#anyway i’ve always loved her no matter what and now she’s Learned and Accepted

[autoneurotic]

something poetic and hilarious about my mom, who, when i was growing up, was soooo homophobic and now we’re supporting each other’s art which means she’s liking all of my gayass agnes and zoe art.

[mxmmyprentiss]

I Miss You, I'm Sorry

Summary: Long story short, you survived without her. Her name had become a memory pushed and tucked away in the back of your mind. You locked it and threw away the key. You had stopped yourself from waiting for answers as to why she walked out on you or why she didn’t fight for you ages ago.

Well. Until now. Genre: Angst Pairing: Emily Prentiss x female reader Warnings: homophobia, parental abuse (?) Word count: 6.9k (I got carried away)

A/N: Hi, guys! I just made a new tumblr account and I'm new to Criminal Minds and I'm still actually just about to start season 4 lol but Emily Prentiss already got a chokehold on me and here I am. English is not my first language so any grammar/spelling/other writing mistakes, I apologize. I also have not written anything in a long, long time. Comments and criticisms are welcome.

(also emily's fbi timeline here might be a little confusing so idk lol)

AO3

Relationships don’t always work out. You have known that fact since you were seven years old as a result of your parents’ divorce. You still remember your mother saying, “Baby, sometimes love doesn’t last. Maybe it’s love for now but it won’t be love forever. Two people can grow apart even when they are together all the time. And that’s what happened with me and your dad. And honey, it’s not your fault, you understand?” And you still remember nodding as if you really understood what was happening.

But just like any other child who knew how it felt to be a product of a broken family, you still felt responsible about it. You could have done more, could have done something to prevent your family from falling apart, or at least could have done anything to stitch your family back together. But as you grow older, you learned that what if’s are only as good as heroin and cocaine combined together - it’s not. It’s lethal.

So even though your parents are still alive, you still considered them as the first ones you have lost. Accepting that has helped you cope with other things you have missed throughout your life..

Pen.

Hair ties.

Bus ticket.

Money.

Your first love.

The last one, unlike the others, was not forgotten, misplaced or stolen. The last one walked out of your life before you even had the chance to tell her you would move mountains and set the world on fire if she asked you to. What once were gentle, careful hands that held your heart are the same hands that crushed it into pieces and may have been impossible to glue it back together no matter how much you tried.

It’s fine though. It was a long time ago. You learned to live with it.

At least that’s what you told your therapist when she asked during one of your sessions.

“Come on, sugarplum.” Penelope Garcia, your roommate, tugged your arm. “It’s just drinks at the bar.”

“I’m already beat, Penny. I’ve had a long shift.”

“Exactly the reason why you need to get out and have fun, doctor. We were both so busy with work and never had fun anymore.”

“We have movie marathons sometimes.”

“Please,” Penelope scoffed. “You fall asleep in the first 30 minutes of every movie.”

You sighed. You didn’t defend yourself because it’s true. Lately, everything feels heavy. And you’re always exhausted to the point of passing out at any furniture you lay your head to.

“I’m sorry, Pen.”

Penelope cups your face and forces you to look at her. She has the most gentle, caring eyes when she wants it to be. Curious and determined, most of the time. “Hey, I’m not saying those aren’t fun, okay? I’m just saying maybe we need a change of environment. Get loose. Have a few drinks and maybe meet some people and dance. That’s all.”

“I don’t know these people,” you said defeatedly.

“And you don’t know your patients either but you’re forced to interact with them anyway.” Penelope squeezed your cheeks before letting go. “They’re my friends as much as you are mine, sweet cheeks. I’ll introduce you to them and who knows. You might end up liking them too.”

There’s no winning against your roommate. So you finally agreed and Penelope pranced to her room to change.

Since tonight seemed to be about changes, you decided to put on a skin tight knee-length blue dress that complimented your curves and skin along with a light denim blazer. You matched it with black printed flats and a purse Penelope gifted you last Christmas.

You and Penelope walked hand in hand to the bar. She told you briefly about everyone’s first names but you’re not sure if you will remember them all as you haven’t seen their faces just yet. Also, Penelope talks too fast when she’s excited and your brain just cannot process it as quickly knowing how tired you are.

You both stopped at the door, scanning the place and saw a booth on the far end of the bar. Penelope waved at the people on the table and everyone happily greeted Penelope. You felt a little at ease that they were all wearing casual clothes and looked a little less scary compared to what they actually do for a living.

“Everyone, this is my roommate, Y/N,” Penelope introduced you to the team. And pointing from left to right, she said, “This is Hotch, Derek, Reid and JJ.” They all waved at you. Reid stood up and shook your hand. He insisted you can call him Spencer and babbled something about an article he read the other day that he remembered because you’re wearing a blue dress. You stared at him, fascinated albeit confused. Derek chuckles and pulls Reid next to him.

“Hey, guys, here’s our dri-”

A pause. 

A stare.

Your heart skipped a beat. Or two. Or maybe it stopped for God knows how long.

One of the glasses of beer almost fell out of the raven-haired woman’s hands. Luckily, JJ caught it, looking back and forth between the two of you.

“Emily, you are an angel.” Penelope snatched three glasses out of her friend’s hand. “Y/N, this is Emily.”

It took you a second - or ten - before you reached out your hand for a handshake and forced a smile. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” Your jaw started to hurt at how tight you’re clenching them but you can’t help it.

She’s here.

Emily took your hand and for a brief second, you felt her squeeze it harder than you would normally do for a handshake. “Emily,” was all she said and sat to Penelope’s right.

Everyone grabbed their drinks. The music at the bar grew loud and they talked even louder to understand each other. Derek and Reid debated about something work-related that you didn’t understand but Derek rolling his eyes at Reid whenever he stated facts amused you. Meanwhile, Penelope showed something to JJ and Emily on her phone and you just hope it’s not something embarrassing because you caught the glance JJ shoots at you and she giggled.

“What are you showing them, Pen?” you asked curiously.

“Nothing,” she grinned. “I’m just showing them how pretty my best friend is.”

You squint, not believing a word she just said. Your hands were quick to snatch the phone from her hand. “Penelope Garcia!” Even with the dim lighting, your blush was evident. It’s a photo of you sleeping in your kitchen, hugging a stainless pot and holding a wooden spatula. You don’t remember that happening. “When was this and why are you keeping this picture?”

Penelope laughed. “You don’t remember so I’m not going to remind you.”

You immediately deleted it off her phone. “Now it’s gone.”

She raised her eyebrows and let out a chuckle, “You forget I work in tech?”

You mumbled a curse and rolled your eyes, accepting defeat.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. It’s cute.” JJ teased and you could only force a smile in embarrassment.

Out of nowhere, Penelope gulped down her entire drink and stood. “Come on, let’s get dancing! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Everyone followed her. Even Hotch who seems to not like the idea but Derek practically pushed him to the dance floor.

Everyone except Emily.

Her.

And you.

You two were left at the booth, sitting across from each other. Emily was gripping her glass. Hard. You believed she might break it if she didn't relax.

You averted your eyes from Emily. It’s ridiculous to not find anything to stare at other than  Emily’s hands.

Emily’s beer. 

Emily’s hair. 

Emily’s clothes.

Emily’s necklace.

Why is this place full of her?

The place was full and crowded and the music was so loud but the silence between you two? That was louder. Deafening. Unsettling. Awkward.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Emily said, finally managing to look you in the eye again.

Your breath hitched once, twice, before answering, “You too.”

And you meant it. But you didn’t want to. 

Oh, but you did.

She chugged her beer and grimaces the second she does. “I … I didn’t know you and Penelope are friends.”

“I didn’t know you and Penelope are co-workers either.” You shrugged. “How long have you been with the FBI?”

“Seven years,” she answered.

Penelope called your name from the dance floor where she was dancing with Morgan. You only gave her a thumbs up to let her know you’re fine and will be staying at the booth.

“You’re staring,” you said and Emily quickly diverted her eyes from you. She decided the floor was a better view instead. You licked your lips to keep yourself from smiling. “It’s okay, you know.”

“What?”

“I said it’s okay.”

“What’s okay?”

“If you want to pretend like we don’t know each other.” But the agonizing tug in your chest claimed otherwise. “I mean, they’re your friends and Pen is your friend as much as she’s mine. She doesn’t have to know. She just brought me here tonight so we could have fun and meet you guys.”

To your surprise, Emily moved to sit next to you. Not really next to you but just close enough to smell her perfume. 

Velvety. 

Delicious. 

Familiar.

You inhaled deeply, composed yourself, and stole Penelope’s second beer.

“How have you been, Y/N?”

The shiver that ran down your spine shouldn’t be there when Emily said your name. It shouldn’t have affected you that much. Or at all. But it did. And you despised it.

“Since you left me? Great.” You laughed quietly, staring at the glass now half empty. “Really great. I … I’m well … a resident doctor …” You take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. I just …”

“You didn’t expect to see me, I get it.”

“Yeah.”

There’s the awkward silence again. If it doesn’t stop sooner, you think you might just bang your head against the table just to shift the mood.

“I tried to find you,” Emily spoke again. Her voice was low, you almost miss what she said. “I came back but you weren’t there anymore. Your mom said you already moved to LA with your dad and -”

“I don’t want to do this here, Emily. Please.” You just can’t. You might cause a scene if you keep this up. You’re still torn between crying hysterically or just downright screaming at her face.

But her face. Her stupid, fucking perfect face.

You looked away. You focused on the people dancing specifically at Penelope grinding against Reid who’s only swaying awkwardly. That’s better.

Emily scooted closer to you but not close enough to invade your personal space still. “Do you hate me?”

You wanted to be rude. Tell her what does it look like, bitch? But that’s just not you. You’re not a confrontational woman. You’re an honest woman. And to be honest, you’re feeling a lot.

Instead, you gulped a drink and stared at it for a while, leaving Emily staring at your hand, waiting for an answer that may never come.

It took a few minutes for you to gather the strength to look her in the eyes. Your eyes may have been teary, you’re not sure, but everything else looks blurry and you feel lightheaded. You’re not even drunk yet. You only had two beers, for fuck’s sake.

You missed those eyes. Emily’s kind, loving, gentle, ‘used to see right through you’ eyes.

“You left me,” was all that came out of your mouth.

Emily moved closer to your seat, dark eyes still locked on yours as if asking for permission. “I was scared. I was young, Y/N.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “And I wasn’t? Your mother literally hired a private investigator to threaten me so I would stay away from you! I was 17, Emily! 17!” You hissed. Emily tried to reach out for your hand but you got up quickly and ran to the dance floor, to your friend. 

You whispered to Penelope’s ear that you needed to leave immediately to cover an emergency shift at the hospital. She knew better than to argue with you and your work so she let you go and told you not to worry about the tab. She offered to call you an uber but you insisted on walking since the hospital is only a few blocks away.

“Y/N, wait!”

“Emily, not now!” Your strides were getting bigger and you wished you could just fly home instead and get there faster. She grabbed your arm, pulling you to the side. And although it’s already dark outside, Emily can’t miss the way your eyes glisten with tears, staining your cheeks. “Please, Emily, just please.” You didn’t know what you’re actually asking - begging - her. You weakly placed a hand to her stomach and pushed to keep a little distance between the both of you. 

Emily took your shivering hand and held it to her chest instead. Her hands were as soft as you remembered them to be. And you hated the fact that you still remember that after so many years. “Please, Y/N, let me just talk to you.”

“What’s there to talk about? We made it this far in life without each other.” You said bitterly.

“But we didn’t want to.” She sighed. “At least, not for me.”

You took a deep breath in. Emily wiped the tears with her thumbs. Then she cupped your face and you couldn’t help but to just feel her for a minute, face settling on her warm hands. You look at her, eyes pleading. “Em, please.” 

Emily shuddered at the nickname. You were - are - the only one who could make it sound so soft and loved; make it sound like home. After all this time.

“Emily?” You both looked at the sound of Penelope’s voice. You quickly retracted your hand from Emily’s. “Y/N? You’re still here?”

“I, uh, Emily here just brought me my purse because I forgot.” You lied. Emily swallowed whatever she was about to say. You turned to Emily. “Thanks. I have to go now.”

“Oh, okay.” 

You hailed a cab and got out as fast as you can, leaving Emily dumbfounded and Penelope confused as she was intrigued.

___

Emily rubbed her hands together and exhaled loudly. Penelope raised her eyebrow. “What did you do?” She asked.

“What? I didn’t do anything.”

“For an FBI agent, you’re a bad liar right now, honey.” She squinted and took a closer look at Emily’s eyes. Teary. “Were you two making out?”

Emily scoffed. “You’re drunk, Garcia.”

“And you’re hiding something, Prentiss.”

“I’m not!” Penelope continued to stare at her suspiciously, pressing the truth out of her. “Okay, I think you should talk to her first. I can’t be the one to tell you if she doesn’t want to.”

“Did you know Y/N before I brought her here? I saw that you two were surprised to see each other a while ago. There was something there. It doesn’t take a profiler to see it.”

Emily paced back and forth, biting her lip, arms crossed. She stopped herself from biting her nails, a habit she may have done when she’s anxious. Emily contemplated whether to tell Penelope everything or something or anything. “God, I think I need something stronger than the drinks in the bar.”

“I’m waiting here, pudding.”

“And I’m thinking here.” She kept her pace. Then stopped. Emily takes a deep breath. “Y/N is … well, she was … is … I think …” she rambled, hands in her pockets. Emily looked up to keep the tears pooling in her eyes from falling. “Garcia, she’s the love of my life.” She stated weakly.

Penelope gaped at Emily like a deer caught in headlights.

___

Penelope arrived home at around 2:30 in the morning. You heard the lock click and footsteps approaching your door. You quickly pulled the covers above your head and pretended to sleep soundly.

“Y/N?” It’s your roommate. She caressed your foot. “I just want to say I’m sorry for bringing you out there tonight. I … I didn’t know you and … her …” Penelope sighed sadly. “We can talk about it when you’re ready or whenever you want or not at all. It’s up to you really. I just want to say I’m sorry.” She gave a light pat to your leg. “Good night, sweetie.”

___

The next morning, you found Penelope sitting in the kitchen having coffee and talking to someone on her laptop. You didn’t interrupt her, suspecting she might be working from home.

You prepared coffee for yourself and sat on the opposite end of the table. You pretended to scroll on your phone … waiting …

“Morning, baby girl,” Penelope finally decided to break the silence.

“Morning, Pen.”

“So …” There it was. You have known her for a long time to know that nothing - not even the strongest of hangover -  is stronger than her inquisitiveness. “Want to talk about the elephant in the room?”

You took a deep breath.

