#today was a rainy wednesday and rainy wednesdays always make me want to listen to sharp gun for some reason

[hotasfahrenheit]

#gun - lord [August 18, 2019]

[1/?]

[marilynthornhilllover]

Anyway, don't be a stranger.

Mortica Addams x fem reader

Warning: fluff, smoking, past breakups, ex girlfriend talks, cheating, brutal dialog, memories, reader has a daughter, slight depression, talk about moving on, one kiss, a few flash backs, ending on good terms, getting closure.

It was a relaxing rainy Friday evening, as gentle rain drops spilled against the rooftops of countless homes across the neighborhood. You picked up your glass of wine taking a sip as you listened to your exotic teenage daughter ramble about her P.T.A meeting tomorrow. She went on about how much she couldn't wait to show you around her dorm room, or to show you her plant science projects she made with Ms.Thornhill.

But most of all, she just couldn't wait to introduce you to her new very best friend Wednesday adams. Although the name sounded weird enough for a teenager you were still fascinated by the cute stories your daughter mariam would tell you every afternoon after school. You really wanted to know who was this Wednesday mariam would always talk about.

Maybe meet her parents and thank them for giving life to someone mariam could call a true friend. You smiled as she took up her fork to finally eat her food thats been sitting infront of her for hours.

" all that talking and now your dinner is cold mari" you chuckled as you got up from your seat shaking your head, the chair gently scratching the ground. At that she sighed before giving her food one look before refocusing on her conversation.

" and I want you to see what Wednesday and I made for our cooking competition i—" you rolled your eyes as you took away her plate and placed it in the sink.

" That's enough Missy, I've heard quite a lot in one night and for the past two weeks" it's true, every afternoon the only conversation topic was P.T.A meeting and Wednesday Addams. You honestly didn't mind but sometimes a little " so mom how was your day?" Or " today the lunch you gaved me was amazing thanks for making it" would be nice, but only on rare occasions were those phrases ever mentioned.

You quickly fixed her another plate of some chicken pasta before washing the remaining dishes that had been in the sink. You sneeked a glanced at mariam to see her giggling with her phone in her hand as her fingers typed swiftly across the keyboard, her food once again becoming cold.

You quickly turned around and with your soapy hands you snatched her phone away from her. She gasped turning her full body around to look at you with quite a perplexed expression.

" hey! I was texting Wednesday!" You shook your head and pointed at her food.

" eat, now. You'll need the energy to introduce me to this Wednesday" she smiled, doing as was instructed she began to stuff her mouth and not another word was mentioned until the plate that laid before her was cleared. When she was finished you took the plate and discarded the left overs.

" goodnight kiddo, please do get some sleep we have a very long day tomorrow and you won't wanna be dozing off at random points" you kissed her forehead before turning off the lights but leaving the dim ones on for her incase she maybe wanted to finish reading her book.

You threw on your robe around your pajamas then got into the comfort of your bed. You cuddled up in your duvet and not long after you weren't even aware when you had fell asleep.

The next morning went surprisingly smooth, you didn't have to rush mariam because she was already up two hours before you and she didn't speak a word about Wednesday. You both gathered all the necessary things and left the house.

You didn't really have a heavy breakfast because the school would be having a little parent and child meet and greet where parents and students can get to chat with food. Literally the part that mariam couldn't wait for, she was dying for you to breathe the same air as Wednesday.

When you both arrived at the school mariam practically flew out of the car.

" Come on mom! Your walking too slow Wednesday is probably wondering where I'm at" you held onto her hand as you both walked briskly through the crowded room. You were separated from your daughter when a young usher stopped you and gaved you small piece of pink paper with your seat number and seating section on it.

You were given only a small moment to catch your breath before mariam continued to drag you along to your seats. You placed your handbag down on your seat and pushed the small piece of paper into your pocket as you fixed your hair and lip gloss.

You scanned the room and your eyes were immediately hooked to the scene of mariam hugging this short pale girl. Her jet black hair was styled in two pigtails and her face frowned and eyebrows furrowed. Her uniform was not it's customary blue and black, no, it was grey and black. Her ankle high boots quite literally matched the aesthetic especially with her impressive mewing.

Maybe it was her smile, maybe it was was her choice of dressing or maybe it was the way she played off a very familiar serious face all to well. You were quickly snapped out of your trance when you heard mariam calling you from across the hall. Your eyes met hers as a small smile made an appearance on your face. Wednesday did a small gesture as mariam waved aggressively urging you to come.

The two looked every uncomfortable. If you had looked at them for the first time you'd think they were the cousins at the family reunion that were being forced to get to know eachother.

But Wednesday rather looked kind, she did hug mariam back regardless of her dark and gloomy appearance, with her hand on the lower part of mariam's back and a small smirk of her face. Something about her reminded you of someone... you just couldn't quite place your finger on it.

You chuckled before proceeding to walk over towards her.

" mommy this is Wednesday!" Mariam shrieked, doing a cute tiny jump before clasping her hands tightly together. The girl extended her hand and did a small bow. Before you could react, you noticed her necklace. It was a Obsidian Talisman with her initial engraved on it and you knew it well because you were also wearing one with your name initial on it.

Yours was a gift from your ex lover....

These necklaces are rare and hold a strong meaning, you weren't quite sure if others could get them that easily. Suddenly a wave of pure betrayal and utter regret shook you to your core, a shiver took over your body as a heartache you knew far too well struck you in the deepest depths of your heart. The touch of mortica's unsettling love burned your veins.

Your stomach did flips as your head slightly pounded. The feeling of the heartbreak still lingered within you, matter of fact it never left. You hadn't realized that you left Wednesdays hand hanging mid air. You reached beneath your shirt to touch your necklace — for comfort.

" mom? You ok?" Mariams voice brought life back to your body and just there you realize why you forced yourself to move on from mortica, so that you could love yourself and be the best mother possible to your daughter mariam. You couldn't allow yourself to fall, to return to that state of pure emptiness and guilt again.

You couldnt allow Mariam to see that side of you, what would she say? What kind of example would you be setting for her as a young teenager who hasn't even experienced love yet?. Mariam was the better version of you, the brighter, happier, less stressed, more energetic version of you. And you are so happy that you gaved birth to such a good person like mariam.

You nodded and looked towards Wednesday, who was standing there with a blank face as if nothing had happened. Before you could speak up and sincerely apologize to the young girl a voice asserted from behind you.

" Wednesday, there you are darling! I've been looking all over for you" a voice far to familiar to not recognize, and again that aching pain took over your body and you completely froze as you felt time stopped. Your throat felt as if something was cutting off your oxygen supply and your eyes slowly began to burn as they swelled up with tears. Your ears started ringing and you could have sworn that your vision got blurred.

You started hyperventilating as flash backs of you and mortica paced like rapid hot flashes across your eyes. The soft hand of your daughter gently wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to them.

" mom, seriously are you ok?" Mariam removed your bag and made space for you to sit.

" I'm fine mari , just a little headache" you laughed it off but you can tell that mariam was still worried. You both held an Intense eye contact for a while and again just as you were about to reassure her, Principal Weems spoke up.

" Greetings to all parents and to all of my extraordinary students, it's a pleasure to have you all with me this afternoon, I do hope you enjoy yourselves, also just letting you know you all have approximately fifteen minutes before we begin which we will start with our student honor ceremony" and with a twinkling of a honey coated smile and swayed hips larissa disappeared off the stage and into the distanceto greet more parents who were arriving.

You excused yourself leaving Wednesday and mariam to chat, you sped pass mortica faster than lightning not giving sparing her a glance.

You sighed as you stopped and leaned against the stone cold wall of the secluded bathroom hall way. The area was silent and well blocked out from any pass byers. You reached into your purse and took out your cigarette, lightning it you placed it between your lips and laid your head back against the wall. You closed your eyes and granted your mind permission to escape reality.

After a while you opened your eyes and gasped loudly as your hand quickly covered your chest, you can swear that your soul almost left your body. Standing on the other side of the wall was mortica. Black dress that almost showed her cleavage— as always and jet black hair straighten to it's thinnest layers. Her eyes gleamed as they bored into yours.

You scoffed before removing the cigarette from your mouth and throwing it into the nearest trash bin. She just stood there staring at you as if she wanted to you feel sorry for her, or maybe the other way around.

" didn't mean to scare you darling" she whispered under her breath so quietly that you almost couldn't hear, almost as if someone was listening. You rolled your eyes and kept avoiding eye contact with her.

" I'm not scared of you mortica" you said bitterly. She slowly took a step towards you. She analyzed you as if you were the world's most dangerous creature before taking another step.

" no one said you were darling, but i mean you did avoid me for almost two decades" she spoke, her tone was some what sorrowful but it sounded beyond sarcastic. With that your eyes snapped up towards hers.

" and who's fault was that?" You both stood still, no one moved, no one blinked, none of you breathed. The air temperature seemed to rise as the tension slowly became unbearably thick.

" look y/n don't say that as if I did something so horrendously terrible, it's been 17 years I mean I deserve atleast a bit of air—" you immediately walked up to mortica and pushed her.

" you made me question every possible reason as to why I couldn't be good enough for you! Question what larissa had that I didn't!" It was at this moment you felt all the lungs be pushed out of your lungs as a feeling of stored up pressure can be felt being released. You could feel the stinging sensation of your eyes as tears overflowed from them.

" you broke my fucking heart mortica! That's what you did, I tore myself apart for years because you walked out of my life when I needed you the most and you stand there and talk about air when i was the one who was suffocated!" You hadn't even realized that streams of tears were flowing down your face as your lips quivered.

And the look of pure hurt could been seen on morticas face, as if your words had stabbed her thousand times.

" i- I," taking a deep breath, then sighing she found the courage speak up. " y/n, I taught that I wasn't good enough for you, I was the kid with that bad grades, always getting in trouble, the bad influence, while you were always on all the scholarship list, joining after school clubs, getting honor awards, I felt like a burden to you."

" so that's your sad womp story as to why you cheated on me one week before our two year anniversary date? Oh mortica you are more pathetic than I thought—" she was going to cut you off but you spoke over her. Your chest rising and falling as you slowly started to hyperventilate again. The memories came back like hot flashes.

You froze.... is she being for real?.... that's her excuse....

" you are so unfair, mortica you knew that I loved you with every bone, every cell within me, and you knew I didn't care about the odds that stood between us! you are utter unbelievable!"

You did want a second chance with mortica.... so bad... to give her a chance to be who she didn't get to be, to do what she wished to do. But it was too late, and you've already been hurt enough. There was no second chances for a heart that hasn't even healed yet.

You both just stood there in dead silence.You both stared at eachother, the pain too much to bare with one's soul. You could hear your heart breaking like pieces of tiny glass shards.

You both had too many emotions for words to express. The weight of it all was too heavy, it was weighing you down, it has weighed you down all theses years and it's exhausting.

You knew if you let mortica back in there will be consequences and wounds will be reopened.... wounds that you fought so hard to close, just so that your daughter wouldn't grow up with a sadistic, numb mother that was dying from her heartbreak.

Mortica on the other hand wished she loved you sooner, better.... wished she had took other roads to fix how she felt about herself in the relationship. Instead of taking matters into her own hands and breaking the heart that she loved the most, the heart that she fell so desperately in love with. Because now you won't let her back in the mend it.

And she understood......

It would be selfish of her to ask for a second chance.....

And it would be foolish of you to give it to her....

You did love the small moments you got to spend with mortica. And you did cherish the memories you both made.

The days when you'd both buy ice cream just to lick it off eachothers nose.

The days you'd skip class, just so she could pretend to be your Romeo at the park for her theater practice.

The days when you both slept in and savored the cuddles while the rain sprinkled love and harmony outside the window.

The days you'd kiss til both your lips went sore.

You swallowed before sighing. You slowly walked closer to her, instantly feeling the body warmth you loved on the winter days. Her bitter sweet perfume that would burn your nose everytime she sat next to you in lab class.

She took a step closer to you, pressing all her body weight on you. You both locked eyes with one another. Your pupils deliate as your eyes glanced down to her lips and back up to her eyes. She got the message. She leaned in, with one hand wrapped around your waist and the other around your neck both your lips met in the dance of love for one last time.

Her lips were just as soft as you remembered them to be. She swiped her tongue across your bottom lip requesting entry and to which you granted. Your tongues gently and slowly twisted and interlocked with eachothers. And for the first time in a long time you remembered what love felt like, what her love felt like.

You remembered how safe and protected you felt in her arms, how cared for and loved you felt when she kissed you. You melted in her arms before pulling away. You both stayed like that for a minute, hugging eachother. Her skin against yours in the warm embrace.

" dont be a stranger darling, I don't wanna be a stranger in your life, if you need me for anything, I'm just a touch of an necklace away" she whispered before pulling away. You kissed her cheek and nodded.

You both returned to you seats to be there for your children and enjoy the afternoon. The food was great, the conversations were amazing, especially with mortica's silly jokes that never failed to make you laugh. Wednesday and mariam said their goodbyes and so did you and mortica. No longer holding on to any guilt or regrets you both went your separate ways.

It was like a fresh start, the one where your heart wasn't aching everytime you had memories of what you and her used to be.

Sometimes people come into your life to show you what love feels like, not to stay and in this is the hardest form of the word goodbye.

[helaintoloki]

Everybody Loves Somebody

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: slight language, themes of insecurity, angst, pining, slow burn (kinda?), eventual fluff, over 5k words in length

notes: it’s finally finished! this took forever but I swear I put my entire soul into making this as perfect as it could be. I’ve never used this format before in my writing and it was challenging but also super fun so hopefully you guys like it :) (also yes the title and the fic somewhat is inspired by the Dean Martin song)

summary: Thrown into a blind date against his will, Bucky does his best to prepare in the days leading up to Saturday night, a feat that proves to be much more difficult than expected thanks to his neighbor across the hall.

Sunday

Three quick raps on the apartment door force Bucky to kick back the covers and sluggishly rise from his spot on the floor. He’s exhausted, but his recognition of the evenly spaced knocks on the wooden frame has him feeling compelled to answer, and so he does. Too tired to notice the television is still droning on in the background, Bucky idly wraps his discarded blanket around his form to shield his vibranium arm before opening the door to greet the old man standing on the other side.

“Rough night, huh?” Yori greets with a knowing smile.

“Something like that,” he replies with a tired, lopsided grin. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I set you up on a date,” the man says casually, as if setting Bucky up on dates without his knowledge and against his will is a common every day occurrence, and it is. “Saturday evening at six.”

“What— A date? Yori—“

“She’s a nice girl, very pretty. I think you’ll like her.”

“Now hang on a minute,” Bucky tries to interject, but Yori is already halfway down the hall before the super soldier can get another word in.

“You’re meeting her at the Italian place down the street!” Yori calls behind him. “She likes sunflowers!”

The old man’s shouts are sure to have woken up the entire fourth floor by now, but Bucky is too busy trying to process the jumble of information that has been thrust upon him so suddenly and so early in the morning to care. The last date Yori had sent him on had ended in disaster; Bucky wasn’t ready to get back out on the field, a stable relationship wasn’t in the cards for him. Surely no one in their right mind would stick around once they found out the truth about the man, and if they did it would only be a matter of time before the constant nightmares and extra baggage that came with dating the ex-Hydra assassin sent them running for the hills. But Yori meant well, Bucky knew that, and he also knew he owed the man more than he could ever give him in return, so if sitting through another painfully uncomfortable date would make him happy, then Bucky would just have to suck it up, put on the nicest shirt he owned, and charm his way through another awkward dinner.

“Sunflowers,” he grumbles to himself, quietly shutting the door before returning to his spot on the cold hardwood floor.

Monday

Monday mornings are gym mornings, early workouts that start at five and end at seven. He promptly returns to the apartment building at seven thirty, eight if he stops for breakfast, then goes to check the mail before heading back to the comfort of his sheltered apartment. He doesn’t receive much other than grocery coupons and an odd letter from the government every now and then, but he’s been told that a routine is good, it’s healthy, so on Monday mornings at seven thirty—or eight— Bucky pulls out his keys and opens his assigned metal box with a sense of indifference.

It’s eight o’clock on this particular morning, and with a half finished cup of coffee in hand the soldier opens the little metal compartment to find nothing other than stray specks of dust and the tiniest of spiderwebs in the top right corner of the box. It’s a familiar sight, but Bucky has learned not to let it bother him by now. Remember James, it has nothing to do with you, his therapist always said. You have to learn not to take things personally.

“It has nothing to do with me,” Bucky murmurs quietly before finally shutting his mailbox with a sigh. Coffee cup discarded in the nearby trash can, Bucky turns to make his trek towards the elevator only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of a beautifully familiar face.

Your name is y/n, you live on the fourth floor, and for someone reason you’re always covered in glitter. You’re on your way out the door, art supplies held clumsily in your grasp just begging to jump free from your hold, and despite the rush you seem to be in you still greet the man with a polite smile.

“Good morning,” you chime, honey coated voice filled with warmth and kindness for the stranger. Bucky simply gives you a halfhearted smile in return, watching you walk out the door and wishing he could just muster up the courage to speak to you.

You won the soldier’s heart the day you knocked on his door to drop off a “welcome to the neighborhood” casserole. It had only been his second day in his new apartment, and while he knew some of the other tenants were weary of the mysterious man with the thousand yard stare who had decided to call the building a home, you never once seemed to bat an eye at Bucky or his closed off nature. He had been a little short with you upon your first meeting, his anxiety coming off as annoyance, but still you wore that same kind smile of yours and assured him that if he ever needed anything you’d be happy to help. You were a kind person with a big heart, and Bucky didn’t want to chance snuffing out one of the few lights left in the world, so he let you be. Admiring you from afar was all he let himself have of you, and that was it.

Though, Bucky would be lying if he said you didn’t come across his mind every once in a while. He wondered what you were like, what music you listened to, how you liked your eggs in the morning, if you were an old soul or young at heart, if you’d ever let yourself fall into in the arms of a broken man and help pick up the pieces. It was a pipe dream, but sometimes a friendly smile from you in the morning was enough to get Bucky through an entire day. He hadn’t been with anyone in years, and while he didn’t think he was ready to get back out on the dating scene just yet he knew that if you asked him to he’d take the plunge in a heartbeat. You were an angel, and Bucky would never be able to bring himself to taint you with his touch.

Monday mornings are workout mornings, but they’re also mornings with you.

Tuesday

On Tuesday afternoons Bucky often finds himself in the company of Yori, ensuring the old man stays out of trouble and going out of his way to make sure his newest friend has a nice day out on the town. It isn’t much, and it never will be, but it’s enough for now, at least until Bucky can find the courage to tell the father just what exactly happened to his son on that fateful night. But until then, sushi for lunch will have to do.

He makes his usual trek to the man’s apartment, stomach already beginning to rumble at the prospect of a nice crunch roll, but Bucky’s hunger is soon replaced with nerves at the sight of the woman standing in Yori’s doorway.

You look pretty today, hair haphazardly styled in your rush out the door this morning, colorful stains of dry paint adoring your hands that clutch a bundle of books close to your chest, and a dangly pair of earrings that glint underneath the sunlight pouring through the hallway windows. There’s a smile on your face as you nod along to something Yori says that doesn’t quite register in the soldier’s jumbled thoughts, and the two of you are both too engrossed to notice his lingering presence standing just a few feet away.

“Thank you so much for lending me these. The kids keep me on my toes and I haven’t had any time to settle down with a good book so these were perfect,” you utter gratefully, handing off the pile of poetry books to Yori’s awaiting hands. Names of authors that Bucky doesn’t recognize catch his eye, just as his friend finally catches his presence.

“Of course. I have more if you’re ever interested,” he says before finally addressing the elephant in the hallway. “James, there you are. I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.”

Bucky stiffens at the sound of his name, heat immediately crawling up his neck as you turn to him with a friendly smile. Clearing his throat, he steps forward and musters up a meager grin in return.

“Like I’d ever miss Tuesday lunch,” he jokes, a nervous chuckle falling past his lips.

“I guess I better get going. Thank you again, Yori,” you chime with a grateful smile. Then, with your attention turned to Bucky, “Have a nice lunch, James.”

“Thank you...” he trails quietly, mentally kicking himself for his stiff demeanor and wishing he could be less pathetic in your presence just once. Just once and he’d die a happy man.

You leave with a polite smile, turning down the hallway and out of Bucky’s grasp once again. Yori elbows his side.

“She’s single, you know.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Bucky replies with a wry chuckle. “You have me set up with one girl already.”

“Right,” Yori notes thoughtfully with a knowing smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes that Bucky can’t quite decipher. “I think you’re going to have a nice time on your date.”

“We’ll see,” is all he says in reply, your smile the only thing on his mind as the two men head out for the day.

Wednesday

Bucky has grown to love rainy days, days in which he can remain tucked away in the warmth and comfort of his own home with a relaxing mug of hot chocolate in one hand and some piece of pop culture media he has yet to catch up with in the other. Today’s pick is a book titled The Outsiders, and Bucky chooses to sit upon the windowsill to read the novel.

Gentle drops of rain trail down the glass window, pattering soothingly in a way that makes Bucky fear he may fall asleep. He sets the book aside with a tired sigh and glances out the window with his warm cheek pressed against the cool surface; the city is quiet and the streets nearly empty, and this makes it easier to spot you.

It’s almost as if you’ve been popping up out of nowhere lately, but Bucky never seems to mind. Watch from afar, that was the deal he made with himself, so who was he to complain if you made the task easier for him? He could never have you the way he wanted to because he doubted you’d ever want an unstable old man like him, and even if you did he’d be no good for you. He knew girls like you back in his day, girls with stars in their eyes and hearts on their sleeves, girls who’d melt in his arms whenever he so much as smiled at them. And yet you weren’t like any girl he’d ever seen; you were an enigma and he wanted nothing more than to spend all of eternity deciphering the mystery of you. But he couldn’t, because he shouldn’t, so he didn’t.

Despite the gloomy gray skies hanging above you there’s a serene smile on your face as you stop to admire the pots of sunflowers outside the building, reminding Bucky he has to buy some for his date on Saturday. God, he was dreading it. Bucky was sure whatever girl Yori picked for him would be nice enough, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes wish it were you he’d be taking out for a night on the town. A guy can dream, right?

You retreat into a nearby coffee shop when the rain begins to fall harder, and as Bucky turns to his own warm drink he finds that the mug is now cold. Book discarded, he rises from his spot on the windowsill and drowsily drags himself into the kitchen for another cup.

For a moment he thinks sunflowers might surely bring about his demise, and the passing thought brings the smallest of smiles to his face. Only time will tell.

Thursday

“How are you feeling about your date on Saturday?”

The woman stares at him expectantly, pristine notepad resting casually in her lap, pen in hand as a warning, eyebrows raised at the man as he stares down contemplatively at the stitching of his leather gloves. What should be a comforting environment instead only seems to put him on edge, and as the seconds tick by on the clock hung crookedly above the doorway her pen only seems to get closer to the blank page below her. Shoulders sagging, Bucky can only offer a small sigh in response.

“I can’t say I feel too great about it,” he finally says, the tension in his shoulders alleviating slightly as she finally puts the pen down.

“And why’s that?” Doctor Raynor prods curiously.

“I just don’t really think I’m all that ready for a relationship. What person wants to be with someone as screwed up as me?”

“The right person will,” Christina comforts. Your smiling face flashes briefly in his mind in response and he shifts in discomfort— the doctor notices. “But I don’t think you’re telling me the full story here, James. I suspect there’s something else that’s holding you back. Or maybe someone.”

“That obvious, huh?” Bucky retorts with a wry smile.

“Who’s the lucky person?”

“Her name’s y/n,” he says, your name falling past his lips in the softest tone Dr. Raynor has ever heard from him before. “I don’t know her all that well, but she lives in my apartment building so I see her around a lot. She’s... she’s really pretty.”

“Well, what is it about y/n that you like?”

Geez, where do I even begin?

“I don’t know,” Bucky shrugs, picking absently at a loose seam on the end of his shirt, “I guess I like how friendly she is. Every time I see her she’s always smiling, she always says good morning to everyone and lends a hand wherever she can. It’s like she goes out of her way to be nice to me, and I’m not really used to that but it’s a nice feeling. The first time I met her she never even flinched, she wasn’t scared like other people usually are, and even when I blew her off she still made it clear that I was welcome and if I needed a friend she’d be there. That’s the kind of person she is.”

“Did you take her up on that offer?” The woman asks, but by the look on her face Bucky is sure she already knows the answer.

“No...”

“James, we’ve talked about this,” Christina says firmly, “you have to stop closing yourself off from the people around you. Making a friend could really help you, especially if this girl is truly as nice as you say she is.”

“She is,” he reiterates firmly, “and that’s why I can’t be her friend.”

The doctor’s brows furrow with piqued interest at his admission, legs shifting underneath her as she gets comfortable in preparation for what will most likely be a heavy confession. “Can you elaborate for me?” She says. Bucky sighs.

“After everything that’s happened, and everything the world has been through, it just gets harder and harder to find some sort of light in the dark. So when you finally do find it, it’s like you have to do everything in your power to make sure it never goes out.”

“So y/n is a light?” Raynor reaffirms.

“For so many people,” Bucky nods, “and if I try to put myself in the picture I’ll only bring her down. There’s no future with me, and she deserves better than that.”

“How do you know that if you never put yourself out there?” The doctor asks softly, silently stunned by the heavy confession Bucky has entrusted her with; it’s the most he’s ever opened up before.

Pieces of the past dart through his mind, and in the midst of all the heartache and the chaos he sees Yori, the one friendship he’s been able to successfully maintain since his period of healing. The memory of the man is pleasant for a moment, until Bucky is reminded of the basis of their friendship and how one single confession will tear down everything they’ve built together. It doesn’t matter what kind of man he is now or how much control he has over his own life, the Winter Soldier will always have the final say, and nothing will ever change that. Finally, he speaks.

“I just do.”

Friday

“Crap.”

The softly uttered curse sounds from across the hallway and alerts Bucky of his struggling neighbor’s presence. Purse slipping off your shoulder and heavy groceries spilling from your arms, you struggle to maneuver your key into the lock of your front door all while the heat of embarrassment engulfs your body in a suffocating hold. You’re not as put together as you usually are, your belongings in disarray and eyes full of exhaustion rivaling that of his own, your usually meticulously picked clothing replaced by joggers and an old college sweatshirt that’s three sizes too big on you, and yet Bucky still finds himself frozen in your presence.

Don’t just stand there, help her you idiot, his mind screams at him, the soldier harshly swallowing down his nerves before taking shaky steps towards you. An orange slips out of the brown paper bag and rolls towards his feet, and Bucky takes it as his in into a conversation.

“Need some help?” He asks with a crooked smile, one that softens at the look of distress clear in your eyes as you meet his gaze.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” you breathe out before offering a meager smile of your own. “Some help would be great, thank you.”

Bucky takes the heavier bags of groceries from your aching arms and returns the orange to its rightful place, allowing you the chance to take your keys and unlock the door. You don’t spare him another glance as you walk in, leaving it open as a silent invitation for him to let himself in. Bucky swallows nervously but wordlessly follows behind; he’s never been in a woman’s apartment before, and the fact that it’s yours makes the experience all the more nerve wracking.

Your apartment is small but personalized, decorated with little knickknacks and houseplants and old family portraits that Bucky does his best not to stare at in fear of being rude, and the vanilla scented candle that burns on the coffee table makes him feel all the more welcome. You drop your purse by the couch with a tired sigh before directing your attention to the man who stands awkwardly in your living room. His hulking figure makes your apartment seem tiny, oddly comforting in a way, but you hold back your giggles and merely guide him to your kitchen.

“You can set them on the counter,” you say with a passive wave before reaching into one of the cabinets for a glass cup. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“No, thank you,” the man says politely as he settles the heavy bags down on the marble surface; as much as he’d like to sit and spend the evening with you, he can’t stay long, or more like he won’t allow himself to stay long. Your movements are clumsy as you down your glass of water, and Bucky looks away flustered as little droplets begin to escape the corners of your lips and dribble down your neck. “I hope I’m not overstepping by asking this, but are you alright? You seem a bit... flustered.”

“Is it that obvious?” You joke quietly, your smile barely reaching your eyes as you fidget with the sleeves of your sweater.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky begins to say in fear of overstepping, but you merely shake your head in response.

“I’m just a little stressed out. The kids always keep me on my toes, especially now that there’s more of them, and it’s been hard trying to get some of them to readjust.”

“Kids?” He repeats with furrowed brows. He can’t recall ever seeing you with any children, and there’s no sign of any living with you in your apartment. A genuine laugh leaves your lips this time at his response and Bucky tenses uncomfortably. Did he say something wrong?

