#easier for me to notice this about myself when I’m home in summer

[coffeeteaitsallfine]

It is so sad to me I can realize my period is about to start when I notice my adhd meds are not working for me. My mind keeps jumping from one thing to next and then I’m like wait…it’s only been a few hours it should not be ‘wearing off’ like this. I drank coffee and felt sleepy. I almost thought maybe I didn’t take it but I know I did. Hormones ruin everything and periods are a curse

[casuallyimagining]

Two Hours || myg

otter hybrid yoongi x female reader

Summary: Your neighbor invites you to a work picnic that he's nervous to attend. You promise to only stay for two hours. Word Count: 2,870 Genre: slice of life, fake dating, friends to ???, fluff Warnings: none

Notes: Thank you to @park-jimin-isnt-real for the moodboard above, and to @rec-me-bts for the moodboard below that I used in the teaser. I had so much trouble deciding which one to use where. Also many many thanks to @oddinary4bts and @madbutgloriouspond for beta-ing this for me and for their endless sympathies while I basically had an existential crisis in their dms. Thank you for not telling me I am annoying 💙

The elevator dings and you step onto your floor. Your arm stings from carrying the grocery bags from the garage–they aren’t particularly full, but it’s just heavy enough and just long enough to get your out of shape muscles angry at you. The closer you get to your apartment, the more you notice a banging noise. And when you finally round the corner, you see its source.

Your across-the-hall neighbor, Yoongi, stands outside of his own apartment rattling his door angrily.

“Stuck again?” you ask, fishing out your keys with your free hand.

Yoongi grunts, the small ears on the top of his head pressing into his hair in frustration. Silently, he takes the bags out of your hand while you open your door. 

“You should call the landlord again,” you tell him. He follows you inside as if it’s natural. Which, really, it is. This is the fourth time this month his door has jammed, effectively locking him out of his home until a locksmith showed up.

“I’d fix it myself if he’d let me.” He sets the bags on your counter and starts to hand you items. Strawberries, a bottle of coffee creamer, cucumbers and celery. He picks up a box of frozen fish sticks and flips it around to read. “You know this stuff is garbage, right?”

You ignore his commentary on your groceries. “You know Krolmeir’s never going to let you fix it. He’d have to lower your rent.”

He hums, and you can hear the underlying ‘jackass’ in the tone. 

“Do you want me to call him?” you asked. Krolmeir–your landlord–likes you way more than he seems to like Yoongi. You’re almost positive you can guess why. But you aren’t afraid to use his skeeviness to your advantage.

“I called him just before you showed up.”

“And he said…?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Yoongi imitates Krolmeir’s voice–a high-pitched nasally whine more than anything. He rolls his eyes. “So he’ll be here sometime between five minutes from now and next Tuesday.”

You hum sympathetically. “Hang out here until he comes? I’ll make dinner.”

“Are you making fish sticks?”

“Thought about it.” His face scrunches up in disgust, a massive frown parts his lips, revealing his longer than human canine teeth. You laugh and roll your eyes. “I was actually just going to order something. Want to get sushi?”

His eyes light up, but when he speaks, his tone doesn’t match how excited he looks. “Whatever you want to do. I’m the one crashing your evening.”

You wave him off. He should know by now that he’s not imposing. You’ve been neighbors for a few years now. You’d started off just going grocery shopping together–it’s easier to carry groceries when there are two of you–and quickly progressed to taking refuge in each other’s apartments when something went wrong in your own. First, it had been your air conditioning crapping out that had driven you to Yoongi’s apartment to avoid the late-summer heat. Then, his oven stopped working, and he’d hidden in your living room while the landlord and the handyman made the repairs. Back and forth until a friendship had formed.

The sushi arrives and you settle in together on your couch. You prop your door open so that you can hear if the landlord arrives. He takes two bites of his sashimi before Yoongi hums urgently, causing you to pause the show you’d turned on for background noise.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says, and you can tell he’s suddenly nervous. “So we’re having a potluck picnic thing at work, and someone decided it would be a great idea to make it mandatory.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. But I get a plus one, so I was wondering if maybe you’d go with me? Make it a little more tolerable?”

“You want me to go to your dumb company picnic with you?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Nervously, he pokes at a grain of rice that had fallen off one of his nigiri.

“Sounds like it’s going to be not a lot of fun.”

“Yeah.”

You shrug. “I’m in.”

Yoongi is a ball of nerves as you shift into park. You’re definitely not the first ones here–there’s like ten other cars in the gravel lot, and you can see a large-ish group of people milling about the pavilion just up the hill. He alternates between patting his thigh and picking at the skin around his thumbnail. His ears press into his hair so far you can’t even see them. You know he doesn’t care for his coworkers, but you didn’t know it was this bad. Maybe it’s the crowd, or the fact that so many of his coworkers will be here. You aren’t sure, but you don’t like how affected he is.

You reach over and gently cover his hands with your own. He freezes. “Let’s make a game plan,” you say softly. He hums. “We’ll stay for how long? Two hours? An hour and a half?”

“Two I think. Since it’s mandatory.”

You nod. “Stay for two hours. We’ll talk to people, but if it starts to be too much, let me know.” 

For a moment, he’s quiet. But then, he nods. “Let’s do this.”

You carry the dessert Yoongi made–partially because you’re a little worried he might drop it from nerves–and he sticks by your side. He’s got one hand in his pocket, but he’s so close that the other brushes against you every few steps.

The closer you get, the more the people in the pavilion notice you. You watch as one by one, then a few at a time, they watch you approach. And suddenly, you understand why Yoongi’s uncomfortable. Eventually, someone comes scuttling toward you.

“Hi Yoongi!” she calls, waving enthusiastically as she approaches.

“Oh. Hey Liz.” He presses closer. “We uh… we brought tiramisu.”

The woman–Liz–takes the container out of your hands. You make a small noise of protest, but she’s already gone, back up the hill to the pavilion and everyone else.

“Yoongi and his girlfriend brought dessert,” you hear her announce.

“Oh, tiramisu? Nice!” someone else–you can’t see who–says.

“No way. I thought he was going to bring something fishy.” Someone else, you can see them and you make a note that you hate them, laughs. A few others chuckle, too, and you also hate them.

They’re still laughing when you get to the pavilion. You’re introduced to each of them by finding out what they brought, and honestly, you don’t remember most of their names. It’s David that made the comment about the fish, so you’re sure to memorize his name so you can hate him fully. David’s dating Yoongi’s manager, Marcus, who apparently brought chicken that is very good. There’s Alison, who brought naan, and Rabia who brought chutney to go with it. And Donghyun brought some sort of seven layer dip.

For the most part, none of them talk to you. It quickly becomes clear that these people aren’t friends. Certainly, they aren’t friends with Yoongi, but they aren’t friends at all. They talk to each other, but it’s clear that this is just another mandatory work thing for them, and they don’t want to be here. You’re honestly a little glad that they leave you alone. None of them seem particularly nice. Or interesting.

So you grab food. And you sit together at a table far away from where the rest of the group is lingering.

“One hour, 45 minutes to go,” Yoongi mumbles, and you snort in laughter, almost choking on the naan you’d just taken a bite of.

“Maybe it won’t be so-”

“Mind if I sit?” You’re interrupted by a bright voice, and when you look, Liz is standing beside Yoongi, holding a plate of food.

You look to Yoongi and he makes a face that says he really doesn’t want her to sit with you. But he says nothing, simply gestures to the other side of the table. Which, of course, she takes as an invitation to sit right beside him. He practically squeaks in distress and scoots slightly over so that there’s a bit of space between them.

“I have to be honest,” Liz begins, oblivious. “No one really expected you to bring anyone. We kind of all just assumed you were single, you know?” He hums, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge what she’s saying. Briefly, you consider correcting her–you aren’t dating–but she continues before you can even consider a polite way to address the situation. “How long have you known each other? How’d you meet?”

“Years.” He doesn’t even look at her to answer her, his focus on pushing his food around on his plate. His current victim is the seven layer dip he’s stabbing with a tortilla chip.

“We’re neighbors,” you add, hoping that maybe if you answer her questions, she’ll shut up and leave you alone.

Liz nods enthusiastically. “That’s so cute! You guys are cute.”

“I’m going to grab a drink,” Yoongi announces suddenly, standing up. “Do you want anything?”

“Surprise me.”

He nods and leaves you alone with Liz. “I’m serious,” she laughs. “When we were all told we could bring a plus-one, I don’t think anyone expected Yoongi to bring someone. He’s usually so quiet around everyone at work.”

You’ve lost patience with her quickly. You aren’t quite sure what it is, but every time she opens her mouth to speak, it grates on your nerves. “Sometimes, he only talks when he thinks it’s worth his time.” You shrug and make eye contact with her. 

Her smile falters very briefly, but then she recovers and it’s like nothing changed. “He talks to me, though,” she continues, as if you’d said nothing. “Mostly about new album releases and stuff.” You work at a music store, you think. But you let her keep talking. “He knows so much about music. He played the piano for me once.”

You hum and say nothing, craning your neck so you can look around her to see where Yoongi’s gotten to. He’s at the end of the pavilion, distracted by Marcus, his manager.

“He’s really good,” Liz gushes. “Like, really good. He used to want to be a music teacher–did you know that? He told me-”

You tune her out. Of course, you know that he plays the piano. You’ve seen the brown upright that sits in his living room, never dusty because he plays it too much. You often hear the soft melodies that travel through the walls at night when he can’t sleep. He’d even told you about wanting to be a music teacher–a long-dead dream that he’d abandoned in his early 20s. You wish he hadn’t, he had the patience of a saint and he was one of the smartest people you knew. But you also understand how needlessly cruel the world can be sometimes.

Finally, Yoongi returns, balancing a plate and two bottles of beer. He sits one of the bottles in front of you and, with a flourish, places the plate between you. “Someone made hotteok,” he says gleefully, nudging a pancake in your direction. “They aren’t hot, but Marcus said they were really good.”

He picks one up, gives it a satisfied pat. A wide, gummy smile spreads across his lips and his eyes crinkle in delight. He pats the pancake again a few more times, before nudging the plate toward you. It’s got one more hotteok on it, and a scoop of the tiramisu trifle Yoongi’d made. 

Liz makes a noise of annoyance, and the look on her face says that she’s not happy she’s being ignored. But she plasters on a smile when Yoongi looks over at her.

“Oh. Liz,” he says softly, one hand still gently patting his hotteok. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

Her face falls. “I was just leaving.”

She leaves her plate behind.

He watches after her, eyes wide as she goes to join the group currently surrounding a bluetooth speaker. It’s blasting some sort of 90s pop song–you assume they’ve got a playlist going on someone’s phone. 

“That was weird,” Yoongi says finally. “She’s normally really nice.”

You hum and lie. “Maybe she’s having a bad day.”

And as tactless as you think Liz is, you want to believe that’s true. You’ve heard plenty of stories of her, how she’s the only coworker that Yoongi actually likes, how she’s nice to him, how she actually seems to be interested in what he has to say. You don’t trust her, but you hope for Yoongi’s sake that she’s just off her game today. 

Maybe if he clarified that you weren’t dating, it would help.

He doesn’t make any effort to do that, though, not even when Rabia brings around a QR code for you to scan to add songs to the playlist they’ve got going.

“Thought maybe you and your girlfriend would want to add some songs,” she says, offering a small smile. She waits patiently while Yoongi scans the code on her phone, and then she disappears again, back to the group over by the speaker.

“She seems nice,” you say, watching as he types into his phone and picks a couple songs.

Yoongi shrugs. “I’ve met her like twice? She works nights.”

After a second, he hands you his phone, open to some music website you’ve never heard of. You carefully consider what you might want to add. The site doesn’t let you see what else is in the playlist, so you aren’t sure what songs Yoongi picked, let alone what the others have queued up. But you pick two of your favorites that you think would be fun and hand him his phone back.

Apparently, the playlist is on shuffle, because a few songs later, you recognize the opening beats of one of the songs you chose. Immediately, Yoongi perks up, his little ears on alert as he listens. It takes all of about three seconds for him to break into a grin. 

He’d introduced you to this band back when you first started grocery shopping together. You were driving, he was playing music on his phone. They were his favorite, a small hip-hop group made up of three dog hybrids. It wasn’t common for hybrids to make it in really any industry, so the fact that these guys did and their music was good? You couldn’t deny they had quickly become some of your favorite artists, too.

He sways a little with the music, his eyes closed. He looks content. You smile watching him, rest your chin on his hands. You’re happy you came, you determine.

Two hours fly faster than you thought they would. And when you point out that you’ve hit your promised limit and ask if Yoongi’s ready to go, he immediately nods. So you stand, say your goodbyes. His coworkers make a big deal of you leaving so soon. Liz tries to hug Yoongi before you leave, but he dodges her by grabbing another hotteok–though whether it was a purposeful deflection or just a happy accident, you aren’t sure.

He barely speaks until you’re in the car and halfway back to your apartment building. He shifts around in his seat, digging around in his pocket. He pulls out a rock–his favorite rock, you note–and rolls it around in his hand.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “For coming with me. I uh… I’m sorry I didn’t tell them we weren’t dating.”

You frown, and when you slow to a stop at the next redlight, you turn to look at him. “You don’t have to apologize for that. If it made the situation even a little easier, it’s totally fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean, when am I going to see these people again?” The light turns green and you hit the gas. “Let them think whatever they want. You wanna come back in eight months and tell them we’re married? Go for it.”

“I-I don’t…”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

He nods. “I appreciate it.”

The car falls silent, the only sounds coming from the radio–Yoongi’s phone connected to the aux cord. He continues to toy with the rock, rubbing it between his fingers and tapping it against the armrest on the door. It takes only minutes to pull into the garage under your building, and even less to find a spot.

While you’re waiting for the elevator to return to the garage, he says your name so softly, you almost don’t hear it over the whirring of the cables and machinery.

“Here,” he says, reaching out and grabbing your hand. Carefully, he presses his rock into your palm.

You look at him, confused. “Yoongi, I…” He loves this rock. He’d never said exactly where he found it, but it’s a little round and very smooth, and you’ve seen him pat his pockets down on numerous occasions to make sure he has it with him.

“Take it. Please. I… As a thank you.” He doesn’t look at you, his face flushed a shade of light pink.

You nod and close your fingers around the rock. You’ll have to find somewhere nice to put it. And maybe, someday, you can find him a new one to replace it.

I'd love to know what you thought! I had been considering making this longer, but I thought leaving it open might be a little more fun. if you're interested, I may do a part two later? idk let me know if you're feeling a part two. thank you again to yav and jay for the moodboards. they're both so pretty.

[cleostoohot]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐔𝐏 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐒

i participated in @halokisses’s 3 day challenge last weekend. the challenge was great, i’ve grown to love blanket affirmations more and more. i manifested so many things i highly recommend this to all of you who have so many desires but don’t know where to start and/or want that hot summer glow up!

︴whole desired body

» one thing i was always indecisive about was the body i wanted. one day i want to be thick and curvy the next day i want to be slim and petite. recently i was more on the slim and petite side and i’m so happy i stuck with that because i manifested being 110lbs (i was in my 120s before). the shape i have now is so sexy and slender. my body is so toned but it doesn’t look like i work out, it just looks like i’m just one of those people who was blessed and born with a naturally toned body lol. i still have pretty round hips and another thing i noticed is my tits are so perfect! i really don’t need a bra at all anymore which is a major plus because one thing i hate is wearing a bra in hot weather.

︴glass skin

» when i say there’s not a single flaw on my face, there is not a single flaw on my freaking face. my skin has never been this clear or had this glow. my menstrual cycle is also coming up and usually i’d get one or two little pimples but there’s not a pimple on my face.

︴baby hairs

» this one shocked me bc of how random it is. my baby hair got so much fuller and longer! i always wanted to do the dramatic baby hair look (like jayda wayda) but i never had the natural long ones. i can’t wait to style them with some straight backs omg- plus they’re not coiled up which makes them easier to do.

︴big lips

» my lips got freaking huge!! they were already a normal big before but now they’re big af! it looks so good on me and i love the way my lips look when i smile MM! i spent like 5 minutes in the mirror just staring at myself.

︴perfect teeth

» i had kind of small teeth which didn’t look bad at all, but this new look is wayyy better. my teeth are way more normal sized and perfectly shaped. they also look way whiter than before but i never really pay attention to the shade of my teeth fr.

︴face shape

» my jawline got so much sharper! it’s such an attractive look i didn’t even realize how sharp it got until i seen myself on my sisters story. i actually said “dayummm” when i saw myself. i’m a real fine ahh mf lmao.

BONUS MANIFESTATIONS

i’m pretty positive i manifested these just from persisting in “i always have my desires in less than three days”.

