#and I understand the desire to take pictures to prove they saw him in the wold

[lurkingshan]

After reading this post from @waitmyturtles about her read on Fire and Dynamite, I was thinking a bit more about the way the show has handled their story and what I love about it. And I think it comes down to a crucial point: Cooking Crush, unlike most Thai bl, is NOT in the bubble, and the presence of homophobia, both internal and external, cannot be separated from their story. This is a queer narrative to the core.

Both Fire and Dynamite are shaped by their sexuality and their experiences or fear of rejection because of it. Dynamite is out and proud and unapologetic about what he wants, and as we learn when his backstory is revealed to us, this is a direct response to the familial rejection he experienced when he came out. Dy is defiant and in your face with his desires because he has already experienced the worst kind of rejection and is always bracing for more. So he dares people to do it right out of the gate. He likes to know where he stands with people, so he’d rather be his brashest self and suffer the loss early before getting attached. He deals with fear by daring people to prove him right.

Fire takes his fear in the opposite direction, denying who he is and rejecting anything that makes him think too hard about the aspects of himself he does not want to deal with. Even without Dynamite in the picture, it was clear that he was trying to talk himself into liking Jane in a way he simply did not. Once we got to know his mother, the source of his fear became crystal clear, and it was easy to see why he worked so hard to suppress himself. Fire was unhappy living that way, and Dynamite was a constant reminder of what he was trying to keep down, so it’s no wonder he reacted so viscerally to him.

But that’s exactly why their story works. Fire needed someone who he couldn’t ignore to draw out his true self, and because Dynamite is so unwilling to put up with mixed messages and half-hearted declarations, Fire had to work himself all the way out before Dy would accept him. One of the genius things this show did in their arc was have Dy pull away as soon as Fire began sending mixed signals. Dynamite was fine in the face of Fire’s firm rejection—it as what he always expected to get from him along with everyone else. But he wouldn’t allow Fire to run hot and cold on him and play with his emotions, because that was where he knew he could get really hurt. And this boundary that Dy set forced Fire to figure out what he actually wanted and communicate it clearly.

Which is why we saw Fire change so much as soon as they were together, because in the process of deciding what he wanted from Dynamite, Fire had to make some decisions about who he wanted to be and how he wanted to live. And he chose to embrace his queerness and live a more authentic life. He is a new man in this relationship because he is being himself for the first time ever, and he’s finally breaking free from the weight of his own internalized homophobia. It’s a positive change and one that is clearly making him happy, and part of him must feel grateful to Dy for pushing him into figuring out what he wanted.

But crucially, that is where Dy’s pushing ends. He is utterly unwilling to make any further demands of Fire regarding coming out, to the point that Dy puts his own friendships at risk to hide their relationship and protect Fire until he’s ready. He understands the fear of rejection Fire is still dealing with because he lived it. And he has already proven that he’s up to the task of handling Fire’s mother whenever Fire is ready to face her. These two are still early in their relationship but they have already fallen into a very natural and easy pattern of providing each other emotional support and stability, and we can see them shoring each other up. They make a great pair and theirs is a story that can only exist between queer characters.

I just love that in this show that feels so light on the surface they have made room for such depth in the storytelling. Watching Cooking Crush feels like a warm hug because even though it’s gentle and funny and often silly, there are real emotional struggles to ground us, and the story takes them seriously. We’ve seen this consistently in the main storyline with Ten and Prem, and Fire and Dynamite are no exception.

[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

about behavior and Baz knowing his feelings vs Simon not knowing

Another way in which these books challenge expectations is that you see a character fully aware of his feelings for someone and expect them to act a certain way (tumblr has shown me incorrect quotes and other jokes and similar formats and I just want to put emphasis on incorrect).

I think a key thing is that Baz knows how he feels about Simon but gives nothing away, while Simon doesn’t know how he feels about Baz but he gives everything away anyway. Baz has restraint. Simon has none. This connects to how Baz is someone who tells you things while Simon shows you without telling you…

Way before Baz shows up, Simon’s POV clearly paints the picture of an obsession (in a “this is gay behavior” type of way). He has the type of obsession associated with romantic love – he just doesn’t know it yet. Before Baz shows up, Simon is already showing (but not telling) that he’s in love. When Baz shows up, he cuts through the chase and simply tells you he’s in love… In terms of words and verbal communication, Baz is clear in ways Simon might not be. But in terms of behavior? It is Simon, and not Baz, who is actually more obvious about his feelings. I think this is part of why awtwb has Simon (and not Baz) looking back to highlight his behavior as an obvious indicator of his feelings for Baz, as if Baz should have known. “I’m whatever I was when I was following you everywhere,” “you can’t be trusted to tell when people are into you because you couldn’t tell I was into you (no vibe-check)” I’m not saying Baz should have known shit, it’s understandable that he didn’t. But looking from the outside, it is far easier to point out Simon’s gay behavior because Baz has restraint Simon doesn't and he wants to hide himself. I mean, Simon is the one going to Baz to get his attention as soon as he shows up. Simon is the one going to every football practice to watch Baz play, and making sure he can listen to him practice with his violin – nothing Baz does is as obvious as this.

As an outsider, you could mistakenly believe that perhaps Baz is just a troublemaker, that he just wants to be antagonistic, and the closest he gets to giving something away (his jealousy) that’s quickly explained away heterosexually (and even if as an outsider you don’t believe he’s interested in her, you could still think he’s trying to be antagonistic by getting under Simon’s skin, what with him only doing shit when Simon is around). Even after kissing him, Simon still doesn’t contemplate that Baz likes him (although this also packs another set of issues).

I often joke (in an “I’m saying this as a joke but I’m dead serious” type of way) that when Simon is giving you a list (which is not long, mind you) of everything Baz has done to him to “prove” he’s A Villain, it looks like “every time Baz paid special attention to me: the greatest hits.” As much as Simon bitches about Baz’s plotting, it seems to me that outside of those moments, Baz actually just… tended to mind his business? That the mentioned list is as short as it is (even if it doesn’t include everything) because, in general, Baz didn’t have to do anything to get Simon’s attention, because he didn’t have to. Simon was on him practically the whole time. Something was bothering Baz whenever he acted up – if I remember correctly he mentions liking Simon’s attention whenever they fought before vs hating fighting when they are together – but in general, it seems to me that Baz didn’t have to do anything for Simon’s attention, because he had it all the time, to the point it began to suffocate him. Simon was taking the initiative perhaps in the same way he goes on to take it when he’s the one kissing Baz, asking to be boyfriends, and generally jumping him (desire).

It’s also important to highlight that, contrary to what someone who is going by assumptions might think, it’s not that Baz saw Simon a certain way (sparkles and floating flowers and shit) because he knows he’s in love, while Simon sees Baz in a certain way (unappealingly) because he’s seeing him as an evil little gremlin or some shit. Simon never really sees Baz as unappealing or ugly “because he’s evil.” Even when he’s brainwashing himself into roles (“Baz would be perfect if he wasn’t a vampire” – unpacking this should a different post) Simon still gives away that he’s attracted to him, that Baz is fit as fuck, that Baz being himself is enough to make him romantically desirable (because he’s in love). “He’s a creep” he thinks, while sulking because Baz doesn’t pay him attention while getting date vibes. “He always creeps me out and I totally mean it…. but I never can sleep well if he’s not in the same room as me... if I can’t listen to the sound of him breathing close to me...” I mean… c'mon. At the height of his brainwashed delusion (or however you want to call it, Simon already has an image of Baz as “anyone would want him,” way before he goes on to say that explicitly.

Also, as much as he might fantasize, it's not Baz who’s all “we should just kiss instead of fighting” because he’s aware he’s in love. It’s Simon. Simon is the one who’s all “We should never fight again and just roll around on the floor kissing” the second he gets even an inkling that he wants Baz. I saw a joke in that incorrect quote format that was like “Baz asks for a kiss” and “Simon says he wants him to die but we can’t always get what we want” or some shit and I can’t think of anything that’s farther from “capturing their vibes” or whatever. When Simon is combative he couldn’t be further from catching any vibe whatsoever, either from Baz or from himself, outside of the whole “hero vs nemesis” deal. Simon is the one who is all over Baz looking for a kiss with practically nothing, while Baz tries to act like Simon suddenly has brain damage because he just wants to kiss and be boyfriends. I mean, Baz’s thing is that he struggles with asking for what he wants – he’s too used to hiding himself (he doesn’t succeed in hiding his vampirism from Simon, but he very much succeeds in hiding his romantic feelings for him – Simon kisses him because he wants to kiss him, not because he’s figured out Baz wants him, even if Baz is giving "kiss me" vibes in that moment). Simon notes whenever they argue he just has to lean in and Baz would close his eyes, waiting to be kissed. It’s clear for us that Baz wants it badly because we have access to his thoughts, but this might be the beginning of Baz starting to give away that he does: after Simon has already made it clear that he wants Baz back.

[lauraneedstochill]

I've never liked to think that Aemond is evil, just someone who's been hurt too much time and time again and saw no justice for it; do you think he's evil? or that there's more to it than simply that? That he genuinely cares about people, his mother, his family?

I do not consider show!Aemond evil — I’d like to believe that, as the definition of the word suggests, you have to be more immoral and wicked, perhaps even a bit sadistic to be downright evil. I see him as calculating, emotionless, cold, and that paired with everything he’s done makes him a villain but not necessarily evil (…yet?).

his current feelings, though? I have no fcking clue because the show is doing a very poor job of explaining them properly. to me, Aemond from Season 1 and Aemond from Season 2 are two different people.

🔪 S1 Aemond, yes, he cared about his mother (she sought justice for him when no one else did, she offered him comfort even when she couldn’t fully understand his struggles), his family (he’d grow up thinking he had to step up and be the responsible one — to eventually take pride in becoming someone his family can rely on), and he knew what loyalty was, despite not being ecstatic about the order of things (Alicent did drill “in the world we must defend our own” into her kids' heads, and you bet, he was the fastest learner). the real tragedy of Aemond — to me — was about his deepest desires and his arrogance clashing with the picture-perfect image he’s grown into and didn’t mind portraying as it got him the love and trust of the ones he cared about, the approval and respect of everyone else. but his desires are too big and burning, and his arrogance is only fuel: of course, he deserves it all and he should take it — and he can take it BUT it will ruin the image he’s crafted and the bonds he’s formed. raised by the woman who put duty above all, can he betray everything she taught him to believe in? there are a few ways things can go from there but all the paths lead to his self-isolation and his downfall, although he keeps trying and trying to prove something till the very end, and it’s sad because it’s relatable — we are all trying, we all hate feeling that we are capable of more but simultaneously aren’t enough. if only he put all that effort somewhere else, maybe he could’ve been happier but we will never know. he dies young.

🔪 but S2 Aemond? they packed his character development in the tiniest bag and it’s never been opened once. the writers are so keen on blaming Aegon for everything, they don’t realize that making Aemond do a 180 because of one unfortunate joke is a disservice to the character. him deciding that regicide and fratricide aren’t a big deal is as wild as it is dumb: there’s no way he didn’t know it would damage his relationships with the very few people who loved him. how long can you milk “he was bullied as a child” before it bites you in the ass and makes your super-cool-much-wow character look like a thin-skinned boy who holds on to every offense instead of idk MOVING ON? because he did get his justice — he got the biggest dragon as a fuck you to the people who made fun of him for not having one, he only got stronger despite losing an eye, he got to be his mom’s most precious son and he DID get Luke killed (even if by mistake, the result is still the same — the bastard who maimed him won’t ever make fun of him again). how is that not enough? who and when decided that Aemond becoming a bully himself would be a great achievement? why holding him accountable for what he did isn’t fair but him being vengeful left and right is praised and cheered for? and he is not complex, I’m sorry, he just isn’t. he’s been robbed of proper reasoning and conflict, and I am getting tired of trying to peer into his one eye to get a hint of emotion while S1 Aemond could at least grant us little outbursts here and there to confirm that he is a human being and he can successfully keep his facade up while also having feelings.

S1 Aemond was many things, all of them fascinating. S2 Aemond makes me want to skip to the scenes of Daemon getting high and scared in some leaking castle (and I’m starting to wonder if maybe that’s the point?).

anyways, I hope Ryan Condal will be out of job when the show is over.

[haru-chi]

The source of Matoba Seiji's hate for Youkai ?

Lately, I've been thinking alot about this and didn't find anyone actually mention it from where I searched (?)

Seiji has many things going on for him .. (MANY THINGS that I just wanna talk about them all and just cry alot) but today I'll just focus on a little theory I have about this little matter :)

From where do I start I wonder ?

I've always noticed that in the manga especially when Seiji got first introduced, it was emphasized that he hold a certain grudge toward the youkai which's seems personal more than out of his job as an exorcist ..

These lines were on my mind along with some of Seiji's line, about how youkai always take advantages of human's weakness and vulnerability. then I linked alot of things together (my mind love to make me suffer it seems)

Does that mean, perhaps Seiji spoke from experience ? A personal one or because he saw alot of such cases, or maybe both ?

But either way, we never actually saw Seiji letting his guard down or having any weaknesses, not toward the Youkai at least.

You can't picture it right? the fearless merciless and powerful Matoba leader showing a weak side of him <3

But wait ..

Actually he DID show signs of weaknesses and yearing for something if you pay close attention to his reactions, wording or actions (lets not dig deeper into this or I'll break down T^T)

Let's look at the ones that's about our current subject, shall we ?

In his 2nd meeting with Natsume, he was composed and calm the whole discussion except ..

When this line triggered him greatly, that he went so far to prove his point of view in a harsh way for Natsume ..

"They will betray you, maybe you need to go through a bitter experience to understand"

Those lines felt it's about Seiji as much as to prove his point to Natsume ..

But what did happen, who betrayed him ? A "Kind" Youkai ?? Did he thought a Youaki was treating him kindly but then it stabbed his back later on ?? Or did he treat someone kindly but it decived him and took advantage of his kindness ??

Did something ring a bell ? About Seiji saying something like he'd treat someone kindly if he ever gets the chance to ?

Yup, he did say such a thing back in the past when he was a kid, in this part of the story we got two important info about Seiji :

his yearning for a Youkai to make a contract with him but he'll never get to because of his bloodline.

the fact that he's gonna be kind to whoever gonna make a contract with him and fight by his side.

That in itself was his weakness and we already know that this very desire is one of the sources that twisted him and result in the Seiji of today ..

Who took advantage of this desire of his ? It's a Youkai but he can't even make a contract with anyone so .... it's a Youkai that was with him not by contract but a deal or a promise between them mostly ...

Something else ring a bell ?

Do you know who I really think the only one who can take advantage of him and it was clear there's something between them but we really never get to know whatever happened to it afterward ..

The Youkai in the pot!! It's him!! The main reason for Seiji's grudge toward the Youkai!!