“I’m a kindergarten teacher,” you explain with a smile, and everything clicks in Bucky’s mind then. That would explain the constant paint stains and trails of glitter left in your wake, the arts and crafts supplies and stacks of drawings you seem to carry with you everywhere. And here he thought your heart couldn’t get any bigger than it already was— were you even real?

“The effects of the blip have been really difficult for them. It’s hard having to come back to school and see that all your old friends are now five grades ahead of you. I know everyone has been impacted in some way by what happened, but it’s harder for the younger ones to understand. I’m doing my best to make the transition back to normalcy easier for them, but some days are harder than others, you know?”

“Sounds rough,” is all Bucky can manage to say, swallowing his emotions back harshly.

“Yeah,” you sigh quietly, rubbing away the clear exhaustion in your eyes, “but I’m trying my best.”

“Sometimes that’s all you can do.”

You smile then, a genuine smile, one that makes Bucky weak in the knees, and suddenly it’s as if all the weight has been lifted off of your shoulders.

“I really needed to hear that,” you utter softly, “thank you.”

“What are neighbors for?” Bucky jokes lamely, but you must like his sense of humor for you let out the quietest of giggles.

“You’re sweet. I like talking with you, but I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure you’re a busy guy.”

“Not really,” he shrugs with a crooked smile, “I just had some errands to run before tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” You ask curiously, brows raising with interest as Bucky awkwardly looks down at your hardwood floor.

“I’ve got a date.”

“Huh, no kidding. Me too,” you smile, and in response Bucky’s heart slowly begins to sink to his stomach. Yori had said you were single, but only an idiot would believe that someone like you could stay that way for long. Maybe if he had taken the doctor’s advice sooner he could be the one you’re seeing instead of the lucky guy that beat him to it.

“I should get going... I’ll see you around.”

“Thank you again for the help, and good luck on your date,” you say with an encouraging smile. Bucky swallows harshly in response, a look of longing in his eyes that he hides well with a meager quirk of his lips.

“You too,” he murmurs in response, casting you once last glance before showing himself out. The lock clicks behind him, and Bucky trudges back to his own empty apartment.

Saturday

The dining patio of the Italian restaurant is pleasantly empty, but the quiet stillness does little to help soothe Bucky’s nerves as he waits for the arrival of his date. He probably should have asked Yori what she looked like, what her name was and what she’d be wearing so he’d know what to expect, but the old man had been adamant on keeping the identity of his date a surprise.

“It’ll be better that way,” he had said, “trust me.”

The bouquet of sunflowers sits before him on the table almost tauntingly, their bright colors and sweet scent sending his senses into overdrive. He almost resented them, but then he thought of your smiling face through the window and the tension from his shoulders began to dissipate— if you could be strong and put on a brave face despite all the bad things that had happened in the world, then so could he.

“James?” A meek voice calls quietly, pulling the man from his thoughts. His blue eyes widen in surprise at the sight of the woman standing before him and he swallows anxiously.

“Y/n?” Bucky replies, quickly rising from his seat and cringing at the way in which the legs of the chair scrape harshly across the floor with his sudden movements. Here he thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful, and here you were proving him wrong with your cute little outfit and styled hair and charming smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for my date,” you explain with a sheepish smile. Bucky deflates— not only would he have to suffer through his own painfully awkward date, but he’d also have to sit and watch you get swept off your feet by someone else all in the same night.

“Oh... well, who’s the lucky guy?”

“That’s the thing,” you say with a nervous laugh, “I think you are.”

“Me?” Bucky repeats flabbergasted. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Yori was the one who said I should try dating again. He thought it would be good for me to spend some time with other adults since I’m always with my students, and when I said I didn’t really know anyone he told me he’d take care of it for me. All he told me was to come to this restaurant Saturday at six and look for the man with sunflowers,” you summarize before gesturing to the bouquet on the table, “and you’re the only one here with sunflowers so...”

A disbelieving laugh leaves Bucky then at the realization, and he isn’t sure whether he should jump for joy or wait for the ground below to swallow him whole. Finally he had a chance to spend time with the girl who had taken over his thoughts and occupied every available space in his heart, and yet he couldn’t help but feel terrified. A date was a big step up from neighborly conversation in your apartment, and all of Bucky’s hopes of developing something more with you were riding on this one date. Yori knew exactly what he was doing by setting the two of you up, and Bucky had no choice but to be grateful for the man who had bestowed upon him the chance to finally win you over.

“If this is too awkward for you we can just skip this whole date—“

“No, it’s not awkward at all,” Bucky is quick to interject. “I mean, this whole thing is certainly a surprise but it’s a good one. It’s an honor to be your blind date.”

He flashes a charming smile that makes you weak in the knees, and he knows then that he’s back in the game— who would have guessed he’d be able to dust off his old moves with such ease? He had to if he wanted any kind of chance at winning you over.

“In that case, why don’t we get out of here? This restaurant is a little stuffy,” you note with a small chuckle, your nerves slowly beginning to dwindle.

“Alright, what do you have in mind?”

The nightlife atmosphere of the plaza square is surprisingly much more comfortable compared to the dining patio, and Bucky considers himself the luckiest man alive to be able to witness firsthand the way your eyes seem to sparkle with the light of the starry sky. A nighttime stroll is right up Bucky’s alley, and you both fall into a comfortable step as you talk about whatever topic seems to come to mind. You speak of your students, about how much their smiling little faces have helped you get through the toughest times, how there’s a stray cat who calls the dumpsters behind your apartment building a home and waits for your arrival on trash days because you always bring the feline a special treat. Alpine, you had named it, and Bucky adored that greatly.

The details are vague but you enjoy the stories he tells you of his childhood and the way his whole face seems to light up at the mere mention of his mother and sister; that look dwindles slightly when he speaks of his old best friend, but you pretend not to notice. As a younger man Bucky worked at the docks before serving time in the army, though he fails to mention where he’d been stationed, and now he works for the government. You feel almost giddy to be learning so much about the man you once believed would rather prefer solitude over your company, and as the night drags on and the conversation begins to dwindle you almost wish you could reverse the clock and do it all over again.

“Thank you,” Bucky says after a moment of silence, prompting you to halt your steps and raise a brow curiously at your counterpart.

"What for?"

“Taking a chance on a guy like me,” he smiles faintly while offering you a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. “I haven’t really done anything like this in a while, and the idea of putting myself back out there scared me shitless, but you just make things so much easier. I guess what I’m trying to say is when I’m with you everything comes naturally, and I really appreciate that.”

“Oh,” you utter softly, a sheepish smile of your own gracing your lips as you turn away to admire the scenery around you. It isn’t until now that you notice you’ve stopped before the fountain, the arches of water flowing overhead illuminated by the fluorescent lights below them. A nervous fluttering occupies your stomach and when you finally meet Bucky’s gaze you feel as if nothing else in the entire world mattress other than the two of you in this moment. “Well, if it makes you feel any better I’m kind of in the same boat, so that just means we can figure this out as we go. Together.”

“I like that,” Bucky affirms with a nod, a look that can only be described as lovestruck taking over his features. Nerves overcome you then as you clutch your bouquet of flowers to your chest, heart thrumming rapidly in your rib cage as Bucky steps closer. The glove that had once shielded his right hand from the cold is now missing as he gently cups your cheek and encompasses you with his warmth. His palm is calloused and rough but comforting all the same, and it takes everything in your power not to melt like putty in his grasp.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs quietly as if raising his voice any higher will ruin the moment.

“Yeah,” you breathe shakily, swallowing back your nerves, “it’s okay.”

Your softly uttered words of confirmation are all Bucky needs to hear before dipping down and gently brushing his lips against your own. His movements are hesitant for only a moment, and it is only once he’s sure you are comfortable and secure that he moves in for more. Your lips are soft against his own, plush and warm and so sweet, and as your eyes begin to flutter shut and the forgotten sunflowers slip out of your grasp you drape your arms securely across his shoulders at the same moment in which his left hand joins his right in cupping your face as if you were a precious jewel in need of the upmost care.

Nothing exists when you are in each other’s arms, you are safe and sound in your own little world, and as you part to take a breath Bucky realizes then that one kiss is all he needs to know that you are the one he’s been waiting for all his life.

And by god, if you aren’t more than worth the wait.

[mrsmaybank]

My Little Sun - Spencer Reid x Reader

 It could not be heaven because her actions, her sounds and her intentions were the opposite of sanctity and purity: they were sinful. So bad and so good that you could get the two confused.

CW: MENTIONS OF KIDNAPPING, IMPLIED SMUT, AGE GAP, LANGUAGE, DADDY KINK. (LMK IF I MISSED ANY PLEASE)

PART ONE

PART TWO

A/N: Shiiit!!! Sorry this mediocrity took so long!!! Anyway, let me know if you want me to clear anything up and please let me know if you like it. Kisses <3

I had the right to be upset, but I knew I shouldn’t be. Hotch was right, I could not work the case nor was I in the state to. It was for my own good and maybe the sanity of the rest of the team. I was a mess. He “ordered” me to go get some sleep in the breakroom, knowing I would never agree to go home. But like always, I couldn’t sleep. That wasn’t unusual and my brain began me to torture me with a movie of my most recent memories. 

9 Days Ago 

Friday - 8:49 PM

“I waannt Thaiiii foooood!” Only she could make my heart melt while simultaneously whining and disagreeing with me. She tightened her grip on my hand, “Pretty, pretty please?”

“We had Thai last week.” I looked down at her as we continued walking down the streets. “And plus, you love the Greek place.” She pouted and continued to ramble about why Thai was so much better. Even complaining, her company was so comforting and calming that I was genuinely relaxed, despite the roars of taxi cabs and the indistinct chatter of drunk city goers. 

“Oh my god! Don’t look! Do not look left!” She skipped to my right, “Look-look at me!” I watched her skip around me and cling to my right arm before her little hands grabbed my face and pressed her mouth to mine. 

“Sweetheart,” I tried to get out of her grip but she cut me off by pressing her body to mine and continuing the frenzied kiss. As soon as she needed a breath, I spun in the other direction. “You’re a monster.” I grabbed her hand and we ran to it immediately. A life-size and functioning chess board under an array of colorful lanterns and vines. It was probably a contemporary art piece and I silently thanked whoever created it. I wrapped my arms around her as I excitedly admired it. “Why didn’t you want me to see this?” I whispered into the small of her neck. “Is it because I always beat you at chess?” 

She backed up from me offended, “You don’t always beat me!” 

I grabbed her once more, not liking the space between us. “If you took all of our games, looked at my wins and your losses, I’ve won 98% of the time.” 

“Yeah well…” she tiptoed and grazed her lips against mine, “I win 100% of the time.” I was confused, “At this.” She pressed her entire body to mine and finally kissed me.

“You,”

Kiss.  

“Don’t know,” 

Kiss. 

“What you’re,”

Kiss.

“Starting little,”

Kiss.

“Girl.” 

She grabbed my hand and twirled herself around just to fall back onto me. I caught her, just like she knew I would. I trusted her and she trusted me, and that was the best feeling in the world. “I love you.” I said, still supporting all her weight. 

She stood upright and gave me a light kiss. “I love you so much Spencer.” 

I couldn’t see anything in the world but her. “I would do anything for you.” 

She perked up with a sneaky glint in her eye, “Would you eat Thai two weeks in a row?” She grinned. 

I sighed. She won. “Yeah,” I pushed the hair out of her face, “I would. Let’s go get some.” 

“If..” she rolled her eyes, “We play on the walk back.” I motioned to the board. “I’ll go easy on you.” 

“You’re on Dr. Reid.” she snarked back. 

8 Days Ago

Saturday - 2:31 PM

Saturday was one of those stereotypical rainy days where the world seemed slowed. The pitter patter of the raindrops and the light music of her favorite record created a symphony of other-worldly peace for me. I left our room, and there she was, my perfect girl sitting criss crossed at my desk. I perched over her, laying a sweet kiss on her cheek. 

“So..I was thinking macaroons…” she scrolled through different catering sites, “But cupcakes are a must too.” I watched her plan in adoration. Never in my life had I been so sure of anything. But I wanted to marry this girl and spend every last day of my life like this one and there was no question about it. It was that simple. 

“Spence?” she broke me out of my lovelorn daydreams of growing old together.

“Yeah?” I answered. 

“Chocolate or red velvet? There is one right answer.” her eyes narrowed. 

“Oh,” I knew exactly what she wanted me to say, “Red velvet. All the way.” 

“You really are a genius.” She teased and began to scribble ‘Red Velvet’ on the small notebook next to her. I looked at the list of random little things she’d written down in preparation for the day. It assured me she was just as infatuated with the idea of a future together as I was. I sighed, “Even your handwriting is cute.” 

“Duh..” she retorted and I rolled my eyes, “Can I read you the food list?” I gently lifted her off the desk seat, “You can read it to me on the couch maybe?” 

She nodded and grabbed her notebook. I sat first, and she took the opportunity to crawl in my lap. It’s like our bodies were made for each other because she just fit so perfectly there. 

“For the dessert table, hazelnut, pistachio and vanilla macaroons. From the French bakery in downtown. Obviously.  Red velvet cupcakes from that bakery JJ told me about. Remember the ones she ordered for her baby shower?” I nodded. “Those.”

“White chocolate macadamia nut cookies, and if I get my way..”

“You always do.” I teased. “Yeah, and don’t forget it.” she smiled, “Tiny little cheesecake squares.” 

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” I said. “Of course! A lot of tiny desserts are waaay better than one big cake.” 

“And more sanitary.” It was her turn to sigh.

“Yes yes, and more sanitary.” She laid her head in my chest and closed her eyes.

 “I told Penelope we’d meet her at the restaurant at 3.” 

“But it’s raining!” I complained. Truthfully, I just didn’t want this moment to end. She gave me a look and I stopped my protests. “Y’know if we order an Uber instead of taking the metro, we might have time to take a nice…” her words purposely trailed, “Long...hot shower.” She didn’t really have to say much else, batting her eyelashes to give this heart wrenching illusion of innocence. I wasn't buying it. Then, being way too coy for her age, she ran her hands up my chest and flashed me a coquettish grin. It was textbook but, goddd. Her smile alone turned me on to an extent it shouldn’t. 

I let her off my lap and stood up instantly, grabbing her hand and leading her to our bathroom. “Now.”

7 Days Ago 

Sunday - 9:22 AM 

The view convinced me I had died and arrived in heaven. I had to be. Where else but heaven does an angel perch themselves on your lap? No, though. It wasn’t heaven. It could not be heaven because her actions, her sounds and her intentions were the opposite of sanctity and purity: they were sinful. So bad and so good that you could get the two confused. 

She kissed down my neck and I swore my heart would burst out of my chest. She paused and sat up to say “When was the last time we got a whole weekend together like this?” 

I rubbed her arms up and down, “I can’t even remember.” 

“Me neither.” She kind of sounded like she wanted to say something else, but I didn’t really care, kissing her open mouth and rocking my hips up to hers. She was panting by the time my hands met her chest. “Please,” she whined, “Daddy, please.” 

She had no idea what she was asking for but I did. So I gave it to her. 

I would give her anything. 

6 Days Ago 

Monday 7:02 AM 

“Bye baby.” I kissed her still bed-headed hair. 

“NOooo!” she tried to pull my satchel back into her mess of sheets. 

“I’m sorry.” I sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. She curled her head into my lap and I caressed her forehead. 

“You have class today.” I felt her twitch, “An important one. You should eat a good breakfast.” 

“I know.” she said sadly. I registered that the sadness was less about class, and more about the fact we both knew this was goodbye for at least a couple days. Time spent together was bliss and days apart were agonizing, regardless of how important both of our responsibilities were. 

“Hey, think about what a good weekend we had.” I gently reminded her. 

“I know but now you’re gonna be gone.” The pain in her voice brought me the kind of sorrow that you didn’t wish upon your worst enemy. 

“Not for too long, little girl.” I kissed her forehead again, “I promise.” 

She got up and sighed, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

I wish she wouldn’t do that, but I couldn’t blame her either. 

“I’m sorry.” She just shook her head. 

“Don’t be. Go save some lives Dr. Reid.” there was a gentle smile on her face as she said the words, “I’ll be right here when you get back.” I enveloped her in a hug with nothing but love, and she still couldn't resist teasing me, “Or maybe drunk at a Frat house, I don’t know.” 

My eyes went wide and the thought immediately gave me anxiety, “Please, do not. Do you know-” She shut me up with a kiss and I silently thanked her for it. “I love you Spencer. I’ll see you soon.” “I love you more.” I got up and headed for the door, “Sooner than later, okay?” 

She nodded, “Okay.” 

3 Days Ago 

Wednesday 2:10 AM 

I silently stepped through the apartment, relishing in the stillness that meant just maybe, my begging Y/N not to waste sleep over me had worked, but I still doubted it. Her listening to my instructions was like a solar eclipse: disappointingly rare. 

As soon as I made it to the bedroom though, I was pleasantly surprised. She was asleep, but not yet under the covers. Poor thing had tried to stay up, but couldn’t. As much as I wanted to instantly smother her in affection, I restrained myself only to admire the sight of her in nothing but underwear and a grey cardigan of mine. She’d only done a single button too, obscuring the direct view so her figure was just barely covered. It was incredibly attractive and she knew it.

I began to undress, trying to remain silent as I exchanged my tie and vest for pajama pants and the Caltech sweater on the dresser. I didn’t wear it much before she did. In fact, I’d only started wearing it because despite it being 5 sizes too big for her, she adored it. For the first couple months of knowing her, it was the only thing she slept in. And because of that, it smelled like her perfume. Nestling myself into bed next to her, I wrapped my hands around her waist and pulled her close, while trying to gently pull the sheets out from under her. 

“Get under the covers.” Her eyes fluttered open, “Spence...Spencer?” She smiled, “Spencer!” 

She buried herself impossibly closer to my chest, arms and legs wrapping around me like a…

“You’re like a panda.” I laughed. She giggled, “You’re bamboo.”

“Are you calling me a stick-skinny? That’s hurtful, y/n.” We laughed harder until I couldn’t stop myself from kissing her. The kisses were long and sweet as we both savored the reunion. She tugged on the sweater I wore, “Why are you wearing my sweatshirt?” I brushed some hair out of her face. “It was mine first.” She rolled her eyes, “Pff...did you even go to Caltech?” She was trying so hard to control laughter, “Poser.” 

She laughed as I’m sure despite silence from me she could hear my internal screaming. 

Her laughter finally ceased when my grip on her got looser and my eyes hung a little lower. “Sleepy?” she asked. 

I nodded and so did she, “Me too.” We got under the covers together. 

“Hold me.” she hummed. “Hotch give you guys the day off tomorrow?”

“Yeah, recuperation. The case was...rough.” 

“You guys catch the guy?” she asked. 

I nodded, “Yeah.” “That’s amazing Spence. You’re so amazing.” I held her tighter. 

“I love you.” I said. 

“I love you too. Now go to sleep.” And so I did. 

2 Days Ago 

Thursday 6:30 PM

“It did indeed. You’ve become my solnyshko moyo.”

“Tell me that’s Russian dirty talk.” She said with a grin.

“It’s better. It’s a term of endearment you’ve become the epitome of.”

“And what’s that Dr. Reid?” she giggled.

“My little sun. You’ve become my little sun. Following me around and bringing light and warmth.” She snuggled herself impossibly closer into my chest, wrapping one of her legs over mine.

“Except for your feet!” I shrieked at her freezing toes meeting mine.

“They’re not that cold you big baby!” she shouted.

I laughed and kissed her sweetly, “I am not the baby here.” I said.  

“Please,” she started until I interrupted her with a kiss, “If you’re not the baby,” I kissed her again, “That implies I’M the baby,” Kiss, “And I’m not a” Kiss.

“Shush baby.” I told her, but like always, she didn’t listen, instead sitting up to straddle me. My appreciation for her beauty was like how a prisoner appreciates freedom, and yet it was miniscule into what I found in her character. It blew my mind that a girl so perfect existed.

“Rarely do great virtue and beauty dwell together. Francesco Petrarch.” I started, my hands making their way onto her hips, “That makes you a rarity.”

“You’re spoiling me with nice words today Spencer.” “You’ve spoiled me. My frontal lobe is spoiled milk.” She laughed, wondering how I was going to manage to make this one romantic.

“That’s the part of the brain responsible for sensibility and logical thinking, and you, little girl, have positively ruined it. You make me stupid.”

“I ruined the genius Dr. Reid with the 187 IQ? Makes sense. I’m like, way smarter.”

“You are. So, so much smarter.”

“I want that in writing.” she poked my chest.

I pulled her down and kissed her forehead to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance.”

She pushed herself away and rolled her eyes at me like a bratty child does her nanny, and I continued, “ You’re smarter, but I’m more educated. I have more doctorates than you have years in university.”

“Whatever…”

I brushed the hair away from her perfect face, “You tired baby?”

She sighed and laid down, splaying herself on my chest, laying on me like I was the duvet. “Very.”

I held her impossibly close, breathing in her scent and counting every time her heart thumped, her bpm said she was relaxed. Oh god, I wanted her like this forever. Relaxed in my arms, where nothing could touch us but each other.

Present Day 

Sunday 11:45 PM

How did it all seem so incredibly long ago? The BAU break room couch was definitely not made for sleeping, and yet Hotch had insisted I come try to get some rest. What was the use? How was I supposed to rest knowing that Y/N was out there in so much danger? I couldn’t rest until we found her, everybody knew that. 

Morgan came rushing into the tiny room, “Garcia’s got a hit. Her father left her 3 of his commercial properties, one of which is an abandoned mall.” 

I wasn’t allowed to work on the profile, but this was, for lack of a better word, a clear trap. “Morgan, it can’t be that easy. We both know that.” 

“Kid, she’s having a psychotic break. Everything about this is disorganized. It wasn’t planned at all. It’s not that much of a stretch to say she’d go to a secluded place she figured we’d never find.”

“Was there a second stressor? JJ and I thought it might’ve been the proposal but…” 

“Reid, I’ll brief you in the car. Get your shit together and let’s go get Y/N.” 

----

Taglist: @slaterskaterslaterboi @frickin-bats @bxtchboy69​  @reidsbbg

@sassy-hades @jackiehollanderr @k-k0129 @spenceoffense​

(Comment to be added)

[dani-escribe]

A Place To Call Home

Chapter 1 

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F! Reader 

Wordcount: 1,594 

Summary:  Who would have known that a day at the art museum could lead to meeting an extremely handsome FBI Agent ;)

Warnings:  An incredible amount of fluff (seriously, like cotton candy level). SLOW BURN (buckle up for the ride!). Reader is a pediatric nurse, so a few mentions of kids and medical procedures in later chapters. 

A/N:  Thanks so much for reading and I really hope you like it! This is my comeback into writing and I am honestly so excited to keep writing this series. After watching the Mentalist and seeing how it ended I wanted to give our precious Marcus a happy ending (this is totally self-indulgent bc why not!). I want to thank @lowlights @fastandfeminist @wbl75 for being my beta readers and for all of their support. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :) 

Read here on ao3 

You didn't know what possessed you to go visit the art museum on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, but you’re sure glad you went. You hadn't really had time to go to many museums in the last couple of years and wanted to really take in the experience. You’d been walking around looking at all of the intricate paintings and reading the descriptions of each one to try to understand what they were about when you saw a man that fit right in with the artwork. His pensive stance and deep brown eyes drew you in right away. 

He was reading the description of the painting in front of him. He let out a short stifled laugh as if he knew something more about the painting that wasn't included in the description. The grey suit and black tie he was wearing made you wonder if he might be here on a date with someone or if he worked here. You were truly hoping that it was the latter of the two.

 When you noticed that you had been staring at him for a creepy amount of time, you started to turn away, and in that exact moment he seemed to catch your eye. The way that he smiled made it seem like the world stopped for a short second. Before your flirty gaze turned into an awkward stare, you gave him a smile back and retreated to look at other artwork. 

Walking around the other exhibits and looking at the sculptures and canvases from different time periods you began to think about all the wonders that you missed moving around as a kid. Your parents were teachers/potters and their jobs came with the occasional relocation to different places. They said that while teaching was their passion, ceramics had been their first true love. This meant that while you were usually in a stable place for a few years, during summer you and your sibling moved around with them to sell their art in different fairs. While you had seen and sold a lot of different types of art over the years, you never really had much time to appreciate it. 

Your parents had been incredible in providing for you, and had only moved to ensure you had the best opportunities; but you always wondered about the experiences that you missed while being in a hurry to assimilate for half of your life. You knew that their teaching jobs didn't pay much, and that they used the money they got from their art to help cover the bills. This is why you had decided to move close to your family after starting a job at a local hospital in order to find a permanent place for yourself, a place that you could call home. 

After making sure to see all of the exhibits at least once, you walked out of the museum with a sense of satisfaction: one, because you felt like you were catching up on lost time, and two, because of the interaction that you had had with a handsome stranger. 

One of the best things was that the drive back to your new apartment from the museum, and pretty much everything else, was only about 5 minutes (10 if you counted traffic during rush hour). This also meant that everything was within walkable distance, which was also good because you sure as hell needed to start buying some supplies if you were going to clean up the pile of unpacked boxes at your new apartment. 

As the night went on you were able to get most of your unpacking done, and you thought back to the stranger with those big brown eyes and gorgeous smile. He had a kind smile, one that made you feel like you could trust him, which was rare in a man you had just met. God, not only that but the suit that he had on made him seem like he was straight out of a James Bond movie. While putting away the last of your clothing, the blue scrubs that you had bought for your new job fell from the pile that you were carrying. This was enough to snap you out of your train of thought. You really needed to focus on thinking about that instead of daydreaming about a person you haven't even talked to, even if he had some of the cutest dimples you had seen. After trying to get him out of your thoughts unsuccessfully, you figured that it was either stressing about your new job or thinking about him. Ultimately you decided that a little daydreaming couldn't hurt too much. You wondered if you would ever see him again, and hoped that by some twist of fate you would. 

--- 

With your job starting today you figured it would be a sign of good comradery to bring your new coworkers some coffee from the cute diner down the street. Also, you found social interactions to be quite tricky at first and an ice breaker couldn't seem to hurt. Plus who doesn't like free breakfast, especially on a Monday morning right? 

As you got dressed in your blue scrubs you headed for the door a whole hour early to avoid being late and to try to make a good impression. Making sure to note as you entered the diner to grab some scones or muffins for those who don’t like coffee, you accidentally stumbled into the man exiting with his coffee. The splash drenched his tie and shirt, only leaving his pants unscathed. Starting to profusely apologize and grabbing a handful of napkins to clean up the mess, you almost missed the fact that the brown eyes that were looking at you right now were the same ones that had held your gaze in the museum. 

“I am so sorry, I can totally pay for your dry cleaning,” you gasped, both out of embarrassment and amazement that you were seeing the gorgeous stranger that had plagued your mind for the past couple of days. 

“No worries at all. I actually needed an excuse to get out of wearing this tie that I got as a gift last year, so to think of it you really saved me,” he let out a chuckle. Now that you're looking at it, it is a very… bold choice of clothing. It was a striped neon tie with pink and orange interchanging lines. 

“I got it as an office exchange party gift and now have the perfect excuse to change out of it.” Those killer dimples were showing along with the smile he gave you that helped to put you at ease. 

“Well at least let me replace your coffee,” you said with a laugh at his honesty. 

You went back inside to pay for his and your coffee orders and got to talking a bit before your orders were out. 

“So what brings you around here, besides the coffee of course. I haven't really seen you here before,” he stated as he moved slightly closer to hear your answer over the clinking of cutlery and dishes. 

“Oh I actually just moved near here. I’m starting today at the nearby hospital as a pediatric nurse. ” His proximity made you suddenly aware of how tall he was. He had at least a few good inches on you, and he leaned in to listen when you spoke. This didn’t help with your already flustered state to say the least. 

“That sounds really exciting, congrats! The closest I get with kids at my job is the ones on an oil painting,” his eyes crinkled a bit as he laughed. 

“Yeah, I totally understand. Little kids are such a wonder but working with them is not for everyone,” you chimed in with a bit of a laugh “Are you a curator then, is that why you were at the museum the other day?” You asked with a hope that he hadn't been there with anyone as a date. 

“Oh no, I actually work with the FBI. I’m in the art crimes division. I was doing research on a new case which is why I was down in the museum. Some inspiration never hurts.” Now it was your turn to be amazed. You didn’t actually think he would be an agent like James Bond, but you weren’t complaining. 

“I guess it doesn't hurt that it's really close to here too huh.” You added noting that it was a bit serendipitous to have met him twice in a few days within the same five mile radius. 

Just as you were about to say something else your name was called and your orders came out. When you were about to turn to leave he called to you. 

“I never did get your name,” he noted before heading out. 

You told him your name and he repeated it in a way that made it seem like he was trying it out. 

