his voice snaps Molly out of her daze, drawing a surprised hum of acknowledgement from her throat. "I'd say that glass is dry by now." George joked with a crooked smile. "Oh, yes, I suppose you're right."

Molly's slightly flustered and places the cup down. But her expression remains rather vacant, mildly discontent. This finally prompts George to ask what's on her mind. Molly decides to simply go for it. There's no easy way to bring this up around George and she's really just stalling to forgo an uncomfortable conversation.

"George, I've been thinking..."

"Not good."

"I'm serious right now."

"So am I. You thinking never means anything good for me and-...for me."

"It's about Ron and finding him a suitable job, until he's accepted into training..."

And that's how it begins. She cushions the conversation considerably before asking the question she's been stewing over for days. She talks about how disheartened Ron has been in his misfortune, how desperately he wants to be apart of the work force. She talks about how tired George has been the last few months trying to run the shop by himself and how she just wants to be able to help the two of them get on their feet.

When she finally does ask the question: "What if, Ron came and worked for you?" It doesn't go down well.

She watches how swiftly his body language changes. From his casual 'I'm listening' demeanour to instantly putting his walls up. She watches as the words cause him to freeze. Every muscle in his body turning ridged and defensive.

His response is near immediate: 'No'. And he returns to the task at hand, however, he's no longer so comfortable within the grown silence.

He holds zero care in the way he handles the dishes as he cleans them, though it's notable how hard he's trying to not take any of his frustration out on them.

The conversation doesn't stay civil for very long.

Molly falls immediately into a sort of plead as she questions why George won't even take the time to consider the idea. She points out every reason why it is the best possible solution to both his and Rons current situations.

George shuts down not really answering any of Mollys questions as she rambles. The words seemingly falling from her mouth faster than she can process them; working herself into a right fluster.

George warns her quite a few times to drop the subject, but she continues, and he finally snaps. Tossing whatever dish is in his hands down into the water and yelling for her to stop talking. To drop the conversation because it's not going to happen before storming off elsewhere to cool down.

They spent a couple days without speaking after that.

More weeks pass and Weasleys Wizard Wheezes only gets busier. George feels like he's drowning in paperwork and just can't seem to get ahead. He goes to work an hour early and comes home hours late. He's tired and just about had enough. He can't even begin to imagine how he and Fred ever found so much joy in the work as they had.

"It's not work if you love to do it." Is what Fred always used to say when people would ask how he could possibly be so happy while on the clock.

George couldn't do this much longer. Not without his brother.

After one particularly difficult day George arrives home after all other occupants of the Burrow had gone to bed...or so he thought.

Walking in through the back door to all the houses lights out, save for a single lamp in the sitting room which Arthur and Molly leave on for him, he collapses into one of the Armchairs, too tired to attempt the walk up stairs right now.

His palms dig into the sockets of his eyes, harshly rubbing at each lid, to try rid the sandy feeling in them brought on from lack of sleep, then his fingers draw down on his cheeks; pulling at the skin in frustration.

He doesn't know it but Ron is, at this point, looking at him from the staircase landing. He'd meant to come down for a cup of water but instead found himself faced with his Brother.

Or rather, the shell of his brother.

Ron's never seen him look so...hollow and lifeless. It's like a horrible flashback to those months following the loss of Fred and it makes his stomach turn.

Ron comes over and sits on the sofa opposite George, a look of sympathy and concern on his face. George tries to joke and make light of his current situation but the humour and light doesn't come close to reaching his eyes and the smile he paints on looks painful.

After a little while of trying to get George to open up, and receiving quite the snap of attitude Ron concedes. He very well would have left for bed if the hanging silence hadn't made George feel enough guilt to attempt a change in conversation.

Soon though, after the initial awkwardness subsided, they get lost in talk.

It had started as a question of how Ron's job search were going but somehow ended with the pair laughing over silly childhood memories. Something George hadn't been able to do in a while.

Something changed between both brothers that night. They'd bonded in a new way and were much closer than they likely ever had been before. Ron had even managed to spark some product inspiration in George, and over the next couple days as he tries to perfect the concept they spend more time together.

From then on, George can feel a shift in the way he views Ron and in the possibility of him working at WWW. The idea of hiring him doesn't bring that bile feeling to his throat as it does with any other name or applicant who is suggested to him.

So, when George believes he's finally perfected the new product and takes it home to show Ron, that's the day he asks Oh, Dear Ronniekin's to work for him at the shop.

Which he of course agrees to.

When The World Breaks You (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

———————

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Reader makes a mistake during a case that triggers a lot of thoughts about a series of stressful events in her recent life. Spencer Reid turns out to be one of them.

Word Count: 6538.

Warnings: Mention to stressful events in relationships. Mention to possible alcohol abuse. Unprotected sex. A lot of curses. Angst. Smut. I promise it’s an ‘optimistic’ end.

A/N: For the Secret Fic Swap. An excellent idea from @dontkissthewriter and organized by @imagining-in-the-margins​.

This fic was written for @safertokiss​. Thanks for reading. Feedback is welcomed!

——————–

We all make mistakes in life. It’s written somewhere. They tell you that since childhood. Everybody knows. But when you have to experience it, things are different: it seems nobody remembers and they throw it in your face every time they can. To err is human. Have they already forgotten it?

It’s true, there are situations where a mistake can be much more costly than others. In this line of work it turns out to be so. One misstep could result in the death of innocent people. In my case it was not like that... but it could have been. Hotch's face of disappointment when he looked at me could have killed me down in the same spot, after he himself shot down the unsub almost by the work and grace of the Holy Spirit. I was wrong. I tried myself to save a little girl from the hands of a psychopath using the most reckless strategy that occurred to me at the time. The girl might have died if Hotch didn’t appeared in the right moment.

It wasn't many minutes before my own teammates started to reproach my recklessness.

"How can you did that (Y/N)? You could have had that girl killed!" shouted Emily.

"You should have waited for reinforcements (Y/N). It was obvious you couldn't handle the unsub" Morgan barked.

"(Y/N), lucky you Hotch showed up at that moment..." JJ hissed.

"Your youthful impetus almost got the worst, (Y/N)..." Rossi mused.

"Tomorrow, first hour of the day, I want your report in my desk (Y/N), and we’ll talk about what happened today" was the last sentence of Hotch.

The only one who didn't say anything was Reid. Although his look of frustration was only comparable to Hotch's. Bent on continuing to torture myself, I walked over to where Spencer was, almost forcing him to speak to me.

“I still haven't heard any ‘comments’ from you about what happened in there. Everyone has already given me their opinion". I snapped with a challenging tone. It was the only thing left for me if I didn't want to cry right there. Reid looked at me but said nothing. “Ah, your punishment for me is the silence. Very original Reid, very original”. I left the place by getting into one of the SUV that would take us back to the jet.

The trip back home was silent. I self-relegated in one of the furthest seats. I looked out the window as the jet's wings touched the clouds. I could feel some compassionate glances from my teammates, but I never made eye contact with them. Nor when we get to the bullpen to collect our things. Nor when I quickly got on the elevator to avoid having to share it with anyone.

When I got to my apartment I just wanted to lie down in my bed. Before reaching my mission, all I did was take off my shoes. I fell slumped on the mattress. Only then did I allow myself to cry. In the solitude of my own place. Place not long ago I shared with another person. Person who decided my job was too demanding and didn’t want to pay the price for my absence. Person who was quickly disappointed in me despite having promised his eternal love in front a civil judge in our wedding. Person I believed loved me unconditionally. To be fair, I forgot that too. My love didn't turn out to be unconditional either.

Love is not unconditional. This is a learning for life my dear friends.

As Hotch requested, I was in his office first hour in the morning with my report from the day before. As he read it, I was standing in front of him with my hands crossed on my stomach and staring blankly at the bookshelf behind Hotch's desk.

"So you agree that it was a reckless decision..." Hotch recited.

"Yes sir. It was. Although the purpose was to save the life of an innocent…”. Hotch interrupted my speech.

“(Y/N), indeed that is the goal of this work, but there are rules too. And if you can't follow the rules, you can't do this job either. I hope you understand that” he stated.

"Yes sir…" was my reply.

“Due to the scope of this case, I cannot leave you without some sanction for your conduct. That is why you’ll be suspended for 2 weeks without payment. I need your badge and your gun”.

I was not surprised by the measure. Although I had a secret hope it would only be a reprimand from Hotch. Hopes are shit. I handed over my gun and my badge. I was about to leave the office when Hotch spoke again.

"(Y/N). I understand you have been through a lot in these months, please try to take these days to rest and clear your head” he suggested.

"Yes sir".

Why was I going to argue with him about it? Was it worth telling him that not even a one-month suspension could be enough to me for clear my head?

I went downstairs to my desk. Again without making eye contact with my co-workers. I grabbed my jacket and purse and walked out of the bullpen into the elevator. Before the doors were closed I heard my name.

"(Y/N), wait!". Reid with one of his arms stopped the door and got on the elevator. I looked at him without saying anything. "Where are you going?".

"I think you know where... and why too". I replied now looking at the elevator floor.

"How long?" He asked.

"Two weeks" I replied dryly.

"Oh, I'm sorry". Reid lamented.

"Don’t be sorry. At least I still have my job. For now…”. I assured with a shrug, barely making eye contact with him.

"Do you need something?..." he offered.

“Don't worry about me Reid. I'll be fine". The elevator had reached the subway, opening its doors. I went out and gave him a little warm smile. He did the same. Then the doors closed with him inside. I started walking to the car to get back to my apartment.

It was strange being in my apartment so early. I’m usually one of those who leaves the BAU almost at dusk. At least that's what I had been doing for the last 4 months, after my divorce. Now I was sitting on my couch thinking about what to do in the next two weeks. No idea came to my head. I knew it would be a long two weeks.

The next day I started doing a deep cleaning of the place. It’s not my apartment has been neglected in these months, but there were many things from "my old life" I still had. I started going through boxes with my ex-husband's things: there were clothes, sporting goods he didn’t take with him, books. I also found photographs. The vast common of them I tore up and throwed into a trash can, however, I stopped at my wedding photos. Smiles were everywhere. Many of the photographs with both of us at the altar, others dancing. There was a photo of us with the BAU team at the party. Memories of that moment quickly came to my mind. Precisely after taking that photograph in particular.

After the photographer captured the moment, my husband gave me a sweet peck on my lips and told me he would go and talk with his family a while. I nodded, meanwhile the BAU girls surrounded me laughing next to me and hugging me for the umpteenth time, happy for me.

