#okay rant over i don’t expect anyone to read this i simply needed it off my chest!

[loverscrossmp3]

so glad i’m not fifteen anymore cause if i was expected to like gracie abrams the way they do i would kill myself

[buckyownsmylife]

Follow you - Chris Evans smut

The one where Chris becomes your roomate and finds out he has a domesticity kink... and more

Warnings: Smut, breeding kink, domesticity kink, friends to lovers, rommates au, pandemic mention, hair-pulling kink, daddy kink, cockwarming, kind of allusion to an age gap, but can be read as reader being into teasing chris

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Thanks to @mollygetssherlockcoffee​ for reading this over and helping me make it better! You’re the sweetest person ever!  this is for my own birthday celebration challenge! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them. Hope you guys like it!

Chris’ P.O.V.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” I’d been trying to convince her to close her laptop for the last two hours, unfortunately without any luck. She just glanced at me before returning to her document, and I groaned as I left the living room in search of what I knew we needed.

“Close the laptop and I’ll give you a sip.” This time when she looked up, she found me holding a bottle of my most expensive whiskey, the one she’d been dying to try ever since she first got invited to my place.

It was a tense moment of evaluation while she took in my offer and her workload, her head turning from her computer to me and then back to the device again, and I found himself growing anxious because of how desperately I wanted her company that night.

“Please?” I tried to convince her, even going so far as to pout - which at least earned me a giggle. I considered it a win, especially with the way it made my chest warm up. “C’mon, we deserve it! After the week we had?”

She frowned when she thought back on the stresses we had confided in each other for the last couple of days, and I watched with glee when she slowly closed her laptop, prompting me to wave my arms around in victory. “We?” She teased, getting up to stand before me with her arms crossed in front of her body, making me laugh.

“Alright, so maybe just you.” I couldn’t really deny that my work “problems” paled in comparison to hers. “Listen, I’m only trying to help.” She narrowed her eyes at me, reaching out for the bottle and unscrewing it before taking the sip I’d promised.

“Shit, this really is good.” A smug smile took over my face as I wrapped my arms around her, walking us back to the couch before making us fall over it.

“Only the best for you, babe.” I watched her roll her eyes at the pet name, snickering at how it affected her. I knew it made her giddy and she hated it, it’s why I insisted on doing it - or so I told myself.

Something deep inside of me whispered differently, though. I tried to ignore it. She was my best friend and we were going to be living together for the foreseeable future. No one knew when this pandemic would let up.

And lord knows that nothing positive had ever come out of my investments in romantic relationships. So every rational thought in my mind was begging me not to overcomplicate this. I couldn’t stand to lose her friendship, anyway. That’s why I had invited her to spend lockdown with me - my need to know she was okay, and be able to have her around whenever I needed to vent.

She was the only one outside my family who got my anxiety well enough to help me work through it when I was feeling bad, and she had even been able to prevent me from having panic attacks more than once.

I just couldn’t imagine going through this with anyone other than her. I simply hadn’t anticipated how fucking horny this period of forced sexual privation would make me, and I never expected her to become a willing victim to my needs.

But boy, once the liquor hit and she ended up over my lap, shivering as she rode my thigh without a care in the world, was I glad that she did.

“Is this what you like?” I asked, looking up at her with my mouth hanging open, unbelieving of how fucking sexy she looked as she used my body for her pleasure. I didn’t even care that my cock was straining against my jeans, begging me to move her on top of it. As long as I could keep enjoying the show, being a part of it, I was satisfied.

“I wanna learn it,” I pressed, moving my hands to hold her ass, squeezing it the way I’d always wanted to do but never allowed myself to dream about. “I wanna learn how to please you.” She made me feel something I hadn’t felt before, in any of my past relationships. There was attraction, of course, but there was also this deep, familiar feeling that made me feel at home. It made me feel safe, and with the help of alcohol, I was desperate to explore it.

“Ugh,” she groaned, letting her head fall back, drawing my attention to her breasts, the way they bounced in front of my eyes, unfortunately still covered. My mouth watered at the sight of it, wanting nothing much than to strip her bare and wrap my lips around one of her nipples.

“Don’t say stuff like that, Evans.” The comment threw me off, making me frown as I took a hold of the hair on the back of her head and yanked her to me, devouring her lips. They were soft - so much softer than I’d ever allowed myself to imagine.

“Why not?” I panted against her mouth once I was forced to separate from her taste of whiskey to search for some oxygen. She kept moving, her eyes hazy and glossed over, and it sent a pang of lust straight down my body when I realized it wasn’t completely due to the drinks we shared. There was also desire in there.

“You want to learn?” She asked, hands bunching up my shirt as she used her hold to grind against me faster. “Then fuck me, Chris.” She molded her body to mine, engulfing my lips once more as I laid her down on the couch, excited to have her underneath me - excited to see her naked body, explore it, get to know every little thing that made her tick.

I knew it would be a moment I’d forever remember, regardless of the amount of bourbon in my blood. I just never expected it to become something I was so eager to relive over and over and over again.

It was supposed to be a one time thing. When I woke up in the morning, I was ready to go back to being roommates. We were good at that. She was a morning person, by the time I woke up every morning, she already had breakfast ready for me, and then we’d go out to the backyard to let Dodger out together.

We’d sit and talk and then I’d go for a run - she’d have done her yoga already, while I was still asleep - I’d answer some e-mails, she’d work on her laptop by my side and the silence was just as comfortable as all of our late night conversations.

She’d sneak out to the kitchen and come back with a few sandwiches for our lunch, and then the rest of the day would go by with us doing whatever mundane task we had in mind, together even if we were doing separate things, and I didn’t feel suffocated.

I didn’t even run out of things to say. By the time dinner rolled around and I followed her back to the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes while she fixed us dinner - I wasn’t allowed to cook in my own stove, mostly because she was terrified of my food but hid it under the excuse of that one time when I started a fire - then we’d eat together, watch a movie together, talk until we fell asleep - always together.

I was shocked. It’d never been this way in any of my previous relationships. In fact, I was certain it was the reason why they had never worked. I’d given up on any realistic expectation of settling down precisely because of this: I just never expected to find anyone with whom a day-to-day life wouldn’t eventually grow boring.

It’d been three months and I still loved to wake up to her coffee. We still fell asleep every night side by side, too tired to move into different beds because we had laughed our asses off after skyping Scott.

And now that sex came into play in our relationship? I just knew there was no way I’d ever go back to being nothing but friends - or living in a place where she wasn’t the first person I saw when I woke up.

It sucked that it took a pandemic and a night of alcohol to make me realize that, but damn, was I grateful that I decided to open a bottle of whiskey that evening.

I kept waiting for the catch, the moment it would all go to shit, but it never came. Our lives resumed to how they used to be, only now I had this ongoing inner battle to not just bend her over the nearest piece of furniture when we were busy, and the ability to do exactly that whenever there was nothing else to do.

And for a while it was bliss. There wasn’t a nagging voice inside my head questioning this arrangement because it was theoretically perfect. I had a best friend, a roommate and a fuck buddy, all wrapped into one single person that I adored.

Life couldn’t possibly get better - until I realized that I wanted more. Talks of lockdown being over started and she had plans of going back to her place, of course, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from her.

I wanted to see my family too, but I wanted to take her with me. Introduce her to my mom, see her get along with my sisters. Witness how she’d be with my nephews and nieces - I knew how much she loved kids. And that’s when it hit me.

I’d given my heart to her. Somewhere between the morning coffees and afternoon runs, the nights where I’d rant about all of my silly problems and she actually listened to them - really listened, never making me feel bad about what could only be described as rich people problems.

All the innocent little gestures, and the not so innocent ones - when I discovered she was exactly the nasty slut I’d always dreamed of, the way she would randomly drop to her knees and suck me off, even while I was on the phone. Most times she didn’t even let me repay the favor. She just genuinely liked to blow me.

She also liked to play with me randomly, like when we were watching a movie and she mindlessly reached for my crotch, rubbing me until I got hard. It almost always ended in sex, and I just loved it.

I loved it, and I loved her, and the idea of her ever sharing this idyllic lifestyle with anyone else made me irrationally jealous.

And that’s how I knew it. I didn’t want to mess it up. But how could I not fuck this up?

Xxx

“Chris…” Her sweet voice called out to me, reaching my ears while I was hiding in my office, trying to get my thoughts in order so I wouldn’t just randomly blurt out what I was feeling for my best friend to my best friend.

To her credit, she didn’t try to force me to keep her company - but that only made me fall even deeper for her, leaving me a complete and utter mess while she went about her day as if nothing was wrong in the world.

“Yes?” I looked up to see her by the threshold, clearly reticent about invading my privacy. It made me smile, thinking back on all of the times my exes hadn’t been as understanding, even after I let them clearly know what I was needing.

“I made cupcakes, do you want me to bring you one?” The thought of her in the kitchen, baking a sweet treat just for me had my cock twitching in my pants. Biting my lips, I pushed away from my desk to finally get up and stretch my legs, taking advantage of the monitor to hide my hard-on.

“No, I’ll come eat them downstairs with you.” She smiled before leaving, and I soon trailed after her, walking into the kitchen to find the most delicious-looking little treats, just waiting to be devoured.

Much like her, I supposed.

I was reaching for one of them, already licking my lips in anticipation when something caught my eye, prompting me to raise my gaze and look at her again, but really look at her this time.

She was wearing an apron.

There was nothing inherently sexual about the damn thing, but the way she looked with it, going about her business in my kitchen like she owned the place… It just felt right, seeing her there.

And suddenly I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Y/N…” I started, leaving the cupcake back on the counter and brushing off the crumbs as I circled the kitchen island to go stand in front of her. She hummed before turning to meet me, smiling slightly to signal that she was listening to what I had to say.

But I didn’t know how to say it. So we just stood there, staring at each other until eventually her smile became a frown. “Chris, what’s going on?” I still couldn’t speak. Much to my absolute surprise though, she just sighed, wiping her hands on the apron while shaking her head, a knowing smile on her face.

“You’re stressed, aren’t you? You’ve been working so much, that’s why I thought the cupcakes would be a good idea,” she explained nodding towards the tray where her sweet treats laid. “They’re a reward and a break all wrapped in one delicious cake.”

The comment was like a punch to the stomach - or a scalding wave of desire rushing through my body, straight to my groin. The idea of her thinking about my needs and catering (quite literally) to them just did something to me, and I didn’t know how to explain it - I don’t think I understood it myself.

“But since they didn’t work…” she continued, blissfully unaware of the conundrum she had put me into. “I know something else that will definitely work.” And just like that, the woman dropped to her knees in front of me, reaching for my sweatpants before I could find a way to close the mouth that was hanging open.

“I guess I’ll grab a sweet treat for myself.” She looked so devious, small hand encircling my already pathetically engorged member, that all I could do was whisper an, “Oh, shit,” when she immediately wrapped her lips around it,  starting to suck me off without any preamble.

My fingers were white as I held onto the counter behind me to keep myself up. She looked so good, staring up at me with her lips wrapped around my dick, I felt like I was about to blow already.

Why did she have to be such a fucking tease?

“Oh, God,” I moaned when she managed to engulf the entirety of my member inside her throat, the choking noises getting to my head. My hand instinctively laced with her hair, first to hold her lips close to my navel, then to pry her completely off of my member.

“What’s wrong?” She questioned once she was able to speak, surprise written all over her features while I was still staring down at her slightly teary face and trying to find my voice.

“I-I have a problem.” There. I said it. I had finally made some progress in my goal to let her know what was going through my head. Only instead of curiosity, what I got was a confused expression from the woman still holding my dick, her eyes darting from my own to the member throbbing between her fingers.

“No, you don’t!” It would have been funny if I wasn’t so fucking frustrated. Yanking her by the hair, I complained, “Not that kind of problem!” pulling her to the living room so I could throw her on the couch, trying to ignore her moans of pleasure in the process.

I’d figured out pretty early on that she had a pretty serious hair-pulling kink, and if my plans of sitting down and having a level-headed conversation were ever in motion, they surely went out of the window the second she pulled my body down to cover hers and adjusted my cock so it would easily fill her.

“Son of a…” I groaned, letting my head fall down against her chest as the little vixen gleefully giggled underneath me, legs wrapped around my torso as she tried to thrust up and tempt me to move.

“Just wait a second,” I managed to reason, but she just shook her head.

“Fuck away your problem, Chris. Use me. I want you to.” Motherfucker. I really couldn’t catch a break with her. Just as she started to make me move again, my hand instinctively wrapped around her neck, lightly squeezing it just enough to get her to shut up.

“I wanna start a family with you,” I finally spilled, looking deep into her eyes as I tried to ignore that I was still balls deep inside of her. Her eyes widened, and now her mouth was the one hanging open.

I couldn’t really relish in it because she looked absolutely delicious and she felt stupidly heavenly to my throbbing dick.

A few seconds went by without as much of a reaction from her and I was about to pull out - despite still being achingly hard - but her legs held me tighter, stopping my plans of leaving her tight haven.

“You know…” She started to speak, a little out of breath, catching my attention as I finally gathered the courage to look her in the eye again. “When I first met you, I thought you were the epitome of a fuckboy.”

The unexpected sentence had me snorting, and then I just couldn’t stop laughing. Finally pulling away from her, she fixed her hair when she sat up and I did the same, shaking my head slightly as I rubbed my eyes.

Our own relative nakedness - well… mine, she was wearing her usual dress with no underwear under the damn apron - didn’t affect anything when I pondered over her words, until I decided to break the silence.

“I mean… I think I was?” She chewed on her bottom lip as she took in my response, analyzing it, weighing its validity in that gorgeous head of hers. I was nervous, but she hadn’t blew me off yet. And quite honestly? I’d do anything for that little hope that was growing inside of me.

“What changed?” Was her question, so unexpected I couldn’t help but question, “Huh?”

“What made you change?” It wasn’t an unwelcome inquiry, especially when the response became clear to me, lighting up my brain and warming my chest, spreading all over my body until I had no choice but to voice it.

“I realized I could have a future with you.” My smile was vulnerable but honest, and in her eyes, I could see that she knew that. When she threw one leg over my lap, straddling my hips, I allowed myself to breathe deeply again, leaning on the soft cushion while taking a hold of her ass.

“So, how are we gonna do this?” She non-nonchalantly asked, slowly rubbing herself against my still half-hard member. I groaned when I realized the implication of her words, knowing that the meaning paired with the feeling of her wet lips dragging along my cock would get it back up in no time at all. “You wanna do me right now?”

The brashness of the question made my eyes light up, as weird as it may sound. In that moment, it became clear just how perfect for me she really was, giving me what I needed exactly in the way I didn’t know how to ask for it.

“See? This is why I’m in love with you.” She rolled her eyes at that, making me laugh. I’d anticipated the gesture, I knew it’d take her longer to say it, but it was alright. The fact that she was willing me to give me a child was more than enough proof of her feelings for me, if her entire behavior ever since she moved in wasn’t already.

“Shut up and fuck me, Evans.” Throwing her back against the couch, she yelped in surprise when I took off my shirt and slapped the inside of her thigh, assuming my usual position of hovering over her smaller frame.

“Spread your fucking legs, darling. I’m gonna fuck you real good.” The way she bit her lip as I slowly penetrated her again showed me just how excited the prospect got her, and as I started to make good on my promise, her moans told me just as much.

“Holy fuck,” she commented as I pounded her ruthlessly, weeks of frustration and the rush of anticipation getting the best of me, and I was glad for the feeling of her nails biting into my skin because otherwise, I’d probably run over the edge of not even caring about her own pleasure as I chased mine.

“You gonna cum inside of me, honey? Make me a mom? Finally fulfill your dream of becoming a daddy?” Her words detracted me from my task of sucking bruises on the skin that was now mine to bruise, mine. I threw my head back, yelling a, “fuck yes,” as my hips sped up, desperate to fill her up, but I was determined to get her to cum before me.

“Say it,” she ordered, small hand circling my throat as best as she could, a throwback to what I’d done only moments prior. It wasn’t enough to choke me, but it did catch my attention. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Tears escaped the corners of my eyes as I blinked, the intensity of the moment overwhelming in the best of ways. “God, you are such a fucking tease…” She chuckled underneath me, giving my throat a squeeze before she raised up on her elbows to kiss my jaw.

“Better get used to it… daddy.” And just like that, I realized that I had yet another kink I hadn’t known about before her. Or maybe it was just her, and I was obsessed with the damn woman, painfully turned on by every little thing that she did.

“I’m gonna cum deep inside your little pussy, sweetheart,” I finally gathered myself enough to do as she asked me to. “You’re gonna belong to me forever now. Give me kids, make me happy. How do you like that?”

The mischievous grin she gave me told me everything. “I love it.” I knew this was her way of saying what she couldn’t yet voice, and I’d take it. I’d take anything she gave me, any chance I got to love this wonderful woman.

We came together, both riding our highs in deep ecstasy. I moaned when I felt myself empty all of my seed inside of her, incredibly excited about the prospect of starting our future together right then.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I cradled her face in my hands as I struggled to catch my breath, but she turned it to the side and pressed a kiss to my palm and I was breathless all over again. It was such a simple action, why did it get to me so much?

“You’re not too bad yourself, Chris.” I didn’t want to part with her warmth, so I just adjusted us on the sofa in a way that kept me inside of her, sighing contently as I realized I’d never have to sleep away from her again.

“I’m gonna stay right here all night.” I adjusted myself so I was resting my face on her boobs, perfectly happy to do just so, but by the tone of her voice, I knew she had a teasing smile when she called me an, “Old man.”

“And here I was, thinking you’d be able to go again.” Warmth filled my chest at the realization of just how badly she wanted me - just as much as I wanted her too. I was so damn ecstatic. Not even her pokes at my age would be able to affect me.

“Oh, darling… better get ready,” I warned as I adjusted myself to hover over her again, taking notice of the excited glint in her eyes, the way she bit her lip as she stared back at me. “I’m never gonna get enough of you.”

The next morning, I added a new kink to the list of random bits of information that were driving me slowly insane as I felt the overwhelming need to bend the woman that I now got to call ‘mine’ over the nearest piece of furniture and rail her until I had cummed deep inside her pussy: seeing her in my shirt while cooking breakfast.

Yeah, I was going to live a happy life by her side.

[babyboiboyega]

I can explain (Shangqi x f!reader)

Shangqi x f!reader

Prompt: “When everything’s going wrong, the mere thought of you makes it right.” + never wanting to pull away kiss

Content: a little angst, but more fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

Babyboiboyega’s Marvel Masterlist

A/N: this is my first ever time writing for Shangqi (or Shang-Chi), and I already have a lot of other ideas for this incredibly loveable character.

I hope you all enjoyed this!

A heavy sigh left Y/N’s mouth as she unceremoniously dropped onto her couch. The feeling of her limbs relaxing into the cushions almost prompted a moan of relief to follow the heavy sigh. It did, however, make her eyes flutter closed as she leaned her head back.

Y/N had been thinking of this moment the entire day. The moment when her week ended and her weekend began; a weekend of not having to deal with rude, angry-at-the-world customers who decide to yell at her because a privately owned publishing warehouse doesn’t print the book that they want. Or the customers who don’t check their emails for their tracking information and then get mad at her, for some absurd reason.

Another sigh leaves her mouth, and this time with the sigh goes her thoughts of work, entering the empty air for the weekend. 

But being off on the weekend didn’t exactly mean being absolved of texts and calls from fellow coworkers, ranting about customers, or even management. So when her phone’s ringer went off, signaling a new incoming text, she simply kept her eyes closed. She certainly had enough time to read and reply...but maybe later.

The text had already migrated to the back of her mind in the span of a few seconds...and then her phone went off again. This time, two quick “dings” sounded through her apartment. 

Her eyes opened before she slowly sat up, her phone coming into view. Before she could spare another though about her phone and it’s notifications, her hand quickly reached for the remote and pressed the power button.

She managed to flip through a few channels before her phone rang once more, and this time it was accompanied by a few knocks on her door.

Completely disregarding the fact that it was almost 11 at night and she hadn’t been expecting anyone, and being fueled by her now very obvious annoyance, it only took her a few strides to reach her door. In all honesty, she’d had no idea what she was going to say to whoever was on the other side of her door; but whatever had been ready to leave her lips died as soon as she opened the door.

“Shaun?”

She hadn’t been able to control the volume and surprise in her voice, and she saw his grimace in response. She couldn’t find it in herself to care if he didn’t like the volume in her voice; the very next emotions she felt surge through her body was...well, it was a cross between worry and anger. 

“Y/N...hey.” He had a sheepish smile on his face; one that showed off his dimple. One that she had to restrain from returning. But then she remembered the last time she had seen that same smile and the last time she had even heard from him. Her eyebrows raised incredulously.

“‘Hey?’ ‘Hey’?? That’s all...that’s all you have to say to me after being gone for...a month? And some weeks?” 

She could hear the hurt in her own voice, and it made her want to cringe at herself.

‘He could have been doing more important things than worrying about you’ is all that went through her mind.

Her arms crossed self-consciously in front of her.

“Please, let me explain. It’s… it’s actually crazier than you think.”

The hesitance on her part came from her nagging thoughts that flipped between “he was genuinely busy” and “he’s about to make up some absurd excuse for why he hasn’t spoken to you while also letting you down gently”.

“May I come in?” His eyebrows were raised as he gently asked for her permission. Y/N quickly nodded and stepped to the side before her thoughts could scare her too much.

His eyes stayed on her as he stepped past her, entering her apartment. She took a second to take a deep breath before closing the door behind him. 

She briefly wondered how her face looked as she turned to face him. Did she look as hurt and worried as she felt? Could he see her feelings on her face?

“I’m sorry for disappearing for...as long as I did. And I’m sorry for not reaching out at all during that time. But I can explain why.”

His eyes followed her figure as she walked slowly around her kitchen counter. He made no effort to hide the pleading look in his eyes, and he only began talking when Y/N raised her eyebrows from across the counter. 

“Okay. Just...bare with me.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed and more questions filled her mind as she watched him take a breath as if he were bracing himself. 

Y/N hadn’t known what to expect when he had started talking, but she definitely wasn’t expecting a story filled with martial arts, trained assassins, ancient organizations, soul-sucking demons, and dragons. 

Even after he had explained everything, his eyes watching and waiting for her reaction, she still couldn’t find the words to express herself.

Her body was frozen in its same position, and her eyes were wide and staring right at him. As the silence stretched between them, he couldn’t help grimacing slightly once again.

“Also, my name isn’t really Shaun. It’s Shangqi.”

That last piece of information seemed to finally shake Y/N out of her stupor, as she blinked quickly and let out a quick breath. 

“I...I don’t know what to say.” In all honesty, all of this was kind of making her head spin, and it was evident in the way her breathing picked in just the slightest. 

“W-What exactly do you say to someone who’s just saved the world? ‘Thank you’? ‘I owe you my life’- because, I guess, technically, I do owe you my life. Because of you, I still have my life- or my soul.”

At her rambling, Shangqi’s expression shifted from one of wariness to relief to a little worried. It had only just crossed his mind that he was worried that she wouldn’t believe him, and not worried about how she would receive the information.

She believed every word that had just come from his mouth, simply because she knew that he wouldn’t lie about something like this. She knew that he wouldn’t lie to her… at least she hoped he wouldn’t.

“You don’t have to say anything. I...I just needed you to know why I was gone. The thought of letting you go one more second thinking I just...left you was driving me crazy.”

A humorless laugh forced its way through Y/N’s lips. 

“Yeah, thinking I had driven you away was driving me crazy too.”

Before she could even regret her words, her eyes were drawn to Shangqi, whose head was shaking quickly. In a few steps, he had walked around the counter, coming to a stop a few feet from her. 

“That was never the case, I swear. You could never drive me away, not even if you tried.”

At the minuscule smile that appeared on her face, he risked taking another step forward. 

From where he stood, he could smell faint traces of her favorite perfume that had slowly worn off during her day. Her favorite perfume had quickly become his favorite scent, simply because it reminded him of her. 

From where she stood, she could easily see the faint signs of exhaustion on his face. No doubt from the strains of the last month and a half. It made her want to reach out to him. 

“Every second, from the moment we left, all I could think about was coming back to you. Even while staring into the face of a-”

“A mega soul-sucking demon?”

The quiet laugh that left his mouth seemed to weigh on her body, but not with pressure. Instead, all she felt was warmth, and it coursed through her veins with the power of 11 suns.

“Yes,” there was laughter in his voice as he responded, “even while staring into the face of a mega soul-sucking demon.”

As he spoke, he had gradually moved forward until taking a deep breath would easily have their chests brushing against each other.

Y/N couldn’t keep the tremor out of her voice as she spoke, her eyes flickering between Shangqi’s.

“You...you really thought of me when you were saving the world?”

Her eyes fluttered closed as his hand raised and gently cupped her cheek. Soon after, she felt pressure from his forehead connecting with hers. Without hesitation, her own hands lifted, coming to grasp at his sides, desperate to pull him closer.

His breath fanned across her face as he spoke, and it made her hands tighten.

“When everything’s going wrong, the mere thought of you always makes it right.”

His words were quickly swallowed by Y/N’s lips pressing against his with fervor. The hand that was on her cheek gently titled her head back as he kissed her back with just as much passion, while his other hand wound around her waist. They both pulled at the other, as if they couldn’t get close enough. 

The warmth that had been coursing through her veins quickly turned into leg-numbing electricity the longer their lips were connected. Her eyes were closed, and so were his, but they could both see the other’s face behind their lids, surrounded by the stars their presence created. 

The only thing that could pull them apart was the need for air, and even then, as their foreheads connected and their lips stayed hovering over each other’s, they breathed the same air.

Shangqi’s words were shaky as he spoke, his thumb rubbing circles into her skin.

“You make everything right.”

**********

Once again, I hope you all enjoyed this! I would take requests for this character, but I still have a ton of requests for LOK....

But maybe sometime in the near future!

In the meantime, I would appreciate it if y’all would interact in any way with this! Comments, criticism, questions, etc would be amazing, as would reblogs, but even just liking this helps!

Stay safe, y’all!

[nothere-notthere-nowhere]

Long Nights

Word Count: 1883

Genre: Fluff I guess? A little angst if you squint?

Pairing: Wanda x Fem!Reader

Request:  Hi! How are you? I loved so much Oblivious and Your Wanda, they are both so amazing and I was wondering if I could request a fic? a romantic Wanda x femreader, something like Wanda recently joined the team and she doesn't like y/n because she thinks y/n goes clubbing too much with Bucky but the truth is that she was a winter soldier like him, so Bucky goes out with y/n at night to help her redeem herself and then Wanda finds out? Thank you so much and I love your writing!! - Anonymous

A/N: First request done! Thank you for reading and I hope this is what you wanted :)

“Long night?” Natasha smirked at your yawn, using two hands to hold her mug.

“Something like that,” you joked back, grabbing the freshly brewed coffee from her hand and taking a sip. You heard a light scoff and turned to see Wanda regarding you with an annoyed look in her eye.

“Sorry, did she make this for you?” You asked. You had a habit to just take things from the older redhead.

Instead of a response, Wanda rolled her eyes before making her way out of the kitchen.

“Did I do something?” You asked Natasha, who was still staring at the coffee you’d stolen from her. 

“I don’t know, she’s probably just filled with teen angst still.” Natasha grumbled, grabbing a new mug.

“C’mon, Tash, that’s not really fair.” You told her. “She just lost everything. And she’s not a teen.” 

“We’ve all lost everything, Y/N.” Natasha deadpans. “Twenty-two is basically a teenager, by the way.”

“Cut her some slack,” You laughed. “She’s probably still getting used to this place.”

“Whatever,” Natasha dismissed. “Steal my coffee again, and you’re gonna lose a finger.”

“You say that every time.” You laugh.

---------

“Buck, you ready to go?” You asked him, walking out to the common area. You were dressed in your signature black leather jacket and ripped up skinny jeans. Your staple, in a sense.

“Yeah, let me grab a jacket.” He clapped you on the back as he walked past.

“You’re going out again?” Wanda’s voice nearly startled you. She was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed.

“Uh, yeah?” Your response came out as more of a question.

“Figures.” She rolled her eyes, turning to head back in the direction of her room.

“Okay, why is she so upset with me?” You ask Bucky when after she leaves.

“How should I know?” He laughs. “Come on, we better go.”

It was a long night, trying to make amends for all of your crimes was difficult. Bucky understood, he’d been through pretty much the same thing. But that didn’t make it any easier for you to relive the awful things you’d done to people. 

Especially when you arrived at the house of a frail old woman, who’s only son you’d ruthlessly murdered. He was her caretaker. So, Bucky helped you to do small things for her, paying for a nurse and grocery shopping. But tonight, the nurse looked at you with sadness in her eyes. 

“She doesn’t have much time left.” She told you. “She keeps asking for him. I don’t know what to tell her anymore.”

The poor old woman had a multitude of illnesses, the most prominent being her dementia. So, hearing the old woman calling out for her dead son…. You weren’t exactly sure what to do with yourself.

“It’s my fault, Buck.” Your voice broke on the walk back home. “He’s the one thing she can remember and he’s fucking dead because of me.”

Bucky knew better than to interrupt. You didn’t see reason in times like these.

“I’m a monster.” You continued. “No matter how many people I help, it can’t erase the past!”

“No, you can’t.” He told you, knocking you out of your rant. “You can’t erase the past. That’s why you’re trying to make up for it. Paying for an old woman’s healthcare won’t bring back her son, you’re right. But it counts for something.”

“I feel awful.” You tell him. “I can’t get them out of my head, sometimes. Does it ever go away?”

“I don’t know.” His somber tone reminds you that he, too, is struggling with this. 

“You can go back,” you clear your throat, “I’m going to take a walk.”

“You sure? It’s late.”

“Yeah, I won’t be long.”

Bucky squeezes your shoulder comfortingly before walking off in the direction of the tower. 

You’re not sure how much longer you were out. But eventually, the crisp air was drying the tears on your cheeks and you knew it was time to get back to the tower. There was no point wallowing in guilt in the middle of the city.

“Back so soon?” Wanda’s bitter words stopped you in your tracks. She was standing by the sink, glass of water in hand.

“Not-” Your voice cracked. “Not tonight, okay?”

Wanda’s face falls briefly, her mouth opening like she wanted to ask what was wrong. But you were out of the kitchen before she could speak.

-------

You rolled out of bed late the next morning, cursing under your breath as you searched for some clothes to throw on.

“You’re late,” Natasha walked into your room, extra coffee in hand.

“I’m aware.” You threw your hair up into a ponytail, throwing on running shorts while Nat lounged on your bed.

“Clint’s already waiting for you.” She informed, picking up a book from your bedside table.

“Better not keep him waiting then, huh?” You mutter, taking the mug of coffee as you made your way out of the room. 

“Bucky said you were out later than normal last night.” She said, giving you a pointed look.

“Natasha,” you warned. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Her eyes are soft, face full of genuine concern.

“Yeah, Tash, I know.” You give her a small smile to soothe any worries.

“It’s about time you showed up!” Clint teased, tossing you a baton. Natasha squeezed your shoulder briefly before walking over to where Wanda was waiting for her on another mat. 

The morning passed slowly, Clint getting the better of you more than not. You were tired and slow. The older man teased you relentlessly, poking fun and putting you on your ass.

But, at some point, as you picked up your leg to kick Clint in the side, you forgot to hold back your strength, sending the blond man flying to the side.

“Oh my god!” You heard Wanda exclaim as you ran over to Clint.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry, Hawk,” you rushed out. “I wasn’t paying attention! I’ve just been so tired. Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry, I’m okay.” He chuckled, groaning a little as he moved to stand up. 