“And I feel like the least I can do is learn the name of the person who I so viciously attacked with a coffee cup.” You stated as you gave him a sheepish smile.  

He let out a short laugh and replied, “The name of the person who you saved from having to continue wearing a highlighter tie is Marcus.” You shook your head at his joke and turned to leave. 

As you grabbed the door handle you took one last look back and said “hope to see you around, Marcus.” You waved and parted ways to head in for your first day of work.

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream VII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 034

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave; They fuck with the rain like a soundtrack behind them, like a song that swells and stretches, telling their story, but you're so brave; stone cold crazy for loving me; yeah, I'm amazed; i hope you make it out alive, a song that rises and rises, that sounds too good to be real, that might destroy you, but only in the best way. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Brave

Broken hearts are made for two

One for me and one for you

Tell me have you heard the news

We are now in love

Fall break from school is scheduled during the last three days of the last week of October. Before she can take some time off, Iris has midterm articles to write and grade. Barry is busy testing DNA samples or whatever it is CSIs do so they don’t see each other for several days after he leaves her house the morning after Wally’s party.

On the Wednesday of Fall Break, the first day off, Iris lets herself sleep in until almost 10, and then she packs up her bag, stuffing a notebook, a couple of pens, and her laptop in, before dressing comfortably in a pair of dark leggings, and a white oversized CCU hoodie she stole from her brother. Throwing on a pair of white low-top Chuck Taylors, Iris heads out to Jitters. It’s a rainy day, and other than workers who’ve no choice, not many people are out. A storm is brewing for later in the night, the sky dark and cloudy, but for the moment, it’s just a steady rain that has Iris walking carefully to her car and driving a lot slower, thanking her lucky stars that she finds a parking spot right in front of the coffee shop.

Back in high school, especially once her dad had gotten her a used car during the beginning of senior year, Iris and Linda would come to Jitters to do homework or stare at the college boys who would come in. The coffee shop has expanded since then, buying the small antique store that had been next door and adding more seating and a bar that specializes in alcoholic coffee brews. It’s still one of Iris’s favorite places to work because now the manager is a young Black woman with wild curly hair always dyed in one bright color or another and a soft spot for mid to late 90s R & B female singers. The shop is comfortable, with couches and overstuffed chairs in mismatched browns and beiges and blues set up near the walls and windows and several tables, two- and four-tops, taking up the space in the middle. Two of the walls are exposed brick and the others are painted stark white and feature framed prints in wild colors. It’s changed since she was a child, but Iris likes to think that she’s changed with it, that as this integral part of Central City has grown and added light and color and comfort, so too has Iris.

Today, her plan is to outline at least two entire stories from interviews she’s completed over the last couple of weeks before she even thinks about leaving the coffee shop. She settles into one of her favorite spots, a soft navy armchair behind a small circular table. She sets up her laptop, her notebook with her notes, her pens, and once a waiter drops off her brown sugar latte and a chocolate muffin, she lets the sound of the rain, and the Erykah Badu playing on the speakers, get her into her work.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Iris looks up just as Barry stops beside her. She’s been at Jitters for just over three hours now, and her shoulders are cramped and she’s coffee high and hungry. The rain is still pounding down, so hard that it looks like it’s raining sideways, and Iris curses her inability to get any work done in her own home. Besides all that, she’s reeling. She’s just outlined a story of a man explaining the story of the woman he’d loved his entire life: from growing up together in a small city in North Carolina, to becoming best friends and de facto siblings when his parents died and her dad agreed to foster him; from not dating but seeming like it in high school, to falling for other people in college; from having other spouses and children to one night of passion before they found their way back to each other when she decided to leave her husband after his wife died. It was a ride from start to finish, such a roller coaster of feelings—of love and pain and joy and heartbreak—that make Iris feel a bit heavy with them, a little loopy with them.

Barry stands to the side of her, towering above her, in as simple an outfit as what she’s wearing, a pair of black joggers and a white sweatshirt. She’s startled that he's there because she figures that he should be at work, but her heart does tick up at the sight of him. That is, until she lets her eyes rake over his lean frame. He looks a little...down, like a physical manifestation of the story she’s just outlined. His hair is messier than usual and his eyes aren’t carrying their usual sparkle, in addition to the darkening bags that frame them. He’s also a little stubbly, his jaw covered in a fine layer of coarse hair, his pallor a bit ashen.

(Iris will also admit that she thinks he looks sort of, well, good, like this; but that’s neither here nor there and she feels terrible—and maybe a bit perverted—that she’s lusting after him when he’s obviously going through something.)

“Hey,” she responds softly, and she stands up to assess him further. He seems so much taller than her like this, when they’re both in sneakers. She hasn’t seen him since the morning after Wally’s party a week ago when he dropped her back off at her car after spending the night at her place. They’ve talked a bunch and FaceTimed once, but she’s missed him. She reaches up into his hair, rubbing at his scalp a little until his eyes close and he lets out a soft little moan. She keeps at it and then touches gingerly at his face, at some of the moles dotting his cheeks, at the stubble he’s grown. He reaches up to stop her, eyes still closed, and it startles her a little bit. She goes to pull her hand back, but then he holds on to her wrist to bring her hand down and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

She’s never seen him like this. He’s always so open and, maybe not happy, but never so melancholy. There is always a pep to his step, as her grandma used to say, a smile on his face that always said that he feels some sort of contentment in his life. And obviously, people are allowed to have days like this. But it does something to Iris, to see him this way. She wants to lash out at whoever has made him look like this, like he’s drowning in emotions that he can’t easily pull himself out of.

“Bear, you okay?”

He nods, a little woefully, and he catches her eyes again. She bites at her lip as she stares back at him and, on impulse, she leans up to kiss him. It’s just a little more than a peck, something to tell him that she’s there with him; but he takes it a step further, kissing her harder, biting at her lip enough that there’s more pain than she’s expecting. She moans at him and he pulls back, breathing labored.

“I’m sorry,” he speaks. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s fine,” she says. “You didn’t hurt me. Well, a little, but I didn’t hate it.”

That gets a more real smile out of him, and he thumbs at her bottom lip. “Hmm, I guess my good girl is a little bad.”

Iris rolls her eyes and gives him a look, sobering for a minute. “Bear, what’s up? You okay?”

He doesn’t answer her question. Instead, he nods at her table and asks, “you get a lot of work done?”

She eyes him, wanting to ask again. But she knows how she is when she doesn’t want to talk about something and so she lets it go. For the moment.

“Yeah. Or, at least, I’ve done most of what I set out to do.”

He nods, casts his eyes out of the glass, looking at the rain for a moment, watching it fall in heavy sheets. Normally, Iris likes the rain. It’s soothing and she enjoys how it makes the world take a moment to slow down. When she was a little girl, her grandma (her dad’s mother who grew up somewhere at the bottom of Georgia) used to say that when it was raining, and particularly when it was storming, that the Lord was doing His work and that it was the time to be still. They’d have to sit quietly, usually with the TV and the lights off, and just be. And while life doesn’t allow her to drop everything because it’s started raining, there is always a hushed feeling that comes over her when it rains, something tranquil, but also a little turbulent, a little uncontrollable, quite like the very rain she’s reveling in.

“Wanna come over?” he wonders, voice unsure.

She nods readily. “Okay, yeah. Sure.”

He goes to return her mug and plate while she packs her bag back up. He meets her at the door, opening up a large umbrella and throwing an arm over her shoulder to lead her out into the rain. She walks with him past her own car as he takes her a short black away to where his Jeep is parked. He helps her into the Jeep first, watches as she tucks her bag under the seat, and then closes the door before walking around to the other side.

They ride to his house in silence. He lives far on the south side of town, a good twenty or so minutes from downtown if they hit the highway. Instead, he takes the streets, adding another ten minutes to their drive. Iris doesn’t mind; as she said, she likes the rain, and in this big Jeep, tires sluicing easily through the flooding roads in a way her car definitely can’t, she’s enjoying the ride. He had silently connected her phone to his car’s Bluetooth, so she took it to mean that the music choices were hers. She contemplates finding something that he might like, but she figures he likely wouldn’t even be paying much attention. So she decides on one of her slower playlists, ones with songs that dip and fade, that take listeners on a journey of highs and lows, and she lets it play. The lyrics tell too much, so i guess that i should mention; that i am in no condition; to put you in this position; i might fuck this up, although with the heavy weight on Barry’s shoulders right now, she can’t tell if she’s talking to him or vice versa.

He takes them past one of the major shopping districts in the city, past the Apple store and the Michael Kors shop and the one restaurant her dad took her to when she graduated college where pasta dishes run nearer to forty dollars. These shops, and the nicer mall and a couple business buildings that rise as tall as those downtown, lead into longer stretches of road where trees interspersed with beige or cream apartments begin to take up where businesses once stood. He turns into the familiar subdivision that she remembers; it’s a little older than some, which makes sense if his parents were able to buy and pay it off before they were gone. That also means that none of the houses are the same cookie-cutter versions that tend to make up most subdivisions these days, where houses are identical save for the color and the trim and what children’s toys litter the front yard.

He presses a button on his visor and the garage opens as he maneuvers the car so that he can back up into the driveway. He stays in the driveway, though, the music cutting out—but whatever the case, you're my favorite mistake; more than happy to make you—when he turns the ignition off. She waits for him to come around with his umbrella and he half picks her up to pull her out, holding on to her as he walks her through the garage.

She’s as quiet as he is, taking in her surroundings, trying to get a better sense of who he is by what he’s got going on in his house. There isn’t much in the garage; there are a bunch of boxes neatly stacked on one wall, a couple bicycles in another corner. There is a wall full of tools and a couple tables that have science looking tools on them, like a microscope and several bunsen burners and petri dishes, though nothing looks as if they’re currently being used.

He leads her through a door that opens up into the kitchen as he presses another button to close the garage. His house is as cute on the outside as it is on the inside, although she wonders how he might feel if she were to call it cute. The kitchen is large, done in white, gray, and green, with steel appliances, gray marble countertops, and the look of a place that doesn’t get a lot of use. They both stop to toe their shoes off right outside of the kitchen where a couple other pairs of Barry’s shoes lie. His living room is pretty big: a wide space that features a real stone fireplace as the focal point and a large screen television situated above it; a huge sectional in a slate gray with a few throw pillows; and a big square wooden coffee table. It’s masculine and clean without being gaudy or too bro and Iris wonders if he did this himself because even if she never knew her, she doubts a woman who loved flowers as much as his mother would decorate her living room this way.

The dark curtains on the windows are open wide and Iris can see the backyard but the rain coming down in sheets keep her from being able to make out much besides the patio with what looks like a grill and wicker furniture. Iris remembers being told that his dad had been a doctor and his mom some sort of university researcher and the house matches that.

Barry lets her hand go to tug his sweatshirt off, revealing a plain white t-shirt that rises up over his taut belly. She doesn’t avert her eyes, giving herself permission to track how the sweatpants hang off his slim hips and how he isn’t so much sculpted as he’s hard and tight, with just the beginnings of abs. He catches her staring and he smirks at her before dropping down in the corner of the couch, one leg spread out along the seats of the chair.

“Come here,” he tells her, and she moves toward him, sitting so that her back is pressed against that hard chest and his arms are wrapped around her. She grabs a hold of his forearm with both her hands and settles her head in the crook of his elbow. She’s surrounded by his scent, lemongrass and clean cotton, and for a while, the only sounds are his breathing and the pounding of the rain. He touches her, the hand she’s not holding on to stroking up and down her thigh. Her leggings are pretty thin and she feels his touch fully; if she concentrates enough, she can feel those beloved calluses on his hands. He rubs his hand towards the juncture of her thighs and then over her hip and then back again, and like always, his touch ignites something in her, even as she’s wondering how she might be able to help him out of whatever funk he’s found himself in.

“You ready to tell me what’s up?” she wonders a while later.

“Hmm,” he hums, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Not yet. Tell me about your day.”

She shifts so that she can look back at him, noting the way his eyes have darkened a touch, become grayer like the sky outside, and it’s different from the bright blue-green she remembers from the day of the festival or the wicked blue-gray they always are right before he pushes hard into her.

He blinks down at her and licks his lips slowly. It’s not an explicitly sexual act, even if her body thinks it looks that way, and Iris finds herself lost in it, in whatever he’s emanating. It’s erotic in that it’s intimate, a whirlwind of whatever hurt made him seek her out at Jitters, of whatever still lies unexplored between them, of the attraction that doesn’t ever seem to dissipate.

When she pulls herself out, she tells him, “I was working on a story today. One that made me feel a little bit like how you might be right now.”

“Yeah?”

Wanting to look at him more comfortably, she uses his pause so that she can turn around fully and seat herself on his lap, straddling him. His hands automatically go to her hips, one sliding inside the waist of her leggings so that he can touch her skin.

“Tell me about this story,” he requests. She knows that he’s asking so that he can think about something other than what’s on his mind, so she does, giving a little more than she would originally, working out how she might want to tell the story in her blog.

“It was a couple,” she starts, “that grew up together, in the country. They bonded by playing together in the lake, climbing trees, and playing pranks on each other. And then they start to grow up. Their swimming becomes fraught with tension, the bathing suits showing the same skin, but more, ya know, both of them recognizing the differences, cataloging them, thinking about them, remembering them. They don’t act on it, because they’re friends, and he doesn’t actually understand what it means, that he’s 13 and he keeps dreaming about her at night, waking up with a wet bed and a pounding heart. And then his parents die and her dad, who’s a do-gooder in the community and had been his parents’ best friend, takes him in. Now they’re siblings, but of course not. Regardless, it makes it all harder and odder because she sleeps right down the hall from him, their shared bathroom always smells like her, and he understands now, that he likes her smile and the way she speaks and the curves she seems to develop out of nowhere.”

Barry squeezes at her and she pauses as he asks, “And what about her? How does she feel about him?”

“Well he doesn’t know it, but she’s there too. At first she thinks that she’s just conflating it, confusing their friendship. Because she doesn’t laugh with anyone else like she does with him and she never has as much fun with anyone else as she does him and she never feels as comfortable with anyone else as she does him. He’s her best friend. But she sees him, one night, in his room where the door hasn’t fully closed and he’s, well, he’s masturbating, touching himself, eyes closed and moaning, and for the first time outside of the books she’s read, she feels something. And she knows it’s not just because she’s seen him naked because she’s kissed boys before, she’s felt them hard under her before, but something about this feels different for her.

“But she doesn’t act on it. And he doesn’t either, because remember, he only thinks this is one-sided. They graduate. They go to the same college. But their majors are different and their friends are different. She joins a sorority; he gets into a couple of clubs. Their paths separate, even if they still laugh and talk and be when they’re home for the holidays. Then she gets a boyfriend.”

“She never had a boyfriend before this?” Barry questions.

Iris shrugs. “Sure. But it was high school and the beginning of college. They were mostly hookups that didn’t last. This guy is serious. He’s a couple years older, got his own place, and eventually she moves in with him. Heartbroken, he gets a girlfriend too, one of her friends. That doesn’t last long because she figures out that he’s a little bit in love with the main girl, and then he moves on, to someone sweet, someone who’s been not so subtly hinting that she wants to go out with him.”

Barry seems to be engrossed now. She can’t say that the dark look he was sporting is completely gone, but she can see that he’s not as deep in it, interested in the story she’s weaving.

“They go on to marry these people, even if their hearts are not fully in it. His wife has a kid first, her baby comes next. And meanwhile, they’re still friends. Her dad is still his guardian, so to speak; they are together for whatever holidays they don’t spend with their spouses’ families. They still laugh and talk and be. They still look a little too long and want a little too much.

It comes to a head one Christmas. The gods or fate or just some movement on their parts mean that they both go home to her dad’s house with their spouses and children coming in the next day. But her dad is called in to work so they order take out and watch movies in front of a fire. And they laugh and they talk...and they hug and they kiss and they…

“Be?” Barry tries, a tiny little smile on his face.

She matches it. “Yeah. And it’s beautiful, transcendent. But they’re married. To other people. With kids. So they vow to forget it, to never bring it up again. A couple of years pass. They don’t laugh as much, don’t talk as much. She’s having troubles in her marriage. He is too. He actually consults a divorce attorney because he thinks that it’s unfair to both him and his wife, to live like this. And then the wife dies in a car accident.”

“Oh damn,” he mutters.

“Right,” she agrees. “He’s wracked with grief and more than a little guilt, because he loved her but was never in love with her and she had no idea he was going to leave her.”

“What about her? The one he loves?”

“She’s there for him. She consoles him, cares for him, takes his kid when it gets too hard. Her husband doesn’t like it though. Thinks she’s doing too much, thinks that there’s another reason she’s over at his so much. Later, he learns that this wasn’t a new accusation, that even before she and her husband got married, the husband would question their closeness, would wonder what, if anything, had ever happened between them.

“Eventually she gets tired of it. Her kid is older, in their teens now, and she leaves her husband, packing her things and her kid’s too and moving back in with her dad for a while.”

“And what happens between them?” Barry wants to know.

“He and his son come over more. They hang out more, the four of them, going to dinner and to the movies and to the arcade together. And when their kids are gone, at sleepovers or game nights with their friends, they laugh again, talk again. Fall in love again.”

The ending is implied. Iris closes her eyes when she’s done, letting Barry continue to rub at her back, his fingers so so warm on her skin.

“It's a happy ending,” he says, eventually. “But getting there was a little...depressing.”

Iris chuckles softly, lightheaded again at having gone through that again. It likely didn’t make Barry feel any better, but she’ll take the win that it took his mind away from his own problems, if only for a little while.

“Yeah, it is,” she agrees. “But it reminds me that just because it’s not easy and just because it takes some time, it doesn’t mean that things aren’t worth it.”

He nods, slowly, thinking.

“What about things that are...easy? That come like breathing? That start as a simple dance and just, just keep going?”

She stares down at him and she knows that this is rhetorical. She can see the question in the depths of his eyes, feel it in his hands still kneading her flesh. It would be easy to retreat, to tell him that nothing is ever easy, even if the reality is that it is because they are, because they fall into each other so effortlessly, that she’s terrified. There are always hiccups, obstacles, and the fact that she can’t find any keeps her on edge, waiting, anticipating trouble she knows must be coming. She doesn’t want to believe it, wants to stand firm in them—stand firm in the lyrics she keeps hearing, if you decide to stay, know that there is no escape; there's no one here to save you—and she holds onto that as he asks,

“Don’t you think it’s worth it, Iris? Even if it’s this easy?”

She can’t speak, but his eyes are imploring her to answer. Pleading with her for a response. And however terrified Iris is, or however much Iris tells stories, she is not a liar. So she nods and whispers to him, “yes.”

Without waiting for her to say anything more, he kisses her. He squeezes at her waist and leans up to capture her mouth. She meets him with his same fervor and it’s different, this kiss. She knows the passion of his mouth when he’s high, the boldness when he’s teasing her. But this is new, this is fervor, warmth and agony and doubt and pleasure, all wrapped up together.

(Something also tells Iris that there is another word for this, that this is the part of the story where feelings would be laid on the table, where hearts would be splayed open and she’d say it, or he would, and the other would respond in kind, with declarations of adoration, of infatuation, yearning, of any other word that means what she can’t say yet.

But she feels it, what she’s wanting to say, what she thinks he is saying, in this kiss. It is slow and nasty, all tongue and mouth. Her eyes flutter closed at the feeling, at how he licks into her mouth and then sucks on her bottom lip, at how he licks against her tongue and then holds her face to bring her closer to him. She feels it, she feels it, she feels him…)

He stands, holding on to her, and she wraps her legs around his waist, tightening her arms around his neck as he carries her through the house. The kisses don’t stop, though they become shorter, more mouth now, and he takes her down a long hallway past several doors until he turns into one at the end of the hall. She makes a quick note of the light gray and burnt orange decor, the side tables holding books and knickknacks, the one window that spans nearly the entire wall, but she focuses most heavily on the king-sized bed on which he throws on her, the soft comforter half hanging off the bed.

Her clothes come off first, Barry pulling her sweatshirt over her head and yanking her pants over her hips. He comes out of his own clothes as she discards her underwear, and then he’s between her thighs again. But she wants something else first so she taps his shoulder to flip them and then she’s hovering above him.

She gives him a kiss, slow and sweet, and then she makes her way down his chest, kissing as she goes. She loves the feel of his skin against her lips, likes how his skin tastes as she presses tongue kisses on him. His belly clenches and unclenches under her ministrations, and by the time she’s looking back up at him from her position near his crotch, she can see the way his chest rises and falls with his heavy breathing.

She reaches for him, wrapping her fingers around his dick. It’s long like the rest of him, and thicker than she would have expected just looking at him. It’s a pretty dick, the base the same color as him, the head slightly pinker. It’s a little veiny, but the skin is smooth, and already he’s starting to leak. She lifts her eyes to find him watching her, his own gaze hooded. In her peripheral, she sees his hands grip the bed sheets and she revels in how she hasn’t even done anything and his control is starting to slip.

“Tell me what you want, Bear.”

She says the words softly, but Barry doesn’t miss the cheek that lies under it, if the slight smirk he gives her is any indication.

“Your mouth,” he says. “I’ve been dreaming about that pretty mouth wrapped around my dick.”

She shudders at the tone of his voice, at the vision of her on her knees for him. She likes it.

“I bet you have too,” he guesses.

Without a response, she licks him, holding him at the base and running her tongue up one side of him. She does it again, and then one more time, acquainting herself with the taste of him and the satiny feel of him on her tongue, and then she adjusts and covers the whole of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes out.

She hums around him and she sucks him down, taking him until he hits her throat. Then she pulls back until just the tip remains. She licks around his head and sucks him there, letting the spit pool in her mouth, letting it mix with his own wet. She opens her mouth and lets it slide out, dripping down onto him, and her own body starts to drip at his wrecked whisper, “god, baby, look at you.”

She adds her hands, palming his testicles in one and rubbing her spit down the length of him with the other. She finds a rhythm, sucking him down, inch by inch, hollowing her cheeks as she goes, and then stroking his back up. Barry keeps his hand clenched in the sheets, but he cants himself into her mouth, rocking his hips lightly. She’s getting into it, loving the way he responds to her.

“Come here,” he says, suddenly, reaching for her, and she pulls back with a soft pop.

“Barry?” she furrows her eyebrows in question.

He gives her a gentle smile and grabs at her arm; Iris moves at his request, crawling up his body.

“But you didn’t finish,” she says, pouting a little.

“I know. I want to come when I’m inside you.”

She’s mollified by that, and he settles her on his lap.

“You were so good though, baby,” he says, kissing her. “My good, good girl.”

He reaches down to touch her, slipping his fingers easily into her sex. He groans into her mouth at the feel and he pulls back to ask,

“Is this all for me? Did you get wet sucking me off, good girl?”

She nods, rocking her hips against his hand, against his sex still hard beneath her. “Can, can you…?”

He tilts his head at her, fingers still caressing inside of her. “Can I?”

She huffs out a small laugh because he’s always fucking with her. “You said you wanted to come inside of me,” she reminds him.

“I did, didn’t?” He takes his time removing his fingers, eyes on her as he does. Even with the window curtains wide open, the dark sky has the room dark

(and she doesn’t dismiss the fact that the window faces the side of someone else’s house, where they could be seen if the neighbors were so inclined to watch)

and his eyes look a little like molten lead in the faint rainy light like this. He goes to reach over to his bedside table but Iris stops him.

“I want to feel you,” she says.

He licks his lips and she doesn’t mistake the twitch of his dick she feels under her. “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m on birth control. And I trust you.”

He nods once and again, and then he takes her by her hips and slides her down his cock.

After, Iris decides that this time is the single most erotic experience of her life.

They fuck with the rain like a soundtrack behind them, like a song that swells and stretches, telling their story, but you're so brave; stone cold crazy for loving me; yeah, I'm amazed; i hope you make it out alive, a song that rises and rises, that sounds too good to be real, that might destroy you, but only in the best way.

She rides him, and he’s so full in her like this, so deep in her like this. His back is against his fabric headboard and she’s so close to him, her knees jutting into the headboard, her thighs holding around his hips, her breasts rubbing against his chest, nipples pebbling with each brush on those hard planes.

She holds on to him with her hands holding the back of his neck, softly scratching at the nape. But he’s touching her, always touching her, his hands caressing her spine, and then holding her waist, and then squeezing her hips. He guides her: keeps his favorite pace, smooth and languid; bring her up to the tip and fucks her back down; shows her how he wants her to roll her body when he’s full in her, so her clit is brushing the soft hairs on his pelvis, the sensation incredible.

He uses his mouth too: to kiss her throat, deep tongue kisses that’ll leave marks she knows she’ll have to cover up; to whisper against her mouth, “see how easy this is; see how good, baby; fuck, see how good this is; yes, yes, yes, my good girl.”

And Iris feels so caught up in it. She can’t stop looking at him, loving when the lightning slashes across the room and illuminates those eyes, the constellation of moles on his skin, his wet, pink mouth. Her body hums with pleasure, soaking her thighs and his, tightening around his dick as if it never, never wants to let him go. She voices her satisfaction, in soft sighs and heavy pleas, and his name on her tongue like a chant, or better, a song, “Bear, Bear, Barrryyy.” They’re so close, her skin sticking to his wherever they’re touching, chest to chest and ass to thigh. She feels full and whole and filled...with him and with desire and with, and with love, the thought of it making her shudder and close her eyes.

“No,” Barry whispers. “Don’t. Just let it, just let it...stay here with me. Can you do that for me? Be brave for me?”

She nods, head heavy as her body starts to reach its climax, as her body loosens at the same time that it tightens and she has to fight to hold on to him. “Yes,” she moans again, holding his gaze again.

He touches at her face, holding her cheek and staring back. “Good girl.”

She doesn’t know whose climax triggers the other. She just knows that at the same time that her body explodes, fluttering wildly around him, he comes too, so hard that she feels him throbbing against her walls, that she feels him filling her up with his cum.

He doesn’t let go of her right away. He just holds her, hands at her hip and her face, and then he kisses her, cementing what they’ve just done, cementing what Iris feels for him.

“It’s the anniversary of my mom’s death,” he says, out of the blue. “And when I went to visit my dad earlier, I found out that he’s sick, something with his heart, and I’m-I’m reeling.”

It’s been a long while since they separated and Iris climbed off of him to pad into his bathroom and warm a hand towel under warm water to clean them both. They’ve been lying in his bed, only half under the covers as they let their bodies cool. It’s quiet now, so quiet that Iris has thought he’d fallen asleep; she’d almost fallen asleep. But when he speaks, she blinks wide and then turns her head to face him.

“14 years today,” he adds. He’s looking up at the ceiling as he talks, but Iris feels the hand that’s settled at her waist tighten, the move bringing her closer to him. She understands that he just needs the contact, so she turns so that she’s all the way curled on him, one of her legs thrown across him, her arm tossed over him too, hand settled on his heart. It’s beating slow, steady, and so she strokes his bare chest, right it.

“How’d you find out?”

“I was still at school,” he tells her. “It was a Friday and some of my friends had convinced me to go to a football game, so we were there pretty late. Games could run until 11. I was 17 so I had my own car. It was an old car; we’d bought it from a guy she worked with. By this time, my dad had been gone for a couple years, and my mom was always working late at the lab, so when I got home around 10:30 that night and the lights were out, I wasn’t surprised.”

He shifts a little and continues. “I took a shower, put some leftover pizza in the microwave, and just as I was sitting down to eat, the doorbell rang. It was the police looking for her next of kin to tell them what had happened.” He sighs heavily. “I got lucky. The courts let one of my friend’s parents take me in until I graduated a few months later. I was able to get a work study job in college to pay my bills since the mortgage was already paid off.”

He says it all like he was lucky, but there is nothing lucky about losing both of your parents in that matter, even if one of them was still physically alive. Iris knows from experience that he doesn’t want pity, doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for his story. But she can’t help the way she wants to comfort him, and so she lets herself do that, tightening herself around him, snuggling even more into his chest.

“How are you feeling about your dad?” she asks, mumbling against his skin.

“Devastated. He looked like, like, I don’t know, like he’s giving up. I don’t get to go see him too often, every couple of months, really. And he looked so different from when I saw him last: smaller, frailer. I think there might be something he’s not telling me. Like he’s been sick longer than he says he has.”

“Is he supposed to get out soon?”

“Another couple years. But I don’t know if he wants to hold on that long.”

She feels them first, the tears. She tries to hold him even tighter, tries to crawl into his skin almost, trying to stem his pain. He doesn’t cry for long, just a few sobs, and then he’s inhaling deeply and wiping at his eyes. But it must be enough because he sounds a little hollow when he says,

“And truthfully, I’m not so much sad as I am mad, that he seems to be giving up. On getting out. On me.”