“I’m not forcing you, Y/N. I’m just asking if you’re ready because if you’re not, it’s fi -”

“And let you die of curiosity?” You hid your smirk behind your mug. Penelope smiled widely. “Did she tell you about me?”

“Emily?” You roll your eyes as if to say who else? “We haven’t had the chance to talk about our personal lives before but last night, she told me two things actually.”

“Oh?”

“One, that it might be better if I get the dirt from you. And two …” Penelope pauses, grinning. Is she actually pausing for dramatic effect?

“Spit it out, Penny.”

“I’m not sure if you want to know.”

“Just say it.”

“That you were -” Your friend shook her head. “ ARE. You are the love of her life.”

Oh.

There it was again. That tug in your chest. Are you dying? Maybe. You needed to get this checked out one of these days at the hospital, you thought. You might need an ECG or probably a 2D echo.

“Is it true?” Penelope pushed. “How did you two know each other?”

You walked to the living room with your coffee and sat on the couch. Penelope follows you.

“That love of her life part, I’m not sure.” You took a sip of your coffee. Black and bitter. “We met in high school. She was my girlfriend.”

Penelope scooted closer. “What happened?”

“Well, long story short -”

“No, I want the long complete detailed version, love bug.” You rolled your eyes at her and she smacked your arm. “You’ve been holding out on me!”

“Hey! I didn’t know my ex is working with you, okay?”

“Still! Everything really does happen for a reason.” She smiled to herself.

You raised an eyebrow. “And what’s the reason for this then?”

“We’ll see,” Penelope smirked. “Now, go on with the story, girlfriend.”

“We met in high school. She was a transferee. I was, well, an introvert with no friends. She was the new girl. I’m sure you know where I’m going with this.” You see Penelope with a shit-eating grin, nodding her head. “It took a week before I could say a word to her.”

“Because you’re so gay and she’s a pretty girl?” Penelope grinned.

You glared at her. “Because I was an introvert.”

“Sure.”

“Anyway, she missed a class and asked if she wanted my notes and she said yes. We have been friends from then on.”

“Until…?”

“She was the first one to say ‘I love you’, you know?” Tears started pooling in your eyes. You immediately wiped it off with the end of your sweater before it even stained your cheeks. “We were in the locker room. Just the two of us after gym class. It was out of nowhere. We just finished showering -”

“Together?” Penelope gasped scandalously. You swatted her arm and she laughed. “I’m kidding.”

“Anyway, we just finished showering and she said she loved me. You have to understand that it was a time when you know … it’s not accepted nor tolerated to be … us.” Penelope took your hand and squeezed it. She could only sympathize, knowing how cruel and tough the world must be to not let people love who they love. “We hid it for a year, maybe two. I’m really not sure now, I think, but it was the longest time of my life. We were okay, great even. We had the most fun, enjoying each other’s company, sneaking around, going on dates. My mom met her. She liked her. Always asked about her when I get home.” You smile at the memory now but it quickly fades. “Until her mother found out about us.”

“Ambassador Prentiss? Oh, that evil -”

“Her mother sent a P.I. to threaten me so I would stay away from her daughter. I was 17 years old and scared, what else can I do?”

“Oh, honey,” Your friend pulled you into a hug. “I’m sorry the world has not been kind to you, sunshine.”

“Thanks, Penny.”

“You two broke up after that?”

You shook your head. “I was about to ask Emily what we should do. I was ready to run away, to hide, to go anywhere with her. I messaged her to meet me at the gym locker room after class the next day but she never showed up at the school at all.” Penelope noticed your trembling hands and gently caressed them. “I found out from the faculty that she moved overseas.”

“Thank you for sharing this with me. I know it’s hard for you, honey bun.”

“I just didn’t expect to see her last night … or ever. I stopped myself from looking for her again. Turns out, life has funny comebacks.” You chuckled bitterly. Penelope enveloped you in a tight hug until her phone rings. You giggle, “Work is calling you, badass computer nerd.”

___

When Penelope reached the BAU, Emily was the first one to spot her. She ran towards her, following Penelope to her office.

“Fabulous morning, person who hurt my roommate.” Penelope greeted without looking at Emily to which she replied with an eye roll. “Y/N told me everything.”

“Y/N told you everything about what?” Suddenly the two women stopped on their tracks and turned around. It’s JJ with take-out coffees in one hand and files on the other. “Come on, ladies. Share it with the team.”

“No!” They simultaneously yelled.

“Okay, chill.” JJ handed them each their coffees. “Share it with me. I’ll find out about it anyway.”

Penelope dragged the two women into her lair. Once locked inside, Penelope announced, “Y/N is your ex!”

“Garcia!” Emily hushed her.

JJ’s eyes were wide and almost spitted out her coffee. “I knew there was something!”

“What?” Emily looked genuinely confused.

“Emily, we’re profilers. We see everything.” JJ reminded her. “You were so awkward with her last night. I assume you guys haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“15 years.”

“And it’s still that awkward?” JJ scoffed unbelievably. “Must have been a bad break up.”

“Technically, they didn’t break up but Agent Prentiss here left my friend without saying goodbye.” Penelope squinted her eyes at Emily, arms folded and eyebrows raised.

Emily’s face was almost as red as her blouse now. “I didn’t … I didn’t want to.”

“Then why did you?”

“It’s com-”

A knock interrupted the ladies’ gossip session. “Ladies, Hotch wants us in the briefing room ASAP.” Morgan told them.

“Be right there!” JJ replied. “We’ll continue this later. Over drinks. Just the three of us. Ladies’ night.”

Emily saw no way out of this so she just nodded.

___

It was a terribly bad day at work. The ER was filled with too many people. Patients kept on coming without showing signs of slowing down. Every bed was occupied - some were already in the hallway in wheelchairs - and everyone had something to do. You have not had breakfast or lunch yet. Your cup of coffee left cold at the doctor’s quarters which you’re sure someone threw out already.

Sometimes you wonder why you chose this career instead of just pursuing your love for multimedia arts.

“Doc,” a senior nurse called you. “I have your patient’s labs and ECG right here.” She hands you the chart. “X-ray results are to follow. Let me know if you’ll be requesting more. Bed 5.”

“Okay.” You walked towards the bed, reviewing your patient's chart. Name … age …

Name?

Now the world was playing a prank on you.

“Emily Prentiss?” You call your patient’s name as soon as you draw the curtains. Emily looked up to you, lying on the bed, beaming too much for someone who’s injured. There’s a small stain of blood on her tank top. You felt something stuck in your throat as worry fills your thoughts yet you retain your poker face.

“Y/N?”

“Dr. Y/F/N, resident. I’m,” you cleared your throat. You put down the chart on the bedside table. “I’m here to examine you. Can you tell me what happened?”

Emily adjusted herself on the bed with a grimace. “I got shot. Almost. I was wearing a vest but I think it left a graze.” Emily lifted her top to show you. You don your gloves and inspect the wound closely, pressing softly at the area. You suspect she might have taken more than one close hit from the way the graze looked. Your eyes panned to her eyes staring at your hands.

“Did you get hit elsewhere, Agent?”

“No,” Emily shook her head. But your eyes found fresh bruises on both of her arms. “It’s fine, doesn’t hurt.”

“You’re always a tough cookie, agent?”

“I have to be.”

“Of course.” You assessed the rest of her body, especially her head for any bumps or cuts. Apart from the bullet graze on her chest and the bruises on her arms, you didn’t find anything else worthy of concern or emergency so far. “Do you feel anything else? Any pain?”

Emily had many answers to that but she bit her tongue. It’s not the time and place. She shook her head instead.

“Okay, I’ll get someone to clean and dress your wound. I’ll order an intravenous painkiller. It will take care of the first six hours, at least, but I’ll also prescribe you some oral painkillers and have your home care instructions ready. Do you have someone I can talk to?”

“I, uh, I think JJ is around somewhere. Or Reid.”

“Any relatives?”

“They’re all I have.” There was a small pause. “We take care of each other.”

“Yeah, of course. Part of the job.” You wrote your initial reports on her chart before leaving. “So, uh … I’ll call the nurse.” You turned around but Emily grabbed the end of your coat. “Anything else, Agent Prentiss?”

“Can you, if it’s not too much to ask, can you do the IV thing? I just …”

“You hate needles.” I know.

She nodded. “Please?”

Fuck. How can you say no when she’s looking at you with those eyes? Dark, pleading and consuming.

You can lie and tell her you have other patients to attend to but so far, no nurse had called you yet. You hear another resident had come in, too.

Emily’s eyes and hand were still on you.

“Okay,” you finally said. “I’ll be right back.”

Just your dumb, stupid luck.

___

Your shift ended at around 10pm but it’s almost midnight when you got out of the hospital. You already changed your top into a purple t-shirt. You carried your bags, coat hanging on your arm, as you walked to your car. You couldn’t wait to go home and wash off the busy day you had.

You stopped by to take out Chinese food for you and Penelope and a little extra to reheat tomorrow for breakfast.

You heard the TV as you approached the door. Penelope must still be awake and watching a show. You opened the door with your keys and to your surprise, one of your patients today was sitting on your couch. Your eyes met briefly.

“Hey, sweetie pie!” Penelope cornered you and grabbed hold of the take-outs. “Let me talk to you for a minute.” Penelope excused herself and you, dragging you to the kitchen. “I’m sorry Emily’s here but somebody’s got to take care of her and she lives alone. I figured since you’re here and you’re a doctor, this will be the safest choice. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“No.” Your roommate grinned widely.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Then it’s fine. I’m going to my room. I had a long day.”

“But aren’t you going to eat? You can watch TV with us.”

“I lost my appetite.” You mumbled. You walked to your room and Emily caught you on the way. She stopped in front of you. “What?”

“I’m sorry for staying. The team insisted and -”

“It’s fine, Agent Prentiss.”

Emily frowned. “You don’t have to be so formal.”

“I’m sorry but I’m really tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“Okay, sorry,” She stepped to the side and you walked past her. “Y/N?” You looked back at her. “Thank you for today.”

You flashed her a small smile.

___

You woke up the next morning to a loud scream. You quickly got up and ran to the living room. Your hair still disheveled and pajama pants hanging a little low.

“Is there a fire?” You asked, confused and half awake.

“Sorry for waking you, sunshine. But I cannot do this.” Penelope handed you a gauze, medical tape and scissors. “Help us, oh sweet lord of ER.”

You yawned then sat next to Emily. You disinfected your hands with alcohol and proceeded to clean her wound with povidone-iodine. She winces a little. “Hurts?”

“A little.”

“Well, it’s supposed to.”

“Wow, aren’t you grumpy in the morning.” Emily teased, earning a glare from you and a slightly painful poke. “Ow! Hey, be gentle please. I’m already hurt.” She pouted.

“You have a dangerous job. Couldn’t you be more careful?” You retorted, annoyed.

“Well, I’m sorry the UnSub has a gun and tried to kill me.”

You ignored her mumbling. “Do you have the day off?”

“Hotch gave me the week off.” Emily answered, clearly disappointed. “I can’t believe my doctor suggested a week's rest. It’s not even that bad, right?”

You bit the inside of your cheeks. “And you know better than your doctor?”

Emily smiled. “I guess not.”

You finished cleaning up her wound and changing the dressing. You picked up an ice pack from the fridge and handed it to her. “Ice your bruises. No more than 15 minutes at a time.”

“Yes, doc.”

“Don’t call me doc.”

“You’re a doctor.”

“We’re not in the hospital.”

Emily leaned forward, a little too close to your face. “What should I call you then?”

Up close, you noticed her lower lip has a small cut while her upper lip … well, there’s nothing wrong with it.

You tried not to focus too much on her lips. Tried is the keyword. 

Then, you suddenly felt like your ghost floated above you and gave the back of your head a cold hard slap. Your eyes quickly darted up to her own brown orbs, intently staring back at you. 

“I’d rather you not call me anything at all.” You said firmly and got up. Emily watched you march back to your room.  A small smirk formed on Emily’s face.

You lied on your bed. Heart pounding, head somewhat dizzy, cheeks flushed.

Fuck Emily Prentiss and her stupid, stupid, tempting lips.

___

The three of you ended up watching your second classic film one afternoon with Penelope sitting between you and Emily. You didn’t like the movie that much honestly. You walked to the kitchen to make yourself your favorite drink - soda with vanilla ice cream.

“You still like that huh?” Emily sneaked up behind you. “It’s diabetes in a glass.”

“Guilty.” You took a sip. “It’s my comfort drink.”

“It sure is.”

“What do you need? Ice?”

“You, actually.”

“Why? Something hurts?”

“Nothing you can heal.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious.”

“So am I, Y/N.” Emily stepped closer to you. “I was wondering if we can finally have a talk.”

“We’re watching a movie.”

“Penelope’s just fine.” You both glanced at Penelope who turned her head back to the TV at breakneck speed.

“She put you up to this huh?” You took a seat and you gestured to Emily to do the same. There’s no use avoiding ‘the talk’ anyway as it looks like Emily might live here for the whole week whether you liked it or not. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Us.”

“Us?”

Emily ran her hands through her hair, not knowing where to start. “I didn’t want to leave.”

Fifteen years.

It’s been fifteen years since you last saw Emily. Both of you were still kids - young, innocent, carefree, hopeful. The day Emily left your life, you were a wreck. You did good at school, acing exams after exams, and eventually got to medical school on partial scholarship. Outside, you tried to be the perfect little golden daughter your parents and teachers expected you to be. Inside? You were empty. You felt as if you’re a shallow case of a person.

The first five years since Emily left, you graduated from high school. You got multiple part time jobs before applying to universities. In between those busy times, you tried to find her - called her up on her phone every single day for three years, wrote letters to her last known address every month for two years. Once, you even tried to sneak into their house but the security guard spotted you and almost caught you. You almost had a bald spot from the security grabbing your hair.

By the sixth year since Emily had gone, you stopped. You realized it’s not healthy anymore. You were holding on to a ghost. So you learned to live the next years of your life without her. After finishing your degree in biochemistry, you moved to LA with your father. You got yourself into UCLA and pursued medicine.

The med school journey wasn’t a smooth ride at all. Yes, you didn’t fail one subject during med school but the harder part came later - the actual practice. You struggled with a lot of things but mostly socializing with different people - strangers - whose life depended on you and your capabilities.

It was only five years ago that you finally started to feel somewhat confident with yourself. Not perfect but you weren’t getting yelled at as much by the attendings anymore. A senior resident even complimented your improvement which meant a lot to you.

Long story short, you survived without her.

Her name had become a memory pushed and tucked away in the back of your mind. You locked it and threw away the key. You had stopped yourself from waiting for answers as to why she walked out on you or why she didn’t fight for you ages ago.

Well.

Until now.