︴money bagg clo

⋙ this is the big success i was talking about a few days ago. i manifested 5k out of the blue. my sister was gambling and she talked about how she almost won 5k and all i said was “damn, i wish you won so you could give me the whole 5k” as a joke. when i checked my cash app the next morning 5k was added to my previous amount. there was no notification about it being sent or anything plus i think the max amount you can send is 1k a month or something. i never had no big money manifestation like that and it had me so shook.

︴monte crisco

⋙ if you never had a monte crisco, you are missing outtt! those sandwiches are heaven sent and i was craving one bad! how bout my aunt brought me one for brunch tb some “i think you’d like this” UM YES? i was so happy i damn near got pissed off lmfaooo

︴winning crash bandicoot

⋙ that game is so hard i just be wanting to kick my tv. i was stuck on this one level for too long and within doing this challenge i passed it so easily. i just was going for it and didn’t fail once. it was a big relief and saved my tv from a tragedy.

︴packages

⋙ i ordered a lot of clothes shein and some hair. both packages were going to take so long to finally get to my house and even though i won’t be home any time soon, i just wanted it to be there. my packages went from taking almost weeks to only 3 days! my dad called me and said “did you mean to ship them here or did you want me to send them to your sisters house?” i was like what is this mf talking about but when he said it was a “sheen package and stuff” lol i was like ikyfllllll.

the affirmations i chose were “i always have what i desire in less than three days” and “i glowed up for summer in less than three days”. do this challenge y’all! this is definitely some of the best successes I’ve ever gotten. and i’m also so proud of y’all who decided to do it with me, muahhh. love y’all <33

[witchersmistress]

Hot Rage

Hello my darlings!! well here is the part that some of you have been waiting for... i'll be honest here, i felt like i could do better with it but i didnt want it to feel cheap and half done

Trigger Warnings: Anger, Some bodily damage, August just being a Dick

Word count: 4K

August POV

I open Baron’s door and pull up short. Lo is sprawled on her back across the California king, her arms wide and her blonde hair fanned out around her while her legs stretch up the upholstered headboard. Her skirt pools around her hips, exposing long, tan legs. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask. She sits up, throwing her hair back like a fucking stripper and curling her legs on the bed beside her. “Oh, hey, August,” she says, like she didn’t sell me out to a snake.

“Why are you in my brother’s room?” I ask again, my voice hard. “Unlike you, your brothers didn’t kick me to the curb” she says. “So, I’m hanging out. What does it look like?” “Do you really want me to answer that question?” She runs her fingers through her blonde strands, bleached from a summer on the beach, and straightens her spine. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m still in college,” she says. “While you and Dawson go traipsing off to the real world, I’m stuck here for another year before Yale notices me.” “And letting two guys take turns with you all year is going to get you noticed? I’m not sure you understand how college admission works.” “Fuck you, August. Just because Harper ran off when you dumped her, that doesn’t give you a license to make everyone else as miserable as you.” “You sure about that?” I mutter, unable to hold onto my anger when she’s looking at me with such unflinching, raw hurt in her eyes. Baron emerges from the bathroom and nods at me before dropping into his recliner. “What’s up?” “Get her out of here,” I say.

 It’s easier to be a dick through him. “She’s not welcome here anymore.” Baron raises a brow and reaches for his cup of suckers. “What did I ever do to you?” Lo demands. I could tell her, but I don’t want to do it in front of Baron, so I don’t bother. “Go home,” I say. “I need to talk to Baron.” “Nobody told me there was a party going on,” Duke says, stopping in the doorway. “Where’s the beer?” He swings open the glass door of Baron’s minifridge and pulls out a handful of bottles. “That’s why I’m here,” Lo says, shaking her hair into place and reaching for a beer. “Your parents are so much cooler than mine.” “Forget it,” I snap, smacking Duke’s hand away when he holds out a beer. “Hold up,” Baron says. “What do you need?” “To know when a video was shot. I’ll come back when you’re done running a train on Lo.” “Ooh, is this about Harper’s porn site?” Lo asks, swinging her legs off the side of the bed. I glare at her. This is what I get for letting her in, for letting myself use her to fill a hole another girl left in my life.

 She’s wormed her way into everything, and I can’t extricate her from the hundred little places she’s cemented herself. Insults don’t work with her. She’s oblivious or unperturbed by words. “What?” Duke howls. “Harper has a porn site?” “I just need to know when it was filmed,” I say, glowering at Baron. “The rest of you can leave.” “Fuck that,” Duke says. “I want to see Harper doing porn!” “Come on,” Gloria says, taking his arm. “I have the link. I can show you.” “Show him that shit and see what happens,” I growl. Lo raises a brow and takes a sip of her beer. “So, I can stay?” I glare back at her. Why am I protecting Harper?

She either filmed that before we met, and she’s a fucking liar, or when we were together, and she’s a liar and a cheater. Or, she filmed it recently, and she’s not sitting around thinking about protecting me, that’s for damn sure. “Whatever,” I grit out. “Stay, you fucking dyke.” Gloria smirks at me and leans into Duke, who puts an arm around her. “We just want to help,” he says, giving me a sloppy grin. “Right, Lo?” “Exactly,” she says like some smug bitch who just bested me. At least this way I can control what she sees. I know she can’t afford to watch even a minute of the video on her own, but she’s not above using Duke to get what she wants. I pull it up on Baron’s computer while he slides to his second monitor to watch. “Apple cream pie?” Gloria says, crossing her arms and looking over my shoulder. “Clever.” “Damn,” Duke says, giving a low whistle. “A grand a minute? She sure thinks highly of that worn out pussy.” “Shut up,” I snap, turning to Baron. “Can you tell when it was shot?” “If she’s getting that for the video, you think she’s getting more for the sex?” Lo asks. “Dude, that’s not how porn works,” Duke says. “That’s how it’s legal. You don’t get paid for sex. You get paid for the performance.” Baron shakes his head and pulls his sucker out of his mouth to talk. “You can’t access this. It was a live feed streamed to your messages. All these were. Once the show’s over, it’s over. He may have recorded them while he was fucking her, but you only got the live stream.” “I can’t believe she sent you those,” Gloria says. “That’s fucking cold. What did you do to the poor girl?” That’s a question I will never answer. I always meant to wreck her, just like we did Mabel.

But if I found out Mabel was doing porn, I’d shake my head and maybe laugh, thinking we really ruined her for other guys. Harper isn’t Mabel, though. “It could be someone else,” Duke says, but there’s no conviction in his voice. We all know it’s her. Even if someone got the exact same tattoos as Harper, she wouldn’t have a body like that. “Yeah,” Lo says. “That’s not her OnlyWords handle. Maybe someone else sent it. Which of your enemies would send you something like that to fuck with you? Colt?” That’s not a question we’re going to answer when she’s in the room. Baron scrolls up through a dozen thumbnails she sent me this summer, none of which I watched. “Here’s a recorded clip.” He pays up, pops the sucker in his mouth, and starts the video. He goes to work, doing his magic to dissect whatever coding is behind the video, not even watching the screen. I can’t watch, either. When I see the dick come out of the guy’s pants, I think I’m going to fucking lose my sanity. “Turn it off,” I snapped.

The minute runs out before there’s a dick in her, but it’s no better. I already saw five minutes that I can never forget. I can feel myself slipping away, under the surface where it’s calm. Baron watches me for a second, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll lose it like I did when I saw that sadistic fuck Colin coming out of our house. But I’m in control, just like he is. Duke’s too busy feeling up Gloria and dumping beer down his throat to think right now, but Baron’s sharp. He knows what this means. “What can you tell?” “It was filmed this summer,” he says quietly. For a minute, none of us speak. Even Duke’s finally gotten serious, his face sober as his gazes meet ours. She’s alive. I don’t know what I expected, something welling up inside, rage or relief, but nothing comes. I knew she was alive. Some part of me always knew. I didn’t go wander the swamp thinking I’d find her bones. I didn’t sit under the tree where we left her to mourn her each evening. Maybe some fucked up part of me was waiting for her to return, to tell me I had it all wrong or at least explain herself. It wasn’t something rational. Of course she’s not going to go back to the place we tried to kill her. She’s not me. But some unconscious part of my mind must have been waiting for that. An explanation as to how she could do that. How she could have fooled me so hard. Something to convince me she wasn’t like all the other Darlings. But she is. She played me, she took her punishment, and she moved on with some other guy. And now, she’s trying to destroy me for what I did to her. She knows me so well that she knows even after what I did, I can’t let her go. She knows she still has claws in me, and she’s going to make me pay until she drives me over the edge.

I tried to kill her, but she’s the one who will succeed. She’ll keep going until I’m dead. Then she’ll be satisfied. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think she filmed that,” Gloria says, looking at me with something way too fucking close to pity. “That’s obvious. The guy is holding the phone,” Duke says, gesturing to the thumbnail left once Baron rejects the prompt to put in another thousand to keep watching. “I meant, that’s a dude’s homemade porn,” Lo says. “Not a girl’s.” I narrow my eyes at her. “What, you make porn now? Since when are you the expert?” “No,” she says slowly. “Stop being a dick and I might tell you.” I cross my arms and glare down at her. “Explain.” “I’m just saying, a dude’s going to get all up close and personal with the act of penetration. Like that.” She gestures to the screen. “If it was Harper trying to make you eat your heart out, she’d give you something less crude than a closeup shot of her lady business. She’d give you her face, some inviting smiles or come-hither looks. She’d drive you crazy, make you wonder if she’d go through with it before she got to the killing blow. She’d want you to see her face when he put it in.” “Dude, you’re evil,” Duke says, pushing her away. Gloria grins like he just gave her the highest compliment and takes a swig of beer. “There’s plenty of tease in the live video,” I say. “He’s rubbing his dick all over her. And she’d never show her face. She’s more obsessed with college than you are.” “I stand by my reasoning,” she says. “Even if she wasn’t showing her face, she’d still tease. She’d undress for the camera, touch herself, let you see her climbing on the dude. This is just fucking.” “That’s the good stuff,” Duke points out. “See?” Gloria gestures to him, widening her eyes at me. “I rest my case.” “Or maybe she’s not making porn for you, Lo,” Baron argues. “Maybe she’s a pro and knows what guys like.” “Hm, I doubt it,” Gloria says. “I mean, I suppose it’s possible. But I’m willing to bet a guy is behind that screen name.” “You need to leave,” I say. She’s probably right, but I need to talk to my brothers now, figure out a game plan. I know what they’ll say already, though. The problem was taken care of. She didn’t die, but she kept her mouth shut. It doesn’t matter where she is or what happened to her as long as she didn’t go to the cops or make trouble for our family. It’s fine. She disappeared just like Mabel. She’s gone. That’s what we wanted, after all. “Walk me home,” Lo says. “And I’ll go quietly.” I grit my teeth, but she just sips her beer and waits. I yank the bottle out of her hand and shove it at Duke. “Let’s go.” I grab her by the back of the neck and haul her out of there. I’d let her walk her ass home on her own if I trusted her not to lurk and snoop.

 She’s worse than Harper when she gets something in her head. When we step out into the baking August heat, I give her a little shove toward her house. “This is the last time I’m walking you home,” I snap. “Fine,” she says. “I knew it would be.” For a minute, we stalk along beside each other, neither of us speaking. “You told her, didn’t you?” I ask at last. “Told who what?” “Don’t fucking bullshit me, Lo,” I say. “She knew, and there’s only one person who could have told her.” Gloria’s eyes widen, and she visibly gulps. “I…” “Don’t,” I snap. “I don’t want any excuse. I just want to hear you say it.” “I’m sorry,” she blurts. We stop at the end of her driveway. She stares up at me with her big blue eyes shiny with crocodile tears. Fuck her. She doesn’t get to cry about fucking betraying me, trying to make me feel bad. I have to ball my hands into fists so I don’t reach out and choke the shit out of her. “Say it.” “I didn’t mean to,” she wails, a tear spilling down her cheek. I hold up a hand. “I don’t want to hear a single word out of your mouth except a confession,” I say. “So until you have that, don’t speak to me. Don’t text or call. And don’t let me see you in my fucking house.

My brothers are too good for your conniving, low-class, fake-ass family.” I hit her where it hurts—her family’s financial situation. She’s not the only one who knows secrets. I know they’re all on scholarship because they can’t afford Georgia State. Hell, Dad sponsored their scholarships last year. I know that everything about them is as fake as the manicured lawn and custom landscaping outside the house they inherited from an uncle because they were destitute. Gloria swallows and wipes her tears away, squaring her shoulders and facing me like the tough chick she is and not the sniveling little bitch she plays to get sympathy. “I told her,” she says. Her voice is weak, barely above a whisper. But I respect her for having the decency to say it to my face. “I know,” I say. “And now you can be dead to me, too.” turning on my heels, leaving her standing at the bottom of her driveway, strolling back to ours, the sun beating on the pavement. 

The phone in my breast pocket starts to vibrate. Pulling it out and answering "Walker '' I snap at the person on the other end " Hello.. Mr. Walker.. it's Ann, the property manager over at 217 Lancaster Drive” Shit right, I'd forgotten about her house i haven't been there in weeks. “ Yes, apologies, what can I do for you Ann?” i heard shuffling on the other end of the line “ I need to make an alteration to the grocery order, most of the produce and meats have gone bad” not really caring at this point “Yes of course do what you need to do, i'll be by in a little while” 

More shuffling over the phone, “Good sir, very good, it'll do the young lady here some good to have some company” I stopped in my tracks “What young lady Ann?” but she had already hung up the phone. Racing back to my driveway, I hop in my Range Rover and take off like a bat out of hell to find out who in the hell she was talking about.

Harper’s POV

 I looked back over my shoulder at the prestigious façade of the CIA one last time before climbing into Mr. D’s truck. It feels surreal in a different way from when I’d walk in August’s world. Now, it just seems unreal altogether, like coming back for a ten-year reunion, a different girl in a different decade than the one I was when I went here. No one else has been here since the evacuation. I just had to talk to the admin, who are here getting ready for everyone to return. Even though most of the surrounding buildings have been cleared to go back to work, our building  doesn't return until the first of September, so there was no chance of running into anyone I know. I pull up onto the side of the road in front of my house, since Ann’s car is in the driveway. She’s halfway out the front door, struggling to haul a mountain of grocery bags inside with both hands.

I hop down and go to help her drag the haul inside. “What’s the occasion?” I ask. “Are you having a party?” She stands up and flicks her hair out of her eyes, leaning a palm on the edge of the counter and surveying me. “I didn’t buy all this,” she says. “ My employer had it delivered” She laughs as I shrug and start putting away groceries. If Mr. D wants to feed me even though I didn’t return his truck, I’m not about to complain. The bags are full of stuff I’d never buy—instead of discount hamburger, there’s steak; instead of instant rice, it’s quinoa; instead of canned green beans there are bags of fresh vegetables I never ate before living with Mr. D and sure as fuck don’t know how to cook. What do people even do with artichokes? When I’m done putting stuff up, I head back out to grab the packet of stuff the admin gave me to look over and fill out. I’m not motivated the way I used to be, when I wanted to leave Georgia, but it’s as if I’m coming out                                           of shock. My brain is still moving slow, processing things in a disjointed way. Which explains why I’m three steps out the front door before I see what’s waiting for me. My heart stops in my chest.

August Walker is standing by the Escalade.

 My brain balks for a second, as if it can’t comprehend this vision out of my worst nightmare and fit it into reality. Instinct tells me to turn and run back into my house, to slam and lock the door, to crawl back into the bed that I never should have left. He’s here. Everything I did was for nothing. Mr. D was never going to risk showing his face to the world to expose the Walkers. He just sat there in his apartment with me all summer, doing nothing. I should have known August was untouchable. I should have known the Darlings had already lost. I should have known I was the only loser left in the game. But here’s the thing about someone taking everything you own—your body, your soul—and destroying even the darkest, most hidden parts of it. There’s nothing left for them to break. So I don’t run back in the house. Because fuck August Walker. Fuck them all. I’ll drive over him if he tries to stop me. I march straight up to the truck, the muddy splatters on the sides somehow endearing instead of sloppy. 

August just stands there watching me approach, his expression almost wary, like I’m some demon risen from the dead after he watched the life drain out of me with his own eyes.

