#// but he went several years without knowing (and we didn't know either)

[demonsfate]

I MEAN......... I DON'T THINK THEY'RE WRONG ANYMORE.........

[houseofhyde]

thinking abt aemond falling in love w blind!reader.

pairing. aemond x fem!reader warnings. no use of y/n, enemies to friends to lovers, ableism, so much fluff, a little bit of smut, angst (who said that). no mention of the reader's physical description. wrote in one sitting, no edit, we die like real men. wordcount. 3.1k (this was meant to be a short silly drabble) hyde's input. couldn't get this out my mind so, naturally, i'm making it your problem too now. enjoy, muah x disclaimer ! i'm not visually impaired but i do have several family members who are, to different degrees, and i've tried to stay true to what i remember them describing it like to me. the reader in this is completely blind, however, and that is something i do not have any experience in. please, if you feel anything about my portrayal is wrong or offensive, kindly let me know and i will happily fix it <3

the first time you meet is a few days after the events on driftmark.

with his new disability, the septa encourages alicent to change his usual lessons alongside his siblings for ones held with a couple of other impaired children of highborn status living in the keep.

aemond, of course, protests.

nearly kicking and screaming.

yells at his mother that he doesn't want to be thrown in a box with all the other "broken toys".

he ends up going anyway, dragged there by a handful of guards.

sulks throughout the whole first week, sitting alone in a corner.

and he would've continued to do that forever, if you didn't invade his space.

aka sit down next to him and offer him a book.

"go away," he says, the pout on his lips pointing lower to the ground.

"i don't want to," you refute.

"i won't tell you again, go. away."

"who are you to tell me anything?"

it leaves him speechless, because,

who is he? seriously?!

he thinks you have to be some sort of idiot to not recognise your prince

the following days go the same as the first

you sit near him and hold out a book

he tells you to go away

sometimes you listen

(not without first making it clear that you're moving because you want to, not because he told you to)

other days you don't

you just sit there next to him

staring blankly ahead

not even attempting to open the book that sits in your lap

one day, when he's feeling particularly short on patience

(he had his first sparring lesson with ser criston since losing his eye and it went awfully, each hit and stumble he took to the ground made worse by the echo of aegon's laughter ringing out throughout the whole courtyard)

he asks why you never read that book

"are you an idiot, or something? can't you read? is that why you're here?"

despite how smart he is for his age, he seems to not see the irony in him judging you for being part of an impaired group, as if he isn't also right there with you

such introspection would require acceptance of his loss first, and aemond just isn't ready for that.

"i can't read," you confirm

"because you're slow"

"no."

"then why?"

"i can't see the pages," it's the first time he notices that you're not looking at him. you're trying, face turned and eyes pointed in his direction, but you're staring past his shoulder, "i can't see anything."

he feels guilty,

wretched,

and the sickest twist of comfort.

because he understands

or at least he tells himself he does

because he can't see anything either - out of his missing socket, that is.

the other eye can see perfectly clearly how you don't even flinch as you speak about your disability

and that's when the jealousy takes over.

"then what good is it carrying around that stupid book?"

he says it because he wants to be mean.

so mean that you run away and leave him alone to sulk forever more.

but you just sit there, shrug your shoulders and shift the book around in your palm,

"i like to feel the weight of it in my hand. plus, you never know when you're going to need throw it at someone"

he bites his tongue before he can ask how you can hope to hit a target you can't even see.

the hostility remains

for months, years.

but you sit near him,

he stops telling you to go away,

you still offer the book out to him.

he learns your name.

not because he wants to

but because the septa calls it out one day in the classroom

and you're the one that answers to it.

the first time he sees you outside the study room, you're all alone, none of your father's guards around you,

and that's what really makes him stop in his tracks.

"what kind of lord leaves his daughter to wander blindly around the keep?" he almost says with his usual disgust,

until he notices that you don't have your book

and you're crying.

despite his own discomfort, aemond tells himself he has to comfort you.

because he's thirteen, almost a man.

and what kind of respectable man leaves a girl to cry all by herself?

he wipes your tears with the sleeves of his doublet, waits patiently until your breathing slows, then he speaks,

"what happened?"

"it's you," you say it softly, almost like you can't believe he's the one comforting you.

"it's me. now tell me what happened?"

"nothing," you tell him at first,

until he demands the full truth in the name of his father, king viserys targaryen.

"i overheard my mother speaking to my father about me. i didn't mean to! i just wanted to show them how i memorised the path from my chambers to theirs, without an escort. i wanted to prove that i can be useful, and good, and not a burden. i heard them through the crack in their door. she wants him to send me away to join the silent sisters. she says i can't see, so i may as well not speak either. but my father won't listen. he says i'm his daughter, and that he will not send me away. he loves me too much, i worry he'll hate me for it one day."

that familiar guilty feeling creeps in,

the one he's felt lingering on his skin since the day you told him of your visual impairment.

he's suddenly so aware of the fact he can see you,

and your tear-stained face,

and the shades of blue in your dress.

"where is your book?" he asks.

"i dropped it, whilst running through the halls. i just wanted to stop hearing them, i didn't want... i didn't mean to cause any mess, i'm sorry."

in an act that surprises even him, aemond takes your hand in his

and pulls you both to your feet.

he slowly leads you along familiar hallways, turning corners he's turned a million times.

"where are we going?"

"trust me."

you know he's taken you to the library the minute he opens the doors, a whiff of old books hitting your senses.

he guides you to a book shelf, puts your hand up to touch the exposed spines

and tells you to move forward.

"stop when you feel it's right."

you stop after four steps.

your fingers grazing over a book titled Matters Of The Heart: a Compilation of Fictitious Stories on Love and Beauty.

he pulls it out the shelf,

guides you both over to a bench,

open the dust covered book,

and reads to you.

the following day, when your father's guards guides you down next to aemond in the study room

and you hold your book out to him

he takes it,

shuffles a little closer to you,

and softly recites the words off their pages.

from that day forward, you become an infamous pair in the keep.

the one-eyed prince and the sightless girl,

never one without the other.

aemond becomes your shadow, always two steps ahead or behind you.

you pick out books in the library

and he reads them to you both.

he brings you down to the courtyard

and watches how you flinch each time the clack of wooden swords rings out.

it drives him to be better,

learn to see more in his opponents than even two eyes would allow,

just so he can watch how the smile stretches across your face each time he tells you he won.

you grow so close that one day, the king invites your family to join the royals for supper.

aemond tries not to care that you end up sitting so far away from him at the table.

at least he can look down it and spot you seated at your father's side, he tells himself.

when dinner ends and music starts to play,

aemond ceases the chance to sneak away from his seat and steal the empty one by your side, both your parents having stood to speak with the king.

he brushes two fingers along the back of your hand,

a private, tactile language only you two can speak,

one that tells you it's him, without him even having to say a word.

"prince aemond," you say, and he instantly hates hearing you address him so formally. "you look handsome this evening"

"and how would you know that?" there's no hint of the malice, the mockery he once used to speak to you with, back when he was angry little boy and you were a stubborn girl.

now he's a man of fifteen years and anger is far from something he feels next to you.

he watches you shrug and the smile that he likes best - cheeky, playful - slips onto your lips

"my mother won't stop bringing it up. dashing, she said."

"is that so?"

"mhmm. but she also says my father should offer me to your father and have us both wed, what with our cripple-like qualities making us unsuited for any other lord or lady, so, really, what does she know? for all i know, you're the most hideous thing to walk the keep and i should feel blessed that i can't see you."

"imagine how i feel. i still have to see you."

"oh, the horrors! well then, my all-mighty seeing knight-in-eye-patch, would you lend me your sight one moment and tell me."

"tell you what?"

"do i have anything in my teeth?" you bite back your laughter as you open your mouth and put your pearly-whites out on display for him.

he doesn't even care if the sight is unlady-like

or if anyone else at the table has noticed.

he's too busy laughing along with you and telling lies of how a massive piece of veg is stuck between your upper front teeth.

aegon is as aegon has alaways been,

a thorn in aemond's side,

and he makes no exceptions when it comes to you.

he can't help but laugh at you both

mouth stained with wine as he saunters up and leans his face down between you both.

"isn't it amazing how, between you both, there's only one eye that actually works?"

aemond bites his tongue, like he always does when it comes to his brother.

you, however, aren't quieted so easily.

"oh, so amazing! do you know what's even more amazing? how the stench of you always announces your arrival."

it's the first time aemond feels it.

that flutter in his chest.

and once it starts, it doesn't seem to want to stop,

he seeks you out most hours of the day

and thinks of you when he's not with you.

when he notices the bruises that litter your arms

from bumping into corners and walking into walls

he has a cane made for you, to help you more safely make your way through the keep.

it's the greatest gift he can give you: the freedom to walk your own path.

one day, as he's telling you about the recent flight he took upon vhagar, you ask him what the sky looks like.

"well, it's blue"

you blink at him, wait for the ball to drop.

"but you wouldn't know what that means"

he tries to think of something else, a different way to describe the vastness of the sky

"have you ever ridden upon a horse?"

you nod your head

"have you ever ridden fast upon a horse?"

you nod again.

"that feeling, when you're gripping at the reigns, and the horse's hooves beat against the ground like a drum, and the wind takes no mercy on your hair, and, for a moment, there's this... warmth of possibility, anticipation, right here" he guides your hand to rest atop your chest, on the side that your heart rests. "that you can leap and beat any obstacle in your way, and for a moment the world is open, and vast, and limitless. that is what the sky looks like, the perfect place to race upon horseback."

"except you're on a dragon."

"well, yes, but find me a horse that has wings and i promise to take you riding up in the sky one day."

you ask him to describe more things, more often.

the forest.

the iron throne.

the sea.

vhagar.

each book he reads you.

till one day you ask, "what do you look like?"

he tries his best.

he tells you about his signature targaryen hair,

and helps guide your hand up to touch it.

he tells you about his pointed nose,

and guides your pointer finer up to drag itself down the length of it.

he tells you about his jawline,

and lets you feel that part of him too.

"and your eye?" you ask.

he doesn't say anything

but he does peal off his eyepatch

and guide your hand up to run down the length of his scar.

"what does it look like?"

"gross."

"that's funny, because it just feels like skin. is all skin gross?"

"no but this skin... it's damaged."

"i feel something. it's hard," you murmur, as your nail traces over the curve of the gemstone that fills his socket.

"it's a sapphire."

"a sapphire?"

"yes. it's like a precious, shiny, smooth, blue rock."

"what about the other eye, the one that's still there?"

"what about it?"

"what does it look like? what colour is it? eyes have colours, don't they?"

"they do," he says, gazing into the hypnotising shade of your own, "it's blue."

"the sky, the sea, your eyes. i think blue might be my favourite colour."

he falls asleep that night with a smile on his face

his heart relieved that you never asked him to put into words what you look like,

because there simply aren't enough words known to man,

be it in the common tongue

or high valyrian,

to describe how beautiful you are.

he tells you as much, when you do eventually ask.

in the fallout of storm's end, soaked to the bone and regretful,

it's you who his legs carry him to

your chambers, to be exact

it doesn't even cross his mind to care that his knocking at your door awakens you

he doesn't care, loses all ability to do so when he collapses into your arms

"i made a mistake," he tells you, when you ask what's wrong

"that's okay, mistakes help us learn better."

not this one, he thinks

you're so gentle with him

and your skin is so warm against his cold

that he can't help himself

his lips find yours.

his hands find your hips.

his breath gets lost somewhere between you both.

but that's okay,

you're all the air he's ever needed.

he feels selfish, when he guides you over to your bed.

and he knows he should tell you what's happened,

what's changed.

he knows he shouldn't be touching you with hands that are stained by blood.

but he's desperate,

and he's breathless,

and he's so frighteningly in love with you.

"please, aemond," it's you who begs for more.

it's you who tugs on the leather of his jerkin.

it's you who pulls at the cotton of his shirt.

it's you who he gets undressed for.

you both wind up naked upon your sheets,

limb tangled with limb.

"i wish i could see you," you tell him. "but i don't need to see you to know you're beautiful, aemond. i feel it, in everything you do for me."

so he lets his own eye shut.

decides he doesn't need to see you either,

not like this, his skin tainted with the smell of the rain, and his dragon, and the velaryon boy's scream.

and the truth is, he wants to take you like this.

he wants to be cruel, and damn you to a life by his side.

but he looks at you,

naked beneath him,

lips swollen with his kisses,

the shine of your own arousal peaking out from that space between your thighs,

and all he sees is the girl he read stories to.

the girl who swooned and awed over every cheesy line about a knight,

and all his knightly honour,

loving his lady in the way that's deemed right by the gods and the lords.

and aemond just can't bring himself to defile your honour,

not like this.

so even as you whine,

and moan,

and offer up your maidenhead on a platter of your unapologetic beauty,

the prince just continues to edge at both your own pleasures,

hips grinding back and forth,

lips tangling with your own,

voice whispering nos, and we can't do thats, and not yets.

"tomorrow," he promises, the spill of his pre-seed smearing along your pelvis with each stuttered thrust of his hardened cock against your soft skin, "i'm going to ask your father for your hand."

"but, how?" you sound so pretty, he can't help himself and lets his eye reopen, searing the haunting image of you naked and pliant beneath him into his mind's eye.. "your mother... she said you flew to offer your hand to one of the baratheon girls."

"what i promised lord baratheon was a targaryen prince, and i intend to keep that promise," he speaks with so much conviction, skipping over the events of his nephew, and his dagger, and his joyride in the sky. "daeron is a boy of sixteen, he can have her. but i, i will belong to you."

the will to leave you, maidenhead still intact, somehow finds its way into his heart

he doesn't fail to leave you sated, however,

his finger dancing along the pretty pearl that has you whining his name and losing your mind upon the mattress.

he keeps his word,

wakes not with the urgent need to discuss last night's war-inciting events with his mother

but with the burning desire to find your father and win his approval

he doesn't find him in his quarter of the keep.

or in the training yard.

or in his seat at the small council.

what he does find is his fear stricken mother,

his stoic grandfather,

his giggling brother.

"aemond, what have you done?"

he doesn't answer

they already know what he done,

the whole realm likely knows, his half-sister too.

so he asks what he really cares about,

asks where your father is.

"he's gone," his mother answers.

"after he heard about your business with lucerys," aegon continues. "the traitor's taken his family to dragonstone and bent the knee to our bastard-bearing cunt of a sister."

so yeah that's what i'm thinking about.

anyway, goodnight <33

[thatnonameuser]

The Red King holds a Bleeding Head

A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist

Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 3.

Apparently, what parts of the conversation you missed before running all the way here was that you missed the first bell and were late. So after running, being dragged, all the way here, you'd gone straight to class. 

Thankfully, Ace’s collar problem wasn’t a class problem, thanks to all the classes so far being theory.

With that problem out of the way let's get back to you.

If you planned on learning today, that plan went out the window. Not only where you still repeating what Cater had said to you earlier. Being ousted for being a darling would put you in such great danger, so the fact he figured it out in the hour you spent with him this morning was very much not good.

It also got your desk hit with Professor Crewel's riding crop/wand? for not paying attention in class. Speaking of, Crewel had been the one to rat you out to Crowley so you weren't expecting him to be kind to you, but unlike the brutal berating he gave Ace for making a sarcastic quip in the middle of his lecture, he'd given you a stern look and nothing else.

You just hope that it was fluke, because you don't want to think about the idea if he's in love with you too. Wait, is it possible for a yandere to love platonically, you'll have to research that.

If you can even do that, to begin with. Because the textbooks that you received aren't the right ones. Why? Because they're missing complete pages worth of information.

How do you know?

Because you compared it to Ace's.

There was a love potion spell that would be taught the first years next semester, powerful, dangerous and it could if used correctly sever cognitive thought from the darling for a period of a day, and replace it with false love.

Your copy of the same Potionology textbook didn't have that. Or any of the other potions that could do the same thing. In magical history, the ancient tactics used by yanderes were wiped clean from your copy, when they were present in Deuce's own.

What's worse is that this was done on purpose. How do you know that? Because you pointed it out.

At the end of Potionology, you'd gone to the Professor textbook in hand in search of an explanation.

"Excuse me, Professor Crewel?"

"Pup, it is Master Crewel." You were not calling him that, "How can help you?"

"Um, something's wrong with my textbook? It's missing a lot of pages." He taken it from you and flipped through it. And then set back in your hands.

"There is nothing wrong with this pup. It has everything you need in it." He'd said if he hadn't lied clean through his teeth.

"B-but I checked with one of the other textbooks, dozens of pages on potion recipes are missing?!" You'd argued.

"Pup, you are referring to the textbooks we give the yandere students. By law, I'm required to give you this one." What?!, was what you thought in anger.

"W-What law?" You asked, you were absolutely dumbstruck at his response. You were getting really tired of being left in the dark.

"Darling students are not allowed to readily access any knowledge about what their future yanderes will use against them, regardless of purpose." That was what came out of his mouth, he hadn't seen anything wrong with it.

It wasn't just that either. The same thing happened with your Magical History book when you asked Professor Trein. And you got some more bad news.

The library, your saving grace, wasn't allowed to give you any of the books they'd given you last time. No more information that could help you. You couldn't even use the textbooks Grim would get, as they were being kept in the classrooms rather than in Ramshackle. The jury was still out on your 'The Art of Ensnaring Hearts' class about whether or not you could even attend those in the future. Was this all done to keep you from learning about what the Yanderes know, to keep you from knowing how to save yourself?

Phys Ed, was the only class you could actually do without someone putting you at a disadvantage. It may not have been your favorite class, but considering you might need to run away from a yandere in the future, you ran as fast as you could.

And now your legs hurt real bad. You weren't the most athletic person but Coach Vargas really worked you over.

Eventually, after a really rough morning, break time rolled around.

"Let's see, our next class is...."

"This so-called magic academy feels a lot like a lame, ordinary school." Ace complains. You disagree, normal schools don't usually teach students how to make love spells. You hope at least. Do non-magic schools teach similar yandere stuff? "It's not exactly what I expected, but at least this collar won't be much of a problem after all."

"You with me on that, Grim? ....Hm?" Grim's silence hadn't struck you as weird until Ace said that. Your loudmouth, tuna-loving cat monster hadn't thrown up a complaint since you left your last class.

"Grim?" You search for Grim among the legs of traveling students but you can't find him. A bad feeling sinks into your stomach. Ace and Deuce couldn't do it. They were right next to you the whole time, so what happened to him?! Did he get-

"Oh! Look out the window! i just saw a ball of fur running across the yard!" Deuce exclaims. You transition the fear of his imminent demise to anger for his abandonment of you.

"Where!?" You nearly collide with the window in your haste, as Deuce points him out down below. A small grey blur races quickly across the courtyard, "He's cutting class!" The Headmaster's going to be furious. And the LAST thing you need is being kicked out into a world where MURDER IS OK!!!

"Boy, that guy is not a fast learner." Yeah, Deuce. Clearly!! He just left you alone in a yandere school! You're definitely withholding his tuna for this.

"Not a good look to lose your only student in your first week as a prefect. Want some help catching him?"

"YES!" You yell, not caring about the future implications. Two IOU's in one day is not gonna be good for you in the future. But right now, your present is on the line! "Please just help me!"

You don't know what you looked like when you said that, but considering how the both of them blushed, you'll have to worry about that later.

Right now, you need to get Grim, preferably before he burns something down.

And so you began the chase of Grim through the courtyard. With your legs still burned from the exhaustion of Coach Vargas' training, you could barely keep up with Ace and Deuce and nearly collapsed once on the way.

But thankfully, the fear and rage from earlier turned into adrenaline that propelled you forward.

And propel you it did, into a person.

You had been a few paces behind Ace and Deuce, but you were far enough to lose sight of them as they turned a corner into the courtyard.

So you hadn't seen the person you ran into, but inertia wasn't your friend today.

You had expected to hit the floor of the courtyard, concrete or grass, whichever was softer, and braced mentally for impact. Only for an arm to swiftly wrap around your waist.

Fast, so fast that you can't even get a letter out of your mouth in sheer surprise, whoever caught you had slipped an arm round your waist, saving you from your unlucky fall.

And so the charming prince that caught you was...

Blonde, with his hair cut into a mid-length bob. Perched on his head is a brown hat sporting a pale white feather. His green eyes are like a falcon's, sharp and piercing. He smiles down upon you. Your noses are practically an inch away from touching. The way you're positioned is straight out of a romance novel, the male lead saving the clumsy MC from a nasty fall.

The embarrassment of the situation you've found yourself in doesn't escape you as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks. "I-I’m sorry!" You blurt out. Thank the seven that there aren't many people around.

" , . I'm just lucky that I caught you." He's speaking French? But how does.....y’know what, nope not touching that one.

"Yeah, thanks." He still hasn't let you out of his hold, and you'd like it for him to let you go now. "Could you, uh, let me up now."

"Bien sûr, mon cher," he says something in French that you don’t understand, but he does help you to your feet with a flourish. He even spins you for some reason.

OK. Another weird one.

You dust yourself off, "Thanks, sorry again," you say somewhat sheepishly.