“Y/N,” Emily placed her hand on top of yours and you were quick to retract it. It was a reflex at this point. “Sorry.” She kept her hands under the table. “I know apologizing won’t erase anything that happened to us but I’m really sorry, love.”

“Don’t call me that.” You clenched your jaw. “Just tell me why.”

“She, my mother … she took me to the Middle East when she found out about us. I should have known, I should have seen, that we were being followed by her men every time we went out. She tossed the photos - our photos - to my face. She called me disgusting and immoral and a fucking disappointment all because I loved you.” The last part came out as a mumble but you caught it.

Your eyebrows relaxed, eyes softened. The waterworks in your eyes were threatening to fall again. Damn it.

How would a 17-year-old expect this from her own mother? How was she supposed to know?

“She had all your information and your family’s and I was so afraid that she would come for you.” Emily continued, now looking down at her hands, trembling in fear and probably embarrassment of being vulnerable and open. “I knew she would come for you. She told me so. I will set that girl straight if that’s what it takes, that’s what she said. And you have no idea how that sentence scarred me until now.” Emily takes a deep shuddering breath. “The thought of you being hurt because of me … us … I couldn’t bear that, Y/N. I had to protect you so I made her swear to leave you alone and in exchange I will follow whatever she wanted me to do, whatever she wanted me to be.” Emily glanced back up to you, eyes defenseless and face flushed. “I just want you alive and safe.”

“Emily …”

“You don’t have to forgive me now or ever if you don’t want to. Or if you can’t. That’s okay. I can live with that … I think.” Your ex-girlfriend sat up straight, faked a smile. “But I want you to know that when I got to the Bureau, I did look for you.”

Your eyes met. And from what Penelope was seeing from the living room, everything was evident: the longing, the pain, the memories.

“I found out you got into med school in LA. I was so happy for you, you know that. I knew you would make it. I remember you wanted to be a surgeon at first but then you said you liked kids so maybe pedia -”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“I couldn’t … I wanted to, Y/N. I have wanted so badly for years. But when I remember about what I put you through, what my mother put you -”

“Us,” you corrected. “What your mother put us through.”

Emily nodded. “I just couldn’t ruin your life like that again.”

“Do you still talk to her? Your mother.”

“Not anymore. We haven’t been in contact since the last case she brought to the FBI.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Can’t miss someone you don’t know.”

You gave her a sad smile. “You’re strong, Emily.”

“Sometimes I think it’s a curse.”

“It will take some time,” you mumbled. Emily stared at you, waiting for what you meant. “Forgiving you, I mean.”

“I know. You don’t have to.”

“But I understand, Emily. I understand now.”

You shared a friendly smile. You leaned forward to wipe the tear from Emily’s cheek.

Emily held your wrist, feeling your hand on her cheek. You two stayed like that for a few seconds. You were the first one to let go but before going, you left a tender kiss on her forehead to which Emily closed her eyes, feeling your lips against her skin for the first time in a long time.

The moment was almost ruined when you and Emily heard a shriek from the living room and saw Penelope stuffing her mouth with ice cream. Clearly, she saw everything.

You and Emily chuckled.

“Em,” you softly whispered. “I’m sorry too.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Sorry the world wasn’t kind. To you. To us.”

Emily frowned. “It’s not your fault.”

None of this was your fault or Emily’s as it turns out. Now that everything was out in the open, a blossoming hope grew in your heart as you looked at Emily. All the sadness, anger and pain you felt the first time you laid eyes on her at the bar, you felt that diffusing quickly.

Maybe it’s not such a bad idea. 

To just kiss her. Just once. Again.

Or hug her.

You don’t know. All you know is that you missed her. And although she looked much older than you remembered her to be - so are you - you still remembered looking at her eyes all those years ago. At the locker room. During classes. At the carnival. At the mall. In your childhood room. The street two blocks away from her house.

Emily stood up, eye level with yours, as if she read your mind. She leaned forward. Your lips now close to hers that you can feel her take a breath. She waited for you to pull away or to ran to your room but you didn’t. The next thing you know was Emily closing the gap between both of your lips.

The kiss was soft. Like the first time when you were two young girls at the locker room the first time she told you that she loves you. Yet, it was also intoxicating, exciting. You felt a jolt of electricity running through your whole body.

The kiss was also quick. It was done before you know it.

Emily flashed a smile. “I’d like to do that again.”

“Me too,” You mentally kicked yourself at how quick you responded to that.

“Let me take you out on a date sometime.”

How can you say no to her?

The answer is you don’t.

“I’d like that, Em.”

“Friday? 10pm? I’ll pick you up?”

“It’s like you know my work schedule.”

“Lucky guess,” Emily smirked. “Let’s go before Penelope dies of excitement. She’s literally red and might combust.”

“Don’t worry, I’m here if she codes.” You share a laugh.

You couldn’t wait for Friday to come.

[yourpsicodelicbitch]

I’m feeling like a fucking egoist so I’ll roast myself

I’m the best at it😄🥰

aspects of my birth chart I blame -don’t do that-

Picture from Pinterest

TW: it could turn deep

*basically aspects in my birth chart

Moon square Venus

I’m fucking rude. I always seem like Idgf. When I liked someone, unless I want them to know, in the past, they have told me that they haven’t had a clue I like them. It’s like I have a mask but really on the inside I’m sensitive and I’m scared of being hurt and not having the reaction I expect. Attachment issues. That’s the thing. I HAVE SUFFERED A LOT in past relationships, any type. Why? I’ve been too attached to the point I begged the other to stay or if don’t I…had a incomprensible fear OR I’ve been too cold and lost what could’ve been friends bc of my anxiety of being hurt/rejected/judge, etc. I HAVE SUCH A HUGE PROBLEM that’s not being able to show myself at the fullest or to struggle to be myself and i’ll adapt to what others would like. SCARED OF BEING JUDGE. I feel that I’m a burden, being me. Showing my real intentions and emotions to the ones I love the most. To be the cause of their problems. That’s my phobia -jk-.

Ascendant conjunction Neptune

As much as it costs me to mention it. Yes, neptune causes addiction or SPECIFICALLY and ORIGINALLY a necessity to escape, to avoid what’s in front of your eyes. The effect neptune gives is insane, the sensitivity someone with neptune energy is on another level. A level that make you wish to disappear or to go to another dimension. The need can’t be put in words. But oh darling, as much as you wish, you scream, you can’t go bc you’re sensitive and that makes you an emphatic. you feel what others feel: you can’t decide. How others would feel? So you hide it. You’re good at it or that’s what you think. “It’s for your own good and for the others, it’s the best”, that’s what you’d said.

Sun square Chiron

A truck hits you every time. Or -a example that’s more family friendly- when you start doing bars, at first you get blisters and it burns but you have to do the work anyways bc you’re not gonna wait an eternity so the blister can heal -another’s gonna appear in the process-: you kept going and finally your skin becomes indifferent to the rub between your hand and the bar. in other words, sun square chiron have passed and pass lessons that are really deep, specifically in the past by being invalidated for being them. They can feel insufficient and that you don’t have the right to be, to show your passions and expressive side (being creative and unique). They repressed you, they thought they had the right and you believed them. Honey, you become stronger each time. Your inner strength is incredible. Accepting yourself, being recognized by you is what matters and what’s going to make you reach your potential.

Lilith square Mars

AAAAAAAA THIS ASPECT. why do I have to have such a AAAAAA aspect? I HATE IT FUCK. You know how many times I’ve changed hobbies? How many times I’ve left a competition bc I was afraid of not winning? What if my full potential wasn’t what I expected? What if I wasn’t the best? If it was the case I preferred to leave, to die -how dramatic- instead of knowing I had competition and that I wasn’t the only one there that wanted to give her best. I changed hobbies every time bc I got bored: in reality I was afraid and stressed bc things didn’t go the way I wanted, I didn’t full my expectations and I was afraid of not doing it if I really tried. At the first try I expected to it to came out like I was an expert. I have to make a mistake, what I was most afraid of, to learn about it, to understand that I’m human. I HATE IT. That’s why I’m feeling like shit. The other day I exploded without of nowhere and a friend that I love obviously got offended and I tried to covered it by telling it was a joke -she still told me she didn’t like it- but then I apologized and cleared everything. Now, add those previous 3 aspects: I feel like fucking shit. -there are other things-.

incredibly, first time I don’t use emojis

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

❀ Based on my personal experience and what I’ve analyzed in my surroundings.

❀ English is not my first language.

❀ I’m not a profesional astrologer.

Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋

Do not copy. Please give me credits.

[bookishfeylin]

hiii i love your blog, it has helped me vocalize a lot of my discomfort with rhysand’s character.

i’m such a easy-to-please reader too like i’ll eat up anything, but i cannot get past what he did utm. i don’t understand why sjm would even go that far and make him do all of that?? she could’ve established him as a villain without having him assault, coerce, and abuse feyre. and now you have really concerning conversations online of young impressionable fans saying things like “well it’s justified bc he loves her!!! he did it for her own good!!!” and i don’t even think they understand how concerning their arguments are!!! it’s so icky!!!!!!

Hi anon! I’m so glad you found my blog cathartic! The same is true for me. Rhysand rubs me the wrong way, especially in later books where he reminds me of some things I went through at the hands of my abuser, and watching people jump through hoops to defend him is just… horrifying. Not only that, but as I’ve talked about before it completely defeats the point of discussing abuse as a theme anyway—particularly that your motives for hurting someone do not matter because you’re hurting them—if we’re just going to accept that Rhysand is excused because he has “good motives” for hurting Feyre. It’s so hypocritical and it’s equally hilarious when people will get mad at us discussing Feysand's toxicity while turning around and critiquing Feylin's.

At any rate, I also couldn’t understand why Sarah would write Rhysand like that if she always knew he was endgame in a story about abuse/red flags until I learned ACOMAF was not the original sequel she had planned and that she chose to scrap her original story aside from ACOTAR 1 in favor of writing ACOMAF and ACOWAR instead. Then so many things clicked into place.

[tangerinesperfume]

I’ve been a fan of yellowjackets since it came out. I was OBSESSED! I consumed all the contents, podcasts, and interviews they released and engaged with the fandom because I was just so invested and loved the show and cast alike.

But for a while now, I’ve found my love for it going down and down.

A lot of the cast members started posting or liking Zionist or Zionist-leaning insta posts and it just rubbed me the wrong way that I haven’t been able to look at them the same way since then.

Like the main cast. The faces of the show. Liking and sharing posts that go wayyy against my beliefs in a way I can’t ignore.

I don’t follow sammi but I read on twt that she’s been reposting pro-Israeli shit, Courtney liking questionable posts, the adult cast are either neutral or pro-Israel (and I don’t accept neutrality on this matter), Jane doubling down on thier Israeli support…

Even Sophie T who posts about a lot of social issues made some questionable posts and when people contacted her, she retracted and started posting the opposite thing very quickly which made me feel like she’s always been posting shit she didn’t even properly understand ://

Jasmin shared pro-Palestinian posts only for her to share an awful take by zoey deutch and saying “well said”. Mind you zoey’s a big Zionist and was spreading very harmful rhetoric recently…nothing well said about that.

Before I’m a fan of anything, I am arab. I can’t ignore that a show I love so much has a cast full of people who simply refuse to acknowledge that my Palestinian brothers and sisters are oppressed under the bloody Israeli government and have been for 75+ years.

The Palestinian liberation cause in not a new case for me, I’ve known about it since forever.

And that show has gone sour to me ever since I learned that our morals just don’t align whatsoever.

What a shame.

Anyway, I’m just ranting/venting here and I hope it doesn’t seem like I’m exaggerating, this case has been important to me my entire life and it’s bigger than my love for a show, I’m aware.

[caffernnn]

I don’t remember if we’ve talked about this yet, but I’ve been thinking about how much Haru starts to work through some of the harder-to process emotions weighing him down in his dreams (not fully, but in useful bits and pieces). This has popped up throughout the series, but becomes even more prevalent heading into FS2, and it’s made me think about a possible dream I wish we could’ve seen heavily inspired by this moment in Moana.

Over and over again, Haru returns to his late grandmother’s words about becoming ordinary, both in relation to how he understands his position in the world (within his community, amongst his friends/family, later on with his teams and fans, etc etc) and where he’d like to be — will he accept becoming “ordinary,” whatever that has come to mean to him, or will his ambitions lead him to not go gentle into that good night? FS2’s way of addressing these central questions aside (don’t even get me started) what I think would’ve been impactful and neat to see is Haru revisiting that old quote/idea with her in his line of sight in a dream. This could go many ways (and I’d love to see someone else’s take with this as a prompt of sorts), but here’s one of my initial visions of how it could play out:

Haru, sitting outside of his home in Iwatobi, looking down like he’s contemplating something, like the answer might be lying in the grass. A weathered outstretched hand coming into view at the edge of his vision, familiar enough to make him look up at a face even here (in this nebulous moment outside of time) he knows he’s missed for quite awhile. She doesn’t speak, simply smiles at him, as Haru asks quiet questions. “Where are you taking me?”

Answers are not said, but they come to Haru anyway. Forward.

“Toward… what, getting older? More tomorrows where I’m tired and lost?”

Some, maybe.

“You made it all look easy. Becoming older, becoming ordinary.”

Hmm.

“I thought… I thought the hard part of finding a dream was over. I thought I made peace enough with the eyes on me to make it all hurt less until I eventually, I don’t know, arrived at the right moment to fade into a quiet happy ending.”

Not so simple.

A pause, because words are hard, because he feels he has the space for it here, because his grandmother hasn’t said a word but kind eyes that he’s missed so much are gradually unspooling the mess inside his chest. Then, “how do I find an ‘ordinary’ to fade into after all of this? How much do I have to let go?” … “what do I still have left to let go?”

Whatever compassion that is piloting his subconscious doesn’t respond to his fear with some explanation, just two hands once again reaching for one of his own and holding it gently, securely between them. A reminder that despite every fear screaming at him, this isn’t the end, he isn’t alone.

“Where do I go from here?”

Forward.

It’s not a perfect dream, but it’s one Haru wakes up with still lingering somewhere in his head. It’s not an immediate shift, but the dream settles something in him, helps him focus. It’s a visit that helps him to eventually accept that his control, his freedom, lies in the promise that time keeps moving and is taking him with it. It’s a small step in learning he doesn’t have to cling to goals that no longer ignite him how they once did. It’s permission to be kinder to himself, to care for himself like she once did, like his friends still do. It’s a reminder that despite his fear of looking into a mirror and falling into nothingness, people see him — there have always been people who cared beyond his swimming, who saw Haru and knew any greatness of his lied beyond whatever skills he could show off to the world. His “ordinary” has been in-the-making all along, and now Haru gets to meet the future with whatever’s in his heart and treasured bonds by his side.

