#like my usefulness is outweighed by ... me ... anymore

[blackbackedjackal]

What do you do?

For a Klondike Bar?

[bulldagger-bait]

LONG ramble ahead. Feel free to skip. (Also this stuff is probably a bit too personal but i dont really care tumblr is my diary and i just have to get these thoughts out)

I had my first almost completely pain free day today and... It was fucking magical. Like, I still had pain in all of the niggling areas i always do: muscle tension, joint pain.

But my nerve pain. My nerve pain! For a good while it just wasnt there. And because the pain wasnt there, the FND couldnt kick up a fuss. I felt strong. I could stand. I wasnt hurting.

When i woke up after my surgery nearly a decade ago, i was in the worst pain of my life. I was writhing and screaming and begging to die. 10 out of 10 out of 10. And over the course of my hospital stay it diminished. Went from 10 to 9 to 8. And then 8 is where it stayed. It became my new normal.

I forced my way through the first year of recovery waiting for it to get better... But it never did.

I tried to push through and not let anything hold me back. I dont know how many times i sobbed to myself quietly about how unbearable it was. I tried to take my life twice, and the pain was a significant reason why.

Eventually i got on meds that knocked it down to a 7, and a 7 is where ive been for the last 5 years. Every day.

Eventually i just kinda resigned myself to it. I couldnt think about the future because whenever i did, all i could feel was: "every moment of the rest of my life is going to feel like this". I accepted it, and i tried to move on. I found someone that i loved enough to stick around for. Someone who made living with the pain worth it.

And now, with this new cocktail of drugs... That burning pain is gone. Or at least, its no longer an electric, burning, blistering, grinding pain. Its tempered to what feels like a candle flame. And for a few rare moments here or there it goes away.

I dont know what to do with that. All of my other pain pales in comparison. They're their own little burning pains, but it doesn't feel like it matters. i can live with them.

And im finally hopeful about my future. Because for a few minutes last week i felt nothing. Blissful nothing. I was so shocked i couldnt even believe it.

When the pain came back i didnt even care or feel cheated, because all ive wanted for so long was just a few seconds pain free, and i got it. I didnt have to be drugged out of my mind (well ... Excluding the cocktail of drugs i was on). I just was. And when it was gone i wasnt upset because i knew if it could happen once, it could happen again. and i had a reason to be excited for my future; my long term future.

Im not just sticking around for other people anymore. Im sticking around for myself too. Because i deserve another five minutes without pain.

(sidenote: do i feel insanely guilty about having a break from my pain; and that its not fair; and that other people deserve it more than me; and that i shouldnt talk about it because its just rubbing it in everyones faces; and that i must have just been exaggerating the pain; and i dont deserve to even call myself disabled anymore; and that im scum; and that i should instead continue to suffer in pain because its all i know, and i dont know how to be myself without pain because its become such an integral part of who i am; and because its who ive been for near as makes no difference a decade; and that im just waiting for the other shoe to drop and somehow prove that im a fraud; and that the pain i had was never real, nor is the pain i have that the meds havent affected; and that im lying about everything; and that I dont deserve help; and that everyone in my life who has pain and hears me talk about this hates me, resents me; and that im terrified of losing the pain because it knows me intimately, and i know it, and that this severing is making me question who i am; and that the answer im getting in my head is: no one; you are no one without this.... Yeah, maybe. Maybe i am thinking that)

[kifu]

Is it ... is it too much to ask for a smidgen of respect from a job anymore? Am I asking too much from a job to do anything but mindlessly accept every asinine assignment to my own detriment? Is the only way to survive anymore to submit your entire allotment of energy and emotional control to the job, for nothing outside of the workplace?

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hey could I please get #8 and #12 with coriolanus snow please? (even better if he's a little bit insane as long as he ends up happy with Y/N at the end)- thanks so much :))

-E

‘’If I ask you to kiss me, to be with me, in front of all these people, will you do it?’’ + ‘’I did this for you! Everything I’ve done has been for you!’’

I've been getting requests for Peeta, but I'm not - and will not be -writing for him. I never fell for him in the movies 🫣

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You couldn’t remember how the situation got so heated, but one moment you were laughing and having a good time inside the Hob bar and the next you and Coriolanus were yelling at each other. To add drama and theatrics to the scene, it was pouring rain. 

‘’I did this for you! Everything I’ve done has been for you!’’ he shouted, his pretty eyes filled with anger. 

You halted in the wet street and looked back at him, your wet hair clinging on your body. ‘’But I never asked anything from you!’’ you shot back, sick of hearing the same speech. ‘’I never asked you to come to my district and find me after the games.’’

‘’So you’d rather I did not?’’ he retorted with an arrogant edge. 

You shook your head. ‘’That’s not what I said.’’ 

You had never smiled wider than the night you saw Coriolanus in the street with Sejanus. His blond hair was no longer, all buzzed like the other peacekeepers. His decision to bribe the commander to serve as a peacekeeper in your district was a high risk, but the happiness it brought you outweighed the danger.

His jaw tensed, raindrops rolling down his face like unshed tears. ‘’I risked everything for you! For us. Is it not enough?’’ 

Your frustration echoed in the relentless rain, wishing he would get why you were upset without you having to explain it to him. But he was a man. Men never understand why these small things matter, why they can be hurtful. 

‘’We were having a drink with friends and you…you dropped my fucking hand! It’s like you don’t want to be seen with me. We’re not at the Capitol anymore, Coryo. We’re allowed to be together.’’

‘’Peacekeepers are not allowed to have a woman while serving. I could get in trouble if someone told about us to my commander.’’ 

A bitter laugh escaped you at his cowardly answer, lost in the drumming of rain on pavement. Where was the man you met in the Capitol who crossed rules left and right to get his ways? 

‘’Since when are you following the laws?’’ 

Coriolanus stayed quiet, your question left unanswered. 

You took a few steps toward him, trying to ignore how hot he looked drenched in rainwater by lowering your eyes on the buttons of his blue button-up shirt. All night inside the Hob, you had been thinking about the time you’ll go home and get to have him to yourself.  

And now here you were, fighting in the street…

‘’You think these men stay celibate for their twenty years of serving?’’ you asked, pointing back to the bar. ‘’Don’t be a fool.’’ 

‘’It’s different for us. I was your mentor. If it gets to the Capitol’s ears that you and I found our way to each other, I will be dispatched to another district or worse, we’ll both get hu—’’ 

You interrupted him with a scoff. ‘’You think anyone in there is gonna snitch on us? These people have no idea who you are, besides that you are a peacekeeper. And even if they did, they don’t care. You could have a hand under my skirt under one of the tables and they wouldn’t even notice. They’re just here to listen to music and have a drink and dance.’’ 

Your words were a stretch, but you needed to prove your point with something that would get a reaction out of him. 

Something shifted in Coriolanus’s eyes. He reached for you, grabbing your arm in a rough grip and pulling you close to him. ‘’I’d never share you with these men,’’ he growled between you, his jaw tight.

‘’If I’m yours, then show them,’’ you challenged, daring as you looked into his eyes. ‘’If I ask you to kiss me, to be with me, in front of all these people, will you do it?’’ you asked, raindrops clinging to your lashes. ‘’I’m not asking for much, Coryo,’’ you continued, your voice a mix of frustration and longing. ‘’I just want you to be with me. If you can’t give me that, then you made a mistake coming here.’’

The world seemed to pause, the only sound being the raindrops hitting the ground and turning it into mud. 

Coriolanus opened his mouth to speak, igniting a small glint of hope in your eyes. 

A part of him will always be scared that you’ll be separated again, but he wasn’t going to lose the love of his life because he was scared of losing you. 

—

Hunger games / BOASAS taglist: @crossyourmindrights @ziggyneedsabreak @folkloreshorts @runningfrom2am @soulessien @itzfckingreal @creedsofapollo

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[bearsbeetsbeskar]

Sick Days with Joel Miller

(Joel Miller x female! reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x female! reader (no outbreak) Word count: 4.5K of pure fluff and light smut Rating: 18+ MDNI, explicit descriptions of smut, swearing, age gap (reader is early 20s and Joel is late 40s) Summary: You're used to doing everything yourself, a facet of being single for so long, but when you start dating Joel Miller that all changes. Especially when you get sick during the first six months of your relationship, and Joel tries to take care of you. Main masterlist

A/N: This was so much fun to write y'all. I'm currently sitting in bed with a stuffy nose, sore throat, wicked headache, and hopped up on cold meds, wishing I had Joel Miller to take care of me 🥹. Also please excuse the fast and loose car mechanic jargon I used, I couldn't resist. The fast and furious series is also my guilty pleasure sick day movie choice, that and the OG star wars trilogy 🌚 An enormous thank you to my lifeline @iamasaddie for reading and giving me feedback and the most encouragement.

This is pure fluff with a bit of spice thrown in, I hope you enjoy! Please comment and reblog if you like it, and I might do more oneshots like this! - 🌹N

It’s the first time you’ve been sick since you and Joel started dating, and it’s different. Different from what you’re used to.

To preface, you rarely ever get sick. Rarely. And you pride yourself on that. You’re not entirely sure whether it's due to your ironclad immune system, or the fact that you’re a germaphobe who’s constantly washing their hands, but either way you manage to miraculously miss the seasonal bouts of illness that filter around when the weather gets colder. 

So you’re not entirely sure how you manage to succumb to the throes of this particular cold, but the sore throat and stuffy nose that you woke up with were unmistakable.  Other than crying, which wouldn’t help the pounding headache that you had also been blessed with, all you could do was groan and silently curse, rolling back over in bed and snuggling under the covers. You mindlessly stretch your arm out over the sheets, reaching over onto the other empty side of the bed. The cold, unmussed sheets, not filled with the broad, warm body that usually occupies the space make you groan internally once more. 

You’re not a crybaby. Not one for milking the sick patient act, and after being single for so long you mostly run on autopilot.  Your independence and resilience outweigh your desire to have anyone take care of you or do anything for you really. Well, that was the case up until now. Until you met Joel.

You’ve had partners before that have ‘taken care’ of you when you were sick. Or well, tried to. The key word being tried. Other than a measly backrub and cuddling with you for the appropriate amount of time until they deemed it was time to go cause they weren’t getting laid, you pretty much handled it yourself. And you liked it that way. You didn’t need anyone else to play martyr and attend to your every beck and call. 

Joel on the other hand, he does things. His presence interrupted your stream of self reliance and knocked you on your ass when you didn’t know what to do with yourself. When you had nothing left to do for yourself, because he had already taken care of it all.

The light in the hood range above your oven went out? Joel fixed it. The bathroom sink began leaking underneath the cabinet? No less than a day later you come home and you already find him lying on his back, head underneath the vanity, toolbox beside him, twisting pipes this way and that. 

Just last week you mentioned to him that you’ve been hearing a squeaking sound coming from the car every time you press on the brakes, next thing you know he’s out in the driveway, broad shoulders hunched over the hood as he tightens and loosens bearings, tinkering the way he knows best. 

“Alright, you shouldn’t hear that noise anymore. The rotors on your front brakes needed tightening,” he mentions casually, wiping his hands off on a greasy rag as he comes into your kitchen from the garage. Looking up from the magazine you’re reading, you pause your chewing around a mouthful of toast. 

“Huh?” you raise a brow at him quizzically. “I only told you about that yesterday though. I was just gonna take it to the mechanic.”

The corner of his lip lifts up slightly as he smirks. “And now you won’t have to worry about it for the rest of the day, or tomorrow, or the day after that. It was an easy fix, plus the mechanic woulda overcharged the hell outta you darlin’.”

You roll your eyes, “Gotta love that fucking misogyny,” you huff as you get up and head into the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee for you both. 

“It’s the way of the car industry unfortunately. Most guys who own shops are just crooks out to get anyone’s money, and most people don’t really know any better.” He replies casually as he washes his hands at the sink beside you. 

“And I suppose that makes me ‘most people,’” you grumble, packing the coffee grounds into the filter, before placing it into the machine. 

Without missing a beat, Joel slides your mug under the dispenser first. It's a cute little white ceramic mug that says Pot Head, beneath it is a comical image of coffee pot with bloodshot googly eyes .  It was his present to you after you started dating, and he first slept over at your place. He soon realized the depths of your monosyllabic crabbiness in the morning, when he tried to talk to you before your first cup of coffee.

Now, six months into your relationship, the coffee pot is usually the first appliance that gets turned on in the morning, usually by Joel, the early riser that he is, while you soak up a few more moments of sleep. It’s pretty futile though, because once he gets out of bed, you can’t get comfortable under the covers, your personal space heater leaving a massive dent in the comforter. 

“You ain’t most people to me,” his voice deepens with that Southern drawl as he moves to stand behind you, drying off his hands. God, he’s so fucking big. His presence crowds you, feeling his broad chest against your back as he places his hands on either side of you, pinning you to the counter. 

You hum with a knowing smile as you hit the button to start dispensing the coffee. “Is that so?”

He leans in, brushing your hair off of your shoulder, leaning in to nuzzle your neck. “You’re my person. Mine. That’s about all that matters.” Pressing featherlight kisses into your neck, you sigh and let your head fall back against his broad shoulder, giving him more access.  

“Well,” you try to collect your thoughts but the logical, words forming, part of your brain shuts down, turning to mush as he begins to nibble and bite at your neck. “Thank you for fixing the squeaky sound,” you barely get the words out between shallow breaths.

“No problem at all darlin.’” He grinds his hips into the plush of your ass and starts sucking on your pulse point. You whimper pathetically, grabbing a hold of his hands on the counter bracketing you, pushing your ass back against his crotch, reveling in how hard he is. Your pussy throbs with want, as you feel it clench around nothing, wetness seeping out of it. 

“Should be silent as a whistle now.” His voice is gravelly deep now, and you snake a hand around the back of his neck, clutching his body closer to yours as you continue to let out small mewls. “Your noises on the other hand, are driving me fuckin’ insane. Wanna get more than just a squeak out of you.”

He reaches down, palm skimming over the curve of your hips, down to your ass before he squeezes, while biting down on the junction between your shoulder and your neck. At that, you squeak. 

“Joel…” your last two brain cells firing off weakly as you try to form a coherent thought. “What- What about the c-coffee?”

“You had one cup already this morning,” he murmurs into your skin, “it’ll keep.” His left hand moves to grip your hip, the other one squeezing your asscheek again, not before he gives it a firm smack. You jolt forward in his grip and moan, bending your upper half over the counter, your body already responding so easily to his touch. 

“Bedroom.” He says gruffly, releasing your hips and stepping back with a smirk on his face. You blink your eyes open, not realizing you had them closed in the first place and turn around with a glare. 

Joel lazily tilts his head in the direction of your bedroom, his hand grabbing the obvious bulge in his pants. “C’mon my little pot head.”

So yeah, needless to say you really didn’t have to worry about being reliant on yourself for many things anymore. Joel was happy to do those things for you, and you were more than happy to show him your appreciation in return.

Being sick however, that seemed to stump him. There wasn’t anything to physically fix aside from your ailments, although he wishes that could be the case. That he could just snap his fingers and your nose would be cleared, sore throat gone, headache disappeared. But it wasn’t that easy.

Normally, you’d try to ride it out for a day or two as best you could, without making a fuss over it, but today the buzzing in your head was too intense to ignore. You yanked the top drawer of your nightstand open, bemoaning as you fruitlessly rummaged through the empty box of Nyquil pills, empty Advil bottles, and one lonely tub of Vicks shoved towards the back.  

“For fuck’s sake. Of course,” you gritted. Closing the drawer, you roll back into the sheets, throwing an arm over your eyes and letting out the deepest sigh ever. Just then your phone vibrates on the nightstand. You pick it up and squint with bleary eyes as you focus on the text. It’s from Joel

[Joel]: Mornin’ darlin.’ Still up for the 7pm showing tonight?

You furrow your brows for a moment before you roll your eyes, back into your skull it feels like. 

“Shit. The movies.”

It was Tuesday. You guys had made plans to see a cheap show after Joel got off work tonight. Some new crappy instalment of the Fast and Furious movies, hence the cheap night choice.

You sniffle as you fumble to type out a reply. The rhythmic pounding in your head distorts your concentration. 

[You]: Morning babe. I don’t think so. Sorry. I came down with something last night and I feel like shit. 

You add in multiple variations of the sad crying emoji, and the water gun to be dramatic.

[Joel]: No worries hun. I’m sorry you’re not feelin’ well. 

[Joel]: Wanna do something else? 