“Are you sure?” You asked, offering a hand to help him up.

“Yeah, kid, I’ve handled worse.” He limped off the mat, leaving you to roll your eyes at his term of endearment. You were easily fifty years older than the man, but you still looked to be in your early twenties, which Clint loved to call attention to.

You heard a light scoff and glanced over to see Wanda glaring in your direction.

“Okay, what’s up?” You ask her. The attitude was getting old.

“You’re lucky this was just training! What if this was a mission?” She all but exploded on you. “You value a night out at some shitty club with who knows how many girls more than the safety of your team!”

“Leave her alone, Maximoff.” Natasha cut in from nearby.

“Why should I?” Wanda spits. “She clearly doesn’t care about anyone but herself!”

Natasha steps between the two of you, the only thing stopping her from defending your honor being your hand on her shoulder and a gentle “Tasha” as you pull her away from the brunette.

“You’re right, Wanda.” You nod. “There’s no excuse for causing harm to a teammate. That’s on me.”

Wanda simply rolls her eyes bitterly and leaves, muttering something about checking on Clint.

“Why do you let her believe that?” Natasha asks, exasperated.

“She’s right, Tash, there’s no excuse for hurting a member of the team.” You tell her.

“There’s a reason you’re out so late most nights.” The shorter woman reminds you.

 “And Wanda doesn’t need to know.” You respond in the same tone. “Besides, she’s just being protective of Clint. You know how close they’ve gotten since Sokovia.”

Natasha just shook her head.

-------

“You’re seriously going out again?” Wanda’s jaw is clenched as she stands, arms crossed, by the door.

“Uh,” You stutter, “Yeah?”

“Unbelievable.” She storms off.

“She’s kinda cute when she's angry like that.” You joke with Bucky.

“You like her, don't you?” Bucky elbows you lightly.

“What?”

“That’s why you won’t tell her where you go.” He nods, putting it together in his head as he speaks. “You like her.”

“Hey, man, I don’t know about all that. She doesn’t like me though.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You grab his arm to stop him as you walk on the sidewalk.

“Why else would she care so much about you going ‘clubbing?’ She’s jealous.” He tells you like it was obvious.

“You think so?”

--------

When the two of you return to the tower, Wanda approaches you. She’s fidgeting with her fingers and biting her lip in that cute way she does when she gets nervous. Bucky claps you on the back, wishing you a good night, though the look on his face says ‘good luck.’

“Can I talk to you?” Wanda asks.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You nod, expecting her attitude.

“Natasha told me.” She says.

“Fuck-” 

“I’m so sorry for judging you.” She cuts you off, her words rushed. “Even if you were out clubbing, it was none of my business. I just.. I was so angry that I was so drawn to this person who didn’t seem to care.” 

“You’re drawn to me?” You smirk at her.

 “Unfortunately.” She jokes. “Please tell me you got more out of that.”

“Yeah,” You laugh, “I’m sorry for not telling you. I just… If I’m honest, I didn’t want you to think badly of me.”

“Have you forgotten where I came from? I don’t think I have the right to think badly about anyone’s past.” 

“True,” you laugh again, “But I don’t want pity either, you know?” 

“I don’t pity you.” Wanda says, her hand resting on your arm. “I admire what you’re doing. The way you’re righting your wrongs.”

“It's the least I can do for the pain I caused these people.” You tell her, dropping the eye contact.

 “Well, it’s admirable.” 

“Back to this drawn to me thing-” you start.

“Absolutely not.” She pushes your shoulder gently, face burning as she does.

“You said it!” 

“And we’re not going to revisit it.” 

“I’m drawn to you too, if that helps.” Your hands find her waist, pulling her close to you. 

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it.” She remarks.

“We don’t have to.” You shrug, savoring the feeling of her hands on your shoulders, her touch light, almost hesitant.

“So what?” 

“So, if you're drawn to me, I’m drawn to you… I think we both know what we should do now that doesn’t involve any talking.”

Wanda’s breath hitches at your words, her face mere inches from your own. 

“And what would that be?” Her voice is quiet, eyes glancing at your lips.

“Well,” You start to lean in. “This whole drawing metaphor, I’ll go get some paper. You grab the pens.”

“You’re infuriating.” She giggles at your response. 

“You like it though.” You tell her, finally leaning in. Your lips catch hers and she all but melts under your touch. Her lips are soft, plump. You can faintly taste her chapstick. She pulls back after a moment, resting your foreheads together.

“You’re right.” She giggles. “I do like it.”

[cqlfeels]

@lansplaining encouraged me to finish this random meta nobody asked for, so let's talk about Meng Yao, Meng Shi, and 孟母三遷 (mèng mǔ sān qiān), a proverb about good parenting.

A warning: this is super long (even for me!) and is less quality meta and more my ADHD brain jumping around a maze of loosely related ideas. Proceed with caution!

Let me start by briefly going through why I decided to write this, because it’s important. In haunting Meng Shi’s tag in my starvation for Meng Shi content, I’ve multiple times come across the idea that Meng Shi pushed Meng Yao too hard, that she should’ve been more careful with teaching him to seek his father’s approval at any cost, and that she was too naïve. I’ve never reblogged this kind of post because 1) I personally think it’s rude to go out of your way to ramble about how much you disagree with someone on their own post and 2) if this was an isolated incident I wouldn't care either way, so I didn’t want to direct this rant at anyone in particular. It’s more to do with a tendency, primarily (as far as I can tell) from fans who haven’t had much contact with Chinese culture, to oversimplify Meng Shi and make her relationship with Meng Yao slightly disturbing, and I think part of it is due to CQL basically cutting out her entire storyline (so fans simply don’t have info about her to assess her fairly) and part is due to misunderstanding what a good parent is supposed to act like in the context of Ancient China.

[Of course, Ancient China is not a very useful historical concept, not any more than “ye olde Europe” - things change a lot based on time and place - but you know. It’s fantasy. Extremely broad trends are okay in this case.]

Anyway, the idea behind the posts I mentioned is, basically, that Meng Shi (usually through no fault of her own) is to blame for Meng Yao’s obsession with power, since his desire for approval was inherited from lessons she taught him. Just to start with, I’d argue that Meng Yao isn’t power-hungry as much as he craves security and respect, but that’s a different meta. Let’s assume that she really did teach him to be Like That. Was she wrong to do so? I’m not looking for “does that make for a happy, well-adjusted childhood?” or “would you raise your own son as Meng Shi did?” - I’m trying to figure out, would she have been considered a bad mother in the context of the society she lived in? I don’t think she would’ve.

It is surprisingly hard to find texts about the obligations of parents in Ancient China. Their main obligation is to raise filial children, but I feel like that’s not very useful: whether or not parents are good parents, children are expected to be filial, so a child being filial really says more about the child than about the parent. Maybe the parent completely missed the mark and society at large was what taught the child to be filial!

We can assume, of course, that parents were to raise good people, and that by learning what a good person looked like, we could figure out whether the parent was successful, but once again, I feel like that’s pinning things on the outcome, not on the process - the best of parents can end up with an awful kid and vice versa.

While thinking about all this, it took me a frankly embarrassing amount of time to remember the story of Mother Meng and Meng Zi, but once I did, it wouldn’t leave my mind - in part because the Meng here is the exact same Meng of Meng Shi and Meng Yao (yay! fun if useless parallel!), and in part because this is a story about how a woman can successfully raise a son by herself.

Okay, so important note: one of the most influential ancient Chinese thinkers is Meng Zi (孟子 Mèng Zǐ), who is known in the West as Mencius. If you've never heard of him - he's perhaps second in importance only to Confucius. When Mencius was still a young child, his father died, so he was raised by his mother, who is usually known only as Mother Meng (in Chinese, 孟母 Mèng Mǔ.)

Mother Meng's story is told in Biographies of Exemplary Women (列女傳 Liènǚ Zhuàn), which for around 2000 years beginning around the 18th century BCE, was the most commonly used book used to educate women. The book is divided into sections, each one showing a different way women could be honorable and good. Mother Meng's story is told in the Maternal Models section (母儀傳 Mǔ Yí Zhuàn.) The story has a few parts, some of which I'll quote, always from Kinney's 2014 translation.

Before I go on to quote it, though, I'd like to establish that Mother Meng's story is so, so famous that even if Meng Shi had never read this particular book, I'm almost certain she would've been familiar with at least the outlines of Mother Meng's story. I'm not cherry picking a suitable chapter from the book, I'm literally going with the most famous story in it because Meng Shi would be most likely to know this one if she knew no other story.

Okay, the first part of the tale takes place when Mencius is a young boy and Mother Meng is a widow raising him.

The mother of Meng Ke of Zou [a different name for Mencius] was called Mother Meng. She lived near a graveyard. During Mencius’ youth, he enjoyed playing among the tombs, romping about pretending to prepare the ground for burials. Mother Meng said, “This is not the place to raise my son.” She therefore moved away and settled beside the marketplace. But there he liked to play at displaying and selling wares like a merchant. Again Mother Meng said, “This is not the place to raise my son,” and once more left and settled beside a school. There, however, he played at setting out sacrificial vessels, bowing, yielding, entering, and withdrawing. His mother said, “This, indeed, is where I can raise my son!” and settled there. When Mencius grew up, he studied the Six Arts, and finally became known as a great classicist. A man of discernment would say, “Mother Meng was good at gradual transformation.”

According to the translator's footnote, "gradual transformation" is "a childrearing technique, whereby a child is morally formed through daily exposure to correct models of behavior."

From this story comes the proverb 孟母三遷 (Mèng Mǔ sān qiān) - "Mother Meng moved three times." It's come to mean that a parent - especially the mother of a male child - should spare no efforts to provide an environment that will give their child a good education, paying particular attention to what models are surrounding them.

I'm sure I don't need to say if Meng Shi was at all familiar with this proverb (and she would probably be), she must have been very stressed out over literally raising her son in a brothel. (Here I must mention sex workers in ancient China were often essentially owned by the brothels, so literally "moving three times" wasn't really an option for Meng Shi even if she could miraculously pick up another trade.) Meng Shi did however at least try to surround Meng Yao with the accomplishments appropriate for the son of a cultivator:

Xiao-Meng, are you still learning those things lately? [...] The things your mom wants you to learn, things like calligraphy, etiquette, swordsmanship, meditation… How are those things going? [...] His mom’s raising him as a young master of a wealthy family. She taught him how to read and write, bought him all those swordsmanship pamphlets, and even wants to send him to school.

Meng Yao actually talks a little bit about “those swordsmanship pamphlets” in the only time in canon he directly shares memories about this mother:

Lan XiChen, “Your [guqin] skills are also considered quite fine outside of Gusu. Were they taught by your mother?”

Jin GuangYao, “No. I taught myself by watching others. She never taught me such things. She only taught me reading and writing, and bought a handful of expensive sword and cultivation guides for me to practice.”

Lan XiChen seemed surprised, “Sword and cultivation guides?”

Jin GuangYao, “Brother, you haven’t seen them before, have you? Those small booklets sold by the common folk. First jumbled sketches of human figures, then deliberately mystified captions.”

Lan XiChen shook his head, smiling. Jin GuangYao shook his head as well, “All of them are scams, especially to fool women like my mother and ignorant children. You won’t lose anything by practicing them, but you definitely won’t gain anything either.”

He sighed in a rueful way, “But how could my mother have known this? She bought them no matter how expensive they were, saying that if I returned to see my father in the future, I had to see him with as much competence as possible so that I don’t fall behind. All of the money was spent on this.”

See what’s happening? Meng Shi cannot physically take Meng Yao to cultivators, but she spares no efforts in giving him the closest thing she possibly can -- figuratively, we might say she moved three times.

Of course, these booklets don’t work, but as Meng Yao says, how could she have known this? The cultivation world is very closed off - think of how the entire Mo household gathers to see Lan juniors, and how Wei Wuxian mentions once that “Cultivation families, in the eyes of common folk, are like people favored by God, mysterious yet noble.” Not just noble, but mysterious. That tracks, too - I mean, they live in inaccessible households and mostly leave to night hunt or visit each other, neither of which is an activity that would allow commoners to get much more than an occasional glimpse of them.

Now, if Meng Shi doesn’t even know that a pearl for Jin Guangshan was just a trinket, if she doesn’t know even the wealth of a major sect, how can she read booklets and decide whether that’s genuine cultivation or not? All that she sees is a chance for Meng Yao to be surrounded by the ideas and skills of the people she wants him to emulate - cultivators - and therefore she does everything she can to get him that chance. Mother Meng moved three times.

Okay, but maybe the argument is not “Meng Shi shouldn’t have pushed Meng Yao to cultivation” but rather “she should’ve pushed him, just not too hard." To that, I present another tale from Mencius' childhood:

Once, when Mencius was young, he returned home after finishing his lessons and found his mother spinning. She asked him, “How far did you get in your studies today?” Mencius replied, “I’m in about the same place as I was before.” Mother Meng thereupon took up a knife and cut her weaving. Mencius was alarmed and asked her to explain. Mother Meng said, “Your abandoning your study is like my cutting this weaving. A man of discernment studies in order to establish a name and inquires to become broadly knowledgeable. By this means, when he is at rest, he can maintain tranquility and when he is active, he can keep trouble at a distance. If now you abandon your studies, you will not escape a life of menial servitude and will lack the means to keep yourself from misfortune. How is this different from weaving and spinning to eat? If one abandons these tasks midway, how can one clothe one’s husband and child and avoid being perpetually short of food? If a woman abandons that with which she nourishes others and a man is careless about cultivating his virtue, if they don’t become brigands or thieves, then they will end up as slaves or servants.” Mencius was afraid. Morning and evening he studied hard without ceasing. He served Zisi [a great scholar whose grandfather was Confucius] as his teacher and then became one of the most renowned classicists in the world.

Notice that Mother Meng moved three times to ensure Mencius would have the highest of aspirations - to become a scholar. But just aspiration isn’t enough. Not by any means. Now that Mencius is actually studying, Mother Meng is willing to take an extreme action to ensure he's taking it seriously. Mencius doesn't have a father to smooth his path to success. He has to learn that aspiring to greatness isn't enough. He'll have to put in the effort as if his life depended on it. And if he doesn't persist in his hard work, everything he's done thus far will be useless. Sounds like a lesson imparted on young Meng Yao, doesn’t it?

A lot of fandom rage towards Meng Shi would apply to China's Best Mom Contender, Mother Meng. She gives her son big dreams, and teaches him how to go about achieving them in a society where failing is easier than succeeding. Yes, it's fair to say that Meng Shi taught Meng Yao to refuse to settle for anything less than being “Jin Guangshan's son, a respected cultivator.” Yes, it's also fair to say that she probably didn't allow him much time to play like children his age did. But unfortunately, in the world of MDZS, poor children probably wouldn't get to play anyhow, the difference is that they'd usually be working, not studying. Studying is a privilege! It’s a privilege Meng Yao could not afford but was given to him anyway, through his mother’s many sacrifices. We can even say that while she was alive, Meng Shi was trying to ensure Meng Yao would one day have a better life, at the expense of a fun childhood - and that's very Mother Meng of her, whatever our modern Western sensibilities might have to say about that.

Finally, I’d skip other tales (which show Mother Meng and an adult Mencius) and go straight to the poem that ends the Mother Meng section:

The mother of Mencius

Was able to teach, transform, judge, and discriminate.

With skill she selected a place to raise her son,

Prompting him to accord with the great principles.

When her son’s studies did not advance,

She cut her weaving to illustrate her point.

Her son then perfected his virtue;

His achievements rank as the crowning glory of his generation.

I’d like to focus on the last verse - “His achievements rank as the crowning glory of his generation.” All that Mother Meng wanted was for Mencius to not completely ruin his life, but he became great. You can so very easily see a parallel with how Meng Shi hoped Meng Yao would be a cultivator but he became Jin Guangyao, Chief Cultivator, styled Lianfang-zun, one of the Three Venerable, hero of the Sunshot Campaign.

Of course you can say “Jin Guangyao did many Very Wrong Things to get there, though!” Which, sure, okay, fair point. How many and how wrong depends on which canon we're discussing, and your own interpretation, but there’s no version of the story in which Jin Guangyao is 100% an innocent child uwu. But blaming that on Meng Shi is just... straight up weird? I don’t see anyone going “If Jiang Fengmian hadn’t adopted Wei Wuxian, he’d never have dared become Yiling Laozu!” and that’s pretty much the same logic. Would street kid Wei Wuxian have invented a new type of cultivation if he had never been taken in by the Jiang? Probably not, but raising undead armies is very much not something Jiang Fengmian could’ve predicted. In the same way, how could Meng Shi have predicted that teaching her pre-adolescent son “You are the son of a cultivator, act like one and earn your place in society” would’ve ultimately resulted in innocent deaths? How could she predict “You’re not destined to having the same horrible life I did, you can get something better than this” was a bad thing to teach? I quite honestly don’t know.

Finally, I'd like to point towards a much flimsier evidence that Meng Shi did great as a parent. And that is Meng Yao’s love. Nie Huaisang at some point comments Meng Shi is someone who Meng Yao "cherishes more than his life," and I think his assessment is correct.

Even putting aside the fact he built a whole temple to get his mother to reincarnate into a better life, and even putting aside how he refuses to flee the country without her remains, there's still crystal clear evidence that Meng Shi must've done something right. Because a lifetime of people using his mother to bully him doesn't seem to have made Meng Yao resent her. Had their relationship not have been very strong, odds are he'd feel bitter and/or ashamed of her. That doesn't seem to be the case. He's attached to her even decades after her death.

I want to be very careful with equating mutual affection with good parenting, though. When I was a rather rebellious teenager, my mother (in typical Chinese fashion) used to say that parents and children don't have to love each other as long as they're dutiful to each other, by which she meant that a parent-child relationship isn't informed by warm and fuzzy feelings, but by whether you'd be willing to do anything for each other. Specific to my case, she meant "I don't care if it makes you hate me, you will do as you're told because that's what's best for you." (That may also be the reason why people more familiar with Chinese culture see the Jiang family less as outright abusive and more as #complicated, but that's another meta.)

Whether your kid wants to hug you every time they see you is of no consequence to traditional Chinese thought - raising them to be the best they can is all that matters, because at the end of the day, you won't be around forever, but you can definitely set up your kid's life so that it goes smoothly and virtuously. How that's accomplished varies depending on many factors, but to have the goal be "I want my child to love me" rather than "I want to raise my child right" would've been considered selfish as hell.

So even if all that Meng Shi had given Meng Yao had been stern lessons about the need to go get his birthright, she would've still have been considered a good mother!! In fact, she would've been doing everything she was supposed to do, under extremely difficult conditions! (Remember the importance of environment? That Meng Yao grew up to want to be a cultivator despite having probably never even met one speaks wonders about Meng Shi's childrearing powers!!)

But just based off how over the top Meng Yao's filal dutifulness is, I'd go a step further and say that even as she did the impossible, she was also loving enough to inspire genuine affection. This is complicated because children who have present fathers could expect their mothers to be tender with them. The first century BCE text 禮記 Lǐ Jì or The Classic of Rites says that:

Here now is the affection of a father for his sons - he loves the worthy among them, and places on a lower level those who do not show ability; but that of a mother for them is such, that while she loves the worthy, she pities those who do not show ability - the mother deals with them on the ground of affection and not of showing them honour; the father, on the ground of showing them honour and not of affection.

But when the father figure is lacking for any reason, the mother must abandon her tenderness because someone must guide the child, and without a father, the role falls to the mother. A single or widowed mother had to be very careful to not smother their children with affection and raise useless, spoiled kids, or so it was thought. (The presence of Qingheng-jun and Lan Qiren is why Madame Lan can be so affectionate with the Lan boys, by the way - if she was raising them by herself she would've been expected to be much more practical. AUs where she just gets her kids and runs away could do very cool things with this idea. But I digress!)

Where was I? Oh, okay. Because Meng Yao seems to not just respect, but actively miss her, it seems that Meng Shi somehow managed to deal with her son on the ground of both honor and affection, to paraphrase.

So basically, all things considered, it seems not only would Meng Shi have been considered a great mom (if people could look past her being a prostitute, anyway) but she also went above and beyond the bare minimum. She truly spared no efforts on any front to make sure her son had everything your average gongzi would have - someone to teach him and someone to love him, access to education and confidence in his birthright. That she couldn't actually make him a cultivator, that she couldn't actually raise him in a proper home with no one being cruel to herself or him - that's immaterial. Even Mother Meng couldn't control what her neighbors did, only what she taught her son! The key point is Meng Shi tried. She did everything she could to educate her son right. You couldn't ask more of her, and quite honestly, you should probably be asking less.

Of course we can't err on the other extreme and say she was Perfect. Given MXTX only ever writes flawed characters, we can safely assume that if we'd known more about Meng Shi, we would've seen many flaws. Indeed, just the fact she didn't teach Meng Yao the guqin when he apparently wanted to learn it might point to some conflict we don't know enough to speculate about (maybe she focused too much on cultivation when Meng Yao's interests lay elsewhere? Maybe she wasn't able to sufficiently shelter him and he felt it'd be a burden to ask her to teach him anything? Maybe maybe maybe, go wild with your fics.) Nevertheless, I would never hold a female character to a higher ideal than a male character - if the male cast of MDZS can be a hot mess and still be admirable for what they're trying to do, then so can Meng Shi.

At the end of the day, when I look at Meng Shi - and I've made myself a document with all the references to her in the novel canon so I could easily contemplate her life and character - all I see is a woman every bit as determined and resourceful as her son, willing to do everything it took to raise her little boy into the sophisticated and ambitious man he became.

Finally, here's a fun little parallel that I'm 100% sure was unintentional but I still love. I said Meng Shi couldn't have moved three times. She couldn't, but I think maybe she taught her son he was worth moving three times for. Qinghe Nie. Qishan Wen. Lanling Jin. Isn't that super fun to think about?

Alternatively, tl;dr: Oh My God I Can't Believe We're Blaming Women For The Actions Of Their Adult Children In The Year Of Our Lord 2k21, Meng Shi Was Doing Her Best, Chill!

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - PhantomsPhine’s Writing Is Less Than Phine

For: @sailor-toni @everystarstorm

Paulina is a wee bit obsessed in all honesty, and while she might not be exactly good at it, she’s fine taking out said obsession on the written word while making others have to witness it

Jazz had been sorting what of her final papers for the year that she hadn’t already handed in, when she caught one of the younger students sort of… glancing at her nervously, shifting on her feet even.

The girl was outright beautiful, with long black hair, near-perfect skin, and expensive perfectly colour coordinated clothing; meaning she could only really be Paulina. Didn’t Danny have a crush on her for a short while? Like most of the silly boys at this school? Yeah she’s fairly certain he did; at least he was definitely over it. From what Jazz knew the girl was less than Danny’s type and was very much shallow; at least according to all of Sam’s ranting. She was a pretty face and that was apparently it; Jazz didn’t believe that of course. What she does think is that maybe the girl wanted people to think that; some people put everything on their looks and don’t want to be seen as anything more.

Turning to the girl and quirking an eyebrow, “what’s bothering you? Do you need any university advice or help with one of the teachers?”, Jazz was well aware that she had very little in the friend department, outside of Lillian all anyone really wanted with her was her brains. Just like all anyone wanted with Paulina was her looks; though Jazz’s pretty sure Star and Kwan are genuine friends to her, which is good. Everyone needs genuine friends, even if she didn’t use to believe as such.

Paulina shifts a little more and twirls her hair daintily. The younger girl had perfected the cute act, Jazz will give her that. Paulina walking over and making something of a show of ‘mustering up her courage’, not that Jazz can’t sense how fake the act was. “You brainy types write a lot right?”.

Jazz nods, wondering where this is going. Test writing? Essays! Job or University applications perhaps? How to professionally sign off on emails? What she didn’t expect was for the younger to hold out her phone, decorated in a custom-made 3d pink candy case, with Ao3 on screen.

“What am I doing wrong?”.

Jazz taking the device and eyeing the user name, PhantomsPhine, oh! Was she writing fanfiction! Well that was certainly a wonderful pastime and hobby, self-fulfilling and the act of writing it and reading it would improve anyone's reading comprehension and writing skills; vocabulary too! Scrolling a bit with a hum, making a point to not outwardly wince, she was… not exactly gifted with the written word. The spelling was fine, spell check likely being involved, grammar was… okay, but the word choice and paragraph structures were not great. It was hard to tell who was speaking and when, their tone even harder. There was a lot of ‘wall of text’ going on, which for an essay is fine, for online absolutely not. The ‘“we should probably get up”. “Yup”. “So”. “Fine”.’ line is particularly confusing. There was also a lot of ‘.”,’ and ‘.”.’ which was simply strange looking. The general word choice was, as Danny would say, rather cringey.

But she nearly chokes, smiling slightly, when she finally scrolls past an actual character name: Danny Phantom. This was self-insert romance! Oh Danny would be so embarrassed. But well, self-insert lent itself to being inherently groan-worthy. But she could still offer the girl some help… and then bother Danny about this later. Sitting down at a desk and gesturing with a smile for the younger girl to do the same.

Paulina glances around quickly first, likely making sure she wasn’t going to ‘been seen with the financially worse off’. Paulina plucks back her phone, practically showing off her manicured baby blue nails, and scrolls on her screen quickly before pushing it back at Jazz, “look at this! They’re so mean! To me!”. And Jazz sees why, exactly, Paulina had come to her: a negative review. A really scathing one actually.

‘Get off of here, no one needs to see more horrifically written dribble from some crushing loser who thinks they should get the privilege of writing just because they can type on a keyboard. Do you even know what grammar is? A dictionary? Are you five? If you somehow actually are five then whatever, your parents should take your phone away before you embarrass yourself further. And this dialogue? What cringey hallmark movie teen even talks like that. Do you think not using character names is ‘quirky’, god give me Twilight over this!’.

Jazz frowns, now this was simply mean. Unnecessarily mean. Shaking her head, “people like that give shame to all readers and writers. Unbelievable”, looking to the younger teen, “ignore them”.

Paulina pouts a little, lip wobbling in intentional cuteness, “but… it’s not very good”.

Jazz shakes her head, “No one is good when they start something new. Especially teenagers. If this was publishing quality then I’d tell you that you were truly gifted”, smiling, “sure there is much to be said for natural talent, which I will admit you don’t have”. Paulina twirls her hair a little at that. “But practice wins over natural gifts, particularly when it comes to the arts. Creative writing, drawing, photography, dancing; they’re practice based more than anything else”, shifting and leaning towards the girl some so she can see the screen where Jazz is pointing, “the technical mistakes are simply an awareness thing. Like these periods inside dialogue followed up with periods and commas outside of the dialogue is just a grammar error”.

Paulina shrugs, “I think it looks prettier having the, um, punctuation outside of the dialogue quotes on both sides and not just one”.

“Then get rid of the more grammatically correct punctuation inside the speech”, drawing ‘“…and”, character smiles, “hi…”’ on a bit of paper, “do this instead. Grammar barely matters with free online for fun writing like this. If people don’t like it, ignore them. Write for you first”.

Paulina smiles and hums to herself, “that does look better… prettier”.

Jazz nods to herself, pointing on the screen to a bit when she had written… Phantom elongating his tongue -which was not something she had ever needed nor wanted to read- swallowing a little to seem less weirded out, “and maybe learn more about ghosts, I can tell you that Phantom can’t actually do that; at least not like that at the least. Simply making things more accurate will make it better and it will help you keep things consistent”.

“Oh! Well I guess you would know that”.

Jazz ignores the slight jab. Nodding instead, “and drop using ‘said’ so much, you’re better off not using that word at all than constantly. The dialogue markers already tell the reader that a character is saying something, you don’t need a word to tell them that. Us things that give tone instead. Have them smile or laugh or smirk or giggle. Definitely don’t do more of this ‘she giggled, said, “oh you fox.!”.’. When someone writes a character giggling before saying something it means they are speaking with a giggle, so the ‘said’ is entirely redundant”. Paulina nods along eagerly, well at least she was listening.

…

The two girls manage to talk for a full half an hour actually. Jazz can tell the other girl isn’t exactly used to genuinely paying attention for long periods of time. On learning. Paulina smiling almost pinched, before grabbing her phone rather rudely and standing up, “well thank you bunches, but I should probably go. Star’s probably wondering where her Paulie is!”, skipping to the door before looking back, “you tell no one”.

Making Jazz laugh lightly, “I’m not the gossiping type”.

“Oh I know”.

-

Jazz sitting for a bit after the girl left before snickering and laughing into her hand. Poor Danny! That girl had it hard for him. Half of him specifically. She is absolutely telling him. And Lillian. She might not be a gossip but that doesn’t mean she keeps everything entirely to herself. Especially when it was a sister's duty to pester their little brother.

-

It takes her all of five minutes to find Lillian, grinning at her friend who quirks a ginger eyebrow at her. “Well you seem chipper?”.

Jazz nods, “oh yes. One of the underclassmen wanted some help with creative writing, and actually listened to my advice!”, and beams. It was really satisfying in all honesty.

Lillian bumps shoulders with her, “good on them, girl. It’s great when others actually want to learn from you”. Jazz nodding readily, well aware that Lillian wanted to be a teacher someday.

Jazz leaning over to whisper a little, “and all they write is self-insert Phantom fan-fiction”. Lillian actually blushes furiously at that and makes a scandalised look before shaking her head, “that poor whoever. Was it at least creative?”.

“A little too creative”, and winces. Lillian wincing in return, “oh gee, sorry for your brain then”. Making Jazz laugh lightly, “honestly? I think I’d actually love watching my parents read it, just to hear them jump between ranting about inaccuracies about ghosts to the simple fact that it’s romance about a ghost”. Lillian laughs with her readily, easily agreeing that would be something to behold. Either way, the two head off to their university prep class.

---

Jazz corners Danny in his room, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe, “so, you know how a vast majority of Casperhigh have crushes on you. On Phantom you”.

Danny groans actively, putting on a show of looking to the ceiling and slouching dramatically, “oh Ancients do I ever”, turning to her, “why?”, sounding more than a little suspicious.

Jazz smirks at him, “oh no reason, someone just wanted a little help writing some very interesting self-insert Phantom fan fiction”.

“Oh end me”, glaring at her, “why would you actually help them do that?!?”.

She rolls her eyes, “believe me, it was hard to read. But I am not about to discourage someone’s interest in creative writing just because my little brother’s famous enough to be the subject matter”.

He throws a pillow at her.

-

Regardless, when Jazz checks to see what new fic PhantomsPhine had posted, maybe due to a desire to simply check in on someone she advised, she’s happy to see there’s already a little improvement. It’s less visually painful… but reading about someone literally snuggling her baby brother's ghostly self was still mentally painful. But at least the writing itself has improved. Small wins.

Having also overheard Danny crying out, “Paulina why?!?”, one night. Also brought a smile to her face, she knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself but look. He pestered her constantly, she was going to get him back here and there.

End.

Prompts: Paulina begins to write self insert x Phantom fanfiction. But she is not a natural writer and after someone leaves a bad review she goes to Jazz for writing advice. and Jazz has friends

[wrathandgreed]

(I hope requests are still open) So ive been thinking. How about the brothers reaction to MC taking a large step away from them when ever one of them raises their hand up. It could be as simple as a high five. MC used to be in a abusive relationship and is paranoid about getting hit

Note: (For the record, I don’t know if you sent me this on purpose - I’ve never done requests; I’ve literally just put out my very first OM headcanons. But I figured I could try. I’ve never been in an abusive relationship, but a number of my friends have. I really hope I can do this one respect - if anything about this is not on the level, please let me know! Also, if I missed a trigger warning in the tags, or tagged this wrong, let me know. Also, for the record, I tend to like soft!Brothers and I really wanted them to try and be better - not put the onus on MC to “get over it” or anything.)

