#please don’t make them divorce she’s so emotionally shut off from everything

[doomstonee]

She’s so girlboss (guys look it’s Pete’s wife)

[holylulusworld]

Deafening Silence

Summary: Steve and you are falling apart. Can you save your marriage?

Pairing: Nomad!Steve x fem!Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sharon Carter (mentioned), Tony Stark

Warnings: angst, language, unrequited love?, arguments, you and Steve go through a rough patch in your relationship, regrets, a hint of fluff, pissed reader, sadness

A/N: Not Endgame compliant. No one died, everyone is still alive and kicking.

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

Another cold night awaits you. Once upon a time you and Steve were undefeatable and, to be honest, sickening in love. Now you lie on the edge of the bed, try to not get too close to your husband as he always finds an excuse to not hold you in his arms any longer.

Tears well up to your eyes hearing him snore lightly next to you. Wondering if he’s losing sleep lately too but the way he peacefully sleeps tells you, he’s not letting his mind run wild.

“No sleep for me again, I guess,” silently leaving the bed you grasp one of his shirts to press it to your nose. It’s the only time you can catch his scent, so you take what you get. “Sleep well, Stevie. You don’t seem to have problems falling asleep.”

As so often lately, you walk out of the bedroom to grab a snack or watch nonsense on TV to take your mind of the problems right in front of you. Somewhere on the line you and Steve lost your love, or you lost Steve. You haven’t found out yet.

All you know is that the deafening silence between you and your husband is breaking you every day more.

“Can’t find sleep?” Bucky asks, watching you sit on one of the chairs in the kitchen. Steve invited his friend to sleep a few weeks at your guestroom as his apartment got blown up by one of New Hydra’s goons.

“I just-“ you bite your tongue, shaking your head every so lightly. You like Bucky, he’s your friend, but you can’t talk about Steve with him. He’s your husband’s best friend and would side with Steve over anyone. “Sometimes I got problems to fall asleep, is all,” you lie poorly.

“What about Steve?” searching your face Bucky nods silently. He can see your red-rimmed eyes and hear your tiny sighs whenever Steve ignores your present. “Maybe you want hot cocoa? I can make you some, doll.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just sit here for a while, ya know,” playing with your wedding band you don’t meet Bucky’s gaze, fearing he’ll see through your lie. “I just got a lot of things going on right now. We are back, work with Tony and the others again. Maybe we just need time to adapt.”

“If I can help, tell me so,” offering a cracked smile you nod, knowing you can’t take Bucky up to his offer. “You’re my friend too. How about we watch a movie and talk a bit?”

“I appreciate your offer, but I’m not in the mood to talk, Bucky,” sadly you are too tired and emotionally exhausted to even talk about the thing weighing heavy on your heart.

“Y/N,” walking toward Bucky places one hand onto your shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “Just talk to him, doll. Steve loves you and-“ you huff. It’s the first reaction he gets from you making clear you are hurt. 

“I don’t want to talk about it, him,” voice cracking you watch Bucky rummage in your kitchen to prepare cocoa for you. 

“You went through a lot together over the last years,” Bucky begins, eyes drifting toward you slumped in your chair. “Ultron, the accords, me,” you laugh when Bucky gives you a wink. “I know, I’m the most charming event rocking the boat but then there was the war between the Avengers, Thanos, the blip, and after that-”

“Steve told me he thought about going back to Peggy for a split-second, that life back then was easier and more-“ you try to find the right words but fail. “All I got was that he’s still a man out of time and that he’s sorry for considering going back.”

“Well, shit-“ Bucky grumbles. “I didn’t know, I swear. Here I stand, believing I know everything about my friend,” you shrug, watching Bucky prepare two mugs. “Did he at least apologize?”

“He did, more than once and I forgave, but never forgot,” sniffing you look at Bucky. “Since then, he started to distance himself from me. I feel like he regrets coming back to me, Bucky.” gasping you realize you just revealed your thoughts.

“Doll...”

“Please don’t tell him. I know Steve is a good man, but sometimes I think it would be easier for me if he just does what he has on his mind for months – file for divorce.”

“Anything from Steve?” watching Bucky check his phone you sigh deeply. Steve disappeared this morning, out of the blue. “Why didn’t he tell us about his mission? He always told me about his missions, confidential or not.”

“I got nothing either, doll,” grumbling Bucky sit on the couch, scrolling through his contacts. “Shall I call Tony or Natasha? Maybe they can fill us in why Stevie just grabbed a bag and left without telling us about his mission.”

“No,” biting your lower lip you wreck your brain. Maybe Steve did tell you about his mission? Lately, you are too lost in thoughts and self-doubts and barely listen if Steve finally talks to you. “I have work to do at the new tower. I will ask Tony if he can tell me about Steve’s whereabouts.”

“Okay,” wondering again Bucky looks at his phone, shaking his head at Steve’s message from last night. 

“Steve is not on a mission?” gaping at Tony you try to hide you can hear your heart pounding in your ears. “I thought he went on a mission last night. Did I confuse the date?”

“There is no mission for Capsicle,” Tony snickers. “According to my information, he took a week off. Said something about sorting things out. Honestly, I didn’t listen.”

“O-okay,” you swallow thickly, force a smile on your lips hurting your face. “I got it wrong then. I finished my reports. You should check on the sidenotes about the bank accounts. Maybe E.D.I.T.H. can check on the accounts later.”

“Y/N, is everything alright? You look a little shaken up or something,” Tony watches you fiddle with your phone, knowing something must be off with you and your husband. “Do you need my help? You know that you can tell me anything.”

“It’s nothing, really,” the lie rolls easily off your tongue, you are used to lying to yourself for months so why not lying to your friends too. “I just need some time off, Tony.”

Aimlessly walking the streets of New York, you doubt your husband once again.

Tony said he’s not on a mission. All of your friends don’t know where he could be and Bucky, well he said Steve didn’t tell him anything.

“Where are you Steve?” looking at your phone you sigh deeply. “Fine, we will do it the hard way. E.D.I.T.H., please use the tracking app we put on Steve’s phone. I need to find Captain America. It’s an emergency.”

“Tracing Captain Rogers’ phone,” E.D.I.T.H. replies. “Captain Rogers’ phone is not far away. He’s at a café, P.J. Clarke’s on 55th and 3rd, agent Rogers. Can I help you with anything else?”

“No, thank you,” walking faster you grip your phone tightly. Why is Steve at a café at that time of the day? He never disappeared only to take a day off and sip coffee.

If a heart can shatter, yours does in the very moment you arrive at the café only to see Steve sit at a table with Sharon Carter.

You haven’t seen her for years, but you must admit, she looks great as always.

“Stevie,” you whisper, hands clutched tightly to your chest when Sharon places her hand onto Steve’s on the table and he doesn’t move his hand away. He smiles, even chuckles at something the woman says. “A Carter again, how pathetic. Fuck that. Fuck fighting for our love if you refuse to even try.”

Unbeknownst you saw him with Sharon your husband tries to ask his friend for advice. Missing your pained expression and the tears run down your face when you storm off.

“Doll! Fuck I was worried about you. Tony called, asked if you are okay. He said Steve is not on a mission and that he took a week off,” Bucky watches you storm into your and Steve’s apartment. “Y/N, something wrong?”

“Everything is wrong, Bucky. But from now on, I’ll take my life back in my hands,” you quip. “I would appreciate it if you could get me my ‘I hate early mornings mug’, I want to take it with me,” walking toward your bedroom you ignore Bucky follows you.

“What do you mean by taking it with you?” while you get two suitcases out, Bucky tries to make you talk to him. “Do you want to go on a mission? Why so many suitcases?”

“Oh, Stevie was busy to take a week off while I was worried about him,” you quip, opening your drawer to grab random clothes, tossing Steve’s onto the floor. “Imagine my surprise when I traced his phone only to find him with another Carter.”

“Sharon?” humming you neatly fold your clothes to place them into the first suitcase. “Did he-?”

“No, but I guess Steve is just not man enough to file for divorce to be with her,” glaring at Bucky you make your way back toward the wardrobe to grab more clothes. “While I tried to save our marriage, Steve sits in a café and allowed that woman touch his hand. He smiled at her Bucky. I didn’t get a smile from him for months.”

“Doll, you can’t just leave without talking to him,” Bucky tries to stop you, but you made up your mind. Before you met Steve, you were wild, feisty, and stubborn but he tamed you and your free spirit. “Wait, let me call him.”

“I tried to call him this morning and after I saw him with that woman,” slamming the first suitcase shut you glare at Bucky. “He didn’t answer. It was his last chance to explain things to me, Bucky. Now I’m done waiting for Steve to tell me it is over, we are over.”

“What’s that?” looking at a neatly folded letter on your bed Steve feels his chest tightening. Your wedding band lies abandoned on the letter, but you are nowhere to be found.

“She saw you with Sharon yesterday. I guess taking off a week to meet up with an old flame and ignoring your wife called you about ten times wasn’t the smartest plan,” Bucky shrugs. “I called you too.”

“I need time to figure things out,” Steve sits on the bed, pressing the wedding band in his hand to his chest. “We went through a rough patch and I didn’t know how to fix things between Y/N and me.”

“Not talking to her and getting all cozy with Sharon was a great idea,” gritting the words out Bucky watches his friend unfold the letter with shaking fingers. “Steve.”

“I-I just didn’t know if Y/N still wants me after I admitted that I was tempted to go back to Peggy. She was distant for a few weeks and then, she almost clang to me. As if Y/N tried to fake she forgave me,” reading the letter Steve sniffles silently. “Oh, god she wants to file for divorce.”

“What?” grasping for the letter Bucky reads the last lines you wrote.

‘As you aren’t man enough to tell me that you don’t love me anymore, I will tell you it’s over. You don’t have to be the bad guy, Captain. The papers will reach you soon. Have a great life with Sharon…’

“Do you know where she went, Bucky?” jumping up Steve looks for his keys, already grasping for his phone to call you back. “Buck!”

“She came here, packed two suitcases, and left. I tried to stop her, but she didn’t listen, Steve. I don’t think Y/N will call you back.”

“Then I’ll have to find her, no matter what…”

“A whole month!” Steve waltzes into your apartment, panting heavily. His hair longer again, a thick beard framing his face he wraps you in a hug. “I was so worried, doll. How could you just leave without a trace?”

“Didn’t think you would miss me, Steven,” using his full name on purpose, you smirk as Steve flinches. “I believed Sharon would soothe the pain and fill the tiny gap I left in your life.”

“Y/N,” mumbling your name Steve pecks your hair while his hands run up and down your back. “I swear, I’m not with Sharon and I don’t want her, doll. When you saw me with her, I gave her something Peggy left for me. It was the first step to give up my past.”

“You held hands, and you smiled at her, Steven. Don’t lie to me,” you push against his chest, try anything to break out of his embrace. “I’m not stupid nor blind.”

“She grasped for my hand as I gave her the medallion Peggy left me. I smiled as she thanked me, and we remembered the last days with Peggy. Y/N, please believe me there is nothing between me and Sharon,” Steve desperately tries to not let you slip out of his embrace, but you fight him with all your strength.

“That’s the reason you take a week off and instead of having dinner with me, you meet up with that woman. Your former girlfriend,” you growl, pushing against Steve’s chest. “I tried to fix us, and you just ran off.”

“I wanted to clear my mind,” Steve mumbles. “I was afraid you are still mad at me for admitting that I thought about going back in time for Peggy for a second. I’m bad at admitting my feelings. I was afraid to lose you and handled it the wrong way.”

“Pushing me away to keep me was a great plan,” you give up fighting Steve’s strength, hating he’s so much stronger than you are once again. “You hurt me and now you come here and want me to do what?”

“Please come home, doll,” pecking your forehead Steve mumbles apologies against your skin. “Your husband is an idiot when it comes to feelings. I love you, love you so much. We need to work on our marriage but please don’t give up on us.”

“Like you did months ago?” cursing under your breath you glare at Steve when he tries to kiss you. “Fixing things between us won’t be that easy, Steve. You hurt me with your behavior. If you want me to come back, you’ll have to do more than coming here and looking like the man I’ve missed.”

“I’ve missed you too, doll,” pecking your lips Steve slides his fingers through your hair. “Please come home and I’ll do anything you want me to do. Tell me how to fix us.”

“Maybe Bucky can give you advice,” you smirk, breaking out of Steve’s embrace to walk into your living room. “He’s a man who can talk with a woman.”

“When did Bucky talk to you? Doll?” while you check on your phone Steve starts to pace your living room. “Did he touch my girl?”

“Why would your best friend touch me, Stevie?” you coo. “I mean, Sharon only touched your hand, right. There is no reason for me to be mad. What if Bucky did the same or Tony? Maybe Sam hugged me a bit longer than necessary.”

“I will kill them,” Steve balls his hands into fists, stares daggers into the picture of you and the team. “Tell me who dared to touch my wife,” nostrils flaring, chest heaving up and down Steve points at the picture. 

“See,” you walk toward your husband, placing your hand onto his heart before you meet his gaze. “That’s how I felt when you let that woman touch you. You gave her my smile while you ignored me.”

“I didn’t ignore you; it was just-“ sighing Steve hangs his head low. “I get it, doll and I’m sorry. If you give me a chance to prove that I can be the man you deserve, I’ll try to do so every day from now on…”

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[elizabeethan]

Spaces Between Us Chapter 13: You & I

The hardships of real life separated them six years ago, and Emma has been struggling to put that fact behind her ever since. But then, only after she’s convinced herself that she’s moved on and that her new life is enough, Killian Jones comes back.

A Captain Swan Modern AU

Complete

As my grandma used to say,"theyah." (she meant "there" and she would brush her hands together, but she had a very heavy a Maine accent) 

Thank you to everyone who read this, and to everyone who commented, left kudos, liked it, reblogged it, sent flails.... you're the best!!

Thank you, as usual, to my beta and friend @the-darkdragonfly​, and to @donteattheappleshook​ and @xhookswenchx​ for listening to my ramblings and helping me figure out the plot to this <3

Read the Rest

Read on Ao3

Read my Other Stuff

~~~~

His warm fingers tickle her awake, dancing delicately over the skin of her waist and making her giggle before she hisses at the bright sunlight stinging her eyes. “It’s too early for all that.” 

 “No it isn’t,” he argues, kissing a hot trail down her neck until his lips reach her breast. She swears she was wearing a shirt when she went to bed… “We’ve got to get up soon anyway.” 

 “Then why are you initiating what you're initiating?” 

 “I can be quick.” 

 She snorts, reaching her fingers into his thick hair and letting out an appreciative sound as he flicks his tongue over her nipple. “I’m sure you can.” 

 “Let me do my work in peace, please,” he chastises playfully as he drags his mouth down her stomach, tucking his fingers into the hem of her underwear and tugging them down her thighs. 

 “If you insist,” she sighs, letting her head fall back against the pillow and grounding herself as she scratches her fingers against his scalp. 

He certainly does take his work seriously, succeeding in his promise to be quick and getting her ready for him in just a matter of minutes. She pulls on his hair a bit harder and he lifts his head, looking up at her with shiny lips and a glint in his eyes before he wipes his chin and crawls up her body slowly, peppering kisses along the way. “Already?” he asks when he reaches her ear, and she giggles. 

 “You promised to be quick, I thought you’d be pleased to know that you delivered.” 

 “Oh, I’m very pleased. If there’s one thing parenthood has taught me, it's how to get my lady love off in a jiffy.” 

 “Shut up,” she laughs, though the sound is cut off quickly when he plunges himself into her, nearly to the hilt before he pulls back out and slides in again, slowly this time. She groans in appreciation for the way he stretches her, hitting everywhere just right as he sets a steady pace. 

 “I love you,” he whispers against the shell of her ear, tracing his tongue over the sensitive skin just below. “So much.”

 “I love you, too,” she whispers back breathlessly, then with a moan, “don’t stop.” 

 “You like it like this?” he asks, biting her skin and pushing into her at just the right angle. 

 She whimpers and nods, her nails clawing at his back. She’s so close already, his mouth bringing her halfway there before they’d even started, and when he reaches his fingers between them where she needs him the most, she cries out again. 

 “There,” she begs, her legs shaking as she holds him in place. “Oh, fuck, right there.” 

 When he whispers, “come for me,” with his tone commanding and gentle, there's little she can do but obey him. 

 He’s heavy on top of her, her chest heaving beneath him, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She loves being here with him more than just about anything. The way he kisses her cheek over and over while they catch their breath makes her heart flutter more. 

 “You don’t actually have to go, right?” she asks jokingly as she runs her fingers up and down his back. “You’re actually just going to work? Won’t Will be mad if you miss a day, Mr. Mechanic?”

 With a laugh and another kiss to her cheek at the charming nickname she gave him when his friend hired him to work in his garage, he answers, “I bloody well better go. I promised Ruby I’d be there and I certainly don't want to be on her bad side.” She giggles, though he continues, “and I want to watch that bastard get exactly what he deserves.” 

 She nods, letting out a long, steady breath. Walsh’s trial is today, and while Killian isn’t allowed to testify because of his relationship with the victim-- her-- Ruby has a lot to say about that evening. At first, there was talk of Killian being unfit to serve and having made irresponsible choices because of his emotional connection with Emma. But after Ruby’s accounts of that night and the body camera footage, it was clear that he acted as appropriately as he ever has. Walsh shot first, and the sheriff responded using non-lethal force. And besides, Killian left the force on his own accord, anyway. 

 At first, she was almost angry that he’d lived. Part of her wanted the surgeons to let him die; another part of her wanted Killian to have taken a better shot. But he was shot himself, so the fact that he got him in the shoulder was pretty damn good. Plus, Walsh will never be able to fully use his arm again. 

 And… he’s probably going to jail for a long time. Which would be cool, considering the amount of times he’s been beaten up already.

 “There’s too much going on in there,” he murmurs, kissing her temple. “Tell me what you’re thinking?” 

 With a shrug, she says, “just thinking about what happened. It’s been a long eight months.” 

 He hums. “Aye, it has. Hasn’t been so bad, though.” 

 “No,” she agrees softly. “But I’ll be glad when this whole trial thing is over. Maybe we can finally leave this place.” 

 “Are you implying that you aren’t a fan of my apartment?” he asks through feigned offence. “I find it to be quite quaint.” 

 “Oh, it’s quaint,” she giggles. “I just feel bad making Henry sleep in a closet.” 

 “It’s not a closet! I pay extra for two bedrooms!”

 With a soft smile, she cups his cheek in her palm and says, “I’m sorry, my love, but that is a walk-in closet.” 

 He rolls his eyes, then rolls off of her and offers her his hand to hoist her off the bed. “Soon we can get him a nice big bedroom, promise. Once the trial’s over, there’s nothing holding us here.” 

 It’s true. While they haven’t fully talked about where they’ll end up when all is said and done, Walsh signed the divorce papers from his cell a few weeks ago. And with the pre-nup null and void, Emma took her half of his fortune and donated it to an organization that supports victims of domestic violence and their children. 

 “Henry’s appointment is at ten, right?” 

 “Yeah,” she nods. Starting him up with Archie has been a blessing. Emma had a lot of fears that he would handle the transitions with difficulty, but with Dr. Hopper’s help, he’s been well adjusted, and she couldn’t be prouder. 

 They struggled with how to tell him about his father, but she never wants to lie to him. They moved out of their old house with haste, grabbing everything they could as quickly as possible so that Emma wouldn’t have to be there for a second longer than she had to. And while Henry was confused, he didn’t seem overly upset. He enjoyed living with the sheriff for a few days, even creating a comfortable nook for Abby, before they sat him down and told him everything. 

 When Emma told her son that the man who’s been in his life all along isn’t actually his father, she thought he would be upset. In reality, though, he simply shrugged and asked if Killian’s house had macaroni and cheese. 

 When Emma told her son who his real father is, a few days after they moved in with him for both safety and stability, he cheered and gave Killian the biggest hug she’s ever seen him give anyone. 

 She still can’t think about that day without crying. 

 “So Sherrie is actually my dad?” 

 Emma nods. “Yes, baby. I’m sorry that this is so confusing.” 

 He ignores her sentiment and asks, “and I can call him daddy?” 

 “You can call him anything you want.” 

 Turning towards Killian, he asks again, “can I call you daddy?” 

 The look on his face is so heartbreaking that Emma’s tears flow freely. Killian looks up at his son, meeting his eyes with glassy ones, and nods. “I’d love that.” 

 “Have you got one as well?” he asks, shaking her from her memories as she wipes away a rogue tear.

 “Wednesday. You’re okay to watch Henry in the morning, right?” 

 “It’s not exactly babysitting, Swan,” he reminds her gently, and she grins at the name he uses and the fact that it’s finally her name again. 

 “I know, but…” 

 “Go and see Ingrid on Wednesday, love. I’m glad you’re still finding it beneficial to talk with her.” 

 Honestly, finding a therapist who happens to have experience working with victims of domestic violence in this small town was a surprise to Emma, but she’s found her work with Ingrid to be invaluable. While she’s known all along that what happened wasn’t her fault, and that she shouldn’t feel guilty about what she and her son went through for all those years, it’s been helpful to hear that from a professional as well. Ingrid reminded her that, while the physical abuse happened only near the end of their relationship, Emma was being emotionally abused the entire time she knew Walsh. She was trapped from the moment she met him, little by little being gaslighted until she believed that she would have nothing if she left him. As hard as it was for her to see how toxic he was at first, it was even harder to imagine leaving when she thought he had so much power over her.

 The guilt that came with finding out she put herself and her child through that for nothing was unmatched. Her feelings and thoughts about herself as a mother, about how she failed to protect her son, are something she’s been battling for months and will likely never be able to fully let go of. Finding out that Killian is Henry’s father gave her the freedom to leave, but it also gave her the most traumatic experience of her life and brought endless feelings of self-hatred, and that’s something she’s been working on coming to terms with, slowly but surely. 

 “Alright,” she agrees, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips as she walks past him towards the bathroom. 

 “I’ll go give him his nebulizer while you get ready.” 

 Stopping short in her path to the shower, she turns to him and smiles. “I love you.” 

 Returning her smile with his own, he says, “I love you, too, Swan.” 

 In eight months, he’s become more of a father than Walsh was Henry’s entire life. 