What actually happened between them I know not, no more info to go that far with .. but I can't unseen it anymore!!

Especially if we return to something I already posted here, but let look at it from another angle, shall we?

THIS ONE!!! DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN!!!

Natsume's line > focus on the pot > Seiji's triggered reaction

When I first read this story I though this way of putting focus on the pot was to prove Natsume's point of view or for the pot Youkai's shock by Natsume's kindness which changed his opinion later on ..

But what if that was indirect hint by Midorikawa-sensei for the real source of Seiji's deep grudge toward the Youkai ? I can see her doing such a thing that we won't understand until later on ..

So, in short that's what I have in my mind lately and been very deeply hurt and sad by it, so thought I wanna share it and see what people think of it. am I overthinking things again ? does it make no sense ? am I only making myself suffer ? MAYBE I AM BUT HEAR ME OUT!!

Just thinking that Seiji's kindness used against him in an ugly way is just ... he's not someone to show his kindness that easily so thinking that when he did so and openly this happened to him is just aaaaa STOP HURTING MY BOY HE DOESN'T DESRVE THIS !!!!

the fact that even though he was cunning, cautions and levelheaded when he was young, yet actually he was very naive and rash since I also bet no one knew about the Youkai in the pot except Natori who said he never saw that pot again ever since.

I'll shut up and leave it at that since if I keep going, I'll just keep on crying and screaming about this!! IT JUST HURTS ALOT AND BEEN CRYING ABOUT IT EVER SINCE I THOUGHT ABOUT THIS THEORY OF MINE!!!

[homoeroticfisticuffs]

wip wednesday

(this is from the same work i posted last week, because i've had so little time to write lately </3 this follows immediately after my last wip!) (word count: 1033)

She couldn’t deny that he had intrigued her right from the very start, initially being somewhat impressed by his combat skills and his affinity for his thief’s gadgets. He wasn’t like other men she had fought on typical jobs like this who would just try to use brute force to outmatch her; he was smart in the way that he fought, and probably would have beaten her if it hadn’t been for Rocket and Groot and their subsequent shared capture by the Nova Corps.

She found, reluctantly, that it was extremely easy to talk to him. Just a few minutes alone with him on a balcony in Knowhere had her spilling her whole life story to him, and earning his in return. She had never experienced that before, that honest kind of openness and closeness with someone else. Before she knew it he was showing her his music, the number one most treasured thing to him, putting the very item on her head that he had risked his own skin and bones to get back before their departure from the Kyln. It was almost overwhelming, and it was virtually impossible to resist when he gently cradled her hand in his and slowly leaned in for a kiss.

But she knew who she was, and more importantly who he was, and she knew she had absolutely no time to deal with his tricks at a time like this. So she put her blade to his throat, and that was that. No more tricks from him, message received.

But then, oh then, she found herself floating in the cold expanse of the void, her body becoming a stranger to warmth and to gravity as she watched the debris of her pod drift away, along with the face of her sister flying off into the distance. Even with her body mods she could feel her lungs start to struggle, along with the fractals of ice slowly beginning to form on her skin. Nothing in the galaxy could feel lonelier than this, she decided, completely abandoned and having failed herself and the world. This was to be her destiny; it seemed fitting.

But then he was there, despite everything. He had placed his mask on her head, his only way to breathe out there, choosing instead to give her the chance at surviving that emptiness. She took in a big gulp of air, looking at him through red lenses and seeing his frozen face, feeling gripped by an intense whirlpool of different emotions, the most prominent being confusion, concern, and fear; but for the first time in a long time, not for herself.

He would have died if Yondu hadn’t arrived at that exact moment. He would have died, just to make sure that she didn’t.

What the hell was she supposed to do with that?

Of course, in the end, the intense wave of emotions that was only made greater by his lying on top of her and cradling her face in his hands had come to its abrupt end when Quill decided to open his fucking mouth, proving himself yet again to be arrogant, shallow and selfish. With a sigh, she could only feel disappointed in herself for indulging in her childish hopes and desires.

Even then, as much as she tried to push it down, she could still feel a fondness for him growing in her over time. From the way he spoke as their captain to the way he ended up genuinely deciding to do something for the greater good, rather than just himself, he was growing on her in a way that she didn’t know what to do with.

She knew she couldn’t pretend not to care about him when she saw him grab an infinity stone with his bare hand like an idiot, watching him writhe on the ground in agony, and the only thing she could think about in that moment was how badly she needed to share in that agony so that he wouldn’t have to be alone.

She followed her captain after that, knowing she respected him in a way that was reserved only for him.

Things became more complicated when Ego came into the picture, taking him away from her in a way that she couldn’t understand why it bothered her so much. She wanted to be happy for him, she really did, and in a way, she was; she saw how amazed he was by all of it, and seeing him smile so earnestly definitely made her feel something warm and content, but she knew deep down that something wasn’t right. And that was completely separate from the disappointment that she felt at the fact that he seemed to be lost in this, and not including her as much as she wished he did on this journey that clearly meant so much to him.

She did her best to be there for him as much as she could. Even when he finally came to her, asking to dance, she tried to follow along with his steps but couldn’t shake the feeling that something was incredibly wrong.

She tried to deny the “unspoken thing,” because honestly, it was idiotic and childish, and she didn’t even understand the Terran allegory he was trying to make. It always irritated her blind when he would make his Terran references and expect the whole crew to magically understand what he meant, as if it wasn’t complete abilisk bile every time. 

But then she almost lost him again, and she had to be there for him in earnest through the death of someone he loved, and everything changed. She finally saw him in a different light, and found herself unable to deny their “unspoken thing.”

It was surprisingly easy being with him. Around her, he was completely patient and understanding, totally unlike the way he acted around Rocket and Drax, or even Mantis. His pride came second to her, which was an enormous relief considering the state that his confidence and overall character had been in when they first met. He was like a completely different person, in the best way possible. It was like taking in a breath of fresh air.

(as always you can find my other writing here!)

[feverinfeveroutfic]

the skeleton key | chapter seven: a caress of silver

”men wish to feel desired, women wish to feel in control”

-something i read learning about sexual needs (because i’m clueless otherwise) and something i wish this new generation of fic writers would understand already

It was one of those mornings in L.A. where the fog had rolled in and I was more than eager to head on out to the airport. I had to figure a way to go and meet the other guys again like what Marcy had told me, but for the time being, I was on my way to the Pacific Northwest. It had been quite some time since I had been up there, only ten years before.

Ten years. Ten years since I was last in Seattle.

It proved to be a homecoming for me the more I thought about it, and more so when I reached the airport and checked myself in for the first flight up the spine of the West Coast. I was going up there alone, and at some point, I was going to have to find my way back down to Sacramento to meet up with Marcy and Eric. And I was going to have to go back to work as well.

But for the time being, I was on my way up to the Emerald City, and I had my eye out for Alex once I touched down: apparently, his flight from Burbank came in at about an hour before me, which meant it was going to be me and him for a good chunk of the day. I chuckled to myself when I thought about seeing him from the plane window, that little plume of gray from the view into the airport. But I never did, until I reached the inside of the airport instead. He greeted me with those little buck teeth and his arms wide open for me.

“Hey, stranger!” I declared, and I held him close to me for a good long minute. It felt so wrong, but it felt so right at the same time. I then held back and gazed into his face, and I thought about giving him a kiss on those cherry lips. But then he beat me to the punchline and gave me a kiss, and he held me close again.

“Warm just like a bakery,” he remarked.

“I try my best,” I assured him with a smile.

“Come on... let's go check in and I'll take you to meet the guys,” he told me, and he offered to help me with my things out to the rental car that awaited us. I had my phone with me so I could take plenty of pictures for Marcy, but I was drawn to the big silvery camera dangled against Alex's hip, and more so when we prepared to go through baggage claim.

“Where'd you get that?” I asked him as we waited before the big conveyor belt.

“What, this?” He showed me the camera. “Oh, I've been into photography for a few years now. Randy—you may have seen him at the Metal Allegiance show, Randy Blythe, tall guy with the dreadlocks, the horned glasses, and the tattoos all over his arms, he's one of my best friends in the whole world—saw a picture I took and recommended I do more of that but with a proper photographer's camera. He lent me his and was thoroughly impressed by it, and then I had to give it back to him. It was an expensive camera.” And I chuckled at that.

“So you went ahead and got your own,” I followed along.

“Exactly!” he declared with a little twinkle to his eye. “And it seems to have done me justice, even as just a simple hobby on the side.”

My big blue overnight bag emerged on the conveyor belt, and he scooped it up for me and slung it over his shoulder.

“That's not too heavy?” I asked him as I remembered that I had packed a bunch of baking supplies in there.

“Not at all!” he assured me as we walked side by side. “Guitar cases and accompanying amps can get pretty heavy, but simple luggage is nothing for me.”

“You and your big, strong, lanky arms,” I noted with a glance at his biceps enshrouded under his peacoat, and I couldn't help myself. I reached up and gave him a squeeze on his upper arm.

“Yeah, you gotta be pretty strong to tour with a bunch of stuff like that,” he told me, and we stepped outside of the airport to the graying sky and the incoming rain. It was this gentle mist that fell in sheets, almost like the rain at the beach, and it was chilly enough for us to huddle together there at the walkway for a moment before we caught a break in the cars.

He led me to his rental, a small black hatchback with a rack on the roof even though we were nowhere near a place for skiing. He unlocked it for me and, once he tucked my bag next to his things, he turned to me with a deep, firm kiss on my lips.

“Make love to me,” he begged to me. “Give me what she can't give me.”

“You know I will,” I vowed to him.

“We're in Seattle, my dear,” he told me. “We should have some fun here.”

“Fun in Seattle even while it's pouring rain and drenching us down to our clothes.”

“Fun in Seattle with a cup of coffee and some scones,” he followed up.

“You want some scones?” I couldn't help the smile across my face.

“Yeah! You got any in your bag?” He chuckled at that.

“You wish,” I teased him. “I mean, I wanna make you some scones. Some chocolate ones, or chocolate and cherry like a play on the Black Forest cake.”

“Sounds devilish,” he replied with a slight squint to his eyes. “I like it. I think there is an oven in the room, too.”

“So, I could make some all for you,” I quipped, and I couldn't resist caressing his arms once again. “I brought my flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, vanilla extract, eggs, handheld mixer, measuring spoons and cups, pastry cutter, a couple of spatulas, and a sheet pan with me—I never go too far without them. I never know when I'm going to need them, so... I can definitely do that for you.”

“Oh, would you!” He cocked his head to the side a bit at the sound of that.

“You know it! Just let me get some other things first, like the chocolate and cherries and butter. I'll make sure they're kosher, too.”

He kissed my forehead right as the mist formed into straight rain, which then showered down in sheets over our heads. He then gazed up to the darkening sky, those blue eyes as bright as ever, and to the point I could not stop looking at them. In junction with the rain, they reminded me of the sky afterwards.

“You have the clearest eyes I have ever seen,” I told him, and he glanced down at me. The way his gray streak pointed up to the cold graying sky made me think it had descended from the clouds themselves. “You're like a ghost. The gray ghost.”

“I'm a dog,” he remarked with a straight face. “A wiry gray dog with floppy ears.”

“You mean the Weimareiner?” I asked him.

“Yeah, that's the one,” he replied with a snicker. He then peered up to the sky, such that the raindrops kissed his face and the crown of his head, and then he took a glimpse at his watch.

“It's after noon,” he declared, and he glanced down at me. “We don't check into the room until three, either. You wanna get a drink?”

“I'd love to have a drink,” I said. “A mimosa or something along the lines of brunch like that.”

“I think I spotted a place not too far from the hotel...” He gave me another kiss, and then we climbed into the car, and we drove to the western side of Seattle, complete with a view of the Puget Sound, and as far as I knew, it was ground zero for the grunge scene. When we climbed out, the rain waned back down to a fine mist.

Alex held his hand out for me, and I locked fingers with him. I huddled closer to him, away from the cold winds. I thought about asking him as to when the Metal Allegiance guys were going to meet up again, but I shelved it once we started walking onward to this little restaurant right down the block from our hotel.

He held the door for me, and I stepped inside first. We were greeted by the aroma of things cooking in the back part of that warmly lit place, such that he led me back there. There was a table under a single suspended lamp with a big stained glass shade covered in clusters of grapes and leaves; we huddled next to the window out to the street. Down the block stood the harbor itself.

He was going to be too tipsy to drive, but I let him have his fun with the big glass of beer and me with the mimosa in the champagne flute. I watched him drink that whole glass all the way to the bottom, and that point, his eyes drooped closed and he showed me more of a smile.

“Something tells me you haven't had a drink like this in a long time,” I remarked.

“Had a few too many,” he remarked with a little snicker.

“You certainly did, but I just had one too many,” I quipped; the mimosa was doing a number on me even without a second thought.

“Oh, c'mon, Alison, they always say that,” he hit back.

“'They'?”

“Yeah, you know. 'They.' 'Them.' The ones who always say that they—they—they—they—they—they had one too many.” He stifled a hiccup and showed me a sweet little smile complete with a peek of those little buck teeth. Sweet, but there was something tempting in there, however. He had had a few too many and now he had this look in his eyes as if he wanted to do something unthinkable in the back of that restaurant. It was just us there, after all. I leaned in closer to him with my arms folded over the top of the table before me so he would stay back a bit.

“There's something on your mind right now,” I said to him in a low enough voice for him to hear over the noise of the restaurant around us; he closed his lips so he showed me a little smirk instead. “There is something on your mind right now. We're in Seattle. We've had some drinks and now we're alone under a veil of immense passion courtesy of the sky overhead. You're feeling something.” His eyes hooded a bit, but it was enough to darken them. They went from that soft dream to the realm of a handsome devil at the drop of a hat.

I leaned in closer to the side of his head so my lips were right up next to the rim of his ear, obscured by his hair. He held still; out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him closing his, especially once I nudged the hair back away from his skin.

“Let me find the skeleton key into your heart,” I whispered into his ear, and I lightly kissed him on the side of the face. His shoulders jolted a bit, and I couldn't help but lick my lips and move on back to my spot. Alex opened his eyes again and gazed on at me, good, long, and hard right into my face as if he was trying to read my mind.

He then leaned in closer to me, to which stray tendrils of his frizzy dark hair drifted down over his shoulders: a piece spread over his brow and his eye as if to hide the two of us away from the world. Where I had breathed right into his ear, he brought his face up to mine so the full tip of his nose nearly brushed up against mine.

“I think you just found it,” he whispered back to me, and he locked lips with me. We were in public and yet he moved in slowly and deeply.

“I got my camera with me... and I just got the worst, stupidest idea, too,” he continued.

“I was thinking about that, too,” I said in a near whisper, as I helped him split the bill.