The smile your savior has is seemingly unshakable, and the laugh he gives you in reply reflects that, "Non non, ce n'est pas un problème du tout, though chérie, will you not grace me with your name?" He even speaks like all the lovelorn princes in your childhood storybooks, well minus all the French.

"It's _______. Have you seen a grey cat run through here?"

"Oui, filou he went that way," Great, you prepare to turn but he stops you with a hand on your shoulder, "though it is best if you head that way if you wish to find him." He points in a direction very far from where he originally pointed.

One of your eyebrows quirk up in confusion, "How do you know that?" You ask.

"Call it a hunter's intuition. You wouldn’t want to be late for Arithmancy, ______" He says with a smile.

You thank him before running in the direction he told you, and in no time at all, you find Deuce dropping a struggling Grim into a net Ace is holding.

And so the Great Grim was captured.

"Mrrah! I've had it with these boring classes!" He squirms in the net Ace took from one of the grounds men, even with his claws he can't escape the netting.

"Grim, you'll never be a great mage if you don't attend classes!" You scold but Grim doesn't stop complaining.

"Ugh! When did you get all bossy?!" Grim continues his complaning as you cross your arms.

You ignore his pointless pouting. You got all bossy when you found out that a single screw up could either result in you getting attacked by a obsessive lover, or get thrown out of here on your rear end with no one to protect you from the aforementioned obsessive lovers.

That and he trapped you into another  IOU five minutes ago that might bite you in the ass later. You can't afford to get into any trouble. With Crowley, with the teachers, with the other dorm leaders, the other students. And Grim....is also someone you need to keep yourself sane.

"Pout about it all you want, Grim." You remove him from the net, holding him against your hip like he’s a troublesome toddler so he doesn't run away again. You turn to Ace and Deuce, and smile softly, "Thanks, you guys."

Again, that light returns in both their eyes. Ace smiles mischievously and slings his arm over the two of you in a half hug, "Glad to help clean up the mess made by the worst prefect to ever set foot on campus!"

"It wasn't that bad, Ace. Let her go! Like the last time, Deuce pulls Ace's arm off of you. The two glare at each other, as if silently fighting. Unlike Ace, Deuce tends to respect your personal space only ever doing this when Ace gets too touchy or too close. That and he always tries to defend you when Ace or anyone else teases you. Maybe it really is in your best interest to get closer to Deuce.

"Alright you two, we're gonna be late. Our next class is...." Aw man, it's Arithmancy. No wonder Grim ran off. You say such and Ace groans.

At least they can't censor this class, too. A part of you would like it if they did.

"C'mon, let's not get caught 'skipping' class."

On the way back, you wonder about the man you ran into. Now that you thought about it, he never gave you his name. And you gave him yours immediately, damn it!

Still, the likelihood that he was a yandere for you was too unrealistic. Sure, Ace and Deuce might have budding feelings for you, but the likelihood that four different people were all yandere for you was already rare, even for this world.

Besides, you've already met some people with a lot of character today. So maybe he's just a little weird.

Maybe. Hopefully.

Wait, if he didn’t know who you were.....how did he know that your next class was Arithmancy?

"Woo! Lunchtime at last!" You can't mirror the excitement Grim is feeling right now, even if this a refuge from the classroom confusion from earlier. The cafeteria's as full as ever, and you feel different from the last time you entered it.

Last time, you were surrounded by your fellow students and peers. This time, you're surrounded by the human equivalent of sheep among wolves.

You are the ideal prey of everyone in this room, and some of them might already know about that. Cater's words earlier had terrified you and rang back in your head, "Darling~" You hadn't even known him long, so how could he tell? Would everyone around you just know on sight? Maybe they discovered it before you had?

Still, you skipped breakfast for Ace's apology, so you don't really get the luxury of skipping another meal right now. Even if you don't exactly have an appetite. Despite the volume of delicious smelling food, Grim is piling on your tray, and you feel more like puking than eating.

Even so, you don't really have an appetite right now, despite all the good smelling food that Grim's raving about right now. It's fancy, and Grim doesn't even eat half of it but is piling it up all the same. Can cats even eat onions?

"Shh! Dude, inside voices! Where was this energy earlier today?" You nod in agreement with Ace. Your legs already hurt from PE, and now after chasing Grim, they practically burn.

"_____, grab me the grilled chicken! There's only one left! And an omelet, too. And that jelly-filled bread. Just fill your whole tray with 'em!" You struggle to balance the sheer amount of plates and food that Grim piles on one after the other. Seriously, how does one cat demon thing eat so much?!

"Grim, that's enough. Save some for everyone else!" You finally relent, but unfortunately, you made that decision a few seconds too late.

Your hand, already tired from Coach Vargas' class, finally yields, and you lose the grip on the tray and plates Grim's stomach piled up.

Now for the good news and bad news.

The good news is that you managed to save every plate of food Grim haphazardly stacked on your tray. A gew crumbs were lost, but otherwise, you managed to save everything. Which was great because with cheapskate Crowley's micro food budget, you were pretty strapped for cash and didn't want to waste food.

But then there's the bad news.

The bad news is in your haste to stop the mountain of plates from crashing to the ground and bringing more attention to yourself, your shoulder may have collided into the back of the student in front of you.

You were just getting into accidents today, weren’t you?

"Hey! Watch where you're goin'!" The student you were unlucky enough to bump into, and their buddy for some reason, to whirl around in anger.

"I'm so-" You start to apologize only for him to interrupt you.

"M-my carbonara!" Ah, man. Did you ruin someone's lunch? That's-,"You broke the yolk!".......what?

"Whoa, that's messed up! Pokin' the egg is the best part!" Ok, not ruining someone's lunch, he might be a bit sad, but all is o-

"You better make this right, pal!" He grabs you by your tie and you nearly fall with all the food on your tray.

"I-it's just a yolk?" Is all you can say, completely struck dumb. You already knew this world had it's priorities messed up but this had to be the dumbest argument ever made. "I didn't ruin your lunch, you were gonna poke it anyway, so I saved you a step!"

"Yeah, so get your filth hands of my henchman!" Grim backs you up. But the delinquents don't back down.

"I'm gonna need that grilled chicken of yours as compensation." Normally you probably would have let the guy take it. Let Grim learn a lesson of not carrying his own food and move on.

But this was a matter of principle, damn it!

Also you weren't completely sure if darlings were naturally meek, so backing down was not an option here.

"No." You say point blank. The delinquent stupid enough to fight in the middle of a crowded cafeteria balks like you said something incredulous, "What?!"

"You heard me. NO. Go eat your soggy yolk-y carbonara, while I go eat my grilled chicken." After all, that trouble you went to get this you were commandeering that chicken for yourself. Take that, Grim.

"Hey! That's no way to speak to an upperclassman! Catch me outside and I'll teach you some respect!" Alright, so just won't go outside for a few hours, got you there dumbass.

At this point, Deuce must have gone through the lunch line and caught sight of you. They must have heard the foregoing argument because Deuce steps in to play peacemaker, separating the delinquent from your tie and shielding you behind him. "Um, excuse me, sir, but it said int he handbook that fighting with magic was prohibited....."That's a rule?! Sick! Now you won't have to worry about tha-

"Fighting? You got it all wrong. This is just me helpin' an ignorant freshman know their place." Ok, so much for that. Two advance magic pens at hand, and you're forced to shrink behind Deuce and Grim.

"W-wait a second, I don't have any magic. That's an unfair fight." You hate how powerless you feel right now.

"Who care about that!? If I end end up killin' ya, we just gotta call one groundmen." You forgot about the whole 'murder is not bad' part of the school rules. Does that mean no one will intervene? Damn it again!

You can hear Deuce growl at their threat. Withdrawing his own pen, he shouts his signature, and by that you mean only, spell. Grim

For a student that probably knows one spell Deuce puts up a hell of a fight. You wonder where he's getting all the cauldrons from. The two 'upperclassman' must've been flunkies, because there was no way these people would be able to lose so badly and so easily to two people that barely know anything about offensive spells. Your one worry was the mountain of food you were holding would fall. That and hearing Ace grumble about not fighting. For your honour, for your praise, you'd didn't know. At this point, you're starting not to care.

Surprisingly, or not if it didn't, the battle is done and won without the hundreds of students present even hesitating in their respective conversations.

"Whoa, didn't know you had it in you...."

"Look, I'm gonna let you off the hook this time, but only 'cuz I don't want my pasta gettin' cold." Sure and it's not like you 'upperclassman' lost a cat and student who only knows how to summon a cauldron.

"Pffft! I knew you were all talk! You better hope I never see you again!" Grim taunts as if Deuce hadn't done nearly everything. You keep quiet this time, redirecting your silent fury into mocking.

"Whoa! Two upperclassmen being beaten by students who were nearly expelled in the first week. That's kinda sad." You mock as you watch two delinquents shrink back with their figurative tails between their legs, departing with their, hopefully, cold lunch.

"Thanks Deuce," You turn to him and say with a smile, and his earlier anger dissolves into a soft smile. Like you being grateful for his help and protection sucked the rage out of him. You hate that you know it wasn't as wholesome as it was on the tin.

"N-No problem," he stutters, cheeks flushing.

"Yeah, yeah enough of that." Ace grumbles, pulling Deuce away by his arm. His anger hadn't been pacified by Deuce's victory, in fact it worsened. If how deep he's frowning is any indication.

"If you guys are going to fight again, can you help me carry all this to a table?" It's been two days and their near constant warring over you is starting to become normal.

They snap out of it instantaneously, "Sure, Prefect!"

Grim had been bitter when you told him you were taking his grilled chicken as compensation for the mess he got you in. But he eventually relented to stuff his face with all the partially lukewarm food. Speaking of, the food's good if a bit cold.

Hearing Grim rave abut how good his food is makes you chuckle lightly, stroking your fingers back through Grim's fur. He purrs again, and that sense of peace from earlier return. Maybe this morning was just a fluke, and all will be well now.

Mid bite, Grim asks, " So, I saw your guys' dorm, but what are the other ones like?" A part of you wants to know but that's a question for another day. You need to get through today first, and then-

"I'm sure you're familiar with the statues of the Great Seven? Night Raven College has a dorm themed after each one." You choke mid bite on the half-chewed chicken in your mouth. Cater's voice took you by surprise, so much for a peaceful rest of the day. You weren't the only one.

"Bwah! You're that guy from this morning!"

You turn and face him as well as an unfamiliar face. Green hair, glasses and a clover stamp underneath his left eye. The last card suite you were left meet. Another card soldier, now just needed a tyrannical queen.

"You tricked us into paintin' those dumb roses."

"'Tricked' is such an ugly word. Do you think that I wanted to spend MY morning painting roses? It's dorm policy, I'm just following orders."

"And grinning like a fiend all the while..." More than that if what he last said too you was any indication.

"Now, now Deucey. Outside of the dorm, I don't care what rules you follow. Here, I'm just a friendly mentor figure." Like earlier, you feel that he isn't being genuine again. If his dorm is so full of people, why couldn't they help instead of trying to trick you into it. Still, brownie points are brownie points, and they better pay it forward when things get tough.

"Please. Do NOT call me Deucey."

The mystery man laughs, "That's how Cater shows he cares." he finally says. He gives of the air of that one dad friend that prevents the friend group from going up in flames. You feel a small pull at your heartstrings, you're starting to miss your friends back home.

"So, who are you?" You ask.

"Ah, i should introduce myself. The name's Trey. Trey Clover. I'm a junior at Heartslabyul, like Cater here." So you've finally met the three of clubs, or clovers if that's what you call it.

The ace of hearts, deuce of spades, three of clubs and four of diamonds, were ALL Heartslabyul students named after playing cards because this seems comical now. Also, how drunk were their parents to not recognise how ridiculously silly naming your kids after the numbers when their last names, sin Ace, are all card suites was.

Though considering the possibility that one half of their parents were probably being held hostage, you probably shouldn't judged their naming skills.

"And you must be _____, the new prefect from the dump of a-ah, I mean, the 'rustic' dorm." Ramshackle can't seem to stop catching strays, huh?

"Alright, Ramshackle might be a dump, but it's my dump. Can we please stop insulting where I sleep at night!" Your anger receives a few laughs in response. You hope you weren't a cute angry in their eyes. Last thing you need is them looking at you like you were an angry kitten.

Trey's laugh warms you a little, the dad friend energy feels a little safe. You don't feel the lingering worry from earlier, after all what is the likelihood more than three people are in love with you?

"I heard the whole story from Cater. Thanks for looking out for our boys yesterday." You beam, even if you were very, very inconvenienced last night and this morning, it's still nice to be praised. That is until you remember that the one doing it might find someone and spend the rest of their life making them miserable for the sake of love.

"It's no problem," You say regardless.

"I don't recall inviting you to sit with us...." You hear Ace murmur.

Cater slides in and seats himself between you and Ace, "Hey now, we're all from the same dorm, right? Let's try to get along. Here gimme your digits." He hands his phone to you, expecting you to put in your number.

Problem is, "I don't have a smartphone." and you probably wouldn't if you did. But regardless Cater looks at you as if you grew another head.

"For real?! I never thought I'd meet one of you IRL!" His eyes light up with that weird glow again, "I know a place that sells the latest models cheap. How about you and I go on a phone-shopping date?" NO. NO.

"NO!" You accidentally say out loud, way too loud and hurried to be brushed aside as you overestimating your volume. Some heads from nearby tables turn, to you and the others are silent waiting for something? But you don't know what.

You back track trying to amend what you said, " No, Crowley hasn't started giving me allowance yet, so I'm kinda broke. Maybe next time?" Please never ask me that again. Maybe you should join a club so you can say you're busy if he tries to ask you out again.

That glint in Cater's eyes darken, but it doesn't match the teasing look that he has on his face, "What is up with you, _____? You look so tense! It's okay, baby! Relax! Relaaaax!" He squeezes your shoulders in half-massage but it just makes you feel more tense.

Tret comes to your rescue, "Cater. You're freaking out the freshmen. Maybe take it down a notch?"

Cater laughs, still not backing away from how close he is to you, "Sorry! I can get a little extra sometimes. What were we talking about....The dorms, yeah? What fun to mentor new students. Go ahead, A-M-A."

Ant that what you all spent the next fifteen minutes talking about. The dorms and their super important history while completely ignoring the ramifications of that history have on at least half of the population, yourself included. You'd already read up on the seven dorms, but hearing about the crazy strictness of the Dorm Leader of Heartslabyul made you a little uneasy. But still, when you talk to the him maybe things will go well, maybe he's a sweetheart with a non-tolerance policy for the most extreme of rule breakers.

Still, there are so many different types of students with different personalities and different yandere types. You spotted a wolf beastman, two student whose style of dress reminded you vaguely of the Middle East the person you ran into earlier sitting at a table full of Pomefiore students, (you made a mental note to ask about him later) and the most powerful students on campus, of course from Diasomnia.

Cater continues his opinion piece in the unapproachability of that dorm. "The vibe they give off makes it real hard for regular schmucks like us to even approach them."

"It can't be that bad, they may look a little intimidating but otherwise they look like regular old students..." You say, sure one of them looks young enough to be your younger brother or a middle schooler and has the pointed ears of a fae, but they look so normal.

Then again, you were discussing animal-human hybrids and talking paintings earlier, and you're in a world full of yanderes, so what isn't normal and what is?

"And their Dorm Leader is that times a thousand." You crane your neck to the Diasomnia seating area and you don't see any features that would be capable of scaring off a whole school of students, they all look relatively fine.

"There's a little kid in that group!" Not so subtly, like their earlier pointing out of a rather androgenous purple-haired boy in the Pomefiore dining areas, Ace rather loudly points out the younger looking fae.

"Ah, we do get some child prodigies here. But that guy is no kid. He's a junior like us. Name's -"

"Lilia. Lilia Vanrouge."

"Ah!" You yelp rather loudly as midway through your turn back towards the table, only to be face to face with the same face you had just been looking at hanging upside down right in front of you. You nearly fell out of chair in a mix of shock and surprise.

You stammer in shock, "H-how did you-"

"H-he just teleported!" That can happen?! You really need to read more about this place.

Lilia, once standing upside down on the chandelier as if that was completely A-OK, floats down onto your table as if this was as normal as him walking over. He smirks, bending down to meet your eyes, " I understand my apparent age interests you? As this bespectacled fellow accurately noted..." His voice is completely opposite to his appearance, and he talks like a whimsical grandparent than a teenager. "Despite my fresh-faced, boyish good looks, it would be inaccurate to call me a 'child'." Yeah, seriously. Whoa.

"'Fresh-faced' he says." Trey seems to agree with your doubt on the young part.

He smiles and for some reason, you feel unbelievably uncomfortable. it's as if he read you like an open book without words being exchanged. The look in his eyes is unreadable, but it's not like the glint you'd seen in Ace, Deuce and Cater. Either way, it makes you squirm in your seat, "You need not gawk at us from afar. You may feel free to speak with us directly. We are schoolmates, are we not? All of us at Diasomnia House welcome you without reservation." Without reservation, he says and yet the two trailing after him are yet to say a word. And they're staring in silence, but it feels more like glaring. No wonder Diasomnia had the reputation it did.

"And yet, those guys over there aren't exactly rolling out the red carpet in terms of approachability..."

Lilia brushes that aside with a laugh, "Forgive me for appearing above you during your meal." I do hope we can speak again." Why does that part feel directed at you? Maybe you're being paranoid.

As Lilia and his entourage depart, Ace takes the opportunity to whisper to the table about the impossible feat of overhearing their conversation. Which you can agree with how on Earth, or in the Twisted Wonderland, did they hear you from across the room. You weren't even that loud. Ace was right, that was creepy.

"Well....Diasomnia House does have a bit of a reputation for having lots of special students." "Well, special is a word for it...." You say,

Trey explains further, "Some of them are extremely talented at magic. Their Dorm Leader, Malleus Draconia, is considered to be one of the five best mages in the world." Wow. Your decision to stay away from that Dorm was even more justified. How powerful is the top five most powerful.

"Malleus is reeeeeeal bad news. Though I suppose the same could be said of our dear Dorm Leader."

"He can't be that bad...." You whisper, spying a short, red-haired boy with grey eyes walking in this direction. Wait, wasn't that the dorm leader that.....collared...Grim...Oh no. "Hey Ace...?" You whisper.

Ace must not have heard you because he starts his own tirade. "No kidding! He collared me for eating one slice of tart! All his rule obsession is outta control!"

"My 'rule obsession' is 'outta control', is it?" Well, Ace is doomed. Maybe Ramshackle has a tent you can set up outside.

Completely oblivious to the new voice that joined the group, despite the fact everyone else here already has, Ace continues, " You bet it is. Riddle's just a petty tyrant who leans into the whole 'rules' schtick as a pretext to keep everyone under his puny thumb." You sigh, facepalming. Maybe you can get Crowley to buy a strong lock for your door.

Deuce takes one for the group and points out the obvious before Ace can unintentionally piss off the 'tyrant' behind him further. "Ace! Behind you!"

Ace, still not taking the hint, looks behind him and then appropriately freaks out. "Bwah!? Dorm Leader!" The Dorm Leader of Heartslaybul, Riddle Rosehearts (and the Red Queen in this abridged tale) crosses his arms in indignation.

This is not going to go well.

[writersblockedx]

Wedded Under War: Chapter Two

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, slight Bestfriend!Steve Rodgers x Reader Summary - When learning you're being pawned of to marry Bucky Barnes, you demand to join the latest meeting. Warnings - Mentions of violence, alcohol use Words - 2.4K

A/n - If anyone would like to be added to a taglist for this series, I'm happy to make one, just let me know :)

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It hadn't taken you long for you to storm out of the office; what else had they expected from you? Your life had suddenly taken a 180. Before now, you were desperate to be a part of the real team, to fight alongside your two closest friends and brother. Instead of that, you got a marriage offer.

You wandered into Tony's living space for one thing only: his bar. One of which consisted of the most expensive aged whiskeys he could get his hands on. And while it may have only been lunch time, you found yourself severing an on the rocks rather than a sandwich. It went down much easier when you were faced with what your future could now hold.

You always liked coming to Tony's. It was spacious and modern. Despite it only made for him and Pepper, it must have had at least three other guest rooms, a party room with pool tables and a dart board. Expensive bottles of alcohol dotted in each room. The perfect place for his many extravagant parties.

"Should have known I'd find you here." A voice broke out. You spun around from the back of the bar, facing Steve as he wandered around the leather sofa to meet you. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

You shrugged, "Better than Barnes getting down on one knee." You were certain that would have ended in blood. Instead, you were forced to gaze upon the red mark which still littered Steve's cheek. "Sorry about slapping you."

He too shrugged before taking a seat at one of the barstools, "I deserved it. I should have told you what Tony was thinking." That you couldn't disagree with.

You reached for a clean glass, mixing together another whiskey for Steve. "You're my best friend. I trust you to tell me things my brother is too stupid to." You poured the drink in front of him, sliding it across the copper surface.

"Tony's not stupid," His blue pupils gazed up to your own. "He's protective."

To such, you scoffed. "Protective? Really? That's why he's pawning me off to Barnes like I'm some object."