I suppose I am. “What’s the matter, never seen a girl in a truck before?” I ask as I unlock the door with the fob. “Or do you think I’m a ghost?” “Why the fuck are you in that truck?” he asks. “Maybe it’s mine,” I say. “A whore needs her wheels.” “That’s not your truck,” he says, glaring at me from hollowed out eyes with shadows under them, like he hasn’t slept in days. “What, you know every vehicle in Georgia?” “I know every Darling’s vehicle,” he counters. “And why are you dressed like… That?” His gaze travels down my body, and I have to fight the urge to cover myself, though there’s nothing sexual in his look. It’s an examination, as detached as Baron’s assessing gaze. I was just going to get something from the back seat, but I know I won’t be able to walk back inside and act normal. Not when he’s here, when he can find me so easily, come back for me. I might act tough, but inside… The screams I can’t force out in my nightmares are playing on repeat, the time loop I never visit spinning at breakneck speed. I need to feel bigger, more in control, to have something solid to hold onto.

 I climb up into the high seat, so I’m taller and surrounded by steel, and I turn to face him. “What’s this about, August? You’re afraid that since I lived after you tried to kill me, again, that there’s a witness to what you did? Don’t worry, even if I went to the cops, I’m sure your brothers and the rest of Georgia States’s football team  would back them up and say they didn’t rape me that night.” “What are you talking about?” August demands, stepping toward the open door of the truck. My entire being recoils, and my heart beats once, so hard I have to press my fist to my chest to keep from crying out. He stops, watching me with that dark, brooding gaze. I force myself to speak like I’m not smothering on the air itself. “Even if I filed a report, and could afford a lawyer, who do you think a jury would believe?” I ask quietly. “One whore from the bad side of town, or the entire football team full of golden boys from Georgia State?” His jaw clenches, and he rests a hand on the open door. It’s not a threatening pose, but all I can think is that I can’t close the door now. I’m trapped. 

My body is screaming at me to scramble across the seat, jump out the far door, and run until my heart explodes. But I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear. “It wasn’t the whole football team,” he says, his voice low, a stitch between his brows like he’s genuinely confused. “You know that. You rode in the car with us. It was just the twins.” “Until you left,” I whisper, wishing I’d never engaged, that I’d turn and run the other way when I saw him waiting at the truck. We stare at each other for a long moment, and the rest of the world seems to fall away—the buzz of crickets, the stifling afternoon heat, the smell of exhaust and baked asphalt. “Harper…” August says at last. His eyes, his voice, are so full of the pain that always got to me. I thought it made us kindred spirits, that we were both battling some inner darkness. Now I know the truth. Nothing can help him. His evil knows no bounds. I’m not the demon. He’s the demon, the one who possessed me and stole my soul, leaving nothing behind. I’m the empty shell of a girl, all that’s left after the demon gets what it wants and moves on to the next victim. “No,” I hissed, turning to kick his arm off the door.

I put all the force I can behind it, and he actually winces, rubbing his arm as I reach for the door handle. “Don’t you dare apologize. You’re a sick, broken man, and now I’m broken, too. I will never recover from what you did to me. You don’t get to make yourself feel better about it now.” I slam the door in his face and fumble the keys into the ignition, my heart racing and my hands shaking so hard it takes three tries to get the truck started. I don’t look to see if he’s clear of the vehicle. I slam on the gas, and it lurches forward, powerful and dangerous. It’s not enough, though. I’m like August in his big, bulked up body with his little shattered soul hiding inside. I still feel small and helpless inside the huge monster. I’ll never feel safe again. When I get to Mr. D’s, I sit in the garage and punch the steering wheel until my knuckles bleed, and for the first time since it happened, I let myself cry. 

[vitanithepure]

Okay, fine, Larian doesn't want to fix Gale's romance in game, and I am not ready to let go of my fixation just yet.

*grumble, grumble* Larian forcing me to write my own Vitani/Gale romance. Unbelievable.

840+ words of pure self-indulgent fluff under the cut because I have no self control. No spoilers.

They didn’t go far, just enough to still hear their companions’ laughter and merrymaking over a shared meal, but enough to be alone. Vitani loved them dearly, but there were other people that they also used to share that time with, and now it’s not even sure if they are okay.

Their parents. Their brother and his family. With all the information from Baldur’s Gate coming in, there was a lot on Vitani’s mind, most of it bad. Some downright tragic.

“We took notice of your absence at supper. Is something the matter? It’s unusual for you to wander off like this.”

They would berate themselves for the lack of caution while out alone on unfamiliar ground, but Gale’s presence and attention never failed to make them forget the world around. Even more so, when he sits down beside them on the grass and puts a warm, comforting hand over their shoulders.

In turn, they lean in and put their head under his chin and everything seems better at this moment.

“I miss home, Gale. It isn’t far from here, but somehow it makes me miss it more.” 

“What do you miss the most about it?”

“Our cozy little garden. We used to share meals there, on sunny days. I don’t even know the name of the flowers, just remember how beautiful they were in bloom,” Vitani slowly disengaged from the embrace, looking away, “but it’s a silly notion, I shouldn’t feel so sorry for myself when we all have to deal with…everything.”

“Just a few nights ago, I felt so homesick and alone that I almost let it coerce me into giving up on the entirety of this. On me. On us,” he reached out to touch their face, gently turning their head towards his. “But you know that. You were there with me, brave in the face of my own foolishness.” 

He placed a lingering kiss on Vitani’s forehead, taking his time to smell their hair, a fragrance of lilacs and something that reminded him of sunshine - a scent distinctly theirs. Gale felt their smile under his palm, and it was the sweetest feeling to know he can do that - make them happy.

“It’s a good night for a bit of indulgence. The Weave is just here, waiting for you to paint a picture with it. And I would love nothing more than to see your lovely garden, just as you remember it.”

He stood up, helping them to their feet as well, and there was no disagreeing with that encouraging smile of his, those soulful, dark eyes. 

“Fine, but if I burn the forest down, I’m pinning this all on you,” and gods, Gale’s laugh, no matter how small, was worth every silly thing they ever did or said.

Vitani closed their eyes, reaching out for the Weave came to them as naturally as breathing but going back to those blissful moments from their past? There were horrors so profound between now and then they needed to sift through, but it’s easier when warm fingers entwine with theirs. 

They find the right place and time, the perfect summer day in Baldur’s Gate, and begin their work. A stroke of a hand to visualize the arbor, covered with grapevines over the entrance from the house, another to grow the old birch tree in the middle of the garden. All the pieces coming together.

And when Vitani’s eyes open again, they are both home…standing in father’s favorite patch of purple flowers. Oh, there would be hell to pay, but he isn’t here now. Gale is, though, and lets out a sigh of wonder at the luminescent creation before him. 

Because maybe it was their lack of skill, or maybe a fluke of wild magic coursing through their veins, but the illusion didn’t exactly show the garden as they saw it. Instead of broad daylight, it was glowing in the moonlight, giving off a silvery aura of its own. It was…

“...breathtaking.” Gale swept his hand over the nearby lilac shrub, its leaves shimmering at the touch. “It’s missing something, though. Well, two things to be exact, but first…”

Just looking at his effortless gesture, one would think it is he who had innate powers of controlling magic. But that was all his own brilliance, a passion shaped into art. Into a mesmerizing display of a swarm of butterflies, their wings iridescent, glowing in blues and purples. They flew all around them, spreading around the illusionary garden. 

“As for the second thing…,” when Vitani turned to face him, Gale was already looking at them. All the surrounding lights reflecting in his eyes, highlighting the silvers in his hair, making him look as ethereal as the scenery surrounding them. 

All they could hope for is that he sees the same when he looks back at them. That he sees the same care and devotion in their gaze. Because there is nothing beside this between them when their lips meet, here in this magical garden of their doing. Just love, wandering hands, and butterflies fluttering around their hearts.

[linasofia]

Our Secret

Armitage Summer Splash #8

Fandom: The Man from Rome

Trope: A secret is found out

Quote: “Show me your face.”

Relationship: Father Lorenzo Quart x Fem!Reader

Warnings: ⚠️ Please don’t read this if the thought of a priest breaking his vow of celibacy might offend you.

A/N: I made it to week two before I fell into the FQ trap again. This is a sequel to my previous fics about FQ, but it can also be read as a standalone. You can find all my FQ fics in my masterlist.

Thanks @legolasbadass for your feedback!💙

The spring sun can be merciless in all its glory. Even if the blinds are down, the small rays of light find their way through some holes and land on my large screen, making my excel sheet almost unreadable. Not that I mind the nice weather, now that it’s finally here, but it would be easier to work if my employer actually bothered to take a bigger interest in the office and the problems we face with the indoor climate. But I could not be upset today, not when it’s Friday; I’m leaving early and I’m planning to see Lorenzo after he is finished in church. Just thinking of him warms my body more than the sun can on a hot summer day. We have passed the six months mark in our very secret, but extremely passionate relationship, and sometimes I have to pinch myself just to make sure it’s not a dream. Being with him is like a wonderful dream and at the same time a nightmare. I am constantly worried that our secret will be exposed and that Lorenzo will be forced to make a choice. We never talk about that small, but very significant detail and in a way, we are better like this. I know how much the church means to him and I am afraid that, if he is given the ultimatum, the risk of losing him is imminent.

When my phone gives a soft buzz, I smile to myself. Maybe he is thinking of me, just like I am thinking of him. Maybe he texts to tell me to pick something up on the way home. Maybe-

The text is not what I was expecting. After reading it twice, I’m still trying to take in my older sister's message. She is in town for a business meeting and wants to stay for the weekend with me. My impulsive, loving and caring sister. Always two steps ahead of everything and never looking back. I smile to myself, picturing her tapping her fingers on the screen of her phone as she impatiently waits for me to answer. My reply is short since I see my boss seeking my attention by waving her hand outside the conference room. I tell my sister she is more than welcome to stay but that I would have preferred a heads up a little earlier. She quickly excuses herself but I know she will do the same again. And I will forgive her for it.

I can hear the disappointment linger in Lorenzo’s voice when I give him the news, but I know him well enough to be certain he would never stand in the way of a sibling reunion.

“At least I get to see you on Sunday. You’ll be there as usual, I hope?”

Even after all these months he still asks me, never taking my presence for granted. And I assure him, like every week, that I’m coming. How can I resist watching him leading us all in prayer and performing sermons? My sister will join me I’m sure, since her interest in the architectural aspect of church almost overpowers her spiritual interest.

The sand always seems to pass faster through the hourglass when my sister is around, and before I know it Sunday is at my doorstep. Spring is still holding the days in its warm embrace and I meet the day in one of my most loved dresses. I happen to know that the dress is one of Lorenzo’s favorites as well and even if I plan to be a good and respectful girl, I hope he notices my choice of clothes today. My dearest sister, who spent most of the Saturday spending money in an endless stream of shops, looks stunning in her new beige jumpsuit. It was not hard to persuade her to come with me for today’s visit and just as I predicted, she stops in awe as we cross the square in front of the cathedral. The afternoon sun hangs low over the city and makes the towers glow in the light.

“Look at that,” she says breathlessly. “I had almost forgotten how beautiful this building really is.” She gives me a warm smile that matches the impact from the sun on my bare arms and with her arm under mine we walk up the stairs to the large wooden door. The beautifully crafted iron handle feels familiar in my hand as I open the door and let the scent of candles and expectations surround us. Familiar faces mingle with newcomers and my sister and I follow the crowd inside.

The pews are filling up fast but we manage to find room in the front and when seated, my sister turns her attention to the ceiling, the wonderful paintings and the large, beautiful stained glass window that allows the sun to wrap us all in its light. We sit and wait in silence and I bend my head, breathing softly and feeling the love and gratitude filling me. At this moment there is no other place on earth I would rather be with her. The deep clear ringing from the bells pulls my attention back to the room. I can feel Lorenzo’s eyes on me and I happily meet his gaze. He never fails to take my breath away and today is no exception. The green chasuble makes the azure color in his eyes even deeper than usual and soon his characteristic voice fills the air and just like so many times before I feel the warmth in his words enchant me. Seeing him like this is a blessing in itself but an old and unwelcome anxious feeling briefly fills my heart. He belongs here, in God’s house, where he gives so much to so many. I only have him on loan and that thought always frightens me.

”Who is he?” My sister interrupts my thoughts with a low whisper. I pretend I did not hear her but then she discreetly leans into me. ”The priest, who is he?”

”Father Quart.” I simply answer, determined not to give her anything more. She mumbles something I cannot hear and when I look at her a while later, I see her focusing more on Lorenzo than the other beautiful things under this roof. His hair is just a little shorter than the last time I saw him but it only makes the grey strands gracing his temples more visible. The stubble is at a perfect length, significant but it doesn’t look scruffy. His eyes glow with passion as he speaks and I certainly cannot blame her.

When the chorus starts to sing I feel a warm hand on my forearm. ”Do you think he will be available for a confession before I go back home?” She whispers as she gently squeezes my arm. ”He is absolutely gorgeous. How can a man like him be a priest? Is that even allowed? What a waste. Have you done it?”

”What?” I almost choke on my own words and let out a small cough. ”Done what?”

”Have you confessed your sins to him?”

Memories of our first meeting wash over me like a bucket of warm water poured over my head. The hard chair in the confessional, his deep voice seeping through the partition and the burning feelings for him I could not resist acting on while his gaze rested on me. I gasp involuntarily at the memory and the fiery color of shame spreads over my cheeks. Lorenzo meets my gaze from his position by the altar and it just increases the heat in my face. I can tell by his small frown that he notices my discomfort but there is nothing he can do, except carry on with the sermon. My heart is beating like a drum inside my chest and I look down at my hands which nervously smooth the fabric of my dress. I can feel my sister staring at me.

”Why are you acting so weird? It was just a simple question.” Her voice is concerned and I can almost feel her starting to understand when she once more leans into me. But she doesn’t know about the battle against my emotions I have to conquer. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. ”Yes, I have confessed to him.” I whisper back.

From the corner of my eye, I can see her looking at me and then at Lorenzo. Then she turns her attention to me again. I know he is watching me, I don’t even have to look to confirm it, I feel it in every fiber of my body. And suddenly I’m afraid my sister feels it too.

“Sis,” she whispers, ”Something's not right. Why are you not looking at me? Show me your face.”

I slowly raise my head and turn to her. Her eyes are filled with worry and hold questions that I know she wants answers to. ”You know him, don’t you? Father Quart?”

Another wash of heat. I falter. Why did I take her here? I could have skipped church just this Sunday. My teeth bite down on my lower lip hard and then I give her a small nod. There is no point in denying that part.

”We will go for a coffee when this is over. And you will tell me everything.” My sister’s piercing look as she speaks again makes me feel much younger than my years. There is no room for protests in her demand and I close my eyes.

Father in Heaven, please give me strength.

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[a-flickering-soul]

A long while ago, I taught myself to notice my favourite foods going in and out of season. It used to be a returning consolation when I felt the clocks were working against me in all other ways. “Ah, the summer passed me by, but there will be tangerines and sweet chestnuts soon.” “Oh god, the year is almost halfway gone again already… But look, they’re selling asparagus at the market again! I should trake some home.” The changing of the seasons felt like a judgement, but at least it also meant the rhubarb harvest would come back around. Even if the passing of time made me feel like a failure, sometimes it meant that I could make my favourite matcha cake again, because the red currants would finally come into season again. It made it easier to see that time never truly passes fruitlessly. I knew that loosing touch with these silent markers in my kitchen was bad, but I couldn’t quite stop it from happening. The last few years got so bad that all the currants did was rot in my fridge. I brought the flour home and never turned the oven on. For a while, trying did nothing but make me feel bad about the waste. It’s hard to do, once you’ve lost the appetite for it. But I did try again this year, just before the season fully passed. I baked it in the middle of the night, when I meant to make it in the afternoon, and I baked it alone when I had planned to do it with company. but. I did bake it. It didn’t quite make me feel like I wanted it to. But it’s still lovely cake. On all levels except physical, I am bumping your shoulder and passing you a plate. I hope you’re eating well today, despite the limitations of spacetime.

Have a good week bud. Take care ❤️☂️

i'm really proud of you, which is a weird thing to say to a random stranger on the internet but everything you tell me makes me so happy. i'm glad you baked this cake. it looks beautiful and delicious and i love what it means to you. i always like hearing from you so fucking much, i mean it. i hope this cake tastes so fucking good.

[pa-stella]

Ok. I’m still recovering from BAT’s awesomeness in the no ticket live show and I can’t bring myself to write down what I had in mind for Day 3 of Hitoya Amaguni’s Week 2022 since it was full of sad emotions. I will try to write it before his birthday, but in the meantime… I don’t like the ending that much, to be honest.

The previous entries can be found here!

Day 4 - Nya Ni Nyu Nye Nyon

Hitoya had just left his bike in the private parking of his condo, when he noticed a big cardboard box near the entrance. It was pouring and he just wanted to go back home, have a shower and start his well deserved summer vacation in peace; however a weird sound coming from the carton made him stop on his tracks. Maybe he had just misheard that, but it was better just to check it out.