You wish. You love any plans and dates you have with Joel, and you’re more than happy to cancel those plans to stay in with him on any day of week. Today shouldn’t feel like an exception but you don’t want to inconvenience him, and you also don’t want him to see you when you practically look like an extra off the set of The Walking Dead. 

You sigh again harshly and sniffle.

[You]: I don’t think so. I feel like shit. Just wanna stay in bed and rot, plus I don’t wanna get you sick.

He’ll probably think you’re being overdramatic. The productive storm that you are getting bested by a measly cold, it’s stupid. Unheard of.

[Joel]: I think you’ll survive. Can’t have you dying on me so soon into our relationship, we still gotta hit the one year anniversary. 

Biting your lip, you shake your head. How this man remains to be flirty and cute even when you’re feeling low and incredibly not cute is beyond you. Your phone buzzes again.

[Joel]: Plus if you’re sick now, then chances are I woulda already caught whatever bug you have cause I saw ya two days ago. 

Well, he’s not wrong when you think about it. Your cheeks heat up when you think back to Sunday night, when he had stayed over. You were straddling his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as he licked into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip and gripping your hips while you lazily bounced up and down his thick cock.  

Ironically, it was supposed to be a Fast and Furious marathon night in preparation for the cheap movie you would see in theaters tonight. You barely made it through the first 20 minutes of the first movie in the series before Joel’s thick fingers started aimlessly tracing the inside of your thigh as you sat beside him. Your pussy throbbed at the memory, the phantom stretch of his cock, almost matching the throbbing residing in the front of your head. 

Yeah, so maybe he was past the point of contagion. You’re so lost in reminiscing, he must realize it’s taking you a minute to respond, fully well knowing the effect that his words have on you. So he texts again.

[Joel]: Was a pretty fucking good Sunday night 😈

The devil emoji causes a chuckle to sputter up through your chest, but it’s pretty short-lived when you realize you can’t chuckle and breathe in through your congested nose at the same time. You recently taught him how to use emojis in his texts, so you’re surprised when he actually puts it to the test.

[You]: That it was babe. But I don’t wanna burden you, plus we can’t really do anything. 🙄

You add on the eye roll emoji, sure that he’s feeling the same way too. What guy wouldn’t? Surely not any of the guys you dated in the past. They tried, but deemed it wasn’t worth it when you couldn’t even suck their dicks without needing to pause every few seconds to breathe through your mouth and cough. Your sore throat feeling like it was wrapped in barbed wire. 

[Joel]: Who said we had to do anything? I’d still wanna spend time with you. I just like being with ya.

Damn this fucking man for being such a sweetheart. You didn’t deserve him.

[Joel]: I’ll be over in 30. Want me to bring anything in particular?

[You]: You’re in the middle of the workday Joel, you don’t need to come over.

Of course you want him to come over. His presence is the only thing that would lift your mood if you’re being honest, despite feeling like your body’s been hit by a semi. But you don’t want him to leave work. That’s too much, and you’re not that whiny girlfriend.

Seemingly unimpressed by your response, he replies again.

[Joel]: 👀. 🍔 🍦 🍿?

[You]: I’m not terribly hungry right now. Just bring yourself. And maybe a bottle of nyquil plus some advil 💊? Also, look at you with all your emojis, I’m impressed 😉

[Joel]: 👍🏻sounds good. See you soon 🛻

Tossing your phone into the comforter, you slowly roll out of bed. Like a slug, you slide out from under the covers, over the side of the mattress, planting your feet on the ground before you keel over. 

You pad into the kitchen, glancing at the coffee maker forlorn. Probably not the best option with how your throat feels right now. Frowning, you grab a mug from the cabinet, not your pot head mug, but a plain one with simple red flowers painted on it, and flick the switch for the kettle on. Your options for tea weren’t endless as a coffee drinker, but you only really drank the muddied flavored water when you felt sick. Settling for a package of stale peppermint, you place the tea bag in the cup of boiled water and go to plop yourself back down onto the living room couch.

No less than 25 minutes later, you’re curled up on the couch, mug of tea in hand, and your head resting on a pillow as you start the first Fast and Furious movie. Might as well, since you didn’t technically watch it with Joel the first time. Plus, Paul Walker was easy enough on the eyes that you didn’t really mind watching it over again. 

Joel arrives minutes later, letting himself in, a bag from the pharmacy in one hand, and a plain plastic bag filled with containers in the other. Before you can question it, the savory fragrant smell of Chinese food wafts through the living room, infiltrating your senses and overpowering your congested nose. 

At that you raise your head off the couch cushion, sitting upright with your legs crossed. 

“Hey babe.” He drops the food off in the kitchen and comes over to the couch, pulling out the Nyquil and Advil, placing them on the coffee table.

“How you feelin’ ?” He kisses the top of your head and you grunt in response. 

“Like absolute garbage,” you croak with the smallest smile you can muster, as you look up at him. He huffs in response and gives you a placating smile, not before peering down into your mug to see the transparent brown water. “Tea? Jeez you weren’t kidding”

“It tastes like garbage too.” You wrinkle your nose after taking a small sip. The smell of the takeout slowly brings you back as you perk up and look at him. “You brought Chinese?” The hopeful smile in your face grows exponentially as he nods.

Joel hums. “I know when you say you’re not hungry, that’s a lie. I also know that you have the biggest appetite of any woman I know.” At that your eyes narrow and your mouth drops open.

“And-” he cuts you off before you can respond, “I know that if there’s any kinda food that could convince you to eat when you don’t have an appetite, it’s greasy Lo Mein, General Tso chicken and fried rice.”

Sighing with contentment you smile and slouch back in your seat. Whatever words were on the tip of your tongue soon disintegrate as gaze up at him with utter awe and adoration. 

“Thanks Joel, really. You didn’t have to do all this.”

He frowns at you, confusion clouding his features. He's so adorable when he looks confused. 

“It wasn’t a lot. You asked me to bring the cold medicine.” Flashing you a smirk, he brushes your hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear. “I was just thinking one step ahead of you, and this way you can have leftovers. Also if I could, I woulda tried to cook you something, but we both know that woulda been a disaster.”

You snort in response. “Well, still. I really appreciate it.” You nuzzle your face into his hand, as his thumb strokes across your cheek gently. You can feel your stomach twinging with hunger now, now that you’ve smelled the food. It almost matches your hunger for Joel. 

He must have changed at home before he came over. The faint scent of his sandalwood body wash floods your brain as you take in his dark flannel shirt, stretched over his broad shoulders, dark wash jeans hugging his strong thighs. His curls peek out at the back of his neck as they dry soft and fluffy while his molten brown eyes look at you with a mix of adoration and concern. 

Meeting his gaze, you look up at him through your lashes as you turn your face to kiss the tip of his thumb. Before he can stop you, you curl your tongue out, swirling it around the tip and closing your lips around it as you suck his thumb into your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks out, you suckle harder, feeling heat slowly flood your body.

Joel exhales sharply, as he grinds his jaw, clenching his other hand into a fist. 

“Christ baby. You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know that?” He presses his thumb down on your tongue, forcing your mouth open as he pulls it out, letting it catch on your bottom teeth as you bite down playfully. 

It was just as easy to rile him up as he did with you, and you fucking loved it. You give him a saccharine smile. “Good. We can die together, seeing as I feel like death already”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “Why don’t you take two of these,” he opens the Advil bottle and places two tablets in your hand, “finish your tea, as much as you can,” he adds when you scrunch up your face at the mug, “and go take a hot shower. I’ll put the food out for us.” 

You pop the pills in your mouth, chug the rest of the tea, grimacing as you taste it and stand up to face him. Joel grabs your face with both hands, that look of pure warmth emanating through his big rounded eyes as he plants a soft kiss your forehead, before kissing you on the mouth. In a feeble attempt to protest, you weakly pull back but his mouth continues to seeks yours out. "Joel," you murmur against his mouth, "my germs.”  

“I love you, and I love your fuckin’ germs. They’re my germs too.” He pulls you into a big bear hug, you feel all the pent up tension from this morning dissipating from your body. Burying your face in his chest you inhale and make a small noise of contentment. You love his scent. It’s so inherently Joel. It’s home.

“Now go on.” He swats you on the butt playfully and you giggle, sashaying past him.

By the time you finish and get dressed, he’s already got the takeout containers organized strategically on the coffee table with plates, cutlery, and glasses set out. The lo mein and General Tso chicken dishes are closest to your side of the couch, while his dishes, the black pepper beef and spicy Singapore noodles, remain closer to his side, separated by the fried rice in the middle. Your heart warms and expands in your chest at the sight.

“I didn’t even wash my hair and it felt like that took fucking forever. The water pressure in that shower head used to be good,” you grumble as you take your hair out of the messy bun on top of your head, shaking it out for good measure. 

“How long’s it been actin’ up?” He asks while pouring some soy sauce over his noodles. 

Already, you can see the wheels turning in his head. Always the contractor. 

“For the last couple months but it’s really bad now.” You fix him with a knowing look and speak up again before he can say what you’re already anticipating. “And before you say you can fix it, I’ve already had repairmen over before you who tried and failed. Saying something about a part that needs to be ordered and it’s super fucking expensive.”

He says nothing in response, just raises a brow at you. “Whatever you say darlin.’” 

“C’mon let’s eat.” You change the subject and bounce over to the couch, shimmying by him and dropping down onto the couch. 

“Seems like the Advil kicked in,” he surmises with a smiles. Your energy is evidently higher now that the headache has gone away.

Humming, you lean in to kiss him. You press your lips into his, feeling his tongue glide against the seam of your mouth as you open up and let him in. Moaning quietly, you break off the kiss before it gets heated, and before you have to breathe through your mouth again - although your congestion has gone down significantly, the hot shower definitely helped. “That, and your presence helps too.”

He grins at you, a twinkle dancing across his big brown eyes. “Good. I’m glad. Nowhere else I’d rather be.” You look away bashfully, and begin piling stuff onto your plate.

“You started watching this again?” He nods at the TV with an unimpressed expression as Vin Diesel broods over the hood of an old muscle car.

“Yeah,” you mumble around a mouthful of chicken, “we barely watched 20 minutes of it before you had your fingers buried in my pussy.” You look at him pointedly with your mouth full and he bites the inside of his cheek.

Licking his lips, he leans down till his mouth is right next to your ear.

“I’d rather hear that tight little pussy purring around my fingers, than the hear the engine of a 1970 Dodge Charger baby," he says lowly, stretching his arm over the back of the couch as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck. "Even if it is one of my favorite cars.”

Slowly, he runs his fingers up and down the sides of your throat with a featherlight touch, careful to not squeeze as you finish swallowing your mouthful of food.

You groan and let your head fall back, submitting to his touch. Joel knows all your buttons to push, he learned them pretty quickly on into your relationship, and it made him all the more attractive to you. Every touch of his that made your breathing get shallow, every perfect press of his body against yours.

He knows you like being choked. Knows how sensitive your neck is, how you melt under his hands, turning to putty as soon as he wraps his large palms around the slender column of your throat. He makes it so fucking easy, your body so hyperactively attuned to his, no matter how crappy you may feel apparently.

“Joel,” you warn him but it comes out more as a breathless whine. Chuckling in response, he concedes and releases your neck.

“Not fair.” You glare at him and poke him in the chest with the opposite end of your fork. 

He shrugs and gives you that shit eating grin again. “Fair is fair darlin.’”

Shaking your head, you resume the movie and both dig into the food. As delicious as the takeout is, you recognize that you don’t have as big of an appetite as you usually do, given how run down you feel, and you get full pretty quickly. An hour into the movie you’re curled up against Joel’s side with your feet tucked under you, a thick blanket pulled over you both, and a beer in his left hand. 

“As if that would ever happen,” he grumbles out loud as he watches Paul Walker and Vin Diesel ramble on about fuel pump injectors and supercharged turbo's.

Secretly, you love how invested Joel gets in these shitty movies, it's partly why you put them on to begin with. Well, that, and because it usually ends with both of you getting distracted, and him railing you into the cushions of the couch. Still, it’s endearing to see him get annoyed and worked up over the mechanical and technical inaccuracies in the movies. It's also fascinating and super fucking attractive to see how his brain works. The competency kink in you preens at his humble flexing of mechanical knowledge.

You hum in question, too tired to formulate a better response.

“You put that much nos (nitrous oxide) in a car, and you’ll be blown to fuckin’ pieces at the smallest bump in the road. Jesus,” he shakes his head and gestures with his beer bottle at the screen. His right hand is curled around your shoulder, thumb brushing against your cheek, back and forth. The soothing movement coupled with your full belly is quickly lulling you into sleep.

“Well, Paul Walker seems to know what he’s doing, seeing as they made like 7 more movies after this one. Plus it’s just a movie babe. ” You nuzzle further into his shoulder, struggling to keep one eye on the movie as you hear Joel make more unenthused comments. 

“Movie or not, they coulda done their research. Half the shit they’re describing under the hood of a car sounds made up. And there's 7 fucking more of these films?”

He huffs in disbelief, taking another sip of his beer. "Yeah we wouldn't have made it through the rest of em.'"

“Okay Mr. Mechanic, we get it. It’s not 100% accurate, but you gotta admit the racing is pretty cool.”

He looks down at you from the corner of his eye, the corner of his lips pulling up slightly. “It’s alright I guess. More importantly, how are you feelin’ now?”

He rubs small circles into your back, as you practically fold over into his lap now, eyes refusing to stay open. 

“Mmmm, much better,” you stretch your legs out, arching your back like a cat, making a small sound of relief. “Thank you babe. For the food, the meds, for coming over and taking care of me.” Giving him a dopey smile, you peak one eye open at him.

“Anytime darlin,’ you don’t have to thank me, s’my job. And I’ll gladly do it any time, sick or not.” 

The warm depth of his voice seeps into your bones, as you soon doze off in his lap. He waits a little while till your breathing evens out, then kisses your head again as he slides out from underneath you to use the washroom. 

You perk up and blink your eyes open to see the credits rolling across the screen, just as you hear the toilet flush.  It's soon followed by the sound of the shower turning on and off, and then muffled sounds of clinking and clanking as Joel starts to take apart your shower head. 

Smiling to yourself, you close your eyes again and curl up on the warm spot he left behind. Maybe sick days aren’t so bad after all. 

[emeryhiro]

My take on the current fandom discourse

As well as a little reminder.

It hurts and is unfortunate to see many people on here and on Twitter who are worried and hurt by things they saw within the new teaser and sneak peek and their interpretation of what it means.

So I've decided to post this as a little reminder of who Daryl and Carol are to each other and how much they truly mean to each other, hoping that it can reassure at least a few of you.

I won't be disputing people's interpretation of the teaser and sneak peek, but I will be using a parallel I saw within the sneak peek and another similar scene. I'll let the gifs below speak for themselves for a moment before I continue, and I think most of you will know exactly where I'm headed with this.

She gets hurt She dies She catches a fever She gets taken out by a walker... She gets hit by lightning Anything... anything happens to her, I'll kill you.

- Daryl Dixon TWD 07x10

These were Daryl's words when the Kingdom, Alexandria, Hilltop, and everyone he knew were in danger, and even then, not even for a split second was he willing to put Carol's life and safety on the line.

There is not an ounce of doubt in me that Daryl feels any differently now; in fact, his love for her has grown even more because of everything they've been through since and all the time he's been forced to be away from her, never knowing if he'll ever see her again.

If the way he cared for the people of Alexandria, Kingdom, and Hilltop combined couldn't outweigh how much he cared for Carol, there is ZERO chance that Isabelle, Laurent, and the people from Nest ever could.

When Daryl finally lays eyes on Carol in season 2, compared to her, nothing else will matter to him anymore. The second Carol is ever in danger, Daryl will immediately prioritise her safety over all else.

Of course, he'll help the Nest as much as he can, and so will Carol; that's who they are, but if it ever came down to choosing between one or the other, they will always choose each other.

Yes, it's his nature to always fight for people who need him, but his feelings towards Carol led him to overcome that nature once, and he'll do it again without a second thought.

Trust the man who risked his life looking for her daughter

Trust the man who instantly ran into danger to protect her

Trust the man who ran into her arms when they reunited

Trust the man who would risk death to keep her safe

Trust the man who held her when she lost her children

Trust the man who ran to shelter her from seeing her son dead

Trust the man who puts himself between her and danger

Trust the man who stood by her when she lost herself

Trust the man who always made sure she was okay first (this)

Trust the man who has always put Carol first

Trust the man we've known for 13 years!

