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aubreyprc · 3 years

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when I cheated it did

46 - are they really just a friend

summary - during hotch and haley’s separation, he has a thing with Emily. Haley pulls him up about it when he comes to her about the divorce papers and one confession later, he lands right back at emilys door once again.

word count - 2.6k - the way this was just supposed to be the hotch / haley scene and now it’s ?? this is just an example of how unwell i am in my head <33

She always told herself that no matter what she did, who she slept with or who she became she would never be the other woman never be the reason a child never saw their father, never be the reason why a child should grow up the same way she had to, never be part of an affair, yet when she finds herself sleeping with her married boss, she tells herself its okay because he's separated, that its not an affair if his wife left him, that she isn't the other woman if the wife is out of the picture, even if the couple still wear the rings on their fingers, even if they're still legally married.

She tells herself its fine because he and Haley are separated, she tells herself its different because Hotch still see's his son, she tells herself she isn't like the woman her father married after leaving her and her mother because she would never allow Hotch to abandon his family, she tells herself its not an affair, that its not the same, because otherwise the guilt would eat her alive, she tells herself its different because she can't end it, and the minute she allows herself to register that, separated or not, he is married she would have to.

"You okay?" he asks as he steps into the bathroom. He stands behind her, placing soft kisses on her neck as he wraps her in his arms, his hand locking over her abdomen as she smirks at him through the mirror, tilting her head to the side as he began to undo her robe with a playful smirk of his own. Laughing, she leans her back into him, resting against his chest safely as he places a kiss on her cheek.

"Yeah," she sighs contently, lacing her fingers through his own with a raised eyebrow, stopping him from pulling the robe open. He walks them backwards, a smile on his lips as he presses them into her neck, only to be interrupted by his phone and he curses his under breath as he digs through his pockets to find it, still keeping her wrapped up in him with one arm over her waist.

"Hotchner," he answers, winking at her when their eyes catch in the mirror. "Of course, we will be right in." he says, ending the call as quickly as he answered it. "We have a case." he tells her, kissing her cheek before exiting the bathroom, and she simply watches him go, a small smile on her face as her cheek burns from the touch of his lips, has to force herself to remember that this is casual, that they can't that they never will be anything more than what they are now, reminds herself that he will go back to Haley, and reminds herself that if she gets attached, she will get hurt, and pushes down her feelings, refusing to acknowledge the ache in her chest at the thought of this... them being over.

They, of course, spend their nights together in the hotel. He makes sure to get a room at the end of the hall, away from prying eyes and ears and in different cities he can take her hand in the hotel bar when the team have left, he can kiss her softly in the streets in the dark when he sneaks them both out in the dead of night, in different cities when the team isn't around he can pretend their not a secret, she can pretend there are no consequence's and they can pretend its just them.

They make plans to go to her place, the two of them denying drinks with the team for different reasons with a sneaky look to each other that no one notices and they're halfway out of the door when he's served with the papers, and suddenly nothing about them feels the way it had over the last three months and she can only watch him go as the knot in her stomach tightens, can only creep past the team and rush into the bathroom and breathe, leaning her head against the door as she tries to calm down, her heart hammering in her chest while she closes her eyes, taking deep breaths in hope that it will get rid of her nausea. Her mind spins, memories of them flashing in front of her eyes and she wants to scream, unsure of where this leaves them... leaves her.

Hotch all but storms out of the office and towards his car, slamming the door behind him as he throws the papers onto the passenger seat, embarrassment igniting in his body at what just happened. He’s their boss and now his personal life will be spreading like wild fire around the office, something he never wanted. He drives with fury, his whole body running on fumes as he thinks back to the look of pity written on all their faces. Yet, that embarrassment changes to something he can’t quite describe, an ache in his gut, as his mind lands on Emily. He curses to himself as he realises he left without so much as a glance in her direction, already hating how he knows exactly what she is thinking, about how fragile her trust is, especially in him, in them, the unsurety of their... situation something that lingers between them whenever they are together, even if it does go ignored.

He wonders for half a moment, why in the same hour he was handed divorce papers, he is far more concerned with Emily, about how she is, about how they are, but the moment ends as he pulls up outside his old home; he grabs the papers, the anger and embarrassment swooping right back in, taking over.

He knocks on the door of the house that just four months ago, used to be his own and waits, taking a breath as the lock clicks.

“What are you doing here?” Haley asks as she opens the door. “Jack’s asleep.”

“You didn’t think to call me before you had divorce papers sent to the office?” he asks, holding up the papers. “Do you know how humiliating that is?”

“I didn’t know where else to send them.” she explains.

“You could have called. I would-"

“I could have called?” she laughs, “Aaron, I don’t even know if you’re in the city half the time. I knew if I sent them to the office, at least you’d find them.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, shaking his head, “Not only do you not even talk to me about separating in the first place, but you throw these in my face as well?”

“Will you stop shouting?” she hisses, pulling him inside with his sleeves. “You’re doing to attract the neighbours.”

“I don’t care about the neighbours,” he mutters, throwing the papers into the glass table and turning to face her. “You should have called me.”

“Why?” she questions, “I’ve given you months, to try and fix this, to do something that shows you still care but I’ve had nothing from you, not unless it’s about Jack.” she sighs, “I don’t have anymore time to give you, Aaron.”

“Would it have changed anything? If I’d have tried harder?” he questions.

When she looks to the ground, he has his answer, and all of a sudden he doesn’t feel that guilty about Emily anymore.

“Then I guess it’s a good job I didn’t waste my time trying.” he tells her and she scoffs, shaking her head.

“God you,” she stops, looking at him, “You really don’t get it do you?”

“Get what?”

“That I didn’t just wait three months for you, Aaron. I feel like I've been waiting for you ever since you made Unit Chief three years ago.” she tells him, “It’s like we were never enough for you, you always had to be somewhere else.”

“I was doing my job-"

“Yeah,” she says, “I know. I’m not having this argument with you again.” Haley tells him, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you about the papers, I should have warned you I was filing for divorce.”

It almost seems then that there’s nothing left to say, that if almost ten years of marriage has come down to an argument in the living room of a house he no longer lives in when she speaks again.

“You don’t feel you have anything to apologise for?” Haley questions, and his head snaps up to look at her.

“What?” he says, “Of course I do, I have a lot to apologise for but..”

“But?” she laughs.

“But I’m not going to stand here and take the blame for the fall out of our marriage when we know full well you stepped out months before you walked out.” he tells her and she stares at him with shock.

“You don’t get to throw that in my face,” She hisses at him, “You don’t get to act like you haven’t been— I may have made some mistakes but do not stand there and tell me you hadn't thought about doing the same thing.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Emily..” she shouts, “are they really just a friend?” she asks him, “You must think I’m stupid. And don’t stand here and tell me the two of you aren’t something, I’ve seen the two of you, don’t make me out to be the cheater here.”

“You slept with someone else, Haley. While we were together. This is not the same."

“I needed someone, Aaron. And you weren’t here.” she shouts, “You were never here.”

“So that makes it okay?” he shouts back.

“No.” she sighs, anger boiling beneath her skin, “but how many times do I have to tell that when I cheated it didn’t mean anything?” she asks him loudly. He turns to face her, seeing complete red as they come to blows for the first time since she walked out.

“Well then that’s a waste, because when I cheated it did.” he says back to her, before taking a breath, watching as she nods her head slowly and wipes her tears. "I—"

"I guess you were right then," she says softly, "its certainly not the same..."

"Haley—"

"Don't," she tells him, "do you love her?" she asks, and he drops his head to the floor because he didn't have an answer, he didn't know. The only word he can think being maybe.

"Then there's nothing left to say," she says quietly, "we can't come back from this, Aaron. We were over the moment she joined the team... we were over the moment we both found comfort with someone else." she walks over to him, places her hand in his as they look at each other. “Sign the papers, Aaron. Set us free." she whispers, before smiling sadly and walking away, he simply watches, before grabbing the papers and walking out of the door, drives mindlessly with no destination in mind while he replays the moment his marriage ended once and for all.

When I had cheated it didn't mean anything.

When I cheated it did.

He finds himself parking in front of her apartment, as if he had driven there unconsciously and he sighs, closing his eyes as he leans his head against the back of the seat. With a deep breath he composes himself, looks at the papers and gets out of the car, heading into her building with the hope that she would at least just talk to him.

She’s in her own little bubble, wrapped up in an old sweatshirt as she stares out of the window, blowing the smoke from her mouth when three knocks at her door spook her out of her trance. She flicks the cigarette out of the window and stands, pulling the jumper down over her shorts as she heads towards the door, looking through the peep hole she sighs as he sees him, leaning her head on the door before she opens it, resting against the frame as he stands in front of her.

“Hi,” she says softly, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies in such a delicate tone she swears she’s never heard from him before. “I was hoping we could talk?”

“What’s there to talk about?” she asks, dropping the side of her head onto the door frame as she wraps an arm around her front.

“Us...” he says hesitatingly, knowing putting a name on them at this stage is risky.

“Aaron...” she sighs, looking to the floor. “Us, is a string of late night hook up’s in hotels across the country, a hand full in my apartment, behind closed doors...” she tells him, “We’re casual sex at best. You have a family, a son, a wife.”

“A wife who’s filing for divorce.” he reminds her, “Please, can we just talk?”

She looks at him, opening the door wider and stepping aside as he walks through.

“Have you been smoking?” he asks as she follows him through the hall.

“I’m not nineteen anymore,” she smirks, “you can’t tell my mother.”

“I never did.” he says with a playful smile of his own, “You were just lousy at hiding it.”

“Yes well, it seems I was lousy about hiding a lot of things.” she jokes, “Do you want a drink?”

“Sure,” he says, taking the beer from her with a smile. “I thought you quit?” he asks her, tilting his head towards the open window.

“I did,” She says, “For a little while.” there’s almost a sadness in her voice, one that makes him stare just that little bit longer at her, noticing that she almost can’t meet his eye. “I guess I’m a sucker for bad habits." she mumbles, meeting his eye finally and he simply smiles.