There were two things he hated. The first was people leaving random junk in front of his apartment complex.

He opened the box with extreme caution and he was met with the sight of five small fluffy kittens.

The second was assholes abandoning pet animals in need.

Hitoya sighed. He knew he would probably regret it in the future, but he took the box anyway (making the small felines cry a little) and went up to his apartment. The first thing he did after settling the box in his living room was take a picture of the kittens and send it to the groupchat of Bad Ass Temple. Hopefully Kuko and Jyushi would be able to help find them a proper home while he’d search for the bastard that had abandoned those creatures. 

Jyushi was the first to reply with a few messages full of those strange kaomojis he liked to use. He compared the kittens to Sanrio characters and ended up complaining about how he wouldn’t be able to adopt even one since his roommates were both allergic.

Maybe Kuko-san can keep them at the temple?, the visual kei singer suggested (adding ⊹⋛⋋( ●´⌓`●)⋌⋚⊹, whatever it might mean).

Hitoya let out another sigh and sunk a little into the leather sofa. He closed his eyes. What a way to start his holidays. The kittens were still meowing, but they had calmed down as soon as they realized they were not under the rain anymore. They became a little noisier when Hitoya’s phone rang.

“Shitty lawyer.” Kuko was on the other end of the call.

“Don’t call me that.” Hitoya scolded him and reached out to pet one of the little cats. It was the only one with dark fur in the group.

“My old man prohibited me from bringing more cats to the temple.” Straight to the point. Typical of Kuko. “But they are still young cats. It’ll be easier to find them a new home.”

“I don’t have the time to…”

“Leave it to me. I think a lot of families that come to the temple would be happy to have a small kitten in their life.” He chuckled. “Try not to get too attached to them in the meantime!”

The call ended and Hitoya snorted. As if that could be a possibility!

That same evening, Jyushi had come to help him. Knowing that Hitoya didn’t probably have milk at home, he had brought plenty with other useful products. He occupied himself with the task of washing the kittens and gave the lawyer time to ask the neighbors if they had seen anyone suspicious that day. Nobody saw anything. Hitoya made a formal request to check the security cameras footage but he knew that would have to wait a few days.

A week passed; then another; then a month. Hitoya got used to the little guests in his apartment faster than expected. They were… good cats. Small, needy but also quiet. Except for a single unfortunate accident with Kyon (also nicknamed Kuko 2.0) and the leather sofa, they all started to use the many scratching posts Hitoya had bought.  After the first week they chose to sleep in the lawyer’s bed instead of their designated spots. It was scary to wake up with five pairs of eyes watching him, but Hitoya had to admit it was forgettable compared to the nice feeling he got whenever the cats welcomed him back home every evening.

Kuko had found many families that were interested in adopting them, but every time Hitoya had found many excuses to delay the relocation of the cats. At some point, the monk just asked, “Are you sure you still want to give them away?” and the lawyer had found himself shaking his head.

The truth was… they were a nice addition to his life and he was sure the cats couldn’t ask for a better owner. He had enough money to pay for their regular visits to the vet, to change ruined furniture, to have a cleaning lady, to hire a cat sitter whenever he was away for work for too long… and to keep all of them together without separating them.

“You have more than enough love for all of them, Hitoya-san.” Jyushi had said once while adjusting Nye’s pink collar. “Destiny sent them to you because that’s what you needed.”

He had expected Kuko to make some kind of joke that time, but he had just nodded in a knowing way. 

So, maybe they were right. 

[askthefuturegleeks]

Thank you for joining the campaign to bring the arts to future generations, TINA COHEN-CHANG, we’re happy to have you! If you want a refresher on what to do next, feel free to look at the WELCOME CHECKLIST. Please send your account in within the next 48 hours so that you can get started.    

ooc information

NAME: B

AGE: 40+

PRONOUNS: she/her

SHIPS: Tina +chem

ANTI-SHIPS: Tina +no chem

basic ic information

NAME: Tina Paige Cohen-Chang

BIRTHDAY/ZODIAC: February 11, 1993, Aquarius. 

CURRENT OCCUPATION: Librarian at William McKinley High School for the Performing Arts, and writer.

CURRENT LOCATION: Lima, but spends summers and school breaks in NYC.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Perpetually single.

FC: Jenna Ushkowitz

twitter post

@ccpaige: The book in my family series will be out just in time for the holiday 2024 season.  Pre-order your copy now.  #FAMILYISFAMILY   #GIFTABOOK  #OPENADOORTOTHEUNKNOWN

in character questions

Answer these in character, and feel free to add gifs into your answers.

1.) What did you want to do with your life when you were younger? What would the child version of yourself think about the path you paved for yourself?

To be honest, I always wanted to be a performer.  Maybe I just wanted the attention.  But I leaned that maybe that wasn’t my path; even after a part in one of Artie's films.  Attending Brown was a great experience and I spent a lot of time studying women’s history, women studies, and creative writing.  I learned to be a bit of an activist.  I wish I’d learned some of these ways to stand up for myself before college and maybe then I would have stood out more in the choir room.  

I think child me would side eye the fact that I’m a librarian.  But would find it cool that I’m a published author and would really love the books I’ve written.

2.) What is your proudest accomplishment? Don’t be afraid to  talk about what it took to achieve it and how you feel about it as well. 

My books.  I hope I’m providing representation for children that have been through the systems the way my siblings and I have.  I hope I’m providing representation for all the children who come from home that is no longer the 50s or 60s nuclear family unit.  And for someone that wanted to be a performer and wanted the attention, I’m proud of myself for writing my books under a pen name.  It’s not that hard to figure out, but it allows me normalcy day to day in the library.  

3.) If you could do anything you wanted for one whole day, what would it be and why?

I’d love to perform on stage.  Maybe join one of my more famous and talented friends, or former show choir competitors on stage and just sing and perform for the hell of it.  Some of my favorite memories as a teenager, are actually on stage.

where are they now?

Attending Brown was an amazing experience for Tina.  She started her journey by studying acting, and joining a choir and dance troupe to keep up her skills from show choir.  But it wasn’t any easier for Tina to be noticed at Brown than it was in the choir room at McKinley, even after a successful role in film of Artie's.  A class in women’s history, turned into several and an change in her program.  Tina went on to study women’s history, women’s studies, and creative writing.  She graduated with a Honors Bachelor of Arts in creative writing with a minor in women’s studies.  She continued to perform, for fun.   But with her courses, Tina also learned to be a bit of an activist and began to write for the on campus student blog and started a personal one of her own.  

It was on her personal blog, sharing her story about being adopted, the untraditional nature of her family that she got the idea to write a series of children’s books about non traditional families.  After graduating from Brown, Tina moved home to Lima to write her book.  It just so happened that WMHS needed a new librarian, and although she had zero experience, she knew the school, she knew some of the staff, and Tina found herself with a job that still encourages her to write.  

Tina has the worst luck when it comes to relationships.  While at Brown Tina was more open to many things and had a couple of short but meaningful relationships with men and women.  Although he was her ex, working with Artie on his movie was easy due to the friendship they had always maintained.  They even rekindled their former relationship for a brief time.  But while they had both grown and matured a lot, their relationship ended very amicably. She maintains several close male friendships, including her exes Artie Abrams and Mike Chang.

Potential connections: Any of the other former ND including but not limited to Sam Evans, Kitty Wilde, and Artie Abrams.  Other former students at Brown (with a romantic/sexual or platonic connection to Tina), and of course, her siblings.  

[automatismoateo]

My dad found out Im atheist. via /r/atheism

My dad found out I’m atheist.

A couple months ago, I was at my uncle’s house for a family gathering when suddenly my uncle’s dad closes in on my face and points out that my facial hair looks like it’s been shaven (I kept my moustache untouched and only trimmed my beard to make it less noticeable, I also got rid of my peach fuzz). My uncle brought the side of my face closer to him to check whether or not it’s true (He has cut hair and shaves so he easily identified it), then he asked me in front of everyone, I knew my cover was blown so I just ended up admitting it. My dad didn’t really say much at their house but when we left he told me I really shouldn’t have done it and that I shouldn’t ever do it again. I said ok to get out of the topic but he then started talking about religion and before I knew it I ended up telling him I don’t believe in it. He looked quite mad but talked as if he wasn’t, then he stated that I must want a haircut too if I’m atheist. I admitted that I do, and he said he’ll take me for a haircut right then but that he’ll disown me or just not talk to me (Now I think that it was more of a spur of the moment answer and it could’ve been because he was angry). I said no and apologized (Honestly only because I wanted to get rid of my tan line first or do it during summer break). Fast forward to now I want to get it cut no matter what his response may be, I just don’t want to keep suffocating myself and not being able to be/look like myself. How should I go about getting it cut? Should I cut it without telling him and then come back home (like that one quote says ‘it’s a lot easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission’) honestly I don’t care much about the aftermath but I’d like to minimize the damage as much as possible.

Submitted June 28, 2023 at 07:45AM by KhuralYuvraj (From Reddit https://ift.tt/cVpq6TK)

[crazyblondelife]

Life's Simple Pleasures

There is always something to be grateful for! Yesterday was quite a busy day (aren’t they all), and I was stressed about a location to take these pictures. I sometimes get it in my head that our town is too small and doesn’t have enough beautiful spots for photography and I guess, compared to New York City…that’s true. However, when I gave myself a minute to calm down and be open to inspiration, the perfect spots for these photographs popped into my head! That’s really how it is with most things we worry (needlessly) about in life!

Even though I love cities, small town living is so much easier. It takes me no more than 10ish minutes to get anywhere I want to go and only thirty minutes to an hour to get to fabulous shopping and restaurants! You really can’t beat that!

I am usually running around like a chicken with my head cut off (old Southern expression I think), and forget to take the time to just be still for a minute. In the stillness, everything is so much more clear, time stands still and peace takes over the chaos. Even big problems seem much less serious when you allow yourself to escape into stillness. After all, every answer resides there.

This beautiful fountain is seconds from our home and I walk there with Amos most days. The street is called Fountain Place…it’s a tree lined street with beautiful old homes and children playing. Life seems idyllic when I’m walking on Fountain Place.

As a child, I played in (yes actually in), this fountain. I’m not sure how the fish felt about it, but my friends and I had so much fun. Those were the days when childhood was carefree and anything seemed possible.

During my 40s and 50s, I had come to believe that life would never be carefree again and that life held little possibility. it was only when I learned about my inner power and accessing that through stillness that my life changed. I now believe that anything is possible and my life feels much more carefree (with a schedule).

As I enter a new decade of life, one of the things I want to focus on is slowing down and noticing the beauty that’s all around me. Nature offers not only beauty but a sense of peace and security. There is nothing like walking through the woods and really listening to the sounds of nature…but, how often do we do things like that! Not often enough.

Even though I have no intention of slowing down as it relates to my business, I do intend to take moments of my day to slow down and notice what’s going on around me. To speak to strangers in the grocery store and smile at children. It’s so important to be engaged in whatever you’re doing instead of only ever thinking about the next thing.

When you really stop to think about it, the things that really matter are so simple. Time with people you love, a really great meal, the warm breeze at the ocean, engaging conversation, watching the sunset, sliding into freshly washed sheets in the evening. These things are so simple and often, the things we forget to appreciate.

Beauty is all around you if you take the time to look! In the end, these pictures were so easy because I decided they would be. Instead of stressing about where we would take them, I slowed down and took a breath…and then, it came to me. The pictures with the yellow dress were taken in our side yard and obviously, the other pictures were taken minutes away on Fountain Place.

We ended up having fun, talking to a neighbor and the whole shoot took less than 30 minutes. Lesson learned! Slowing down makes everything easier and quicker and much less stressful. Time is manmade, the Universe is on it’s own time and when we tap in…we can be part of that Divine timing!

My little problem yesterday was very small in the scheme of things, but the same spiritual principles apply to every problem. The Universe really does have your back, when you allow it!

And…about the dresses! They are both from Farm Rio and were gifted to me. I love wearing dresses in the summer and fall and these two are perfect for the days when I want my style to feel a little boho…free and fun! They’re perfect for twirling and you can eat a huge dinner and not worry about being uncomfortable (big plus as far as I’m concerned)! I paired them both with cute espadrilles from Aldo that are under $100 and go with everything because of the clear strap! Both dresses are linked in the boutique below as well as some other favorites from Farm Rio!

I can’t believe it’s already Wednesday and I hope you’re having the best week! Remember, as you go about your day today…stop, breath and let the gratitude for life and the sacred Stillness take over, even if it’s just for a couple of minutes. It will make the biggest difference! Life is supposed to be good and the power to make it that way, lies within you! Thank you so much for reading!

[abroadchangedme69]

I’ve been neglecting this blog so I’ve got quite a bit of ground to cover.

I switched hostels in Budapest for my final two nights and the second hostel was quite nice. It was small and cozy, it had a loft. I had an interesting conversation with a girl who worked there on my last night. I forget what she was studying, but it had something to do with art and philosophy and she described it as “schizophrenic.” She didn’t mind because it was still useful to her work in theater. She was intriguing, I would’ve liked to see more of her.

After Budapest I went to Zagreb. At 5pm while I was on the bus there I got an email from the hostel I’d be staying at overbooked and I needed to find somewhere else to stay. None of the other hostels had availability so I found an Airbnb for a couple nights. It wasn’t so bad. For my third night I booked a different hostel, and when I walked into my room I found Jason from Vienna and Budapest in the bunk next to mine. That was quite a coincidence, but a welcome one.

After Zagreb I went to Ljubljana which I preferred. A cute little city. I met a 23-year-old named Donovan from Arizona who’s just finishing 6 years in the navy. He’ll be studying to be an electrical engineer and wants to be an astronaut after he completes his master’s. We got ramen together.

I got sick in Zagreb and Ljubljana so I didn’t get up to too much. Traveling like I have been gets pretty exhausting, especially now that I’m almost two months in. Being sick on top of that is a mood killer.

After Ljubljana I went to Venice for two nights. When I got to the bus stop in Ljubljana, I ran into Donovan again. Turns out we were on the same bus and had booked the same hostel. We spent most of the next day in Venice on the island together. I liked Venice but I think one day was enough for me. Probably the most touristic place that I’ve been so far, I can’t imagine what it’s like in the summer.

I was planning to go to Milan next, but since I had nothing booked last night there wasn’t any (reasonable) hostel availability tonight. So now I’m on a train to Innsbruck. I’m ready to finally spend some time in the mountains.

I continue to notice differences in myself and how I behave compared to the beginning of this trip. I find it easy to strike up conversations. I don’t feel pressure and that leads to better interactions. I feel more patient in many ways. I don’t make so many assumptions about the people I meet, I just let them show me who they are. I don’t doom them to failure by holding them to some unrealistic standard that I have in my head. I’m more patient with myself and how I want to behave/what I want to do with my time. I find it much easier to kill the noise when I feel overwhelmed and just focus on what’s immediately in front of me.

This is certainly the final leg of my trip. I’m going to book a ticket back home soon, sometime mid-November. I think I’ll fly out of Lisbon to bring this full circle. This trip has been deeply valuable to me and I expect to look back on it as a transformative period of my life. But this is day 53 and I feel that it’s starting to become gratuitous. I’ve met plenty of people who would like to travel endlessly. Who finish their trip and are already thinking about the next time they’ll be able to cast away. That’s not me. I want to do something like this again eventually, but I find much more fulfillment in the development of skills and passions. That requires more structure than this kind of nomadic lifestyle provides. My intention for this trip has been twofold since the beginning. First, to see the world and enjoy travel while I’m young and without major responsibilities. To have novel experiences and venture outside my comfort zone. Second, to reflect on what’s valuable to me and come away with concrete changes that I will make in my life to avoid the monotonous, soul-sucking rut that I found myself in for the time leading up to my quitting. I’m satisfied with where both of these objectives stand, so I feel ready to bring this to an end.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Cabin In The Woods [M] ~ BC [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4K

GENRE: SMUT, non idol au

PAIRING: Chan x Fem!Reader

A/N: I had to name the camp this there was no other wayyyyyy Hope you like it!

Camp crystal lake home to some of the most adventurous kids every summer the camp would be home to 200 kids with 16 camp counsellors all in charge of them and you were there every year, along with one of your best friends Bang Chan who was a counsellor as well as a lifeguard that worked on the lakes. The entire camp was huge despite there only being nine cabins that the kids could stay in. Eight of them would house 25 kids within their age ranges since kids from the ages of 13 to 17 came to the camp you had to keep them all in different groups so that group activities were fair to everyone. While the younger kids stuck to swimming, football and other outdoor activities the older kids got to learn and do more. Archery, boating, horse riding, and many more things were all part of your daily activities around the forest. There were two major lakes in the camp, Wilderice lake and Crystal lake the one that the camp was named after and each was just off from the cabins that went on a long stretch of road. Everything was pretty close together the only cabin that was far away from the rest of the camp was Seneca, which was known as the punishment cabin. Mostly because kids who had done terrible things were sent up there, only allowed out to go to the toilet, or meal times other than that they had to sit there bored while everyone else got to do the fun activities. Not completely unsupervised of course, that would be dangerous. A camp counsellor would always go to check on them to make sure they weren't doing anything they would regret or that they weren't in any danger.

