#1. i have a love-hate relationship with dramatic lighting. fucking love it to pieces but god is it so hard to wrap my head around how that

[kentucky-daisey]

a rant about family and dated beliefs, alternatively titled “I’m so tired of trying to explain why people should care about other people and maybe do a little research sometimes”

The holidays are weird because you see family you haven’t seen in months and there’s always a bit of reconciling the person you remember with the person in front of you.

I love my dad, but every time he expresses his opinions about certain things, I realize he’s not quiet as liberal as he insists he is. He’s not a bad person, but his opinions are definitely coloured by his age. It also doesn’t help that he starts each expression of his beliefs with “I haven’t dug too deep into BLANK, but--”. 

This specifically came up when he bought a book about Harry Potter for white elephant and he was surprised no one wanted the book because, you know, JK Rowling is a huge transphobe. A few days later, we were out walking and he brought the book up and, when I explained why no one wanted it, his response was: “Now, I don’t know a lot about JK Rowling, but I respect how she stands by her convictions.” According to him, people are too easy to give in to pressure and apologize when they don’t actually mean it. To which I pointed out that people are upset with her not just because she’s a transphobe (which is shitty and an entirely valid reason not to support her) or that she won’t apologize (which is also shitty), but she’s now doing it unprompted and has apparently discarded her reputation of beloved children’s book author for aggressively transphobic woman who won’t shut up about her deeply upsetting and harmful opinions. There are plenty of shitty people in the public eye who haven’t apologized or who have done so disingenuously (Woody Allen, Roman Polanski, Johnny Depp, etc). The difference is that I recognize their shittiness and they have, for the most part, faded into the background, oftentimes shamed into backing off at least enough to be easily ignorable. JK Rowling is not in the same camp. We all know she has awful opinions. People have told her as much. instead of keeping those opinions to herself, as most reasonable people do when they are told that said opinions are entirely out of line, insensitive, and have actively ruined millions of people’s relationship with an important piece of media that was a world wide cultural phenomenon (this is JK specific), she’s doubled down. 

It’s disappointing. On multiple fronts.

1. I’m almost thirty (ugh) and haven’t read Harry Potter in at least a decade. I’m just not interested.

2. JK Rowling’s been very public in her hate and the blanket “people should stand by their convictions” is old fashioned and doesn’t take into account the impact certain people’s convictions/opinions can have and how damaging they can be. How crushing. It’s not that hard to look up.

3. When you’ve got two queer kids, you think you’d be a little more considerate. I’m admittedly not out in an official capacity, but it’s a pretty open secret in my family and this certainly doesn’t make me want to tell him any time soon.

He also doesn’t get why my sister and I are adamantly against Jordan Peterson and tends to makes light of it every time he brings it up (I’m never the one to do it because why the fuck would I?)

While I entirely believe people have a right to their opinions and can totally stand by them however much they want, not all opinions are created equal and I have every right not to listen to said opinions if I don’t want to. It’s when people’s opinions are harmful or damaging or outright wrong that I have an issue. I am not perfect, but I will always try to do better, and I am not a better person by simply ignoring transphobic or misogynistic or xenophobic etc. opinions, especially when voiced by people with influential and highly visible platforms such as JK Rowling or Jordan Peterson or Marjorie Taylor Greene or Jason Kenney or whoever the fuck else. This is even more important now. The Overton Window has shifted dramatically to the right and people are becoming more and more comfortable saying things regardless of the impact they might have. 

My mum is of the same mindset and even has some questionable opinions when it comes to trans people that are generally exhausting to listen to. The difference is I see her far more often and have gotten very good at steering the conversation away any of the above (she’s very much out of sight out of mind and feels my sister and I are overreacting to the JK stuff without making any effort to look into it). Unfortunately, they are both baby boomers and they’re go to move is to get angry whenever someone disagrees with them.

All of this is to say that everyone has the right to their opinions, but it doesn’t mean they are free from consequence. Things change, society changes. What used to be acceptable, might be looked at in a different light than it used to. If someone has a valid reason for not supporting someone, respect that. Cancel culture is not “that guy disagrees with me about my favourite book/movie/pair of pants”. If a person is getting cancelled (and I really hate using that term), it’s because they’ve done something considered socially/ethically/professionally etc. unacceptable. If a person hates a whole group of people simply for using gender neutral pronouns (Jordan Peterson), not is confused by, but actively hates, they are an asshole and deserve your anger. If a person refuses to acknowledge a person’s chosen gender identity and views them as less than human for it (JK Rowling), they are an asshole and deserve your anger. If a person takes over a company, allows people who were banned for hate speech to return and removes any safeguards that were put in place to make said company usable for as many people as possible while standing up against those who are actively trying to cause harm (Elon Musk), they are an asshole and deserve your anger.

You can love people even if you disagree with them. You can (should) even create boundaries for yourself to maintain your relationships in a way that keeps you safe and comfortable. I would encourage it! It’s up to you to decide what you’re willing to let go and when things have gone a step too far. But it is important, if not necessary, to stand up for what is right and protect those who need it, including yourself. 

Boycott that book/movie/social media site. Punch that Nazi. Vote in your local, provincial, and federal elections. Just make sure to do good, be good, and always try to make the world a little bit of a better place.

Happy holidays.

[casukaga]

“do you still have that ‘this is home’ connection with [xhorhas] though?”

“yes…i think i will always have that.”

“that’s nice…i hope to see it someday.”

beauyasha’s first watch together, from C2E19.

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[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

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PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

**

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏😇🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

**

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

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[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 20 - The Compass [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤�� Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, blood.

Word Count: 4000

Summary: Coming home can be unpleasant.

After getting a phone call from the FBI, you were now sure of one thing:

Karma really needed another hobby other than messing with you, and this break up was definitely not going the way it was supposed to go.

For starters, people who broke up with each other were not supposed to see each other this much. You had different lives, different social circles, different jobs and somehow universe kept pushing you two in each other’s space.

To make things worse, the last time you talked to Garcia she had offhandedly mentioned Luke dragging Spencer to a nightclub much to his displeasure and introducing him to a friend of his. Naturally, your mind was full of images of Spencer in a happy relationship, eventually moving to a house in the suburbs with her and having kids and all that.  

“I don’t know what Luke is thinking,” Garcia said, “But I’m two seconds away from pulling him aside and giving him a piece of my mind. Reid is obviously still not over you, ambushing him to introduce him to a girl won’t change that.”

Needless to say, you had been in a terrible mood for the last couple of days.

“What’s taking her so long?” you checked your wristwatch and Nolan looked at you over his newspaper.

“Oh she’s talking to the board of the charity auction,” he said, “There are some last minute changes, apparently.”

You heaved a sigh and checked the time again, “I can’t stay for long,” you murmured and Nolan raised his brows.

“Oh? In a hurry?”

“Me and Spencer and…well, some of his team will go by the woods,” you said, “They found some bones near dad’s cabin close to the weekend house and they think it might help me remember where the rest is buried.”

He made a face, “That’s disturbing.”

“Nah, I thought going on a dead body remains hunt with my ex in the woods near one of my childhood trauma places would be romantic,” you deadpanned, “You don’t do that with your exes?”

“Not really?”

“Oh man you’re missing out.”

He let out a chuckle and shook his head, “I take it things haven’t improved on the heartbreak front?”

“I wouldn’t know, apparently his friend is setting him up with someone.”

“Mm, let me guess,” he mused, “Your plan is to do nothing about it?”

“No, I’m actually following your example,” you smiled at him sweetly, “I’ll just wait for decades and hope the girl turns out to be a serial killer.”

He tilted his head. “Touché.”

“Aw thank you,” you pushed at the food in your plate, “No seriously, what can I do? I can’t just go to him and tell him not to date other people. We broke up— I broke up with him.”

“You could explain the reason behind that.”

“I can’t do that.”

He clicked his tongue, “Well then, I suggest you get ready just in case he happens to ask for your help planning his wedding.”

“You’ve been absolutely no help at all Nolan, I appreciate that.”

“I’m offering you my wisdom and you’re not taking it,” he held up his hands, gesturing surrender, “I also suggested to get his superiors to fix a meeting with him to talk to him about certain boundaries and mistakes but…”

“Get his superiors— I’m sorry, what?”

“I play poker with the head of the department he works under.”

“Of course you do.” You sipped your coffee, “When did you suggest that exactly?”

“Oh not to you, to your mother,” he nodded to himself as he saw the look on your face, “Yeah. But then I saw how it could not only damage some professional relationships, but also it’s better to let young people solve their own problems, no matter how easy it is to solve them with an outsider’s influence.”

You pulled your brows together.

“Try again.”

“I asked your mother and she said no.”

“Oh thank God.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Yeah no, don’t do that. We’re not in high school, you know?”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he smiled slightly at the scandalized look on your face.

“Whatever,” you waved a hand in the air, “It’s strange that mom said no though. She doesn’t really like him nowadays, and she keeps listing all his….disadvantages whenever I talk about him.”

“Disadvantages?”

“Mm hm. The other day she said it was maybe for the best in the long run, because he’s an FBI agent so considering his paychecks, we would eventually fight about our future children’s tuition fees.”

Nolan thought for a moment, “She does have a point, considering what FBI pays their agents…”

You blinked a couple of times, “Right,” you said, “That’s exactly why I broke up with him. Because who would be paying for our hypothetical future children’s future tuition fees, yeah. Deal breaker, that one.”

“It could be a contributing factor though—“ he started but you heard your mother’s heels approaching and soon enough she walked into the living room and pressed a kiss on your cheek.

“Darling, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting,” she told you before pecking Nolan on the lips, making him smile, “This whole charity auction, honestly…”

“Do I have to come to that thing?” you looked between them, your brows pulled together in an attempt to make them take pity on you but your mother tilted her head.

“Yes you do.”