"What are you doing here, Aaron?" she sighs, "I can't kept doing this dance with you, I—" she stops, shaking her head, "what do you want from me?"

"Nothing," he tells her, "I just wanted you to know that there is an us, that this isn't just casual anymore... that we are something, that we can be something." he adds, looking at her as she stares back at him, hesitance written all over her face. "Give me time, let me get Jack through the transition... and I will come back to you. We can try, properly." he tells her, smiling when she lets out a laugh, her own smile growing on her face. "I'm signing the papers. Not for you. Not for us. But for me. For Haley. For Jack." he tells her, "my marriage was over long before you were became part of the picture. It's time." he says, standing right in front of her and he smiles. "Maybe in a few months I can take you on that date I promised..." he whispers and she smirks.

"You never promised to take me on a date." she tells him softly, and he places a finger under her chin, leaning forward slightly.

"I have now." he whispers, before kissing her. "Give me thirty days." he tells her as they separate, and she laughs.

"Okay." she accepts, "I only eat in fancy restaurants." she tells him as he heads for the door and he turns, smiling at her.

"Noted." he winks, before leaving her apartment, hope building in both of their chests for a future together they can now work for, rather than ignore.

#hotchniss #hotchley #hotchley fic #hotchniss fic #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #haley hotchner #criminal minds

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mischiefandi · 4 years

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A Shitty Love Song (Part 2) - Stiles Stilinski

Altered State Of Mind

A/N: hi guys!! im super happy im posting part 2 of this series :)) I really hope you like it and once again, huge thank u to @duskholland for all your help <33

Summary: Y/N is a 17 year old girl who struggles in an epic battle against herself. Whether it is amor’s icy grasp or life’s unexpected course that forces her to finally open up, only one thing is certain. The truth cannot be long hidden.

Warnings: panic attack, mentions of underage drinking, swearing

Word Count: 5,2K

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader (Y/N)

Series Masterlist

(picture is not mine -> credits to @ elevantarts on unsplash)

A blaring sound resonated in Y/N’s ears and she groaned, her fingers curling around the blanket she lay beneath. A throbbing sensation in her head forced her to pry her eyes open, sunlight seeping through the gaps in her eyelids.

Reaching up to rub her eyes, Y/N tried to sit up, the throbs against her forehead staggeringly more painful. When her eyes finally accustomed themselves to the light, Y/N glanced around, looking for the source of the insufferable noise. The blaring seemed to come from far away and nearby at the same time; Y/N was simply too tired to make any sense.

“Oh my god, my head,” she moaned, falling back against the soft pillow with a grunt.

“Would someone please shut that off,” a voice mumbled from underneath a heap of pillows and messed up sheets.

“Y/N, it’s your phone,” another voice groaned.

Passing a shaking hand over her face, Y/N forced herself to fully open her eyes and focused on the sound of the alarm, still shrieking in sync with her god awful headache. Reaching over her head, she grabbed her phone and put it on silent, thanking the universe for the sudden alleviating silence.

“Well last night was-“

“-crazy.”

Y/N shot a glance at Lydia’s bed where the strawberry blonde was propped up against her pillows, wiping off the smudged mascara beneath her big green eyes.

“I can’t even focus right now. What happened last night?” she asked, rubbing her forehead.

“You don’t remember?”

“I mean, bits and pieces, why?”

Allison and Lydia exchanged a look.

“Uh, Y/N you went wild yesterday.”

“I did?” asked Y/N, worry seeping through her oily pores.

“We had to get a cab home cause neither one of us was fit to drive, and…you definitely threw up in the cab.”

Y/N groaned, a hand flying up to her forehead. “That explains the taste in my mouth.” She thought to herself.

“Yea, you got pretty drunk. Thank god, Stiles and Scott were there or you’d have passed out right on the dancefloor.”

“Wait, they were there?”

Allison sent Y/N a confused look, biting her lip.

“Well yeah, they got there about thirty minutes after we did. Did you not hang out with them at all?” she asked.

A sudden flash of colour appeared in Y/N’s head, the feeling of skin against skin, lips hungrily claiming each other, the smell of sweat and leather. She gasped, a hand reaching up to cover her mouth. Jumping up to her feet in a burst, ignoring the violent throb in her head, she rushed over to the mirror and turned her neck towards the right, her eyes widening at her sorry reflection.

“Are those-“

“Hickeys?” exclaimed Allison, leaping off of her mattress and onto the floor.

“Oh my god…”

“No way! Who are those from?” inquired Lydia, shock painted across her face.

“I’m not sure…” answered Y/N, her voice but a quiet murmur, her eyes still fixated on the deep purple marks scattered across her neckline.

In the back of her head, amber eyes bored into hers, and she couldn’t help but notice the dark pit forming in her stomach.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Y/N stepped out of her bath, all of the dried up paint and sweat cleansed from her body. Stepping up to her bathroom mirror, she wiped the hot steam off the glass, the purple stains on her neck still very visible. She sighed, her fingers lightly tracing the mark by her collarbone, her mind elsewhere. She was at a loss.

Had it been him? Had it been Stiles? Maybe she had him confused with someone else, maybe she really had shared this moment with Jeremy. Maybe.

Y/N’s frown deepened. All that was left from that moment on the dancefloor was these purple love bites and blurriness. So much blurriness. Hundreds of questions and voices overlapped in Y/N’s head.

“What does this mean? Was it really him? What’s next?” She shook her head anxiously, quietly tapping against the steam covered sink.

Grabbing her phone with shaking fingers, Y/N typed in a message and sent it to the person she had had stuck in her brain all day long.

Y/N: did u ever show up at the rave?

Y/N: cause my drunk ass can’t remember a thing :/

Minutes seemed to last longer than hours as she waited by her phone. She sat impatiently on her bed, furiously tearing off the tips of her fingernails, occasionally drawing out a tiny spot of blood accompanied by a soft hiss. Finally, the buzzing sound of her phone snapped her back to reality and she unlocked it in a flash.

Stiles: yea I stopped by

Y/N stared down at her phone screen, puzzled.

Y/N: did you have fun?

A few minutes passed before his short answer came.

Stiles: yea it was alright

Stiles: I was just glad to get out of the rain

Y/N: the rain?

Stiles: yea it was raining when Scott and I got there

Y/N’s fingers trembled as she started typing in a new message, her hands abruptly pausing when her phone buzzed again.

(Y/N: did we hang out at all last night?)

Stiles: my dad’s asking me to help him out with dinner

Stiles: gotta go

Deleting her previous and thankfully unsent text, Y/N quickly typed in something else, her heart almost leaping out of her chest.

Y/N: oh okay, np

Y/N’s wet hair cascaded down her shoulder as she removed the towel from her head, letting her body gently plop down onto her bed.

Had she truly imagined it all? Something was off, but somehow, she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. The girl braided her damp hair and slipped under her toasty covers. Exhaustion soon took over her body and pushed her into a deep slumber, her dreamless sleep a tranquil break from her precipitating thoughts.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Amor loves to have one’s undivided attention. It slips through the thinnest of cracks and likes to hide behind your thoughts, carefully creeping around your mind, giggling at your confusion. Without even knowing it, you consume amor, you breathe it in, you bathe in it.

Amor is sneaky. Which is precisely how Y/N went about her day, ate, showered, studied, breathed without ever discerning her bewitchment.

Monday’s sunrays broke over the horizon, the song of gleeful robins piercing through the cool morning air. Lazily, Y/N slipped her clothes on and decided to walk to school, enjoying the crisp breeze. Autumn trees coasted along the route as she slowly carried herself to school, her tired eyes carefully observing the orange and brown leaves twirl down in timeless waltzes onto the cold concrete ground.

When she finally got to school, Y/N walked over to her locker, unlocking the padlock with her designated combination. As she placed the contents of her bag on top of the metal shelves and retrieved her chem notes, Y/N readjusted the wine-red turtleneck she had meticulously picked out from her wardrobe the day before.

“Uncomfortable but necessary.” She thought to herself as she turned around.

Her heart suddenly leapt into her chest, her eyes landing on Stiles’ dark blue flannel shirt. Taking a step forward, she was about to call out his name, when his eyes met hers. Time paused yet again, Stiles’ furtive gaze avoiding hers, his amber irises quickly looking down at his feet as he resumed his conversation with Scott.

A brief glimpse of the undeniable tension between the pair, a sight covered by amor’s thick layer of fog.

A wave of hurt washed over Y/N’s entire body, but she bit her lip and hurried off to class, choosing to ignore the feeling rather than dwell on it.

Class seemed to last even longer than usual, the constant tick-tick-tick of the clock rocking Y/N into a state of pure passiveness. The words spoken by her teacher floated around her head, seeping out through her ears almost as rapidly as they had penetrated her mind.

When the lunch bell rang, Y/N couldn’t help but exhale softly, releasing some of the tension stacked atop her weary shoulders since earlier that day. No matter how much she tried to focus on her notes, a chaotic whirlwind slowly formed inside of her, preventing her from following the teacher’s train of thought.

Her fingers furiously tapping against her thigh, Y/N stood up hurriedly and grabbed her bag, sliding its handles onto her shoulder. Pushing her way through the crowd of students, she walked out of the building and onto the school field, making her way towards the walnut tree.

“Hey, Y/N!” shouted Allison, waving her over with her gentle hands.

Y/N rushed over and plopped down by the brunette, breathing in the cool air.

“Where are the others?” she asked, noticing how empty the table was.

“Why are you so impatient? The bell only just rang,” Allison said, her light laughter filling the atmosphere surrounding them.

Y/N watched as the group slowly reunited, Scott and Kira walking over nonchalantly, arms linked together, followed by Isaac, unmistakingly blushing at the sight of Allison. Finally, Lydia joined the table and sat across from Y/N, her beautiful hair wrapped into a low bun.