We were within range of Alki Beach, and we couldn't drive back to the hotel as of yet, at least not until the alcohol lightened up in our systems anyway. At that point, the rain had stopped enough to where the clouds broke a bit, and the sun shone down over us. I could stand by the fence that separated us from the rest of the gray waters of the Puget Sound as if I was posing for a glamour magazine. I leaned against the cables on the backs of my hands, right as the sun emerged from behind the clouds.

“Oh, that's stunning!” Alex declared as he held the camera to his face and pressed the shutter button. I opened my jacket to show off my shirt to him, including the low neckline.

One hand up on the cable closest to my head. My head tilted back all the while so I resembled Debbie Harry.

For a moment, I swore he was a young buck again, especially when showed me that crooked little smile from behind his camera. It was going to be something to meet the guys that evening, especially when I knew how things flowed between the two of us.

And I wondered as to how I was going to make those scones for him, too, especially since we were going to be tipsy for quite some time, possibly for the next few hours until we could check into the room.

But it made no difference to me as I posed for him and that camera. I was having too much fun, and I wanted to give him what he couldn't have back home. And all the while, I hadn’t thought about Jerry for one second.

[angelspigeon]

750 words of Asexuality discussion feat Zhongchi!!

“Thank you,” Ajax whispered. He pressed his lips together. “Zhongli, you’re…”

“I know,” Zhongli whispered. “My apologies. I…” His fingers shivered again. “I don’t know why… I hate when it happens. Sometimes… it reacts, and… I don’t know why. I don’t know why… When it happens… I wonder who am I? If I lied to myself for so long?”

“I don’t understand,” Ajax whispered.

Zhongli pressed the cotton on the wound. Ajax moved his hand to gently press it over Zhongli’s. Not because it hurt but because the hand still shivered.

“You were so beautiful, so enticing… I felt this urge. I felt my body reacts to it. Want you. And me…” Zhongli pressed his forehead against Ajax, once again. “Me… who am I?” Ajax gently lifted his face, holding his cheek in his palm. He invited him to pursue without pushing him around. “I am asexual, you know?” Zhongli said. “I never wanted someone sexually. I don’t even want you sexually.” Ajax blinked. “It isn’t an insult,” Zhongli quickly said.

“I know,” Ajax said under his breath.

“You are beautiful. The most beautiful person I never met.” Ajax smiled. “Inside and outside. And your pleasure is like a drug for me.” Zhongli’s hand squeezed around the cotton now imbibed of blood. “But I don’t feel sexual desire. I don’t want to make love to you. Then why my body…” Zhongli gulped. “And if my body reacts like this… was I lying to myself since the beginning?”

Ajax saw the doubt, the fear even, in the amber eyes.

Zhongli was really questioning himself.

So many years to be convinced of what he was and feeling good in this case… was it a lie? Were all those shows right? Asexuality didn’t exist? He was just awaiting ‘the good one’ which was obviously Ajax? Of course, Ajax was ‘the good one’, so precious, cute, thoughtful, and yet he had that sparkle of life, combativeness, and he even was a little bit a brat when he wanted to. But Zhongli thought he was ‘the good one’ for his heart, so why his penis had to…

“It’s alright,” Ajax said. “You’re not lying to yourself. Aren’t we evolving every day? I never thought I’ll need someone gentle like you, and yet… So if our taste evolve, if our perception change… can’t we realize we like different things? And people.” Ajax scratched his scalp. “I mean… I surely did lie to myself at some point, you know, but it was because I didn’t realize I was afraid of what my dad would accept or not. And now I’m lying to him. Then…” Ajax stared at his hands, adorned with nail polish. “Then this evolution can help you to understand who you are and put another name on what you feel. Maybe you’re just Demi! Or Ajaxsexual!” he added with a light laugh.

Zhongli felt Ajax tried to calm the atmosphere.

It really was so tight.

Zhongli grabbed some cotton and poured more alcohol on it.

He still was so confused. And he hated the sensation of his underwear too tiny for him, of his pants’ button about to explode under the pressure.

“Then! You know! It happens to me too,” Ajax pursued. “Sometimes my stupid body got stimulated by stuff I’m watching and it goes like ‘oh time to be horny’!” Ajax stretched with a chuckle.

He winced when the alcohol pressed on his belly.

“Perhaps…” Zhongli said.

It was weird to be cheered up that way by someone half his age. He never had any problem to define himself on the non-binary spectrum, nor to know he was bisexual even though the society tried to prove him wrong as he had only lovers who appeared as men to the eyes of the society. But he felt like this… this defined him more. Because it had been harder to understand, and because his body betrayed him. Because his body looked at someone like Ajax and made him feel uncomfortable.

He knew he wouldn’t love to lay Ajax on the couch and take him here and there. He couldn’t even picture himself doing it–although he would love to see him touch himself and show his pure beauty. He loved what was pretty.

Ajax was pretty.

The prettiest.

But…

What if he was a fraud?

His brain told him this each time libido took over it.

When he thought ‘I don’t want to make love to him’, his body sure was thinking ‘do it!’ to answer to some primal instinct.

And he hated that.

[rodanseys]

Review: Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner

Genre: Memoir

Rating: 5/5

Synopsis: Michelle Zauner, known more famously as the lead singer behind the band Japanese Breakfast, recounts her relationship with her mother through her adolescence until her early adulthood, when her mom died from cancer.  Being half-Korean on her mom’s side and born in the U.S., her mother’s death also causes Zauner to fight for cultural self-understanding. 

Content warnings: child abuse, death, racism

Review under the cut | More reviews & my 2023 reading list  

If you are looking for a sign to read this book, take this review as that sign!!!

Okay, I get the hype.  This book was piercing, funny, full of love, and full of hope.  I had a grandmother pass away from cancer when I was 10; spending lots of time in the hospital with her, I learned just how much chemotherapy could deplete a person’s body and spirit.  Zauner’s ability to capture that was just as impressive as the bravery I am sure that it took her to write the words down. 

More than anything, I really enjoyed how Zauner didn’t tell all of her story chronologically.  She has a masterful way of alluding to a big dynamic in her life (for example, her relationship with her dad), then cutting to a specific memory (despite the laws of chronology) to prove how that dynamic came to be, then going back into her chronological retelling.  It allowed everything to come to the surface at the perfect time for the reader to need the information without loosing the artistic craft of writing.  And, god, does Zauner have artistic craft with writing!  It wasn’t a memoir written by someone who wants to just put themselves at the center of a story, but someone who knows how to write to make a reader empathize without needing to know the face behind the memoir.  I felt so distinctly with her.  I feel like I can draw a picture of her family house’s kitchen.  Everything about the book, from the honesty of the story to the intricacy of the prose, asks you to come in closer... and you really don’t have a choice except to oblige. 

I was openly sobbing in the section of the book describing the cancer treatments, both because of my personal experience and her unrelenting writing.  There was so much love everywhere for her mother that it was inescapable.  And so beautiful.  And so relatable. 

The way she approached how her biracial identity impacted her whole life, but was brought to a crux by her mother’s death, also hit home to me.  The desire to turn away from your non-white heritage just to come back running to it when it is too late... I saw this in my father who, while seeing his dad die, was asking him more than ever for Tagalog translations of English words.  There is something so gripping and real and relatable in her struggle.

I can’t wait to reread this when I feel up to it.  For now, I will let it settle into me, feeling very grateful that Zauner was willing to share this story.

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

June 21st.

Kokichi’s birthday wasn’t ever a date he felt the need to care for in the slightest. Just a date on a piece of paper he was shown in his files at the orphanage he lived in all his life.

No parents to buy him big gifts or make a cake.

No friends to simply wish him a celebration of his birth.

All he ever gotten over the years what the title of a new age from a date on a paper and maybe some kicks or arm punches from the rowdy kids who try to count his age through pains and at a young age be forced to take a picture in a skirt or a dress for the sake of the orphan mothers to update his file.

So it really shouldn’t have been a shock when asked what he wanted to do for his birthday and his response was, “Hm? Oh I don’t care, let’s just ignore it.”

Well, Shuichi, Kokichi’s dear sweet boyfriend of three years now, was more than surprised sitting across from the violet eyed cutie in the local Starbuck of their living area sipping his Caffe Americano. Kokichi just shrugged at the look, “It’s really no big deal Shumai. Birthdays have always been a silly thing to me, remember? I’m perfectly fine just acting like it’s another day.”  Shuichi’s eyes narrow in a sad expression as he leans forward and spoke, “But we’ve done some things for your birthday like dinner-” “Dinner is a normal thing since it can be a simple dinner not a birthday thing. Honest, Shumai, I really don’t mind not celebrating my birthday.”

Shuichi sighs and leans back in his chair, listening to Kokichi’s changed sentence topic while he watches him talk with a smile, feeling his stomach turn in question. Yeah he understands why Kokichi dislikes his birthday but he still desires to prove he’s worthy of a good birthday. For a few years now the little gremlin has made the birthdays among his friends and the lovers including Shuichi himself special beyond words. Hosting great dinner parties, Gifts they all love, The pure energy he brings, Not to mention the first birthday the two spent as a large relationship with their good friends and fellow survivors of the killing game of Danganronpa he went out of his way and comfort zone to give Shuichi a good birthday in a good trip in Japan’s countryside with all of them and ending the night with his favorite true crime documentary. 

All he wants to do is make Kokichi feel special like he was to them.

Kokichi walked alongside Miu after a long shift of work in their workshop, the sky was a beautiful blue purple like shade with the lighter shaded clouds like cotton candy sprinkled over a backdrop. 

The strawberry blonde woman wraps an arm around the smaller with a smile, “So,” Said she, “What do you want to eat for dinner lil man?” Kokichi giggles and thinks for a moment with a finger pressed against his chin. “Hmm~ How about curry?” Miu smiled bigger and gave him a squeeze, chirping, “Hell yeah! Got you boo!”

The two soon made it to the steps of the door of their shared home, unlocking the emerald painted and golden paint covered fake vines door, and removed their shoes to their indoor slippers when they got past the door. The dark haired gentleman reaches for the light switch, but stops when Miu drags him further into the home, snickering. “What are you doing Miu?” He asked, confusion more clear in his voice than his body language.

He flinched when a sudden light shined in front of him, as his purple eyes focused soon he recognized the faces of his dears as well as his childhood best friends, his D.I.C.E. followers if you will, standing in the living room smiling and eagerly welcoming him in. Confusion and slight annoyance dread swirled in his chest as he looked at all of them and soon Shuichi who walked over to him with a smile and a wine glass full of what he assumed at first was wine but as soon as he saw the shade and bubbles he knew it was grape Fanta. “What’s going on?” He asked, accepting the glass handed to them as well as Shuichi’s hand holding his other. The detective smiled and said, “I know you don’t like your birthday, but none of us wanted to leave you alone on this day. To you your birthday was a day no one cared but to us, it’s a day you were brought to us and if you allow us to, to love and adore you now and forever more.”

Kokichi felt his eyes tear up in small tears before he got to his toes and gave Shuichi a smooch on his lips and a smile and a tiny mischievous cackle.

[ihearthes]

.

[rcksmith]

Sun — Kaz Brekker

Resume: Feelings are destabilizing things.

A/N: This story is not set in the books of Six Crows, I also changed the age of the characters to twenty-something because the idea of ​​writing something about a child makes me uncomfortable. All my stories, of any characters, are with them being of up age. Just like many fanfics out there in the teen series.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader.

Warnings: Mention of fight, swearing, mention of post-traumatic stress, angst, mention of kiss, mention of desire, desire, mention of death, but so fucking fluff.

Word count: 3k.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — —

There were few things in life that he was absolutely sure of. Things that were immutable, solid, unshakable. That even the strongest of winds would not be able to shake the structure. A life built on the basis of an equation of chaos, suffering, death and despair generated a result where it was necessary to be sure of something. And one of those certainties was the ability of himself, of his instincts, of his intelligence, the notion that he himself was a person capable of resolving any type of situation with iron fists. The second was the certainty of the loyalty of his crows, of the two people who, he knew, would never turn their backs on him.

And the third... the third was that when Kaz Brekker first laid eyes on you, he was sure that you would divide his life between a before and an after.

It was a lepid, ferocious feeling that swept the body of The Bastard of the Barrel from the top of his head to the tip of his polished boots. The heat immediately gave way to a cold sweat, a shiver as if receiving a midnight sigh at the back of the neck. There was a quick sensation of burning in the heat of an icy fire, but his composure did not flinch a single millimeter. He had learned to keep it in all situations, trained with steel fists.

Kaz looked at you deeply, from the top of your hair to the tip of your feet, trying to find answers as to why you had triggered such disturbing sensations with a simple and ridiculous exchange of looks. But he found no answers. He found neither after a day, nor after a week, damn it, he did not find nor after a month!

You had joined the infamous trio because they needed a fighting expert, someone who could defeat a good number of men on her own without needing backup, which would make their bigger and more complex robberies much easier. And when they found you, a girl who had been the subject for a experiment to create super soldiers, your ability to fight, physical endurance, and your sense of loyalty, made you perfect for the job.

But none of that explained why, whenever the stormy blue eyes met yours, he felt like he was ricochet by living eels. It was exasperating, frustrating on so many levels that it was difficult to put into words. Kaz could not expose this misfortune to his two closest people, first because his pride in admitting a disturbance in his subtly balanced world was too great, and second that... even if he considered said that, he would not know how to name those feelings for express what he were feeling.

How would Jesper and Inej understand something that even he did not understand?

Kaz Brekker had a firm and calm demeanor, an implacably logical mind and a way of narrowing his eyes that ensured that his orders were carried out with great efficiency, all according to the moment he wished. Then, just as he did to get rid of any disturbance, he buried those sensations so deeply until, like his overwhelming pains and traumas, they stopped tormenting him.

He thought that, like his flawless and cunning plans, it would have the same effect. That his nerves could get back to normal and he wouldn't have to deal with the feeling that feel hiself whit cold and hot at the same time whenever he laid eyes on you.

But, if it was true that the practice makes perfect, this rule has not been applied in this situation.

The deeper he buried those beginnings of thats sensations, more of them began to flourish, roaring harder, as a constant reminder that he was not that rock of stoicity and absence of feelings that he liked to think he was. It seemed that, just as light existed to exorcise the darkness, you existed to show that he still had a beating heart. Hot blood still coursing through the veins.

It has not helped anything in his cause that, over time, Inej and Jesper have become attache to you. Jesper even more. But if Kaz put aside his frustration and irritation for a second, he would know that he couldn't to blame them. In fact, there was no way to blame every person who approached you, delighted.

Jesper once described you as "the soul of the party", and Inej said that you had fire in your soul. Kaz would not have been able to think of better definitions to put into words what you were. There was thing about the way you laughed, the way you talked, the way your tilting your head and your so easy smile. There was a thing about you. That transformed you into the solar system and people orbited in your gravity like planets.