She hums, not dismissively, but because she understands. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes, I hate my mom.”

He sort of jerks up at that. Not fully, he looks down at her, eyes widened in shock. However inappropriate it might be, she finds herself laughing a little at his expression. Then she explains.

“I know that addiction is not a moral failing. I know that she struggled right up til the end. I know both of those things as completely as I know anything else. But sometimes I wonder why my dad wasn’t enough, why me and Wally weren't enough. I wonder what she was trying to find in those pills that she couldn’t find in us, and I get so pissed that she let it take her away from us.”

She’s startled when he moves. He pulls himself from under her, letting her fall onto her back, and then he’s hovering above her, holding himself up on his elbows. He falls into the spread of her thighs, his sex nuzzling comfortably against her still warm center.

“I’ve seen some of the worst effects of addiction,” he says, “when their bodies end up on a slab of metal and it’s my job to dissect the things around them, to even sometimes help detectives dissect their lives to figure out what happened. And something I’ve learned is that it’s always, always about them. Never about the people they love.”

He searches her face, brushing a piece of hair back from her forehead. “And whatever your mom was or wasn’t thinking, you are enough. You are more than enough, Iris.” He leans down and gives her a kiss, deep and dirty, and she moans in frustration as he pulls back from her. He gives her a grin, one more reminiscent of the Barry she’s used to.

“Repeat after me,” he commands. “I, Iris West…”

“Really, Barry?”

“Yes, come on. I, Iris West…

She sighs, but says it. “I, Iris West…”

“Am more than enough.”

She licks her lips then, blinks, works to not let the tears that have suddenly gathered in the corner of her eyes escape.

“Am more than enough,” she whispers, finally.

Barry’s smile turns fond. “Good girl.”

She shakes her head because she doesn’t know what else to do besides kiss him. Which she does, deeply, reaching down to grip him in her palm. She pauses, just for a moment, to tell him “you know that you are enough too, right?” and she kisses the look of awe off of his face. It’s a long while before she stops kissing him, and then it’s only to moan into his mouth, to let him whisper his dirty somethings into her ear.

“What are your plans for tonight?”

They’ve just shared a shower. Barry is throwing on another pair of sweats and a hoodie and Iris puts her own leggings back on, sans underwear, and thumbs through Barry’s closet for another sweatshirt to put on.

(There’s no reason that she can’t put hers back on, but she’s feeling particularly sentimental and she wants to take something of Barry’s with her, something that smells like him, that feels like him.)

“None, really.” She pulls out a red sweater that reads Central City University Track & Field and throws it on over her bra. “Why? You kicking me out.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Of course not.” He glances down at the watch on his wrist. “Wanna get dinner? And then go with me to my tattoo appointment? It’s at 8 tonight.”

She smiles at that. “Sure.”

They take the highway back downtown. The rain is still beating steadily and there is still the occasional rumble of thunder, the sporadic flash of lightning. He parks a bit further in the arts district, in front of a restaurant specializing in wood-fire pizzas and craft beers. This time, she knows to wait for him to come around and open the door for her so that she can walk under his umbrella. Once he locks his jeep, he grabs her hand, and they walk the couple doors down and into the restaurant.

The place is brightly lit, in direct contrast to the dark sky and even the faint light that had been on at Barry’s place. The weather assures that it isn’t densely packed, just a couple booths of families and what looks like a couple, so they’re seated quickly and easily. They eat fast since they’ve only got an hour before his appointment. In the meantime, they both keep the conversation light. It’s been a day, for the both of them really, and Iris doesn’t think that she can cry twice in a day.

After he pays, she goes to the bathroom and he tells her he’ll wait at the door for her. She goes in and it’s as brightly lit as the rest of the place and she quickly does her business and washes her hands before heading back out to where he knows Barry is waiting in the little space between the outer door and the door to the restaurant.

She walks through the place and out of the restaurant door, likely too quickly and without really looking. She takes several steps, straightening out Barry’s sweatshirt again, and then she’s bumping into what feels like a solid wall, almost falling backward. A quick hand reaches out to catch her, the hand large, easily wrapping around her forearm.

“Shit,” she says, shaking her head to clear it as she looks up. “I’m sorr..Scott?”

He doesn’t move back right away and so she has to look up, up at the man holding on to her. Scott Evans is the literal definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He’d been her editor when she’d work at CCPN right out of college, and she’d had the biggest crush on him. Tall with dark caramel skin and a neatly trimmed beard, he’d been the one to help guide her in the ways of mass story-telling. They’d gone on one date and Iris is not actually sure why they’d never gone on another.

“Iris West.” He says her name slowly, his grin widening at the same pace. He gives her a once-over, slow and heated. “How’ve you been?”

“R-really good,” she says, stumbling a little at that grin. Even if she doesn’t actually regret never seeing him again, Iris can admit that a man this good looking makes her a little tongue-tied.

“Yeah? I’ve been catching your blog when I can. It’s some good shit, West. I can see why you left our little paper.”

“Please,” Iris rolls her eyes with a little laugh. “There’s nothing little about Picture News.”

He shrugs, humble all the way. “Still, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Scott. I appreciate that.”

“It’s the truth.” He looks down at her, swiping at his lips with his tongue, and she suddenly realizes that they’re still too close. She steps back fully from him, glancing over Scott’s shoulders to see Barry watching them, his expression unreadable.

“Um,” she speaks, catching his attention. “I gotta go Scott.”

“Oh yeah; of course. We should get together soon. Maybe do dinner.” Scott looks back out of the window where rain steadily pours. “It’s still raining out. Can I walk you to your car?”

Her eyes don’t leave Barry’s and he tilts his head, waiting for her answer. “Scott, I’m not alone.”

He turns as if he’s just realizing that Barry is standing there. Barry is still quiet and only lifts his eyes to look at Scott when he mutters, “oh, hey man.”

Barry nods. “What’s up?” Then he looks at Iris. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I am.” Her voice is soft, cautious, and she throws one more glance at Scott. “It was good to see you.”

He graces her with that smile again. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

Barry takes her hand and they walk back to the truck. They’re on the road again, driving to a neighborhood near her own. For a second, she thinks he’s going to take her home, but he passes the road to her apartment and goes on to a neighborhood featuring several bars and little shops that cater to the college crowd. He pulls into the parking lot of a place called Black Gold, the lights inside near as bright as those in the pizza place.

Again, she waits until he comes around and turns as if to get out. He stops her though, holding the umbrella high, standing in front of her open legs. He does his thing, his stare like he's trying, and succeeding, to get inside her mind.

“That your ex-boyfriend?” he wonders.

She shakes her head. “Ex-boss.”

His expression doesn’t change. “All your bosses look at you like that?”

She swallows at the sudden feel of his hand on her thigh. The rain is pounding and drops fall on them, but she’s not noticing it. Instead, she’s caught in the storm that’s returned to his eyes, in the feel of his hands inching steadily toward her center.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” she says, instead of responding to him.

One corner of his mouth lifts, and the confident, bordering on cocky, Barry is looking at her now, even if that sparkle hasn’t returned quite yet.

“Nah,” he says. “Not jealous. You’re here right now. And you were with me earlier, moaning for me, coming for me.”

He slides his hand between her thighs and because she is, almost literally, always thirsty for him, wet for him, her legs spread easily. He fingers at the crotch of her leggings, and she knows that he can feel her warmth through the thin material. He thumbs at her until she gasps against him, finding her clit in a way that reminds him that he knows her body better than she knows it herself.

“He ever touch you like this?” Barry asks, voice a whisper above the rain. “Make you whimper even without getting your clothes off?”

She is whimpering, as he keeps his thumb on her clit, rubbing on her in slow circles. That’s all he’s doing: touching her with one hand, looking at her with those eyes that tell as much as they conceal, with his voice a deep rumble that rivals the thunder. He might be turned on, but he’s proving a point, naming himself as someone who, well, who owns her, even if she recognizes that no man should claim any power over her.

Heat spreads through her, a low, simmering sort of heat, but it’s enough that her folds grow slicker, start opening like the flowers of a petal waiting to be plucked. He keeps rubbing at her, staying on her clit, staring in her face, so much that she can’t hold his gaze. Because it feels better than it should, and her wet is soaking through these too thin leggings, and her breaths are coming in longer, coming in heavier.

“Tell me he hasn’t, Iris,” he says, commands, and Iris throws her head back, legs widening at their own volition, hips canting against his hand. “Tell me.”

“No,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed. “He never even touched me at all.”

“Tell me it’s just me,” he adds and she’s too far gone to note the pleading in his voice. “Tell me no one has ever touched you like this.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Just you, Barry, shit, just you.”

“Good,” he groans. “Good, good girl.”

Even if touch is the word he’s using, Iris understands that it’s more. She understands that they’re both wrapped up in uncertainty, never too sure of where they lie in others’ affections, never too sure of where they lie in life at all. She understands that he’s asking her if she feels it too, if she’s there with him, if this too easy, this too natural, feeling is a first for her too.

He’s asking if she’s brave enough to tell him the truth, if she undertands is meaning-understands that I'm no walk in the park; all these scars on my heart; it’s so dark here-even as she’s wondering the same, as she’s feeling the same, wondering if the churning feelings of abandonment make her unworthy somehow. Wondering if he’ll come to see that unworthiness.

Barry leans forward, just a touch away from her mouth, eyes blazing.

“There’s only you too, Iris,” he says, unprompted. “I swear I’ve just been waiting for you.”

He closes the distance to kiss her and that’s enough to take her over. It’s not a powerful orgasm, not like usual, but it does make her shut her eyes tight, make her limbs seize up as she rocks her hips through it. She breathes out, and she can’t stop the little laugh that comes out.

“You really are a dick,” she muses, opening her eyes slowly.

“A polite one, though,” he says, as he stands straighter and holds his hand out to help her down from the car. He holds the umbrella high over her. “See how I’m making sure you don’t get wet.”

“You didn't think of that earlier.”

His grin is devastating but it doesn’t hide the plethora of emotions in his eyes: the simmering lust, the faint traces of insecurity, the grief that’s been hovering all day...the love she doesn’t think he wants to hide anymore.

She hikes up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, and then she walks beside him into the parlor, words flashing in her head like a sign, but if you’re a warrior, there’s nothing to fear; nothing to fear.

And later that night, as she cuddles up next to Barry is his large comfortable bed, she listens to his soft breathing, the sound a melody to the rain still pattering against his windows. She listens and she stares at him, taking in his features, softer than they were before, the stress of today easing away with every second he’s lost to sleep. A flash of lightning lights the room, and it catches her eyes again, the new tattoo, the purple ink bright on his skin, covering the space from a lily on his shoulder to just over his heart. It goes dark again, his room blanketed once more, but in her mind’s eyes, she can still see the vibrant ink on his skin, the pretty drooping petals of an iris.

Cause you're so brave

Stone cold crazy for loving me

Yeah, I'm amazed

I hope you make it out alive

[themetaphorgirl]

I asked for cute and cuddly things so I could write something adorable!! I tried to combine as many as possible!

@therestisconfettis​ : “the psolc babies making a pillow fort!!”

@birds-are-better-than-you​ : “My brain immediately goes to people actually listening to him talk instead of cutting him off, but thats just rooted in sadness”

@fragolinaa​ : “I just want people cuddling him, maybe someone who hasn't yet like Emily or Dave?”

@purpleturtle31extra : “Spending an off day exploring music together! Like showing him songs that remind you of him or a certain memory..”

anonymous: “cute cuddly idea: u mentioned Emily and Dave getting Spencer legos. Write a little thing of a rainy day or whatever and everyone’s just chilling building random shit with legos and then there’s gonna be Spencer actually building something with proper ratios and actual potential urban planning and everyone else is just like “hmm... I have built something vaguely resembling a plane”

anonymous: “omg cuddly mom alex?? maybe spencer napping with her and he has a nightmare??”

I hope I touched on everything!! I think I captured at least a little bit of everything!!!

----------

“Hey,” Emily said. “Are you feeling okay?”

Spencer dragged his fork around his plate, his chin resting heavily in his hand. “I’m not hungry,” he said dully.

“This is your last day to eat whatever you want,” she pointed out. “Go get something sugary. Donuts or something.”

He shrugged, and she bit back a sigh. Everyone else had left on Wednesday afternoon to spend Thanksgiving break with their respective families- literally everyone, even Hotch- and while they’d had a nice Thanksgiving at James’s house, and she was enjoying having her room all to herself, she and Spencer had been left behind, and the kid was moping like it was his job. She was starting to figure out that while he liked doing things on his own, he needed the security of knowing that everyone else was nearby.

“I guess I’ll go get some chocolate milk or something,” Spencer sighed, sliding down from his chair. 

“See? There you go,” she said. “Treat yourself.”

As soon as he slid down from his chair and trudged away she pulled out her phone.

the cause of hotchner’s headaches

9:09am

You guys need to help w the kid hes so sad i dont know what to do

James texted back first, which didn’t surprise her.

doctor james, medicine man

9:10am

Is he okay? 

the cause of hotchner’s headaches

9:10am

HES SAD I CANT HANDLE IT COME HELP ME

spaghetti grandpa

9:11am

He’ll be fine. He knows everybodys coming back today right?

the cause of hotchner’s headaches

9:12am

HE IS SAD NOW COME OVER

She set her phone aside as Spencer walked back up to the table with a carton of chocolate milk in his hands. “Can you open this for me, please?” he asked. 

She did and handed it back, but he didn’t drink it. “How about we go watch a movie or something?” she suggested. “While we’re waiting for everybody to get back on campus. That’ll be fun, right?”

He shrugged. “I guess,” he said. “What time is it?”

“A little after nine.”

He scrunched up his face, calculating. “Who do you think will be back first?” he asked.

“I don’t know, babe, we’ll have to see,” she said. “Drink your milk and we’ll get out of here.”

He sighed. “I don’t think I want it anymore,” he said. She shot him her best impression of Alex’s mom look. He rolled his eyes, but he drank it anyway.

Outside the dining hall it was cold and gray and dreary, rain falling just steadily enough to be irritating. She pulled the hood of her jacket over her head and made Spencer put his purple galaxy-print raincoat on over his his sweater before they walked down the steps. 

“Do you think the weather will ground planes?” he asked anxiously. 

“Your guess is as good as mine, squirt,” she said. “It’ll definitely rain all day, but I don’t know if it’ll affect planes. You’ll probably know better than me.”

He said nothing, but he slipped his small hand into hers. She squeezed back gently. The kid had been perfectly well-behaved the whole time she’d been left to watch him, but it was frustrating to see him so sad and quiet and droopy. She didn’t think it was possible to be homesick for other people, but Spencer definitely had a bad case of it.

They settled in the common room, but the cozy space seemed cavernous and empty without the rest of the group. Spencer left his coat and his shoes in his room and settled into Alex’s usual spot on the couch, leaning on the armrest. 

“So what do you want to do, kiddo?” she said. He raised and lowered one shoulder. She huffed. “I’ll just pick something then.”

“Nothing scary, please,” he said, his chin resting on his folded arms.

“No, don’t worry, I learned my lesson,” she said. She grabbed a Star Wars off the shelf- she wasn’t sure which one it was, but she figured she couldn’t go wrong with something sci fi.

“Hotch’s plane lands at eleven, right?” he said as she plunked down on the opposite end of the couch.

“I think so,” she said. She reached over and ruffled his hair lightly. “Stop overthinking, you’re going to blow a fuse in there. Everyone will be home soon, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried,” he mumbled.

They got about halfway through Star Wars (she still wasn’t entirely sure which one it was) when they heard Dave and James on the stairs. “Hey, guys!” Dave called. “We’ve got presents!”

Emily paused the movie. “What do you mean, presents?” she said. “What’d you bring me?”

James and Dave each held large plastic tubs that they dropped with heavy clatters on the floor. “Spencer, you’ve been having fun with the legos we got you for your birthday, right?” James said.

Spencer raised his head. “Yeah,” he said slowly.

“Well, we decided to dig around for our old lego collections you can have your own giant collection,” Dave said. 

He slid off the couch. “Really?” he said.

“Yeah, absolutely,” James said. “Go get yours, we’ll put them all together.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up. “Okay!” he said, darting off to his room.

“Oh my god, thank goodness you two are here,” Emily said. 

“You know, you said he was sad, and I didn’t believe it till I saw him,” Dave said, wrenching the lid off the first bin. “He looks like a deflated balloon.”

“See? I wasn’t lying,” Emily said. “Poor kid has been moping all week.”

James checked his phone. “Hopefully everybody will get in without any problems,” he said. “Alex texted me a little bit ago and said they delayed her flight by an hour.” 

“Oh, yikes,” Emily said. “She’d better get back here soon. And don’t tell the kid that, he’ll worry more.”

Spencer ran back into the room with his legos. “How should I organize them?” he asked. “Color first or size first?”

“How about we, you know, build something?” Dave suggested as he sat down on the couch. “C’mere, passerotto, I think I have all the pieces to the batcave.”

“Ooh, which version?” James asked as Spencer sat down on the floor in front of Dave.

“I don’t know. I think I built it once when I was Spencer’s age and then never touched it again.”

Emily leaned over James and scooped up a handful of plastic pieces. “What are you going to build?” she asked.

“Hey, don’t copy me!”

They worked on their projects mostly in companionable silence, sometimes absent chatter. Rain continued to tap at the windows. At least Spencer seemed distracted at last, focused on his projects.

Lightning cracked, white light shining through the window for a brief moment, and everyone jumped; Spencer knocked over one of his structures. “Holy shit,” Emily said. “That was terrifying.”

“You okay?” Dave asked, touching Spencer’s arm lightly.

He nodded, leaning against Dave until he lifted him onto his lap. “Do you think everybody’s okay?” he asked. “Planes can’t always fly in this sort of weather.”

“I’m sure everybody’s fine,” Dave reassured him. Spencer bit his lip, still staring out the window. “So what have you been building?”

“Scale model of campus,” he said. “Well, it’s not exactly to scale. But it’s pretty close.”

James held up a lump of legos. “This was supposed to be a plane,” he said. “But it doesn’t look particularly aerodynamic.”

Spencer laughed. “What kind of plane is it supposed to be?” he asked. “It looks like an off-kilter Cessna.”

“I don’t know. Just...a plane,” James said. 

“I’m trying to see how tall I can build this thing without it falling over,” Emily said. “Not much success yet.”

“I’m sure you know, caro,” Dave said, poking Spencer lightly in the side. “How tall is the tallest lego structure ever?”

“The tallest one is in Milan, it’s a hundred and fourteen feet, eleven inches tall,” he said. “The previous tallest was just a hundred and fourteen feet tall, in Budapest.”

“Milan, hm?” Dave said. “Maybe I’ll go see it next time I’m over there.”

“There’s one in Tel Aviv that was built to be four feet taller but-”

Lightning cracked again and Spencer jumped. Dave rubbed his back lightly. “It’s okay, it’s just a bad storm,” he said. It was too late, though- the attempts at distraction had failed, and Spencer was clearly back to worrying, the corners of his mouth tugging down.

Dave looked over at Emily. What should we do? he mouthed. She shrugged helplessly.

Thankfully, right at that moment heavy footsteps echoed on the stairs. Spencer raised his head. Please let it be one of our group, please let it be one of our group, Emily thought fervently.

A tall figure in a rain-soaked coat made it to the top of the stairs, almost terrifying for a split second, but he threw back his hood and shook his head. “Jesus, that was a nightmare,” he said. 

Spencer scrambled to his feet and ran towards him, nearly kicking Dave in his haste. “Hotch!” he shrieked, throwing his arms around his waist.

“Hey, kiddo!” Hotch said, bending to hug him. “Hey, careful, it’s raining really hard out there, I’m drenched and I don’t want you to get wet.” 

“How was your flight?” James asked.

Spencer, undeterred, still clung to Hotch; Hotch ran his fingers through his thick short curls. “Unbelievably shitty,��� he said. “Flights were getting canceled left and right, it’s just storming bad everywhere. If I hadn’t gotten such an early flight, I might not’ve made it back.”

“That’s what we’ve been worrying about,” Emily said. “And when I say we I mean Spencer.”

Hotch tugged him back so he could see his face. “Hey, stop worrying,” he said. “Everybody will get back eventually. I promise.” 

“I can’t help worrying,” Spencer said. “What if everybody’s flights get delayed? What if something happens to their planes. What if-”

Hotch scooped him up. “Hey, I think the dining hall’s open for lunch,” he said. “Anybody else hungry? I didn’t have time for breakfast before my flight and all they gave me was one packet of pretzels.”

“They stopped giving away peanuts because of allergies becoming more common,” Spencer said, leaning his cheek against Hotch’s shoulder even though his coat was soaked with rain.

“Yeah?” Hotch said. “How about you go get your coat and your shoes, okay? I’m starving.”

“Okay,” Spencer said reluctantly. Hotch set him back down on his feet and he ran down the hall to his room.

“I am so glad you’re back, Hotchner,” Emily said, sweeping her lego tower back into the bin. “He’s been so sad with everybody gone.”

“I can tell,” he said. “Has he been like this the whole time?”

“Oh, yeah,” Emily said. “I’ve barely been able to get two words out of him.”

“Even when they came over for Thanksgiving he wasn’t talking much,” James added.

Hotch sighed. “I didn’t even think about this,” he said. “Poor kid.”

Emily’s phone buzzed. “Oh, it’s Penelope,” she said. “I’ll put her on speaker. Hey, Pen, how’s it going?”

“Terrible!” Penelope said, her voice crackling over the line. “I made the flight from California to Texas for my layover, but they canceled my connecting flight. It’s storming too bad.”

“Oh, yikes,” Dave said. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she sighed. “They have me booked for a flight first thing in the morning, and the airline is putting me up in a hotel for the night, but it’s so frustrating.”

“I’m sure,” James said. “Stay safe, okay? Do you need anything?”

“Are you kidding? The hotel has like a million channels and room service, I’m doing great!” Penelope said. “I’ll call you guys in the morning before my flight, okay? Talk to you soon!”

Emily sighed as the call ended. “Well, that’s one down,” she said.

“Penelope’s not coming?”

Spencer peeked out of the hall, his rainboots on and his coat dragging from his hand. “Yeah, her connecting flight got canceled,” Dave said. “But she’s safe, and she’ll be on a flight tomorrow, okay? So don’t worry.”

Judging by the way he pressed his mouth together, he definitely was worried. Emily pushed herself up from the floor. “Let’s go get lunch, okay?” she said. “Before Hotch starves.”

The rain had gotten decidedly worse, coming down in heavy sheets and flooding patches of the courtyard. Her umbrella helped a little but not much; Dave complained loudly the entire walk over. Spencer stayed glued to Hotch’s side, clinging tightly to his hand even once they made it to the warm safety of the dining hall. 

Hotch pulled Spencer’s hood down as they got in line. “What do you want?” he asked. 

“I’m not hungry,” he said.

He frowned, then covered Spencer’s ears. “Emily, be honest,” he said. “Did he eat while we were gone?”

“Not for lack of trying,” she said. “I kept putting shit on his plate and he barely touched it.”

“Did he just eat ice cream and candy?”

“He didn’t even want sweets. Or coffee, even.”

Hotch’s frown deepened. “Well, shit,” he said. He dropped his hands to Spencer’s shoulders. “Okay, kid, you have to eat something. If you don’t pick, I’ll pick for you.”

Spencer shrugged. “That’s fine,” he said. 

Hotch met Emily’s gaze, eyebrows raised. “I told you,” she said. 

She followed Hotch down the cafeteria line as he filled up two plates. Spencer stayed so close he ran the risk of getting stepped on, his small hand clinging to the hem of Hotch’s jacket.

Dave and James had beaten them to their usual table, and neither of them looked particularly happy. “Bad news,” James said. “JJ just called. Her parents rescheduled her flight. They were worried about the storms, so she’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.”

Emily glanced over at Spencer. “But she’s okay?” he said anxiously.

“She’s fine, caro,” Dave said. “And she’ll be here tomorrow.”

“What about Derek and Alex?” he asked. “Have they called? Or texted.”

“Not yet,” James said. “Maybe they’re already on their flights, though. I”m sure we’ll hear from them soon.”

Hotch set the tray down on the table, then picked Spencer up and set him down in his chair. “They’ll be fine,” he said. “So how did Thanksgiving go for you guys?”

Even with their attempts at changing the subject and trying to draw him into the conversation, Spencer seemed to sink further into himself, his legs tucked up under him and his chin resting in his hand, his plate still mostly untouched. Emily couldn’t blame him for being sad. All week it had been just the two of them in the nearly-deserted dining hall, and even with the boys there it seemed wrong without the rest of the group- Penelope shrieking about something that didn’t need to be shrieked about, Derek regaling them with stories from football practice, JJ’s pretty laugh bubbling over, Alex keeping the peace and stopping cups and plates from getting knocked over and tilted onto the ground.

Hotch didn’t make much headway getting Spencer to eat, but at least he ate a little bit, and their little group braved the storm to get back to Lincoln House. “What have you guys been up to?” he asked as they settled in the common room again, coats and umbrellas hung up to dry.

“Legos,” James said. “This was supposed to be a plane.”

Hotch laughed. “Yikes,” he said. “I’m glad you’re not planning on going into engineering.”

“Yeah, probably for the best,” he said ruefully. “I-”

“Hold on, hold on,” Dave interrupted. “Did you guys see the group chat?”

Emily fumbled for her phone. “No, I didn’t, I...oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Hotch asked.

“Derek’s flight got canceled too,” James said. “He says it got delayed and he sat on the tarmac for three hours, but they pulled everybody off the plane. His mom’s already picked him up, so he’s fine.”

Emily glanced over at Spencer. He curled himself up smaller, his knees tucked up to his chest, chewing on his thumbnail. “But he’ll be here tomorrow?” he said. 

“Yeah, he’ll be here tomorrow,” Dave reassured him.

Spencer lifted his head. “Can we call Alex?” he asked quietly. 

“Yeah, of course,” Emily said, immediately pulling Alex’s contact info on the screen. “Here, kiddo. Just press-”

Lightning cracked, and with a sharp pop the common room went dark.

“Holy shit!” Emily shrieked, the phone falling from her hand.

“Did a fuse blow?” Dave said.

James got up and looked out the window. “Well, judging by the other buildings on campus...I think the power’s out everywhere,” he said.

“Well, fuck,” Hotch said.

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Watch your language!” she said in mock horror.

“Oh, shut up,” Hotch said good-naturedly. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait for the power to come back on. Spencer, do you want to go ahead and call Alex? She’ll probably be glad to miss the power outage.”

“I think the tower’s down too,” Spencer said in a small voice. “There’s no signal.” He held the phone back out to Emily. “Thanks anyway.”

She reached for the phone, and as the lock screen flickered she caught the faint mark of tears on his cheek. “Oh, no,” she said. “Oh, fuck. Spencer, don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying,” he said, but there was a distinct wobble in his voice.

“Spencer, it’s going to be okay,” Hotch said. “The power’s going to come back on, and everyone will be home soon.”

It was too dark to see, but she could hear Spencer sniffling in a valiant effort to keep form crying. “I know,” he said. “But I-”

Hotch picked Spencer up and placed him in Emily’s lap. “Stay here with Em for a second,” he said. “James, Dave, come with me.”

Spencer dropped his head against Emily’s collarbone as she wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “It’s been a rough week, dude. You didn’t get to go home and see your family, and you miss everybody. And you’re worried because of the storms. It makes sense.” She kissed the top of his head. “And now we’ve got all this power outage shit. But it’ll be okay.”

Hotch dumped an armload of stuff onto the nearest armchair. “Thank goodness for Penelope’s illegal candle stash,” he said. 

Emily twined one of Spencer’s short curls around her finger. “What’s with all of the pillows and blankets?” she asked.

In the dim light she could see Hotch grin. “We’re going to make a blanket fort,” he said. “C’mere, Spencer, I could use your brain for this.”

Emily set Spencer on his feet as James and Dave brought in their collections of pillows and blankets. She busied herself lighting candles and placing them in safe places around the room as Spencer directed the older boys in their construction. He seemed to perk up a little bit with something to focus on, especially as they let him be in charge.

“Okay, I’ve made some blanket forts in my day, but this one is pretty cool,” James said. 

“That’s because Penelope has about eight million blankets and they’re all soft as baby puppies,” Emily said as she crawled into the fort. “I claim the blue pillow!”

All five of them fit comfortably inside, the interior lit with a string of battery operated fairy lights, also taken from Penelope’s room. Spencer nestled himself between Hotch and Emily. “Are we going to tell Penelope that we borrowed all of her stuff?” he asked. 

Hotch handed him his favorite blanket. “I think if we leave the fort up till she gets back, she won’t mind as long as she gets to hang out in here,” he said. 