"No, it's not like that-"

"Really?" You always admired the way Steve was able to keep the peace from within SHIELD. But, now it just seemed frustrating the way he wouldn't see your anger. "I've been begging for him to let me be involved. Instead of handing me a gun, he's handed me a ring and married me off without even asking. It feels like I'm stuck in some 1920s, sexist bullshit!" Quite frankly, you needed to get that out.

Steve practically sighed into his drink before taking a gulp. "If it's any consolation, I don't like the idea either." He offered. "But this is the way we have peace."

"Yeah, and I just have to give up my future." A price that no one else had to pay.

"Not necessarily." He hesitated with his next words, "It might open more opportunities for the job."

While that sounded enticing, you didn't believe it. "You think Barnes is gonna have me helping him out?" You may about to be his wife, but he wouldn't trust a Stark. No matter what legal name connected you.

"We can suggest it." Steve attempted to baragan. "We have a meeting later today at his manor downtown."

"Tony didn't mention that." You commented, taking another sip from your glass.

"Tony didn't want you there." Of course, he didn't. "I think you should be there."

You shook your head, "Tony doesn't want me at a meeting about how my own future." To them, this wasn't your future. It was the future of New York. It was about how they were finally going to bring peace to a city which had been at war with itself for years now. "I'll be there." You decided, chugging the rest of your drink and began to head for your own guest room.

"Y/n!" Steve yelled after you, not moving from the bar. "Don't make a scene."

You felt like if there were any time for scene, it was today.

--

Without another word to your brother or Steve, or even Natasha, you got ready for the meeting you hadn't been invited to. But was certainly one you were determined to pretend. You should have been used to it. No matter the severity of the situation, Tony never left the office door open for you to join during the most important meetings. It seemed your only way to get there was to force your foot in the door.

You exited the guest room, preparing for the argument you were sure to ignite simply by your presence. Instead, you seemed to walk right in on it. The distant sound of Steve and your brother battling against one another. "Tony, this is her future. She's right." You overheard Steve backing your corner.

You kept your figure hidden as your back pressed against the hallway wall which led out into the living area. "You saw her earlier. She's gonna waltz in there with no intention for peace. This entire solution is gonna be tarnished because she can't keep her head." Quite frankly, your definition of peace wasn't marrying Bucky Barnes.

"She deserves to be there." Steve attempted to reason.

"Not yet," You heard Tony reply, causing your eyes to roll. "Not until she's accepted this."

"You know that's never gonna happen."

You chose that as your cue to enter. The sound of your shoes hitting the wooden floors, prompting the men to gaze over at you, the words suddenly falling silent. "He's right." You finally spoke up to break their silence. "I'm not going to accept that the only reasonable solution to all of this was to pawn me off. But I want to be there."

Tony took a cautious step forward, "You can't-"

You cut him off, "No I can. You just just don't trust me to not make a scene." If you were honest, you wouldn't trust yourself either. "Look, I promise not to slap anyone." You gazed over at Steve with your words. "Even if they deserve it."

The two men glanced over at one another. A silent conversation relaying between them; one of which you still weren't a part of. "Wel,l I believe her." Came another voice from the doorway: Natasha. "We don't have time for a debate, Barnes is expecting us."

You smiled towards Natasha; at least she wanted you there. However, it still left the two men who had yet to speak. Tony finally let out a sigh and you knew you had won. He took a step forward, a finger pointed right at you. "Don't make a scene." He warned before leading the way out of his penthouse.

You were left smirking to yourself before Steve offered out his arm for you. "Happy now?" You linked your arm with his own, following Tony out with nothing but a smirk planted on your lips.

The four of you headed into the car, ready for the 30-minute drive to a place you had never been: The Barnes Manor. You'd heard about it from Natasha. Something big and fancy to fill Bucky's ego while still being close to the city - despite the fact he had several properties in the city. You watched as the metropolis skylines swiftly started to change into gated communities and suburban homes. It didn't take you long to spot Barnes' house.

At the end of the street, the biggest house there. A gate which soon opened, revealing the two henchmen stood outside the front door. A garage big enough for at least five cars with a vintage, black chevy parked out front. It was everything you expected it to be: luxury, modern, pristine.

You followed Steve out of the back seat of the car as your head gazed up at the three stories the house contained. You tried your best to act natural, to pretend this was normal to you and your rustic apartment back in the city. The truth was, you'd die for a house this big. To have the ability to have such a luxury.

Tony faced the henchmen first. He nodded and awaited the door to open. Instead, they began patting him down, searching for weapons. They pulled a gun from his inner blazer pocket, "Seriously?" Tony complained.

The henchman straighten his back, "No weapons today."

Natasha and Steve stared and looked before the woman responded. "Will Barnes and his men be following the same rules?"

Their reply was silent. You leaned over to Steve, "We're not really going in unarmed, are we?" You had to check.

Steve simply grasped his own gun and handed it over with a smile. When Natasha did the same, Steve took that as an opportunity to respond, "Just make them think we are." He answered.

So you pulled out your gun from the hem of your jeans and you too handed it over while leaving your dagger safely tucked under your sock. But the man didn't take it. Instead, he turned to look at Tony. "Who is she?"

You could have laughed; even Barnes' men hadn't expected you to be there. "I might be your boss's future wife." You answered ever so sternly before Tony had the chance.

At that, the man took the gun, gazing you up and down. He gave a nod to the other man who opened the door to the house. You barely had a chance to take in the marble floors and the floor-to-ceiling windows before Rumlow was facing you all. "This way," He started before his eyes found your own. "She's here."

You truly were getting tired of how surprised people were at your entrance. "She is." You replied.

"Not a problem is it?" Tony questioned.

Rumlow waited a moment as his gaze lingered. "Not today."

With that, the group of you followed behind Rumlow, passing the grand stairs towards the back of the house. You caught a glimpse of the outside where there was a pool situated, sunbeds and even a bar. This was a level of rich even you hadn't seen. The closest you came to it was Tony's penthouse.

When you entered the meeting room, you spotted Bucky waiting at the head chair, Sam Wilson beside him. Inside this room was different. A slick wooden table and matching chairs. Classic paintings dotted around that you wouldn't be too shocked to know were the authentic. "What took you so long?" Was the first thing you heard Barnes say as he stood from his chair.

He got his answer when his stare finally locked on to you. He had changed a little since you last saw him. His hair was longer, coming down to his neck. His face was now painted with a clean-shaved beard and a scar on his forehead that never fully healed. "Y/n," He stated as he moved closer, offering his hand for you to shake.

You stared between such an offer and Tony's expression. He was silently reminding you to be nice. So you took it, feeling his firm grip grasp your skin once again. "Barnes," You greeted.

When his touch left your own he returned to his seat, "Sit. Let's get to business."

Of course, Tony took the opposite seat to Bucky. Steve and Natasha at either side and you next to Steve. All while Rumlow slipped into the right side of Bucky.  "While the details of the wedding can be sorted out at a later date, we should begin to plan engagement dates, press releases etc-"

"Who said I agreed?" Your words cut through his like a knife. There was silence. Even from Bucky. He wasn't used to people cutting him off so ruthlessly. "I get that you all think it's the best idea, but no one's stopped to tell me what I'm gonna get out of this...partnership." You hated the word marriage. Especially when it was attached to the Barnes name.

Bucky leaned back in his chair, holding his fountain pen between his two fingers. "Look around you, little Stark. Properties, money, travel. What more do you want from this?" The nickname made you tense. It was a common one that had spread around the mobs. And God you hated it.

"Funnily enough, money isn't everything to me."

You felt Steve's knee hit yours at that. A warning for you to choose your next words wisely otherwise either Bucky or Tony might just flip; you weren't sure which was worse. "For once, this isn't about you. This isn't about us. It's about safety." Bucky snapped. "If money isn't enough for you, I should hope your life is. Because if we don't do this, you won't keep that either." He threatened and it should have scared you, but you had the Stark name. That made you untouchable at times.

His words should have stopped you from arguing, "Can't the two of you just sit here, put your egos aside and decide to have peace? Why do we have to have a wedding?"

You heard Sam laughed to himself at such. The room was quiet for a moment. All you could was watch Tony's eyes as they avoided your own, stuck facing the table. "You haven't told her, have you?" Barnes realised. "You're too protective of her, Stark." He commented.

"Told me what?" You pushed.

You felt Steve's hand fall onto your own, "Y/n-"

You snatched away from his touch, leaning your elbows against the wood of the table as you stared across at Bucky. "What?" Your tone was stern, demanding to know what your brother had hidden from you.

"We're not getting married for peace, we're getting married so we look united." He explained.

However, it did little to fill in the gaps. "What-?" You looked between Natasha and Tony who had yet to speak a word. "One of you tell me what's going on!"

Tony sighed before finally daring to meet your pupils. His next words put a shiver through your spine like nothing else ever had. "Tracksuit Mafia are back in town."

And that could only mean, "Kingpin?"

Steve nodded, "Nothing's been confirmed but we'd be stupid to assume he isn't right behind them."

The boss who slayed through cities like a sword. Taking down anything, anyone until he gained the power, leaving nothing but destruction and death. The same man who had taken the life of your parents like it was nothing. And he was on his way. Suddenly, you found that Bucky was right; this wasn't about you anymore. It was about the safety of everyone you had ever cared for. 

[loulouwrites]

MOMENTS . ALFIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie's third child is about to be born, and he reflects on the births of his eldest children. warnings: pregnancy, childbirth, traumatic birth (but it's all okay), strained familial relationships, angst (not as bad as usual), swearing, murder, drinking, unedited wordcount: 2.4k a sequel to home but can be read as a standalone. <3

Alfie called his wife's name from the bottom of the stairs, his exhasperated shout echoing up the staircase and into the master bedroom. There was no response to his call, save for a pained scream that he was almost certain was not directed at him.

He breathed a sigh, climbing the stairs to at a time and knocking on the bedroom door, his wife's cries muffled by the heavy oak door. He called her name again, louder this time. "The kids are bein' fuckin' mental, I don't know what to do with them."

The door swung open, revealing a very angry old woman. Ms Abrams was a stern woman, she had delivered hundreds of babies, including all of the Solomons children, his wife insisting she was the best midwife they could ask for - she was also one of the few people Alfie was genuinely scared of. So scared he had considered stopping getting his wife pregnant just so he'd never have to see her severe, wrinkled face ever again.

"Mr Solomons, your wife is in labour, I will not have a repeat of last time," the woman hissed at him, swatting him away with a blemished hand.

"I don't know what to do with them," Alfie said, desperately, his hands thrown out at his sides. Ms Abrams gave him a pointed look that caused him to shrink back slightly, memories of her beating him with a heavy Charles Dickens book during Bessies birth flashing in his mind.

"You're their father, Mr Solomons - figure it out," she slammed the door in his face before he could protest, and he was left to figure it out alone.

"Dad, Bessie got into your office again!" Benjamin called from the bottom of the stairs, the giggles of his little sister following his voice.

When Benjamin had been born, eight years ago, Alfie had been mortified by the entire experience. His wife had woken up in the middle of the night, in unbearable pain, gripping onto his arm so tightly that in the haze of sleep, he had reached for the gun he always kept in his bedside table.

When she had told him to call for the midwife, he had done so without hesitation, and when there was no answer, he had sent Ollie to collect her and bring her to the house personally - it was a terrible first impression for both Alfie and Ms Abrams.

When the old woman finally did arrive, she had instructed Alfie to leave.

"Go to the pub or something, it's what most men do."

But Alfie was not most men, and had insisted he be close by, just in case. It had not impressed Ms Abrams, who had rolled her eyes at the gangster as if he were a spoiled child, before telling him to wait downstairs for however long it would take.

It was three hours in when Ms Abrams came running down the stairs, hurriedly asking him where the phone was, and he directed her to it wordlessly. He asked to her what was wrong, but she had ignored him, speaking into the phone in a tone that Alfie knew too well - panicked.

His head went fuzzy as he watched the woman clutch the phone to her ear, speaking in a hushed tone to whoever was on the other end.

"We need a doctor here immediately," she had said, and Alfie had started for the stairs before either of them could blink. He ignored the protests of the older woman, rushing up the stairs and into the bedroom too fast for her to catch up and stop him.

He didn't know what he was expecting - maybe blood, maybe his wife lying lifelessly on the bed - but there was no red stains on the sheet, and she was lying on the bed, very much alive, though pale and tired.

"Alfie," she breathed out, her head flopping back on the headboard. "What's happening?"

He had no response, he just lingered in the doorway helplessly.

What was happening?

"Get out," Mrs Abrams pushed past him, a man in a nice suit following behind her, giving the scared husband a polite smile as he squeezed past.

"No," Alfie spat at her. "You tell me what's going on."

Neither of them responded, sharing a worried look, before the man kneeled at the bottom of the bed, ensuring his wife that everything was going to be fine.

Ms Abrams glanced at Alfie, and with a heavy sigh, placed a hand on his shoulder to push him out of the room, closing the door halfway so she could speak to him through the crack.

"The baby is in distress," she said, holding a hand up when Alfie went to interrupt her. "It'll be fine, Mr Solomons, the doctor is here now. I'm certain it will all be fine."

But Alfie could read the midwife's face.

She wasn't certain - how could she be?

Eveything worked out, Benjamin Solomons was born one hour later, his cries filling the house, and Alfie shot up from where he sat on the floor outside the bedroom, waiting for the door to open.

"Your son is here, Mr Solomons," Ms Abrams said, smiling for the first time since he had met her all those hours ago. He nodded at her, pushing into the room as the midwife and doctor left, not paying any mind to them as he approached the bed where his wife lay, with a now quiet baby in her arms.

Alfie had seen babies before, though they were at least a few weeks old, cleaned and dressed properly, ready to meet strangers. This one, though, was purple and swollen, with his eyes scrunched shut and his lips pursed as he took in his new surroundings.

Benjamin was an ugly baby - but he was theirs.

"Bessie, please stop," Alfie sighed at his daughter as she sped around his study, throwing pieces of paper in the air, laughing when her dad would try and catch them before they hit the floor.

She was a fast two year old, she seemed to have endless energy that didn't burn out until the very end of the day, Alfie swore she tried to tire everybody else out first.

The knock at the door interrupted Alfie's protests, and he gave up, scooping the little girl into his arms and making his way to the front door, stopping in the foyer at the sight of his mother-in-law greeting her grandson and stepping into the house.

Her eyes flickered from Benjamin to Alfie, and the smile fell from her lips, pursing into a look of disgust.

"Alfie," she nodded, scoffing when the man ignored her, spinning on his heel as his daughter laughed, reaching her arms out to her 'bubbee'.

He was sat at the kitchen table with Bessie, pretending to listen to her babbling when the woman walked in, hand in hand with Benjamin - they had always gotten along - and it pissed Alfie off like nothing else.

"How long has it been?" She asked, pulling off her gloves and sitting in the chair opposite him.

"Four hours," Benjamin said proudly - he had been counting.

"Might be a while yet," she sighed, turning to her grandson. "Why don't you take your sister to the shop and get yourselves some sweets while we wait?" She was already reaching into her purse to pull out some coins before Alfie could protest.

"Sweeties!" Bessie laughed from her seat, jumping down and pulling her big brother by his hand out of the door.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't do that," Alfie grumbled, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

"They're just sweets, Alfie, it won't do them any harm," she waved a dismissive arm. "Besides, it looked like you could use a break," she let her eyes trail across the room - he would admit, it had been tidier.

"Surprised to see you, don't usually show up for these things," he was challenging her, and from the way she sat up in her seat, she was ready for it.

"I'm her mother, Alfie, she asked me to be here."

"Well she's emotional," he shrugged calmly. "Pregnancy brings out her meloncholy side."

"I'm trying to be a better mother, I would appreciate it if you let me."

"Yeah," Alfie scoffed, "too little too late for me, love."

"Glass houses, Alfie," the woman glared at him. "You've hardly been an outstanding husband."

"Never threw her out on the streets, though, have I? Let me tell you somethin', you can see her as often as you like but if you dare come into my home and try and poison her, or my children, against me" he leaned forward in his chair. "Your body will be floating in the thames before those kids get home from the shop."

She seemed taken aback by his comment, and it made Alfie want to throttle her, if it wasn't for his wife upstairs, he probably would. She opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the two children running back into the house, the front door slamming shut behind them.

"Dad, she stole my cola cubes," Benjamin whined, pointing to his younger sister, who had a sly grin on her face and her hands tucked behind her back.

"I'm going to go and check on your mother," she spoke to her grandchildren, offering them a smile as she left the kitchen.

"Is mummy hurt, daddy?" Bessie asked, climbing onto his lap, a white bag of cola cubes in her hand.

"Yeah," Alfie nodded, "but not for long. It'll be over soon."

Bessie's birth had gone much smoother than Benjamin's had - from what Alfie could remember.

He hadn't been home when his wife had gone into labour, he had been at the bakery, dealing with business that could not be delegated to anybody else.

The was a rat in the bakery, and after months of searching his men had finally figured out who it was. The phone rang in his office incessantly, but nobody heard it over the sound of the man's screams from the main floor.

Rats didn't die quick. That was his policy when it came to such matters, and this day was no exception. It had taken hours for the man's body to finally give up, for his body to slump on the floor with little fight left in him, and that's when Alfie shot him in the head - like a lame horse.

It was divine retribution in a way. This man died while Alfie's daughter was being born - there was a clear winner in the scenario.

He had drank rum from the distillery after, the phone had stopped ringing and it was quiet again, and he took a moment to himself, drinking half the bottle before he decided it was time to call it a night.

He didn't drink the rum out of guilt for what he had done, nor had he done it in celebration - he just needed a moment of silence, a moment to cleanse his mind of what he had done before he went home and hugged his son and kissed his wife.

He had come home stumbling, Benjamin was already in bed, fast asleep and the house was eerily quiet - until he stumbled into the bedroom that is.

The screams were delayed when they hit his ears, a frown on his face when his bleary eyes lifted from the carpet to his bed, where his wife was sat up, a screaming infant in his arms and an unimpressed look on her face, the midwife stood at her bedside seemingly shaking with rage.

"Fuckin' hell, you had another one?" He laughed, throwing his head back. He was still laughing when Ms Abrams approached him a book from the bedside table in her hands, delivering a smack to the side of his head, knocking his hat onto the floor. "For fuck's sake," Alfie groaned, cradling his ear with his hand, but the woman didn't stop, hitting him repeatedly with the book until he backed out of the room.

"Go and wash the smell of rum off of you and get youself together, man," she hissed once she had him backed into the wall outside the bedroom.

He didn't argue with her, shuffling into the bathroom before she could get another hit in.

"Her name is Elisabeth, by the way," she called out after him.

Bessie was finally in bed when Mrs Abrams came into the kitchen.

"You have another son, Mr Solomons," she said plainly, her coat already on her shoulders and her bag in the crook of her elbow.

Alfie got up from his seat and nodded greatfully at her before he rushed for the stairs, glaring at his mother-in-law as she passed him, heading for the door.

Benjamin was already in the room when he got there, kneeling on the bed to gaze at his new baby brother in wonder, and Alfie approached cautiously, coming to stand at the side of the bed, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder and looking down at the baby.

It didn't look much different to the other two when they had been born, it had the same purple and swollen face, the same scrunched up expression on its face, though he was much smaller than Benjamin had been.

"What's his name, mum?" Benjamin asked bouncing up and down on the bed, trying to contain his giddiness.

"I think your dad should choose this time," she said, looking up at her husband with a dazed smile on her face. Benjamin's head turned to his father expectantly, and Alfie froze. He had had no part in the naming of his first two children, their names chosen before he had a chance to process they were even born, it had annoyed him until this very moment.

"What about Isaac?" He offered eventualy, and mother and son shared a thoughtful look.

"No," they spoke in unison.

"Fine," Alfie sighed. "Benny? What do you want to name him?"

"Noah," Benjamin said proudly, and the husband and wife shared a look, nodding together in silent agreement.

"Benny, go to bed, now." Alfie spoke, ignoring the frown on his son's face as he clambered off the bed.

"I heard you threatened to throw my mother in the Thames," she said when the door closed behind Benjamin.

Alfie shushed her, moving to sit on the bed. "Don't talk about her, Noah's listening."

Her eyes began to droop shut and Alfie gently took the infant from her arms, holding the little thing bundled in a yellow blanket, watching as his eyes began to close too.

Alfie was the only one who didn't sleep that night, keeping a hold of his youngest son until the sun came up.

[miraclewoozi]

VERSACE ON THE FLOOR. -l.jh

ooh, i love that dress but you won’t need it anymore –

Or, the time you and your homebody boyfriend* decide to just… not go to your dinner plans.

pairing; lee jihoon x fem reader. content; fluff, suggestive (MINORS DNI). established relationship. warnings; relatively warning free (y'all i didn't even swear???) but just in case -- a couple of dorky jokes, reader wears a dress, makeup and heels, making out, undressing. let me know if i've forgotten anything. w/c; 2.4k (apparently i am in my shorter fic era? party.) note; if there's one thing i'm gonna do, no matter what day of the week it is, it's be disgustingly delusional about jihoon. get ur dentists on speedial, it's a tooth rotter (/j). note 2.0; i've had this one in the drafts for so long i had forgotten all about it! but then VOTF came on shuffle a few days ago (and i started thinking about light a flame woozi at the same time, which nearly fucking killed me), so. here we are. enjoy.<3

You don’t go out for dates very often. Not anymore, at least.