You had a way with people, Kaz really thought it was a gift, a talent. You were always laughing, smiling, playing with people and making them so comfortable in your presence that, once, Kaz saw a trader, who are in a the middle of a refused to close a contract with Kaz, just melt and give up because of the smile you gave to him.

Nothing from you has been forced, malicious, shrewd or cunning. You really smiled, you really laughed, as if you were...happy. Purely happy. And, in a second of insanity, Kaz wondered if that happiness was possible. If it was possible for him to feel something like this.

But, just as Brekker took his soul close from you as much as he could to avoid any emotion, Jesper did the exact opposite. Very quickly, just like Kaz and Inej are, the two of you became a pair of inseparable friends. Were always together.

Perhaps it was because you two were overwhelmingly alike: Always in the eye of danger, addicted to adrenaline, purely outgoing and liked a good fun. Or maybe it was because, like everyone around you, Jesper felt drawn closer to your warm, joyful and comforting aura.

But whatever it was, the timbre of your laughter followed by Jesper's became a sound as natural as the whistling of the wind. And it didn't take long for you two to become partners in thefts and plans.

However, it didn't take long too for the reactions Kaz had about the influence of your presence to become...louder.

If Kaz Brekker closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment, he could still remember and feel that night perfectly as if it were yesterday:

The plan was succinct: They would have to go through guards, high walls and locks to enter a merchant's residence, open the safe, pick up the jewels and leave. Twenty minutes was the time limit to complete that sequence.

Everyone was assigned to one thing: Kaz would turn off a fabricated security system from a Grisha, Inej would sneak into the shadows to the safe and pick up the jewels, and Jesper and you would be responsible for dealing with the various guards. Everyone would have to meet in the corridor that led to the back exit.

Kaz did not think that that so ridiculous and simple plan it could go wrong. Or that someone could make a slip. To him, it seemed as easy as sneaking into a yacht boat. However, there he was, next to Inej who carried the jewelery bag in her hand, both of them standing in that dimly lit corridor, waiting for you and Jesper to appear.

"It's been three minutes!" Inej pointed, as if Kaz didn't already know that.

Her intonation was concerned, apprehensive, with a certain fear. Kaz thought about saying something, but as soon as his mouth opened to say anything, he heard...

Steps. Hurried steps of two people. No, actually, the two people were running.

Suddenly, you and Jesper burst into the corridor, running as if their lives depended on it. Inej and Kaz would have been worried if it weren't for the bastard and peraltas smiles that stretched across faces of you two, stretching their cheeks.

Then Kaz noticed the reason for the delay. You two carried a giant picture under your left arms. Jesper carried the front end and you the back end, like two children who made a mischief and was running from their mother. True accomplices.

Kaz's jaw opened, his eyes widened slightly and roamed the frame with agitated iris, while Inej was totally baffled.

"C'mon, C'mon!" You exclaimed with laughter in your voice, Jesper and you never stopped running.

As soon all left and took shelter in the safety and peace of the Crow Club closed in that night, Jesper and you fell on the couch, laughing and panting.

"What was that?!” But Kaz was exasperated "Do you both know how much risked the plan?!"

"It was only three minutes, Boss." Jesper defended himself.

"It..." That's when Kaz looked at the painting responsible for all the commotion and fuss.

It was a painting, a landscape by Ravka. The fold. In oil on parchment. A DeKappel. That was worth at least ten thousand Kruges.

“You commented that you needed a new painting for your office.” Your voice took Kaz out of the admiration on the painting, and Jesper and Inej looked at you as if they had discovered that now too.

Jesper and Inej thought it was just for the money...

Kaz looked up into your eyes, and the cold, warm shiver spreading across his chest and snaking to his bones. As it always did the moment yours eyes meeting.

He remembered commenting in passing, in a very vague and obtuse way, that he wanted a new painting in the office. Until that moment, Brekker didn't think you paying attention to what he had to say. Not when it wasn't about a job or plan.

But there you were, proving that you had heard. And that you cared.

His breath caught for a second, the icy chill turned to something warmer, like the first sparks of fire in a fireplace. The first flames that precede the fire.

After that, Kaz began to pay more attention, unconsciously, to what you said. And, consequently, he started paying more attention to you. It had been gradual, sneaky as a snake, imperceptible so he wouldn't be able to root it out. As if the universe, destiny or divines, introduced, grain by grain, a small summer in a landscape frozen by winter.

It all started with your comment about liking it sweeter than salty, that dry wine left you with a headache and that you preferred rum. He evolved to notice how your tone of voice got sweeter when you talked to children or animals, and more serious when it came to the safety of the three crows. And suddenly, as if Kaz already knew this as he knew the sky was blue, he knew how to say how your eyes sparkled when you felt the warmth of the sun on your skin.

In that second, looking at you from the other side of the agitated club that turned into a celebration with dance and music, the world became suspended for a moment. The music became just an echoing, blurry noise, the images turned to slow motion and the air seemed to change in pitch. You, who laughed and speen round in Jesper's arms amid so many people who did the same thing, were the only one who starred as the main attraction.

In that minute, when the breath was slow and lyrical, and the air had a beauty tone, Kaz's eyes caught the exact moment when a beam of sunlight hit your face, shining on your skin as if you were one pirate tropical treasure. In a burst, a second of insanity, like a violin string that burst at the apice of the song, he felt that there was nothing else in the world worth seeing that was not you.

It was a scary, terrifying discovery. Something that made him freeze from head to toe, and all the speed in the world came back so fast that Kaz felt dizzy. He pressed his covered hand to the crow's beak of his cane, as if he needed a reminder of reality. Something that would wake him up from those hellish sensations.

- -

The months passed after that fateful afternoon. Kaz avoided staying close to you any longer than necessary and would strongly and vigorously scold every change of tone within himself whenever he saw you.

He didn't know what those sensations meant, but he also didn't want to find out. He liked challenges and responsibilities, but being around you was proving to be more than he could take. Your presence ignited him in a cold and warm fire, promising a future full of unfulfilled infinite wills. From pain, impotence and doomed to failure. Any feeling for you would be more of a punishment than anything else. The only solution was to get it out of your head.

Of course, he had been trying to do just that since he met you.

But again, the universe did not seem to want to give up from he. Not so easily.

Kaz had to take you along to make a deal with a merchant who was more impassable than a rock. Kaz had tried to negotiate with him before (since he couldn't take the strength or rob what he wanted) and all his efforts were in vain. So, he appealed for the last weapon. The person who always had a natural gift whit other people and always had a real smile that made anybody feel like... as if happiness really existed.

You.

"I'm glad it's hot" You commented, while walking next to Kaz "I don’t like the cold."

How did he know that you would say just that? That was so you. Warm, sweet and cozy things were the embodiment of what you were. It was logical that you preferred the heat. So different from him that, instead of you, enjoyed the cold. Liked the rains and storms, relaxed with the moonlight and felt less tense with the midnight winter breeze.

Kaz understood your personality as he understood the very lines of his hands. You were wild, bordering on reckless, you acted before thinking and you always loved anything that aroused adrenaline. You ran like no one else, jumped from one horse's cell to another, decided to catch the largest number of targets just because you wanted the thrill of fighting five against one. Anything calm, serene and peaceful stirred your restless personality. And Kaz knew exactly your level of restlessness from the way your leg was constantly jumping when you had to sit still for more than a few minutes.

You were a free spirit, forged in the heart of the sun and in the heat of summer. While he was limited by his own body and built in the heart of winter and frozen by the cold of the sea. Anything between you was doomed to fail even before you two met. Kaz Brekker knew this very well.

“He is late.” You grunted, your leg was already starting to jumping when you two spent a measly ten minutes waiting for the man.

You looked back and seemed to find it interesting, because Kaz saw your eyes shine.

"Let's go there?" You pointed, and Kaz had to turn around to see that you were referring to a coffee shop.

Crowded with sweets in the window for a change. Why was he not surprised?

“No.” He turned forward again, both hands on the cane.

"So I go over there and come back quickly."

“Y/n" he just said in a warning tone, giving you a scolding look.

You mumbled something he didn't identify, turned around again and did your best to be quiet. Five minutes passed before that merchant arrived, and Kaz can perfectly follow the change in his posture, change in the man eyes when you greeted him with that summer voice and sunny smile.

It was so vibrant, so vivid that, for a second, Kaz found himself slightly swayed by all the brilliance you emanated. Pulled towards your like an animal needing the warmth of the sun.

It didn't take much for the man to sign and agree with everything Kaz said and imposed. In fact, he suspected that if he had asked him to give him his bank password, the man would have been happy to do so.

"Can we go in the coffee shop now?” You commented as soon as the man left, still turning around to look at you as much as possible.

Kaz restrained the glaring urge to roll his eyes, but he had just landed a very lucrative business just and exclusively because you agreed to help. Even though you didn't gain anything from it. So, if he had to go with you to a goddamn coffee shop so he wouldn't feel like a petty profiteer, he would go to the goddamn coffee shop.

Kaz just walked towards the place, and the wide, summery smile you gave may have he missed a few heartbeats.

Stop it!

Once inside the damn store, you scanned the menu that hung on the wall.

“I never took this one.” You commented, pointing to what appeared to be a very sweet mix of drink. Something that involved ice cream and chocolate with something else.

It was not the kind of comment that had an answer, and Kaz was still engaged in the mission to stay away from you. But he thought that statement was just the reason why you wouldn't order that drink. But, just as you always threw any worldview Kaz had in the latrine, you asked for just that. His eyes were bloodshot with astonishment.

“Why are you going to order something you don't know if you like it?” He asked as soon as you got the drink and paid for it.

"How am I supposed to know if something is good if I never try it?” You said casually, both of you going out of the store. “Wanna try out?”

You held out for he the plastic cup that was covered by a lid that had a hole in the middle, where a fat, transparent straw came out. Kaz looked at you as if you had created a second head.

“Come on, you'll never know if you like it if you don't taste it.” The two of you stopped, you still holding the glass gently towards his mouth.

“No.” Kaz shook his head.

“Come ooon.” You insisted, a petulant and amusing smile plastered on your face.

"No."

You shook the glass, holding it out once more. This time, Kaz gave you a slightly annoyed look.

"You're not going to stop insisting until I take this thing, are you?"

You laughed, with a triumphant and friendly smile “I'm glad you know me so well”

Kaz rolled his eyes, snatching the glass from your hand and bringing the hellish straw to his mouth. Hell, he felt so stupid pulling that stupid drink through that straw. As soon as the sweet liquid invaded his tongue, an explosion of flavors flooded his palate, causing him to remain unresponsive for a moment.

"You liked it!" But just as he unveiled all of your lookes, you knew how to unveil all of his.

Kaz handed you the glass. “Absurdly sweet."

"You liked that I know."

You joked and, for a second, you had aroused he a desire to smile. A succinct curve in lips. With your sunny smiles and summer expressions, you looked like you were out of an enchanted forest inhabited by mystical creatures. Sun nymphs. Maybe Kaz would even have let himself go lightly if, when you took the glass back, your lips had not wrapped around the tip of the straw.

Exactly where his mouth was a second ago.

He pulse quickened so fast that it made the blood burn in his veins. It was impossible not to look down at delicate mouth, the subtle but destabilizing curvature in the center of your lower lip. Suddenly, he was out of breath, his body numb and his heart stopped beating for a second before accelerating to an alarming level.

Everything became hot, stuffy. The world spun away, out of focus, out of existence, leading he on a waltz unlike anything Kaz had ever felt before.

Kaz Brekker was the Bastard of the Barrel. Dirty hands and scammer. Someone trapped by his own body and traumas, unable to allow himself to enjoy human contact. But, hell, he was still a man. And in that moment, in that insane moment, he wanted to pretend, even for a few seconds, that what he wanted was within his reach.

Kaz thought he understood the desire: an attraction. He thought he knew what lust was: a wish that people felt. He had seen countless examples on his bar counter, drunk and chattering about what it was like to want a woman, to long for her. He thought he understood.

And he found that he didn't understand anything.

The desire was a hot and feverish whirlwind that shivered he from head to toe, with dizzying speed, and dragged everything towards perdition, below any intellect, any rationality. Rationally, he shouldn't have thought you were even more beautiful. But he did. He shouldn't feel his breath catch, but he did.

He felt as if he were walking on a narrow suspended board. One misstep and it would be the end of it. Hiding his disturbing thoughts, Kaz looked away from you.

He was ruined for the rest of his life.

[latuuart]

Understanding Lil' Touya's Behavior

Lil' Touya was a complicated individual and is such a challenging character to be understood looking at the discourse that keeps happening in the fandom as a prove of that. I want to share an analysis focused on kid Touya's behavior including his expression of words. I will also try to explain his behaviors towards every member of the family.

Disclaimer: I'm not saying whether his every action was right or wrong. This meta doesn't have that purpose. I'm writing this to have us take a look at how lil' Touya perceived every situation thus we will be able to understand the reason behind his every action.

Firstly, Touya was "the initial prodigy", the initial potential heir to accomplish his father's ambition. Touya was born for a purpose of surpassing All Might specifically. While most children in BNHA universe manifested their quirk at the age of 3-4, Touya's quirk was manifested at the age even before 1 year old! The reasoning behind this case could be caused of him born prematurely.

In the pictures above, it was revealed that the father already discovered Touya's quirk even before Fuyumi was born thus resulting in the creation of Fuyumi because the father wanted another try. Touya and Fuyumi were only 1 year apart and we can see how Touya was still crawling when Fuyumi was just born.

The early quirk manifestation resulting in the younger age when the training started.

While Shouto started training at the age of 5, Touya most likely had been training with his father since a very young age until the incompatibility of his quirk and body revealed at the age of 3-4. He couldn't be older than 4 years old because Touya and Natsuo were 5 years apart plus pregnancy took ±9 months as Natsuo was born on time. Touya's age ranged between 3-5 years old in the pictures below.

Let's delve deeper into this situation.

Touya had already had the idea of surpassing All Might planted in his mind since a very young age.

Within the golden period of a child's brain development (the first 1000 days of life) and the most important years of a child's development (birth to age 5), Touya had already been trained to be a hero and already had an idea to surpass the Japan's no. 1 hero resided in his mind. Children's experiences and relationships that are formed during the first 5 years of age determine how their brain develops. In fact, by the time children reach age 5, 90% of a child's brain is already developed. Just from this knowledge, we already can conclude that it is unfair to blame Touya for his disability of letting go the idea of surpassing All Might since it had been planted in his mind since a very young age, said idea was also a very heavy burden to be put in a very young child's mind futhermore.

The affects towards Touya's brain development reflected into his behaviors.