“It’s just that…” you heaved a dramatic sigh, “You know, I’m going through a break up—“

“You’ve been going through a break up for more than a month now, you’re not allowed to use that as an excuse.”

“My heart is broken!”

“Good, focus on charity then.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to Nolan, “What’s the real reason she’s dragging me to this?”

“Oh no, I’m not getting caught in this crossfire.”

“Mom?”

She cleared her throat and sipped her coffee, “The other day when I visited Nolan at work, he happened to introduce me to this very handsome Chief Marketing Officer who’s handling—“

“Oh no.”

“Keep in mind that we pay him more than what FBI pays his agents.” Nolan stated, laughing up his sleeve as if he found it hilarious and you scrunched up your nose.

“Nolan, I know you were born in the eighteenth century but that’s actually not a problem we have these days.”

“He’s single,” your mother said as if she wasn’t even listening and you threw your head back, letting out a whine, “He loves dogs and squash—“

“Jesus Christ.”

“Don’t worry, he’s not sitting at our table,” your mother said, “I fixed another surprise for you at our table, and I figured you’d want to keep your options open.”

“Besides, if your ex boyfriend is moving on…” Nolan trailed off and your mother raised her brows.

“Oh, Spencer has a girlfriend now?”

“No!” you said way too loudly and then cleared your throat, “I mean—I don’t care. But I don’t think so, I would’ve heard it.”

“See? More reason for you to meet other people.”

You pouted, “I hate this so much. I can’t believe I’m being dragged into this nonsense only because you guys are making me, this is seriously bullshit…”

“Y/N, do you want some cookies?” Nolan interrupted your grumbling, “One of my assistants brought them from France the other day.”

You scoffed, “How old do you think I—” you paused for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders, “Actually yeah, I’d love some cookies right now.”

                                                  ***

Unfortunately, when you left your mother’s house you had overestimated the traffic and how long it would take you to get there so by the time you had pulled over by the road leading into the woods, you could only see one FBI car. You didn’t have to wonder who was in it when your eyes caught the sight of Spencer leaning against it and your heart skipped a beat.

“Fuck…” you murmured to yourself and considered for a short second to drive away until others got there, but it was too late. Spencer turned his head, saw your car and stopped dead on his tracks so you heaved a sigh and pushed open the door to step outside. You looked around before you pulled yourself up to sit on the hood before you fished your cigarette pack out of your purse.

“You’re early.” Spencer said and you raised your glances to look at him for a second before lighting your cigarette.

“So are you,” you put the lighter back into your purse, “Came by yourself?”

“Luke is talking with the police.”

“Lovely,” you exhaled the smoke and he crossed his arms, looking up at the sky for a moment before stealing a look at you.

You had no idea what to say to him. After that one day of truce, it was like you were back to being enemies and ignoring each other. The fact that he might have been ready to date another person made you feel even worse if it was possible, especially after that phone call between you. He had said that he was a mess just like you were, he had said you had taken a part of him when you left him, and—

You didn’t even know what you hoped for. You knew it wouldn’t change anything, and yet the thought of him being with someone else was more than enough to make you feel like you were falling off a cliff.

Maybe it was just the truce talking. Maybe he didn’t mean any of that.

Your phone vibrating in your purse made you snap out of your thoughts and you looked at the caller I.D., then frowned and answered.

“Hey, I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“On a Sunday?” Lincoln’s voice reached you, “Who’s the workaholic now?”

“Still you Linc,” you said and Spencer’s head shot up, “What’s up?”

“I just called to let you know that they just moved me to your table.”

You pulled your brows, “I’m sorry, what?”

“At the charity auction. My table was 3, they just e-mailed me to say I’ve been moved to 1.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re the surprise?” you asked, pinching the bridge of your nose, “Somebody needs to stop my mother.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said, “I…That’s great, we’ll sit together then. If you like sulking the whole night, we’ll be just fine.”

“Come on, it could be fun.”

“I doubt that.”

“Hey, at least you’re not alone.”

“I’ll drink throughout that night, you sure you can keep up?”

“Do you even know who you’re talking to, you amateur?”

“Oh it’s on.” You smiled slightly and he chuckled.

“I’ll see you at our table then. With drinks.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” you said before you hung up, and put the phone back into your purse before you felt Spencer’s burning gaze on you, so you looked up at him.

“What?” you asked and he scoffed a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“Nothing.”

“Professor.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he said, his gaze fixed on the woods and you tilted your head.

“Fine.”

He sucked a breath through his clenched teeth, as if trying to decide whether to say anything or not before you could ask again, Luke approached you two, another car pulling over by your car.

“Hey there.” You greeted Luke as you jumped off the hood and he tilted his head.

“Why are you shorter?”

You motioned at your sneakers, “I figured since we’re going into the woods, heels would be a bad idea.”

“Is this the first time I’m seeing you without heels?”

“Probably.”

“Should we get going?”

JJ stole a look at Spencer and you, then turned to Luke, “Actually, do you mind coming with me to the car for a moment? There’s this file I want to get your opinion on.” She nodded at you, “You guys go ahead if you want.”

You pulled your brows together for a second, trying to understand what was happening but then decided you wouldn’t question it and stepped into the woods, a shiver running down your spine.

It looked way too familiar.

You gritted your teeth and started walking, and it didn’t take long for Spencer to catch up with you.

“So I never got to ask you,” you managed to say after almost ten minutes of complete silence, “That…that blood vial in that petal bowl, whose blood was it?”

“Anthony’s.”

“Right,” you murmured as you kept walking, “Was it….was it something my dad did back then?”

“No.” Spencer said curtly and you looked over your shoulder.

“So then what does it—“

“Are you dating other people?” the words left his lips in a hurry as if he didn’t know how to stop them and you stopped dead on your tracks.

“I beg your pardon?”

He opened his mouth for a moment like he was trying to find the right words but then he closed it and shrugged his shoulders.

“Never mind,” he murmured, walking past you and you gawked after him for a while before you rushed after him.

“No, what was that?”

“Nothing.”

Maybe your whole theory about Spencer being a genius therefore not being able to be jealous wasn’t exactly the truth.

“I’m not— is this about Lincoln?” you held up the phone in your hand before you sped up to catch up with his long strides, “There’s this stupid charity auction bullshit and we’re both attending it, that’s it.”

“Alright,” he murmured, still walking and you let out a breath.

“Spencer!”

“What?” he turned around to look at you, that fire burning in his eyes again, “I said never mind, okay?”

“I’m not dating Lincoln!” you exclaimed “And I— even if I were, at least he’s not someone I met at a nightclub my friends forced me to go, unlike some of us.”

“What does that-” he started but it hit him in a second, “Garcia told you.”

“It came up.”

He raised his brows, “Yeah? How?”

“It just did.” You managed to say even if your cheeks were burning, “So what? You’re going to stand there and ask me that when you’re moving on already?”

“I’m not moving on!” he said as if you had just insulted him, “Besides, you broke up with me remember?”

“Yeah and you wasted no time Spencer, congratulations.” You murmured as you walked past him but as soon as your eyes caught the sight of the huge cabin by the small hill, your breath got caught in your throat and you took a step back, the memory flashing through your mind so fast that the headache hit you out of nowhere.

Your father tugged you by your hand through the woods as you yawned, rubbing at your eyes.

“Are you sleepy honey?”

You nodded, looking up at him, 

“Daddy I thought we were going to come here tomorrow, with mom and Mina.” you said as you hugged the huge teddy bear you had brought with you when your father had woken you up and told you that you would be taking a small trip to the cabin.

“We are,” he said, “We will go back home after our hunt is done here.”

“Yeah but mom says Mina and I can’t be outside the cabin at night,” you murmured, “The lake is too close, remember? We might fall in, she says.”

“She’s right, no leaving the cabin by yourself when it’s dark outside,” he said, “Or else no chocolate for a week, you know the rules.”

“Okay, okay…” you yawned again, and your father knelt down so that you could look him in the eye.

“Petal honey, I want you to pay attention,” he said, “Look around. Let’s say you’re in the woods by yourself and you’re hunting. You know how we hunt, right?”

You took a deep breath, “Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.”

“Very good,” he said, “When you’re hunting in the woods, what’s the first thing you do?”

“Look up at the sky,” you said, “That’s how I know where I am.”

“Good start. How about if your prey is running to get away from you? How do you chase them?”

“People aren’t calm when they’re being hunted,” you repeated what he had told you, “They make noises. I follow that, and wait for them to tire themselves out.”

He nodded, then you both climbed the stairs to the front door of the cabin.

“And what’s the one thing you remember?”

“To stay calm and patient.”

He smiled at you and opened the door to the cabin so that you could see the bloodied person tied to a chair, screaming through the gag.

“Good,” he said, “Let’s go over what we do with the prey, shall we?”

“Y/N!” Spencer’s voice cut through the memory, almost grabbing you and pulling you back to the reality and it was only when you realized you weren’t standing anymore, instead you were on the ground on your knees, gasping for breath.

“I can’t—“ you choked out, pressing a hand over your chest “I—I can’t breathe—“

“Yes you can,” he helped you sit and lean your back to the tree trunk, “You just need to focus on me, alright? Can you breathe with me?”

You sniffled, trying to match your breathing with his and he nodded,

“There you go,” he said with a smile, “You’re doing great. Is it okay if I touch you?”

You nodded your head, still desperate to cling to anything that would protect you from that memory and he entwined his fingers with you.

“Keep your focus on me,” he said as he wiped the teardrop off your cheek with his free hand,  awakening a fire right beneath your cheekbone, “Here’s what we’re going to do, you will inhale when I squeeze your hand, exhale when I stop. Can we do that together?”

You inhaled when you felt his grip tightening around your hand, then exhaled when it became loose again.

“Y/N?”

You let out a shaky breath, “Hm?”

“Why are public proposals so bad?”