“I am so hungry,” said Scott as he hurriedly took out his sandwich, eagerly taking a large bite out of it with a moan.

“I thought I was gonna pass out in calculus. I am so tired!” exclaimed Allison, burying her face in her delicate hands.

“Yeah, I still haven’t recovered from Friday,” agreed Lydia.

Y/N’s mind flashed right back to the sweaty dance floor, bursts of colour flooding her memory, and she bit down on her lip, shutting her eyes.

“Y/N, you okay?” asked Isaac. The group looked over at her, puzzled faces staring at her own.

“Yeah, everything’s fine!” she replied, her fingers dramatically twisting around the fabric of her coat.

“So, uh, where’s Stiles?” she asked, quickly but not subtly changing the subject.

Scott’s head slightly tilted to the right, a confused expression on his face.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Didn’t tell me what?”

Scott nonchalantly pointed at a table a few feet away from the walnut tree where the gang was seated, Y/N’s eyes following his lead. Her puzzled gaze landed on the dark blue flannel shirt from that morning, wrapped around a boy sitting across from a tall brown-haired girl, their heads buried in books, but their eyes fixated on each other.

“There’s this new girl, Malia Tate. He offered to help her with her math,” explained Scott, unaware of the pit deepening in Y/N’s gut.

As Y/N observed the pair sitting far away from the group’s table, the pumping muscle lodged between her lungs tightened with affliction, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.

The voices surrounding her melted into each other, the sound of her friends’ chatter fading into the background as she kept on staring, the ache in her abdomen persisting.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Several interminable weeks had passed since this particular lunch break. November was slowly coming to an end, along with Y/N’s withering patience. The air had become cooler, and not just the one blowing through the leafless trees.

Stiles and Y/N’s friendship had started to abate, its previous progression suddenly coming to a strange halt, much to Y/N’s dismay. Her phone occasionally buzzed, the screen revealing only a brief answer on his part, or a funny picture or joke every once in a while. However, the long phone calls and texts until 2 am had seemingly come to an end.

Y/N couldn’t exactly pinpoint how it made her feel, but it didn’t feel good, that much was clear. Stiles hadn’t disappeared from the face of the earth, but his texts were spread much further apart, and when he was around, at lunch or in class, he wasn’t truly there, always focused on something else.

She couldn’t help but feel as though there was a void in her day, a gap only replenishable by the mole-speckled boy. She tried to distract herself from the looming feeling of loneliness by hanging out with Allison and Lydia, their light hearted conversations usually effective. Only, her attempts fell short as soon as she was alone again. It had come to a point where Y/N would count the hours between each message, trying to come up with reasons why he wouldn’t just text her back sooner. None of this helped of course.

Constantly thinking about the source of your pain can only do one thing: vivify it.

One rainy Tuesday, Y/N sat down at a table in the school cafeteria, dropping her lunch tray onto the cool surface with a soft thud. Squeezing in between Lydia and Allison, across from Scott and Isaac, she reached for her apple and bit into it with a satisfying crunch as the chatter surrounding her slowly increased.

The girls chatted as the boys focused on Scott’s phone, their eyes glued to the screen.

Y/N raised an eyebrow at them and leaned forward, snapping her fingers just a few inches away from their faces. Scott’s head snapped upwards and Isaac startled, the pair releasing a breath as she chuckled.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” she asked.

Isaac handed her the phone before grabbing his turkey sandwich.

“Our English teacher showed us this website with a bunch of riddles and we’re trying to figure some of them out,” Scott replied, pointing at the screen as Y/N slowly scrolled down.

“You guys are studying riddles?” Allison gasped. “Why do we always get stuck with the boring English teacher?”

“The more you take, the more you leave behind.” Y/N read one of the riddles aloud.

“Footsteps,” replied Lydia with ease, nibbling on her carrot sticks.

“Okay genius, what about this. What is easy to get into but harder to get out of?” Allison asked, peering over Y/N’s shoulder.

Lydia paused, reflecting quietly as the group observed her furrowed brow with amusement.

“Can I give it a go?” asked Isaac, hand raised.

“Go ahead.”

“Trouble?”

“That’s it!” replied Allison.

“Of course you’d get that one right,” Y/N joked, shaking her head.

“Oh okay, try this one. Who has married hundreds but still stays single?”

Suddenly, Stiles’ voice resonated in Y/N’s ears as he sat down next to Scott, his lips curled into a grin.

“A priest,” he said, accompanied by a soft click of his tongue.

“Correct,” replied Y/N, pointedly staring down at her apple.

“Speaking of weddings…when’s yours Stiles? We’re all invited right? And is it an open bar or have you not yet discussed your opti-“

“That’s funny, Isaac, that’s very funny,” answered Stiles. “Yeah, I’ll make sure your invitation gets lost in the mail.”

“Seriously though...Malia?” asked Scott, a sly smile drawn on his lips, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards.

Stiles blushed a little, avoiding everyone’s gazes as he watched his fingers repeatedly tap against the table, his lips pursing together.

“Malia, the girl from your math class?” inquired Lydia.

“Yep, and they’ve been talking…a lot…” Scott teased, his voice higher than usual. Stiles shot him a glare and shook his head in disbelief.

“You can’t keep a thing to yourself can you?” he laughed.

“Wait, so are you guys…?” Allison asked, her chin resting in the palm of her hand.

Y/N shot a glance at Stiles, her heart picking up its pace as she waited for a response.

Was something going on between them? Were they just friends? Was Malia the reason why Stiles and her weren’t talking as much?

“We’re talking. She’s fun. It’s fun. Talking, is- fun,” Stiles said, fumbling his words in embarrassment, his cheeks flooding with red.

“Wow, you’re smitten aren’t you?”

“Okay! Guys, let’s give him a break from the interrogation. He looks like he’s about to explode,” exclaimed Y/N, desperately trying to change the subject, for both their sakes.

Stiles sent her a grateful look and chuckled, the group moving onto another topic, enjoying their lunch together before classes started anew.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Later, after the busy day had winded down and the sun had dipped beneath the horizon, Y/N lay on her bed, the tiny fairy lights hanging on her wall catching her eye as she quietly hummed along to Peach Pit. As the leader singer gave way to the guitarist’s blissful riff, her phone buzzed, and her quiet bubble burst.

She sighed as she reached for it, her fingers connecting with the cool screen. Her tired eyes adjusting to the sudden blue light, she focused on the screen, her lips curling into a soft smile as she read the words she had just received.

Stiles: what comes in hard but comes out soft?

Stiles: tip: you can blow it

Y/N: you’re disgusting

Stiles: excuse me

Stiles: I don’t know what you’re talking about

Y/N: what is it?

Stiles: it’s gum

Y/N shook her head, rolling her eyes at the pervy connotation.

Y/N: ha ha ha

Stiles: it’s not my fault you have a dirty mind

Y/N: yea yea, I was completely innocent before meeting you guys

Stiles: please

Stiles: there’s nothing innocent about you

She stopped, rereading the words carefully, her memories from the Halloween rave flooding back. Those god awful colours just couldn’t stop dancing in the back of her mind.

Hesitantly, she typed in her answer.

Y/N: so what’s up?

She patiently waited, her hands still holding onto her phone, the soft music in the background rocking her peacefully.

Stiles: well

Stiles: I’ve been talking to Malia a lot

Y/N: how’s it going with her?

Stiles: actually we’re hanging out tomorrow

Stiles: in the woods

Y/N felt a pang of hurt in her abdomen but she swiftly ignored it.

Y/N: wow

Y/N: is this a date?

Time stopped for a few seconds before his painful answer showed up on the screen.

Stiles: I think so yea

Y/N: damn

Y/N: so you really like her huh?

Stiles: yea she’s great

Stiles: she’s kind of dominant too?

Stiles: very assertive

Stiles: it’s

Stiles: interesting

Y/N: you like that?

Stiles: it’s definitely not something I’m used to

Stiles: but yea it’s nice

Stiles: I haven’t really talked to anyone about this besides Scott so don’t tell anyone please

Y/N: ofc not

Stiles: thanks

Stiles: quick question

Stiles: might sound weird so don’t judge me

Y/N: go ahead lmao

Stiles: what do you do before you kiss a girl

Stiles: do you ask for permission or do you just do it?

Y/N’s heart momentarily stopped beating and she gulped, her eyes fixated on the surprisingly hurtful words. Her mind completely blank, she paused the music from her computer and passed a hand through her hair, trying to think of an answer. Finally, she drew a deep breath and replied, her hands steady as stone.

Y/N: there’s no answer to that haha

Y/N: you have to do what feels natural

Stiles: yea, you’re probably right

Stiles: just don’t want to mess it up

Y/N: you won’t

Stiles: thanks

Y/N: tell me how it goes!

Stiles: will do

Stiles: and thanks again

Y/N: npp

Y/N shut her phone off and plugged her charger in, placing it on her bedside table. Turning off all of the lights, and drawing her bedroom curtains to a close, she settled beneath her comforter, spreading her limbs with a wide stretch. As she shifted onto her side, placing her hands underneath her cool pillow, she let her eyes roam around her bedroom, thoughts churning in her head.

He had feelings for this girl. Stiles actually liked Malia. And not only was he going on a date with her, but he had talked to Y/N about it. Had she really just imagined it was Stiles on that dance floor? Had she really just mistaken the person kissing her, sliding his lips up and down her neck as she held onto him? And if so, if all of this was purely just her mind playing tricks on her, what did that mean? Did she want it to have been Stiles?

Amor was lingering around her head but she couldn’t see it. All of these questions bustling in her mind soon blended into silence as she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

The next day flew by in a blur of classes and scribbles on sheets of paper, a bland and monotone school day. Only one event stood out.

Stiles: well it’s official

Stiles: Stiles Stilinski is a bachelor no more

She congratulated him and heard all of the details surrounding Stiles’ date with Malia. The brunette had laughed at his jokes, she’d held his hand, they’d walked down the stream in the woods, talking endlessly, and then he had leaned in and kissed her.