In 07x10, as a last attempt to convince Daryl to follow the plan and sacrifice Carol to save everyone else, Richard says:

"What we have to do requires sacrifice one way or another... Guys like us... we've already lost so much"

Daryl responds by saying:

"You don't know me"

Because it's true, Richard didn't know him, he didn't know what Carol meant to him, he couldn't imagine, but we do. And just like Richard, the people in France don't know him and don't know how much Carol means to him, hence why they don't understand him no matter how many times he has said that he has his home to get back to and promises he needs to keep.

So why don't they understand? Why doesn't he tell them about her? Why doesn't he explain who he wants to get back to and why? Wouldn't that just make things easier?

The amazingly insightful @haircoveredwriter reminded me of something here: Why didn't Richard expect Daryl's reaction towards Carol being put in harm's way? Why do Isabelle, Laurent, and Losang not hear Daryl when he tries to explain himself?

Daryl has always held the people he cares about the most as close to his chest as possible, like they're his fragile secrets, like he's scared of sharing them in case they get hurt or he loses them. Of course, you might say that that's more something we do as children, but we can't forget that Daryl never got to have a childhood, and he lost the only people he ever loved while growing up, so no, I can't fault him for trying to protect the person he cares about most, even if it's not in the most conventional ways, instead of talking about her and sharing her with anyone he has an acquaintance with.

This is also a way for Daryl to protect himself; I can see how he believes telling others about her is like advertising his weakness, his achilles heel, like holding up a sign to them that says "Here, this is where you can hit me if you want it to hurt the most. This is my weakest spot. This is how you take me down".

Speaking about her out loud is too painful; a reminder of how much he missed saying her name, what he can't have and may never be able to see again.

Listen to the hesitation and the way his voice softens when he says, "There's a lady named Carol" after Laurent asks who he misses from home, and how within a second, we see his guard go right back up again.

Look at how he can't help but smile when he hears her voice saying his name again after however long, or how he can't stand still, and his shoulders move like someone who's overwhelmed by an emotion that they're trying to contain.

The Daryl we see in the new teaser/sneak peek and the Darly we'll be getting in TBOC season 2 is the exact same Daryl he has always been, the one that's always seen as distant and guarded on the outside and a man of few words but incredibly loud actions; almost all of these have been developed as a self-defence mechanism, but none of these means that internally he isn't dying to leave France and get back to her, to hold her again, to see her smile again, to make her laugh again, to wipe her tears when she cries, to be her support and man of honour again.

The list from earlier in this post is just a few examples (of many) of how he has repeatedly shown us, through his actions, that she is the most important thing in the world to him.

~~~~~~

To wrap this up I just wanted to say that I can't wait to see how their bond strengthens even more in season two because I see these two as the definition of soulmates.

I love them, I love how they love each other, and I always will.

Or in @lola-andheruniverse's wise words (her post), which have stuck with me:

"I'm choosing to hope [and trust] and ignore the fear of disappointment... I'll always love them... They changed the way I understand love, and I'll never regret a second spent loving them."

For those who want to watch the scenes mentioned above, the timestamps are as follows:

TWD 07x10 scene between Richard and Daryl is 8:45 - 14:27.

TWD: DD 01x05 scene between Laurent and Daryl 9:20 - 10:50

TWD: DD 01x05 radio call between Carol and Daryl

Thank you to those who read through this; I know it's a little long, and I could have honestly made it 3x longer because I always have so much to say about these two, but I hope it helped ease your minds, even if it was just a little bit.

[mangekyuou]

may i request for katakuri angst to fluff hcs with a gn!reader? katakuri finally reveals his face to s/o. but expecting them to be repulsed by his mouth, reader kisses him and he just breaks down in tears because he's never been kissed by anyone before? 🥺🥺

✸  headcanons  %  when he reveals his face to you.

✸    characters! . . .  katakuri.

✸   cw(s)! . . .  n/a. no pronouns used. not proofread.

✸    notes! . . .  i love him so much actually. kata, my beloved. so when i saw this request i was so happy !! thank you so much for requesting !! <333

it took him a lot of internal monologues to get to this point. he tried to weigh the pros and cons

the pros were you would finally know what he looked like underneath his scarf and he would have nothing more to hide from you

the cons...you would think he looked like a monster and he’d be devasted

to him, but the cons outweighed the pros

despite only dating for around 5 months, katakuri was utterly in love with you. he’d never felt this way about anyone before. you make him whole

the thought of losing you because of his appearance worried him, as it has ruined nearly every good thing in his life. he couldn’t let it ruin his chance at love too

but if he wanted your relationship to grow further, he had to know he could trust you, to know that you would love him no matter how he looked

he takes you on a late night walk in a more secluded area of the park near your home. he can’t risk anyone else seeing. you sit next to him in the sugar grass, looking up at the pretty stars in the sky

you hear him take a deep sigh. you look at him and ask if anything is wrong when he reaches for his scarf, hesitating a bit

you realize what he is trying to do, “kata, if you aren’t ready to show me then you don’t have to. i can wait as long as i need to. i love you”

he appreciates hearing you say that

“and i love you, which is why i must show you. i do not wish to hide who i am from the one i love anymore” his words are sincere. this was it

he turned away from you, unraveling his scarf and setting it down in the grass. he closed his eyes, as he turned back to you, not wanting to see the disappointment on your face when you saw the monster he really was underneath

he was ready for a gasp, a scream, an “oh my god”, anything

but he didn’t hear any of those

“you’re so cute”

his eyes shot open at your words, a deep blush formed on his cheeks. no one has ever said such kind words about his mouth

he nearly couldn’t believe it, but seeing your face...he knew that you meant what you said

“may i kiss you?” if his face could be any redder, it would have been. he can only nod, leaning down a bit so you can actually reach his face

you press gentle pecks to both his cheeks before capturing his lips in a soft, loving kiss. you smiled against his lips, finally being able to kiss your lover for the first time

you feel him melt into the kiss, his insecurities and stresses melting along with it, his hands coming up to gently frame your face

you pull away, opening your eyes to see him teary-eyed. you immediately tense up, asking if you had done something wrong

he quickly tells you, that he enjoyed the kiss. it’s just that he’s overwhelmed in a good way, as he’s never been kissed. and that you wanted to kiss him even after you knew what his mouth looked like

he’s so precious <333

© MANGEKYUOU.

[allisonlol]

hii!! can i get dazai, chuuya, tecchou when their s/o safewords during sex plsss

a/n: i got so excited when i saw this req i fr started writing instantly lol. i’ve always had an idea similar to this in the back of my mind but never got around to writing it, so thx for requesting & reminding me >:)

warnings: mentions of sexual activity (somewhat explicit), safeword usage, brief descriptions of pain and blood

(Dazai, Chuuya, Tecchou) When Their S/O Safewords

Dazai

you and dazai had been at it for awhile now, and so far everything was fine

but suddenly, dazai lifted up your legs and pressed them back against your chest, forcing you into a mating press

you gasped at the sensation of how much deeper he was able to go now, & threw your head back against the pillow

but after a minute you registered a throbbing pain in your abdomen

the ache soon turned into sharp, shooting pains that were hard to ignore and outweighed the pleasure

ur body wasn’t used to this position yet and, unable to bear it anymore, you grab onto dazai’s shoulder & frantically say your safeword

it takes a few seconds for him to register what you said

but once he realizes, his eyes go wide and he stops, face paling slightly

^although it goes unsaid, dazai hates the thought of hurting you even unintentionally so he automatically feels guilty

kind of draws in on himself and won’t look you in the eye as he asks what’s wrong

pls just let him know what happened and that you’re not badly hurt

once you explain the situation and reassure him, dazai will lowkey start making fun of you?? lightheartedly of course

says some shit like “sorry my dick is too long babe😞” boy if you don’t shut the hell up

will resume only once you’ve reassured him several times that you feel better and are willing to continue

^even then he maintains a more gentle & slower pace

Chuuya

chuuya is known as an abrasive person in general and this aggressive behavior also regards to how he acts in bed

so i can see him getting carried away at times

don’t get me misunderstood tho. chuuya is very attentive and lives in fear of hurting you so usually he’s overly cautious

today was a bit different tho; the both of you had a stressful day of dealing with mafia business & were looking for a healthy way to release frustrations

so currently, chuuya had you pinned down on his desk, but was being more aggressive than usual

the intensity & degrading words which usually turned you on were now only making u feel more tired and upset

your eyes start tearing up and you try to hold back for him, but it's only a few more minutes before you're weakly calling out the safeword

chuuya is alert to every sound you make so he instantly hears it & stops, gently helping you up and turning you around to face him

sits you down on his chair and crouches on the floor next to it so you're at eye level

his heart almost stops when he sees the tears threatening to fall from your eyes & he curses himself for not noticing

you admit that you're just feeling a little upset at his words and it's probably because of the stressful day you both had

while you give him a watery smile and insist you are fine now, chuuya is still going to really internalize his guilt. you'll notice for a few weeks after that he is much softer n passionate both with his words and in bed <33

Tecchou

honestly he's such a soft lover that it's unlikely he'd hurt you in any way during sex

^always praising you, letting you know how much he loves you and just being sweet n gentle in general

this isn't to say he doesn't have days where he's rougher but even then, he is careful

SO in order for you to actually need to safeword, i believe there would have to be a third factor

^that being an injury you'd gotten at work the other day. while nothing particularly bad, it was a light slash across your abdomen from a blade

you'd bandaged it up of course, and tecchou had asked several times if you'd still wanted to continue despite the injury (to which you'd insisted)

at first everything was fine, but after 10 minutes you registered the cut starting to sting and assumed it had reopened. since it was so minor you figured afterwards you would just patch it up again

however it only gradually got worse and even with tecchou being his usual gentle self, the pain was too much </3

BUT tecchou is so attentive that u didn't even have to safeword

^notices the tears forming in your eyes and the way you're trying to hide your wince at every inward thrust he does

stops immediately and refuses to continue, pressing a kiss on your lips every time you try to protest

you're all like "no i'm fine!!" but he just gives a pointed look towards your bandage which is starting to spot with blood

y'all not tecchou having such good dick it made you bleed- jk jk

rebandages it for you and makes a "no sex" rule until you're completely better >:0

taglist: @deadmitochondria @miycutie @chuuyasboots @shy-socially-awkward-intovert @beandaifuku @stygianoir @sonder-paradise @irethepotato @serenareiss @ashthemadwriter

[alexanderlightweight]

I miss writing. I miss malec

I plot in my head every night but it’s not the same.

I miss writing about how Magnus and Alec tease and find and appreciate and murder for each other and how much they love each other.

I miss Team Immortal and how Magnus and Cat and Ragnor and magical rituals and the spiral labyrinth politics and the finer elements of magical and warlock culture and

I miss diving into world building with magical botony and zoology and thread magic to pocket dimensions. How magic isn’t equal and there’s different levels and wild nature magic. The way that while the spiral labyrinth has changed and evolved, that it still holds to the very oldest of rituals. Everything carefully and continually read by each new Elder and the acolytes of the library learn by trade. Because knowledge isn’t kept in books alone. There are singing histories and spells kept alive by enchanted pieces and the memories of those devoted to learning. Carving and thread work and rituals in tapestry or furniture.

(Because elder isn’t a title based on just age but also elder knowledge. Warlocks who especially dedicate themselves to either singular or a plethora of fields and excel at creation and learning become elders. The very best researchers and scholars of the wealth of knowledge and magical prowess. Being an elder isn’t just a perk it’s a dedication and an oath to the protection and betterment of their people. Active oaths to keep them from stagnating in the decades of immortality and aging.

If you truly start slacking or losing your way, the magic prods you. Eventually you are forced to make a choice, forsake your roll as an Elder and retract and be released from your vows. Or uphold them. )

Metalworking and leather working and the labyrinth contains it all.

I love expanding on the shadowworld and the different ways magic is used by each race and how they all separately interact with the outskirts of the mundane world.

Of figuring out how a warrior society would work and the different styles of life that could have evolved.

And how much sheer adoration and platonic love is between the three of them. And the trust.

Because even when Ragnor is ignoring Magnus (a petty fight that turned into a research binge that turned into a few more years of silence than intended while Ragnor experimented in a pocket library) Magnus is still going to show up and make sure he’s fed and hydrated because the pettiness never outweighs the care.

(Cat has spells on all their vitals and vise versa. But she sent Magnus over with an excuse around year theee when she figured Ragnor had just lost track of time. Magnus doesn’t even remember that Ragnor was being petty and Ragnor doesn’t remember the argument at all).

I miss Alec figuring out what he enjoys and that he’s allowed to enjoy.

Honestly I got a little off track but I’ve been wanting to write malec and post for so long.

I miss the interactions and comments and looking forward to new Wednesday prompts. I miss writing Wednesdays so much and I’m looking forward to starting them up again when I’m healed :/

This took about an hour to write the first time but half got deleted and had to be rewritten when Nightshade started barking outside (it’s past the neighborhood noise curfew and I had to run to grab him so we stayed polite).

Nightshade likes to go outside and ‘guard’ the house for a bit every night before his door gets locked shut for bed, but since bed is subjective to my insomnia and not his sleep schedule he sometimes goes to ‘guard’ rather late. He huffily settled in his crate, perturbed I wouldn’t let him ‘protect’ the House.

Honestly I’m just happy I can write on my phone without a ton of pain anymore.

💜 lumine

The House made a rule (without me lol I was outvoted) that every time anyone buys anything they have to consider if it’s for public House use and if it is, how likely I am to injure myself with it. Or how likely is it to randomly break and hurt me.

It’s very sweet but I hate that it says something that they all agreed. It’s also hilarious because I’m the one who does all the yard work (I’ve had to delay fertilizing for a month and had to stop PT for 3.5 weeks while it healed enough for me to go) so I have axes, clippers, trimmers I use frequently.

[teyamsatan]

Ok, so I need to get this off my chest because it’s been weighing heavily on my mind. I’ve never properly addressed this because I honestly think it’s not something that deserves the traffic, but my entire feed has been overwhelmed with negativity and it’s genuinely making me want to not be on here anymore.

1. I age up my characters. No, that absolutely does not make me a paedophile. You don’t like it, the door’s right there, the block button’s easily accessible, i tag my fics, you can block tags, there’s so many things you can do.

2. Throwing words with such horrible and serious connotations around as a hyperbole is not quirky and doesn’t make you interesting, it makes you an asshole who diminishes and undermines real world problems to make yourself feel better about literally the most inane of non-problems.

3. If you have time to give a shit about someone you don’t know on the internet who finds joy in some artistic relief, you haVE TOO MUCH TIME!!! I’m curious how many of you actually have any concern or involvement in anything regarding actual paedophilia, that concerns actual kids, actual real life people.

4. If you do indeed believe that someone who ages up a literal fictional tall blue alien is a “paedophile”, you genuinely, genuinely need to go out and touch some grass, BUT what absolutely KILLS me is the absolute unhinged hypocrisy: you want to think you’re better than me, you denounce my work publicly, and then FOLLOW ME and reblog my Jake smut (?!???!?). Like this actually blows my mind. So in your eyes, i am the scum of the earth, i deserve to die and go to jail cause i am “sexualising minors”, but THEN you’re ok with it when you get off to my smut that you do agree with. HOW?! You must be so flexible cause that’s some impressive mental acrobatics. Congrats!!!

5. YOU CANNOT PICK AND CHOOSE WHAT YOU’RE MORALLY SUPERIOR ABOUT!!! Pls get that through your head. If you can forgive “deviant” behaviour when you’re horny and need a Jake fic to get yourself off to, honey baby, you’re just as bad, cause you’re proving you’re willing to bend your morals for your own pleasure and selfish needs. Like PLEASE BE FOR FUCKING REAL!!!

6. This is for my readers and readers of fics in general - if you like what we write, please, please show it. I have seen/talked to several of my mutuals who want to take a step back because of so much negativity that outweighs the support at the moment. If you want to keep being able to enjoy this content, please show your favourite writers some love, especially at this time.

7. And for my mutuals/besties, please, please don’t get discouraged. I know it’s hard, and it sucks, and it’s so disheartening, but i am here to talk and here to stay, and we can get through this together. It would hurt me so badly to see genuinely talented, beautiful, creative, kind people be driven away by some lowlives with nothing better to do than bully people. Stay strong and know I’m always here for you.

This is the first and last time i will be addressing this. I will not be engaging with these people anymore, and i will be using the block button incredibly liberally going forward. Remember you’re responsible for curating your online experience. You don’t like/agree with something, FUCKING BLOCK ME. I BEG YOU.

That’s all. Stay safe and good luck, my loves. I love you. Xoxoxox

[kingdom-by-the-sea]

The Not Valentine’s Date

Summary- Mutual pining, an office bet, and baby sitting make for an interesting Valentine’s Day between Spencer and Hotch’s daughter.

Warnings- fluffy fluff

Pairing- Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Hotch’s daughter

Word Count- 2.7k

A/N- This is something I randomly wrote last year after Valentine’s Day but didn’t post cause I felt like I had missed my window. Who knows maybe I’ll write something later this week that I’ll post in a year.

—————-

“Eww,” Emily complained, scrunching up her face in disgust, “Please tell me that none of those lines actually work on real life girls. I don’t understand why guys had to start going around saying stuff like that and ruin Valentine’s day for the rest of us.”

”Woah,” Prentiss stopped Reid mid-explaining, “You are not actually referring to that,” she gestured vaguely in Morgan’s direction, “as poetry.”

Spencer scrunched his face in consideration, “Not in the traditional sense, I suppose. However, in my opinion, some of the best lines of poetry about love have nothing to do with Valentine’s day so using it as the standard might not properly reflect what you’re looking for.”

“Oh really,” Morgan questioned, “And what exactly would you use to woo the ladies on the fourteenth?”

Reid considered the question seriously his fingers tapping to some indiscernible beat as he thought, “‘We loved with a love that was more than love.’”

“What?” Morgan’s reaction was quick and it seemed that everyone else in the group mirrored his sentiment, “Hate to break it to you, pretty boy, but no girl you mention that to is going to have a clue-”

“You quote a man who married his thirteen year-old cousin on love?” Y/N asked suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention.

“They really are a match made in heaven…” Prentiss muttered only loud enough for Morgan to hear, who responded with a chuckle.

Reid’s face darkened several shades of red, “I just mean-”

“It’s fine,” Y/N let out a small laugh, “I’m just teasing. Annabel Lee’s probably my favorite poem. Just sucks that most of the romanticism poets were… just really weird.”

Spencer regained his composure and released an unexpected laugh, “Yeah.”

“Anyone want more coffee, I’m going to get another cup,” Y/N stood and left for the kitchenette after finding there weren’t any takers.

“So close and yet… so far,” Prentiss said once Y/N was out of earshot.

“Seriously, man,” Morgan started, “Just ask her to go to dinner or something already.”

Reid rolled his eyes, “Is this about your bet pool thing again?”

“Not anymore,” Morgan said, “I’ve been out since last month. Somehow I thought New Years would do the trick.”

Prentiss laughed, “You’re doing way better than me. I really thought the hormones would outweigh this nerdy stupidity,” she gestured at Reid’s face, “and said Halloween.”

“Halloween?!” Reid squeaked out before lowering his voice significantly, “There is no way you thought Y/N and I would get together by Halloween of last year.”

The two agents dutifully ignored him and Morgan continued, “Who’s even left at this point? I know Rossi chose St. Patrick’s day for whatever reason.”

“And Hotch said Valentine’s,” Prentiss finished and any air of concern left Reid’s face.

“Well now I know you’re making this up,” he turned back to his work, “There is no way Hotch would bet on his daughter’s love life.”

Prentiss tsked, “Your future father-in-law is going to be very disappointed if you miss this benchmark.”

“Seriously though,” Morgan started again, “Just ask her to hang out. Don’t even call it a date.”

“We hang out all the time though…” Spencer whispered, fiddling with his tie.

“Then it shouldn’t be that big of a deal,” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, “Go get her, lover boy.”

Reluctantly, Reid rose from his seat and made his way to the kitchenette. Y/N was busy filling up her mug with the right amount of sugar- that is as much as can fit in the cup- but smiled when she noticed him.

“Did you change your mind? I can grab another mug.”

“What? Oh- no, I’m good,” he glanced over at her searching for the right words, “I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to hang out on Monday…?”

Y/N’s face lit up at the thought before she scrunched up her nose, “I’d love to but I can’t. I’m actually watching Jack so my dad can go out but maybe this weekend?”

She returned to stirring her coffee not noticing the third person entering the vicinity.

“Or Reid could come over and help you with Jack?” Hotch said, forcing them both to turn suddenly in his direction.

“Oh no,” Y/N began, “You don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want you to waste your Valentine’s Day.”

“No, no. That sounds great,” Spencer smiled at her and her heart seemed to warm as she mirrored his reaction, “Send me the times over the weekend.”

With that Reid walked back to his desk in semi-victory.

“Did Reid just ask you to hangout with him on Valentine’s Day?” Hotch asked with a mock accusatory glance.

“Yeah,” Y/N said absentmindedly, “I mean no- I mean he did but it's not like that. We are just two single adults who enjoy each other’s company and not having to feel lonely on a day devoted to love.”

“Y/N, what exactly do you call it when two single adults meet up on Valentine’s Day to ‘enjoy each other’s company?’” he could barely manage to suppress the smile growing on his face at the teasing.

Her face turned pink, “I’m not sure- but apparently you call it babysitting.”