Touya was seen persistent with the idea of surpassing All Might; as his relationship with his family and his self-worth revolved around the said idea.

Since his training was stopped, Touya found that it was a hard to find a quality time with his father anymore. Touya realized that a bonding time with his father could only be reached through training. His father couldn't prove that he'd love his child no matter what through his words nor actions. The father drowned in his own intense ambition that he failed to notice his child's decreasing self-worth and fear of losing his father's love.

Touya undoubtedly, very undoubtedly loved his father so much (I'm crying as writing this). His love was pure and unconditional yet he was let down and neglected after. His father couldn't and didn't try enough to understand him as Touya viewed his father as a role model. Of all the people we will ever influence, our children are the most impressionable and attentive. Of all the people children will be influenced by, the strongest influence is their parents.

It was very hard for Touya to be able to let go the idea of surpassing All Might because he saw his father couldn't let go of the same idea and he realized his father's attention towards him had been declining since he was decided of not being able to accomplish the said idea anymore.

Touya noticed that his father wanted a child only to surpass All Might. He also noticed that his mother didn't object to his father's desire and action as she and his father kept having another child and his father continued to neglect the "failed" tries. From Touya's perspective, his mother also took responsible in the matter as a bystander, although, Touya was also aware that his mother was powerless to the matter and tended to let decisions regarding her life decided by others thus resulting in the heartbreaking dialogue in the pictures below.

Touya, as the only one of the children who was aware of his father's intention, tried to share and discuss it with Natsuo, but to no avail, Natsuo was too young to understand. Previously, we saw Touya tried to discuss with Fuyumi regarding his body and his disability to let go the idea of surpassing All Might, but again, to no avail, Fuyumi was also too young to be able to think about anything besides her brother's safety (bless her).

Touya felt as though none of siblings could understand him. He received no answer regarding his confusion revolving the situation and the confidence regarding his self-worth kept decreasing. Touya didn't even know why he even existed anymore. It was truly, truly heartbreaking to see a child felt that way towards himself.

As he didn't get any answer for his misery, the only way Touya could think of to resolve it was to return the situation to the beginning. If he could prove to his father he was good enough, he would be happy again and all the misery would go away. Therefore, Touya kept training and training all by himself, despite his body was burn and his heart was broken. He was suffering extremely the entire time. The continuous suffering led to a frustation and an aggression. Touya's aggression towards his mother and Shouto was the result of the frustation and misery he felt regarding the whole situation. Touya was in misery but he felt no one reached to him.

Lil' Touya was in constant confusion, heartbroken, suffering, and decreasing of self-worth. He was neither evil, misogynistic, psychotic, nor manipulative. Touya always had constant questions regarding his miserable feeling and life, but no one gave him an answer.

[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

Let my contribution for Simon's birthday be "let's make something out of my overthinking to unpack his funny little violent brain" (I saw this being shared on twitter dot com like "you're not fooling anyone Simon" and "why would he say thaaaat??" and I think I have an idea of why...)

First of all, I think CO gives enough to let the reader know Simon doesn't know himself, doesn't understand romance/desire (yet) and practically brainwashes himself to make everything around him fit into the narrative shaping his life... but thank fuck we got the sequels. CO Simon feels very "incomplete" to me after getting the full picture of the character in the trilogy – the sequels even reframe or give deeper insight into his thoughts and actions etc in CO.

CO Simon rarely hands over answers straightforwardly, especially when it comes to romance, because he himself doesn't know yet (even if the feelings are already there). Note Simon's "kissing is new, the wanting to kiss" in CO as if he has never wanted to kiss Baz before he actually kisses him vs Simon in awtwb going "I always want to kiss you. I always have" in the context of talking about the past (he was specifically asked if he wanted to kiss Baz in 5th year – he bullshits for a bit and takes his time, but that "I always have" is the true answer).

When Simon shares how much he missed Baz every summer (the longest he went without seeing him) in WS he's not pulling that out of his ass. One of the first things Simon does, something that it's introduced as an essential part of the character (alongside stuff like "he's attuned to danger because he has to," "he knows how to fight" etc) is that Baz consumes his every thought. Iirc he starts talking about him on page 2 or so. In a life or death situation, his head goes to him. He's talking about Baz, sharing so much about him (and not generic info either, but shit you have to pay attention to know) way before he even brings up his "list of things and people he misses about his favorite place in the world."

Think about Simon in CO sulking because he's eating alone and Baz isn't paying him attention like "this is why he doesn't get dates" as if this was a date and he's being neglected. He calls Baz a creep or something there, even though Baz is not doing anything even remotely creepy. He's just reading, but that's the problem: he's doing something that takes his attention away from Simon, instead of eating with Simon (food=love and connection in the series). It tells you that Simon just gets a bit nasty without actually meaning it, or that when something unsettles him, he tends to go for the easiest (maybe even negative) explanation, rather than unpacking his feelings.

There's only one time I could genuinely see Simon being "creeped out" by Baz, and one has to remember that Simon figuring out Baz is a vampire wasn't an accident. He actually "investigated" and looked for proof, but before that, the signs must have been genuinely unsettling (the image of Baz's mouth when it fills with teeth in his sleep, when it's dark and quiet and you're expecting a regular human, could be nightmare-inducing). Even more given that they were just kids and Simon was being trained to fight all sorts of dark creatures.

The thing is: you don't follow guys who genuinely creep you out. You want them the fuck away from you. Simon might have tried to change roommates, but he was following Baz everywhere when he absolutely didn't have to (he was making damn sure he was close and seated whenever Baz wanted to dedicate time to his passions and hobbies). When he says it was "to prove he's a vampire" in CO, he states it with absolute conviction, but it turns out the little bitch already knew for sure before he started stalking him, he just didn't want to confront the real reason he wanted to follow him then. He even looks back at this in awtwb like "there's obviously no heterosexual explanation for me starting to follow you everywhere in 5th year" and even has the gall to look exasperated at Baz not getting that "I'm just trying to prove you're a vampire" was bullshit (Simon clearly does a lot of thinking about his true feelings for Baz in the year that passes after CO).

To top it off, while the vampirism might have genuinely unsettled him at first (a valid reason to be creeped out) a Simon that is getting to know and tries to be honest with himself just tells you is hot. He's into Baz being a vampire and all things Baz.... Also, he does things like saying "he's ruthless and mean" and whatever in CO, and you think he's seeing this as something negative, but he's actually into this too. Hell, he's even like "how dare him being hot" like it's a personal affront.

So when CO Simon is like "he's a creep and I totally mean it" I wouldn't take it too seriously or even as a bad thing (because it's Baz). He's not actually presenting you with something about Baz that puts him off (like people normally would be doing when using "creep"). Baz might have had a bit of a severe-goth-vampire air in his gel-wearing days – a regular person who finds him hot might not feel inclined to associate that with "creep," but Simon is used to feeling angry and uncomfortable and unsettled, so I'm not surprised he goes to "off-putting words" so easily, even if what he's feeling is attraction or romantic love or the desire to have Baz's attention (to be on Baz's mind as much as Baz is on his). Even when what he's expressing is that Baz's presence has the power to make him feel calm or settled in an unfamiliar place. That it makes him feel home – that's the essence of what he's conveying in that part I'm sharing at the beginning of the post... if Watford feels like home to Simon and that's connected to sharing a room and sleeping next to Baz, then what does that make Baz? What does that say about the fact that sleeping without feeling Baz close to him is simply not the same? That he doesn't sleep as well without him?

I'm even inclined to think "he's a creep/he creeps me out" might be Simon's version of mental pigtail pulling. (I think about MRB, the official AU that tries to keep their essence, and iirc Simon is mentally calling Baz a "creep" and a "vampire" after he's already following him around and trying to catch him showing skin. He's already thirsting when he says that! He might also be sulking there since Baz is a disaster and not making a move haha). That kid thing where you insult that person you like, behaving like you don't like them at all for whatever reason. (And also not a kid thing, given that lighthearted "insults" are them actually flirting when they're together. That whole scene in their room in SFC when they're talking about cake and how Simon heard about that place and the "insults" and Baz pretending to leave without kissing Simon goodbye it's all basically foreplay.)

[startanewdream]

Don't drink and kiss

For @everythinghasreason. Happy (early) birthday! 🎈🎉

(Link on AO3 later)

Rated T; 2.5k.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You didn't kiss me last night," Lily says, the words leaving her lips before she can control herself, very much like everything she remembers saying the night before.

Specifically an impromptu admission of exactly how she feels about her fellow Head Boy, who looks at her now with a startled expression on his face, the grin he had been spotting ever since she had first seen him in the morning slowly melting away from his lips. He watches her face as if he is trying to read her thoughts—and isn’t happy with whatever he is seeing there.

For a moment she thinks James will turn his back to her, ignoring her altogether, but then he shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets as if to keep him from messing his hair, and his face rearranges its features in the most carefree expression he has ever spotted.

"You were drunk," he says as if she needs a reminder, as if her head hasn't been buzzing all morning.

"So?" Her voice is still relenting on a strange bravado. Lily wonders if the alcohol is still fuelling her. "So were you."

"So I was," he agrees slowly. "And perhaps I'd rather snog someone who will remember it the next day."

"I would have."

James blinks, unsmiling. "I don't think so."

"I remember talking to you. And I… I said things, James. I know I did."

His eyes flash with something she doesn't understand. "That bit about how you can't stop thinking about me? Pretty sure you were talking to the firewhiskey."

His tone is teasing, but Lily hears the heaviness and while she'd thought that James would find some joy in hearing her confession, a sudden fear grips her heart. Perhaps she misunderstood everything: their banter, their conversations, their distracted touches. Their flirting. Perhaps he was never flirting back with her.

Shame floods her. Now she understands why he hasn't kissed her. Gods, how foolish did she act?

"Yeah, I drank too much," she agrees, voice dry, accepting his easy way out. "I will pay more attention next time."

He takes a second longer than necessary to answer her. "Already planning the next hangover, Evans? I am actually impressed."

She laughs, humourless as it is.

"One can never promise something they won't fulfill, Potter."

James looks at her, eyes searching for something in her face that Lily doesn't understand, before he takes a step back.

"You are right on that," he says, chagrinned, and with a nod from his head, he turns away from her.

She can’t help but feel as if she disappointed him somehow.

______

Lily picks up piece by piece what happened that night.

It's like solving a jigsaw puzzle. The borders she already has, all those pieces that remind her how loose she had felt with the first taste of firewhiskey, fuelled by a desire to do something daring.

James is there in those pieces, telling her to go easy even as he is already tipsy with his own shots of alcohol. It was his cautious caring warning that made her get her second taste, urging herself to just tell him how she felt.

By the third shot she called him for a dance, though they didn't dance as far as she remembers—the alcohol was enough for getting her the nerve to do it, not the ability. She remembers how they mostly tripped over each other, laughing and falling on a couch.

There is a gap between the fourth and the fifth shot, but she remembers that by the sixth shot they were together in a corner of the room, and staring at him, the words spilled out of her. The alcohol had acted as some kind of protection, a barrier against any fear, as Lily told James exactly what she had been feeling for him for a while now.

That's how far Lily has, so she collects the other pieces by hearing conversations, asking nonchalant questions to her friends, to his friends.

No one seems to know all the details, but from Mary she gathers how they slowly danced at some point that Lily attributes to the fourth or the fifth shot. Remus mentions watching James returning to their dorm very late in the night, grinning as if he had just won the Quidditch cup. Dorcas asks her if they are going out because she saw them holding hands at the end of the party. Sirius grumpily tells her she is a fool and refuses to say anything else.

Lily has a good picture by now, incomplete as it is. If her jigsaw puzzle was a painting of Hogwarts, she would have the lake and the forest already, but the castle, the center of the puzzle, it's still blank.

Then her dreams help her.

They don't make sense and at first Lily blames her imagination for just shaping everyone’s comment into what she wants. From Mary's comment, Lily dreams of her arms around James' neck, playing softly with his hair while he holds her waist, their feet moving together though they aren't really moving. Dreams aren't supposed to be this sensorial, but she swears she wakes up feeling his musky scent, the softness of the curls of his hair, as if he was there with her.

From Dorcas' tale, Lily dreams of steady hands, of feeling the callousness due to years of Quidditch practice, of a warmth that ran from his body to hers as they experimented holding hands, fingers intertwined together. He holds their joint hands, raises them and places a kiss at the back of her hand. Then he brings their hands over his heart; it’s beating fast, and it's because of her.

Neither Mary or Dorcas' tales were so colourful, so vivid, but Lily dreams of it and the edges of the castle are visible by then.

But no one tells her anything else and still Lily dreams more.

She thinks of hazel eyes shining with her confession, a hand touching her face, putting strands of her hair out of her face and leaving a trace of fire where he touches her.

She thinks of a sigh, hand falling back and a hopeless voice. You are just drunk, Evans, you don't mean that.

But she does, and she tells him and she makes a dangerous promise. He stares at her for some time, still unsure, but she knows there is only truth in her face. Then he believes in her, leans closer very slowly, still giving her plenty of time to draw back, to give up, to say she doesn’t want this.

Lily doesn’t remember much from that night, but she knows she wanted that kiss. She wanted him, long before she got her first taste of alcohol.

Her puzzle is almost complete, only two or three pieces missing that she can’t seem to place right. It feels as if she is assembling that puzzle in the dark, hoping the pieces will fit but unable to see the whole picture. She thinks of soft lips and warm hands, taste of firewhiskey and a musky smell, her name in a sigh, being held in place to keep from falling apart and she knows she would if not for him.

Her heart quickens when she realizes there is only one last piece missing, and a longing for something she should remember, but can’t, floods her.

A week after the first Quidditch match—a week during which, almost displicently, James avoids her—Lily seeks for him at last.

His friends are there in the Common Room, talking quietly to each other, but James isn’t in sight. She approaches them carefully; Remus and Peter nod at her, but Sirius frowns unhappily, giving her the same hard look he has thrown at her all week.

“Hey,” she calls, keeping her voice light. “Do you know where James is?”

“Why?” Sirius asks, crossing his arms and ignoring Remus’ nudge. “Decided to mess up with him a little more?”

Lily bites her lip. “No, the opposite.”

“Quite late for that—”

“He went for a fly,” Remus says, cutting Sirius. “You might find him in the Quidditch pitch.”

“Thanks,” says Lily, looking outside. The sun is setting. Then she glances back at Sirius. “I really want to fix this.”

“Then stay sober,” he says, and Lily flinches, but she supposes Sirius is right.

The walk to the Quidditch pitch is long, and her heart paces up with each step Lily takes. She knows what puzzle she is finishing by now, and she knows what piece she is missing, but despite her best efforts, she can't find it.

It bothers her a lot.

No wonder James is mad at her.