And she had kissed him back.

What the group had originally thought to be a fling had turned into something more, it had become a real serious relationship.

More absent than ever, Stiles spent most of his time with his new girlfriend, enjoying the feeling of her lips against his own when they kissed each other and the complicity between them. Everyone could tell he was beyond excited about the thrilling sensations that came with young love, though no one other than Y/N knew just how much.

Every day, her phone buzzed, the notifications reminding her that her friend loved making Malia laugh, or that Malia liked the same band he did. Reminding her that he was happy.

And Y/N was unbelievably happy for him as well. She tried to focus on the positives, mainly the fact that the pair had started talking again. Things had gone back to normal, their inside jokes rekindled and their conversations more frequent. But still, something just didn’t sit right.

Y/N pushed this feeling away, diving into new hobbies and hanging out with her friends. As a child, she had always loved drawing and painting. As a matter of fact, she had even followed lessons in an atelier not far from her house, in her hometown. She’d always loved painting but as she had grown older, her extra time had become much slimmer and with life getting in the way, she had had to let it go.

Then one fateful December afternoon, Lydia forced the girls to paint with her in the art room at school. Much to Y/N’s surprise, the tranquility she had felt as a child while holding a brush came back unbelievably naturally.

It was like the brush had never left the palm of her hand. So she started painting again.

When she wasn’t studying or spending time with the pack, creating timeless memories with them, she was hidden away in her room by the window, her fingers curling around her paintbrush, her hair wrapped into a loose bun.

The simple act of turning thin stripes of colour into shapes and scenes was so beautifully appeasing to her. With every flick of her hand, with every twist and turn of blues and yellows onto the white canvas, she felt herself come alive again. Every worry, every disappointment, and every doubt poured out of her hands and blended into the mythical paradises she painted.

Sometimes we live without something, and we don’t realize just how much we miss it until we let it back in. She had missed this terribly.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

As the early mornings became darker and darker with every passing day, Y/N spent hours watching the sky and the leafless trees, observing time and its slow and tantalizing movement. She memorized the scenes before her as she got dressed for school, her eyes lingering on the dark blue sky outside and the yellow halos of light emitted from the streetlamps.

Sometimes simple things like the way your eye catches the light can be astoundingly beautiful. Y/N paid attention to details in order to paint them later. Every trace, every shadow, every speck of light was equally important.

One morning, finally ready for school, Y/N walked out of her home, adjusting the red beanie on her head, her bag swung over her shoulder. The frosty morning air greeted her and she thanked herself for having decided to wear her dark grey wool sweater. Turning on the ignition (and the heat) of her dad’s car, Y/N left the driveway, and made her way to the high school, the sun slowly but surely peaking above the horizon.

Y/N’s fingers furiously tapped against the steering wheel of the car, the school coming into eyeshot. Classes were becoming more and more exhausting with winter exams right around the corner. The air was tense inside the school, students talking about their exam schedules and fears about their upcoming performances.

Y/N was nervous too. She was a good student, but quite often, she would get lost in her thoughts, ignoring her teachers rant about equations and The Scarlet Letter. She studied and she handed in her essays on time, however doubt clouded her mind, and maybe her hard work wouldn’t be enough.

These thoughts played on a loop in her head as Y/N attended her first two classes, time ticking by slowly.

When Y/N entered her classroom for the third period, students shoved past her, quickly exiting the room and heading on to their next lesson. She slumped into her seat, her bag landing on the surface of her desk with a thud. As she waited for her history professor to get to class, her eyes scanned the room.

She watched her fellow classmates enter the room, chatting loudly, groups forming around students seated on their desks or lingering by the windows. She glanced to her right and noticed Stiles, always recognizable due to his colourful flannels, seated a few desks away from her, close to the blackboard.

“Stiles!” she called out his name, puzzled. He didn’t have history class with her. Her eyes lingered on his arched back and she repeated herself. “Stiles?”

His back still turned to her flinched at the sound of her voice and she frowned before standing up and walking over to him. As she inched closer, she glanced down at his fingers, curled around the edge of his desk, the tips white from the pressure of his grip. His knee burst up and down at a furious pace as she placed her hand on his shoulder, the color draining from her face when her gaze fell upon Stiles’ contorted expression.

“Stiles, what’s going on? Are you okay?” she asked with a whisper as she bent down next to him.

He emitted a small whine, his breathing suddenly more audible.

“Sti, talk to me,” she murmured, rubbing his back slowly.

His breathing became more unsteady with every movement of her hand and he gasped, making Y/N’s heart leap in her chest. The room had started to quiet down, and she turned, quickly realizing the scene was starting to draw a lot of attention. Putting her arm around her friend, she stood up and dragged him out of his chair, his legs staggering as he followed her out of the room.

As soon as the pair had gotten out of the classroom and into the hallway, Stiles’ breathing tripled in velocity, his breaths short and intense. Y/N held onto him, treading as quickly as possible through the hall, trying desperately to get to the boy’s locker room, where they’d be alone.

Pushing past the crowd of bustling students, Y/N’s eyes lit up as they approached the blue door she had been looking for. The pair burst into the dim locker room, Stiles rushing over to the back of the room, his legs giving in under the weight of his shaking body. His breathing was erratic and fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he punched the floor, the pain in his knuckles incomparable to the burning sensation in his gut. Y/N ran over to him, her knees hitting the floor with a painful thud, but she didn’t care, instead focusing on Stiles’ pale and tormented face.

“Breathe. Come on, breathe with me,” she said, an undeniable hint of worry in her voice she had difficulty hiding.

“I-I…can’t,” he gasped, a choked sob escaping his throat.

Y/N grabbed his quaking hands and held them in her sweaty palms, her eyes fixated on his.

“Sti, look at me. Look at me,” she insisted and he squinted at her through the thick tears spilling over the barrier of his eyelids. Soothingly caressing his shaking hands, her eyes piercing through his, she spoke, her voice a gentle anchor grounding him into reality.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything’s gonna be fine. I’m here. You’re okay,” she repeated, her voice slightly trembling.

She had never seen him like this. He was a shaking mess, his face wet and twisted in pain, his breathing still highly unsteady.

Stiles held onto her hands with difficulty, his chest heaving as he struggled not to give in to the never-ending waves of panic washing over his quaking body.

Y/N inhaled and exhaled slowly, her eyes never leaving his. Her exaggerated breaths were soon followed by his own weak attempts at controlling his lungs, groans of pain slipping through his gritted teeth.

“Here do this. Press your finger against one of your nostrils and inhale for 5 seconds with the other. You can do this,” she said, acting out her words as carefully as possible.

Stiles struggled to follow her lead but slowly, he pushed the tip of his shaking finger into his skin, blocking the path for oxygen through his left nostril.

“Okay, good. Inhale. 1…2…3…” she counted, and he inhaled with her, his breath occasionally bursting through his mouth.

“Keep going, come on. 4…5…Hold it in!” she cried, her eyes welling up at the sight of Stiles’ pained expression, his chest obviously about to burst.

“Okay, breathe out, with me. 1…2…3…4…5…” Y/N murmured, her gentle fingers caressing his hand. The boy exhaled with her and shook his head, almost as if he couldn’t believe the method was starting to work.

“You’re doing great. Switch nostrils now. There you go. 1…2…3…”

The pair breathed in and out in sync, Y/N’s hands still holding Stiles’. After a few minutes, each breath of his was accompanied by a slightly deeper one, Y/N’s shoulders loosening with relief as a wave of calm washed over her.

As the chaos in the room started to subside, she felt Stiles’ fingers tighten in her palm, his sweaty skin pressed against hers. She looked into his red-rimmed eyes and gave it a reassuring squeeze, her unoccupied hand reaching up to wipe the tears off of his weary face as her body shifted upwards.

Before she could touch his skin, Stiles caught her hand and pulled her into an embrace, his lips quivering tremendously as he broke down, warm tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Don’t leave, please. I need you. I need you,” he repeated like a mantra, his entire body going limp in Y/N’s arms, strangled sobs escaping from his sore throat. The girl closed her eyes as the felt Stiles’ heart thunder furiously against her chest, small tears threatening to spill over her eyelids.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered in his ear, tightening her embrace.

“I need you. I need you.”

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rwby-grimm-guardians · 3 years

Text

RWBY Grimm Guardians Arc 3: Separated Union Ch 8

Side Red III: Stories

Welcome back to Separated Union! Here’s Side Red III and here, we learn more about Summer, Evergreen and Anna discuss about Oscar, and Summer and Anna do some catching up.

Also, THIS IS LONG YET AGAIN. Please take your time to read through it. If you need to, take a break from reading it and continue it later. Thank you.

As usual, please give constructive criticism and enjoy.

Disclaimer: Still own nothing.

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(We got another segment with “horror” themed elements and themes that some viewers might find disturbing. So, if you see hhhhhhhhhhhh, then that means you are entering or exiting the horror section.)

-hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-

(At the Evernight Castle….)

Ruby blinked. She looked around her, noticing she was in an unfamiliar building. The only thing she knew was that she seemed to be in a...throne room… “Where...am I?” She asked, before finding a mirror. The teenager noticed that she was wearing an entirely different outfit and sporting a new haircut, similar to that of what her mother had now. Short and a bit wild. She was also wearing broken handcuffs. The young leader also noticed scars on her arms and legs, possibly from an escape attempt.

“Was I...a p-prisoner…?” She asked, startled and shocked by her situation. “W-Why would I be…?”

Unfortunately for Ruby, the biggest...and most terrifying surprise was yet to come… There was a thunderous crack and rumble in the air and floor, before yelping in shock as a giant white Grimm-skeletal-armored ARM slammed in the windowed-side of the room, shattering the glass and breaking the architecture. The teenager’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening as she saw that the giant limb belonged to a black dressed woman with ghostly white skin and hair, as well as Grimm-like eyes.