 ~~~~

 As he watches Walsh being escorted into the courtroom, donning his orange jumpsuit and shackles, Killian is reminded of the last time he saw the man who almost took everything from him. It was months ago, once he was finally transferred to the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department’s jail cell. He was still clearly favoring his left arm, his right shoulder completely out of commission as a result of Killian’s rather good shot, and he felt a sick sense of accomplishment seeing the monster struggling to get comfortable on the firm cot with the sling wrapped around him. 

 “Need something?” he’d asked, although he wasn’t too chuffed to give the bastard anything that would take away his obvious malaise. 

 He scoffed and responded, “yeah, my pain meds would be nice. Are you always in the business of torture?”

 “Aye,” Killian responded without thinking, then he stood up and walked to Walsh’s cell, keys in hand. “I suppose I am. But I really only focus on torturing the absolute most wretched inmates. Like you.” 

 Walsh shook his head and laughed, but Killian didn’t miss the look of fear in his eyes as he inserted the key and swung the cell door open, shutting it behind him. “Talk about protect and serve.” 

 Killian hummed in response and nodded as well as he moved to stand over Walsh’s cot, staring down into his eyes with anger, the strength of which he won’t ever feel again. “The fact is, mate, I couldn’t care less about my duties as the sheriff. Not when the safety and happiness of my son and the woman I love are on the line.” Walsh laughed once more and rolled his eyes, so Killian moved quickly to thrust his open hand down upon his neck, pressing just hard enough to make the animal’s eye pop from his head. “You threatened them. You tried to kill her. You neglected the child you thought was yours for his entire life. You are garbage; a waste of oxygen. Trust me when I tell you that I will do everything in my power to ensure that you never live to see the light of day. You will never take a breath outside of a barbed wire fence. You will never eat anything but the slop they feed you. You will never experience pleasure for as long as you live. And I promise you, you will live for decades in an iron cage, right where you belong.” 

 He was quiet for a moment as his cheeks started to turn red and his eyes grew wider, before he finally gruffed, “I can’t breathe.” 

 “Perfect,” Killian responded. “Then you know exactly how she felt. Count yourself lucky that I’m not going to try and shoot you again.” 

 He released his forceful grip, shoving Walsh down onto the cot as he took in a forceful breath, before he turned and locked the cell, walking back to his desk and collecting his things. When his shift ended, Killian Jones walked out of the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department precinct for the final time. 

 ~~~~

 Henry’s birthday is definitely cause for celebration. He’s turning six. It’s the first time Killian will be able to celebrate his son’s birthday. He’s finally with his Emma, with nothing stopping them from being happy together. There’s a lot for his family to be happy about. 

 “Daddy!” Henry calls as he sprints at full speed towards his father. “Daddy, can I have cake yet?” 

 “No, not yet. You haven’t even touched your lunch. And don’t let your mother see you running wild like that.”

 His more intensive therapies have been working as well as they can, but they know they have to be careful to avoid another serious attack-- one that might not end as well as the last had. Killian only just became a part of his son’s life. He doesn’t intend to lose him. 

 “But it’s my birthday,” he complains, rolling his eyes and giving him a look that could rival his mother’s. 

 “Your birthday isn’t until Monday.”

 “Well, it’s my tarty.” 

 “Your party.” 

 “I think I wanna ask mommy.” 

 Killian chuckles. “If mommy doesn’t tell you to wait until after lunch, I’ll give you five dollars.” 

 His eyes light up and widen immediately, cloudy gray perfectly complimenting the black pupils as he turns from him and runs straight for the door. He watches from the deck as Henry begs and pleads with his mother, giving her his best bambi eyes, before he sees her nod, the lad jumping for joy and shrinking excitedly. He runs towards the sliding door and pounds his fists against it, shouting through the glass, “you owe me five dollars!”

 With a sigh, Killian brushes past his son, ruffling his hair just a bit, before he wraps both arms around Emma’s waist, pulling her in for a hug from behind. “You really got me there, Swan.” 

 “Did I?” she asks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

 She leans back into his chest, turning her head so that she can press a soft kiss to his jaw. “No? Are you telling me our son didn’t inform you of my poorly-made offer?” 

 With a giggle, she answers, “of course he did. That’s what you get for trying to negotiate with our six year old.” 

 He squeezes her a bit tighter, reveling in their loneliness in the kitchen. “He’s still five,” he reminds her, content to never let him grow up.

 “Yes,” she hums. “And what a big difference the two days will make.” 

 He pushes his lips against her cheek and says, “I’m afraid he’s getting too old. We’ll have to return him soon.” 

 “And what,” she laughs, “trade him in for a newer model?” 

 “Aye, that’s the price of fatherhood most men aren’t willing to pay. But I’m not like those other men.” 

 She doesn’t need to be facing him for him to know that she rolls her eyes. “You are absolutely ridiculous.” 

 “--ly in love with you,” he corrects. She does spin around now, turning to face him and burying her face in his neck as her arms hold him in her iron grip. “What is it?” he whispers into her hair more seriously. 

 “Nothing,” she responds softly. “I’m just… happy. It still surprises me sometimes. That we’re here and celebrating our son’s birthday together; that nothing’s stopping us.” 

 “Aye, love, me too,” he agrees, running his hands up and down along the contours of her spine. “I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” 

 “You won’t ever have to,” she reminds him with a smile as she pulls away just enough to look at him. “We won.” 

 He grins down at her, running his thumb along her cheek as he holds her jaw with his palm. With her ex-husband being found guilty on all charges, his life sentence without the possibility for parole means they’ll never be apart again. “Yes, my love,” he says, leaning down to kiss her chastely. “Let’s simply avoid the scorned husbands and attempts on both of our lives in the future, aye?”

 She agrees with a nod. “Yes, that sounds like a good plan. Fucking idiot got exactly what he deserved, though.” 

 He laughs and says, “as eloquently put as always. I couldn’t agree more.” 

 As it turns out, the prosecution lawyer was very experienced and was able to use Walsh’s statements of intent to kill his wife, as well as the loaded gun pointed directly at her and at the sheriff, to prove two counts of attempted second degree murder, plus assault with a deadly weapon, plus domestic violence, plus election fraud, plus embezzelment. Suffice it to say, Walsh won’t be seeing much daylight for quite some time. 

 Of course, the honorable man in Killian almost thought that sending his mistress’s husband to jail for life as a means to be with her was taking the cheap way out, but he got over those feelings very quickly. It’s not about Killian being with Emma, after all. Not really. 

 As their son laughs raucously on the swing set with his cousin, he sees exactly what it’s about. 

 “I suppose we should do the cake,” Emma finally sighs, lifting her head 

 “I suppose,” he concedes, squeezing her tighter in his hold and pressing a kiss to her temple. 

 ~~~~

 The afternoon rolls into evening, everyone finding a lawn chair or chaise lounge to relax in as David starts a fire and Mary Margaret prepares for an outdoor movie. Honestly, Killian’s son is spoiled with the grandeur of his sixth birthday party, with the giant white screen and the projector displaying The Good Dinosaur for all the children to enjoy. 

 Emma sighs happily as she leans back against Killian’s chest, taking his wrists in her hands and pulling his arms around her middle. She feels warm against him as the fire heats her skin and her sweatshirt, and he can’t get enough of the feeling of the weight of her body pressed to his own. 

 “I love you,” she finally whispers into the dark as the movie starts, the sounds enough to drown out her voice so that only Killian can hear.

 “I love you, too,” he agrees softly, sentimentally, squeezing her just a bit tighter. “More than just about anything.” 

 “Just about?” 

 He hums out a laugh and nods. “I’m afraid I love our son just a tiny bit more than you. That’s normal, right?” 

 “Yes,” she agrees softly, turning to face him and pressing a kiss to his neck. “I’m afraid I love our kids more than you, too.” 

 He smiles and laughs lightly against her, returning her soft kiss with one of his own as he sighs and looks on at their son happily enjoying his special day. “Wait,” he says as it finally dawns on him; the specific wording she chose and the coy smile she dons through a giggle. “Kids?” 

 She hums in agreement, nodding against his chest and pulling his arms tighter around herself until his palm is pressed to her stomach. “I found out this morning.” 

 “Emma,” he breathes, unable to comprehend her meaning. 

 “I was thinking if it’s a boy, we could name him after your brother. At least his middle name. Thoughts?” 

 “Emma,” he tries again, separating his arms and pulling away only far enough to help her turn towards him. “Are you…” 

 “Shh,” she insists, pressing her finger to his lips and grinning at him and she turns to face him head on. Then she whispers, “it’s a secret. I’m pregnant.” 

 He can’t breathe, a shocked sound coming out of his mouth as he leans towards her and captures her lips in his. She grins against him, holding onto the neck of his sweatshirt to pull him impossibly closer to herself. “You’re sure?” 

 “I’ll call the doctor on Monday to make an appointment, but I took three tests. All positive.” 

 “Fuck,” he breathes almost silently, trying hard not to alert those around them of their shift in mood but finding it near impossible. “Fuck, I love you. I thought…” 

 She shakes her head, cradling the back of his neck in her hands as she answers his silent question. “I probably never would’ve been ready,” she explains. They’ve talked about it in passing, and she’s insisted that her last pregnancy was difficult and that she’s still recovering from the trauma she’s endured and is therefore unable to consider the possibility of having another child. “If I had a say, I probably would’ve kept putting it off,” she whispers. “But… surprise.” She shrugs and grins at him.

 He kisses her, because he can think of no other way to express his feelings towards her than to show her what she means to him. There are no words to tell her exactly what she’s given him, not just now, but every second he’s known her. No words, except, “marry me.” 

 She giggles breathlessly, the air escaping her lips hitting the tip of his nose as she gasps, “what?” 

 With a grin, he responds more seriously, “marry me. Please.” He clears his throat and tries again. “Emma Swan-- love of my life, mother of my children-- will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” 

 “You’re serious?” she breathes softly, careful not to alert the other parents present of the sudden shift between them. “You know I just got divorced, like, two months ago.” 

 “Aye, but I should've asked you to marry me seven years ago. The divorce is merely semantics.” 

 She laughs breathlessly again, disbelievingly, and nods her head before pulling him close to her. “Yes,” she whispers against him before pressing a passionate, if not also chaste, kiss to his lips. He can tell that she wants to deepen it, perhaps she wants to take him inside and show him how excited she is, but they're at their son’s birthday party and they have to keep things G-Rated. PG; nothing higher. “Yes,” she says again. Then once more, “yes, I’ll marry you.” 

 Andrew Liam Jones was born seven months later. He was monitored closely throughout Emma’s pregnancy to ensure proper development of his lungs, and when he was born, he screamed like a banshee to alert his parents of his healthy arrival. He weighed seven pounds, three ounces, and was twenty-one inches long. His big brother, newly renamed Henry David Jones following an amendment to his birth certificate, refused to leave the baby’s side until he fell asleep, needing to be carried out of the maternity suite by his uncle while his parents took in the bliss and terror of having a new life to care for. 

 Emma and Killian were married two months after the arrival of their second child, the small ceremony taking place on the secluded, rocky beach in Storybrooke, Maine. At first, Killian wanted to remove his family from the hellish town that nearly stole his life away from him, but she disagreed. This was where they were reunited. This was where they found each other again. This was where she found herself again. It’s where her children were born and raised. So, when she finds a beautiful, blue victorian style home on the outskirts of town and cries at how perfect it is for their family, at how close she would be to her sister, they place an offer. And they win. 

 They won when they found each other again and they know that they will never lose at anything ever again so long as they have each other. 

~~~~

~~~~

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells​ @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook​ @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay​ @xsajx​ @itsfridaysomewhere​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @qualitycoffeethings​ @rapunzelsghosts​ @spaceconveyor

[darthkruge]

Hello! I'm kinda new to the whole tumblr thing so sorry if this request is bad but I was wondering if maybe you could do an imagine for spencer reid where the reader is Garcia's younger sister and Garcia brings her in to meet the team because it's her first day there. Maybe Reid recognizes her from somewhere and he will not leet it go until he finds out how he knows her? Btw it's totally fine if you don't get to this! :)

Spencer Reid x Reader ~ Piano

Summary: When a new agent joins the BAU, Spencer knows he’s seen them before but literally cannot figure out where. His memory having never failed him before, he doesn’t rest until he figures it out.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral! Reader; Penelope Garcia x Sibling! Reader

Words: 1973

Warnings: A little bit of language, I think that’s all?

A/N: Hey anon!! First off, don’t worry, love! I’m honestly new to this whole tumblr thing too, but I loved this request! I’m sorry I didn’t get to it sooner, life’s been a bit hectic. I made it so the reader is Garcia’s younger sibling instead of sister, I hope you don’t mind. I’m going to try to make writing as gender neutral as possible moving forward. Nothing against you, of course, I know I haven’t specified in past requests and I couldn’t have expected you to know, so don’t worry! That being said, sorry for rambling and I hope you like it :)

(gif isn’t mine)

“Hello, everyone! I want you to meet the youngest of the wonderful Garcia children!” Penelope led you into the BAU where you waved a bit stiffly. You weren’t a huge fan of being the center of attention, but you knew your sister loved these introductions.

Looking around, you pieced together the people you knew from Penelope’s stories. You recognized Derek immediately. You assumed from his professional stance that the taller and older dark haired man was Hotch. Logically, that meant Rossi was next to him. And Emily and JJ were the two women, smiling and waving at you encouragingly. You smiled a bit broader, immediately sensing you would be fast friends with them. Finally, your eyes landed on what had to be Spencer. You thought he was quite attractive and, from Penelope’s descriptions, he was also amazing, talented, kind, smart, basically everything you liked. You waved at him but noticed he was almost studying you? You weren’t sure, but felt a bit awkward, confused as to why he seemed friendly to everyone else but wouldn’t even smile at you.

“Umm, hi!” You said, laughing nervously and kind of hoping to disappear. Hotch sensed your discomfort and offered you a kind smile before putting you out of your misery.

“Welcome to the team, L/N. Garcia’s told us wonderful things about you. That being said, we’re just closing up tonight, so you could finish up your paperwork finalizing your transfer into the BAU if you haven’t already and then come in for your first day tomorrow?”

“Okay, thank you, Sir.”

“Goodnight, team”

Everyone echoed the “Goodnight” before filing out of the room. You got into the car with your sister and pulled out of the BAU, reflecting on your past and thinking about the next chapter of your life.

After almost everyone else had left, Spencer was still at his desk, thinking. The certified genius, was, for once, completely at a loss. He couldn’t figure it out. Where had he seen you before? He was currently in the process of mapping out every place he’d gone to over the last few months. Every restaurant, every film festival, every face he saw in passing at crosswalks, through car windows, at coffee stands, and, still, nothing.

“Woah, Pretty Boy, slow down! What’s got you so riled up?” Derek says, walking over to where Spencer was hunched over his notebook, furiously writing.

“I can’t figure it out, I know we’ve met before or I’ve seen them before or something. I just,” Spencer put his head in his hands, eyes starting to burn a bit from the strain of writing and concentrating for so long, “I just know it”

“Seen who before?”

“Y/N, the new agent. They’re so familiar, but for some reason I just can’t figure it out”

“Ohh! Garcia’s their sister, right?”

Spencer nodded and Derek came behind him, seeing the messy timeline and pages of notes scattered around the agent.

“Are you sure you’ve seen them? I mean, we see lots of people on the job. You could have just seen someone who looked like them, you know? And come on, Reid, your memory is, like, insane . If you’d met, you’d have remembered”

“I know, that’s what’s got me so messed up.” Spencer sighed.

“Take a rest, kid. It’s late, get back to it tomorrow. Maybe they’ll visit you in your dreams…” Derek said, wiggling his eyebrows and laughing as he walked away.

Spencer laughed, hoping Derek was right. He’d do anything to get more time with you, even if it was in his subconscious. Honestly, he felt a bit bad. He’d been so caught up in figuring how he knew you that he’d kind of forgotten to actually talk to you. Normally, he’d have caught a new recruit before they left, but he didn’t get the chance with you. After packing up, Spencer went home and continued his search with you on the forefront of his mind.

Meanwhile, you had just gotten back to your sister’s apartment. You had your own place but you were new to the team and felt a bit lonely. Mentally, you didn’t want to be alone at home, too.

“Hey, Pen, what’s up with Reid?” You asked. You were confused, you knew he was quiet but he seemed to be actively ignoring you. Even stranger, you caught him intensely staring at you, as if he was trying to figure something out.

“He’s just shy, Y/N. But he’ll warm up to you, don’t worry! Honestly, I think the both of you would be a pretty good match. If you want, I can do some of my famous matchmaking!”

“Please, noooooo,” You groaned, dragging out the word.

“Come on! I’m great at it!”

“No! Remember last time? I ended up on a blind date with a guy who, within the first three minutes, told me he liked me because he saw similarities between me and his parents!! Then, he proceeded to detail their divorce for the next 45 minutes!”

Penelope was laughing hysterically, “I mean, you did say you liked emotionally available people!”

You grabbed a pillow and threw it at her head, dying in your own fit of laughter.

“Alright, that’s it, I’m going to bed. I can’t be conscious in the same house as you anymore” You say, smiling and jokingly flipping your sister off as you walk away and into the guest room.

Naturally, she returned the gesture.

When Spencer arrived at work the next morning, his eyes were bloodshot, hair was sticking up in a million different directions, and clothes were exceptionally disheveled. Anyone else and you would have thought they had a really bad (or great) one-night stand. Although you weren’t close with him, you just didn’t see him being that type of guy. You laughed a bit as he grimaced, taking a sip of what looked like extremely bitter coffee.