“What should we do?” Dave asked. “Power’s still out, and there’s no wifi either.”

“Oh!” Emily said. “Okay, I’ve been trying to get you to listen to this album for weeks. Now is the perfect time! You’re a captive audience.”

They took turns passing each other’s phones back and forth, listening to different songs in the comfort of the handmade blanket fort, playfully arguing over each other’s tastes in music as the warm glow of the fairy lights cast soft shadows. Spencer seemed a little less tense now, snuggled safely between Hotch and Emily with his blanket hugged to his chest.

She hadn’t kept track of time, but it was at least two hours before the power switched back on, the overhead lights suddenly way too bright after the dimmness of the tent. “There we go,” Dave said, sitting up and checking his phone. “And we’ve got signal again!” He stretched his arm over James and Emily to hold out the phone to Spencer. “Here, passerotto, see if you can call Alex.”

He took it eagerly and tapped at the screen to bring up her info, but his excitement faded almost instantly. “It went right to voicemail,” he said. “Thanks anyway.”

James scrambled ungracefully to his feet. “Hey, since the power’s back, who wants to watch a movie?” he said. 

“Not a Star War, please,” Emily called. “I can’t tell any of them apart.”

Hotch propped himself up on his elbow. “Hey, Spence,” he said. “It’s okay. I’m sure Alex is fine.”

“Yeah,” Spencer said. He turned to Hotch, one corner of his mouth tugging up in a rueful little half smile. “I bet her flight got canceled too. It’s okay.”

James flipped the overhead lights off, leaving them back in the glow of the candles and the string lights, and crawled back into the fort with the remote in his hand. “All right, if anyone has objections, y’all can get up yourself and change it,” he said.

Emily settled back as the movie started. Spencer was quiet beside her, but after a while he rolled over onto his stomach, his forehead pressed against Hotch’s arm and his blanket tangled around his legs, and she smiled when she heard his first little snore.

“Hotchner,” she whispered. “This blanket fort idea was genius.”

Hotch grinned. “Sean made me make one for him while I was home,” he said. “I figured Spencer might like it too.” He paused. “Is he asleep?” Emily nodded. “Thank god.”

James sat up and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Guys, I still haven’t heard from Alex,” he said. “It’s still going right to voicemail when I call her and she hasn’t answered any texts.”

“Maybe her signal’s out too,” Dave said. “Don’t worry about it. Alex can take care of herself.”

James pouted. “Yeah, but...I might be a little worried about her,” he said. “It’s not like her to not answer.”

“Awww, you miss your girlfriend,” Emily teased. 

“I do! I do miss her!” James said. 

“Guys, if any of you wake up Spencer, I will murder you,” Hotch hissed. 

“I’m sorry!” James whispered back. “I just- I think I need to be worried about Alex.”

Suddenly a familiar person knelt down and leaned into the tent. “You’re worried about me?” Alex said, her long red hair hanging loose around her shoulders. “That’s so sweet!”

James scrambled up, smacking Dave in the face in his haste. “Oh my god, I missed you!” he said. He tugged her closer, cupping her face in his hands, and kissed her deeply. “Oh my god. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she laughed, running her fingers through his hair. “My phone died and I didn’t pack any of my portable chargers in my carryon. Where’s everybody else?”

“Everybody’s flights are delayed,” Emily said. “Spencer’s been beside himself.”

“Oh, poor thing,” she said. “Is he sleeping? I don’t want to wake him up.”

“Yeah, he just dozed off,” Hotch said. “He’s going to be so relieved to see you.”

Emily scooted over to make room. “C’mere, the movie hasn’t been on for very long,” she said. 

“Hey!” James protested. “She’s my girlfriend, shouldn’t she be next to me?”

“Well, she’s my roommate, and I’ve had her for longer,” Emily said. Alex laughed as she settled between her and Spencer, busying herself with snuggling him against her side and tucking him in. Emily leaned over to whisper in James’s ear. “Besides, we all know you two are gonna go fool around the second you get a chance. You’ll get your quality time, don’t worry.”

Even in the dim light she could see him turn red. “What are you guys whispering about?” Alex asked. 

“Nothing!” James squeaked. Emily made a rude hand gesture and he smacked her arm. “Emily! Stop it!”

She snickered as she leaned her head against Alex’s shoulder. “How was your week being in charge?” Alex asked as she adjusted Spencer’s blanket around him.

“Could have been worse...could have been a lot better,” Emily said. “He was so sad. I’m not good with sad kids.”

“I’m sure you did great,” Alex reassured her.

The movie was almost over when Spencer began to shift and whimper in his sleep. “Is he okay?” Emily asked.

“He’s-” Hotch winced as Spencer kicked him in the shins. “Ow. Bad dream, I think.”

Alex sat up. “Okay, I’m going to wake him up,” she said. 

“Careful, he can be pretty feisty,” Hotch warned.

Alex stroked his hair back from his forehead as he tried to pull away from her. “Spencer, wake up,” she called gently, her hand resting on his chest. “Come on, darling.”

She kept coaxing him until his eyes finally opened. “What’s going on?” he mumbled.

“You had a bad dream,” she said. 

He blinked. “Alex?” he said sleepily. “Did your plane land safely?”

Hotch laughed. “Yeah, kiddo, her plane landed safely,” he said. “Get the sleep out of your eyes.”

Spencer rubbed his face and blinked again. “Alex!” he yelped, throwing himself into her arms. 

“Hi, baby,” she said. “Did you miss me?”

“A little bit,” he said, tilting his face so she could kiss his cheek. “Was your flight okay? Was there a lot of turbulence?”

“Everything was fine,” she reassured him as she cuddled him against her side. “Now, sh, I think Dave is getting invested in the movie.”

“No, I’m not,” he said absently.

“Yes, he is,” Emily teased.

Spencer settled down with his head on Alex’s knees; Hotch tugged his blanket around him. “Everybody else will be here tomorrow,” he said. “Penelope’s connecting flight got canceled, and Derek’s got canceled, and JJ’s parents rescheduled her.”

“That’s good,” she said, stroking her fingers through his hair. “Go back to sleep, darling. You look so tired. And everything’s going to be okay, nothing to worry about.”

The rain had settled back into a light tapping on the window; the thunder and lightning had long since stopped. Emily leaned back against her pillows, smiling in contented relief. Alex was right. Everything was going to be okay.

[thelivebookproject]

Talking Books With @buecherworm!

[What is this and how can I participate?]

Hi again!

I’ve exhausted the posibilities Wordreference offered and I don’t trust Google Translate, so we’re back to English for now. You are all more than welcome to send me greetings in your language so I can include them :)

Today we meet our first male booklr (I thought they were a myth, just like unicorns!) to talk about the feeling of home, music, and underrated books.

Important note: I haven’t changed or edited any of the answers. I’ve only formatted the book titles so they were clearer, but nothing else. Because I’m incapable of shutting up, my comments are between brackets and in italics, so you can distinguish them clearly.

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

[Image description: a square titled “Know the blogger”. Name & pronouns: Dominik, he/him; country: Switzerland; three adjectives to describe him: attentive, relaxed & focused /end] 

1. What is a book that reminds you of "home"?

The book that reminds me most of home is The Lord of the Rings. It was the first proper book i read growing up, my father used to read out loud for me. I just have a lot of beautiful memories of sitting in our living room on a rainy day and reading it. And nowadays whenever i reread it, it is so familiar, like coming home after having been gone for a long time.

[I have to agree on this one! Not the books (even though we have the complete trilogy, The Hobbit and The Silmarilion at home), but both my parents love the films so we’ve marathoned them together lots of times. When we want a film night and we can’t think of anything, LOTR always comes up!]

2. Last good, I'm-so-glad-I-finally-read-this, book? 

Howl's Moving Castle. I had seen the ghibli movie when I was a kid, but I never knew there was a book. Then a few years back a friend lent me their copy, but I never got down to it. Now in lockdown I had some time left over, so I read it. And it is so good. I love the writing style and the characters are to die for. Also, I could finally return the book to my friend:)

[Returning books to friends it’s important, it makes for lasting friendships ;)]

3. Do you read with or without music?

It depends, when I read in german I generally listen to music on the side. When I read in english I don't listen to music, because the lyrics make me lose focus, if they are in the same language, as what I am reading.

4. An underrated book you wish everyone had read?

To Say Nothing of the Dog by Connie Willis. It's about time-travel and romance and detective stories and it's just such a delightful read. And no one knows about it. 

5. Thoughts on films-turned-books (as in, novelization of films)? 

To be honest, I don't really read novelizations. But I don't have anything against them on principal. I do read a great deal of fanficiton though, which is not the same, but sometimes pretty similar. So, I would probably enjoy a good novelization, if I were to stumble upon it.

Free space to say/add/recommend anything!

For my free space: I would recommend for everyone to read at least one of David Mitchell's books. They're awesome.

You can follow him at @buecherworm​. 

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

Thank you, Dominik! It was great chatting with you. 

Next interview: Wednesday, 28th of October

[sailorbellewrites]

No Limit

characters— seokjin x reader (ft. members of bts)

summary— you and jungkook don’t even look alike. how was seokjin supposed to know you were off limits?

information— one shot. bakery!au. features less puns than you would think. i am still very new to writing smut, so be kind in that regard. if this gets a lot of love, might be continued in the future.

warnings—adult language; smut; mild violence; awkward situations; super hopeless seokjin.

no limit—

So it starts like this:

Jungkook has been talking about his older sister moving to Seoul for a couple of weeks now and Seokjin doesn’t really believe him because in the 2 years that he’s known the college senior, he’s never mentioned having a sister, just an older brother. The young man only has pictures of his mom hung up in his apartment and all requests to see what the girl looks like have been met with a stern shake of his head. Taehyung has never seen the girl either, says Jungkook doesn’t like to talk about her and he doesn’t know why. He’s heard the girl over the phone though and says she sounds, “cute.” And while Namjoon is certainly right in saying it would be weird for Jungkook to make up having a sister, Seokjin thinks Jungkook is just a weird enough person to do it.

“She’s coming today, hyung,” Jungkook says one Wednesday afternoon, too much energy radiating off of him. He’s dressed much nicer that normal, no holes in his jeans and a long sleeved shirt covering most of his tattoos. He even got a haircut, something he hadn’t had in a while. Jungkook can’t stand still, constantly wiping down the counters and rearranging the cupcakes in the display case. Seokjin gets so sick of his constant movement that he sends him to the kitchen to knead dough. “Okay, but hyung, if she comes in you have to let me know.”

“I don’t know what she looks like.”

He sighs deep, the sound almost morphing into a whine. “She’s probably gonna be wearing something bright or she’ll just ask for me! Seokjin please!”

“Fine, fine. Now get to the back, you’re making everyone uncomfortable. You’re gonna make me go outta business.”

When you walk in wearing a bright red coat, Seokjin doesn’t make the connection. You look around the shop for a bit and Seokjin is stunned because goddamn you’re beautiful. It’s like a movie, the white lights of the shop forming a halo around you and everything slows to a crawl. You make it to the register, eyes widening at the chocolate donut pyramid displayed behind Seokjin and he knows he’s fucked. “Hi,” you say and, yup, Seokjin is super fucked.

“I... Hi-I mean… Welcome to Baking News! How can I bake your day?” And the recovery isn’t as smooth as he would have liked it to be, but you still laugh way too hard at the puns and his heart swells.

“You’re funny,” you state earnestly. “I’m actually not here to buy anything, though. I’m looking for my brother.”

“Your brother?” Seokjin asks dumbfounded, because he would definitely know if anybody worked for him that looked like you.

“Yeah! He’s tall and skinny. Oh and he has really big teeth. He kind of looks like a rabbit when he smiles.” All of the air leaves Seokjin’s lungs because there is no fucking way you are Jeon Jungkook’s sister. You guys look nothing alike—hell, it’s questionable if you're even from Korea, that’s how different you look. But then Jungkook comes scrambling out of the kitchen and over the counter screaming “Noona!” like he’s a character in a goddamn cartoon. And you wrap yourself around him like a python, hugging him so tight that his face turns red. “There’s my bunny boy,” you squeal and Jungkook plants a big sloppy kiss on your cheek and—

“Holy shit, he does have a sister.”

.

.

Okay, so you’re not Jungkook’s real sister. He’s just weirdly obsessed with you and keeps calling you his sister, but you’re not his sister. At least that’s the conclusion Seokjin comes up with because you don’t have the same surname and you don’t look alike and you tell him that you haven’t lived in Korea in over five years. You share that tidbit of information over coffee two weeks after your arrival, pink scarf wrapped gently around your neck in a way that Seokjin deems more flattering than it should be. You share a lot of information with him in the time that you’ve been back, always coming into the bakery to get the first sugary treat you can get your hands on.

“Bunny boy tells me you make the best lattes this side of Seoul,” you tell him one rainy Thursday morning, leaned up against the counter. The bakery is empty except for you two, the usual morning rush having filtered out quickly due to the inclemete weather. Seokjin snorts because you always call Jungkook ‘bunny boy,’ even on days like today when he’s not here and it’s so cute the way the words come out of your mouth. They tumble out so effortlessly, whereas Seokjin can’t go two minutes without stuttering over himself while talking to you. So he just snorts because it’s easier to make sounds than it is to form words when you’re staring up at him like he’s the most interesting man in the world. “Is it true, Jinnie?”

“Jinnie?” He asks incredulously, because you’ve never called him anything other than Seokjin.

“Cute name for a cute boy,” you say with a shrug, as if it’s obvious. It’s not 

His mouth is moving before he can stop it. “Cute? You think I’m cute? Just cute?”

“Yeah, why?” You chirp out with a sly smirk. Seokjin’s heart stops—but his mouth does not.

“I’ll have you know, I’m not just cute. I’m handsome. In fact, I’m one of the most handsome men in the world. Have you ever seen a face more handsome than mine? More beautiful than mine? I know you lived abroad for a while and have seen a lot of attractive men walking around, but I promise you that this face right here is better. This face should be on billboards all over the world.” This isn’t the first time that Seokjin’s gone off on this tangent, of course. Everyone has heard it before, taking the comedy bravado for what it is and laughing him off. But when he says it to you, it feels like he’s marketing himself. He doesn’t want you to laugh him off. He wants you to believe him.

Your head lolls to the side as he speaks, as though you are fully taking his words into consideration, and when he finishes, you grin. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, Mr. Worldwide Handsome, do you really make the best lattes?” And Seokjin’s heart starts to constrict because even though your tone is teasing, your eyes are so sincere. He nods. You laugh. He’s fucked.

But he’s even more fucked because he can’t act on his attraction. Jungkook is scarily protective of you. He always seems to know where you are and who you’re with. He glares at any guy who looks at you for more than 10 seconds and shoves his hoodies over you if you’re showing too much skin. You mention downloading Tinder one Wednesday evening and the younger man nearly passes out. However, everyone’s accusations of him having a crush on you were met with immediate disgust because you’re his “sister.” In fact, he claimed on multiple occasions that you were the most despicable human being he’s ever met. “I pray that whoever I end up with is the exact opposite of my sister,” he mumbled one Sunday afternoon, frosting cupcakes in the kitchen. “She’s so fucking annoying. She doesn’t listen to anyone, no matter what they say. I don’t see how anyone could be attracted to her.”

“Ah, I don’t know man, I think she’s pretty cute.” Taehyung responded in jest, setting the completed cupcakes on a display pan.

“Stay the hell away from my sister you creep.” Jungkook all but growled out.

“Wow, the baby sounds serious,” Seokjin stated incredulously. “I didn’t know you could care about anyone other than yourself.”

“Shut up,” Jungkook replied, slightly embarrassed at being called out yet again for his so called selfish behavior. “She may be the worst woman I know, but she’s still my sister. I gotta make sure she’s well taken care of.”

“And you think I won’t do that?” Taehyung asked with faux shock. “I’m hurt.”

“Not a single one of you are good enough for my sister. She needs a doctor or a lawyer or someone super rich who can take care of her so she never has to work again. You guys all suck.” He stands up straight to admire his work before stating, with a frightening amount of cool, “If any of you guys tried it with her, I would kill you with my bare hands.”

So Seokjin tries his best to stay away from you. He attempts to keep his banter light, lessen his affection. He hopes to himself that you lose interest in the bakery, in the coffee, in him, but it’s difficult. You’re so easy to talk to. You think he’s funny, cracking up at all of his puns to the point of tears. When he winks at you, you smile so wide that he thinks your face might break. He falls harder for you every day.

It’s you that makes the first move though. It’s a balmy Friday night when you stalk in. Thirty minutes before closing, the bakery is empty except for two struggling rappers who loaded up on the discounted pastries that would otherwise get thrown away. You’re dressed up more than he’s ever seen you before, so much so that you look out of place standing next to the pastel pink sign touting the new peanut butter tira-miss-yous in your purple dress. “Well if it isn’t my favorite customer. What are you doing here so late at night?” Seokjin asks as you continue towards the counter.

“Bad date.” You mutter, before surprising Seokjin by pulling yourself up on top of the counter.

“Hey, who said you could sit up here? Didn’t anyone raise you with respect? That’s filthy! My sweets go up here.”

“I’m sweeter,” You quip and Seokjin chokes. You shift your body to face him a bit more. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Y-you—you can’t—Jungkook was right, you are disgusting.” He manages to stutter out, mind reeling at the thought of how sweet you actually were. “I have to clean that now. Get down.”

You ignore his request. “A pretty girl throws herself on a table in front of you talking about how sweet she is and you’re worried about cleanliness? Taehyung was right, you really are hopeless.”

He blanches. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You sigh, unmoving. “So bunny boy sets me up on this date right? He says it’s with one of his good friends who really inspires him. Someone that has helped him out a lot. I get excited because I think that it’s you. I mean, you literally gave him a job. How much more help can he get from one person? So I get all dressed up and ready to go only to have someone else show up at my door. And don’t get me wrong, the guy was attractive but he wasn’t you. He didn’t even make a single pun the entire time when there were plenty of opportunities to do so. He was so boring, Jinnie. Like, what do business lawyers really do anyways? The guy told me he hoped I had a good time, but I didn’t. So I decided to come here looking for an actual good time.”

“I… what?” Seokjin asks, unable to accept what you were implying.

“Oh my god, hyung, she likes you!” One of the rappers screams out from his table near the window. “Stop being dense.”

“I’m not—” Seokjin begins to yell back, but you cut him off.

“Jin, would you like to see a movie with me tomorrow night?”

When he looks at you, he sees a hopeful expression. He imagines closing up the bakery early and walking with you to the movie theater. He imagines what kind of snacks you’ll like and wonders if you’ll share them with him. He imagines wrapping his arm around you and how well you’d fit next to him. He imagines pressing his lips against yours in the dark, tongues wrestling against each other as his hands traveled down your body. He gulps. “Uh… yeah. I’d really like that.”

.

.

Seokjin’s not good at being in a relationship. He’s had a lot of toxic relationships in the past, with a lot of cheating and mental stress. He’s spent the last three years filling the void with a lot of meaningless sex. On more than one occasion, former friends with benefits came storming into the bakery to scold him for his lack of commitment. He focused on himself a lot; on getting through culinary school, on perfecting his skills in the oven, on opening his own shop. He tells you as much on the fourth date, hand wrapped tightly around your own as you walk through a flower garden. You listen intently, nodding your head and adding “ohs” and “ahs” when appropriate. Then you sit him on a bench and kiss him hard, tongue dragging against the roof of his mouth before whispering against his lips, “I don’t care. I like you anyway.” 

Seokjin is happy with you. He smiles for no reason during the day, sings louder in the kitchen when frosting cakes, cusses less when the chocolate doesn’t temper or the cookies burn. He feels lighter, knowing that come closing time he can be wrapped up in you. His friends notice too. Namjoon teases him about how much more cheerful he is, while Taehyung and Jungkook pry for more information. He offers them none, much to their chagrin. He wants to keep you to himself, afraid that if the others find out, they’ll ruin it for him. Especially Jungkook—though he thinks about the other man’s disapproval less and less as he spends more and more time with you.

The relationship progresses slowly. You go on a lot of dates, whispering in the back of movie theaters and stealing small kisses on street corners. Seokjin likes to hold your hand. He marvels at the way it fits in his own, how easily you are able to slide your finger through his as you talk about work or travel or a memory from your childhood. Seokjin likes to hear you laugh. You think he’s the funniest person you’ve ever met. He’s gone through a rolodex of puns to try and hear the bubbling sound that spills out of you. You laughed the hardest on the 7th date, plastic gun slipping from your grip at an arcade, when Seokjin tells you he wrote a dessertation on Sweetzerland in culinary school. You hug him tight, face pressed against his chest as you continue to giggle at his words. He thinks you fit well there.

You don’t sleep together until three months in—an eternity for Seokjin. He’s never had to wait that long, but he finds it hard to argue when you whisper, “not tonight,” in his ear. He always agrees, calming himself enough to make it through the rest of the date. He ends up jacking off to thoughts of how you taste in the shower. You’re the biggest tease when it comes to that—your taste. The casualness with which you insist that you are sweeter than any dessert he’s ever made always leaves him drooling. Eating girls out was never his favorite sexual act, but he thinks you’ll change that. 

“You can’t—you can’t just say those sort of things!” He yelled at you once, during your tenth date at a sushi restaurant. The waiter threw him a dirty look, as did a much younger couple seated next to you. He’s always louder than he needs to be, but you’re the only person he’s dated who never complained. Instead, you rolled your eyes at him and swallow your food.

“Why not?”

“We’re in public.”

“I didn’t say anything bad.”

“Don’t lie. Don’t pretend that you’re innocent! I can hear you. I have perfect hearing. Doctor’s everywhere are impressed by it. You can’t get those filthy words past me.” He berated, making you giggle.

You slid your hand over the table to grab his, kissing the back of it gently. He can’t help but blush. “Don’t be silly, Jin. I never said what part of me tastes better than strawberries, just that some part of me does.”

“Which part then?”

“Why? You want to try it for yourself?” He threw his head back with an annoyed groan at your words, making you laugh even louder. The couple shushed you both, yet again, shaking their heads as though you two are the immature ones in that situation.

When it finally does happen, much like the first date, it’s on your terms. You’re sitting in his apartment, legs thrown over his lap as you listen to him complain about a mom who ordered a cake of a whale for her son’s 8th birthday only to show up expecting a Beluga whale and not a Killer whale like Taehyung had decorated. Suddenly you sit up, arms coming out to grab Seokjin’s face as you set a soft kiss on his lips. Then a second. Then a third. With the fourth, you up the intensity by slipping your tongue into his mouth. He shuffles his body slowly between your legs, refusing to let your lips part as he hovers on top of you. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him down as you grind your center directly where his dick sits in his jeans. 

These types of makeout sessions have happened before; often right before you need to catch the train or bus back home. You always pull away after 15 minutes or so; that’s why Seokjin freezes when you whisper against his lips, “Do you wanna taste me?” He can’t formulate words. He’s thought about this moment for weeks now; planned a response for everything you could possibly say, but he’s coming up short. He’s sure he looks crazy, eyes bulging from his head. “Jinnie, say something.”

“A-are you… are you serious?” He manages to stutter out.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t—”

“Oh my god, take off your pants right now,” he yells in excitement, sitting up on his knees. Your laughter rips through the air as he fumbles with the button of your jeans, shaky hands pulling them down your thighs until they get caught at your knees. He huffs in annoyance, lifting your legs himself to get the now offensive fabric away from you. As soon as the jeans hit the floor, Seokjin drops down to his stomach between your thighs. You open your legs with a content sigh, making him wonder if you’ve been waiting for this moment as long as he has. He drags his lips lightly over your thighs before placing a kiss on the crotch of your panties. You shudder. He chuckles. “Promise you’re as sweet as candy?” He asks, voice unintentionally deepening as he comes closer to his target. 

“Pinky swear,” you whisper. Taking this as his cue to move forward, Seokjin’s fingers gently ghost over the black fabric of your underwear before pulling the crotch to the side and exposing your core to the cool air. He takes in the fluid shapes and subtle wetness already gathering on your folds in awe, shocking himself with all the ways he could still find you beautiful. Closing the last bit of distance between you, he takes a tentative lick from the bottom of your slit to the top, the firm tip of his tongue pressing against your clit in the process. The action causes you to rock up, hands settling at the top of his head. “Fuck,” you whisper gently, the breathy sound going straight to his cock. He repeats the act once more, though this time his lips around your tender bud and he gives it a light suck. Your fingers thread through his hair tightly, guttural moan exiting your throat. Pride swells in Seokjin’s chest—he’s the reason you’re making those sounds.

“Jesus babe,” he murmurs, leaving open mouthed kisses on your thigh, “you’re even sweeter than candy.” You let an amused breath at his words, any laughter that would have bubbled up dying as those kisses reached your lower lips. “Can I take these off?” Seokjin asks, pulling further at your panties.

“Please.” With a bit more confidence than before, he moves to take your panties off completely. As he settles back down between your thighs, he sneaks a peek at you. You’ve relaxed back down on the couch, head leaned back on the armrest although your eyes never leave him. “Jin, please,” you whimper. Your words spur him on and he dives face first in your pussy, tongue working itself deep in and around your core. Soft whimpers turn to loud moans as he continues, only motivating him further. The need to make you cum becomes his only goal. “Fuck Jin, so goo—oh!” You moan out, jumping in shock when you feel his thick finger press against your entrance.

“Can I?” He asks, lifting his head up for confirmation that he can continue. With your rapid nods, he presses his index finger into you, sighing as he feels warm walls flutter and constrict around him. Then, as if another force has taken over his body, Seokjin surges his whole body forward to kiss you while he thrusts his finger at a steady pace. You readily welcome his lips against your own, not minding the taste of yourself against his tongue, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Do you—fuck you are tight—baby… think you can cum like this?” He asks between kisses, your hips starting to buck into his hand. You mumble out an affirmative, pressing yourself closer to him.

He loses track of himself in the moment, one finger becoming two, thumb circling your clit, lips sucking bruises into your neck as you start to make desperate pleas in his ear for more, more, more. You give no warning when your orgasm hits you, just tensing up against him as your walls clamp down hard against his fingers. He litters your face with small pecks as he works you through it, fingers slowing only when he feels you begin to come down from your high.

“Jesus Jin, you’re really good at that,” you remark in a small voice as he removes his fingers from inside you, aftershocks continuing to rock your body.

He can’t help the cheshire grin that settles onto his face as he lifts himself off of you to get a good look at your fucked out form; your eyes are so dilated that they are nearly black, sweat sits at the edge of your scalp and brows, and your shirt is bunched up around your chest. He wants to kiss you again, wants to feel your legs wrapped around his waist, wants to feel everything you have to give and then some. “Baby,” he starts, suddenly feeling constricted by all the clothes he is wearing and how hot the room has gotten, “I could eat your pussy for hours on end, but I am so fucking hard right now. Please don’t leave me hanging.”

“Fuck that’s hot… do you have a condom?”

“Bedroom, bedroom, bedroom right now, come on!” Seokjin shouts, jumping up and pulling you off the couch with him, leading you through the short hallway to where he sleeps nightly. It’s a flurry of movement between the both of you, hands making bold passes over newly uncovered body parts as all remaining forms of clothing are removed. He lets an uncharacteristically animalistic growl when you finally wrap a hand around dick, moving it up and down at a near glacial pace. “Faster,” he finds himself begging, breathing harder when you comply with his request. He lets it go on for a while further before he gently pushes you on your back underneath him, hand digging in the drawer of his bedside table as he searches for the pack of condoms he knows is there. However, his movements stop and his mind goes blank when he feels you reach a hand for his cock again and grind his sensitive tip between your still soaked lips. He’s reeling, knowing he could slip right in if he wanted to, if you let him, despite how irresponsible it would be.

“Seokjin, condom! Hurry up!” You whine out, as if seeing his internal dilemma. Your other hand claws at his chest to further get his attention, snapping him out of his reverie and back into action.

When he finally locates a condom, he’s nearly rabid. He tears at the package and slips it on with such roughness that a small part of him worries he might break it. The bigger part of him, however, is focused on how delicious you look underneath him and how delicious your pussy will feel around him. He lets out a small huff when he finally gets the condom on, lining himself up with your entrance. He wants to take his time, wants to tease you a bit, but it takes one drag of the head of his cock against your slit for him to forget about all of that. He pushes inside of you slowly, warm walls clenching around him when he’s fully seated inside of you. 

It goes by faster than expected. Your body accepts him so easily, like it was made for him. You suck him back in each time he pulls out. You tilt your hips up when he begins to thrust harder, eyes rolling to the back of your head each time his hips meet your thighs. His hands roam the expanse of your body, gently squeezing areas that are softer than he expected and running blunt nails against your sternum before one of them snakes behind your neck and pulls you up to meet him for a sloppy kiss. It’s messy, more tongue than lips and it makes you clench even tighter than before. Seokjin’s not sure if you’re close, but he knows he damn sure is. 