~~~

As the evening waned on, Y/N was more and more glad for Spencer’s company. Outside of simply enjoying his presence, it helped to have a second person there to reign in some of Jack’s more energetic behavior. However, her appreciation wasn’t enough to keep her from noticing how her heartstrings tugged seeing the way Jack and Spencer both lit each other up with excitement. Spencer was beyond engaging and Y/N finally understood why Henry always seemed to immediately latch onto Spencer at BAU gatherings. It was intoxicating to watch them together and Y/N easily could have lost herself in the moment if it weren’t for the screaming six-year-old running around the house constantly threatening to knock things over. Luckily for Reid, Y/N, and their respective sanities, this level of energy wasn’t sustainable and an eventual crash was inevitable.

He nodded lazily in response, “Can we watch Encanto?” for a brief moment the sparks returned behind his eyes as he mentioned what was quickly becoming his new favorite movie.

“Sure,” Y/N said with a small laugh. This would have to be close to the twentieth time she had seen the movie but for Jack’s sake, it was all worth it.

Jack headed for the stairs and Spencer was quick to follow after him.

“I’ll help him get ready for bed,” he explained, noticing what was apparently a rather obvious expression of confusion and the slight tilt of her head, “You could set up the movie?”

Having your heart flutter this much had to be medically concerning, but there was nothing Y/N could do to stop it as she watched her best friend take her brother’s small hand.

“Okay,” she whispered and was met with a smile that sent her straight back into heart-fluttering territory. No matter how long she knew Spencer, he never stopped surprising her. Considering the effort and detail he put into every other aspect of his life, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he would be so attentive with her brother. And yet he still managed to strengthen his hold on her heart with every little action that came as some unexpected surprise to her. In truth, she suspected it was a precautionary measure, if she truly let herself recognize how kind and wonderful Spencer was, she’d be done for in an instant.

All the precautions in the world couldn’t have stopped the back of her mind from spinning stories about him though. Spencer was too gentle and pure to keep the less hardened parts of her soul from imagining what it all could be like if she could indulge if she could step over the line she had drawn in the sand for herself.

Upstairs, it seemed Jack had stumbled upon a small reservoir of energy, taking the time to show Spencer his favorite toys and stuffed animals while Spencer attempted to offer him various pajama set options. Eventually, Jack settled on the set covered with small dogs.

Spencer didn’t mind the push and pull Jack, or other children gave him. There was something so strangely fascinating to him about a mind so free from insecurity and a child’s willingness to simply say what was on their mind. Despite his extensive memory, he couldn’t remember a time he truly felt like that and hoped it was merely a result of the fog around his earliest memories. Every decision he made was coated in consideration and accounted for every possible result. He couldn’t help but wish that his hypervigilance would let up from time to time and leave him free to explore the thoughts, and emotions, that remained.

“You work with my sister,” Jack offered up less as a question and more as a statement.

“Yes, I do,” Spencer responded to the not question.

The boy’s head bobbed in as much seriousness as a six-year-old could muster, “Can you still be friends with someone if you work with them?”

Spencer watched as he stepped away from him and began absentmindedly examining the toys around his room.

“Of course,” Spencer answered, not sure where this line of question was headed, “Your sister and I are very good friends then.”

Jack’s attention swiftly returned to Spencer, “So you like her then?”

“I do like her. She’s smart and cool,” Spencer narrowed his eyes slightly on the boy, “Just like you.”

Jack came closer to him and in what he seemed to think was a hushed voice said, “Did you know that sometimes when people really like they get married…?”

“And then….” he scrunched up his face and whispered, “They make a baby.”

Spencer’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened in what Jack considered to be genuine surprise.

“I know, right?” Jack stepped away and began picking up a blanket and stuffed animal to take downstairs with him, without looking up he added, “Do you think you and Y/N will get married?”

Spencer’s mind went completely blank. None of the dozens of courses he had taken over the years would provide him with any sort of answer that would satisfy Jack. Part of him wanted to say yes and not give any of it another thought but reason quickly squashed that idea. And yet…

And yet he couldn’t bring himself to say no either. It was far too permanent and left no room for the small bead of hope he hid away in the back of his mind.

“Maybe…” he answered finally, “I don’t really know though…”

Jack pulled the blanket and toy behind him and giggled, “I hope you do!”