Deciding to try and break the ice, you went over to him. “Long night?”

Spencer’s head shot up. “Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that” He said, laughing a bit.

You smiled. Even though he was awkward, you felt at ease in his company. “I get that, I’ve had a few long nights myself. I love the job, don’t get me wrong, but the way the BAU runs is different from anything else I’ve ever dealt with.”

“Yeah. It can be a bit of an adjustment, but you’ll be fine. You’re doing great. I mean, you arrived early, so I can already assume you’re organized. And your desk is a little messy, leading me to believe you’re a creative person. Your handwriting is quite slanted, too. I recognized it from your entry forms. Did you know that’s a sign of high intelligence? Because your thoughts are moving so quickly, your hand can’t keep up in the “perfect” way, so the letters normally slant and become more sloppy.”

You were mesmerized by him. You could watch him talk for hours, truly. Sure, he wasn’t always graceful, but he was so passionate about everything he talked about. You loved listening to people talk about what they love. The way their eyes light up, it makes the energy surrounding them contagious.

Realizing he had just psychoanalyzed you without permission, Spencer looked at your sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to profile you. It’s sometimes hard to shut off, especially around new people.”

“I get that. It’s okay, I don’t mind.” You said, nodding knowingly.

As you said that, Spencer figured it out. He remembered one time visiting his mother in Vegas and hearing you say those exact words. You were playing the piano, talking to a patient who had just accidentally spilled some water on your sheet music as they took their medicine. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. I was in need of new music, anyway” You had responded, laughing. He was surprised he didn’t immediately recognize you, the beautiful and talented person he’d seen that day. But, it did make sense, in a way. Spencer’s memory is always at its highest and weakest when he’s with his mother. He can remember each of their conversations, verbatim, but everything else fades.

“Spencer? You alright?” He had been kind of spacing out for a few moments and you were afraid you did something wrong.

His attention came back to you and he smiled again, brighter this time. “You play piano.” He stated.

Your breath caught and you let out a small laugh, extremely confused. “Uhh, yeah, I do. I’m sure you’re great, but that seems extreme even for you, Mr. Profiler”

Spencer laughed. “No! I didn’t profile you, I just, I remember you. Las Vegas, March 12th, Psychiatric Hospital, you were playing piano. A patient spilled water on you. I remember you.”

“Oh, right! Ms. Owens! She’s lovely. You were there that day? Well, either that or you just gave yourself up as a damn good stalker”

“No, no, not that,” He said, a shy smile playing on his lips, “My mother’s a patient there, Diana Reid? I’m not sure if you know her.”

“Yeah! She’s quite a character. I always enjoyed playing on days Diana was there.” You reminisced for a second, lost in the memory.

“Were you visiting someone there, too?” He said, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Not exactly. My grandfather was a patient before he passed. He taught me how to play and I kind of just asked the staff if I could volunteer and continue to after he left. They were kind enough to let me. I mean, he always encouraged me to perform and I thought it was a nice way to honor his memory. A few months later I heard from Penelope that there was an opening at the BAU. I moved out, and, well, here I am.” You gestured to yourself, slightly embarrassed after you realized you might have overshared.

Spencer caught onto this, however, and quickly reassured you. “That’s amazing, Y/N. You were amazing when I heard you. I wish I could have heard you play again.”

“Thank you, that’s really sweet, Spencer.” You said, resting your hand atop his, a blush forming in his cheeks at the touch.

“Um, if you don’t have plans. I mean, not to assume you don’t have plans, just if you, you know, happen to not be busy, would you want to maybe get dinner sometime? You don’t have to, of course! I wouldn’t be offended! I just kind of want to get to know you more. If that’s alright with you.” He trailed off, not making eye contact and playing with the buttons on his shirt a bit as he awaited your answer.

Deciding to be bold, you gently turned his face to meet yours and smiled. “I would love to. Tomorrow, pick me up at 8:00?”

“Yeah! Here’s my number, text me your address?”

You smiled and nodded, taking his phone. He took the moment to just look at you. You were truly one of the most breathtaking people he’d ever met. He couldn’t believe he’d just gotten you to agree to go out with him. Even so, he wouldn’t question it. If something in the universe gave this to him, he wouldn’t risk it for a second.

You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek as you slipped the phone back into his hand. As you pulled away, Spencer cupped your cheek and pulled you back in for a kiss. His lips tasted sweet and soft and a sense of serenity washed over you as you stood in the middle of the BAU, kissing him. Everything faded away and quickly came into focus again as he pulled away, far too soon for your liking.

“More of that tomorrow” He whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

You smiled, “That’s fine by me.”

~requests are open~

[lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love]

Request: Is it ok if I stay anonymous when/if you post it ⚠️trigger warning⚠️ can do a request where the teen Reader is part of the marvel cast and they notice that the reader has been acting different until one day they find a letter from the reader wishing she was dead but they save her life and talk to her about her problems. Thanks —(anonymous)

Notes: I’d like to thank (anonymous) for the request!! I hope you like it. Please read the warning too, my friends, it’s important.

I mean no disrespect by writing or posting this, and in no way do I take the themes and topics discussed in this story lightly. So if you’re triggered by any of this, I suggest not reading it.

I don’t own any of the gifs/pictures used.

⚠️⚠️Warnings: Suicidal reader, suicidal thoughts, reader considers suicide, worried co-stars/friends, bad writing ⚠️⚠️

Word Count: 756

Masterlist: Click Here & Here

You’ve been dealing with depression for a while now

It started around the summer you were entering high school

You’d been bullied horribly throughout middle school, and you did your best to not let your negative thoughts/emotions overwhelm you

You wanted to be the bigger person

You figured you could handle it on your own, so you didn’t tell your parents, not wanting them to worry

But the summer going into your freshman year was when those emotions and thoughts consumed you

Your parents suddenly divorced, your best friend no longer wanted to be associated with you, your father left without so much as a goodbye once the divorce was finalized, and it felt like your entire world was caving in on you

You spent a great deal of time crying, alone either in your bedroom or the bathroom

God, if anyone saw you crying it would make you feel even worse

You stayed composed around people; you let your thoughts and emotions consume you even more when you were alone

By the time you graduated high school, you were an emotional and psychological wreck

Emotionally, you were numb

Happiness, anger, fear — you couldn’t feel it

It’s like your brain just... shut down in that department

You mimicked other people’s reactions, just to come off as normal

That wore you down even more

Not long after graduating high school, you managed to get into acting, which seemed to be a perfect fit for you

People pretending to be other people? You do that nearly every day!

At 19 y/o, you land your first gig at Marvel, and you have to say the cast is amazing

Not only are they incredibly talented, but they’re funny, supportive, and reliable

They’re also very perceptive

They noticed almost immediately that something was a bit off about you

They noticed it gradually getting worse the more you worked with them

They assumed it was something personal, something you’d tell when you’re ready

What they didn’t know was that your depression was at its worse, and it was making you believe the only way to feel happiness/relief was through suicide

You never mentioned your depression to anyone, not wanting to burden those around you with something you deemed trivial, insignificant

But filming the latest Marvel movie weighed heavily on your mental health

You felt like everything you did was wrong, even when you received positive feedback, to you it seemed fake, like you were being lied to or they were attempting to make fun of you

You started to slowly distance yourself, not wanting to associate with the people who seemed to be belittling you in your eyes

Their kindness stung, their affection was suffocating, their support was overwhelming, their compliments made you feel ashamed

It wasn’t until one night you came to a sudden conclusion: the only way to escape your pain, to escape the intensity of your depression, would be to kill yourself

You spent the next couple hours writing lengthy suicide notes to your costars, planning on giving them out the day before you did the deed

You decided to keep the notes in your trailer so you’d have them ready, so you brought them with you when you came to set the next morning

You left the notes out, without even thinking

You’d gone to hair and make-up to get ready, and Sebastian went into your trailer to ask you about something, unaware that you weren’t there

He saw the notes

He couldn’t help but read them

He freaked out

He made a group chat — excluding you — and brought it to everyone’s attention

They all freak out

By the time you leave hair and make-up you’re surrounded by your costars

Scarlett: “Y/N, why didn’t you tell us?”

Chris (Evans): “You know we’re here for you, you don’t have to keep anything from us.”

RDJ: “We love you kid, you mean the world to us. Please, we just want you to talk to us.”

Anthony Mackie: “You’re our best friend, Y/N. Your life is precious, we can’t imagine a world without you in it.”

It’s too much

You start crying

You try to tell them what’s been going on, but your sobs are making your words incomprehensible

It’ll take time for you to recover, for you to feel even a little normal

You know you’ve got your costars to talk to, but that won’t be enough

You’ll need professional help, but at least you know the cast truly cares about you

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

@treasure-that-is-what-you-are

[zodiyack]

Should I Stay Or Should I Go

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, teen angst, fluff, a smol mature reference?

Words: 1,834

Summary: Her mom’s boyfriend practically ruins and controls her life, going as far as to force them to move. It doesn’t sit well with the couple, and they both have their own way of solving it.

Song: Should I Stay Or Should I Go by The Clash

Key: Lyrics = Bold + Italic, Memories (and sometimes emphasis/thoughts) = Italic

Note: I’m sorry if it sucks, I liked the ending with the song, so I tried to make a full story, and...I just don’t like it as much as the ending lol it doesn’t help that i’ve tried writing a section every other day...it’s hard to get it to make sense when you do that oop

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

Darling, you got to let me know, Should I stay or should I go? If you say that you are mine; I'll be here 'til the end of time. So you got to let me know, Should I stay or should I go?

Listening to random artists, genres, pretty much just music, was pretty much everything they had done all day. Jonathan made a mix-tape for his girlfriend, his and her favorite songs in a randomized order on the cassette tape. It was the second one he’d made, and he was eager to have her listen to it.

Practically shoving past Y/n’s mother and into his girlfriend’s room was the first thing he’d done upon arriving. The second being putting the cassette tape into the player, and the third informing Y/n on what it was.

"You hungry?” Y/n sat up, giggling softly as Jonathan played with the socks covering her feet, a small tickle against her feet every now and then. He nodded and moved his arms, allowing her to hop off her bed and walk to the kitchen. “Oh- hey mom.”

Her mother was at the kitchen counter. Even though she was dressed to cook, something had clearly been on her mind as she was just leaning against the surface and squinting her eyes while she stared into space. The distraction was powerful, from what Y/n could tell, because when she greeted her mother, she made a startled yelp and jumped slightly.

“Sweetie! I uh...I need to talk to you... Could you please send Jonathan home?” Y/n hesitated, but nodded. She left to get her boyfriend, returning and giving him a kiss after he put his shoes back on. “Oh, Jonathan! Could you please tell your mother I said hello?”

“Of course.” He smiled shyly, “Thank you for having me over, Mrs. L/n.”

“Anytime! Thank you for coming, Jonathan!” She waited until he left to turn and ask Y/n to sit down for a moment. “I...Well, I- um...”

“Mom? If you need a moment, I can wait-”

“No! I just...I’ve decided to start seeing people again and...I’ve got a boyfriend daring!”

Y/n stared at her mom for a second or two, then began laughing. Her mother was shy but happy and wanted her daughter to be happy for her. Happy for the fact that she was recovering from the divorce. That, Y/n could understand, but she couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s great mom! Is he cute?”

The woman blushed, biting her lower lip as she leaned back on the counter nervously. “Yes... That’s not all I’d like to talk about though....I want to invite him for dinner.”

“Really? Okay, I’ll go hang out with the Byers’ so you guys can have some priva-”

“No, sweetie...I want to invite him to eat dinner with us. The both of us.”

It's always tease, tease, tease, You're happy when I'm on my knees. One day it's fine and next it's black. So if you want me off your back, Well, come on and let me know, Should I stay or should I go?

"How was it?”

“He’s an asshole!!” She flopped onto her back, a pained, but faux, expression covered her features. Jonathan laughed, moving stray hairs out of her face and smiling brightly. “What? Do I got somethin’ on my face?”

“No... You’re just...” He lifted his camera from it’s spot- dangling off his neck, and to his eye. The clicks sounded as he shot photos of Y/n, smiling to himself as he looked through the lens. “Beautiful.”

“Yeah yeah, keep stroking my ego camera-man. But like I was saying, he’s a dick!”

“No,” he lowered his camera, “you said asshole.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled back at him. “Shut up.”

“Only if you make me.”

Taking his quip as a challenge, she grabbed his head and began to pull him down. Her eyes looked into his with genuine interest. Their lips came close to touching and-

“Y/n! Your mom’s on the phone!!”

The couple sighed and pulled apart. “Thank you, Joyce!” She frowned to Jonathan, pecking his lips and walking out of his room. But she didn’t leave with out quirking a brow, a corner of her mouth lifting as well, and adding quietly, “10 pm. My window or yours?”

Should I stay or should I go now? Should I stay or should I go now? If I go, there will be trouble, And if I stay it will be double, So come on and let me know

This indecision's bugging me. If you don't want me, set me free. Exactly whom I'm supposed to be, Don't you know which clothes even fit me? Come on and let me know, Should I cool it or should I blow?

Split!

"I have to go.”

“What?”

“He’s making us move.” Her mom’s boyfriend decided he’d had enough with Hawkins, especially after he’d caught Jonathan sneaking into Y/n’s room. From then on, he called her things like slut, bitch and whore. The night she’d told Jonathan about it, he joked, but with 100% seriousness, “it’s like he’s never heard of a teenager, or even been one for that matter.”

Their argument had escalated.

“Why? He shouldn’t get to decide what you or your mom have to or get to do, you’re almost an adult and your mom’s an adult, I don’t see why he’s all of a sudden the boss.”

“That’s exactly what I said! But- my mom agreed...we’re moving next week.”

His expression dropped. “Next week?”

“Next week.” Y/n repeated as confirmation.

Jonathan held her gaze for a moment or two before rolling his eyes and running and through his hair, “That’s bullshit.”

“E-excuse me?”

“It’s bullshit. You could ask your mother if you could live here with us or something, or even run away, you have so many choices, but you choose to give up and go with that- that- that dick?” 

“Yes! Because, like you said, I’m almost an adult. Not an adult, almost. I can’t just leave my mom with him either-”

“All I’m getting is that you’re either a dumbass or just a coward. Either way, you’re his bitch, and you’ll always be his bitch if you don’t learn how to tell him no.” He was acting out emotionally, the words extreme and unintended.

And while Y/n knew that, her heart couldn’t take too much. “I’m not, his bitch.” She stormed out of the Byers house, thanking Joyce in a rush, and hopped into her car, slamming the door shut tightly. Inside the car, with much more privacy, she sighed and wiped her hands down her face, attempting to control her breathing.

Attempting to no avail, at that. She slammed her fist on the wheel a couple times, tears running down her cheeks as she let out pained-whimper-like-sounds. Then, having just let some of the anger out, she breathed in deeply, exhaled, and repeated a couple times before driving back home.

“I can get Jonathan-”

“Thanks, Mrs. Byers...but...he and I aren’t really...on speaking terms...” She averted her gaze. The time from the rest of the week had effected her appearance and nearly everything about her.

She hadn’t slept, noticeable by the bags below her eyes, she had a hard time thinking straight, noticeable for many reasons, eating was a problem as well- some nights she’d eat her snacks like they were a buffet, and others she’d just poke and stare at it with a bland expression.

Joyce studied her more, not quite letting her get off her ‘mom-radar’ this time. Curse the upside down, curse it taking Will, and curse the Mind Flayer. Joyce’s ability to notice when someone’s lying or hiding something practically heightened after everything that happened in the upside down. “A-are you alright, sweetie?”

“Mhm...”

“Mom, have you seen- Oh.” Jonathan walked into the room, perfect timing. “Y/n. Are you...moving today?”

“Uh- yeah...I just...I wanted to...” It’d been so awkward after their fight.

“Here, sweetie, you go talk in his room, I’ll stay out here and get some stuff for you and your mom.” She couldn’t argue, as Joyce was already leading them to Jonathan’s room.

“So...”

“So.”

They kept quiet as an awkward tension filled Jonathan’s room. A minute went by, still full of silence.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Four minutes.

Five minutes.

Y/n thought to herself, ‘what if I did something I’d regret?’

Six minutes.

Jonathan had pondered as well, ‘it’s the last time I’ll see her...’

Seven minutes.

Their eyes, puffy from crying, met.

Eight minutes.

Y/n and Jonathan now fully faced each other.

Nine minutes.

They both talked to their inner thoughts, saying the same thing unknowingly;

‘do it.’

Ten minutes-

Their lips met in a feverish kiss, one that probably would’ve finished with clothes strewn about and a bed shaking under the weight of two bodies made one had Joyce not stepped in to drop off two mugs for both teens.

“Oh!” The shock was evident in her voice before she began to laugh a little. Both Y/n and Jonathan had pulled away in an instant as they realized their position. “Well I’m glad you’ve made up!” She set the mugs down and began to leave the room, “Wait! I forgot, Y/n, your mom said to be home in five.”

Y/n thanked Joyce and waited until she closed the door, then pulled Jonathan in for another kiss. He was the one to pull away, and intentionally this time. “Before you go, I need you to know something.”

Her arms still relaxed around his neck. “What is it?”

“Remember when I called you his...”

“Yeah.”

“I- uh- ...I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of what I said that night. I was just- ...I was scared. I am scared...”

“Why?”

“Because...I don’t want to lose you. But I want you to be happy, with your mom.”

She scrunched her brows, growing more confused as he tried to explain why he felt the way he felt.

He wanted her to be happy, which she was when she was with him- so it didn’t make much sense, but he didn’t want to lose her, which she returned the feelings about.

“I’m happy with you, Jonathan. I love you, so so much. I promise, one day, I’ll try something. I’ll visit you or maybe run away with you, I’ll do something. I promise, okay?” He nodded, holding her close to him for the few minutes they had left.

Should I stay or should I go now? Should I stay or should I go now? If I go there will be trouble, And if I stay it will be double; So ya gotta let me know, Should I cool it or should I blow?

He never let her see Jonathan. In fact, he specifically forbid her, like he had the authority to do that, from seeing or calling or even writing to him. Her ass of a step-father had pushed her last button, and she was centimeters away from snapping.

Y/n revved her engine, hesitating in her choice. She could go, or she could stay.

If she left, her mother would be heartbroken and her step-father would blame her if she were to ever return home.

If she stayed, she’d miss out on being with the love of her life, likely making him think she decided she didn’t love him despite telling him so.

Then again, she couldn’t take another day with that bastard of a step-father.

Adjusting the mirror in the front of the car, she took one last look at her step-father’s home, revving the engine louder until he came outside. He shouted at her, but the stereo, which blasted The Clash from the mix-tape Jonathan had made her, and her engine drowned out his voice.

Y/n removed her eyes from his reflection, focusing on the road and picturing herself in Jonathan’s arms again. 

And how he’d been right.

She was acting like her stepdad’s bitch. But Y/n snapped out of it, just like Jonathan had said she could. She was done being his bitch. She was done letting him be such a dick to her. She was done letting him prevent her from being happy.

“Fuck you, asshole.” With a smirk upon her lips and a jump of her heart, she pressed on the gas.

Should I stay or should I go now? If I go there will be trouble, And if I stay it will be double; So ya gotta let me know me tienes que decir, Should I stay or should I go?

[jensengirl83]

Regret and Redemption Chapter Two

Dean x reader

Word Count-2359

Warnings-Angst, language 

A/N-  Mechanic!AU I hope you enjoy! Text dividers courtesy of @talesmaniac89​ 

 Y/N had gone to file for legal separation from Dean that afternoon. She didn’t have the heart to file for a divorce yet. She had been with him for almost nine years and still loved him, but she couldn’t be with him anymore. He had broken her trust and her heart one too many times. Her uncle had told her that Dean should be served with the separation papers in a few days. Y/N was still an emotional wreck as she made her way back to the hotel room that she was going to have to call home until she found somewhere else to stay.