I could see Spencer walking away towards one of the corners of the garden. I had seen him act strange a few days ago. But particularly on my wedding day we had hardly spoken a word. Which was strange. Spencer was my best friend, my "partner in crime". That's how it had been since I came to the BAU 4 years ago. Taking advantage of the fact I had a moment of freedom, I approached him. He was sitting on one of the benches in the garden. I sat next to him smiling. He looked at me and gave me a smile too.

"Hey... why are you alone around here?" I asked taking his hand.

"I'm enjoying the fresh air and there is less noise here," he replied.

“I know you are not a friend of loud music. I understand you and I share that. I just must say today has been a roller coaster of things. I'm exhausted”. I confessed but I received no reply.

"Spencer?". He looked at me as if trying to tell me something without words. "What is it? Can you tell me...". After a silence that started to become uncomfortable, he resolved to speak.

"You really love him..." he said. I frowned. I didn't know exactly what he meant.

"Well... if I married him it must be for that, right?". I tried to joke to lighten the mood. But Spencer didn't laugh.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry. I think I should go…”. He got up from the bench and was going to leave me there with more questions than answers.

"Spencer, wait!... you can't leave like this. Please tell me what's wrong..." I pleaded.

Forcing Spencer to speak at that point must have been one of my biggest mistakes in a long time. How often does your best friend confess he has been in love with you for years on your wedding day?

Only in the movies. The difference is that in the movies the bride runs off with the lover, leaving the groom behind and living happily ever after. It was not my case. Spencer was the one who ran off, alone… while I stood on the bench with tears rolling down my cheeks, a confession and millions of doubts that beginning to fill my mind.

Of course I was in love with my husband. Perhaps a somewhat childish love, but we had known each other for so many years that it was difficult for me to imagine myself otherwise than being married to him, having children, a house and a dog. That was my dream since I was 16 years old.

But things change. My life also changed. I studied Forensic Psychology and fell so in love with my major that I wanted to join the FBI to put what I had learned into real practice. This is how I came to the BAU afterwards. A whole world opened before my eyes. I faced the best and the worst of the world. My innocence faded over time. I was much more aware of what was happening around me. And I was happy with that.

I fell in love with my job too. I also bonded with my co-workers. I started spending more time with Emily, JJ and Penelope both on and off work. But what changed me the most was making friends with Spencer Reid. When we met, the first thing I noticed was his shyness. It seemed adorable to me. As we got to know each other I understood many things about his character, just as he understood many things about me as well.

The jet trips, the talks at the local police stations, the theories about the unsubs were made much more bearable thanks to Spencer. At some point I asked myself if our friendship could be something more. I didn't think it was possible. But the doubts came all the times I had a strong argument with my boyfriend. Arguments that sometimes ended with me leaving the apartment we shared and crashing into Spencer's place crying on his shoulder.

I remembered one of those times. It was a strong discussion. Triggered by my prolonged absence thanks to the cases that kept us traveling all over the country. Like the previous times I ended up in Reid's apartment drowning my sorrows in his chest.

"(Y/N)… can I ask you a question?" I just nodded, still sobbing. "Are you sure you love him?... I mean… maybe I said it wrong... I don't have doubts you love him, but do you think this relationship is working for you?..."

“It has worked so far. It's true… we have our ups and downs, but… I don't know… it's just I wish he could understand what my life is really like…"

"And if he doesn't?... how many more chances will you give him (Y/N)?... don't hurt yourself more, please...".

My memory recalls the way he looked at me. At first I thought it was compassion. ‘Poor woman, in love with a man who doesn't understand her.’ But then I thought I saw something else. A plea? I didn't really know what it was.

Without thinking, I let myself be carried away and wrapped my arms around his neck, crashing my lips on his. A simple impulse that ended with me and Reid making out on his couch. And boy I did enjoy it!. And I'm sure he did too. But we were both cowardly enough to admit it.

After that things were strange between us. Until one day I faced him. I needed to know what his true feelings were. The bastard denied it. He said he only wanted me as a friend, that I deserved to be happy with my boyfriend and that ours was just a good friendship.

I let it go. We returned to our dynamic of good friends. Things seemed to take their normal course. My boyfriend proposed to me, the fights between us disappeared. Thus faded the nights when I came crying to Spencer's apartment. I was feeling happy. Excited. Until that moment in my wedding party, in the garden, when Spencer left me with his confession stabbing my chest.

I didn't want to think about that. I had given him a chance to open up earlier. And he didn’t do it. Spencer fucking Reid kept the silent. And I didn't say anything either. Maybe if I had given him a sign. But it was too late. I had to get on with my life. And that's what I did.

A year of happiness. That was how long my marriage lasted. And not because I haven't tried. I really tried. But Reid was right. Sooner or later the opportunities would no longer be enough. Promises weren't sufficient to keep alive the illusion of life as I had dreamed of as a teenager.

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

I was worried. It had been 4 days since (Y/N) was suspended and no one had heard from her. I asked Prentiss and she only told me she texted her to know how she was doing and (Y/N) replied with a dry ‘fine’.

Besides being worried, I was upset. No one on the team had bothered to visit (Y/N). Months ago it would have been my mission, but given the circumstances maybe it wasn't a good idea. I was annoyed by the idea she was struggling alone with this situation. It was not fair. None of this was fair.

That she couldn't be happy wasn't fair. And that we couldn't be together was my fault. My silence. I lied when I could have told the truth. There is not a day I don’t regret that.

My second mistake was speaking at the wrong time. I couldn't bear it and in a moment of weakness I confessed my feelings to (Y/N). And it was selfish, I know. A chain of bad decisions I tried to bury over time.

And it seemed time was working. She was happy with her husband, or so I thought. While we tried to return to our friendship routine. Perhaps that is another of the biggest lies in the universe: ours would never be the same. Ours will never be the same again. I didn't find out things were going wrong in her marriage until it was all broken. I could notice some things about her behavior, but she was never going to tell me anything about that part of her life, ever again.

On the sixth day of her suspension, my worry began to overwhelm me. This time I wasn’t the only one who was concerned. Emily and JJ tried to contact (Y/N) but she just didn't answer the phone. Even Hotch had left messages on her voicemail to check her status. None had an answer.

I couldn't sit idly by. What if something had happened to her? Sure she wouldn't want to talk to me, but at least I needed to know she was okay. That afternoon I left the BAU heading to her apartment. Upon arrival, I knocked on the door twice. But I got no answer. Maybe she had gone out to buy something. Or maybe something had happened to her and she couldn't open the door. I hesitated what to do for a while. I paced outside her door until anxiety got the better of me. I still had the spare key to her apartment. I knew it wasn't appropriate, but my concern won. I opened the door and launched to inspect the place.

She was not in the apartment. The place was a bit messy, but it wasn't a mess itself. I found many boxes in the living room, some half packed. They didn't seem to be her things, which partly reassured me. For a second I thought she was moving somewhere else. What made me uneasy was seeing several empty liquor bottles on the kitchen counter. That gave me an idea of where she might be at that specific moment.

I quickly reached (Y/N)'s favorite bar scanning through the crowd until I saw her near the bar counter with a group of men surrounding her. I stepped closer and crossed the circle of testosterone that shrouded (Y/N). Seeing me, she raised up her arms to signal my arrival.

“And here is my favorite genius! Dr. Spencer Reid!" (Y/N) chimed obviously drunk. When I managed to get to her side, she threw her arms over me, almost falling from the tabouret where she was sitting next to the bar. I hold her with my arms, restoring some balance to her. As I spoke to the group of predators still looking at (Y/N).

"Well. The show ended here. You can go to the other side of the bar”. I announced to the marauders who, puffing, broke the circle around (Y/N) dispersing.

“You are a killjoy Reid. You always have been”. Despite her condition she knew exactly how to hit me with her words.

"Let's go. I'll take you home" I stated.

When we left the bar, she stopped and didn't want to keep walking.

"Reid... really, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"I came to look for you…" I mumbled.

"You didn't have to... I'm fine, don't you see me? Won-der-ful…" she tried to joke.

"(Y/N)... you're drunk... let me take you home" I insisted.

"Noooo, I don't want to. I'm fine here. Let me…"

"Please come with me". I demanded and grabbed her forearm.

"I don't want to be hurt any more Spencer... leave me alone" she complained.

"I know. But let me help you…"

"You cannot. Nobody can help me. Everyone abandons me and it's my fault...". (Y/N) tried to left my grip.

"Don’t say that. It's not your fault". I hugged her and she stopped struggling but started sobbing into my chest.

We held each other for a moment. The sobs gave way to hiccups. When (Y/N) was calmer, I managed to get her into the car. I drove to her apartment. When I stopped the car, I noticed she had fallen asleep with her head resting on the car window. Carefully, I opened the passenger door and took her in my arms, bridal style. She only let out a groan, but not fully awake. I went upstairs with her to the floor of her apartment, took out the key, opened the door and we went inside.

As gently as I could, I laid her on the bed. I took off her shoes and tucked her with the duvet. Again I heard her sobs.

"Why did it have to be like this?..." she muttered. I didn't know what to answer her.

"It's my fault. I end up ruining everything. I always make mistakes that end up ruining everything…” she cried. I knew it wasn't a good time to talk, but (Y/N) needed to be able to at least sleep in peace.

"No, don’t say that. You better sleep now. Tomorrow we can talk about this".

"You will stay with me?" she asked in a barely audible voice.

"Only if you want me to stay..."

"Please…" she begged.

I took off my shoes and cuddled next to her under the duvet. I wrapped my arms around her body and after a few minutes I felt her breathing much quieter, a sign that she had fallen asleep.

When I woke up next morning, (Y/N) was still sleeping. I knew she would be in that condition for at least a couple of hours, when the light in the room will wake up her and make her feel the hangover in her body. I gently got up and went to the living room. I wondered if it was really wise to stay until she woke up or maybe I should just leave her and go home. I wanted to be able to talk to her, but I wasn't sure if it would be the best time. I laughed at myself after that thought. Is there a better time for us at anything? That didn't exist in our books.

I made myself a coffee and grabbed some of the books from her shelf. I struggled with the urge to explore the things that were inside the boxes scattered around the room. I sat down on the couch and started reading.

A few hours later I heard (Y/N) walking out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, turning on the shower faucets. I got up from the couch and started making coffee again. She was going to need it. I also started making some toast. After a while she came out of the bathroom straight into the bedroom again. A few more minutes passed and she peeked into the kitchen where I was finishing buttering the toast.