“Honey I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer.” He bites out, slowing down slightly as he lays you back down.

“Then cum,” you whimper back, though it sounds much more like an order. Hitching your legs up on his waist, Seokjin uses the last bit of energy he has to drill into you, chasing his orgasm until it crashes over him like a tidal wave. It’s the most pleasure he’s felt in months. All of his senses are overloaded as he cums, pressing deep inside of you. His hips stutter slightly as he milks himself to completion, feeling even more content when you run your fingers up and down his arms slowly. 

It’s that sweet gesture that brings him back down to earth. He takes his time removing himself from you, unsure if he wants to leave now that he knows exactly what you feel like. Placing your legs off of his hips and shuffling off of the bed to throw away the condom, he quickly returns and flops on his back next to you.

“We gotta—we have got to do that again.” Seokjin finally breathes out, heart still racing. You curl up beside him, skin sticking to his own in a way that disgusts him slightly; yet, he still pulls you closer. “I didn’t make you cum.”

“You made me cum once.”

“But not on my dick.”

“I still enjoyed myself.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s an honor thing. You have to cum on more than my fingers.”

“Like right now? Or—”

“Don’t joke like that. My dick can’t handle it.” You giggle at his words and he feels something rising up in his chest that he can’t identify. Despite hearing all of your moans, whimpers, and whines for the past hour, he still thinks your laughter is the best sound in the world. 

And later, when you start to drift off on his lap during a 90s movie marathon, Seokjin whispers promises into your skin that he’s never made before. You don’t say if you hear them, but relax further in his embrace.

.

.

“Oh this kid looks just like Jungkook.” Seokjin says one evening, sitting on the bed in your apartment. It’s the first time you’ve invited him in, having asked if he would spend the night because the bakery opens later on Saturdays and you want to sleep in with him. It’s such a cute request he can’t deny it. He thinks you’re so cute that it’s getting hard for him to deny you at all. He worries it will become a problem later, but he doesn’t dwell on it when your whole face lights up with happiness. Your apartment is quaint, with big white walls covered in pictures and knick knacks from your various adventures overseas. You float around the bedroom grabbing things for Seokjin—towels, extra pillows, a spare toothbrush—and laugh at him. “What’s so funny, huh?”

“That is Kook.”

“Really?” He takes the framed picture from your nightstand and looks at it more closely. It’s for sure you in the picture, just much younger. You sport messy hair and large t-shirt combo that would be embarrassing to most, but you’re holding on to a much smaller and skinnier kid with such excitement that it just reads as adorable. “Wow, you guys have really known each other for a long time.”

You let out an airy laugh of disbelief, placing the things on a chair placed in the corner of the room. “Since he was born.”

“Oh, so that’s why he calls you his sister,” Seokjin starts with a nod of understanding. “I thought he just had a crush on you or something. I didn’t realize that you’ve known him for so long. Your families must be really close right?”

You laugh again, but the tone is off. Seokjin catches it, but you’re crawling on the bed next to him and wrapping an arm around his back before he can question it. “Baby,” you start, voice light but edging on serious, “you know I’m actually bunny boy’s sister right? Like we’re really related. His family is my family.”

It’s a gut punch, hearing those words come out of your mouth. He isn’t sure how to process and he’s sure he looks like a fish as his mouth opens and closes as he tries to find something to say. He settles on, “What?”

“Jungkook is my little brother.”

“But you guys don’t even look alike.” He responds, feeling his brain short circuit. “You literally couldn’t be more different. And you guys don’t even have the same names. You can’t—it doesn’t…”

You sigh, unwrapping your arms from around him while shaking your head. “It’s complicated.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well for starters, we’re not blood related at all.”

“So you’re not siblings then?” Seokjin asks incredulously, because nothing makes sense anymore.

“Biologically no,” you stress, grabbing the picture out of his hands. There are red indentations on his palms from where he was squeezing it so tight. “But, legally speaking, we are siblings. All the paperwork I have will tell you I’m part of his family. But more than that, all of us were raised together as brother, brother, and sister.”

It really is a complicated story, Seokjin thinks as you explain your family history to him. Friends of friends, broken trust, being in the right place at the right time, and international trips brought you into the Jeon family. You never looked at Jungkook as anything other than family; Jungkook never knew you as anything other than his sister, biology be damned. “He never talked about you though,” Seokjin admits, head pounding from information overload. “Like ever. He only ever mentioned his—well your—brother.”  

You roll your eyes at this information, but don’t seem surprised. “He was mad at me for a long time. He thought it was stupid that I left to try and reconnect with my bio family. Do you know he can hold a grudge for a really long time? He wouldn’t answer my phone calls for a year after I first left.” You let out a small sigh, flopping back on your bed. “We only really just got back to a good place. I think that’s why he’s been so clingy lately.”

Seokjin squeezes his eyes shut in frustration. “Ugh, Kook is really gonna kill me,” He mumbles, laying down beside you. 

“Why would he do that?” You whisper, moving your body to curl into him. “He’s the reason I started dating you in the first place.”

“What are you even talking about?” Seokjin groans out. “Don’t say false things just to comfort me. It won’t work.”

“I’m serious. He’s like your biggest fan. He talks about you all the time. Hearing and seeing how much you cared for him meant a lot to me. It made me like you for more than just your looks. I wouldn’t have embarrassed myself in front of you so many times if I thought you were a bad guy.”

“Really?” 

“Really.”

Seokjin hums mindlessly, thoughts still a jumbled mess in his head from all the information he has received. One thing sticks out in his mind though. He turns his head to lay a soft peck on your forehead. “You know you never embarrassed yourself in front of me, right?”

“What are you talking about? I practically begged you to take me on a date.”

“You saved me from myself. I embarrassed myself way more. I could barely talk to you without becoming a mess and tripping over all my words.”

“I wouldn’t want you any other way. You’re my mess.”

“Oh my god, Jungkook was wrong. You’re the best woman in the whole wide world and you're all mine, mine, mine!”

.

.

“Kim Seokjin, you motherfucker—” Here’s the thing, Jungkook is Seokjin’s youngest friend. He plays the role of the baby well, to the point where Seokjin feels as though he’s raised him. It’s so easy to forget that Jungkook is not as young as he acts; he’s always so kind and affectionate. He’s also the hardest worker at the bakery, always coming in early and staying late to make sure everything is finished. However, the boy was so much stronger than he looked. He worked out 6 days a week for fun and described getting tattoos as a pleasurable experience. Of course he would be able to pick Seokjin up and pin him against the wall by his throat. 

“Woah, woah, woah, calm down!” Namjoon shouts, running up to try and pull the younger man away. Jungkook does not relent, fighting against his friend to continue to try and choke Seokjin. “Kook, listen man! This is not the way to handle this!”

“He fucked my sister!” He screams and the accusation sounds so much worse coming out of Jungkook’s mouth, especially because it’s true. Except there is so much more than fucking that’s going on, but he can’t get the words out of his mouth to say that through Jungkook’s yells. “Thought I wouldn’t find out? Thought she would keep it a secret?” He spits out, still struggling against Namjoon.

“It’s not like that—” Seokjin begins, voice smaller than he anticipated, but Jungkook cuts him off.

“Bullshit!” Jungkook screams, voice cracking with rage. “I know you. I know how you are. You think you can just use my sister to get off?”

Now it’s Seokjin’s turn to be angry, with the thought of anyone only being with you for your body making him see red. “Do you really think I’m like that? You really think that I would hurt her like that?”

“Never stopped you before,” Jungkook responds sarcastically. “What did the last girl say again? Jin just wants a human fucktoy.” Seokjin winces at the words he once found humorous. The girl, a pretty florist he met at a bar, came in with the intent to tear him to shreds. She was met with indifference and laughter. He never realized how quickly her words would come back to haunt him. “You think my sister is a human fucktoy? Is that what it is?”

“Shut up,” Seokjin barks out, unable to think of you in that way.

But Jungkook is no longer fighting against Namjoon, content with his words bringing the pain. “You’re not good enough for her. You’ll never be good enough for her. I’ll kill you before I ever let you treat my sister like one of your whores.” 

“That’s enough,” Namjoon orders, frustration painting his features. “This isn’t going to solve anything. Jungkook, you should leave.”

Jungkook scoffs, pushing Namjoon away from him. “You’re on his side,” he accuses, pain in his voice, “You think it’s okay that he’s fucking my sister.” 

“I don’t think anything,” Namjoon stresses. “But fighting in our place of business is not smart. People can hear us out there and whether you like it or not, your outburst is gonna affect more than just Jin. This can be dealt with later.”

Jungkook is quiet, though he trembles with anger. Seokjin wonders, briefly, if the man will swing on Namjoon. However, Jungkook just shakes his head and states, “Fuck your business. I quit.” 

.

.

“Are you going to fire him?” You ask over the phone that night, worry evident in your voice. You canceled your date upon finding out what your brother did. You told him good faith when he tried to set you up another date with a doctor he knew, hoping he would be happy for you. He was not. You said you had to talk to him, make sure you understood where he was coming from before you passed judgement. He was your brother after all.

Seokjin wants to laugh. He can’t. He’s miserable. He wants all of this to end, but he doesn’t want his relationship with you to end. He’s tired. “I can’t fire someone who quit.”

“He didn’t mean it. He’s going to apologize to you.” 

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

But two days later, he finds you standing at his apartment door, Jungkook behind you looking at the ceiling in avoidance. Seokjin fights against his urge to hug you, to bury his face in the crook of your neck and plant a wet kiss against the skin that leaves you squirming and pushing him away from being, “gross!” He stares at you silently, but you smile at him like nothing is wrong. “Can we come in?” You ask sweetly, stepping in at Seokjin’s nod. Jungkook doesn’t move an inch, making you scowl. You turn to face the man Seokjin now knows as your brother and snap, “Get in here right now.”

The man obeys you, stepping inside of the apartment and shutting the door behind him. No one makes a move. Seokjin wants to choke on the tension. Finally, Jungkook lets out a deep breath and states, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You say with a leading tone.

Jungkook clenches his fist, jaw tightening. “I’m sorry for choking you in the bakery. It was unprofessional of me to do so.”

“And?” You continue. Jungkook closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Jungkook!” You shout, causing the man to flinch, yet his silence continues. Seokjin watches in amazement as you reach your hand up to grab the younger boy’s ear and tug hard. Jungkook howls in pain, trying to pry your fingers away. You don’t let up. “I don’t care about your pride or your protection. You are going to apologize to Jin properly right now!” Jungkook whines loudly. You twist your fingers and the boy’s knees buckle. The scary beast who pinned Seokjin against the wall was gone. In his place was a child, weak and subdued. He wants to laugh, but doesn’t. He’s sure that if he does, it will come back to haunt him later.

“Alright, alright, I’ll do it.” Jungkook screams out. With a final pull, you let go. Jungkook rubs his ear lightly and huffs, glaring at you. You return his stare. With another sigh, he turns back to Seokjin and states, “I crossed the line. I shouldn’t have hit you or said those things. It was wrong… but—”

“No buts!” You shout out, hand reaching up again. Jungkook catches it and grasps it tightly in his own hand. He shushes you with a look that says more than Seokjin could ever guess. He drops your hand and you let it rest at your side with a sigh.

“Can you leave?” Jungkook asks you. “I just want to talk to him alone. I won’t—I will not put my hands on him. I promise.” There is a sincerity in his tone that Seokjin has not heard in a while. It gives him hope.

Your head rolls back and forth, as if weighing out your options before stating, “Ten minutes, Kook. You hear me? Ten. And if he tells me you so much as even threaten him, you’ll have a whole lot more to be worried about than your ear!” At his aggressive nod of understanding, you turn to Seokjin. “I’ll be right back, okay?” You state, before leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek. Seokjin notices the way Jungkook’s jaw tenses at the open display of affection. With one more stern look to your brother, you exit the apartment. 

There is a beat of silence before Seokjin suggests they sit down in the living room. It’s awkward. Jungkook has been in this room before, even passed out there a time or two; but he’s as stiff as a board when he sits on the couch. He refuses to look at Seokjin, eyes trained on the coffee table in front of him. His breaths are measured and he opens and closes his mouth a few times as he decides what to say. 

Finally, he speaks. “You don’t seem to understand that she’s my sister. My only sister, Jin.”

“I understand th—”

“You don’t. You don’t understand. I know I’m younger and you think I act like a kid, but I’m not. Not with her. I’ve spent my whole life protecting her. People always try to take advantage of her because… I don’t know. So many reasons.” Jungkook stops, struggling for words. He takes another deep breath and finally looks at Seokjin. “When we were younger, boys would bully her for being adopted. She would act like it didn’t bother her, but I could see that it did. I must have got into twenty fights making sure they kept their mouth shut when it came to her. After everyone, whether I won or lost, she would always be happier. And that was all that mattered. When she moved away I was so angry because who was going to protect her out there? Her bio family is shit. They never wanted anything to do with her. Then she started dating this guy who cheated on her and I couldn’t even get to him and I—” He stops again, having worked himself up. “I want her to be happy, okay? I don’t want her to be sad anymore.”

Seokjin is shocked. He’s never heard Jungkook speak so seriously and with so much passion. His eyes are glassy, tears clearly threatening to spill over. He looks ragged. There are dark circles under his eyes. He’s not even holding himself up properly anymore, body limp in the seat. It’s clear this has been weighing on the boy and Seokjin feels a wave of guilt wash over him. This isn’t what he wanted to happen at all. 

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin states, breaking the silence, “For not telling you. For letting it get this far. As your boss—no, as your friend, I should have let you know.” Jungkook nods, swiping at his eyes roughly. “I do… I do care about her a lot. I don’t look at her like… if I only wanted her for sex, I would have stayed away.”

“Do you… do you love her?”

“I…” Seokjin hesitates. He’s never thought about it really, loving you. He’s never even thought about love in general. For years, he didn’t think he was capable of loving someone romantically. But when he’s with you, everything feels like it’s in its proper place. “I think—I do. ” 

Jungkook hums in response, throwing his head back on the couch and really relaxing for the first time since he stepped through the door. “She loves you too,” Jungkook says as though it's a hard fact. Seokjin feels his throat tighten at his words. It’s been a long time since he’s been loved. “Like a lot. That’s the only reason I’m here… ”

“I won’t hurt her.” Seokjin says adamantly, hoping he sounds as sincere as he is. 

“You better not.” He mutters. There is another beat of silence before Jungkook meekly asks, “Can I get my job back?”

“Ask Namjoon.”

“Fuck!”

.

.

So it ends like this:

After many apologies, Jungkook gets his job back. He’s put on samples duty for a month, standing outside of the bakery with a new pun-filled sign wrapped around his neck everyday. He hates it, especially when you show up to snap a picture and post it on your Instagram. Namjoon reposts one of them on the Baking News SEOUL account and it becomes the most liked picture on the whole page. You and Seokjin howl with laughter when you see the numbers, much to Jungkook’s annoyance. He still doesn’t approve of the relationship—at least, not completely. He rolls his eyes every time he sees a kiss or a hug; he insists you don’t stay in the bakery long, shoving you out of the door after five minutes because he’s sick of seeing you flirting with his boss; he scoffs when you come in more dressed up than usual for date nights. Yet, he makes sure Seokjin knows what types of flowers you like getting on your birthday and what your ring size is, “because that’s information you’ll need sooner or later.”

On Sundays, Seokjin closes the bakery early and brings you to the kitchen. He stands behind you, hand on your hip as he instructs you on how to ice the practice cakes he baked for you earlier. He knows you won’t do it perfectly, knows you’ll eventually dip a finger in the frosting to try it for yourself, knows you’ll try to get him to do the same and put some on his face when he refuses. It might start a food fight that will take too long to clean up; might make him bend you over the counter and fuck you until your moans reverberate off of the walls. Regardless, it always ends with you kissing him all over his face, exchanging soft “I love yous” until you’re ready to go home. Seokjin thinks he’s okay with both scenarios; thinks he’ll be okay with both for a long time. 

[amberskywrites]

A Perfect Match

Requested by @tina0555! This was incredibly fun to do, and I hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link || Masterpost

Pairing: Abigail/Farmer (No gender specified for farmer)

Fandom / Genre: Stardew Valley / Fluff

Summary: You return your gaze to the hills flashing by, fiddling with your half of a soul charm idly as you let your mind wander. Things already looked much more peaceful here, and when you spotted a sign saying it was only half a mile to Stardew Valley, well, you couldn't help the excitement that started to bubble in your heart.

Who knows, maybe you'd find that other half here.

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

You stare at the charm resting comfortably on your chest as the hours drag by. You weren't sure what you were getting yourself into, going to Stardew Valley, but you dearly hoped it'd be a much better experience than working at Joja. It had never occurred to you that Grandpa had a farm this far from the city- yoba, you never expected him to have a farm at all.

But you were glad that it was now yours. A remote place and a fresh start seemed to be something you desperately needed.

You return your gaze to the hills flashing by, fiddling with your half of a soul charm idly as you let your mind wander. Things already looked much more peaceful here, and when you spotted a sign saying it was only half a mile to Stardew Valley, well, you couldn't help the excitement that started to bubble in your heart.

Who knows, maybe you'd find that other half here.

-

Your first year in the valley was… an experience. Grandpa's farm had been closer to the mountains than you had been expecting, and you focused mostly on clearing the farm and growing crops. You had met everyone, got into some arguments with the local drunk because of his attitude, and hung around Linus or Willy in your off times when you were tired but it was still too early to sleep. You'd explore the mines on rainy days, and the further you went the more interesting things you found.

Abigail really liked the gems you would find. She was almost as excited as you when you had found a particularly sparkly amethyst! You saved it for her birthday, and she loved it. She was surprised you had even remembered her birthday.

You also got to know Marnie and Robin really well, constantly stopping by to buy a new farm building or supplies for a few of your new animals. Sam and Sebastian also became close friends, especially after you took interest in the band they were starting up.

Around winter, you didn't feel like much of an outsider anymore. Though you spent a lot of time in the mines during the frigid weather, you made sure on Fridays to stop by the Stardrop Saloon. After buying Sam a pizza and handing Sebastian another frozen tear you found, you'd give Abigail quartz, which she'd eat despite you telling her it wasn't good for her.

She'd laugh at your concern as you settle on the small couch beside her, watching the boys play pool and Sam once again having his butt kicked by Sebastian. Abigail talked mostly, complained about all the work she had to do over the weekend. But also some of her plans to go hang out in the forest near Marnie's.

Winter was also the season that you remembered your soul charm, often hidden under your shirt. You had been quite busy, and the only reminder you had a soulmate at all was whenever Alex made a comment about not knowing if he wanted to meet his, or Marnie mentioning how disappointing it was that Lewis wasn't hers despite them feeling like soulmates. Marnie only really talked about soulmates when she was really, really drunk though.

Jodi had her soulmate, a soldier named Kent. You were told he should be coming home soon… you couldn't wait to meet him, after hearing Vincent sounding so excited whenever his father was brought up. And… Jodi and Caroline seemed to be the only two with their soulmates, though Caroline talked less about Pierre unless it was to complain about how he worked too much. Willy claimed he had tossed his charm into the sea, Linus didn't have one for some reason either. Marlon refused to tell you about his when you asked one day, buying a new glow ring since your last one had gone missing. You hadn't asked anyone else about their soulmates. It seemed a bit too personal when you weren't great friends with too many people yet.

-

Time flew by in your second year, too. You were even busier tending to more crops, going deeper in the mines, and caring for your animals. You also grew much closer to Abigail, Sam, and Sebastian, occasionally joining them to watch them practice when you weren't working or playing the harp with Abigail during the warmer seasons in the mountain.

An autumn one night as you were leaving the beach, you caught Abigail in the graveyard. After chatting for a few moments and showing her the one you always kept with you, in case of monsters, Pierre appeared to tell Abigail Caroline wanted her to help with dinner. You ran after her when she fled the scene and continued to talk about the mines and all the creatures you've encountered. You leave out the fact that you actually kill them.

And the year ends, almost as quickly as the first.

-

Spring in your third year shook you a bit when Grandpa appeared, evaluating your work and achievements over the last two years. He didn't seem too impressed, which put a damper on your mood at the start of the season. 

What did improve your mood though was when one morning you woke up and found a letter from Abigail in your mailbox. Your heart skipped a beat as you read and saw she signed it as 'Abby', something you thought adorable, and you made a mental note to visit her later.

Over the last two years, you had gotten particularly close to Abigail. You loved listening to her talk, enjoyed seeing her eyes dance in excitement as you presented a jewel to her, or told her about one of your adventures… you ended up making it a habit to stop by and say hello when she was in her room, but it'd been a while since you visited her. There was an extra bounce in your step as you got to work.

After a long day of tending to the farm and sparing a trip to the beach to fish, you had almost forgotten to visit Abigail until you saw the letter on your table. You made your way to Pierre's store and walked in just before it was gonna close, and grinned as Abigail pulled you into her room.

She shows off the spirit board she has, and you listen to her explain the multitude of things on it. It isn't until you ask about a certain message - one with some things you can't really read from your place but you do see a drawing of a circle cracked down the middle, lines swirling together from both sides, half of it you think you recognize - and her face flushes a deep red and her words start to fumble until she just rushes you out, bidding you goodnight. You blink as the door to her room slams closed and glance around. Neither of her parents seemed to be around, and you notice it's gotten late, so you make your way home, still confused about what all that was about.

You were about to start on your chores when you were startled by Abigail on your doorstep. She apologized for the night before, and you're still very confused and reassure her it's alright but you don't know if she heard you since she left the farm as soon as she apologized. 

It isn't until you're done with feeding your animals and watering your crops do you realize what the drawing on the spirit board was. And why you pointed out that message in particular.

Trying to remember the drawing to the best of your ability, you look down at the charm around your neck. You curse under your breath as you quickly put away your tools and run down the path to Pierre's store. You're pretty sure Abigail will be there, but first you think you should buy something, so you hope Abigail is at least in her room.

Even if your charms didn't match, didn't fit together perfectly… you don't really care. You hoped you weren't jumping to conclusions as you caught your breath, walking into Pierre's store and walking right up to the business man. You smiled as usual, but kept your voice down.

"Is Abigail here?" You ask, and Pierre shakes his head.

"Up by Robin's, I believe. Why, if I may ask?"

You shake your head. "No reason, just... wanted her input on something." You grab some money from your pocket, and lay it on the counter. "But I also wanted to buy something."

After buying what you wanted from Pierre, you force yourself not to rush to the mountain lake where you were told Abigail would be. Looking at your watch, you guessed she was playing her flute, or maybe just sitting under one of the trees.

And once you get there, your mouth runs dry as you approach the purple-haired girl, lost in her own world as she plays her instrument. You take a deep breath, and smile as you tap her shoulder, one hand kept behind your back.

She seems startled, but relaxes as soon as her thoughts catch up and she smiles gently. "Sorry, I didn't expect to see you today. You don't usually come up here on Wednesdays…"

You shrug. "I wanted to talk to you, about what I saw yesterday. And I wanted to ask you something." You watch as her face dusts crimson again, and she doesn't meet your eyes. "I'll leave if you don't want to talk about it, though. And I won't bring it up again if you're uncomfortable with me doing so."

She fiddles with the flute in her hands, playing a silent song with it, maybe to calm any nerves. Abigail had been hoping you wouldn't pursue the topic. But she should've guessed you'd want to talk about it.

"... Alright."

You smile reassuringly, even though you know she isn't watching you. "You doodled our soul charms together, that's what that message was about." Abigail nods.

"I forgot I had it up there, until you pointed it out." She exhales slowly, finally meets your eyes and she relaxes when she finds no disgust in them. "I've done it before, a few times only though, with small crushes on the kids in school… they never ended up being my soulmate, though. So I stopped checking, but still doodled soul charms with mine anyway."

"So, you have a crush on me?" You ask, smile never faltering, your grip on the object behind you tightening just a bit more.

Her face turns a slightly deeper shade of red, and she nods.

"Then, do you want to try dating?"

Abigail's brows furrow, and she's about to ask what you mean until there's a bouquet in front of her. She recognizes it instantly, having helped her father put the bouquet together, and she stumbles over her words for a moment.

"But- but what about our- the charms? You don't want to see if they match?"

You shrug. "If you want, we can definitely see. But even if we weren't soulmates, I would wanna try dating."

Abigail stares at you in silence for a moment, mouth agape as she tries to think of what she wants to say. "But what about our actual soulmates, then?" She asks finally.

"People don't always get together with their soulmate. I mean, just look at Sebastian's parents."

She seems like she's about to say something against that, but changes her mind, and finally, Abigail nods. "Alright."

You brighten a bit. "You'd like to go out?"

Abigail nods again, smile widening as you pass her the flowers and she holds them to her chest. "You picked out one of my favorites."

"Yeah, it was hard getting your dad to stop talking about which ones were the best to try and see if you had told him which ones you liked most." She laughs at that, nodding in understanding. When her laughter dies down, you tilt your head and tap where your soul charm is. "Do you want to see if they match?"

Abigail stares at the charm resting on your chest for a moment before she reaches towards her own, tugging it out from under her shirt and she nods, holding it up. You step close and bring yours up to meet hers.

They fit together perfectly.

[tommyquackson]

Not Working | p. parker | part 4

Not My Gif

summary: you and peter are together but maybe it’s just not working anymore

warnings: angst, depression, fluff cussing i think?

note: this was the final chapter and i loved this series. thank you guys for supporting it and showing it love. Make sure you request and read my other fics. ok love y’all enjoy!!!

this is Midway School of Science and Technology calling to inform you, you’ve missed 13 consecutive school days and if you miss 2 more you’ll be at risk of failing your courses and we will have to send police over to do a wellness check. We hope to see you in school tomorrow. Have a great day

So it’s been 13 days. You haven’t left your house in 13 fucking days. You’re beginning to smell yourself, you haven’t bathed or showered since the night everything went down. You just lay in bed, watching whatever black and white shows playing on MeTV at the time. You only eat about once a day, when reciting old life insurance commercials begins to hurt your brain. Your phone died a long time ago and you’re just now listening to the messages in your home phone.

You click delete on the message and let the next one play.

hey y/n, uh it’s Brad. Look i know you hate me but you haven’t been at school and nobodies heard from you so I just wanna make sure you’re okay. I do care about you and i wanted to say-

you roll your eyes and click delete again.

hey honey! Aunt May here, just wanted to let you know me and peter are safe and back home. I’d love for you to come over and have dinner on thursday, and don’t worry Peters visiting Tony so he won’t be here. Call me back or just show up okay hon. Love you bye.

Your hand dangled over the delete button before you sighed deeply. May never did anything to you, but how were you gonna pull it together enough to get to her. You were exhausted all the time, even if you never do anything. You looked at the time and date on your home phone and realized it’s Wednesday. You sigh deeply and pick up your home phone to call May. 

ring ring ring

“Y/n! Hey honey, how are you?” Mays voice sings through the phone and for a moment the world seems a little brighter. 

“Hey May,” You croak out, you havent spoken in almost 2 weeks and your throat hurts. “I’m not doing well May, everything hurts and I cant even get out of bed. I cant go to school, or eat or sleep or shower May I hate this. I hate it.” Your already raspy voice breaks into sobs and you wonder if she can even understand what youre saying. 

“I’m on my way y/n, its gonna be okay. I love you and I’ll see you in 10 minutes.” May speaks strongly before hanging up the phone. You do nothing but change pajamas and grab a bag of chips before moving back into your bed and wait for May. 

It’s not long before May is knocking and slowly opening your front door. 

She looks at you with tears in her eyes before walking over and oulling you into a hug. It feels weird to have human contact but you dont pull away, just allow her to cuddle you. 

“Lets get you a bath, I’ll help you wash your hair.” She smiles lightly before pulling you up and towards the bathroom.

 You sit on the toilet while she gets the water and bubbles ready. Once its ready she turns away while you strip down and step in, letting your body sink into the hot water and lavendar bubbles. She immediately picks up water in a cup and pours it over your head, careful to not let it spill in your eyes, shes treating you like a mother treats an infant but you dont have the capacity to stop her. You sit in silence for a while as she brushes through the mats in your hair until you decide to speak up. 

“May? Does he love me?” You croak out

She chuckles lightly before answering. 

“When I first met Ben, I knew right away I loved him. He swept me away without knowing it. It was instant love, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. The way he looked at me made the world disappear and I knew it was the kind of love they write books about. The kind of love that turns rainy days from gloomy to comfy, turns blistering heat into warmth and fun, Ben turned everything into a fairytale effortlessly. 