When you and Jihoon first got together, he took you out all the time. For dinners, to cocktail bars, to the movies, for walks down the beach, picnics by the river. It didn’t matter where you went as long as it put a smile on your face — all he ever wanted to do was make you feel special. No expense has ever been too great for his favourite girl, after all; he’s always loved to spoil you.

Now several years into your relationship, you’re a real pair of homebodies. Sure, he could take you out for a four course dinner at an expensive restaurant in the middle of the city, or reserve a table at a pretentious cocktail bar that plays slightly too loud music that’s always just to the left of either of your tastes. Then again… He could cook a nice meal for you to have at the apartment you share, where you can make your way through a bottle of bubbles without one of you needing to stay sober to drive home or else risk your lives in a sketchy cab. 

It’s something you’ve talked about several times, and on every occasion, it’s quite apparent that you’re both very happy with the way things are. If anything, it makes it all the more special when he tells you he needs you to keep your weekend free because he’s making plans, and he wants to whisk you away.

Like now, for instance. The hotel suite he’s booked is gorgeous and you’re perched on the edge of the plush bedding, bent over double so that you can properly fasten your shoes while he finishes getting ready in the bathroom. Now and again, you hear a grumble or a click of his tongue float through the ajar door; every time, you feel a smile play at your lips as you shake your head. He never changes. (You’re so glad.)

“Jihoon,” you call to him softly. You can practically see how he’ll be standing – facing the mirror, on his tiptoes to lean over the bathroom counter and get as close to his own reflection as he possibly can. Pouting as his fingers drag through his hair to try and fix the strands in place just a tiny bit better. “Don’t you dare come out here looking like Sonic the Hedgehog. You know the more you play with it, the more annoyed you’re going to get.”

A few seconds later, he emerges, an eyebrow raised in challenge, an amused grin tugging his lips out of their habitual frown. 

(And lo and behold — his hair looks absolutely fine.)

But the second he sees you, whatever witty comeback he was obviously very proud of dies on his lips, and you straighten up with only one of your shoes secured to your foot, the other just slipped on over your toes.

“Wow,” he says, in that soft, deep, quiet way that he does when you’ve really taken his breath away. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows; you see his brow crinkle and his eyes widen, as if he’s trying to see as much of you as he possibly can. “Is that…?”

“Yeah,” you nod proudly, sitting back and smoothing your hands over the dress you’re wearing. “From our first anniversary.”

As his eyes move over you, taking in everything from the way the straps sit on your shoulders to the way the hem lays across your thigh, your own eyes move over him. The top three buttons of his shirt are still unfastened and his tie hangs either side, tucked beneath his collar but not knotted yet. His slacks have been cleanly pressed, a neat, crisp seam running down the front of both legs. Shoes shined to perfection. Expensive watch strapped around his wrist. 

He might just be the most handsome man in the entire world.

“I remember you saying you really liked it, so… I dug it out, special.” 

“You look incredible,” he says. It’s so gentle, so sincere, that you think your heart is about to burst clean out of your chest. Warmth trickles the length of your spine, and it isn’t exactly helped when you realise – only now as he starts to cross the room to get closer to you – that he hadn’t moved an inch since he surfaced from the bathroom almost a full ninety seconds ago.

He shrinks down so he’s rested on both of his knees in front of you, skilful hands moving to help with the shoe you hadn’t managed to lace up yet. every time his fingertips so much as brush against your skin, the electricity in his gentle touches shoots all the way from the point of contact up to your brain and leaves it fogged, impossible to make any sense through the thick clouds of intimacy and adoration. More-so as he smoothly lifts your leg a little and presses his lips once to the inside of your ankle, even foggier still as he trails kisses up the length of your calf towards your knee. 

“Jihoon,” you laugh breathlessly, laying a hand on his shoulder as you feel his tongue press lightly against your skin. He finally sits back on his heels, running his fingers up and down the backs of your legs; he’s successfully managed to hike your dress up a few inches now, too, and he keeps flitting his gaze between your face and your thighs. “We can’t – we’ll be late.”

“We have ages,” he frowns, shuffling closer and trying to bump your knees apart, but you keep your muscles engaged and he doesn’t pull at them that hard, so they don’t budge.

“We have to get there, too,” you remind him. He throws his head back and sighs dramatically. The neckline of his dress shirt seems to open a little more when he looks back at you, drawing your attention down the length of his neck to his bulging chest, and the muscular forearms that he crosses in front of it.

“And this is why we don’t go out.”

“What, because you’re horny all the damn time?” You tease. 

He gently swats at the top of your thigh before soothing it with another small kiss. 

“Because when you look this good, how am I supposed to want to go and eat a steak instead?” 

He grins up at you from the floor, quite clearly delighted with himself for his little gag. You, however, flop back onto the mattress and cover your face with your hands.

“That was so bad,” you chuckle. You’ve been trying for years to not melt to his very specific sense of humour, but it’s all been completely futile. Your reluctant laughs turn to sweet, breathy giggles by the time he lays both his arms across your legs and rests his chin on top of them. You prop yourself up on one elbow to look at him; he’s staring up at your face like he thinks he’ll never see anything as beautiful as you for the rest of his life. 

“Maybe… We don’t have to go out for dinner,” he suggests. “Maybe we can stay in tonight, too.”

“Horndog.” You tsk. But you’re not disappointed at the idea of staying in, either, regardless of whether your teasing implies otherwise. “I knew you’d say that.”

“No — really,” he swallows. You aren’t sure if you can feel his heart beating a little faster where his chest is pressed completely against your shins, or if you’re just imagining it. But the tips of his ears are going pink too, so you think it’s safe to trust your intuition on this one. “I mean-… we don’t have to go. I could-…”

He bites the inside of his cheek before he looks down, pressing his forehead against his arms and hiding his face completely.

“I could do it here.”

He says these words quietly. Mumbles them, really. You aren’t sure if you were meant to hear, or if he was just talking to himself. But either way, it has to be worth a shot to find out.

“What do you mean, Ji?”

One, two, three seconds pass. And… Nothing. 

“Hey.”

You bounce your thighs a little so he’s forced to look up at you, and you can see something swimming in his eyes. Something brewing. He sits back from you and pushes a hand through his hair; a few strands lose their stick to the rest of the main body and tumble down over his forehead. Exactly in the way he was trying to prevent. 

“I could just do it here.”

He says this louder. Clearer. With much more finality. You sit up properly, then, both your hands clasped together in your lap. 

“Do what here, baby?”

His eyes find yours and you sit there for a few moments, unwrapping each other's minds with nothing more than a look and a matching pair of gentle — but slightly concerned — smiles. 

He moves one hand down and slips it into the back left pocket of his slacks. You think you can feel the world around you start to slow. 

When he shifts a leg from beneath him so he’s on one knee before you and presents you with a glittering diamond ring, it stops altogether. 

“Jihoon,” you breathe. 

He glances between the ring and you, biting his bottom lip before he speaks. 

“I had it-… I had everything planned.” He laughs, looking away from your face as even more rising heat becomes evident on his own. “Down to the second, even. But just like you always do — just like the first time I saw you, and just like every time since… You threw me a curve ball and… Somehow, you’ve changed everything. But you made it so much better. 

“I think I was supposed to find you, y/n,” Jihoon says. “I don't know what’s up there, what’s in charge of when we meet the people we meet and why we fall in love with the people we fall in love with. but I know that they were really looking out for me the day you came into my life.” 

You can feel your eyes starting to sting at the corners and you will the tears away, desperate not to smudge the makeup you spent so long trying to perfect. You know he’d love you either way — mascara tear tracks and splotchy concealer and all — but… 

“I am so in love with you that sometimes, it really hurts. It hurts because I know that no one’s ever going to come close — about anyone in the world — to feeling the way I feel about you. I feel bad for everyone, a bit. Because you’re not-… you're not with them. You’re with me. But I wouldn’t want any of them to be with you, because-... and… and if you’ll have me, I want you to be with me forever.”

You don't know when you started slowly nodding along to his little monologue, but you definitely are. You’re not sure when you started holding your breath either, but that’s two for two. He looks up at you, expectantly, fluttering his eyelashes and stuttering out a long, deep breath. 

“Y/n, will you marry me?”

Some decisions, you’ve always thought, are made for you at a cosmic level. Your favourite colours. Your favourite foods. Hot and cold weather people. Loving or hating marmite. A predisposition to enjoying scary movies or being the kind of person who hides behind a pillow. 

This is another one of those. You don’t have to think twice about it — you just know. You know because a great unstoppable force managed to squeeze you together at the perfect moment in time; the ever-expanding universe around you has kept you and Jihoon side by side through everything it could possibly throw at you. 

“Yes.”

Of course you want to spend your forever with him. 

The word leaves your mouth in a whisper and everything flies back into motion. The first black droplet rolls down your cheek. His usually so steady hands fumble with yours to slide the ring over your finger. A perfect fit. You’re hurtling through space and time as he gets up off his knees and cups your cheeks, gently pulling you upright and crashing his lips against yours. You stumble into him slightly in your heels; his kiss is more a chaotic clatter of teeth and giddy laughter than perhaps the intense, romantic gesture he was aiming for, but it’s completely, utterly, unequivocally perfect.

Jihoon’s fancy dress shirt creases under your fingers as you ball it into your fists where the top buttons are spread open, pulling him as close as you can, laughter dying down as he loses himself in you and as you lose yourself in him, right back. He swallows all of your gasps and sighs, hands sliding down from your face to the sides of your neck, until he’s resting a palm on each of your shoulders. A single finger slips beneath one of the straps and he pulls it out of the way, down onto your arm, withdrawing from your mouth so that he can press a series of kisses down your cheek and to your jaw instead.

“Ji,” you murmur, tipping your head back and fumbling at the buttons running the length of his torso, trying and failing to get them open. He chuckles, his other hand coming to rest over yours to stop you. You lace your fingers together, feeling him squeeze. Your heart pounds.

“Let's take our time,” he whispers to you, thumb grazing over your collarbone. “Okay?”

All you can do is nod as he kisses lower, and lower, pressing his lips everywhere he can while he’s still standing. Your neck and shoulders feel ablaze, tickling with the heat of the burning stars his mouth paints across your skin. 

“Need-... Ji, you need to-... call… call the restaurant,” you stutter. “Gotta…. we need to cancel…”

The fleeting sting of his teeth against your throat interrupts you and you’re only aware of him reaching behind you to tug the zipper of your dress down when the material falls completely slack..

“In a minute,” he says, helping you walk backwards until your calves collide with the bed behind you once again. He eases you to lie down on the comforter and crawls on top of you, caging you in with both arms, taking hold of your left hand again.

He looks down at the ring on your finger, his entire face breaking into the most brilliant of smiles. Every inch, from the creases at the corners of his eyes to the paling stretch of his beautiful lips. 

“My future wife needs taking care of, first.”

– no you won’t need it no more, let’s just kiss ‘til we’re naked, baby.

hehe thank u sm for reading!! i hope you enjoyed this bc it was a bit special 2 me. likes, reblogs, comments + feedback are all, as always, greatly appreciated.<3

[ivystoryweaver]

With You part 5

<-prev next-> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: Jake tries to fall asleep beside you, Steven is there to adore you in the morning and Marc is still struggling. What happens when Jake breaks his lifelong silence?

Pairings: Jake Lockley x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Marc Spector x reader. Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings/notables: Fluff, longing, complicated relationship stuff. Angst. References to past abuse. Struggles with addiction/alcoholism and its effects. Probably inaccurate description of addiction. self-worth probs. Violence is mentioned. kissing and touching, implied sex but no smut, nothing explicit or gender-specific. Let me know if I missed a warning. inaccurate DID, based on the show. Not beta'd we die like arthur harrow in the back of jake's car

Dividers by saradika

PREVIOUSLY, on “With You”...

Oh, he liked the idea of getting under your skin. He liked it a lot. 

“Really?” He teased. “You mean you don’t scare the shit out them in the middle of the night? Follow them around? Drive them crazy...wearing that?” He threw your words back at you. 

What a little shit. 

“No,” you steadily answered him, your gaze open and honest. “I guess I’m just here to drive you crazy.” 

With little convincing, Jake got ready for bed, so he could join you in finally getting some rest. Your 3am alarm went off as he was washing up, so you silenced the one for 4:00.

Conveniently it was your day off, so no other alarm was set. Steven did have one class mid-day, but otherwise, also had the day off.

As Jake slid under the covers, you reached to turn off the bedside lamp. Then you were left in the same position you found yourself in that first night.

The night he held your hand.

Remembering what you'd whispered to him in the dark that night, you softly uttered, "I'm glad you came back to me, Jake."

"I'll always come back to you," he swiftly replied, his voice the softest you'd ever heard it.

Slowly, you reached for him, resting your hand over his. He immediately slid his fingers through yours, just like the first night, and whispered goodnight.

Jake always came home while you were asleep, and he didn't even front every day. Usually he was only there when Khonshu bid him take to the nighttime alleyways and rooftops, or when Marc and Steven were in an exorbitant amount of danger...

...which was unfortunately more often than either of them (or you) were aware. Marc had a long and colorful past, in which he'd made many enemies - some of them, through no fault of his.

Abused, with an undiagnosed disorder, there were sections of his life missing, and problems he just couldn't control. That, combined with blackouts from drinking and a mighty temper, when provoked, had left a trail of...unfortunate mishaps. And pissed off former associates and enemies.

Time eased many grievances, and Marc had handled several problems on his own, years ago. But even after Jake himself had dispensed with Arthur Harrow, there still lingered fingers of his network. And those weren't the only problems.

Just last week, Jake had disposed of a man who had followed you home from work two nights in a row. He simply watched the first night, choosing restraint, but after he saw the mysterious man following you a little too closely the second night, well - that man did not live to see a third.

At first, Jake wondered how Marc could be so naive. He expected that more from Steven. Well, not naivety, exactly, but a general "chin up" outlook on life that the he radiated.

Steven, although far more direct, outspoken and cautious than most people gave him credit for, was an overall ray of sunshine. In protecting the system, Jake wasn't just protecting his own body, or Marc, who he had known since his youth, he was protecting Steven - the one Marc simply could not do without.

And Jake supposed that's what it all came down to. Marc had settled into a beautiful domesticity with both you and Steven. And maybe that was why Marc couldn't perceive the danger you were all in.

Jake was happy to keep it that way. If Marc was not only safe, but thriving, if Steven was growing and learning, putting his beautiful mind to work, and the two of them had someone they loved? Then Jake had done his job. As long he stayed on top of things, it could all work out.

But the drinking relapse was a problem. And he hadn't counted on you meeting him.

Jake had often wondered how Marc and Steven - for lack of a better word - shared you. He wondered if they ever got jealous. Or if you ever showed any preference for one over the other. That's why he thought it best to stay out of it. Not only did he hope to keep his head down and do his job, he was concerned that getting mixed up with you would only confuse him.

That all went right to hell when he carelessly barreled into your bedroom the other night, having forgotten to have Marc or Steven check in with you earlier, or go to bed beside you. He was equally panicked and wonderfully elated for this mishap.

And now, as your soft breathing slowed, he tried to pretend this night was like every other time he'd slipped through the window to find you asleep.

But it wasn't and he couldn't.

He wished you were still awake. He wished he had more time to hear your voice, to watch the flurry of you around the room, picking up his things, worrying after him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he remembered the press of your body against his - the soft satin hugging your shape.

Shit. He could use a cigarette. Or maybe he could beat the hell out of someone.

It was difficult to blow off steam when Marc - a.k.a. their body - couldn't drink and with Marc and Steven engaged to you. Jake tried to respect that. He had the right to his own life, sure, but he just couldn't bring himself to "blow off steam" in that way since you got engaged. You weren't his, but he was faithful to you anyway.

As if sensing his irritation in your sleep, you rolled over, burying your face into his shoulder, snuggling up to him comfortably.

Jake was walking a very fine line between soothed and riled up. If your leg made its way across his thigh, he was going to lose his shit.

Only a few hours later, as the sun struggled to climb into a gray sky, you woke up, tangled in someone. Wondering who might greet you each morning always brought the tiniest smile to your face, but on this morning, just for a moment, you wondered if it was Jake.

Your body stiffened. Did you sleep like this for the past few hours? Did it bother him? You hadn't ever thought of what you might do in the night when Jake got home from his escapades.

As the man beside you continued to breathe evenly, in and out, you decided that three hours of sleep was definitely not enough.

Hours later, you awoke to the domestic sounds of the kitchen. You smelled cooked food and heard the sink's water running, along with the clang of a pot or saucepan.

The sun had made its way through the morning fog, and a sliver of it poured through the crack between the drawn drapes and the window.

After stretching like a very satisfied cat, you freshened up in the bathroom and headed back to your closet to decide what to wear for your day off.

Steven was waiting for you on your bed, perched on the edge.

"Morning, my love," he hummed cheerily, his eyes raking down your body appreciatively. "See you've got on those nice satin pajamas I gave you."

Glancing down at yourself, you softly smiled. "Indeed."

"You're so bloody lovely," he breathed, eyes darkening as he reached out his hand to beckon you back to bed.

Feeling absolutely adored and a little frisky, you skittered over, ready to pounce, when he held up two hands to stop you.

"Careful, darling, I've made you breakfast. Or brunch, rather. It's eleven o'clock," he laughed, nodding toward the tray sitting in the middle of the bed.

Eyes wide, you beamed - but it didn't stop you from climbing onto his lap, just...carefully.

"You are an angel." Locking your arms behind his neck, you dragged your hips forward until you were flush against his body. Rubbing your nose against his, you giggled as he chased after your lips.

"Feeling cheeky this morning, are we?" he tutted after trying and failing to kiss you a few times. "Come here, you." Gently gripping your face in one hand, he opened his mouth hotly over yours. Sucking your lips one at a time, he teased you right back, easing one strong arm around your back. His forearm flexed, holding you firmly as he thrust up against you.

"Steven," you gasped, shifting in his lap to feel him just where you wanted him. Licking into his mouth, you pushed your fingers into his curls, tugging just hard enough for him to jerk deliciously against you again.

The two of you went on that way until he laid back on the bed, pulling you on top of him.

"Steven, Steven, wait--"

Too late. The tray carrying your breakfast spilled all over the bed, some of the jam-covered toast landing on Steven's adorably oversized sleeve.

"Shit, I'm so sorry." Scurrying off the bed, you rapidly gathered up the mess, hands bumping into Steven's as he struggled to help you.

"Thank goodness I've left the tea on the table then, yeah?"

You burst out laughing.

You and Steven cleaned up the bed, finished breakfast (at the table) and dressed in cozy clothes for a day off together. Steven decided missing one class wouldn't hurt anything, since he had high marks in every course.

"Thank you for taking care of me this morning, my love," you sighed contentedly, draping your legs across his lap as you relaxed on the couch. "I noticed you pulled the drapes closed so I could sleep in."

"Oh...must've been Marc, I s'ppose," he mused, rubbing up and down your leg. "Wasn't me."

"Oh, okay. But it was you that cleaned up the broken bottle the other morning, right? Before I woke up and made breakfast for Marc?"

Steven's head whipped around so fast. "Sorry, what? Marc broke a bottle? Darling--"

"It wasn't like that, I promise. It was an accident," you soothed. Reaching for his hand, you squeezed it gently, forgetting, in that moment, who could have cleaned up the bottle.

"Everything's a bit odd lately, innit?" He spoke up after a few moments. "Khonshu scaring the life out of Marc like that, deceivin' us both. Bloody stupid pigeon."

"I'm sorry, baby." You felt a shade guilty having talked to Jake twice when Marc and Steven had yet to even meet him.

"Not your fault, love. The old bird's the one to blame. Him and this other mysterious bloke I've got up here." He tapped one finger to his forehead.

"Jake, you mean." You eyed him cautiously. Feeling like you hadn't seen Steven as much for the past few days, you felt the need to confess - catch him up. "I talked to him again last night. Did Marc tell you we'd met?"

Dark eyes cut over to yours - unreadable - a rarity in your warm and open Steven. "Didn't have to. Spoke to him myself."

You gasped a little dramatically. "Y-you talked to Jake? He talked to you?"

"A bit, yeah," Steven sighed. "A bit. Might have told us we were still entangled with Khonshu so Marc didn't have to wake up in an alley like that. It's no bloody wonder he's had a rough go of it."

Gently rubbing your thumb over his knuckles, you inched a little closer to him on the couch. "So...you're angry with him then. With Jake."

Shaking his head, Steven's gaze dropped. "He's got his own life I s'ppose. Rather used to the way things are with Marc, is all."

"Must be hard, sweetheart," you sweetly sympathized, wishing you could fix any and everything for these men you loved.

"Not your fault," he softly repeated, reaching up to caress your cheek. "He does seem a bit taken with you, though."

Oh god.

"R-really," you squeaked. "Jake said that?"

"Not exactly, but...I gathered," Steven mused, his fingers trailing down over your throat to rest along your collarbone, which he traced carefully. "Made me wonder if you'd worn that lovely satin for him, if I'm honest."