"You didn't need to make breakfast..." she remarked, making her presence known. I raised my head to look at her.

"At least you need the coffee..." I suggested as I handed her the mug of coffee.

"It’s true. Thank you". She sat down and after a sip put the coffee on the table.

"How do you feel?"

"The shower helped... but the hangover won't leave me for a good couple of hours," she complained. I put the plate of toast on the table and sat across from her with my own coffee. We fell silent as we drank our coffee and ate our toasts.

When there was no more coffee or toast left, (Y/N) started talking.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night." She mused.

"You don’t have to apologize…". I shook my head.

"Yes. I need to. Although I don't know how you knew I was there, you brought me back safely. Thank you". Her eyes felt into the empty mug.

“It was not a bother to me. I was worried about you (Y/N). In fact, I'm worried about you,” I confessed, looking again at the empty liquor bottles on the kitchen counter. She followed my line of sight and knew exactly what I meant.

“I'm fine Reid… so don't worry. I have accumulated them in all these days. It's not so big deal either" she bragged.

“I don't think you're okay (Y/N). You've avoided calls and messages from the whole team these days…". I stated.

“I just wanted to be peaceful, Reid. As you can see, I’m trying to 'clean up' my life,” (Y/N) assured as she pointed to the boxes scattered around the room.

"You don't have to do that alone..." I implied trying to get into the matter.

"Reid, please… don’t do this. You know I can't let you do this…” she mumbled.

"Why not? Please (Y/N)... why do you want to keep pushing people away from you?".

“Not all people. Only you". Her overabundance of sincerity didn’t surprise me, but at that moment it left me speechless. "Sorry to say it like that, but you can't pretend things are the way they were at the beginning." She was right, but I wasn't ready to lose this fight.

"Will you never forgive me for telling you about my feelings that night at your wedding?" I shouted running one of my hands through my hair.

"Not that. I’ll never forgive you for keeping silent when I asked you what you felt before!" she yelled at me back.

"(Y/N)... I was scared...". I tried to explain.

“I was scared too Reid!... but I had hopes. The hopes you killed at that time," she grumbled taking her head with both hands.

"Do you think it was easy for me?"

"I don’t care. If you had told me maybe I would have cared. I'm not a fucking fortune teller Reid!" She got up from her chair and began pacing the room. We were getting back into this discussion, again.

"I just… I never thought you would do it..." I said defeated.

"What? Get married?... why shouldn't I?". She asked in exasperation.

"Because you didn't love him!!!" I screamed.

"How do you know that? Damn it Reid!"

"Because if you really loved him, you would never have come to my apartment every time you both had an argument! That was never love (Y/N)! It was your dream, but it was never real!"

"What do you know about love?, ah?... are you really going to give me a lecture on something you have no idea? You weren't even able to face me when you made your big reveal. That's not love either Reid"

"Watch your words (Y/N), you have no idea what you're talking about" I warned her.

"Oh no? Enlighten me genius"

I got up quickly from the chair. I took one of her wrists and pulled it towards me. I cupped her cheeks with both hands and bumped my lips to hers. (Y/N) tried to pull away from me for a second, but then she melted into the kiss just like I did at the time. If words weren't enough, I hoped that kiss could help me ‘tell’ her everything I was feeling. When we both run out of air, we pulled away.

“If you didn't always have the compulsion of saying the last word, maybe I would have shown you earlier. But no! Always contradicting (Y/N)! " I muttered panting.

“What the fuck Reid?. Do you think a kiss is enough to silence me?". She pulled away trying to catch her breath and not knowing whether to keep yelling at me or to leave the room.

"No, not with a kiss. I know. Of course it is not enough with you (Y/N). I think I’m just starting with you".

“Where does this dominance come from? Eh Reid? What are you trying to prove?" she asked me defiantly.

"Just shut up (Y/N)... and stop calling me Reid". I protested. How difficult is for this woman to give up in a fight, for God sake!

"Make me... Reid". She challenged me back.

The tension built up over the years seemed to have exploded at that moment. I took her wrists again to attract her to my body, with one of my hands I took her hair and yanked it back to make her look at me.

"Stop it (Y/N). You don't want me to make you" I managed to mutter before collapsing my lips with hers again. This time the kiss was more passionate and extensive. I couldn't keep my hands still, while with one I was still yanking (Y/N)’s hair, the other started to down her back by entangling my fingers in the edge of her shirt. As I put my fingers under the shirt to touch her bare back, I felt a moan from (Y/N). That encouraged me to continue. Releasing my other hand from her hair, I grabbed the other end of her shirt, pulling it, take it off her body and throwing it to the floor. My lips began to search for the sweet spot on her neck that I knew existed and always wanted to explore. When I found it, another groan came from (Y/N)'s mouth. Those moans quickly turned me on. With my hands traveling down her nearly bare back, I paused on the clasp of her bra, pulling it apart and letting it fall to the floor. An exciting sigh left my mouth when I could see her naked half.

(Y/N) looked at me expectantly. Her eyes inviting me to continue, but I started to worry that no words come out of her mouth.

"Is something wrong?... do you want me to stop?"

"What are we doing Spencer...?" she said panting.

“What I think we should have done so long ago. And because of me we couldn't. But if you don't want to, I'll stop”. I assured her as I stroked her cheeks with my knuckles.

"Shit Spencer... I don't want to die without you fucking me once in life at least...". With that she threw herself into my arms and started to unbutton my dress shirt.

"God (Y/N)... you don’t how much I want you." I whispered to her as I dropped my dress shirt to the floor and my hands searched for her bare breasts. My lips and tongue tracing paths on her collarbone. Her arms were around my neck gripping tightly.

“Show me, you fucking coward! Prove you mean it!” she told.

“This time you don’t have to tell me twice…”.

I took her in my arms and carried her into the bedroom, laying her on the mattress, while I undid the clasp on my belt and unbuttoned my pants, letting them fall to the floor. She slipped her sweatpants, exposing her body only in her lace. I laid down next to her, tracing eager paths in her bare skin with my fingers.

"You are so fucking beautiful (Y/N)... you drive me crazy...". I blurted, peppering kisses and sucking one of her nipples. (Y/N) stroked my hair as I keep my mouth attached into her breasts. My hands went down her waist and stopped in her thighs for a while. Then my fingers traveled anxiously across her belly, her hips, and her ass. I looked at her with fire in the eyes and could see how (Y/N) was breathing heavily holding her eyes on me as I slide her panties off, one leg at a time. I put one of her legs over my shoulder and buried my mouth between her legs, nibbling on the skin while I was holding her hip with both hands. (Y/N) couldn't help but arch her back, letting out a deep whine.

"Oh fuck Spencer... shit… please…" she moan not expecting to be coherent in her words. I was decided to go further, so my hands started to slide into her inner thighs. I wanted to explore the depths of her core. Not so gently I put one of my fingers inside her. The moisture I found did nothing but arouse me more. The contact sure caused more stimulation on her and she started to move and buck to feel more depth and friction.

"Please... Spencer... if we are going to do this, I need more...". Her words made me put a second finger. She shuddered on contact again. I couldn't help but bite my lower lip as I looked (Y/N)'s eyes stiff at the sensation running through her body. At the movement of my fingers inside her, (Y/N) was unable to control her own, seeking to deepen the feeling by riding hard on them. I lowering my tongue until reached her folds. I slipped my tongue to catch some of her moisture mixed with my own saliva. A stifled moan from me made (Y/N) tremble at the vibration of my voice running through her body. I put a third finger inside her while my tongue focused on her clit, licking and sucking the exposed nerve.

(Y/N) let out almost a cry bursting with pleasure. I speed up the actions of my fingers and my tongue and I could feel (Y/N) shiver under my touch. I heard her moaning louder as she held on to my hair. I knew she was close to her release because her body trembled at every thrusting of my fingers and slapping of my tongue.

"Oh fuck... I can't... Spencer... please... don't stop... I'm going to cum..." she said frenzy as her nails scratched my shoulders.

"Do it love, cum in my fingers... do it... let me feel how you undone beneath me…" I gasped trying to help her to find her release, while the thrusts of my fingers became more frantic than ever.

"Fuck... Spencer... uhhh, shit!" It was the last she could say before falling hard at her ecstasy. She was trembling completely with her eyes lost on the ceiling. When the spasms stopped, I pulled my fingers out, tasting her arousal in my mouth and looking at her. Her messy hair, the sweat running down her forehead and her eyes full of pleasure. It couldn't have been more pleasing for me.

“I think you need a reward for this so… come here. I need you to fuck me with your cock right now… please…”. (Y/N) demanded still panting.

I just chuckled meanwhile I slipped off my boxers and then placed my hips between her legs lining up my cock at her entrance. My slow entry produced a unison groan in both of us.

"Oh fuck (Y/N)... you're so tight for me..." was the only thing I said before (Y/N) raised her hips without warning to feel me fully in her. A roar tore from my mouth as I grabbed her hips to start moving inside her. The thrusts started slow but intense, accompanied by gasps and sweat. I increased the speed of my thrusts in the next minutes. The desire to feel each other had reached a point of no return for both. The moans mingled with the vocalization of our names only increased arousal in us. I could feel her walls tighten with friction and it drove me madder and louder. She was very close to losing herself in ecstasy. Her body began to tremble, which made me hasten my pace. I put one of my fingers over her clit and traced circular movements on it. The (Y/N)’s moans increased in time and noise.

"Fuck Spencer... Oh yeah, right there. More please… Spencer, harder…”. She exclaimed in ecstasy.

"(Y/N), you feel so good with my cock inside you. Do you like it?, tell me… I want to hear you… use your words…”. I needed to hear her voice.

"Harder Spencer. You are fucking me so good. Please don't stop… I love you. I wanted this so badly… so time ago…”

“This time I'm not going to let you go. Tell me, did he touch you like this?... He kissed you like this?... He fucked you like this?"

"Shit… Spencer, it’s not the time to compare yourself to my ex…" (Y/N) moaned.

“I just want you to realize that I’m better than him. That I have more right to have you than he and any other man. That I’m the only man who could love you like you deserves (Y/N)…"

With those words I could feel how the orgasm hit (Y/N) like a train. She screamed my name one last time before getting lost in her heights. I kept my thrusts knowing I was close. Feeling her walls tighten around my cock was enough for a couple more thrusts and reach my own release. And it was better than I had imagined every time I thought about (Y/N) and what sex with her would be like. God! I could stay like this forever.

Even with our shaky breaths and still inside her I looked (Y/N) directly in the eyes. I needed to know her reaction. I just hoped I didn't find regret in her gaze. That would have been death for me.