Maybe the only thing he remembers of the dream is getting to see her again, the wisps of warmth in that memory, but that’s what matters most, honestly. He remembers love, he remembers being loved, and he moves forward.

[egokillr]

moving forward 💓

i just had a huge inner awakening kind of?? and i feel like i should share. this is kinda long doe kind of a blog and life update so read only if u wanna 😎

i’ve been watching trinity on youtube and i feel like i relate to her so fucking much, her videos honestly made me realize a lot about myself. first of all. i’ve realized i’ve been blocking myself from doing so many things i’ve wanted to do as an artist and as a person rlly. of course im aware of manifesting but the thing is, but there was just some things left me feeling comfort in my fear. i thought “what if this is useful? what if this is actually how i feel?” the whole thing left me confused and scared as fuck of the uncertainty of the world and of who i “really” am. but im starting to see things more clearly now. it’s like the beliefs of other people and particularly my parents that were popping up in my head and claiming to be “my feelings.” and i was so scared of being judged for who i am honestly, which is so backwards bc everyone is just a reflection of me… it’s okay to feel that way ofc but im just realizing it’s pointless to live that way. i think as a human race our biggest fear is uncertainty. i mean, it’s also just statistics lmao. but i remember one time i was talking to my cousin about this and she said something along the lines of “but that’s what’s cool about the world. embracing the uncertainty of it.” and everything like… clicked for me. especially knowing about the law. there really is no “finding who you really are” because self is always changing. you are your own creation and always will be. the sooner you accept that the sooner you’ll find freedom.

so, i wanted to get into what i’ve been changing recently about myself and now this blog. im accepting that im undeniably free to express my self entirely no matter what anybody thinks. so i kind of want to incorporate that into what i talk about on my blog because it’s like; not everybody will agree with my pov but at the end of the day there are people who will truly benefit from what im saying or just enjoy my content. and that’s what i want to attract; people who are actually connected to what my true core values are. i want to help so many people but there are so many platforms for other types of people who aren’t like me so why should i put out this watered down version of myself? it just makes no sense when u actually think about it because everyone is you pushed out; you attract the energy you put out. anyfuckingways ☠️ im gonna start posting about all things that are important or interesting to me like sociology, being free in expressing sexuality and reducing the stigma around it (not on some nsfw shit lol i might make an acc for that eventually),life experiences + what i’ve learned, deep dive into psychology, incorporating art into my posts, homophobia/ isms awareness and soo much more. i want to keep this account centered towards law of assumption, but i want it to also be about core values in life because i swear that is just as important. and of course mental health tings. so yeah im super excited for this account now because i don’t feel this pressure to be or do anything on here and irl. im just going with the flow of myself and manifesting that everything just happens best case scenario. im coming from a place of creativity and love now and i want to share that with anyone who resonates with me :3 and if you don’t resonate, feel free to unfollow, i appreciate you so much anyways and i hope you find what works for you 💓☮️

also, this space is always open for discussion, so feel free to state your opinions so long as it’s kept respectful :) i lovee hearing other povs from people who know about loa.

[digitalsatyr23]

Anime/Show Idea: An outgoing, popular, and athletic girl is roommates with an introverted fat nerd. Rather than simply being wish-fulfillment shlock, the main focus is on how the two people who otherwise avoided each other start socializing and learning little by little what they’re like, changing their perspective on what it means to lead a fulfilling life.

The popular girl has many, many acquaintances, but social stigmas kept her from being her true self in front of her peers out of fear of alienation. She has an interest in a niche hobby like making terrariums and wants a snail as a pet. The fat nerd is a well-known artist who has deep connections online because all his best friends are all over the world. At first the girl wants nothing to do with the guy (he barely leaves his room anyway), but she stumbles onto an online gallery of his and sees all the digital art of fantastical characters and lush landscapes he’s painted. This leads her to reach out to him and the chubby guy starts coming out of his room more often. At first they get on each others’ nerves because of how different they are, but they later get used to each others’ quirks and form a bond. The girl tries to help the guy work on his social skills and diet while the guy teaches the girl all about digital art and suggests various shows and movies she ends up really enjoying. Guy: “I’ve wanted to join a gym before, but I always thought that I’d get bullied for my weight there and made fun of. I’ve always been fat so I figure I should just stick to what I know.” Girl: “That’s... That’s not how that works. People like me love to see overweight people at the gym. We know you’re trying to improve your health and put in the effort, so you don’t have to be scared. And hey, if someone starts making rude comments, I’ll tell them to fuck off!” Or Girl: “So what’s a sona? I keep seeing that word passed around on your blog.” Guy: “Ah, well, it’s basically like an OC meant to represent yourself online. Some people make them look just like themselves with maybe a small twist, whereas other artists like to make them completely different from their true selves and have fun with the design. Your sona could be a dragon, a vampire, or-” Girl: “A spider girl!” Guy: “Oh, like maybe this?” *shows girl a typical cute monster girl* Girl: “No no, more like this!” *shows guy a terrifying horror movie monster. the guy nervously puts his thumb up and helps design a sona for the girl, learning new art techniques in the process* Neither person is trying to fundamentally change who the other is, but rather give the other an insight into their world and help them become more well-rounded individuals who each learn how to accept themselves in their own way. No matter what, the girl remains an outgoing tomboy but maybe she learns how to form closer bonds with her other friends who may have also been into weird stuff but were equally scared of talking about it. Even if the guy loses weight, his personality doesn’t totally change. He’ll always be a big softie at heart, but now with a bit more confidence. A big theme of the story isn’t so much “a clash of two worlds” but more like not judging a book by its cover and learning to be more comfortable in your own skin. Another key point I want to make about the idea. These two NEVER hook up. They get close to each other by the end, but they never hold romantic feelings for each other. I’m tired of the idea that guys and girls can’t be friends. We need more stories where guys and girls are friends! Not “just” friends like it’s a downgrade, but actual friend friends!! Anyway, thanks for reading my idea I came up with while cooking spaghetti. If Netflix staff wanna talk and green-light this, my asks are always open. ;)

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

A Phase || Sue x Kent Oneshot

Sue tells Kent that she’s engaged.

This is for me and @nerd-li​ because sometimes, it’s just me and one other homie going through the things. I fleshed it out, Sis. You’re welcome, or I’m sorry. Whichever applies. 

Taking work home had always been not only normalized for him, but a necessity. There generally was no one else there, and his work held value. He did have certain “phases,” as he now thought of them, where he looked forward to other things in life. That’s what she had insisted that she’d been. Kent set down his laptop and cellular phone. There was a matter of skincare to handle. He definitely should do that before laying down. He’d changed his pillowcase in the morning before he left, so he definitely didn’t want to soil it, no matter how tired he was...

Whenever his cell buzzed, he reflexively grabbed it and looked at it. If it was Madame Vice President, he would need to be readily available. It was Sue. Even better. A phase... He still couldn’t believe that she thought that, that she had said that to him when she refused to take him back. He wasn’t sure if she still thought that by the time she got serious with... the other “him.” He didn’t like to think of him, to say his name, or even acknowledge his existence. It was his hope that the other one was a phase for her. Surely, she would eventually come around, and realized that she was never a phase. She was never a quick distraction from work. She was... his, for a moment. For too short a moment. 

She called again, most likely knowing that he was looking at the phone, to see if she felt it was important enough to try again. It was likely she was calling on behalf of the Veep. That did happen, sometimes at odd hours. It hadn’t happened in a while, though. Nobody ever really mentioned it, but everyone knew about them and everyone knew that he still held a torch for her. They generally avoided her “having to deal with” him, unless it was necessary. “Yes, Sue,” he finally answered on her third try. 

“Are you busy with work?” she asked.

“I expect that you’re about to make me busy with some.” 

“No, I am not. But, I wouldn’t want to disturb you from it either.” Kent , glanced at his work. It could wait. He needed a shower, anyway. Besides, it wasn’t often that he had a chance to prove to Sue that he could put her ahead of work.

“I’m listening,” he said.

“I’ve called to speak with you. On this evening, he took me to my favorite restaurant and made certain to have the chef prepare my favorites, with accompanying wine...” 

Kent was immediately irritated and began to undress for the night, cutting her off as he did. “ Sue. We mutually agreed when you started seeing him that you would not share any delight he gives you with me.”

“I'm nearing my point. I was simply arranging the atmosphere.” He could hear the annoyance in her voice. She didn’t like to be cut off, despite the fact that she often cut others off. It was one of her... things... that he could accept, but didn’t like when he was on the other end of it.

“I understand the gist of the atmosphere. Feel free to be the same succinct Sue that we know and love, and get to the purpose.”

“He asked me to marry him,” she blurted. Kent froze and he was only vaguely aware of the fact that he was holding his phone much tighter than he had been moments before.

On the other end, Sue searched her mind for the next thing to say. If she knew Kent, he was processing it, in his way. Probably wondering why she would call him and tell him this... The silence was too long. She was losing her nerve to have this conversation, and she slightly worried that maybe she had just caused unnecessary damage by making this a bigger deal than it might have been for him. For all she knew, he didn’t care at all. But, she liked to think that he did. She liked to think that this was respectful. “I determined that I didn't wish for you to learn this information anywhere else.”

He still didn’t say anything. She pulled the phone from her head and looked at it. They were still connected. She still had coverage. Was he still thinking of what he would say next? It was putting her in an uncomfortable position. 

“You said “yes,” he finally managed to say clearly and unreasonably gentle.

“I did.” Her voice caught in her throat a moment and she hoped like hell that he didn’t hear it. 

“You aren't expecting me to attend, surely?” 

“I'm not that heartless.”

Softer still, he said, “I've never seen any heartlessness in you...”

She almost hated how tender his voice was while she was doing this to him. They were so good together. She had liked his attention to detail and his ambition when he shot his shot. She appreciated his determination to compliment her and make her feel seen and heard. But. Ultimately, she wanted someone who would always put her first, and it was simply a fact that his job came first. “Does he make you happy?“ He cut into her thoughts.

Defensively, and with slightly damp eyes, she insisted, “I'm not doing this to spite you, if that's what you're insinuating.”

“No. Of course not. Just.. I know that I let work come between us. I'm just... hoping that he's good to you.” And that you realize that I could be too. I just needed another chance..

“Kent. You know me better than almost anyone. I wouldn't do this if it wasn't in my best interest.”

“I see.” He was the phase. Sue had needed a distraction from her work, from her goals, from the troubles of trying to date and have a job as demanding as hers. He was convenient and she was flattered that he paid attention, despite how busy they both were... That wasn’t fair. For him to project those thoughts onto her. Sue had never been unkind to him when they were together. In fact, he was one of very few people that was allowed to see her softer side, her softest sides. And she had been one of very few people to see his. Everyone knew about them, but he was fairly certain none of them understood. Sue didn’t even understand. He was still deeply in love with her... and she was about to build a life with that other man. With him. “Will you be inviting people from work?”

“They're likely to purchase the best gifs...”

That would be all he needed. All of them seeing her, a beautiful bride, probably glowing and happy, probably much happier than he had ever been able to make her, with him, and not with Kent. With.. the man who was going to be able to be her husband.  

“But, I'm not necessarily close with any of them, so I don't think I will.” He let out a relieved sigh that he knew that she had to have heard, but he was much too tired to pretend that he didn’t care. She wouldn’t believe that for a moment, anyway. 

“I have to go, Kent. We're going to celebrate with a night cap.” She sounded happy. He hated that he hated that. He loved her being happy, but being happy with him, that was... something he wasn’t ready for and he didn’t know if he could ever be. He did mean it when he said that he hoped that he was good to her, and judging by her happiness, she must have meant it when she said that he was. 

Kent held the phone and shut his eyes, remembering their last nightcap. The smell of her skin, the taste of her lips, the warmth of the wine and her body against his. The thought of her that way with somebody else... “I will allow you to... get back to it.” he hung up as soon as he said it and immediately threw himself deeper into his work.

[writteninscarlet]

you know, i know stuff ;; @overclocks

it's always sunny in philadelphia prompts ;; accepting

If there was anything that could be said with confidence about Tony Stark, it was that he knew stuff. He had probably forgotten far more than most ever learned, and certainly when it came to knowledge, both mainstream and obscure, Wanda would want him on her quiz team.

Except he’d probably argue over certain answers. Or over-explain and provide details about others. They’d likely be kicked out. And most quiz teams were for three or four people. But THOSE small details aside—!

Wanda didn’t need nor expect him to know details about herself or her magic, to know about what was sold in her shop or why, nor to know about what was contained in the ancient time she was currently studying. He had his areas, she had hers. So much was always going on in their lives, personal things could fall by the wayside. “You know plenty. More than me. But I don’t have any expectations of you knowing about these things.”

It wasn’t meant to be patronising him or pushing him to one side. Wanda knew that magic was hardly something he ‘loved’, though natural curiosity perhaps might push him towards it now and then. As well as sheer necessity occasionally calling for a magical solution. Truthfully, Wanda rather suspected that he could be quite proficient in certain magical matters, but she'd keep that opinion to herself.

And certainly, he didn’t need to be aware of everything going on with her currently. She didn’t stay with the Avengers any more, for one thing. He had a lot on his plate, and keeping track to see if she was doing okay didn't need to be his responsibility. He had his own life going on. When it came to important details, what she was up to didn’t seem like it should make the list of ‘need to know’ items.

She gave a small smile, friendly enough, and a shake of her head. “You know a lot. And I know enough to come to you when I need assistance - but I’ve got this. It’s…” She thought, coming up with the Serbian word, then a German word for the situation, then shrugged and settled for, “Frustrating. But, m u n d a n e. Valentine’s has a lot of people trying out spells and incantations, usually getting them wrong. And it's not all 'fall-in-love-with-me' charms, it's 'break them up' or 'hurt them'. The build-up causes a lot of issues.” Another shrug, and a simple, “It means firefighting on the 14th. And the 15th probably. And I get that you know stuff. So know that I’ve got this, Tony. Not exactly a relaxing way to spend a holiday - but not a holiday I was planning on celebrating anyways.”

Not something she'd really celebrated since Vizh anyways. And she had no plans. It would be interesting and keep her busy at least to sort these things out. He could tell her things she didn't know after the holiday season was done.

[inner-solstice]

I’ve grown and fought so much through this that I realized it’s okay for me to talk about it. I have known my truth, youve known yours. I think I moved on a long time ago. After removing you from my life, I realized my strength, who I am, what I want, who you truly are, and that I shouldn’t feel guilty for being myself or feeling the things I have felt. I shouldn’t feel guilty for losing every inch of my being just to accommodate you, and feel bad because all the things that were the bread and butter about myself before we met were eaten by you until I was nothing.