The woman, based on observation alone, seemed to be close to 200 feet.... She also had similar armor on her entire body and was also wielding a similarly styled giant claymore. The woman also seemed to have titanic Grimm-like wings. “What the FUCK…” Ruby whispered, only to have her attention drawn towards the woman’s opponent. Now, Ruby expected multiple things to fight this giant behemoth. Dozens of Atlas airships. A giant robot. EVEN the Gods of Light and Darkness were a possibility.

So when the teenager saw a towering Summer Rose, in the appearance Ruby remembered from childhood and photos, she quite predictably panicked. She instinctively attempted to run, knowing that she wasn’t to be able to defeat something like the armored woman ALONE. However, when she reached the door to the room, the teenager noticed it had been blocked off by rubble from the impact of the giant woman’s arm. “Ah, shit…” Ruby whispered, quickly looking around for an exit.

The air and floor shook violently again as Ruby turned to see her mother’s sabers clash with the giant claymore. Summer let out a furious and uncanny wolf-like growl, before her determined expression turned into one of shock and fear as she turned and spotted the teenager. Using the pause to her advantage, the armored woman grabbed her opponent by the hair and kneed her in the face, before punching her with a left hook. Summer staggered, collapsing to her knees as blood dripped from her nose.

The elder Rose then pulled herself to her feet as she grabbed the building for support, only to get blindsided and knocked back down by the armored woman slamming the hilt of the claymore across Summer’s face. This time, Ruby rushed over to her mother as the white cloaked woman groaned in pain, wiping the blood from her face. “MOM!” The teenager shouted, only for the girl’s mother to turn and groan out, “Run… Go…! You’re...not safe here...!”

“But what about y-...” Ruby’s pleading was cut off as a shadow loomed over the two...and she swore she felt her heart stop beating and her breathing cease. Slowly, she turned and looked up at the armored woman, her blood growing cold as the Grimm-like eyes glared and pierced through the Roses. “Run…now…!” Summer whispered, struggling to stand back up. The teenager felt her body shiver, “B-But…” “Please, Ruby... Go…!” Her mother pleaded, before shoving her daughter away.

With one last smile at her daughter, Summer turned to face the armored woman with a glare. Ruby got up to try and run to her mother again, only to witness the claymore being jammed into Summer’s heart in an instant, before blood gushed out of the wound grotesquely. The young leader felt tears stream down her face, screaming as her mother’s eyes closed and her body went limp… Summer was gone... and if Ruby didn’t get out of the room, she would be too…

Ruby immediately got to her feet and scrambled to the other end of the room, trying to find a way out. “Shitshitshit...come on…!” She whispered, searching for any windows or door she could go through. The teenager found none, before attempting to dig up as much rubble as she could to free the door. The young leader froze as the armored woman’s shadow loomed over her, preparing to bring her claymore down on the teenager.

As the blade came down, Ruby squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for the inevitable impact as the room around her shook violently….

-hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-

(1:33 AM at Mistral International Clinic)

Ruby’s eyes shot open as she gasped for air, sitting up with a jolt. She immediately regarded that decision as she hissed and laid back down, feeling the stings from her injuries course through her. “What...the hell was that…?” She whispered. The teenager looked to her side, noticing Summer at the right side of the hospital bed, mumbling in her sleep. From what Ruby could tell, they seemed to be questions… Ruby put her hand on her mother’s shoulder, only to pull it back when the woman groaned.

Rubbing her eyes, Summer looked up at her daughter, raising an eyebrow in minor surprise. “Nightmare?” She asked, receiving a nod from the teenager. Ruby sighed, “A bit…” After a couple moments of silence, Summer walked to the left of the bed, before hopping onto the mattress. “We got some time, so how about we chat for a bit.” She suggested, laying down next to the teenager. “Might help.” Smiling, Ruby laid back down, snuggling up next to the elder Rose, asking, “Who goes first…?”

Summer shrugged, “That’s up to you, really. Though you seem to have a bit on your mind…” A few moments of silence came once more, before Ruby sighed, “I was...in a castle. I looked...a bit older and...much more different.” “I think I was a prisoner there.” She explained, before feeling her mother wrapping her arms around her protectively. Continuing, the teenager said, “There was an...armored Grimm-like woman. She was fighting YOU.” She then felt Summer freeze in place, drawing concern, “Mom?”

“ Merde …” The woman whispered. Ruby looked up at her, “Do you...know her or something…?” Sighing, Summer replied, “I...think? The woman you describe has...shown up in my nightmares. She...calls herself Salem.” “That one will have to wait until tomorrow.” She explained. Ruby nodded, before saying, “That’s it… At least, I think so. The ending happened too quickly.” The elder Rose KNEW that was a lie. However, she nodded anyway, before asking, “Are you going to be okay?”

A moment of silence passed. Then two. Then four, until Ruby mumbled, “I don’t know.” Figuring that talking about herself would help, Summer said, “My full name...is Summer Artemis Rose… I think…” “Remembered something from your childhood?” The teenager asked. Her mother nodded, “I...think. I...was dreaming where I was about your age. I was...in a snowy forest by a...castle.” Ruby raised an eyebrow, “Did you live near any of the old cities in Vale?” “I don’t know…” Summer said, “Maybe...?”

“A blonde woman with silver eyes called out to me…” She explained. “She was very concerned about me. Another woman, with hair similar to ours and a more athletic physique, tried to calm her.” The young leader nodded, “What did she say?” The elder Rose paused, attempting to remember the dream, before saying, “She said I was...naturally adventurous. Wild. A true wolf.” Summer paused again, before admitting, “I don’t remember the meaning of that last part at all.”

“Maybe it has to do with your semblance...or name…?” Ruby guessed. Her mother shrugged, “The name I could see having a connection. My semblance....” She paused once more, before sighing, “I don’t even remember what THAT is either… Even though I know I awakened it at an early age.” The teenager raised an eyebrow, “How early?” Summer tapped her chin, “Maybe...8 or 9 years old…? Give or take a couple months. That’s...about it, I think...”

“How did you...fall in love with Yang’s mom?” Ruby asked hesitantly, knowing that it was probably a sensitive topic. Summer hummed with a small smile, “When I first met Raven just before the opening speech at Beacon, she protected me from someone who tried to...score with me…” “Because of that, I developed a crush on her.” She explained. “Of course, those developed into legitimate feelings for her. Though she also had the same feelings.” The elder Rose smiled, “Even confessed and asked me out first too.”

Her daughter giggled, “Aw, that’s cute~.” “Isn’t it?” Summer chuckled. “She was a nervous wreck, but I managed to help her realize that I also had feelings for her.” She then sighed, “However, we...only reached a friends-with-benefits level…” She then explained, “I couldn’t bring myself to have a relationship with her that could’ve ended in breaking her heart…or losing her.” Ruby figured that her mother’s reasons for the decision were hidden in her days before Beacon.

“So, what about…?” She started, before Summer said, “I...don’t know how we ended up in a relationship with Tai…let alone maintain OUR relationship.” “We both loved him for the same reasons; that being his personality and morals.” She explained. The elder Rose’s hold on Ruby tightened a bit, saying, “I feel like I should stay with him, but I still love Raven with everything that I am… I feel like I should choose, but I...can’t.” Her voice sounded like she was ashamed of loving more than one person.

Of loving a blonde man with a heart that was bright as day who believed she was dead… And a current bandit leader with a dark, yet kind heart who both loved Summer enough to resurrect her...and was also forced to leave everything and everyone she loved. All in order to protect them. Summer loved them both...and yet, she felt like she needed to make a choice between them. ‘ Even though Raven still cares about me, does Tai?’ The elder Rose thought. ‘Hell, do EITHER of them still love me in THAT way?’

“Do you regret it?” Ruby asked, rubbing her mother’s arm. Her mother stayed silent for a few moments, before saying, “We all make decisions we regret for one reason or another.” “But loving Raven, loving Tai, and having you and Yang as my daughters...will NEVER be one of my regrets.” She explained. “I just…” Summer sighed, trying to collect her thoughts as she said, “I want you and Yang to be able to call Raven family...and possibly your Mom as well… I just want to put this family back together...”

“Well…” The young leader started. “I think you might be on the right track… Yang had...issues with her mother prior to you talking about her at Beacon.” The elder Rose nodded, “She seemed like it. She believed Raven abandoned her?” Ruby nodded, “Something like that. Not sure if Dad thinks so… But you helped Yang feel more positive about her mother.” “So, personally, I think you’re getting closer to that goal.” The teenager said.

Summer nodded, rubbing the ring Raven gave her on her finger as she said, “I’d like to hope so.” “Especially since I, and now you and Yang, know how far Raven would go to protect and save her loved ones.” She explained. Raven really was someone who’d go above and beyond to protect her family. Whether it’d be destroying or killing the threat, sacrificing her own happiness and life to protect her family’s, even going as far as to resurrect the dead. Summer knew that last one very personally.

Ruby nodded, now too tired to speak as she let out a yawn. The former STRQ leader chuckled, “That’s enough stories for now. Try to get some sleep, little gem.” The teenager didn’t need to be told twice as she fell asleep not long after Summer said that. Summer fought the urge to laugh, before kissing her daughter’s forehead. “ Beaux rêves , sweetie.” She whispered, before relaxing and closing her eyes as well. Though why did it feel like someone was eavesdropping on them?

Summer decided to worry about it tomorrow, since she didn’t sense any danger. So why did she feel a heavy weight in her chest?

…

She knew why. She wanted to be with Raven again...even though she loved Taiyang just as much. Summer wanted to hold Raven’s hand again. Hug her again. Kiss her again. Hell, she just wanted to see and talk to her again…

‘ Why do I feel like I have to choose? That I have to be with one person…? ’ Summer thought anxiously, before finally falling asleep with one last thought in her mind.