She looked at me with a glint in her eyes that I couldn't decipher. Tears? I was terrified. I didn't want to lose (Y/N) again.

"Shit Spencer... where did you learn to fuck like that?" she blurt suddenly. We both started laughing. I assumed it was a rhetorical question, so I only answered with a deep kiss on her lips as I got out of bed in the direction to the bathroom.

I came back with a damp towel to clean up the remains of our recent activities. (Y/N) didn't take her eyes off me but she didn't say a word either. I put the towel on the nightstand and sat on the bed with my back on the backrest.

"Okay, what are you thinking now?" I asked. (Y/N) smiled because she knew exactly that I was going to ask her that question.

“It's just… I find it hard to believe that you really love me. I mean, so much has happened in this time… don't you even have a little doubt going around in your head about this?" she questioned giving me a shy look.

"Not anymore. I had doubts for so long (Y/N), that's why I wasn't able to do anything about it. But I can assure you that there are no more doubts. I love you and I know you love me too. Nonetheless I'm willing to wait for whatever it takes until you're ready. But I’ll never be silent about my feelings for you again. That I can assure you. I promise”. I replied taking her hand and squeezing it gently.

"I'm still broken Spencer...". She remind me pressing her lips together and trying to hold back a sob

“(Y/N). I know and I take full responsibility for that too. But now I don´t care all our past mistakes. I don’t care the past itself. I don’t care if you’re broken now. I want to fix this. I want you. I want to make up to you. I want to make you happy. No matter how long it takes me to accomplish that. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll hold you when you need it, I want to be there when the world breaks you. I’ll fight and support you every time that happens…"

Tears began to roll down her cheeks. (Y/N) hugged me tight and buried her head on my chest. Then she raised her gaze to look at me and speak.

"Love is not unconditional Spencer... you know that…" she murmured.

"Not by default my love, but we can build it to make it work for us.". She smiled at my words and after giving me an intense kiss she spoke again.

“I hope you’re right. I know we can try to make it work. I love you Spencer”.

“I love you too (Y/N). We are going to make it. I promise".

———————

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 8] (17 Pages)

<< First | < Previous | Next >

Nia and Tobias officially form their Seekers team and run into a Pokemon familiar to the both of them. Nia is thrilled about this development. Tobias? Not so much.

-

Nia can hardly believe this is happening. She’s part of a Seekers team now, and one with Tobias at that! The charmander leads her back out of the tunnels, stopping only briefly at a shallow pool of water emerging from the cave wall at a bend.

“You need to wash off your mouth,” he explains, pointing at her bloodied nose. “If we go back with you looking like you mauled someone, Maggie’s definitely going to have questions.”

Nia uses the cool, clear water to gently scrub the dried blood off her face, biting back a whimper at how sore her nose feels. When she’s done, she sniffs and turns to Tobias. He tilts his head and scrunches up his nose.

“I think you’re good, but clean up your fur a bit. You’re all ruffled.”

Nia almost laughs. What is he all of a sudden, her mom?

Mom.

A lance of pain shoots through her chest. She gasps, pausing in the middle of smoothing her fur as tears spring to her eyes. Mom. When she thinks the word, her heart definitely reacts to someone, almost drowning her in a wave of sorrow and longing. But she can’t place a face, can’t remember anything about her mother other than the fact that she must love her dearly.

“Uh.” Tobias is giving her a weirded-out look.

Nia opens her mouth to explain, but doesn’t want to risk the charmander just scoffing something cruel at her. Not when she’s suddenly feeling this off-balance.

“I-It’s nothing,” she mumbles, hurriedly wiping her eyes and going back to cleaning herself up. Tobias doesn’t push, rubbing at the scuffs on his own skin. Within a few minutes, they look at each other, deeming themselves satisfactory. At least they don’t look like they just…well, fought through a mystery dungeon.

The two exit the cave and climb the staircase, up and up to the medical floor. Nia’s exhausted. Why does it have to be so close to the top? From the openings in the guild walls and the few Pokémon they pass who look like they just returned from their own missions, Nia realizes that the sun has already set, dusk painting the forest in shades of gray and purple. With how tired she feels, aches in her muscles and feet tripping over themselves more than usual, she feels like it should be midnight.

“If Maggie asks, I was showing you around the forest and that’s how we got all scratched up,” Tobias says.

“Do we have to lie to her?” Nia asks, already feeling guilty about it.

Tobias doesn’t answer for a moment. “Well, we can’t tell her the truth. She’ll freak out and probably have to tell August. No use in making her upset or getting us suspended before our first day.”

Nia supposes he’s right, but she still doesn’t like it.

When they reach their quarters, the older Pokémon is nowhere to be seen. Tobias walks over to the tiny alcove where Nia’s spotted a few berries stashed before, and pulls out an apple, taking it with him as he walks back to his nest.

Nia’s stomach rumbles. She eyes the cabinet, debating. Could...could she grab one too? This isn’t really her quarters, but Maggie did tell her to make herself at home. Nia hesitantly opens the cabinet and grabs an apple of her own, glancing at Tobias and relaxing when he doesn’t even look her way. She feels like a friend at a sleepover too afraid to ask for a snack!

Nia shuffles past the charmander to grab a book from her stack and sets her new scarf beside her bed. Then, she returns to the main area where there’s more light to curl up and read.

That’s how Maggie finds them a bit later, a smile touching her face as she catches sight of them co-existing peacefully in one room. “There you are! I’ve been wondering where you two went today.”

Nia snaps out of her reading and feels her ears pin back. “S-sorry, we, uh—“

“I was showing her around the forest,” Tobias cuts in.

“Well, next time tell an old woman if you’re heading out, all right? I was starting to get worried.”

Nia nods and Tobias grumbles, “Fine.”

Maggie opens her mouth to say something else, but pauses, leaning closer to squint at the two younger Pokémon. “How in Virizion’s name did you get all scratched up?”

Nia freezes and prays that Tobias will answer. After a moment he does, rolling his eyes and jabbing a thumb at Nia. “Genius here got stuck in a huge bramble patch. Only found one oran berry to patch us up.”

For a heartbeat, Maggie doesn’t look entirely convinced. But then she smiles, leaning back. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re being civil with each other, at least.” She turns to arrange a few items on her desk, casually asking, “So did you two talk about anything interesting?”

Subtle, Maggie. Nia fights back a smile. “Y-Yeah. He said yes.”

“Oh! Good, good!”

Tobias shoots Nia a confused look, so she answers, “I-I wasn’t sure I was cut out to be a Seeker, or if you’d accept. So I asked Maggie’s opinion before talking to you about it.”

Maggie turns back to the two of them with a wide, pleased smile. “I’m happy it all worked out. Have you chosen a team name yet?”

“I don’t really care as long as it isn’t stupid,” Tobias grumbles, shooting Nia a pointed look. She ducks into herself, embarrassed all over again.

“No, we haven’t.”

“That’s fine! You have some time. You look like you’re about to fall asleep on your feet, though, and I suppose you have a big day tomorrow. Why don’t you both get some rest?”

Right on cue, Nia yawns, taking her advice and turning to go to the nests. She pauses to look back when she hears Maggie murmur, “Just a moment, Tobias.”

The meganium reaches out her vines to gently grab the charmander’s shoulders, an unbearably loving look on her face. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, craning her head down to touch her snout to the top of the charmander’s head. Nia expects him to wrench away, yelling. Instead he leans forward to hug her leg, just for a moment.

Nia suddenly feels like she’s intruding on something special, and hurriedly makes her way back to her nest. She settles down into it as quietly as she can, already feeling sleep drawing heavy at her eyes. A nest of soft straw and leaves isn’t the comfiest bed in the world, but right now it feels like heaven. Shortly after, Tobias follows and curls up in his own nest for the night.

“So any name ideas that aren’t awful?” He asks, yawning. Nia takes a second to admire his sharp teeth and blue-gray tongue. Is that from breathing fire? Or because he’s sort of like a lizard?

“N-No, not really.”

“Well, get thinking. We need a cool one by tomorrow morning when we go to register.”

Nia doesn’t answer, looking up at the ceiling as silence descends on the two of them. Within a few minutes, Maggie covers up the window and the brightest crystals in the room with leaf shades, leaving the space almost entirely dark aside from Tobias’ flickering tail.

Names, huh? Didn’t Nia used to have something that would help her with that? Something that she could look up information on, a small device or something? Oh! A phone. Yeah. Man, what she wouldn’t give to have a phone and some service right now. Maybe then she could do some Googling on the Pokémon world, see if any human has a clue about these amazing creatures.

Heck, maybe she could even call her family.

Nia feels a lump in her throat, tears springing hot and wet to her eyes. God, she doesn’t remember them, not really, but her heart sure does. It aches. Feels heavy and painful in her chest, like it might physically be tearing in half. In all of the excitement today, she’d almost forgotten the end goal of her agreement to partner up with Tobias. She needs to get home. As amazing as this world is, she knows she has people waiting for her. A life to return to.

Nia forcibly calms her breathing and tries to think of something else before she starts crying. Team names. What could their team name be? It needs to be something good. Something that Tobias won’t argue with. She’s exhausted, but she rolls over onto her belly, grabbing her stack of books and dragging them closer. She eyes Tobias, making sure he’s asleep before scooching closer to his tail flame for light. Let’s see here...ah! There!

Nia pulls out the book of important historical figures that she adopted her own name from. There has to be a section for Seeker teams, right? Maybe she just needs some inspiration. Or at least to see what a “normal” team name would be. She flips through until she reaches a section detailing Seeker teams and members who apparently made a huge impact on the Pokémon world.

Team Bloom was a group of grass types who were the first mono-type team to reach platinum rank. Hm. Okay. Team Poppy started with a...simisear and an electrode? Were they red Pokémon, maybe? Or maybe they just really liked flowers. Team Adventure was the first team to discover a place called the Crystal Cavern in the Arabalis Mountain Range...Team Ellis was created by two Pokémon named Elliana and Kris, so personal names aren’t out of the running either. Team Ignite, Team Blue Sky, Team PokePals, Team Hawthorne, Team Maximum, Team Flying Fury...

Okay, Nia thinks she sees the pattern here. So something that sounds good with Team and is fairly succinct. Something that describes the two of them in some way, or maybe their goals. Nia quietly closes the book and pushes the stack against the wall. She checks to make sure she didn’t wake Tobias (not that he’d be quiet about it if she did) before curling back up in her own nest.

Names, names, names...