"Y/n!" You turned around hearing your name being screamed from the entrance and smiled as you saw one of your favourite kids rushing over to you. A bag around her shoulder as she sprinted into your arms, you span her around a little. 

"Hey Alice," You laughed as the small 15-year-old girl began telling you how much fun she was going to have over the summer with everyone. 

"I invited my best friend along, Brenda!" A brunette turned around when she heard her name being yelled and jolted over to you and Alice. 

"We wanted to see if you and Chan were dating yet," You laughed loudly upon hearing Alice, Chan and you were known among everyone as the flirting pair but it was nothing more than playful banter. 

"You're too young to think of boys that way," You began messing up Alice's hair when she moved away from you, whining and straightening out her hair. 

"I'm not, I'm 15 and I know you and Chan lovvveeeee each other," You glared at her playfully about to tell her she was wrong when Chan came to stand beside you. 

"Ah the trouble maker," He whined out, pretending to be upset that Alice was standing there. She was by far your favourite kid there, always willing to do whatever it took to have fun and even helping out around the camp when she needed to. 

"We were just saying how-" Alice stopped speaking when her mother came over, kissing her on the cheek as she began to cry about leaving her at the campground as she did every year. Not that you blamed them, it must have been a nightmare leaving your kids somewhere for two weeks and having no means of communication.

"I'm new, you must be Chan. I've heard a lot," Brenda said as she began shaking Chan's hand with a giant smile on her face, blushing as she turned to look at you. 

"Good choice," You pushed her and Alice towards the bus that would take them down into the camp and you ignored as Chan asked what that was about.

"Go, you have your first round of kids at the lake in an hour." You whined as he walked up behind you, tickling your sides as he demanded to know. 

"Tell meeee," He whispered in your ear, it felt as though a bolt of lightening ran through your entire body and you whined at him once again. Slapping his hands away from you and shaking your head, 

"Go to work, I'll tell you later." Later meant you had enough time to come up with some sort of lie instead of telling him that Alice and Brenda thought you had a crush on him. Which you did but he didn't need to know that. Things between you were good and you didn't want to ruin that by admitting that you had a crush on him, playful flirting was easier than losing him. 

"Who have you got this year?" Chan asked as he sat down beside you in the archery field. It was pitch black sine it was around midnight, the two of you had been so busy with the first day of camp you'd barely seen one another besides a brief encounter at the lake.

"Ages 13 to 14, what about you?" You questioned as you looked up from the folder you were studying from, every year you liked to try and get to know each of the kids you would be looking after for those two weeks. Getting to know their names, likes and dislikes as well as what they were allergic to and everything else you would need to know. 

"16 to 17," He said with a giant smirk plastered across his face, the camp counsellors that were blessed with the older kids barely had to do a thing around the camp. Take them on the odd walk around the forest or make sure they weren't trying to kill ne another with equipment but that was it. They were practically adults and could look after themselves, of course the counsellors would be around if they needed them. 

"You're going to get stuck with the younger ones one summer, even if I have you force you to myself," You joked as you jabbed him with the end of your pen, leaving a small black mark on his white crystal lake shirt.

"Already in uniform?" You frowned looking down at him as you realised he was wearing the red shorts and white shirt combo that was giving to you every year. 

"I thought I would be the first one...That and I accidentally spilt a drink down my only good pair of jeans." He mumbled as he looked at you, you began laughing softly before laying your head on his shoulder tiredly. 

"It's going to be a great summer," He whispered to you as he nudged your softly, 

"Fire night, bring your scary stories and marshmallows!" Someone screamed making you move apart from Chan and nod your head. 

"I've got the perfect scary story," You smirked. Fire night was the night camp counsellors got together to try and tell the best story as well as sharing food something you did every year when the kids all went to bed on the first night. It was somewhat of a tradition amoungst everyone for old and new counsellors to get to know one another. 

"You probably stole mine from last year," Chan rolled his eyes at you jokingly and you rolled yours back, 

"Oh yes because yours about the child who had diabetes was so scary Christopher, I'm still shaking." You pushed his shoulder and got up from the seat you were sitting on, watching as people began filing over in the direction of the fire grounds. It was a huge campfire with logs around it so that everyone could be warm.

It turned out that your story had nothing on what Chan was telling that year, your story was about a girl who got lost in the woods but Chan's was far more creative. 

"Jason was never seen again after he entered the lake and every year when the counsellors came to the camp to set up they were all murdered!" He clapped his hands together making you jump as he continued to tell the story of a masked serial killer killing off counsellors one by one using different ways that were all nearly impossible yet creative. 

"Then just when the counsellor thought she was safe in the water Jason swam up and dragged her down to the bottom of the lake!" Chan finally finished and you did your best not to act as scared as you were about it. It wasn't as though the story was completely impossible, the thought of someone randomly walking onto the camp was easy and they could just as easily kill everyone if they wanted to. 

"You okay?" Chan questioned when he sat back down beside you on the log, giving you a hot chocolate as you stared into the flames. 

"Y-Yeah, peachy," Your voice cracked and Chan knew that you weren't okay, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. 

"I'll keep you safe," He whispered as you snuggled closer to him just enjoying the feeling of being that close to him.

"I'm heading up to my cabin, walk me?" You questioned as you noticed how late it was getting, you weren't scared of the woods but walking around in the dark wasn't something you opted to do alone most nights especially after the story that had just been shared by Chan.

"Sure," He chuckled softly as he began walking down the field with you heading in the direction of your cabins, all 25 kids seemed to be sleeping so your night was going to be easy. 

"Are you scared?" Chan nudged as you clutched onto his hand tightly as you stood outside the cabin debating going in or staying with him a little while longer. The sparks you were getting from his hand begged you to stay and feel them longer but you knew you had a long day tomorrow and couldn't. 

"N-No," You lied obviously as he smirked at you, hugging you tightly. 

"I'll be right next door, if Jason comes for you I'll save you," You pushed him away before going over to the door and opening it up.

"Night," You whispered to him before heading into the room, Chan stayed outside for a moment just waiting for you to come back out but you never did. He hoped you would come back out and beg to stay with him for the night because you were so scared but you never did.

"Night," He whispered to himself before walking in the direction of his cabin for the night which was right next door to yours. 

The next day was ruined by the thunderstorm that seemingly appeared out of no where. No outdoor actitivties could be done since it was unsafe for everyone to be in the water and no one wanted to get sick out in the cold. 

"Does anyone know where all the board games are?" You questioned as you sat in the dinning hall, 200 kids all staring up at you with unimpressed looks on their faces. You didn't blame them, this was supposed to be one of the best summers of their lives and yet here they were spending it trapped inside where it was raining so hard you thought it was night time.

"Punishment Cabin, we kept them up there last year for Tommy and Ned since they were in there so much." One of the counsellors mentioned as she looked at you, none of you could figure out how to get the kids to calm down so if this was the only way then so be it. Board games and indoor games it would be. 

"Christopher. We're going for a walk," You ordered as you grabbed him by the back of his jacket, pulling him towards the door as you stared out at the rain. It was coming down so hard that it looked as though it was a tap gushing out water, 

"Why? Why can't you go alone? I'm so dry in here," He whined looking at you but all you did was give him your large puppy dog eyes and he melted, giving into you right away and grabbing his umbrella. 

"Let's go." He grumbled as he began heading out into the rain, the two of you sprinting off in the direction of the cabin which was secluded from everything else around the camp. 

"Punishment Cabin," You mumbled as you looked up at the cabin, the roof was leaking a little and the door was wide open thanks to the wind. 

"Let's get the games and leave," You told him as you headed inside finding everything practically ruined that had been on the floor. It was all soaked in water and the roof was leaking inside and on the beds dripping onto the mattresses. 

"Oh shit," He whispered as he looked around noticing everything, a clap of thunder sounded and you jumped back knocking into him as the door slammed shut behind you both jamming in place. 

"What the fuck?" You asked as you twisted the handle trying to open it but it was locked in place, not even budging a little no matter how hard you tried to pull on it. 

"Here, let the man do it." You scoffed stepping away from the door and watching in amusement as Chan continued trying to do the same thing you had been but with little success, 

"Let the man do it," You mocked playfully before sitting down on one of the dry chest of drawers. 

"You're just going to sit there?" You shrugged your shoulders since there wasn't much else you could do, the windows were bolted shut from the outside and it wasn't as if you could just smash them open. 

"Look, they know we're up here. They'll come looking when we don't come straight down." You reassured him as you shivered a little, it wasn't exactly the warmest in the punishment cabin but you would only be there for an hour at the most. 

An hour turned into three and you were sitting in front of the fireplace together trying to stay warm. No one had bothered to come to look for you but not because they didn't want to but that they had planned for this. As soon as the counsellors saw that it was going to rain all day they set their plan into action deciding to take matters into their own hands. They were going to arrange for you both to go up to the cabin and have someone follow behind you, locking you inside and only letting you out when they knew that you had finally confessed your feelings for one another. It was juvenile but they didn't care, every year it was the same. Endless flirting together, the costant hints that you btoh had a crush on one another and they were finally going to make sure you ended up together in ways that were more than just friends. 

"I'm cold," You shivered as Chan started up the fire place that was in the cabin, he'd found old scraps of paper and some matches in the drawers you'd been sitting on and started it up. The thought of you getting sick made him feel bad as he looked over at you,

"Here," He whispered as he began laying down dry blankets and pillows in front of the fire. 

"We'll warm up together," He promised as you sat down on the floor beside him, his arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled you closer to him. Maybe it was the cold or the fact that you were snuggled together in such a romantic setting but you couldn't help but stare up at him in awe. 

"Thanks," You stuttered out as he kept you close to him, your body felt as though it was going to surrender to him. Sitting so close, hearing his heartbeating and the way his fingers traced small patterns on your skin was doing all sorts of things to you. A wetness dripped betwee your tighs as you squeezed them together trying to ignore the sensation and focus on getting warm but it was hard with him right there. 

"You know what might warm us up faster," You finally broke the silence as you glanced up at him, the two of you had been sitting in front of the fireplace for ten minutes. 

"What?" His voice was smooth as he looked down at you, eyes seeming to sparkle in the light of the fire, one thing came over you and you kissed him. Smashing your lips against him and rolling him back against the floor. At first he didn't do anything, he held onto you until he realised what was happening and gave into the feeling of having your lips on his own. 

"F-Fuck," He stuttered out as you pulled away to look at him, his lips were pink from the kissing and you could feel your body heating up from the embarrassment of randomly kissing your best friend. 

"I-I'm sorry...I don't know...I just wanted...I've wanted to do that for so long," As soon as the words left your mouth Chan kissed you once again pulling you to straddle his lap as he kissed you softly. 

Your hips began to move out of habit and you felt him harder beneath you which meant he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

"N-No one is around," You whispered breathlessly as you began to kiss down his jawline and down his neck. Whimpering at the thought of finally lettin him take you the way you had always dreamed, 

"We would warm up faster," He smirked as he ran his hands down your hips pushing at the red short shorts you were wearing. Your whole body tensed as you realised it was finally, really going to happen. 

"Do you want to?" You nodded at his question and he kissed you again, making out with yo as you both slowly removed one another's clothes piece by piece. 

Laying down completely naked in front of him should have made you nervous but with Chan you weren't at all, he looked at you as if he admired every inch of your skin. Taking a good look as he licked his lips, kissing your lips softly, 

"You're so beautiful," He whispered as he ran his fingers down your stomach until he was at your clit, slowly rubbing your wet bud in circles as you let out a whimper. 

"So wet, how long have you wanted me?" He smirked as he pushed a finger through your folds, your toes dg into the floor as you mewled out, 

"Tell me," He whispered again as he pushed two of his long fingers into you, curling them up to hit your g-spot again and again making your head spin. 

"A while!" You stuttered out as you began squirming underneath him as you moaned out his name. 

"Me too,2 He whispered as he began kissing you deeply, thrusting his fingers deep into your soaking core. Wet noises filled the cabin as Cha continued to take you with his fingers. 

"C-Chan," You breathed out as you gripped onto the blankets that were surrounding you, you felt intensity building up inside of you.

"I-I'm gonna-" You couldn't cum before he took his fingers out of your abruptyly and smirked as he began kissing you possessively, your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him close to you. 

"So needy," He chuckled as you let out a hiss when his cock ran through your folds, 

"Shut up and fuck me, we've waited too long." You begged as your breath as heavy, he smirked shaking his head and kissing down your body. 

"I want to taste first," He whispered as he kissed towards your core, he lingered above your cunt and looked up at you to check that it was okay. Once you gave him a nod he dove his tongue between your lips and began flicking your cunt with his tongue. 

"Oh shit!" You screamed out as your hands worked their wayy into his hair, pulling him closer as he continued to eat you out, biting down softly on the part of your outer labia making your eyes roll back. 

"J-Just like that," You cried out as you felt your orgasm building again, he hummed against your cunt and you shuddered over and over again as he continued to eat you out like you were his last meal. 

"C-Cumming," Your voice cracked as the pleasure exploded in you without warning, your head threw back against the pillows and you filled the cabin with your desperate moans of his name. 

He kissed you sweetly as he lined his cock up with your opening, teasing you with the tip as he smirked against your lips. 

"No teasing," You whined out, too desperate for any games that he was planning in his head. 

"As you wish," He pushed his hips forward slowly, sinking into you. You moaned out squeezing your eyes tightly at the stretching, he stayed still for a moment wanting you to feel comfortable before he even tried to move inside of you, 

“Y-You can move," You whimpered as you opened your eyes, his cock felt incredible inside of you, you felt full as you gripped around him as if he had always belonged there. 

"Shit you're so tight," He whined out as he grunted, slowly pulling out of you only to thrust back in as he let out a small moan. 

"Mmm Chan, please," You begged, digging your heels into his ass wanting him to move faster than he was and he smirked, 

"Chan please," He mocked playfully before he began to move his ips faster, fucking into you as you let out moans of pleasure he was sure people would have heard even from the dinning hall. 

"Just like that!" You screamed out as he began thrusting harder into you making you squeal out as he rammed in and out of you. Cock hitting so deep you thought if he came it would be deep in your gut. 

He continued to fuck into you hard, changing between slow and passionate thrusts to hard and fast ones as he stared down into your eyes. 

"Holy shit," You cried out as you felt yourself tighrening around him, the build up becoming too much as you began to cry out his name, pleasure reeling inside of you. 

"You close?" He questioned as he felt you tightening more and more with each thrust of his cock. 

"Cum for me," He whispered as he bent down into your ear, biting down as you wrapped your legs around his waist drawing him closer if that were even possible until you finally came undone around him. Grunting out he pulled out of you, cumming onto your stomach as you giggled up at him. 

"Shit," He panted watching in awe as you ran your fingers through the liquid and licked your fingers clean. 

"Y-You're going to be the death of me," He panted ashe laid down beside you and took a deep breath.

"We should move babe," He whispered an hour or two later after you had been laying there, the sun was out and someone was bound to come looking for you now that you had been gone for so long. 

"Here-" He handed you the shirt he had been wearing and then your shorts before he slipped on his coat since he had used your top to clean up your stomach. 

"Babe?" You looked at him with a smirk on your lips,

"You don't think I'm going to just have sex with you and leave it be, do you? I'm in love with you." He whispered as he kissed your lips again, the door opening just as you kissed each other. 

"They finally kissed," Someone announced out of the door, if only they knew the two of you had done a lot more than kissing in that cabin that day.

Tagline: @taestannie @sw33tnight @acciocriativity @mwitsmejk @minholuvs @anxiousbobatea @justbangtanthingz​

[fruitcoops]

I was wondering if I could request something? Maybe Sirius' first night at the Dumais' place and Dumo can straight away tell that somethings wrong. Sirius makes polite conversation and it all looks so painful until he retires for the night and Dumo passes by his room and he hears Sirius crying maybe? Because of what his mother said, and maybe because he has trouble adjusting to new situations? Just an idea that popped into my head :) Only if you want to write it <3 Thank you

Yes, I can! I love writing Dumo, but for some reason I don't do it that often--his and Sirius' dynamic is just so wholesome and wonderful. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for implied child abuse and broken glass (no injury)

The first thing Pascal Dumais noticed about Sirius Black was how quiet he was. At only eighteen years old, Sirius was taller than most of the other Lions, with broad shoulders and gangly limbs. Yet he moved almost silently, padding along the wood floors in his socks and speaking only when spoken to. It was…honestly, a bit unsettling.