A teary laugh escaped from your lips, “Professor…”

“No, I want you to tell me,” he said as you inhaled again when he squeezed your hand, “Why are they so bad?”

“Because they—“ you exhaled, “They’re not private.”

“They could be romantic.”

“But they’re not,” you protested, “They’re not romantic. They’re pretentious.”

“Pretentious?” he squeezed your hand once more and you took another breath.

“If you need an audience for something like that, you’re pretentious yeah.” You said as the nausea slowly retreated and he pushed your hair behind your ear before his knuckles brushed over your neck, it lasted only a moment but it was enough for you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled and he offered you a small smile.

“Anytime.”

“Brings back the memories, huh?” you leaned your head back to the tree trunk and he nodded.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “Yeah it really does.”

You pressed your lips together, “Spencer, why are you helping me?” you asked him, taking him by surprise, “With….all this. I thought you hated me.”

He swallowed thickly,

“I can’t hate you,” his voice was almost a murmur, “I wish I could. Trust me, I tried.”

“Guys?” you heard Luke’s voice and you turned your head to see them approaching, “What’re you—what happened?”

“We’ll meet you there in a second,” Spencer said, shooting JJ a look and she nodded.

“Okay,” she said, “Come on Luke.”

They walked past you to the cabin and you looked up at the sky for a couple of seconds before willing yourself to focus on him again.

“You remembered something,” he said and you nodded.

“A memory,” you managed to say, “I…Spencer, there are dead bodies in there.”

“I know, we found bones in the backyard—“

“No,” you cut him off, “You don’t understand. There are dead bodies in the cabin.”

He pulled his brows together and you pulled your hand out of his before standing up on shaky legs, still holding onto the tree for support.

“Y/N, we can wait-” he said but you shook your head and made your way to the cabin until you reached the stairs. Every cell in your body was screaming at you to run away, but you managed to force yourself to climb the stone stairs and stopped for a moment at the door as Spencer stepped to stand next to you. Everything looked exactly the same as you had left them all those years ago right before your father was arrested.

A shudder went down your spine, the same as the one you had gotten when you woke up in your apartment after being drugged. Something in here was way too dangerous for you and it wouldn’t rest until you were at its mercy so you had to get away before it could dig its claws under your skin, but-

You had to do this. You could do this.

You had been through much worse than this before.

You had survived your father, you had survived his copycats, you had survived everything thrown your way so far, you could survive this as well.

You rolled your shoulders back and stepped into the huge living room, the memory pushing at your mind but you shook your head, forcing yourself to focus.

“We can leave if you want,” Spencer murmured and you dug your fingernails into your palms hard enough to hurt.

There was a reason why police couldn’t find anything in this goddamn place when they first checked. You had repressed the memory just like you had repressed the rest, and now that you were here…

The memories about the cabin were swirling in your head, each more terrifying than other.

“Luke.”

Luke turned his head, “Yeah?”

“Do you mind stepping aside for a moment?” you asked, “Actually, if no one could—if no one could stand on the rug that’d be ideal. Thanks.”

JJ shot you a look but nodded at the two other agents walking around the living room and you slowly approached the magnetic chess board by the coffee table, holding out your hand over the pieces for a second. Panic roared through you but you gritted your teeth and moved the pawn, then put the bishop where your father taught you to put it way back then.

“It’ll be like a treasure hunt, but you need to keep it a secret,” he had told you, “Pinky swear?”

You turned the queen in hand your for a moment, then put it right next to the bishop and the small basement trapdoor which was impossible to see even if someone was looking for it clicked under the rug. Spencer froze for a moment before he and Luke pulled the rug off the floor and pulled open the hatch but the smell coming from downstairs made you cover your mouth.

“Stay here,” Luke told the agents as he went downstairs and Spencer followed him right before JJ did. You stalled there for a moment, trying to repress the fear pinning you to your spot before you stepped closer to the stairs leading down to the secret basement.

“Miss—“ the agent said but you ignored him and made your way down. JJ and Spencer already had their flashlights on as Luke held his gun, ready to pull the trigger at any unexpected movement.

“You can’t be here.” Spencer told you but you weren’t even mood to snap back at him. You dragged your fingertips on the wall until you found the switch and turned the light on, the smell getting worse and worse.

There were three huge boxes by the wall, all tightly shut and you had a feeling—

No, not a feeling. What you had was a memory and you knew exactly what was in them.

Spencer turned to you, apparently ready to tell you to go upstairs again but as soon as his eyes caught something over your shoulder, he froze, his jaw clenching. You could feel your heartbeat getting faster and faster as Luke stopped dead on his tracks.

“Y/N, go upstairs.” Spencer said, his tone way too controlled until you turned your head, “No wait, don’t look—“

But it was too late. The bloodied message on the wall made you gasp as you took a step back, unable to look away as that familiar dread filled you once more, the simple line causing goosebumps to rise on your skin;

Welcome home Petal.

                                 Chapter 21 

[emeren]

speed racer pt.2 - eren jaeger

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader

word count: 4.3 k 

content warnings: 18+, smut, car sex, possessiveness, choking, dangerous driving idk LMAO

notes: it’s my birthday today! my gift to you all is speed racer pt. 2!!!! pt. 1 is not necessary to enjoy this oneshot, but may help with some context. here is that! 

SUMMARY: eren takes the reader for a drive where he decides to clear some things up about their relationship in his own special way. 

“it’ll be quick; i promise,” eren’s voice brought you from your daydream, head shifting against the cold window to look at him in the driver’s seat. his hair was up, brows furrowed in guilt as he waited for your response. 

you let out a dramatic sigh, reaching to unbuckle your seatbelt. “fine, but i’m not going to wait in the car.” 

“once it’s over i’ll buy you some food,” he rationed, unbuckling his seatbelt the same. you eyed him suspiciously, waiting for the inevitable sexual innuendo to leave his lips. “n’then i’ll take you back to mine and fuck you, just like you want.”

your unspoken agreement with eren had become routine at this point. after your mutually discovered attraction a couple weeks prior, the two of you had spent many a night in his bed, unashamedly basking in your sexual tension. 

the concept of sex buddies hadn’t been one you’d previously dived into, and you would’ve been lying if you’d said you didn’t want to be exclusive. it only made matters worse that eren insisted on doing everything with you at this point, including dragging you to his board meetings for his sponsorship. he was a pain in the ass, but he was a pain in the ass that treated you like his girlfriend. 

you wanted to make it official, but were too scared of embarrassing yourself, so you resorted to enjoying things the way they were. frienemies with benefits, as eren would say. 

“c’mon, don’t be so vulgar,” you responded, slipping out of the car as eren snickered to himself quietly. you hated the fact that his comments made your face heat up. you were beginning to act like a schoolgirl around him, infatuated by your little crush. 

“you know you love it,” eren smirked over the top of the car as he joined you, locking the vehicle. it was dark outside, the stadium brightly illuminated against the navy sky. “what was it you said again? ‘i want this just as much as you do’?”

you scowled, giving his arm a hard shove. he would not let you forget the things you’d said in the heat of the moment. “oh, fuck off.” you snipped. 

eren laughed again, jokingly rubbing his arm as the two of you walked up to the stadium. it was around eight, the building being nearly vacant save for the members of eren’s sponsorship board inside. 

“what’s the meeting about?” you asked as he held the door open for you, a gush of air conditioning making you shudder. 

“if i’m being honest, i don’t know,” eren replied, his eyes settling past you. as you turned your head, you saw a group of exhausted looking men in worn grey suits talking quietly amongst themselves. they stopped whispering at the sound of the door opening; a short, balding man making his way over. 

“mr. jaeger, thank you for coming on such short notice,” his voice was thick as he spoke, obviously a smoker. eren reached out to shake his hand, the man’s beady eyes settling on your face as he did so. “i’m sorry, but we won’t be allowing any unauthorized people in this meeting.” 

startled, you looked to eren, whose face did all but curse at the short man. “do you mind waiting out here?” 

“oh, yeah, no biggie,” you smiled reassuringly. he shot you a look of gratitude, mouthing the words “i’m sorry” as he walked off with the group. it was funny to watch him go; surrounded by serious men in suits while he wore jeans, a sweatshirt, and a pair of sneakers. not to mention he was about a foot taller than the rest of them. 

a sigh escaped your lips as they disappeared around the corner. the building was ominous when you were alone; large and vacant, normally filled with people excitedly bustling to watch a race. without the energy, it was downright creepy. 

you decided to stand against the wall while you waited, anxiously toying with the hem of your skirt and counting the number of fluorescent bulbs that flickered in the ceiling. 

the distant rumble of talking suddenly hit your ears, head snapping in the direction of the sound. it was getting louder, obviously two people approaching. you readied yourself to launch into an explanation as to why you were sitting alone in the stadium, after hours, only to be pleasantly surprised at who rounded the corner. 

“yo, what’re you doing here?” connie cried out in excitement, a smile splitting across his face. he was with jean, the two of them spattered with engine oil and dirt. 

you grinned back, pushing yourself off the wall to meet them halfway. “eren had a sponsorship meeting and dragged me along. what about you guys?” 

jean smirked at your response, sharing a look with connie that went unnoticed by you. “well, connie accidentally told the boss that we don’t know jack-shit about car mechanics, so now we have to go to a stupid workshop five days a week.” 

“hey, it’s not my fault he was eavesdropping on our conversation with armin,” connie retorted, coming to stand beside you. you smiled at your friends, happy they were there. “we’ll wait with you, if you want?” he proposed. 

“that’d be great,” you sighed. “eren said they’re usually only like thirty minutes long, so we won’t be here all night.” 

“about that,” jean started, uncomfortably bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. you frowned, wondering where he was going with this. “are you and him, like, y’know...” 

you paused for a moment, deciding to play dumb. “huh?” 