I’m not going to let you lasso me down for the millionth time. Not with coming back, not with a phone call, a Spotify playlist, not with guilt, or anger, or longing. I deserve better, I DESERVED better. Why I always went back, well, that’s a long story for another time.

I’ve moved on now, and I don’t need a companion to find myself. If you do, go for it. I’ll feel and deal with my stuff first before I bring someone else in my life. I won’t fall into rubbish relationships expecting for them to take care of the pain. It will all come out eventually and spoil the potential of a loving relationship. I found someone who is willing to wait, who respects my decision to let me heal first. I know what I have waiting. That respect was something I have always wanted. I will continue to heal and find my light. I never needed alcohol to feel happy, I’ve learned that ages ago. I don’t need to feel guilty for hanging out with my best friends. I’m not in high school. For being with and taking care of my family, for wanting the passion and connection during sex, for going out, for sleeping, for feeling tired and for sure for having health problems.

We’re all adults here and we all respect each other. I have been molded to feel guilty for every inch of my life to be something for someone who never ever respected me. I won’t carry it into my next love with someone else.

B, You respect me and love me and know me so well and I can’t wait to give you everything when I’m fully healed. The life I truly wanted…I feel safe with you and know that are truly loving enough to accept every part of me. You know what I’m trying to move on from, and you put in so much effort into knowing who I was before I met M. I felt so scared to tell you , I had so much guilt with seeing myself as a slut who just fucks my friends. No, I was a horseback rider, a straight A student, a tennis player, someone who loves knowledge and learning culture and spirit. Someone who was always good to her friends and her family, someone who loves space and hair and psychology. All of that shit was never enough, just that I was some whore was all that mattered and I’m still trying to reconvince myself that that’s not all who I am.

And to think I was the whore anyways. No wonder she wanted Tylo to hate Ty for the cheating. Turns out she was the one fucking him when Tylo and him were together. No wonderrrrrrr

And here you give me so much shit for colin when we weren’t even together. At least I told you right after. I didn’t wait for a good 8-10 months of pure manipulation. I could’ve left, but was begged to stay, so I did. Why I didn’t have the fucking strength to leave…

I could sit here and write out every little thing thats happened. But honestly, I just don’t have the energy to care anymore. I don’t really think I have for a while now. I guess what really grinds my gears was that I let myself fall for her shit and get kicked around. I’m glad she found someone else honestly. Good for her, her rebound however, not so much. I honestly feel kind of bad. She’s going to have to deal what Tylo and I had to deal with. Now that we are both out of her life. God only knows how’s she’s going to manipulate that poor naive 18 year old. I guess time will tell. Good luck.

It frustrates me that she called me at fucking work with patients coming in. If she genuinely wanted to talk about shit, she could’ve picked a much better time and place. She never respected my time. Oh and with her rebound in the car? Fuuuck dude. That’s low. Bet you didnt expect to have her hear how shitty you’ve treated not only me, but everyone else over the years.

It just shows so much. I see the red flags clearer now. Looking back, I see the smallest shit so clearly now. I almost have you under the same category as Megan A. I can’t stand how I let myself stay with her for as long as I did….

I wish m well and hope she finds exactly what she deserves. Whether if that’s a much healthier life or the same shit with a different bitch

[oh-yes-i-did-not]

For some reason I’ve been going down a memory lane and even remembering stuff I’d forgotten. While I’m the infuriating agnostic-atheist fence sitter that everyone hates these days, both religious and non-religious people, I was brought up Lutheran. And while I don’t remember one moment of believing in something I can’t see, hear, feel, or touch, it was pretty much the only free option to do anything after school, and thus the one that my mom couldn’t control. Like, she really, REALLY loved the spiel of “if you don’t behave and do things up to my standards then we won’t be paying for this” and somehow nothing was ever good enough for her so I had no paid hobbies, end of.

So anyways, I spent a shit ton of time at church and in church activities as a kid. I kinda felt bad about it at times, but also, not really. My personal beliefs didn’t matter to them anyways, just that I showed up and did shit. And if ended up being the receiving older kid on some kid’s personal musings? Well, agnosticism is not exactly... hhhh, I wanna say judged, but I also grew in the bible belt of my country and where most of the small sects and cults came from, so I wouldn’t say it was ever the safe option. But there is no official word against it afaik. And the whole “cool, hip, young pastors” was a thing back then so I don’t think they minded anyways. So if I asked the kids to think about some things on their own, where’s the harm?

The only time I really regret, and it wasn’t even my fault, was when I was leading a camp group at... well, it’s kinda hard to explain Finnish Lutheran practices to foreigners, but we do this thing called confirmation as the age of 14-15. It’s preceded by a religious indoctrination camp where we spend a week in some remote place with only priests and pastors and a handful of other kids, older teens, who act as camp group leaders. And the whole point is to learn as much about bible and then test on it like you were in a school.

So anyways, one day we got assignments to write group works about angels. And my group (the group I was leading as an older, already confirmed teen, just to clarify, I was not a member going through confirmation) for one reason or another, personal or no, they decided to write about the trauma of a child dying and then the family having the comfort of knowing that child is now an angel, watching over them all. It was a group of 5 teenagers and they all decided to write about that. It was pretty damned important to them, okay?

The priest residing over just nodded and we all thought it was good, we did good.

But that weekend? On Sunday sermon? That same priest preached about the heresy of believing mere humans could become angels, the horrible thought that gods created angels could be tainted by humanity. I was mortified. And I was also just a teen myself so I don’t think I handled it well. I actually don’t even remember what I said to my group or what I did, but I don’t think it was anything helpful. I was just so, absolutely, horrified by what the priest said.

Like, I have some religious trauma, that included, but little of it comes from the small circles of church I mostly interacted with as a kid and a teen, okay? It was a pretty nice place but also, the adults there sheltered me from a LOT. Just that when I got older, the less handful of people could protect me. Even the fact that I could walk into the church office at 18, resigning from church, and the people there being all “okay, that’s fine, just sign here” with smiles, is not that common, I later learned. The fact that eroakirkosta.fi exists is for a reason. It’s not always that easy. I could do it in person, my partner later on absolutely could not.

This is all just to empathize that while you can have a good time in a church environment and the people around you are nice and accepting, that is not the case for everyone. And while I don’t have statistics about anything, I would go as far as wager that it’s not so in majority of parishes. It’s just a rough estimation between me and all the people I know who had the exact opposite experiences. ‘Cause I’m pretty alone in this category of “had some good times, some disturbing times, took advantage, then left lmao” category.

And yes, I do believe people telling me they did not have the same experiences as me. Why would I not?

[driftwork]

prisoner, capture, the end, collision

They didn’t like this when I submitted it, preferring the other things... looking at it now, I do. I never understood why they didn’t

It has always been a matter of getting started and then to go. The first line of this text will make you crash into everything because you can't accept that she is in love with him. In fact you only learn this a few lines later on, but time is different here. So you start to read this page and find out that I don't really agree and so you will learn that he has fallen in love with her, but maybe that is not it, you aren't ready yet (nor the text) because he was my lover, Me I'm not here yet either, like the cheshire cat which is perpetually a virtual cat. But this is only peripherally the theme of the text and I have very little to do with what happens when he goes to the National Theatre to see The Alchemist and discovers her lonely legs beside him and in the same way Durrell describes it a strange fusion begins. (Durrell describes it as passion and desire but he is just a fetishist). Anyway project this text; I would state that he is putting us all on as well, it is clearly implied.

So you are being teased and misdirected as well since you are reading this page and if this is not enough for you, she who doesn't yet know that he is her lover or even (yet) that he knows nothing about women although in the National he appears to know everything a man should and indeed appears even as one may caring… How can one accept that as they leave and in before that even, in the interval when they are talking about Johnson, Bunuel and of women. (They have both recently read Bunuels' memoirs and of course spend some minutes discuss with the barman the theme of making the perfect martini…. And the great libidinal-aesthetic mixing it about. "So easy to be a male artist" she complains "No drama of the woman who wants to be a mother and remain an artist whilst prototyping with fantastic sons of bitches on the procreatal frame…" All this of course goes on close to midnight, then about to part and travel their separate ways… They exchange phone numbers, email addresses.  Then no not like that. She says "I've got to go home, I've had a really nice time… Thanks." "I'll take you" He says  "I've got my car parked off Upper Ground on the Rue du Pommes." "O.K." Her warm naked arms in her sleeveless Agnes B. little black summer dress that she stole from her flatmate. Yes that is what it says just three little words that signify so little but are so important, 'warm naked arms'. Just that. So they get into the Volkswagen Golf which has so many qualities (like Robert Musil's hero), but most important of all is that its Mine. So he drives from the left bank to Ladbroke Grove, she is not a suburban woman, wasting my petrol, the shit, She introduces him to her flatmate who looks daggers at her dress, the removal of which is beginning to fixate him, who is not sure if its the bare arms or the breasts moving beneath the oh so perfect black cloth. The flat is a duplex really, stairs rising up to bedrooms that call to him. Her flat mate is mousy with a flat chest, he misdescribes her. But she knows Joan Miro, vodka and coffee.

It is obvious that one cannot modify the deepest realities. Neither you nor I can deny the facts surrounding the inevitability of the their clash in the night. Nor can we deny that they are waiting even now to speak on the phone, about what ? when ? where ? and so on. Even though this is a text that is still feverish with the events of the day the text is still trying assure me that everything is going to be alright. But i cannot believe this. Must i accept a text simply because it is a text ? I can accept what part of me considers to be ambiguous,  but the phrase take "He goes to east or west London where he leaves the car double parked coming up the art deco lift" at the end of this sentence, that is obviously far too long for a short attention span world, as is the time I  have taken waiting for him and then after he returns and has a bath washing off her scent, then re-emerges dressed in the Japanese robe I brought him from Tokyo last year for his birthday. He leans back against the divan and avoids looking at her breasts as her robe falls open as she, I bend over to kiss him and then sits down her head on his chest and asks him about his evening. Then a glass of Grand Marnier and the last cigarette of the day, his naked thigh on which I play my fingers bringing out that soft dreamy moan, without her or the Alchemist (how nice to see it as without) until that point where I untie my robe, hands running over his body, the first convulsion and together we go off to the bedroom and fall together onto the duvet and then as I move towards those parts of the body that demand attention he says – wait, just a moment I've got to make a call, send a fax, post an email. To her of course – I'm back of course it was fine, I'll see you tomorrow, lunch yes, no it was wonderful I feel as if we have known each other for ever. They talk some more I get off the bed and put on my robe, go past him into the other room and scan CDs, stroke the cat, the text says 'stroke the cat' dream of heroic acts killing terrorists in the office, causing him pain, the text says go past him still on the phone to her, there is no point in re-reading it making sure, that is what it says, I go back to look at CDs stroking the cat whilst he is on the phone to her. Instead I go into the kitchen and make tea turn on the radio, it's so late now that the jazz concert has finished and they are playing some well tempered Bach on radio three. I know,  longer, I don't feel like bed, sleep or anything else. Though the text wants me to stay still drink Grand Marnier and return eventually to the bedroom for want of anything else to do, but I don't see how that is possible as I drink tea instead the robe falling open as the tea pours and I turn and stare at my body in the hall mirror. He has returned to the bedroom. I turn the music up a little and lie down on the sofa thinking of the Francis Bacon paintings I'd seen yesterday.

This was years ago, another century, another universe. Denying the second law of thermodynamics, the unidirectionality of things was never my thing. I went with the flow and vanished a few days later with my clothes and library in the golf. Following the line of flight to another part of london, to a flat near the park. I never saw him again.  Now I wonder if he ever saw me again, perhaps walking along Old Compton Street, through a bookshop window, in a cinema queue, holding hands with the person I love.  All of this was predetermined when the sun formed, from the cataclysmic violence that caused the earth to form...

[demigodofhoolemere]

I mean the lessons to be learned from "and if I perish, I perish" is EXCELLENT and "Who knows if you were saved for a time such as this?" is top tier but neither of those seem like quite the right thing to share, at least not in the ways I've been thinking of. IDK, I just thought I'd ask :)

@should-be-studying-not-shipping

I seem to have lost the first part of your ask when I tried to respond to it lol so I guess I’m responding to the second part.

EDIT: it somehow buried itself? But I found it lol

You’ve certainly come to the right place, because Esther happens to be my very favorite scripture hero! I totally understand coherent thoughts fizzling away though lol, that happens to me all the time and may still happen to me now as I try to answer 😅

Those definitely sound like good things to share! If you feel inspired to share something else you find in the story, by all means, but I do think those are really important things.

“[…] and who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” is so powerful, I love it. I love the faith and wisdom that Mordecai shows there, to truly believe that she may have been set apart by God for the purpose of rescuing His people. He was so right and it’s something we see all over scripture and continue to see in modern life, whether it’s in a big way or a smaller, more personal way. So many prophets and faithful disciples have been prepared by the Lord for the time and place they were in to do His will there and bring to pass the miracles He had planned. He knows exactly what needs to happen and exactly who He needs placed in a situation to make that happen. I’m sure Esther never expected to be made so important, but it’s often the meek and unlikely that He uses. Whether it’s a scripture story or times in my own life where I’ve clearly seen His hand having prepared something (often a long time ahead of the miracle happening, because He’s playing the long game at all times and meticulously sets things in place), it is so true and so beautiful that God prepares people for the time and place they are in to do great things, whether it’s saving a people like Esther did or just being there for someone at the right moment that they needed it.

And ohhhh, “if I perish, I perish” has so much weight to it. It takes a ton of faith to be willing to do something that has a fair likelihood of getting you killed, and to be willing to accept that possible outcome. This is truly what I’ve always loved about Esther the most and why I’ve looked up to her so much since I was a kid. That is a woman who knows that she is in God’s hands, so she’ll do as He asks no matter how afraid she is, come what may. I can barely imagine not eating or drinking for three days, let alone knowing I may be walking into my death. That is the kind of trust in the hand of God that I’ve always aspired to.

I think she’s also just a very good example of being a good person to the people around her, and the power that can come from simply being good. King Ahasuerus seems to immediately like her, and it actually says a lot that he did indeed hold out the scepter for her, because kings in those times were often very careful about who came in to see them in order to protect themselves from potential threats and many didn’t even trust their queens enough to let them in without notice or having asked them to come. The fact that he not only holds out the scepter but then repeatedly offers her whatever she wishes of him, including up to half of the kingdom, really displays that he had a lot of trust in her and care for her, and she must have given him plenty of good reason to. Simply her being a kind and genuine person gave precedence for Ahasuerus to not only trust and believe her (even after he learned she’d hidden the truth of her heritage) but also ultimately to see to it that the Jews would not be destroyed, thus carrying out God’s will. Goodness holds power.