When you and Peter were in the 7th grade, and we threw him the birthday party, that youd planned most of, I remember looking at Ben and he was looking at me with the fairytale look. Ya know the one all the hot actors do in movies. Anyway, he was giving me that look and when I turned my head and watched you give Peter his present, I saw him give you the look, and you gave it right back it was precious. After that, everyday I saw you standing with Peter, he looked at you with the fairytale look, When he talks about you its with the same adoration he talks about Ben. 

There is no doubt in my mind Peter loves you with every bone in his super body, y/n. You’re young and he can be a bit niave sometimes but he loves you unconditionally honey. You love him more than he loves you and he loves you more than you love him.” She stops brushing my hair and without a word begins washing my body with bodywash. I didnt even realize I had started crying until I saw a tear fall into the tub.

“I love him May. I feel like I need him to breathe, to live. I just dont understand how he could choose her over me.” 

“Because hes a teenage boy and sometimes he doesnt think about what hw has, hes just like his uncle ben i’ll tell you that. You need to talk to him, maybe not now but soon, you need to tell him everything in your brain until its empty and your throat hurts from talking, and he will listen until his ears are sore from listening and his head hurts from understanding. Now, come get dressed and I’ll order us some pizza” May shakes her hands and drys them while handing you a fluffy towel. 

She spends the rest of the night, telling you about this season of the Bachelorette while she helps you clean and do laundry. 

“Thank you May.” You hug her as she grabs her purse to leave. 

“Anything for you baby,” She kisses your head and wavees goodbye. You take a deep breathe and walkback to your room, plugging in your phone to charge. 

After a few minutes it turns back on and slowly notifications start coming in, texts and calls and emails and dms from people and your old friends. You clear them all and head for you contacts, you find Peters name and decide to text instead of call. 

                                         peter

                                                                                                                    Hey

                                                                                                Can you come over?

hey, is everything okay? 

                                                           I need to talk to you

Of course, I’m on my way.

You sigh and begin writing down everything you need to talk about, until you hear a knock on your window. You shakily stand up move towards your window, opening it and taking a step back.

“Hi” Peter whispers with his hands in his pockets.

“Hi” You whisper back.

“What’d you uh wanna talk about” Peter asks, slowly bouncing on the ball of his feet.

“Uh okay, um please sit. So um, as you probably know i haven’t been to school in a minute and uh that’s because ive been laying in my bed depressed and confused. May come over today and she helped a lot and she convinced me to talk to you about everything and that’s what i’m doing so I just need you to listen to everything in gonna spill out and i’m gonna do my best to make everything make as much sense as possible.” You look to Peter for confirmation and continue when he nods quickly.

“Okay uh first, I wanna say I’m sorry, for everything. For Brad, for ignoring you and yelling at you and for being a shitty friend. You were right about Brad and i’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, I just wanted so bad to be wanted ya know? I was feeling so insecure about you loving me that I ran to the first person that showed interest in me. I’m also sorry i basically ditched you guys for him, i just couldn’t look at any of you without feeling nearly sick. But i miss my best friends and I miss you Peter.

I’ve known since we were children that you were special to me. I always assumed it was one sided because I’d seen you go after other girls so i felt like there was no way you could ever love me as much as i love you, but I know now that you do, or did or do i don’t know but I do know that for me, you’re everything I need. We’re soulmates Pete, I can feel it. I feel deep in my heart that the universe made us just to be together and being without you would be to deny the universe herself and who am i? I need you so much when you aren’t around me i can barely breathe and a part of me is missing. I love you unconditionally and I always have.

What you did with Mj killed me, shattered my heart because I felt like once again, you chose her over me, your bestfriend and girlfriend and I hated that feeling each time I got it. The night i broke up with you I cried until my head hurt to much to stay awake, i felt stupid for thinking you wanted me more than her and I understood it. I looked at Mj and it felt like a no brained to pick her but it still never felt right. I know you didn’t mean it and we’re still so young peter. We’re basically kids trying to form a life long relationship and we don’t know what we’re doing. I don’t know how or what i’m going to do but I wanna be with you peter. I would have to take it slow of course but that’s where i’m at with us. So um yea.” You let out a sigh of relief of getting everything off your chest. You look away from Peter and wipe the tears that had fallen during your mini speech.

“I love you. I do. So much. Ever since our breakup i’ve been planning and wondering how to get you back. I felt lost without you and I never wanted you to feel less than. You’re perfect in every way y/n. You’re my oxygen and MJ is honestly just a friend. She could never make me feel the way you make me feel. We’ve got May and Ben type of love babe I swear we do. It was a stupid mistake but of you give me another chance I promise I will spend the rest of my life proving to you you mean the world to me and i will choose you again and again. I love you y/n and i want you to always know that.” Peter speaks through tears as he pulls your body close to his. He whispers how much he loves you against your temple as you break down and sob into his chest.

“Can you stay the night?” You whisper up at him.

“Will you let me take you out? Friday?” He looks hopefully at you. You smile lightly and bite your lip.

“Yes.”

“Then yes. I’ll stay with you” He kisses your forehead once more, before pulling you both under the covers to cuddle into you fall asleep to the beat of peters heart.

taglist: @cyrusandhiscollaredahirts @silver-winter-wolf @just4muggles @randomtrashpanda @sunshine-ybba @jin-hyuks @lovely-geek @jackiehollanderr @des0rbitadx @flowersgirl02 @eridanuswave @dear-selena @lavender-lovin @greatpizzascissorstaco

[peolelikeme-blog]

Wanderings of a Learner

Be it Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, or even Sunday, or a rainy day, a sunny day, or as it mostly is here, a cold or snowy day, there is one specific thing that is common in all these days.

Any guesses??

Every day is a Learn-Day!

You may learn something frivolous that you may never utilize or something that you may bring in practice, or a piece of information that you cannot inculcate in your progress or for your entertainment. There are days when you learn more, there are days when you learn a little lesser and it is all assembly-line, routine work for you. Still, you do learn!

What all I learned today, was all the three mentioned things.

The first thing that I learned was, that I am a good person. A better person than what most people encounter in their daily lives or maybe I am great at acting well. If any of these are true and be it any case, I still win battles on most of my good days.

The second thing that I learned was that I am wasting my time in doing things that change nothing and will make no sense in the longer run. The things that I am doing today, I would not like to listen in my eulogy in the hope, very later future. I mean, who wants to listen in their death beds as being those who made the best MS Excel dashboards or put enigmatic spreadsheet formulas?! Nothing wrong with it. But that person is not me. I am an explorer, I revel in food, and live for a good time with few good friends.

The third thing, that I cannot do anything about was the plight of things in India. This through the eyes of a daily wage-earning driver, who had driven my sister to work in these tough Covid-19 times and interested her in a much-needed conversation. The past week, she said that the times are not as good as they seemed to be, and as there are retrenchments everywhere, there is a lot of stress for the newly employed. So, after an awful week, the Gods did their little trick and reminded her, that there are bigger problems needing solving. Much on the lines of the famous Hindi Film Industry song:

दुनिया मे कितना ग़म है,

मेरा ग़म कितना कम है.

Which simply means,

'There is so much pain in the world, that when I compare my pain to others, mine always seems lesser'.

It got me thinking. A few months back, I was complaining about the Canadian cold and yet having to work and study without any respite. Now I remember what I used to think before I started thinking about my problems. I have always wanted to change things around me using my learning from school, college, and life. I am almost 24 now.

If not now, when will I change anything?

Or will I ever change anything?

But, today, while my mind wanderers and picks up my learning from the past, I know, that this battle is the one where I will win, again!

[inyournightmares97]

Unwritten

A chance encounter with a stranger on a rainy night shows you that it doesn’t have to matter who you are or what you’ve done until now... your story can always begin today. 

Warnings: Fluff, some intense topics. I’m not sure what this is. Maybe it’s a birthday gift to myself because who can possibly know what I want as a gift better than me? I probably shouldn’t have posted this since it’s really personal and kind of a mess, but eh, what the heck. (Also, inspired by my all-time favorite song, Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield) 

Word Count: 3.6k

Maybe you were a little bit crazy. 

It could have been the alcohol, the stuffy atmosphere of the club, or even the crushing weight of the realization that you hated absolutely everything about your life. But none of those things were new. 

The truth was, you weren't entirely sure what had caused you to snap that particular dark and drizzly Wednesday night. But somehow, even the lack of any evident stimulus was fitting. 

Everything doesn't have a reason. 

The world is a mess that we've somehow convinced ourselves makes sense. 

You didn't tell any of your friends that you were leaving the club. One second you were dancing and celebrating the hours leading up to your birthday and the next, something inside of your brain snapped and you needed to get out. It was like a sudden rush of clarity. You hated being here. Surrounded by people who you hated, people who themselves hated life and who lived it so begrudgingly. 

Everyone around you suddenly seemed to be carrying this huge, indescribable void inside of them and you had to leave. You didn't want to be here. You weren't sure where you wanted to be but it definitely wasn't here. You grabbed your purse, walked out of the club and hailed down a taxi. 

The brightly colored car stopped in front of you and you grabbed the door handle of the front passenger seat and plopped down onto it. 

You could feel the driver's eyes staring into you. 

"Are there, uh… are there more people coming?" he asked, since that was the only logical explanation why a taxi passenger would sit in the front seat. You blinked. 

"Nope." 

"O-oh." 

"Why?" you demanded, turning to look at the driver. He was young; you were struck by how incredibly handsome he was. He had dark, kind eyes and the softest lips you had ever seen. The startled expression on his face was adorable. "Am I not allowed to sit up here unless the back seat is occupied?" 

He blinked at you and then the corner of his lips turned up. 

"No, you can sit wherever you like. I was just asking." 

You grinned. You liked this driver. His shoulders visibly relaxed. Maybe he'd just resigned himself to the fact that he was going to be driving an annoying and drunken woman home. You turned back to face the front. 

"Okay. Start driving!"

He started the car and slowly merged into the main road with his hands on the steering wheel. He had pretty hands, you thought. Everything about him was pretty.

Why are humans so drawn to beauty? 

"Where are we going?" the driver asked you. You hesitated. Where were you going? You weren't sure yet. When you didn't reply, the driver turned and frowned at you. His dark eyes crinkled at the corners. 

"Where do you live?" he pressed gently. 

"I… I don't want to go home," you admitted. 

"Then where do you want to go? Another club? Maybe a boyfriend's place?" he continued to prompt. You were still silent so he pulled the taxi over by the side of the road and bit his lip. "Ma'am. I can't keep driving if you won't tell me where you want to go." 

You suddenly felt empty. 

"If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go?" you asked him suddenly. 

The man blinked. "Uh, home, I guess." 

The answer disappointed you and you pursed your lips with a frown. Home? Why was everyone so obsessed with home? Home was an illusion of safety and comfort that we try to lure ourselves into thinking belongs to us. Nothing really belongs to us. 

"Why? Why is it that we have this enormous world at our disposal but every single night we go back to the same boring old place and sleep there? What's so great about it?" you demanded. 

He blinked at you. "It's just… comfort, I guess. Home is where we're happy and we can be ourselves."

"You know what?" 

"What?"

"I'm happy right here in this taxi so I've decided it's my new home," you informed him defiantly. You kicked your painful heels off and crossed your bare feet on the comfortable seat. 

"That's… not how it works," he told you with a hesitant chuckle as he watched you get comfortable. You tried to take the seat belt off but he silently put it back on. "Can you please give me either your ID or your wallet so I can find your address and take you home?" 

You frowned at him. "I just told you that this is my home. Your car-sorry, what's your name?"

"Jinyoung." 

"Well, Jinyoung, your taxi is my home." 

He sighed. "Look ma'am, if you don't tell me where to take you then I'm gonna have to drive you to the nearest police station and drop you off there, cause I can't be responsible for your safety-"

You groaned. "Wow, Jinyoung, are you always such a buzzkill?" 

"... Yes." 

"Fine. Then let's go to the beach." 

"It's raining outside."

"And I want to go to the beach, so get driving, mister!" 

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

If you believed in fate, then you would perhaps have thought it was fate that you got into the handsome and patient Park Jinyoung's taxi that night. 

But you didn't believe in fate. 

Not tonight. 

You settled back into the taxi and rolled the windows down. If Jinyoung was upset that rain was entering the car and ruining the seats of his taxi, he certainly didn't show it. Freezing cold air hit you in the face and little droplets of rain grazed your skin. You took a deep breath and smiled happily. 

You felt excited. For once, you felt this sudden burst of hope and relief. It was almost like you had just escaped the prison of your life's monotony and you were on your way to your newfound freedom. You turned and saw that Jinyoung was watching you out of the corner of his eyes. 

"Do you think I'm weird?" you asked. 

"A little," he admitted honestly. 

You spotted Jinyoung's wallet lying in the cupholder and reached out to grab it. You leaned back in your seat and opened it up. Jinyoung watched you warily but again, said nothing as you lifted the flaps on the inside of the wallet. 

"Let's see who you are, Jinyoung," you said cheerfully. In the first slot was his driving license. You glanced at the photo and made a face. "Ew, you're handsome even in your driving license picture. How does that work? Who did you pay to get that done?" 

Jinyoung chuckled. "The camera doesn't lie." 

"No, but it can be a little bitch sometimes," you complained. You sighed and dug further into his wallet. You found a student ID card. "Oh! You're a college student! Do you drive part-time?"

Jinyoung nodded. "Actually, I just graduated." 

"Oooooh." 

"Yeah, I uh… I start my first full-time job tomorrow," he admitted to you. He wasn't sure why he was telling you this. Maybe it was just the way you were staring at him with your innocent wide eyes. Jinyoung couldn't remember the last time someone had seemed so curious to learn about him. "Tonight is my last day as a taxi driver."

You gasped. "No!"

He smiled. "Yeah."

"And I'm your last passenger? I'm the last person to ever sit in a taxi driven by Mr. Park Jinyoung? That is so cool!" you decided. 

"It's not that cool," he muttered. "Besides, you might not be the last because I might find another passenger after I drop you off-"

You weren't listening. "We have to celebrate!"

"It's not worth celebrating." 

"Everything is worth celebrating," you told him decidedly. "Do you know what I was supposed to be celebrating tonight? My birthday. In other words, I'm celebrating the fact that the earth was at this exact position in relation to the sun at the time I came out of my mother's vagina because my parents had sex nine months prior. If we can celebrate something as pointless as that, then we can celebrate anything." 

Jinyoung couldn't hold back a smile. "Okay." 

"So, Park Jinyoung, allow me to congratulate you on managing to operate a taxi for, um, how long?"

"2 years."

"-2 years without any accidents, without killing anybody and without getting your license revoked," you announced happily. You offered your hand for Jinyoung to shake in congratulations but he simply raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know I haven't killed anybody?" he challenged. 

Your eyes widened excitedly. "Have you?" 

He shook his head with a chuckle. "No. That's not really the reaction I was expecting, though. Would you rather I had?"

"It might have been an interesting story. I've never met a murderer." 

"Most people would consider themselves lucky." 

"Well you know what, fuck luck," you told him with a frown as you folded your arms across your chest. "I'm so sick and tired of luck. Whenever something good happens to me then people go oh, you're so lucky! And when something bad happens then they go, oh it's nor your fault it was bad luck. If luck decides everything then why do we even try? What's even the point?"

"I don't know. I guess that's just how it is."

"I'm tired of luck. I want to be in control. I want to be able to do whatever I want and steer my life exactly where I want it to go. Wouldn't we all be so much happier if we could do that?"

"That depends," Jinyoung mused. 

"On what?"

"On whether you really know what you want." 

You furrowed your eyebrows. "How could I not know what I want?" 

"You want to be happy," Jinyoung reminded you. "But the truth is, you don't know exactly what will make you happy. It's like knowing the name of the place you want to go but not having a map to get there. You'll end up trying all the wrong roads until you stumble across it by accident. Chances are high that you will never find it at all." 

You stared at Jinyoung. "Wow."

"What?" he asked, with a flustered smile. 

"Jinyoung that was so deep, I'm so impressed," you told him with a grin. His ears turned a light shade of pink. "You're so right. Happiness is like a destination we don't know how to get to. But you know what the problem is? The problem isn't that we keep trying all the wrong roads. The problem is that we're scared to try new roads so we keep asking other people for directions and they don't know where it is either." 

Jinyoung hummed. "Maybe." 

"Do you think anyone is happy? Do you know someone who's happy?" you asked him. 

He shrugged. "There's no way to know, is there? You can't feel someone else's happiness or experience their emotions. You can ask them… but words are an inadequate way to express emotions. Only the person experiencing an emotion can ever know the true intensity of it and he can never know whether his emotions are greater or lesser than others because his own emotions are the only emotions he can ever experience." 

You stared at him. "So it's possible that we're all equally miserable?" 

He chuckled. "It's also possible that we're all equally happy."

"But we'll never know."

"Nope. I suppose it's one of the many mysteries of the world," he replied simply. You stared at Jinyoung in confusion as he slowly pulled the taxi over by the side of the beach. It was still raining and you glanced out of the car window nervously. 

"Too cold to get out?" Jinyoung asked knowingly. 

You pouted and dug into your purse. "No. I'll get out. How much do I owe you?" 

Jinyoung bit his lip. It was dark and deserted in the beach in the middle of the rain and you didn't look entirely sober. It was also unlikely you would find another taxi out here in this weather. He sighed and cursed himself for being worried about you, but he was. 

"How about I wait until you're done?" 

You paused and blinked. "Until I'm done what?"

"Whatever you're planning to do here."

You stared at him and fell silent. What were you planning to do here? You didn't really know. You had just come here on a whim. But there was genuine concern in Jinyoung's eyes and it made your heart skip a beat. You wondered why this random man was so worried about leaving you here. 

"Okay," you decided. "Let's go take a walk in the rain!"

"Hold on, I have an umbrella in the trunk-"

"You can't carry an umbrella! Where's the fun in that?" you demanded, getting out of the car. But there was no stopping Jinyoung from locking the car and walking around it to extract a large umbrella from the car trunk. You shouldn't have been surprised. Jinyoung looked exactly like the kind of guy to carry an umbrella around in case of emergencies. 

"Do you want to get under it or not?" he asked, holding it up over his head. You folded your arms across your chest and frowned. It was cold and you weren't dressed for the weather but you refused to get under the umbrella. 

"Nope!"

"Okay, your loss," Jinyoung replied simply. 

You started walking down the beach towards the sealine, wet sand between your toes and the soft rain hitting your cold skin. Jinyoung followed you silently with his umbrella. He watched as you tilted your head upwards and let the water run down your skin. 

You were beautiful. 

"You're going to fall sick," Jinyoung scolded you with a sigh. 

You turned to look at him, your eyes shining. You couldn't worry about tomorrow. You didn't want to worry about tomorrow. You wanted to enjoy now. You spread your arms out happily and smiled. 

"So what?"

He raised an eyebrow. "So what? You're going to be miserable." 

"I've decided I'm not going to be miserable anymore." 

Jinyoung chuckled. "I wish it was that easy." 

You didn't respond. You simply closed your eyes and felt the cold freshness of the rain on your skin. Jinyoung was right. Nobody else could feel this feeling for you right now. Maybe they could feel something similar… but right now, this very moment, you were the only person in the world who could feel this exact rain on your skin in this exact way. 

You suddenly felt warm. 

Jinyoung had placed the umbrella over your head and was looking down at you with a small frown. You opened your eyes and blinked at him. 

"Jinyoung!" you protested. 

"You look like you're having too much fun, it's making me jealous," he muttered. 

"So get rid of the stupid umbrella."

"No." 

"Yes! Get rid of it!" you insisted. You could see a small smile on the corner of his pretty lips but his grip on the umbrella was still tight. He shook his head and you sighed, continuing to walk down the beach as Jinyoung followed you with the umbrella. 

"Are you always this crazy?" he asked you honestly. 

You frowned. "You really want to know?"

"Yeah." 

"I'm really shy." 

"Why don't I believe you?" he asked with a chuckle. 

"Ah, but that's the nice part," you told him with a grin. "You'll never know. I could be completely nuts. I could also be the most boring person in the world. Who knows? Not you, Park Jinyoung!"

He looked like he didn't know whether to laugh. "I'm leaning towards completely nuts." 

"Suit yourself. Truth is, I'm undefined. We all are." 

Jinyoung shrugged. "Maybe so." 

"Does it even make sense to slap labels on people when we change every moment? What does it even mean to say I'm not like this normally? What counts are normally? I've lived for 22 years in this world and I think I've been a different person every single day I'm pretty sure 20-year old me or 21-year old me had a bunch of feelings and a personality but who cares? She's gone. I'm not her anymore."

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't care about birthdays."

"I never said that. I just said they were a random thing to celebrate. It doesn't make sense to me to celebrate one day. We don't suddenly get a year older. We grow a little bit every day, every hour and every second. We're just too lazy to keep track."  

"I'd like to see you keep track of how many seconds old you are."

You rolled your eyes. "Now you're just being annoying."

Jinyoung chuckled. He had never met anyone like you. Perhaps on another night he would have been annoyed to have to deal with a crazy woman who insisted on walking on the beach in the rain. But not tonight. Maybe it was something to do with your beautiful eyes, the smile on your lips or the way you looked like a bird that had just broken free from a cage. 

Something about your magic was contagious. 

Jinyoung found himself wanting to see a little bit more of it. He followed you as you continued to skip down the beach, holding the umbrella up over his own head and yours. Your hair and clothes were drenched but you didn't seem to care. You walked until the edge of the water and then stood staring out at the roaring sea. 

"Isn't it sad that we're so limited?" you wondered. 

Jinyoung chuckled. "What's this about, now?"

"Like the human body is so limited and useless. I want to jump into the roaring sea and feel it. I want to fly into the sky and see a thunderstorm up close. I want to feel that freedom. I want to do so many things but I can't because my body doesn't let me feel all these amazing things." 

"I think there are a lot of things only humans can feel, though." 

"Like what?" you demanded. 

"Love?" 

You rolled your eyes. "Don't disappoint me now, Jinyoung. I was just starting to like you. What is love even? It's just something we make up to make ourselves feel better. It's a comforting delusion that we need because we're too scared and weak to be alone." 

Jinyoung bit his lip. "You don't think love exists?"

"I don't know. All I know is this; the only person who is ever going to have to be with me no matter what is myself. The person I spend the most time with is myself. So why would I ever waste my time loving someone else?" 

"Because love is about taking a break from yourself."

"Is it?"

"You don't fall in love with someone because they're amazing or attractive or irresistible," Jinyoung replied thoughtfully. "That's not real love. You fall in love with someone because you want to love them and you want to dedicate your time and attention to them. Love is, for that tiniest moment, forgetting yourself and letting go and immersing yourself completely into another person. Love isn't one huge thing. It's a bunch of tiny things." 

You stared at him. Jinyoung's shoulders were damp from having shared his umbrella with you. His dark eyes were shining and you couldn't tear your gaze away from him. 

"Have you ever felt love?" you asked. 

"Sure. Love doesn't have to be a huge commitment or a promise. It doesn't have to last forever or be with a single person. It can be any number of tiny things and experiences." 

"I don't think I've ever felt it."

"Maybe you should try." 

"Should I?"

"Give it a shot." 

You weren't sure what Jinyoung had been expecting but it probably wasn't that you would knock the umbrella out of his hand. He was surprisingly calm as the rain soaked his soft hair and you stepped closer to him. Your hands snaked around his shoulders. 

Jinyoung was the first one to lean down to kiss you.

Both of you were cold and wet from the rain, and you each clung onto the small shreds of body heat coming from the other. Jinyoung's lips were gentle and soft and exciting as he grasped your waist and brought his lips down on yours. Your spine tingled in delight. 

Perhaps you should have thought about the fact that you were kissing a stranger in a deserted place, perhaps you should have been worried that this was inappropriate and rushed. 

But it wasn't. 

It wasn't, because like Jinyoung said, love wasn't a promise or a commitment or a trap. It didn't have to be with someone you knew everything about or understood. It was a moment; a small, fleeting moment when you give yourself entirely to somebody else and as Jinyoung kissed you in the rain and the sky ahead thundered, you experienced that moment for the first time. 

There was a beeping from your phone and you reluctantly pulled away from Jinyoung to take it out of your pocket. You'd set an alarm for midnight. The time was clear on the screen. 

00:01

"Oh look at that," you muttered. "Happy Birthday to me."

Jinyoung was still staring at you, his eyes sparkling. His fingers slowly slid up to your face and he cupped your cheeks and turned you to face him. There was a magic in your eyes. He wondered how a complete stranger had managed to take his breath away so suddenly. 

"Who are you?" he breathed.

You slid your own fingers into Jinyoung's damp hair and smiled. 

"Does it matter who I've been until now? All that matters is who I'm going to be from this moment on." 

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

Drench yourself in words unspoken

Live your life with arms wide open,

Today is where your book begins,

The rest is still unwritten...

[whats-the-story-tc]

13th-15th of May, 2020

"The One Where the Mask Drops"

[INCREDIBLY LONG SORRY]

Hey, I'm not dead! And to show you how incredibly not dead I am, let me tell you a story.

It's around 2 AM that Wednesday, I'm going to sleep. God knows I'm incredibly exhausted, but there's one last thing I needed to write into my diary. One last thing I couldn't go to sleep without.

"please be good to me today"

I went to sleep hoping that finally, after two weeks of feeling like shit when I thought about us, the tide would turn.

That morning, it rained. I immediately remembered a rainy Wednesday morning just like this two months ago, when the rain brought V back to me. I got very excited. Things were going to change for the better again, I felt it. Suddenly, I couldn't wait for class.

8:30 AM that morning, I'm getting ready for my 9 AM class. Google Classroom–notif. V. Private message. Uh-oh, I thought. The make-or-break moment, and not a minute too soon.

V: Thank you very much for your work!

I almost laughed out loud. "Wow, [Name], don't strain yourself!" I remember saying as I read it.

One infuriatingly boring English (as a foreign language) class later, it was time for V's class. I was ready five minutes in advance, but as I went on The Platform That Shall Not Be Named... no one was there. I found it odd. Usually, there are a couple of us by now. Anyway, I didn't enter the voice channel. I waited five minutes in solitude outside for someone to show up.

Well, V did. And I wasn't very well going to leave her alone, now, was I?

She greeted me 0.1 second after I joined. I tried not to be awkward about it just being the two of us, I immediately stroke up a conversation. I told her how I was already waiting, all the stuff you guys already know, and she asked if we had any lessons prior. I told her about one third of us having had English just now. We spent about two minutes alone together, as I rambled about the awkward and unfortunate situation and she listened, mostly in silence.

She was very audibly tired, and said very little, that much was to be expected from a 10 AM class. But... I might just be overthinking it, but I heard something there that concerned me. Something crushed and disappointed, something that told me she wasn't expecting only one person to show. There was something painfully lonely in that voice.

Bookworm Friend joined, about 3-ish minutes into class, and Debate Friend a minute or two later, but they were both muted, so I carried on. I asked V to tell us what happened in school in the past two days, what we missed out on, enthusiastically replying to everything I could, so she wouldn't feel like she was speaking into the abyss, so she'd know I was trying my hardest to be there for her. Then she brought up the tests she was correcting at the moment, even naming a really stupid mistake she encountered with a little laugh. But what really smacked me in the gut was when I brought up the small attendance, and she said: "There's nothing we can do." in this very melancholy voice, like she was giving up. She even texted the class group chat that she's waiting.

How do I know that she wasn't just simply tired, and that's why she sounded like that, so worn and discouraged, especially at first? Because as soon as the others, who don't belong in my friends' circle, started showing up, her voice and entire behaviour did a 180°, as if she suddenly woke up. But she didn't. I know for a fact she didn't. Nobody just wakes up that suddenly.

It took me until that afternoon to realise that I'd just spent 5 minutes with the real V, the same V I spoke to in early December, who didn't try to hide her emotions. Not from me.

If you only heard the next thirty minutes of class, you could never tell she was feeling sad to begin with. And there was a LOT to be heard. Starting with how she mispronounced "cheat somebody out of sth" as "EAT somebody out", which is... well... all I'm saying is, I fell on my knees and tried to laugh as silently as I could. Prime moment.

She said something along the lines of "We're all very sober here", after which I just texted my friends:

S: "Darling, you tell us drinking stories every two weeks, would you mind if I didn't believe you?"

and sometime after, this text was also sent, for which I will not be offering context:

S: "[Name], that was enough sex for 10 AM, I'm gonna pass out"

And, of course, after all that went down, V saying "you can't satisfy everyone" sounded VERY different.

At some point, I attempted to joke around, but as she was reading a message in the chat that was sent at the same time, I got quite the half-assed response. But what happened in the last five minutes? Oh, that changed everything.

Art Friend knew how upset I was that V didn't reply at all to my assignment, and I told her I wanted to talk to V about it. During class, she texted me if I still wanted it, and I told her no, because I'm no longer upset with her. And what does this madwoman do? SHE ASKS ABOUT THE ASSIGNMENTS.