“are you and jaeger-meister dating?” connie interjected, wiggling his brows. despite knowing that this is where the conversation was going, you couldn’t help the wave of embarrassment that washed over you. you shifted uncomfortably in place, looking between your friends. 

“i don’t know,” you answered honestly. “i can’t tell if he likes me or not. god, this is so high school.” you muttered. 

jean gave you an apologetic smile, opening his mouth to speak before connie decided to give his own advice. “huh? why wouldn’t he like you? you’re a hot piece of ass!” 

a laugh escaped your mouth at his idiocy, jean dishing him a scowl. “don’t listen to him. personally, i can’t see why you’d want to date that little shit.” 

“yeah, it’s pretty embarrassing,” you replied demurely. 

“well, if you like him that much, i say go for it,” connie shrugged. you eyed him warily, waiting for the ‘but’. the three of you stood in silence for a moment longer, considering what to say next. 

“do you want my help?” jean asked apprehensively. he looked put-off by something, but you couldn’t tell exactly what. connie gave him an incredulous look. 

“sure, i guess,” you responded. in some ways, you felt bad for jean. your friendship had been built off of a mutual distaste of eren, and now that you two were sleeping together, the playful mockery with jean had died down. he motioned his head back towards the wall, indicating that you and connie should follow. 

“alright, here’s my plan,” he whispered dramatically. connie nodded his head, the two of you leaning in as if it were some grand escapade. “eren is a dumbass. in fact, i think he still has the brain of an ape.” 

you rolled your eyes, suppressing a laugh as connie nodded once again in agreement. “get to the point, he’ll be out here any minute now.”��

“alright, alright!” jean held his hands up defensively. “i genuinely don’t think he’s capable of intelligent thought. that being said, i believe the right way to gage his feelings are to activate his instincts.” 

“dude, how long have you been planning this?” connie snorted. you couldn’t help but smile at just how funny the two of them were. 

 “never mind that,” jean shooed him back in annoyance. you raised your brow impatiently. “we need to make him jealous. if my assumptions are correct, it’ll piss him off and then you can tell him that he’s the only one you’re interested in.” 

you pulled back from the huddle, unsure about his grand plan. “i dunno, jean. this sounds kinda stupid, if i’m being honest.” 

“oh, c’mon,” jean begged, a devious smile on his features. “this’ll be our last chance to taunt him together.” 

connie grinned as you contemplated it. “i think this is a great plan!” 

you groaned, the small side of you that liked to make fun of eren starting to grow once again. “okay, fine. how’re we gonna do this?” 

“leave that to me,” jean smirked. as if on cue, you could hear the bustle of the sponsorship men coming down the hallway. your tall friend was quick to step behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso and placing his chin on your shoulder, effectively pulling you to his chest. “follow my lead.” he whispered into your ear. 

you couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks at the action. jean was respectfully keeping a distance between your ass and his groin, but he was close enough that it wasn’t very obvious. 

connie started to babble about a new korean barbecue restaurant that he and sasha were planning on going to, you rocking in jean’s arms to make the sight believable. 

your heartbeat was drumming in your chest as eren rounded the corner, his professional smile plastered on his angular face. he was in the middle of talking with the balding man from earlier, eyes fixed on him. jean gave your waist a squeeze in reassurance. 

eren’s gaze peeled from the short man, teal eyes landing on you and jean all cozy. it was as if a flip was switched; the professional smile he’d been wearing slid off his features with ease, face hardening. 

you held his angry stare for a moment before turning to connie, laughing at whatever had been said, the feeling of jean’s breath against the shell of your ear as he let out a light chuckle. “it’s working.” 

you heaved out a deep breath, focusing on connie instead of eren. you could feel his eyes practically burning holes in your head, shifting your neck so that yours fell back on jean’s opposite shoulder. 

“alright, that should be it for tonight,” you heard one of the men say, glancing back over to them. you didn’t look for long though, quickly noticing that eren’s stare was intently focused on you and jean. 

the men shuffled past the three of you, leaving the building. “hey, jaeger. we ran into y/n as we were leaving.” jean hummed against your shoulder. 

you looked back at eren, who was standing in front of you with his eyebrows furrowed. jean must’ve been right, judging by eren’s face. 

“we’re leaving.” eren deadpanned, taking a step forward. he wasn’t looking at jean, rather staring directly at you. you could feel a slight amount of guilt creep up your spine, jean sighing exceptionally loud as he pulled away from you.

“do you guys wanna come to the korean barbecue place with us? it’s gonna be real good,” connie asked innocently. eren didn’t look away from you, his jaw clenching. 

“no. we’ve got other plans.” he said seriously, reaching forward to grab your hand and tug you the opposite way from the doors. 

“woah, eren, you’re going the wrong way,” you huffed in confusion, trying not to trip as he yanked you away from your friends. he continued forward, not looking back. 

“uh, bye i guess?” jean yelled. you looked over your shoulder to see the two of them giving you a thumbs up. you dished them an appreciative smile as you rounded the corner. 

“eren, where are we going?” 

eren stayed silent for a moment, not letting go of your wrist. “for a drive.” 

“huh? but your car is in the lot out front?” you mumbled, absolutely dumbfounded. the tall man didn’t respond, large hand still wrapped around your wrist. 

it wasn’t until you came to a familiar large door, eren giving it an unnecessarily hard shove. the lights flicked on, revealing ten shiny race cars, all perfectly lined up. 

eren let go of your wrist, making his way over to his own car. it was a sleek black with white checker decals, much like the rest of the vehicles in the garage. you’d seen it before, as it was quite literally one of eren’s most prized possessions. 

you stood in the doorway, eyeing him warily. “your race car? you never take it out on regular roads.”

eren’s jaw clenched as he unlocked the car, pieces of hair falling in his face. he looked upset, muscular arm propped on the roof and brows laced with annoyance. 

he walked around to the other side, opening the passenger door for you. it was strange, seeing him dressed in his regular clothes next to his race car. something about the nonchalance was attractive, teal eyes looking at you expectantly. “c’mon. be a good girl and get in the car.” 

at his choice of words you swallowed, inwardly cursing jean for his plan. you knew you were in for it, judging by the fact that eren only referred to you as good girl when he had his most sinful plans in mind. maybe you should’ve just talked to eren about making things official rather than making him jealous, you thought. too late now. 

“okay,” you sighed, resolutely deciding to accept whatever fate it was that jean had painted for you. you crossed your arms, slowly approaching eren. you stopped right as you were about to slip into the car, looking up at him through your lashes. he stared down at you, eyes serious. 

you slipped into the dark interior of the car without further discussion, the cold leather making you shiver as eren shut the door. you observed him through the windshield as he pressed a button to open the garage before getting in the car himself. 

the smell of his cologne filled the car, your teeth nervously nibbling at the skin on the inside of your lip as he turned the vehicle on. you’d never been inside the car before, only seeing it on the track and in the garage when you came to pester your friends before a race. 

it rode impossibly smooth, eren bringing his hand to the back of your seat as he backed out of the garage. you tried not to stare at the way his arm flexed, jawline enhanced as he strained his neck, but you couldn’t help yourself. he was just so hot. 

eren must’ve felt your eyes, glancing down at you momentarily with an expressionless look. you quickly shifted in your seat to stare out the window, heat burning in your cheeks. god, why was this suddenly so awkward?

it was silent as he drove out of the arena, the dark city glittering against the sky. it was beautiful at night, skyscrapers lit up all pretty. you quickly found yourself distracted by the view, leaning your head against the cool glass. you were so consumed that you didn’t notice eren merging onto the freeway.��

you were brought out of your trance at the feeling of his large hand resting on your upper thigh, grip tight and possessive. you glanced to him again, lifting your head from the window. 

he was staring straight forward, foot slowly increasing the gas. you felt your chest tighten, seeing how he was riding the tail of a minivan in front of you. 

“eren,” you warned, insinuating that he slow down. his index finger tapped tauntingly on your bare thigh, slowly rising up the skin. the fabric of your skirt rode up, eren weaving past the minivan with one hand on the wheel. 

“i have a question for you,” he said lowly, eyes not leaving the road. you gulped, a strange mix of arousal and anxiety pitting itself in your stomach as his hand reached the apex of your thigh. the side of his pinky brushed against your pelvis. “hm, no underwear?” 

you felt a pang of embarrassment. in your defense, you’d thought tonight was just going to be spent hooking up with the man, not going to the arena. “i, uh-”

“so, jean had his dick pressed against your ass and you didn’t have underwear on?” his voice was deep, jealously dripping from every word. your breath hitched as his middle and ring finger slid against your clit with ease, already soaking wet. 

eren’s shoe pressed down on the gas again, the car zipping in and out between other vehicles on the freeway. his fingers rubbed against your clit slowly, your legs subconsciously spreading to give him better access. it felt so good, the way he was circling the nerves with desirable pressure. 

“mmm, eren slow down, you’re going to crash the car,” you mumbled, watching as he sped up, whipping past the other vehicles. he was easily approaching 100 mph, your anxiety beginning to outweigh the pleasure. as if sensing this, eren sped up his fingers as well, a whimper leaving your mouth. 

“i know it’s bad for me to be so jealous,” eren said flatly, his middle finger deviating from the ring finger to slowly insert itself into your tight cunt. he pumped it slowly, still not looking at you. he was pushing 110 at this point, doing so with ease. “but something about jean touching you. being so close to you like that.” 

his ring finger joined the middle, the two sliding in and out of you, curling slightly. it was hard to stay focused on his reckless driving when he was fucking you with his fingers like that, your mind feeling fuzzy as a passing car laid on its horn. 