You gulped. "Well...not for him, exactly. I did want to talk to him in a little more than Marc's t-shirt. I want answers too."

The corner of his mouth turned slightly upward, reminding you of Jake. "You're a vision in anything, darling - bare legs and t-shirt, or black satin. I certainly understand why he fancies you."

You skin heated up as you tried to decide how to respond.

And just like Jake the previous night, Steven seemed to enjoy you flustered like this. Giving you a devilish smile, he trailed his fingers down your arm.

"Steven...you're my fiancé," you finally managed, a little breathless. "Jake and I have only spoken twice. It will take a little more than crawling in the window at night to get to know one another."

Nodding, Steven asked, "But you would...like to get to know him?"

"Of course I would," you instantly answered, as if it were obvious. "Of course I want to know someone in our lives like this - part of you and Marc, and...honestly, someone who has you all out at night doing god knows what."

Reaching for your fiancé, you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Besides, I doubt Jake said he fancies me," you chuckled. "Doesn't really sound like him."

"Ohhh, it doesn't, does it?" Steven laughed out. Studying you closely, he added, "Would you like to know what he really said? 'Bout you?"

Spellbound, you nodded as Steven leaned in close. "I'm not going to tell you. That's between you two. But I will tell you what I think, if you care to know."

Climbing across his lap, you touched your forehead to his. "As long as it's something good, baby."

"Oh it is," he breathed against your mouth.

He never told you. But you did finish what you'd started in the bedroom.

After all the recent late night activities, plus a vigorous couple of rounds in bed with Steven, your sated bodies drifted off to sleep...

...which inevitably led to you waking up from your nap, wondering who would be greeting you. The flat was quiet and you were alone.

Feeling a little more relaxed and rested than you had felt in days, you found the clothes Steven had yanked off your body just a couple hours before. You didn't want to waste one more second of your shared day off by sleeping.

After checking the bathroom and the living room, you finally found a note in the kitchen from Marc.

On the roof. - M

Finding some shoes and Marc's tan hoodie, you grabbed your phone, realizing Marc had sent you the same message via text, just in case.

A few minutes later, you made your way out to enjoy the chilly but decently sunny day. A rare treat indeed.

"Hey there," you sweetly greeted, walking up beside Marc, purposely bumping your shoulder against his. "Where's your jacket? It's cold."

He glanced over at you, smirking. "You're wearing the one I like. Looks better on you anyway."

Even though Marc was a little taller than you were, you wrapped your arm around his shoulders as if it might warm him up.

"What are you doing?" He chuckled, already a bit cheered up by your presence.

"I'm protecting you. Like I said, it's cold."

Glancing down at you, he shook his head, amused, while his heart flared with adoration. You were always taking care of him in one way or another. He could never deserve you.

"Come here," he whispered, pulling you into his arms, folding you close. "There, now I'm warm."

"Good," you returned, nuzzling into his neck.

He held you in silence for a few minutes, rubbing up and down your back lovingly.

From what little you knew of Jake, you were fairly certain that Marc was the quietest of his alters. It was nice sometimes, to just be together in contented stillness.

But unlike Jake, there was no one in the world you knew better than Marc. And he was neither content, nor prone to remain still for much longer. Itching to prod about what troubled him, you waited longer still. You had learned to wait him out and he had learned to trust you...confide in you.

"I, uh..." he cleared his throat, breaking the silence after a while. "I came up here because I was thinking about...having a drink."

Oh.

Releasing you, as you knew he would after an admission like that, he folded his well defined arms over his chest. "Sorry." He stared out over the city, wondering what you would think of him - of how he kept letting you down.

Matching his pose, you gave him just enough space to confess, while keeping close enough to ground him.

"Sorry for what?"

Huffing out an irritable sigh, he frowned. "You know what. Sorry for wanting to. For...fucking everything up, for letting you down."

"I see," you softly returned. "Is that all?"

Turning his head, he started at you. "Is that not enough? You need a longer list?"

"No," you shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on the cityscape. "Just asking if there's anything else you're trying to punish yourself for today."

"There's a never-ending, extremely long fucking list," he huffed, rolling his eyes. "Where do I even begin?"

Turning your body to face him, you waited a moment for him to calm down. "How about we start with what brought you up here today? Did something happen? Did you talk to Steven? Or Jake? Or maybe Addiction is just being the annoying bitch that Addiction is?"

You could see that he was already relieved to have you facing him, engaging with him. Marc could fight with the empty, thin air if he wanted to, because the person he fought hardest with was himself.

"I did...talk to Jake," he finally confessed, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. "He, uh...he actually apologized...for what happened in the alley, with Khonshu."

"Okay," you slowly nodded, your heart rate doubling at the thought of Marc and Jake interacting. "And how did that make you feel?"

"Like an idiot," he huffed, pushing a hand through his hair. "I should have known that Khonshu would never leave us alone." His hands landed on his hips - a trademark Marc-is-annoyed stance. "I should have known it wasn't safe, especially for you."

"What does that mean?" you hesitantly questioned. Surely he didn't mean he was unsafe for you, or Jake was... You started to worry for just a moment, that he would try to do one of those stupid 'you're safer without me' speeches that superheroes were always doing in films.

Like hell. Khonshu could shove his bony beak right up his bony ass. He was not fucking with your engagement, or your life.

Seeing your distress, Marc reached for your shoulders. "Jake saved your life last week," he explained. "Someone was following you home from work."

"He...what?" You gasped. "Who? Jake told you this?"

"Don't know who," Marc replied, his jaw clenching in fury at the thought of anyone even noticing you, let alone trying to stalk you. And to think he had no idea - no inkling that you were in danger... it was unbearable. "Doesn't matter. He's gone now. I just can't believe I let that happen to you and I didn't even realize..."

Releasing you, he paced a few steps away, and back again. Back and forth, punishing himself. For not perceiving that danger still followed him around - followed you. For not being the one to save you. For not recognizing someone else was in his mind, in their body. For being the absolute most useless and pointless of his alters. For all these things compiling and making him want to drown it all at the bottom of a bottle. For being a worthless alcoholic. For being like her...

Marc was the walking embodiment of the phrase, 'that escalated quickly...'

You knew it was bad once he stopped pacing and dug the heels of his hands into his forehead. Steven would probably be joining you momentarily. Or maybe Jake.

"Marc?" You softly called, gently reaching for his wrists to stop him hitting himself in the head. You didn't pull or try to halt his motion, you simply allowed your fingers to circle his wrists. As soon as he realized that his banging motion was jerking your arms too, he stopped, allowing you to hold onto his wrists, rubbing your thumbs carefully over his skin.

"There you are," you soothed, granting him the most gentle smile and pulling his hands down to his chest. "I think you kept this conversation going without me. Probably started telling yourself a whole lot of bullshit...does that sound about right?"

Sometimes you would undercut the most dramatic of his meltdowns with deceptively gentle sarcasm. It always seemed to disarm Marc - your comments showed him your tenderheartedness rather than your slight teasing feeling like mockery. You truly had a gift for it.

You didn't wait for his verbal answer. His silence was compliance. You kept hold of his wrists, there against his chest, and tried to fill in the blanks.

"I'm guessing you're blaming yourself for not knowing everything that's ever going to happen, for not predicting the future, for not knowing every corner of your mind, and for being afflicted with an addiction. Am I close?"

His jaw clenched, this time in anguish, rather than fury.

"You don't...you don't have to do this," he choked, avoiding your gaze. "You shouldn't have to do this."

"Like I hell I shouldn't," you shot back. "I marrying you in 52 days. And on that day, I'm going to vow to love you for better or for worse, in sickness and in health - you know the rest. This is exactly what I should be doing."

"I'm sorry," he brokenly whispered. "I'm sorry I'm like this. I hate it. I hate..."

"What are you like, sweetheart? How is it that you think you should be?"

Marc shook his head, his eyebrows pinched with worry. "I-I don't even have a job or go to school, or always make you smile or feel better, like Steven. I can't even protect you, like Jake. I have nothing to give you. I can't think of one reason to even--"

"Don't you dare," you warned. "Don't you dare compare yourself to them - they are a part of you." Releasing a shaky sigh, you realized then how bad things must have gotten for Marc before he ever even picked up a bottle.

This was deeper than one encounter with Khonshu. He was calling his whole self-worth into question, comparing himself to Steven and now Jake. He hadn't failed you. Maybe you had failed him.

"Look, I don't claim to be any kind of an expert on addiction or DID or marriage," you explained to him. "I only know what I know. When Jake saved my life, you were there. You are a part of him. And-and Steven - his amazing mind is your mind too. This addiction you have - they all have it! I understand you are distinct people, and I respect that. And I don't pretend to know what you're going through or what it feels like to be you, but baby..."

Squeezing his hands, you peered up at him pleadingly. "You were my first love. I knew you first. I loved you first. You are the reason I'm here. And Steven. And Jake. We all love you, Marc and we need you. We're with you. Who else is going to help Steven remember to do his homework? Or make my coffee the way I like it? Or fix the sink every time it leaks?

"Who is going to make me feel like the most special person in the world, make me laugh, make me the best toast for breakfast--"

"Uh, that would be Steven," Marc admitted, his voice softening. "Steven does those things for you."

Thinking back through what you'd just said, you nodded. "True. He does make better toast than you but his coffee-making skills are shit."

Marc cracked a smile. Just a tiny one.

"And you do make me laugh. And make me feel special. Why do you think Steven is the only one who does that?"

"Because...I don't know, because he's so good at it," Marc shrugged, calming down a little more. Your candor was somehow soothing because he never had to wonder where he stood with you.

"Baby, where do you think he gets that from?" You stared at him pointedly, waiting for him to get it. "How many years did you try to protect him, to keep him safe?"

"Yeah, but I fucked that up too," he argued. "He was pissed when he found out about me, remember I told you that."

"Only a first," you reminded him. "But since then, you're literally his best friend. You keep him grounded. And I know it's true for Jake too. You're his moral center."

"Really," Marc scoffed, "then he's fucked."

You rolled your eyes. "You are. From what little I know of Jake, he doesn't seem all that bothered by violence... by doing whatever he feels he needs to do, for you or for Khonshu. Don't you see?"

Marc shook his head.

"When you have to use violence, you hate it, because it was used on you. You've agonized over the lives you've taken, because you value life. What is more morally centered than that?"

Finally releasing your hands, Marc rubbed his face with a long sigh. "I told myself I wasn't going to do this to you. That I was just going to go to a meeting and talk to you after. But...but I thought if I left to go to a meeting that I might stop by the store and there would be a drink, you know, just waiting..."

His hands found their way back to his hips. "What do I do?" He gazed at you as if everything in the world hanged on your answer.

"This," you said confidently. "You take a beat...take a breath, talk to me. Exactly this, baby. Everything you need to be doing, you are doing right now: admitting you're tempted to drink, stopping and thinking first, going to meetings..."

You counted his victories off on your fingers, "Using your support systems, being honest about your feelings, even the really fucking hard ones. This is exactly what you do, Marc. You are literally my hero."

Completely taken aback, his lip trembled. "W-what? No...I-I'm not."

Folding your arms over your chest, you narrowed your eyes, waiting a beat.

"You're not? Shit. I must have been thinking of someone else then." Cracking a grin, you inched toward him slowly. "You're so damn stubborn, Marc Spector, but you have met your match. Game fucking on."

Reaching for his wrists, still planted defiantly on his hips, you pulled his hands into yours. "Now, is there anything I can do to make you feel better today? I could walk you to your meeting? Or fix you some matzah ball soup? I've been practicinggg," you sang, a little playfully.

Sometimes acting like a dork really cheered up your grumpy fiancé. Maybe it would work.

"Please, god no," Marc laughed out, "it was more like matzah meal sludge. I think I could have built a sandcastle with it."

Giggling, you released his hands, sliding your arms around his torso. "Okay, fair enough. Maybe we'll do something else then."

"Yeah, like what?" He shot back, some of the tension finally draining out of his tense body as he wrapped his arms around your back.

"How about a massage?" You suggested. "You love it when I play with your hair. You could lie down on my lap, relax..."

"You're just trying to get my head between your legs, aren't you?" Marc chuckled, narrowing his eyes.

You smiled innocently up at him. "Always."

"Come on, it's freezing out here," he laughed, guiding you back toward the doorway with his arm around your shoulders.

"Still feel like a drink?" You asked, your candor never ceasing to amaze him.

"Only if you make me eat your matzah ball soup," he teased.

Just him joking was a good thing. And he probably would have you walk him to a meeting later in the day. One step at a time.

"You're really doing it, you know? I'm really proud of you," you sweetly affirmed as the two of you made your way back down to your flat.

"Thank you," Marc evenly answered, after a long silence. He hadn't really been sure how to reply until the two of you were back inside your living room. "For everything."

"One day at a time, my love. Today, you're doing it. You're doing everything right."

Wondering what he would ever do without you, Marc pulled you close, gently swaying with you in the silence of your flat. He had always felt so hard to love - his childhood had made sure of that. But you loved him hard.

@stormydaysxx laaundromat @kindlover @spxctorsslxt @deezisnotreal

@rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face 

idk if all the tags work. I tried!

[denial-permanente]

I love your page and that the two of you share so much of your lifestyle on here. I’m not sure if this is a statement or a question. I’ve read your answers about realistic feeling of this strap on you have and the technique of warming it up first. I just can’t wrap my head around your preference for it compared to the real thing. There has to be some give and take here like, it doesn’t feel as good but Tom’s technique with it is better than the real thing? Something along those lines. Stamina maybe? Either way thank you both for sharing so freely and so often!

😅 Oh boy, this is a hard one for some people... both women and men... to understand.

A lot of, women say that they don't like the feel of dildos, that they are unnatural, or they feel off, or they're too cold, or they just don't like the idea. I was kind of like that myself, and honestly I never even thought about using them with my husband. He was... very satisfying in bed and I honestly didn't feel the need to bring anything else in.

So, when my husband discovered the Vixskin company, he researched them carefully and bought a model that had a size and shape that was very close to his own. There was something about the feel of it that felt more normal to me. It wasn't quite him, but it felt okay and it was attached to him... so it was him close to me, his smell, his muscles, his arms holding me. I decided that I could live with it.

But here is the important part. After a while his wearing it began to feel totally normal. Just like having him locked all the time felt totally normal. I loved him being horny and affectionate all the time, I loved having all the control over our love life, and I loved how passionate he was making love to me while wearing the Tex.

When I missed feeling him come inside me I would unlock him... but those times became less and less often. We often went for months at a time without me wanting to unlock him... which meant that his wearing the Tex felt more and more natural to me.

Eventually he figured out the trick of warming it up before we made love, and that made things go from feeling natural to feeling... better. Like, I don't know why he didn't think of it sooner, it's so simple. But because I could feel the heat inside me it made our lovemaking more intense.

And now here the part that you men always ask about: unless your wife is a porn star, do not assume that she really wants a foot long monster inside her.

After 4 years of using only the Tex my husband asked if I wanted to try something bigger. While I honestly did not feel the need to I went along out of curiosity. We ended up with the Ranger X for several reasons. One is that it was supposed to have been made with a different process that made it more lifelike. Another is that when looking at the dimensions it was only a little bit bigger... maybe an inch longer and a half inch thicker. But when we first opened the package that little bit bigger on the website looked huge!

I have written before about what it was like getting used to it. But to the point of the question, I found that it made my husband feel the same to me but different... and in a good way.

Remember... when we make love I am feeling my husband holding me close, whispering in my ear, his weight on top of me, his hot cage pressing into my ass. All of those things are him... how he feels and smells and sounds. And because he is totally focused on me, he moves the way I want him to move to give me pleasure depending on my mood.

I guess what you were looking for was for me to say "I love the Ranger, but I miss my husband because..." except that there really isn't anything because I don't think of it that way. I do not think of him as wearing a strapon... I just think of it as doing what was very natural for us... just with something that feels even better than the Tex.

[tumblingxelian]

"Are we discussing the writers intentions with Jaune, Jaune as a general character or the audience reception to Jaune and are we singling out a specific audience or the collective?"

All three really. The collective.

To start, I'm fascinated by how Jaune seems to contrast the girls in terms of their development. His growth is very loud and in your face in specific moments like Jaundice or the prom or Volume 3's finale.

Hell, his moment in the Battle for Haven has him not getting the trauma induced power up to punch Cinder hard but rather to heal Weiss. After that, he's to the side healing those who need it. It's a big moment but his only moment aside from a small passing mention of his semblance.

It feels like peaks and valley when it comes to the times when he gets the focus.

All while the girls have each of their journeys spread across the whole show's intended run. Ruby's arc of trying to move forward too much has always been there but with weekly episode releases and hiatuses between seasons, it's causes even those who are well meaning to overlook it.

I don't know if that came out right so make of my thoughts what you will.

OK so its too hot for me to do any recording or other projects but I can answer asks, so let's get to this (Cracks bottle of cold water over my head) Let's do this!

So, Jaune is certainly a divisive character and while I have warmed up to him somewhat over the years, and while I adore RWBY I often feel he can be a disruptive element, but also one that does in fact serve a purpose. Keep that in mind for my response going forward.

So, touching on your stuff first, it is interesting, though I would argue against the idea that the girls don't also at times have very loud character development.

Weiss's shifter after talking to Port, her summons, the Atlas party, ETC. Blake running away & confronting Roman, her everything with Ilia, the final confrontation with Adam and the Bees kiss as just some examples.

Interestingly Ruby and Yang are on the more quiet end of character development scales with stuff building up slowly and quietly. Though not without their big moments, Ruby's eulogy and explosion, Yang's confrontation with Raven and the bees kiss, ETC.

Still, I think I see what you mean in how these things tend to be framed and handled in a much more varied way than media usually does.

IE, Jaune losing it at Cinder in V5 is basically him lacing the temperament of a Huntsmen that his allies have and it accomplishes nothing on his end as far as "Badass confrontation" goes and instead he only starts to grow after leaning into the role of support & healer, even defaulting more to Yang as leader in V7 during their rescue work.

Overall and I said this in my Bees essay that CRWBY like long form story telling, and that influences a lot of how RWBY is written.

In these regards Jaune does feel interesting/odd because he does have several... Archetypical moments of character growth as you say. What's interesting to me and what I think the writers are going for is that how good some of these even are for him can be questionable.

What I mean is like...

Jaune went to Beacon with a very "Idiot Shounen hero" attitude towards things. He cheated his way into an elite school and kind of just assumed it'd work out. He didn't try that hard in classes till he was being blackmailed, rejected help out of pride and even when he did seek it out it was only after he had a "win" under his belt that wasn't even wholly his but he doesn't know that.

The thing is, very little ever went Jaune's way on these things either in the short term or long term.

IE, he short term he showed up at Beacon and nearly died and or failed (Subversion of his shounen expectations.) But then he was helpedby a cool girl who ineplicably liked him and said he had a lot of Aura! (This falls in line with his Shounen expectations!)

But then it turns out he still sucks at classes and having what a girl who has a crush on you says is a lot of Aura doesn't mean much when surrounded by other people who also have a lot of Aura and have been training all their lives (Subversion again)

He then manages to retain his pride and defend his team and wins a battle "All on his own" except he ignored Glynda's advice and only won because Pyrrha guided his hand. Though after this he did swallow his pride and get help, its sort of net neutral?

Moving forward he wasn't that involved in the plot, but his stuff in V2, was very "Standard" school stuff, but then it was followed up by his love interest also being his mentor being a problem because Pyrrha fulfilled the trope of the mentor dying. Jaune was also cut out of that entire conflict (Wisely) because he's not actually the main character and he'd only get in the way. (Subversions all round! Be it for the cool girl liking the Shounen loser, him not being the MC, Pyrrha being his mentor and the tragic "Brightest of their generation" before she was his love interest and so on!)

Just within the first three volumes we see that there's this dichotomy of Jaune trying t and sometimes even getting to play much more standard story beats "Straight" that RWBY usually avoid. Only for them to then get blindsided by RWBY's more subversive elements.

But the key thing here is you only notice the latter if you pay attention to the whole, and not the individual moments. This is a problem I had with Jaune till about V6/7; because despite my insights here I do think the execution has been murky more often than not.

Still, with the above in mind, I think one can easily where how things flow out from there, with Jaune trying to play these self assigned roles and getting these moments of "Standard storytelling."

Only for something to come along later and put a spin on it.

V4 Jaune gives a nice speech to Ruby but it ultimately just serves to reinforce her burgeoning issues because he also missed her tendency to repress and when placed in a scenario like he would have been with Pyrrha he froze up and couldn't act, IE Tyrian almost getting Ruby.

He finally got his big speech and rage at Cinder, but was actively being told to chill by Qrow and Cinder gives near zero fucks and rather than getting a power up he gains a power that assigns him a support role over a "badass" role.

We also get to see something in V6 which I thin is often neglected in Jaune analysis, that boy has a fucking temper!

We've seen it with him shouting at Pyrrha, at Cinder and then outright attacking Oscar. But he always calms down afterwards and no one seems to hold it against him, but the thing is this means he never really works on it. The only thing that can shut it down is his own sense of shame rather than actual self control like say, Yang has.