Second note: After writing this, I’m not sure that most of these guys would be a good choice for an abuse survivor! 

Third note: I am NOT good at keeping things short and, as usual, I went overboard with Asmodeus. Like, it should be its own fic at this point. But write what you want to read, right?

Warnings: references to domestic abuse, both physical and verbal. References to suicide baiting. Uncensored swearing.

~5K words

Lucifer

A strange choice; his perfectionism and exacting behavior sometimes make you remember how it was back in the human world; everything had to be JUST SO….or else.

And he’s threatened to kill you. Twice.

But there’s something inherently decent about him - and you live for the rare moments he laughs.

His perfectionism usually isn’t even about you, so you just kind of….ignore it.

You’re doing some of your RAD homework in Lucifer’s study.

It’s quiet there.

And, while he won’t do the work for you, he’ll definitely help when you’re stuck.

Also you can give him tea and soothing when he (inevitably)  gets upset at his paperwork - Mammon’s bills, Asmo’s bills, Satan’s bills (hey, dark magic books are expensive).

You start hearing the shifting and muttering that herald the beginning of the rant.

You gather the tea and walk towards his desk.

“Devil’s sake!” Lucifer suddenly snaps out, slamming hand on his desk as he reads yet another ridiculous piece of paper.

It’s not at you, the anger isn’t at you, you KNOW it’s not at you, but you freeze anyway.

Slammed hands on desks, punched holes in walls, hands on you, always hands - 

The cup of tea hits the floor and you’re out of the room before Lucifer can even look up.

He’s seen it all in your paperwork - the police reports, the restraining order, the lists of injuries - so he puts it all together before his study door closes behind you.

He knows better than to go after you immediately. You’ll want some solitude, some quiet on your own, to steady yourself a little.

If he goes after you now, it might frighten you more. Looks like hunting.

You need to know he’s calm, that he’s not acting or reacting out of emotion.

He takes his time cleaning up the spilled tea, straightening his papers.

When he shows up at your room, he has a mug of hot chocolate.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before he can say anything. You made a mess in his study, and he’s such a stickler for everything being neat. He was angry before, but he’ll be even more angry now.

“No, I’m sorry,” he returns, and offers you the chocolate.

(You blink once. Has the Avatar of Pride ever apologized before? If so, it was never in your hearing.)

The two of you talk quietly for a time. He insists that you don’t need to apologize - ever. He insists that, while he appreciates the tea-and-break routine, it’s 100% not your responsibility to control his anger. It’s his. He says that his anger isn’t good for him anyway (just look at Satan) and he needs to take a break when that hot feeling starts. 

Maybe he should start scheduling breaks; setting timers on his D.D.D. so that he no longer works long enough at once to let it all get to him.

He doesn’t want you afraid of him.

Mammon

Mammon is pretty much the only demon who HASN’T threatened your life. He often sounds irritated, but he’s never even sounded angry at you.

If anything, he’s a mush and an abuse victim himself. So he gets where you’re coming from, and tries really hard.

So you shouldn’t be afraid of him.

But….he moves too quickly. He’s constantly jumping from one idea to another, one topic to another, one emotion to another. And that’s just emotionally.

You can’t trust where his hands will be. Ever. And that’s not a sex thing.

Sometimes, his protection of you makes you feel safe. If anyone hurts you, Mammon will hurt them a thousand times worse.

He’s funny, and his hands on you are gentle, and once you tell him about your past, he tries really hard not to go back to his “stupid human” habit, because it hurts your feelings.

But sometimes, his protection feels like obsession. Why were you talking to that guy? C’mere, you’re MY human.

Then, inevitably, the tug on your hand or arm or waist, pulling you closer.

It starts simply enough.

You’re playing video games in his room. He’s not as much of a gamer as Levi, but he enjoys them.

Especially ones where you can be competitive or drive cars really fast.

He’s been getting more and more excited, coiled like a spring. And it’s from enjoyment, not anger, but that level of energy, in your experience, explodes at some point.

You get quieter, but that only makes him more boisterous. He wants you to join in the fun! C’mon MC, did you see that?! It was awesome!

After a really impressive win, he shouts in triumph and suddenly his hand is in front of your face for a high-five.

You recoil and hit the floor, crab-crawling backwards before you can stop yourself.

His look of complete confusion, in different circumstances, might be funny. He actually looks at his hand like he doesn’t recognize it.

He drops to the floor too, “Babe? What’s wrong? Y’okay?” And he reaches out a hand towards you.

When you flinch, he gets it.

He sits on the floor, stuttering out apologies, not even finishing one sentence before starting another. He makes sure he’s cross-legged, leaning back on his hands - non threatening, leaning away, hands not hidden, but not prominent, and in a position it would take him time to move from. 

When you start crying, he can’t maintain that pose and crawls towards you, pulling you into a hug.

If you resist, you know he’ll let you go. And that’s why you just curl into him instead, crying out on his shoulder while he holds you close - but not tightly.

“I jus’ need ya to talk to me….let me know if I’m gettin’ to be too much. I know I’m loud. Just….. jus’ remind me, I’ll never be mad.”

Leviathan

Boy already has anger problems.

Envy’s kind of prone to it, you know?

On the one hand, he literally attacked you over a piece of TSL memorabilia.

On the other, he’s generally harmless the rest of the time.

He’s meek and shy and terrified of touching you - so, 95% of the time, you feel super safe with him.

When you wake with a nightmare, when something jump-starts your fear response, he talks you through it, easily abandoning whatever game or anime he’s involved in.

He’ll only touch you when you ask, or when you reach for him first.

But then there’s the MMOs.

You know you should leave when he starts getting mad. Not in a victim-blame sense, but for your own mental health it’s probably not a good idea to be around him when he raids.

He ALWAYS gets mad.

You’re sitting in his room, so involved in your handheld that you forget it’s his raiding night.

(Usually you make study plans with Satan, or shopping plans with Asmo on his raiding nights. You don’t want him to give them up; he enjoys them, but it’s not good for you to be around.)

After finally completing a tough level, you pop your headphones off just in time to hear Levi swear loudly.

You go still as a string of swear-filled trash talk fills the room. Things you’d never expect shy, needy Levi to say. 

You know it really is just trash-talk - the threats of violence are just too absurd. Rip off their arms and use their own fingers to bowl their skull like a bowling ball? Really?

Also this is LEVI. Levi? The demon who needed you to taunt Mammon about his credit card because he couldn’t do it himself? He might be Admiral of Hell’s Navy and all, but he’s not exactly threatening.

You get to your feet, a little shaken but ready to just walk out of the room. It’s raid night, and this is why you don’t hang out on raid nights. You’re not comfortable around other people’s anger.

You’re halfway across the room when Levi suddenly shouts in frustration and throws his controller on the floor.

And you’re out the door.

Levi just glimpses you as he’s reaching to pick up his miraculously-unshattered controller from the floor.

“Henry?” He calls out, just a second too late.

With only one moment of hesitation, he logs out of his raid and goes to follow you.

You had less than ten seconds head start, but it takes him almost twenty minutes to find you, sitting out in the garden, gazing at nothing.

“MC?” He calls quietly. He doesn’t want to sneak up on you.

A single blink, and the tiniest flash of fear - he left his game to follow you. 

Calculation: extreme concern - or extreme anger. 

Conclusion: Undetermined.

So you wait.

“Are you ok?”

Okay, so not mad. “Aren’t you raiding?” You ask, instead of answering. You’re not ok, but you’re also not in the mood to talk about it.

“I, uh, h-had a, uh, power outage?” Even he doesn’t sound convinced, and you snort. Levi only has three modes: simple, stuttering, and verbose. Thankfully he goes with simple. “You ran out. I was worried.”

You debate brushing his concern off, but he deserves better than that.

“I’m not good with anger. Even if it’s not directed at me.”

“Oh.” Levi pauses as he considers. He knows the basics of what’s happened. “I - I mean, I could, you know, NOT - “

“No,” you say quickly and lean in to kiss his cheek. “You don’t have to change anything. Do your raids, make stupid threats to stupid players. Just….warn me to leave first?”

Levi nods, but he skips the rest of his raid to stargaze with you in the garden, arms wrapped around you from behind as he points out different Devildom stars and constellations to you. You get a lecture on how Devildom stars are used in Devildom sailing. It’s actually kind of interesting.

Satan

Okay, seriously? The Avatar of Wrath? Author speaking here, I literally can’t picture a worse combination than an MC who’s still recovering from domestic abuse to date the AVATAR OF WRATH.

Like, yeah, he has good control over himself, but he also loses his temper in a moment’s notice.

He has CANONICALLY tortured people for calling him strange.

He flips out with no warning and destroys parts of the house and his brothers just let him do it because he’s too powerful to control when he rages.

I can absolutely see MC falling for the quiet intelligence, the consideration, and so forth, but witnessing one (1) single rage should be enough to tell them that this relationship won’t be good for their mental health.

Let’s not even talk about the (again, canonical) desire for domination, power play, pet play, etc, that kind of defines our boy.

I mean, I love Satan. Out of all the bros, he’s the only one I could imagine legit dating in real life.

But I’m a little ball of rage myself, and I have no problem with anger, mine or anyone else’s.

And the fandom (including me) can totally play cute and love on their “soft little angy boi” all they want, and he definitely has soft, sensitive sides, and I may actively choose to ignore the whole domination/power play/etc when I fic or headcanon because I really love soft!Satan….. but he’s not.

I can’t even make a headcanon, because I cannot picture a situation in which this is actually GOOD for MC.

Because no matter how hard he’ll try and control it, and how much his rage probably won’t be directed at them, I just keep picturing “It won’t happen again” except it will, and it’ll just wind up being flashbacks to the number of times “It won’t happen again” ended in black eyes or an ER visit back in the human world.

And MC walking on eggshells for eternity to avoid setting him off, and how is that healthy?

Asmodeus

Another decent choice for MC, at least on the surface.

King of consent over here, at least how I picture him. Especially for someone he cares about.

Always accepts “no” about literally anything. Don’t want sex? We’ll cuddle. Cuddling a little confining? Holding hands is cool. Really don’t want to be touched at all right now? Gossip and tea! 

You were coming to really care about the Avatar of Lust, and you believed what Simeon said about him - how much he desperately needed love and affection. You got it; you needed some, too. 

I mean, even if he’d been a bit of a jerk, he’d warmed up significantly since the pact, so new that it still burned on your skin, was formed.

But even Asmodeus wasn’t without faults. However much he focuses on love, he can sometimes, really be….mean.

You’re standing on a balcony in Diavolo’s castle, having escaped for a few moments.

He’d always been catty, gossipy, filled with drama, but the genuine affection and likability of him sometimes made you ignore it.

His constant mocking of Luke you could put down to the whole angel/demon conflict. 

His occasional snapping or poking at his brothers you could put down to being stuck in the same house with the same people for literal eons.

The only thing that might make up for your awful existence is if you just ended it.

The words haunt you as you stand looking up at Devildom’s endless nighttime.

How many times did you hear similar words yourself? How useless you were, how much of a burden, no way you’d survive on your own without him, and he didn’t even want you that much. Why didn’t you just go kill yourself?

Dammit, you think to yourself as Asmo steps out on to the balcony.

“Darling! Why are you out here all alone? Or are you waiting for some company?”

When he goes to put his arms around you, you just say “no.” Simply, quietly, emotionlessly.

Asmo circles around to look at you. “Something wrong, sweetness?”

You take a breath. Another. You consider swallowing it, again, don’t want to start a fight. Back down, put on a smile, ignore it.

But realize you can’t. You spent years dealing with this crap, and you’re not going to do it again.

“You’re mean, Azzy.” Your voice is quieter than you expected. You look up into the demon’s eyes. To his credit, he looks deeply confused and, as you take a step away from him, hurt. Before he can open his mouth, you continue, “How could you say that to Mammon?”

“Are you defending MAMMON?” He asks, torn between incredulity and anger.

“Right now? Yes. But also Luke, Lucifer, and everyone else you talk shit to. Or about. He’s your brother. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to hear that out of someone you love?”

Dismissively, “Oh, if it actually bothered him, he’d - “

“What? Beat you up? That’s not like him. So he takes it. And takes it, and takes it, until, because it’s all he hears, he believes it. And then why fight back? Why defend yourself, if you’re such a piece of shit? You deserve it, after all, right?”

You don’t even realize it, but you’re crying by this point. And you’re mad. All the mad you couldn’t fling at your abuser before is filling you now. You don’t even know if you’re talking about Mammon or yourself anymore. Maybe both of you.

“And even though he’s beaten down, you keep going. When he won’t respond to the usual anymore, when that doesn’t seem to hurt him, rile him up, you go worse. You told your brother, who you claim to love, to kill himself. We’re barely even friends. So what happens when I annoy you? Should I just go die now, save you the trouble of telling me to do it later?”

You step right up to him, into his personal space, almost nose to nose, and stare directly into his red-yellow eyes. “Is this who you are, Asmodeus?”

Asmo has gone from defensive; incredulous and angry, to baffled, hurt and worried in just a few minutes. But at your last, pointed question, he jerks his head back as though you slapped him. Not knowing what to say or do, he reaches for you again, but you dodge his hand and brush past him back into the castle.

You get Solomon, the only one who won’t ask questions, to switch rooms with you. (Luke is thrilled; teaching him to play gin rummy actually cheers you up a little.)

For a few weeks, you and Asmodeus pass each other in the House without speaking.  Then, one evening, there’s a knock on your door and Asmo slides into your room.

He looks….well, not awful; he could never look awful. But the glow is gone from his skin and, unless you’re mistaken, he hasn’t bothered doing his hair. He looks like he’s missed some sleep.

You look up from your homework and watch him. Silently. It’s not your job to fill the silence anymore.

More than most of them, Asmo despises being vulnerable. But it’s fix this or not, and the pact is pushing him to be on good terms. At least, he blames the pact. It’s easier than acknowledging how much the weeks of silence have worn on him. How awful it was watching you walk to class with Mammon instead of him. 

And no matter what, he values honesty in his relationships, no matter what kind of relationship. So he would be honest.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly.

Lean back in your chair, hands folded. Waiting.

“I don’t know….if that’s who I am. Maybe it is.”

“Why are you here, Asmo? What do you want?”

“I want you to stop ignoring me!”

Steady face. “I spent too many years having someone talk to me the way you spoke to your brother. The rest of it - the gossip, the side comments, the cattiness…. it’s not your best side. In fact, it’s pretty unattractive when it’s mean, but I could handle it. But I can’t handle cruelty. I don’t want to be around it anymore.”

A pause. “What is my best side then?”

Disgusted, you chuck a pen in his direction. “Fuck’s sake, Asmo. Get out.”

“No! Not, not that. If that’s my bad side, the **unattractive** part, then what’s the other half?”

You search his face, but he doesn’t seem to be fishing for compliments. If anything, he looks….lost. Confused. And you wonder if anyone’s ever said anything to him, good or bad, about who he was; not what he looked like or how he fucked. 

It’s not your responsibility to psychoanalyze a demon, you think to yourself. But you’re not someone to walk away. You wonder how it’s possible for someone to be thousands of years old, and know less about themselves than you know about yourself in just a few decades. And you have nothing to lose by being kind.

“You can be wonderfully kind, Asmo, and generous. You want to see the beauty in everyone and everything. As nasty as you can be with it, I’ll give you points for honesty. You connect with people, and the times you’re actually genuinely interested in them is….charming.”

He’s silent for a few minutes. Then he nods, as if he’s made a decision. “Okay. Tomorrow, after RAD, do you want to go for bubble tea?” At your confusion, he just smiles and continues, “It’s like skin care, isn’t it? Attractiveness requires effort, darling, until it becomes habit. If I want to be attractive inside as well as out, I’ll have to practice the good things, so they outweigh the bad. I can’t do that alone. I need a practice partner who won’t tolerate failure, right? At least until it’s habit.”

You feel your entire brain have to reboot before you can give a coherent response. 

“Tomorrow. One hour. I have papers due.” You wait until he leaves your room before you smile.

Beelzebub

Probably the best choice for this MC.

The most emotionally intelligent of his brothers.

Also the most sincerely kind and gentle.

But also, like Satan, prone to sudden outbursts and rages. They’re all food-related (or, rather, lack-of-food-related), but they’re there.

A smart MC always carries snacks while dating Beel. Phone, wallet, keys, fried bat wings.

Strangely, though, the food-induced rages don’t really bother you. It’s not anger, really, and it’s never once been directed at you. And, unlike back in the human world, there’s a concrete way to help: feed him.

Today you have a whole backpack full of snacks.

You’re with Belphie, watching one of Beel’s games at RAD.

(You’re not sure Belphie wants to be there, but you’re not allowed out alone, and Belphie decided to take you - keep you safe and support his brother. Two birds, one Belphie.)

Belphie tends to nap against your shoulder any time the ref goes to make a call, but he’s somehow always awake to clap for his brother. 

(You stand on your chair and cheer, but that’s you.)

The game is a close one; double overtime. Even Belphie is too tense to sleep towards the end.

And at the end of double overtime, Beel manages the single extra goal that results in victory.

You cheer yourself hoarse for your demon boyfriend.

The whole stadium is crazy, so you hang back and wait. Belphie hates crowds and you’re not keen on them yourself. It’s going to take awhile for Beel to make it through the crowd to you anyway.

You’re standing in the aisle, scrolling through your phone, when suddenly there’s a loud shout and arms wrap around you from behind and lift you up.

You gasp, and your scream strangles in your throat so what comes out of you is nothing more than a squeak. Your phone goes flying.

You’re frozen for a moment as panic surges. You want to fight and you’re fighting your own brain to push the panic into your limbs so you can fight for yourself.

You vaguely feel a tugging and you hear someone - Belphie? - insisting that you be put down and then your feet are on the ground but there’s no such thing as your legs and you start to fall before the same arms help you gently sit. The ground is gross, but you’ll only care about the damage to your skirt later.

Everything is fuzzy and confusing; you’re not even sure of what you’re looking at until your vision is filled with blue and violet.

You know that swirl of color. That’s a SAFE color, and you start feeling your poor brain start to work again.

You blink into your boyfriend’s blue-violet eyes; you realize he’s cupping your face with his hands and the weird underwater noises start to sound like his voice. You realize, very belatedly, that what probably happened was Beel lifting you up in a victory hug.

“M’okay,” you say, but it sounds robotic. It takes a few more seconds - you don’t know how many - for all of your senses and brain to actually begin working in sync again. You start hearing the sounds of the crowd departing the stadium, and you hear Beel continuing to say your name and trying to get you to answer questions. You almost smile; but smiling wouldn’t make any sense.

“I’m okay,” you say, and you must sound a little more convincing this time because Beel looks relieved. He shoots a few more questions at you, and you realize they’re the kinds of questions people get asked when someone thinks they have a concussion or head trauma.

Your answers satisfy him, so Beel helps you to your feet. 

“What was that?” He asks. “Low blood sugar? Are you hungry?”

You have to smile at his very-typical diagnosis. A little sugar wouldn’t hurt, though. For some reason, eating grounds you after something like this. You dig a chocolate bar out of your Backpack of Snacks (Snackpack?) and hand the rest to him.

He impatiently takes a bag of chips out of it but doesn’t open it. He looks at you expectantly and you realize he won’t eat until you do. So you take a bite of the chocolate and he looks more relieved.

“So what the fuck WAS that?” Belphie asks as the three of you move towards the exit.

“Later.” You haven’t yet found a reason to really tell Beel (and, by extension, Belphegor) about everything. You do later that night. 

Beel swears he’ll never surprise you like that again. He’s a lot more cautious about touching you for a few days, but eventually things go back to normal between you.

Belphegor

Author note: Dude fucking murdered you, deliberately, in cold blood, and taunted you for your gentleness and desire to help as you died. But let’s say you can get past that - or try to. Probably the second-worst choice, after Satan, for this reason.

You started dating Belphie for the strangest reason: you could trash-talk the shit out of him.

He kept trying to be around you after you made the pact (which, let’s face it, you made so you could MAKE SURE he never hurt you again). Until, after politely dodging him wasn’t working, you told him to take his emo-boy routine and fuck off somewhere else.

You flinched, waiting for retaliation, but he just blinked at you and told you to stop being a brat.

And he was smiling.

But it wasn’t a mean smile - it was a smile that shared the joke.

Your lips quivered into a returning smile, and you threw another insult at him.

He topped it, and hurled one back.

Before you knew it, the two of you were screaming obscenities at each other in the middle of the common room and laughing like hyenas.

For some reason, Belphie calling you a dumb bitch wasn’t an insult. It was a mark of endearment. And it didn’t hurt your feelings or make you afraid.

It was empowering to call him a dickhead if he did something you didn’t like and have him simply laugh and amend his behavior. Nothing bothered him.

He didn’t move quickly; in fact he didn’t move at all if he could help it.

But you would remember, sometimes, the way his hands felt on your throat, or how cold his eyes had been. And you couldn’t say it was a momentary madness, because he’d planned it. He’d been imprisoned because he wanted to kill humanity.

You put it out of your mind. It was something you were good at, after all.

Until the two of you sat down to watch a movie one evening. A simple plot hole sparked a discussion that wound up being….not an argument, but definitely a difference of opinion.

As usual, insults were flying fast and furious when suddenly Belphie laughed and smacked you with his pillow.

It wasn’t an angry move, and it wasn’t hard enough to hurt. It wasn’t a hard blow at all! But the surprise had you falling back on the couch. And the fear had you curling into a ball, arms wrapped around your head protectively, legs curled up to guard your middle.

There is dead silence.

“Hey, Brat?” Belphie asks. When you don’t answer, he calls your name instead.

You slowly, very slowly, begin to uncurl yourself from your position. It takes time for the residual fear to leave, but enough is gone to leave room for embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” you mutter. 

“I get it,” is the answer.

Cue awkward silence.

“I figured you were still afraid of me.”

“I’m not!” When he just stares blandly at you, you sigh. “Okay, a little. If you wanted to hurt me - again - you’ve had a ton of opportunities. So I don’t think you want to. But…..”

“It’s a hard thing to get over.”

“Yeah. And not just you.” Hesitantly, you start to tell him. You want to just give him the basics, but once you start talking, you can’t seem to stop. He doesn’t interrupt, barely seems to blink, just watches you. A blank vessel to help you empty the poison that fills you sometimes.

You see his jaw tighten as you go on, but you know the anger isn’t at you.

When you finish, he’s silent for a few moments. Then he gathers you up to him. “I’ll never hurt you,” he says.

You look up at him with the same bland look he gave you a moment ago.

“Again,” he amends. “I’ll never hurt you again.”

You let out a watery laugh and he hugs you a bit tighter.

“You’re still a brat, though.”

[weareallstoriesintheend]

Freedom - (Reader x Zemo)

Zemo and a guard at The Raft have struck up an unlikely friendship

Prompts: Taken from @prompts-in-a-barrel

Word Count: 1,641

Warnings: None; takes place after The Falcon And The Winter Soldier (Season 1) so some small spoilers!

Part 1 of the Escape Series

You had arrived at work early today; an odd feeling nestled at the back of your mind was denying you sleep so you’d decided to clock in early. You were given your morning duties as you began the meticulous process of strapping yourself into the various components of your guard’s uniform; thankfully it was a slow morning– inmate checks only. Since The Raft currently only held three prisoners you presumed, with a small smile to yourself, that breakfast was on the cards nice and early today.

The Raft had several floors where prisoners could be kept and right now, for safety, each prisoner was kept in a cell on a separate floor. It was nice and quiet this early in the morning with only you and a few cleaners milling around the floors so you could take your time walking between each level.

It was early so Trish Walker and Willis Stryker were still fast asleep in their cells. Trish was curled up in her tight, protective ball as usual and Willis was sat up, head leaning against the metal wall behind him eyes tightly closed. A scan of the cell rooms, a glancing health check on each prisoner, check the locks and integrity of the cell glass and that’s another tick on the list.

You stopped, leaning against the cold metal wall of the stairwell checking your watch, an hour till breakfast. You were making your way through each prisoner reasonably leisurely for a number of reasons; one of those reasons had to do with who was housed on Level 3.

Working on an underwater containment facility didn’t really have too many perks, it often felt like you were a prisoner here yourself but it paid well so who were you to complain. Although, when you stopped to think about it, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen daylight. Every day was pretty much the same, which was until a new prisoner was brought to the facility by the Dora Milaje of Wakanda.

Baron Helmut Zemo had certainly livened things up around here, at least for you. He was kinder and calmer than anyone had expected him to be, given the stories that followed in his wake, and unlike the other two prisoners he held no contempt towards those in charge of his care. The guards on the other hand tended veer towards hate at his pretentious turns of phrase and his intelligence, you guessed this was because they didn’t like feeling less than someone being kept as a prisoner. But for you it provided some much needed entertainment. You would never admit it but listening to his deep gravelly tone tell you stories of Sovokia often brightened your day, sometimes you would even stay on shift well past the end of your working day to hear him speak of his family. Unable to stop him as his eyes clouded over with grief, there was so much more to this rich, cocky Baron than what met the eye. He’d often made you bets or promises of what he could provide for you if you were to help him leave this place; these offers always met with a scoff and roll of the eyes from you trying to hide how nervous it made you. He would sweeten his offers with soft nicknames and tell you how he would even marry you to give you the life, in his words, that you deserved.

You reached level 3, punching in the code to the heavy reinforced door; you walked in to see exactly what you had expected. Zemo was sitting up in bed, lights on, reading one of the few books he’d been allowed upon his arrival. The room was pretty much in darkness except for the dull lights on the ceiling and bright light of his cell illuminating him in front of you. He sat, leaning casually, in a blue inmate’s uniform. “Morning Zemo, how you are today?” you said cheerily as you approached the cell. You gave the room a quick scan and saw nothing amiss; you pulled out your report notebook from your pocket.

“What do you want?” he replied, voice so low it was almost a whisper. He seemed tired today; you guessed his mind was plagued again today so he hadn’t slept. The dark bags under his eyes gave that away.

“Just checking in. Are you okay? You haven’t tried to breach containment since last Tuesday.”

He chuckled in a low tone and carefully placed his book, open with the pages down, on the grey blanket beside him.

“Well… I have no reason to leave nor can I at present, therefore…” he shrugged to end his sentence. He curled his feet up under himself and shuffled to face you.

“You look tired milaya” he commented, studying your face with his classic tilted head. His eyes were squinted but were travelling over your face so intensely it made you squirm on your feet.

“Keep your pet names to yourself” you grumbled, writing your check-up report in your notebook.

“Ah of course, I always do forget you can speak Russian” he smiles as you roll your eyes. “So many skills you have Krasotka, wasted here I should think” You roll your eyes again, raising them from the page of your notebook to look at him, but you can’t help the small laugh you let out at the satisfied smirk on his face. Unfortunately it was at that moment your superior officer decided to arrive on the floor, catching you in the act of being just a little too friendly with a prisoner… again. He pulled you aside with a gesture of his head, you trundled after him knowing exactly what was coming.

For the next few minutes he gave you another lecture on proper protocol when talking to inmates. During his rant, with his back turned to Zemo, he couldn’t see the mocking faces being pulled at his words. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. The officer took your three inmate reports from you and sulked back off into the stairwell.

“Well he is pleasant as ever this morning” Zemo quipped as the door to the stairwell closed loudly. “You are going to get me in serious trouble one day Zemo” you tsk’d, tucking your notebook back into the pocket on your uniform.

“They don’t appreciate you. Not a single one of them.”

“You talk big for someone stuck in cell you know that right?”

“I’m just saying it as I see it. But you already know that, don’t you? That they’re only using you. That they’ll never accept you or your talents.”

“Me and my talents are leaving now.” You turned on your heel, making for the door.

“I see you. I accept you. I’ve offered you a place beside me before. The offer still stands. You would be valued. Cherished.”

You turned back around abruptly, unable to listen to him talk anymore “Don’t bullshit me. I’m not some fragile idiot you can manipulate to your side. You want to use me just the same as they do.”

“You’re wrong.” He said simply.

You eyed him cautiously “I know how this goes Zemo. I break you out of here and you run off leaving me to end up in my own cell. No thank you”

He smiled, chuckling quietly to himself as he rose off the bed and onto his feet; placing one hand on the glass he beckoned you over. You shook your head and didn’t move, but something in the way he was with you made you…intrigued. You didn’t want to play into his game but you’d seen him with other guards and, mostly, his words for you seemed sincere. He beckoned again and you stepped a little closer, still maintaining a distance despite him having no way of getting to you through the thick glass and bars on his cell.

“This is not what you think. You know what I can give you and you know I am right” he whispered, running his eyes over your body. You squirmed again, his gaze igniting something within you that was more confusing that uncomfortable.

“Oh really? Because I think I’m right, I’m not getting champagne on a private jet out of this. I’m getting a nice cushy cell, much like this one, for the rest of my life for breaking a terrorist out of prison!”

Zemo smiled and shook his head “Is that all you want? Champagne and a private jet? I can give you that and more, you know this. Have you ever joined the… what is you Americans call it? The mile high club” he laughed darkly at the swift, nervous shift of your expression.

“We’re done here” you retorted matter of factly, trying to ignore the heat creeping up the back of your neck. You spun on your heel once more, your quiet steps the only thing filling the void within the room.

As you reached out for the handle of the door his voice made you flinch, so loud in the potent silence, “Just think it over Krasivaya. The life I can give you would be so much more than what you give yourself day to day within the walls of this prison. I would say we both yearn for a little… freedom”

“Enough!” you shouted, voice echoing around the room.

He raised his hands in defeat and you watched as he flicked the radio on, a quiet crackle before a news channel began playing filling the painful stillness that had come over the room once more. He sat back down on the low bed and picked up his book, gently licked the top of his middle finger and used it to turn the page; he didn’t look up as he spoke “Just some food for thought”

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 20 | S.R.)

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

Summary: Reader lies to Spencer.

A/N: Please read the content warnings for this one if you have basically any triggers, lol. This is a very heavy chapter - it is the penultimate climax of the story. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Angst (NSFW) Content Warning: 🚨 IMPORTANT – READ BEFORE READING🚨 This episode covers a number of very dark topics, and should be approached at a time when you have support systems available. Potential triggering topics include: sexual assault, violations of consent, suicide, self-harm, pregnancy/termination, infertility, domestic dispute, fighting, and underage drinking, sex w/ blanket consent Word Count: 11K

MASTERLIST

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Rossi’s house was every bit as extravagant as I had expected. I had come in honestly hoping to be slightly disappointed so I could mock him for it, but, as always, he had to force his appearance to be as unnecessarily elegant as possible.

That being said, I was a little surprised to find that most everyone gathered in one spot - the kitchen. It was only to be expected, considering it was usually the happiest room in the home. That certainly remained true for Rossi. But they were also all gathered there because that was where the wine was – wine that I was not allowed to drink.

Rossi didn’t have a problem with it… Spencer did. Because of course he did. And while I politely declined when Rossi offered me some, anyway, I found another offer a little more tempting. Which explains why I found myself clutching Derek’s flask and draining half the contents quickly enough to remind him that I was, in fact, in college.

And if anyone were to ask, I would simply tell them that we were hanging out in the hall outside the bathroom to have a very deep and secret heart-to-heart about our shared love for a certain mop headed genius. It would have been the perfect cover to use on pretty much everyone except…

“Ahem.”