Anyway, she’s my favorite.

[unfoundhoney]

a sister’s sacrifice ; part three ↠

↠ platonic!c!sleepy bois inc x fem!reader , platonic!c!tubbo x fem!reader ; angst just angst

↠ masterlist

↠ part one ; part two ; part three ;

↠ @leafyturtle @basheverythingyesterday @terribletoothbat @bestioe @junoblad3 @machiebach @ok-honey

when considering the deaths of the people on the dream smp server, yours is the hardest

schlatt was detested by all when he’d died

few people still truly cared for wilbur when he met his end; the man he once was was long gone by then

but you

you never changed

you were a constant for so many & immovably kind to the rest

selfless, giving, caring

even when you just wanted an escape, you came to the aid of your brothers

you gave the ultimate sacrifice & paid the price

everyone mourns you

when the battle is won & dream locked away indefinitely

once everyone has come down from the high of freeing themselves from dream’s reign, the server goes into a state of grieving

there’s no denying your death

they all saw the message in chat

you’re dead

those that were close to you took it hard

niki was narrowly stopped from burning down the bakery you encouraged her to open and helped build

eret put her emotions into work on a memorial in their museum for you

even under the egg’s control, bad & ant put the eggpire aside for you

of course, those who took it the hardest is your family

when ghostbur learns of your death, he’s distraught

he doesn’t quite know how to handle the information

he protects your home & only allows people to enter when he supervises them

tommy took a while to move past his anger & deal with the fact that you’re gone

tubbo ran off to start snowchester

he chose to distract himself rather than truly process his emotions, even if you’d always done your best to break that habit of his

now that you’re not around, who’s to stop him from letting himself be numb to it all?

techno is another one of your family members who chose to barely acknowledge your passing

he became somehow more monotonous & emotionless

and phil

...

there’s no word for a parent who loses a child

wilbur was gone & of course it messed phil up to be the one to take will’s last life but by that point his son was gone

but you

you’d always been such a genuinely good person

phil did so little for you as a father

he was so absent

he never apologized to you for that

he never told you how much he loves & appreciates you & everything you’ve done to keep their family together when he couldn’t be bothered

it’s a few hours after he received the news from ranboo that all the guilt for everything he had ever put you through hit him

he broke down in his kitchen while trying to distract himself by organizing his cupboards

but all he could think about was you

you & your never ending kindness & compassion

he was never a father to you

yet you never hated him

why couldn’t you have hated him?

it would hurt less to lose you if you hated him; it’s what he deserves

he’s unworthy of your love

but he can only dwell so long on you

you are given a proper funeral

you’re buried by the seashore, somewhere between l’manberg and tommy’s abandoned vacation homes in an open field

the sever members plant so many flowers, your gravesite becomes a flower field

but soon, life goes on

it will only hurt for longer to draw out the mourning period

it would do no good for anyone

besides, you wouldn’t want the server to be sad for your sake

techno supposes it’s for the best that you died

he does his best to move on, filling his days with resource gathering and upgrading his tools, weapons, and armor while trying to think through his emotions logically

as much as he liked you

as much as everyone liked you, you were too good

you were the best of them

fate is not kind to heroes

“hello!”

technoblade is not an easy man to sneak up on, let alone scare

the greeting itself isn’t want startles him

it’s turning toward the voice to lock eyes with you

you who is dead

techno is not proud of the sound he made when he saw you but you of all people wouldn’t make fun of him for it

he just stares at you, slowly realizing what’s happened

you look desaturated, the color drained from your clothes

your skin is grey & almost translucent

you’re a ghost

“y/n.”

“hello! who are you?”

techno tells no on one of your ghost form

he even keeps the rest of the server a secret from you

he leads you to your old home & leaves you there w/ ghostbur

he hopes your and ghostbur’s combined amnesia will keep you out of harm’s way i.e. the rest of the server

he visits you occasionally but mostly leaves you be

you live happily with ghostbur for a while

he is very glad to have you back

his memory is nearly as bad as yours, so the story of the server & what happened to you when you were alive is only given to you in bits & pieces that are near impossible to fit together

it was only a matter of time before someone came to visit your house

“...y/n?”

it’s tubbo who finds you first

or he finds your ghost

(tubbo) y/n! oh my god! you’re a ghost! you’ve come back!

(you) hello! *whispers* ghostbur, who is this?

(ghostbur, whispering obviously) that’s tubbo, one of your other brothers i’ve told you about

(you, whispering) oh, right

(tubbo) how long have you- oh, this is incredible! i have to tell tommy! he’s been so sad since you died; he’ll be so glad to see you!

tubbo messages tommy, who is skeptical but reluctantly comes to your house anyway

but there you are

your ghost anyway

which is good enough, honestly

(tommy) y/n!

you catch him in a hug easily, even if you’ve never met him before

(tommy) you’re alive!

(you) no i’m not. i’m a ghost!

techno happens to check in on you when tubbo & tommy are there

bad news for technoblade: you’d told them about techno leading you here

meaning: tommy knows techno hid you from him & everyone else

needless to say, he is not too happy about that

(tommy) you hid her! you kept her away from us!

(techno) tommy, you have to understand-

(tommy) i don’t have to understand shit! you hid her from us! you lied to us!

(techno) tommy-

(tommy) you kept her from everyone! you’re selfish and you’re a liar and you’re horrible and-

(techno) i did it to protect her! she’s been hurt enough protecting others; it’s our turn to protect her. the only way we can do that is by leaving her alone

(tommy) she’s my sister

(techno) your sister is dead, tommy. for once in her life, let her have peace

tommy gives up on techno & goes to you instead

(tommy) y/n! y/n, we can bring you back. we can revive you. well, dream can revive you but he’s in prison so he has to do what we say so we can bring you back. we can be a family again. don’t you want to come back?

(you) ...no

that

...

that isn’t what tommy was expecting

(tommy) what?

(you) if alive y/n comes back, i won’t exist anymore. and i’ve only just got here. i don’t want to go yet

(tommy) don’t you understand how much y/n means to me? y/n has to come back. she has to. she’s so important. not just to me but to, um... tubbo as well! right, tubbo? don’t you want y/n back?

tommy looks to tubbo for some backup but the shorter boy looks away

(tubbo) i think we need to let y/n go, tommy

the betrayal that fills tommy’s chest is soon gone as he locks eyes with techno

tommy knows techno is right

you’re too much of a good person

you’re too willing to sacrifice yourself for others

even as a ghost your kindness is blinding

this server will only drain you of everything you have yet again

he will drain you of everything you are

he’s just tried to convince you to cease to exist to bring back the former version of yourself

(you) i’m sorry. it’s just- i’ve heard there are these really pretty blue flowers in the swamp biome that i haven’t got to see yet-

(tommy) no. it’s fine. i’m sorry. i-... i should go.

tommy leaves your house & tubbo goes with him

even if tubbo caught on a bit sooner to techno’s reasoning, he’s still concerned at his friend’s sudden change in character

(tubbo) tommy... are you alright?

(tommy) ...i really want her back

(tubbo) i do, too. but she’s gone

(tommy) she doesn’t have to be

tubbo can’t argue with that

(tommy) but... maybe it’s for the best

(tubbo) really?

(tommy) yeah.

(tubbo) but just earlier you were telling me about your plan to get the revive book from dream

(tommy) techno’s right, tubbo. all everyone- myself included- has ever done to y/n is take. and she’s given everything

(tubbo) because she loved us

(tommy) as much as she loved us and as much as we loved her... the only thing we’ve ever brought her is pain. i think now... now is her time to rest.

(tubbo) ...that’s very pog champ of you, big man

tommy had planned to visit dream as many times as it took to get the revive book location off of him so he could revive you, but now he’s accepted that he needs to move on

he needs to move on from you & dream & everything dream has put him through

he decides to pay one last visit to dream, put him behind him, & never look back

he’s ready to start a new chapter in his life, one without dream

and the first one without you

but then he’s locked in the prison

two weeks pass

nearing three weeks & tommy still isn’t allowed out of dream’s cell

he’s irritated and annoyed and most of all he’s scared

but he can’t let dream know he’s still afraid of him, that’s why he pisses dream off enough to the point of being beat to death

tommy begs him to stop

but then he’s gone

everything is dark

black

empty

nothing

is this what death is?

conscious in absolute nothingness?

tommy’s feet feel the ground beneath him

his senses come back to him

it’s still dark but he feels as though he can see again

where is he?

heaven?

no, probably hell

or maybe neither?

both...?

what the hell happened?

the first thing to break the silence is the voice tommy has known since he was an infant

the voice of the person who raised him

the voice of the person who has always been there for him

the voice of the person who he has finally let go of

your voice

saying one simple word

“tommy?”

[donutloverxo]

Good little wife

Note - Inspired by a request I got long ago and written for the happy hoelidays challenge I'm cohosting with my sister hoes @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 . I used the prompts two idiots in love + Character A loves Christmas. Character B hates it. A melts Bs cold heart Dividers by @firefly-graphics .

Summary - Your husband makes up to you for being a Grinch and a meanie to you throughout your marriage.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), dub con, older man/younger woman, arranged marrige, leaking nudes, daddy kink, blood play, virginity/innocence kink, loss of virginity, virgin reader, painful sex, misogyny, mob activities.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 8k

“You look beautiful, cookie,” your mother raved, pressing her lips to your cheek, “He’s a lucky man.”

You only hummed. Staring at your refection, seeing someone you didn’t even recognize.

Your white lace dress somewhat conservative, still really pretty, something you would’ve been more than happy to wear if your circumstances weren’t so depressing.

You almost let out a sardonic laugh, you didn’t get to choose your husband but at least you chose your wedding gown.

“It’ll be alright,” your mother picked at your hair, noticing your evident sadness, you’ve never been one to hide how you feel anyway, “you’ll learn to love him. He’s very successful.”

“I always thought ‘money doesn’t make you happy',” something she had said to you so many times over the years.

“That’s just a fairy tale. People fall out of love, run out of things to talk about, men cheat, in the end all that’s left is how well he can provide for you,” she stated.

You checked your phone as soon as you could, going through your messages to see if your boyfriend, or rather your now ex boyfriend, had sent you anything. You still naively hoped that he'd come on a white horse and sweep you off and away, so you wouldn’t have to marry someone you’ve else. So you wouldn’t have to give up your freedom forever and just be someone’s wife.

But you saw nothing. He hadn’t talked to you, not since your father found out about you both. Since he was from a family your daddy hated with a passion, and you were supposed to as well, your father made you cut all times with him. Locked you in your room in a timeout till you came to your senses.

After over three weeks he came to you, telling you how he was ready to forgive you and move on. You were so happy. For a minute you let yourself believe that this was your father, he loved you unconditionally, of course he'd set aside whatever vain feud he has and let you be with your love.

All your hopes were crushed when he told you he had selected a husband for you whom you have to marry in just a month. That you had to drop out of college since you wouldn’t need that degree anyway.

You always did believe that he had your best interests at heart, you wanted to believe it this time as well, but you just couldn’t.

Cringing inwardly when he kissed your cheeks, “You look beautiful,” he told you, cold eyes staring at you, “Don’t try anything stupid. Andrew is a good man,” he looped your arm in with his.

“He’s more than a decade older than me,” you argued, biting your lip as he squeezed your arm to warn you.

You slapped a fake smile on your face, walking down, one step after another as everyone looked at you in awe.

This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life...

But when you looked at Andy waiting for you at the alter you felt nothing but grave anxiety which made your teeth clatter, his palms joined together at his front, he did look handsome with his tux and neat beard. You have had a crush on him for a long time but you’ve never even had a real conversation with him, you didn’t know him. No one did.

Your heart filled with dread as your father handed you over to Andy, patting him on his shoulder, “Take good care of her.”

“I will,” Andy smiled.

You weren’t really there, maybe your body was but your soul had left you to maybe make the whole ordeal less painful. The priest read the vows asking you if you were ready to take him as your husband forever.

“I do,” since you had no other choice.

“I do,” he repeated.

You felt a shiver jolt up your spine when his fingers grazed yours, putting the thin silver band on your finger before lifting your veil to press his lips to yours, giving you a chaste, barely there kiss as everyone cheered you on.

The rest of the evening was a blur, you could barely register what had happened, everyone sweetly calling you ‘Mrs Barber’ only making you more nervous.

Andy however, was cordial and formal as always, shaking their hands and thanking them.

Since you hadn’t really taken any dance lessons you were left to simply wing it with him at your first dance. With your clammy hands in his you tried to match his pace as he lead you, bumping into his feet with yours more than once.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Relax,” making you shudder.

You looked up at him, he had barely said two words to you but your grandmother often said ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul’.

And Andy’s eyes were so... kind, like a blue ocean you could happily drown in. He almost looked at you as if he were fond of you.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad...

You didn’t really expect Andy to carry you over the threshold, that was just a silly little fantasy you’ve always had and you knew he’d never indulge you in it but he didn’t even hold the door open for you.

You looked around his condo, so grey and boring, looked like it was out of a magazine catalogue, you felt so out of place there.

Naturally, you followed him to his bedroom, watching him wake his coat off, followed by his cuffs as he rolled his sleeves up.

You went over what you wanted to say in your head, how do you tell your husband that you’re a virgin, on your wedding night--that was something your grandmother never gave you advice on. You could’ve used her wisdom then.

With your mouth suddenly dry you tried to speak as he poured himself a drink, “Um... I’ve...”

“What?” he looked at you, quirking a brown brow up.

“Nothing,” you shook your head as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is a nice house.”

“You can take the guestroom,” he said bluntly.

“What?”

“You can take the guestroom. I’ve already put all your bags there, you can decorate it however you like but don’t touch anything else.”

“But I...I’ve never heard of husband and wife sleeping in different rooms.”

“That’s true, it is unusual. This is not a normal marriage though, is it?” His tone so frustratingly patronising, as if he was talking to a child.

You’ve never really been appreciated for your mind, women never are--not where you come from, even your love Alex only ever thought of you as a ‘pretty face’. But Andy didn’t need to spell it out for you, “You... don’t want me...” you realised.

He only scoffed. He’d never been one for long term relationships, he had tried but he could never give himself to another person, women often called him emotionally unavailable, his demanding and dangerous job did contribute a lot to that, but more than that it was his unwillingness to change. He was self aware enough to know that but he didn’t need anyone else. He didn’t want to be tied down or to have a nagging immature wife.

“But why...” you wondered. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to marry him, but now you had accepted it and wanted to make the best of your new life. You thought he wanted the same.