Dumo had expected a rambunctious teenage boy, still high on the thrill of being drafted to the NHL���instead, he found himself the guardian-slash-landlord of a ghost. Sirius unloaded his meager belongings with little fuss and accepted no help, his pale eyes never lingering on either of them for too long.

Celeste poked her head into the living room in the early afternoon when they returned from the grocery store; Sirius was sitting ramrod straight in the smallest chair they had with a thick book in his hands. She knocked gently on the doorframe, and he jumped. “Sirius, would you like some lunch?”

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” he said in that unusually soft voice.

“It’s no trouble,” she assured him.

“I can make myself a sandwich if you have other things to do. Really, I’m alright.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

Sirius blinked, as if he hadn’t expected her to ask, then glanced at the clock on the wall. “I had breakfast at seven and a granola bar on the plane.”

“Sirius, it’s almost two.”

“Is it?”

“Come with me for a moment, oui?” She ushered him into the kitchen; Dumo wasn’t sure he would ever get used to seeing someone so physically imposing walk so small.

“Papa?” Someone tugged on the hem of his shirt and he snapped out of his daze, leaning down to lift Adele into his arms with a smile.

“Bonjour, mon chou! Did you have fun outside?” She nodded, wiggling a little in her excitement, and put her hands on either side of his face. Dumo’s stomach sank. “Why are your hands wet?”

“I washed them!”

“Why?”

“Because we played with chalk!”

Both the boys were at day camp, and Katie was down for her afternoon nap. Dumo wracked his brain. “Who were you playing with?”

“Sirius!” she giggled, then held the front of her shirt out. Wasn’t she wearing a different one this morning?“An’ he said chalk stains, so he lifted me up so I could wash my hands and helped me get my new shirt on when it got stuck and let me braid his hair! Can we keep him? Please, Papa, I wanna keep him forever!”

Dumo kissed her forehead as a wave of emotion tickled the back of his throat. Less than six hours in their home, and Sirius was already connecting with his children. “Oui, we can. Did you say thank you?”

Adele bit her lower lip. “I don’t remember.”

“Sirius?” Dumo called. The clanking in the kitchen stopped. “Can you come here for a moment?”

There was a beat of silence before he appeared in the doorway, looking paler than before as he walked over to them. This boy needs to eat more, the parental part of Dumo’s brain thought instantly. Slate-grey eyes flickered between them. “She—she had chalk on her shirt. I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“It’s alright. What do you say?” Dumo asked, turning to Adele.

She turned a beaming smile on Sirius. “Thank you!”

His whole face softened in the blink of an eye and he smiled back, giving her a light fist bump. “Pas de problem, petit papillon.”

-------------------------------

Sirius opened up a bit over lunch; Adele perched herself right in his lap with her peanut butter sandwich to his clear astonishment, but his smiles came easier after that and Dumo treasured each one. He was already grateful that Sirius did not seem like the type of asshole player that Dumo remembered from his high school years.

Marc and Louis returned to the house just as they finished, and though Sirius offered to help wash the dishes—the boy was a blessing, really—they shooed him off to play with the kids for a while. It would do them all some good to get out in the sun.

“Quiet, isn’t he?” Celeste remarked as they stood side-by-side at the sink. Her tone was casual, but Dumo saw the worry in her eyes.

He hummed in agreement. “He’s probably just nervous, mon amour. They can take a while to warm up.”

“Pascal, I don’t think—”

The sound of shattering glass echoed from the other room. The house held its breath. “Is everyone alright?” Dumo called, drying his hands on the nearest towel as his pulse picked up. “What happened?”

Hushed whispers floated out, followed by the pitter-patter of little feet. He hurried down the hall with Celeste hot on his heels. “I’m so sorry,” Sirius said as they entered the room. He was kneeling on the wood floor, gathering fragments of a small water glass in one palm. “It was my fault. I hit it with my elbow.”

Celeste frowned. “Boys? Adele? I know you were here.”

Dumo didn’t miss Sirius’ hard swallow, nor the sudden nervousness—no, that was fear—on his face as the three kids crept out from around the corner, looking guiltier than anything. Adele stepped forward, but Sirius stood in a smooth, instinctive motion, keeping her behind him. “It was my fault,” he repeated. Dumo’s heart sank.

“Adele, is that true?”

She looked up toward Sirius, who kept his broad hand ever so slightly in front of her shoulder. Celeste raised an eyebrow. “Adele Marie, tell the truth.”

“No,” she said.

“Come here, please.” Dumo watched Sirius’ breaths go shallow as Celeste beckoned to Adele, but confusion took its place when she crouched to her level. “Thank you. What Sirius did was very nice, but we don’t let other people take the fall for our mistakes in this house, Adele. We accept responsibility. Who broke the cup?”

“I was chasing Marc and we both bumped into the table,” Adele confessed, toying with the hem of her butterfly-patterned shirt. “It was an accident, I promise.”

“Did anyone get hit by the glass?” Dumo asked. All three shook their heads. “Sirius?”

He cleared his throat. “No, Mr. Dumais.”

“Marc, Adele, I want you to find the broom and dustpan so your mother and I can clean this up. Thank you for being honest. Sirius, there’s a trash can in the kitchen, but be careful of the sharp edges. And please, call me Pascal or Dumo.”

But he didn’t stop thinking about the visible alarm on Sirius’ face when Celeste brought Adele forward all afternoon. Something was not right.

--------------------------------

If it wasn’t for the baby, Dumo would not have heard it.

Katie woke around midnight with a quiet whine, which devolved into whimpering, and finally into full-out sobbing for over half an hour. He carried her downstairs so she wouldn’t wake the others and gently rocked her, humming lullabies under his breath until his throat was dry and her tears abated. “There’s my good girl,” he murmured, drying her pudgy cheeks with his sleeve.

The last bits of sleep faded away as he set her down in her crib again, and he sighed. The season didn’t start for more than a month, but he had been looking forward to a few consecutive nights of solid rest before then.

May as well check on the others, he thought, wandering down the hallway in his thickest socks and bathrobe to stave off the nighttime chill. Marc and Louis were each out cold; he took the open book splayed across Marc’s bed and set it on his dresser, turning the lamp off as he left. Adele was curled into a tight ball around no less than four of her precious stuffed animals and he tucked the blankets back over her shoulder.

Dumo’s feet carried him down the stairs before his brain fully caught up, and he paused—Sirius had been in their house for a single day, and already he had the urge to look out for him. The thought should have made him feel silly, but instead he felt…peaceful. He felt right. There was a lost and near-silent boy in his home, who protected his kids within hours of knowing them. Of course Dumo was going to make sure he was alright.

Summer wind rushed past the wide windows as he headed toward the basement. It was warmer there, and he took a moment to mentally pat himself on the back for remodeling two years prior. Hopefully, Sirius would be comfortable.

A soft sound broke through his thoughts. Dumo stopped on the last step.

There was a harsh breath, then a sniffle, as if the person inside was trying and failing to keep their tears in past the point of no return. He heard a few shaky, weak inhales, then a choked noise that cut off abruptly with a gulp.

Dumo closed his eyes to hold back tears of his own and knocked lightly on the bedroom door.

Everything went silent with a rustle.

“Sirius?” he whispered, raising his voice just enough to be heard through the door. “Are you awake?”

There was no answer.

“Can I come in?” he ventured.

An unsteady voice answered. “Ouais.”

The door creaked a little as he opened it and stepped into the dark room. Sirius was nothing more than a clump of shadows on the far side of the bed, squished tight against the wall with all his blankets wrapped around him. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Je vais bien.”

“Can I sit?” Dumo fully expected Sirius to tell him ‘no’, to make an excuse, to pull some arrogant teenager nonsense.

Instead, he tucked his legs up and made room near the foot of the bed with another sniffle. “Did I wake you?”

“Non. Katie was crying, and I thought I’d check on everyone.” He settled down and scooted until his back was against the wall as well—Sirius was still hiding in a cocoon of his duvet, but his hand came up to wipe his face. “Do you want to talk?”

“About what?”

“You seem upset. I know the homesickness is hard for the first few days, but—”

“No.” The vehemence of Sirius’ answer shocked him into silence. “No. I’m not homesick. I just—so much has happened, and I—it’s—this is everything I wanted, right here, and—”

He broke off with a wounded noise that broke Dumo’s poor heart right down the middle. He moved closer until their shoulders touched; to his surprise, Sirius leaned on him and shivered. “How can I help you?” Dumo asked quietly.

“Your family…” Sirius shook his head and drew the covers tighter. “You have a beautiful family. You should be proud of them.”

“I am, every day.”

“Your kids love you so much.” It was barely more than a whisper.

Dumo sighed through his nose. “I know.”

“No, you don’t, they—you’re their hero. And not because of hockey.”

That was Dumo’s dream, laid out right in front of him. If someone he hardly knew could see that, then it must be true. The impact was greater than he ever could have imagined; his lungs felt tight. “Thank you. Is it alright if I ask you something?”

Sirius stiffened slightly.

“You’re not in trouble, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’m just…worried.”

He felt Sirius shift. “This is about the glass.” It wasn’t a question.

“Oui.” Dumo searched for the words and scrounged up any sliver of tact he could find. “Sirius, do you—what happens when you break a glass at your house?”

Sirius’ breath rushed from his lungs in a near-silent sob. Dumo gathered him close in his arms and held him, letting tears dampen his shoulder as he murmured soft reassurances in French. “I’m sorry,” Sirius croaked, though he did not move away. “I’m sorry for—for intruding, and for ruining your shirt—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Dumo gave him a light squeeze of comfort and felt him go a bit boneless. “And you are not intruding. We love having you here with us.”

“Really?”

He sounded so unsure. So young. Dumo wished he could take away whatever horrible things had been said to ever make someone so kind feel so small. “Yes. Adele, especially.”

“She’s so…colorful.” Fondness dripped from every word.

“She is,” Dumo agreed. “She came running up to me, and went ‘papa, papa, can we keep him?’”

Sirius laughed a little at his imitation and straightened up, drying his eyes on his hoodie sleeve. They sat quietly for a while until the shaking stopped and his death grip on the comforter loosened. “Thank you, Mr. Dumais.”

“Call me Pascal, or Dumo if you like. ‘Mr. Dumais’ makes me sound like a grandfather.” They laughed together, then fell silent once more. “And you’re welcome. Any time you need help, you can come to me. I might not be your father, but—”

“You’re better,” Sirius interrupted, wiping his nose. His shadow turned to face Dumo in the dark, and though he couldn’t see his face, he could picture the earnest expression. “In every way. Please don’t tell anyone about this, though.”

“It never even crossed my mind,” Dumo answered honestly. “I should let you sleep now. We have some busy weeks ahead of us, eh?”

“Bonne nuit, M—Dumo.” The name carried new weight and he let it sink in as Sirius laid back down and kicked his blankets back into place. Something told him this was the beginning of a very interesting story.

“Bonne nuit, Sirius. Welcome to our home.”

[juniorgman187]

Spoiled Rotten (Reid Fic)

Summary: After Spencer went radio silent on Reader while he was in prison, their pride and stubbornness threatens to tear them apart forever. Reader’s forced to mourn the death of who they were and experience the inner turmoil of navigating who they are.

A/N: Y’all are gonna kill me for the ending, but it’s one hell of a way to go.  Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Angst Content Warning: Imprisonment, humiliation, abandonment, anger, frustration, angst, yelling, fighting Word Count: 5.3k Playlist: Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo

Time jumps are indicated by “. . .” or “_ _ _”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

A rather unfortunate predicament we’ve found ourselves in tonight. I can’t say I’ve ever been quite this uncomfortable in my life, yet I’m careful not to speak too soon. Because I know the second Spencer opens his mouth to break the silence we’re currently sitting in, I’ll stand corrected. 

“You’re breathing really hard,” He tells me out of nowhere. 

See, I stand corrected. 

Now that I’ve become hyper aware of my own inhale and exhale, my respiration is just that much more restricted. I’m practically holding my breath at this moment - both from the anticipation of catching this unsub in the act and giving Spencer one less thing to scrutinize about me. 

“I didn’t say you had to stop breathing,” He tacks on as if it would put me any more at ease. Not that if he had explicitly said such a thing, I would’ve. 

Unlike other people, I wasn’t exactly jumping at the chance to throw myself at his feet so he’d like me. But to use that as grounds for his disdain would be foolish. Our rancor went deeper than the basic lack of synergy between us. 

And in the spirit of getting to the bottom of that abyssal pit, I finally asked the question with words that always seemed to hang above but never would form. 

“Why was I the only one denied visitation while you were in prison?” 

It may surprise you to know that it wasn’t always like this between us; we were actually close once, although it is hard to imagine that version of us ever really existing. However, if I think about it hard enough, I can remember with perfect clarity who we used to be. 

. . .

“Jeez, you really don’t like these things do you?” I nudged him playfully before feeling instantly guilty once I witnessed the result of my shove that must’ve been a little too much for all 120 (at most) pounds of him. I’d neglected to remember the strength I held over the lanky Doctor as well as neglected to notice where the trajectory of my push would land him - in the direct line of a circus clown walking the opposite direction as us. This, of course, brought him face to face with the character. Unfortunately, I managed to catch a glimpse of the lens of Spencer’s glasses grazing the white face paint of the caricature. 

After a shudder of mortification and a very brave shriek, Spencer ran to my other side to be as far away from the clown as possible and apparently, as close to me as possible. From a distance, you’d think we were conjoined simply by the way he was glued to me - shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. 

While removing his glasses to clean them off with the hem of his blazer, he answered, “Carnivals? I mean, what’s not to like? What with the loud noises, the heart-attack-inducing food that’s more grease than actual food, or the sheer amount of bacteria harboring on each and every handle, hoop, ball, or button of these ridiculous game booths.” 

“Wow, you really don’t like carnivals.” I should’ve figured. 

“Nope. Never have and probably never will.” 

As someone who looked forward to the fair every summer of her childhood, any aversion to carnivals broke my heart. I had a fondness for them borne in adolescence that I couldn’t quite justify now in my adulthood. 

“But they’re fun!” was the best argument I could muster. The whine in my voice being provoked by the possibility that the higher the shrill of my pitch, the easier he’d be to sway. Turns out, Dr. Reid was not nearly as susceptible to my auditory persuasion as I might’ve thought he was. Just a stone cold, inconvincible slab of steel. 

“I’m sorry. I know you brought me here because you love these things, but I just can’t get past the ...” He surveyed the fair, ostensibly against his will, in search of the perfect word to describe our surroundings. “Filth.”

I would’ve argued in the defense of the carnival, mentioning how it’s endearing that the only bathrooms for miles were porta potties, and that the screaming, crying, sticky children galore just added to the attraction, and that there was a hidden charm to the way the roller coasters creaked beyond their means with every ride. 

But to an extent, I agreed. It was rather filthy, and I wasn’t much of a germaphobe myself so to someone like him, this would be hell on earth. 

“Well, you get what you put into it. If you’re willing to overlook some minor imperfections, I really think you’d enjoy this place.” 

Spencer by now had his hands in his pockets and his walking pace had slowed to a complete halt. There was a moment of skepticism, followed by a partially open smile to make way for the laughter that escaped from the disbelief that he felt for letting me break his resolve so easily. 

“Alright then. What do you want to do first, Brat?” 

The nickname I’d earned could be seen as meanspirited, but truly, it was affectionately diminutive. Like all good nicknames are. And like the proclaimed Brat I was, I’d taken him to all my favorite parts of the fair. 

First came the bumper cars to ease him into the experience - as ironic as that sounds. He was reluctant to submerge his gangly body into a mini vehicle, much less one that’d been inhabited by God knows how many people before us, but he pushed his reservations aside when he realized he’d get to slam into my car (safely, of course). 

Secondly, we went on the Carousel, but this was only in preparation for the real ride that I wanted to take him on next - the Swinging Chairs. He’d gotten a little nauseous, from both the repetitive circling and the galvanized chains he had to hold that were definitely held by several others. 

He had no interest in going on the Gravitron - super lame, I know - so we opted for the Ferris Wheel instead. I didn’t mind making this compromise so much after recognizing all that he’d done for my benefit that night. And for his generosity and selflessness, I thought it only fitting to end the night going somewhere so tame he couldn’t possibly have any opposition to it.

The photo booth.