The sound of Spencer’s throat clearing behind me was enough to cause me to choke, and I quickly tossed the closed flask back to an already giggling Derek as I shouted, “Fuck!” I didn’t even turn around when his hand snaked around my hip. Instead, I just groaned.

“The narc’s here,” I whispered to Derek, but he knew better than to answer.

“The narc?” Spencer balked, much to his friend’s delight.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Derek offered in consolation, taking a swig out of the flask and earning a very defensive glare from my boyfriend. In fact, Spencer seemed downright pissed, which wasn’t what I had been expecting when I agreed.

Oops. What’s the male equivalent of a cat fight?

“Morgan, didn’t you lecture me about her drinking underage a few months ago?” he snapped, grabbing the flask from a more than willing Derek. Spencer sniffed the contents and immediately recoiled, tossing it back again.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he mumbled, shooting a glance down to see me sort of just making heart eyes at the sight of my boyfriend being a stupid level of jealous that I'd been caught in the hallway with another boy.

“How does that make it better? That makes it patently worse,” he argued. Derek might have responded to it, too, if I hadn’t latched myself onto Spencer’s side.

“You’re so cute when you get all stupid and possessive,” I drawled, burying my face in his shoulder in what I think was supposed to be a playful kiss, but actually just ended up being a muffled laugh.

“That,” Derek chuckled, pointing to me teetering back and forth on my heels at Spencer’s side, “That is my cue to leave.” With one final wink, he whispered, “Don’t be too hard on him, Princess.”

Spencer’s angry sigh and entirely stiff posture should have served as my warning, but it was just funny to me at the time.

“They all think I’m the boss of us,” I giggled. “Me! The boss!”

“You’re drunk.” His tone dropped the second Derek was out of earshot, and on intimidation alone, he managed to back me against the wall.

“So is everyone but you. They won’t even notice,” I mumbled, although the more the hallway started to spin, the less I believed that. I'd never been very good at math or shots, and this was a pretty horrible miscalculation of just how much of my tolerance I’d lost.

“You really couldn’t wait a few more months? Or at least until we got home?”

He was chastising me, and I just wasn’t there to hear it. I probably could have figured it out if I’d tried, but it all sounded like sexy nonsense at the time. Walking my fingers down his chest, I paused at his belly before hooking them in his pants and pulling his hips against mine.

“I’m allowed to drink if my daddy says so,” I purred.

Spencer didn’t find my taunt as charming as I’d hoped, and before I knew it his hand was roughly pressed over my jaw. He tilted my head back to look him in the eyes, and I wondered if he could smell the whiskey on my breath.

“Well, I didn’t,” he growled.

I never said I was a perfect person, or even a smart one. And when I was drinking and Spencer whipped out his Daddy voice, I don’t know what he really expected me to do. But apparently, trying to grab his dick through his pants was the wrong move. He snatched my hand away quickly, slamming it against the wall before he continued his little impromptu lecture.

“I’m not rewarding you for this. We’re going home.”

“That’s not a very scary threat,” I deadpanned, throwing my body weight back against the wall.

That lasted about four seconds before he pulled me back to my feet and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “Just wait, little girl. Just you wait until I get my fucking hands on you.”

I was going to make a snarky joke, to remind him that his hands were surely and firmly already on me, but I never got the chance. We were both too distracted by the very loud and very high pitched squeal of Penelope as she rounded the corner.

“Ah! I saw nothing!” she shouted, covering her face with her hands and refusing to remove them.

“Yeah, because we aren’t doing anything,” I laughed. But then, being the slightly cruel brat that I was, I stuck my tongue out at Spencer before tacking on a completely unnecessary, “anymore.”

“We weren’t doing anything before either!” he squeaked back. He wasn’t using his Daddy voice anymore. So swiftly, so easily, he’d been knocked from his higher footing.

Penelope took the words to heart, but only enough to slowly lower her fingers and peek between them. With a shaky voice and an awkward laugh, she started to rant. “Oh. It’s fine. I’m cool. We’re all cool. We don’t have to talk about that thing from the first time I met you ever again. Because we said we’d never talk about it again, do you remember that?”

“I do remember that,” I answered with a very sarcastic tone and a nod.

“And I just brought it up again, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” I whispered, “Yes, you did.”

“I’m so sorry. Spencer, Hotch is looking for you,” she rushed, turning to the beet-red boy at my side. “Okay, that’s it. Take your time, because I’m cool and not at all mortified.” She was basically already gone before she'd even finished talking, taking off in the direction she'd come from while downing the drink in her hand.

With a loose, clumsy wave I shouted back, “Bye, Penelope.”

“Mortified is a good word. An accurate word,” Spencer huffed as he wiped a hand over his face. His bashfulness, while cute, was not as exciting as the pre-Penelope behavior.  

Running my hands underneath his blazer and up his back, I pressed my chest against his. “Gosh, Dr. Reid. You need to be more appropriate in such a public setting.”

The words, while meant to get him riled up, did more to frustrate me. My drunken mind was more than happy to revert to the metro, and before I knew it, my daydreams were filled with images of Spencer stuffing me into the tiniest closet he could find and having his way with me.

“Oh, I’m the one lacking manners?” Spencer chuckled as he apparently read my very lewd thoughts. He pried my arms off of him and pulled them back to rest at my sides before pressing a strangely chaste kiss on my forehead. “Go get your stuff. I’m going to go talk to Hotch and I’ll meet you by the door.”

Before he disappeared around the corner, he shot me one last warning glance and ordered, “Do not mingle!”

“Don’t worry, I will!” I yelled back.

Once he was gone, it was my job to figure out how to make my body work again. Luckily, it wasn’t the first time I’d had too much to drink in a room filled with drunk adults. Granted, they usually weren’t all cops, but, whatever.

Turns out, it somehow made it easier. I managed to grab my things off the counter without alerting anyone except Penelope, who quickly turned back around with a blush. She probably figured I was gonna go blow him in the bathroom or something. I’d have been offended if the thought hadn’t literally just crossed my mind. I made it all the way to the door before I heard it. Back through the halls, a few of the group had separated to talk about how much harder it had been to see Hotch and JJ. It was nothing, just a little bug spreading through daycares like wildfire. That wasn’t what upset me, though.

No, the thoughts running through my head were more than just a passing thought of kids sick with a cold. I looked up at the walls of the entryway to Rossi’s home and saw intricate moulding and nothingness. I saw the exquisite, pristine rug underneath my feet, and I thought about how lonely it felt.

I was standing in a house that should have felt happy, filled with friends and family and love. There was no doubt that everyone who was there wanted to be there, and probably had nowhere else they’d rather be. But the tall ceilings and thousands of square feet felt so goddamn empty.

It isn’t the building, I heard a tiny, terrified voice call out from inside my own conscience.

It’s you. You’re empty.

I had to leave. I had to get out of the house. I had to hear the silence so that the nothingness would feel more appropriate and less noticeable. I couldn’t let them see me, because if they saw me, they would know. They would know that I was nothing but a husk of the girl they used to know. Without even thinking, I threw the door open, stumbling forward and almost falling flat on my face as I misjudged the small step down to the patio.

“Fuck!” I muttered, the world rocking around me with a stubborn persistence. If it weren’t for the frankly freezing temperature, I was sure I would have been sick. To make matters worse, there was a person quickly approaching.  

“Hey, are you and Spence leaving already?”

It was JJ. Thank god, it was JJ. Probably the only person who wouldn’t make fun of me for being a mess on Rossi’s steps after only a few shots of whatever Morgan was drinking.

“Oh. Hey, JJ. Yeah. He’s…” I turned to my side, half expecting Spencer to be there to answer for me. But he wasn’t, so I ended up just pointing to the closed door before slurring, “he’s doing a thing.”

She was, per usual, very kind when faced with my buffoonery, and just laughed as she shook her head. “A thing. Sounds like him.”

I honestly thought that would be the end of it. It was a good, easy segue into a farewell. She already knew we were leaving, and she knew Spencer well enough to know that he wouldn’t leave me alone for long.

And I think she almost did leave. She almost walked right past me and into the warmth and comfort of a home filled with family and friends. But she didn’t. She stopped and asked me the one question I was really hoping she wouldn’t.

“Are you alright?”

I didn’t want her to ask because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to lie to her. Even if I could have managed it, she would have seen right through me in a second. Not only would it have been an exercise in futility, but she would also know that I thought it was worth it to try to lie.

So, I was honest… quite possibly too honest.

“No, not really. But it’s a lot and I’m kind of drunk, so…”

The mom eyes appeared so quickly, with JJ’s body turning entirely away from the door and over to me. “Not usually a good combination, but an understandable one,” she softly replied, wrapping her arms around herself to make up for the fact that she was sacrificing her comfort in many different ways to talk to me, instead.  

She was probably just being nice— staying with me until Spencer could come take over the babysitting of the drunk twenty year old, but I wasn’t exactly thinking critically at the time. Which is only part of the reason why I blurted out the only thing on my mind; the thing that had been haunting me for longer than I wanted to admit even to myself, much less another person.

“Has Spencer ever talked to you about kids?”

The air, still freezing, also fell uncomfortably silent.

“Oh…” she mumbled under her breath, clearly unsure of how to handle that particular minefield of a topic. Especially with her best friend’s girlfriend, who also happened to be drunk. I almost told her to forget about it, but then she looked up at me with a powerful resolve. “Yeah, he has. Why?”

I thought about my next words more carefully, although you wouldn’t have been able to tell considering how much I stuttered.

“Do you think… Do you think he’d be happy if… I can’t have them?” I asked, wringing my hands together over my stomach. “Like, not just happy today, but like ten years from now?” I could hear how desperate I sounded, but I needed someone to hear the words playing on loop in my mind. Absolutely frantic and with tears pooling in my eyes, I asked, “Do you think he’d still love me if I can’t give him kids?”

“(Y/n), slow down. It’s okay!” JJ urged, lunging forward to cup my cheeks and gently wipe away any stray tears. “Don’t cry! You’ll ruin your make up and it looks like you spent a lot of time on it.”

I had to laugh because not only was it my exact brand of humor, she said it with such a serious face that I had to wonder if it was genuinely her biggest concern. Of course, I knew it wasn’t. In her usual JJ way, she just knew the easiest way to cheer me up was with a laugh.

“Yeah, there’s like $80 on my face, it’s really not worth it to cry,” I agreed, sniffling softly when she finally pulled away her hands. At least I could blame that part on the cold.

“Exactly. And if you cry, then I’ll cry, and then I’ll also ruin my make up, and we’ll just be $150 down the drain with nothing to show for it,” she joked with a tired roll of her eyes and a shrug.  

Together, we laughed, finding a pocket of warmth in a world that often felt too cold. Behind JJ’s eyes though, I saw an empathy I wasn’t expecting. That small, instinctual part of my brain tugged at my heart, telling me that there was an unspoken bond forming. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know why. I had a feeling that it was one of those secrets you just didn’t ask about, so I let it go.

“Thanks. It’s a stupid thought anyway,” I sighed, shuffling my feet and knocking my heels against the somehow spotless patio. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, so why stress about it, right?”

But then JJ said something I wasn’t expecting. Something that I actually really, really needed to hear.  

“I don’t know, I think you’re allowed to be worried. It’s normal to feel scared.”

The sentence hit me like a freight train carrying lead and cement. At first, my brain refused to comprehend it at all. I struggled to repeat the idea, not because I was drunk but because it sounded so wrong. I had wanted it to be true so badly, and here she was, telling me it was okay.

Sensing my simultaneous trepidation and revelation, JJ cringed a bit when she said, “But I think it is a good idea to talk to Spence about it instead of me. Because, to be honest, I’ve also had one too many glasses to be helpful.”

That time when I laughed, it was full-hearted and involved every muscle in my body. “God, I love you, Jennifer,” I said through the noise.

She just shook her head, clearly enjoying the drastic mood swing she’d had a great part in. “I love you, too,” she whispered, running her hand over my shoulder and arm to pull me into a small half-hug. And that was how Spencer found us, giggling and sniffling on Rossi’s porch.

“Hey, are you ready to— Oh! Hey JJ,” he stopped, taking a very hesitant step forward in the hope that we wouldn’t both start crying on the spot. Drunk girls had a tendency to do that. “W-What are you guys doing out here?”

She let me go first, shoving her hand, still damp with my tears, into her pockets with a secretive smile. “Girl talk.”

“That usually doesn’t bode well for me,” Spencer answered with an awkward, nervous laugh. He didn’t make a move to grab me yet, probably too scared to step between the two of us. I was too busy giggling at the thought of his mind cycling through all the possible secrets I might have spilled in my uninhibited state.

I was tipsy, but I wasn’t that drunk.

JJ pulled two fingers over her mouth in a cheeky motion as she whispered, “My lips are sealed.”

“An even worse sign,” Spencer winced, turning to finally wrap his arm around me. He must have noticed the chill on my skin, because seconds later he had me practically wrapped in his coat. “I should just cut my losses and get her out of here, huh?”

“Shut up, old man,” I slurred, cuddling closer to his body heat despite my protests. Even in the darkness, I watched the heat bloom in his face at the nickname. By far, the worst part about the situation was the fact that I couldn’t kiss him, because I just knew he would be so warm, and I was really starting to get cold. I suspect that’s why he started to whisk me away, unceremoniously shushing me as JJ cleared her throat and raised her hand in a wave.  

Before we got too far, though, I heard her speak again. “Oh! (Y/n), your questions!”

“What about them?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder and nearly falling to the ground as a result.

JJ looked at me, and then back to Spencer, whose arm was wrapped possessively around me. She smiled a pure, toothy grin that filled her face, causing that weird feeling in my gut to flare up again. She saw something in that moment that I wasn’t sure I’d ever really understand, but her voice started to crack just enough to notice when she called out, “The answer is yes. To all of them.”

 —————————————————

 The ride back to Spencer’s place was uneventful, though I tried very hard to make it interesting. After the fourth time he'd swatted away my hand and threatened to throw me in the back, I gave in to his demand to behave. I blamed my compliance on the alcohol, although it was probably more so a result of total exhaustion.

The respite from socialization was apparently what I needed to be able to function again, because as soon as we pulled into his apartment parking lot, I was awake.

... Awake enough to try and maul him in the hallway. But, in his sober stubbornness, he continued to evade my advances all the way until his front door clicked shut behind us. His hands on my hips had never felt like such a victory before.

“Did you enjoy wreaking havoc all night?” he whispered, slowly leading us towards his room. I couldn’t see where I was going, but I didn’t need to. Even without an eidetic memory, my body cherished this path and the memories it always led to. I trusted him to catch me if I stumbled. Which, I definitely did.

“I’m the cutest devil you’ll ever see,” I slurred.

“At least you admit it,” Spencer laughed. I couldn’t tell if it was at my words or the fact that I was failing terribly at trying to unbutton his shirt. My drunk self was not a skilled multitasker.

Once I felt the bed against the back of my thighs, I hopped on top of the covers before he could even try to help me up. It was muscle memory. We’d been there before.

“I’m feeling more fallen angel tonight,” I sighed, sliding against the comforter until I found his pillow.

Naturally, Spencer saw the way I gravitated to his side. He smiled as he removed his shirt that I’d left mostly intact. “By all means, feel free to stay that way.”

I probably should have taken off my dress, or my shoes, but I didn’t. The world sort of felt like a wave pool on a sunny day, and I was worried that if I paid too much attention to what was going on around me, I'd think about something I really didn’t want to think about.

I couldn’t remember what it was.

But then Spencer’s hands were gliding up and down my calves, and I shuddered at the contact. He took his time removing my shoes before coming up to join me on all fours. I wondered if he could taste the whiskey on my tongue when he kissed me. Did it remind him of the circumstances that had brought us together? Did it remind him of his hangover and sins?

Did he think of monsters when he kissed me?

My hands were tangled in his hair, pulling lightly to try to keep him there. And when he pulled away, I tried to fight him. I tried to follow him, scared that once the kiss was over, I’d start remembering things I probably should have tried to forget.

He must have seen the denial in my eyes, because he hesitated. His hand came up to lightly grab my wrist and lead my hand that had a death grip on his hair down to his face. “Are you too drunk? Should we stop?”

Throwing my head back with a groan, I tried not to hate him for actually caring about me again. “If you stop right now, I’m going to actually scream,” I droned. It got me a laugh, at least.

“That doesn’t comfort me in the slightest.”

Once I opened my eyes, I found myself wishing I hadn’t. It wasn’t that I saw hesitancy or fear in Spencer’s eyes – on the contrary, it was the lack of anything bad at all that bothered me. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but a sincere, pure adoration that I couldn’t argue with.

I chose to ignore it, instead. I couldn’t remember why it made my stomach hurt.

“Are you going to make me do a sobriety test?” I giggled, letting my hands travel down his shoulders and chest. I wasn’t in as much of a rush as I had been earlier. I wanted to take my time remembering what it felt like to be pinned under him and surrounded by his embrace.

“I’m positive that you’ve practiced those while drunk,” he playfully replied while trying to hide the way goosebumps followed my fingers as they trailed down to more interesting territory.  

“Yeah, I can say the alphabet backwards and everything.”

It was meant as a joke, but Spencer apparently had some doubts. With a scrunched up smile, he laughed back as he asked, “Really?”

The fact that he believed I was capable of something like that might have been flattering if it hadn't been based on his incredibly flawed perception of my propensity to lawbreaking. But since it was based on ideas of immorality rather than intelligence, it just made me mad.

Smacking him lightly on the chest, I both pouted and laughed as I snapped back, “No, of course not, asshole!”

Spencer just grinned, giving a delayed wince at the offensive contact before he sat up again. I didn’t realize why at first, but as he slowly started to coax me into turning around, I remembered that I was, in fact, still fully dressed. I figured it was either his way of saying that I’d won, or just an excuse to take off the dress so I might actually go to sleep. I was fine with either.

“I was drunk the first night we met, if you’ve forgotten,” I mumbled, rolling onto my side of the bed and moving my hair so that he wouldn’t catch any in the zipper.

“I definitely haven’t forgotten that night.”

The nostalgia in his voice was both comforting and painful. We’d always joked about that night, though. It wasn’t an insult at all.

“No? Do you think about it often?” I replied playfully, forcing myself not to think too hard about whether he wished I was still the girl he'd met that day.

Spencer made it easy to forget, with his hand starting to draw the zipper down while he leaned forward to whisper in my ear, “I think about it all the time.” My breath hitched in my throat at the way his voice warped into a rough, raspy tone. “You almost made me believe that you were just some shy, innocent little girl.”

This time when he got me to turn back over, there was nothing gentle about it. His hands were clearly craving the kind of violence they got to use last time. I wanted to feel them again.

“We can make a new memory if you want,” I panted, looking up at him with wanton eyes and my dress loose enough to expose parts of my breasts to him.

“Fuck,” he muttered at the sight below him. He pressed his erection against my hip as he ran a hand over my cheek. “Tell me the rules.”

“I tell you to stop if I need to,” I carefully enunciated.

“Good girl,” he moaned, starting to rock against me. Struggling to pull my dress off himself, he pleaded in a slightly pitiful manner, “Can I…?”

I helped him, desperate to feel his skin against mine. I didn’t even think about what it meant for my dress to be gone. It wasn’t until Spencer’s mouth dropped to my chest so enthusiastically that I realized that he’d failed to stop and kiss my lips first.

With both hands on my breasts, he lavished each pebbled peak with his fingers and tongue. He hadn’t ever mentioned the fact that he’d missed me shirtless, but it was painfully obvious in the way his lips trailed along my body. It was obvious in the rumbling of his moans against my skin and the way his hands roughly kneaded the soft tissue.

I was forced to remember why I hadn’t let him see me topless.

I felt naked. Not because of the exposed skin, but because I couldn’t warp reality with lace or cotton anymore. My marred stomach might not have made a physical barrier, but it still made him feel so far away. It was a paralyzing kind of realization, and I felt myself retreat so quickly that it hurt.

Thankfully, it was Spencer who was kissing me. If it had been anyone else, I think I would have just laid there, terrified and small and alone. But I couldn’t do that with him.

“Spencer?” I quietly called, and he immediately stopped, his eyes meeting mine with all the attention a girl could ever ask for. I smiled, and the sensation almost felt foreign.

“Come kiss me here instead,” I said with a little giggle, tapping my lips to bring him back to where I wanted him. And he came to me so quickly, his mouth crashing onto mine in seconds and his hands tangling in my hair.

I had forgotten so quickly how easy it was to get lost in him. Thanks to the alcohol, my mind wasn’t able to stick with any thought for longer than a few seconds. Mixing that with Spencer’s hands and mouth, I was never going to be able to think in more than a few words at a time. And I shouldn’t have needed to, right? It was just sex. We’d done it many times before, and it had never been a disappointment. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of mind — some instinctual warning that told me I was doing something wrong.

I wanted him, so what could be wrong about that? There was nothing painful or unappreciated in the way he lined himself up at my entrance, and I certainly made that much clear. It was hard to even hear him over the sound of my own moans, and my nails dug into his shoulder as I guided him into me with my hips.

“I love you,” I cried, wrapping my legs around his waist and digging my heels into the back of his thighs.

“I love you so much, little girl,” he whispered against my lips, his forehead resting against mine.

For a moment, it was okay. The feeling subsided long enough for me to enjoy the fact that Spencer, the man I loved, loved me back. I thought about how long it had taken us to get to this point, and how I never wanted to lose it again. I held onto him for dear life, rocking my hips to meet his and bringing his mouth down to mine.

It was okay, until he spoke again.

“You’re such a good girl,” he groaned into my mouth, “even when you’re being bad you just want to be useful.”

Useful.

The word had come back to haunt me several times in the recent weeks. I hadn’t said anything about it because I couldn’t understand why it bothered me so much. There was no reason for me to be upset. He was just saying what I usually liked to hear.

So why did it hurt?

And I realized then, that the reason that experience felt so horrible wasn’t because of me at all. It was because it was Spencer. It was Spencer, the man I loved. There he was, trying to love me and comfort me and hold me and I…

In a rush of emotions and memories and repressed regrets, I was forced to face the fact that I had made a terrible mistake. The kind of mistake that if I didn’t do something about it in that exact, immediate moment, would become a disaster. The kind of disaster that meant he might never want to touch me again. The kind that would make him hate me. The kind that would make him leave and I couldn’t blame him for.

I had made a mistake.

“Wait, wait, Spencer, stop!” I slurred, my hands that had been holding him close seconds earlier shoving him off of me with the little force I was capable of. It didn’t take much, though, considering how fast he jumped back.

Frantic and terrified, he grabbed my face and tried to inspect my eyes that were avoiding him. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t look at him. “No, I just really need to stop,” I muttered, my breath picking up even more as I slid away from him, “Can I just— Can you just give me a minute?”

My hands slid over my chest, trying to hide the shame I felt inside to no avail. Spencer only made it worse in the way he quickly grabbed clothing, covering me in his shirt before he dressed himself. He even took the time to find me pants and help me in them, quietly and carefully. Like a doll.

I was going to be sick.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he croaked brokenly while he curled up at my side, trying to wrap his arms around me before he realized I was shrinking away from his touch. He was so confused. He had no reason to know what was going on, but I could see on his face that he was desperately trying to figure it out.

“Does this have something to do with what you were talking to JJ about?”

An interesting question. I didn’t know the answer.

“Yes. No? Maybe. I guess?” I ran a hand over my face that landed on my throbbing temple. The lack of tears on my face almost surprised me. I probably should have been crying, but I wasn’t. In a way, it felt like I had no tears left to give. When I turned to him, bile rose in my throat and I was afraid that I might choke on it if I didn’t get the words out faster. I just had to tell him. He needed to know.

“Listen, I lied to you. And I need to say something.”

I had just gotten my breathing under control, just in time for his to go erratic. His pulse was visible in his throat as he swallowed. “Lied to me? About what?”

“I…” The world was rocking, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of the alcohol or my brain trying to comprehend my own self-destructive stupidity. I knew which one I was going to blame, though. “Fuck, I didn’t think I was this drunk.”

“What did you lie to me about?” he repeated, his hands gripping handfuls of the sheet in hopes of stopping the rest of his body from trembling.

“Well, I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you.”

It was the most useless clarification, and it did absolutely nothing to appease his concern. The longer the words stayed stuck and muddled in my mouth, the more devastated he seemed. In hindsight, I would realize all the millions of awful reasons his mind must have been feeding him in the absence of the truth.

“Please, whatever it is, just tell me,” Spencer begged with a hesitant, shaky hand coming to rest on top of mine. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, we both looked down at our hands. It was a mercy and a disservice. I just had to tell him, but I couldn’t convince myself to do it without looking him in the eyes. That didn’t mean I wasn’t grateful that he didn’t look back, though. Because once the words were said, there would be no going back from them.

He was going to hate me.

“I… stopped taking my birth control,” I whispered in a voice that felt so foreign. “Like, a while ago.”

Spencer’s jaw steeled, his eyes widening and shooting up to me with the same speed he used to jump off the bed. Despite my efforts to grab him, to stop him from leaving me, he was five feet away in a matter of seconds.

“What?!” he shouted. It was the loudest I’d ever heard him. Even the echoes felt deafening, and my hands covered my ears with a wince.

“Shit! That was loud!” I whined in a pathetic attempt to make him feel bad for me. I didn’t deserve it, but I think it worked. Because the next time he spoke, it was at a more manageable volume.

“What do you mean you stopped taking your birth control?! When?!”

“Stop yelling at me.” I pulled my knees to my chest and ignored the pain in my stomach when I did so. It felt well deserved.

“You aren’t joking, either. Why didn’t you tell me this?” Spencer continued, his hands raking through his hair while he started to pace the room.

Nothing about it felt real. I felt like I was stuck in one of my million recurring nightmares. I just wanted to wake up, to be somewhere other than in a room too small for the bass in his voice. I only barely saw him when he finally approached me. He still stayed a few feet away, but he met my eyes that stared vacantly at the wall ahead of me.  

“Answer me!”

Whether it was the order that broke me or the pain in his voice, all of my resolve and apathy shattered at once.

“You’ve always said you wanted to get me pregnant!” I screamed back, digging my nails into my skin in the hope of finding feeling there.

“Not like this! Not right now!” he scoffed. The sound would have hurt more if he hadn't stepped closer to me when he made it.

“Why not?!” I tried to sound angry, but all I heard was the plea beneath the words.

I just want to be useful. Please let me be useful.

“Are you serious?” Spencer’s disbelief was present in every ounce of his existence. His hands were alternating between fists and flat palms, his voice cracking and wavering in pitch. “What has gotten into you? You know that you can’t have a child right now.”

I bit down on my tongue in one final attempt to keep the scary words inside. But he couldn’t feel the way his words felt just like bullets and scar tissue that would never fully heal again.

“You almost died! Do you—“ he choked, but powered through his body’s attempt to stop the thought. “Do you understand the danger that would put you in?”

“I know, alright?! I know!” The words were loud and hoarse, and I covered my own ears to hopefully drown out the sound of failure on my own tongue. “I know I can’t have a fucking kid right now!”

“Then what are you doing?!”

I don’t know. Please, help me.

He waited for my answer, but it stayed trapped in my head. When I started to rock in place, my hands still clamped over my ears and the tears I swore I didn’t have starting to fall, he sighed.  

“Get up, we’re going to the store.”

“Why?” I spat, sinking further into my spot in a purely selfish manner.

“Get up,” he said again, this time reaching out for my hand.

But I didn’t want to touch him. I didn’t want him to touch me like this. I was scared that if I did what he wanted, then the fight would be over. And if the fight ended, then what would be left? Was this all just some elaborate ruse to get me in his car so that he could drive me home and leave me there?

His hand touched mine so softly, with so much patience and love that it burned. Why wasn’t he angrier? He should be.

“No!” I screamed, smacking his hand away from me. Although I knew it didn’t hurt, I saw him wince at the contact. His lips flattened as he looked at the stupid sobbing girl on his bed.  

Then he left. He turned on his heel, and with less patience that time, grumbled the explanation he'd refused to give before. “We’re going to the store and getting levonorgestrel so that you don’t make the stupidest mistake of your life.”

It wasn’t the words that got me to move, but the fact that he was quickly leaving the room. I scrambled after him recklessly, crashing into just about every stationary object in the way. The shock had hit me so hard that I forgot I was still drunk.

“Is it really that awful to imagine having a future with me?” I sobbed, chasing after him just to crash into him when he stopped.

He still caught me, but I couldn’t tell you why.

“You know that’s not what this is about.” He sounded so tired, but he kept going. He kept fighting with me even though I could see in his eyes that it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I love you, (y/n)! But you’re acting like… like a child!”

“Fuck you,” I seethed, pushing myself away from him.

I was scared that if I didn’t force our bodies apart, I would have fallen to pieces in his arms again. And I knew he would try to put me back together again. He would try to help me because that’s what he always did. But sometimes things are just completely, irrevocably broken. Sometimes there was simply no fixing it.

Good luck convincing Spencer of that.

“I don’t need this shit and I don’t need to go to the store,” I muttered under my breath as I made my way back into the bedroom to locate my purse that I’d so gracefully thrown on the floor.

“(Y/n), just because the chances of pregnancy are low doesn’t mean they are nonexistent, and I’m not going to be the reason you throw your life away! You said yourself you aren’t ready to be a housewife!” I heard him rambling from the other room. Eventually, he followed the sounds of plastic packaging and rustling paper.

“Shut up,” I groaned, finally getting the tiny pill free and successfully shoving it in my mouth before I managed to drop it. “Just leave me alone, Spencer.”

Obviously, it wasn’t going to work. After all, I was in his apartment, and currently sitting cross legged in the middle of his bedroom and trying to dry swallow a pill that tasted a lot like every mistake I’d ever made.

“When did you buy that? And why do you have it with you?” He didn’t sound angry at all anymore. He didn’t even particularly sound annoyed or confused, just… exhausted.

“You’re welcome for saving you the drive.”

Of all the things he could have done, he chose the one I expected the least. He came to me, and carefully lowered himself to the ground in front of me. At first, that was all he did. He just sat across from me with puppy dog eyes and an awkward posture.

“Look at me,” he called gently.

“I don’t want to.”

He sighed, waiting another second to catch his breath and let the earlier emotions settle in the air. “You had that in your purse. Why?” he asked as he reached forward to grab the remnants of the torn up box and confirm that it was what he thought it was. Once he was satisfied, he just sounded even more broken. “You’ve clearly thought about it enough to plan ahead, but apparently I wasn’t important enough to have a say in any of these decisions.”

The pain that was forming in my stomach hurt worse than the AR-15.

“Were you just… Just planning on making those decisions without even telling me?” He was on the verge of tears, though he tried his very best to hide it.  It might’ve worked if I'd been both drunk and an idiot, but unfortunately the adrenaline was combatting the alcohol pretty well at that point.

With both hands covering his face, I could still see the way his jaw tensed between the words. “It would be my child, too,” he forced out, “You don’t— You don’t get to make those decisions without me. T-That’s not fair.”

The sounds were so pitiful, and I wanted to feel anything but what I felt. I wanted to feel angry or sad again, but I couldn’t. All I felt was hate; the most powerful, soul crushing self-loathing imaginable.

I didn’t want to be the reason he cried. I wanted it to stop, but I didn’t know how. I couldn’t control myself. I just kept rubbing salt in the wound so he would leave. So that I could hate him for leaving me instead of hating myself for making him.

“There’s no kid. I would’ve taken it either way.”

That succeeded in getting a response.