Once she was back in the safety of her room, Y/N collapsed on the bed and let her emotions take over. She knew that this is what had to be done but it didn’t make it hurt any less. She had shared everything with Dean for years. Their hopes, dreams, good times and bad. They had even planned on starting a family together. How are you supposed to let all that go without the pain eating you alive?

Across town in the home they had once shared, Dean wasn’t doing much better. He lay in their bed holding her pillow like it was the only thing keeping him alive. He could still smell the mixture of her favorite perfume and shampoo as he would take a breath. He could feel his heart break further with every inhale. The agony of knowing that once the smell was gone, he would most likely never smell it again. He shuddered at the thought of never being able to hold her again, wake up to see her face, or fall asleep with her in his arms again. Dean had closed his eyes and almost drifted to sleep when his phone had started to ring.

“Hello?” Dean answered.

“Hey baby, are you ok?” Mary asked him in her soft motherly voice.

“No, I’m not Mom. I’m the farthest thing from ok,” Dean told his mother. He didn’t think he would ever be ok again.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart. What happened?” She asked him.

“Sam hasn’t already told you?” Dean said, a little annoyed. He knew that Sam had to have told her, and that’s how his Mom knew already.

“He did, but I wanted to see if you wanted to talk about it,” Mary said, hoping he would let her try to help.

“There’s really nothing to say, Mom. I fucked up and there is no way to fix it.” Dean told her as his eyes had started to fill with tears again.

“You don’t know that, Dean. She might…” Mary had started to say before Dean cut her off.

“I do know, Mom! I fucking cheated on her and broke her heart and her trust! There is no coming back from this. She’s gone and I will be here alone for the rest of my life!” Dean yelled. He knew what the future had in store and it didn’t include Y/N.

“Dean, I want you to listen to me. Even if Y/N never comes home, you will find someone else. It’ll just take time,” Mary told him softly but sternly.

“You don’t get it, Mom. I don’t want anyone but her! If it isn’t with Y/N, I won’t ever be in a relationship again,” Dean said sadly.

“Then why, son? Why would you treat her the way you did? It doesn’t make any sense Dean,” Mary said to him in frustration. She knew he loved Y/N, but if he loved her this much, why had he done what he did?

“Because I was an idiot! I let my shitty self esteem and self worth get in the way! Instead of telling her how I felt and risk her seeing me as the piece of shit I am, I let other women make me feel better about myself, and all it cost me was the love of my life!” Dean yelled as he paced the bedroom. He had finally said out loud what he had been hiding from everyone.

“Dean, sweetheart… go talk to her and be honest like you should have been in the beginning,” Mary’s words had cut him deeper than he thought they would. He knew it was the truth, but hearing again that it was his fault from his Mom really hurt.

“I don’t even know where she is Mom. I tried calling her and it went straight to voicemail,” Dean said with a sigh.

“You aren’t going to find her curled up in the bed clinging to a pillow,” Dean had frozen at his Mom’s words.

“How did you know that is what I was doing?” Dean asked his mom in shock.

“You seem to forget that I raised you, son. You would always do that when you were upset,” Mary said with a laugh.

“I guess you’re right,” Dean said.

“Now quit moping and go talk to your wife,” he could hear the smile in Mary’s voice.

“I love you Mom,” Dean said wondering what he would ever do without his Mom.

“I love you baby,” Mary said as she hung up the phone.

Dean threw his phone on the bed and paced around the room trying to think of what he could do. He wanted to talk to her and try to convince her to come home, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He had really messed up this time. Y/N had one of the biggest hearts of anyone he knew, but even she could only forgive so much. He could only try to show her how sorry he was, and Dean knew the first step to show her he was serious about wanting her forgiveness.

Y/N had drifted to sleep at some point during her breakdown. She had been mentally and emotionally exhausted from leaving her life and Dean behind. She had never felt anything like this pain before in her life. She rolled to her back to stare at the ceiling to contemplate what the hell she was going to do next when a text on her phone broke her train of thought.

My Love: I know you probably don’t want to hear from me, but I wanted you to know that I fired Stacy. I love you and miss you sweetheart and I will never be able to tell you how sorry I am. I hope you can forgive me one day.

The text from Dean had her crying again. She loved and missed him too, but she couldn’t do it. He had hurt her too badly this time. She needed to change his name in her phone too, she thought to herself.

Y/N: I’m sorry Dean, but I can’t let it go this time. I still love you and probably always will, but I have to move on with my life now. The scars of your betrayal run too deep. Please let me go and move on.

That had been the hardest text she had ever sent. What had been left of her heart now lay shattered on the ground. She would always wish that things had ended up differently, but they hadn’t.

Dean: I’m sorry, baby. I really am. I will prove it to you somehow, Y/N. Until then, know I love you and I can’t stand to be without you darlin’.

Y/N: Let me know when you won’t be there so I can come get the rest of my things. I’m sorry but I can’t see you right now.

Dean: I’m going to work tomorrow. You can come then.

Y/N: Don’t be there Dean! I mean it. I can’t be around you right now.

Dean: I won’t be here sweetheart, I promise.

Y/N: Bye Dean.

The last words she sent had hurt. She meant them irrevocably: it was goodbye this time, not see you later. With tears in her eyes, Y/N had blocked his number and laid back on the bed to cry herself to sleep once again.

Dean had stared at the last message she sent for what felt like forever. No two words had ever hurt him like those had. Dean still couldn’t comprehend how he could have been such a bad husband. How could he have been so selfish and not seen what his actions were going to do to her? He had thought she would always be there by his side, but everyone had their breaking point. He had broken her beyond repair, and he would never forgive himself.

Dean walked down the stairs to the living room. He thought that maybe if he watched a movie, he could calm down enough to get some rest. He knew he needed a fresh mind if he was going to think of a way to break down that wall she had put up. He picked up the remote control to just push play on the last movie that had been watched. What had popped up on the screen took his breath away. Y/N had been watching the video of their wedding.

Dean wanted to turn it off, but he couldn't bring himself to hit the button. He watched as Y/N walked down the aisle to him, the smile on her face was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. Dean continued to watch as they said their vows to each other, his chest felt tight with all the emotions that had washed over him as the video played. His eyes were glued to the screen as he watched himself kiss Y/N for the first time as husband and wife. Dean had finally managed to turn off the TV, not able to watch any longer. That had been what she had watched right before she left him.

Dean had woken up the next morning for work and just wanted to crawl back under the covers. After seeing their wedding video, he had gone on a drinking binge. He laid in bed and stared at the ceiling trying to remember what he had done the night before. His whole body ached, and he had cuts on his hands. He groaned as he sat up knowing that whatever he had done could not be good. After getting dressed he made his way downstairs to come face to face with what he had done. The living room had been trashed and things thrown everywhere.

“Fuck!” Dean yelled into the empty house.

He remembered that Y/N was going to be there soon, and he promised he wouldn’t be here. Which meant that he had no time to clean up his mess. Why do I keep doing such stupid shit, he thought to himself? If he wanted to try and get his wife back eventually, this was not going to be the way to do it. Dean rushed around the living room trying to clean as much as he could when he heard a car door shutting. His heart jumped up in his throat knowing he had taken too long, and Y/N was there.

Y/N walked up to the door of the house she had loved so much, once holding so many great memories, now only reminded her of her husband’s betrayal. She shook that thought from her mind as she opened the front door. What she saw had her frozen in shock and anger. Her living room was trashed and there stood her husband. She had plainly told him not to be here and there he stood. She knew he was also the reason their things were broken and scattered around the room.

“Dean, did I not say that I didn’t want you here when I showed up?!” Y/N yelled at him, her fists clenched at her side.

“Y/N, baby, let me explain!” Dean said holding his hands up in defense.

“You don’t need to explain Dean. Let me guess, it involved a bottle of whiskey and your temper?” she said sarcastically. Anger was her only defense to keep from bursting into tears.

“Baby…” Dean started to say before she had cut him off.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me, Dean! You lost that right when you were railing your secretary behind my back!” Y/N had lost her composure and the tears had started to flow.

Dean watched as Y/N hung her head and cried into her hands. This was the first time he had seen her since the night before she left when he had left her standing in the living room to go take a shower and wash the smell of Stacy off him. Hell, he hadn’t even gone back downstairs to talk to her that night. No wonder she didn’t want to look at him.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Please know that I love you so much,” Dean said as he walked toward her and placed his hand on her arm.

As soon as he had touched her, she flinched away from his touch. That simple action had destroyed him. There stood the woman he loved, and she was repulsed by his hands on her. Dean took a step back in agony as he felt like he was going to be sick.

“Don’t touch me, Dean!” she shouted as she stepped back away from him.

“Y/N, please…” Dean said with a whisper, afraid if he spoke any louder, he wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears.

“No Dean, I can’t do this,” Y/N said in defeat as she turned to walk back out the door.

“Wait! What about all the pictures? You don’t want to take them?” Dean asked her, but she didn’t turn back to face him.

“Just burn them,” she said before she slammed the door behind her.

As soon as the door had shut, Dean crumbled to a heap on the floor. The look on her face when he had touched her was his undoing. Her soft beautiful eyes that had held so much love for him now held nothing but disgust and contempt. Her body that had always responded to his touch now revolted in his presence. Dean realized that he would never get over the woman that had just walked out the door and he only had himself to blame.

Regret and Redemption tags Tags: @flamencodiva @sorenmarie87 @foxyjwls007 @waywardbeanie @emoryhemsworth @voltage-my2dlove @hardcoresupernatural @msmarvelouswinchester @lyarr24 @deanmonandnegansbitch @akshi8278 @midsummereve1993 @sutton2001 @emory91 @halesandy @miss-nerd95 @ellewritesfix05 @bxbyizzy @winchest09 @adoptdontshoppets @defenderrosetyler @hobby27 @whatareyousearchingfordean @talesmaniac89 @deanwanddamons @atc74 @superfanficnatural @smol-and-grumpy @supernatural-love14 @vicmc624 @squirrelnotsam @tatted-trina6 @xhannahbananax03 @coffeebooksandfandom @nihilismworld  @winchester-wifey @mrsfox79 @malfoysqueen14 @moron225​

[masterthespianduchovny]

You know what, I’m sick and tired of show runners swearing that their shitty series finales was because the fans didn’t get what they wanted.

More times than not, if you find yourself on the worst TV finales of all time, you earned that shit, bud.

Because, you know a show’s finale is bad when people won’t shut up about it years later. People rarely talk about mediocre endings or endings that were serviceable.

But, bad endings, especially on iconic shows, that pisses people the fuck off.

And there is nothing brave about doing what you wanted to do to the detriment of your show, characters, fans, and legacy. It’s cheap. Because, rather than do the hard work of trying to stick the landing, you indulged your worst impulse.

It should rewarding for sticking with a show. It should feel rewarding to rewatch a show. It should feel rewarding to be apart of a fandom. Instead it feels like a slap to the face as the show runners condescend to you. And go with what they want rather than do what makes sense for the series.

I truly hate the phrase, “The fans are upset because they didn’t get what they wanted.”

It’s such fucking bullshit because what I want--what most fans want--is a satisfactory ending. We want loose ends tied up, answers, or a plan of sort that lets us know you cared for the show as much as we invested in it.

1.) I think about Game of Thrones and how they shit on the plot, characters, and all of that world building. People say, “Oh, you wanted a Disney ending”, but what the fuck does that mean? Because some people did get a Disney ending and that’s the fucking Starks. And, guess what, I actively rooted for them until mid way through season 8. I liked Dany okay, but I was a Stark fan through and through and became a Dany fan and loathed the Starks by the end. They are the ones with the Disney ending...they have a Stark on the throne as another Stark rules the North as the Queen, Jon with the Wildlings, and Arya allegedly living out her fantasy of exploring the world. How is that not a Disney ending???

You know what I expected? A main character to die like Dany or Jon. A major betrayal by a main character like Sansa. Where is the Disney ending in that?

Dipshit and Dipshit sacrificed character development, world building, and fucking sense to ram their ending down our throat and we’re allegedly upset because we didn’t get what we want when all we wanted was a satisfying ending? That doesn’t even touch on glossing over the magical aspect and the significance of the Night King.

2.) I’ve divorced myself so much from How I Met Your Mother that I can barely remember the show. This, like GOT, is a show I’ve never revisited, despite owning at least 2-3 seasons. This show left such a sour taste in my mouth that the series is retroactively ruined for me. HIMYM is what happens when, as a creator, you’re so married to your original idea that you refuse to let it go when it doesn’t make sense 15 million years down the road. The sacrificed character development of Robin, Ted, and Barney for this to make sense. They had fans spend, what, a season on a wedding that was ended in less than five minutes. They somehow make meeting the mother everything fans wanted and more--the magic was there--only to kill her off and have him end up with Robin. IF they were going to have the mother die, I’d rather us sit with her in that last show with the kids. After Ted tells them this story, they go to the hospital and sit and talk with her. I know there is an alternate ending, but I stopped watching in season 8 (maybe), so it means nothing to me. I knew the show was on bullshit by season 7 and had enough.

3.) The X-Files. My feelings and relationship with the X-Files is much more complicated because I didn’t watch the series until AFTER the original series ended. So, my investment, although deeper, wasn’t enough to make me not finish the series and subsequently rewatch it. But, the Chris Carter, the creator and show runner, actions are so egregious that it’s baffling and infuriating.

Unlike the GOT show runners who wanted to end early to get Star Wars money and HIMYM show runners who went on far to long and were married to an ending, Chris Carter hated the core of his fans AND took his resentment out on the characters if he had an issue with the actors. He was a man without a plan that had a great idea, an ounce of talent, and great writers and directors surrounding him. Despite losing a lead actor, someone who he knew he was losing IN ADVANCE, and having time to appropriately deal with this departure, he did the most fuck shit things he could do. Try to undermine the relationship between the two core leads, prop up this new character, not focus on a main character absence in a way that was poignant, and continued to offer up a shitty mythology. When the other core lead wanted to dial back her responsibilities, he still was serving stale shit. His series finale was essentially a fucking clip show. This isn’t fucking Cheers (no shade to Cheers, I just mean that a clip show is appropriate for a comedy and not a sci fi drama), this was the X Files and we wanted answers and something to blow our minds, but he basically told us to blow it out our asses.

So, you’d think that a man whose show was cancelled because he couldn’t helm his creation without his core leads because the leads stepped back or away he’d learn his lesson, right?

NOPE, he kept serving uninspired drivel, undermining his characters, and creating unnecessary or fucking ridiculous conflicts that he had no intention on exploring. He retconned his mess of a conspiracy and made it even more convoluted, so much so, that the other main lead has sworn off revisiting the show!

And I don’t want to hear anything about, “it’s difficult to please everyone” and “how do you end shows like that?”

Because, you know what: THESE MEN WERE PAID TO KNOW AND/OR FIGURE OUT HOW TO END THEIR SHOWS.

All of these shows should've prepared for an endgame or pivoted to make the show narratively and emotionally satisfying. Instead, it’s nothing, but turmoil because it’s so rage inducing. 

These men had a team of writers at their disposal. They had narrative arcs or overarching plots that should’ve been OUTLINED. Yet, they let their hubris do the talking and fucked up their own careers.

Dipshit and Dipset lost their Star Wars contract due to the GOT fiasco. I honestly don’t believe they stepped away. They rushed the ending for SWs, yet they decided to leave after shit hit the fan???

Carter and Bays lost their TV How I Met Your Father. Have they even worked in Hollywood since then?

Chris Carter can only get work for the X-Files and that’s only because people want to see David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson--and that’s as a pairing. Even if he wanted to do a season 12, which I know he does, he cannot because Gillian refuses to come back. 

Stop defending these shitty as show runners and writers who fuck over their series. It is their jobs to tell us a story and make that shit worth wild. They’ve literally made millions off of this, but somehow we’re supposed to excuse them giving us a shitty ending.

A show that is not well known that struggled with viewerships for years, 12 monkeys, does what the other girls couldn’t (or wouldn’t) do! They had a far more complex plot--time travel--and their network treated them like ass, yet they delivered one of the most narratively and emotionally satisfying series finales I’ve seen in years. You know why? Because she show runner actually cared. And, even though I expected heartbreak and nothing close to a happy ending, I was satisfying surprised and happy at the end result.

I fucking hate lazy ass show runners who think they know it all. 

[modestybae]

I wrote a recent post that made what I thought was a simple, uncontroversial point about early marriage as a solution for avoiding zina and all kinds of concomitant sins and social ills.

I've been absolutely *shocked* at the kinds of opposing statements some people have made, at the leaps of logic, at the vehemence of some people's disagreements with this fairly straightforward point.

Let's break this issue down a bit more, as there seems to be a need.

My initial claim: We as Muslim parents should try (as a collective) to facilitate marriage for young Muslim men and women so that they have less of a need/ excuse to go behind parents' backs and hook up/ date/ have a boyfriend or girlfriend/ watch porn.

Less haram stuff, more halal stuff.

Seems like a no-brainer. Or so I thought!

Some people's reactions:

-No, they should masturbate instead of getting married early.

This is one of the most shocking things I've ever heard a fellow Muslim say with a straight face. *Multiple* people have commented recommending masturbation while shooting down marriage as a solution for young adults.

A brother: "just have a wank, bro."

A sister: young men "should lower their gaze and are permitted by some scholars to relieve themselves (masturbate) as long as it doesn't become a habit. It's that simple."

Really? That simple, huh?

How have we come to this??

Anyway, let's continue.

-No, because divorce is worse than zina. Just "try getting divorced in today's society!"

-No, because "marriage doesn't prevent zina."

-No, because "marriage is not only for fulfilling sexual desires."

-No, because easy come easy go. Anything that comes too easily "won't be appreciated." You "can't have everything on a silver platter."

-No, because what about the children?

-No, because late-teen or college students are not emotionally mature and have no communication skills.

-No, because they first need to be settled and have built something to prove their competence.

-No, this solution is "too simple and idealistic."

-No, because "marriage steals childhood." (???)

-No, because who is going to provide?

-No, because you can't "deflect to earlier Islamic cultural practices" that are only "idealistic, simplistic, and unrealistic" for our modern times. Plus, "romanticized ideals from earlier times is not going to solve the problem of youth."

-No, because you just need self control and you need to learn to "regulate your behavior."

-No, because this "supports the trend of ghosting" and teaches people to "walk away from relationships."

-No, because people in their early 20's don't really know themselves and might change.

-No, we should instead "teach our kids to self-soothe as babies and teach them delayed gratification. Rape is a classic example of what happens when people don't have patience and want instant gratification. Marital rape included."

-No, because sexual urges "are actually quite easy for a lot of people to control!" And "if you can't stop yourself from having sex or you can't control your sexual desires, then there is something inherently wrong with your ability to self regulate your behavior."

-No, because marriage solves nothing. "Sexually deviant people will continue to be sexually deviant whilst married."

-No, because "it's difficult and problematic to compare today's society to the society of the Sahaba and the Prophet SAW."

-No, because "young girls shouldn't be groomed for marriage from the age of 12 just because horny testosterone plagued boys can't control themselves." And also, I "don't want my daughter's youth cut short just to save a young boy who can't control his sexual desires just because he has more testosterone than her."

-No. "Sex isn't everything!"

This sums up the majority of the reasons people brought up to disagree.

It would make this already-long post much too long to respond to each point individually, but here is my general reaction:

1. Marriage, Sex, and Zina:

Marriage is, in fact, one of the strongest and most primary ways to avoid zina. Yes. This is true. I cannot understand how some people try to deny this basic fact.

There are certainly some people who cheat even though they are married. I know this happens. Yet these outliers still do not invalidate the institution of marriage as a way that *on the whole* protects one from falling into zina. Islam encourages marriage as the default for most human beings, as this is more virtuous and safeguards against a plethora of كبائر, grave sins.