But I digress, my interpretation of the writers intent but I basically think Jaune is meant to serve four purposes in the narrative:

1: Counterpart & foil to Ruby as leaders with very different skills & roles in universe. 2: Counterpart & commentary on shitty male authority figures who needs to unlearn toxic masculinity. 3: A longform subversion of the typical "idiot Shounen hero" who gets by on gumption and lots of natural talent. 4: The closest person we get to a wholly normal person in universe, as even Oscar has an ancient wizard in his head.

These are all interesting things and I can see what the creators are aiming for, or so I believe. However, I do think the execution of all this is often murky.

The short form stuff I mention above is some of the hardest to grapple with cos until you see it pay off it just seems like standardized story tropes, and even then the emphasis these ideas require to work can be disruptive to other characters narrative importance.

What's more while interesting and impossible to fully comment on until the story is wholly done, it is hard to say how strictly necessary some of these ideas are to explore given RWBY's limited run time. & the fact some of them could be divided up and given to more temporary characters who don't need as much narrative real estate.

Thus I can definitely get why people often find Jaune frustrating. Hell, I can often find him frustrating, especially because I think some of his traits are meant to evoke a degree or irritation with him. But all of this also feeds into why he can be such a divisive character.

As for people who just project onto Jaune and make him super harm big badass, ugh, idiots unworthy of consideration who frankly shouldn't be watching RWBY, I have nothing to say to them.

Anyway I hope this was coherent, thanks for the ask, sorry it took so long!

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Word count: 2300+

Warnings: mentions of blood and wounds, also some verbal exchange, language

We are getting closer😊

Part XV | Part XVII

Several days passed since you wrote letter to Tamlin, but no answer came. Lucien didn't appear and you didn't hear any news about him either. You were worried and nervous.

Meanwhile you decided that you were ready for more memories of the past to be revived. You asked Rhys about it during one of your bonding times, as he called it. Rhys was quite curious about you and he also wanted to share his life with you. You were glad for that and looked forward it every day.

Your brother agreed and you surprised even yourself when you spontaneously hugged him in return. His violet-blue eyes shone with happiness and he was more than pleased to have chance to embrace you so firmly that you couldn't breathe.

You went over how naturally your relationship changed, how you changed. You felt the same, yet you were different. Empty space in your chest was healed, filled with your family, with faces of those around you. A lot of new emotions you didn't recognize swirled in your heart and it felt right. You thought you were fine all those years living in the forest, but only now you understood how unsettling you felt all that time. Without realising you were looking for something, something that was amiss, something you found with Tamlin. You finally found your peace.

Walking down the hall you opened doors of Rhys' office without knocking. He was already there, waiting for you. His gaze immediately moved to you, documents in his hand forgotten. Rhysand fleshed a wide smile and standing up from his chair he welcomed you with hug.

And he wasn't alone. Azriel was here too. He was sitting on the very same sofa as before, his eyes bright, lips curled into playful smirk. He looked relaxed, wings loosely rested behind his back, the shadows lazily rolling around. A few of them flew to you, playing with your fingers. It was lovely gesture that repeated every time the two of you met.

Your chest hummed with bliss.

As before, you sat down on the sofa, Rhys seated next to you, holding your left hand, Azriel gently touching your right one. This time it was much easier than before and took just about an hour. After your first sitting there weren't many memories left.

When Rhys revived the last one, he left your mind and opened eyes.

"Now only the memories of that night remain," he announced. He was like an open book for you, relief, anticipation, horror and anger all mixing together on his face. You understood every of those emotions. He eagerly wanted to know what happened the night your mother died, how you survived, but he also wanted to protect you, to give you time to decide whether you want to know it, too. He wouldn't push you and without your permission he wouldn't touch those memories either. "How do you feel?"

You considered your answer, avoiding looking to the right. Memories Rhysand revived this time, were from your last years of living here and they exposed a rather surprising thing. "I think I'm alright. It's less confusing than before," you lied smoothly while the heat reached your cheeks.

Azriel's thumb rubbed the back of your right hand, drawing circles into your skin. The gesture that was so familiar and intimate now. You ignored it looking only on your brother. "And how do you feel?"

"It's much easier when I know what I'm looking for and where to find it," Rhysand ran fingers through his silky dark hair. He definitely looked.. normal, not so pale and tired as last time. "Also there were only few memories left, so it was like taking candy from a child."

You snorted, honestly glad he's okay. Then you excused yourself and still without looking Azriel's way you hurriedly left.

Azriel was confused, but understood as soon as Rhysand looked at him with narrowed eyes and raised brows. He was considering whether to kill him or just beat him. Fuck, he knew. Azriel hurried after you.

You really hoped that Azriel wouldn't follow you, but your hopes were short-lived. You were marching down the hall to the staircase, hoping to make it to your room, when heavy footsteps sounded behind you. Big hand gently squeezed your elbow, turning you around. You were met with eyes of colour of warm honey. You immediately averted your gaze down to the floor. His broad chest heaved with sharp breaths and the awkward silence between you stretched.

"Why?" Azriel whispered. You pressed your lips together. "Why are you running from me?"

Your heart stuttered, sharp pain pierced your chest. The heat on your cheeks grew, now whole your face and neck was burning. You swallowed, not knowing what to say. Memories Rhys revived minutes ago flashed through your mind. You couldn't look at him the same way you did before. Not after finding out. But at least now it gave sense why you felt so good in his presence, why you hoped to see him and spend some time with him.

"I was waiting."

"Please, don't.." You voice was hardly audible.

"Y/N, look at me," his fingers closed around your other hand, pulling you closer. The smell of cedar and mist filled the air, wrapped around your heart and soul, caressing it tenderly. This close you heard his racing heartbeat.

You shook your head. Something like painful groan escaped through his pressed lips. He lowered his head so that your foreheads were touching. "Please. I swear I won't hurt you. I'm not expecting anything from you.. just.. Please."

Hole in your heart opened even wider and you couldn't resist anymore. You looked up into his hazel eyes. He was so close you could count gold flecks in them. He breathed out deeply through nose, silver lined his eyes. He swallowed hard.

"I dreamed so many times about this. About you being alive. When Rhys appeared with you in his arms.. this must be some kind of sign.. from Mother," he whispered urgently. " Sign that we are meant to be together."

You'd never seen him like this, so vulnerable, emotional, broken. He was always in control of his feelings, reserved. In your memories he showed his vulnerability only to you, but he'd never been so desperate. You had to curl fingers into fists to stop them from reaching for him.

"I missed you more that you can imagine. I thought we have future. We talked about it, dreamed about it. I was looking forward to it. And when you disappeared.. when we found.." He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply. Whatever they found it must have been something really bad when it shattered him so much. "I thought I would go crazy. It hurt so much. Nobody knows about this. Not even Rhys." Tears rolled down his cheeks.

You were trembling. What he said about the two of you was true, you knew it now. Feelings from those times lingered in revived memories. You felt it, but.. you were different now. You weren't the same person anymore. Your old self cried with him, longed for his closeness, but your current self only pitied him and was sad over his loss. There was difference even you didn't understand properly.

His thumbs were again drawing circles into your skin. He didn't move, just stood there close to you, eyes closed, gently touching you. You didn't push him away, there was no need for that. He was respectful, not forceful. Instead you decided to give him time to recover.

After a few minutes his tears dried and he calmed down straightening, his eyes never leaving yours. He gave you a small smile. "I'm sorry-"

"It's okay. Really," you interrupted him. Azriel helped you so many times since you came back, you could do at least this much for him.

He was about to say something, when Elain appeared as many times before. Unfortunately she came in the worst possible moment when Azriel had no patience for her. He lashed out at her without breaking the eye contact with you.

"Go away, Elain." His deep voice was so icy she winced. Her eyes filled with tears. Nobody spoke to her that way.

"I just-"

"I don't care what you wanted. Leave us alone." She didn't move. "Fuck. Off," he barked at her.

She lost it. "Why are you always with this bitch," she shouted angrily.

Azriel's head flinched her way. You'd never seen him so angry. You felt the need to dash away and that anger wasn't even directed at you.

"What did you call her?"

Elain retrieved a step back and stuck out chin defiantly. Her voice was shaking slightly when she spoke. "She always gets in the way, pushing between us-"

"Between us?! There's no 'between us'!"

She gaped in disbelief, her doe eyes watering even more. "How can you say such thing after all we did?!"

"We did nothing, Elain," Azriel growled, his hands released you, his body fully facing her.

"Nothing?! And what about the time we spent together? All secrets we shared?"

Azriel frowned in confusion. "Secrets? I've never told you a single thing that somebody else didn't already know about."

You were slowly backing from them. Whatever was between them, they needed to talk it out or rather shout it out. Whatever. You didn't want to witness it. Fortunately Azriel was so angry and focused on Elain that he hadn't noticed. You were worried that the shadows would tell him, but right now they were as busy as their master. They swirled around like serpents, hissing at daring Feyre's sister.

You breathed a sigh of relieve when the door of your room closed behind you. You heard their angry voices even up here. It took hour or so until house went silent again. Somebody most likely had to intervene to stop them because at some point there were more than just two voices.

You curled into the armchair and trying to ignore them gazed into the garden. You had a lot to think about. And also you needed to decipher how do you feel about Azriel. This task was especially tricky. You knew you didn't love him, not as you did before. But still in a certain way you loved him. You needed to clarify that.

Several days after the incident you were strolling through the garden lost in your thoughts, your fingers played with pendant. Azriel was sent on a mission right after the fight was over, as you learnt from Rhysand later that night during the dinner, and you hadn't seen Elain ever since then, too. You didn't want to be mean, but you were glad for that. It gave you time peacefully think things over. However you still wasn't sure about your feelings for Azriel.

Suddenly a male's voice whispered somewhere from your right. "Under the oak." You yelped. Thankfully you were far from the house and nobody heard you. You looked around, but you were alone.

Latest events caused you forgot about the letter. However now your thoughts once again turned to Tamlin, your pulse quickened. You hurried to the secluded corner of the garden where the oak tree grew.

Lucien was already seated on one of the roots, leaning against the trunk. He didn't look good. His skin was unusually pale, damped with sweat. His clothes were damaged and soaked with blood.

You halted. "What happened to you?"

"Ah," he smirked, but it wasn't even close to his usual grin. "Tamlin's doing." He gestured to his clothes. "He was so happy to see me that he wanted to tear off my head," he grimaced. "This time he really almost turned me into shreds when I went to deliver your letter, you know. It took me a few days to put together."

"How serious is it?" You instinctively reached for what was left of his shirt.

"Don't," he hissed, but you were faster and now even stronger. There were deep cuts along his ribs. The wound was already partly healed, but it was still bleeding. You didn't want to even imagine how bad it had to be before.

"You need to clean it up and bandage," you looked around. Thankfully there were so many herbs in this garden. You washed two stones in a clear stream that flowed through the garden and crushed the herbs to mush. "Lift your shirt, please."

Lucien grunted something you didn't understand, but he did as you asked. Carefully you applied the mixture on the wound. Lucien hissed when your finger lightly touched raw flesh and shut his eyes closed. Then you lifted your skirt and tore off a strip of fabric from the petticoat. It was the cleanest fabric you had at the moment. You used the strip to bandage the wound.

When you were done Lucien exhaled shakily, letting the shirt fall back down. "Thank you, it's much better now," he rasped.

"What happened?"

"When he saw me he.. lost it. But I managed to deliver your letter. When I went there several days later to ask about the answer, he did this. He is like some wild animal and every day it's getting worse. I wonder if he still remembers who he really is."

Your heart painfully throbbed in you chest. "Do you think..?" You couldn't finish your question, but Lucien understood anyway.

He shook his head. "I think it's too late. We are losing him."

Lucien winnowed away soon after that saying something about his friends worrying about him.

You were suffocating. You curled into yourself between massive roots, pulling knees to your chest and rocking back and forth until humming in your head stopped and your mind cleared.

Time was mercilessly running out. You felt it in your bones. Tamlin needed help, urgently. You had to do something about it.

But first you had to heal yourself properly.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia

[anxietycheesecake]

Piggybacking on one of your recent posts, they did worse than just give The Guide nothing to do and the MAGA speech, they turned her into a prop for the needs of male characters.

That was her entire purpose.

Offering insight about Nandor and his romance struggles and being a love interest for Nandor to underscore that if The Powers That Be wanted Nandor to be physically attracted to Guillermo and making intended, overt romantic statements, he would be acting towards him as he does The Guide, but he doesn't, so get your minds out of the gutter, their love is more profound than that.

Then because the Monster is horny, all of the vampires INCLUDING NADJA are completely okay with decapitating The Guide - A FELLOW SEVERAL HUNDRED YEARS OLD VAMPIRE - with or without her consent, and attach it to a frankenbody to be the Monster's sex doll.

Lazslo literally sneaks up on her with an electric saw.

That was it. We never saw her actually working with Jerry, just blink and you miss it moments.

(Also please try to imagine Season 1-2 Nadja, who actually cared about other women who were being shat on enough to turn her into her baby vamp and take her under her wing reacting like this and tell me her character hasn't been assassinated and that this show didn't fly off the rails.)

Wow, never gave the Guide that much thought (mostly BECAUSE THE WRITERS DON'T EITHER) but now I'm so viscerally pissed about it. You're 100% right. I mean, don't quote me on this, but this show got so distasteful regarding women and minorities when SF (a woman of color, btw) became less involved and left. She was still around in season 4 but didn't even write an ep, and mind you, up until that point, her eps were the only ones where Nandor stated the possibility of the love of his life being a man, after being confirmed multisexual for a while.

Marwa should've been a guywife and this is the hill I'm dying on. You can't make a middle eastern man take a middle eastern woman's agency away and ultimately turn her into a white man. The implications are unfortunate to say the least. Like, they were smart enough to have Guillermo be a man even when making him a woman was considered too (can you imagine having a Latina as a mistreated servant to a middle eastern man? The way that would've offended everyone lmao). This is such a gross and easily avoidable oversight, YOU LITERALLY GAVE THE DUDE MALE SPOUSES

Also comparing a brown man to an orc AND NOT SUBVERTING IT in the subversive show (I was so sure they were going to reveal the orcs were actually super hot at the end, because that's what early seasons would do). Just the fat jokes last season and the obsession with making it clear again and again that Guillermo is not wanted sexually by anyone in the horny monster society. I know the fandom thinks everyone's all over him but I genuinely believe this is collective delusion (affectionate) or fanfic brain because I can't remember any of this being backed by canon aside from the Guide's crush (also ftm sexual harassment is funny, I guess). Please correct me if I'm wrong. They changed their tune so many times it's hard to keep track.

Like, not to be that friend that's too woke, but when you have a diverse cast (except for black folks smh, though I'm glad they never went there) you need to be a bit more careful and responsible with what you put in their mouths. Come on!

Went on a bit of a tangent, sorry. My heart breaks for Kristen. Good for that main cast paycheck, but imagine having your character become a regular just for it to... Not be a regular? And be disrespected every second it's around without a satisfying conclusion? They seemed to understand back in the day that seeing a character be exaggeratedly mistreated constantly is only funny for a while, but they forgot, both with her and Guillermo.

I never liked the Guide. I found her entertaining on her first appearances but thought she changed the general feel of the comedy a little too much. To be honest, I always found it hard to care about her and Nadja, because the writers themselves never seemed that interested in them. But this is so annoying and makes me want to write sapphic fixits lmao

[cainluvr69]

"A Flower for a Rendezvous, Given in the Sunlight" Cain SSR Card Story - A Two-Tone Dahlia for You

As Cain and I passed in front of a florist's, we heard a conversation coming from inside.

Florist: ���I mean, no matter what y'say, I've never seen somethin' like what you're talkin' about.

Boy: …Okay, I get it. Sorry for taking up your time.

Cain: Oops, sorry, didn't mean to bump into you. Are you okay?

Boy: No, I should be the one… Wah?! The Master Sage and one of the Sage's wizards…!

Cain: Oh, you know about us?

Boy: Of course I do! Let me see, you must be, um, the former Captain of the Knights…

Cain: Yep. My name's Cain, and this right here is our Master Sage.

Akira: Hello.

Boy: Um! I know we only just met, but there's something I want to ask…

Cain: What is it? Maybe we'll get lucky and I'll have an answer for you.

Boy: Have you ever seen a type of dahlia with yellow petals and red edges?

Cain: …No, I don't think I have. What about you, Akira?

Akira: I haven't either. I'm sure I'd remember a flower that looks so distinctive, too…

Boy: …I see. I'd heard that you went all over the world, so I was hoping you might have seen it.

Cain: Mind if I ask why you're looking for it? Maybe we'll be able to help you look for it.

The boy introduced himself as Dahl, and he carefully began to explain his situation. A girl in his neighborhood, named Lia, was going to be moving away soon, and he wanted to present her with those dahlias as a gesture of appreciation for their friendship.

Cain: I gotcha. But aren't there a lot of dahlias in this city? Is there a reason you need that color of flower in particular?

Dahl: Well, I got lost in the forest nearby when I was younger. There'd been a landslide, and I couldn't find my way home without the path. That was when someone suddenly appeared before me, with one of those two-color dahlias in hand. I don't…quite remember exactly how it happened, but I think they must have been a fairy or something like that. I was able to get home because they guided me out of the forest.

It sounded like a very dear memory to him. He had a very gentle expression on his face as he recalled it.

Dahl: So I wanted to give Lia one of those dahlias, like as a way so that she'll find her place no matter where she goes.

Figaro: …Sounds like that flower holds a lot of wonderful memories.

Cain: Figaro!

Akira: When did you get here?

Figaro: Oh, just a little bit ago. I'd lost sight of you, Master Sage, so I went looking.

Cain: Well, you showed up at just the right time.

Akira: He did?

Cain: Yeah, he can help us look for what this kiddo's looking for. He wants to do something for a friend who he's going to be separated from--doesn't that make you want to help him out?

Figaro: I see, I see. Sounds like the more hands we have, the better. In that case I suppose I can help out.

Akira I'll help, too! Let's all look.

Dahl: Thank you so much…! Master Sage, Master Sage's wizards, this means so much to me!

Cain: Ahaha. You don't have to be so formal. Well then, first things first, let's gather what information we can.

✦✧☾✧✦

We split into two groups to try and cover more ground and thus get more info--Figaro was with Dahl, and Cain was with me. Dahl said he'd checked through the forest many times, but never found the flowers he was looking for, so we were asking around at all the local florists about it. But time passed, and we had not a thing to show for it…

Cain: Master Sage, how about we start asking some of the street vendors about it? They go all over the place, so it's possible they've sold the kind of flower we're looking for, or at least heard of it before.

Akira: You're right, I didn't think of that! Let's see if they've got anything for us.

We stepped up to an old man who was opening up his stall for business and explained our quest and the special traits of the flower we were looking for.

Stall Shopkeep: Ahh… I think I've seen it, but that'd be a good several years ago now.

Cain & Akira: !!

✦✧☾✧✦

With the old man's story in hand, we set off for the forest--and who should we find standing at the treeline but Figaro and Dahl.

Figaro: …Oho? I guess if you two are here too, that means there really is something to this forest.

Cain: Wait, are you not here because of what that one travelling merchant said?

Figaro: Nope. We got a bucketload of absolutely nothing on our end. So I flipped the question and started looking for the fairy he mentioned, and that led us here.

Cain: Oh, so you're headed for where he first met the dahlia fairy. We still don't know the precise location attached to the info we got, so we'll go with you.

✦✧☾✧✦

Figaro: Hey, Dahl. When you met that fairy, was it raining at the time?

Dahl: Yes. I remember it suddenly getting so dark and cold. After I got out of the woods, I came down sick and spent a long time in bed after…

Figaro: I guess that means your guide also saved your life, huh.

Dahl: Yeah.

Figaro: …

Something about Dahl's words made Figaro pause. He looked thoughtful. I watched him from the corner of my eye. Figaro was staring into the depths of the forest--until he noticed my gaze and spoke, his voice low.

Figaro: Master Sage, there are no fairies in this forest.

Akira: …Huh?

Figaro: To be honest, I had my suspicions since Dahl first told us his story. I didn't feel any sort of presence like what he described in this city. I thought perhaps it was just so weak that I couldn't sense it while we were still in town, but now we're in the forest itself and I still sense absolutely nothing.

Cain: Then what did Dahl see…?

Figaro: That's why we're here. To find out what this "fairy" really is.

Dahl: …Oh! Look!

I looked up, and Dahl was pointing at something…at someone. Someone with arms full with dahlias.

Dahl: Are you the one who-- Wait!

Cain: Master Sage, Figaro! We need to follow Dahl.

✦✧☾✧✦

We chased after him, but very suddenly, I realized we were not in the forest anymore. My feet fell against the brick road of the city streets. The sunlight was so bright I felt dizzy. Just like that. We were out of the forest, just like that.

Dahl: Waaiit…!

Lia: Huh? Dahl, is that you yelling?

Dahl: …Lia?

Akira: (Lia is the friend who's going to be moving soon, right…?)

✦✧☾✧✦

Figaro: What an adorable fairy we've got on our hands.