Spencer’s stomach did a somersault and he scooped the small boy and his blanket up into his arms before he could notice the strange smile emerging on his face. I do too.

~~~

“I swear that kid is pure energy,” Y/N said, shutting the door behind them and stepping out into the cool night with Spencer.

Y/N pointed a somewhat accusatory finger at him, “And don’t say something like ‘technically we are all energy since we’re made of mass.’’

He rolled his eyes at her with a smile, “I was going to say that while he may have been more energetic than I expected- I had fun hanging out with you guys.”

She couldn’t help the smile that immediately bubbled up to the surface of her lips, “I had fun too. I’m glad I didn’t completely waste your Valentine’s day.”

“Never,” he whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you on Monday,” Y/N said when they reached the end of the driveway where Spencer’s car was parked.

His eyes narrowed slightly on her, “What are you doing? How are you getting back to your apartment?”

“Oh I have an uber coming in a little bit. I”m just going to wait here until they get here.”

“You want me to leave you here on the side of the road and drive away?” he questioned.

“No,” Y/N corrected, “I want you to leave me at the end of my dad’s driveway.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” Spencer said definitively, “I’ll drive you or we could go back to my apartment and watch awful romcoms and start working on the mound of candy Rossi and Garcia got us.”

She blinked at him, “Really?”

“Yeah,” his movement suddenly became awkward and choppy, “I mean you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, no,” Y/N smiled, “I’m just surprised. You spent the past five hours with me and my hyperactive brother and you want to hang out more?”

“I always want to spend time with you,” he said shyly.

“Sometimes I just forget that you’re you, Spence,” Y/N shook her head slightly and took a step closer to him.

“I hope that’s not a bad thing,” his eyes were slightly wider than usual.

“No, not at all. It’s the best thing actually,” Y/N smiled up at him, “And just so you know, I’d gladly spend every moment of every day with you.”

He looked down at her, not able to suppress the smile growing on his face.

“You know,” Spencer said, clearing his throat slightly, “Jack said something to me earlier and I didn’t know how to respond to him.”

“Oh gosh…” her voice faded into a slight chuckle.

“He was asking me all these questions about you. Like if we were friends and if I thought you were nice,” Spencer watched as Y/N glanced up at him, “I said yes to both of those… but then- then he asked if we were going to get married.”

Y/N’s lips let out a silent “oh.”

She blinked and glanced down at the ground momentarily, “What did you tell him?”

He scratched absently at the side of his head, “Well I wasn’t sure what to say so I told him maybe?”

Y/N’s face broke into a smile and near laugh, “You told him ‘maybe?’”

“I’m sorry I just didn’t know what to say. You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, no,” she let out the rest of the laugh, “I just think we should go on a date before you start promising these kinds of things to my brother.”

Spencer blinked and swallowed before looking down at the ground, “Would you have said yes if I asked you out?”

“Yeah,” a soft smile settled on her lips, “I mean of course. Don’t tell Jack but you’re kind of my favorite person in the world.”

“Really?” his eyes settled on hers.

“What? Did you think I’d say no?” Y/N asked with genuine concern.

“I don’t know I just thought that it would make things difficult since we work together and-”

“Spence, hey, hey, stop it!” she said with a slight laugh.

A beat passed where she just looked at him.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

Y/N smiled, “I just want to remember the moment right before I kiss you.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly.

“Is that okay?”

He nodded not sure if she was referring to the moment or the kiss but it didn’t matter either way. She smiled up at him again, looking into his eyes and her hands moved up till they met behind his neck. After inhaling slightly, Y/N perched on her toes and gently pulled Spencer’s face down until their lips met each other.

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

A lifetime of dates (part 3)

After being together for twenty years, Natasha and Katya have been on many dates in their lifetime. In this series, we see one from every part of their lives.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC (Katya Petrova from the Forgotten Ghost series) • Wordcount: 1.8k • Warnings: very angsty!!! • This part takes place a month or two after the events in Infinity War (after Tony gets back on Earth) do not repost my work as your own or translate my work Masterlist

A/N: thank youuuu @milfs69420 for this idea <3

2018

"Meet me on the roof."

Natasha hated herself for perking up with pointless hope when her phone chimed. But she hated herself even more for the way her stomach fell with disappointment when it was just Katya's name flashing across her screen. In fact, she resented herself for it. 

Every night, when Katya cautiously reached for her body in bed, she counted herself incredibly lucky to still have her wife. The odds had always been against them; Katya should not be here right now. But she was, and Natasha struggled to find solace in it. 

Sam, Wanda, Fury, T'Challa, Peter, they were all gone, their names never popping up on her phone anymore. Their absence outweighed Katya's presence by miles, and she couldn't get it to change. The darkness was too powerful, the one single star that represented Katya lost in the vastness. 

The lights in the Compound flickered on as the motion sensors picked Natasha up along her journey to the roof. She could hear the fluorescents in the eerie silence, above the sound of her shoes on the stairs and the soft click as the doors fell into the frame behind her. 

Everything was fully abandoned two weeks ago. Recruits left to find out what remained of their families, and the other Avengers—Steve, Bruce, Tony, Thor, Clint—abandoned their tasks and left the two Russians to fend for themselves, just as the world needed this team the most.

Tony fled to the countryside with Pepper, Steve into the city. Duties to his own people called Thor away, and Clint chose to run away from his pain instead of facing it. Nobody had been in contact since, their coats still hanging on the coat rack in the hallway like they left behind a past life.

Why were they allowed to move on and not her? 

Natasha didn't have it within herself to be angry about it anymore. She had been, in the beginning, but everything took so much energy these days. Eating, getting out of bed, brushing her teeth, showering. She had no energy to even think about anger as an emotion. The empty pit in her chest sucked it all in. 

She didn't want to acknowledge it for what it was, but the diagnosis lingered in the back of her head.

The roof was so dark that she had trouble locating Katya when she first stepped through the door. Where the city's skyline and the Compound's outdoor lighting used to outline her seated figure, there now was nothing. Half the city missed electricity, and entire buildings were abandoned. Natasha had to squint to make her eyes adjust quicker. 

She found Katya at the very edge of the roof, facing the silent city. Her back was turned and her legs dangled off the side of the building like it wasn't a three story drop, a bottle of some kind in her hand. 

She looked peaceful, but a dark thought flashed through Natasha's mind as she crossed the distance, fueled by the knowledge of her wife's unstable past. It was obvious Katya was struggling again, dangerous thoughts no doubt infiltrating her brain and convincing her to do irreversible things. But Natasha breathed easy knowing they lived for each other. As long as she was alive, so would Katya.

Quietly, she sat down beside her, the smooth pebbles that covered the surface of the roof unpleasant under her butt. Katya didn't acknowledge her in any way, but Natasha had a feeling she knew why they were up here. It wasn't for nothing that she planned a "date".

Neither of them said anything. They just sat there, watching the dark skyscrapers, the rustling trees, the rolling clouds that revealed parts of the moon. One nice thing about the reduced city lights; the stars were visible again.

Katya handed Natasha her bottle of beer. She felt indifferent about it, but she took a sip anyway. It tasted like crap.

They'd done this countless times before, having a drink on the roof. Especially after a tiring day, or on a warm summer evening. It was a nice way of unwinding and finding more privacy than their apartment provided. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they sat in silence. But it had never felt like this.

The air between them wasn't tense, but it was loaded with unspoken knowledge. They were losing their grip on each other and they both realized it. Natasha could feel her wife starting to slip away. She could feel herself starting to push her away.

There was already a distance between them. The love that had always been right there on the surface when she was around Katya was being pushed under by feelings stronger and more powerful. Anger, sadness, guilt, self-hatred, fear, they made that fiery flame turn into a smoldering piece of wood. 

"Stay with me." Katya said suddenly. 

Surprised, Natasha turned to look at her, thrown off by the interruption of the silence and the odd conversation starter.

Katya's words sounded like an order. One that Natasha could not disobey for the desperation that lay right underneath the surface. A plea, hidden as a command.

The light of the moon caught the fearful, sorrowful glint in Katya's eyes as they flickered towards the sky. Natasha was caught by surprise when the sight triggered a rush of feelings within herself. She didn't think she could feel anything other than heavy emptiness.

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised.

"You're already miles away," Katya whispered, carefully glancing at her. 

Shamefully, Natasha averted her eyes to the bottle in her lap. Her heart ached in her chest, but she cherished the sharp stabs. It meant that she still cared about Katya's pain. 

"I'm just so…" Her fingers curled into fists, that powerless feeling that threatened to crush her day and night fighting its way to the surface and making her tear up with anger.

The tears kicked Katya to life. Broken souls or not, they were wives, and protective mode would always kick in when the eyes glossed over. She leaned into Natasha's side, carefully prying her clenched fingers open to slide her own between them. 

"I know. Me too."

Natasha relaxed slightly, but she couldn't help but focus on how even this touch felt foreign. Their palms were touching each other, but it's as if they were both wearing gloves. They couldn't fully reach each other. And the more she fixated on it, the more terrified she became. 

She loved her wife. She loved her. Why could she not summon that feeling through the thick cloud of emptiness? Why did this touch not magically heal her?

Panic rose in her throat. 

Not this, too. After everything they lost, she couldn't lose this too.

"I'll always stay with you," Natasha vowed desperately, the beer bottle in her hand trembling along with her fingers. 

Katya didn't relax, her voice fragile and quiet as she asked, "Even if we'll forever feel like this?"

Dread wrapped around Natasha's broken heart. Forever? Forever this emptiness, forever this awful feeling of guilt and self-loathing? The only thing she feared more than living the rest of her life in darkness, was blindly stumbling through it without Katya. To have no one to talk to. No one to find comfort in. No one to live for.

She'd already gone through life like that once, before Clint found her, but she knew she wouldn't survive that a second time. Not after knowing what she'd lost.

Her throat closed with tears. "I don't want to be alone again," Natasha choked out.

"You will never be alone again." Katya's voice wavered with tears too, her grip on Natasha's hand tightening. "I'm staying too."

Natasha wanted to feel confident in their future, to know that she could provide what Katya needed. But the truth is, she already had nothing to give. All her energy and focus she put into running the Avengers brand alone. "I can't give you what I used to," she muttered, fearing Katya would leave eventually after she figured that out too.

Katya looked away, towards the swaying trees, the dark city. The reality slowly started to sink in. This would be their future for a while. Bland, hopeless, empty. It'd be hard. "Neither can I," she whispered. "Maybe we just give what we can."

Maybe. It'd have to be enough. She wasn't leaving, and Natasha wasn't leaving either. They had to make this work. They'd been through worse. They'd faced armies, death, and losing the love of their lives, and overcame it all.

Natasha's tears had long dried, the lump in her throat shrinking until it was easier to swallow. She wanted to scream in frustration. Beg whoever was listening to just fix this, so the world would be okay, and so she and Katya would be okay. But there couldn't be a god after what happened.

Her thumb traced the scar on the back of Katya's hand, memorizing the shape in case she wouldn't feel it for a while. "The love I have for you is always there. Even if you can't feel it, and even if I can't show it," she said into the silence. No horns, no sirens, no birds.

Seeing the acceptance in Katya's eyes broke her. They wanted to cherish each other like they deserved, but they knew they weren't able to give that. And to see her wife accept that reality hurt more than getting stabbed in the gut. Katya deserved everything and more.

Katya gently squeezed her hand. "Knowing is enough." The dark circles under her eyes betrayed that she'd not slept in a while, but her mind appeared clear. This bottle of beer must have been alone. "Never doubt my reason for being here, for staying. I love you, and I always will. And that single thing is enough. You are enough."

Those stupid tears. First, Natasha felt nothing, but now that the dam broke, the emotions would not stop flowing out of her. 

She was never enough. Not fast enough, not smart enough, not cold enough, not ruthless enough. And not enough to stick around for. 

Nobody thought she was worth more than someone to throw away if it was more convenient for them, if she could no longer provide what they needed.

Nobody but Katya. 

Katya didn't need anything from her. Not a hug, not a kiss, not a home cooked meal, not a way to fix every problem in the world. Natasha just needed to exist, and that was it. Exist in whatever way she could and Katya would love her. 

"We have to be okay," Natasha said, in the same tone as Katya started this conversation. An order, filled with desperation. They both knew what would happen if they wouldn't be okay, and it would not be pretty.

"We will be," Katya promised, her determination falling slightly flat. "We will be."

[ipegchangbin]

— lines, lines, and more lines

hyunjin x reader | 4.5k words

♡ ... accompanying playlist. Hyunjin stared at the unfinished painting. It always seemed to stare back. And its eyes — it had none — looked like yours.

❥ angst. hurt, comfort. hopeful ending. ❥ not beta read. gender neutral reader (no pronouns). past breakup. declining mental health (depression). mentions of suggestive activity. exes to…

📝 happy valentine’s day! art & playlist by me. otherwise, enjoy.

18+ only. minors do not interact.

Should he have called you?

He loves all sorts of art. He has not once ever hated a single piece, thinking that all works were masterpieces in their own right.

Standing in the corner of the room, though, was a canvas he hated to see. Hyunjin didn’t dislike your unfinished painting, but he hated being reminded of what could’ve been.

It had been a year yet nothing in that corner of the room had changed. He always used the studio, of course, the large open workspace full of ideas that came to fruition and stored the ones that didn’t in unsealed paint cans and palettes with stories in them.

The room was littered — half-clean thanks to weekly maintenance — but not dusty. It was a calculated mess, typical for an artist, atypical for a depressed romantic.

Because all but one goddamn corner of the room changed. That one painting stood on that easel, paint dried yet not chipping once off its canvas.

It was supposed to be a portrait of his face. You finished the perimeter of his head, his bangs and mullet colored in, and an underpainting of his skin was in the works. His lips were as luscious as you used to claim — one of his favorite compliments, he wouldn’t admit — and they were frozen in an ever-present gentle smile. He didn’t have any eyes yet, but your rendition of him stared back at Hyunjin like a warped reflection in moving water.

Yet it seemed to stand still in time.

That’s why he called you. After months of no contact, he dialed you up at 2 AM in a state of slightly calmed panic. Hyunjin wasn’t thinking; he didn’t want to think, not anymore. All he wanted was to see you.

He bit his lips that you once said were luscious and full. The anticipation in his system only seemed to outweigh the feeling of his teeth clamping his lower lip.

Autopilot drew over his actions. Your phone rang. His own vibrated in his hand. He allowed the speaker to ring across the colorfully-decorated walls of the studio.

Please, pick up.

“Hello?”

Hyunjin blinked and suddenly he was back to where he was. The call had been over twenty minutes ago. It would be approximately ten more minutes before you’d arrive at his doorstep.

Was that really your voice that he heard?

Can’t be stupid, of course that was you. There was no mistaking the calm and soothing timbre of a voice that had just awoken, not from sleep, but from resting a stretch of time without speech.

Maybe he dreamt it up again? No, he didn’t. Then, why did he do that?

Hyunjin, are you fucking stupid? He couldn’t help his thoughts.

It’s no secret that he’d slip into that same blurry headspace, the one where he’d stop thinking and just do. Do things. Do whatever. It would take a bone to the head for him to even stop him at this state and it was painfully clear whenever he was in this trance.

He wouldn’t speak much. He’d pick up whatever he was supposed to hold and focus with deathly control. He’d zone in instead of out; this regularly occurred when he was painting, and he’d lose track of thought and simply keep going.

Is that why my works are more soulless lately? I don’t think when I make them. Hyunjin waved a hand in front of his sleepy eyes.

The downside to this was that, after the autopilot switches off, the flurry of thoughts would race and speed and subsequently crash. His thoughts were bullet trains that resumed motion and his head had tracks suddenly converging at a point. It’s wild, even to him, and he still isn’t sure if he’s gotten used to it yet.

All that he knew is that he missed you dearly.

You would know him better than he does. You would know how to comfort him. You would know — no, understand him better. Process his feelings more than he could ever do alone.

He never knew what love was until he loved you. He still loves you. It’s a love that eats away at him, as it’s the only love he knows.

It’s the only love he had. It’s the only love he lost.

Knock, knock, knock.

And it’s the only love that answers his call.

Startled by the sudden noise, Hyunjin got up from the dark amber floors of his well-loved studio and stopped staring at the painting.

It told him something. It seemed to know that someone was there. The artist behind his unfinished face, you, returned to his home no matter how absent-minded he seemed to be as he called you.

But he could leave the door unanswered. He could half-lie, pretend that he was drunk and fell asleep, text you a simple apology. It could be simpler.

But you were waiting so patiently by his door.

Curse you. Why have you always been patient with him? Why do you always wait for him? He didn’t deserve you, didn’t deserve to date you then break up with you. He didn’t deserve to waste a single second of your time.

Even if you weren’t together anymore, why do you wait so loyally for him behind a door that won’t open in the dead middle of the night?

Hyunjin pondered whether or not to unlock the entrance and let you back into his life at least for one more fleeting moment.

“Sorry for making you wait,” he said, guiding you through the halls of his house as if you hadn’t memorized it by now.

Maybe he wanted the moment to feel special all over again. After several months of calling it quits, he wanted to make it feel as if you re-entered a dream from where you left off.

Ignore that it looked nightmarish now. If it at least holds any bearing, it did feel like you picked up from where you left off, though.

The more you traversed the familiar walls you once called home, the more it seemed apparent that life and time both flowed and stopped within the house. Some things were stuck in time, like the one-fourth full shampoo bottle sitting in your former corner of his shower. The sink was newly wet, water still dripping from the porcelain. It wasn’t like you wanted to pry, but the bathroom door was wide open to begin with, the scene more apparent when you noticed Hyunjin sniffling behind you.

Did he break down in the restroom again?

You knew he always did that. He didn’t have the habit of keeping to himself, but when he didn’t want to display his vulnerability to you, the same bathroom became his space if an outlet. Drawings weren’t always an answer, especially if it was his job, so he’d sob in the restroom — and it seemed, in his dissociative episode, he cried for a minute before calling you.

You walked further into the house. Your steps creaked against the wooden flooring that he promised to fix several months ago — had it been a year?

Maybe so. You haven’t used the same brand of the three-fourths empty shampoo bottle since last year. You switched brands since you left him.

He must’ve noticed. Hyunjin always made it known to you that he loved taking whiffs of your scent when you once were lovers. Now that he was trailing behind you while simultaneously guiding you through the depressive home, he must’ve realized that once was a lavender-scented head became lemon and lime.