2. Masturbation:

How is masturbation a serious solution that some people prefer over marriage?? I am still astounded.

I think people may be confusing the idea that masturbation is preferable to zina, and make the blunder of asserting that masturbation must also therefore be preferable to getting married early. This is false. Masturbation and zina are both sins. There are degrees of sins, and zina has a hadd and is a graver sin than masturbation (which is ALSO still a sin). Getting married early is not a sin.

3. Marriage and Babies:

When I talk about early marriage for young adults (age range of 17-22), that doesn't mean I'm also recommending that they start having children immediately. You can be married and wait for several years before having kids. We all know this is very possible, right? It is a leap in logic to assume that marriage = instant parenthood.

4. Maturity, Readiness, and Preparation for Marriage:

Recommending early marriage does not preclude recommending proper childrearing (including teaching kids early on delayed gratification, patience, self-control, taqwa of Allah, healthy boundaries, etc) or proper marital training, anger management, healthy communication, emotional and psychosocial skills. All of these aspects are important. But they can all work together, no?

It is a leap in logic to assume that we have to choose between marrying as a young adult and emotional maturity.

When I recommend marriage for 17-22 age range, I am in no way trying to say marriage is a joke or a light matter to be played around with. It can be done in this age range with all due seriousness and responsibility and readiness.

5. Severity of Zina:

Zina is classed as a كبيرة , a major sin. Allah commands us clearly and severely not only to avoid falling into zina, but actually to avoid COMING NEAR zina.

وَلَا تَقْرَبُواْ ٱلزِّنَىٰٓ ۖ إِنَّهُۥ كَانَ فَٰحِشَةً وَسَآءَ سَبِيلًا.

"Do not go near adultery. It is truly a shameful deed and an evil way." (Surat Al-Isra', 32)

There are different types of zina, as we know from the hadith: zina of the eyes, zina of the hands, zina of the feet.

The reality is that zina comes with a whole host of concomitant sins. It doesn't just happen by itself. There are precursors to zina. It comes with خلوة (khalwa, blameworthy seclusion), تبرج (tabarruj, displaying feminine beauty), إختلاط (ikhtilat, inter-gender casual mixing), flirting, sexting, porn, masturbation.

And people get addicted. Some youths have serious porn addictions, others are addicted to masturbation, while others are addicted to the haram relationships they're in. They can't get out.

Knowing that "I can get married soon; I don't have to wait another whole decade before I am allowed a halal outlet" really helps young people. It gives hope. There's light at the end of the tunnel for them.

Making marriage difficult to attain is one way to shut the door in their faces, and so, in despair and spurred on by a gleeful Shaytan, they just shrug and masturbate/ watch porn/ hook up.

6. Libido: Girls vs Guys:

Some people are under the mistaken impression that early marriage serves only men. They seem to think that teenage girls and young women have little to no sexual urges and only teenage boys have those. This is false.

Many girls (starting from the onset of puberty and through young adulthood) have high libidos and strong sexual desires. Marrying earlier would tremendously help these girls and satisfy their desires and protect them from falling into sins. Marriage is NOT just a tool to help "horny testosterone plagued boys" at the expense of poor abused girls.

I know that anecdotal evidence may not count, but for what it's worth: I personally have known and worked with many girls and young women who have either skirted the territory of zina or fallen headfirst into it.

One Muslim girl who was a sophomore in high school (15 years old) joined the drama club just to meet after school with a non-Muslim male classmate so they could make out without her parents finding out.

One Muslim girl I know went to college deliberately far from her parents with the express purpose of going to parties and having sex. She "experimented" sexually with both men and women. She became so promiscuous that even her non-Muslim friends worried about her.

One young Muslim girl started secretly texting online with a non-Muslim American guy. She was 14 and he was 19. Now she's 21 and he's 26, still talking daily. She occassionally flies to meet him in a different state under the guise of visiting her older married siblings so that her parents don't find out. She goes out with him to eat, smoke weed, and chill. She knows that zina is a very bad sin, so she hasn't had sex with him, but she takes off her hijab when she's with him and wears crop tops that show her midsection and show off the bellybutton ring she secretly got.

Please open your eyes and see the reality of the young Muslim men and women raised in this secular society surrounded by promiscuity and hypersexuality.

Please don't deceive yourself or others regarding the enormity of kaba'ir like zina and masturbation. Don't minimize the gravity of these destroyers.

Please help Muslim youth.

- Umm Khalid

[pixelatedrose]

Soulbound part Four

First | Previous | Part 4 | Next

Ao3 link

Masterpost

Word Count: 3,212

Pairings: Platonic LAMP, Prinxiety, Logicality, background Remile

Warnings: Implied self harm (Skip the part starting with “Virgil drug himself over...” until the break) Uncensored swearing, divorced parents, controlling parents/parents not respecting kids’ privacy (Skip the entire last part), absent siblings,  if there’s anything I missed please please tell me, and if there’s anything you would like me to tag, don’t hesitate to ask!

Summary:

Roman Prince and Logan Rose are soulmates. They’re platonic soulmates though. They both have the same Soul mark to prove it. But they both have one other soul mark, binding them to one other person. And when they find Patton Miles, it just so happens that they’re both his soulmate. Logan being his Soulbound Soulmate, and Roman being a platonic soulmate. But something feels missing. And it feels filled, shockingly so, when they meet a certain someone a year and a half after they found each other.

Chapter 4

  Virgil ran home as fast as his legs would carry him. His mind raced as quickly as shoes hit the ground, faster still.

  Why is he here? Why is he a teacher? Why did he come back? Why did he act like he cared? Why come back now? Why was he never here before? Why? Why why why?!

  Virgil tripped and the gods of luck put on blindfolds as he was flung to the sidewalk. He knelt on the ground and thought it had started raining. He looked around and when he saw clear skies he realized he'd been crying.

  Virgil looked at his shallowly bleeding scrapes on his palms and knees before picking himself up and walking home, storming inside the unusual yellow door, slamming it closed and stomping up to his mother, ignoring her girlfriend sitting nearby.

  "Virgey, you're home! How was school-" his mother started.

  "Did you know about this?!" He spat bitterly.

  "What?! What do you mean, Honey? What happened? Oh my god, your hands!! Virgey, are you okay?!"

  Virgil hid his hands further into his sleeves. "That doesn't matter right now!! I want to know why Thomas is my fucking theater teacher!!" Virgil seethed.

  His mother blanched. "Oh no…" she turned to her girlfriend. "Rachel, maybe you should go?"

  Virgil watched as his mother's girlfriend got up and gathered her things as she slowly left the house.

  "Now, Virgey, I didn't think that you-"

  "You didn't think at all, Mom!!" Virgil snapped. "Did you know?! Did you know and think not to tell me?! Did you think that it would be too hard for me?! Did you think I'd burst into tears like a little kid?! Didn't want to deal with me finding out so you just didn't tell me at all!!"

  "No!! That's- that's not!! No!! I didn't mean for-" Virgil's mother was floundering for words to comfort her son.

  "It doesn't even matter anymore, I don't care!!" Virgil yelled, he ran upstairs and into his room. He slammed the door shut and pulled out a crude hand-made door stop and wedged it under the door. Years ago the lock had broken. Years ago the lock had been removed.

  Virgil couldn't stand anymore. He fell to the ground and held his stomach. He felt sick.

  His mother had lied to him.

  His brother- who had everything, who had the world, the one that had never made a show to ever reach out and contact Virgil, the one who would never want to contact him because he had it all- was his theater teacher in his new highschool.

  He had no friends.

  He had no family.

  He had no one.

  Virgil drug himself over to the edge of his bed and pulled out a small box with an assortment of blades, lighters, and a small square of sandpaper. He fished out the edge of a pencil sharpener and-

  "Virgey please let me talk to you!!"

  Virgil didn't answer.

  "Please I need you to understand!!"

  Virgil didn't need to understand anything else.

  "Please, honey, open the door!!"

  Virgil removed his hoodie. He couldn't stand the heat his room gave off. That's a good excuse.

  "Please at least tell me you're safe this time!!" His mother pleaded with him.

  But nothing could be done.

  Nothing could stop the manic anxiety that took him over. Words played over and over in his head and he felt like he was going insane so he focused on the pain digging into his shoulder instead of his own numbingly intoxicating insanity.

  Nothing would make this okay for Virgil.

~~•~~

  Roman was walking home and mulling over what had happened that day.

  Rose was a good friend of Roman's, but she was a little oblivious at times. She'd pulled him away from the pretty emo boy when Roman had seen him in theater.

  Theater… Roman smiled. He would have never pegged the shorter boy as a theater kid. His head started spinning up daydreams of Roman and Virgil performing scenes together, painting props together, singing duets together for the musical…

  Roman shook his head to clear it. It seemed like Virgil wasn't interested though. He probably has his own soulmate, you idiot! Roman thought bitterly.

  He walked in through his family's door and tossed his currently half empty backpack on the ground before flopping down on the couch with a dramatic sigh.

  Remus always stayed after school to hang out with his weirdo friends, so he wouldn't be home for a while.

  Roman tried thinking of other things.

  So he thought back to lunch.

~~•~~

  "Did you hear that Remy and Emile are a couple?" Patton excitedly told his friends as he sat down at the table.

  "They've been together for almost three years, Patton dear." Logan corrected his boyfriend.

  Patton smiled. "Oh I know! But they're still so cute together!!"

  "Patton, they're Soulbound Soulmates, of course they're cute." Logan continued.

  "You're missing the point!! They're a-dor-a-ble, Logan!! ADORABLE!!"

  "I'm not seeing what it is I missed. Is this some sort of complex joke that I'm not 'Gucci' enough to get?"

  "That is not in any way how you use that word, honey child."

  "Ah well. I'm still learning."

  Patton looked suddenly over to Roman who was thoughtfully chewing on a sandwich. "Hey there, buddy! You're pretty quiet, you feeling alright there, Ro?"

  Roman snapped his attention away from daydreaming. "Huh?? Oh yeah! I'm gucci as always, padre!" He said strikingly.

  "Ah so that's how you use it…" Logan muttered as he seemed to study Roman from behind his glasses.

  "Are you sure? You looked a little lost in la-la land there!" Patton ignored his robotic boyfriend, save for an instinctual hair ruffle that made Logan's face light up.

  Roman looked out the window like the mellow-dramatic princeling he was. "Oh its nothing really…" he sighed. "See, I just met this really cute guy in-"

  "OH MY GOOD GRACIOUS SNAP CRACKLERS YOU MET A CUTE GUY!!!" Patton nearly flung himself across the table and grappled his friend in a hug.

  Roman nearly fell out of his chair on impact and had to pry the overly excited puppy-dog of a man off him. "Gah!! Yeah! But!" Roman started.

  Patton immediately pulled himself off Roman. "Wait there's a but?!"

  "Yes…tragically I believe he is not…" Roman threw the back of his hand to his forehead and dramatically tilted his head. "Attracted to me!!"

  Logan snorted and Patton gasped somberly.

  "Oh no that's just plain awful Roman!!" Patton lamented.

  Roman smiled all the same. "Awh, Pat! He's probably one of those soulmate obsessed…" Roman drifted off as he remembered Virgil's immediate and harsh reply to his question. "...People." He let himself finish the sentence anyway. For some odd reason he wanted to keep his suspicions to himself.

  "Awh, well next time then!! Right Ro!"

  Roman's mind drifted to the purple haired boy he'd met.

  "Ro?"

  There was something about talking to him that felt so very right in Roman's mind. It felt similar to how he felt around Patton and Logan. But yet different still…

  "Roman??"

  Why does he wish soulmarks didn't exist? Roman thought, recalling the striking blue of the purple haired boy's eyes.

  "Roman!"

  Roman drifted, thinking of everything and nothing about the boy he had met in his third period. Virgil Sanders… he thought his name felt good to think… "Virgil Sanders…" he breathed out. He thought it felt good to say…

  "ROMAN-!!"

~~•~~

  Roman shot up on the couch, and grabbed at his shoulder which felt as if he had sliced it open.

  He cursed and gripped it tightly, running to the bathroom to see what could possibly be wrong. Roman threw off his red varsity jacket and pulled up his short sleeves to examine his left shoulder.

  There was nothing there.

  It wasn't even red.

  The pain faded down to a dull ache and Roman sat back down on the couch bewildered.

  What the fuck just happened??

~~•~~

  Patton skipped alongside his boyfriend, their hands clasped tightly together.

  Logan smiled softly to himself, hearing the short, golden haired boy hum to himself.

  "Hey, Lo?" Patton questioned suddenly.

  "Yes, Patton?"

  "Do you think Roman's okay?"

  "Why do you say that? I do not think he would injure himself on his walk home, nor do I believe he would have fallen ill in that time either."

  "No no, silly!! I mean emotionally."

  "Ah. My bad. I am not very good with...emotions."

  "I know you struggle sometimes, but even you saw the way he was acting today, right? He was totally distracted and had his head ten billion trillion gazillion miles away!! I hope he's okay…"

  "I see. Yes, Roman did seem very distracted today. Though I suppose that may be because he was a little wonderstruck with the boy he mentioned."

  "What?! Really? I thought Roman said that kid didn't like him though?"

  "Well perhaps, but you know how easily he can become so infatuated with pretty boys the moment they open their mouth to even breath. And this boy held a conversation with Roman, so that concludes that Roman must be 'Head over heels' for this boy."

  "Psh, nah!! Maybe a little flirty, but Roman doesn't have it that bad!! But do you know who does?"

  "And who would that be, Patton?"

  "Me!"

  "Oh."

  "And you!!"

  "Oh come now!! I care very deeply about you and-"

  "Oh just kiss me already, you dork!"

  Logan sighed and laughed, his face lighting up at his boyfriend. "Only as you wish, my dearest."

~~•~~

  Thomas Sanders had a good life as a kid.

  He got decent grades, he made good friends, he was a little confused why he never liked girls like every other boy in his grade did. And even more confused when he thought his friend Michael looked just so cute when he was singing.

  Thomas Sanders had a good life as a kid.

  Up until his parents split up when he was 13 years old.

  His father won custody and took Thomas across states to go live in Georgia where he lived for the rest of his childhood years until he moved back to Florida with new friends.

  He started playing around with an app called Vine, and whether it was luck or skill, made it big. He made a Youtube channel and made videos online. He wrote songs and sung disney songs and reacted to other people. And he loved his fans. He loved them with all his heart.

  It was when he was 25 that he got a message from someone in his old childhood town telling him he had a brother.

  He had a brother?

  Thomas Sanders had a little brother!

  And he was ten years old and his name was Virgil Sanders!

  Thomas sat down and decided to write a letter to his little brother. He wanted to know him! He wanted to meet him! He wanted to be part of his life!

  Dear, Virgil Sanders.

  This is a letter I'm writing to you because I want you to know that you have a big older brother who loves you and just found out that you exist! My name is Thomas Sanders and I want to know more about you! I want to know you! Did you know that I always wanted a little brother? I guess it's not a wish anymore, huh? Write me back, little bro! Tell me about yourself! Tell me about life! Tell me about mom and how school is going!!

  Sincerely and dearly from, Thomas Sanders, your older brother.

  That was perfect! Thomas couldn't wait to hear back from his little brother!

  He couldn't wait to find out whether he liked sour foods or minty ones!

  He couldn't wait to talk about boys (or girls) with him!

  Thomas never heard back from Virgil.

  So he sent another letter, this time on what he discovered was Virgil's birthday.

  He never heard back.

  Thomas would send a letter to Virgil every year on his birthday, one for christmas, one for Halloween, one for the beginning of the school year and one for the end, and one every valentines day with a purple rose.

  And he never once heard back.

  Now Thomas was 30 years old and had decided to become a teacher.

  A total of 36 letters, soon to be 37, sent to Virgil.

  Even if Virgil didn't want to talk to Thomas, he still wanted to try.

  And then.

  He found out that Virgil Sanders was his own student.

  And he found out that his brother hated him.

  So here Thomas was.

  Standing awkwardly with his hand raised to knock on the yellow door of his old childhood home.

  And he let he fist fall to the wood.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  "I'm coming! I'm coming!" A hurried voice called from inside.

  The door opened.

  "What is it, what do you-"

  The voice cut off.

  Thomas waved awkwardly.

  "Hey, mom. How's it going?"

~~•~~

  Virgil heard the door open and someone come inside. He quietly creaked his door open.

  "-want to talk to him. Please?"

  Virgil's breath hitched. It was Thomas.

  "No...No...No I don't think that he'd be ready to see you right now, Tommy."

  Virgil sat and listened to the conversation.

~~•~~

  Thomas glanced over at the counters and the ashtray on the coffee table. Beer cans and cigarettes littered everything.

  "I see you haven't changed much." He meant it as a question, but it fell flat and turned into an observation.

  "And what's wrong with how I am?" His mother asked accusingly.

  Thomas looked at his mother and shook his head. "Nevermind…" he looked down at a discarded and trashy school backpack. "I take it he didn't take kindly to the letters? Didn't want to see me? You know I told you I was applying for Eastwood. You could have told me not to you know."

  "Well I mean I didn't want to reach out to you and have Virgey find out!" Thomas cringed at the childish nickname. It didn't sound like something Virgil would want to be called. "And I never gave him the letters." His mother finished.

  Thomas froze as thoughts raced through his head. "What." He breathed out.

  "You really think he'd be ready to confront his older brother? You really think he'd want to see you?"

  "That wasn't your decision to make though!"

  "Of course it was, I'm his mother!"

  "That doesn't give you a right to withhold information from him like that!"

  "Yes! It does! He can decide what information he wants when he turns 18! For now, I'm his mother, I decide what's best for him!"

  Thomas ran a hand through his hair, distressed. "You know I wasn't trying to be entirely serious when I said you hadn't changed, but you really have not changed one bit, have you?!"

  "There was nothing wrong with what I was doing before!"

  "Oh yeah? Then how come I didn't even know I had a little brother till he was 10?!"

  "Because he wasn't ready for that! And neither were you! I didn't want you to think I'd moved on from you!"

  "I was 25, mom!! Twenty!! Five!! I was old enough to make my own decisions and Virgil was old enough that he could decide if he wanted an older brother and back then it wasn't too late for me to be a part of his life!!"

  "He was 10 and he didn't know what was best for him!! And he still doesn't!! I'm his mother!"

  "You keep saying that but do you even know what that means?! It means that you're always there for them!! It means that you let them make mistakes!! It means that you give them privacy and a choice!!"

  "He can have Privacy when he's moved out! Till then what he has I know about! I'm his mother and I get to decide!"

  "That's not how that works!!"

  "It most certainly is!! He just doesn't know what's good for him! And you are definitely not good for him!!"

  "Is that why you kept the letters from him?! Cause that's what was best for him?!"

  "What?! No!! He just-"

  "You were afraid then?! Why didn't even give me a chance?!"

  "Because you are not good for him!! Right now or ever!! I know best I'm the adult here and I make the decisions and I decide that you will go and-"

  "MOM JUST SHUT UP!!" Virgil shouted. No one had noticed when he had walked downstairs. His eyes were red and his jacket was wrinkled. "What letters?" He asked calmly.

  No one answered.

  "Mom, what letters are you hiding from me?!" He voice cracked and choked.

  "Virgey, honey, it was for your own good-"

  "TO HELL WITH THAT!!" Virgil shouted, tears spilling over down his face.

  Thomas spoke now. "I wrote you letters." He said. When no one tried to stop him, he continued. "When I found out I had a brother, I immediately sat down and wrote a letter to you. I wanted to know more about you, I wanted to be part of your life." Thomas took a breath. "That was about five years ago. And i never heard back. I assumed you didn't want to know me. But I didn't stop writing letters. I found out when your birthday was and sent you a letter yearly, and I always sent one for christmas, Halloween, and Valentines day. I sent one at the beginning and one at the end of every school year too." He pulled a wrinkled envelope out of his pocket and held it in his hands. "This one was going to be for this year, but I got caught up in moving and beginning my teaching that I didn't get it in on time." Thomas took a step and held out the envelope to Virgil.