“Then what was the point of any of this?!” he fumed, dropping his hands to gestured to the state of us, dressed in pajamas and tears. “If you really believe that, then why tell me? Why risk it at all?!”

“I don’t know.”

“I deserve a better answer than that. That’s bullshit and you know it,” he demanded with an accusing finger.

But I didn’t know that it was bullshit. Really, it was the truth. I didn’t know why I was doing this. All I knew was that if I stopped, if I was just honest with him, I would have to face a reality I wasn’t ready for.

“I deserve the truth,” he said as his hand fell, unable to stay up under the weight of the feeling behind it.

I looked at him and I saw my mistakes in the form of tears trickling down his cheeks and a tremble in his lips. I saw a man who deserved nothing but the greatest love, begging me to give him something to work with. He wasn’t asking me for the world — he just wanted me to talk. To say something so that he could understand why I wanted him to hate me.

I didn’t have an answer. Not one that either of us would believe, anyway.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Spencer.” My lips moved without my permission, and my legs quickly followed the traitorous pursuit.

“What does that mean?” he begged me as he followed me. He followed me like he always did, with that suffocating hopefulness that we could make it.

But what if I couldn’t? What if this was it for me? What if, in my desperate desire to push him away, I was saving him from a miserable life with me?

I was trying to save him.

“It means…” I paused, turning to look him in the eyes so that he might finally hear what he needed to in my answer. “It means you should’ve picked a different 20 year old to fuck.”

His jaw finally relaxed, dropping open with a broken breath.

And I think he saw it. I think he saw the way I meant the words from the bottom of my soul. He heard me tell him that he should regret me while I tried to walk away, and he knew that I meant it.

“I’m leaving.” The words surprised me when I heard them in my own voice, but I followed them, nonetheless. I barreled towards the door with bare feet and my keys in my hand.

“Where are you going? You can’t leave like this.” His statements were logical, but that only served to further piss me off.

“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not your property!”

That wasn’t why I was angry. We both knew that wasn’t why. The real reason, the truth behind the reckless self-destruction was approaching too fast and I couldn’t slow it down. Nothing could stop it from rushing down the predetermined path that we stood on, and I was begging him to get off the tracks.  

“If you leave right now, you’re going to fucking kill yourself!”

And then it happened. Practically foaming at the mouth with the unhinged rage that had been boiling underneath my skin for too long, I finally managed to let the words go.

“Maybe that’s the fucking point!”

Silence had never been so loud. It had never been that heavy.

“Have you ever stopped to consider that, Spencer?” I laughed because there was no reason in my mind not to. It all seemed so terribly obvious and we’d been skirting around it for so long. Why were we pretending like this was news? Like we hadn’t heard the horns and seen the headlights approaching?

“Please stop.” It was said like a plea but meant as an order. But I never listened to directions and he already knew that.

“I’m not your problem just because you were unfortunate enough to fall in love with me,” I continued, finding a freedom in being able to finally say what I’d been thinking all along. “Put me out of my fucking misery, Spencer. Just let me go.”

“Stop!” he shouted, pulling fistfuls of his hair as his chest heaved with deep, rasping breaths. I’d heard that voice from him before, but only once. The memories were locked away in the part of my brain that I swore to leave locked up.

I was back in the bank. I could feel his hands slipping in blood on my stomach and pressing into my cheeks. I was in the ambulance again. His hands were so warm that they burned, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him to leave. I'd had one foot in the grave then. I felt like I was still there, teetering over the edge with nothing but Spencer’s frantic breathing and desperate begging keeping me from jumping in.

“Stop saying that!” Spencer ordered, his hands letting go just enough to come back down on his head with some force. I jumped at the contact and wondered when I'd started feeling his pain, too.  I wondered when we'd found ourselves back in his apartment again.

“Y-You aren’t going to die!” He continued. It didn’t have the force of an order or the pathetic breaking of a cry. It was just a statement he was trying to will into existence. An attempt to ward off memories that reminded him he was capable of losing me. He had already almost lost me once. In a way, it was this same scenario.

It was just that he wasn’t losing me quickly from a gunshot wound. No, I was bleeding out in an entirely different way.

“You can’t— I can’t lose you. I can’t do it again,” he sobbed, falling to his knees and not caring at all about the bruises that would follow. The sight of him collapsing in on himself was terrifying, and I realized for the first time the true consequences of my actions. I couldn’t pretend that I was trying to save him anymore. I couldn’t listen to the congested, barely comprehensible ramblings of a man begging me not to want to die and act like I was thinking of him at all.

I was being selfish. How very much like me.

“Please, anything but that. You can hate me forever, but please don’t…” The words trailed off, and I felt compelled to answer them. I needed something to release the knot in my chest and allow my lungs to fill again.

“I don’t hate you, Spencer. I could never hate you.” The words were infuriating in their honesty, but he needed to hear them. He needed to know that none of this was his fault, that he’d done nothing wrong other than meet me.

I couldn’t leave him like that. He deserved so much better than me, but that was all that I had. So, I climbed down next to him, reaching out to him and hoping that he would hold me back.

To my surprise, he did. His hands grabbed mine like they were a lifeline, bringing them to his lips wet with tears. And although he was silent, I could hear the way he prayed that they wouldn’t fade away from him again.

“I-I… I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you. I’m supposed to be the adult here, I’m supposed to know how to fix these things, but I have no idea what I’m doing, (y/n).”

It was an admission Spencer didn’t often make. The complete helplessness and inability to fix the puzzle before him didn’t just hurt because it was painful to watch, it was also just another reminder of his limits.

One time he had promised me that he wouldn’t let anything hurt me. I should have told him that it was a stupid promise to make then. I should have showed him the skeletons in my closet and the mess in my hands.

But it didn’t matter anymore. He had already seen it, and it was too late. I’d made too many mistakes, and I had to face them. I couldn’t run away anymore. That meant listening to Spencer, pouring his heart out to me and clutching my hands like they would turn to nothing in front of him.

“You’re falling apart and you won’t talk to me. I don’t know how to make this stop hurting. I don’t know how to help you. Sometimes you’re so happy but other times I can see it in your eyes…”

Our eyes met, unguarded, for the first time in what felt like hours but was actually probably only a few minutes. We looked into each other’s eyes and tried to read each other’s minds. I didn’t know what he saw, but I heard the way it struck him.

“Do you… Do you want to leave me?” he asked.

And I realized then, that was what my behavior was leading up to. That was what my mind was racing towards, without ever considering whether it was what was best for me. Because I wasn’t thinking about what was best for me, or what I wanted, or what I should want. All I cared about was the same concern Spencer had for me— I didn’t want him to throw his life away just to be with me.

“Is that what you want?” I asked.

Spencer heard something in my question that brought life back to his eyes. I wished that I could hear his thoughts because he always seemed so much farther ahead. Like he could see the immediate future and knew what would follow.

Then again, maybe I was just idealizing him. I had a tendency to do that. He wasn’t a superhero. He was just a man, trying his best in a world that never really let him rest. I certainly didn’t help with that.

“No. No, that’s not what I want at all,” he said, his hands finding the courage to let go of mine and slide up my arms. He cupped my face with such an urgency and relief that it almost felt the same as before I had uttered those terrifying words. “I told you I want to marry you and I wasn’t kidding.”

It only took a few words for any progress and vulnerability to be obliterated. Four words. That’s all it took.

I want to marry you.

A white picket fence is what I’d promised him. I'd painted a vivid image of us with two children that were just like him. A normal, domestic life is what I’d said.

I hadn't known. I'd made a mistake. I had lied.

“Stop fucking saying that!” I wished the fight would leave my body and let my weary muscles rest, but it kept coming back. Sure as the sun rises in the morning, I couldn’t let go of the hatred. It had to go somewhere, and Spencer continued to be the stupid, stubborn man putting himself in front of me without any defenses.

I don’t think he was expecting that, though. He jumped back at the sound, his hands bracing his fall as I flailed to get away from him. I didn’t have the energy or coordination to stand, so I just let myself fall to pieces on the floor in front of him.

“Stop telling me about this future you have planned for us b-because I’m a useless, idiotic fuck up, and it’s freaking me the fuck out!”

Naturally, the only thing that could incense Spencer more than violating his trust was, apparently, talking badly about myself. Because as soon as he heard the words, he was wound up just the same.

“What are you so afraid of?!”

Without thinking about the words, implications, or consequences, I gave him the answer he fought for. I gave it to him because I couldn’t hold it any longer. I gave it to him and hoped that it would grant me the closure he sought, too.

“That I won’t ever be able to give you a baby and you’re going to fucking leave me!”

Spencer, in all his shock and disbelief, could only utter back a single, exasperated, “…What?” The way the word fell out of his mouth almost sounded like a laugh, the side of his lips curling into an almost imperceptible smile.

“I’m scared that when I stop being useful to you, you’re going to leave me like everyone else,” I explained, my voice as small as I felt in that moment.

But Spencer, in his uncanny ability to predict the future, was trying not to smile. Don’t get me wrong — he wasn’t laughing at me, and the words certainly brought him no joy. But there was something else buried beneath the suffering.

“Come here,” he requested with a sad, small grin and a wave of his hand. When he saw the hesitance on my face, he beckoned me closer again with more feeling. “I want to talk to you. Come here.”

So I came. I came as close to him as I could. And as I practically sat in his lap, I remembered how much easier it was to breathe when he held me, and how much lighter the tears felt when he wiped them a way.

“Why do you think I’m going to leave you?” he asked through a chuckle, like the very notion was so unbelievable that it couldn’t be uttered as anything other than a joke.

“Y-You want kids,” I mumbled, looking down at our t-shirts wet with tears. I played with the hem of his to remind myself that we were both still there. And although Spencer sympathized, he didn’t seem too keen on me looking away at that particular moment. With a gentle finger under my chin, he guided my eyes back to his.

“Okay. So do you, right?”

“Well, yeah…” I paused and pursed my lips and bit down on the bottom one. I waited until he raised his eyebrows in a challenge before I explained. “But what if I can’t have any?”

Spencer’s face scrunched up with his shoulders in a dismissive shrug, “There are other ways to have kids. I’m not worried about that at all.”

Just like that, he’d waved away my fears of inadequacy and failure like they were smoke from an already snuffed out candle. He made it so clear so quickly that biology wasn’t the thing that mattered. That it wasn’t my genetics or physical traits that made him want to share a literal life with me.

Spencer didn’t need me to have his children; he just wanted me to raise some with him.

“Why are you worried about that? Did something happen?” he pressed forward, unsatisfied with the idea that I might still be carrying some heaviness without his assistance.

“The doctor told me that I might not ever be able to have my own kids and I just...”

I should have known better than to doubt the insistence of his greedy hands. They would never let a burden belong solely to me. And I… didn’t want to bear the weight alone anymore, either. The dam was broken, and my heart came rushing out into his waiting arms.

“I’m so tired of it, Spencer. I’m tired of this stupid shit stealing my life away from me. You’ve been taking care of me for months, a-and the way you look at me sometimes-- I can see it on your face. I can feel the way it hurts you just to look at me.”

That hurt flashed in his eyes right then but faded with a swiftness I hadn’t seen in a long time. He didn’t want me to see it yet. One fight at a time, I heard him think. When this shifted load balanced between us again, we could figure the rest out.

First, we had to settle this. It had to end.

“If I can’t give you children, and I can’t... I can’t make you happy then—“

“Stop,” he demanded, his finger coming up to cover my lips. There was no argument to be made at his protest. With a deathly seriousness veiled with bowed brows and a lip that still trembled, Spencer whispered to me, “You can feel however you want to, but you don’t get to decide how I feel.”

Tears welled in both of our eyes, threatening to fall with the other. But they didn’t, they stayed pooled at our lashes and drowned us in visions of haloed lights and blurry reflections.

“I am so happy with you. No matter what. Every second of every day. Do you understand me?”

The only answer I had the strength to give was my surrender. Collapsing forward into his arms, I buried my face into his shoulder. I reveled in the warmth of his chest and the strength of his hands on my back. I felt his heartbeat against my cheek as the deep, joyful breaths he took in came out as relieved laughter.

“I love you, (y/n).”

He must have heard, or at least felt, my soft groan in response, because he peeled me off of him with a smirk. “What’s wrong now?” he asked in an equally tired whine.

“You only use my name when you’re angry or sad,” I grumbled through a pout. It only felt a little silly, to joke about something so stupid minutes after screaming our hearts at each other. We were just so tired, and the finish line was in sight. We just wanted to cross it together, and preferably with less tears involved.

Spencer didn’t say any of that, but I felt it, nonetheless. It was clear in the way he pushed my hair from my face before running his fingers down my jaw. “I use your name when I’m worried,” he corrected. “And you scared me tonight. I’m sorry that you’ve been feeling this way.”

We were toeing the line back into heavy emotions, and I shook my head to ask him not to take me back there tonight. But I couldn’t blame him at the same time. He’d so gracefully handled all of my fears and rage; he deserved a chance to voice his own. They’d fallen so far behind in the race towards the truth.

“I understand you were scared to tell me, but...” he stopped, trying to find a way to explain it without hurting my feelings. He really was too nice to me.

“I know. It was stupid. I feel terrible,” I finished for him. Once my face hit his shoulder again, I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, Spencer,” I said with almost all of the energy I had left. He stroked soothing patterns over my back, and after a moment I realized that we’d started to rock. I wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or mine.

“I appreciate your apology, but please promise me that you’ll talk to someone about this,” he humbly requested, his words muffled in my hair.

“Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?”

It was almost a joke. Spencer wasn’t going to let it go, though. “Don’t try to be clever with me, little girl. I need you to talk to someone who knows how to help you,” he playfully scolded.

Through a yawn and a chuckle, I pressed on in my attempt to end the night on a horrible joke. “Isn’t that your whole job?”

“Yeah, I guess it is sometimes, huh?” he agreed halfheartedly. Really, he was only trying to give me a little bit of a win. We both knew his job wasn’t very good at helping people before the fact. It was just another poor attempt at avoiding healing. I had been holding on to that anger so tightly that there wasn’t room for us in the space that was left.

“But I think you also know I can’t be that person for you,” Spencer eloquently said, cradling my head as it started to rock with each motion.

“Yeah, I know,” I sighed, “I promise.”

I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, but no matter what, it wouldn’t have lasted long enough. The rhythm of his heart evened out over time, settling into the lullaby I needed to finally find some rest. But realistically, we couldn’t sleep there. Spencer was kind enough to practically carry me back into the bed we had shared when this all started, although this time he laid beside me.

From there, he helped tuck me in and pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead. My eyes were closed, but the smile that spread over my cheeks was enough of a signal that I was still awake.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

My bloodshot eyes opened at his call, and I found love staring back at me. I knew he could see my eyes bouncing back and forth as I tried to see all of it at once in his eyes, and I didn’t care. Even when he kissed me, neither of us closed them.

“We don’t have to worry about anything,” he said as our mouths broke apart. His thumb swept over my cheeks to all the places I knew he was thinking about kissing. There was a very poor attempt to hide his smile at the thought of the future, but I appreciated the effort he put in.

“When you’re ready to try to have kids, I’ll be right there with you,” he said.

It was clear that Spencer really wanted it to be a meaningful sentiment, but I was still a little bitter at his failure to laugh at my previous terrible jokes. So when I saw the opportunity, I took it swiftly and with no regrets.

“I sure hope so, or else I don’t think it’ll work,” I muttered through the side of my mouth before turning onto my back.  

Spencer’s first carefree giggle of the night was my prize, and I couldn’t have loved it any more. “That’s my little girl,” he cooed, curling up against my side and wrapping a possessive arm over my chest.

Just before my eyes fluttered shut, I saw movement below my face. I kept them open long enough to see his pinky presented to me and a knowing look in his eyes. “Everything will be alright as long as we have each other,” Spencer offered.

And despite our bad history with promises, I had no reasons left to doubt that one. 

—————————————————

| Part 21 |

[littlegnoblin]

Happy Valentine’s Day to my best friend and other half @donestiel

read on ao3

Dean comes home from work to find Cas and Jack sitting at the table, red heart-shaped lollipops strewn in front of them. 

He gives Cas a quick kiss. “You trying to give the kid a sugar rush or what?” 

“Daddy! It’s for Valemtime’s Day!” Jack yells excitedly, hopping off his chair to hug Dean’s legs.  

“It’s pronounced valentine, Jack.”

“I don’t know, valemtime kinda has a nice ring to it,” Dean says. Jack beams up at him and he can’t help but ruffle his hair. 

“Yes, well, the holiday has become so bastardized that I suppose renaming it wouldn’t hurt.” Cas squints at the box the candy came in. “Does no one find it odd that their children are passing around cards demanding others belong to them?”

Dean sits down and pulls Jack into his lap, flipping through the little pink cards. “I don’t know that you’re supposed to think about it that hard, dude.” He comes across a card that reads ‘kiss me’ and holds it up. “This, on the other hand-- they’re five, what the hell do they need to be kissin’ for?”

“I want kisses!” Jack protests. 

“You’re a little kiss monster.” Cas leans in and presses a big, exaggerated smooch to Jack’s cheek. “How was that? Did it satisfy the beast?”

Jack giggles and nods enthusiastically. 

“Hey, I’m gonna need to sample one of those kisses myself. Make sure they’re regulation-- standard procedure.”

“Is that right?”

“‘Fraid so,” Dean says with a shit eating grin. 

He’s expecting a goofy kiss like the one he gave Jack but Cas uses his thumb to tilt Dean’s chin just so and kisses him deeply. 

They break apart when two tiny hands push at their faces and Jack tells them to knock it off. 

“This is what Valentine’s Day is all about, champ. Besides, I thought you liked kisses.”

“You guys do it gross.” 

Dean smiles and bounces his eyebrows at Cas, who rolls his eyes but can’t hide the small curl of his mouth. 

“Perhaps your father will help you write your classmates’ names on the cards while I get dinner ready.”

“I can cook,” Dean says quickly. The thought of Cas’ last attempt at cooking has his stomach churning and he’s pretty sure feeding that toxic waste to Jack would be considered child abuse. 

Cas holds up a cardboard box. “It’s frozen pizza.”

“Alright, I’ll do babysitting duty. Just make sure you take the plastic off this time.”

“It’s not babysitting when it’s your own child and that was one time.”

“One time too many,” Dean mutters.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing, dear.”

Cas glares at him. “I expect you to eat a healthy portion of salad along with your pizza tonight.”

“You making it yourself or is it bagged?”

The glare intensifies. 

Jack tugs on his sleeve. “Daddy, did you like doing valentine’s stuff in school?”

“Nah, it, uh-- it wasn’t really a thing when I was your age.” 

That’s a blatant lie but Dean’s not going to tell him the truth and bum him out. What five year old wants to hear that their dad didn’t do Valentine’s Day exchanges because there was barely enough money for food, let alone candy, and he never really stuck around any school long enough to get included in the holiday stuff. Shit’s depressing. 

“So you never got no cards or nothin’?”

“Nope.” Dean never got cards but he did get invited under the bleachers a few times in high school to unwrap a different kind of present. He’s not telling him that either, though. 

“That sucks. Can I have a lollipop?”

“Nice try, kid.” Dean taps on the card in front of them. “Get to writing.” 

He oversees the careful labelling of the cards, reminding Jack to double check the list of names anytime he spells something wrong and corrects a few backwards letters. They debate who gets what card and Jack complains that he has to give one to Tom who keeps cutting him in line. 

Cas rejoins them in the middle of Jack’s impassioned rant, hiding his smile behind his hand. 

“While I agree that Tom is a-- what was it you called him?”

“A butthead.”

“Yes, right, a butthead. While I agree he is a butthead, unfortunately I think you need to be the bigger person. Maybe this will even convince him to stop cutting in line and you two can be friends.”

“No way. I don’t wanna be friends with Tom.”

“You never know,” Dean says. “I didn’t like your dad when we first met, but I think he’s a pretty okay guy now.”

Jack looks at him wide eyed. “You didn’t like Daddy?”

“No way, he was a butthead.”

“It was more of a misunderstanding,” Cas explains. 

“Oh is that what we’re calling it?”

Cas lifts an eyebrow and stares him down. “What would you call it, Dean?” 

Shit, that should not be so hot. 

“Not the point; the point is that I didn’t think I would ever like your dad and now we’re married. Things change.”

Jack furrows his brows, considering. “I don’t want to marry Tom.”

Dean snorts. “You don’t have to. In fact, please don’t. His mom is a nightmare.” Cas kicks him under the table. “What! She is!”

“You don’t have to marry him and you don’t have to be friends with him,” Cas says, ignoring Dean completely, “but you do have to give him a card and some candy.” 

Jack grumbles but does as he’s told. Dean’s legs are starting to fall asleep but he’s become increasingly aware of how fast Jack is growing up and soon-- way too fucking soon, if you ask him-- he won’t be sitting in his lap at all so he silently resigns to not feeling his legs for the next ten minutes. 

“All done!” Jack yells and throws his hands in the air. 

“Sweet, now let's stick some candy in these bad boys and call it a night.”

“Wait, there’s a extra, what should I do with it?”

“Is there anyone who’s not in your class that you’d like to give a valentine to?”

Jack gasps and slaps a hand over Dean’s eyes, nearly poking one out in the process. “Close your eyes, Daddy!”

Dean dutifully closes his eyes until Jack tells him he’s finished. He slowly opens one eye and sees the pink card held about an inch from his face.

“For me?” he gasps dramatically.

“Yes!”

The front of the card reads ‘You’re the best!’ and when he opens it, he finds ‘Daddy’ written in some of the neatest handwriting from Jack he’s ever seen. Beneath it he’s signed his name, the K backwards like it always is on his first try. 

“I gave it to you because you never had one before and also you’re the best daddy ever, who makes me yummy chocolate chip pancakes and cheeseburgers and does funny voices for bedtime stories,” Jack explains. 

Dean wraps his arms around his son and rests his cheek on top of his head, his heart feeling fit to burst. “Thank you, Jack. I’m gonna keep this forever.” And he means it. 

“Welcome. Can I have a lollipop now?”

Cas points at Dean. “He gets that from you.”

 After the valentines are carefully put away and they’ve had dinner (plastic free and edible, which Cas seems proud of), Jack gets a bath and is tucked in bed. Dean and Cas spend the rest of the night sprawled out on the couch watching reruns of Doctor Sexy and drinking beer. Party city. 

When the Doctor Sexy reruns switch to Jeopardy, Dean knows it’s officially midnight. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, I guess.” 

They tip their bottles together. 

“I hope I didn’t disappoint you by not planning anything,” Cas says, picking at the label on his beer. 

“What? No, of course not. We never do anything. I thought we were on the same page about avoiding that shit after our first Valentine’s together.”

They both shudder thinking about the sweaty cupid ‘handshake’. 

“We are, but we never actually discussed it and I…” Cas pauses and tilts his head. “I think having Jack around and seeing the world through his eyes, experiencing things in a new way, it makes me wonder if we’re not missing out on some of the little things.”

“Hey, we appreciate lots of the little things-- like you not cooking frozen pizza with the plastic still on.”

“Dean.”

“Okay, okay. So you sayin’ you wanna celebrate now?”

“Sam and Eileen do.”

“Sam and Eileen are saps. And they don’t have a five year old running around.” 

Cas makes a sound of agreement and softly strokes the back of Dean’s neck, sending shivers down his spine. “You make a fair point. In all honesty, I don’t want to do anything extravagant but I would like to take the opportunity to remind you how much I love you. Am I allowed to be sappy for a moment?”

Dean clears his throat. “Yeah, I guess you deserve one day to get it all out.” He puts their bottles down and faces his husband. “Lay it on me, big guy.”

Instead of looking annoyed, Cas just looks fond. “You know, it’s ironic that a man as full of love as you are is so quick to dismiss any sentimentality. You are a fascinating creature.” A thumb sweeps under his eye where he’s got permanent dark circles and settles at the corner where his lines get deeper every day. It makes Dean want to squirm but he holds still under the reverent touch. “Perhaps that’s why I never stood a chance.”

“C’mon, man,” Dean says, dropping his eyes to the couch. 

“Hush, I’m allowed, I’ll have you know. My husband gave me explicit permission.”

“Well, your husband is thinking about rescinding the offer.”

“I love you.” 

Cas says it with such conviction that Dean can’t help but look back at him, at his bright eyes and soft smile; at the evidence of his love written all over his face. 

“I love you, endlessly, Dean Winchester. For everything that you are; the good and the bad. From the moment I saw your soul in hell, so bright it was almost blinding, I knew I would never be the same. You breathed life into me, gave me meaning and purpose, taught me the value of love, and you did it all, selflessly, simply by being the man that you are.” Cas draws him close, presses their foreheads together. “I can never give back all that you’ve given me but I promise you will have my love until we are nothing but a forgotten memory, and longer still.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and they breath together in the small space between them. 

“You can’t-- you can’t just say shit like that,” he whispers. 

“And why not?”

“Because it’s not true, first of all.” Cas opens his mouth to argue but Dean covers it with his hand and hurries on. “You’ve already given all of that back and more. God, Cas, if it weren’t for you I’d have been dead years ago. I needed to stick around-- to take care of Sammy, to stop whatever or whoever was trying to end the world next-- but you… you made me want to live. Really live, not just survive, you know? I fuckin’ love you, man.”

Cas pushes Dean’s hand away and presses his lips against Dean’s fervently. 

When they finally break apart for desperately needed air, they both pretend they aren’t sniffling like little girls. 

“You happy now? Can we go back to not doing this?”

Cas laughs. “I hadn’t planned on making it quite so emotional, I apologize. You always bring out the most in me.”

“Ugh, enough,” Dean groans, shoving Cas’ smiling face away. “You aren’t allowed to say anything even approaching romantic for the next twenty four hours, capiche?”

“I can agree to that, as long as I’m allowed to give you a gift later.”

“I thought you said you didn’t plan anything?”

“It’s nothing big.” Cas’ fingers sneak under Dean’s shirt and trail along his stomach, dipping to his waistband. “I just happened to walk by Victoria’s Secret and see a pair of pink satin panties in the window.”

Dean’s heart beats a little faster. “Oh yeah?” he says breathlessly. “Not gonna lie, that seems more like a present for you.”

Cas hums and leans over Dean, forcing him to lie back on the couch. “Well then I suppose I’ll just have to do whatever you want while you wear them.”

When he kisses him he tastes like cherry candy and Dean thinks could learn to like this holiday. 

[lag1995-fics]

Hii. Can I request anything with pre- cult Kai and fem reader with a reader that's really happy and bubbly? It could be a fic, headcanonns, literally anything lol. I love your writing 💙💙

Of course you can love, I hope you enjoy this ❤️

Crushing

Pairing: Pre Cult Kai/ bubbly reader

Words: 1506

Warnings: POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS ⚠️⚠️⚠️ This will contain sexual harassment and assault it isn’t graphic but some may feel uncomfy, this fic also features heavy language

Summary: Kai and Reader have both had crushes on each other but have consistently brushed their feelings off they both felt the other was simply unattainable. A bad experience ends up bringing them together.

Masterlist

///::::///

You had always been a bubbly person, the type that usually had a grin spread across her face. You had the biggest crush on your friend Winter’s older brother. You were one hundred percent positive that you were not his type. He was sarcastic and a little mean at times, you were an absolute giggle box who always had a kind word and a smile for almost everyone.

What you didn’t know, was that you were not the only person with a crush. Kai had been mesmerized by the way you floated through life like you had a bubble to protect you from all the grubby thorns that were society. You never caught him but he would stare at you when you came to visit Winter. The entire family loved you actually and Kai’s father would often tease him about you when you were out of the room.

You never expected anything to come out of your silly little crush and neither did Kai for that matter. He had actually put you up on a bit of an unfounded pedestal in his own mind. You were too pure for anyone himself included. He didn’t want to see anyone crush your spirit it was something he loved about you.

Kai couldn’t control the world though, and the world was a dark miserable place that was full of dark miserable people. You were someone who was remarkable though, you seemed untouched by the dark miserable world in his mind. The darkness of the world affects everyone sometimes though and it did eventually catch up to you.

***

You had been walking home from work in the rain, face tilted to sky as the soft drops of water tickled your skin. You hadn’t noticed the strange customer who had been watching you at the coffee shop where you worked. You also hadn’t noticed him follow you out of the shop too busy watching your bright yellow converse splash happily in the puddles on the grubby side walk.

It hadn’t taken him long to act when you had turned onto a fairly deserted road. He had caught up to you and began to walk in step with you. Red flags went up immediately in your head but you as always held out hope that maybe this person was just being friendly.

“Hey baby girl,” his tone was slippery and disgusting. You couldn’t help the trill of fear that went down your spine.

“Hey, please don’t call me that,” you muttered, probably more politely than you should have.

“Oh so you’re a frigid bitch that can’t take a fuckin compliment!” His tone had shifted from slick to intimidating in the span of a few seconds. This man was everything your mother had taught you to fear. You also wished you had started carrying personal protection like Winter had suggested, weapons made you uncomfy though.

“Excuse me I need to get home people are waiting for me” you babbled picking up your pace to try and put distance between himself and you. Before you got very far his large hand reached out wrapping around your forearm with a bruising tightness. You yelped, reaching into your pocket with your free hand to hit your emergency dial.

“I wasn’t done talkin to you bitch don’t think I didn’t notice you ignoring me at the stupid little coffee shop” your fear level was almost maxed out now and you could faintly hear Winter screaming in your pocket from where you had emergency dialed her.

“Please I don’t want any trouble, I haven’t done anything to you,” you tried to reason with the mad man. Before the man could utter another word a car screeched to a halt in the middle of the street.

Kai had been driving down the road on his way back home when he saw a familiar polka dot rain jacket being assaulted by some grubby asshole. He had slammed on his breaks and jerked his old beater of a car into park. He flew out of the car dashing to your side.

“Get. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. Of. Her.” He hissed as he stepped between you and your assailant. The man released her arm like it shocked him as Kai glared at him with angry brown eyes.

“Sorry man, I didn’t know she had a fuckin boyfriend she should have said something,” the man backpeddaled.

“It shouldn’t matter if a person has a boyfriend or not! No means no asshole!” You shouted the fear draining from you being rapidly replaced by righteous anger.

“If I ever see you again I’ll be the last person you’ll ever see fuck face” Kai spat angling himself rven further infront of you as the man ran off.

As soon as the man was gone Kai spun so that he was facing you. His eyes ran down your body looking for any possible injuries. Water dropped from his wild brown curls as he checked you over. He was careful not to touch you but you weren’t having any of that, you launched yourself into his arms your own wrapping around his surprisingly muscled middle.

“Thank you, you saved my ass,” you mumbled into his soaked t-shirt, happy that the rain was hiding your tear stained cheeks.

“You scared me to death, let’s get you home,” he brushed off your thank you. Like he could let someone try to hurt the only good thing in his world. He guided you to his car that was still parked in the middle of the road with the engine running.

Once you weee safely inside and he was driving again he turned to you. You couldn’t help the heat that filled your cheeks at his pointed gaze. You had never been alone like this with Kai before and it was frankly overwhelming.

“Why were you walking home, I know you have a car?” Kai asked his tone still full of worry. He would personally pay to have your car fixed if it was out of commission.

“I always walk when it’s raining, rain is my favorite” you blushed at how childish it sounded coming from your mouth. He let out an exasperated chuckle.

“Of course you do! Your a living breathing chick flick!” His tone was exasperated but lighthearted in a way.

“Hey! I resent that!” You shot out indignantly, “if I were a living breathing chick flick I would get the guy.”

Kai couldn’t help but look at you like you were dumb his brown eyes scanning your face to make sure you weren’t pulling his leg.