It was unfamiliar. It shouldn’t affect Hyunjin. It’s just you. You’ve changed, so did the house, so did he, but it wasn’t anywhere near your level of maturation and growth.

Because how the fuck does a change of shampoo beat an unchanging home?

“Hyune,” you called to him, “do you need help with anything over here?”

He blinked. Even he didn’t know why he called you.

“I thought you needed help with the furniture?”

Right…right? He said that? Caught up in the sight of you after months, Hyunjin didn’t even remember his own excuse. He just craved to see you. See the person you grew to become.

See the person who left for the sake of love.

“Oh, yeah, I do.” Hyunjin sniffled with a weak smile. “Had to move a table in our—the studio, but your stuff’s in there.”

A genuine shock washed over you. “Shit, I forgot some things? I’m sorry.”

Hyunjin shouldn’t be this delighted to see your emotions.

He always loved watching you talk. He listened with full observation, relishing in the way you expressed yourself because you were beyond entertaining. You were his opposite, but also his twin flame. So maybe that was why it burnt his chest with charred edges to see that you were so much more confident in your words.

Was it speech therapy? Was it freedom? Was it because you left him, that you learned to love yourself more? Was it really not him, but you? “It’s not you, it’s me?”

Shit. He was overthinking again. His temples started to hurt more than it did. Sweating and despairing and wondering when — if it would all end by staring at you long enough.

He led you through the corner leading up to the studio. The first thing you saw, thankfully, wasn’t the mess he was creating around the corner; it was your painting. The haunting aura of Hyunjin’s portrait seemed to surprise you, taking one step back on your left leg. The studio was rampant of Hyunjin’s constant and bustling work ethic and then there was your corner, pristine in the way that it hadn’t moved at all. The painting stared at you both. You wondered if that had really been the state at which you left it — the state at which you left him.

You’re not the same. There’s comfort in the fact that you’re still you, the you he fell for and cherished. The you that he deemed his darling. His co-artist, his muse.

Standing in his studio after months, taking a gander at your unfinished work; you have the same backside but your silhouette has changed. Hyunjin couldn’t seem to grasp it. How could he, when you were his one and only love?

“God, that thing’s still there,” you joked. For a moment, Hyunjin’s thoughts seemed to calm themselves as you both chuckled silently.

“It’s funny, I stare at your painting and it looks like it’ll never crack.” He pointed at the painting, forgetting about the furniture he pretended to need help with. “You haven’t even varnished it and yet I feel more brittle than it ever will be.”

There’s a solemn look in his eyes as he stared at the spitting image of him, albeit rough around the edges and eyeless.

“Bits and pieces of my heart chipped when you left,” he whispered, though you caught it.

He bit his tongue to keep himself from uttering the petname “darling.” Force of habit, even after months — yet nobody could blame him, especially after you left him to wonder what you both were.

He knew how to mix orange paint better than knowing the mix of emotions you gave him.

“I’m sorry?”

The guilt washed over his shoulders as he realized that he spoke aloud, suddenly hoping that you could just go back to furnitures. He pretended to clear his dusty table, only for your hand to catch his. Skin on skin had never felt this refreshing. He’d realized that he never had another being touch him after you left.

“No, nevermind, I—”

“Hyune, no, I’m sorry.” The sincerity in your voice gave him goosebumps that he hoped you hadn’t felt under your palm. “I didn’t think I’d affect you like this…”

“It’s nothing big, really,” he scoffed, his own eye bags from losing sleep over you proving him otherwise. Hyunjin started feeling weird, like his head was spinning and he could faint at any moment. He was losing balance while holding onto the table. All he wanted was for you to talk.

Your concern only ever grew. “But you even kept the painting like that. Why didn’t you just take it down?”

You turned to him after he gave no response.

He thought and thought until he lost himself in a sea of overwhelming ideas and questions. He tried to come up with answers until he concluded that these were the same questions he’d ask himself every single day as he worked in the same exact studio. If only his clutter could talk, they’d know his secret; he’d stare at your art in between his works and mourn.

Mourn the future he couldn’t have with you. Mourn the lost love.

“Couldn’t take it down I guess.” Hyunjin huffed, defeated. “I just…couldn’t.”

That’s when it hit you. A lot of things in his house were merely things he simply couldn’t let go of.

The shampoo bottle from earlier. The painting. Trinkets stacked in the corners of the hallway you slowly walked through were keychains that you and Hyunjin bought at art fairs together. The hat you’d been missing was hanging by the entrance all along, untouched. Some brushes in his studio were yours.

He’d been stuck in a limbo between the past and present, unable to see a future from the dust on his table. Hyunjin stood in silence as you both shared a knowing look.

A look you couldn’t even spare him when you left.

For the past months, he couldn’t stop fixating on the last time you made love — the night before you left. It was great, satisfying and full of sweat and tears, full of kisses and promises that you’ll be back someday. You were going to focus on yourself, that you realized that love isn’t for you if you didn’t love yourself first. Hyunjin believed in it. He believed in you. You weren’t lying, but you weren’t sure of your words either. You figured that was the point of leaving, so that you’d “come back” as a sure, secure, and mature person.

It’s just that the world had been so unkind to you both. The things that you used to enjoy with him became something of nothing, and you realized that it was your end that needed fixing. To you, coming back wasn’t a promise to Hyunjin. To him, it was something he was willing to wait for even until the next lifetime. Love to you was for yourself to grow and familiarize with, but love to him was something he only knew through you.

That was the last time he’d ever touched another person, let alone himself. That was the last time he had ever uttered “I love you.” But maybe, just maybe, you were too set on leaving to care about the sex. It was full of love to him but it was probably empty to you. It was probably one last promise that you wanted to fulfill—let go of. You didn’t even pack your shampoo bottles when you left.

Hyunjin sat on the ground, legs about to give in from the sheer weight of his emotions and thoughts. You followed suit, sitting beside him.

I feel weird again.

Hyunjin clutched his arms closer to his chest, squeezing his knees in between the embrace, trembling in fear of another barrage of racing thoughts consuming him, eating away at his space.

There was nothing he could do about it. It always just seemed to happen.

Everything hurt, his brain was throbbing, your presence alone was too much in his shitty abode that he calls a home, his studio is one shabby excuse of a room that shouldn’t have you in it, you didn’t deserve to be here, in his place, in his damned, shitty place—

“Hyune.”

You reached out behind yourself to grab his arm.

“You’re not okay.”

It took two full, quiet seconds before anything. You stared not at his arm, but his eyes.

“Thought it was obvious,” he tried to joke. Once he caught a glimpse of your unwavering concern, he looked back down.

You made the grip on his arm firmer. You stroked his forearm with your thumb. It seemed to ground your ex, but he still felt just as broken as he was earlier.

“I’m sorry.” You sighed. “I keep saying it but I don’t think it’ll ever be enough. I’m sorry I left you like this. I’m sorry I even left you. I just…you know that I had to do this for me, for us…”

You felt something in your throat. You swallowed it. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to forgive me. I know how shitty it is and now, I’m here for you.”

Hyunjin wordlessly listened, nodding at your now-real and sincere promises. Tears were falling down his eyes in the same tracks his previous tear stains ran down.

Your painting had been staring at you this whole time, the strokes around the eyes sticking out like sore thumbs to him — they were more of pinky promises to you, left hanging and ignored yet still innocently waiting.

“Let’s fix that,” you sighed.

“What?”

You looked at Hyunjin with a smile, half fond and half despondent. “May I finish this real quick?”

Hyunjin simply stared at you. The tears in his eyes fell but he didn’t dare blink. His eyes were wide open, in awe of your smile, scorn growing in his chest that you are both incredibly hurt people.

He hated, still hates, and will always hate the way that this world wronged either of you to the extent that you smile with unhappiness.

Alas, you got up to finish your work, thinking he nodded when he didn’t.

You stumbled to get up on two legs, struggling in your trembling body to even put a hand on your knee to get up. It was less of heartbroken now and more of tired, emotionally exhausted, sleepy, and slightly frustrated at the sight of your unfinished work.

Though it was your painting that your chose to abandon for months, you finally took the brush and picked up a surprisingly active thinner and a semi-dry pigment — random color that you couldn’t bother to check — off his palette with its bristles. You started slashing in a semi-calculative fashion, not minding the strokes but rather the picture you were painting, burning butterflies from your brain right onto the canvas.

Hyunjin stared curiously with hands on his knees still close to his chest. The eyes that were promised on the canvas became less and less like his own until they weren’t.

And there they were, butterflies sitting on a portrait of his face.

“There,” you said, accomplished. For some reason though, the lump in your throat returned.

You figured it was the thought of slightly finishing in the way you never intended to. You remembered working on the piece while you were still together, promising to paint him a portrait as a signifier of your love for him. He sat in front of your easel for hours, not because you couldn’t paint his face right, but because you and him couldn’t finish your work from laughing together and talking endlessly.

You couldn’t get it done even if you wanted to just because he loved you so much. He loved you enough to make you smile and laugh. He loved you to the point of obsession and fixation. Nowadays, you aren’t sure how you feel about that, but then, it was refreshing and alive.

Maybe that’s what killed love for you. You didn’t want him and his explosive bouts of love to get in the way of your love for your work, your life, yourself. You loved him, you still do. It’s no question. So, what is it?

Is it that you didn’t love him the way he loved you?

You left to focus on yourself. You left to find the love that you needed for yourself. Or maybe, is this his consequence of loving too much?

Or did you not love him the same?

“It’s…” Hyunjin slowly spoke, “it’s so pretty.”

Your eyes sparkled at him. He was fixated on the butterfly in your painting.

“Your work is always so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you nervously said. The tears started to pool by your eyes. The nostalgia, the pain in his voice, the longing for you and him…was it all too much?

Hyunjin seemed to have an answer.

“Though we won’t be certain about what’s in store for us,” he mustered up the courage to say, “I’m certain that you’ll always be in my picture.”

“What if I don’t want to be in your picture anymore?” You asked.

Hyunjin’s lips shut.

You didn’t know what overcame you when you said that. The frustration of thoughts, from having to answer your ex’s call and seeing him break down like this, to questioning the love that you still have for him. It was all much.

“I’ll be hurt,” he sniffled, “I’ll respect it.”

While you were at it, you had to ask. “Is it selfish to say that I wish you didn’t love me so that you leaving would’ve been easier?”

A part of you wished this too much. You hoped that he could just move on. But again, how could he? How could he when you were his first, his supposed last? You were the one who taught him love and he loved you with his all. It’s not a love that you’re used to and it’s not a type of love you could give to him let alone yourself.

Your eyes shifted towards the painting again when he couldn’t answer, until you felt his hand reaching out for yours.

“I love you most. It isn’t selfish, but I think I’m selfish for still yearning. You just know me better than I know myself.” Hyunjin spoke with a sudden eloquence that gave you shivers.

It wouldn’t last long.

“Thank you.” You held his hand with your other. “But Hyunjin…you should know yourself better than most.”

“Darling—” His voice broke slightly. The habit creeped back, betraying his tongue as it chased you. “Y/N, I don’t even know anything, so how else am I supposed to do that with myself?”

It became trickier to respond as his tears exploded. “Then understand yourself,” you said, “It’s hard, it sucks, but look. You have to care for yourself before you get to love others.”

“Like you?” He asked with swollen, slightly bitten lips. “You know yourself.”

“I don’t. Not yet. Not completely.”

Hyunjin nodded with sorrow in his eyes. “It’s just…”

He took a deep breath as he glanced at the butterfly. It seemed like a breed of bug that would be free in the wind. He wished to become that, a wandering creature with beauty and nothing in its simple mind but the love of life.

Hyunjin exhaled.

“I’ve been trying to accept that you left because you found yourself, and I’m happy for you. But I can’t help myself. I can’t help but think about you. I can’t help but miss you. I can’t help thinking about how you are, I can’t help staring at the things you left for me, I can’t help the thought that—”

You don’t love me.

“That…th-that…you’re better off without me.”

Holding his hand tighter, you urged him to look at you. “Hyunjin…that isn’t the case. At all.”

“Yet I can’t help it. I…I can’t lose you.” He started choking in his words. “I see my own portrait and all I’ll think about is you.”

Words started to hit like pangs to your chest. He’s right; it’s difficult to separate the art from the artist especially in your circumstances. He couldn’t let the notion of you go at all.

“You painted it. You stared at me. I’ll never forget the concentrated face you made while drawing me. It all goes back to you, and I love you, and I just…”

“Hyunjin…”

“I’m so stupid. I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear any of this. It’s so early, I…” He gulped and bit his bottom lip. “And I can’t kick you out now. God. I’m so fucking stupid…”

Pity and sincere concern washed over you. “You aren’t.” You’ve been in this scene before, back when you were together. Hyunjin’s grateful that you still have the right words to say. “Hyune…I still care for you deeply. I love you.”

“I love myself too and I’m sorry I prioritized myself. I left you in the dark. I’m so, so sorry.”

He tilted his head at that. “No. You deserve to be happy.” He’s right, there was no need to be sorry for choosing yourself when he could only choose you too.

You tried to smile. “Hyune, I always hope that you’ll be happy too.”

A few seconds of silence passed before a glint amidst your ex’s crying appears in his very real eyes.

“We can go back to painting maps. I hope by then, you’ll find yourself too.”

Profound words became skipped heartbeats. If you knew what to say, then he would always be ahead. That’s what you loved about him.

“If I do find it…the way back…” Hyunjin stuttered, “Will you come back to me too?”

“Maybe.” You smiled. “There’s a point that fate will take me to. Hope to meet you at that point.”

The both of you prepared coffee as purple streaks of daylight broke into the sky. You caught up with yourselves and shared a few jokes over the dining table. It had been a while since Hyunjin — nor you — felt this kind if human connection again. The bitterness of the caffeine and sweetness of the sugar would be fitting for you both if it weren’t for the fact that you both downed your drinks with ease, just as you would before.

Things are different, things are the same. Hyunjin promised to be healthier. You picked up one of his extra paper bags and got some of your stuff.

“Hyune, I want to apologize one last time,” you turned to him. “Sorry I pulled the “it’s not you, it’s me” thing even if I knew next to nothing either. And sorry for leaving this.”

You held up the unopened shampoo bottle next to your head. Hyunjin blinked before smiling fondly.

“Do you still want it?”

“Well, you probably need it.”

“I have stock of a new one at home. I miss this one though. Do you mind?”

Familiarity returned at last once you gave him the look with the big, curious eyes.

Hyunjin realized that you, no matter the distance, were never going to be too far from his heart.

Like a butterfly, it always returns to the flowers. Chipped paint can be retouched with new, brighter pigment. Love isn’t off the table, it changes — it grows. Maybe it branches in different directions, but just like butterflies, they don’t fly in straight paths.

He smiled wider when he realized he took too long to respond.

“Not at all.”

thank you for reading ! consider reblogging and leaving feedback if you loved my work 💗 writing © ipegchangbin

[wandabear]

You always love me more (when we're miles away)

ㅤㅤ Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female reader chapter warnings: angst, no happy ending, death. status: one shot (2.5k) this is my first Nat x reader fic, so, be nice. Miles away song. part two, alternative happy ending

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“I love you, Nat.”

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“The food was good, I love you.”

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“Can you give me the...? Yes, that one. Thank you, I love you!”

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“Goodnight, I love you.”

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One and a thousand ways to express the way she feels, every time Y/N hears that hoarse voice, every time she loses herself in those green eyes, every time she soft little kisses or caresses her red hair. The way of expressing her own way of loving.

The loss in her life taught Y/N that sometimes, it's better to say it before you hide it. Or lose it.

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"Can you stop?" Natasha exhaled the air she was holding and closed her eyes. Didn't have time to put up with what she thought. She always did it to avoid hurting Y/N's feelings, but this time, the stress outweighed everything.

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It was painful, Y/N had always been a loving girlfriend and so kind. Always wanted to help Nat, whenever she was stressed the brunette would come over asking if she needed anything. Perhaps bringing her favorite candy, or coffee when she saw her frowning at the mission reports.

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Y/N was finishing chopping the onion and dropping it into the pan, when she heard Natasha.

The agent looked up to see what it was about, she just saw Natasha leaving her Stark tech tablet  next to her and getting up from the sofa.

They still didn't share a place in the compound, but from time to time, they stayed in each other's rooms. Although Y/N only had her own room and Natasha, well, it was more like an apartment so they used to spend more time at Nat's place.

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The redhead seemed quite exhausted, so Y/N let the spy clear her head for a while on the sofa and decided to cook something.

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“What's going on?” Y/N dried her hands on the kitchen towel and approached, trying to understand. Y/N had always been very sweet and sympathetic, something Natasha loved to from the start but also very passionate and sexual -something that Nat loved even more-.

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“It's just-“ Nat tried but just shook her head. She spent a moment trying to find the right words but none of them seemed to be 'right' anymore. Everything was going to hurt her. “You use it every moment, as if it were something normal.”

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Y/N frowned, more confused than before. “What are you taking about? I’m lost here.”

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“The ‘I love you'.” The redhead kept frowning, arms crossed.

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Y/N wondered herself if it wouldn't hurt her face from spending the whole damn day like that, frowning.

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“It is… For me, it is.” Y/N shrugged, didn't understand what this was all about. “It’s expressing to you what I feel. It's nice, it's normal to express what you... feel. In fact, what is 'normal'? I mean, the fuck is normal lately? It’s just love.”

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“To you, maybe, but not to me.” She took the towel that Y/N used with and put it back in its place. “I told you not to put the towel in there, but you keep doing it.”

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Y/N didn't say anything, she just wanted to know what was going on and no matter how many questions she asked, Natasha wouldn't speak until she wanted to. She was like that.

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“I feel like I'm drowning.” Finally the spy decided to let go, closing her eyes. “Sometimes you say it, and I- I don't answer it.”

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But far from being surprised, the brunette sighed. “I know.”