‘ It’s not fair… ’

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(8:45 AM)

The next morning, Anna found them both sleeping peacefully. They didn’t even budge when she walked in. Chuckling, she decided that Ruby’s check up could wait for now, before leaving the room and heading to the coffee room. There, she spotted Evergreen already pouring himself a cup. The former headmaster looked up with a smile, asking, “Would you like some?” The doctor nodded, “Please.” With that, the suited man poured another cup of coffee, before putting the coffee pot down and handing the cup to Anna.

“Thank you.” She said, sitting down. “May we talk, please?” “Sure.” The former headmaster said, sitting next to Anna. “If I may ask, is this about Oscar?” “You’re very observant, aren’t you?” The doctor asked. Evergreen nodded, “I have to be, as a headmaster and mentor…” The brunette attempted to cool her coffee with a chuckle, “I’m not sure if I’d go that far…” The former headmaster smirked, before sighing, “So, what is it about Oscar that we need to discuss?”

Anna sighed, “Well, he mentioned that you’re training him… Correct?” Evergreen sighed. He was afraid that this would be the topic of discussion. He wasn’t sure if he should tell the doctor about Ozma… “Only to protect himself…” The former headmaster said. It wasn’t a lie, as that WAS one of the reasons why he was training Oscar. Though it seemed the brunette knew that it wasn’t the full truth, as she said, “I’d believe you if I didn’t know Summer. She was also trained to protect herself…”

“Though your teachings with Oscar are not just to protect himself.” Anna said. “You’re not just training my son, are you?” Evergreen sighed. He was going to have to tell the doctor about Ozma in a way that wouldn’t make her hate the former headmaster. He tightened his grip on his cup, saying, “So… I fear that he might be…a target for manipulation, so to speak.” The doctor raised an eyebrow, “By whom?” “A woman from Remnant’s ancient history…” The white haired man said. “And maybe a man of the same origin.”

Evergreen sighed, “The former’s crazed and the latter is unable to make the right choice…regardless of his good intentions.” “You fear that one of them will get him killed. Regardless if it’s for the sake of a selfish desire…” The doctor realized. “Or a considerate belief. Right?” The former headmaster nodded, “Pretty much.” Anna nodded, “Then I suggest you continue.” Evergreen raised an eyebrow, “I...don’t think I follow. Are you…seriously asking me to continue training him?”

The doctor nodded, “Yes. Because he WILL have to protect himself one day. It’s better if he is trained sooner rather than later.” She then let out a heavy sigh. “He is also going to need someone to look up to.” She said. “And I don’t mean as a headmaster or huntsman…” The brunette looked at Evergreen in the eye, unfazed. “You promise me that you will be there for him in my stead. And protect him. Understand?”

The former headmaster realized that Anna was asking him to be something akin to a father-figure for Oscar. He nodded, “Yes, ma’am.” Anna looked at him for a few more moments, before sighing with a small smile, “Summer was right about you… You are different then how people portray you…” Evergreen smiled, “I’m flattered. Thank you.” He then sighed, “I wish more people did, honestly… Ironwood-.”

“Is a lying shit stain, as is Jacques… Some politicians and military officers of recent history are, sadly.” The doctor said, cutting the former headmaster off. “Don’t let a military officer or politician manipulate the way the average citizens see you as.” The white haired man looked at Anna, before nodding once more. “Understood, ma’am.” He said. The two then sat in a comfortable and supportive silence as they drank their cups of coffee. Both were a little shocked that they managed to connect in some form.

The two then turned to face a tired, but awake Summer, who just sat down next to the doctor. “Tired?” Evergreen asked, only to receive a grunt from the taller woman. He then looked at Anna, whispering, “I’ll give you two some privacy. You seem like you have a lot to discuss.” With that, he then left the room, the White Wolf looked at Anna, asking, “So, you have questions, right?” The doctor nodded with a smile, sipping her coffee again, “A few. I’m sure you’ll keep it short and to the point though.”

The former STRQ leader chuckled, “True. Let’s start with how I came back, right?” Anna nodded in agreement, giving Summer her full attention. Taking a breath, the taller woman explained, “So, I went on a mission that gave me false information. It was supposed to be a rescue mission, but it was an ambush made by Grimm Sapiens.” “Yes, they exist.” She said. “Raven unintentionally joined me. We killed the Grimm, only to get blindsided by another who was still alive.”

“She aimed for Raven, but I managed to take the blow and kill the Grimm.” Summer explained. “Died...and Raven used a ritual to bring me back as a Weapon Spirit.” Anna nodded, “And you...lost your memories?” The taller woman nodded, “Yeah. I was changed physically. Lost my memories. And was dormant for...11 years, if I recall correctly.” She then sighed, “I began regaining my memories during Ruby and Yang’s time at Beacon, but there are still a bit of gaps.”

“I barely remember anything before MY time at Beacon…” Summer said with a drained expression. The doctor put a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “You’ll get there. You’re already on a good path towards recovery.” The former STRQ leader looked at Anna, asking, “So. How about you?” The brunette took another sip of her coffee, “So, I assume Oscar has told you a few things.” The taller woman smiled tiredly, “Well, obviously you had him.” Anna chuckled, “Yes, I did.”

“I...assume he told you about his dad…” She said, her expression sad. Summer nodded, rubbing the doctor’s back, “I’m so sorry, Anna.” Anna sighed, “It’s...alright. I...think it was his time anyway…” The taller woman raised an eyebrow, queuing the brunette to say, “John had congenital heart disease… He went into surgery and...” The doctor sighed, “I wish I could’ve done...SOMETHING…” She felt Summer wrap her arms around the brunette. “I’m so sorry, Anna…” The taller woman whispered.

The doctor felt a couple tears run down her own face, before wiping them away. “Oscar was young at the time… He thinks his father was killed…” She whispered. “I don’t know how to tell him that John passed on from...something that CAN’T be killed…” Summer just held her old friend tighter as more tears ran down the doctor’s cheeks. Anna whispered as she buried her face into the taller woman’s shoulder, “Despite all that...it still hurts. Still empty. Still lonely. Cold. And fucking unfair…”

The two sat like that for a few minutes, before the doctor got a call. “I’m needed.” She said, gently breaking the hug. Summer placed her forehead on Anna’s, saying, “I’m here if you need to talk. Alright?” The brunette gave a tired smile, “I know. Thank you…” With that, she got up and headed out the door to help another patient. Summer then sat in the coffee room. Alone...and with a lot on her mind now. She felt a weight in her chest again, before getting up to find Qrow.

It didn’t even take her two minutes, as she found the former bandit at the nearby vending machine. “Qrow? May I borrow your scroll?” She asked. “Please?” The red caped man nodded, though puzzled as he handed it to his former leader, “What’s this about?” Summer bit her lip, before clenching her fists, “I need to make an important call.” No further words were said as she dialed a number and waited.

She had a feeling that Anna wasn’t able to say goodbye to John or cherish one more moment with him before he went into surgery. The taller woman heard regret in the doctor’s voice during her story. Summer was going to make sure that she would, at the very least, cherish whatever time she had now with her friends. Her loved ones. Her family. Within a few moments, a familiar voice rang in the taller woman’s ears.

“Qrow? Do you need something?” Taiyang asked on the other end. Summer sighed, “Tai… It’s me. I’m...not Crescent Rose either.” Both Qrow and the taller woman held their breath, before Summer heard Taiyang’s voice cracking, “Sum…?” The former STRQ leader felt her lips quiver into a smile as tears ran down her cheeks. She felt Qrow hug her as she said into the scroll, “Yeah. It’s me… I’m alive...again…” She sighed with a shuttered breath, before saying, “We...have a lot to talk about…”

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And there’s Side Red all finished! I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter and enjoyed the new lore on my AU Summer, as well as lore on Anna! And yeah, Summer FINALLY calls Tai and reveals her identity. Since I didn’t say it, the figure eavesdropping on Summer and Ruby is supposed to be Qrow.

I’ll explain why he did it next chapter.

And I’m all caught up here! Now I’ll be posting all chapters from here on on the same day. Next chapter will be a SPECIAL chapter, Side JNPR. And it WILL be focusing primarily on JNPR and Oscar. And an old friend will be returning.

#rwby #rwby ocs #rwby au #grimm guardians au #rwby fanfiction #qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #Summer Rose #ruby rose #rwby ozpin #Salem #rosebird (mentioned)#taiyang x summer (mentioned)#forgive me #i don't know the ship name for tai and summer. :(#giantess #tw horror #tw nightmares #tw violence

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naopao · 6 years

Text

Hanakotoba 花言葉

My entry for @genyattazine, featuring art by @heronfoot! Pre-orders are still available, so please consider purchasing! All proceeds go to charity. :)

He laughs as he cradles the flower in his hands. He cups it to his power core, several degrees hotter than his system’s recommended temperature.

Before the weight of the tiny, fragile bloom colors everything that is to come, Zenyatta’s heart soars.

Or, a Genyatta hanahaki fic.

99 percent.

Zenyatta has never seen the ocean before. The others follow Winston through the huge, salt-worn door into the watch point, but Zenyatta excuses himself to walk the cliffs.

His sensors register the mild chill (13.2 degrees Celsius) and gentle breeze (16.7 kilometers an hour), a data set, one of an endless sea that fails to account for the experience of them. The humidity (73.5 percent), dampness along his chassis, the salt in the air from the waves below (33 parts per thousand) against the sensors of his intake chamber.

“It’s so beautiful here.”

Deep, modulated, tinny from his respirator. The sound soothes Zenyatta, and the awe, the appreciation in each word, makes him fond.

“Truly.” Zenyatta replies. “You have not been here in many years. How do you feel?”

Genji falls in step next to him. Known variables: the shape of his shadow, the hues he casts, the gentle hum of his machinery, many times more advanced than Zenyatta’s own. Between one journey and the next, in the minutiae of lessons and koan and sparring matches, Zenyatta has come to find comfort in them.

“I am not sure nostalgia is the word. Being at this watch point again…” The silence between Genji’s thoughts, his mindfulness, Zenyatta also cherishes. “...is bittersweet. I was not in the right place to appreciate its beauty before.”