“Y/n you could literally get any dude you wanted, you’re freaking adorable” He sounded stunned that you would think such a thing. You rolled your eyes you didn’t need your best friend’s older brother blowing smoke up your rear.

“Adorable girls don’t get the guy Kai-Kai, hot girls get the guy” you rolled your eyes elbowing him gently. You didn’t know it but you were the only person in the world allowed to call him Kai-Kai. He pulled into your driveway still looking at you like you had grown three heads.

“You’re not serious y/n” Kai asked incredulously running a hand through his wet brown curls.

“Kai-Kai you don’t have to be nice to me just because I’m your sisters best friend” you rolled your eyes, moving to get out of Kai’s car.

“Give me your pinky” his voice sounded strange. Still you flashed him a goofy smile holding out a painted pinky. He linked his pinky with your own his was much larger and warmer.

“You know how a pinky swear works right?” He asked and you nodded still confused on where he was going with this.

“Yeah you can’t break a pinky swear” you replied.

“Well I pinky promise to tell you the brutally honest truth no sugar coating” he declared.

“Okay” you replied still a bit confused.

“Y/n I have wanted you from the moment you opened your mouth and that perfect giggle floated out. You ate everything I’m not. You’re a happy go lucky girl and I’m just some internet troll that enjoys getting a rise outta people,

“You’re way to good for me and I would never even bother to think that you would ever be interested in me. But you gotta stop this self deprecating bullshit. You are the most beautiful human I know inside and out” he ranted and you could only stare at him in shock, floored by his revelation.

“You like me?” You questioned your voice soft and squeaky.

“Hell yeah! How could anyone not like you y/n?” He too sounded surprised.

You unlatched your pinkies trying not to overthink what you were going to do next. You stared into Kai’s piercing brown eyes gathering your non existent courage. You leaned forward pushing forward with your hands on his console. Your lips connected in a searing kiss his lips scorched your own as he kissed you back with a fierceness, his hand burying itself in the back of your hair.

Sorry this took so long I was exhausted and time got away from me ❤️❤️❤️. Much love and thanks for reading.

[rynnrose]

CASTLETON [PART FOURTEEN]

You honestly can’t remember the last time you were this excited for something. Sure, it was nice to see your friends at the end of the summer, and you’d even been looking forward to attending your last Welcoming Feast, but none of those things could compare to this. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten to focus on anything other than war and destruction that you’ve almost forgotten the rush of adrenaline that overwhelms you before every game. After a year of little more than pain, suffering, and quite literally fighting for your life, you welcome the sensation with open arms.

The match isn’t set to start for another ten minutes, and already you can hear the chanting in the stands. Nearly every student in the school has come out to see you play, if Hooch is to be believed, and you can’t wait to give them a show. The first Quidditch game of the year is always an ordeal, particularly whenever your house is involved. Part of you wishes that you’d been pitted against Gryffindor — they always give you a run for your money, though you’d rather die than tell them that — but given the hostility between the snakes and lions, you suppose competing against them would only make things worse. Still, you hope things calm down soon; you owe Ginny and Jungkook a good game.

You didn’t realize how much you’d missed this until you started practicing again. It was easy to get lost in the drama at Hogwarts, particularly in the past few years. Even you and your friends weren’t immune, no matter how badly you tried to stay out of the conflict. Between Harry and the DA and Umbridge and Voldy, there’s been precious little time to focus on the things you actually love — and by god, how you love Quidditch.

It’s been five years since you joined the team, and you still get butterflies every time you step out onto the pitch. Growing up among Muggles obviously hadn’t given you much opportunity to familiarize yourself with broom riding, but you’d fallen head over heels for it the moment you walked into your first flying class. It was the only subject you’d never struggled in, simply because it came so naturally to you. Hooch singled you out as a potential player as soon as she saw you take to the sky. The majority of your first year was spent cooped up in the library reading about rules and regulations, famous players, and even the origins of the sport. You were obsessed with the idea of being on the team. Naturally, when you were accepted second year, you were overjoyed.

It was your enthusiasm for the game that got Hobi and Yoongi involved. They’d spent so much time listening to you rant about it that they finally caved in and decided to try out third year — and funnily enough, discovered that they had quite the knack for it as well. None of you were particularly sporty, but you excelled where Quidditch was concerned. You and Hobi were Slytherin’s star Beaters, quicker than lightning when it came to keeping the Bludgers off of your team (and knocking them towards the rival players). Yoongi fit quite nicely into the Seeker position, what with his lithe frame and keen eyes. The three of you were the most skilled players on the team by the time fifth year rolled around; perhaps you’re a bit biased, but you’d wager that you’re the best in the entire school.

Being promoted to captain came as a bit of a shock, but you like to think you’ve done rather well in the time since you were given the position. Your teammates have never performed better, and though you’re all absolutely exhausted when practice ends, you know that you stand one hell of a chance of winning the cup this year. As much as they like to tease you, Hobi and Yoongi have attributed their improvement to you over and over again, citing your patience and determination as the driving force behind the entire team. You’ll never admit it, but their praise is perhaps the only thing that has kept you sane since the promotion.

Well...perhaps not the only thing.

You hadn’t been able to stop yourself from combing the stands for Taehyung as you made your way to the locker room. As much as you’ve tried to brush off your excitement, you can’t help but grin at the thought of him watching you play. Something about that boy — and you’re no closer to figuring it out now than you were the day you met him — gets you flustered like no one else in the world. Fortunately, you’re quite certain you have the same effect on him.

You haven’t spoken a word of this to your friends, of course; they’ve done a good enough job of teasing you on their own without adding fuel to the fire. They have the best of intentions (you think), but not a day has gone by since you met Taehyung wherein they haven’t taunted you mercilessly over the blue-haired boy. It’s the first time your love life has ever been a topic of conversation among your group, and while you used to hate that no one had ever seriously caught your interest, you’re suddenly grateful that you never had to put up with this before. One more smirk from Hobi and you’re quite certain you’re going to punch him in the jaw.

It seems a bit hypocritical of him to tease you about your “boyfriend” when you still know next to nothing about his own. All he’s told you is the basics, insignificant details that could apply to about three hundred guys in your year: brown hair, brown eyes, bright smile, glasses. You have your suspicions, of course — you’re nothing if not perceptive — but without any confirmation from him, you’re left to fumble in the dark trying to connect the dots. For all your complaining, though, you understand why he’s kept it under wraps. Anyone caught fraternizing with a Slytherin right now is just asking for trouble; he doesn’t want his lover anywhere near the whole situation, and you suppose you can understand that.

Still, you can’t stop yourself from taunting him when he strolls over and leans against the locker at your side.

“Is your secret boyfriend gonna make an appearance today?”

Your words have him narrowing his eyes. He doesn’t mean it, of course, but if you were anyone else, you might have cowered under his gaze. Hobi can embody Slytherin intimidation when he needs to, particularly where you and the boys are concerned. Most students would freeze in place if he looked at them the way he’s looking at you now. All you can do is chuckle.

“He might,” he relents with a barely-suppressed smile. Your own lips quirk upward when you notice the small glimmer of happiness in his irises. “What about yours? Can we expect a blue-haired supporter on the Hufflepuff side of the pitch?”

You scoff and shove him away from you with a sneer. He cackles maniacally, already having far too much fun at your expense. It’s not the first time he’s taken pleasure in your anger, though you know he would sooner dive to the bottom of the Black Lake than risk actually upsetting you. The man’s quite literally risked his life for you before; you sincerely doubt he would go out of his way to genuinely hurt you. Still, he seems to have a great deal of fun at your expense. You’d be offended if you didn’t do the exact same thing to him.

“If you must know, yes,” you tell him. “I...I asked him to come watch.”

His eyes widen at that. You just know he’s got some kind of sarcastic comment rising in the back of his throat, but you raise your hand to silence him before he can even get a word out. The last thing you need right now is to worry about Taehyung (even if he’s come to occupy your thoughts more and more the past few days). You can deal with your best friend’s taunts most days, but not now, when you’ve got a game to win in a few minutes.

He sighs and raises his hands in surrender, though it’s not hard to guess what’s going through that oversized head of his. It seems that you and Taehyung are all he talks about these days. You don’t know what his fascination is, but you sincerely hope he finds a new topic of conversation soon. You might hex him if he doesn’t.

Before he can speak again, you cup your mouth with your hands and call out to the rest of the locker room occupants. “Alright, people! Gather up!”

Your teammates cease their playful shoving and turn their attention to you. The seven of you migrate to the center of the room with ease, just as you’ve done a thousand times before. Light laughter echoes off the walls as you huddle up and toss your arms around each other, Hobi to your left and Yoongi to your right. Slytherins try to avoid sentimentalism when they can help it — you typically have far more important things to worry about — but there are some traditions even you pay homage to. You suspect the other houses would be shocked to learn that you take the time to psych each other up before each game. They’ve never been particularly open-minded when it comes to you.

“Okay,” you begin in the most sincere voice you can muster, “this is it. The past year has been nothing but chaos and despair, but we’re finally back. The Hufflepuffs probably think we’ve gone rusty. Are you gonna prove them right?”

The whole team calls out in unison, brows furrowed in concentration. “No!”

“Are you gonna let them beat us?”

“No!”

“Hell no. We’ve been waiting for this day since the end of fifth year. You guys have put your hearts and souls into this team, and I’ll be damned if I let us lose after all the work we’ve done. It doesn’t matter if the whole school’s rooting against us. You guys have yourselves, you have each other, and you have me. Forget about the Gryffindors, the Ravenclaws, even the Hufflepuffs. We’re Slytherins, and we don’t lose. On three.”

The lot of you outstretch your hands, grinning like idiots when they land on top of each other in the middle of the circle. Your smile is the largest of them all. You can’t deny how much you’ve missed this, the overwhelming sense of camaraderie among your fellow players. It isn’t often that you allow yourself to dedicate yourself so entirely to something (aside from your pranks, of course), but when you’re in, you’re all in. You and Yoongi playfully bump each other’s shoulders when your hands meet. You start the countdown with a smirk.

“One, two, three!”

“SLYTHERIN!”

The horn sounds as soon as the chant ends, signaling the beginning of the match. You and your teammates grab your brooms and make for the pitch entrance, practically bouncing with excitement. Hobi and Yoongi flank you on either side. You don’t need to look at them to know that they’re smiling just as widely as you. The three of you (and Jungkook) had spent most of the summer practicing in Yoongi’s backyard, but to be here now, preparing to step out onto the field and play your last first match ever, is almost surreal. You’ll never say it out loud, but you’re glad to have them by your side.

The team steps out onto the field together, grinning ear to ear despite the cacophony of boos you’re met with. Three of the four houses are jeering and shouting at you, though this is not at all unusual. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are being a bit more subtle about it, but Gryffindor has spared no expense in taunting you. Even from here you can see their homemade signs, most of which bear crude drawings of badgers eating snakes and other unpleasant depictions of your house symbol. You suspect that McGonagall attempted to confiscate them before the game began, but even she isn’t vigilant enough to stop them all. Honestly, they would have found a way to taunt you no matter what.

The majority of the positive feedback comes from the Slytherin section, where your housemates are clapping and cheering as loud as they can to try and drown out the noise. It’s nothing compared to the shouts from the other sections, but you appreciate the effort nonetheless. You aren’t particularly close with most of your fellow Slytherins, but you smile and wave to them anyway, eager to prove that their faith is not misplaced. Oliver waves at you from the top row, lazily wiggling his green flag. You chuckle as you wave back.

Your support from the other houses is minimal, but it certainly doesn’t go unnoticed. Jungkook is among your loudest fans, shouting at the top of his lungs and blowing obnoxiously into his horn as soon as his eyes land on you. He’s decked out in green from head to toe, even going so far as to wear the emerald beret you bought for him during your trip to Paris the previous summer. The man’s even painted his face green and silver, much to the chagrin of his housemates, who stare at him as if he’s grown another head. You’d expect nothing less from him; for all his playful jabs, he’s always been your most vocal supporter.

Ginny sits not too far from him, eagerly waving at you with a green foam finger. You haven’t the slightest clue where she got it — Hogwarts doesn’t even sell foam fingers — but you have a sneaking suspicion that her father’s got something to do with it. Her smile is so wide you’re sure her face is going to crack, but she doesn’t seem to care. The sight of her fiery red hair standing out amidst the crowd makes you think of Fred and George, and your smile falters for a brief moment. It’s the first time you’ve played without them cheering you on, jumping up and down and shouting until their lungs gave out. Truth be told, you’re still a bit torn up over Fred’s loss. You try your best not to think about it.

Of course, your newest supporter sticks out among the rest. In the very front row of the Hufflepuff section is Taehyung, waving eagerly at you with the brightest of smiles. His vibrant hair makes him rather easy to spot, but that’s not what has you letting out a delirious chuckle when your eyes finally land on him. Despite your assurance that it was no problem for him to cheer for his own house, he’s sporting a dark green shirt and waving a Slytherin flag above his head. The sight of him in your house colors has you grinning like an absolute fool, even as Hobi suggestively wiggles his eyebrows. That boy just continues to surprise you.

It takes you a moment to realize that he hasn’t come alone. A rather excitable boy waves at you from his side, bundled up in a Ravenclaw scarf even though his team isn’t playing and it’s well over eighty degrees outside. Another Hufflepuff stands behind Taehyung, shooting you a smile so bright that you’re quite certain you might melt if you stare at it for too long. Kim Namjoon sits a few feet away from them, nose buried in a book as he goes out of his way to avoid your gaze. You’d expect nothing less from him, and honestly, you’re glad you don’t have to deal with his judgemental stare. The last thing you need right now is to concern yourself with him.

With one last wave to Taehyung, you tighten your grip on your broom and make your way to the center of the pitch. Madam Hooch is already there, as is the Hufflepuff captain, who offers you a polite smile. You know remarkably little about Hannah Abbott, save for the fact that she took over after Cedric Diggory’s untimely demise a few years ago. She’s been nice enough the few times you’ve spoken to her, though always a bit reserved, as if purposefully distancing herself from you. You don’t blame her in the slightest; your reputation has a way of putting people off.

“Alright, ladies,” Hooch calls. “It’s time. Shake hands, and we’ll begin the match.”

Hannah is the first to outstretch her hand. The players behind her look at you almost fearfully, as if they expect you to reach out and bite it off. Fortunately for them, you do no such thing. Your palm presses easily against Hannah’s, and to your surprise, she doesn’t flinch away. The two of you shake hands and smile politely, all too aware of the eager eyes watching your every move. You almost feel bad for her. Not everyone is as accustomed to being stared at as you.

With one last nod to your rival, you take a few steps back and mount your broom. Your players follow suit, each grinning ear to ear in anticipation. The stadium goes silent as your team and the Hufflepuffs stare at one another. You can feel the goosebumps crawling along your skin, the hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention. You’ve missed this feeling more than words can describe. No matter how chaotic and complicated your life might be, you can always count on the sheer exhilaration of the game to perk you up. For the first time all year, you don’t feel as if you’re just gliding through your life. You’re here, you’re alive, and you couldn’t be more excited if you tried.

The sound of Hooch’s whistle is the last thing you hear before you take to the sky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And in it goes! That’s another ten points for Slytherin, putting the score at 130 to 90!”

You’re fairly certain that the smirk is simply stuck to your face at this point. It’s only been twenty minutes since the match began, and already you can taste your impending victory. The Hufflepuffs have been giving you a good fight, posing a far more difficult challenge than expected, but they’re no match for the well-oiled machine that is your team.

Benjamin, your Keeper, has been running himself ragged defending the Slytherin goal posts. For every shot they make, he fends off three more. That they’ve managed to make it to ninety points is an impressive feat, even if they’re still coming in second place. He’s blocking shots that you would have considered sure things, and never once does he waver, even when the Hufflepuff fans start shouting obscenities at him. You’ve spent the past month whacking Bludgers towards the hoops to help him train, and it seems as though your work has paid off.

Your Chasers — Emilia, Anthony, and Leo — have been at the top of their game since the match began. They’re speeding through the air so fast that you can barely keep up with them, let alone the opposing team. Emilia and Leo are acting as support for Anthony, who has singlehandedly landed 100 of your 130 points. As soon as the Quaffle lands in his grasp, he’s gone, little more than an emerald blur as he takes off towards the posts. Emilia and Leo flank him on either side, occasionally tossing the ball back and forth between them to confuse the Hufflepuff Chasers. They are a team in their own right.

You and Hobi have, as usual, spent the entirety of the game trying to knock the Chasers off course. The pair of you have made them drop the Quaffle so many times you’re beginning to lose count. Your aim is so precise that the Bludgers find their mark each time, much to Hannah’s chagrin. Hobi is the calmer of the two of you, more interested in blocking shots than actually trying to hit anyone. You, however, are relentless. You have no interest in hurting anyone, especially not the Hufflepuffs, but you’ve gotten your fair share of near-misses. One particularly strong whack of your bat nearly took off Arabella Matthews’ head at the beginning of the game. Were you anyone else, you wouldn’t dare risk hitting a Bludger so close to someone; but you’re you, and you know that you’re skilled enough to keep the other players out of harm’s way.

And Yoongi — Yoongi is about to catch the Snitch.

You’re so focused on the Chasers speeding past you that it takes you a moment to notice it, but notice it you do. He’s been staying out of the action the entire time, opting to circle around the field in search of your golden ticket to victory. Aside from warning you of an incoming Bludger at one point, you haven’t given each other a spare glance since the game started. Now, though, as he takes off in a nosedive towards the ever-elusive ball, you can’t take your eyes off of him. Both you and Hobi cheer for him as he follows it towards the Ravenclaw stands, and even from across the field you can hear Jungkook shouting words of encouragement.

“You’ve got this Yoongi!” Your words are frantic, rushed, tumbling out of your mouth before you can even process them. You pay them no mind. Even the Bludgers have been forgotten. All you can do is watch Yoongi follow the Snitch, mere feet away from him. Your heart is beating with such ferocity that you can feel it slamming against your ribs, but you truly don’t care. The sun in your eyes, the chanting of the crowd, Hobi’s elated presence at your side — it all fades away. The only thing you care about is your friend.

The Hufflepuff Seeker has yet to notice his opponent’s disappearance in the sky, which only makes your grin widen. His housemates are screaming at him, gesturing frantically towards Yoongi and urging him to follow, but it’s too late. The entire arena watches with bated breath as Yoongi leans forward on his broom, thrusts his arm forward as far as it will go, stretches his fingers to the brink of snapping, grits his teeth, and —

“AND THAT’S IT! MIN YOONGI HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! SLYTHERIN WINS!”

You and Hobi scream and throw your arms up victoriously, smiling like idiots all the while. You’re drenched in sweat and fairly certain your arms are about to fall off out of sheer exhaustion, but you couldn’t care less. A familiar warmth swells in your chest as you watch the Slytherins erupt in applause, a sensation you haven’t felt since you were fifteen years old. It only grows more intense when your eyes land on Jungkook, who is jumping up and down while he shouts Yoongi’s name. When you see Taehyung, though, you’re fairly certain you’re going to melt from the inside out — because he’s smiling up at you with the most adoring expression you’ve ever seen on another human being, and it makes you go weak in the knees.

Your teammates hurry to the ground, eager to embrace Yoongi and congratulate him for the victory, but you don’t follow. You’re proud of Yoongi, make no mistake — he’s come a long way from the scrawny little boy you met on the common room couch in first year — but you have other things to attend to. You swear your broom moves of it’s own accord as you speed towards the stands. Hobi is giving you an odd look from the corner of his eye, one you pointedly ignore. You have no time for his questions right now.

Jungkook is racing towards you the moment your feet hit the stands, but for once, he’s not the one you’re there for. He’s confused, that much you’re sure of, because he knows that you know he’s sitting with the Gryffindors, but you’ve landed in the Hufflepuff section. Part of you feels guilty for not immediately running to meet up with him, but you brush it off. You know he’ll forgive you for momentarily moving him to the back burner, especially when he sees what you’re about to do.

It’s a bad idea, and you know that. But when you finally meet Taehyung’s glimmering eyes, you know there’s no point in trying to stop yourself. He opens his mouth to congratulate you, to tell you how amazing you were out there, but you don’t give him the chance. Before he can even get the first syllable out, you’ve thrown your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into the most bone-crushing hug you’ve given in years.

He freezes for a moment, clearly taken aback by your sudden display of affection. It’s caught you off guard too, to be honest — of all the things you’re known for around here, tenderness is not one of them. You don’t even hug your friends that often, and you’ve known them since you had braces. It hasn’t even been two months since you met Taehyung, and yet here you are, arms wrapped firmly around his back with your head resting atop his shoulder. It’s stupid, and you know it’s stupid, but you couldn’t have stopped yourself even if you wanted to...which, to be honest, you didn’t. You try not to think about what that might mean.

Mercifully, he returns the gesture when the shock wears off. He wraps his arms gently around your waist, hesitantly, as if he’s expecting you to come to your senses and pull away at any second. It isn’t until a few moments have passed that he actually tightens his grip, though it still doesn’t rival the hold you’ve got on him. You’re hugging him so tightly you’re shocked he can still breathe properly. He doesn’t seem to mind. Rather than push you away or question this rather abrupt attempt at kindness, he simply pulls you close and rocks you back and forth. You make no move to leave his grip.

You’re fully aware of how odd this is. The two of you only cemented your friendship a couple weeks ago, and you’ve certainly never done anything quite this affectionate before. You’ve playfully pushed his shoulder, sure, and he smiles at you every time you look at him, but neither of you have ever made a move to hug one another. It makes absolutely no sense for you to spring this on him; but dear god, the urge to throw yourself at him was so overwhelming it actually caught you off guard. Of all the post-game activities you’ve taken part in over the years — swimming in the lake, sneaking out to the Three Broomsticks with your teammates, downing an entire bottle of firewhiskey in one sitting — you’ve never done anything quite as bizarre as this.

But as he rests his head on your shoulder blade, you realize that you don’t regret it one bit.

The two of you don’t pull away until someone clears their throat behind you. It’s so loud and intrusive that you don’t even need to look to know who it is, though you turn on your heel nonetheless. Sure enough, Hobi is standing right there, arms folded and an insufferably smug grin on his face. Yoongi and Jungkook flank him on either side, looking at you with such teasing smirks that you have to restrain yourself from smacking them. None of them seem at all fazed by the death glare you shoot them.

“Well, who do we have here?” Hobi inquires with a playful lilt in his voice. His eyes meet yours for a fraction of a second, silently taunting you, and you’ve never wanted to punch someone more in your entire life. He knows this, you’re sure, which only makes his grin grow wider as he looks at Taehyung. “Don’t be rude, Y/N. Introduce us to your...friend.”

If Taehyung wasn’t standing right next to you, you would push Hobi over the edge of the stands without a second thought. As it is, you simply grit your teeth and gesture towards your blue-haired companion, silently hoping that your friends don’t scare him away. “Guys, this is Taehyung. Tae, these are my friends: Hobi, Yoongi, and Jungkook.”

The boys wave at him as you call out their names, each with a sickeningly smug grin. Whether Taehyung doesn’t recognize the satisfaction written across their faces or simply elects to ignore it, you don’t know, but he offers them a kind wave and a bright smile nonetheless.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he greets politely. “Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”

Hobi’s smirk only grows. “Funny. I was about to say the exact same thing.”

You’re only a second away from turning your best friend into a toad when another familiar (and exceedingly annoying) voice calls out to you.

“Y/N. It’s nice to see you. Behaving yourself, I hope?”

It’s your turn to smirk now, entirely too pleased with yourself as you turn on your heel to greet Namjoon. Taehyung’s other friends are behind him, each grinning and waving at you in greeting. The head boy, however, does no such thing. The smile he flashes at you is painfully fake, so much so that you wonder why he bothers wearing it at all. The unfamiliar Ravenclaw boy behind him elbows his side, and he coughs to conceal his groan of pain. Whoever this guy is, you just know you’re going to like him.

“Aw, you know me, Namjoon. I’m always on my best behavior.” He doesn’t buy your words for a second, but his smile doesn’t falter. “Who are your friends?”

He moves to introduce them, but the Ravenclaw boy shoves him out of the way and outstretches his hand towards you. You shake it with a quick laugh. “Park Jimin, at your service,” he introduces almost valiantly. “You must be this Y/N I’ve heard so much about.”

“Guilty.”

Namjoon sighs and gestures towards their Hufflepuff companion, who you could have sworn you caught staring at Hobi for a moment. “This is Kim Seokjin. Jin, this is — .”

“Y/N!” The boy offers you the most blinding smile you’ve ever seen as he surges forward to shake your hand. It actually takes you a moment to collect yourself, entirely caught off guard by the wildly positive energy this guy is radiating. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Taehyung talks about you all the time.”

His comment has your brows flying towards your hairline. A quick glance at Taehyung shows him frantically shaking his head, silently urging Jin to shut up, but it’s too late; you’re already smiling at him. His cheeks darken under your gaze, and you can’t stop yourself from chuckling. It’s nice to know that you make him as nervous as he makes you, if only because it means that you aren’t imagining things. It’s flattering, having someone like him think so highly of you. You only hope he hasn’t talked you up too much; you’d hate to disappoint him.

It’s abundantly clear that Hobi’s about to say something embarrassing when he laughs beneath his breath and opens his mouth again, but you don’t even let him get the first syllable out. Your hand claps over his mouth with such force that you might as well have slapped him. On any other day, you would have felt bad for using such force; now, you kind of wish you’d hit him harder. Rather than let him fight you off and tell Taehyung something else he doesn’t need to know, you push him back and call out to Tae over your shoulder.

“Well, it’s been nice talking you to Tae, but we should probably be getting back to the locker room now! Bye!”

It takes only a second for you to realize that you’ve got another traitor in your midst.

“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook shouts with an evil grin, “don’t tell me you aren’t gonna invite them to the after party!”

I need new friends.

You chuckle and awkwardly rub the back of your head, purposefully avoiding Taehyung’s eyes as you speak. “Right! Right, uh, the after party. Um, it’s in the common room tonight. Nine o’clock. You’re all more than welcome! Er, if you wanna come, I mean. No pressure or anything.”

Taehyung smiles and nods, but says nothing else. You suspect he wants to talk it over with his friends, which is more than fine with you, since it gives you more time to escape. You’re almost certain he’s about to say something, but you don’t give him a chance. Without so much as a second glance, you grab Jungkook and Hobi by their ears and drag them off towards the locker room, offering only a small wave to Tae.

The boys wince and try to push you away, but your grip is iron-clad. Yoongi can’t stop himself from laughing when you crouch down and whisper in their ears.

“I’m gonna kill you both.”

——————————————————————————

A/N: TAEYN ARE SO ADORABLE I CANNOT STAND THESE PEOPLE. I hope you’re all as infuriated by this slow-burn as I am. Next update coming tomorrow! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist💕 — Rynn

tag list: @wannabestark @deepseavibez @taeshuworld @lele-bb @hxseok-honee @burningupp-replies @livorna @lovelytaes-blog @theclawofaraven

[rekrappeter]

Good Enough || s.r

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: overthinking | cursing | low mood | insecurities |  lmk if I have missed anything ♡

word count: 1.9k

a/n: thank you for the love on my first fic, I hope this one loves up to expectations. i pretty much just wrote this in order to comfort my own insecurities so maybe other people can relate. my requests will always be open  ♡

That evening your phone had gone off every couple of minutes, blasting your obnoxious ringtone over and over again; yet it was still on your kitchen counter where you left it that morning. You refused to pick it up, not wanting to look at the numerous text messages and missed calls that were on the home page. It was Sunday and your boyfriend was due to return from work, but over the last three days that he was gone, you had fallen into an awfully big hole of overthinking. 

Seventy-two hours was a long time to have your brain constantly telling you that you weren’t good enough for the man that you called your boyfriend, Spencer Reid. Take away the few hours that you were sleeping in between, the last three days have been nothing but torture for you. Hence, the reason that you were ignoring his phone calls. He had just finished a case with the FBI, the last thing he had to deal with was you being low and insecure. It had taken six months for these feelings to start surfacing within your mind but once you started shedding the tears, there was no going back.

Spencer sighed in frustration, his phone indicating that he was running on low battery. He quickly clicked into your name again, watching the phone dial your number before the screen went completely black. Spencer hissed a number of curse words that gained the attention of his male companion, who was sitting closest to him in the bullpen. Derek’s brows creased together and he dropped the pen that he was playing with to focus his attention on the young doctor. 

“You ok, kid?” He asked, turning in his office chair to face Spencer’s desk.

Spencer looked up from his dead phone that he tossed by his pile of files, his curls hanging loosely over his face. His mouth opened and closed for a minute, reluctant to get advice from Derek before he shrugged it off. “Nothing.” He simply replied. 

Derek hummed in acknowledgement, “Very rarely do I hear Dr. Reid curse, but if you would rather me get Penelope or JJ to question you, I can do that.” 

“Please don’t do that,” The skinny brunette whined softly, weighing out the options in his head before deciding to trust Derek on this one. “It’s Y/N. She hasn’t been answering my calls all day.” 

“Ah, girl problems.” Derek teased, his pearl whites gleaming under the bright lights in the bullpen. 

Spencer groaned, standing up from his desk. “Forget about it.” He snapped, starting to pack up his belongings to head home for the night.

“Kid, I’m joking. Look, you’ve been gone for three days. Just pop by her apartment on your way home, okay?” Derek suggested which earned a grimace from Spencer, “Bring flowers, tell her you missed her.” 

“I did miss her.” Spencer sighed, his hand brushing his hair from his face.

“Exactly. You have been going out for six months, it shouldn’t be strange just dropping by.” 

“Um, okay… Thanks, Derek.” The younger boy replied, forcing a shy smile in his direction. 

Spencer started walking out of the combined offices before Derek’s voice halted him, he looked over his shoulder. “Behave, you minx.” This only resulted in Spencer rolling his eyes and stalking out of the room towards the elevators. On the way to your place, his thoughts began to linger, maybe it was a bad idea just to show up. He shouldn’t be this nervous going to be his girlfriend’s house but deep down, he knew there was something wrong. You always replied to his messages and never once sent his calls to voicemail. His thoughts started to jump to different conclusions, did he do something wrong and not realize it? 

 The sudden silence was oddly irking you; your phone had stopped ringing and you didn’t notice that you were taking comfort from your ringtone until it was gone. You couldn’t say you blamed Spencer for giving up trying to contact you, it wasn’t your intention on keeping him on the ropes all day. It was just that you weren’t sure that you were going to be able to answer the phone and pretend like everything was fine. You couldn’t pretend anymore that you lived up to his standard; he was the most intelligent man you have ever met, with a number of PhDs and BAs, and you just about got your BA degree. It was silly for you to compare yourself to an actual genius but it was more so the fact that he deserved someone that he could hold an actual factual and statistical conversation with; not someone that had to research nearly everything that he brought up. 

The empty feeling in your stomach from not eating all day came alive and you climbed out of bed, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were puffed and your hair was a bird’s nest, the fact that overthinking caused you to look and feel like this made you even sicker. You had just reached your kitchen door when the sound of your doorbell blasted around the apartment, grimacing you knew exactly who it was going to be. You weren’t expecting anyone else to appear at your door at eleven in the evening. 

You slowly walked to the door, your sock-clad feet sliding across the wooden floors. You peeked through the peephole and your heart soared with the sight of an exhausted looking Spencer standing there, a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his grasp. 

Opening the door, you hid half of your body with it but worry immediately covered Spencer’s expression. “Hi…” He said, his voice soft and he tried to step forward but you didn’t budge the door, “What’s wrong?” 