The booth in particular we’d gone to was smaller than an airplane bathroom, if you can imagine that. The bench seat was barely wide enough to fit Spencer, let alone seat the both of us. While he didn’t explicitly make the offer to let me sit on his lap, it was kind of a give in that I’d have some part of my body intertwined around him like stubborn ivy. 

. . .

I still laugh thinking about the tangled mess of limbs we were below what the camera couldn’t capture. It was arguably the furthest extent of contortionist work I wanted to do in my lifetime, and henceforth exceedingly uncomfortable, and yet, I’d never felt more at home than when I was in his arms. 

That night he would tear off the top three photos to keep for himself while I kept the bottom three photos. 

To this day, I have never seen the pictures that he kept, and I’m left to wonder if he had them at all.

Because I still have mine. And they were virtually the only thing keeping me sane throughout his trial and subsequent imprisonment. 

Six Months Ago ...

My eyes were locked on the loose thread of my cardigan that I was rolling between my fingers anxiously. 

“Would you stop that?” Penelope swatted my hand away from my sweater. “You’re making me nervous just looking at you.” She grumbled. 

“Sorry,” I apologized bleakly.

A few seconds later she groaned again, making me think I was still doing something bothersome, but it turned out to be just the opposite. “Ugh, I know that sounded mean, and I hate when I sound mean, but I can feel my forehead creasing from the stress, and watching you fidget is going to give me an ulcer.”

“I wish I could help it. I’m just really worried about him.”

“Well I am, too, but that’s not gonna do us any good right now. All we can do is hope for the best.”

Sometimes Penelope’s overly optimistic view on life was futile and unwelcome, and truthfully, this was one of those times. 

“Penny?” 

As she turned her head, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the lenses of her dark green glasses. I could see my own mournful expression as I asked, “What if he’s found guilty?” 

She started to say something but stopped herself. “Right now, all we need to focus on is his bail. We can worry about a verdict later.” She put her hand on top of mine and shook it briefly to remind me that we were in this together. 

Moments later recess was over and the team came trudging back into the courtroom. 

The sound of the judge clearing her throat and our footsteps on the floor made this feel all too normal. 

How could Spencer’s life be hanging in the balance in such a place as non-intimate as this? 

It frustrated me how casual things felt today and how everyone was acting normally. Prentiss had yet to bat an eye, Rossi’s stoic expression never changed, and Penelope was telling me not to worry. Everyone was acting so aloof. 

My eyes darted to Spencer, who was looking back at us woefully. I couldn’t bear to see him like that any longer, so I kept my head down and stared at my feet after I took my seat. 

Even when I closed my eyes, I was haunted by the vision of him in a suit, just like one he’d wear to work. But instead, he was wearing it for this - this vastly different situation. 

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at him the same in one anymore. I’ll probably just remember this particular look on his face, in this god awful courtroom, during this horribly nauseating circumstance. 

If one thing was for certain, it was that this would all come back to me if I ever laid eyes on him in a suit, and that thought fucking terrified me. 

Because that one thought spiraled into the next: Everything was bound to change after this. Every little thing would change in every little way. 

Spencer’s lawyer, the judge, and the prosecutor were going back and forth for a while, but I tuned it all out because I knew if I had tuned in, I wouldn’t have been able to hold back my arguments. Eventually, though, I heard something I could no longer ignore. 

“If past behavior is the best indicator of future conduct, and I do believe it is, then your client presents a flight risk.”

I stood up immediately, getting a head rush from the speed. I knew what was to follow, so I needed to be on my feet the second I heard it. Maybe so I could run and escape before I had to.

“Bail is denied. The defendant will remain in federal custody pending trial.” 

“Spencer!” I shouted, losing all the composure I’d been trying to maintain. I reached for him as if he was at any capacity to reach back and hold me. God, I needed him to hold me. Hold me like how he did at the carnival. 

Hold me.

Luke held me back as I fought to be near him.

“Let me go!” I screamed, trying to break free of his tight grip. Spencer could only stand and stare, mirroring my own wistful glance. He mouthed something to me that I couldn’t quite make out, but if I knew him at all, he probably said something about not wanting me to worry about him. 

“(Y/n), (y/n) it’s gonna be alright.” JJ reasoned, pulling me into a hug. 

“How long before this case goes to trial?” I heard Prentiss whisper to Spencer’s lawyer. 

“It’s a complicated case. I’d say three months maybe?” 

Immediately, I worked myself out of JJ’s arms and pushed my way through the team, running up to the barrier between us.

“Spence!” I cried out in anguish. 

To the sound of my voice, he glanced over his shoulder sadly. He wasn’t even shocked I’d been able to get so close to him - he seemed to expect it, and for that, he was sad. Because he knew if I was going to be as stubborn as to fight to get to him at this hearing, then I was going to be stubborn enough to reach him in prison, too. And should he find himself behind bars, he knew that I’d get to him one way or another. 

That is if he’d let me. 

“Be strong,” He weakly smiled. ‘For me’ his sad eyes begged in addition. He held my gaze for as long as he possibly could before disappearing into another room. 

As I watched him walk away, I could feel my heart shattering and crumbling into the pit of my stomach. Perhaps that was a premonition, a true gut feeling, telling me something I at the time couldn’t have known and wouldn’t have accepted. 

That was the last time I would see Spencer. 

People always say when something unbelievable happens, it doesn’t feel real, but this? Nothing felt more real and more intense than this. 

There was no other way for me to see this situation but as the first defeat in an endless line of them.

If Spencer was denied bail, what else could happen to him? Could he be found guilty too? Because prior to this, the denial of his bail seemed impossible. He posed no flight risk, but according to the judge, he did. So if what I once thought to be impossible happened, then it could and would happen again.

I knew Spencer was going to be found guilty.

What I didn’t know, though, was how I was going to live with myself from then on.

I didn’t go that day. 

I knew myself too well. So did the others, which is why they didn’t object to my decision not to come to Spencer’s trial. They knew I was better off staying home. Especially, if there was the chance that I might react hysterically again.

I didn’t stay home, though. That part the team never found out about. 

I went to visit Diana instead. A much wiser choice, in my opinion. 

“You know, we’ve been talking so much about Spencer today, but we haven’t talked about you yet,” said Diana. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” I feigned a polite smile. 

“You thought I wouldn’t notice?” She tilted her chin downward and gave me that sly grin of hers. 

“No, no, of course not. I know better than to underestimate the Diana Reid.” I quipped, making her smile widen. “I just figured you’d wanna spend your time talking about someone much more interesting.” 

“Oh please, Spencer and I talk about you all the time.”

I perked up from the checker piece I was fiddling with. “You do?”

“Mhm,” She nodded over and over again. “I always knew there was something between you two because you could always talk about each other to me, but for some reason, you could never actually talk to each other.”

For the first time in months, I genuinely laughed and I couldn’t help it. “He makes me nervous! I always feel like he might correct something I say, or tell me that there’s food in my teeth.” 

“You know, now that you mention it, I do remember him saying something about seeing a really big piece of lettuce in your teeth one time.” 

“Diana!” I squealed, pushing the checkerboard at her, pretending to take offense. 

“I really don’t know what you’re so nervous about! I think it would be good if you just talked to him.” 

“It’s, um, it’s not that simple. Not right now, at least.” 

My energy quickly nose-dived and I tried to do my best to hide it from Diana, but it permeated through the rest of the visit. I couldn’t fully enjoy myself after it. 

The team and I all agreed not to let Diana know, especially not with the uncertainty of the case. There was no point riling her up if there was nothing to be worried about. And I could only imagine how I reacted - Diana would be reacting 10 times more hysterically. 

But as much as I hated to say it, I almost would’ve rather been in her position. 

I would give anything to un-know Spencer’s circumstance.

Present Time ...

In this car, there was nowhere for him to run or hide, not like before.

Anytime I so much as entered his gravity by being in the same room, he’d flee the space in the next breath. Granted, he couldn’t really avoid me entirely. We did have to be on the same flight for an extended period of time, but he made that work by letting me choose my spot first, then choosing a spot directly on the opposite side of the jet. 

What a gentleman, huh?

“Kudos to you, by the way. For managing to avoid me for this long. I imagine it’s been as not-easy as it has been incredibly-cowardly.” My words stung as they flowed from my lips as badly as I imagine they seared his already cracked skin. I couldn’t believe that now that I finally had the opportunity to talk to him, I was using it to be petty and passively aggressive. But then again, I could. 

Because after what he put me through, he deserved to feel the full severity of my indignation.

My only wish was that he knew exactly how I had felt when I found out. 

. . .

Icarus. 

He died tragically while using artificial wings, invented by his father, to escape from the Labyrinth. When Icarus flew too close to the sun, it melted the wax that held the wings together, and he fell into the sea.

‘Don’t fly too close to the sun.’ That’s the moral of the story. That’s what Reid was trying to tell me. But I didn’t listen. 

I flew too close. 

I had approached the window with more zeal than this predicament warranted. 

“I’m (y/n) (y/l/n). I’m here to see Spencer Reid, R-E-I-D,” I eagerly spelt his last name with ease as though it were my own last name. 

She’d flipped back and forth between pages, running her index finger up and down the sheet for far too long that it made me worry. Turns out, I had every right to be worried. 

“I don’t see you on the list, ma’am.” 

I was so mindnumbingly dumb that I couldn’t even see how dumb I was being. “Oh no no no, I’m with the FBI. I called earlier and left a message, remember?” 

“Yeah, I remember you,” She smiled politely, giving me the tiniest fragment of hope. “But you’re not on his list.” Only for it to be shattered in an instant. 

I had yet to process or accept this information. “So what does that mean?”

“It means he doesn't wanna see you right now. And frankly, neither do I. Next!” 

“Wait, could you just please check with him? My name is (y/n) -” 

“Ma’am, you are holding up a whole line of people that wanna see their loved ones too, so I suggest you see yourself out before I call security to help see you out.” 

I knew by her tone of the word ‘help’ that meant a prison guard would most likely forcibly remove me from the premises, and the last thing I needed was to feel even more humiliated. 

I got plenty of that when I had to come back to the BAU. 

“You’re not on the list?” Luke seemed genuinely shocked. More so than I was. Above all, I just felt really stupid. 

“I’m sure it was just a mistake.” Stephen reasoned. He was so good at being level-headed. Which normally, I would’ve loved. But right now, it only fueled the fire burning in my chest.

“That’s what I thought at first, too. But later on, she asked him herself, and he said - and I quote, ‘I don’t want to see her. Not now. Not ever.’”

. . .

Those were the words that seared my skin, and he hadn’t even spoken them directly to me to do it. 

The words that did just enough to heal me back to health were, of course, Penelope’s.

“Since you haven’t seen him yet, the rest of us will just wait until you have. It’s only fair that you have your first turn before the rest of us go back for a second time.” 

Back then, it was easy to hold out hope, but the more and more time passed, the more he kept denying my visits. Therefore, the more my hope began to fade. 

It had been weeks since anyone else had seen him before I finally surrendered. Although I had newly-brewing sourness towards Reid, it didn’t feel fair to deny him everyone else’s presence until mine was permitted. 

Luke was the one who volunteered to visit first. And to my dismay, Spencer didn’t fight against it. 

The proof was finally there. Now I could say with absolute certainty: Spencer just didn’t want to see me. 

It was both ironic and utterly frustrating to think about how I’d never gone more than two weeks without seeing him. Even when the BAU got time off after big cases, we’d always spend that time together. The longest we’d spent apart was 12 days. And right when he came back to D.C, we were attached at the hip for the next week, trying to compensate for all that time we were apart. 

Now, look at us. I haven’t said one word to him in half a year. 

If tragedy and comedy could coexist, this would be it. 

“How is he?” I asked Luke as soon as he got back. 

“He’s holding on,” Luke affirmed with confidence. What he said next lacked any of that. “He told me to tell you not to worry about him.” 

Something in me knew it was a lie. “Did he actually say that?”

His lack of an answer was one itself. 

“Did he say anything at all about me?”

“I tried telling him how much you wanted to see him, but he just brushed it off. I’m sorry, (y/n).” 

This became my routine for the months to follow. Every time someone would come back from the prison, I’d ask them if they talked about me, but the answer was always no. After a while, it had gotten to the point where I purposefully started leaving myself out of the loop. At least in that case, it was by my own volition that I was being excluded, not by a predicament being forced on me. 

Not by Spencer. 

“We’re not doing this right now,” Spencer declaration brought me back to the present, where I found him removing himself from both the conversation and the vehicle. When I heard the latch click to open, my hand reflexively flew to my auto-lock to prevent him from leaving. Naturally, he still managed to escape using his door’s button.

If I couldn’t stop him, then I could follow him. 

“Then when will we do this? Huh, Spencer? When? Because anytime I try to talk to you, you run away.” The mere fact that I was speed-walking after him was proof. While he casually strolled down the sidewalk paying me no mind, I tried to be clever and walk down the street so we’d be somewhat side to side. I was tired of staring at his back every time he walked away. I needed to see his face.

For his every stride, I had to take at least three steps. He was gliding through the world so effortlessly as I was trekking my uphill battle. It was quite fitting, though. Further exemplification that, between us, I was fighting harder to preserve the people we used to be, the relationship we used to have. Meanwhile, he couldn’t care less. A stone cold, inconvincible slab of steel. Just like he always was. 

As I began to speak, I had to also be conscious of the parked cars along the curb, being careful to weave in and out. 

“For months, you have blatantly ignored me. The entire time you were in prison, you denied my visits. And it’s not like it was a one time thing. I tried to visit you over 100 times while you were in jail! 100 times I got rejected. 100 times I got turned away. 100 times my heart shattered.” 

By now, I was speaking so loudly that I could see household lights within neighboring homes turning on. I hadn’t even realized how far we’d walked down the street and away from our car, but it was the last thing on my mind. 

“Then after you were released, it’s like I never even existed. I had to find out that you were out of there a week later than everyone else because they all assumed you came to me yourself to tell me the good news,” I laughed wryly at my own stupidity. “Do you know how hard it was for me?” 

“Do you know how hard it was for me?” 

It took me a second to register that he was actually engaging with me in this conversation now. But when I looked at his expression, I could see that something within him had snapped. A little piece of me was glad, though. Now I knew for sure that there was some effect I had on him. 

“Hard for you?”

“I know you came to visit me 100 times! Want to know how I know? Because I was there, too! I was there every time a guard came to ask if I wanted to see you. I was there every time I turned you away. And while you got to walk out of those doors every time I did, I was stuck in there, rotting in that cell, thinking about how badly I wanted to see you. How badly I wanted to touch ...” His voice faltered. “To touch you. But I had to protect you!” 

“You do realize in protecting me, you were hurting me in the process.” 

“Because you just don’t know when to leave well enough alone!” His hands tugged at the root of his unruly hair like evidence of the frustration that my stubbornness caused. “You’re such a pain in the ass because you can never cooperate! It’s gotta be your way or no one else’s! ‘Spencer, it has to be this way because I said so. Spencer, you have to let me see you because I said so. Spencer, you have to talk to me because I said so. Spencer, you have to ride this stupid roller coaster because I said so,’” His imitation of my nagging voice would’ve made me laugh before. Now, it was bringing me onto the verge of tears. “Since clearly no one’s told you this before - not everything is about you! You just want it to be because you’re a whiny, little brat! You’re so spoiled rotten that you can’t even see how far down it goes. If you did, you’d know that you’re rotten to the core and that nothing will ever satisfy you. Especially me.”

His words had done more than sear me. They pierced me. They ripped me. They destroyed me. When he called me Brat, I thought it was endearing. Now, looking back, I realize - no, that’s just how little he thought of me. 

As I came to the conclusion, I stopped dead in my tracks on the pavement. 

I was done chasing Spencer.

His face had fallen from its anger, indicating he was apologetic, but I was beyond accepting his sorry excuses anymore. I couldn’t stand to look at him so I looked behind me to find our car at least a football field away. I guess in many ways, I’d gone the whole nine yards. 

“This is what you wanted right?” I turned back to him momentarily. My voice scared me how calm it was because, inside, I was boiling with rage. “Well, here you go, Spence. Have all the fucking space you want.” 

It was usually me watching his back while he walked away, and now, he was watching mine. 

“(Y/n), wait!” 

And for the briefest second, it actually felt good to be the first one to leave. 

I was free. 

_ _ _

To my dismay and relief, when I walked into work the next morning, he wasn’t there. I would’ve looked for him with more than a cursory glance except I was stuck on looking at something strange in the bullpen that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. But as I walked further in, a blaring siren went off in my head. 

Spencer’s desk is completely empty. 

I instantly sorted through my purse for my phone to reach Prentiss when I noticed something more. 

I had been desperate to cling onto any notion that he still loved me, and there it was, just sitting on his desk. Proof that the man I loved was still in there somewhere.