“What is most important is that you have a chance to experience it now.” Zenyatta hums.

“You are right as always, Master.”

The cheekiness of his tone is not lost on the omnic, who laughs.

“Not always.”

Genji steps closer to the edge of the cliff. Zenyatta turns to him as a quiet hiss muffles the distant crash of waves. Genji’s eyes are closed, his posture loose, comfortable; his chest expands as he takes in the cool, salted air, free of his respirator.

He has seen Genji many times without his helmet. It is the first time he sees him in the glow of the late afternoon sun, wind fluttering his matted hair, black with a tinge of gray. The first time he exists for a precious few seconds in the moment, without the weight of his burdens balanced on his soul.

It is a whisper. A hiccup. A gentle, blooming twist, so deep within Zenyatta he cannot identify its cause. It is not the golden warmth of the Iris, though it is warm: small, but powerful, concentrated in a drop of pure energy. It pulses like a tiny overload, one too many data sets, one too many amperes.

Only later, in the privacy of his own room, does he notice it in the mirror.

Just above his power core, nestled between the top two pistons, is a hint of bright pink. Zenyatta shifts with great care, curiosity overriding what should be fear, unease, trepidation. With gentle maneuvering, he works the obstruction from his chassis. His orbs, which had been rotating in a smooth circle around his head, still.

Grasped carefully between servos and smaller than the circle on his palm is a lotus bloom, mostly closed, petals tinged green with youth.

Zenyatta stares for several cycles. Its composition, its measurement, its fragrance, reveal nothing of its purpose. Then, as if he has skipped forward in time, he returns to himself, orbs resuming their slow orbit before settling around his throat.

He laughs as he cradles the flower in his hands. He cups it to his power core, several degrees hotter than his system’s recommended temperature.

Before the weight of the tiny, fragile bloom colors everything that is to come, Zenyatta’s heart soars.

87 percent.

Be it luck or fate, Zenyatta’s room has a balcony. It is modestly sized, outfitted with a small table and two rust-flecked chairs.

The blooms within his body are rooted deep, and even with dexterous hands, he cannot remove them from their source. Each time they are different species of flora, and Zenyatta finds a gentle, curious joy in identifying them. Lotus. Bluebells. Gardenias when Genji had fallen asleep next to him, his gentle snores rousing Zenyatta from meditation. Cactus blossoms after a morning of sparring, when Genji had removed his helmet and sweat glistened down the skin of his throat. His fans still quicken when Zenyatta remembers it, the deep-seated pulse of warmth that had no outlet—alien, terrifying, and desperately coveted. Jesse hailed to Genji right as it happened, and Zenyatta had never been more grateful for the man’s boisterous salutations than when it allowed him a quiet escape.

Each flower after the first, which he had pressed flat and preserved in the pages of his oldest and fondest book, he transplants. They should languish, struggle in the climate, some out of season, other rooted in improper soil. Yet, each prospers in whatever environment Zenyatta gives it, sustained, perhaps, on something that cannot be measured. First in cans and old crates, whatever he could find, then in terracotta pots, brought back from missions when his companions had discovered his hobby.

It should terrify him when the plants multiply, each overgrown leaf and petal warm with fragrance, and maybe it does, somewhere far off, ripples that finally kiss the shore. Closer to his heart is amusement, the pleasant grip of affection. His brother had been right, more so than he thought. Born. Created. Raised. Programmed. Both produced physical manifestations of their emotions. Suffering.

Love.

63 percent.

Dr. Ziegler requests his assistance in the med bay.

She had managed all support operations in the early days of the recall, but as her duties increased with each new member, Zenyatta helps however he can. He often catalogued her findings and corroborated medical treatments, and during extended shifts, when the doctor stared unseeing into the cold glow of her holopad, he brewed her coffee sweetened with ten milliliters of honey.

Today, however, his sensors record a second voice as the door slides open.

The conversation dies to the sound of Genji’s respirator reattaching. He sits next to Angela near her desk, empty besides a holopad and a tiny vial of muted orange. It shouldn’t surprise him; they are close now, appreciation replacing the old bitter, anger that had soured their relationship a decade prior.

Her hand, steadily balanced on his knee, tightens once before letting go.

Genji does not look at him.

“Zenyatta, thank you for coming. We were just finishing up,” she says.

“Of course.”

Zenyatta hovers in the doorway, uninvited in all but word. A tinge of discord as familiar as his own chassis brushes against him.

“Is something troubling you, my student?”

The tightness around his eyes says what Genji will not.

“I do not wish to discuss it.”

Genji walks past him at 1.3 times his normal gait, hurrying with a vestige of calm. The door hisses shut. Angela sighs.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. He came in suddenly with an urgent matter.”

She pockets the vial while studying her holopad.

“My apologies as well. I did not mean to interrupt.”

Genji had not looked, had not felt like that in several months, not since before they had left the monastery. Had he been the cause? Interrupted a moment years in the making—

“Zenyatta.”

He meets her bright eyes. Only then does he notice what holds her attention.

Zenyatta tilts his head down, watching the steady crawl of vines, thorned and nicking delicate circuitry. From them, tiny buds of shocking yellow bloom against the tired gray of his chest. It hurts in a distant way, pinched like something caught between nodes, too deep to fix.

Her face is milk white, though her voice is steady.

“I have never seen an omnic with this before.”

Zenyatta nods. He lifts his servos, catching a finger beneath an unfurled rose. Small enough to rip away, to hide before anyone could see.

“It is still early in its progression,” he offers.

“Let me take a look at you.”

Zenyatta climbs onto the examination table.

She tells him what he already knows: potentially deadly, cured in one of two ways.

“I do not know omnic physiology well enough to perform the operation. Brigitte may.” Angela shakes her head. “Though I have the feeling that you will not be making an appointment regardless.”

“You know me well, Dr. Ziegler.”

“Well enough to make me worry.” She smiles though the pinch in her brow doesn’t ease. “What happens here is confidential. However, I would advise action. Whoever it is, they would not wish to watch you waste away.”

“I appreciate your concern.”

Her palm is warm on his shoulder, rougher than her unlined face suggests.

“Please take care of yourself.”

34 percent.

Zenyatta taps the last of the hibiscus into dark loam. The pot is large this time, proportional to the flower, a pleasing contrast to the more delicate plants in his collection. Soil clings to the joints of his fingers, but unlike the twist of roots within his body, it is easily removed.

“Wow. It is really coming along.”

A beat. A shudder.

“It is.”

32 percent.

Zenyatta stands with terracotta clutched in his hands, joints tight, slow. They are always such now. Mid morning sun brightens the garden into an ever-shifting kaleidoscope. Surrounded by the manifestation of his feelings while their cause stands scarcely a foot behind him serves as a surreal experience.

“I, uh, brought you something.”

The path of his orbs jumbles for a moment. It had been a several days since he had seen his student. Their last meeting reverberates silently between them, a topic not yet breached, not when Zenyatta struggles to protect the relationship they have.

Zenyatta steels himself, then turns to face Genji.

Clasped between the white and gray of his student’s hands is a potted, unbloomed tulip.

“Not as impressive as these exotic breeds, but it should thrive in this climate.”

“I did not know you were knowledgeable about gardening.” Zenyatta’s array brightens. Oh, how he forgets himself, unable to tamp down the swell of joy as Genji places it among the others.

“I’m afraid I’m not. I had to ask around the city.” Genji smiles softly as he glances back at him. “It should not surprise me that you are able to encourage the flowers themselves to try their hardest.”

29 percent.

There is no crawl. No twinge. The flowers burst from his chassis with near staggering force.

21 percent. He freezes only a moment, core trembling, but Genji is turned toward the balcony, admiring the blooms.

Zenyatta nearly trips as his hover module offlines. He knows there will be questions, but he cannot answer, not yet. He does not have the words. The time is wrong, wrong—

Genji calls after him, but Zenyatta doesn’t look back, cannot for fear of exposing himself. His feet clatter against the dark, metal hallways of the watch point, but luckily (unluckily), Genji does not pursue.

15 percent.

He does not avoid Genji. Not on purpose. Zenyatta does not eat, so he steers clear of the mess hall. Dr. Zeigler had banned him from active duty, watch point operations included, so Zenyatta spends most days in his garden. He tends it even as his power dwindles, mindful contemplation replaced with daydreams of half-baked confessions.

His gaze falls to the tulip that Genji had given him. It had struggled at first, a few cold nights throwing its health into uncertainty. Zenyatta had brought it inside, the added warmth giving it the chance it needed to bloom into a beautiful, glossy red that stands out among the rest.

The truth...

The truth is he is afraid. Could he really face Genji, soft eyes softer with pity for the old, scuffed omnic who had helped him when he was at his lowest? Genji would be kind. Maybe he would even humor him, and that would be the worst of all, a bandage over an infected wound that needed to be lanced and scraped clean.

But selfishness battles just as hotly. To look at Genji and feel nothing.

He would die from that too.

11 percent.

It has come time to talk.

Zenyatta expects hesitance, but as always, Genji surprises him. He arrives within minutes, wordlessly sits next to him on the tattered rug lining the center of the balcony. The flowers whisper, the garden bright and overflowing, gems, grand and small, glittering in the afternoon sun.

“I know you have been troubled these past weeks. My hesitance has caused you undue suffering.”

Genji doesn’t move.

“Often we assume that our feelings are known and cherished. A touch. A token. That action alone is sufficient.”

Zenyatta wants to laugh; of everything they have been through, this is where his resolve stumbles.

“We forget that it is necessary to voice these feelings aloud.”

The sea wind catches the flora, the heavy, overgrown leaves shuddering in the tepid air.

“Words are limited. They are fickle. An expression of them will never come close to articulating the feelings of the soul.”

Ten percent. The vines crawl and twist around his core. His synth glitches.

“Master—”

“Please, Genji.”