She doesn't see him flying in the Quidditch pitch and she is almost going back to the castle when she spots a lonely figure in the benches. She would recognize that messy hair anywhere, so she ventures the stairs to reach him.

James doesn’t turn to look at her, not even when the benches crack under her weight, doesn’t blink when she sits next to him and she wonders if he could recognize her from a distance as well.

“No more flying for today?” she asks, her voice light, eyeing the broomstick next to him.

He shrugs. “I didn’t actually fly. Thought about it, but then…” He grabs a bottle on his other side, lifts it in a mock salutation. “Drinking was better.”

And to prove his point, he takes a generous sip of the bottle.

“Getting drunk alone? That is just sad, Potter.”

There is a soft sight that could be scornful, but just sounds sad. “Tried getting drunk together. Didn’t work for me.”

She swallows dryly. “No, I guess not. I...I really messed that up, didn’t I?”

At this, James finally looks at her. His hazel eyes sweep over her face, in search of something that he doesn’t seem sure about, because he asks: “Did you remember after all?”

There is the faintest hope in his voice and Lily hates herself for being unable to give him the answer she wanted to have. “No.”

“Oh.” He runs his hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, his face shines with guilt and regret. “Look, Evans, there is something—”

“We kissed,” she cuts him off, nodding, knowing it even as her mind is unable to actually grasp that memory.

James tilts his head slightly to the side and Lily wonders if he did the same while they were kissing. She has been wondering a lot these days, hating that blank space in her mind that she wishes more than anything she could fill.

“We did,” he admits, but there is none of the particular happiness Lily would associate with it. James looks just miserable. “And I am really sorry about it, I didn’t want to take advantage of—”

“You didn’t,” she assures him, fidgeting with her hands, fighting back an urge to just hold his hands.

“You don’t even remember it, Lily.”

“I remember enough. I remember telling you how I felt.”

“That was the firewhiskey talking, not—”

“The firewhiskey gave me courage, not words. What I felt—what I feel—had nothing to do with how much I drank.”

He shakes his head stubbornly. “Still, I should have known better. I shouldn’t have—”

“There is only one thing I’m truly sorry, James. And that’s for promising you I would remember and then—”

“You didn’t.”

“I broke my word,” she agrees, sorrowful. “Can… can you forgive me for that?”

He blinks, staring at her for a long minute before grabbing the bottle next to him and reading the label. “Maybe there is some kind of insanity essence here.”

“What?”

“I can’t believe you’re saying you’re sorry for forgetting it, not for what we did. I spent this whole week feeling horrible for leading you—”

“Is it so hard to believe that I fancy you?”

His gaze strays back to her.

“It depends. What have you drunk today?”

Lily smiles softly. “I haven’t had a sip of alcohol today.” She hesitates a second before sliding on the bench, closer to him. “I can let you get close to check if you want.”

James almost smiles too. “I’ll trust your word.”

“James—” she touches his hand now, watching him carefully for any sign he is repelled by her, but she finds none. His eyes fall to her hand and he watches with fascination as her hand traces his fingers, climbs over his arm, reaches his neck. She touches his hair, sees him shuddering under her touch; his skin is warm with the alcohol. “I really like you. And I would very much like to kiss you again for the first time.”

He sighs, his smile tender now. Lily expects him to move even closer, to close that annoying breach between them, but instead all he does is hold her hand, leaning into it and closing his eyes, before he kisses softly her wrist, over her pulse. His lips are warm.

When he opens his eyes, James just shakes his head. “I’m seeing you double and while it’s actually very nice seeing two Lily Evans, I think I should go.”

“Sure,” she says, hoping to not betray her disappointment. He rises, swinging dangerously on the spot, and she takes a step closer. “Help?” she offers.

James nods, accepting when Lily places her arm around his waist, steadying him.

The walk back to the castle is silent, but Lily doesn’t think it’s heavy. For all his silence, James seems to be only thoughtful. They ignore everyone else’s look and because he doesn’t complain, she helps him get back all the way to his dorm, until he is sitting on his bed.

James holds her hand as she is turning to leave him alone. His eyes are burning, but if anything, he looks only resolute.

“Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?”

“Is this alcohol talking?” she asks teasingly. He grins.

“You know, alcohol gives courage, not—”

“Not words,” she finishes for him. “I’d love to go with you. With one condition.”

“I don’t throw up over you right now?”

Lily laughs. “That would be nice, yeah, but actually, I would reinforce a non-alcohol policy.”

“Only butterbeer,” he agrees, beaming. And then before she can say anything, he approaches her face, tugs strands of her hair behind her ear and places a kiss at her cheek, his lips barely touching the corner of hers.

For the warmth that spreads from where his lips touch her down her body, Lily feels drunk again.

“See you tomorrow, Evans,” says James, laying more comfortably against the pillow in his bed, lips curved into a hopeful smile.

“I’ll wait for you with a Hangover Potion,” she promises him, watching him fondly.

“And that’s why I love you,” he whispers, sighing, and he closes his eyes, falling into a quick sleep.

Courage, she thinks. Not words.

Hopefully he will remember this little declaration the next day.

[softrozene]

Too Long

Anonymous requested: Hello, I'm a silent reader of you and I really like your works❤️💗! Can you please write about Doffy wherein he finally found his lost love and actually pregnant when she left him? I know that it looks like impossible considering how evil he is but I just really wanna know how it will goes. Thank you! and Take care. Don't over work yourself! ❤️💗 and sorry if my English is broken.

Your English is perfect <3 and I am so sorry for the long wait, here you go Lovely! I had fun with this since I love Doflamingo despite his evil ways XD

Doflamingo x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff, slight angst- Doflamingo is probably out of character because I write him with emotions and not as evil lol (if you need another reference just basically imagine him as Klaus from the Originals lafdkafds)

Words: ~1400

First things first- There are three ways I imagine this going

1.       (the most likely way) Doflamingo goes a tad crazy, gives no cares, and simply takes the child after deeming his lost love long unworthy of going with them for not telling him she was pregnant unless he can find some use of her or she proves herself rather quickly

2.       He keeps tabs on Reader and the child constantly but that is it. Takes no action unless necessary

3.       Actually puts effort into coming back into their lives by forcing them to come back to Dressrosa where he can spoil them silly

This scenario is going to be a mix of 2 and 3 because I want fluff lol. Anyway, enjoy:

-

Doflamingo stares long and hard at the piece of paper before him. The pictures that accompany them make his blood boil with anger, but his heart yearns with interest as to what happened. What this is. Why it happened but more importantly… Why he did not know.

The woman in the picture is beautiful… Very beautiful and very pregnant. A shock to him. She will always hold a special place in his heart. She taught him how to trust on a certain level and yes, even in the end she did leave him, the end of their relationship was left on a good note. Even so, he can’t lie about not looking for her.

After the mutual breakup, he looked far and wide for her, wanting the presence of a person he could trust right by him. He would try to persuade her to come back but… He never found her. Until now that is.

So… Why is just now finding out she left him… When she was pregnant? Why is just now finding out he is a dad?

The piece of paper is just the island name of where she is residing. Not too far from Dressrosa but not too close either. It saddens him for a moment. Did she not trust him? After everything they have been through together- All the learning of loving each other, the trusting, did she really not deem him worthy?

Him the King of Dressrosa?

He would like to think that he would be a perfect dad- Nothing like his silly foolish father who stepped down from the royal life he could have had. No, he would give the child everything they could have ever asked for. The mother of his child wouldn’t need to lift a single finger. He would spoil them, protect them, do anything for them…

So why?

It is a question he wants an answer to, and he will get an answer to. No matter what. That is what he promises himself as he looks at the next photo- One of his former lover no longer pregnant but… With the child- A darling little girl that has his blonde locks and her mother’s eyes.

The anger simmers down as he decides he will bring them both home. He will try to because of that little hope he has in his heart for growing a genuine family- Nothing like the one he helped destroyed, it means everything to him the longer he stares at the two faces.

The brief reminder of Corazon… Pains him but it will not be like that. Corazon simply did not have faith in him. These two… He will show them that he has their best interest at heart.

-

Finding them, was rather harder than expected. They were at the island that was disclosed to him by someone who recognized her but… (Name) really was too good at blending in with this island. It was rather busy. Cute for it being a bigger place.

So many families too, Doflamingo notes. The thought slightly irks him. Five long years without her and five long years of missing out on the child they created. He has every right to being mad. He has every right to go on a rampage.

Just as he wonders if he should demand someone to show him where she is- He hears a gasp behind him. One too full of shock that it grabs his attention immediately. However, what he did not expect was to feel tiny arms wrap around his legs- The way Baby 5 and Buffalo used to.

He glances down to see the girl from the pictures staring up at him with a wide smile. Her eyes are so gentle and for a moment… Remind him of only innocence as she stares up with genuine curiosity and happiness.

She even speaks to him- And in that moment he already knows that she has him wrapped around her finger- He would fight and kill anyone who would look at her remotely wrong. Is this what it is like to be a dad?

“Hello! I think you’re my dad!”

A laugh comes from behind him again and this time his heart feels like it is stopping because he knows that laugh so well. It haunts his dreams because he loves it so much- It used to be the sound that he tried to coax out of her every day. It is (Name).

He turns and indeed when he sees her… Doflamingo realizes just how long it has been. Too long in his eyes but… She looks as perfect as the day he first saw her. Those (hair color) locks and stunning (eye color). She has not physically changed in the slightest yet… She is still the most stunning person to him. Her eyes look down to their daughter before going back up to meet his.

“I need to put her down for a nap. She had a busy day at the school. I suppose you want to talk then?”

How is she so calm about this? The rage wants to come out- He wants to lash out but… He also just wants to hear her out. He wants to hear her side to everything. That and the way the little girl is holding onto his leg sleepily.

It just makes him melt. He says nothing as he follows the woman to her house. The place is too small for his stature but… Perfect for (Name) and their lovely daughter. It takes just a few moments for (Name) to put the girl to sleep and come back out to join him.

When it is about to grow quiet, he immediately asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

(Name) knows what he means. She has a sad smile on her face now as she asks back, “Were you ready to be a father? It is not as simple as you would have thought… It… How do I say this gently? You are selfish. Okay… That came out harsh but… You are. You look out for yourself and pull your family in with you.”

The pretty face that he is in love with does very little to comfort him after those words. That is until she continues.

“I was going to reach out when I found I was pregnant. I thought you would have liked to know but then I remembered why I left. I wanted to find myself and I did. Then… Then she was born, and I realized what being a parent is. You- Make all these choices hoping it is what is best for them and that is simply what I did. I thought you would not want to be in our lives, so I said nothing. I did not want you to have to choose between your dream of being the King of Pirates or her because we both know what you would choose,” (Name) says her tone sad now.

Doflamingo’s anger is valid but… So is (Name)’s in this regard because she is right. He does not say so because he knows he could have both. He will prove he can have both but for now…

“How does she know I am her dad?”

(Name) smiles at this. She pulls out a picture of Doflamingo and herself from her pocket. It is a good photo too. One of them hugging each other. He remembers it because the family kept photo bombing all the rest.

“I told her. Everything about you. I could not lie to her about who her father was. How much he did love me and would have loved her, but I also could not lie to her about how big your goals are. Of course, she is a child, so she does not understand. All she knows is that you want to be a bigger King. She has dreamt of meeting you for a while now.”

These words. He can salvage this. He can unite them. He knows he can. So, he will. He will have both the family and his dreams as he desires.

“Let’s give her a proper meeting then when she wakes up… And (Name), it is good to see you. I hope I can manage to convince you that Dressrosa would be a brilliant place for her.”

The way (Name) stares at him. Yeah, he can convince her.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Finale | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: It’s Halloween, and there are a lot of things on Spencer’s mind.

A/N: Here it is, everyone: the end of the story. Thank you so much to everyone who’s read this far. I greatly appreciate all of you, and I hope you enjoy it!   Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Penetrative sex, light D/s, mostly fluff! Word Count: 7.5k

—————————————————

Autumn has widely been considered the season of change. It is an understandable characterization; from the shifting hues of the leaves to the wildly fluctuating temperatures, few things stayed consistent in the fall. Perhaps that’s why someone who loathes change, someone like me, finds the season so thrilling.

It’s like the Earth and the Sun made a pact to make changes more predictable in their own unique, chaotic way. The breeze becomes biting and the days become shorter, but for these downfalls, we are granted a beauty and calmness that can’t be rivaled by any other season.

But she wasn’t a season, and when it came to my attention and appreciation, there were few choices that were easier to make.

“Spencer. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

(Y/n)’s face was half covered by the cup she held tightly with both hands, but I could picture the hidden expression perfectly, regardless.

“What? We don’t have to agree on everything.”

The truce was received poorly, her response a heavy scoff and a shake of her head. I tried to follow along with her suddenly heated words but couldn’t contain the stars in my eyes that often accompanied my daydreams. If she did notice, she stubbornly ignored the adoration to continue, “I understand you’re a genius or whatever, but I think your opinions on cider and cocoa are... wrong. They are wrong.”

It was my turn to feign displeasure (I hoped hers wasn’t real, anyway), clutching tighter to my own drink that I found myself defending on a park bench with dozens of strangers as an audience.

“An opinion can’t be wrong!” I chirped, only hating the way my voice jumped a little bit. After all, it was hard to hate it when it made her giggle. But despite how much sweeter the liquid seemed when I drank it in the presence of her smile, I also knew that she wouldn’t appreciate my immediate agreement. So, I pushed back just a little, “It can be misguided or ignorant but not outright wrong.”

“Unless it’s yours, on this topic,” she shot back without hesitation.

I tried to flash her a pout, hoping that maybe it would work for me like it did for her. It did not. Her eyebrows shot up and her jaw dropped open with another laugh, and I decided that I preferred that outcome, anyway. The longer my bottom lip stuck out, the wider her smile got. I waited to stop until her eyes closed and turned away, just long enough for me to let the full force of my affection show before she noticed.

She saw it, anyway, in the form of a similar smile spread over my face when I softly admitted, “Fine. You’re right.”

“Oh, I know.”

Her tongue peeked between her lips, and I found myself thinking less of cider and cocoa and more about how unbelievably lucky I was to find someone that I never felt the need to prove anything to. A person that didn’t care if I held all the answers.

I might’ve continued down that sappy train of thought, but it was hard to do while she had hoisted herself halfway over the table to try and grab hold of my cup right as I went to drink from it. Of course, she had failed to take into account just how big the table was, and just how close I was willing to come to falling before I let her drink from my cup right after she’d criticized my preference of fall flavors.

For a second, I really thought she might climb onto the table to win, but the judgmental looks from the parents in the park must have beaten her desire to win. As forlorn as humanly possible, she fell back into her seat with a loud “Hmph!” which really only managed to elicit an equally immature giggle from me.

“Shut up,” she laughed before shoving my paper plate further into my chest, “And eat your stupid pie.”