  He took it and read the handwriting that looked so real. It wasn't perfect cursive or some fancy calligraphy, it was normal and real handwriting. It read:

  To Virgil Sanders. From Thomas Sanders.

  Virgil wiped at his face, smearing his makeup. He looked up at his mom.

  "You hid this from me…?"

  "Oh, honey it was all for your own good! You know how-"

  "How what?!" Virgil spat venom. "You knew how much I wanted to know my brother!! You knew how I thought he had left with his dad and just didn't care enough about us to come and talk!!" More tears. "You knew and you didn't once tell me that I had a brother who was kind and cared about me!!!"

  Virgil was shaking. He ran upstairs and his mother would hear the door to her room slam shut as Virgil rummaged around until he found the box under her bed full of 36 letters that his brother had sent him.

  No one moved.

  No one breathed.

  No one spoke for a long time.

  "I think I'll see him tomorrow." He turned to the front door. "Goodbye, Deva." He said.

  And the odd yellow door clicked shut.

  And all that was left in the old eerie house was a wronged child looking for five lost years, a mother who had tried to drown the inevitable with broken locks and promises, and a silence that bit like the way a cat silently does with prey already caught.

Tag list:

@anxietea-and-insanitea

@ghostboi-bambi

@scrunchiescrunchie

@badluckkaren

@ambrechandra

[lovingthereign25]

The Chase.

Part 8.

Today was Aaliyah's sixth birthday, how she was already six you didn't know. But here you were celebrating your amazing little girl. Roman was finishing hanging the higher decorations that you couldn't reach.

You and Roman both have a big family so you loved having parties,cookouts or just everyone over as much as possible. You were standing in the kitchen watching both Aaliyah's grandpas playing with her in the yard. She called your father "Poppy"  and called Roman's father Sika "Papa" as did Briana.

"Can you believe she is six already?" Roman asked, kissing your cheek.

"Absolutely not, feels like we just brought her into this world yesterday" you smile wiping a tear before facing your husband.

"Baby, don't cry. It's a happy day, a day to celebrate the little life we created" he smiles pulling you into his chest.

"I know, they're just getting so big and they don't need me anymore" you sob

"Hey, Look at me." He says lifting your chin." I need you. I always will." 

*November 2016*

Roman was away in Europe Even though you were back wrestling you couldn't dare stand to be away from your daughters for three whole weeks.So you stayed behind. You missed him terribly. Of course you both called each other and video chatted but you just wanted to be with your husband. Your sister had agreed to babysit the girls so you could fly out and surprise Roman. You arrive at the hotel using a fake name. As you approach your room You see Nikki running towards you.

"Y/n?, Are you okay? What's going on?" She asks hugging you

"I'm fine, nothing much just came to surprise the hubby" you smile

"What? Roman left. Something about a family emergency. He left first thing this morning" she says.

"What?, No that can't be, he never even called me" you say. 

You take out your phone calling Roman immediately.

"Hey, Beautiful what's up? How's my babies?" He asks he voice rather low

"Good. We're all good. Where are you?"  You ask

"Umm...me I'm in London tonight. About to do Raw..got a match against Kevin tonight" he says 

"Really?How's London?" You ask

"Great, fans here really seem to be behind me, last night we even had a little "y/n" chant going on" he laughs

"Really?, So crazy cause I'm here in London and my husband is nowhere to be found!, Roman what the hell is going on" you say fed up with his lies

"Y/n, baby why are you in London?" He asks

"I came to visit my husband, I have been missing but to my surprise he isn't here" you snap " where the hell are you?"

"Okay baby, please listen to me and don't freak out and remember I love you"he said "Ro, you're scaring me. What's going on?" You ask nervously

"I left because Galina is having the babies" he says

"You left because your ex wife is having her twins? Are you fucking joking?" You yell

"They're mine," he whispered.

*April 2017*

 It had been one hell of a year for you emotionally and mentally but you managed to make it through. You had just thrown Briana the best first birthday last week. You decided it was best for Briana and also Aaliyah if you invited Roman. You both tried to stay civil during the separation you shared Christmas with them. Both of you going to his mother's for gifts and dinner.  You both had received the divorce papers but neither of you had signed them yet... honestly you didn't even open yours yet. Being separated was harder this time around then the last with you and Roman for one you worked together again and not wanting anyone knowing your personal business you still played a happy couple on script and two still loved him despite everything. Roman was in a feud with the Undertaker and was going to fight him at Wrestlemania. At first Roman was supposed to lose to the Undertaker but after saying he wanted to pass the yard down to Roman, Wwe and Marc decided it was best to have Roman win. Roman had mixed feelings about it as much as he was honored to be able to beat the Undertaker at Wrestlemania he was also upset to beat one of his all time favorites. The match was incredible very back and forth, and when it was finally over Roman was on an emotional rollercoaster.

"Congratulations" you say when he arrives backstage.

"Thank you..I don't even know how to feel right now" he says

"Ro he chose you, he wanted you to own the yard. He respects you enough to hand it over to you, you deserve this" you smile

"Y/n? You ready to go?'' Renee asks.

"Yeah..I'll be right there" you smile

So..I'll see you when I pick up the girls Tuesday then" he says

"Umm.. actually no my mom will have them I'm gonna go on a little girls trip with Lana and the girls" you say grabbing byou bags

"Oh I was hoping we could maybe talk.. but have a good time.. you definitely deserve a break" he smiles

"Thank you….we could talk once I get back if you want, but again congratulations" you wave.

 *September 2017*

Roman Reigns vs. John Cena.

A dream match some would say. The promos leading up to the match at No mercy were getting more personal by the week. Everyone in the back knew you had a little fling with John back when you first came to Wwe it wasn't a secret. But when John used it in a promo against Roman that's when the feud became way too personal. 

"You're nothing but a cheap imitation of me Roman,I mean you even married my old booty call" he says getting ready to exit the ring

"Nah, bring your bitch ass back here, I'm gonna say this one time John so listen closely, say what you want about me but the next time you disrespect my wife I'm gonna kick your teeth down your throat" Roman says pushing past John. The next week on Raw was the lineup Roman and John were to cut another promo leading up to the match. But seeing how serious and defensive Roman got over John making comments about you kinda got you hot. And the fact that he was still mad about a week later telling Triple H in the back that next John mentioned you he was gonna go off script and fuck him up turned you on even more. It was 5 mins before Roman was due in the ring he was wearing a new shirt he had put out and it was hugging him tight..he had a slight belly and fuck was it sexy seeing him getting thick. You watched him biting your lip, you wanted him right this second 10 months without sex was driving you mad. 

"Shirts getting a little snug there huh?" You ask 

" Yeah, got a little gut coming on, thanks for pointing it out" he laughs

" Doesn't look bad, thickness is hot" you shrug

A knock let's you know it's time to go to the ring. The promo is good. John tried to one up Roman but Roman's comebacks were getting better by the week.

" For god sake Roman you come down here with your zipper down" John says 

"I busted it actually...Big Dog."  Roman laughs looking towards you winking

That was all it took, as soon you both entered his locker room,you were jumping his bones 

" Roman" you say as he shuts the door

"Yeah?" He looks back

"Do me a favor?" You ask locking the door walking towards him

"Name it" he says 

"Fuck me" you say attaching your lips to his

His lips felt amazing on yours, one thing about you and Roman it never mattered how long you've been apart. The spark between the two of you was always there and would always be there.  One thing you knew for sure he was the love of your life,you just had to figure out the rest.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Love, Maybe? {43}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Cursing, Heavy Angst

Word Count: 2K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. Three years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

NOTE: **Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought. 

**Loosley Edited/Proofread**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 41:  Life Goes On

-Chris-

 That was the end of it. What do you do when the woman you married for fun turns out to be the woman of your dreams, the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with decides she doesn’t want to spend her life with you because of something you’d done? How do you move on and not be completely destroyed when you saw her? How do you be around her and still be the good guy? After five days out of town back in Boston, he still hadn’t figured it out.

 That line they use and say space gives your perspective and helps heal wounds was a crock of shit. He was more than a thousand miles away from you but still, he was hurting. Every day seemed to intensify the pain he felt. He thought of you all day, dreamt of you, and in between that he tried to pretend he was fine. Everyone around him knew he wasn’t fine. They all knew but no one spoke a word about it. He was grateful for it.

 His mood was shit, his behavior was shit and his work ethic was also shit. He didn’t give a shit about anything no matter how he tried. He tried over time to not be angry with you, not resent you or even hate you and for the most part, it was working. He didn’t hate you, he couldn’t he realized that months ago. That’s what made it so hard. It would have been easier on him to hate you; it would probably have helped with the pain he felt but he couldn’t bring himself to it.

 So, he had to figure out a way to be neutral around you. He had to figure out a way to accept his reality, a reality that didn’t include you in his life in the capacity he wanted. He had to come to terms that the only role that mattered right now was father. By the time he accepted that he devised a plan to focus on that, focus on Ella. He worked to mentally and emotionally be prepared to be the best father he could, the father Ella deserved.

MSG: I’d like to spend some time with Ella, if possible.

 A few minutes passed with no response. With every second his angst grew.

 MSG Vixen: Sure. Tell me when and I’ll make it happen.

MSG: I should be back in town tomorrow. So, maybe I can spend lunch with her?

MSG Vixen: Yeah sounds good. I’ll have Nexus prepared. Text her when you’re ready.

 He should have known you would hand it off to Nexus. You were avoiding him just as much as he was avoiding you.

 MSG: Perfect.

 He had no idea how he’d get through eighteen years of this, better yet, the rest of his life.

 -Vixen-

If you fell apart over a few text messages how were you going to keep it together face to face? In the span of a week, you’d barely been able to keep it together. You focused on work and finishing the smaller details for the restaurant. Smaller details such as promo, publicity, interviews the things you hated. The paps were still running wild with the news of your and Chris’ situation. They hadn’t calmed down or slowed down with the narratives they spun.

 One day the plausible theory was you were a gold digger who saw an opportunity, planned on it and pounced. They suspected you were the mechanics behind the motion to marry and even trapped him by purposely getting pregnant. Then the next day the hypothesis was the two of you were head over heels in love and got swept up in the moment and kept your marriage secret because Chris was ashamed of you because you were a nobody, and so far beneath him. In the span of a week, you’d heard so many possible narratives it was insane.

 When you nor Chris made an effort to make a statement to confirm, deny or acknowledge the state of things then the viciousness began. They tried to paint you as the one who didn’t belong and would hurt him then when they brought up your race it drove you crazy. They wondered how in the world you got together said there was no indication Chris liked women like you. The fixation on your race was incredible, it shocked you, but it shouldn’t have. Chris was vocal with shutting down race talks and even went off a few times on some paps who just wouldn’t show any respect. It was a kind gesture one part of you appreciated but the other part hated feeling like you needed rescuing. You didn’t.

 The more promo you did the more paps followed you. It was a tough adjustment, it still seemed highly invasive and creeped you out when you saw cars following you for a picture, or camped outside the restaurant or even when they found you doing normal things. It had gotten to the point where Kassius found it necessary to higher security for you no matter how much you protested. It was a rude awakening and another reason for you to hurry up and get the hell out of town. You were desperate for your real world, your normal life.

 MSG Nexus: I’m here at his house. Do you want me to just leave them?

 “You have to trust him with her at some point, right?”

 You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

 MSG: You can leave them if you want. I have to trust him with her at some point.

MSG Nexus: Wow, okay. I’ll let you know.

You continued your work while keeping one eye on your phone. Ten minutes passed, then a message came in.

 MSG Nexus: He asked me to stay. So we’re here at his house, having lunch. Ttyl.

  -Chris-

God, she looked even bigger. It had been weeks since he saw her. He knew he missed her but didn’t fathom how much. The minute she saw him she wriggled free from Nexus’ arms into his. It felt good. From then she chattered and chattered never slowing or letting him get a word in. Since meeting her he’d gotten pretty good at understanding what she meant. For nearly forty minutes she didn’t want to be put down, she just wanted him to hold her and it was just fine by him. He could hold her the rest of his life and it wouldn’t be enough.

 Across the way he saw Nexus scrolling through her phone occasionally while watching him. She barely spoke three words to him; he knew she was holding in quite a lot. He deserved her silent treatment; he didn’t debate it. He also didn’t know what to say to her, so he said nothing. He was tired, plain and simple.

 They ate together and he watched as Ella acted silly. She was showing her sense of humor and he loved it. She was as silly and goofy as him. You were right she was a tiny replica of him. It was interesting looking at a walking, talking, breathing version of yourself, a smaller one. It filled him with pride that he could have had a part in creating her. Out of everything he’d ever done, this—she was the only good and right thing.

 “I can’t stand the tension anymore.”

 “What tension?” Nexus looked innocent and clueless.

 “You are just like her, able to pretend and fake things that others cannot,” he informed.

 “She is the master; I am but the apprentice.” He smirked and nodded.

 “I’ll take that. I’ve always liked you Nexus. There is something about you that comes off as down to earth, kind, someone that is--.”

 “Easily lied to?” He nodded then rubbed the back of his neck. She was right.

 “I deserve that. I’m sorry.”

 Nexus took a deep breath and released it. “You don’t. You didn’t fuck up my life. You just fucked up hers.”

 “I did and I—regret it more than you’ll ever know. There is nothing I can say that’ll make it okay.”

 “How do you plan on making it okay?”

 He studied her, it was clear she either didn’t know what had happened in the last week or she didn’t think it mattered.

 “There is no making it right, I’ve accepted that. Look, I don’t want to rehash things. To be honest I am tired of the back and forth of this. It’s been one hell of a couple weeks. I can’t keep doing this. It’s hard, tiring, painful.”

 He didn’t realize he was babbling until he noticed Nexus was staring at him. She looked as if she were studying him trying to understand the inner workings of his mind.

 “Thank you for bringing Ella by. I really missed her.”

 “No problem. I understand. That kid of yours is easy to miss,” Nexus responded.

 He stared at Ella as she played in the playroom he’d had designed. She looked like she loved it. How could she not? He’d put everything imaginable in there, it was a kid’s dream.

 “She is.”

 “Can I give you one word of advice on Vixen?”

 He sighed but didn’t answer for a few moments. He then nodded.

 “Never let her decide where you go. If you do that you won’t go anywhere. Her instinct is not geared toward connection, she loves her freedom, and any threat to it is met like a hostile invasion. She feels a lot more than she lets on.”

 He scoffed and shook his head. He’d always thought there was way more going on inside you than you let on. He’d tried to figure you out, but you were always wearing a mask even when you weren’t.

 “Well, she’ll have her freedom in no time. The divorce will be final in three months give or take.”

 He stood and went over to Ella, reminding himself that she was his priority, his most important role.

 After saying goodbye to Ella that evening he made a visit to his lawyers.

“It’s a good thing you came by Chris, I wanted to go over a few things. Have you and Vixen spoke about what you intend to do?”

 “Uh, a little bit. I’m not here to talk about that though. I wanted to come by and just state some things. Sherman, I know you understand me as a person and know what I value and what I stand for. Max, you’re new to this team and I don’t hold anything against you, I just need you to grasp who I am as a person. Until then I want Sherman to take point with all of my legal matters.”

 Max looked floored. “Even with what he did to get you in this predicament?”

 “Yes. I trust him. So, if you don’t like it then there’s the door.” Max didn’t speak, he just sat and listened.

 “Good. So to begin no matter where this leads, I want you both to know that I don’t want anything from her. Nothing at all. Whatever she had three years ago is hers, and everything she earned and accomplished since is solely hers.”

 “Okay, that’s admirable. What about when it comes to you?”

 “If she wants half give it to her. If it comes up and she wants to go after anything I own split it in the middle. I want this to be easy.”

 “What!” Max was on his feet. “Chris, that’s insane. You’re worth millions. You’re really going to sacrifice half of that to some woman you married on a whim?”

 “Yes.” It was a plain answer, one that was so simple it ended the discussion.

 “I’ll handle it, Chris,” Sherman informed.

 “Good. Also, regarding Ella, our daughter, I don’t want to go after custody, not even joint. Right now, there’ll be a lot for her to get used to and I don’t want to cause more damage than necessary. We’ll take it slow. I just want to be able to see her for a few hours when I’m able to in San Francisco. I just want access, Sherman.”

 Max didn’t look like he approved but he sat silently.

 “Got it, Chris. I’ll relay it to her council.”

 “Thanks. You know how to reach me.” He stood and walked out the door. He really didn’t care anymore about everything he had before. He was seeing the world a whole lot differently now.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[evilmortys]

Have you ever talked about/drawn/ have head among about c-136’s rick? His relationship w/ his family and morty? Is her better than other ricks or worse? Etc!

i’ve  never  talked  about  rick  c-136  much  extensively  come  to  think  of  it!  so  i  hope  you  don’t  mind  if  i  use  this  ask  as  an  opportunity  to  ramble  about  him  and  their  dynamic  and  their  dimension  in  general  a  little.  it’s  quite  divergent  from  what’s  typical  for  a  rick  and  morty  dynamic  in  places,  i  think.

first  off  i  wanna  lead  with:  morty  c-136  is  sixteen!  so  his  summer  is  of  course  older  too,  and  is  now  living  away  from  home  and  attending  college.  he  misses  her  a  lot,  but  they  still  call  a  few  times  a  week  and  bitch  about  their  parents  and  what’s  going  on  in  their  lives  and  bully  each  other  a  lot.  she  comes  home  sometimes,  usually  for  holidays  such  as  thanksgiving  or  whatever.  they’re  overly  sappy  for  a  minute  max  upon  reuniting,  then  she’s  kicking  him  in  the  balls  and  he’s  calling  her  a  dumb  bitch.

his  mom  and  dad  are  divorced,  and  have  been  since  he  was  ten,  so  jerry  is  not  really  in  the  picture.  rick  is  very  relieved  about  this  and  hates  jerry  about  as  much  as  is  typical  for  bastard  grandpas.  morty  was  sad  about  their  messy  break  up,  but  very  quickly  came  to  understand  it  was  for  the  best.  there’s  a  security  system  rick  set  up  to  kick  jerry  to  the  curb  if  he  ever  comes  around,  much  to  morty’s  aggravation,  but  it’s  not  put  to  much  use  anyway.  (usually  he  walks  over  to  his  dad’s  sad  studio  apartment  of  his  own  volition  for  custody  weekend  instead  of  being  picked  up,  because  his  dad  sleeps  until  late  noon,  so.  not  exactly  a  dependable  ride.  if  he  goes  himself  he  can  shake  jerry  awake  at  a  reasonable  hour  and ...  try  to  shake  some  sense  into  him  too.  so  he  doesn’t  come  to  the  house  much.)

c-136′s rick has a complex relationship with his beth.  she’s  still  very  much  wrapped  up  in  his  opinion  of  her  and  works  to  please,  impress  and  ultimately  attain  his  attention  whenever  she  can.  an  easy  way  to  do  this  is  back  rick  up  when  morty  backtalks  him.  if  morty  angrily  says  “shut  the  fuck  up,  rick”  within  earshot  of  his  mother,  she’s  very  quick  to  fly  to  her  father’s  defence  as  apposed  to  her  son’s-  “morty,  don’t  speak  to  my  dad  like  that!”  rick  plays  off  this,  recognizing  an  opportunity  to  make  beth  feel  like  it’s  them  versus  morty,  and  says  “thank  you,  sweetie.”  the  two  then  delve  into  conversation  about  how  morty  is  “out  of  hand��  as  if  he’s  not  even  there,  which  understandably  infuriates  him  further.  