She’s asleep before she can think of a single one.

  __________________________________________________

“Hey, wake up!”

Someone shakes her, and she buries her head further into bed, huffing. She’s warm and sleepy and getting up sounds like the last thing she wants to do.

“C’mon, we have to go get registered!”

Now recognizing Tobias’ voice, hushed but impatient, she finally opens her eyes as he shakes her harder.

“‘M awake,” she mumbles, trying to sit up. Tobias is crouched at her side, looking entirely too alert for how early it feels.

“We’ve got a lot to do today, and I’m not gonna let you laze around and sleep all morning.” He rushes out of their little alcove, and as Nia yawns and stumbles to hurry after him, she realizes the crystals of their dim room are still covered. The few patches of the walls and ceiling open to the sky are black as night. No wonder she’s so tired! How early is it?

“What time is it?” Nia asks, rubbing at her eyes and following Tobias’ tail flame to the doorway of the room.

“Shh. Maggie’s still sleeping,” he whispers back.

Nia blinks and nods, following him as they walk into the hall. Even with the dim lighting of the luminescent leaves and crystals, she’s grateful for Tobias’ flame, easily giving them a halo of light to see where they’re going. Plus, it’s slightly warmer near him. The night air is a bit chilly even through her fur.

The charmander leads them out of the medical ward and down the staircase without any other preamble, and Nia doesn’t question it. She just appreciates that the walk gives her time to wake up and smooth the worst ruffles out of her pelt. They spiral down further and further until they must be near the bottom of the guild, and they still haven’t passed another Pokémon on the way.

“How early is it?” Nia asks again, whisper sounding loud in the stillness.

“A little before dawn. We need to get an early start today.”

Soon enough they reach what must be one of the last floors before going underground. They follow it inward just as the sky outside appears to be lightening to a pale blue-gray. The floor is mostly dark aside from a few crystals, but Tobias quickly leads them past a few smaller rooms where Pokémon are beginning to stir and move about.

“What floor is this?” 

Tobias glances back at her with disgruntled expression, like he wishes she'd shut up. “Administration area.”

Nia doesn’t ask any more questions, looking around as Tobias leads them to a particular room. Once or twice he looks like he’s not sure where he’s going, but Nia certainly isn’t going to question him aloud. Finally, they reach a doorway lit up brighter than most they’d passed. Tobias knocks on the door frame before entering.

A cutesy plant Pokemon sits at the desk inside, using slender white hands to write information down onto a stack of papers. She looks oddly human, but with large pink eyes and “hair” made of two long leaves and a stem. She glances up with a bright smile as Nia and Tobias enter, but it falters as she sees the charmander.

“Oh! Hello, Tobias,” the Pokemon chirps, clearly surprised despite her impressive Customer Service Voice. “What’re you doing here?”

“We need to register as a Seeker team,” The charmander answers, stopping in front of the Pokémon’s desk and sounding maybe the smallest bit proud.

The plant girl blinks first at Tobias, and then at Nia. The riolu takes her focus off of the luminescent vines and leaves lighting up the room to smile at her.

“Hi,” she says, offering an awkward wave. “I’m Nia.”

“O-Oh! Yes, the human staying with Maggie. Pleasure to meet you. I’m Riley. So…you two are creating a Seeker team together?” Riley asks, dainty hands folding over her desk, not moving to grab a form or anything. Instead, she gives Nia a worried look. “You realize you will be partners in almost every sense of the word, right? It won’t be easy.”

Nia gets the feeling that Riley isn’t talking about the job itself and more the difficulties associated with her partner.

Before she can respond, the charmander growls, “I didn’t force her to make a team with me.”

He looks like he’s barely holding himself back from lunging over the desk to claw at the flowery Pokemon, and for once Nia can’t really blame him. The implications make Nia bristle a bit too. Sure, she’s a bit of a pushover sometimes, but it’s not like anyone could force her into this big of a decision!

“It was my idea, actually,” she says, trying to sound confident. She’s just glad she doesn’t stutter.

Riley looks away, face tinging a soft pink. Good, she should be embarrassed after that rude comment. “Y-Yes. Apologies. Hold on a moment.”

As Riley searches through the forms, gathering the correct ones, Tobias turns to Nia, clearly still miffed but trying to move things along. “Did you think of a team name?”

Nia winces. Oops. She’d forgotten to think about it on the way down this morning. “W-Well, I looked up some famous teams last night, but…do you have any ideas?”

Tobias rolls his eyes. “I told you I don’t care as long as it’s not dumb like the name you gave that teddiursa. You don’t have anything?”

Nia glances around, skimming past the glowing vines lining the room and landing on Tobias’ tail flame. “Uh...something with fire, maybe? Like team Spark, or Team Ember?”

“Original,” Tobias scoffs. “Besides, you’re not a fire type.”

Nia wrings her hands, thinking. They’re both pretty new at this, and they do live in a giant tree. “T-Team Sprout? Team Sapling?”

“Even less original. We aren’t sudowoodo.”

Nia doesn’t know what that means, but she can sense an insult when she hears one.

“Team Sunset?”

Tobias tilts his head at her, frowning.

“Well, you’re orange and I’m blue, so kinda like the sky?”

Tobias shakes his head.

Nia huffs out a breath. “Uh...” what’s something that they have in common? She tries to come up with something (surely there’s something!), but other than fighting in a dungeon illegally? Not much comes to mind.

“T-Team Cherry?” Nia suggests with an edge of desperation, thinking of that first day in the cafeteria and the soup miscommunication.

Tobias snorts. “More like Team Disaster.”

Nia isn’t sure whether she should laugh or be mad. “You could help, you know.”

“I am!”

Nia sighs, rubbing at her temples. This is a good start for their team. Okay, what’s something that’s important to both of them? Maggie? Team Magnolia? God, no, that makes it sound like she’s dead.

Nia looks up again, and pauses as she catches sight of Tobias’ red scarf. It’s definitely worn, a little dingy, but the charmander never takes it off. Not to sleep, not to fight or eat. She’s seen him tug at the scarf or scratch under it when he seems nervous or irritated, too.

“Is your scarf important to you?” She asks.

Tobias reaches up to grab it, leaning back as if Nia’s about to snatch it from him. “Why?”

Protective. Definitely significant to him. “I thought maybe we could make a team name with the color red. If it’s that important to you.”

For the first time since she has started listing off name ideas, Tobias looks interested. He rubs the scarf between his fingers.

“I could get a scarf or something to match, too,” Nia offers. She’d seen a few teams pass by with matching or coordinated team items, like scarves and bands dyed the same color. It looked nice.

Tobias doesn’t respond for a moment. “So...what? Team Red?”

“I-I was thinking more like Team Crimson? Or Vermillion?”

Tobias hums, apparently not absolutely hating her proposition for once. “Team Ruby?”

“I kind of like that one!”

They pause in thought for a few more moments, before Nia remembers one more catchy shade of red. “Team Scarlet?”

“Scarlet,” Tobias echoes, rolling the name around in his mouth. “Team Scarlet.”

“You like it?”

To Nia’s surprise, he nods, a hint of a smile on his lips. He looks ready to go again, determined once more. It’s nice, having the critical Pokemon look so approving of her for once. “Team Scarlet. Yeah, that doesn’t sound too bad. You got that, Riley?”

They turn back to the plant Pokemon and she jumps, having clearly checked out somewhere in the middle of their discussion. “Yes!”

Riley fills in the form, scratching an inky twig against the paper’s surface. Occasionally she asks one or both of them a question, but in the end they don’t have to do much aside from sign their names. Nia’s signature is incredibly messy, seeing as she’s still not used to writing with paws instead of human hands, but she also realizes she’s not used to writing at all in the rune-like language. She’s only read it in books. She still wonders how that all works, how she can read and roughly write in a language not at all her own.

“Well, you two are good to go!” Riley says, stamping the bottom of the sheet. She motions for them to put their arms up on the desk, stamping their hands as well. “Just go down a floor to the item dispensary and look for Rainer. You know him, right? Politoed?”

“Yeah,” Tobias says, already turning to leave. Nia hurries after him, debating on thanking Riley before she goes. She was kind of a jerk, though, so Nia just gives her a halfhearted wave on their way out.

Nia follows Tobias down the corridors to the staircase, looking at the top of her hand in the morning light. It’s a simple, inky emblem stamped onto her fur, just a bit smudged. It looks like...a little egg, maybe? Or a capsule? With wings on the sides of it. A badge, maybe?

Before she can ask, they’re heading downstairs and immediately turning into a hallway, then to a gathering area. This space is more open, with different “booths” lining the walls and a stall in the middle of the room. There are a few Pokémon at each station, chatting or moving goods about; Nia’s pretty sure they’re Seeker teams, maybe packing up for missions. They approach particular booths in groups of two to four, a bag looped around one of their shoulders as they order and exchange goods. Or buy them, maybe? She hasn’t exactly asked how this works.

Tobias pauses, looking around before setting off for a booth. An adorable, bright green frog with rosy cheeks sits behind the counter, shuffling through some slips of cloth.

“Hey, Rainer,” Tobias greets as they reach the counter, peering over the edge. “We’re a new Seeker team. This is where we go, right?”

Rainer, presumably, looks down at the two of them, breaking into a wide smile. “Sure is! Need the basic package?”

“I guess,” Tobias says, shrugging.

“Stamps?”

Nia and Tobias push their hands forward, and Rainer nods. “Good! Give me just a second.”

The frog turns and shuffles through his chests and shelves of goods, humming cheerily all the while. “So what name did you two go with?”

“Team Scarlet,” Tobias replies, sounding more sure of the name as he repeats it. Nia feels a bit proud.

“Mm. I like it! Tobias, I’m guessing you’ll want to keep your scarf, right?”

Tobias’ hands drift up towards his neck again. “Yeah.”

“Will you be needing one, Riolu?”

Nia opens her mouth to say yes, before suddenly remembering the attack scarf they’d found yesterday in the mystery dungeon. She’d put it right by her bed so she wouldn’t forget to wear it, but she’d managed to do so anyways. She remembers Maggie mentioning someone in the guild who could dye accessories, so she thinks she could just have that changed to a matching scarlet red later.

“N-No thank you,” she says. “I have something back in Maggie’s room to use.”

Rainer just nods, entire body bouncing as he pushes a small satchel over the counter. “Good, good! In that case, I have you all packed up for your first mission tomorrow. Your badges are inside with a manual explaining how they work, so be sure to read up on that. You two go talk to Azami next, and be safe out there!”