All I could think as she grabbed my fork and stabbed the middle of the piece to try to lift the entire thing at once, was that I was right about one thing: Autumn, in all its vitality and beauty, could still never compare to her.

That thought persisted through the pumpkin patch, growing in intensity as she skipped through the vine-laden path like a regular fall fairy. It was much easier to get lost in her there, crouched and inspecting foliage. Her arguments regarding gourds were much less spirited, with her watching me wide-eyed and curious as I explained the stages of pumpkin growth and all the different uses for the fruit.

I still let her make the final choices, opting to analyze her selections and tease her for them later, instead. That was the plan, anyway, to continue the competitiveness lest she gets bored with me before the day was over. When she walked past me holding open the passenger side door, I thought it might’ve already happened.

But then she just placed the pumpkin into my hands so she could open the back door. Before I could even move, she carefully removed it from my arms again and placed it in the seat.

“What are you doing?” I said through a very amused chuckle.

She was decidedly not entertained by my confusion, stopping to turn to me with a bored, frustrated expression. “I’m buckling him in,” she explained slowly, like I might need the help. Then, to add insult to silly injury, she added, “Duh.”

I was too distracted by the details to tackle the absurdity of it all.

“Him? It’s a boy pumpkin?”

“Obviously. Look at him,” she snorted, finally clicking the seatbelt in before tenderly petting the top of the lucky little gourd. Once she was convinced it would be as safe as she could make it, she allowed me to begin to escort her into her proper seat.

“You know it’s safer on the floor, right?” I asked before she’d slipped past me. I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her away from the car so I could enjoy the warmth of her before it was replaced with the dry air of the engine.

“How dare you,” she balked with an open mouth that was just begging to be kissed. By the time I got close enough to try, though, her hand fervently shoved my cheek away. I tried to laugh, but she used the same hand to cover the noise, trying and failing to convince me she was being serious.

“Why don’t you just hold him?” I mumbled against her palm.

That was enough for her to abandon my embrace altogether. With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she pried my arms off of her and finally made her way to my passenger seat. I didn’t fight her too hard, even taking the time to shut her door like my mother always insisted.

The mercy was not returned, with her eyes narrowed into a playful disbelieving glare that I hadn’t seen in some time. My mind was brought back to the first time she ever let me know she was jealous, bickering over blondes and preferences while she sat in the very same place. And, just as before, she was still wearing the same raggedy old sweatshirt of mine.

“If this is any indication of how you’ll be with a human baby, I have dramatically overestimated your competence,” she droned, obviously unaffected by the stars that appeared in my eyes every time I looked at her.

“The one and only time you’ll ever be able to say those words. I hope you enjoyed it,” I joked. A funny enough joke that she couldn’t help but smile through her facade.

“Don’t worry,” she chuckled, “I did.”

The day could have ended there, and it would have been enough. Honestly, I couldn’t think of a single thing that wouldn’t be better with her there. In a way, I think we were trying to prolong the high of ‘hooky,’ finding even the faintest interest in an activity as enough of an excuse for a detour.

… Which was probably how we found ourselves in our third park of the day. After all, I loved any autumnal vision, so how could I decline an opportunity to let them serve as a backdrop for watching her? And that was an accurate description of how I spent the day. It might sound boring, and if it were anyone else, it probably would have been. But no matter how often I saw her, I found myself learning new things about her every single time. Each freckle and scar became a part of the high-definition collection of memories that I would never let myself forget. The most beautiful images that kept me sane in the face of evil and filth.

“Do you see that?”

For a moment, I thought she might have read my mind. But then I realized that her eyes were still fixed forward, stuck on the horizon ahead of us.

“See what?”

“That,” she pointed, “Right there.”

My eyes followed the line, finding nothing but an area of carefully manicured, yellow grass and trees already set to rest for the season. It must have been clear to her that I was lost, because her pointing became more animated and her voice rose as she shouted, “Right there!”

“The giant pile of leaves?”

“Uh-huh.”

Then, in all of my obliviousness, I just sort of stared. Even when her hand grew tighter around mine and her feet started to move faster, I didn’t put two and two together until it was too late.

“What about— No! (Y/n)!” I shouted, cutting off my own train of thought and only barely letting go of her in time to watch her jump straight into the collection of fallen foliage that some poor landscaper had obviously worked hard to gather.

I have to believe that even if that unlucky, underappreciated individual saw what she’d done to their hours of work, that they would forgive her. It was hard to feel anything but joy at the sounds that came from the pile. Yet I approached her cautiously, with both hands in my pockets to avoid the urge to throw myself into danger with her.

“You’re a terror,” I said, settling for a crouched position in front of her. Still able to see her but far enough from her grasp that she had to crawl through a wall of leaves to come nose to nose with me. “This is literally the scariest thing you’ve done all season.”

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” she purred.

As enticing as the offer was, my mind was too preoccupied with statistics of spider and snake bites, not to mention the possibility of ticks still scouring the landscape for any last second hosts. The answer was easy.

“Absolutely not.”

With another exhale of pure displeasure, she threw her body back into the leaves, burying herself into a mess of yellows and reds that somehow only made her look even more beautiful. The chaotic scene matched her energy well, and the harm she was doing was minimal considering I was absolutely going to search every inch of skin for any marks later.

The only thing that was more appealing to me than watching her make an absolute fool out of herself in a pile of leaves was the intense urge to tease her about it. So, taking a regrettable seat on the grass, I sighed, “I think I’m going to have to arrest you for trespassing.”

There was a loud gasp from the center of the pile, followed by a scuffle of flailing limbs among the foliage.

“You don’t own this leaf pile! I do! I am queen of the leaf pile!” she screeched.

“Alright Princess,” I subtly corrected, “whatever you say.”

As promised, I didn’t put up a fight. Even when she finally got a hold of my hands and dragged me into the madness with her. I followed her no matter what nonsense she demanded, just as she had with me so many times. Granted, my desires weren’t nearly as dangerous or strange. They were pretty much just a collection of foreign films and reading that always lulled her to sleep.

But that day there was no sign of her energy waning. The early sun faded and we kept going. I’m not sure how, but she managed to enjoy herself in the D.C. landscape of bars and blaring car horns despite not being able to indulge in anything herself. Although she did half-heartedly attempt to trick me into buying her drinks in several different establishments, I think she was honestly proud that I avoided the drinks altogether. It was a nice reminder that sobriety could be something enjoyed between the two of us, regardless of the environment. However, we didn’t let that stop us from jumping into a crowd of very drunk women who had insisted we join their haunted tour of the city.

“Are you scared?” she whispered into my ear. The feeling of her warm breath against my skin caused a shiver to run down my spine, ruining any credibility I had in my response.

“No. Why would I be scared? It’s just history.”

“Are you sure?” she asked again.

“Yes!” I insisted with the worst possible timing. Because just as soon as the word had left my lips, I felt the distinct sensation of fingers running down my neck and arm opposite to her. I was so convinced that’s what it was that I even spun around with a yelp, crashing into at least three different people just to find a very startled woman with the worst hung scarf I’d ever seen.

(Y/n) had already put two and two together and was lost in an absolute fit of laughter. There were already tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she doubled over, barely able to stand through it all. Because there I was, her 31-year-old FBI agent boyfriend, screaming over a scarf.

“Laugh it up,” I droned. And she did. She kept laughing through any attempts at a response, and after the initial embarrassment wore off, I couldn’t help but join her.

“I hope you know you chose me. You chose this man!” I shouted, gesturing to the people around us who had already forgotten about our shenanigans, “And everyone knows it!”

“I’m sorry I can’t—” she wheezed, pausing to take a necessary breath that was all lost with another bunch of giggles “—You’re a fucking FBI Agent!”

“Well I can’t shoot a ghost, can I?” I mumbled through the hit to my ego. But any suffering was quickly dealt with as she threw dramatic arms around my waist, pulling me close and protecting me from any other errant scarves that might show up.

“I love you so much,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” I returned with a quick kiss on her forehead. And even if I implied otherwise, I think she knew that I was having just as good of a time as she was. In fact, it was one of the most relaxing days of my life, which was saying something, considering how much walking was involved.

But no matter how tired we both were, I still had one last place to take her. It took her a while to figure out why the route felt so familiar, but I wasn’t ready to ruin the surprise. I wanted to watch the realization dawn on her. She didn’t disappoint.

“The Mayflower?” she asked with a bit of a bashful laugh before looking up at me through narrowed eyes, “Feeling nostalgic, Dr. Reid?”

“Yeah, a little bit. Thought it was more romantic than the club,” I offered, trying to shrug off the nervous butterflies that burst through my stomach. “Not by much, mind you.”

Although I got the feeling that she didn’t know, or perhaps just didn’t remember, that wonderful night from almost a year ago was one of the most important days of my life. I knew it then, too. From the second I set my eyes on her from my pitiful place against the bar, I knew that she would ruin me.

“Nothing screams high end romance like an alley and a little light law breaking,” she sighed. I almost missed it, too preoccupied with the way her arm tugged me tighter so she could rest her head against my shoulder.

“I can take you home if you’d rather.”

“Hmmm. Depends,” she hummed. Then, turning her head up to me with that playful look that always turned me to putty in her hands, she purred, “How much longer do you think you can wait before you just have to have me?”

I sucked in a sharp, sarcastic breath, eyeing her just long enough for her to start to fume, I let out all the air with a defeated sigh, “I guess we’re staying.”

That serene sort of teasing continued past the reception desk and all the way up the elevator. If there were other people there, we didn’t bother noticing. We were too busy watching one another to even look away long enough to find our room. Doubling back through the dizzying hallways until we found the elusive number, we finally settled into the only vaguely familiar layout of beige and tan.

She was much quicker at it than I was. Before I’d even finished washing my hands and checking exposed skin for bugs that I was convinced had hitched a ride from the leaf pile, she was already stretched out on the bed in nothing but a tiny piece of lacy cotton and her favorite sweatshirt. The sight made me stop, lost for breath and logic of how I was lucky enough to be there with her again.

“See something you like, Dr. Reid?” she teased through giggles, no doubt recalling the same memory as me.

My answer didn’t need to be said, but I said it, anyway. She deserved to hear it.

“Yes.”

With arms outstretched, she sleepily begged, “Come here.”

But I couldn’t.

“Not yet… I just… I want to look at you like this a little bit longer.”

How could I move on from this moment, when it was the best I’d ever felt? So overwhelmingly safe and at home despite being in a strange, sterile room. I had no desire to move any inch of me if it meant that this image would persist for the rest of my days.

“You getting all romantic on me?”

“Always,” I chuckled. Her usual disgust for my sappy behavior didn’t show itself, overpowered by the gentle curve of her lips and hands that were becoming more and more insistent to be held. Eventually, I had to move, knowing that it was the only way to hold her.

My body reacted the way it always did when it found her. All of the tension dropped from tired shoulders, desperate to touch her more. To feel the imprint of her body pressed against mine, a mess of heat and need and love.

She was the one to kiss me first, and for a moment I let her do it without reciprocation. I wanted to feel how her touch became softer and shier as she realized what I was doing. That I was spending all of my energy memorizing the way her lips parted as she tried to hold back a giggle against my almost-still lips.

“What’s happening in that big genius brain of yours?” she murmured with eyes half open but still containing universes.

“I’m just thinking of all the things you’ve done to make me fall in love with you.”

I thanked all of the gods in every pantheon that made her too tired to tease. Instead, she just laughed, playing her part in bringing us back to that night we met.

“Like quote Picard?”

“We still haven’t watched Star Trek together,” I whined.

The sound must have stirred something new in her, because she rolled us over to take her seat on my lap. She hung over me, looking down at me, hopeless and breathless at the feel of her thighs under my hands. My heart started to race, but I didn’t know why.

It wasn’t until she spoke the words that were already running through my mind, “We’ve got time. Picard can wait.”

Everything about it was effortless. Our bodies had fallen together and mouths found each other exactly like every romance novel has ever tried to tackle the metaphor of gravity.

But if we were an orbit, it was not a binary like the traditional notion of two equal souls. Despite the nickname I’d chosen for her, nothing about her soul was small. And even though she burned bright, she wasn’t anything like the fiery combustion of a star.

She was a home. A thing so full of vitality and life that I would love to watch for whatever time I had left. I was just a moon, loyally following her and trying my best to shield her from whatever might try to harm her. To protect her when she needed rest and to lead the tides to kiss her when she wished. I would be her shadow, shining a light onto her even in the darkest time. All that I asked for in return was a spot beside her.

‘One day,’ she had said before, ‘if you will have me.’

But it was never a question. Not for me. And if she really needed me to answer it for her, I was happy to give her that. I hadn’t been waiting for even a year, but it felt like a lifetime.

“Yeah, he can,” I repeated, quiet and with such a heavy waver that I’m surprised she could understand the shifting inflections. Even if she didn’t, she knew that something had changed in those few seconds of silence.

“What’s up, Spencer?”

I didn’t know how to answer. How to explain what I was feeling. But I grabbed hold of one hand, clinging desperately to her and guiding her to the heart that felt dangerously light. The rapid pace of its beating still not enough to alert her of the true cacophony of my thoughts.

“Are you okay?”

The answer was yes. Because no matter how loud and chaotic the sounds inside my head were, they all lead me to the same conclusion.

“Picard can wait, and we have a lot of time,” I tried to explain through a dry throat that was only growing tighter with the unwieldy weight of the feeling.

“Yes…” she mumbled back, just as trepidatious and nervous as I was.  

Just like I was. Because we were. We were connected by some force, whatever you want to call it. Whether it was a chemical or psychological or heavenly connection, I didn’t care. I wanted her to know how I felt. To know that there was nothing that would ever tear me away from her.

“But I don’t… I don’t think I want to wait.”

After a couple more seconds of silence, she answered with a knowing stare, “… What?”

From my position underneath her, I was able to reach over just enough to grab my jacket. Of course, it helped that she moved with me, clearly curious and terrified of the possibilities. But a good kind of terror… I hoped.

My confidence grew as her legs gripped tighter around my hips and her hands shot up to cover her chest with balled fists pressed against one another. I heard the friction of her skin as her body started to shake in a different way, with an adrenaline that I hadn’t seen from her in even the most dangerous situations.

But when I pulled a small velvet box from the internal pocket, everything stopped. She became completely still. Her eyes were wide and frozen on the object in my hands, only to look away when she heard my voice.

“(Y/n).”

“Where did you get that?” she asked like she hadn’t just seen me pull it from my jacket. The same jacket that I wore every time that I was with her. The wool fabric that she’d swaddled herself in on a number of occasions, none the wiser of how much heavier it was for me when I wore it.

“I know this is really random, a-and to be fair, I wasn’t expecting it, either,” I said through the most awkward laughs I’d ever produced (which was saying something), “I mean, I knew I wanted to marry you, I’ve known that for quite some time, hence the ring.”