it  hurts  him  a  lot  that  his  mom  is  so  desperate  to  feel  like  her  and  her  dad  get  along,  and  for  him  to  acknowledge  her  existence,  that  she’ll  invalidate  his  feelings  and  bitch  about  his  behavior  with  rick  to  get  it.  he  very  much  feels  like  his  mom  values  having  a  positive  relationship  with  her  dad  over  him  as  a  result.  morty  continues  to  love  and  care  about  her  even  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  feels  largely  nonreciprocal  at  the  best  of  times,  but  can  come  across  quite  cold,  dismissive  and  clearly  subconsciously  angry  with  beth  when  talking  about  her  at  times  as  a  result.  don’t  get  me  wrong,  they  go  see  the  occasional  movie  together  and  morty  helps  her  out  preparing  dinner  very  often.  he  cares  deeply  about  his  mom  and  he  loves  her,  of  course  he  does,  but  he's  also  felt  incredibly  estranged  from  her  for  most  of  his  life.  if  nothing  else,  they  can  always  at  least  bond  over  an  eyeroll  at  one  of  his  dad's  latest  fuck  ups  or  stupid  statuses  on  facebook.  there’s  some  stuff  about  his  childhood  i  could  tack  in  here  that’s  relevant,  but  i’m  very  conscious  of  how  long  this  is  and  i  haven’t  even  talked  about  rick  and  morty’s  dynamic  yet ...  adjaskjdfaksf  sorry!

her  alcoholism  worries  morty  whereas  rick  seems  a  little  indifferent  to  it,  or  considers  it  not  a  big  deal.  likely  because  he  knows  it  invites  accusations  of  hypocrisy  if  he  calls  out  her  self  destruction  via  these  vices.  

in  the  past,  morty’s  tried  talking  with  her,  watering  down  and  pouring  out  her  alcohol  stashes,  and  even  pleaded  for  rick  try  and  make  her  see  reason-  to  no  avail.  (his  grandpa  ended  up  cracking  a  joke  about  what  a  fucking  buzzkill  morty  is,  they  laughed  it  off  together,  and  they  both  went  out  for,  you  guessed  it,  a  fucking  drink,  or  more  likely  ten  of  them,  directly  after  the  fact.)

right  now,  beth  c-136  has  been  seeing  a  bartender  for  eleven  months.  rick  seems  to  idly  approve  of  him-  at  the  very  least,  doesn’t  hate  him  like  he  did  jerry,  which  delights  beth.  her  father  deeming  anything  in  her  life  a  good  choice  means  everything  to  her  because  she  fights  so  hard  to  impress  him  while  also  trying  not  to  look  overtly  clingy  and  needy,  because  that  seems  to  repel  him.  also,  he’s  her  genius  father  who  doesn’t  like  anyone,  so  how  the  hell  can  his  judgement  be  wrong,  right?  him  approving  of  this  guy  has  locked  him  into  her  life  for  the  forseeable  future.  again,  this  pisses  morty  off,  because  this  bartender  guy  encourages  his  mom’s  worst  vice  of  daydrinking  with  his  job  and  lifestyle.  he  makes  her  happy,  but  he’s  the  fucking  worst,  and  it  makes  morty  want  to  tear  his  hair  out.  him  and  summer  frequently  snipe  about  the  guy  in  private.  sharing  distaste  for  their  parents’  prospective  partners  is  very  valid  bonding  they  think.

c-136  rick  and  morty's  relationship  is  emotionally  flexible  at  the  best  of  times.  some  days,  so  very  rarely,  they  get  along  just  great.

to  name  one  wholesome  headcanon  before  we  Get  Into  It.  occasionally,  rick  will  pretend  to  know  absolutely  jack  shit  about  one  of  the  plants  in  morty’s  greenhouse  just  to  let  him  go  off  about  it  and  suddenly  seem  excitably  sure  of  himself  for  about  twenty  minutes  of  nonstop  infodumping.  95%  of  the  time  he  knows  absolutely  everything  about  the  plant  he’s  asking  about,  actually,  and  on  some  level  morty  is  absolutely  aware  of  it.  the  smartest  man  in  the  universe  apparently  doesn’t  know  what  a  flaxtius  olcum  is?  right.  but ...  he  still  appreciates  the  gesture  a  lot,  and  it  cheers  him  up  after  a  shitshow  adventure.

it's  not  too  clear  what  allows  these  occasions  of  treating  one  another  with  basic  respect  and  almost  fondness  to  arise-  maybe  his  grandfather's  in  an  uncommonly  gracious  mood,  maybe  they're  playing  minecraft  or  bashing  animal  crossing  together,  maybe  they're  snickering  and  exchanging  incredulous  glances  during  some  cartoonishly  evil  alien's  monologue  of  a  plan  as  it's  dictated  to  them  in  painstaking  detail …  regardless,  those  come  around  less  and  less  often,  these  days.

rick  secretly  considers  morty  to  be  very  capable  and  alarmingly  more  competent  as  of  late,  and  he's  not  sure  whether  to  feel  almost  proud  or  work  to  scramble  to  unravel  all  this progress  lest  morty  start  pulling  away  from  him  and  revelling  in  his  own  independence.  

they're  a  kickass duo  when  adventuring, very  in  sync.  morty's  less  of  a  whiny  burden  or  wide-eyed,  unremarkable  sidekick,  and  more  of  a  borderline  asset  at  this  point.  which  again,  makes  rick  feel  very  conflicted  over  how  that  skews  their  dynamic  in  a  way  that's  less  favorable  for  him,  because  morty  doesn't  need  to  lean  on  him  as  heavily  or  stick  as  close  anymore.  but  at  the  same  time,  there’s  less  inherent  risk  of  him  dying  while  they  adventure,  because  he  handles  himself  so  well.  they  can  split  up  as  needed  to  get  shit  done  faster.  morty  frequently  solo  adventures,  or  as  he  calls  it,  “runs  rick’s  goddamn  errands,  actually.”  he’s  outgrown  the  concept  of  getting  to  choose  an  adventure  and  instead  claims  the  portal  gun  every  twelve  adventures  they  have  together,  and  goes  off  for  one  of  his  own.

morty  speaks  his  mind  very  bluntly  with  rick  and  isn't  really  afraid  to  tell  him  to  get  fucked  when  he's  being  an  unreasonable  dick.  he  resents  rick  immensely  for  putting  him  down  and  pushing  him  around  all  the  time.

morty's  more  assertive,  yet  still  very  much  resigned  to  their  irrefutably  imbalanced  companionship ;  there  are  countless  factors  as  to  why.  but  primarily,  it  tends  to  boil  down  to  feeling  like  he  owes  a  lot  to  rick.  were  it  not  for  his  presence  in  his  life,  morty  knows  deep  down  that  he  wouldn't  be  half  as  interesting  or  even  marginally  as  intelligent  as  he's  capable  of  being  now.  he’d  still  be  stupid,  and  mediocre,  and  uninteresting.  unremarkable.  unworthy  of  anyone’s  attention  or  time  because  of  how  dull  he  is.

he's  at  a  point  where  (to  an  extent)  he  feels  distant  from  his  life  on  earth  at  the  best  of  times,  because  space  and  the  infinite  multiverse  has  encompassed  his  daily  life  for  so  long  and  on  some  level,  he  handles  himself  far  better  fighting  for  his  life  on  the  edge  of  the  universe  than  trapped  in  a  school  full  of  sweaty  teenagers  and  material  he  either  blitzes  through  or  can  barely  grasp.  plus,  rick  was  the  closest  thing  he  ever  had  to  a  friend  while  he  was  growing  up.  morty  cares  about  rick,  even  if  the  older  constantly  cites  reasons  as  to  why  attachment  is  moronic  and  sentiment  is  stupid,  and  he's  aware  that  rick  has  come  to  care  for  him  too-  even  if  all  his  pointed  jabs  about  not  giving  a  shit  and  aloof  front  makes  it  hard  to  believe  that  all  the  time.

the  issue  is,  once  morty  seems  to  waver  in  feeling  that  he  has  to  constantly  acquiesce  to  rick  and  falters  in  tolerating  rick  as  an  result  of  this  obligated  feeling  of  familial  love,  no  matter  how  slightly,  rick  then  begins  to  exert  control  over  their  relationship  by  other  means,  such  as  emotionally  manipulating,  gaslighting  and  outright  blackmailing  him  to  keep  him  in  line  with  what  he  wants  out  of  their  dynamic:  rick  and  morty,  a  hundred  years,  the  only  two  people  in  the  infinite  multiverse  that  truly  matter-  theretofore,  they  should  both  solely  consider  one  another  as  important,  and  worthwhile.  he's  willing  to  tarnish  any  other  connections  morty  might  form  beyond  their  duo  for  fear  of  losing  him.

he  grows  out  of  this  irrational  attachment  a  little  more  each  time  his  grandfather  lets  him  down,  disillusions  him  ever  further,  hurts  him  or  traumatizes  him  or  actively  fucking  experiments  on  him-  slowly  but  surely.  he'll  snap,  in  some  sense,  sometime.  when  exactly  can't  be  known.  what  precise  actions  he  might  take  to  pry  himself  free  of  their  codependent  dynamic  is  unclear.  but  the  way  things  are  headed,  the  two  of  them  splintering  apart  is  inevitable,  and  it's  unlikely  to  be  an  amicable  thing  at  all.  rick  often  actively  renounces  and  appears  repulsed  by  the  very  concept  of  familial  love  and  basic  attachment,  constantly  rants  and  raves  in  his  drunken  stupors  about  how  replaceable  everyone  in  his  life  is,  and  it's  hard  for  morty  to  bite  his  tongue  when  he's  behaving  like  that.

he  just  hates  that  he  feels  badly  about  himself  and  second  guesses  himself  around  rick.  strangely  enough,  when  he’s  having  to  push  through  crazy  shit  alone,  he  does  fine.  great,  even.  sure,  he’s  freaking  out,  making  everything  up  as  he  goes  along,  and  secretly  wishing  rick  was  around  to  guide  him  out  of  the  chaos  because  he  knows  in  his  heart  rick  would  probably  do  it  smarter.  but  once  he’s  with  rick,  he  feels  incapable  and  stupid  beside  him.  like,  being  apart  from  him  makes  him  feel  so  much  lighter,  allows  him  to  lean  on  the  intelligence  he  very  much  does  possess,  without  being  berated,  second  guessing  it,  and  reminded  it’ll  never  match  up  to  rick’s,  so  there’s  really  no  point  in  even  trying.

[transephiroth]

an important post: abuse from friends, friend abuse. please read and reblog.

TW: abuse ment, bpd ment, ed ment, suicide ment, ptsd, trauma, death ment. gaslighting ment.

i don’t know what exactly what has compelled me to make this post at nearly 1:00 am on a school night just like every other, but i think the importance of advocacy of preventing, spotting, and stopping abusive friendships is to talk about them with the same respect as any other form of abuse.

i’ll give you a small overview of my personal experience with abusive friendships: when i was 16, my father committed suicide. i was not aware he was my biological father at they time and actually found out he was not my half brother, but my biological father. my father, who’s name i will not mention. i won’t even use fake names they’re hard to keep track of. i found out my mother, an abusive drug addict, slept with her husband, my apparent grandfather’s, adult son from a previous marriage consensually. one way or another, my father was forbidden to be involved in my life, and my grandfather raised me as his own. (in case you’re going to ask about inc*st, my father and mother have no relation, she is not his mother.)

the shock of learning this and grieving his death from the few negative interactions he and his mental health had on my family when i was a baby, was intense. i had no friends at school and felt incredibly lost and vulnerable. when i was in this place i met my best friend. we bonded over a shared hatred of my ex boyfriend, who was an abuser, who was dating her ex best friend.

this should have been a red flag, but i ignored it.

i took the first friend i could find after my ex took away all my friends in an effort to isolate me after my assault. this was probably the worst part of my life, and one of my first real suicide attempts was only days before my father died. the first friend i found, the first soul i recognized i clung to.

when me and my friend, who we will call P, were inseparable. but there was a very clear and distinct difference between us. P was a star in the band at school, she had great grades, tons of friends and was quite conventionally attractive. she was involved in a lot of extracurriculars and overall had a very nice demeanor.

this should have been a red flag. as harsh as it might sound, idealizing anyone is unhealthy. if someone appears to you as perfect, it’s not paranoid of you to wonder if it’s hiding something. it’s hard to tell when someone is being genuine, especially for myself with autism. nice words and a smile can pretty much fool anyone.

i, on the other hand of P, dropped out of band and just about every other activity after my assault, and was in and out of intense therapy and psych visits throughout all of high school. i never could go a school year without a visit. to this day i have gone a whole year however :)

I was an autistic shut in who quite honestly, cried a lot, smelled bad, was clearly poor, spoke funny and came to school drunk. we were not the same.

i don’t want to go over every painstaking detail, so i’ll try to summarize as best i can the first two years of our three year relationship.

P was diagnosed with BPD about a month into our friendship. she told me i was her FP/favorite person, and showed me videos to learn about BPD. i remember watching hours and hours of information about BPD to accommodate her the best i could. what i didn’t realize however, was that she was lying. she didn’t have BPD, or at least couldn’t be diagnosed because we were 16.

red flag. i knew this was a lie because i had been in therapy for years. it took me a long time to peace it together but i accepted it and beget told her, until this moment, that i knew.

i fucking knew.

months of friendship included constant easy to see through lies, fabrications, pathological rants, and pretty much changing her “back story” every day. it was draining not to mention it, but the few times i did, she got physical. i have scars on my right forearm from her nails, which were long and broke skin. she would tell me she would pay me back for things and never show. she would make fun of things i told her in secret to our friends, my trauma. my dad.

“dark humor”

over time, she convinced me to drop every single friend i had except for her. she had gotten me literally completely vulnerable and isolated.

when covid hit, my mom, of course, kicked me out. i moved in with P and her family. my time there over quarantine was very monotonous, but i’ll never forget that for basically 8-9 months, she never let me out of her sight. i felt like i had to just do whatever she wanted because her mother let me live there for free.

p knew i wanted to move away from my mother and the chaos of my home life for years.

right before quarantine, P got her first boyfriend. she had never had a boyfriend and had been to scared to get one. i was really happy for her, i encouraged her to ask him out while she was at a weekend school event.

P then began to manipulate not only me, but him. to this day i don’t know what’s become of either of them, but i really couldn’t care less anymore. when trauma heals, you get a sense of apathy.

P would frequently belittle me, mock me, kick, trip and slap me, force me to pay for things for her and her boyfriend on the spot, and steal from my purse.

eventually living with p, third wheeling with her less than charming boyfriend, who i honestly just didn’t mind. we weren’t friends, but i was respectful to him and treated him the same way i would treat a friend from school or something.

p has a family i won’t bring up because it involves minors, but her mother has a psychotic disorder and refuses to be medicated, so the house is full of ripped door hinges, holes in walls, smashed items and more. it’s really unsafe there, and during my time there i found i really began to internalize as a person. i developed an eating disorder and my ptsd and autism felt much more out of control.

i had been diagnosed with autism for nearly two years at that point, and living in that household made me realize just how damaging meltdown after meltdown without anyone understanding can damage your psyche long term.

i wanted to leave. i had saved my money from my jobs and got an apartment. p insisted on coming, saying she didn’t want to live with her mom anymore. i didn’t want her to come, but i agreed. she got a co-sign. i knew it was a bad idea because i heard what they said about best friends living together. i just can’t believe it really happened.

we talked about growing old together, raising our kids together. i was going to name my first daughter after her. we were going to be neighbors. her husband and my wife would be best friends just like us, but that’s not what happened.

we lived together from August 2020-November 2020

to give a quick summary of the inevitable end of this relationship, P and I had two kittens together. i asked her if she could put them away for inspection so they didn’t run out the door while i drove our third roommate, a whole other mountain of a story, to work.

she didn’t do it, instead slacked off to go to her boyfriends house. so i came back and had to put the cats away at record speed and our other roommate was late to work.

even if this was somewhat small, it was the breaking point for me. i grabbed my phone and texted her, DEMANDING she explain why she couldn’t do this one thing for me. i have never been that angry in my life. we had a phone call where i just lost it and unleashed all my anger and all my hurt about everything she had done. i was sobbing and barely making sense but i couldn’t just keep letting my life carry on this way.

i wish i remembered how the phone call ended, but all i remember was telling her “if the cats run and we can’t find them, then we are done being roommates.”

the next morning i woke up and she had blocked me on everything. i drove to the apartment and saw that overnight, according to block times at like, 3am, she had taken all our shared furniture, all my birthday gifts from not two weeks prior, all the gifts i bought her, most of my clothes, one of the apartment keys, my high school diploma, the paperwork for the cats, and not just our two shared kittens, but my third roommates cat as well.

cue search party with my partner and his friends and my other roommate for P and the cats. i found her at her house with her mom and boyfriend. i walked out and she was on the phone with my grandfather, telling him i was threatening suicide. i ask her where the cats are, she says they are at a friends house.

if we flashback in the story, we literally only had each other, so i knew it was a lie.

i managed to argue through to negotiate at least my other roommates cat, but only after P’s mom blocked us in the driveway and called the police saying we threatened her daughter

(reminder people in this group were black and asian ☺️ so she just calls the cops fall 2020)

luckily the cops saw the proof she blocked me so i couldn’t have threatened her, and let us leave.

that’s the end of the friendship. i could bore anyone who has read this far further by explaining the nightmare realm that is the legal troubles with the apartment, but the internet doesn’t need to know everything does it?

as the winter has gone on i’ve had months to basically remake myself as a person. i had to firstly face the damage P had done.

but before i get into that, anyone who is still reading first, ily, but also, if you’ve had ANY relationship that sounds similar to this, THAT IS ABUSE.

Plain and simple. It is abusive. Physically, emotionally, mentally, verbally. nobody deserves that. not P. not you. not me.

friendships can be all someone has. not everyone is born into good families with loving siblings and great parents and tons of cousins who live .3 milliseconds away. families are divided. families, like mine, are divorced. families are broken and families sometimes aren’t even families. humans need relationships, and an idealistic person who we think maybe could save us and fix the world, won’t.

you can be taken advantage of by the person you trust the most just as easily as a stranger.

it’s not wrong to face the abuse they put you through, know it was wrong, and feel valid that it is was wrong.

what i went through with P was horrible. the detachment of my only friend hurt. but i bounced back. i’m still undoing some of the damage, but i have great friends and a wonderful partner. i have two rescue cats who mean the world to me.

life gets better after abuse, but the bad days and the pain aren’t invalid because of this. i have trauma from what P put me through. abandonment like that is traumatic. but it’s not the end. feel what you need to feel to feel better.

if anyone read this far and wants to vent their own experiences, or share more advice on preventing these relationships feel free. it’s almost 1:30 now, i should go to bed.

it feels good to get that off my chest.

[xjamlessparkx]

divorce | myg | 08

summary: in which you have to go through a painful process of your own family shattering

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: angst

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17

"Talk?" Suddenly, you started laughing as you ranged from one side to the other side hysterically.

He held your elbow slightly but you freed yourself, pushing him away.

"I don't want to talk to you..." you lifted your hand and tried to walk past him when you tripped over your own feet, falling forward. He grabbed your upper arms as he lifted you up, preventing you from falling.

"Please Y/N..." he begged, holding you close to himself. You shook your head going forward again. He grabbed your hand and turned you around. "Let me drop you home and let's talk on our way home" He didn't even give you a chance as he dragged you with him. You shut your eyes from time to time, the fatigue feeling overcoming you. He helped you in the passenger seat and jogged to the other side of the car. To be honest, you were too tired to fight back that's why you let him drop you home.

He drove off and hesitantly tried to start the conversation. "You seeing Yuna wasn't my first intention...-" you cut him off.

"Yuna? I don't know that name..." You snapped and turned on the radio. "Waaah!" You cheered, clapping in your hands as your favorite song played. It was a 90s ballad and you started singing along to the lyrics which you forgot a little. It was more gibberish than real singing.