“eren,” you breathed out in worry, his fingers hitting your sweet spot in order to make you shut up. “you gotta slo-” 

an involuntary whimper left your lips as he curled his fingers particularly deep, the tingling sensation at your core beginning to build. you looked over to him, and boy what a mistake that was. 

his one arm was flexed, hand gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were turning white. he was entirely focused on the road, eyebrows furrowed intently as his other hand purposefully increased its speed. he was so so hot.

you stifled another moan as your eyes looked forward again, the sight of eren nearly clipping a subaru outback making you sit forward.

“you’re going to crash!” you gasped. 

“i’ll slow down if you answer my question,” eren growled, his thumb coming to rub your clit rapidly as his fingers continued to pump in and out of your cunt. you hissed at the newfound pleasure, your head coming back to rest against the seat. 

“yes, yes, okay,” you agreed, screwing your eyes shut to avoid looking at how fast he was driving. 

eren took a deep breath, giving you a sideways glance. he’d never done this before, but he’d also never felt this way about someone. the way you clenched so good around his fingers making his chest tighten. he made you feel this good, not jean. the thought brought a smirk to his face as you let out a strangled moan. 

“i’ll stop speeding if you agree to be my girlfriend,” eren’s words shocked you right out of your pleasure coma, eyes widening as you jolted upright in your seat. did he really just say that? did jean’s plan actually work?

his hand jerked the steering wheel to the side, your mind too preoccupied with his statement to even notice his fingers had stilled inside of you, anxious for your answer. he wasn’t looking at you, eyes still locked on the road. 

you held your breath as you noticed how fast your heart was beating. “i thought you’d never ask.” you responded, cheeks burning. 

eren’s lips curled upwards, pulling his fingers from inside of you. your eyes followed his long digits as he popped the middle two into his mouth, sucking your bitter sheen from his knuckles. he was your boyfriend. he wanted you to be his girlfriend. “good girl.” he mumbled. 

you glanced back at the freeway, surprised as eren jerked the steering wheel, making an abrupt exit. it appeared to deviate into the woods, your eyes flitting nervously to the man beside you. “um, where are you taking me?” 

“i’m just fulfilling my promise,” he answered, bringing his hand back to grip your thigh. his fingers were wet with his saliva, the sight bringing a strong throb to your core. oh yeah, i never finished. “’member? i said once we were done with my meeting i was going to fuck you.” 

you suppressed an excited smile at his vulgar words, pressing your thighs together for some form of relief. you were painfully aroused, the burning sensation almost too much to bear. 

“plus, it seems like you never learn,” eren’s words were suddenly serious as he pulled the car up a gravel road. there was a sharp drop off to the side, the city skyline sparkling in the distance. you cocked a brow at him. “you’re my girlfriend now, but i’m still pissed about that stunt you pulled with jean. gonna have to punish you, of course.” 

you swallowed as he shut the car off, the city sitting innocently in view. the spot between your legs was aching, desperate for some form of release. you couldn’t help the swell in your chest at the fact that eren was your boyfriend now, anxiously awaiting whatever he had in mind. 

eren leaned over you, maintaining a deep stare as he shifted your seat into a flat position. his fingers lightly danced across your skin as he unbuckled your belt, face hovering above the hem of your skirt. he glanced back up to you, teal eyes glinting in the darkness. 

“can’t wait to fuck my new girlfriend,” eren growled, wasting no time in climbing on top of you. he shifted your legs so that your knees were bent by your head, wet cunt on full display in front of him. he stared down at you, a hand on each knee. “shit, you’re so hot like this.” 

he slowly brought a finger to your center, the feeling of his cold digit gliding against you bringing slight relief to the deep ache. his eyes were focused below your waist, lazily flitting upwards as he brought his finger to your lips. “taste.” 

you happily accepted, wrapping your lips around his finger. your tongue swirled around his knuckle, the saccharin taste filling your mouth. he pulled it from your lips, a devilish grin on his features. 

“i can’t wait any longer,” he breathed, leaning forward to press his lips against yours. the kiss was deep and heated, however it felt different from all the others you’d shared in the past. it was meaningful and tender, slow and deliberate. his tongue swiped your lip, slipping into your mouth with a sigh. 

his hands undid his pants as you kissed, the sound of his belt being undone filling the small space. you could feel him positioning the tip of his cock at your entrance, sliding it against your slick. 

eren pulled back to look at you, breaths mingled for a moment before he pushed past your entrance, burying himself deep within you. the stretch was slightly uncomfortable and you were convinced you’d never get accustomed to the sheer size of his dick.

eren didn’t wait for you to adjust, flexing his hips back to give you another purposeful thrust. a whimper slipped past your lips at the feeling, his hand leaving your leg and lightly wrapping around your neck. 

“fuck,” he hissed, speeding up his pace. your walls clenched around him, climax fast approaching with every deep thrust of his cock within your cunt. “feels so good fucking you when you’re all mine.” 

his hand tightened around your throat, the combined pressure at both ends of your body only adding to the pleasure as he rammed into you. he grunted as his other hand pressed your legs forward, getting a better angle so that he could fill you to the hilt. 

a strangled cry ripped from your throat as he hit particularly deep, bringing his face down to roughly kiss your lips. he was breathing heavily, the car shaking as he bucked his hips into yours.

eren craned his neck down to look at where his length disappeared inside of you, a small smile toying at his features. the sight caused his cock to twitch, relishing in just how nicely he filled you up. you were his, and he was yours. 

just the thought of you being his girlfriend was enough; a loud groan leaving his chest as he pressed his hips against yours. you could feel him release himself inside of you, the thick sensation bringing on a much anticipated orgasm. your limbs grew cold, the pleasure reaching the tips of your fingers. 

eren placed a chaste kiss to your forehead, gazing down at you. “my girlfriend is so fucking hot.” he grinned. 

you rolled your eyes at his cheesy comment, swatting his chest playfully. he carefully removed himself from you, trying not to drip onto the car seat. 

“here, pretty. you’ll have to keep your legs up,” he instructed as he pulled his pants back up. you frowned, the thought of holding this position the whole way back somewhat daunting. 

“huh? but how am i supposed to keep this stuff from coming out?” you whined, still trying to regain your composure. eren’s face was flushed as he smirked at you. 

“that’ll be your punishment, m’kay?” he said smugly. you scoffed, holding your knees in each hand. 

“but that’ll be impossible!” 

“don’t worry,” he leaned forward to kiss your lips once again. “i’ll drive slow.” 

<3 <3 <3

[b0rista]

— 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄, 𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀, 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍, & 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐎 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐃. ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: language, because i can't form sentences without using "fuck" every other word JDJD.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: i only made this modern because i desperately wanted to include marco to the fullest leave me aloneEffsg. gn! reader, and i went pretty lengthy on this one so beneath the cut is where the headcanons start :)

𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓: bearbrickjia on instagram!

by far, the best friend group to have. everyone balances one another out, and it's a perfectly imperfect mesh of teenagers.

there's jean, the group's centerpiece. he's the alpha of the posse, usually working as their own personal line leader whenever they're caught doing something as a group. he'll never admit it, but he's also the dad friend. of course, he's more of a "i wish i never gave birth to you oh my god please leave me alone also i love you" type than the stereotypical dad friend.

there's marco, the glue holding the group together. unsurprisingly, he's the calm, kindhearted support system that balances out the cokeheads, keeping them all sturdy. without a doubt, the group would fall apart without him. they need him, okay!! and by "them," i mean jean and yourself. marco, never change.

following up, there's connie & sasha, the wonder twins. their roles are pretty self explanatory, given their natural rambunctiousness. they're the two that hang out outside of the group the most, for obvious reasons. they're the crackhead siblings that bring life to the group, despite the hot water they typically land the others in. through their antics and their comic relief, they're irreplaceable. still, it's easy to want to strangle them sometimes.

next, there's you! because you're the reader, i won't name any specifics, but you're greatly cherished. you mark your place in the crew through various ways, having a unique relationship with each and every member. when he's in need of a breather outside of his typical nest (AKA marco), jean hits your line. if you're needing any kind of assistance with literally anything ever, marco's there to help. craving some chaos? bitch, connie & sasha have GOT YOU.

the main hangout spot is jean's house, 100%. not only has his mom practically adopted the whole squad, but there's only two people living there, so it isn't crowded. connie banned literally all four of you from his place, lmao. there was too many people there, and his family lives to humiliate him.

the group has this one policy, set down by yourself and jean: four piece maximum. this is directed solely towards sasha, of course, considering her tendency to raid her friends' fridges entirely of any food. if she's ever caught rummaging through a fridge for longer than necessary, it's the home owner's duty to shout, "four piece minimum!"

^ it never fails to startle her 😭. one time, she hit her head so hard on the fridge ceiling at jean's house she had to use a bag of frozen peas to soothe the swelling.

then, she proceeded to eat the thawed out peas. jean gagged.

the inside jokes? endless. all it takes is one word from a single event, and the five of you are losing your shit. it's cute, to be honest, how overzealous you all get from a single instance from months ago.

"ha. heh. hee."

"what is it?"

"ngGhh,, chEDDAR TIDDIES-"

"AHHHHHAGAGSHHDJF-"

if there are any inside jokes formed between two group members that isn't shared with the rest of them, there will be immediate bitterness. one time, you and sasha were giggling to yourselves over some druggie named jerry who'd tried selling baskets of rotten cherries to the two of you during a gas station haul— the boys were not having it. what the fuck were you doing without them, "friends"?

right before starting your guys' senior year of highschool, the five of you were on a group facetime when you all sent your schedules into group chat. due to the scarceness of your soon-to-be-majors, absolutely none of you had any classes together. you had a single lunch period with connie while marco had one with jean, but that was about it. it was,, a dramatic discovery. sasha fucking screamed.

"i have nothing with nobody!"