Tobias grabs the bag and turns to go, Nia giving Rainer a word of thanks before rushing to follow. The charmander leads them towards the stairway, and Nia hurries to catch up to his brisk stride. At least his legs are shorter than hers.

“S-So what did he mean by ‘tomorrow?’ Are we not going on a mission today?”

Tobias sighs. “No, we have to wait. It’s mandatory for new Seeker teams to have a day of assessment first, to test their skills and knowledge, assign a trainer, and point out what the team members need to work on.”

Nia feels nerves flutter in her stomach. That sounds like quite the test. “C-Can you, uh...fail?”

The charmander snorts, voice lowering. “We won’t fail if we managed to beat a D-rank dungeon right off the bat. We’ll be fine.”

Nia feels less sure of herself, anxiety already bearing down on her. But she perks up when she sees a familiar face near the staircase. “Oh, hey! It’s Xander!” She waves at the blue and black lion Pokémon. When he notices her, he smiles, walking their way.

“Ugh. You know him?” Tobias growls, curling up his lip like the luxio’s presence alone is enough to make him sick. Nia doesn’t know why she’s so shocked by the reaction at this point.

“What? He seems really nice!”

Tobias rolls his eyes. “He’s an annoying goody-goody is what he is. Thinks he’s better than everyone.”

Nia frowns. That wasn’t the vibe she’d gotten from him at all.

“Nia! I’m surprised to see you down here.” Xander’s all warm smiles as he greets her, but when he turns to Tobias, his expression hardens. “Tobias.”

“Xander.”

The tension in the air is thick, but before any of them can speak, a graceful, bipedal Pokémon steps up next to Xander, looking curiously at Nia and Tobias with a gentle smile. They’re all delicacy and long legs, like a ballerina, green and white with startling red eyes. They remind Nia of a smaller Alistair, the gardevoir in the archives.

“Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met,” the new Pokémon says, voice incredibly soft. It’s almost hard to hear them in the open room. “I’m Avery, one of Xander’s partners.”

“I-I’m Nia,” the riolu says, torn between bowing and jutting out a hand to offer a handshake. She’s still not entirely sure which is expected in the Pokemon world. Avery has hands, so probably a handshake?

Avery laughs at Nia’s fumbling, a quiet but charming sound, and Nia feels herself blush under her fur. “It’s a pleasure meeting you. My father had some very kind things to say about you after your visit to the archives, and Xander mentioned running into you the other day.”

“Literally,” Xander adds with a small smile, looking visibly relaxed by Avery’s presence. “So what are you two doing here so early? Maggie roll you out of bed?”

“We’re forming a Seeker team,” Tobias says, crossing his arms and glaring at the luxio defiantly.

Xander’s ears perk up, star-tipped tail ceasing its casual flicking. “A Seeker team?” He sounds almost worried, gaze flicking over to Nia, and she hurries to speak up before Tobias can light the lion on fire.

“I-It was my idea! We both have reasons for wanting to join one, and, well, we already kind of know each other, so...”

That’s not 100% the true reasoning, and she suspects that Xander knows that, but the luxio doesn’t say anything else. Before anyone can respond, a blue-gray turtle appears on Xander’s other side, slinging an arm around his neck. “Yo! We’ve got the supplies, cap. Ready to go? Kry is itching to leave.”

The turtle notices Nia and Tobias, fluffy ears twitching as he offers a casual grin. “Hey. Sorry for interrupting. You Nia, I’m guessing?”

“Oh! Y-Yes, that’s me.” By this point she really shouldn’t be surprised every time a stranger knows her by name.

“I’m Felix. Been with this guy—“ here he takes a moment to jostle Xander. “Since the good old days.”

“The ‘good old days’?” Xander asks, amused. “We aren’t that old.”

“Eh, old enough. I know I sure could use a nap. Just wanted to let you know we’re ready when you are. See ya ‘round, Nia.”

Nia’s caught off-guard by the wink the turtle leaves with, once again feeling hot under her fur. What—did he just?

“Don’t worry about him. Felix is harmless,” Xander huffs. “A lazy flirt, but harmless.“

Nia nods, unsure of how to respond.

“I’d better go calm Kry down,” Avery says, fondly. They turn with a gentle touch to Xander’s shoulder and a wave to Tobias and Nia. “Good luck, you two.”

Xander watches the graceful Pokémon leave, and Nia fights back a smile at the warmth in the luxio’s expression. She doesn’t want to assume anything, but wow does he look the definition of lovestruck.

“I’d better go too,” Xander says, shaking himself out of his spell. He looks back to Nia. “You let me know if you need help with anything, okay?”

Nia nods, grateful. “Thank you.”

Xander’s piercing eyes turns to Tobias, and when he speaks, it sounds less like advice and more like a threat. “Be careful. Watch each other’s backs.”

Tobias scowls in return, not breaking eye contact as Xander turns and heads back to the staircase, where Avery and Felix wait beside a stocky gray dinosaur (dragon?) Pokémon with a green helmet and two tusks jutting from the sides of its mouth. They’re all wearing gold-colored cloths or bands on some part of their bodies, and Felix hefts a satchel larger than Nia herself up onto his shoulder before the group leaves.

“I hate that guy,” Tobias grumbles, white smoke puffing from his nostrils. Nia shifts uncomfortably. She doesn’t want to argue with her new, explosive partner before they even begin their first day, but she really likes Xander. He’s nice and he reminds her of someone that makes her feel calm and safe. Maybe from her human life?

“S-So where do we go next?” Nia asks, hoping to change the topic.

Tobias smirks, and Nia knows she’s going to hate whatever he says next. “The training floor for our combat assessment.”

Nia bites back a groan, already imagining how many ways she’s going to embarrass herself.

This won’t be good.

YOUR CHARACTER IN FIVE QUOTES!

( repost, do not reblog. ) Tell us your favorite quotes from your character. Give us an idea of who they are by five things they’ve said.

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Alright, buckle up, I’m stealing this meme and repurposing it for my own use. Probably more than five, and including some quotes from others about him, though I’m going to try to keep it in groupings, and also not meant to be exhaustive of qrow’s character, but rather, to point out some very poignant lines that have effected my portrayal and... some possibly in an unpopular way compared to what I’ve seen in the fandom? I think Qrow Branwen is more complex than fitting the broody broken boi trope would give credit for (though he at least fits it as an overall stereotype).

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1) I’m absolutely sure Qrow had a rough start and transition from the tribe to ‘civilized society’, coupled with typical teenage hormones and mood swings, but generally, Beacon was a good time, and he sees himself as a good huntsman, and (though we may joke about it sometimes) he absolutely does not have an active nor passive death wish.

Yeah, yeah, I know he has a song all about how he self depreciates and carries shame, but that’s a theme of his attitude, not backed up to be every single aspect of his life by actual canon. Quite the contrary. 

I don’t know where fndm gets the idea that he constantly lost his battles (especially to Raven) or was perpetually looked down on or stayed an angsty, broody teenager (who could never possibly have ever even breathed a single happy breath on his own without Summer??) all four years. As if school was hell and he never came into his own until STRQ was a graduated unit or something? If ever?

Leo tells Raven she and her brother are evenly matched. Raven herself - who takes pride in being stronger and more clever than others - describes them as a pair: “we were good.”

“you're talking to a member of the coolest team that graduated Beacon! ...we were pretty well known back in the day. ...hey, we looked good! and I have a number of inappropriate stories to back that up!”

“let me tell ya, these kids are way better than we were at their age. ...well, not better than me, specifically...”

“a professional huntsman like myself is expected to get results as soon as possible.”

The way Qrow talks about his past, as well as carrying a memento of team STRQ around with him, it’s very nostalgic for better times. The way he talks about his work, if not himself, can actually be to the point of being self-aggrandizing, instead of depreciating. He’s even able to admit that his dreaded semblance, Misfortune, “comes in handy in a fight.”

“lots of us thought you were just layin' low. eventually, we just came to accept that you were probably dead. but the stories about you, i based my weapon off of yours. i wanted to be as good as the Grimm Reaper.”

Qrow talks about himself as striving to be better. It seems he never really sees himself as reaching that standard, but it certainly implies he knows he’s not at the bottom - he had an ideal he wanted to reach and likely worked towards. Notice the use of “us” and “we” as well - he talks about himself as part of a group of larger huntsfolk circles. Who knows if this refers to students or licensed professionals or both, but this heavily, heavily implies that he was more than just a sad, outside loner, at least for a time; he chatted with others and traded stories about goings-on and missions and idols.

Somewhat related and leading into...

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2)  At least around this blog, Qrow does not have an inferiority complex because of Raven.

Does he have some internalized shame about being soft that he can’t quite shake? A few insecurities about being unwanted compared to her natural leadership and competence? Yes. Does he consciously view himself as lesser than her? No. 

Also... he’s not co-dependent on her. To a degree, for while? Yeah, there was probably an unhealthy reliance going on there. But Qrow and Raven establish themselves with their own identities at some point, they’d have to, to chose different paths so stubbornly. There’s a rift there, eventually, if not always having been at odds in some ways and comfort in others.

“Raven's got an interesting way of looking at the world that I don't particularly agree with. [The weak die, the strong live. Those are the rules.]”

“...they were killers and thieves.”

We are shown that the twins were raised with this weak/strong dichotomy. Raven bought into it, but Qrow explicitly separates himself from that belief. Shown again when he mocks Raven with, “because that was your rule, right?”

He believes in true family, he believes in protecting the weak, he believes in doing good, he believes in standing up for what’s right. He may not like being emotionally vulnerable, but he shows softness and kindness to others, and for as much as he likes his flourish when fighting, he also isn’t afraid to look an absolute fool either.

He is shown de-escalating conflict time and again, even if he also falls back into violent, defensive patterns at times, too. He resents Raven for the choices she made, and as far as I interpret, thinks she’s the lesser one for running away and abandoning her family and her mission. (Meanwhile, she thinks the same of him for turning his back on the tribe.)

He all but spits on the tribe’s way of life, is willing to attack them outright to get the Spring Maiden. Why would he judge himself by those standards any longer? No, he lives by his own code, a huntsman’s code, and even has some pride in that. It’s why he can call Clover out on it. It’s why he folds when Robyn holds him to it.

It’s why it hurts when he finds out what gave him more meaning, aligned more with his own heart, than the tribe’s dogma may not actually have any purpose at all...

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3) There’s so much to unpack here:

“No one wanted me... I was cursed... I gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world... I thought I was finally doing some good... Meeting you... was the worst luck of my life...”