I paused, but got nothing in response. Nothing except her lips quivering from their parted position, and her nose twitching as she tried to settle on just one expression. But it didn’t matter how she contorted her face; they were all exactly as they should be. Because they were all her.

“But today, with you… I-I’ve never been that happy in my life. Jumping in leaves and fighting over fall flavors and I—“

Her eyes stopped bouncing, settling with my gaze and robbing my lungs of all air. She made up her mind, deciding to leave everything exactly as it was. The honest truth of the overwhelming storm of every emotion that had been experienced in the little time we had shared together.

The knowing that everything had happened exactly as it should have to bring us here.

“I love you so much,” I whispered, careful to make every word as genuine as they were, “And I know that we have all the time in the world left with one another… but I don’t want to wait any longer for you to be my wife.”

“Ask me,” she answered immediately and abruptly.  


“Okay,” I laughed, endlessly entertained by how she could sound so aggressive even when we were both at our most vulnerable, caught in the nexus of our love.

“Um… Will you… marry me?”

There was no hesitation. No worry, no fear, and no doubt.

“Yes, you stupid old man!” she outright screamed, throwing arms around me even when it meant we both slammed against pillows and the headboard. She didn’t stop squealing even when she kissed me, struggling to find more of me to hold onto.

After she decided that tugging on my hair was the best way to express her affection, I managed to break away just long enough to shout, “Wait! I have to put the ring on you!”

“Then put it on!” she yelled, thrusting her hand in front of my face and practically slapping me in the process. But none of the pain mattered. Nothing was even recognizable outside of the feeling of her sweaty, shaking palm resting against my fingers.

I noticed for the first time that I was also trembling. I took the time to focus, slipping the ring over her finger. But once it started to safely slide into place, my eyes returned to watch what I knew to be happy tears fall over her cheeks. I wiped them away, but they were replaced with the wetness from my face when she brought us together again with a long, gentle kiss.

A calmness came over the room like the feeling following a storm. A clean slate with soil enriched for growth. A hope for a future forever changed.

“What do we do now?” she asked, biting her bottom lip and holding tight to my hands.

The answer seemed clear enough.

“Whatever we want.”

 —————————————————

 Is this really happening?

I stared at the diamond shining back at me with a clarity that had to be a metaphor for my heart. In the vague reflection of yellow light and us, I felt a warmth that doesn’t normally accompany metal. My finger’s new companion felt so comfortable in its new resting place. A constant reminder of the man I called home.

Then I turned back to him, unsure how I was supposed to move on from this moment. I never wanted to leave, but I also needed to move. I compromised and settled with my face against his chest, listening to the heartbeat he’d just dedicated to me. In that peaceful quiet, I heard him speak so softly I wasn’t sure I was meant to hear it.

But I did.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said with fingers dancing through the ends of my hair, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

And for once, the thought didn’t feel like a burden. In fact, it felt like freedom. I was finally free to be who I was without worry that I would be alone. Without worrying that I would be too much or too little to please him.

I was enough.

Enough.

“I love you,” I said, tasting salt from tears I hadn’t even noticed were falling.

Curiously, and in a rare role switch, Spencer was the one who took a blatantly affectionate display and turned it into something else. Pulling me away from his chest, he dragged me up until he could drag his lips over my jaw.

“Don’t cry, little girl,” he cooed with what I could only imagine was a wicked grin, “I haven’t given you a reason to yet.”

Something about that gruff rumble in his throat caused my skin to ripple with goosebumps. Every inch of me burned with flames that could only be put out by his touch. I chased after his lips with my own, but he was insistent on trailing down my throat. He knew I would be powerless to him. I wouldn’t be able to argue when my hands were knotted in his hair and my hips were already rocking helplessly against his erection.

“I want you to fuck me,” I seethed. My blood was boiling from the heat I felt within, and before he could even answer I was already working at the buttons on his shirt.

“Oh? You don’t want me to make love to you?” Spencer laughed. As if that had ever been our style.

“No, I want you to take what’s yours.”

He responded to the demand by pushing me from my seat, forcing me onto my back on the other end of the bed. I wasn’t going to complain, either. The new position allowed me access to his belt, which I unbuckled before he even had time to laugh.  

“Are you really challenging me right now, little girl?”

But despite the taunt, he did nothing to stop me. His hands were also busy removing my clothes. And just like before, our nakedness was reciprocated. With each lost layer, I should have felt lighter, but I didn’t. I felt so powerful, so aware of how our bare bodies twined together.

“Here, of all places? Do you remember what I did to you that night?”

How could I ever forget?

“I’m not the same girl you had in your bed then,” I purred. We both knew it was true, although not in the way I was implying.

Because Spencer had changed me. Irrevocably. He taught me so much — not just about physics, literature, or criminology, either. He taught me about kindness, softness, and vulnerability. He taught me how to trust that someone could hold me without the intention of letting me go. More than anything, he taught me that I didn’t have to learn these things alone. Even the smartest man I’d ever met needed help with them sometimes.

Then again, something told me that Spencer wasn’t in a very humble mood. Perhaps it was the fact he’d pinned me down again, with his hands clumsily gripping hard enough to leave crescent moons in my forearms.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he growled with a small, chaste kiss, “You’re still just a fucking brat.”

I wasn’t feeling bratty then, though. Especially not as I felt the head of his cock pressed against me, just hard enough to feel the resistance of my body. He waited there, no doubt taking pleasure in the way my whole body squirmed underneath him. My hips bucked, but he managed to keep a cruelly steady distance.

“You’re so precious when you’re needy,” he mumbled. And although I stubbornly avoided looking him in the eyes out of protest, he forced my face towards him again, anyway. “Go on. Say please.”

“Fuck off,” I whined through a prominent pout that did me no favors.

“Say it.”

“Please!”

I managed to make eye contact, but it was fleeting. As soon as he thrust forward into me, my back arched and I lost myself in the pillows. My hands found him, though, leaving angry red welts over heated skin. If Spencer was at all affected by the pain, he made no showing of it. His pace continued, steadily forcing our bodies together until I trembled in his hands.

He would hold me there, at my limit but not pleading for him to do anything different. With tender hands, he would fuck me until I swore bruises would follow. But I never felt unsafe; I felt cared for and cherished in a way I’d never known. I trusted him to know my limits better than myself.

I trusted him with all of me because I had already seen that when given the chance, he would do whatever he could to protect me.

The love I felt must have shone through my eyes because his hips got slower, drawing out each movement. My hips rose in tandem with his, allowing me to feel every inch of him inside of me.

“This body belongs to me now and forever,” he whispered.

It always has.

“You belong to me.”

And I felt it. The undeniable string of fate that tied us to each other. I could feel his every emotion as his fingers brushed over my throat. I melted under his touch, completely consumed by the love he felt for me. The kind of love that people spent their whole lives searching for only to come up empty. That powerful thing that drove gods to war and men to madness.

The only feeling that could tear down every wall that had been carefully crafted to protect myself. Because I didn’t need them anymore. Spencer’s arms would take their place, holding me through the storms that might follow the same way he had carried me through the ones that led us here.

“Yes,” I breathed, “I’m yours.”

For forever and whatever comes after.

The words were truer than they’d ever been before, and Spencer took it as permission to let go of any remaining hesitation. The slow, gentle thrusts became faster and our moans echoed in the small room without a second thought to the poor patrons in the rooms surrounding us. Because if they felt what we did, they would understand. Spencer still tried to hush the sounds, crashing his lips over mine in a sloppy, frenzied kiss.

I was suddenly reminded of every romantic story I’d ever heard. They all spoke of feeling so close to someone that they felt like an extension of yourself. I wasn’t sure if it was completely true, but there was no denying how at home our bodies were. The way our tongues wrapped around one another and how our noses bumped so gently in the chaos was unmatched by any meeting driven by lust or need.

His hips met mine over and over again, no matter how hard I tried to keep him closer. Even when my hips chased his to be held longer, Spencer was persistent in the ruthless pace. Because like me, he was lost in the euphoria. I knew it from the sound of his whimpers and the way he bit my lip just a little bit harder.

“Tell me what you want, little girl,” he begged. Not ordered. Begged.

“You,” I answered without any doubt, “I just want you.”

His response came even faster, even more desperate and scratchy as it came through his lips into mine.

“You have me. For the rest of my life and whatever comes after, I will take care of you.”

There was nothing left to say. I could feel the truth and force behind the words as he fucked me harder, eliciting one more quiet cry from me in the sound of his name.

“Spencer...”

When he returned the call, though, it wasn’t with any name I’d heard from him before.

“So you better get used to this feeling,” he said through a smile that I felt on my lips before he drew back. He looked me in the eye as he buried himself in me, tensing to hold himself back just a few seconds longer. To see the look on my face and let that be the feeling of us giving in to each other for the first time in our new story.

“Because I’m never going to grow tired of this, Mrs. Reid.”

Mrs. Reid.

That was going to be my name.

Mrs. Reid.

That was the only thought running through my mind as I felt the coil in my gut snap and all of my muscles tense around him. There were no whorish sounds left in my lungs, only little whimpers and whines as I tried to claw him closer. Spencer gave up his visual in exchange for kissing me while he finished. My walls held him so tightly that I felt each pulse and every place where his release filled me. But nothing was more compelling than feeling the way his lip quivered between mine as his body fell onto mine with no grace required.

Spencer could act hard all he wanted, but I felt the way he craved softness. Safety. Love. All things I was happy to give… for a price.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?” he replied sleepily but animated enough to have a healthy dose of snark. Snark that earned him a rough nudge of my elbow into his ribs.

“You know!”

But naturally, the genius had to play dumb. With a happy little hum, he snuggled closer to me, burying his face into my neck so he could mumble against the skin, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Please,” I sighed, “for me?”

He seemed to contemplate the plea for a little while longer, with wiggling toes I felt against my shins and a happy sigh that breezed over my neck. I tried to take in those small things while I waited, knowing that while I had a lifetime to learn them, this moment would never come again.

“Fine,” he finally settled, propping himself up to give another soft kiss followed by the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Only for you, Mrs. Reid.”

 ——  The Next Morning ——

 Waking up next to Spencer with a ring on my finger was literally waking up to find my dream come to life. And sure, his light snoring and constant wriggling under the sheets he continued to pull off of me weren’t perfect or picturesque, but they were real. The same way that he chirped when he felt my legs wrap around him in his sleep and only woke when he heard me giggling.

His eyes fluttered open, taken aback by something that he saw. Although I would blame it on the sunlight filtering through the curtains, I was sure that he would give me all the credit.

“Good morning,” he slurred.  

“Hi,” I answered with a smile and an attempt to pull him closer. But my hand was stopped by his, squeezing my palm between his fingers before dragging my knuckles to his lips. From there, he laid a gentle kiss over the diamond he’d placed there the night before. Although it was strange to be outshone by a rock, I let it go for now.

“I know you shouldn’t sleep with it on, but it’s so nice to see it’s still there,” he said with a heavy breath before lowering our still joined hands to rest against his heart. I could feel the way it beat a little bit quicker as I came closer, and I wondered if this was really what it would be like forever.

“I couldn’t resist wearing it.”

“You know you can still change your mind, right? We haven’t told anyone.”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” I replied unlike every time before. There was no teasing, no joke or anger or sadness. Just a pure, unadulterated joy.

… Of course, the question did bring up an entirely new anxiety. It did feel a bit silly, but it needs to be expressed.

“Have you?”

“God, no,” he laughed. Like he’d only asked the question to see the way I might panic. But as soon as I heard his assurance, I knew it was the truth.

My mind started to drift back to that first morning we spent together. It felt like a lifetime ago, but everything still felt so very much the same. I wondered if there were things I would change if given the chance. It wasn’t until after I ran through the laundry list of things that we would have been better off without that I realized I’d asked the wrong question.

It wasn’t a matter of what I would have changed, but what I would have kept the same. And the answer was simple. No matter what I would face in my life, I just wanted it to be with him. Everything would be okay as long as I had him.

However, when I tried to kiss him, Spencer still seemed hung up on the things he would have changed. Our lips didn’t connect for even ten seconds before he broke apart, happily laughing through the words, “This is so much better when I’m not hungover.”

“Old man.”

He didn’t argue back, wiggling under the sheets until our chests were pressed together. I took it as a very poor attempt at a power play, because instead of craning my neck to look up at him from my spot, I simply climbed his lanky figure until our noses were pressed together.

“Your old man now,” he corrected, followed by my own clarification of, “You were always mine, Dr. Reid.”

“But now you get to show everyone.” He grinned, letting go of my hand to roam over the curves of my body. His daily attempts to memorize each version of me he held. After a few more moments of silent reverence, I asked the question we’d have to face eventually, lest we face even more awkward, embarrassing moments with the team.

“Who’s gonna tell everyone?”

He barely even considered the options before he shrugged.

“Let’s just… wing it.”

I paused, certain that I’d heard it wrong. “You, Spencer Reid, would like to ‘wing it?’” I repeated, barely able to get the words out without laughing from the absurdity of it all.

But he was quick to assure me, “Yeah, I do.”

“Alright. Whatever you say,” I sighed. I figured that it wouldn’t be worth it to plan right now, anyway. It wasn’t exactly our style. If anything, we would find the perfect time completely by accident.

“You know what we should do first though?” I excitedly announced to the best audience a girl could ever ask for.

“What?”

“Coffee,” I drawled. To which he quickly answered, “I love you an ungodly amount.”

Taking full advantage of that admission, I shoved the poor soul who’d shackled himself to me forever away as I ordered, “Go turn it on. I am craving shitty hotel coffee in bed with my fiancé.”

“Fine,” he resigned with a smile while rolling out of the bed, “Spoiled brat.”

“Your spoiled brat!” I shouted back from safe under the covers that I could finally get back in his absence. They weren’t as good as him, but they would be enough for now. I buried my face into his pillow, snickering as I heard a very tired Spencer call from the bathroom, “Forever mine!”

Just as the sounds of running water filled the room, I lifted my head at the distant sound of familiar chiming beside me.

“Is that my phone?”

I didn’t answer, paralyzed in my place as I felt the most intense sensation of deja vu I’d ever experienced. Right there on the nightstand, I saw the name Hotchner.

Spencer was quicker this time to leave the bathroom, but just as he turned the corner, a thought must have stopped him. Because he paused, staring at me with hotel sheets gathered around me and his phone against my ear.  

He didn’t try to fight me for the device. In fact, he didn’t move at all, watching from a few feet away with a smile I’d never seen before. The kind that I felt so deep inside of me that I realized this was what they meant to share a soul with someone.

 “Hello,” I spoke softly and filled with love, “this is Mrs. Reid.”

 The End.

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Epilogue