"calm down, sash-"

"you have lunch with y/n! LUNCH! that's my place, lunch. this is despicable, this is evil, this is a braus hate crime-"

yeah, she didn't take it that well. it's okay, doe. the four of you made a special effort during your passing periods, giving sasha enough of a fix for her to make it through each and every day.

it isn't like the five of you don't hang out outside of the classroom, either!! if you hadn't already made plans during that week, the weekend is where you absolutely thrive as a group. study sessions that always shift into exclusive house parties, lunches spent at your favorite places, the occasional visit to the movie theater, and so on. with a mini crowd like that, it's hard for any of you to get bored.

jean's hopeless crush on mikasa is a big factor in your friendship. when everyone minus marco (because he's an angel) isn't mercilessly teasing him, you're all trying to actually help the fucker score the girl. from talking him up obnoxiously enough whereas she'll hear, or flat out telling her to give him a chance, it's an actual effort. though, it's unfortunately all to no avail. shawty's too smitten with eren to even consider her options.

^ with that being said, the four of you have to give jean the "there are other fish in the sea" scoop more often than you'd like to admit.

group cuddles. that's that.

because he's the tallest and therfore the longest (probably, depending on your height), everybody has a chosen body part of jean's to latch onto during naps. connie has one leg while you have the other, and sasha keeps her head rested on his shoulder. marco's at the very bottom, entangling his legs in your own. somehow, this is heaven for jean. he'll never admit to it, though. as far as any of you are concerned, he HATES IT.

ranking from #1 as the best and #5 as the worst, these are the rated group therapists: ⇩︎

#1: marco. self explanatory, he's an amazing listener and provides supremely good advice. that, and he'd literally rather die than let any of his friends internalize anything they're dying to let loose.

#2: you. really, you're just a lot better than jean or connie. sasha's okay at it, but she's not the best at rationalizing, leaving you at second best. basically, when marco isn't available, you're where the freak shows go. marco goes to you about things, too.

#3: sasha. again, she's just a loT better than the final two. sasha's a sweetheart! she's empathetic, and nonjudgmental. we love her in this house.

#4: connie. also somewhat of a sweetheart, although not as much as sasha. he'll drop a shit ton of humor into serious conversations, making them just a tad bit more tolerable.

#5: jean. look, he's a great friend! however, he isn't all that empathetic, and he'll have some trouble understanding. still, he would try his hardest to make you or the other three feel better :,)).

in a modern universe, i know damn well connie's a half-assed stoner 30% of the time. he doesn't light up all that often, and he doesn't tell anybody about it, even you guys. mainly because marco will grill him for it DJFK. however, you stumbled upon his mini marijuana stash and he was like ahh, shit. you didn't really care doe, his secret is safe with you. you, however, now have DIRT on him.

matching bracelets that you all made for eachother yEars ago but never wear 🥺🥺.

many, many, many poly relationship jokes. only jokes, though. some people take it too literally, which y'all just laugh at.

there's a miniature rivalry going on between you and another nearby friend group: reiner, bertholdt, annie, ymir, and christa. of course, all of you are friends, it's all fun in games— most of the time, anyway. it's a funny rivalry, and you guys go at it quite a bit.

one of your guys' most intense debates is whether or not marco has freckles on his dick.

he,, refuses to show any of you, or even anSweR you.

"you act like we can't just check whenever we use the urinals, man."

"CONNIE-"

now, marco refuses to go to the bathroom at the same time as any of the boys <\33.

the group band? black eyed peas.

[sofreddie]

High School Reunion 2

Summary: Someone at the reunion has a big mouth.

Characters: Jensen x Reader, Jared

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 2,087

A/N: Inspiration struck out of nowhere and this piece was born. I have a very rough outline for a small series, maybe about 6 parts? We'll see. It's gonna happen randomly, no planned schedule for this one.

PART 1

Y/N bit her lip in excitement and saw a message from Lana. She immediately opened Skype to call her best friend…and thank her.

"Hey you! How was the reunion?" Lana smiled as her face appeared on screen.

"Oh my fucking God I can't believe you!" Y/N screamed, though it was mostly excitement as she blushed profusely.

"So…I take it you had a good night then?" Lana grinned cheekily.

"How could you not tell me you met Jensen Freaking Ackles?! I thought we were friends?" Y/N pouted dramatically as she plopped back on her couch, phone still in hand.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep it from you?" Lana screeched in response, "You remember my last night at the convention, I went to that place for dinner that had the amazing burger?"

"Yeah, I remember. You said you loved the place, that it was a perfect ending to the trip," Y/N remembered, "Now I get why."

"Ok, yeah, so I'm sat at the bar with my burger and a beer and he comes in and sits with a chair between us. I instantly recognized him, but was trying to keep my cool, you know. But he remember me! From the photo op! So we just got to talking and you had just split with Chase and I was so worried about you-"

"Oh Lana, you didn't," Y/N groaned.

"I was just venting about how much I hated that douchebag and what he did to you and what you were going through and how I was so worried about the reunion but thought it could be a good thing for you after Chase-" she rambled on, her words quickly tumbling forth as she pleaded her case to her best friend.

"You're not mad, right?" Lana asked timidly.

"How can I be?" Y/N shouted, "He walked in there all suave and shut down my high school bullies - who were trying to start some shit let me tell you-"

"No!" Lana gasped, "Amanda?"

"And the others," Y/N sighed, "And they were trying to cut in on me and I was gonna run, I'm not gonna lie," Y/N chuckled lightly, "But then he was just there. And she introduced himself as my boyfriend….Oh my god, Lana! What if that gets out?" Y/N sat bolt upright on her couch in a panic.

"Whoa, Y/N, calm down," Lana insisted, "More important than that…he introduced himself as your boyfriend?!"

"Lana!"

"I'm just sayin'-"

Y/N sighed dreamily, "Then we danced. Then he took me for a drive and we parked up at the spot and ate burgers while chatting and watching stars," she sighed again, as if it were a scene from a romantic film she had just watched.

"That sounds like a date," Lana helpfully noted.

"I thought that too!" Y/N squealed, "But that's just the fangirl right? I mean, there's no way."

"How many times I gotta tell you you're a catch, woman?" Lana laughed, "I'm not surprised at all. In fact, I'm taking credit. You're welcome," Y/N groaned once more and Lana chuckled.

"Did I mention we exchanged numbers?" Y/N added with a grin.

"And now I hate you," Lana huffed.

"Yeah, love you too you meddler."

Y/N sighed happily to herself once more as they ended the call. She tossed her phone on the coffee table as she relaxed back into the couch. Her eyes fluttered closed as she replayed the evenings events in her mind.

She had to be dreaming. There was no way this was real, right?

Too tired and content to carry herself off to the bedroom, Y/N laid down on the couch, settling into the plush cushions and dragging the throw from the back of the couch to cover herself, falling asleep quickly and dreaming of shimmering green eyes.

Jensen groaned as he slowly came awake to the incessant ringing and chimes of his phone. He opened his eyes, grabbing for the phone and peeking at the time.

6am.

He and Y/N were out past midnight. After he made it back to the hotel, he had spent the better part of an hour sipping on a beer as he thought over the night he had with her.

He wasn't sure what compelled him to talk to Lana in the bar that night. He could tell she was a nervous fan, and he remembered her from the photo op, just as nervous and shy. But after a beer or two with her dinner, she relaxed and their conversation flowed. It was nice, to be chatting away with someone new, different.

When she went on about her best friend Y/N, Jensen felt something. Apparently the way if affected her friend was severe enough to have Lana in real turmoil over it. Jensen knew what that was like. He'd worried over Jared a time or two just the same.

When Lana gave him a picture, however, his heart skipped a beat. She was beautiful, with a charming smile. But he could see her eyes were sad and guarded.

When he realized the reunion was a few hours drive and a few days ahead of his schedule to be at another convention, he decided to make the stop to see Y/N at the reunion. At the very least he could chalk it up to a memorable fan moment.

Jensen rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he reluctantly sat against the headboard, checking to see why his phone was blowing up.

It took only a quick glance through the various calls and text and emails from various persons all talking about the same thing. Jensen opened the text thread from Jared, scrolling through the messages and clicking on a picture that was include.

It was him and Y/N dancing together at the reunion the night before. She looked as amazing as he remembered. Her smile was bright and genuine, but so was his. Apparently word had spread from the reunion that he and Y/N were together. That's when he remembered introducing himself to those girls as Y/N's boyfriend.

He wasn't so bothered by the turn of events, which surprised him. He had decided the night before that he wanted to ask her out on a date. Their chemistry was too intense to not pursue.

What bothered him was how she'd react. They'd literally just met and had a friendly, albeit great, evening and now she was possibly going to be bombarded with paparazzi and everyone in her business.

So much for that date.

He knew it was early, but he wanted Y/N to hear from him first. He opened the new message thread between them, seeing her text from the night before and smiling once more, before typing out his message.

Hey, Y/N. Hope you slept well. Was hoping to talk to you about something.

He sent the message, noting the time, and figured he'd give it some time. He didn't know her schedule, or anything about her really. With a groan, Jensen hit the green button to return one of Jared's missed calls.

"Dude!" Jared exclaimed as he answered after one ring, "I've been trying to get ahold of you for two hours!"

"Yes, Mom, I'm aware," Jensen said with a yawn.

"Did you see the picture?"

"Yeah."

"And?" Jared pressed for more, "Why aren't you freaking out about this?" Jared scoffed. Since his last major relationship ended, Jensen hadn't been with anyone really. An occasional date here and there for an event. But he hadn't seemed interested in anyone at all, and was quick to shut down any insuinuations to the contrary.

"I guess I should of seen it coming," Jensen shrugged, "I did introduce myself as her boyfriend after all."

"You what?" Jared was shocked, trying to wrap his head around it, "Why would you do that? Is there something you aren't telling me? Have you been dating her for a while? Who is she anyway?"

Jared fired off the questions in rapid succession like an excited puppy.

"I gotta talk to her first," Jensen said, "I'll see you at the convention in a couple days. You can interrogate me then."