No one wanted him? I believe this means the tribe, maybe even Raven, maybe trying to make friends, but no one until Oz? Does this include STRQ? I have trouble reconciling that one with everything else we’re shown. I still maintain he was part of bigger circles, but we get confirmation that these were probably fleeting or superficial. He knew people and was known, but no one stuck around.  Also more confirmation of his values. Gave me a place sounds like so much more than refocusing to me. It’s not gave me a direction, not told me what to do, it’s took who i am and gave that person a place to thrive - despite the bad that comes with - to work towards something better. Just like he always wanted.

But then he backtracks. What is it he regrets?  We do know how he likes to go into dramatic hyperbole about these things when he’s upset. [eg. “we’re not family anymore.” “i shouldn’t have come. i shouldn’t have let any of you come.” “we can kill the man who put us here.” “gone. like everybody else.”] (I love that crwby lets their characters do it. we all say things we don’t mean in the moment, give voice to those intrusive thoughts.)

I’ve talked before about how I picture him having flashes of all the lives he could have had instead. Would he have gone back with Raven and at least still had her? Would he just have been a normal huntsman defending people from Grimm without the crushing extra knowledge? Might he have been able to have a relationship or family of his own had he not signed up for the vagabond spy life? Does he just resent losing Summer and Raven because of how things went down? We don’t know, and I think the point is that he probably doesn’t either, but the weight of sacrificing all those alternatives and putting so much faith in Ozpin, stacking so much of his life’s work and identity on being part of the inner circle, comes crashing down on him all at once. 

also quite fitting...

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4) "Nice place to raise a family. ...If you're ...into that sort of thing."

This is from his World of Remnant narration, talking about Patch, but it hits so damn hard. The softness and warmth in the first half of the statement, followed by the harsh need to qualify it in regards to his own outlook... We learn all we need to know about his opinion of the subject. 

We see the conflict right there - the possibility of such a thing brings a wholesome lilt to his voice, yet he implies that it’s not something he personally intends to pursue. Is that because he doesn’t want it or because he thinks he can’t or shouldn’t have it? I don’t think that’s clear, and he may not know either. 

At the very least, I fall into the camp of him believing he doesn’t want it. Combine that with the fact that he does pick up that spy life, which makes keeping his distance a necessity, and makes settling down near impossible, and then he definitely knows it’s not in the cards for him. 

So I think it ultimately falls somewhere between. Why would he make the commitment to being a lone spy if he had dreams of love and a family? ...But then why would he resent making the sacrifice of that possibility later if he didn’t? 

Having his nieces around probably softened him up to the idea, but he’d already made his decision by that point. He’s also solid and generally happy with his choices at the point it would most matter. He’s married to his job. He’s fulfilling his missions well, in well-suited ways for his strengths and flaws. He has his nieces around as a balm on any sort of biological clock. He has his purpose with Oz.  Until he doesn’t.

This is an incredibly long-winded way of restating that one of the headcanon hills I do stand to die on is: Gray-romantic Qrow.

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5) “some people are just born unlucky... my semblance isn't like most - it's not exactly something i... do.”

I am constantly confused by the amount of people trying to do character analysis around Misfortune and Qrow based on standard semblance lore, when he has yet again stated explicitly to the contrary. We all have carte blanche ya’ll. We can do whatever we want with this, because he’s already told us his semblance breaks the rules. 

My full headcanon for it is here and my opinion about the direction I hope it takes is here but tl;dr

Unless we learn otherwise, there are very, very few ways I believe Misfortune is a reflection of Qrow’s soul, if at all. This is from the first headcanon, but it’s worth restating, because it’s important to me, aaand fits the theme of pulling in some quotes from other characters:

Everyone likes to quote Ren and his description of someone’s personality being incorporated into a semblance. I don’t buy it for qrow. Here’s the FULL quote: “A common philosophy is that a warrior’s Semblance is a part of who they are. Some say your personality and character can define your Semblance while some claim that it is the other way around. Of course, there are still many who don’t see a connection at all.”

So unless we find out otherwise I will also die on the hill that qrow is an example of the middle part. Qrow’s personality/soul has nothing to do with why his semblance is what it is, but being forced to grow up and live with Misfortune has defined him tremendously.

OKAY, there are some smaller quick ones, but I’ll stick to my five points like I promised at least, and maybe do a lesser version some other time. :]

September's Kingdom of Dreams

Chapter 2

The small group that had returned from the expedition was still dusty and exhausted, but nonetheless their reddened eyes were wide awake. What they'd seen in the desert of Tewüs dre Chärswez would never let them sleep peacefully anymore. They'd arrived at the castle of Somnium yesterday, shaky and stuttering, and after their pleading King Wenet had called all royalty of Somnium and Nior Ase to the capital.

"So you're saying that the giants are...all dead?", Nauria asked. Her throaty voice echoed through the large hall and was reflected by the white marble.

The leader of the expedition, a frail man with fluffy cotton candy pink hair nodded. He was a young, but not inexperienced aristocrat called Lord Gardan, and despite the fact that he was trying to hide it, his dark blue eyes showed how truly terrified he was. "All of them. The children, the merchants, the royalty, literally every single one of them."

"What about the king? The queen? The prince?", King Wenet inquired. He seemed unimpressed, but he didn't seem to have grasped how devastating the situation was in the first place. "Surely they must have survived."

"Didn't you listen, your majesty?" Gardan's voice cracked. "Every single one is dead. Although, granted, we have not found the prince yet."

"So it's possible Prince Void may still be alive?", Queen Elsemere asked. She was a thin, mousy woman with long pale blonde hair and a tendency to go unnoticed. Princess Crimson, seven years old, blonde and frail, was sleeping on her lap.

Lord Gardan shook his head, his pale pink curls bouncing up and down. "I very much doubt it." He turned to the king. "Your majesty, we need to protect Calderia, before it's too late."

"I don't think that is necessary," King Wenet answered, stroking his blonde beard. "The giants were peaceful, they haven't been at war in thousands of years. It's understandable that they couldn't defend themselves."

"What about the sirens?", Nauria sceptically commented. "It's not like they're defenseless, and yet their king disappeared without a trace last night. Someone is systematically trying to dismantle all our allies' kingdoms!"

Wenet waved it off. "Nauria, you can't call the sirens civilized, they're nothing like us-"

"Excuse me?! They're close friends of us pirates!!"

"We have enough troops, we even overthrew the albs." The king laughed. "Right, Esmond?"

He turned to the thin, grey-skinned boy in the corner of the room. Pointy ears and black eyes made it painfully obvious that the child was an alb. Chains clinking with his every movement made it obvious he was a prisoner. Blood red hair falling over his narrow shoulders made something else even more obvious. The boy had been a member of the albish royal family.

Esmond nodded quietly and bit his lip. The king chuckled.

"If the giants were slaughtered we're next," Lord Gardan protested. "I mean... have you seen the state Tewüs dre Chärswez was in?! They were scattered all across the desert!! The fucking giants! Have you ever seen an oasis filled with decaying heads?! Whoever attacked them was vicious, brutal and merciless!!"

"Lord Gardan, please calm down," Queen Elsemere said. Her voice was quiet and soft. Sometimes Nauria wondered how she and the calm pale woman on the throne were even related, let alone sisters. Elsemere felt like a stranger, too cold to care about the humans in her kingdom and too timid to speak out against her power drunk husband. Nauria prayed that Crimson wouldn't grow up to be like her mother.

"I'm seriously concerned for your safety, your majesty," Gardan pleaded. "This kingdom may be a strong aggressor, but if any enemy reaches the castle here in Calderia we're as good as dead."

"What do we even know about the attack?", King Wenet asked.

"Not much," Gardan admitted. "Only one giant made it out far enough to warn anyone, and she was a child, wounded and we found her on her death bed. They called themselves Nightmares. Had at least one alb with them, a vampire and various other species. They used poisoned arrows and took no prisoners."

"An alb?" The king raised an eyebrow in amusement. "I thought we'd slaughtered them all."

The young prince in the corner flinched a little. Nauria saw the gesture and turned to the king. "Your majesty, I'm not about to discuss your war crimes here, but stop talking about the slaughter of the albs. I'm serious. Look at Esmond, he's just a child. It's bad enough you're keeping him prisoner after all he's been through."

"Nauria please...", Elsemere softly interrupted her. "This isn't the right time or place."

"No, I'm curious." Wenet leaned forward. "Esmond, come here."

Shaking, the prince stepped forward. The chain around his neck clinked, preventing him from getting too close. "Y-yes, your majesty?"

"Do you think I've treated you unfairly?"

Lord Gardan sighed impatiently. "Can you play your games at some other point, your majesty? We could literally all be slaughtered at any given second-"

"Let him speak." A smile was playing on the king's pale lips.

Esmond hesitated. Then he swallowed hard.

"I-I believe the treatment of my people was unjust and cruel." Suddenly his shaking voice became firm. "You have wiped out an entire race for the sole purpose of expanding your kingdom. You have tortured and murdered my mother, Queen Faran De, and my father, King Dubrog, and you have imprisoned and mutilated me, Prince Esmond of Sle Ulan, or as you puny humans call it, the Moon Forest, for the sole purpose of assimilating me into Somnish culture, so that you could tell other royalty that you'd tamed an oh so wild alb. You like to boast that you are the supreme beings on this world, but you're weak. All you humans rely on is backstabbing. And yet you act so surprised when..." Suddenly a smile ran over his grey face. "... someone uses your weapons against you."

And suddenly the window exploded. Glass shards rained down on the crowd. The sleeping princess woke up and looked around in confusion. "Wh-what's happening?"

Massive green wings fluttered through the air, and in the storm of glass shards, burning arrows raining into the castle, screams and fangs, Nauria got hold of the princess's small hand.

"Come on!", she yelled and dragged her towards the door. But the princess was frozen, staring at the vampire that was tearing up her father, Lord Gardan drawing his sword and Prince Esmond, still smiling on his chain.

Then Nauria nudged her outside and they ran.

eunoia - prologue

Summary: Sam is trying to adjust to a life post-Steve Rogers.

Sam Wilson x Quinn (Asian ofc)

Warnings: Some spoilers for Civil War, Inifinity War, Endgame and TFATWS

Wordcount: 2.2k

A/N: Did I just abandon my other wips to work on this one? Maybe. This story follows around 50% of TFATWS storyline, but it’s not identical. I honestly don’t know whether or not people are gonna like it, but if you do, please let me know 🥺Our boy Sam deserves all the fics 🥰

Masterlist // eunoia masterlist // 

Not a day goes by that Sam doesn’t think about Quinn. It was at the Joint Terrorist Centre’s headquarters in Berlin when he first saw her on security camera’s. While Bucky was being interviewed, a different set of cameras showed another interrogation room. It was nearly identical to Bucky’s room, though the difference was that there a woman was strapped in a similar containment cell. They had found her earlier that day and according to some intel she was part of another Hydra program, though there was not much known about her yet.