Lia: Fairy?

Dahl: N-no, don't worry about it! More importantly, those flowers…

Lia: These? Hehe, they're pretty unusual, right? I got them when I was little, from my grandpa who lives far away. But they won't grow in our garden. I guess the soil doesn't have the right nutrients or something. So I've been secretly growing them in the forest. Oh, that's right… Dahl, you and I first met while I was picking some to bring home.

Dahl: …Huh?

Lia: It was raining so hard that day… You got sick after that and had to stay in bed for a while. It must've been rough.

Dahl: Oh, um. Yeah…

Akira: (Which means our wayward fairy was this girl.)

Dahl went completely silent. I totally got it: the person he wanted to give the flowers to was, in fact, the person who had grown them in the first place. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he pressed his lips back together without a word. Cain put a gentle hand on his back and pushed him forward a step, encouraging him to get those words stuck in his throat out.

Cain: …

Dahl looked up at Cain, and Cain nodded. It's okay. Be brave. I could hear those words conveyed to him.

Dahl: Um, do you think I could have one of those flowers?

Lia: Yeah, of course. I wanted to give you one, actually.

✦✧☾✧✦

Figaro: I suppose it being a dark and stormy night, plus how he was already weak and not fully conscious, is what turned her from a regular girl into a fairy guide.

Akira: Yeah. But Lia was definitely a fairy either way in Dahl's eyes.

Cain: Yep. I guess this'll make for another precious memory for him. But he's so embarrassed by it he didn't tell Lia about why he wanted that flower.

Figaro: Well, that's just how kids are. They're so pure and innocent I felt kinda icky watching the two of them.

I thought back to the, walking home side by side, hiding their shy little smiles by looking at the dahlias in their hands. A gift brought by Lia's departure.

Akira: Well, now that we've seen the real thing, it really was a lovely flower, wasn't it?

Cain: Red and yellow go well together. And red and yellow dahlias are already a common sight in this city… So I'm sure the recipient of a dahlia with both colors would feel very loved.

Akira: Yeah. After all, red dahlias are the first present a man gives his wife after they get married.

Cain: You heard what Dahl said, right? He was talking about how he was going to raise those dahlias in the woods now. Once they grow up and get to meet again, he's gonna have those flowers in hand for her. Parting is always a sad thing. But I'd hope that their happy memories will make the flowers bloom beautifully when they reunite.

Cain nodded to both Figaro and I. His two-color eyes, the same colors as the dahlias, were gentle.

Training Episode: I Can't Wait Centuries

Akira: We can plant the dahlias in this part of the garden, right?

Cain: Yep. No one'll step on them by accident here.

Akira: I'm glad we could find a place for the dahlias we got after that mission.

Cain: Yeah. And they're still as beautiful here as they were there.

Akira: Yes. Red and yellow are so vibrant together…

Cain: I heard that the color of flowers can differ depending on what soil they grow in, so I kinda wanna plant some in the nearby forest, too.

Akira: Let's invite Figaro to help us when we do that. He's out on a mission today, so he couldn't help us plant these ones.

Cain: Tell that to Figaro and he'll say that given how long a wizard's life is, in a few hundred years this place'll probably be covered in dahlias.

Akira: Ahaha, yeah, sounds like him. I'm sure it'd be beautiful. I can't even imagine how this place would look in a hundred years…

Cain: …Man, I definitely can't wait a few centuries.

Akira: Hm?

Cain: I mean, I want to see the dahlias again with you. And I wanna ask you if it's really just how you imagined it would be, or is it even more beautiful than that?

Akira: Cain…

Cain: So I hope these dahlias bloom in full force while you're still by my side.

[starlightbooklove]

Ok, I finally saw Journey to Bethlehem and I can't begin to express how much I loved it, I'm a very difficult person to like a full musical, which is why movies like west side story and in the heights I only liked a few songs, like as movies in general they are good, but not to my personal taste.

Furthermore, the Christian film market usually ranges from very similar, commercial and honestly boring films, to 'reinterpretations' that remove plots and things that do not go at all with the Original material So I wasn't too confident in how good the trailer looked but I was willing to give it a look, thank goodness I did.

As a Christian who was raised in the church with a Christian family, my view of religion was quite Biased by their way of looking at it Which wasn't bad, but I was focused on the religious point of view sometimes excessively, so over time as I grew up and got to know the world around me, I moved away from that, And then after I grew up I returned to wanting to learn for myself without biased opinions about the Bible and to be able to understand it and really feel what everyone said they felt.

And so I came to the conclusion that You can save your self a Lot of time, if you just read the bible as what it is: a book, full of human people with a lot of imperfections, murky, miraculous, heartbreaking, crazy, steamy and even funny (yes, I'm not lying) stories. Religion, so focused on an idea that sometimes not even the Bible itself shares, forgets the human part that fills the stories, which is not very described in it either, but that one can easily interpret.

And thanks to this, criticism of Christians is very well founded on several occasions, and many people have the mistaken idea that the Bible is a 'holy book of holy people'.

That there is nothing more false, the book is holy or is different, unique and/or sacred because of how it was written and because of the stories that happen in it And how accompanied by prayer and the real desire to want to know, you can learn a lot no matter how many times you read it, not because of the people who lived them.

Who were they, let me tell you the test of God's patience.

Do you know Moses? The dude who divided the sea (by God's guidance), did you knew that (this one's funny), thanks to the people he brought out of Egypt after the plagues and that he have to spend 40 years with them in the desert? 🙃 no, it's not a joke and no, it's not an interpretation, literally thanks to the almost constant disobedience of the Israelis after being liberated they were punished with that, and the worst thing is that God had reasons, and I'll give you an example of that, these people decided to worship a damn golden cow that they built Because Moses had taken a long time to return from talking to God (when he went to look for the commandments ironically) less than a year after being freed by God from slavery.

Moses broke the first tables of commandments out of anger, and had to go look for them again, I repeat, no, I'm not playing, this is how it happened in the Bible And it was not only for this reason that they had to stay, it was a list of things that these people did, having as a testimony and example just by being free, still had Incredible faith problems.

The generation that left Egypt never saw or lived in the promised land, the only one who saw it out of mercy was Moses, but it was the descendants who managed to enter the promised land.

Haaa, bet you didn't knew that..

So, as you can see, no, not holy and/or perfect people at all. You might wonder, what does this have to do with the movie? And I will answer you, sorry, i got inspired, but the thing is, this is basically the context of why I liked it so much.

Journey to Bethlehem, it is the story of the birth of Jesus if we remove the religion and the holy holy beautiful peacefull look that some churches like to sell, and start to unite our 4 neurons and think about what, humanly, those people thought and did under the context of that time With fire songs, good performances, very good acting, and Milo (I'm not going to elaborate, I'll just say that I gained a tremendous crush on this man lmao)

And I want to list my favorite points from this in the movie.

-The representation of Mary

Arguably my favorite part of the movie, like, this woman really made me feel what it must have been like for her to carry the son of God.

Because N1: Mary is painted as this woman rejoicing in the news that she will become pregnant overnight when she is engaged, not married, in a patriarchal society With around 1000 laws about what you can and cannot do and the things you cannot do are punishable by death, One of them being being pregnant or having a child out of marriage 🙃🤭 what a blessing right?

And N2: For years Mary has been said to be holy and worshiped when she probably wouldn't approve of that herself, since she grew up with scriptures that said they couldn't worship idols. And they made her an idol. Something to make clear is that the only holy human, biblically speaking, is Jesus. Mary was a virgin, not a saint, she had more children with her husband after having Jesus, she had a life beyond him.

And this movie brings that out, it makes the most of it and I love it.

It shows what a struggle it must have been for her to have such a burden on her, she was young (in those days people married young), perhaps a teenager, Yes, they were raised differently and at the end of the day he was about to get married, but still, as I said, the Bible leaves out a lot of the human factor.

It can say that it passes a beginning and an end but it does not give you the means to connect both parts In the Bible, Mary respectfully accepts the news that she is going to have a baby, and the film respects that, but Mary was human, you know the fear and absolute madness must cause that an angel to appear to you out of nowhere and tell you that you are going to have a son who is going to be savior and king and then disappear (appreciation for the angel Gabriel btw My man would be me if i was an angel lmao) How the hell do you explain that to your parents? To your fiancé, no matter how versed everyone was in the scriptures, no one, NO ONE thought Jesus was going to be born from a humble virgin, Literally part of the reason (spoiler alert lmao) Jesus was killed was because no one believed that the king they were waiting for was a simple carpenter who was born in a manger. This probably included Mary herself, certainly her parents, and much more, Joseph. And she knew it, of course she knew it, she knew it was true but she had to know how hard it was to believe it and how much trouble she could get into for being pregnant. It's kind of expected that Mary would have doubts, rightly so which is why I love love the song "mother to a savior and king" i just feel that it had to be exactly what she thought.

... Give me eyes to see

Just how I can be

Carrying your son when I need You

To carry me

...Should a miracle feel like an anchor

Bringing shame upon my family

This burden is too heavy

I need strength to be

A mother to a savior and king

... You said, "Do not fear"

So Lord, if you are here

Help me have the faith you have in me

Give me eyes to see just how I can be

Mother to a savior

When I need saving

Like aaaa Chills, literal chills And I love it because it doesn't occur to people how society must have seen Mary, we see it as a blessing because we know how it all ended, but they didn't know. And they lived in a very very different society, if everyone had found out, they would have stoned Mary, that is the reality that they don't talk much about at Christmas.

Another fact that I liked is that Mary had to travel, traveling in this time does not imply the same as traveling in that time, with her 9 months of pregnancy (Because she gave birth as soon as she arrived in Bethlehem) on a donkey 🙃🙃🙃🙃 I don't think I have to elaborate much, i love how they portrayed here. You can say people knew how things were, they were used to it, yes, but Maria had never been pregnant and no matter how adapted you are to something, You can't erase the physical challenge of traveling with a giant belly in those conditions.

And let's not even talk about the birth, where they were in the city that: it was full of soldiers seeking to kill her and her baby, they broadcast the news that they would be killing babies and pregnant mothers In search of finding her, which is why they did not find asylum and had to go to a stable.

I think with the idea of ​​☺️ ah, Jesus was born in a manger ☺️We forget that 💀 oh, Jesus was born in a manger 💀 I don't know about you, but I think that is not the ideal place to give birth And yet the representations of that are so sugar coated We literally have a song called "Silent Night" tell me, explain to me what part of giving birth where the animals and their excrement are because an entire army is chasing you trying to kill you, sounds like a peaceful night????

Another detail is that Joseph (who I am obviously going to talk about) logically had to act as midwife for Mary, because no one was with them, no one wanted to be with them, that sounds like a horror story honestly, and no, I'm not taking away from how beautiful the whole purpose of Jesus is and everything is.

I am only pointing out the facts, which are raw and very Real about a situation like this, this was the reality as it is written, the Bible leaves things out But the rawness in several acts is never lacking.

One last thing to add is that I was afraid at first that they would portray Mary as a feminist ahead (by centuries) of her time But in an annoying and very political way because of how the movie started, And that they were going to make her not want the pregnancy and make it as if they had violently forced her, thank God that didn't happen, i loved her, The actress did a tremendous job interpreting her with personality without losing the respect (that is noted in the Bible) Mary had for God and the giant task she was given, and I actually liked that twist That perhaps Mary and Joseph did not know each other before they got engaged, which would not be unusual at that time. And that Mary said at the beginning of the movie that she believed she was destined for bigger things 🙃.They give more personality to this icon that we all have of her and I love it.

-The representation of Joseph

Starting with the fact that I have a big fat crush now on Milo Mannheim thanks to him (not important at all actually)

I think everyone, whether Christian or not, knows that Joseph is a secondary character every time the story of Jesus' birth is mentioned, even invisible I dare say. And I was always curious because of how he leaves after he is born in the Bible, it is simply not mentioned again and this is why I think there is this kind of unconscious belief that Jesus only had one parental figure and that was Mary.

When this can easily be contradicted by the little information we have in the Bible; Joseph was known as Joseph the carpenter, and who ended up being a carpenter? (Flashbacks to Sabrina lmao) Jesus, No matter how holy and amazing he was, Jesus grew up having to learn things, he wasn't born knowing, and obviously Mary didn't teach him how to work with wood so it's pretty logical to think that his stepfather (idk How to call it) taught him. That even if we leave this out (which is after the birth of Jesus) Joseph was THE man ok And this is with biblical foundation, he believed Mary and decided to continue with the wedding despite how crazy it all sounded, he helped her during the trip to Bethlehem, ALONE, he had to practically attend the birth

And the film captures that so, so well, I have no words to describe how impressed and excited I was to see how they highlighted so many things that I knew because yk, they are in the Bible but I hadn't been aware of noticing before.

How difficult it must have been for him to make the decision to believe Mary (which, let's be honest, takes a lot of faith to believe something like that) To follow her, and his song, my God, his song is so good. It's perfect for showing a morally gray human decision and the way he delivered that presentation ugh I just feel from my heart that it was exactly what Joseph thought. Cause:

I'm completely torn in two

Half of me believes her,

while the other half needs proof

This was no inmaculate conception

Just the ultimate deception

Gilty to the bone we should have her stoned now

Wait don't you throw your stoned no don't yoy judge her i look into her eyes i think i love her

I just 🫠🫠🫠 Jesus Christ

You don't come out of that movie without half falling for Joseph and that's something I never imagined saying in my life lmao

It was a very human way, full of personality and commitment, to portray the character. beyond the attractiveness of both the actor and the goofy personality they gave him. They gave it this degree of seriousness and part of the story that shows very clearly what they themselves say in the film and that is that God did not choose only Mary, She couldn't do everything she had to do alone, and among those things was raising a child that was given to her overnight and that she had to carry for nine months, and that does not deviate from history even though there are those who say no, it is written but I think it needed the human interpretation for people to see it, as I feel that they need with many stories from the bible. They definitely took their liberty to create the love story and I'm not complaining, I never thought at all that there must have been a lot of love both between them and for God for them to be able to go through all of that, And I like to believe that if it was like that, the love they had for each other, because only someone who loves another person so much is willing to go through all that, cause very easily Joseph could receive confirmation from God that what Mary said was true and say well, that's not my problem, but he decided to take responsibility with her, Which shows why God chose them, so yes, it has its freedoms but I don't think it is essentially far from reality.

Herodes

O. M. GOOOOODDD.

Antonio Banderas ate with his performance because damn I could feel the arrogance, the complete pleasure that those kings had for being rich and powerful, with that man And he didn't have much screen time, despite how comical he gets at times he manages to show how dangerous Herod was.

That, they didn't show it but that man ordered babies and pregnant mothers to be killed in the end, just for fear that they would take away his throne and his power, out of complete caress. And Antonio showed a funny and iconic man but also dangerous and capable of that and, and also they gave him the best song.

And i'm not Even joking, 'good to be king' is what Disney tried (and failed) to do with "Wish", It has all the magic and that lyricism that shows rough and raw things with incredible music That sticks to you despite how bad the bad guy is, from the villain songs of Disney's 2D movies, It's at the level of "poor unfortunate souls" and the Interpretation, God It's one of the best parts of the movie, weeks go by and I still can't get it out of my head

Finally, the relationship of Mary and Joseph.

I feel that all our lives, after thousands of times telling us the story of the birth of Jesus, the relationship of Mary and Joseph never had any importance beyond their role in the birth. So I loved the representation of that here, the way they took this theme of a planned marriage, which could very easily have been a reality, Along with the human and emotional reaction that these people must have had at the time, they give life and depth to Mary and Joseph, with the pros and cons.

With how difficult it was but also how strong they must have been as a couple to carry out the huge task they had, it made me see it from a more human point of view and give more value to their relationship.

They took their liberties, there are things that are super funny and have that absurd touch, but it is a story full of a lot of respect for the source, and full of a wonderful and human interpretation of of this great story, You don't feel it is religious, because it isn't, the music isn't just there and they are all very good (something that doesn't happen with all musicals).

And it is simply beautiful, it is made with love and it shows, they took advantage of every penny of their budget and put out this piece of art that I feel everyone should see for Christmas And that I would like to tattoo permanently on my brain lmao.

Go watch it, it's absolutely worth it.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading my entire almost essay of the movie, I hope you find your Joseph in life🫶😂

[aperrywilliams]

Pandora's Box II (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credits to the creator!)

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Author Masterlist / Author Taglist / Part I

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader doesn't know what to think after the kiss between Spencer and Cat. Insecurities about their marriage surface in both Reader and Spencer. How severe will the consequences of what Cat did be?

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Most of Spencer's traumas are only mentioned (Hankel, Dilaudid, Diana's illness, etc.). Angst and a lot of inner thoughts (I mean it: a lot). But not despair, my friends, happy ending.

A/N: Hello! Here is part two of Pandora's Box. Thanks a lot for all your comments, likes, and reblogs on part I.

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Spencer's POV

Cat did it again. No. Scratch that. I did it again.

I'm still seeing her eyes full of betrayal. God, how did I let this happen? How I was not able to think of something else to do. I'm so stupid!

I thought about running after her to stop her and convince her to go home with me. But I know (Y/N), and it would have been worse to insist when it was clear that she was shocked and hurt.

That leads me to now be in our shared bed, staring at the ceiling as I sink into my own mortification. Emily and JJ called me several times during the night, but I didn't feel like talking to anyone. I just texted them that (Y/N) was fine, but I screwed it up, and she hated me now. I don't know why I thought that would stop the calls. It was the opposite, but I decided to ignore my phone from there. I knew that (Y/N) would not call or text me either. Besides her getting rid of her cell phone, I was the last person she wanted to talk to.

How do I fix this?

The more I thought about it, the more complicated it became. We were not only talking about me kissing Cat Adams. It was more than that. And even if (Y/N) didn't go further saying how bad she was feeling, she slipped a hint. And it hurt. It hurt to know I was hurting her. Maybe Cat was right. I was not made to have a normal life and be loved like that. Perhaps I didn't deserve her.

Spencer, stop it! Don't fall into Cat's game. She wanted this to happen. She wanted to ruin your marriage, I repeated myself.

The funny thing is maybe I ruined it first.

Tossing and turning, I couldn't find a way to fall asleep. That brought me to the months I spent in jail when I barely slept an hour in a row. Endless nights were I missed (Y/N) 's body next to me. Nights where I swore to myself that if I made it out of there, I wouldn't waste another minute without making her my wife. So I did it. The very day I was released from Milburn, I got down on one knee and proposed to her. No ring involved, just a promise to spend the rest of my life with her, loving her and raising a family.

Two years since that, and now I think about the things I promised and what I have fulfilled. I feel terrible realizing that I have failed her.

Tiredness got me at some point, but my brain didn't stop working. I dream about (Y/N). It was a sweet dream that turned into a nightmare when she told me it was over. That ours was over.

I woke up sweating and screaming. 

I couldn't let that happen. I wouldn't let my incompetence makes me lose the best thing that had happened to me in life.

After showering and getting dressed early in the morning, I went to our habitual coffee shop and bought her favorite coffee and donut. I stopped by her dad's and left a bag with the treats and a note. A tiny gesture compared to the mess I had made, but I needed to tell her I was there even if she didn't want to see me.

-

Reader's POV

I couldn't sleep. I just couldn't.

After explaining the previous day's chaos to my dad - partially though, because I didn't want to give in to the embarrassing details - he let me stay in my old bedroom.

Every time I closed my eyes, I could see Spencer kissing that psycho over and over again.

I could see how his hands held her head, his eyes closed, lost in the sensation. Their lips moving in unison. His body pressed against hers.

Has he ever kissed me like that? Yes. He has. That is precisely the way I liked to be kissed.

When we started dating, Spencer was so shy at first, but he freed all the passion within him over time. I always wished to be the only one to see and feel him like that. And I really thought I would be the only one with that privilege. It seems I was wrong.

Why does it hurt so much? I mean, Spencer wouldn't do that to me, much less with that crazy bitch, right? I could bet he did not even want to do it.

Maybe it's the fact that there's a fucking Jiminy Cricket in my ear telling me things between Spencer and I aren't going well, and this shit is another proof that there will always be something interfering between us.

It terrifies me to think this could lead to the end of us, but I can't deny the idea has been on my mind for a while. It's true that we have never talked about it. It's true I have tried to deny that Spencer's absence affects me more than I let on. Has he noticed anyway? I'm afraid to know.

The next morning when I got to the kitchen, I saw my dad making coffee. Over the counter was a paper bag with my name written on it. It's Spencer's. I would recognize that handwriting anywhere.

"You don't have to open it," my dad told me, sensing the internal debate in my head. "I just brought it inside so you can decide if you want to do it or not."

It wasn't the only decision I needed to make, though.

Curiosity got the best of me. Inside the bag was my favorite coffee and donut. Of course Spencer knew it. Tucked in the coffee cup holder was a note.

'My love. Don't think this is me hoping that with just a coffee and a donut, you would forgive me. It is just a way to tell you I'm thinking of you. We have so much to talk about, but I won't push you to do it until you're ready. Please, only remember that I'm here, and I love you. Always yours, SR.'