The top three pictures from the carnival photo booth.

I laughed, as I always did, thinking about how much we had to exert ourselves to be positioned in a semi-adequate way. In the next wave, I felt profoundly empty. He had kept the pictures all these years, and now that I finally get to see them, he’s left me.

As I brought my hand to my face to clear the tears pooling at my lower lashes, I saw that my finger had an ink smear on the pad of it. There was nowhere else I could’ve obtained it except for if there was writing on the back of the photos. 

What I read when I turned it over was as follows. 

I want to be this guy for you again, (y/n). I just don’t know how. 

I just don’t know if I can.

No matter how much I’ve changed, one thing’s still the same.

I love you. 

I should’ve focused on the message, but all that I could focus on was that if I managed to smear the ink, that meant it was fresh, written just now. 

He was still here. 

I pocketed the photos and abandoned my purse, only carrying with me the phone that I forgot to use to dial Prentiss. After a moment’s indecision, I figured that taking the stairs would be faster than the elevator, and I bounded down the steps without hesitation. 

“Spencer!” I yelled into the parking structure when I reached the ground floor. The sound of me bursting through the door caught the attention of Anderson, who was getting out of his car. 

“I just saw him leave.” Anderson threw his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the exit. I knew, even in my state of mind, there was no feasible reality where I could reach him on foot. I had to call him. 

I pleaded to myself for him to pick up with every ring of my phone. 

“(Y/n),” He said like a statement instead of a question. Again, he’d anticipated I’d do this. He probably picked it up not even having to look at the caller ID but knowing it was me and no one else. 

“I don’t need you to be the guy you were before, Spencer. I just need you to bend a little bit. I know we’re both stubborn people, but if we can just find a halfway point-”

“(Y/n), (y/n),” He was settling me and the sentences that were coming out of my mouth at 100 mph. 

“I’ll bend if you bend.” I promised. 

The static of the call filled my ears until his voice finally did.

“For everyone else, I bend ... for you, I break.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

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[nerdzzone]

Only For A Moment: August

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: July

Note: I’ve had a super busy day, but I wanted to get this posted so I edited it really quickly. Please forgive me if there’s any little mistakes!

Thank you to everyone who has liked, reblogged and commented! Hearing your thoughts really makes my day!

-----

August 2020

I think you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who actually enjoys moving - especially if that move involves a three year old who feels the need to be very involved in the packing, but is also incredibly easily distracted. And even more so when that child's father is almost just as distractible and, despite his insistence that he'd stay focused, does more to hinder the whole operation than help.

That was the situation that I found myself in at the end of the first summer of the pandemic because we were moving in with Chris.

While I was hesitant at first, it made the most sense and neither Grayson nor I were particularly eager to return to our tiny little apartment. I still felt that it was pretty early in our relationship for us to be living together, but we'd survived so far and moving back seemed like it would do more harm than good. Grayson had settled in nicely at Chris' house and another big change - like making him go back to having two homes - seemed like it would be very disruptive.

But moving came with it's own challenges.

After our conversation a few months earlier, Chris had told all of his most trusted friends about our change in relationship status. That came in handy as a few of his buddies - who had trucks - had volunteered to help us move things the last weekend of August, but packing had me feeling overwhelmed. I'd managed to give most of the furniture away - between our friends and Chris' family - but we still had way too much stuff.

It was on that Saturday morning that I found myself sitting in the middle of Grayson's old bedroom almost in tears. I'd packed up his mountain of toys the night before only to find Chris and Grayson unpacking several boxes the next morning while I was trying to finish up in the living room. Apparently, Grayson had wanted a certain toy that I'd already packed and instead of telling him to wait because he had several other things to play with that weren't boxed up, Chris helped him look for it.

He was trying to be helpful, thinking that repacking a few things would be easier to deal with than a meltdown from Grayson, but it had been a long, tiring week as I tried to get everything organized and their actions almost pushed me to my breaking point. I scolded them both and banished them to the little playground just outside the building while I set to work cleaning up their mess.

Almost twenty minutes later, I heard a knock on the front door as it creaked open. I poked my head out of the room I was in - ready to send the boys straight back outside - only to see Chris' oldest and closest friend, Tara. She was masked up for safety and knowing how sweet and helpful she was, she was a refreshing sight. I'd met her several times, mostly when Grayson was a baby and I lived with Chris, and she'd been a calming and encouraging presence back then so I was definitely relieved to see her during another time of high stress.

"Hey," I smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"I brought supplies," she informed me, holding up a tray of iced coffees. "Chris called and said that he thought you could use some help."

"You're a lifesaver," I groaned with pleasure as she put down the tray and handed me one of the drinks. "I need this, thank you so much."

"You're welcome," she returned my smile. "How's the packing going?"

"Not bad now that the boys are outside," I laughed. "It's pretty much all done, I think. You never realize how much junk you have until you have to pack it all up."

"Oh my god, I know. We moved last year and it felt like the piles of things we had to take was never ending."

"It's crazy," I agreed. "Especially with all Gray's stuff. I thought we did a good job of not spoiling him, but he has an insane amount of toys."

"I can imagine," she cringed. "But I have no plans all day so just tell me what you need help with and I'm all yours."

I thought for a moment as I sipped the coffee she'd brought me until I had an idea.

"Actually..." I started, feeling a bit sheepish. "Would you be willing to take Grayson for a bit? I know it's a big ask, especially while he's so excited, so feel free to say no."

"Are you kidding? I'd love to take him!"

I let out a breath of relief as I felt my body relax.

"Thank you so much. I really need Chris to help me carry these boxes and he's been so preoccupied with Grayson that he's been no use at all," I explained. "It's a big change and he's worried about him being freaked out by it all, which I totally get, but I need him to focus a bit too."

Tara laughed and shook her head.

"I get it, don't worry. I know what he can be like," she assured me. "I'll go down and get Gray now and send Chris up here."

"Thank you. You're the best, Tara."

She waved off my gratitude and insisted it was no problem before leaving me to turn my attention back to what I'd been doing before she arrived.

-

Once Grayson was in the safe care of Tara, Chris was much more useful. We were packing things with impressive speed and when it was almost time for his friends to show up with their trucks, we started moving things down to the lobby of the building to make the loading process quicker.

I was a tad nervous about the whole situation as I hadn't spent much time with most of Chris' friends and I didn't really know what they thought of me. I hoped they'd be understanding of our situation and give me a chance, but if he really had been pining away for me all these years - thinking that I didn't want to be with him - I worried that they'd think I was selfish and heartless.

Those worries, combined with my stress about getting everything organized, had me still feeling rather on edge. It didn't help that the creepy maintenance man that I'd warned Chris about was watching us like a hawk. I could feel his eyes on me every time I stepped foot in the lobby and the sensation made my skin crawl. I just wanted to get it all done and over with as fast as possible so we could get away from him, but Chris had clearly noticed him too and I could feel his annoyance rising as well.

He held it together until our last trip down when our spectator really crossed a line. I was bending over to place some boxes on the ground when I could have sworn I heard a groan of pleasure from behind me. I snapped back up to standing and looked over my shoulder to see the man with a smirk on his face and his eyes fixed on me. It made my stomach churn, but Chris was immediately by my side, his arm sliding around my waist. Before I could even question what he was doing, he pulled down his mask and then my own, cupped my jaw with his hand and pulled me in for a kiss.

It was a rather passionate embrace and I was surprised as he usually wasn't one for public displays of affection. Then it hit me why he was doing it and I felt a flash of annoyance run through me as he pulled away. There was a smirk on his face as he rested his forehead against mine, but all I could muster was a frown.

"Do you think he got the hint?"

I scoffed at his question.

"I think he got enough pictures to pay his bills for the next few months," I huffed, keeping my voice low so we wouldn't be overheard. "Are you done marking your territory now?"

Chris looked taken aback by my harsh tone and I sighed as I slipped out of his grasp and headed to the door. I wanted to see if his friends had arrived yet and get away from the creep, but Chris followed and wasn't prepared to let our conversation drop.

"What, so I'm not allowed to kiss you in public in case someone sees?" He asked once we got outside, his own annoyance coming through. "I thought you didn't care if people found out about us?"

I stopped walking and spun around to face him.

"I don't care," I snapped. "But I'd rather not give some pervert the chance to profit off of us just to save your wounded pride."

Even with his mask pulled back up, I could see Chris' jaw clench with frustration.

"He was being disrespectful. I was standing right there and he moans while staring at your ass? C'mon, he's a fuckin' asshole."

Another flare of anger washed over me as I fought to keep myself calm enough to explain to him why what he'd just said was almost as frustrating as the actions of the man who'd been ogling me.

"He was being disrespectful," I agreed, my voice steady despite my rising temper. "But to me, not to you! It doesn't matter if I have a boyfriend or not, he shouldn't behave like that towards any woman! I don't deserve to be respected because of you, I deserve to be respected because I'm a human being who has a right to feel safe in their own apartment building."

Chris' shoulders dropped as he took in my words and visibly calmed down, but I was still feeling wound up.

"Shit, Winnie, you're right," he relented. "I don't want anyone to treat you like that ever, not just because you're my girlfriend. It just pissed me off that he had the balls to do that even in front of me."

"So kissing me like that to send him a message was the best solution you could think of? Like, 'don't touch this one, she's mine'. It made me feel gross. I don't need you claiming me in public to scare off creeps, thanks."

"I didn't mean it like that," Chris insisted, looking slightly wounded by my scolding. "I'm sorry, I was being an idiot."

"Okay," I shrugged, somewhat blowing off his apology. "We should go to the parking lot. Your friends might be here."

"Are we good, Win?" He asked, clearly not as eager to let the subject drop. "I want to make this right if you're upset..."

"I'm fine," I sighed, knowing that was only half true. It was only half his fault though, the stress of the day overall was more to blame and, at that point, I just wanted it to be over so I could have a nice big glass of wine. "Let's just go see where your friends are."

He didn't argue as I walked off and when we turned the corner into the parking lot, his friends were all there lined up in the visitor's spots. I forced a smile despite the fact that it was hidden by my mask and waved as we walked over.

"Hey!" I greeted them. "Thanks so much for doing this. We really appreciate it."

"Ah, no worries!" Jon assured me. "But, are you really sure you want to move in with this guy?"

"Yeah, we were just talking," Zach continued. "And it feels a bit Stockholm syndrome-y. He confines you to a house and suddenly you fall in love? Seems a bit suspicious."

"Wow, guys, glad you're on my side," Chris laughed. "I wouldn't have asked you to help out if I knew you'd try and change her mind!"

"We just want to make sure we're not committing any crimes here," Luke insisted. "I don't want to be an accomplice to anything and we're all scratching our heads about what she could see in you."

Chris shook his head at their teasing and I tried to push our earlier discussion from my mind as I giggled and slid my hand into his. I felt him tense up in surprise at the gesture, but he relaxed as I squeezed it and leaned against his arm.

"There's no Stockholm syndrome here," I assured them. "It just took a pandemic and the constant threat of impending doom for me to come to my senses. I'm just lucky Chris was silly enough to wait for me."

Chris chuckled and leaned over to place a kiss on the top of my head as his friends rolled their eyes.

We quickly went over the game plan for the day once the initial greeting was over and as soon as his friends turned to head towards the building, I dropped my hand from Chris'. I knew I was being petty and sulky and from the sigh that fell from Chris' lips, he did too, but I couldn't help it - I needed some space to work through my cranky mood on my own. Luckily, Chris seemed to figure that out pretty fast and left me to my brooding as we followed his friends and got to work.

-

It didn't take us as long as I expected to load all the boxes into the trucks, but that was probably the benefit to having a team of strong men helping you move. Once it was all unloaded into the spare bedroom at Chris' place where I had been sleeping at the start of the pandemic, Chris broke out a few beers for his friends and fired up the grill while we waited for Tara and Gray to arrive. It was a beautiful, warm evening and perfect for an impromptu barbecue to thank all Chris' friends and it was a great opportunity for me to bond a bit more with some of the most important people in Chris' life.

Grayson knew them all better than I did, but we had some concerns that the lack of socialization would make him nervous around the now somewhat unfamiliar faces. But he put those worries to bed almost as soon as he arrived as he was the life of the party. He was thrilled to see the three men who were sitting in the lawn chairs dotted around our yard - in an effort to keep everyone somewhat distant from each other - and the cheer they let out as soon as they saw him made me think they were just as excited. They seemed to really adore him and he thrived on the attention. It warmed my heart to see the genuine care they all had for Grayson - it was wonderful to know he had so many people in his corner - and I was relieved when that care was extended to me.

Any doubts that I'd had about them accepting me were quickly pushed from my mind as they seemed to be just as eager to get to know me as I was to get to know them. They were all lovely, kind people and I wondered why I ever expected anything else from the people in Chris' inner circle.

They left as soon as Grayson's bedtime rolled around - partially because we were all tired from our long day of moving boxes and partially because we all knew there was no way that Gray was going to agree to go to bed while the party was still going. Once they were gone, he demanded Chris tuck him in so I tidied up in the kitchen while he handled bedtime.

As soon as I'd finished putting the last few dishes in the dishwasher, I felt his arms around my waist.

"Hey," he whispered in my ear, his chin resting on my shoulder. "Thanks for cleaning up."

"You don't need to thank me," I smiled, turning in his arms so we were face to face. "It's my house to keep clean too now, even if that's still weird to think about."

"Weird in a good way?"

"Definitely," I nodded. "It's felt like home here for a while now. It would have been awful to go back to that little apartment."

"It would have been weird for me too," Chris agreed. "I can't imagine being in this big house without you guys anymore."

"You'd have to move all your friends in," I teased, using it as a segue. "Who, by the way, are all very nice."

"Yeah?" Chris grinned. "You think so?"

"I do. I was a bit nervous about it," I admitted. "In case they resented me for how our relationship unfolded, but they're great."

"They never resented you at all," Chris chuckled. "Pretty much everyone who knows about our first night together was on your side about that and they've been pushing me to make a move ever since."

"Well, that's good to know."

Chris nodded and continued.

"They all really like you. Jon gave me clear instructions to not fuck it up."

I laughed at that, but felt a wave of relief.

"I appreciate their support."

"Well, you definitely have it."

Chris leaned down to press his lips against mine and I melted into his body, feeling the exhaustion from the stress of the day start to hit me. We stayed like that, just holding each other for a few minutes until Chris broke the silence around us.

"Can we talk about earlier?"

My stomach churned with embarrassment at the memory, but I nodded.

"Of course, we can. I'll start by saying that I'm sorry."

Chris leaned back slightly, just enough to look down at me with his confusion written all over his face.

"You're sorry? Why are you sorry?" He asked. "I brought it up so that I could apologize to you."

"You don't need to," I assured him. "I get why you did what you did. I just don't deal with stress very well and the whole day was overwhelming me. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"You don't deal with stress very well? I never would have known!" His words were laced with sarcasm as he smiled down at me and I laughed, gently smacking his chest in protest. "But seriously, I deserved a good scolding. You were absolutely right with what you said, I shouldn't have handled the situation like that."

"I appreciate that you can see where I was coming from," I sighed. "But there is no perfect way to handle a situation like that, really. It's best just to ignore it, but then it feels like you're letting the gross guy win."

"Well, if we're ever in a situation like that again, I'll follow your lead," he insisted. "But I can't say that I'll just ignore it. I might just punch the guy out for being a creep."

I laughed again before shaking my head.

"And then whoever is watching will have a different kind of picture to sell to the trashy magazines."

Chris cringed at that comment.

"I'm sorry. Do you really think he took pictures?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "But if he recognized you then I'd be surprised if he didn't."

Chris nodded, clearly getting lost in thought for a moment before he spoke again.

"And you really don't care if proof gets out that we're together?"

"I don't," I insisted. "I don't like the idea of some pervert making money off of us, but I don't care if people know we're together. It might be good for people to get used to the idea now, when we're hiding at home all the time anyway. By the time we can go outside again, no one will care enough to take pictures of us."

"That might be wishful thinking," Chris smiled. "But I'll do my best to keep you out of the spotlight."

I matched his smile and stretched up to place a kiss on his lips.

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

As I predicted, the creepy maintenance man did take pictures of us and he did sell them to some trashy magazine. The internet was horrified, the hearts of fangirls all over the world were broken and I was called every cruel name under the sun. There were rumours that I trapped him with another baby and rumours that I was a gold digger - just using Chris for his money so I didn't have to work during the pandemic. The general reception to the forced confirmation of our relationship was pretty abysmal, but nothing worse than we expected and at the end of the day we didn't care.

All the people who truly cared about us were happy for us and that was the most important thing.

-

September

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