“Spence, I just want to be alone for a little while.” You whispered, avoiding his begging honey-brown eyes that were drooping. His heart tugged at the sound of your voice croaking, and it confirmed his theory that you had spent hours upon hours crying. “I’m sorry-” You attempted to close the door but Spencer stuck his foot in the way and you sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to let this drop.

“I can’t leave here knowing that you’re hurting. Let me in, talk to me.” Spencer begged, and you couldn’t deny him entry anymore. It killed you seeing him looking so worried. As soon as Spencer stepped foot into your apartment, he wrapped his arms around you. The flowers brushed the back of your head and you collapsed into his embrace. He was warm and you were thankful that he was wearing a grey sweater, it felt soft against your skin and when you breathed in his scent of coffee and cotton detergent, you felt grounded again. His lips pecked into the side of your head, a hand coming up to caress your cheek as he pulled away. “Why are you crying, princess?” 

“I’m not crying now…” You replied, a pout evident on your face. 

“Why were you crying?” Spencer corrected himself, no hint of the worry lessening on his features. 

“I… It’s nothing.” 

“Clearly it is something. Tell me.” Spencer pushed, his thumb rubbing up and down your cheek gently. You sighed, your eyes closing which resulted in a tear escaping down your cheeks, running onto his fingers. “Oh, baby.” 

“Spence…” You started, reaching to cover his hand with yours and you peeled it off your face. “I have spent the last three days thinking and thinking and thinking…” 

“About what?” Spencer wrapped his fingers around yours, a feeling of heaviness erupting in his stomach. 

“You deserve someone so much better than me-” 

“Don’t start, Y/N, please…” Spencer’s head dropped, sadness radiating from the pair of you. 

“No, no, let me finish. Please.” You begged, he nodded in response and watched as you took a shaking breath in. The rant that you had created in the shower two days ago flowed off your tongue in one breath. “You deserve someone that matches your personality more than I do, someone that reads more books or watches old films in different languages. You need someone to challenge you in an intellectual way and I… I just can’t do that. I’m average when it comes to general knowledge, hell, I don’t even know what my IQ is. A… And I don’t want you to wake up one morning bored and regretting ever starting this.” 

Spencer whimpered softly, stepping closer to your shaking body. You avoided eye contact again but he reached behind you to place the flowers on the locker and he cupped your face with both of his hands. “Look at me.” He snapped softly, it was forceful but filled with love. He used his thumb to wipe the fresh tears away. 

“Spence…”

“No. Listen to me. The last six months have been the happiest days of my life.” You tried to object but he shushed you, “Listen to me.” He repeated, squeezing your face slightly and you sunk into his touch again. His lips were trembling but they remained their pink shade similar to the tint in his cheeks. “I don’t want someone to challenge me, I challenge myself enough. I want someone that makes me laugh, makes me happy, makes me feel like a kid again. You bring out a side to me I didn’t know even existed, you brought light back into my life and I enjoy teaching you things. I don’t want you to recite the whole Bible for me, I don’t need that. I just need you, I need you being happy and yourself because I love you and you are too good for me.” Spencer whispered the last sentence, and he sucked in a breath. 

“You’ve never said that before.” You replied, your heart beating rapidly against your chest. 

“I never thought I’d make you feel that you’re were not good enough.” 

Your heart sank at his words, regret cursing through your veins. “It wasn’t you, Spence. It was all up there.” You muttered, pointing to your head and for the first time that evening, Spencer shot you one of his smiles. The one that showed that he understood. 

“Just promise me one thing.” 

“Anything.” You replied, wrapping your arms around his torso. 

Spencer smiled at the gesture and brought his lips down to yours, connecting them gently. Your eyes fluttered closed, embracing every erupting feeling that he was setting off. His hand slid into your mess of hair, bringing your closer and he deepened the kiss. His tongue danced around yours, and you were melting into him with every passing second. Just as a moan escaped passed your lips, Spencer pulled away. “Talk to me if you ever feel like this again.” 

You nodded in response and he was happy with that. Spencer untangled himself from you and picked the flowers back up, he walked deeper into your apartment but you stood there, your eyes following his every move. “Spencer,” You called out before he disappeared into the kitchen, he turned to look at you, his eyes sparkling and he waited for you to speak, “I love you too.” 

The smile he returned sent your heart soaring and he shook his head, a chuckle erupting from his stomach. “I know.”

🌻 🌻 🌻 🌻 🌻

please please please let me know what you thought of this! It’s my first s.r fic so I would love some feedback!

[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Ch7: Old Habits Die Hard Part 3

Summary: Stella faces the aftermath of her actions in Mexico, and heads home to stay with her mom for a while. But Jake’s hot on her heels, and he’s not giving in without a fight.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

Warnings: Bad language and a whole heap of angst.

A/N: So here is the final part of Chapter 7…and well, we hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. We do not own any characters in this series bar Stella Stevenson and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 7 Part 2

So lay down your weary heart, stay by my side, and I promise I’ll be here, till we run out of time

"Hey, Pumpkin." Evan gave Stella a small smile as she answered the door and Stella found herself grimacing at the pet name.

"Hi." She gave him a little smile back as he leaned in to kiss her. Automatically, she turned her face to the side so he caught her cheek and not her lips. He frowned a little as she stepped back to let him in and glanced at her for a moment, his eyes sliding downwards for a split second and Stella saw something flash on his face, but she couldn't quite place his expression. Without a word, he stepped into the apartment, following her to the living area. When she reached the couch she took a deep breath and opened her mouth to say something but he jumped in.

"Listen Stella, I’m so sorry. I was an ass, I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did and left you to go to the wedding alone."

"So you weren’t working then?" She shook her head as Evan let out a sigh. "I didn’t think so

Evan licked his lips and dropped his head a little. "No, I wasn’t. Like I said, I reacted like an ass. I shouldn’t have lied to you, I'm sorry."

"But you did and," Stella shrugged, "it doesn’t matter anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"It’s over, Evan."

Evan blinked, and then frowned a little. "Is this because of what I said the other night?"

Stella sighed. "In a way, yes, it is." She looked at him for a second as the hurt spread across his face before she took a deep breath and glanced down at her hands. She felt awful. Guilt was flooding her system, not only at the hurt on his face but the fact she'd done what she had. But she knew she had to stand strong. It wasn't fair on him, and it wasn't fair on her. "It caught me unawares and I didn’t know how to react," she looked up as she tried to explain, "I panicked but the truth is I didn’t say it back because I couldn’t Ev. I still can’t."

"Stel, look," Evan swallowed and took a step towards her, "I get it. You’ve been hurt in the past and you’re worried about how fast it’s going and, maybe you can’t say it yet, but you know, that doesn’t mean you don’t or you won’t."

"I thought it could be that way but I can’t lie to myself. Not anymore." She shook her head. "I don’t love you Evan. And I’m not sure I ever will."

Evan blinked, and in an instant the hurt on his face slid into something more akin to anger as his jaw set. He gave a scoff, shaking his head and gestured towards her with his right hand.

"You know, you’re never gonna be able to love anyone else whilst you’re still letting Jensen into your head and your bed." The slap his arm made as it swung back to his side rang loudly across the silent apartment as Stella felt her eyes widen.

"What? That’s not," she desperately tried to protest, even thought it was a blatant lie, "I haven’t-"

"No?" Evan gave a scoff. "The mark on your neck tells me a different story."

Stella felt the heat in her neck, she'd been well and truly caught out, and she felt like shit. She took a deep breath, deciding to come clean, he deserved that at least. "I’m sorry. I was drunk and it was a huge mistake. I shouldn’t have done it but that’s nothing to do with why I’m ending this."  

Evan shook his head. "I should have come with you. Fuck!" He seethed. "I shouldn’t have left you alone with him."

"But you didn’t come, and I cheated on you." Stella remained calm. "I'm not proud of it, I've never done this to anyone before and I feel awful, I really do." She swallowed and sighed. "You’re a great guy, Evan, and you have to believe me when I say, what happened this weekend has nothing to do with why I’m... "

"Why you’re breaking up with me? Really, Stel? You expect me to believe that?"

Stella licked her lips and blinked back her tears. "It’s the truth. I’m sorry."

"For what exactly, Stella? For leading me on? For making me fall in love with you when you’re still clearly hooked on your ex? For cheating on me? And with him nonetheless!" Evan's voice gathered volume as he ranted, all the time his eyes boring into hers, "fuck Stel! After everything I did for you!"

Stella looked down, unable to meet his eyes as a tear fell down her cheek. "I wasn’t leading you on. I really did, I mean do like you I just," she looked up, "I can’t lie to you or to myself anymore. This isn’t right. And I think deep down you know that it ain’t gonna work."

“Of course it ain’t gonna work. Because you’re not putting any effort into it!"

"It shouldn’t have to be an effort, Ev." Stella responded, wetting her lips a little with her tongue. There was a moment of silence, before Evan scoffed.

"Whatever. If you're happy to keep being a way for that asshole to simply get his dick wet then that’s up to you. But I tell you something, he’ll hurt you again. And don’t come crying to me when he does."

Stella took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. "It’s not like that. At all. He’s not, I mean I’m not..." she trailed off and rubbed at her temple. "This has got nothing to do with him, Evan. I’m breaking it off because I don’t love you and I’m really sorry but I can’t lie to you."

"The only person you’re lying to is yourself, Stella." Evan shook his head. "I’ll see myself out."

He turned to leave, Stella remained rooted to the spot. She looked up at the ceiling, wiped her eyes and then turned to him as he opened the door.

"Evan, I really am sorry." She whispered and he stopped, taking a deep breath before he turned to look at her, his blue eyes wet with tears which made Stella feel about as low as she ever had.

"So am I."

With that the door slammed, leaving her stood alone in her apartment, deadly silence engulfing the room. Her legs gave way and she sank to the floor, her back pressed to the couch, tears pouring down her face.

“Fuck!” She yelled, throwing her head back against the couch. She felt like shit. She never wanted to hurt him, she really did like him and never set out for any of this to happen. She'd wanted to have a future, with someone else, but the sad thing was, Evan had hit the nail on the head. As long as Jake was in her life and her heart, she was never going to be able to be with anyone else.

Because, as much as she wished it wasn't true, she still loved him.

As she sat there, her head awash with a flood of feelings and doubts, her phone rang. Shifting a little, she pulled it from her pocket and saw her sister’s name flashing on the screen. Stella took a deep breath, contemplating simply letting it go to voicemail but she realised she really wanted to hear a friendly voice, and despite the fact they were very different people, she loved her sister and knew that Rey would always have her back. With a shaking hand she swiped to answer the call.

“Hey Stel, how was Mexico? I want all the goss about you and Evs first little break! Well, maybe not all the goss as that’s gross and TMI but-“

At that Stella let out the sob she had been trying to keep down and managed to stutter her sister’s name. Immediately, Rey’s tone flicked from its usual, bubbly nature to concerned.

“Woah, Stelly? What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

“Yeah. I just.... “ at that more tears came and her voice broke once more as she struggled to speak.

“You what, Stel? Are you ok?” Rey demanded. “Why are you crying Stel? Talk to me.”

Stella took a deep breath, fighting for control, eventually managing to find enough to stammer into the phone, “I broke up with Ev.”

“You did what?” Rey’s voice was nothing more than a hissed whisper, conveying her shock. “Why? Stel, are you out of your mind?”

At that Stella began crying even more. “I don’t know, maybe.” She wiped her face with the back of her sweater sleeve, giving a very undignified snort as she did so. “But I don’t love him Rey and...” She choked on her words, struggling for composure as her sister took a deep breath.

“You don’t love him? I don’t-“

“He told me he loved me and I couldn’t say it back. So I went to Mexico in my own and-“

Rey cut her off with a low groan. “Tell me you didn’t!” Stella’s loud sob was all the answer Rey needed. “Oh Stell!”

“I know, I know! But I was drunk and I felt lonely and mad at Ev and, it’s Jakey, Rey!”

“You still love him don’t you?” Rey’s voice was sympathetic, not a shred of frustration left. Stella swallowed, pressing the hell of her hand to her forehead in an attempt to relieve the pain that was starting to form from the force of her crying.

“I never stopped.” She stammered and Rey gave a heavy sigh.

“Shit, Stel.”

“Rey, I don’t know what to do.” Stella whispered, her voice trembling as she struggled for air, her throat felt tight and dry.

“Have you talked to him? To Jake I mean?”

“Sorta.” Stella gave another snort. “The morning after I mean, but I can’t face him. I can’t go there again Rey, I just-“

“And that’s fine, Stel, you don’t have to. Just avoid him until you clear your head. You can call me whenever you need to, I got you on this.” Her big sister placated, voice stern yet gentle. “And you got Clay there too. Talk to him if it’s too much, okay?”

Stella took a shaky breath. “Yeah. Yeah okay.” She wiped her eyes and her nose once more before she cleared her throat. “Listen, Rey, I’m gonna go get a bath. I’m exhausted.”

“Great idea, use some of that bath foam I made, it’s got lavender and rose hip in, perfect relaxation.”

Stella smiled. “Sounds like the perfect accompaniment to a large glass of red.”

Rey chuckled before she sighed. “Promise me you call me if you need me? No matter what time or when.”

“I will. Thanks Rey, oh, and don’t mention this to Mom. Not yet. I’ll tell her myself.”

“I won’t tell a soul.” Rey assured her.

“Thanks. I love you.”

“Love you too, sis.”

Stella cut the call, tossing the phone onto the coffee table before she hugged her knees to her chest, lending herself some comfort before he heaved herself off the floor and headed to the kitchen. She filled a wine glass full to the brim before she slurped a mouthful, wiping her tears once more before she made sure her door was locked, flicked off the lights and headed to the bathroom.

****

It was Thursday, four days after getting home, and Stella was sat outside on her small balcony, wrapped in a warm sweater in the April sun with a book and a coffee when there was a loud knock on her door. She hesitated for a moment, as it had to be someone who had access to the building and her mind immediately went to Jake, before she heard Clay's deep baritone.

"Stella, it's me. Open up."

It was a command, not a question, so she placed her book down on the table, picked up her mug and headed inside. She opened the door and turned away, leaving him to follow her, which he did, shutting the door behind him.

"You want at a coffee?" She asked, heading into the kitchen. "It's not long made."

"Sure." Clay nodded, and he stayed silent whilst Stella made herself a fresh cup, and one for Clay, knowing just how he took it, before she slid it over the counter and for the first time met his eyes.

"You look like shit. Guess this mystery illness really has wiped you out, huh?”

"Thanks, Franklin." She said sarcastically and Clay snorted. "I haven’t been sleeping well."

"Yeah, you definitely caught-" Clay raised his hands and bend his index and middle fingers on both, making quotation signs, "-the bug. It’s annoying, right?" Stella looked at him, blinking as he took a sip of his drink, knowing full well that he had well and truly sussed her out. "And impossible to cure from what I hear. Not even a slap gets rid of it."

Stella let out a soft groan. "Should have imagined you saw that."

"Stell, sweetheart, the entire party saw it." Clay eyed her. "Gotta say, your dad would be proud. It was one hell of a slap."

She scratched at her neck. "In my defense I was drunk and angry."

"Yeah, I know. I caught your apology to Pooch and Jolene the next day. Just before you rushed to the airport ignoring the rest of us."

"I needed to catch my flight." Stella's gaze dropped to the counter, both her hands cupping her mug.

"Before the bug caught you sneaking away from the resort, huh?"

"Something like that." She sighed and took a sip of her coffee.

"So what you gonna do?" Clay asked, placing his mug down. "About your condition, I mean."

Stella shrugged, bowing her head. "That’s the worst bit, Clay. I can’t do anything can I? I couldn’t even be happy with someone else."

"You speaking about Evan in the past tense now?" Clay cocked his head and Stella swallowed.

"I ended it on Sunday."

"Well, I'm not gonna lie and tell you I’m sorry, Stella." Clay shrugged a little and Stella's mouth curled up inot a sad little smile.

"I don’t expect you to."

"You know as well as I do there was something off about that guy." Clay continued and Stella gave a little groan.

"Can we not? There was, is, nothing wrong with Evan. This is down to me and my inability to get some dickhead who dumped me years ago outta my head."

"And out of your bed from what I’ve heard." Clay eyed her shrewdly and Stella stilled, looking at him for a moment before she licked her lips.

"How do you know about that?"

"Practically everyone knew by breakfast." Clay gave her a sympathetic smile. "Turns out one spiteful, red-headed bridesmaid was on your floor too and you weren’t exactly quiet when you were shouting down the hall."

Stella groaned.

"Hell hath no fury, Arty." Clay's eyes twinkled with humour and Stella rolled her eyes.

"It’s complicated, Clay and I can’t face Jake. Not yet. Not like this." She signalled to her congested face and red eyes and Clay took a deep breath, his face sympathetic.

"He’s been worried sick. Says you’re ignoring him."

"Huh, maybe he isn’t as stupid as he looks." Stella shrugged and Clay gave a snort.

"Despite what we all say, he isn’t an idiot. He knows he fucked up. Again."

"It wasn’t just him. We both... well, I wasn’t exactly unwilling." Stell licked her lips as she shrugged. "And as much as I want to say I hated it..." She trailed off, her finger gliding around the rim of her mug. "But it just made everything worse."

"Well, one thing I can tell you is that sitting in here, hiding away isn't going to help." Clay spoke gently, and as Stella opened her mouth to protest he cut her off, holding his hand up. "He's not here. He shipped out with Cougs to support a specialist recruitment exercise at Fort Sill this morning."

"How long is he gone?" Stell asked, her voice quiet.

"He’s back Friday." Clay smiled. "Look, why don’t you take a few days off and go home. You could use some family time right now."

"We just got back from a few days away."

"Yeah, and you've been here, hiding so what difference does it make if you hide in New Hampshire? Besides, you're no use to me like this." Stella took a deep breath as Clay continued. "How long since you saw your mom or Rey?"

"Bout six weeks."

"Then go." Clay persisted. "It's not like you have anything pressing here to do, if we need you then I’ll send for you."

"Thanks, Clay." Stella smiled. "

*****

“What do you mean she’s gone home?” Jensen frowned as Clay looked at him, having just finished explaining to the pair of them where Stella was.

“Well, you know her home in New Hampshire?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s gone there.”

Cougar snorted and Jensen let out a low groan of frustration. He was tired and had just gotten back from a long, hard slog away from home to be greeted by this and he wasn’t in the mood for Clay’s sarcasm.

“When is she coming back?” He demanded, staring at his boss who shrugged.

“I don’t know if she is, Jensen.”

At that Jensen blinked. Was Clay seriously suggesting Stel had quit for good? “What? I don’t-why?”

“Why do you think?” For the first time since Jensen had started speaking, Clay’s frustration was evident in his tone. “After your bunk up in Mexico she finished with Evan and she’s cut up, big time.”

Jensen took a deep breath, as the flood of relief he expected to hear once he’d got that news never came. Instead, he felt nothing but a deep sense of guilt at the fact Stella was upset. And he was part of the cause of that.

“She’s hurting Jake, and I think this time it’s just gotten too much.” Clay finished, his voice a little less spiked than it had been. Jensen ran his hand through his hair, before he shook his head.

“Fuck.”

“Jensen, why don’t you call her?” Cougar looked at him and Jake rolled his eyes.

“You know I tried that, several times. She won’t answer my calls or messages.”

“And you’re gonna let that stop you?” Clay folded his arms across his chest and raised his brow. “What happened to fighting for your girl, Jensen?”

Jensen blinked, his eyes not leaving Clay as his words sunk in. He was right, he had to try and fix this.

“I need to go.” He mumbled before he turned and bolted from the office, a loud apology hitting their ears along with a shout from someone else he had clearly run into in his haste to leave.

There was a pause as both men simply stared at the open door, before Cougar broke the silence. “She’s coming back, right?”

“She didn’t say she wasn’t.” Clay nodded.

“So why did you make out to Jensen like she was done?” Cougar looked at Clay who simply smirked as he turned his head towards him.

“Why do you think?”

****

Less than ten minutes after leaving the office, Jake was in his car speeding down the freeway. With one hand he juggled his phone, pressing the button to call the one person he knew would help him.

“I’m coming home.” He blurted into the handset as soon as his call was answered and Jane gave a little scoff.

“I thought you might be.” Her voice was flat. “Rey called me last night on her way to pick Stel up, told me all about your hook up in Mexico. What the hell were you playing at, Jake!”

“Yeah, I know, I fucked up and I need to make it right. I’m on my way to the airport, I’ll be on the next flight into Logan that I can get and I need you to pick me up.”

There was a pause and Jane sighed. “Leave it with me, I’ll get online and see if I can book one for you.”

“Thanks.” He mumbled before he tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and pushed his foot down on the gas, hanging the exit that would connect him onto the road for DC and the Airport.

Jane called back ten minutes later saying there was a flight an hour or so later which he was on. He arrived twenty or so minutes later and parked in the first space he could find on the long stay car park. As he climbed out, he grabbed his wallet, phone and jacket and debated taking his kit bag but, deciding it would slow him down waiting through security, he left it and set off at a sprint to the departure area.

Thankfully, Military ID gives you certain privileges if you can sweet talk, and Jensen could sweet talk with the best of them, so he managed to skip most of the queues and made it to the gate as the last few people were boarding.

Whilst the flight was only an hour and fifteen, it was an hour and fifteen too long and he was restless for all of it. His leg was continually twitching, his hand running repeatedly through his hair and scratching the short layer of stubble that covered his chin and cheeks. He was aware that he was annoying the elderly woman sitting next to him as he could feel her glaring at him and in an attempt to keep his annoying, nervous little ticks to himself, he tried to read the paper that was in the seat pocket in front of him. But it was pointless, he’d been on the same article for twenty minutes, repeatedly losing his place as his thoughts strayed to Stella, so with a huff he folded it back up and leaned back, closing his eyes.

Whilst sleeping on transport wasn’t normally a problem, being in the Army you learnt to sleep when you could, it totally evaded him and he felt like crying in relief when the pilot announced their descent into Logan. As soon as their wheels were down, he attracted the attention of one of the attendants and begged her to let him off the flight first, citing a military emergency, once more flashing his ID. Five minutes later she returned, smiling at him.

“Follow me, Captain Jensen.”

With a relieved sigh he stood up, grabbing his jacket from the overhead locker and followed her to the door which was just opening into the tunnel.

“Thanks,” he nodded at her as the door was latched into place, “by the way, I love your dress.”

He set off at a sprint through the airport. More abuse of his military privileges saw him clear security in record time and he hurried into the arrivals lounge where he saw Jane waiting for him.

“You have no bag?” She frowned as he gave her a quick hug.

“I didn’t have time.” He shrugged and Jane rolled her eyes.

“From what Rey told me, Stella is gonna be here till next week...”

“Yeah but you booked me a flight I had like an hour to catch...”

“Because you said there was a mad panic!”

“And there is.” Jensen shrugged as they began to walk towards the exit. “Like I said, I need to speak to her.”

“So, what is your plan today?” Rey smirked at him a little as they headed over to the car park.

Jake swallowed. He’d spent the last few hours trying to come up with a plan of sorts and had failed, miserable, so there was only one option. “I’m just gonna tell her I’m sorry and how I feel about her, honestly.” He shrugged as they strode through the rows of parked cars. “She might listen, she might not but I can’t leave it how it was. I gotta try, Jane.”

“Yeah I know Jake.” Jane stopped at her car. “But have you ever thought you can’t always have what you want when you want it and how you want it? It’s always been like that little bro and she’s not a skateboard or a football, she’s a person.”

“I know she’s a person, Jane! But I have to tell her, if she doesn’t wanna listen then-“ he shrugged as Jane unlocked her car, “-at least I’ll know.”

“Well, good luck, you’re gonna need because, according to Rey she is really bad.” Jane climbed into the driver’s seat and Jensen dropped heavily into the passenger one. “Oh, and you might wanna avoid Rey.”

Jake scoffed as Jane reversed the car out of the space. “Rey doesn’t scare me.”

“No?” Jane threw him a look as she drove towards the barrier.

“Nope.” He sniffed, pausing. “She terrifies me.”

Between not wanting to disturb his parents and also being unable to face the inevitable lecture about his behaviour from his dad, at least not until he’d spoken to Stella, Jane suggested he stayed with them. So, Forty-five minutes later, they arrived at Jane’s home, Gracie barrelling out of the house to greet her uncle. He swung her up, giving her a huge cuddle as she began to chat to him about her school and soccer. Jensen tried to listen and pay attention, but his mind was whirring about how he was going to get Stella to meet him. As he walked into the kitchen, Rob handed him a beer and clapped his shoulder as he sank into a chair round the table, letting out a sigh.

After he’d had something to eat and a shower, borrowing some of Robert’s clothes he tried again to reach Stel but to no avail, her phone remained switched off. And this was how it went for the next twenty four hours or so. He also tried the landline but it was always Jules who picked up and he couldn’t face speaking to her either so each time he simply hung up like some huge big cowardly chicken.

So, as a last resort, he begged Jane to help him, something Rob urged her to do too, although his reasons were slightly more selfish- he was simply annoyed that Jake was wearing his clothes and drinking his beer and being a general pain in the ass.

“Okay, okay, just,” Jane bit her lip, “let me talk to Rey, see if I can figure something out.”

She grabbed her phone and left the room, Jensen’s focus remained on the door as he could hear her softly speaking outside, but not enough to make out her words. When she came back a few minutes later she took a deep breath and looked at him.

“Rey’s taken Stella shopping to pick up Julie’s birthday gift. On the way back she’s gonna detour and head to the little cafe in their village, just off the main road through. You need to be there at five.”

Jensen gave a sigh of relief as he stood up and hugged his sister. “I owe you big time.”

“Yeah, well, just don’t be surprised if Rey punches you in the face.” Jane looked at him and Jensen took a deep breath, giving a little shrug as he walked towards the door.

“Be worth it if I can get Stella to listen to me.”

****

“Don’t fuck this up, it’s Stel ok?”

“I know. I know. Look, I’ll call you later, once…” he paused to take a deep breath, “well, once I’ve talked to her.”

Jane smiled at her brother sympathetically and reached over to kiss his cheek, giving him a hug. “Good luck, bro.”

“Thanks,” Jensen voice came out almost as a whisper, “I’m gonna need it, sis.” Taking another deep breath, he got out of the car, gathering what little courage still remained in some forsaken part of his nervous system. “Go Petunias!”

He instinctively pulled the collar of his waterproof North Face jacket round his neck against the rain and started walking with determination to the brightly lit coffee shop at the other side of the street. He jogged to avoid a passing car and soon he was crossing the threshold and being engulfed by the warm atmosphere of the place. He didn’t have to scan the room much before he spotted both Stevenson siblings sat at one of the far corner tables and he made a mental note to thank Rey for having made Stella sit with her back to the door.

Jensen breathed in and walked a couple of steps more into the shop to catch Rey’s attention and a wave of excitement washed his body when he saw her get up and say something to Stella before heading as if she was going to the counter but after turning to check her sister wasn’t looking at her she walked to him and grabbed his arm as she passed.

“You’re lucky I’m not shoving your head up your fucking ass.” Rey hissed only for him to hear.

“Nice to see you too Rey.” He smiled at the woman nervously.

“Fuck you, Jake.” Rey spoke again through gritted teeth.

“You flirting with me, Rey? ‘Coz-”

But Jensen didn’t finish whatever stupid quip his mind had come up with as Rey scoffed and left. He watched her go, and when he saw her picking her coat from the rack next to the main door he sighed.

Good start, Jensen.

In an attempt to placate his nerves, Jensen ran his hand through his damp hair and headed to Stella’s table, his nostrils registering the smell of freshly brewed coffee and sugary treats for the first time since he had stepped foot on the place.

Stella, who was checking the messages on her phone, looked up as she sensed the presence of what she thought was her sister but, much to her surprise, it was Jake Jensen she was looking straight at as he sat down on the chair in front of her.

“Hey Stel.”

“Jake.” She whispered, gasping a little with shock. “What are you doing here?”

“Clay told me you’d come home and I had to talk to you.”

Stella rolled her eyes and was about to protest when the waitress came over with the drinks Rey and her had ordered and, after placing the hot cocoa mug in front of Stella, she looked at Jake confused.

“Oh it’s okay that’s mine thanks.” Jensen said as he nodded. The waitress simply shrugged and placed the coffee mug down before leaving

“Don’t suppose there’s any point me asking how you knew I’d be here.” Stella asked, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched Jake spooning sugar into his drink. Jensen just shrugged as he kept on stirring his coffee, thinking it was a good thing she hadn’t run away the moment she had seen him. “Imma kill Rey.” She grumbled.

“You wouldn’t answer your phone.” Jensen offered, trying to keep it as simple and cool as possible.

“Maybe you should take a hint.” Stella sighed, knowing too well Jake Jensen had never been one for taking hints.

“Stel, why you being like this?” Jake frowned. “We didn’t leave it on a bad note after Mexico, I know you said it was a mistake but…”

Stella sighed again and looked down at her drink, not taking her eyes away from the random pattern of cinnamon sprinkles over the whipped cream. “I just need some headspace.” Her tone was a little softer than before, the surprise and anger at her sister setting her up slowly sweeping away. “That’s all, and you being here…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, instead she gripped her mug and took a drink and once she did she looked up to him for the very first time since she had started speaking only to realize Jensen was watching her, but his eyes weren’t looking straight at hers, they were fixed on something else.

“What?” She asked, varying between curious and concerned.

“Your ring.”

Well she hadn’t been expecting that. She cleared her throat and hesitated a little before asking. “What about it?”

“You had it in Mexico. Why are you suddenly wearing it again? You took it off months ago, when you started seeing Evan.” Jensen inquired, his eyes now effectively meeting Stella’s and he saw the surprise in her expression. “Yeah, I noticed Stel.”

“I actually stopped wearing it the day you dumped me for the second time.” She shot back and Jensen flinched at her tone. Her softness had disappeared and she was being snappy again. He only hoped she didn’t clam up before he could get his point made.

“I didn’t dump you, we were…” He sighed. That path wouldn’t lead him anywhere with Stel, so he decided to take a detour, see where it led. “You haven’t answered my question.”

Stella gave a little shake of her head. “Don’t read anything into it. I’m wearing it because I want to.”

“But, why?” He pressed again.

“I saw it in my jewellery box the day I was going to Mexico when I was looking for some earrings.” She shrugged as she explained herself. “It’s a nice ring.”

Jensen didn’t say anything. Satisfied as he was with Stella’s reasoning, he gave her a knowing smirk.

“Don’t smirk at me like that Jake.” She warned him as she narrowed her eyes.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Jensen placated her before taking another sip of his coffee. “Clay told me you had ended it with Evan.”

“Yeah I bet you’re loving it.” Stella scoffed.

Jake frowned at her accusation. “No.” He shook his head. “I could never be glad you’re hurting.”

“And whose fault is that?” She glared at him.

“Are you saying it’s mine?” Jake blurted out, leaning his forearms on the table. “Look, the morning after we... you know, you told me you were splitting up with Evan and it was nothing to do with us sleeping together.”

“You’re right, I was!” Stella raised her voice, attracting the attention of the two women at the table next to theirs. “But that wasn’t an excuse for me to go and simply jump back into bed with you!” She hissed. “God, I’m so weak. Why did I give in to you?”

“I didn’t force you into bed, Stella!” Jake protested, visibly hurt.

“I never said that.” She shook her head, but avoided his stare.