Tears clouded my vision. I love him. That's not in discussion. But to be with someone is more than to feel love. It's about giving and receiving. It's about comprehending and being comprehended. It's partnership and complicity, things that have been away from us for a while. I will not blame Spencer for that because I have much to do with it. I should have said something. Is it too late now?

I took the lid off and sipped the coffee. I was thinking of him too.

-

Spencer's POV

Three days. The longest days of my life. Am I overstating? I don't think so. Because even if we had been apart for longer than three days, these circumstances made it worse.

The anxiety was killing me. Those days I went to work by inertia, unable to concentrate or be useful in any way. It was hard not to go over the last few months in my head. The signs, the unsaid things. The looks of disappointment when at any moment, the phone rang, and I had to leave.

Prentiss caught me deep in thought that afternoon.

"You okay?"

"Uh - yeah. I just got distracted. Sorry," I apologized. Emily shook her head and sat beside me.

"We both know it is more than that. Do you want to talk about it?"

I sighed, leaning back in the chair. I had the question on the tip of my tongue.

"Do you think fifteen years is a long time?"

Emily raised an eyebrow, trying to decipher the question's implication, but I knew she understood why I was asking.

"Well, I guess it depends on what you compare to," she ventured with a reassuring smile.

"I mean, doing this job. I had spent my whole adult life in the BAU. And don't get me wrong, I love my job-" I trailed off.

"But?"

"I love (Y/N) too, and I'm not good enough conciliating this job with my marriage. I can't make it work as JJ does," I confessed.

"If it is the case, having some time off should work to return some balance, but something tells me it's not the biggest problem," Emily asserted. Of course she did. She knew me better: it was more than the lack of time.

I chuckled bitterly.

"We have been only married for two years, and I feel I have failed her too much already. I mean, I was the one who said I needed to slow down after everything that had happened in Milburn. (Y/N) has been by my side in so many hard times. She was the first one I told about my addiction. She was there after the Anthrax episode. She took care of me when I got shot in Texas. I ran to her when they told me about my mom's Alzheimer's. Then jail happened. What else would she have to put up with? JJ's confession and being kidnapped by a cult. And now Cat again? Fuck, she saw me kissing her! The same woman who framed me for murder. How twisted is it?"

"She loves you too much," Emily pointed, trying to get me out of my rabbit hole.

"And I love her, but I always find a way to show otherwise, uh?" I mocked myself. I really felt like I was screwing up over and over.

"Spencer, none of those things have been your fault."

And maybe Prentiss was right. That didn't exempt me from my blindness, though.

"But it's been enough to have done something about it. Emily, I couldn't bear to lose her."

I could feel the lump forming in my throat.

"Spencer, she knows you love her. She married you for who you are. You just told me she has been with you in the toughest moments. You won't lose her."

How can she be so sure? I knew things never last long. I have seen people leaving me before.

"You know? It breaks my heart when I have to leave every time. (Y/N) always says she understands my job and never has demanded something from me. Still, I know she worries as hell every time I'm in the field, and I know there have been moments when she needed me, and I couldn't be there for her. I'm her husband! I promised to be there for her! Having more time could help, yeah, but I'm tired of this rhythm. I'm tired of being on the tightrope. I'm tired of the Tobias Hankels, the Cat Adams, the Mr. Scratchs-"

I had to stop my rant because I got out of breath.

"Well, if this is the matter, I think fifteen years is a long time then," Emily told me with a knowing look, patting my shoulder.

As a cue, my phone got a text: 'Are you in town? Can we talk?'

-

Reader's POV

Not two minutes had passed since I sent the text, and Spencer had answered, asking me when and where we would meet.

I figured it would be a complicated conversation, so I suggested it be in our apartment after work that day.

It's not like I wanted to torture Spencer for three days before to talk to him, but the events with Cat triggered a series of thoughts I didn't want to admit before. And the truth is, I wasn't sure how to deal with this. In fact, standing in front of the door and about to open it, I'm still not entirely sure what to say, just sure we can't keep putting this conversation off.

"Hi," Spencer said when he saw me. He was still in his work attire; only the tie was missing.

I returned a tight-lipped smile, stepping into the apartment.

I turned after closing the door, and Spencer just stood there, fidgeting with his hands. He was nervous, and so did I.

"Coffee?" He offered. I shook my head.

"No, thank you."

"O-okay," he mumbled, moving to the living room and gesturing to the couch for us to sit on.

Now we were both seated, maintaining a safer distance between us. Someone needed to break the silence. Spencer cleared his throat before speaking.

"About the kiss, (Y/N), I'm so sorry-" I cut him off.

"Spencer, not that yet. You need to start telling me what happened. It still confuses me how we ended in your old apartment with Cat Adams there."

Spencer nodded and recalled the events of that day: since the moment Penelope called him when we were at the coffee shop to him and Cat at the threshold, kissing.

After hearing the whole story, I couldn't understand how someone could set up something so elaborate to annoy someone else. Well, I don't know why I should be surprised; we were talking about Cat Adams, after all.

"Okay. So you thought a family and I were in danger. And she demanded a kiss. And you thought that would help," I filled. Spencer sighed, looking at his hands on his lap.

"Honestly? I didn't think anything. I felt trapped and knew I had no leverage on her. The opposite, actually. She was in control. I let her have me at her mercy," he confessed.

Spencer at Cat's mercy. Well, it wasn't the first time.

"You didn't seem troubled kissing her," I said bitterly. "I know it sounds childish, but you haven't kissed me like that in what? Months? It felt like I was nothing in your life, Spencer. It was like I didn't even exist and was watching a movie."

My voice cracked a bit while saying those words. Even imagining that I might not exist to Spencer made my stomach churn. It was worse to think I had already been losing him for a while or that perhaps he was never mine.

"(Y/N), that's not true. I -" Spencer tried to rebut quickly. I could feel the guilt in him.

"Spencer, it's okay. I can understand you were under pressure. But it was the way I felt. What would you think if your wife made out with the person who made her life a living hell for a long time?" It was a rhetorical question, though, because I would never do that to him.

"I know. And you might not believe me, but I was thinking of you. You were in my mind at that moment. Cat told me to do it as if she were you," he acknowledged. That didn't make me feel better. I let him know that.

"And you complied. That's the thing, Spencer. It's not the kiss itself; it's the fact you did what she told you. Again."

Spencer averted his gaze from me. He was embarrassed, and I hated being responsible for doing that, but he needed to know. I was done keeping things to myself.

"That makes me realize you're still caught up in her twisted game. Cat will never stop tormenting you, and I don't know what else I can do to help you. And it hurts me because I feel I'm not enough, Spencer. I'm not enough to really be by your side and be who you need."

Treacherous tears began to run down my cheeks. That was the admission I didn't want to reveal. After all these years, I thought, at some point, I could be in tune with Spencer's life. That's why I never said anything. I yet harbored the hope of living up to his expectations all this time.

"Don't say that! It's not true!" He argued, scooting closer to me on the couch, no longer afraid of proximity. "You are everything and more that I have ever needed and wanted. God. I love you, (Y/N). If anything, it's me who feels not worthy of your love. And I'm sorry, you are the most important person in my life, and I haven't shown you that."

"Then why do I feel then we are falling apart, Spencer? It's me imagining things?"

Spencer shook his head, a tentative hand reaching mine. I doubted for a second, but I welcomed his touch.

"It's my fault you're feeling this way. Believe me; you didn't do anything wrong."

His fingers stroking my hand resembled the way his touch always comforted me. In other circumstances, I would have believed nothing had changed between us.

"Are you sure? It's like we're becoming a couple of strangers. And I cannot understand if something about me bothers you or if I am simply indifferent to you. You don't trust me the way you used to."

I retracted my hand to protect myself from the pain it would surely follow when Spencer acknowledged I wasn't the person he wanted anymore.

"I know I have been pushing you away, but it's not because I didn't trust you. It's just I have been putting so many of my problems over your shoulders that I didn't want to overwhelm you. I'm sorry for not being honest with you," Spencer said, maintaining eye contact as if he wanted to imprint his apology on me. My lips quivered, and I was doing everything to not cry.

"Spencer, I'm your wife. It is supposed we lean into each other!" I complained. How was it possible he still did not understand he is not a damaged good and deserves understanding and support.

"And you always have been there for me. But what has happened the times that you have needed me? I am away most of the time, which is unfair to you. I'm your husband, and I should have been here."

His voice broke at the end. And it hurt me because that has happened more than once, but I decided not to say anything before.

"Spencer, I knew your job when we married," I reminded him. It was the truth. I knew what I had signed for. Spencer shook his head nevertheless, blinking back tears.

"That doesn't mean I don't do anything about it. I just let it pass. And it was wrong. You were uncomfortable enough to tell me you were worried or disappointed because of my job." 

I looked away as I listened to Spencer describe my behavior over the past few months. It was hard to admit that I feared what it would mean to us if we discussed it. It seemed childish, perhaps, but like a scared child, I didn't want to feel vulnerable, saying it affected me.

"But it's what you do. It's your life. You chose to be a profiler, and you save people every day."

That was far more important, wasn't it?

"But I chose you too. And you are part of my life too." Now he had hunched before me, gently placing his hands on my knees. "Do you remember what I told you when I proposed?" He asked, smiling fondly.

Of course I remembered. After living apart for three months because Spencer was in jail, the moment of our reunion was one of the most emotional things I have experienced.

"Besides telling me you loved and wanted to marry me?" I replied - a blush creeping my face at the memory.

"Yeah, that too. I told you I wanted everything with you. I told you I didn't want to spend another minute without you. You make me whole and feel alive (Y/N). That's far more important than catching monsters and consuming my life for them."

Grabbing one of my hands, he brought it to his lips, planting a loving kiss. His gaze never left mine, and I could feel like my heart skipped a bit.

"What do you mean?" I asked in a whisper. He returned a smile, tucking a hair strand behind my ear.

"That I'm done. Fifteen years is more than enough, and if this job continues cracking the good things in my life, I don't want it."

I wondered if I was listening wrong or if my mind was playing tricks on me. I needed clarification.

"What? Are you saying-" Spencer cut me off, nodding his head.

"There are so many things we dreamed of doing together. Do you recall our plan to stay a whole winter in a cabin in the woods? Or the trip to Greece? The idea of moving to the suburbs?"

"Do you still remember all that?" I asked in disbelief. That seemed a lifetime ago. We had so many plans and ideas, but I thought this would only form part of an unfulfilled desire, of our youthful and innocent desire to achieve something different from what we were used to. I often felt those plans were a way of escaping from our daily life full of pain, ghosts, and fears.

"Of course I do! And it's not because I have an eidetic memory. If I didn't, I would remember it anyway because I still want those things. With you."

Stroking my cheek with his palm, Spencer looked at me intensely as he didn't want to miss any of my microexpressions. I felt bare before him, but it didn't feel odd or wrong. If anything, it felt like he was seeing into my heart and soul. I have missed that.

"Spencer, you don't have to. You are a profiler, and you save lives. Your life has been the BAU," I reminded him. I didn't want him to be doing this just because we were in a rough patch and for it to be something he would regret for the rest of his life.

"It has been, but I don't want it to continue to be. It's a job (Y/N). One that has given me a lot of satisfaction but also a lot of pain and has consumed me. I want that to change. I want us to be able to make plans and stick to them. I want that family we talk about so much. Sure, if it's something you still want," he pointed out carefully. My eyes widened.

"You say, kids?" Spencer nodded eagerly.

"Yes. Kids. Little you's and me's running around in our new house. Whom I want to rock to make them sleep, who I want to teach them things, take them to the park, and play with them," Spencer enthusiastically described. It had been a long time since I had seen him that way. I couldn't stop my lips from forming a smile. "Do you still want that?" His excitement changed to the expectation to know my answer.

"Yes, I do," I acknowledged, my eyes filling with tears at the thought that this could be a reality one day. Spencer beamed.

"Then let's have the rest of our lives like we want them to be," he offered. It was like we were saying our vows, like the day we married.

"Are you sure? Spencer, I don't want you to feel like you have-" Before I could say anything else, Spencer gently placed a finger over my lips.

"Hey. It's been a long time since I was so sure about anything. Baby, I love you. I want us, always. Will you accept this fool man, who is madly in love with you, as your husband again?"

His eyes were full of hope, illuminated by the glow of the lighted lamp in the living room. The man hunched before me was the love of my life. The man I chose to spend the rest of my days with. I could feel the sincerity in his gaze, the transparency of the shared longing that made me fall for him years ago.

"I do," I whispered, leaning down and tenderly cupping his cheeks. "May I kiss the husband?" Spencer chuckled, nodding and leaning forward until our lips met in a passionate kiss. Spencer's hands moved up to hold the back of my head as my arms flew to the back of his neck - our lips molding like they were meant to be. The time stopped, and nothing else mattered. I was there with him, and he was there with me.

That kiss sealed our complicity and love's declaration. A kiss that Cat Adams would never have the privilege of experiencing despite the many Pandora's boxes she tried to open.

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

Spencer Reid’s Taglist (some of them don't work): @dreatine​ @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic​ @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19  @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @thebloomingeagle @pauline5525mgg @maltamurdock @disaster-in-waiting @pebble-has-a-mirgraine @anamiad00msday @chlochlosworld @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @miaxx03 @leahblackk @missabsey

Pandora's Box Taglist (some of them don't work): @isisjen @marimorena06 @starlightskiss @wittlewowa @ladyofhellhounds @blogs-imagines-fanctionstories @logibearhockey1 @flowersownme @callsignwidow @regulus-black-223048 @l0v3e1i @lovejules888

[barelytolerabled]

Lost and Found

Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Your and Spencer’s son goes missing

Warnings: kidnapping, grief, smut (not explicit)

WC: 0.8

You and Spencer Reid had been happily married for several years when tragedy struck. Your child, a beautiful little boy named Jamie, had been kidnapped from his school. You were devastated, and you couldn't help but blame yourself. You had been running late that day and hadn't been there to pick him up on time.

You had been having a typical day, trying to juggle work and family responsibilities when you got the call that no parent ever wants to receive. It was the principal of Jamie's school, and her voice was strained as she explained that Jamie had been taken.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Panic and fear filled your chest as you frantically searched for your keys and rushed out the door, your heart pounding in your chest.

When you arrived at the school, it was a blur of flashing lights, uniformed officers, and concerned parents. You pushed your way through the crowd, tears streaming down your face as you searched for any sign of your precious little boy.

As time went on, the search for Jamie continued, but the lead seemed to be drying up. You were consumed with guilt, feeling like you had let your son down by not being there for him when he needed you the most. The thought of never seeing him again was unbearable, and you felt like you were living in a nightmare that wouldn't end.

The BAU team had done everything they could to find Jamie, but despite their best efforts, they had been unable to locate him. You and Spencer were beside yourselves with grief, and you clung to each other for comfort.

After Jamie had been missing for several days, Spencer had taken a leave of absence from the BAU to focus all of his energy on finding their son. He spent every waking moment either searching for leads or trying to comfort you, but nothing seemed to help ease the pain.

One evening, as you lay in bed, Spencer sat beside you with a determined look on his face.

"Honey, I promise you that we are going to find Jamie," he said, his voice soft and reassuring.

You didn't respond, just lay there staring at the wall, feeling numb and hopeless. Spencer took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I know you're hurting, and I am too. But we can't give up. We have to keep fighting for Jamie."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you still didn't say anything. You felt like there was a heavy weight on your chest, making it hard to breathe. Spencer didn't push you to talk, instead, he lay down beside you, pulling you close to him.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "And I'm not going to give up until we find Jamie. We'll do whatever it takes."

You closed your eyes, feeling a small glimmer of hope in Spencer's words. You knew he was right, that you couldn't give up on finding Jamie. And as you lay there, wrapped in Spencer's embrace, you felt a sense of comfort and security that you desperately needed in that moment.

Several months after Jamie had gone missing, you were lying in bed with Spencer, tears streaming down your face. You had been reliving every moment of Jamie's abduction, and you couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness.

"My baby, my baby," Spencer whispered, holding you close. "Baby, my baby. Tell your baby that I'm your baby."

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with tears. "I can't," you said, your voice shaking. "I can't do this without him. He was our baby, and now he's gone."

Spencer wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "I know, I know," he said, his voice full of sorrow. "But you still have me. I'm your baby, too."

You looked up at him, feeling a sense of comfort in his embrace. "You are my baby," you whispered, before pressing your lips to his.

As you and Spencer made love to each other, you both felt a sense of intimacy that went beyond physical pleasure. It was as if you were reminding each other of the depth of your love, the love that had brought you together and sustained you through the hardest of times. You held each other close, kissing each other deeply and exploring each other's bodies, seeking comfort and solace in each other's embrace.

In that moment, nothing else mattered except your love for each other. You forgot about the pain and heartache of Jamie's kidnapping, at least for a little while, and you surrendered to the intense pleasure that you both felt. It was as if you were rediscovering each other, reaffirming your commitment to each other in the face of tragedy.

As you lay there afterwards, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that you were not alone. You had each other, and you had the love that had sustained you through the darkest of times. It was a powerful reminder that, no matter what happened in the future, you would always have each other's love to rely on.

[ladystoneboobs]

no of fence to jon snow fans who for some reason care about his exact age, but these discussions just annoy me no end. not only bc there's no way any weirwood flashbacks bran has to rhaegar/lyanna will come with time/datestamps, but also bc there's always comments like this:

SEVERAL turns of the moon (ie, months)?! have these people never seen a human baby before or just have no concept of their ages? even if we take into account travel time from the toj to wf, meaning jon was not a newborn too fresh out the oven when catelyn and robb arrived, there's still a difference between a newborn and a 3mo and an even bigger difference between those infants and an older baby 5-7mo. there's very good reasons these lines were cut. whatever birthdates can be worked out internally for jon and robb from when they're first mentioned as 15 and 16 don't matter in the end, bc grrm doesn't care about a consistent timeline and the actual text of catelyn's pov and ned's convo with robert about cheating on her should outweigh any guesstimates about jon's official nameday wrt robb's. catelyn may not have cared for jon, but she would sure as hell have noticed his nameday if it came before robb's and made him ned's firstborn. if jon's birthday canonically came before robb's then either ned's cover story would not involve adultery (not impossible for him to sire a bastard before his wedding), or he'd just give jon a new nameday along with his new name to fit the adultery lie. it makes no sense for him to lie about one and not the other, undermining the big lie with a little public clue of his story not adding up. whatever else she was as a stepmother, cat wasn't stupid and a bastard who was actually the eldest son being raised alongside her trueborn heir could be an even bigger insult than whether he was born of adultery or not.

BUT, the unknowability of jon's true birthday is not the only reason this annoys me, it's bc this is all based on the assumption that jon must be older since rhaegar/lyanna ran off together before ned married cat, as if both boys must have been conceived asap as robb canonically was when his parents consummated their marriage. and that's not how human reproduction works! even if you don't understand how fast babies grow in the first year, you should know that people who get pregnant do so through ovulation cycles and a lucky sperm finding an egg and all that, not just immediately getting knocked up as soon as one has p-in-v sex for the first time. not unless you only know mean girls sex ed where if you have sex you will get pregnant and die. (even tho lyanna did die, there's plenty of canon examples where pregnancy did not lead straight to death. also examples of people who did not get pregnant right away and even some who are/were sexually active and childless without always having moon tea on hand.) we can't know how long lyanna was having sex before that sperm+egg match happened or even how long she was with rhaegar before losing her technical virginity. if they were married, doesn't it make sense to think they didn't consummate their relationship until the wedding night either? that's the only leverage there is to ensure a status as wife rather than just mistress.

and while i just said grrm doesn't care about exact timelines and a lot is still foggy surrounding the rebellion and esp rhaegar, there is one timemarker wrt robert's rebellion he voluntarily threw in, time and time again: that stannis was besieged at storm's end for almost a whole year. that siege, which mind you, did not match the duration of the entire war. it only started after robert won his battles at gulltown and summerhall, returned to storm's end, and then went out and lost the battle of ashford, leaving his homeland open to the reachermen. the same siege which only ended when ned made a detour there after the sack of king's landing, before going to the toj. even if lyanna may not have given birth that exact day ned found her, she could only be waiting in that bloody bed for weeks at the most, not months. so if rhaegar knocked her up the very same night he carried her off and jon was still a newborn when ned found her after the siege of storm's end had ended, wouldn't that mean lyanna was pregnant for well over a year? that's not how human pregnancy works either! so, maybe that's proof that jon and robb, whichever order they were actually born in, were actually very close in age as babies, much closer than if they were both conceived asap.

and really, jon's actual birthdate does not matter imho, when he was raised not just as the bastard to robb's trueborn heir, but with robb also known by catelyn and the world as ned's firstborn (which he was, in any case, as jon was ned's nephew by birth). what difference could a birthdate before robb's make (even were there some means of discovery) after ned, cat, and robb are all dead? if one is looking only at his birth parents then he's only a firstborn child on lyanna's side, but definitely a second son on rhaegar's side. maybe he was always meant to be a second son with a not much older half-brother! even if the aegon fka young griff is not in fact rhaegar's son, he'll still be known as aegon vi targaryen, meaning jon will never be known as any father's elder son. if i may reference mean girls again, it's not going to happen.