“Why would I want you?” he spat. “ You’re nothing but a spoilt rich girl who’s had everything handed to her. Who was ungrateful and stupid enough to fraternize with the enemy.”

You let out a shaky exhale, looking at him with teary eyes, “I loved him...”

“You don’t know the first thing about love,” he rolled his eyes.

“He loved me too! But I’m willing to put that behind me. I made a vow to you.”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” you frowned.

He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery to show you the compromising pictures you had sent to your ex, “He shared that with everyone, it was all just a ploy to humiliate your father.”

You gasped, taking his phone in your trembling hand, your breasts exposed as you shyly looked at the camera. You had flat out refused to send him a nude when he asked for it but then he threatened to break up with you, to go after your best friend, even called you a prude because you hadn’t slept with him. At the moment you felt as if you had no choice but to do it...

“He wouldn’t,” you sobbed.

“And because of your stupidity I had to marry you since no one else would ever want you,” he said. But then regretted it as you just started crying harder. He thought of maybe trying to console you but what would he even say?

He took the phone from you before you could even think of deleting the photos. He used them to pleasure himself almost every night. Maybe he was an idiot, he could have the real thing, yet he was pushing you away, “Go to your room,” he told you which made you sob even moreso.

You looked up at him, begging him for a hug, for some sort of comfort or sympathy but his face was cold and harsh. Finally gathering your wits you went to the other room, ready to cry yourself to sleep.

No matter how beautiful you were, you were still thrusted upon him, you didn’t love him, you never could because you never even had a choice

“Perfect,” you beamed, setting down the chicken pot pie you had just cooked up.

Your grandmama had always told you that a wife should be a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. So that her man would never stray.

And while you hadn’t had a chance to be a whore for Andy... something that you were looking forward to, you hoped the fresh home cooked meal, the holiday season and decorations you had spent the past few days working on would put him in the mood. To maybe accept you as his wife.

For the past six months you had tried everything, making him breakfast, packing his lunch, offering him massages, even trying to help him with his work but he was always so cold to you.

You feared that this is how it will be forever. He would never love you, not the way you’ve always loved him. Even when he was so cruel towards you.

But you were nothing if not resilient. So you said chuck it and went all out. Decorating your whole house, with a real tree for the past few days while Andy was out on a work trip for thanksgiving. Maybe you could surprise him and he’d realise just how much he lucked out with you.

You even went with a more risqué outfit than you usually would. Your little emerald green skirt with pleats was a bit too short and impractical for the cold winters but you were going to stay inside anyway. It was topped off with a tight burgundy blouse and a push up bra which made your girls look enticing and some red pumps.

With a pumpkin pie for dessert in the oven, your salads done and the gingerbread flavored candles lit up you were good to go.

So you sat on the couch, watching 'A Christmas story' for the hundredth time to kill time till he gets home and to distract your nervous mind.

After ninety minutes the movie was over but Andy still wasn’t home. You tried calling him but it kept going to voicemail.

Frustrated, but determined to follow through with your ‘Seduce Andy Barber’ plan you put on another movie, chewing your lip till it bled as you impatiently waited for him.

Soon it was midnight, your food got cold and the rumbling in your tummy became more prominent so you decide to eat your dinner, put the leftovers in the freezer and cut your losses.

You were almost done with your dishes when your husband coming into the apartment, turning around you saw him hang his coat on the back of the chair and plomp down on it. He groaned, pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal his bulky forearms.

“You’re home,” you said, taking off your apron so he could see your little get up.

He didn’t smile at you like you expected he would, he didn’t say ‘Good job’ like you thought he would. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to bend you over the dining table and take you then and there. He simply frowned at you. Looking at you as if your mere existence offended him.

“I told you; you were allowed to decorate your room however you liked. Not the whole apartment,” he growled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What? I did it for you... I thought you would like it, ” you stood there, dumbfounded, shifting from one foot to another, “You don’t like Christmas.” You realised.

“No, I don’t. Christmas isn’t all fun and jolly for everybody. I’ve never had anyone to celebrate it with,” he did you a once over, his pants tightening uncomfortably as he took in your little ensemble.

He had never had a single good Christmas in his whole life. He’d usually spend it either working or drinking. But now, he had you, his good little wife who had gone out of her way to do all this just for him.

He could kiss your red lips then and there, finally do what he’s been wanting to go for the past few months and make love to you, eat the delicious meal you had made him because he was fucking starving.

But then he realized how easily you could be taken away from him. How this was all so fickle.

“Do you want a divorce?” he crossed his hands over his chest, as if daring you to give a wrong answer, “If you do, I’ll give you one right now.”

“I - ” you strutted, you didn’t really know, “Daddy would never let that happen.” To which he scoffed.

Your father would kill you both if this marriage failed. He knew that, why would he still be willing to risk everything?

“Where are you going?” you asked when he got up from the chair.

“To my room, to sleep,” he sighed.

He knew what you would say, he knew you were daddy’s little girl who’d die before disappointing her father, which was solely why you were with him, and yet he let himself fall for you and get hurt.

You tugged on his shirt, ready to beg him to at least eat the meal you made for him but then you frowned, inhaling the feminine perfume from his shirt, mixed with his own Cologne, you took a step back, your eyes brimming with tears as you realised he might’ve been with another woman.

While you were home slaving away to make everything perfect for him.

Your father had a handful of mistresses, a few of them younger than you. Your mother knew, all wives know and look the other way. That was how it was supposed to be. It was how you make marriages last...

And your poor beaten heart could take his coldness towards you, it absolutely could not bear him being with another woman. Your father had always praised him for being loyal, and it was one of the things you loved about him...

“Where were you?” you sniffled to keep the tears at bay.

“I was out working. So I could pay for your shopping sprees.” He spat.

You gasped, “I haven’t gone shopping in months! I only did now for Christmas!”

“That tree better be down by the time I wake up. You can out all that crap in your bedroom if you like. I do not what to see it.” He said gravelly, before slamming his door shut.

Something was horribly wrong.

Andy came home to an empty, cold house. You weren’t there to greet him like you usually are, in fact you hadn’t been for the past few weeks. He could hear the TV from your room, some kind of musical playing.

He checked the kitchen for some food, you used to make dinner every night, rave about your love for cooking and baking, but now it seemed that you lived on poptarts and McDonald’s.

He knocked on your door, to ask if you wanted some of the alfredo he was cooking up, also to maybe get you to have dinner with him.

Ever since he had married you, he had such a beautiful companion to have dinner with. To watch silly romcoms with, someone who waited for him to come home, called him all worried when he was late, asked him how his day was

It’d break his heart to say good night to you, you’d give him those puppy eyes, fluttering your lashes as if begging him to invite you to bed with him.

He wanted to ask you to come, to feel what it would be like to snuggle up with your soft body, to smell your hair, to finally fuck you, but he’d just go away to sleep in his cold bed with a heavy heart. Making do with his hand as he thought of you, it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as you would but it would have to do.

“Can I come in, honey?” he asked.

Letting himself in when no answer came from you. You were lying on your bed, blankets draped over you, your eyes trained on the television. He looked around your room, he had only been there a couple of times, he had expected to see some kind of winter wonderland since you were such a fan of Christmas.

But it looked just how it usually did... pale pink walls, a queen sized bed, a small closet and a dresser and a vanity. No tree or fairy lights or nut crackers.

He leaned against the door frame. “Did you have dinner?” He wanted to know.

You made some sort of unintelligible noise; which could mean anything. So he asked, “Would you like some pasta? I can’t make it as good as you do but I’ll try.”

“No.” You answered. Still not even looking at him.

“It’s Christmas Eve, do you want to go celebrate with your family?”

You shook your head in response. “No, I think I’ll just stay here.”

He had stolen your brightness and sunshine away, tainting you with his darkness. “Stop it,” he scolded, switching off the TV and standing in front of you to make you listen to him. “Get ready, I’m dropping you off at your fathers. You’re not spending Christmas in bed.”

“What difference does it make?” you huffed.

“Get ready. Right. Now.” He ordered, pulling your blanket away from you.

“No!” you whined. Sitting up, your face heating up with a simmering rage you had harbored for months. “Why do you even care? Do you want to get me out of the house so you could spend Christmas with her?!”

“Who’s her?” he furrowed his brows.

“Your mistress!” you yelled, looking around for something you could hurt him with, you grabbed a hold of your Mrs Bunny, your cute pink stuffie and threw it at his face. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not bringing her in to my house!” You said, throwing another stuffie at him which he caught with his hand.

“Honey,” he said, as if he was so disappointed with you, for catching him in his lies and deceit. “I don’t have a mistress. Where would I even find the time for one? All those late nights were spent at the office or in meetings.”

He would be the world’s biggest idiot to get a mistress when he had a wife like you waiting for him at home. A wife he hadn’t even so much as even kissed... given how pouty and tempting your lips looked, he didn’t know how he resisted for so long.

“Don’t call me honey,” you puffed out your cheeks, “And I don’t believe you.”

“Well, what can I do to make you believe me?”

You sighed, laying back down on the bedding, “There’s not much you can do. Except leave me be. I just want to sleep this Christmas away.”

He had to do something to get your spirits up. And since you has thrown away your old decorations he ran to every store in the town, waiting in the queue for hours, calling in as many favors as he could to get some new ones.

While he wasn’t able to get a real Christmas tree, he got a fake one which was a bit smaller than the one you had put up but not all that bad.

You had decorated the apartment with the traditional red, greens and golden he decided to go with a soft pastel pink theme. Hoping that you would like it and forgive him.

He had gotten you couple of gifts, a little babydoll he saw on the internet, it was pink and sexy, he thought of you the moment he saw it. Ordering it for you but he never really gathered enough courage to ask you to wear it. He wrapped it up for you in some festive paper, tying a ribbon around it.

He decided to get as many gifts for you as he could so the tree wouldn’t look so depressing, a Tiffany’s set, an advent calendar from a make up company he knew you liked, a box of cookies and one of chocolates, a new apron with floral patterns and frilly trimmings, some cozy socks, and a surprise gift he had been saving for you.

Looking around the living room, while it wasn’t as good as what you had done with the place he was still proud of what he could pull off in just a couple of hours.

He called out your name before knocking and entering, switching on your bedside lamp he sat next to you, stroking your hair, “Wake up, angel.”

“Seriously, stop it with the petnames,” you said, your voice groggy from sleep and irritated. Because he had only ever said your name with contempt before.

“I’m not going to stop, honey. You’re my wife, I can call you whatever I like.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, rubbing your sleep away from your eyes.

“I have a surprise for you.” He smiled at you.

And while he had certainly smiled at you before that, when you had said something funny or silly (which you usually did just to see him smile), this one seemed so much brighter and warm.

“What is it?” you sat up. Still a bit crossed with him but excited to see what surprise he had for you.

“You have to come into the living room for that, and promise to stop being a Grinch,” he said, bopping your nose.

You scoffed incredulously, “I’m being a Grinch?! You were the one who made me take everything down in the first place!”

“I know, honey, and I am sorry for that. Hopefully I can make it up to you.” He winked.

You combed your hair, splashing some water on your face and then following him out to see what he had in mind for you.

You all but gasped at the tree in the middle of your living room, so beautiful, the soft glow of the fairy lights illuminated the room, little festive trinklets all over the room.

He had got you a pink stocking with sparkling silver hearts on it. His was a normal red one with ‘Andy' written with a sharpie or a pen. You giggled at that.

“You like it, honey?” he asked.

You nodded, observing the ornaments on your tree, “I do. Thank you so much, Andy. It’s so beautiful, I don’t think anyone’s ever done something so grand for me.”

Your rave gave him the courage to out his hand over your waist, pulling you into him, “I know this doesn’t make up for everything, but it’s start.”

“Yes! I think... I’d like a fresh start,” you beamed up at him

He excused himself to make some hot chocolate for you both, handing you a mug with little heart shaped marshmallows and sprinkles on top of it. You didn’t even realise how you ended up snuggled up next to him on the couch, Elf playing on the TV which he shockingly had never seen before.

“You know... for someone who hates Christmas so much you did a pretty good job saving it!” you giggled, kissing his bearded cheek.

“Well...” he looked down at you, wiping away the mustache the hot chocolate gave you before sucking his thumb off, “I don’t hate it anymore, because I’m not alone,” he said, his thumb pulling on your plump bottom lip.

“Um...” you face heated up as looked away, “You got me gifts!” you screamed a bit overzealous to change the subject, “Can I open one now? Please?! I’m just so excited!”

“Sure,” he murmured, a bit salty that he didn’t get the kiss.

He knelt next to you on the carpet as you pinked one up, shaking it next to your ear, scrunching your nose up so cutely as you tried to decipher what it was.

“Mmm... I can’t tell...”

“Why don’t you just open it?” he asked as his hand caressed your bare thigh, finding himself unable to keep his hands off of you now that he has you.

You ripped at the wrapping paper, opening the box to reveal the skimpy baby pink lingerie he had got you.

You pulled it out of the box and then started stammering, unable to form words once you realised what it was. “Is this... um..”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s very cute and nice. Do you, want me to wear it for you?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said casually and then shrugged but then regretted it as your face fell and you let. He wasn’t used to half-assing things if he was going to tell you his true feelings, he had to go all out.

Taking a deep breath, “I have to tell you something I’ve been meaning to say for months.”

“What?”

“I... love you,” he looked down at your lap, because he couldn’t bear to look in your eyes if you decided to reject him.

“Oh, Andy!” you beamed, “I love you too! I’ve always loved you,” you crawled on top of him, throwing your arms around his neck you hugged him.

“That’s good then,” he smiled stroking your back, he pulled you back so he could look at your pretty face, cupping your cheek he pressed his lips against yours.

He had only kissed you once, months ago at your wedding, and while it was not bad at all it was too short and formal and distant, nothing compared to how he felt right now. Moulding his lips against yours, kneading the flesh of your ass, you tasted just as sweet as he imagined you would.

You gasped in his mouth when he rutted his erection up into your core. “Andy!” your chest heaving as you felt him pressing against your thigh.

“What do you say you go put that on for me, doll? Hm?” he instructed.

You meekly nodded, grabbing a hold of the lingerie which you just now noticed was so sheer and would not really leave anything to the imagination.

“Come on out quickly now,” his impatience seeping through his voice as he sat on the edge of his, or what would now be both of your marital bed, one leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping against the floor.

His pants already snug, just from imagining what you would look like with the flimsy thing on. It wasn’t as revealing or kinky as some of the other pieces he had seen, but he felt it would match your personality perfectly.

He groaned, calling out your name again, “I’m gonna fucking die of blue balls, if you don’t come out right now, I’m coming in,” he got up to his feet to do just that but then stopped when he heard the knob twist.