"I want all the details."

"Don't you always?"

Jensen ended the call, taking a deep breath. He felt so stupid for what he did. He wasn't sure why he did that other than to shut those girls down. He really hated bullies.

He decided to get dressed and grab a couple of coffees on his way to Y/N's house. A quick look at his social media had told him that picture was blowing up. She was bound to find out sooner rather than later. He had to tell her first.

Y/N slowly roused from her deep sleep on the comfy couch, hearing an incessant rapping coming from her front door. She stretched, reaching for her phone on the coffee table and finding it dead.

She rolled her eyes as she threw off the throw, climbing from the couch and shuffling to the door and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

She flung open the door, the morning's cresting light just bright enough to assault her eyes. It took her a second to focus, but then she saw Jensen, a small smile on his face and two tall coffees in hand.

"Jensen?" she asked, so very confused and wondering if she was still asleep.

"Hey, uh, I know it's early. But I really needed to see you this morning."

The smile he gave was sweet, but she could tell something was up. Was he worried that maybe she'd go blabbing about their night together? She'd never do that. But she guessed he didn't know that.

"Sure, come in," she smiled warmly, stepping aside and gesturing him into her home. She accepted the coffee as Jensen passed it to her on his way in. She shut the door behind him, taking a whiff of her drink before taking a long gulp, closing her eyes and sighing at the flavor.

"So, what's up?" she asked, shuffling on her feet, "Thanks for the coffee, by the way."

"You're welcome," he smiled, now genuine and inviting and Y/N's heart stuttered slightly at the sight, "I was hoping to talk to you, about last night."

She shook her head, "I won't talk about it with anyone, I promise. Well, other then Lana. I had to call her last night. Yell at her a little," she blushed.

He laughed, nodding his head, "No, I get it. But I wasn't worried about that or anything," he was quick to correct, "Actually, someone else already did."

"Did what?"

"Someone got a picture of us on the dance floor last night and might have said I mentioned I was your boyfriend," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh," she responded, clearly shocked and not sure what to say.

"I just wanted you to hear it from me first, you know? Before seeing it online or whatever."

"Online-" she echoed, her eyes going wide, "So, you can just post a Tweet or something that it's a mistake."

"Okay, well, to be fair, I did introduce myself as your boyfriend to those other women last night."

"Yeah…why'd you do that again?" Y/N smirked despite herself.

He shrugged, "Seemed like the right thing to do. Shut 'em up didn't it?" he grinned, "Besides," he chanced, stepping closer to her," Feels like we had a date last night."

She blushed hard, ducking her head before meeting his eyes once again, "Yeah, it did."

"And I was hoping you'd like to do it again."

"Really?" she asked. She couldn't help the dreamy look in her eye. She still couldn't believe this was happening.

"Yeah. So if you say yes, then we'd be dating, which is practically boyfriend and girlfriend," he explained casually, "So I think we should just keep doing what we're doing and let it ride. What do you think?"

"I think you might be a little bit crazy," she nervously laughed, "Let's start with a second date," she grinned, seeing him brighten up, "And go from there."

"And the press?" Jensen chanced.

"Let them think what they wanna think," she shrugged.

"You're freakin' perfect," he chuckled, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, even though she still had bedhead. He smiled at the cuteness of it.

"I should go freshen up!" she realized, seeing him look over her disheveled state, "Uh…be right back." she rushed off down the hall and Jensen laughed to himself.

He had a good feeling about this.

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

@fangirlxwritesx67

RPF:

@smoothdogsgirl

JENSEN TAGS:

@akshi8278

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt

@slamminmine

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

Simply Meant To Be (pt 1)

An expansion on this soulmate blurb (no Virgil in this one though)

[part 2]

Rating: teen

Word Count: 2130

Pairings: Roceit, Intrulogical

Warnings: minor swearing

~~~START~~~

Roman is a romantic, that’s just a fact. He loves love. Any day he gets to watch two soulmates meet each other is automatically a good day. The second best day of his life was getting to watch Remus meet their soulmate when they were sixteen. The best day of his life is reserved for when he meets his own soulmate. 

It hasn’t happened yet, but it will. One day. 

For now, Roman is content with being colorblind (well not content, but he’s learned to not let it bother him too much). Remus and Logan are actually a huge help with that. Logan has even gone as far as to make a list of all of Roman’s clothing and includes a chart of what pieces do and do not go together based on Remus’ (admittedly professional) opinions, and Remus actually went through and labeled all of Roman’s makeup with what color it is and what kind of look it should go with. 

Anyone who vaguely knew the twins might think that Remus would use this opportunity to mess with Roman, but Remus knows how much Roman hates being colorblind; they would never lie to Roman about colors — about other things? Sure, but not colors. 

Remus and Logan met when Logan moved to their school from Georgia. One day Remus had claimed that there was a trail of color — they would later learn that it was navy blue, Logan’s soon-to-be favorite color — leading from the parking lot, to the main office, to the east wing. They’d chosen to skip first period in order to follow it, having never seen the trail before, and Roman, being unwilling to miss the opportunity to watch his brother meet their soulmate, followed him. Remus had walked right into a physics classroom, and straight for a boy with short curls and thick glasses that Roman had never seen before and declared him their soulmate. 

Roman got detention for skipping first period, Remus got a pass on account of meeting their soulmate. 

Most people met their soulmates before they turned twenty-five, after all, how difficult can it be when all you have to do is find the trail of color they leave behind them everywhere they go and follow it?

Well, as Roman has learned in his thirty-five years of being alive, it can be pretty freaking difficult. 

As children, Roman and Remus had wandered their town far and wide looking for colorful trails, and even after they met Logan, Remus continued to go with Roman as he searched, even if they couldn’t see Roman’s soulmate’s trail themself. As soon as Roman graduated from high school, he took the customary gap year that most everybody who hadn’t met their soulmates yet takes to search for their soulmates. 

He never caught a glimpse of anything. 

“What if I missed them somehow? What if I saw their trail and just didn’t realize it?” Roman whines one day at his usual Saturday brunch — because they’re adults goddammit — with Remus and Logan. 

“You wouldn’t have missed them, Ro bro,” Remus assures him as they do every time Roman starts lamenting about having not met his soulmate yet. “Colors are so unmistakable that there’s no way you’ll miss them.”

“And even if you are genetically colorblind — which is unlikely considering Remus is not,” Logan continues before Roman has a chance to respond. “I have read multiple papers that state that soultrails will still make themselves distinct. There are multiple accounts of the trails emitting light, absorbing light, or even emitting sound. All of that is, of course, on top of the translucent cloud that follows your soulmate’s every move. I find it improbable that you, of all people, would not have noticed a soultrail.”

“Yeah, I know you guys are right,” Roman sighs. “I just want to meet them! I’ve travelled all over the place looking for them, where are they?”

Remus says nothing, which Roman is grateful for because Remus has a habit of saying dark jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, and Roman really doesn’t need to hear them suggest that his soulmate died in a car crash or something right now. Besides, the question is rhetorical. If Remus could see Roman’s soulmate’s trail, then he’s sure they would have spent the last nineteen years looking for them too. 

“Sorry, I guess I brought the mood down,” Roman apologizes. “How are you guys?”

Remus opens their mouth.  

“The PG version, please!” Roman rushes to say before Remus can mentally scar him. Again. 

Remus closes their mouth again. 

Logan rolls his eyes fondly and proceeds to get Roman up to date on all the high school gossip. 

“- and of course the middle school’s robotics instructor left suddenly to follow her soulmate to England, so I have taken over as their advisor until a suitable replacement can be hired.”

“How is that?” Roman asks, cringing at the thought of having to deal with middle schoolers. Kids in general kind of freak him out, but middle schoolers especially. 

“It has been fine, they are not as adept as my high school students, but of course for many of them this is their introduction to such things, so I’m trying to be patient and supportive.”

Roman snorts at that. He’s sure Logan is a good teacher, but his brother-in-law can be a bit short tempered, and has a habit of talking down to people who don’t understand what he’s trying to tell them. 

“Don’t laugh at him!” Remus jumps in to defend their soulmate. “Logan’s great with kids, it’s adults he has a problem with.”

“They are much too old to be as ignorant as they are,” Logan defends himself resolutely. 

“Of course they are, Sugar Butt.” Logan cringes slightly at the pet name, which is really all Remus is ever looking for with their pet names. 

“Anyway,” Logan says, somewhat forcefully. “There is one student who seems to know what he is doing, but he doubts himself at every turn. I have tried telling him that he is doing everything correctly, but he is… reluctant to trust himself.”

“Maybe as the year goes on he’ll gain confidence,” Remus suggests. Logan hums in acknowledgment, and Roman takes that as the end of talking about Logan’s students. “Oh! Ro bro! Did you hear the theater got a new makeup artist?”

“Finally!” Roman groans, thinking back on their last makeup artist. “I swear Lisa was trying to poke my eyes out every time she did my eyeliner!”

“Oh she probably was,” Remus comments offhandedly. “I told her — back when she first started with the theater — that you thought that makeup artisting was a waste of time.”

“WHAT!?” Roman screeches, gaining the attention of the staff and other patrons. 

“Roman,” Logan warns, growing uncomfortable under the curious stares. 

“How could you do that to me?” Roman hisses at a much quieter volume. “I never said that! She hated me for five years because of you!”

Remus shrugs, slurping the end of their drink through their straw loudly. 

“You better not make the new artist hate me!”

“I would never!” Remus gasps, clutching their heart dramatically. 

Roman glares. 

“Cross my heart!” Remus insists with a much too innocent expression. 

“I hate you.”

Remus just gasps again before dissolving into uncontrollable giggles. 