He clutches his chest, staggered by the not quite pain of energy rerouting. The scent of his garden revives him, each one catalogued, remembered, relived.

Nine percent.

Zenyatta looks at his orbs, deactivated and nestled within the nooks of the planters. He hasn’t possessed the power to control them in a fortnight.

“You have come far. Changed so much. You possess a strength that could save this world.” His core trembles as he speaks. “If something were to keep you from it...from finding happiness and purpose...I could not bear it.”

“I fear I may be such an obstacle.” Yet, he must press on, cling foolishly to hope.

Had he not been so close to shutdown, perhaps he would’ve known then. The shifting emotional energy from those nearby is lost to him in his final hours.

“It is impossible to describe how much I—”

Genji’s only give is his fingers sinking into his thighs. His student snaps forward, folding in on himself.

The sounds freeze Zenyatta’s words in his synth.

Loud, wet coughs rasp through Genji’s respirator, so painful it makes the vines around his core seize, makes Zenyatta ache.

He moves with what little energy he has left, hands flattening to Genji’s spasming back. A pathetic trickle of harmony warms his palms. His array powers off for a few, horrifying seconds. Not yet. Not now, with Genji injured—

Five percent.

The impulse strikes, the last, bent match in the book.

“I love you.”

His voice breaks hard over the word, doubling its syllables, mimicking an embarrassed stutter rather than an expulsion of the last of his power.

Everything is quiet. Still. Like being in the center of the monastery cloisters, where the howl of the wind and the sounds of life fade, the hum of his own systems muted within its immensity.

For a moment, he wonders if his audial receptors have failed.

Six percent.

The immobilizing tightness in his body eases, a fist slowly but surely unfurling. His servos slide off Genji’s back as he straightens. He registers a familiar hiss.

His array fizzles, then powers online in stages, monochromes to vivid color.

Genji’s looking at him like he’s seeing him for the first time. He wipes at his mouth, drawing Zenyatta’s attention.

The bright blue of petals smears over his lips.

“Zenyatta,” he breathes, awe warming into a smile that brightens his whole face. “The color suits you.”

Genji’s hand closes the distance between them, settling between his top two pistons.

The same petals coating Genji’s lips bloom along his metal. A swan song, it seems, as they wither and shrivel before his array.

“Forget-me-nots,” Genji says, then his smile grows mischievous. “You led me to believe you were a green thumb. Cheater.”

Zenyatta does not have the energy to laugh, but he cannot resist the cautious joy that manifests in his bugging synth.

“A lie of omission. No one had asked,” he murmurs.

Genji’s hand shifts higher, the lightest touch against the gold chrome of his faceplate. There is no teasing lilt, no sheepishness. Quiet but clear.

“I love you, too.”

Zenyatta settles his hand over Genji’s, squeezing, leaning into his touch. They draw close, the smooth whisper of the garden reduced to the dry rattling of fall.

Just before their faces touch, Zenyatta speaks.

“You may find my french kiss lacking.”

Genji laughs against his chrome, heat and softness settling over the seam of his mouth.

“Whatever will we do?” he whispers, kissing him once more.

In the following days, after Zenyatta recuperates under Brigitte’s care (and many stern lectures), Genji helps him clean the balcony. They compost the decomposing remnants of the flowers, and repurpose them as a base for a new garden.

It is meticulous work, but rewarding. With the sun just beneath the horizon, they survey their progress. Planters line the ancient railings, each filled with properly spaced seeds hidden just beneath the surface. Local flora that would survive readily above the sea.

The only mark of color within is the tulip, fully bloomed, a promise of what’s to come.

#genyatta #genyattazine #hanahaki #genji #zenyatta #nao fic #overwatch fic

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dimenovelsfromoblivion · 7 years

Text

A Modern Woman’s Old Testament

Abby was sitting on the edge of her bed with her phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder while her hands held open her boot wide enough or her to slide in her foot. She was having an ill-timed conversation with her younger sister who grappled with quite a bit more uncertainty in her life than her ambitious sibling.

“I know there will be guys there, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to go,” said Abbey nearly falling backward as she pulled her boot up.

“Well, first off its a cow,” Abbey said with some annoyance in her voice.

“Oh, ok, whatever I’m sure this particular cow had a hand in the creation of the universe,” Abbey snapped. “Go ahead and pray to it I’ve gotta get to to work.”

“Ok I love you too,” Abbey sighed.

She tossed the phone on the bed and groaned in frustration. Her sister’s plethora of personal problems was more than she could manage at the moment. She was having a rare crisis of her own and sooner rather than later she was going to have to resolve it one way or another.

Her fiance Mark having once been an integral part of her before I reach 40 life plan was showing some very worrisome signs that she may have been on the wrong horse. The topic of reproduction was one that hadn’t often discussed at great lengths in their relationship. They both had promising careers and were both enjoying the disposable income and the waning years of what might be considered their youth far too much to consider taking on the responsibility of children.

That started to change when Mark’s mother was diagnosed with cancer. Now over the last few months, having kids went from something to think about at a later more stagnant stage of life to an emergency for Mark. Abby knew the pressure was primarily coming from his mother and she did feel guilty actively denying a dying woman the wish of cradling a grandchild at least once before it was too late. The truth was, though, for Abby it was just the wrong time, and nothing was going to change that.

At 33 years old Abbey was in what she considered her “golden years.” This was the time she would have as a fully cognizant and fully functioning adult to live the life and have the career she spent nearly fifteen years working to attain. This was the segment of her life where she would have the greatest opportunity to achieve as much in her field as humanly possible. It was a relatively small bloc of time, and she was determined to work harder than ever to make the most of it. She was not going to sacrifice that part of her life and that fulfillment of her existence to make someone’s final wish come true.

She went to the bedroom mirror and hastily ran a brush through her hair. She encountered some tangles and winced in pain as she tore right through them. She studied her face in the mirror and decided she looked fine, besides there was no time left for any touch ups. She grabbed her handbag and went to the kitchen to grab her breakfast smoothie. She saw Mark sitting at the table tapping on his phone. He didn’t look up at her, so she assumed he was still angry about last night’s argument.

She decided to try and break the ice “Ugh still more frogs and locusts,” she said with frustration. “I hope my umbrella holds up.”

“Yeah,” Mark curtly replied still not looking up from the screen.

“Make sure to pick up some lambs blood today to put on the door. Hannah said she heard the angel of death was probably going to pass through her sometime tonight,” she said before taking a gulp of the viscus breakfast drink.

“Why? We don’t have a firstborn to worry about,” Mark said condescendingly.

Abby was now too annoyed to continue her pursuit of reconciliation. She slammed the fridge door shut. “Ok Mark this is getting really old and really fucking annoying,” she hissed.

“You know what’s really fucking annoying is having a fiance who doesn't give a shit what I or my family, soon to be her family wants!” He fired back.

“Mark, you knew going into this I wasn’t going to be ready for kids for quite a while it isn’t fair to suddenly spring it on me like this,” she retorted sharply.

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know this was going happen?!” Demanded Mark. “I’m sorry I didn’t consider how my mother diagnosed with fucking cancer might get in the way of your career path!” Shouted Mark.

“Do you even understand what you’re asking Mark?! Do you?! It’s not you who's going to have to give up your career, destroy your body, and spend an indefinite period dealing with fluctuating hormones!” Abby railed, her white cheeks now burning with a crimson hue.

“Plenty of other women have done it and lived,” Mark said dismissively.

Abby took a deep breath and composed herself. “Whatever Mark I have to go,” she said with a voice filled with the tension of restrained fury.

Mark rolled his eyes, “Yeah like always,” he mumbled.

She marched in a way that wasn’t stomping but still the impact of her step declared her anger. She closed the door firmly but couldn't be considered a slam.

Outside the air was saturated with buzzing clouds of locusts that flew through the air without regard of what they might smash into. Car windows were covered with their splattered bodies and severed angular limbs.

“Ugh,” her face contorted with disgust.

She reached into her handbag and realized she had forgotten to bring her umbrella. She looked back at the door. She felt she had left holding the high ground and she couldn't risk that by going back in. She was hesitant to walk through the storm of wings saturating the air. She held her breath, kept her head down, and her shoulders and went into the swarm head on.

She recoiled from the sound of their vibrating wings tickling her ear. She could feel them pelting her through her coat. She lifted gaze she was almost to her car.

She decided to abandon the cautious approach and make a break for it. She got in her car and shut the door. The sound of the swarm was muffled by the car and soon faded into white noise. She started her car and gripped the wheel. The veil of denial tired around her eyes had slipped. The futility of the conflict between her and Mark and its implications were now clear and undeniable. She let go of the wheel, shut her eyes, and started taking deep even breaths. An emotional torrent in her gut was trying to blast it’s way up but she pushed it back down, and soon it became mild nausea. She opened her eyes and checked her vanity mirror. She shot herself a practiced smile. She held the friendly expression for a moment until she was convinced it looked authentic enough.

She was started by the sudden thud of something hitting her windshield. Smeared on the glass was a red and pink mush with a bent and twitching from leg stick out of the muck.

“Shit it’s the frogs,” She growled. She put her car into drive and sped off down the road. She was working a bit out of town today, the clinic was considerably longer than her commute, and that added stress of running late was something she didn’t need. She took some solace in the full proof excuse the frogs and locusts gave her but what to do about Mark?

That was the question she had grapple with during her long quiet commute. Breaking an engagement was going to be hard enough breaking an engagement with a fiance with a dying mother was a complication she had no known precedent to turn to, no personal confidant to advise a graceful exit. It was going to be a long day.

A hot white flash filled her rear view mirror, and the earth itself began to tremble. She gripped the steering wheel and brought the car to a controlled stop and kept her eyes fixed on the floor. The buckling road settled and the car became still The light gave way to a city-sized pillar of smoke that was quickly swallowing the sky.

Abby breathed a sigh of relief. “Don’t look back,” she reminded herself as she shifted back to drive and pressed on the gas.

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