He sighed deeply as he shut the radio, turning to you. "Y/N you're making everything harder for me..."

Without taking up to what he said you clicked on the button to let the music play again. You turned the volume on and started dancing to the sad ballad. While singing you spotted a weak smirk on his lips and you laughed loudly.

"Yoongi, you're so handsome!" You put your hands under your chin, trying to sound as cute as possible. If anyone would see you like that, they wouldn't believe that you were a mother of two children. He chuckled at your statement, his blood rushing up to his cheeks. At that moment you realized that you were about to divorce. You weren't sober but you remembered everything in a matter of time, you just acted irrationally and emotionally. Turning the volume off you turned around, looking out of the window.

"I forgot ... I can't say that anymore." You bit your lip, feeling your throat burning. Hearing Yoongi swallowing hard, he cleared his throat.

You didn't even reach your house and you spotted a small takeaway which was still open. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering why it was still open in the middle of the night but the thought of eating something right now didn't leave your mind. You licked your lips.

"I'm hungry!" You yelled you gaze still on the small takeaway as you started hitting Yoongi's shoulder. His eyes widened and he shook his head.

"I think it's better if you rest a little bit-" he exclaimed but you interrupted him when you started whining loudly. Begging him to go to eat something.

"Pleeease!" You pouted and he took a deep breath as you felt his car stopping in a parking lot near the takeaway. You ran up to the public place, not minding Yoongi who followed you quietly behind.

"Ahjussi, please bring me some black noodles" you yelled and Yoongi tried to shush you out but you only chuckled when he tried to. He sat on the opposite side of you, watching the man bringing your food. You licked your lips as you started eating as if it was the first time in your life where you saw delicious food.

At that moment, Yoongi realized how much you've changed physically. His eyes were focused on your cheekbones as you slurped the noodles, how it showed your bones clearly. Your eyes were a lot smaller as if you never had the chance to sleep or rest nicely. He noticed how much of an amount of weight you've lost. Biting his lip, his gaze stopped at your hands, holding the chopsticks while you ate deliciously. He wasn't lying, he felt full when you ate.

"Aren't you eating?" You asked, making him wince and come back to reality. He shook his head slowly, smiling at how you enjoyed your meal as if it was your first meal for today.

You finished up the noodles and grabbed your purse to pay the meal. Suddenly, you felt a warm hand surrounding yours. As you looked up you saw Yoongi putting money on the table.

"I'll pay you back!" You said immediately but he chucked at your statement, knowing that he wouldn't accept it even when you tried to pay him back.

Just as you wanted to stand up he stopped you, pointing his finger at your lips. "You still have sauce on your lips-"

"Here?" You wiped the part away but he shook his head, telling you that it was the other side. When you couldn't find the spot he reached out for your lips, his thumb brushing your bottom lip softly. His eyes were darted in yours and his expressions were blank. His fingers not leaving your lips as he wiped the sauce away with his fingers. Biting his lip, he rested his other fingers on your jaw. You were looking at him strangely, not noticing how much he was affected by his own behavior. He winced, his eyelids blinking a few times as he pulled his hand away.

"We, we should head home..." he muttered and you nodded, walking past him while trying to hold your balance. You hopped into the car and he drove off.

"Thank you ..." you mumbled and smiled weakly at him. "Sometimes you're such a jerk and other days you're like the nicest person on earth..." you clarified as you leaned back in the seat.

He chuckled at your words, furrowing his eyebrows questioningly, "Wow... thanks for this nice compliment" he exclaimed sarcastically.

He helped you out of the car and opened the door to your house. It was dark and he assumed that everyone was already asleep.

Suddenly, you pushed him as you let yourself fall on the couch. You started sobbing loudly, burying your face in your hands. Mood changes were absolutely a thing for you while you were drunk.

"Y/N?" His soft voice brought you back to reality. You lifted your head and looked at him, standing in front of you.

"It hurts" you cried and he furrowed his eyebrows, not being able to tell what you were trying as to say right now.

You clenched your fist as you started hitting your chest multiple times, over and over again, pointing at your heart, "Right here!" You wiped away your tears as you looked up to Yoongi.

"Why did you do this to me? Don't you see how much I suffer? Can't you see that I can't be as happy as you are?" Your sobs were actually swallowing half of your words but Yoongi still understood. He couldn't move, shocked by your words and he also wanted to listen more.

"When I saw that girl in the office I knew that I lost you... but the moment I saw her in the passenger seat I felt so betrayed and awful..." you stood up, grabbing his collar, "I can't lose my children ... they're all I have!" Your forehead dropped on his chest as you started crying loudly, forgetting about your children who should be asleep right now.

"I, I'm sorry... I didn't tell you about our meeting with the kids. Please don't worry, you won't lose them." His hands were on your shoulders, pulling you back so he could look into your eyes. You shook your head as you lifted your head.

"She tried to make them call her 'mom'. Is it so easy to be a mom? Are you going to take my children away once we divorce? Does my effort and love not matter at all? Are you going to let them forget me and start a new family? With someone you love?" You muttered the last words were more of a whisper than a real statement.

You let yourself fall on the couch again as he sat down next to you.

"Yuna insisted to get to know with the children. She thought that it would be a good opportunity since the children are a part of my life..." he started, "I know I should've told you about us spending time together with the children. But I didn't even tell them that she is my girlfriend-" he mumbled, as he moved his hands away from you.

"So it means that she is their second mom to you? I don't want my children to have any contact with her. Damn it! I hate the fact that you belong to her. I can't stand the fact that I wasn't enough for you, for your love. That I wasn't strong enough to rescue our family..." you sobbed, tears streaming down your face as you started hitting your knees. "I, I hate myself so much Yoongi!" You cried out as you dropped your face into your hands again. Yoongi bit his lip, not knowing what to do right now. He didn't even know how he could comfort you. He was feeling sorry for the way he made you feel. Feeling sorry, for not noticing and not considering your emotions and feelings.

"You moved on. You have a new girlfriend now. That's why you left me. You didn't love me anymore and clearly, my love wasn't enough..." you leaned back, slowly as your back touched the couch. You closed your eyes and your body relaxed. Breathing quietly you whispered, "How will I ever be able to move on when you're still the only one in my heart?"

-

After that, you didn't know what happened. You drifted off to sleep and were woken up by the loud swearing of your mother who was walking frustrated through the living room, searching for something. You noticed a blanket over your body, trying to remember last night and how you ended up here. But you didn't really remember anything that's why you decided to stand up. Maybe a hangover soup would be good. Actually, you felt quite embarrassed for your low alcohol tolerance and getting drunk by one bottle.

You threw the blanket from your body as you stood up, feeling the pain in your head as you hissed quietly.

"Y/N! I can't find Ahran!" Your heart sank at the words of your mother.

"What do you mean? Are playing hide and seek again?" You chuckled as your smile faded slowly, noticing how serious your mother was.

"H-how!?" You jumped up and furrowed your eyebrows.

"I don't know ... I woke up and wanted to wake up Junsun and Ahran but Ahran wasn't in her room anymore. She isn't anywhere to find, I'm worried..." she stated and you hear Junsun from upstairs calling for his sister who didn't answer.

"Mom, did anything happen yesterday?" You asked her while you grabbed your phone, dialing Yoongi's number. Maybe she was with him and you really hoped it to be like that.

"Nothing happened. After you went to work we left to go home as well. We watched a movie, played games until they fell asleep. Nothing suspicious..." she clarified and you sighed deeply, biting your nails.

"Hello?" You heard the voice from the other side of the phone.

"Is Ahran with you?" You asked immediately.

"No ..." he said, making you shut your eyes and hit your forehead with your palm.

"Is everything okay?" He mumbled, sounding worried.

You took a deep breath, feeling the tears coming up, "Ahran is missing!"

"What?! How?" He yelled through the phone while you shrugged your shoulders, walking hysterically from one side to the other side of the room.

"I, I don't know ... I will go and search for her!" You mumbled, your voice cracking.

"Wait! I will pick you up, let's watch out together!" He clarified, ending the call. You sighed deeply, sitting down on the couch. Junsun ran downstairs as he jumped up to you, sobbing silently.

"Mom, Ahran isn't home ..." he muttered. You kissed his forehead, stroking his hair slowly.

"We will find her okay..." you promised as you stood up, grabbing your jacket.

"Mom, stay with Junsun. Yoongi and I will find her, I promise. Call me if she comes home..." you exclaimed as you put on your shoes.

"She isn't with Yoongi?" Your mother asked worriedly and you shook your head.

"Clearly not!" You opened the door, being confronted by the cold breeze, blowing through your hair.

"Call me when you find her!" She yelled, standing next to the doorframe. You walked up to the entrance of your house, looking in every direction, watching out for all details while you waited for Yoongi to pick you up.

Suddenly, you felt your heart dropping from its place. You were ashamed of yourself. How you were drunk yesterday and couldn't watch out for your children. The tears started streaming down your face while you wiped them away, one by one.

You saw Yoongi's car approaching you, your heart jumping from hope as he stopped in front of you. Jogging to the other side, you got into the car. He didn't even wait as he drove off.

"How did it happen?" His voice was concerned as he drove fast, looking everywhere.

"I, I don't know... I woke up and my mother told me that Ahran was missing. I believed that they played a game but my mother told me that she looked everywhere in your house, not finding her-" you were cut off by Yoongi hitting the steering wheel, groaning loudly.

"Why did she even leave?" He mumbled under his breath, trying to think of a good reason for her loss but he couldn't find a rational reason.

"It's my fault ... I, I shouldn't go drinking after work, I should've been home early. I could've avoided that. I'm the worst mother in the world, I, I'm so sorry-" you felt the tears blocking your view as you grabbed the roots of your hair, pulling them slightly. The car made an abrupt stop and your head fell forward. You turned to Yoongi who had stopped the car as he faced you. His hands reached your face as he cupped it and wiped the tears away.

"Don't say that you're the best mother in the world! It's nobody's fault!" He smiled weakly at you while he stared into your eyes, intensely. Something felt strange. As if there was a similar scenario like that, you bit your lip and it made you feel confused. You slowly turned your head to the road and he noticed his action while he pulled his hands away, fixing his eyes on the road.

"I think we should look in the park" you mumbled, feeling the blood rushing to your cheeks while you opened the door of the car. He walked out as well.

Since it was a small area in which you lived it shouldn't be that hard to find her and you hoped that she didn't leave any further or wasn't taken away by some stranger. The thought of her being kidnapped send a shiver down your spine. You started running through the roads and parks, constantly yelling her name with Yoongi.

"Ahran!" You yelled, asking people if they saw a similar to the girl you described. The more people started shaking their head, the more hope you started to lose.

"Y/N..." you dropped on a bench in a park, near to the city as you hid your face in your hands, starting to sob silently. You heard Yoongi panting loudly, "We will find her ..." he tried to say between his breaths.

In that moment everything went silent and you heard a silent giggle which was totally familiar. You lifted your head, slowly, looking to the direction where the giggle came from. Slowly, standing up you walked up to the direction. Yoongi followed you, not hearing anything. You pecked your head behind the brush.

"A-Ahran!" You voice cracked once you saw her sitting in the grass as she playing along with a small puppy. He eyes widened the moment she saw you. You dropped to your knees, pulling her into a tight embrace while you kissed all over her face. "How can you make mommy worry so much?" You cried loudly, feeling Ahran pushing you away. You fell on your hip, Yoongi grabbing your upper arms gently, preventing you to fall fully on the ground.

"Go away!" She yelled.

"Ahran ..." you mumbled, your throat burning as you didn't know why she acted strangely.

"I heard you two last night!" She stood up as she stomped up to Yoongi, pushing him with her weak hands. "You left mommy because you love someone else, not us!" She cried out as she tried to ran away but Yoongi grabbed her hands. You weren't really able to tell what she was talking about right now.

And then it hit you. The memories from yesterday started flushing in front of your eyes like a short movie. You remembered every word your mouth left and your concern to Yoongi.

"Ahran ... that's not true. Your father loves you, only you!" You mumbled as you stood up, looking at Yoongi who was really confused about her behavior.

"Ahran", he started, "I, I would never leave you for anyone in this world..." his voice cracked as you examined his face. His eyes were red from crying as he breathed out quietly.

"Why didn't you tell us then? Why did you act like she was a good friend of yours as you brought us out together with her?" She tried to escape from Yoongi's grip. You couldn't believe what you did, but in that moment you kneeled down to her level, taking her hands in yours.

"Look, your father wanted to tell you. He just waited for a good moment." You exclaimed. You couldn't let Ahran detest her father. Since that girl was a part of Yoongi's life you would have to face her more often, knowing that you can't avoid it.

"You're afraid that you will lose your father, right?" Her eyes lit up as she glanced at you, biting her lip. "This will never ever happen. Not in a million years. I and your father love you much than anything else in this world!" You clarified as you started caressing her hair. Yoongi kneeled down as well, nodding at your statement.

"Of course we do." He assured.

"That's why you lied to us..." Ahran was cut off b her father, sighing deeply.

"We, we didn't lie we just-" she shook her head, sliding her hands out of yours while she calmed down a little bit.

"Staying silent and hiding isn't better... that's what you teach me. Also" she stepped away a little bit, "I don't want another person in our life."

Yoongi was frustrated as he let himself fall on the grass. He took a deep breath.

"You're right..." you started, grabbed her hands and guiding her down so she would sit on the grass as well. "I never wanted to share my parents with anyone as well. It's hard, I know" you licked your lips, sitting down on the ground as well.

"Think about it. Your father never wanted this turn out like this neither did I. Sometimes the worst things what people expect the least happen in one's life." You stroked her cheeks not really believing the words which were leaving your mouth right now as you spoke.

"Think about it differently. You will grow up with three people loving you. Maybe this isn't as bad as it seems" you smiled weakly, feeling Yoongi's gaze on you. He knew that the words which left your mouth were a lot more different from yesterday. You didn't mean your words but you wanted Ahran to smile again. Sooner or later, you had to face this. No matter when.

She bit her lip as she exchanged glances between you and Yoongi.

"But I won't ever call her mom!" She pointed her finger upwards. Yoongi chuckled slightly.

"You don't have to" he took Ahran's hands in his as he lifted his head to the side to look at you, "You only have one mother"

For you, it felt like he gave you the first warm smile ever, wholeheartedly as his eyes didn't leave yours.

"Dad," Ahran started while she looked down at the ground, playing with her hands, "Can you... can you stay at home tonight?"

[harrieatthemet]

I Can Fix It

request (:

She’s learned to block it out.

In fact, she’s gotten pretty good at it. Even though she’s almost positive she blew out the speakers buried inside her headphones.

Sometimes, when the bickering takes longer than usual to die out, the door to her bedroom will start to rift open a little bit. And she can see it out of the corner of her eye, a messy mop of loose brown curls, poking in through the small-scale crack separating her bedroom and the hallway. 

“You can come in,” she’d say, keeping her eyes glued to her phone, “s’alright.” 

And her younger sister would come teetering in, eyes sad and shoulders hanging. The baby of the three would follow right on her heels, mimicking his sisters’ facial expressions.

The cycle has gotten old, tired, played out and just emotionally taxing. The arguing, the rising of voices, you storming off and Harry sulking in his room for the rest of the night. And at first, it was tolerable. At least you had the decency to pick a fight with him the the kids were out of the house, at school or spending the afternoon with Anne. 

But the courtesy of waiting for the kids to be out the door had been abandoned, as these little debacles blew up to become something far more raw, with a deeper meaning. Each day passed, and with that came the reoccurrence of arguments. Twice a day, sometimes three. 

She let her younger siblings crawl on her bed, creating enough space for all three of them after ordering the youngest to make sure the door was closed all the way. Leaving a crack was an invitation for voices to carry.

“What do they fight about?” The youngest asked, and neither of the girls had just one good reason to provide him with.

And though all three kids can’t seem to put a finger on exactly what it was that resulted in their parents constantly going at each other’s throats, Harry seemed to have the hardest time figuring out where things went sour. 

Constantly, after a fight big or small, he’d have to rack his brain for so much as a little inkling to what he’s done to have gotten you to this point. And for the life of him he can never figure out why. He always comes out of these long sessions of curiosity, deep in thought, empty handed. 

And his very worst anxiety, a worry of his that he’d been doing his absolute best to keep at bay, had soon morphed itself into a reality. And it shows, as all 5 of you sit at a dinner table in ear shattering silence. The entire house has become uncomfortable. 

Literally, nobody has spoken a word. And the only noise that can be heard in the kitchen, in the entire fucking house, is table utensils scraping the tops of plates or the bad habit of open mouthed chewing that the youngest can’t seem to shake. 

You don’t look up, at anyone, during most of the meal. And Harry watches as you fumble with a piece of stray string on the cuff of your sweater, deep in thought. He knows because your face is stoic and blank, aside from the small furrow in your eyebrows. 

“Are you guys getting a divorce?” His voice is solemn, though Harry knows his question is not to be rude, but stems for nervousness. Even fear, maybe. 

The oldest is livid. She’s eyeing her younger brother, practically seeing red. Her body goes stiff, amidst mumbling something borderline snarky under her breath. Because of course they’re not, they would never. Those are her parents and it just doesn’t make sense for them to get a divorce. She doesn’t want it to happen, so she believes it won’t. 

“Why’d yeh ask tha’?” He frowns, as it deepens when the youngest delivers an unsatisfied shrug. 

He’s looking to you for a little assistance, hoping you’ll jump in at some point to lend him in a hand. But he’s met with nothing, just the continuation of your mental absence as you sit there, across the table, and keep to yourself. Which leaves him with the question unanswered for both him, and his inquisitive 7 year old son staring at him while awaiting an answer. Are you guys getting a divorce?

“I don’t,” Harry demands, your back to him still, “don’t want it.” 

“I wasn’t asking you whether or not you wanted it.” 

His eyes are trained on you, his gave voiding because he thinks he’s choking. That or he’s gonna be sick. And his head is hurting now because he cannot even believe the words that came out of your mouth. This, too, will turn into an argument because it’s just another thing neither of you can seem to see eye to eye on. But he doesn’t mind fighting this, he doesn’t care if he needs to raise his voice again. 

He built a life with you and divorce just isn’t in the cards. He won’t do it.  

“S’alright,” Harry exhales, “s’okay, (Y/N), really. S’just a rough patch, yeah? Can get it through it, just gotta work on it.”

The way he’s saying it, how he’s talking, it’s so fast. And he feels like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to convince you. 

You’re unswayed. For fucks sake, you haven’t even turned around to look at him yet. He knows he’s more important than folded laundry, he wants you to turn around and look at him.

“Can y’fuckin look a’ me?” 

“Harry,” you lament, “I’m tired. Feels like we’ve been ‘working on it’ forever and I’m tired. Aren’t you? This isn’t exhausting to you?”

Of course it’s exhausting to him. Do you think he likes this? Think he wants to constantly be at war with you? He doesn’t. It is, it’s extremely exhausting. Coming home after a trip, after working, just to be shut out by someone he’s built a life with, started a family with? Someone he loves? Exhausting. 

“No!” He’s lying, “No, s’not. I’ll fight with yeh forever if tha’s how I get yeh t’stay.”

“Doesn’t really seem like a way to live,” you emit, and he lets out a frustrated groan, “and I don’t want that for either of us. Or the kids.” “The kids,” he yells, “s’right, the kids! Think they want this? Know they don’t.”

“That’s not fair.”

“This isn’t fair!” 

He’s borderline hysterical, and he swears if he hears the word divorce in a sentence one more time he won’t be opposed to resorting to ripping the hair straight from his head. No part of him can understand. He can’t fathom the thought of giving up. After everything, all the things he’s done alongside you, and vice versa. This life the two of you worked so hard for, became accustomed to, the life he loved. 

“Got a good thing here,” he respires, “can fix it.”

“Harry don’t make this-”

“I can fix it,” he hisses, “let me fix it, (Y/N), please.”