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���Then why are you still going on?” Frowning at her, Natasha turned to look at her.

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“I like feeling that, you know...” All Y/N did was shift awkwardly, crossing her arms. That necklace with a small red hourglass bounced off her chest.  “I like to listen to it, it's nice to be reminded that someone loves you.”

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“Yeah, well, it's making me feel guilty every time I don't want to say it!” Natasha snapped, couldn't even see her face.   She didn't want to see the sadness in her eyes, just wanted to be alone.

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Of course those words stabbed into Y/N's heart, it was a deep and agonizing pain but she clenched her jaw, trying to be strong.

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“If you want a fucking girl all clingy, so affectionate and lovey-dovey that’s not me, okay? That'll never be me.” Natasha swallowed and even though it was the hardest thing she ever did, she decided to end with the fear and the guilt.  “Stable and faithfull… I’m trying, but what you want? it’s… just not me.”

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Oh, Natasha's favorite form of self-destruction. ㅤㅤ Y/N’s tears didn’t stop falling, for a while, but she wiped each one of them.

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“Yesterday you asked me for a hug, and I told you 'no'.”  The redhead dared to look at her, and do her best performance.  “And I could see that it hurt you, and still, I did nothing. And you didn't either.”

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The redhead just smiled wryly and shook her head, without being aware -or maybe she was- that she was completely destroying her whole world.

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“Doesn't that tell you anything? And  of course, you got sad, you got upset, because you don't know how to take a 'no'.”

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Of course it was too much to take right now, Y/N opened her eyes wide and just licked her lips. What to say to all that? She didn't even expect it. Was just there to cook a delicious dinner for her girlfriend, who was coming back from one of the toughest missions of her life.

ㅤㅤ They started a relationship not too long ago, of course, a few months ago when Natasha finally accepted that she liked Y/N when someone else tried to hit on her. ㅤㅤ

The silence remained for a while until Y/N decided to walk towards the exit, taking her jacket. She wasn't going to respond the way Natasha was looking, trying to play the bad guy out of her. Or maybe play the 'you deserve better' card.

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“I know how to take a ‘no’.”  Y/N watched her out of the corner of her eye as she walked. If this was going to end, it wasn't going to be her fault.

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“I’m sorry.” Natasha tried, from her heart this time. The last thing she wanted was to hurt her but she was doing it anyway.

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Letting out an ironic and sad giggle, Y/N said, before leaving and closing the door,  “You don't have to say it.”

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Natasha sighed deeply and leaned against the kitchen counter, feeling that now the weight was even worse. But she would soon get better, little by little.

Because love was for children.

Watching out of the corner of her eye as the onion hissed as it began to burn, Nat just reached out her hand to turn off the stove.

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Two weeks passed since that night and Y/N hadn't stopped missing Natasha. Of course it was much more difficult when you had to run into the spy every morning, but moving some schedules, Y/N managed to find stability.

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Although Wanda tried to help and cheer her up, the agent only seemed to find peace when she was on missions. Besides, Wanda was happy with her new girlfriend, she didn't want to ruin that. Especially when Wanda had been through a lot, she deserved a little bit of happiness.

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Y/N took her bag and fastened the belt of the S.H.I.EL.D uniform, looking at herself in the mirror. The logo beautified her shoulder and increased the pride she felt. She was a good agent, she couldn't let the pain overwhelm her.

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She walked towards the hangar, where a quinjet was ready to transport several agents to Argentina. Apparently several terrorists who called themselves 'Watchdogs' were creating chaos causing several cities in the world to have a blackout, one of them, the city of Buenos Aires.

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The mission was simple, arrive, defend, kick asses, restore power. Arrest the terrorists, identify them and get more information from them.

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“Promise you'll take care of yourself.” Wanda asked as she walked with her best friend towards the quinjet, stopping in front of the quinjet's entrance.

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Y/N smiled tenderly, the circles on her eyes and her pale skin indicated that she had not been well for days, and although she swore that everything was fine, Wanda never stopped worrying.

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“I'll do it, mama hen. ” Y/N leaned down to place a soft kiss on her forehead and climb into the quinjet. She smiled at the witch one last time, trying to hide the sadness by smiling and being ‘the funny one’. “Take care, Wands.”

But the hours passed and a new red sun was born on the horizon. ㅤㅤ

The quinjet returned the next day, but the news were not the best. Steve and Natasha walked into the hangar towards the quinjet, which was opening its doors revealing the tired, battered faces, but above all the sadness in their eyes.

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Sam climbed out of the quinjet, feeling his feet heavier than ever with each step. The agents who survived walked directly to the infirmary or simply walked away from the scene because they knew exactly what was coming. And it wasn't good.

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“All good?” Steve sensed the seriousness in Sam and knew that, as he'd heard in his encrypted message, things hadn't gone quite right.

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“What happened?” Natasha frowned, seeing black bags and the American flag on them. Clearly, there were casualties in the mission.

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“They ambushed us, but we managed to beat them down.” Sam cleared his throat and looked down.  “Nat, I think you should come in. We need to talk first.”

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“Why? Where is Y/N?” The redhead tilted her head, looking for the presence of that woman but she didn't hear anything. “She stayed there? We told you to go straight back.”

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That broke Sam's heart and he sighed heavily. Even though he was always funny and tough, the man couldn't help but feel guilty. Steve noticed how teary those brown eyes were, he recognized that look anywhere.

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“We should go inside.” Steve nodded but Natasha shook her head, not understanding what was happening.

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“I’m sorry, Nat.” Sam said without further ado and placed a hand on the redhead's shoulder. Trying to show his support.

But Natasha frowned and quickly removed his hand, almost as if those words burned her, breaking her heart. He was definitely wrong, it couldn't be true.

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“W-What do you mean? Wilson, what the hell do you mean?” The russian spy exclaimed, looking at the quinjet, took a step to enter but Sam got in the way.

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“There were casualties in the team, the Watchdogs were waiting for us.” He spoke fast, tried to stop her like Steve but they couldn't.

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“Get out of my way.” She growled tried to keep going but Steve grabbed her arm.

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“Nat, don't do this to you.”

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“Get out of the way.” She slipped out of his grasp easily, Sam not even trying to hold her back anymore. She was the fucking Black Widow, and she was pissed. “I want to see her. Let me see her.”

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Nat simply stepped into the quinjet and stumbled, devastated.  

Three bags were in that place, three bodies and three flags. In one of them was the love of her life.

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“I'm so sorry.” Sam turned around so as not to see that heartbreaking scene.  “I know you were together before, but-”

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“But she left like a hero.”

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Two months ago...

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“Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies.” Y/N moved around the kitchen singing and dancing, one of her favorites without a doubt, that reproduced thanks to Friday.

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Natasha just watched her with some amusement and tenderness, her eyes sparkled just seeing that new joy in her life.

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Y/N approached and wrapped her arms around the redhead’s neck, looking at her with a unique devotion. “Tell me lies, Romanoff…” she whispered against those soft full lips before sealing the moment with a kiss.

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The brunette moved away and brought a spoon for her to try the sauce she had been working on for half an hour, and without hesitation, Natasha licked her lips. Y/N had a knack for cooking, no doubt.

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“Do you like it?” Y/N asked curiously as she stirred the sauce again and swayed her hips to the song.

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Without realizing that the gaze of the black widow did not leave her at any time. “Very much.” whispered the Russian.

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The scene was heartbreaking. Natasha knelt to the side of the bag, and her hands trembled before she unzipped it.

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Her beloved's pale face was paler than usual, the dried blood and the red hourglass necklace in her chest contrasted painfully. Her beautiful eyes were closed and no longer had that charming shine. That cheeky smile was gone. Now only a cold and lifeless body remained, just an empty shell.

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“Bring her back.” Natasha ordered and looked at Tony and Doctor Cho, who quickly arrived at the scene.  “Do whatever you have to do.”

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Tears began to fall down her cheeks, one after the other.  “Please.” She begged and her voice broke painfully.

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“We can’t.” Even Tony couldn't help but swallow and wipe away a tear. No one could believe what they were seeing. Not only was the life of a magnificent agent was lost, but Natasha Romanoff was completely broken, begging and crying.

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Wanda, who seemed to have caught the news, ran through the hangar towards the quinjet in desperation.

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“Fury did it with Coulson!” Nat exclaimed caressing Y/N's face gently, afraid of hurting her even more, but she felt so cold. Y/N was never cold, always warm.

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Helen Cho shook her head quickly, terrified and sad.  “That process i-is... it's impossible right now a-and it's really painful. We'd just make her suffer.”

ㅤㅤ

“I’m very sorry, Nat.” Steve murmured with utter sadness, turning to get out of the quinjet and leave her alone for a moment. To cry, to scream, to mourn.

ㅤㅤ

Desperate, Natasha turned her gaze towards Y/N and cup her face in her hands. Praying that she would wake up, that she would open those pretty eyes and everything was just a huge mistake.   “I love you. I love you!” The redhead wept uncontrollably.  “Please, say it, Y/N.”

ㅤㅤ

“I love you so much, моя любовь, please wake up.” Nat sniffled, leaned her forehead against hers, as they had done so many times. Nat held on to her body.

ㅤㅤ

She kissed her lips, but found them just so cold. She placed a hand on Y/N’s chest, searching for the heartbeat as they sometimes did. Well, Y/N used to. Nat only used to watch her.

ㅤㅤ

“Please, say it now. I beg you.” Natasha closed her eyes and allowed herself to mourn. Her lips, eyes and nose all red from crying. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

ㅤㅤ

But the painful silence was louder than ever.

ㅤㅤ

Well, I don't know if it's good but I needed to write this. Thank you if you got here and read me. 🌻 It's my first time writing about Nat. To be honest, I know she would be a cutiepie with reader but I needed the angst.

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Lucien’s On Fire MQ translation + video with sub EN (Part 2/3)

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for an MQ that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

On Fire MQ | Part 1 (1-2) | Part 2 (3-4) | Part 3 (5-6) | Moisturize ASMR

[Warning]: The content of this MQ is currently the most explicit compared to other dates and may not be suitable for individuals under the age of 17 (CN server). It is recommended that those who do not meet this age requirement refrain from proceeding beyond this point.

Part 1 & 2-> [Here]

✂———————–

[Subbed Video, TURN ON CC!]

✂———————–

—[Part 3]— Video Timestamp: [11:53]

After finishing the bedroom arrangement, comes a rare night of good sleep.

Upon waking up, sunlight filters through the blinds, dancing across the room. Lucien is dressed in plain cashmere pajamas, reading reports by my side.

Seeing me wake up, he sets down his pen and reaches out to hug me.

Lucien: [chuckles] Not going back to sleep anymore?

His pajamas is a bit cold, so I shift closer from under the covers to wrap us both in a blanket.

MC: Mmm, I've had enough sleep already.

I nuzzle my head into his embrace, my chin resting on his shoulder, rubbing against his small warm patch of skin.

MC: It's a bit chilly, last night seemed much warmer than now.

Lucien wraps his arm around my waist, freeing the messy hair that had been pressed beneath my shoulders while I was sleeping.

Lucien: There was a power outage in the early morning, the heating system was interrupted for a few hours.

I sit up groggily, reaching for my phone at the bedside, only to realize it had run out of battery last night and was already powered off.

Lucien hands me his phone, with a single-digit battery percentage remaining, displaying a power outage notification sent by the organizers late at night.

MC: "Temporary Notice: Power maintenance in the town. Estimated power outage from 5:00 to 12:00. Please make necessary preparations."

MC: Who can be prepared for this!

Subconsciously, I furrow my brow and mutter a complaint, but I immediately stop myself.

Yesterday, I promised to convey more positive emotions to Lucien. I can't ruin it now!

MC: Let it be, if there's a power outage, then so be it.

I flop onto the bed, then with a sudden inspiration, I lean over to rest on Lucien's shoulder and flash him a smile.

MC: Consultant Lucien, do you think the power outage is also arranged by the organizers, just like the "bedroom makeover"?

Lucien doesn't rush to answer. His fingertips touch the corner of my smiling mouth, tracing along the curve gently, as he murmurs softly in a low voice.

Lucien: [whispers softly] I adore the way your lips curve into a smile right now.

MC: Hehe, if Consultant Lucien could divulge a bit of insider information about this experiment, maybe I'd be even happier!

Lucien smiles noncommittally as he wraps his arm around my waist and lies down face to face with me.

Lucien: [chuckles] Unfortunately, I'm now a participant who's as clueless as you, Miss Experimental Subject.

MC: [doubtful] Hm? Really…

Considering the fox in front of me repeatedly pretended to be clueless, I look into his eyes, trying to discern some clues.

Yet, observing his calm demeanor, I faintly sense that he indeed hasn't displayed exceptional acting skills in this matter.

I turn my head slightly, then smoothly lie down against his chest, idly playing with the buttons on his cuff.

MC: What do you think we can do to pass the time?

I pout and look at Lucien, who has been watching me intently, his eyes filled with subtle amusement.

As our eyes meet, my desire to lazily lie in the arms of the one I love this morning outweighs all other thoughts.

So, I nuzzle against his chest, snuggling up to his familiar body temperature.

MC: I've got it, let's just enjoy the morning like this~ You can keep reading your report, and I'll just keep lying here in your arms.

The sunlight filtered through the blinds scatters upon us, casting a gentle honey hue on Lucien's irises.

Lucien: Okay.

He props a pillow behind my head, adjusting me to a more comfortable position against him.

The light is dim, peacefulness fills the air, and only Lucien's rustling of papers can be heard as he reads the report.

Last night, I washed and dried the newly bought bedding before going to bed. Since I didn't have fabric softener, I added a few bottle caps of shower gel into the wash.

The scent on Lucien's body and mine should have been the same as the bedding, but everything seems to be different when it comes to Lucien.

I prop up my chin and gaze at him, then lean my head towards his shoulder, gently sniffing.

The scent of shower gel mixes with the ink from the pen, the ink from the printed paper, the aroma of new furniture wood…

All the scents are warmed by his body temperature, flowing together like a stream merging into the sea, forming the embodiment of him at this moment.

I can't help but be filled with affection. I gently nuzzle against the exposed skin along the collar of his shoulder with fondness.

Lucien flips through two reports, then reaches out to touch my hair, his gaze bearing a questioning expression.

Looking into his calm gaze, I can't help but entertain thoughts of pushing things further. With a smile playing at the corners of my mouth, I press my lips against his skin and suck gently.

Lucien: Mm?

Lucien: This lady who enjoys the morning... Are you now in the mood for breakfast?

I release my mouth from Lucien's smoothly sculpted shoulder, and a faint, moist dark red mark appears. I reach out and poke at it.

MC: I'm not hungry, you can continue reading the report.

I stuff the report back into Lucien's hand. His eyes seem to have become a bit more moist, and his gaze slowly shifts to the spot where I had just sucked, then back to the report.

I obediently wait for a while, making sure Lucien's attention is on the report. Then, I press my lips against his skin again.

Starting from the dark red mark just now, I gently peck and trail kisses, tenderly gliding towards the two curved collarbones hidden beneath his collar.

The skin beneath my lips trembles for a moment, then quickly returns to calm. I raise my head to observe Lucien, whose eyes are still fixed on the paper.

I suppress the smile at the corners of my mouth and continue my attack towards the next spot.

My lips pass through the tightly buttoned lapel, landing on the side of his waist. My tongue gently swirls around, leaving a shiny, wet mark.

I part my lips and nibble on this "territory", leaving a faint red mark behind.

Lucien: [grunts sexily]…!

I’m like the greedy serpent in the Garden of Eden, having taken a bite of every apple, yet still insatiable as I look for ‘food’ everywhere.

Until Lucien puts down the report in his hand.

He grabs my restless hands on him with one hand, pinning them above my head, and gazes calmly at me with an inquisitive look.

Under his gaze, I show no sign of "repentance", and instead I chin up defiantly.

MC: Have you finished reading the report?

Lucien: Not yet.

MC: Then, will you continue reading?

He gently tilts my chin back, wordlessly locking eyes with me, his gaze deep and enigmatic.

The air in the room seems to have become humid imperceptibly, and the next moment, a scorching breath falls on my neck.

Lucien: [whispers] It seems studying my reactions is what makes you happy this morning.

He's very close to me, and the hot, moist flow of breath from his lips as he speaks brushes against the skin on my neck, causing me to shiver instinctively.

The murmurs from his lips at my neck quietly shift to my ear, tinged with a husky chuckle.

Lucien: [whispers hoarsely] To make this lady even happier, why not take it a step further?

After speaking, Lucien lifts the blanket, his shirt in disarray, with traces of my actions visible all over his skin.

Like water droplets splashing on white silk, a few scattered red marks slowly spread on Lucien's body, staining the surrounding skin around them with a crimson hue.

The smile I've been suppressing spills over my lips.

MC: Then, I'm in charge now.

I dodge Lucien's hand, which is about to pull me into his arms, and roll over to reach for the pen lying on the nearby report.

Lucien lets me undo the disheveled buttons. As the sunlight filters through the blinds, it becomes thinner, casting stripes of light onto us.

I take out the pen that I've been holding in my hand, its cold and smooth body gliding leisurely over the patches of light and shadow on his body.

As I pass over those conspicuous red marks, I deliberately press and twist the pen body as if sealing and stamping them down.

MC: With me doing this... how does it make you feel?

Lucien looks at me, his eyes filled with a smile that conveys his ease.

Lucien: [hoarsely] I like everything you do on my body.