One smooth leg peaking out of the bathroom, “Um... promise you wouldn’t make fun of me?” you asked. Your eyes screwed shut, you didn’t really have much of choice but you had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone. You’d hate to not be satisfactory for him.

“I promise,” his face softened, he had to practice some restrain, at least until he breaks you in, “Now come on out.”

You opened the door, your meek eyes fixed on your hardwood floor, your hands hugging your midsection. You blinked when he said nothing for several long, tortuous moments. Peaking a glance up at him you found him staring at you.

“Uh, do you like it?” you asked as your hands played with the helm of the teddy.

He almost scoffed. Like would be an understatement.

He knew pink would be your color. The nightie so short, clinging to your curves, your nipples pebbled against the satiny fabric, you looked like a sweet little doll and a whole fucking meal to devour at the same time. He would burst before he even got to touch you.

“Twirl,” he made the motion with his forefinger to demonstrate it, “Let me look at you better. And hands to your sides.”

You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall, doing as he had asked, your heart hammering in your chest because for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out if he actually liked you.

“Stop there,” he instructed when he got a look at your pert, round butt, the cloth barely covering it, he could see the imprints of the thong you wore.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

“If I like your front better or your behind.” He almost chuckled at the incredulous gasp you let out. “Alright, look at me again.” Definitely the front, because he could see your beautiful face. Taking his original position on the bedding, “Come here,” he patted his lap.

Like the obedient wife that you aspired to be, you followed, perching yourself up on his lap, your arms around his neck for some support, looking into his lust blown, dark eyes.

You bite your lip when you felt that pressing into your thigh. Unable to bear his intense gaze you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

He hushed you, snuggling your soft body closer to his, his fingers drawing patterns on your hip, “How many men have you been with before?”

It didn’t really matter whatever your answer would be. But he wanted to tell you, that how ever many there were before him won’t matter anymore. From now on you are solely his.

“None,” you whispered so lowly that he almost couldn’t hear you.

“What?” Holding onto your chin so that he could make you look at him, “None? How is that possible?”

“I’ve just been waiting for the right one... I was going to with Alex but then didn’t...” you said as your hands caressed the coarse hair on his jaw.

He hummed, the fact that he would be your one and only, forever, only served to entice him further.

“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” he asked, although he knew the answer.

“No...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” he promised, pushing on your shoulders to make you get on your knees.

You hissed at the cold floor, biting into the your calves and knees.

His dainty princess, he grabbed a throw pillow, instructing you to put it under, all the while staring at your cleavage peaking out like a creep.

Your eyes were fixated on his crotch, eager to see what a real penis looks like. You had watched some porn when you were a teen, out of sheer curiosity, but your friends had told you to lower your expectations. That real ones are much smaller and not so aesthetically pleasing.

You all but gasped when he took his cock out of the confines of his sweats, slapping over his abdomen. So big... and thick, with two veins over it, a bright flushed tip leaking with pre-ejaculate, and some soft hair dusted at the base of it.

You tried to stop yourself but then couldn’t help it, your hand shyly touching his tip yanking it down and then releasing it to see what happens. As suspected it flew back over, hard against his tummy, making you giggled.

“Oh gosh...” you slapped a palm over your mouth to stop from laughing.

He scrunched up the hair on the back of your head, yanking your neck back so that he could look at you, “What’s so funny?” he growled.

“Nothing,” you gulped, “It’s all just so strange and new... and exciting...”

He hummed as he took in your words. Grabbing the base of his cock as he rubbed his tip and precum all over your cheeks till your face was positively glowing with his essence.

“You wanna taste it?” he asked, to which you eagerly nodded.

Nudging your pouty lips with his tips before tapping on them when you didn’t get the clue, “Open.”

“Oh,” you said before opening as wide as you could, his length easing into your mouth. You hummed around him, the salty unique taste of him you had never really known before and couldn’t get enough of now.

He was barely halfway through inside you when he touched the back of your throat, he tutted, “Relax your throat,” he told you.

You didn’t really know what he meant but you tried loosening up all your muscles. Choking around him when he pushed in a few more inches.

Most of him was still out but it was as good as it’s gonna get, not that he’d ever complain... no... your mouth was like heaven. He had only known his hand for the past year Or so, and your mouth was almost too much.

Holding onto your face to keep it in place he started thrusting upwards into you, his heart swelling with tears escaped your eyes but you still tried to take more of him, to please him like the good girl that you were.

He stopped his hips, gently slapping your cheek to get your attention, “You always look at me when my dick is in your mouth. Got it?”

Since you couldn’t talk with your mouth full of cock, you just nodded.

You peered up at him innocently, fluttering your lashes, popping him out of your sloppy mouth, “Am I doing it right?” because you truly couldn’t tell.

He chuckled, smoothening a hand down your hair, “More than right... it’s too good but I want to come in your pussy. Maybe I’ll make you swallow my load latter, what do you think?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” you licked your lips to taste more of him.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered.

“Um... can I go fix my face before that,” you rubbed your mouth with the back of your hand, you doubted you looked very pretty to him then.

“No,” he stated, pulling you up by your armpits and all but throwing you on the bed.

You yelped and tried to protest, “I wanna look good for you...”

He pushed your legs apart to make room for him, smirking above you, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat, his prey, “This really does look pretty on you...” he rubbed the flimsy spagetti strap between his fingers, “but it’s served it’s purpose.”

You screamed, holding onto his wrists as he ripped the babydoll in two pieces, revealing your breasts to him, he yanked at it, throwing the remains away.

“That’s much better,” he gritted, pinching one of your peaks, capturing it in his mouth and suckling at it to his hearts content.

You pouted as you looked at the torn cloth, a bit upset that he ruined his gift to you. “I really liked that...” you sniffled. But couldn’t really ponder because Andy’s ravenous mouth was sucking hickies all over your breasts.

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you ten more,” he bit into the side of your breasts, your mewls and whines were like music to his ears.

“Andy...” you heaved, “Don’t leave marks... I have to go to dinner tomorrow to moms...”

He stopped abruptly, propping himself up above you and you were afraid that you had upset him, “You’re my wife now, honey. Your father gave you to me,” his hand snaking down your body, between your legs, he parted your moist lips, the pad of his fingers meeting your little pearl, “I can do whatever I want with you,” he reminded you, pushing a finger into you, “This cunt is mine now, got it?”

“Yess...” you whined as you squirmed under him, the invasion of his finger inside you too alien to your body.

“Which means you ask for permission before you touch yourself, or better yet, don’t touch yourself because that’s my job,” he stated.

“Have you ever made yourself come?” he asked, trailing soft kisses down your body till he settled between your legs, moving the strong of the thing to the side so he could get a better look at your virgin pussy, adding another finger inside you, your snug walls clinging to his digits, “You’re so fucking small. Can barely fit my finger. How will you take my cock,” he teased.

He’d make you take it.

You whimpered at the sting of it, “I’ll try, daddy...” throwing your head back as you massaged your breast.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him when he stopped his ministrations, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he quirked a brow. “Do you realise what you just called me?”

You simply shook your head because you hadn’t really called him anything, “Andy?”

“No,” he huffed, “You called me daddy, honey.”

You gasped, you didn’t mean to say it out loud! “No...” you shook you head from side to side, trying to pull away from his fingers still knuckle deep inside you, “It can’t be!”

“Oh, but you did,” he laughed, “And you’re gonna say it again. In fact, from now on, when it’s just the two of us that’s the only thing that you will call me. Unless you wanna get punished...”

“Okay...” you said, still a bit unsure of it all.

You had always called him ‘daddy’ in your fantasies. It was maybe a bit expected for it to slip out like that but still so embarrassing. You said it again just to make sure that he actually wanted you to call him that and wasn’t just teasing you.

“Good girl,” he winked, latching his mouth around your clit, fucking you with his fingers as he kept sucking.

“Daddy...” you whined, biting on your hand to muffle some of your noises, a knot building up in the pit of your stomach, “Don’t stop, please!”

You gushed over his mouth, he lapped it all up, making sure nothing went to waste.

“You did good, honey,” he said, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard glistening with your juices. He rolled your thong down your thick thighs, “You wear this to dinner tomorrow,” he told you. “Since I’m going to be a real husband from now on I pick out what you wear.”

All so he could see you in those pretty flowy dresses you wear sometimes, but you didn’t need to know that.

He hastily pushed his sweats and briefs past his hips, throwing them off the bed before pulling his t-shirt over his head.

You bit your lip at just the sight of him. His shoulders so broad, chest so wide, dark hair dusted all over his chest, you just knew then that all those hours he spent at the gym paid off, you knew he’d be ripped.

But you absolutely did not expect, someone as uptight as him to have numerous tattoos all over his torso.

Something inscribed in Sanskrit on his chest that you didn’t really understand... the logo of your family’s mob on just under his pectoral.

You sat up to get a better look at them, tracing a skull on his bicep that looked much less sophisticated than the others, the lines a bit scribbly, it was already fading.

“That’s the first one,” he interrupted you, “I was a kid back then, got my foster brother to do it.”

You pressed a kiss over it, “I love it.”

His blue eyes beamed at you, he was so beautiful...

“Now for your gift...” he circled your wrist bringing it down to his pelvis.

“Hm?” you looked down, tears brimming up in your eyes as you saw your name written on just beside his hipbone, next to his hard cock, standing tall against his stomach. In a small heart, dark ink against his pale skin, “When did you get it done?” you sniffles, touching his skin to feel the texture of the tattoo.

“A few weeks ago. I just... I’ve never belonged to anyone. Never had a family of my own. But now I have you, and you have me, I’m just as much yours as you’re mine,” he confessed, finally feeling the weight of it lifted off his shoulders. You were a blessing in disguise.

“I love you,” you beamed up at him.

“I love you too, doll, now come on,” he pushed you till you were on your back, “Daddy’s waited long enough. Can’t wiat to fill you up, make you mine.”

He planted a hand on the mattress, so he could see what he was doing to your virgin cunt, look at you and her, as he defiles you and makes you a woman, his thick manhood nudging your glistening lips as he eased into you, he felt you stretching around him, your face twisted in pain as you begged him to go easy on you, he halted when he felt your barrier.

He looked up at your pretty face, sparkling with his spend and your tears, your sweet little whimpers filled the room, he stayed still for a moment to let you get used to him, he knew he should take it easy.

His wife was a delicate, fragile, sweet little girl. He should be more gentle. A better husband and man would be. But he had his whole life to become a good man for you, tonight he just wanted to take what was rightfully his.

Letting out a deep, almost animalistic growl, piercing through your seal, your innocence till you were screeching, your nails drawing blood from the sides of his thighs.

“It hurts!” you screamed.

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit, doll. Just ride through it,” he cooed, stroking your sensitive clit to draw your attention away from the pain, he withdrew his hips before snapping them back till he was deep within your womb.

“You’re so snug, honey,” he grunted, not letting up his pace as he kept fucking into you,

A proud smirk gracing his face as he looked down to see himself covered in blood, a sticky mess of both your bodily fluids where your sexes were joined. His dick somehow grew harder inside you knowing how he took something from you that you’ll never be able to give someone else.

Slowly your crying and whining was subsiding as you got used to have him inside you, but he wanted to hear you scream for him in a different way. “Don’t you want to make your husband, no, your daddy happy, honey?” He asked, each word punctuated with a deep, harsh thrust into you.

You nodded, willing your tears away, cringing when you saw his crotch covered in your blood, “Yes I do, daddy. What do I do?”

“Your cute dumb brain always needs to be told what to do,” he chuckled, moving closer to you he circled his palms around your wrists, pinning them above you, “Wrap your legs around me.”

You followed along, wrapping your legs around his hips and hooking them together on his back. Closing your eyes when you felt your body seizing up, your pussy pulsating around his length when you felt the familiar feeling creep up on you.

“Look at me!” he barked and you immediately opened your eyes, “You look at me when I fuck you.”

You gulped and dared not close your eyes again. Even as you felt your orgasm wash over you, clenching around his length. His face was scrunched up, his neck, face and chest flush as he chased his own release till you felt his warm release coating your walls.

He collapsed above you, panting beside you he kissed your hair, “You liked that, babygirl?”

You let out a meek little yes. Feeling empty and void of his warmth and hardness when he pulled out of you before settling next to you.

“But...” you trailed off. Not finding it in you to bare yourself to him like that just yet.

“But what?” he whipped his head to look at you.

“But I’m sorry if I wasn’t very good!” Since you had simple laid there and took whatever he gave you. You had heard that men don’t like that...

“Don’t worry, honey, you were absolutely perfect,” he sighed. “You’ll get even better with practice, we’re gonna practice a lot from now on.”

You tried to cover your breasts up with the comforter, still awkward about being stark naked right next to a man, a man who looked as good as like Andy, but he swatted at your hands, reprimanding you and telling you to stay still and let him look at you to his hearts content.

Soon you felt your cunt throbbing back up again, still so raw from the loving Andy gave it, you tried rubbing your legs together to ease it a little bit.

“It still hurts?” Andy asked as you nodded.

He snaked a hand between your legs, massaging your little nub and your lips, tutting when you tried to pull away from his touch, “Shh I’m trying to make it hurt less.”

He hummed when he saw his seed leak out of you, pushing a finger in you, much to your displeasure, to keep it inside you, where it belonged.

He would make you go on some form of birth control as soon as he could. While the idea of you all round and plump with his kid was more than appealing, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else just yet. You were young, he had plenty of years to breed you.

“You’d make a good mother,” he wondered out loud.

“Hm?” you blinked at him. Squirming from the torture he was yielding on your overworked sex. His lips curled up in a twisted smile as he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping your blood on your soft nipples, painting them crimson as you shivered.

You looked at his cock, hard again against his stomach. “Does it hurt?” you asked, your hands twitching to touch it again.

“Yes, it does. Do you wanna help me get rid of the pain?”

“Mm... can I use my mouth again? I’m sore...”

“It’s okay, honey, you’ll get used to it,” he promised, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him, your palms pressed into his abdomen as you looked so wrecked, “Guide me in,” he ordered.

You shook your head which earned you a harsh slap on your ass so you held onto the base of his cock, parting your intimate lips, before slowly sinking down on him.

You sighed as you settled, sitting on top of him with his cock nestled inside you, so full and strangely satisfied, his warmth soothing your aching walls, he spanked you again to remind you to move, so you started bouncing on top of him the best you could.

His hand groped at your bouncing titts before he wrapped a hand around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you whimpered and cried, just to remind you who’s in charge, not that you’d forget anytime soon.

His only regret was that he hadn’t done this sooner. He was an idiot to ever resist an angel like you. He’ll have to do a lot to make up for lost time.

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