“Well it kinda sounded like that’s what you were saying.” Jensen shook his head and leaned back on his chair. “You know, you can deny it all you want but that night was good, and I know you felt it too otherwise you wouldn’t be here so upset and accusing me of being the reason you’re hurt.”

Stella stayed silent. The confidence in Jake’s voice left no room for her denying it, there was no point, so she just looked away.

“Why have you got such a problem admitting there’s still something there between us?” Jake broke her silence.

“I’m not admitting shit, Jake. You can go now, back the way you came.” She shrugged, hoping her voice sounded as confident as Jensen’s.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He shook his head before taking another sip from his drink.

“I think you should.”

“Okay,” Jake placed his coffee mug down again, “you look me in the eye and say you feel nothing for me at all and I’ll go.”

“Piss off, Jake!”

“Not until you tell me.” Jensen challenged her as he crossed his arms over his chest. Maybe he was pushing too much, but he had to try.

“Don’t tell me what to do Jacob. You don’t wanna go? Fine!”  Stella shrugged as she got up and grabbed her purse which was hanging from her chair headrest. When Jensen finally registered what was happening he called after her but Stella just ignored him and left the coffee shop after taking her coat from the rack. Sighing with exasperation, Jake stood up and tossed some money down on the table before jogging after her.

The drizzle that was falling when he had first arrived had now turning into a real downpour. The cold air and heavy rain hit Jensen’s face when he stepped out and he needed a few seconds to spot Stella who was walking up the street under the rain, her wool coat failing to stop her from getting increasingly soaked. Jensen started jogging towards her as the same time he cursed himself for not having an umbrella with him.

“Stel.” He panted as he grabbed her arm.

“Don’t touch me!” She snapped, freeing herself from Jake’s grip.

He sighed but looked at her with determination. “You just can’t say it, can you?” But Stella wasn’t giving in and kept silent, staring back at him and after a few too many seconds Jensen had no option but to give up so he looked down and then back up, tears already brimming in his eyes. “My mistake. I’ll, erm, I’ll leave you alone.”

Stella watched, as he turned to go, his shoulders slumping before something inside her cracked, driven completely by the fact he looked and sounded so damned broken.

“Wait!” Stella pleaded, and he stopped, turning to face her as she took a deep breath, looking upwards before she shook her head. “I…damned, fine, I love you, okay. Is that what you wanna hear?” She snigged and shook her head. “I love you Jake but that doesn’t mean shit. I’m tired of hurting.”

“Me too Stel!” Jensen blurted out, his voice cracking. “Jesus, I hurt every dammed day when I saw you with that prick, because I only had myself to blame. I’m a fucking idiot and I get now, my reasons, you know I thought I was doing the right thing, that it would save us both so much heartache but all it did was cause us so much more.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Stella frowned at his sudden ramble. “You were doing the right thing? What kind of shit excuse is that? The right thing for what?”

“For you! I saw it in your eyes, the day we found out our postings and we were gonna be split up because we weren’t married!” Jensen tried to explain himself as the tears began to fall from Stella’s eyes. “The hurt and fear in those beautiful eyes, Stel and all I could think about was how worse it would be if something happened and,” he sighed as his eyes silently pleaded with her to show some sign his words were getting to her and when he spoke again, his voice was softer than ever. “I thought by ending it, then it would mean we could both move on and if something happened then you wouldn’t have to go through the amount of pain your mom did when she lost your dad.”

“Don’t you think I had the right to make that decision myself?” Stella practically shrieked at him, her chest heaving. “God, you’re a fucking asshole Jacob Jensen.” She sniffed and made a pause to rub her nose and wipe the tears and raindrops that were falling down her cheeks. “What the fuck? I’ve spent the last fucking five years of my life wondering what the fuck happened, trying to find a reason why you suddenly didn’t love me!”

“Stel, I never stopped loving you!” Jensen yelled back, before he took a deep breath and shook his head. “How could I? I’ve been in love with you since we were eleven.” He moved closer to her, trying to hold her hands in his.

“You have a strange way of showing it!” She screamed back, moving her hands to dodge him.

“I know, I know. I don’t have anything else to say other than I’m so sorry. And I love you.” He choked out. “I always will.”

Stella sighed, tears still running down her face. She was exhausted and tired of listening to him apologize over and over again. “All right, you’re sorry. So what? Apology accepted. Feeling better? You can go back to Virginia now.”

“If that’s what you want.” Jake said so softly Stella almost missed it as he put his hands in his coat pockets.

“Why suddenly it is what I want that matters, Jake?” She railed at him once more. “It’s always been about you and your stupid ideas and your stupid needs!”

“What do you want me to say, Stel?” He pleaded, his voice was beginning to break again. And, as Stella looked at him, his face suddenly illuminated by the headlights of a passing car, she realised that she had never seen him so vulnerable before.

“I don’t want you to say anything, Jake.” She swallowed hard, shaking her head. “I just want you to make up your mind once and for all and stop fucking with my brain.”

“Make up my mind?” Jake scoffed. “Have you listened to a word I just said?” He stepped forward a little. “You know what I want.”

Stella shuddered under his stare at those last words before muttering. “No, I don’t.”

“You! I want you.” He blurted out, his eyes never leaving hers. “Give me another chance baby. I swear, I’ll make you happy, I’ll do anything.”

“Jake…” Stella’s voice was a strangled whisper as she shook her head and Jensen sighed.

“What is it that is making you hold back?” He pressed, rain dripping off his hair down his face.

At that, she swallowed. “I’m scared.”

“Scared of what? Talk to me, Stelly.”

“Of being broken again, Jake. Because I don’t think I can fix myself again.” Stella blinked as the raindrops gathered on her eyelashes.

“You won’t have to.” Jake was fast to assure her. “I promise you that much. Just let me show you I can be the man you need, the man you deserve.”

“You promised me before you’d always be there Jake.” Stella started sobbing again. “And you left me.”

“I know, I know baby and I blame myself every day for that I... I just need you to trust me. I love you, I love you so fucking much, Stelly I can’t even think of you not being around.” His voice cracked completely on the last word and he sniffed loudly, his shoulders shuddering as he took a deep breath.

And, suddenly Stella’s defences, those defences she had fought so much to keep up, were nothing more than paper, paper that was disintegrating after being soaked by the rapidly falling drops of both her tears and the rain. Before she could draw in the air her body needed, she fell forward into Jake’s arms, melting into his form as she sobbed, her face pressing into the cold, wet outer layers of his clothing.

Jensen’s hands folded around her back, drawing her in closer and she could feel her body shake. “Stelly, shh, don’t cry baby,” he managed a whispered choke as she clung to him for dear life, “everything is gonna be all right. You’ll see.”

And as she continued to cry, Jensen simply held her, rocking her gently from side to side as he pressed a kiss to her wet hair before he pulled back, his hands cupping her face as he swiped under her eyes with his thumbs, the tenderness of the action more than Stella’s heart could hold.

“Please Stelly. Just give me this, ‘coz I don’t know what I’m gonna do if you don’t.”

As a response to his plea, Stella leaned into his hand, kissing his palm. “I never wanted you to leave in the first place.” She whispered and turned her eyes to his, to see a soft smile spreading across his face.

Jake swallowed, trying to find his voice. He wanted to speak, he wanted to speak real bad, because, God, there were so many things he wanted to tell her, so many built up wants and needs from over the years they were apart. But he couldn’t form anything more than her name. “Stel,” and, before he could attempt anything else, she reached up and grabbed his face tenderly before kissing him, softly.

The rain ran down their faces to where their lips met, each of them tasting the cold drops, but instead of detracting from the intensity of the moment, it simply took them to new heights. As Stella pushed her lips in more firmly, the wave that ran through her was intoxicating, a connection that showed the strength of the feeling, the mutual need. She paid no attention to the water which was soaking them through to chill their skin, because the sheer burst of love they were sharing was more than enough to keep her warm.

Nature might have brought the rain but Jake’s inner sunshine always came through for her in the end.

As Jake kissed the droplets from her mouth, she felt his lips smile against hers, making her head swim as she pulled back to take in his beautiful face and he was beaming at her.

“This is it, Jake. You fuck this up and I’m out of your life for good. In every way.” She declared with a sniff, but the warning felt less of a warning to Jake as she was smiling at him as she clung to his neck.

“Not gonna happen.” He smiled back. “We’re gonna do great and we’re gonna get married and make gorgeous babies.”

“You’re a fucking moron.” She snorted.

“Yeah.” He shrugged casually before tightening his grip on her and leaning in for another kiss, but it was cut short this time by Jake’s stomach growling, making Stella pull back and arch her brow at him.

“I haven’t eaten all day.” He offered as explanation.

She chuckled and then gave him a big grin. “Wanna stop at the Schwarma stand on the corner of Ruby Ave?”

“Yes.” He groaned more than agreed. Stella smiled as Jake placed his arm round her, pulling her close to kiss her head as they set off. The gesture once so familiar to them that it filled them with the warmth that the merciless rain was denying them. “Hey, does this count as a date?” He quipped.

“Don’t push it, Jake.” Stella groaned as she jabbed at his ribs.

****

“What the hell have you two been up to?” Julie’s loud voice rang out and the pair of them stopped dead as they walked into the kitchen from the Mud Room, looking at her as she stood, her arms folded, leaning against the counter, wearing her best stern mom expression. “The pair of you are soaked!”

“Yeah, it’s raining.” Jensen nodded and Julie narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t get clever with me, Jacob. You’re not too big that I won’t give you a slap.”

He flashed her his best, cheeky smile and she rolled her eyes, her attention flicking to Stella before she frowned a little, her gaze then moving to their hands which were tangled together. She blinked, and then her face softened and she gave Stella a fond smile.

“You guys good?”

They looked at each other and Stella smiled, turning back to her mom. “Yeah. Yeah we are. But, erm, we should probably go get into some dry clothes.”

“There’s some sweats and a T-shirt in your room Stel, I think they’re Jake’s.” Julie smiled. “Drop your soaked things outside the bathroom and I’ll run them through the wash and drier.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Stella grinned as Jake let out a little noise of approval.

“Jules, you’re awesome.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She rolled her eyes but the smile never left her face. “Go on. I’ll fix you both some dinner.”

“It’s ok, we already ate so I think we’re just gonna...” She trailed off as Jake gently squeezed her hand and Julie nodded.

“Okay, well I guess I’ll see you in the morning?”

Stella dropped her head, shyly as Jake grinned. “Yeah, Jules. Have a good night.”

Thirty or so minutes later they were both warm, dry and settled in bed, Jake in the pair of grey sweatpants that had indeed belonged to him. As Stella snuggled up to him, he pressed a kiss to her head realising that it had been years since they’d done this, just been together, as a couple. He felt her shift a little next to him and he glanced down to see her blinking as she struggled to stay awake. Jake could tell she was exhausted and whilst he wanted nothing more than to get her on her back and love her the best way he could, he knew how tired she was, both physically and mentally. It had been an emotional day, hell, week even, and there was a lot to process. So instead he shifted a little so he was led on his side facing her, and drew her in for another soft, deep kiss, his thumb gently stroking her cheek bone as she sighed happily, his lips slowly and sensually caressing hers.

“Do you remember the first time we shared a bed, Stelly?” Jake grinned as he pulled away, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She snorted. “Summer camp when we were thirteen. I could feel a storm brewing, so I came to your tent.”

“And we got caught so your mom came to ours,” Jake grinned as she gave a chuckle, “sat with mine around the kitchen table, giving us both ‘the talk’. Good times.”

“I remember how it grossed the pair of us out.” Stella giggled. “You pointed out that Rey and Jane would share a bed when they stayed over with each other and your dad was protesting that it was different because they were just friends.”

“So were we at that point.” Jensen mused as Stella’s hand traced his bicep.

“Yeah that’s what you said. And then you pointed out that they might have been lesbians so his argument was invalid.”

Jensen snorted. “He was being platonaphobic, and of course when I told him so, he had no idea what it meant.”

“No one did because it was a word you just made up!” Stella laughed and Jake shrugged.

“It means you’re biased against platonic relationships.” He grinned before he took a deep breath. “Truth is, Stelly, there was nothing platonic on my side even then. I wanted you from the day I saw you.”

“You were eleven, Jake!” Stella shook her head.

“Just be glad it wasn’t until I was fourteen that I started getting boners over you.”

“You’re disgusting.” She rolled her eyes and Jensen pouted.

“Hey, don’t complain. You were in all my fantasies”

“That’s a back handed compliment.” She shook her head and Jensen flashed her a cheeky wink.

“It’s the palm of my hand that remembers.”

At that she slapped his arm and he laughed, pulling her closer to him as she nestled into his warmth, the top of her head tucked under his chin.

And that was exactly how she fell asleep a few minutes later. Jake felt her relax against him completely, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head before he too drifted under, happy and satisfied that he was holding his girl in his arms, right where she belonged.

**** Chapter 8

[freckledbodty]

Stripping Away The Bloat - The Umibe No Etranger Movie Did The Manga Dirty

I finally got around to watching the movie of Umibe no Etranger - a movie I didn’t know existed based on one of my old favourite BL mangas. And oh boy, does this adaptation reflect a painful trend in manga to anime/movie adaptations overall. Allow me a moment to rant, if you will...

TL;DR: READ THE MANGA BY THE LOVE OF GOD IT’S WONDERFUL. Also the movie is super pretty, but here’s a semi-detailed look at why it still really didn’t do the manga justice. You bet I came with receipts.

A few important notes before you start: 

1. Remember this is just my opinion, and I’d love to hear other people’s point of view on the matter, whether you agree or disagree! 

2. I am not fluent enough in Japanese to read the original without a translation, so my thoughts on the manga are coming from fan translations, which 100% might have affected how I view this! The anime I’m a little more sure on as I can generally tell when the subtitles have deviated, but that does mean I may have missed something/something was lost in translation that means something I say here is incorrect. I’m very sorry for this, so remember this is my view based on the media types I’ve consumed. 

3. Also the manga cuttings I use are not the best quality because of tumblr’s sizing, so even more of a reason to go read the books yourself! 

I’m aware I’m very late to this party, but when I saw the other day that this movie had been made, I was horrified that I hadn’t known about it sooner. I read the manga years ago, and adored it - it’s genuinely a sweet and beautifully drawn romance, and I’d highly recommend it to anyone. With that, however, the movie was a huge disappointment to me and I just need to have a moment to gush in a less than positive way. 

The Pros: 

Let’s get this out of the way, I’d still probably recommend this movie to anyone who likes romance anime-style movies. It’s beautifully animated. Seriously, this movie is stunning, with wonderful expressions, bright colours, and a pretty well suited soundtrack too. The animation tries to match the original art style of the manga, and frankly, I think it captures it perfectly. 10/10. Gorgeous. Watch it just for the prettiness. 

I’m also a big fan of any BL/GL adaptations that get a little more into the mainstream. This movie is definitely a huge win in terms of representation, especially when the manga (on the whole) avoided the more negative tropes that the BL/GL genres have historically been known for. (More on that later...) So that’s a win, and I will take it. 

The Bloat Cut: 

To put it simply, this movie fell into the trap of what I call (in my head) ‘cutting out the bloat’. As a long-time anime and manga fan, who has seen countless adaptations over the years, it’s a common theme that tends to make or break an anime. 

‘Cutting out the bloat’ to me means that the adaptors cut out a lot of the ‘smaller’ moments and panels that are seen in a manga. This movie was thankfully very good at following the original plot and took us through the same beats that the manga did (many adaptations don’t bother doing that at all), but they left out a lot of the extra stuff - the aforementioned ‘bloat’. 

The bloat isn’t really bloat in that it is pointless, however: the problem is that these little moments and scenes are seen to be pointless by the adaptors. Again, understandable: they have a limited run time, and it’s hard to include every little tiny moment, especially when they are ones that are easily scanned passed. Some bloat cutting is necessary to make an adaptation viable at all, but sometimes, it can be hugely detrimental to the piece. Umibe no Etranger is a key example of this. 

Setting: 

I watched this movie without rereading the manga, and as such, I was quickly thrown off by how bad the movie was. This was one of my favourite mangas, wasn’t it? Had I really had such terrible taste? (Yes, let’s not go there, but this manga was not one of my high-school bad decisions). 

The characters felt strange. Personalities did complete 180s after the time skip and did some questionable things that I couldn’t recall finding issue with when I read the manga. The two main characters felt so hot and cold that it didn’t feel like the story I remembered. Even the pacing felt off and janky at times. 

After watching, I went back and reread the manga, and this is where I saw all the ‘bloat’, the little intricate moments and minor panels that were easy to overlook but made the story what it was. Here’s a few of the biggest examples I could find. 

Shun:

Oh, Shun. What did they do to you? 

Shun’s character was bizarre. In the first 15 minutes of the movie, he was bubbly, friendly, and even bold enough to flirt with Mio. After the time skip, he was sour, cold, and completely withdrawn from the world. I understood Mio’s confusion because after the time jump he was a completely different character. 

The manga is often focused on Shun and his inner thoughts, and he’s the one who is hurt the most by the bloat cutting. For starters, he wasn’t as over-the-top friendly at the start of the manga as he was in the anime, and we’re able to see his inner thoughts and worries that cause his reservations from the first few pages we meet him. We also get more hints earlier on as to Shun’s past that explain a lot of his behaviour as a whole, as well as getting little hints as to why he’s even more negative and exhausted after the time jump. 

Mio: 

The biggest bloat cut out in terms of Mio is the big plot point of the phone call. For context, before leaving for the time skip, Mio promises to call Shun once he’s gotten to his new home. In the movie, this is never really brought up again, focusing on the relationship in the present, but this was a huge point to leave out. I think it was cut out because it was explained in one short scene in the manga, and therefore easily mistaken for bloat. 

In the manga, it’s explained that Mio does call, but it’s Eri who answers, and there’s a very important conversation that sets up Mio’s whole character development and explains why he returns to the island set on having a relationship with Shun. Eri warns him that calling Shun, despite knowing that Shun has feelings for him, is cruel and unfair, and tells Mio he shouldn’t contact him unless he’s worked out his feelings. It’s a great scene, and a real shame to leave out when it explains firstly why Mio never called back, and secondly why he is so adamant about his feelings and love for Shun when he does finally return: because he saw Eri’s warning to mean ‘don’t come back unless you are serious’.

Relationship:

In the movie, Mio and Shun didn’t really seem to have a relationship until the drama kicked up and then it quickly seem to disappear again. Shun was extremely held back and reserved, and barely ever seemed to return Mio’s feelings (even in the scenes he was instigating) - he even totally avoided anything resembling physical contact at first. 

Compare this to the manga, where there are little hints of their relationship progressing throughout the chapters. For one, Shun is never as cold and blank as he seems in the film, and when he does seem that way, the manga quickly shows a glimpse of his thoughts to explain how he’s exhausted or distracted - without those little bloated thought bubbles, he just seems... a little cruel frankly.

A really good example of this is the beach kiss scene. In the movie, as Mio is about to kiss him, Shun suddenly announces that he’s hungry and avoids the kiss altogether, leaving Mio confused. 

In the manga, they actually do kiss - it’s their first kiss, in fact. Shun seems embarrassed and his ‘I’m hungry’ feels like more of a way to distract them both. He explains he’s exhausted (which is fair enough, this is a big thing for him to process on little sleep that his inner thoughts earlier in the chapter already set up) rather than just outright shunning him. (Ha. Shun. shun. Get it?) 

A more *noted* bloat they cut out is that Shun and Mio get physical in the manga way earlier than the movie, the touches just not quite being everything Mio wanted. Without those more tender moments, where they actually seem like a couple, it seems like Mio is chasing after Shun desperately, whilst Shun couldn’t care less about him. It detracts from the whole relationship. Below are some examples of the two of them actually seeming like a couple that were cut from the movie, including longing looks from Shun, Shun hugging Mio whilst he’s asleep, and Shun asking to kiss and touch Mio. 

The Issue: 

Bloat cutting always annoys me, but usually, if it’s not hindering the story, I don’t mind. What bothers me most of all in this movie, is that without these subtle little panels and moments, the relationship between Shun and Mio seems... forced, frankly. In the movie, Shun seems to be the instigator of the flirting, and then after the time skip he acts practically disgusted, avoiding a lot of Mio’s advances, and we don’t get to hear his inner thoughts like we do in the manga to explain why he’s feeling this way. 

In the manga, during these ‘bloat’ pieces, Shun is an actual willing participant in the relationship, and Mio isn’t just forcing his advances onto Shun. It’s natural. It’s not flipping between hot and cold, or suddenly ramping up after a big moment of drama, it’s slow and careful and a real relationship. 

This would be a bad change in any adaptation, but it’s especially so in this one. Anyone who is a fan of BL specifically is probably aware of the genre’s bad rep historically for having some... questionable consent issues. This manga didn’t have them. The movie? I’m not so sure, and that’s why it’s rubbed me the wrong way. I could spend another 1000 words talking about this issue as a whole, but I’ll leave it there, you get the idea.

Expected? Yes. Okay? Meh. 

There’s no real point to this post aside from to complain a little and point out just how much more the source material gives us. Cutting the bloat always happens, and I don’t want it to stop happening per say, that would be impossible, but I’d kill for adaptors to just take a little more time to work out what is unnecessary and cutable bloat, and what is something they should really keep in. 

The movie is still cute and beautifully made, so please go watch and see for yourself! Mostly, I’d highly recommend the manga: it’s got the same gorgeous art style, only about 5 chapters long, and the story and relationship is that little bit more firmly built. 

I’ll stop ranting now, and I hope this actually made sense? Anyway, congrats on making it all this way.

[wevegottogetaway]

I love you

First I love yous...do I need to say more? Anyway, please don’t hesitate to reach out for anything, whether that be comments, requests, feedback or just to have a chat! Happy reading xx

It’s been three days of utter pandemonium ripping through your brain in complete disarray. Three days of pent up stress storming through your mind as you ran like a headless chicken to try and find a handle on a situation that frankly, you didn’t give a rat’s ass about.

It all started when your boss had called you in his office, his signature tyrant-resting face on, solid frown drafting his features in a look of severity. Well, this can’t be good, you’d immediately thought once you took a hesitant seat across his desk. You’d hoped for a benign reason behind the sudden meeting, and that the scowl on his face was merely a residual of some other trouble that had absolutely nothing to do with you.

Your prayers had fallen on deaf ears however, as the summoning proved to be a twenty minutes angry diatribe about how one of your most recent client had expressed their wish to withdraw from their deal and de facto, the company. Though it hadn’t been your fault per se, your boss didn’t have any reservations about reminding you of your supposed responsibility to keep your clients sated and on the company’s leash. He’d given you three days to fix it after that. Three days to persuade the client not to pull out of the deal, or you risked some serious downgrading if not redundancy.  

You’d called Harry for support the minute you got home and spent the whole evening brainstorming the craziest ideas to him. He’d listened patiently, holding your hand on the table as you both indulged in the Thai take-out he’d picked up on his way over. That first night, you’d barely slept as you laid in his strong arms, back to his chest. Your reeling mind had still been trying to conjure up any sort of plan that would help you out of this chaos; but for each switch of the glowing red digits on your alarm clock, your hopes had dwindled some.

You hadn’t known then, but Harry couldn’t find rest either as he spooned you against him. You two hadn’t been dating long, several months at best, but already your distress was unbearable to him and every bone in his body ached to do something to help you. This feeling of powerlessness was crawling out of his skin and swimming around like a shark amidst his prevalent thoughts of support, admiration and love. Because, while he’d shown you the first and conveyed the second countless times in the past, the third had yet to tumble out of his lips, despite the confession burning their flesh a bit stronger every day.

What really had had his mind reeling though, was knowing that maybe, just maybe, he had the power to make this situation go away; and for each switch of the glowing red digits on your alarm clock, his hopes grew some.

Your earlier utterance of the client’s name had been ringing through his mind in faint recognition, an itch starting to fester at his fingertips. Dialing a phone number was all it could take. A couple choice words and if he played his cards right, the deal would be back on the table. He’d known interfering was arguably a bad idea, and truthfully he’d always made a point of honor not to use his connections to serve ulterior motives (his or anyone else’s), but how was he supposed to do nothing when the person that caused you trouble was in fact a friend of a friend that might reevaluate their stance if he pitched in with a bit of charm and compelling words? How was he supposed to stay idle, watch you dissolve in an anxious mess, if he wasn’t as powerless as he thought?

So he didn’t. 

He’d originally planned on keeping you in the loop, but you’d been gone by the time his forest green eyes had fluttered back to consciousness the next morning. After a quick shower, a large mug of the coffee you’d left for him before running back to work, and locking your apartment with the spare key you’d given him a couple weeks back, he’d pulled out his phone. Two minutes was all it took for his friend to pass him your client’s number and without hesitation, he’d launched the call and brought his phone to his ear.

It took a bit longer than a couple of minutes for that conversation to take effect, but eventually his words hit their target. After all, his lovely nature could pierce through the most robust walls and stubborn minds. He didn’t even have to put on the charm that much, instead drawing earnest sentiments about your impeccable skills and rambling about how there was no better person to keep their account safe in the business. He’d gnawed at his lips the whole time, desperate to pull through but still scared to fail you somehow. You’d already been let down by the client and your boss, you certainly didn’t need your boyfriend added to the list.

The call had ended with their promise to reassess and consider your undeniable abilities in the equation, yet the next day you were once again convoked to your boss’ office with a snarly bark of your name. Puzzlement washed over you as you speed-walked after him. Why was he still so resentful with you when you’d gotten the client to reenter the contract?

Another twenty minutes of intense scolding provided you with that answer. With a disdainful gaze puncturing your poise, your boss told you that while your job was no longer on the line, you’d been given a firm warning about using your boyfriend as negotiator for the company’s dealings.

How he knew when you yourself weren’t aware of the fact, you didn’t know. In retrospect, your talk with the client had been suspiciously easy for someone who’d made their will to ditch the company crystal clear. You’d merely laid out your arguments, expecting resistance and some pushing, but were only met with a squinted look and cautious acceptance. Now you know your case had already been pleaded once, by the man who was taking more and more space for himself inside the chambers of your heart.

You didn’t quite know how to feel about it; didn’t know if you should be mad or grateful. You were specifically stunned because you knew it was out of character for Harry. Your boyfriend was the most generous being you’d ever met, but humility was even more so a prevailing layer of his beautiful nature. You certainly didn’t expect it, didn’t wish for it to happen again because you were always adamant not to ever use anyone for their assets. Yet there was a tingling, a mixture of discomfort and gratefulness, sloshing in the pit of your stomach. 

This whole thing was a mind-fuckery of emotions you were too tired to process.

What you did feel though, was the pure frustration at your boss’ hypocrisy. You both knew he didn’t really care how you’d gotten the deal back, just that you did, but his intolerable disposition wouldn’t allow him to applaud your efforts and move on.

Wanting to put this all mess behind you, you bit back the retorts that you craved to force down his throat, simply nodded through his chastising charade, and leaped to your feet as soon as the dismissing words left his stupid trap.

Now that you’re making your way inside your home, your nose is hit by a waft of delicious aromas traveling from the kitchen. Your mind is still fuzzy with every trouble and startling revelation that transpired in the past three days, but as your eyes settle on your apron-clad boyfriend, you take a moment to appreciate the sight of his soft figure stirring the content of what must be a pan on the gas. His back is facing you, but you can hear the gentle humming under his breath, as he hasn’t registered your arrival yet.

After another minute of whistling, he finally twists around and his eyes almost pop out of their socket when they find your timid stance a couple feet away. "Jesus, pet, didn’t know you were home yet," he chuckles softly before taking in your somewhat moony features. Your expression is hard to pinpoint, your delicate traits blank of any emotions yet your eyes have the same sparkle that greets him every morning and every night when he pulls you for a deep kiss in his warm embrace. "Everythin’ okay, love?"

The query snaps you out of your semblance of trance, your head looking down to the floor to gather your wits before you level your gaze back to his. "Yeah it is. Umm, my boss called me in again today," your bite your lip, not knowing how to navigate the conversation. In all honesty, you just want to be done with the whole thing, would rather spend an evening full of cuddles and potentially mind-blowing sex, but you know this ought to be acknowledged.

"Oh," his brows pull together with the same confusion you’d experienced when your boss ushered you to his office. "Did he thank you for the big save?"

"Not exactly," you clear your throat bracing yourself and Harry’s face tenses at the realization about where this is going. "My job is safe and I’m still working on the account," hie loosens up in relief, but your next words have him stiffen right back up in alarm. "But I got a warning for a certain someone’s involvement in the company’s operations. Apparently, my boyfriend called the client on my behalf and forgot to clue me in…"

Your voice is calm and doesn’t carry any reproachful tone, but Harry’s pulse is suddenly speeding with dread regardless. The fact that he could have lost you your jobs is the only thing registering in his frenzied mind, as he sets the dish towel from his shoulder down on the counter and steps closer to you. His eyes are bouncing off yours in a frantic back and forth, as he gulps his remorse down. Before you can appease him with reassuring words, and show your lack of anger, he launches in an apologetic rant, enclosing both your hands between his palms.

"M’so sorry, love. I didn’t mean to put you in a bad position. Fuck I just- I kept thinkin’ I could help since your client was a friend of a friend. And, the more I thought about it, the more I kept thinking 'I can’t do nothin’. Cause I hate seein’ you in pain an’ I really want to be here fo’ you and I know this was probably the wrong way to go about it, but damn y/n, I couldn’t stand doin’ nothing, m’sorry-"

"I love you."

The words come fast but distinct, airy but firm, not an ounce of doubt laced through their utterance. An eerie silence permeate the small space surrounding them, as Harry tries to find his own words back. It took three of them to steal all of his, but in his defense they were the ones he’d been dying to hear and to deliver himself. His eyes are wide, blinking in total surprise. He’d expected irritation, disappointment perhaps, maybe even anger, but definitely not the sweetest words he’s been keeping at the forefront of his mind. "I- you do?"

You still have that wondrous look on your face, but this time a bright smile enlivens your features, "I really do." You take your hands out of his grip to hold onto his wrists and pull him closer to you. You have to look up since he towers over you but you’ve always liked that about your relationship; the way he always seems to dwarf you in his embraces, whether because of his height or his bear-paw hands. "I mean, don’t that again," you let out a soft laugh, "but I know why you did it, and I love you for it." 

Harry smiles rivals your own now, as your hands smooth up his arms to clasp at the nape of his neck, "plus, my boss is a jerk anyway so, who cares?" You pull him in a loving kiss then and his arms wrap themselves around your shoulders in a tight lock. His lips are as soft as ever between your own, and you detect the faintest taste of pepper and other exotic herbs lingering on their edge, from his cooking endeavors. He’s always been one to have a taste or two while he’s working, whether that be in the kitchen or other rooms…and regardless, you always like it when you get your share from his supple lips.

He feels slightly distracted against your mouth though, his technique not as ravishing as it usually is. and before you can wonder why, he’s pulling an inch away from your swollen lips, hurriedly whispering your tender confession back to you as though the words couldn’t be out of his mouth and into your heart fast enough, "I love you too, pet. So much." His hands are cajoling your face, thumbs drawing soothing circles across your cheeks, and his beaming smile is melting your heart in a goo of pleasure after all the strain it suffered in the past couple of days.

"Fuck, c’mere, don’t ever wanna stop kissing you," Harry mutters against your lips before diving in for a real mind-bending, soul-shaking, tantalizing kiss this time. Just like that, all your worries and sorrow evaporate into thin air, only to be replaced by an intoxicating pink loving brume. You two definitely spend the most perfect evening with lots of cuddles and endless mind-blowing lovemaking. Screw everything else.

➪ Masterlist