MC: Uh-huh, wrong answer, not that one.

I twirl the pen in my hand, using the end that hasn't been warmed by body heat, lightly tapping his chest as if writing.

The icy touch noticeably catches Lucien off guard, causing his muscles to tense for a moment, and a light exhale escapes from his throat.

Lucien: [exhales sharply]…..

He looks up at me, the sunlight casts a narrow beam of light on his face below his nose, while his eyes, shrouded in shadow, appear even deeper and more profound.

MC: Do you have any new thoughts now?

Lucien: I'm thinking about your technique, it's like stirring flowers and plants…

Lucien: Gently stroking the branch, unfurling the petals and leaves…

Lucien reaches out, covering my hand holding the pen, his fingertips slipping into the gaps where a thin layer of sweat has formed, lightly clasping.

MC: [smiling and blushing] Mm~ still not quite right.

My lips linger on his hand for a moment, gently taking his fingertips into my mouth.

MC: I don't want your carefully crafted response…

Lucien's gaze momentarily freezes, and then his slender fingers curl, grazing over my tongue.

The small stimulation causes an involuntary moan to escape me. I struggle to contain the desire to completely indulge in it and release his fingers from my mouth.

MC: You... you haven't told me... what your body's senses are telling you yet.

I seem to have lost patience as well, so I swap the pen with my fingertips, letting my hands roam all over him.

The prolonged tension in his muscles causes fine beads of sweat to appear on Lucien's body. I'm using my fingertips to trace circles on the sweats, gazing at him intently.

A hint of confusion and hesitation crosses his face, yet he remains composed.

Lucien: Your fingers are a bit cold…

Lucien: The places covered by the blanket are warm, but my exposed skin feels a bit cold because of the air seeping in through the window crack…

I let out a satisfied sigh, as a stray strand of hair is brushed away by a slender hand. There seems to be an undercurrent of emotions in his eyes as he silently watches me.

Lucien: [hoarsely] Miss, what else would you like to guide me to say?

MC: I think…

Before I could finish my sentence, my waist is suddenly gripped tightly, and the world spins before my eyes as Lucien flips over, and pins me down beneath him.

Lucien: [whispers] You've been thinking for too long. So, next, let me be the greedy guide, okay?

My lips are pressed down slightly firmly, and between our intertwining breaths, the joy I've been suppressing surges up like a tide.

I no longer endure the soft moans at my lips, allowing my senses to indulge in experiencing every inch of pleasure.

MC: Mmh…

Lucien: [chuckles and kisses wetly] I think…. the guidance just now wasn't complete. I can make it more thorough.

His lips fall down again, and a slight pain makes my whole body tremble involuntarily.

Lucien: [bites and kisses gently] From here…

He raises his body upwards, his tongue and breath engulfing everything. And in that moment as our bodies merge, I hear him whispering intimately on my lips.

Lucien: [MORE wet kiss noises] To here…

My heart is so warm that it feels like it's melting, and I'm following his guidance, looking for places that make each other feel more pleasure.

The muffled laughter blends with our breaths, while the emerald green blanket draped beneath us.

The light entering through the blinds creates an uncertain interplay of light and shadow as our bodies intertwine; the only certainty lies in the touch of the other.

It's as if we are lying in the waving grass, undulating with only each other until dusk.

(T/N: ‘waving grass’ being used as a euphemism because the green blanket making wave underneath them is genius🤪 also, dang they're really going at it 12 hours non-stop from early morning to evening; rip his unfinished works, hopefully, it doesn't cost him his sleep-)

✂———————–

—[Part 4]— Video Timestamp: [21:37]

As the experiment schedule progresses, we gradually adapt to the occasional surprises and scares that the organizers throw our way.

Sometimes, we have to earn "laundry vouchers" through games, and just when we think there will be a bigger "surprise" the next day…

Apart from finding small gifts piled up at our doorstep, nothing else happens.

Thanks to these thrills, Lucien and I lead fulfilling daily lives in the small town.

And now, we are standing in the bustling and lively market, engulfed in the sea of people.

MC: Wow, is this fruit stuffed with dried fruit? It looks so delicious! And those sugar-filled snowballs, I've never seen them in Loveland City before!

I'm drawn to the sight of various delicacies, and when I snap out of it, my bag is almost full.

MC: Ahh, I need more bags!

Lucien's eyes are filled with my reflection, and he smiles lightly.

Lucien: If I were to give a mood scale, I'd give this little lady a very high score right now.

MC: Of course! Today is the last day of the experiment, and there won't be any more of those occasional "unexpected events"~

MC: And as a reward for all the hard work we've put in, today we can enjoy zero-cost shopping all day!

Lucien: It sounds like MC has some opinions about this experiment?

Recalling the beginning of accidentally joining the experiment and the process of various emotional experiments, I ponder for a moment.

MC: ...It's not that, but it's my first time participating in such a large-scale experiment, and I still feel like it's different from what I imagined.

MC: The organizers often arrange unexpected small activities and even give out gifts…

I recount a series of experiences from these days and come to a conclusion.

MC: Actually, it's not too far off from our initial intention of coming here for vacation~

MC: After all, isn't encountering odds and ends also part of vacation?

Lucien: From what you're saying, it sounds like optimizing the experiment model is indeed necessary.

Lucien reaches out and helps me pick up the cookies placed at the back of the stall, tossing them into the bag.

Lucien: Actually, I was involved in the original design of this experiment's model, but the model itself wasn't as interesting.

Lucien: Perhaps to increase interactivity and fun, the organizers optimized the model based on theory during its implementation.

MC: No wonder! With these "optimizations," even Professor Lucien couldn't figure out the organizers' "surprises".

The warmth of the sunlight fell on Lucien's face, warm and comforting, highlighting the smile on his face.

Lucien: [chuckles] I enjoy these 'surprises', they're worth leaving us with memories.

I raise an eyebrow, stuff an empty bag into Lucien's hands, lean in, and look up at him with a smiling face.

MC: [smiles widely] So let's create some even more special memories. Today's menu is in your hands to decide!

Lucien: Is this a test for my experimental subject, or is it a challenge for this "vacation town"?

(T/N: he called ‘cooking’ his experimental subject njddjndjndf how cute-)

MC: Perhaps it's both?

Lucien chuckles and smoothly takes the bag.

Lucien: [chuckle] It seems I can only accept the challenge.

Under the midday blue sky, the bright sun shines, and the warm aroma wafts from the food stalls, settling on Lucien as he walks around.

His consistently well-groomed hair is fuzzily tinged with light, making it fluffy and warm, giving him the appearance of a little fox going around and seeking food to store up before the winter.

We passed by various stalls, yet after half an hour, there was only one vegetable in Lucien's bag. I teasingly approached him with a bit of laughter.

MC: After wandering around for so long, how come you've only bought these lettuce leaves?

Lucien takes out the lettuce from the bag and seriously explains to me.

Lucien: [in a serious tone] This is hydroponically grown loose-leaf lettuce. The leaves are compact, and currently, it's the freshest produce I've come across.

MC: That water celery we just passed by also looked fresh, but why did you pick it up and then put it down?

Lucien: That one is soil-grown. In this season, hydroponically grown water celery has more moisture and better flavor.

MC: I didn't expect Professor Lucien to be so knowledgeable about vegetables. I thought...

Lucien seems to be amused by my comment; the corners of his lips curve into an almost proud arc.

Lucien: I just applied the experience of raising flowers and plants to vegetables, drawing parallels and adapting the approach.

Lucien turns around and walks to another vegetable store; it's also water celery, but the price has more than doubled compared to the one we saw just now.

I watch as he prepares to put other vegetables into the bag, silently choosing to avert my gaze from the price list.

MC: [sweating profusely] Ahem, it seems like we've bought enough vegetables. How about we go and get some meat?

In front of the butcher shop, the well-dressed Professor Lucien calmly speaks up.

Lucien: Boss, if we want to make dumplings, what type of meat is more suitable?

Owner: Oh, that would be the foreleg, handsome guy, this piece here is a good choice.

The owner points to a piece of meat, and before I can take a closer look, he picks up a knife and turns towards me.

Owner: How much do you want?

Caught off guard by the question, I feel a bit flustered and hurriedly think about the quantity.

MC: Less than one kg should be enough...

Owner: I'm busy right now, so I'll try to cut as few pieces as possible to avoid holding up the people behind you.

Lucien: Wait a moment, please don't cut yet. Is this foreleg meat?

Lucien suddenly speaks, leaving me a bit confused.

Owner: What do you mean? Is it not clear that I'm the one who sells meat?

Lucien takes the meat hook from the side and flips through the pork shoulder on the edge of the cutting board.

Lucien: The shoulder blade extends upward from the pig's front leg. When cutting, to make it easier, a portion of the shoulder blade meat is often cut together before further division.

Lucien: Here, there's no muscle pattern of the shoulder blade that aligns with the piece of 'foreleg meat' in your hand. Instead, it aligns with those pieces in the corner.

Lucien puts down the meat hook, smiling slightly as he squints his eyes, the curve of his lips gentle.

Lucien: There are fewer fascia in the muscles of the foreleg compared to the hind leg. I suppose the owner was too busy and accidentally took out the hind leg meat.

The owner's face turns slightly pale, quickly followed by an embarrassed smile as he hands over the genuine foreleg meat from the side, giving us a discount.

Owner: Oh, I must have been too busy! The meat looks almost the same anyway. Take it, and have a good day!

I glance at the price difference between the foreleg and hind leg meat, and can't help but let out a soft grunt.

MC: Boss, don't forget to treat yourself to a pair of glasses when you're making money!

I take the bag of meat and as I walk out, I playfully tug at Lucien's sleeve.

MC: I bet the boss thought he could take advantage of you since you don't buy groceries often.

MC: But our Professor Lucien is a genius, and the boss's sneaky little trick got ruthlessly exposed!

MC: How do you even know the difference between front leg and hind leg meat? It couldn't be some research experience, could it…

Lucien meets my curious gaze, his eyes revealing a hint of cunningness.

Lucien: In clinical experiments in neuroscience, we often deal with animal anatomy. Would you like to hear related stories?

I look at the pork in my hand and swallow.

MC: No, no need! Let's change the topic, shall we? Like... what do you think is the difference between buying groceries yourself and accompanying me to buy groceries?

Lucien ponders for a moment and quickly gives me an answer.

Lucien: The biggest difference is probably changing from an observer to a decision-maker.

Lucien: I need to think about the taste of vegetables and the texture after cooking. Whether you prefer them tender or crisp...

He sighs lightly, meeting my gaze with candidness. His brows furrow, as if analyzing some complex data.

Lucien: [sighs] ...This makes me a bit troubled.

MC: [laughs] Why does it sound like buying groceries is more challenging than conducting research for you!

I stand on my tiptoes, cup his face, and rub the furrow between his brows. Lucien chuckles.

Lucien: [chuckles] It's not really challenging, just might require a bit of courage.

Lucien: I need to personally seek out and prepare, delve into these bright, warm... sometimes a bit dangerous corners.

I can't help but chuckle softly as I help him carry some of the bags.

MC: But I really like seeing you like this!

Lucien: Mm, I also noticed that this little lady seems to really enjoy seeing my troubled look while grocery shopping today.

MC: Humph, because it's very cute and quite rare to see.

Lucien seems to have already anticipated my answer, and he winks at me.

Lucien: Have you noticed that this reaction is the opposite of the conclusions we reached about emotions a few days ago?

I pause for a moment, then quickly catch on.

MC: Right! Negative emotions are supposed to influence each other, but just now, I found you to be so cute when you seemed troubled.

MC: Maybe because I know these little troubles won't discourage you, but instead, they'll provide you with the pleasure of a challenge from another perspective~

Lucien tightens his grip on my fingers, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Lucien: In this light, those somewhat "negative" emotions don't seem so terrible, do they?

Lucien: The emotional fluctuations in our day-to-day lives are just a very small part of our overall happiness.

I smile knowingly, taking his hand as we head towards home.

MC: Then I won't push myself to be a girlfriend who's happy every single moment anymore.

MC: Let me just be the girl favored by Professor Lucien~

✂———————–

—[Memory Silhouette]— Video Timestamp: [28:41]

As the New Year approaches, the supermarket is even more crowded, with shopping carts loaded with goods weaving through the aisles under the decorative lanterns hanging all around.

Lucien emerges from the bustling crowd, purposefully striding towards the sparsely populated kitchenware section.

He stops in front of a row of pots and pans, carefully examining the product descriptions. His brow furrows involuntarily, so he decides to grab a few, preparing to feel them in his hands.

Salesperson: Sir, are you choosing pots? If you have a family of three or more, I recommend this one here. If it's less than three people, the one in your right hand is good.

The salesperson, who has been idle in the kitchenware section for a while, enthusiastically approaches, launching into a sales pitch about the features of several pots.

Salesperson: This is our best-selling item in the store! It features 16 cooking modes, comes with 3 types of pots, and you can even download our app with a vast collection of recipes…

Lucien squints as he listens to the salesperson's extravagant sales pitch, glancing down at the instruction manual in his hand.

Lucien: The so-called barbecue function seems to be just designing the lid of the pot as a grill pan, which probably won't achieve the heating power needed for a true "barbecue".

Lucien: Moreover, this pot has a relatively short warranty period, and the after-sales service centers are only available in select cities nationwide…

As Lucien calmly continues his inquiry, the salesperson's expression gradually stiffens, until they are left speechless.

Lucien pauses for a moment, then smiles and speaks again.

Lucien: However, it seems my girlfriend is using the same model. Could you please help me with the installation?

The salesperson hesitates for a moment, then visibly relaxes, quickly pushing over an oversized shopping cart, which Lucien politely declines.

Lucien: I only need one pot, no need for a shopping cart.

Salesperson: Haha, alright then, please carry it yourself. By the way, it's best to use a wooden spatula with this pot, do you have one at home?

Salesperson: If your girlfriend enjoys making soup, it would be best to have a matching wooden soup ladle…

Salesperson: For boiling soup, it's best to use a dedicated anti-scald stew pot with a safety power-off feature. After all, most household accidents tend to happen in the kitchen, and this is also for the safety of your loved one…

This time, Lucien listens in silence to the salesperson's “targeted promotion”, his gaze focused. His eyes land on rows of kitchen utensils, and he raises his eyebrows a bit, making a silent selection.

Lucien: I'll choose the spatula myself.

Lucien: Please fetch the anti-scald stew pot for me, and also…

Lucien looks towards the empty shopping cart not far away and taps his knuckles against the heavy kitchen utensils.

Lucien: Could you please bring that shopping cart over here?

From the stew pot to the chef's knife and then to kitchen shears... in order to create a safe and easy-to-use kitchen environment for her, the shopping cart is now filled to more than half its capacity.

Lucien: Apart from the kitchen utensils, I also need to purchase two sets of aprons and gloves, as well as kitchen-specific cleaning supplies…

Lucien: [chuckles helplessly] ...there's quite a lot to prepare.

Lucien glances at the time; it's almost been an hour. It's time to meet up with her.

Lucien: That's all, thank you.

As Lucien walks towards the checkout counter, he realizes that, for once, he's like everyone else in the supermarket, pushing a cart filled to the brim.

The level of meticulous preparation for a single cooking session is even more exaggerated than he had anticipated.

He wants to succeed, he wants the dishes to be more delicious, he wants... her to like them after tasting them.

Lucien: Falling into the trap of consumerism... is it because of this mindset?

Not far away, a familiar figure is waving at him. The closer they get, the more surprised the expression on that face becomes. Lucien can't help but laugh.

After she sees him, she will probably say that she just wanted to buy a new pot.

Part 5 & 6-> [Here]

[itsrorysstuff]

hey baby, can i request julien x jealous!gf reader angst to fluff? thank u sm ♡

I blushed when you called me baby 🤭 (do it again) anything for you.

RPF

Jealous!gf x Julien

It gets hard watching my girlfriend make out with someone who’s not me, especially when they do it so publicly. The hate is the worst, people on the internet say the meanest things “she’ll never look at y/n like that” or “Lucy and Phoebe are better for her anyway”it was starting to feel like that too. I mean I trust my girlfriend, I trust Phoebe and Lucy too, but it’s so damn hard watching it happen after every show. To make matters even worse, Julien and I had barely said anything to each other since tour started. I knew she was busy, and she made time for me when she could, I just don’t know what to make of it anymore. My head raced constantly with anxious thoughts, did she still love me? Did she still want me or want me on this tour?…did she still think I was beautiful?

I want her to absorb all of this love though, she deserves the whole world, who am I to stop her from receiving such love from people who adored her almost as much as I did. On the other hand, I missed my girl. And maybe selfishly, I thought that outweighed the other things. So I overthought it some more, meticulously planning out every word I’d say to her if and when I decided to bring this up.

One night, after watching a particularly heavy “Salt In The Wound” make out, I decided I’d had enough. Getting angry on the inside but trying to stay cool on the outside. Thoughts like “does she even consider me while she’s out there? Do I even matter to her in this circumstance? Did she read the hate I got? If so, did she just not care?” All thoughts were interrupted by a sweaty julien pressing into my side. “Hi baby, what’d you think?” She asked, I wondered if she even noticed this was the first words she’d said to me all day. I pushed it aside though, telling myself I had to talk myself down “it was amazing as normal” i said with a forced smile on. She looked at me weirdly “thanks…ready to go?” I nodded and took het hand as she lead me to the car. The car ride was yet again, silent. More thoughts came running through my head, it’s like I couldn’t stop them. Did she miss me like I missed her?

When we got back to the hotel julien immediately went into the bathroom to shower, I just sat down hunched over on the bed. Before I knew it she was out and I was still anxiously sitting and staring at the wall. Suddenly, words came out, I couldn’t help myself “Julien we need to talk.” I don’t know if I regret it or not, but she looks scared. “Okay…what’s up sweetheart?” She said, using a nickname she usually only used to soften me up. I sighed, “feel free to tell me I’m a selfish bitch, cause I feel like one, but this has to come off my chest. You’ve been neglecting me completely. I know you’re busy on tour, that’s fine and I’m so proud of you j, I really am. But it’s come to the point where you say 2 sentences to me per day, 3 if I’m super lucky. And it doesn’t help at all that you make out with your friends, but not me. Especially so publicly, do you understand how much hate I get from that action alone? And usually it wouldn’t bother me but under these circumstances…” I blurted it all out, so quickly I’m not sure she caught it all. She looked surprised, mouth hung slightly open as I said “what I’m trying to say is, do you still love me?” I asked, completely seriously. “Baby-what? Of course I love you. God of fucking course I do. I love you more than anything in the world. I-i I’m so sorry you even had to ask that” she said, pressing a kiss to my lips as a tear rolls down my cheek. “I’m so sorry my love, I’m so so sorry.” She said as she kissed my face “I’ll do so much better for you I promise, I never want you to question my love for you. It’s infinite my sweet, beautiful girl.” She said. “I love you so much. Thank you for understanding.” I responded. “Of course. You know you can always talk to me. I’ll work on talking to you more, I promise. And as for the hate, I’m putting out a statement on mine and the boygenius instagrams tomorrow” “you really don’t have to do that much it’s not-“ and than she cut me off with a kiss to my lips. “It’s a big deal. I don’t want people hating on my girl.”