With the reactivated Winter Soldier Program, Sam tried to capture Zemo, before the fugitive disappeared into the crowd. Together with Steve, they took Bucky into an abandoned building. While Bucky slowly regained consciousness and both Steve and Sam being distracted, no one noticed someone sneaking up behind them.

In a twinkling of an eye, both Steve and Sam were tied up with one rope, despite the two of them being on opposite sides of the room. With a certain focus, the petite woman marched up to Bucky, ready to do whatever was her task. As her fingers wrapped around his neck, tips digging in his neck, Bucky seemed to recognize her. A soft ‘hey’ from the Winter Soldier was enough to snap her out of it.

The rope stopped cutting into Sam’s skin, as the woman looked around her. She dropped the rope and she ran her hands through her long black locks. There was something about her that intrigued him. Her eyes darted from one side to the other, before they landed on him.

Sam didn’t know her that long, but he could see that there were a lot of undisclosed feelings. She was confused, maybe even a bit scared.

She introduced herself as Quinn, though adding the fact that she had no idea what her  real name was and Quinn seemed fitting.

Just like Bucky, Quinn was also a target of Zero’s spree. She remembers Zemo breaking her out of the secret and deserted Hydra facility back in Munich, where she was put into cryogenic stasis. Zemo released her into the world, only for her to be caught within a few hours. She had no idea if that was Zemo’s intention, her getting caught that soon.

‘Just a few hours ago,’ Quinn explained, ‘there was this guy with black hair, questionable facial hair, who told me to catch a guy. It was a picture of you.’ She gestured towards Bucky, who tilted his head as his gaze softened.

‘You remember me?’ Bucky asked her.

She shrugs. ‘I don’t know,’ she whimpers. ‘I didn’t when he showed me the picture, but… There is something I sort of remember of you. You walked into the room, dressed in all black, looking visibly exhausted. You were in this other cell and looked at me and told me that it was all gonna be okay.’ Quinn let out a soft—yet meaningless—chuckle. ‘That’s not quite working out.’

Without any more painful questions, Steve suggested she came along and Sam and her actually fought alongside the rest on the airport, making sure Bucky and Steve were on that flight and just like the rest who stayed behind, they were imprisoned in the Raft.

Sam watched her, day in, day out. She was yet again strapped inside a containment cell within her cell, another counter measurement to make sure she was unable to escape. Sam saw how she kicked an entire van to the side on the airport, without breaking a sweat. It made him question whether or not she was just cooperating or if the restraints were really working.

Her petite frame was perfect for her to blend in the crowd, in contrast to Bucky, however strength wise, they were around the same level.

Speed wise, it was Quinn who had the upper hand there.

She simply sat in the cell, staring ahead of her. Sam wondered what happened inside her head, but when they made eye contact, all he could see was sadness and hopelessness.

At night, when the lights were dim and everyone was asleep, he told her that it was all gonna be okay.

‘How do you know?’

‘I just do,’ he said.

For the first time, she smiled at him. ‘And I just have to trust you on that one?’

‘It’s the wisest thing to do. Besides, what have you got to lose?’

After Steve freed them from the Raft, he did not know what to expect from her. Deep down, Sam kinda hoped she would join him. On the airport, it was obvious how well they worked together, but just like Clint, Scott and Wanda, she decided to live her own life.

And just like that, she disappeared.

Sam never thought he’d see her again, but when they all met in the New Avengers Facility, when they learned about Thanos’ plan to capture all the Infinity Stones, she walked in as if she never left. She stayed close to either him or Steve, not once speaking up about what she did in the meantime and Sam never felt like he could ask.

When they landed in Wakanda, Quinn took him aside and asked: ‘You got my back?’

He smiled at her, realizing that his efforts in gaining her trust back at the Raft and the Facility had helped. ‘Always,’ he promised.

But he didn’t keep his promise. He didn’t have her back like he promised.

Quinn was the last person Sam saw, before he disintegrated into ashes, together with half of the world population. Her hand on his cheek, as her eyes darted from side to side, slightly confused of what was happening, but also realizing that he couldn’t have her back anymore.

While Sam was aware that she was right there on the battlefield after they were all brought back, the first time he saw her was on Tony’s funeral. After Steve told him, Banner, Bucky and Quinn he was going to return the Infinity Stones and Mjølnir—looking back on it—it was obvious she knew what Steve decided to do. Sam can still hear the words that left her lips then: ‘Are you sure you want that to be your future?’

Sam did not know what it meant then, but he sure does now. After he received the shield minutes later of a much older Steve, Quinn did what she always does: disappear.

He never knew where she went, what she was doing and while he respects her decision, he still thinks about her. Every single day. His hope of seeing her again, hasn’t faded away and sometimes it frustrates him. He barely knew her, why is he so hung up on her then?

Sam lets out a sigh, as he drives his truck over the roads to his destination. It has been a rough couple of weeks. He is working closely together with the United States Air Force and after a few missions, he made his decision whether or not to give up the shield.

Without Steve, the shield is nothing.

He desperately needs a break from all of this and there is no place like Delacroix Louisiana to wind down from the hectic of an after Blip world. He had been there two times, but both times ended abruptly as the Air Force needed him.

Now, he has the time. All the time in the world to relax and forget about an Avenger like life.

Sam parks his car on the dock and his nephews AJ and Cass are the first to notice him. ‘Uncle Sam, uncle Sam,’ they exclaim.

‘Ah, there you two are,’ he says, hugging the two boys tightly.

‘How long are you gonna stay this time?’ Cass asks.

‘Awhile,’ is the answer he is giving his nephews, but that is mostly because he wants to keep them in suspense a little.

AJ scoffs. ‘That’s not an answer.’

‘Okay, okay, gotta give you that,’ he chuckles. ‘How about: at least two weeks?’

The two boys high five each other. His sister Sarah loudly places a crate on the ground. ‘Finally,’ she says, ‘took you long enough.’

‘Nice to see you too,’ he retorts with a smile, before giving her a hug. ‘Missed you.’

‘Of course you did,’ she says. ‘We missed you too, just like almost everyone here. Almost got me thinking that you’re the favorite Wilson sibling.’

‘That’s because I am.’ He carries the crate to where Sarah wants it and he smiles when his eyes land on the family boat. ‘She sure is a beauty.’

‘A broken beauty,’ Sarah says, ‘that is costing me a fortune.’ She places her hands on her hips as she says: ‘With both the house and the boat needing some fixing up, every penny I got to spare is going to the house.’

‘Is this about you wanting to sell it again?’

‘Yes, since I’m not willing to sell a working organ on the black market in order to afford its repairs.’

‘I told you I would fix it,’ Sam says.

Sarah rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, you told me that months ago, but the boat still isn’t working. You know the situation, Sam, the thing’s gotta go.’

‘Sarah, you’re kidding. We grew up on this thing.’

She scoffs. ‘Yeah, I know, I was there. It’s just that I cannot afford it anymore.’

Sam sure loves his sister, but there are moments where he—just like back in the days—he’d want to put her behind the wallpaper, making her shut up. It’s always this doom thinking. Everything or nothing at all, there is no in between. ‘You know I can help with this.’

‘Yeah, big help you’ve been.’

Sam clenches his jaw. ‘Well, I’m sorry I was taken away by the blip.’

‘It’s not about you being gone for the blip,’ Sarah says. ‘It’s about the fact that there is too much for me to do here. I need to keep the house, so it’s either keeping the boat or the business and since the business is my income, it’s only logical that the boat has got to go.’

Great, he has been back for a few minutes and he is already having this conversation with his sister. ‘I’ve got this, Sarah, I promise.’

She doesn’t believe him, he can see it in her eyes, but decides to drop the matter. Maybe she realizes too that this is no conversation for them to have after he got back for only a few minutes.

The two of them step back on the dock, where his nephews are stretching out their necks, almost like they are searching for something. ‘Whatcha looking at?’ Sam asks. ‘See a pretty lady?’

‘Is that,’ Cass starts, only for AJ to exclaim: ‘Auntie Quinn!’

The two boys drop their stuff and rush over the dock to the woman Sam never thought he’d see again, let alone right here. Quinn holds out her arms and despite the boys being nearly the same height as her, she still manages to catch them both as they jump in her arms. They must’ve known about her enhanced strength, Sam thinks to himself, otherwise they wouldn’t have jumped right in her arms.

But that raises another question: how could they’ve known?

‘Auntie Quinn?’ he asks Sarah.

Sarah nods. ‘Auntie Quinn,’ she confirms.

She’s gonna leave it at that? ‘Care to explain?’

‘I think it was two weeks after you were blipped away. It was chaos here, like literal chaos. People were missing, I hadn’t heard anything from you. She walked up the dock and offered her help. I thought for at least a month she was an angel send from the heavens. She told me she saw you right before you were blipped away and that she went to your place back in DC. She found out about us and decided to see how it all went down here. Thankfully she did, because I desperately needed her help. She assisted with the business, helped raising the boys.’

To say he is confused, would be an understatement. ‘She stayed here?’ he asks. ‘During the entire blip?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Sarah says, holding up her hand to Quinn. ‘I think all in all, she stayed here for four years. Sometimes she went away for a few weeks, but she always returned. Near the end, she called me and told me that Steve needed her. It’s actually the first time I’ve seen her in a while.’

Sam can’t stop looking at the big smiles and chuckles being exchanged between AJ, Cass and Quinn. She hugs his nephews tightly and even from a distance he can tell she is scolding them for growing taller.

‘I think that without her,’ Sarah continues, ‘I barely would’ve made it. She was slightly clueless though. Had issues with the simplest tasks, like cooking and day to day stuff, but she’s a fast learner.’

It shouldn’t warm his heart like it does, but Sam can’t help but smile as he realizes that Quinn went on the look out to care for his family.

‘She told me she had no memories of growing up. Poor thing,’ Sarah says, shaking her head as she as well looks at the trio. ‘She tried so hard to remember, but in all those years she spend here, no luck. I wonder if she does now.’

She doesn’t. Sam doesn’t need to ask her, because he simply knows.

Quinn still doesn’t remember her past.