V is absolutely enthusiastic, she goes on about how much she liked what she saw and how creative we were. Art Friend asks about hers. Then comes my leap of faith. It's now, or never.

"I hope I didn't go too far..." I said, a bit nervous, not knowing how she'd react. She never did like me trying to undermine myself. And you guys... she chuckled. Incredibly soft and warm and just what I needed to feel at ease. That already threw me off, but then, she followed it up with: "No, I really-really liked it." I could tell she was smiling on the other side of the screen and that she was completely honest. I had to sit down after that, because I just couldn't believe what I heard. That I really just witnessed all that, that I got a reaction I couldn't overthink and/or misinterpret, because I heard it with my own two ears, in real time. I felt like I could do anything in the world.

And yet, the next day, I didn't do my usual notes for her test. Because what did Specs do all evening instead? I was fucking singing. I couldn't deny being a goddamn theatre kid if I tried.

Friday. The day of the test. I'm restlessly taking notes in the morning, but I don't have the time to get into the analytics of poems, only the basics of the dude's life and works. It makes me incredibly frightened, because V's tests are only easy if you come prepared — if you have no clue what she's talking about, abandon all hope. I had absolutely everything open for cheating that I could open, and you guys? I lucked out. Most of the test was just "Explain what [insert quote] means in 2-3 sentences", and if there's something I excel at, as you've probably noticed, it's talking. It was easy as could be.

The only thing making me anxious were my classmates. They were all trying to ask for help, constant questions and begging, everyone is hopeless, because they couldn't give two shits about preparing beforehand. They were all assured some loser was gonna give them the answers. And the some loser was me. I gave it to them, everything except for the final, longer essay. That was private, only meant for V to read. After all, how was I supposed to show them my essay, that ends like this?:

"Even if our existence is finite, it's always worth fighting for happiness."

And yes, yes it is. Always. Look at me. I powered through weeks of a shitstorm, where every single day felt like years, where I no longer knew or cared what was going to happen. And let me tell you, the sun always shines beyond the clouds. You just can't see it yet. But GOD, you will. You will.

I needed time to write this. There's loads going on at the moment, not necessarily V-related, and I'm trying to work my way through it gently enough that I can make it the end sane and healthy. Currently, it's three weeks since all this happened. One and a half weeks left until school ends. I might get to see V in person again, but we'll see how it goes. All I know is that whatever happens, I can do it. Because even if my existence is finite, it's always worth fighting for happiness.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

[geminimoonbeamx]

Oh, Baby: Chapter Two

A/N: So I was so excited about the reaction and feedback I got on the first chapter, I hope you guys enjoy this one too!

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warnings: None really- brief mentions of smut and of course cursing like a mf

Summary: After a drunken night, Y/N finds herself having to face the biggest decision of her life; is she ready for motherhood? And a better question, is Bucky Barnes, her long time friend and womanizer extraordinaire, ready for fatherhood? They’ll just have to go along for the ride and find out together. A Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader Story  

Chapter 2/6: And a Cherry On Top

Once you decide that you want this baby- that you’re keeping, things become alot clearer in your mind.

All those lists you made? The bullet pointed steps, numbered processes that you need to accomplish zero in, your brain finally able to sort them, at least a little bit. More then you’d been able to last night, or even this morning.

You’re keeping this baby, it’s cemented in your stubborn brain now and even though that brings a whole new round of terror, it becomes a front and center though. A focal point, so to say.

And when you’re focused- you’ve been told you can be a little ruthless.

“Look, Dr. Cho, I like you so far, I really do,  but I’m going to be blunt here: I’ve read some horror stories about plus size pregnancies, and how miserable it is to have a doctor who is fatphobic- so I just want to check base and make sure that you’re...okay with having me as a patient, and will treat me with the same respect that I plan to treat you with” 

She doesn't look shocked and you don't know whether that's just her training or if her face always has that sage quality to it, but you can't really read it.

“I really admire you bringing up your concerns, and I can assure you that they’re very presidented, but that’s not something you’re going to have to worry about with me if you choose to continue on with me as your practitioner for this pregnancy.

I’ve been an OB for the last fifteen years and have worked with lots of very different women: big and small and everything in between and that doesn't matter to me. What matters is that we find a plan that works for you and your little one and keeps you both healthy as we get you to term. Does that sound okay to you?”

You chuckle, delightedly shocked at her words. At how straight forward and sincere she had been. At the support you could feel from her and how relieving that felt to know that your doctor was going to be on your side, for you, with you.

Being overweight, you’d had prejudice thrown at you left and right thought your life, sadly also by medical professionals, and to know she wasn't going to do that to you?

“Yeah” You nod, with a grateful smile “That sounds more than okay”

The appointment goes smoothly for the next hour and a half or so after that. You’re happy you’d Googled like crazy and had come prepared with a small list of key medical facts: any allergies, past surgeries talks of mental health and medications. She gives you a pelvic exam/Pap  and its uncomfortable as they always are, even with her gentle, nimble fingers. Legs in stirrups, biting at the inside of your cheek.

The magic happens when she lays you down and slathers your tummy with a jelly like substance and your heart goes fluttery against your chest as she uses a little wand, probes and moves it gently against the jelly. Looking, searching…

Thump,

Thump,

Thump,

Found.

On the screen of the ultrasound machine that she’d pulled up. Dr. Cho had warned you that it was very early, and that there was a good chance that she wouldn't be able to find much of anything at this point and yet there it was.

A tiny little blur in the blob like painting of your insides that we’re up for display on the US machine. A heart beat, the sound it made would be imprinted in your mind forever.

“There’s your baby, it’s about the size of a cherry right now and I has no really defined shape, but as you can hear, it has a very strong heart beat”

Like in movies, you thought you’d cry, and yeah, maybe your close, but really it lights a fire in you. Sets your heart ablaze and makes you feel lightheaded.

There’s your baby, and it’s real. So real. With a little heart inside you, beating along with your own…

You leave the office with two copies of the ultrasound pictures, one for you to keep, and one to give to Bucky.

Now you only had to tell him.

Later that night, as you and Wanda lounge on your living room couch, you text him, clutching a furry pillow in your lap.

You need to get this done and over with, you have to tell him.

Hey, long time no talk. You think we could get together for lunch sometime this week?

----------

Bucky finds himself sitting at a corner table, it’s half past three and you’re still not there yet. You we’re supposed to be meeting him for a late lunch...ten minutes ago? Fuck, why were you always late?

It drove him crazy, was on that long list of things about you that made his eyes cross with annoyance. On that list was also the fact that he could never guess what you we’re going to do- which yeah, that one still stood, too.

When you’d texted him, asking him to meet you for lunch last Friday, Bucky had gaped at his phone for a few minutes. Hadn't you spent the last couple months avoiding him like the plague? He couldn't help himself, though, and had only given you a tiny bit of shit before agreeing to meet you that next Wednesday at you guys’ favorite spot.

And so here he sat, at HandCraft, waiting for you. Trying not too feel excited, hopeful. That usual feeling that settled in his gut whenever you we’re around(even with just the promise of your presence) had been thrown into effect.

He orders himself a Corona, extra lime, but considers something stronger to quell the weird nerves, and orders you a Long Island Peach Tea. 

He knew your obsession with everything peach, so when he saw it he couldn't help but order it for you.

He’s a couple drinks into his beer when you walk in. Bucky could zero in on you in a crowd of hundreds, a skill he’d developed pretty quick after meeting you. His weird 20/20 Y/N radar doesn't fail him and his eyes snap to you as you walk in, and he waves you over. You boop through the crowd, and Bucky knows he has a stupid little smile on his face as he watches.

You’re cute, always. It’s infuriating, and intoxicating and damn, will he ever get over this shit? It’s been eight years for fucks sake.  

It’d been rainy and humid in the city this May, and the beige long sleeved, off the shoulder top and high waisted ripped jeans you wear are breezy enough. You always dressed nice, most always put together and he’d always taken the time to appreciate your style, the way you hed yourself and adorned your curvy body.

The big bun that sits atop your head is messy and has started to frizz from the time you’d spent in the sprinkling rain, your loose baby hairs wispy and starting to curl as you sit down in the chair on the opposite him.

“Hi” You greet, shifting in the chair. You’re awkward around him now, and it sucks. It really does.

He thinks about that night in early March, and he cant bring himself to regret it, and he tries to ignore the twinge from how apparently you seem to.

“Hey there- I ordered some drinks so I didn’t die or dehydration while I was waiting for you”

You can’t help but giggle- you and Bucky’s dry humors had always lined up. It was a part of the reason why the two of you had always got on so well, the two of you were always throwing off hand, rude to anyone else, jokes at each other.

“It’s three, you’re going to need to check that alcoholism or yours someday” you rebuff and he shrugs, taking another swig if his beer with a cheeky smile-

“It’s five o’clock somewhere...and it’s actually 3:30, which makes you- he checks his watch playfully, asshole, fifteen minutes late”

“I had a meeting with my boss. Give me a fucking break” You snipe back, and yeah maybe you sound a little sharp.

Shit. No, that’s not how you wanted the atmosphere of this conversation to go. But this week had been...a lot.

You’d told your little sister MJ about the big B news and she had advised you to talk to your boss about bumping up your healthcare, about maternity leave and all that other jazz as early as possible- and that had lead to you having to sit for over an hour with the one-eyed owner of the radio station.

Nick Fury was cool enough, really he is, but still. Explaining an unexpected pregnancy to him was...really awkward. Especially when he had asked about the father and you had to pretty much shrug and say “Bitch, I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out later today”

But you definitely didn’t call your boss a bitch.

“A meeting? Is everything okay?” Bucky actually sounds concerned and you purse your lips and spin the straw in the dark drink you hadn’t touched yet because you were preeeeetty sure it had liquor in it and that was a no go for you now.

“Um, yeah...it is now. I just had some serious stuff to talk to him about”

“Serious? That doesn’t sound great” Bucky didn’t mean to pry, but he knows how much you loved your job. How hard you’d worked for it.

He’s always rooted for you, knowing that like many things, the radio waves were dominated by male hosts. He listened to your podcasts, and your new show, religiously.

Every Wednesday night at 7- he diligently listens to your melodic voice, actually for the last couple months it’s the only way he could feel close to you.

Sucker. He knows.

“Um, yeah. Kinda serious? More just things I needed to get sorted out with Fury. A little planning for my future, ya know?” Our future, the life inside me, you don’t say. Yet.

“Okay, well as long as everything’s still going smoothly there, that’s good, right?”

“Yeah, right. Everything’s going smoothly…” fuck.

“Just say it and get it over with. Like pulling off a band-aid” Wanda had pep talked you about this- but god, how could anybody know it was going to be this hard.

Your heartbeat had gone hummingbird and your stomach was in knots as the minutes ticked on. You order an ice water and watermelon salad and Bucky frowns.

Because that’s not your usual...you always get the Nacho Tots. He offers them as an appetizer for the two of you to share and you shake your head with a forced smile, complaining of a stomach ache.

You don’t touch the peach tea, he points that it too and you shake your head telling him you weren’t in the mood to drink which, what? You were always down to day drink. Always.  

Half way through his chimichurri steak, Bucky can’t take the weird tension anymore. You’re trying...to hard. And yet he can clearly see that you’re more uncomfortable, more uneasy then he’s ever seen you.

He can only bite his tongue for so long. Months of tension were bound to come to a head eventually.

He couldn’t bare talking about the weather and other trivial bullshit subjects anymore.

“Y/N...if you didn’t want to hang out, why did you make plans with me?” Bucky questions, bluntly. Takes you off guard a bit.

“What?” Is your bright reply and he just frowns and leans back in his chair. His body language is all wrong- and it makes you even more anxious then you already were.

“I just- fuck. Fuck, it’s been so weird between us since March and I thought having lunch today was supposed to be us remedying said weirdness but it just feels worse” Bucky’s tone is slightly frustrated and dejected

You can feel your face drop. None of this was going how you’d planned- and you’d imagined this going 1,000 different ways in the last few days.

“I just want everything to go back to the way it was” Bucky speaks, interrupting your silence and it feels like there’s fucking needles in your stomach.

“It can’t go back” You utter, fidget in place, staring at the busy street outside the window for a moment. Not able to meet his eyes yet.

“Really? Cause I kinda think that’s bullshit. So we slept together? It was consensual and we’re adults, I don’t get why it has to be a friendship ending thing-“ Bucky’s feelings are hurt, and it’s apparent in his tone. Confused, slightly pleading.

Band-aid, Wanda’s words ring in your head as you muster up your courage and look back at Bucky.

Jesus, you could drown in his foggy eyes. Could be melted down to nothing by the molten silver of his gaze.

“I have something to tell you, it’s why I asked you to lunch today. I wanted to talk to you face to face because...this is pretty fucking huge and I- I” you stutter and stumble over your words and Bucky knows it’s something major because words are usually your weapon. You vernacular your sword and armor.

He doesn’t know why he knows, or why it clicked together in his head- call it some kind of weird intuition. Maybe from the fact that he grew up with all sisters and that he remembers his older sister Charlie and her face when she’d told his parents, at the age of sixteen, that she was-

And Oh, ohhhh, you hadn’t drank. Or touched your food-

“You’re pregnant” it doesn’t feel real to him as he says it, as his lips gram the words he can’t really feel himself speak them.

You gasp softly- your big eyes locked with his for a moment where everything goes still around the two of you, and then you nod.

It’s like he had peered straight into your soul anyway. Like he already knew.

“Yeah, I am. Nine weeks- well almost ten now, I guess”

“Oh...oh fuck” Bucky breathes out, a long exhale because he’d been holding his breath and oh shit- he hasn’t had a panic attack in years but this sure feels like what the start one.

“Bucky?”

“It’s mine?” He knows it’s an asshole question, but he grits it out anyway because he has to be sure of what he already knows.

“Yeah, it is. I haven’t been with anyone since we were together” It’s the truth, and he knows because you have a big fat unfiltered mouth that you hadn’t been with anyone for months before him.

“Five months?” You remember him breathing into your neck “Fuck, doll, how? No way”

“Mmhmm” you’d hummed as he’d kissed down your chest “I’m not a whore like you- I can go a few months without sex with out my genitals shriveling up and my brain short circuiting”

He’d laughed around a mouthful of breast.

And now you were pregnant. With his baby.

He gapes like a fucking fish as he tries to digest it all.

“I’m going to keep it, Bucky. And that doesn’t mean I expect you, or am going to force you to be in they’re life but I just...I don’t know I thought i should tell you? And not because I felt obligated to or anything...I mean kind of, but because you’re a good person and I wanted you to know” You’re rambling, yeah, but you’re saying your peace.

“You’re ten weeks?” Bucky questions, breaking you out of your ramblings and you nod, a little confused.

“Yeah, it’s the size of a Cherry right now...trippy, right?”

Bucky barks out a laugh, still in that headspace where he though he might wake up at any given moment.

“A cherry. Oh my god. Holy fuck- you’re pregnant” Bucky exasperates and then puts his hands on his face, trying to calm down. Trying to get a grip on himself.

He knows you. Knows that you’re not lying about it being his, why would you? And there’s a baby inside you, right this moment. One that he’d put there- that the two of you had created together.

“Yup. Super fucking pregnant- a doctor confirmed it and everything” You try to lighten the mood a little, just like you always do.

“Really?”

“Yeah...here, look” you dog through your handbag for a moment and then pull out a laminated picture and reach across the table to hand it to him.

When Bucky takes his first look at it, his heart squeezes and his breath gets stuck in his throat again.

It’s the ultrasound picture. Black and white, unidentifiable shapes- but his eyes zero in on the little blob in the darkness. The baby.

His baby.

His heart clenches again.

“There it is” you point out what he’s looking out with a manicured finger “that’s the baby. I know it all looks like an obscure Picasso painting or something but that’s it” you kind of hate calling your baby an it, but you don’t know what else to call...them, yet.

“A cherry” Bucky whispers, asks.

“Yeah, like-“ you make that annoying, internet famous, 6 shape, with your hand and put it up to your eye to look through it “this big”

Bucky chuckles. You’re so dumb. And so special, for being able to make such a tense situation feel...lighter.

“I’m going to want to be in this baby’s life, you know that, right?” Yeah, he doesn’t know how he feels about all of this yet. He still thinks this might be some kind of fever dream- that maybe he died from that flu he had last week, but he’d been raised right by his mom and pop.

Was he a bit slutty? Yeah, he guesses he’d own that(argue that he only acted on how he was pursued)

Could he be a little bit of an arrogant prick? You, and plenty of other people had told him that plenty in his life and yeah, he’d own that one too.

But he’d never, could never, leave you alone to raise this child. Not with how he felt about you- and shit, even if he wasn’t harboring these feelings could he ever just leave a woman who he’d gotten pregnant completely alone.

“Don’t make promises in the heat of the moment, I’m not expecting-“

“Me to want to be a father to my child” he doesn’t snap, per say, but he knows you can hear how offended he is. It makes you bite the inside of your lip.

“I don’t know. I just don’t...want you to feel like you have to say things you don’t mean because I’m sitting in front of you right now. Like? You might feel different later, you know?”

Bucky instantly feels bad for snapping at you. You’d been sitting on this, thinking you might have to do this alone…

Bucky looks back at the ultrasound picture and his stomach rolls at the idea of you doing this alone. Of him missing this first milestone of your pregnancy. Of his child’s life.

His child.

He’d woken up this morning, single, uncomplicated and now...he knew there was a baby that was half him inside of you.

He should have had that stronger drink.

“I’m going to be there for this baby, and for you. I don’t know what that looks like yet and I can’t promise I’ll be great at it, but I’m going to be here” his voice gets soft and passionate and fuck, the way he’s looking at you, vowing this to you…

It’s almost more than you can handle.

“Okay...I’m game” you say, and he snorts and nods.

He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, if he’ll be a good dad or not. There’s so many unknowns swirling around his head, clogging his brain-

But he knows he’s not going anywhere.

“We’re going to have a baby” He says it, and this time it feels a little more real as it comes out of his mouth. “Holy fuck I’m going to be a dad”

“Um, congratulations” The waiter chooses that time to come back to the table, and the kid who can’t be more then eighteen looks a little awkward at intruding “Do you want a celebratory piece of cake?”

“You know what? Yeah we do- and please, make sure there’s a cherry on top”

He grins too big when he asks for a cherry and you know he’s needs it as a visual comparison to the size of the baby inside you. Bucky is so obnoxious.

He’s also beautiful- in the restaurants low light. All teeth and bright blue eyes- his brows still pulled together and his expression a little overwhelmed, but not mad. Not disgusted or cold like you’d feared.

You can almost here both Wanda and MJ’s “told you so’s” now.

You can’t help but share in his contagious smile- the nerves that had players you aren’t completely gone, not by a long shot.

But...you and Bucky Barnes were going to have a baby.

You could only hope that the two of you didn’t fuck it up too bad. 

@peacefulwriter88 @jaamesbbarnes @jalapenobarnes @gifsbysimplysonia @brieannakeogh @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @lostinspace33 @4theluvofall @tatathekissypotato @siren-kitten-his @skishenanigans @geekyweed @spidey-babe-parker @lastfallenstar @rachelle-on-the-run @prettybubblesintheair @dani-si @hufflepuff-always-forever @morganhoran1671 @imdiegohargreeves @nikolett3 @miss-mcbotty @nerdgirljen @readingsubtitles @sgtbookybarnes @prussiangilbert @tiredofsatansbullshit @bitchwhytho @mishameadows @heartbeats-wildly @10kindsofderp @xodearling @notyourtypcalrose @rachelle-on-the-run

The taglist for this story is still OPEN. If you would like to be tagged, please be aware that I will be expecting feedback, and will not take the time to tag you again if you don’t give any- I will update with the next chapter once this chapter reaches 100 notes.

Okayyy, so here’s part two. It might be a little cheesy, but I really want this story to be more fluff then angst, okay?! Which let me say is not easy for me because lately I’ve been one angsty bitch.

So I decided that I wanted to play with more MCU characters then I normally do, do something different- and that’s how I came up with the idea that the readers little sister is MJ(Michelle Jones) from Spider-Man. I love Zendaya- and since I’m usually writing a mixed race reader- she fits as a sibling.

Just for heads up, a little spoiler for the next chapters, I will also be having the Van Dynes be in her family tree. Hope is her cousin.

I’m really just trying to have fun writing for Marvel again. Hope you guys are having fun reading this.

[getbacktoworknovice]

Blog Bois; Intro

[Hey guys~! I wrote up this little intro for my bois so y’all could get to know them and get an idea of what the’re like~ They also live on this blog so if you want to ask them anything or learn about them all you have to do is ask~ I hope you all like them~]

Jack had his tongue poked out in concentration, wanting to make sure he had the mixture nice and even as he poured it into the pan. Next to casseroles and curry, cakes were his favorite thing to make in the kitchen. He made them from scratch and he was always trying something new with the icing and presentation, especially when it came to his cake decorating classes, but today he was keeping it simple as he was just baking for his roommates. 

One of them, his cousin Aiden, had left about an hour ago, wanting to take some pictures of the rainfall as it was pouring outside. Jack had gotten him a waterproof case for his phone as a present as Aiden had spent so much money replacing screens and headphone jacks. It had been a very good investment. 

As if on cue, Aiden came in the back door, shaking the rain out of his hair though it wasn’t helping at all. He was soaked. Jack blinked curiously at his cousin as the man hung his jacket on one of the hooks they’d hung by the backdoor and came over to sit at the bar-style breakfast nook they used as a table, setting his camera bag on top. 

"You know that jacket has a hood right? " Jack asked him curiously as Aiden dug out his camera. The reddish brown-haired man looked up at him like he had no idea why that would matter.

“I like the way the rain feels,” He said, beckoning his younger cousin over. “Come, come, look at the pictures I took.” He insisted, wanting to share. Jack shook his head with a smile, hopping over to take a peek at his pictures. 

“I thought you were going to use your phone?” Jack asked as Aiden cycled through the pictures, showing him the ones he had taken of the cloudy, rainy outdoors. 

“I did at first but I swapped them because my camera doesn't take as good of a picture.” He said. Once Aiden had finished showing him the pictures he looked up and finally seemed to realize that jack was in the middle of something. “Oh, what are you making?” He asked curiously as Jack seemed to realize that he hadn't finished his cake yet. 

“Oh!” He said scurrying back over to the pan. “I’m making a red velvet cake for dessert tonight, I’m making chicken caesar wraps for dinner since it's Wednesday.” He explained and Aiden groaned, putting his camera back in its bag. 

“Ugh, I wish it was Saturday, I hate waiting for his cheat day to have something fried.” He admitted, resting his cheek in his hand. Vincent, the third roommate who had been friends with Aiden since high school, followed a pretty strict regiment with his workout and was very serious about his physical health. The man was a machine. Since Jack was in charge of the kitchen he had wanted to make meals that everyone could enjoy instead of Vincent having to buy and prepare his own meals separately. So they had all agreed to follow his eating habits as they were better for them anyway.

But boy did Aiden miss his fried foods. 

“That's what the cake is for,” Jack assured him as he put it in the oven, switching on the oven light to keep an eye on it as the oven had already preheated and then moved to prepare dinner. Aiden got up and both stopped in their movements when they heard a thumping from upstairs. 

“Ah speak of the devil,” Aiden said as Jack giggled. Since it was raining outside Vincent had to do his workout routine inside. He never went to a gym and did all his exercises and activities at home or at work. So instead of going for a run, he was up in his room running in place. It made a lot of noise. “I’ll go tell him dinners being made.’ Aiden offered, slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading towards the stairs.

The townhouse they all shared was cozy with a lot of personal touches from all of them making the place really feel like home. Aiden had some of his favorite photos on display next to posters of cute anime girls that Jack liked and artwork that Vincent had done. Vincent had insisted on just tossing them in the trash but Jack had framed them so he felt like they had to stay. 

The bookshelves they had were littered with books of all types. Photography books, cookbooks, workout books, fashion, and art books for various movies and games. Cups of random things like pens and pencils and measuring cups were here and there as well as a few snowglobes from Aidens collection. Aprons and workout gear were scattered around the living room as well as jackets and clothes and shoes. 

Aiden knew they needed to clean up soon and he was waiting for a day they were all off as he made them both help him clean. Aiden was the most organized and responsible of the three so he handled pretty much everything in terms of running the house. The budget, the cleaning, the reorganizing, and disinfecting that was all on him. Vincent and Jack weren’t lazy by any means just busy, well jack more so than Vincent. 

Jack was a culinary student at the local college where Aiden used to go and Vincent...well, Vincent was a different story. Aiden knocked on his door, hearing the running in place stop as he poked his head in. 

Vincent was stretching his arms when he looked over at him. “Sorry, rains got me a bit stir crazy.” He said, thinking he had come to get on his case about the noise he was making. Aiden shook his head, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Nothing to apologize for just wanted to let you know Jack’s making chicken caesar wraps for dinner.” He explained as Vincent stretched out his back. Aiden heard a very loud pop. 

“Oh cool, those are always good,” He said sitting down to stretch his legs. “Reminds me I need to go to the store and get some more salad, we’re almost out.” He said and Aiden nodded. 

“I put it on the list.” He said, giving Vincent a curious yet knowing look. “How was work?” He asked and Vincent only gave him a look in response. Currently, Vincent worked at a warehouse that manufactured car parts and he was the youngest of all the workers. The work wasn't bad but because he was young he got a lot of flack from the older guys, especially in terms of strength. He always worked his ass off but it never seemed to be enough, his hours just kept getting cut. 

He hated it. 

“About as good as it always goes.” Was all Vincent said, groaning a bit as he felt a muscle in his leg pull a bit, easing off of it and leaning back on his hands with a sigh. “I know I’ve been short on rent the past few months but I’m lookin’ for another job, I got an interview at the convenience store on the corner tomorrow and I think it’ll be a pretty easy get.” He said. “The pay is crap but they’ve got the hours so…” He said. “I’m gonna try and make it up to you.” He said honestly and Aiden couldn't help but feel bad. 

Aiden himself had gone to college and graduated and gotten a job in a field he loved and a well paying one at that. Jack was a student but already had a job at his favorite restaurant, tutoring under a really sweet older guy who already wanted to give the kid a permanent place in his staff once he graduated. Vincent...had a bit of a rougher go at things. 

He graduated college but he struggled to find a job in his major and he’d been trying to find one for three years. No one would hire him because of his lack of experience but he worked harder and learned faster than anyone Aiden knew and he had no idea how it felt to not be able to do the thing he loved. It really made him feel for Vincent. 

He never showed it but it depressed him greatly. 

“Well, I may have something part-time you could do.” Aiden offered and Vincent looked up at him curiously. 

“What like be a photographer? I’m terrible at that.” He said as he had never taken a decent picture in his life. Aiden laughed.

“Oh God no, I’d never put you behind the camera,” he insisted making the other man grumble at him. “No I was thinking of putting you in front of one.” He said and vincent gave him a curious look. 

“Okay…” He said and Aiden dug through his camera bag, pulling out a business card and crossing the room to hand it to him. Vincent looked it over curiously, seeing it was a pretty simple card with a very...fun logo.

“I work with a guy who goes to conventions, big ones all over the world,” Aiden explained. “He does cosplay videos and interviews and he’s looking for models to start his own kind of group to take with him for advertising purposes.” He explained and Vincent looked a bit more interested. “I take the cosplay photos for him sometimes when I can make it to conventions and do those paid photoshoots,” he said. 

“Okay, so what, you want me to carry his stuff around?” Vincent asked sarcastically, as Aiden and Jack always joked about him being the mule since he was the strongest of them. Aiden shook his head. 

“No, he’s looking for models dum dum,” Aiden teased, pointing at him. “You’d be perfect, especially for his Marvel stuff,” Aiden said and Vincent blinked.

“You want me to be a cosplayer?” Vincent said incredulously. 

“A professional cosplayer yes,” Aiden said. “The money is good and you get to travel and you get to meet new people all while being dressed up like Captain America or Ruroni Kenshin,” Aiden said, naming two of his favorites. Vincent perked a little at that, looking at the card with renewed curiosity. “Just give him a call,” Aiden said. “There’s no harm in trying right?” He assured him and Vincent gave a hum of thought before hearing Jack call from downstairs. 

“Dinners ready guys~!” 

Aiden turned and left the room, going to his own to put his camera bag away and Vincent got up, putting the card on his desk and tapping it a bit before moving to head downstairs. 

Dinner was pretty basic in terms of conversation, Jack talking about classes and Vincent listening while dropping a sarcastic quip here and there with Aiden just listening quietly. It was the same routine as every night and Aiden couldn't help but wonder if perhaps that would change soon.