 ~~~

There isn’t rehearsal on Sunday, so Roman doesn’t have to go in to work. Unfortunately, he is saddled by the knowledge that Remus — as the theater’s costume designer — does have to go in today, and therefore has a whole day to lie to the new makeup artist about him. 

Come Monday, all Roman can do is hope that Remus hasn’t done irreparable damage. 

“Calm down,” Remus orders when they come to pick Roman up. “They weren’t even in yesterday; I haven’t met them yet.”

“I’m not letting you ruin my relationship with the makeup artist again,” Roman pouts. 

“Just try and stop me!” Remus cackles. 

Once they reach the theater, Roman practically jumps from the car before Remus has even parked. 

“REAL MATURE!” Remus yells after him as he sprints for the theater door. 

“THIS ONE IS GOING TO LIKE ME!” Roman yells back. 

“NOT IF I MEET THEM FIRST!”

Roman skids to a stop as soon as he reaches the lobby. Not expecting their twin to just be standing there, Remus slams into his back, throwing them both to the ground. 

“The fuck, Ro Bro?” Remus demands as they flop off their brother and onto their back. 

“I-I see it,” Roman whispers, voice filled with wonder. 

“See what?” Remus demands. “The lobby? You’ve seen the lobby bef-oh!”

The awestruck look on Roman’s face finally clicks, and Remus bounces excitedly. 

“You see it? Like it it?” Remus scrambles to their feet, dragging Roman up with them. “Where? Which way does it go?”

“It looks like how the sun feels,” Roman says instead of answering. “All light and warm and good.”

“Roman Kingsley you tell me which way your soulmate went this instant!” Remus demands loudly. This is important dammit!

“It goes from there,” Roman points to the side door that’s usually used by staff that take the bus to work. “To there,” the door leading backstage. 

“Excellent!” Remus cheers dragging Roman forward. “Time for your date with destiny!”

Remus throws the backstage door open dramatically, but Roman groans as he realizes that his soulmate’s trail is going in literally every direction, making it impossible to know which way they went last. 

“Well?” Remus asks expectantly. 

“Either my soulmate is familiarizing themself to the theater, or they knew I’d be here and are trying to spite me,” Roman answers somewhat dejectedly. “I can’t tell which trail is freshest.”

“Well shit.” Remus scans each entry as though Roman’s soulmate will just happen to wander in (plausible, considering they’ve trailed all over the theater). 

“Hey guys!” A voice calls from by the dressing rooms. The brothers turn to find Thomas, the owner of the theater and their boss. 

“Thomas!” Remus cries gleefully. “My absolute favoritest person in the world behind my incredibly sexy soulmate!”

“Okay, so you want something,” Thomas answers with an amused grin. Remus always piles on the compliments when they want something.

“Who’s new today?” Roman asks, more to the point. 

“Like, in the theater?” Thomas asks. “Just Janus, the new makeup artist. Why?” Thomas’s eyes widen as if he’s just had a realization. “You’re not going to prank him or something, are you? He’s very talented, I can’t have you scaring him away already!”

“Roman’s soulmate is the new makeup artist? Lame,” Remus pouts. “How am I supposed to trick him into hating Roman?”

“Soulmate?”

“My soulmate is in the building, Thomas!” Roman declares, striking a dashing pose before deflating a little. “Except his trail leads all over the place, I don’t know where he went!”

“Oh… well,” Thomas looks to each direction Janus could have gone, but he clearly doesn’t know which way Janus would have gone. “He said he wanted to get a lay of the land before everyone got here…”

“I got this!” Remus pipes up suddenly before cupping their hands around their mouth like a megaphone and screaming at the top of their lungs. “JANUS!”

“What?” A faint, far-off voice calls back, followed but the sound of hurried footsteps. “Thomas?”

“Dressing rooms!” Thomas calls back. 

Footsteps thunder down the stairs, and all too soon a man appears on them. 

The first time you lay eyes on your soulmate, you begin to see the world in color. Everyone’s experience is different: Remus said that as soon as he laid eyes on Logan, the world exploded violently into vibrant shades. Logan said that colors appeared one at time, quickly, but slow enough for him to notice. Roman’s mom said that her soulmate’s trail swelled to fill the space before things slowly began to take on their proper color, and his mama said that it was almost like everything had always had color, she just hadn’t bothered to notice before. 

For Roman, the man before him is painted in vibrant shades while the background remains in grayscale, but as soon as the man makes eye contact, his colors begin to slowly bleed throughout the space. 

The man’s eyes widen as he stares, slack-jawed at Roman — no doubt mirroring Roman’s own expression. 

“I’m Roman,” Roman says quickly, before Remus can forever ruin his first meeting with his soulmate by making a dick joke or something. 

The man smiles and Roman immediately decides that his favorite color is whatever this guy’s eyes are — they’re hazel, but Roman will later change his favorite color to red after realizing how stunning and bold the color is when it isn’t just another shade of gray. 

“Janus.”

~~~TO BE CONTINUED~~~

General Taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly

@pixelated-pineapple

[greensaplinggrace]

What Is There To Celebrate About the Darkling? (Part 3)

1 2 3 4

His shadow powers are so badass, literally how could you not celebrate him for that alone?

Villain wears black trope REPRESENT.

The way his cloak billows dramatically in episode one before Alina enters the Fold.

The way his cloak billows in general.

His little face in the background after his and Alina’s first kiss as he tries to compose himself.

Him knocking on the table in episode five when he gets back to see Alina. My mans was so hopeful that he’d finally get to third base with the love of his life. RIP.

Large hands. Very tall.

The way he literally cannot tear his eyes away from Alina during the entire scene where Alina dresses him and they have their first kiss.

The softest looking hair I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe Alina got to run her hands through it and she still left him.

How he urgently looks around for Alina outside after she leaves in episode five, right before he confronts Baghra. He’s very frantic and panting and clearly concerned and not being subtle at all about his emotions.

Also the way he walks when he’s leaving Baghra, with his hands stuck out to the side and his fists clenching and unclenching as his form grows smaller in the distance. He looks like a tiny penguin waddling away.

Son’s evil dastardly bastard plans once again thwarted by own mother. Can you imagine living for an eternity and never being free of your parents? Fuck all that other shit, no wonder he went darkside.

“She is all that matters now, not me. She is the future. She is the one-” SIMP

His little smile before he goes to answer the door after they kiss. The way his hold on her lingers as if he can’t bear to part with her. Forehead touch. They are giggling.

The way he runs back in for another kiss. This man is so gone it’s not even funny.

He calls her to him in the books and she spends the entire time agonizing over how upset he’s going to be. The man literally just wants to ask her about her day.

Defends Alina to Baghra after he witnesses her getting harassed. Defends himself to Baghra after she treats him like shit. Love that for him.

“I made something.” / “Let me make a mark on this world before I leave it.” / “It’s my own name I’m afraid of forgetting.” / “He understood then. The Grisha lived as shadows, passing over the surface of the world, touching nothing. Forced to change their shapes and hide in corners, driven by fear as shadows were driven by the sun. No safe place. No haven.” / “There will be, he promised the darkness, words written upon his heart. I will make one.”

Him offering Alina his kvas. They drink from the same glass.

Sasha “no thoughts head empty only Alina” Morozova having to look away and calm himself when Alina licks her lips after drinking his kvas.

Literally his entire confrontation with Kaz. Absolutely hilarious. Local centuries old Black Heretic gets bested by a teenager with one (1) flash grenade.

“I never intended for it to be the blight it’s become.” - Genuine regret. A+++.

Asks Mal what Alina’s favorite flowers are and then gives them to her. Was it manipulative? Yes. Was it awful? Absolutely. Was it the funniest and smoothest shit I’ve ever seen? 100%. I laughed my ass off.

Alina: *enters the fete dressed in the black kefta* *Darkling.exe has stopped working*

This man takes one look at her lack of guards and goes: what’s more important than how beautiful the wifey looks? her safety. *protective bf mode initiated*

He admires how pretty he appears in the mirror of his room with absolutely zero shame and 100% pride. We stan a vain icon in this house💕. Also the mirror is in front of the bed?!?! 👀👀👀

His knife ring.

“You looked like you needed saving,” as fire plays across his features and he looks at Alina with an expression that makes my soul want to splinter into pieces. The implications, the pain.

Will display his complete and utter adoration for Alina in front of the entire Court including the King and Queen despite the fact that that is the worst thing he could possibly do in the political environment.

“No ordinary tracker. No ordinary girl. Orphans of Keramzin reunited. AdOrAbLe.” - How do you say you have issues without saying you have issues?

The way he eclipses Alina when he’s stepping down from the dais. The inherent romantic symbolism of the eclipse and what that means for him.

Him getting excited about the stag to the point where he’s eagerly rummaging through the maps on his table and urgently asking Mal tons of questions.

The five second delay in his thoughts as he processes that Mal isn’t cooperating. Poor guy really thought that everything was finally coming up Sasha for once.

He constantly uplifts Alina after Baghra’s emotional abuse. He constantly helps her with her self esteem and reassures her that she’s doing well and that she just needs more time.

“Yeah I don’t know what Baghra’s summoning ability is,” he said, like a liar.

Even after Baghra suggests that Alina left he doesn’t believe it. He has to hear it from Kaz after searching for ages before he finally begins to believe it.

“You smuggle Grisha out of MY PALACE!”

Titty grab during the kiss scene.

He lifts her up onto the table!!

Local whipped dark overlord gets excited that Fedyor has found Alina and has to suffer through the embarrassment of acting like a lovesick fool when he learns it’s just about Nina.

His relationship with Nikolai.

The fact that Alina’s scarf blows past him before they even meet.

The way he nods with such an understanding expression when the Conductor is lying his ass off as if he sympathizes with everything the other man is saying and isn’t secretly planning his elaborate murder.

Puppy dog eyes all the time.

Every time his smile is forced and ingenuine and he looks like he’s about to stab someone.

Every time his smile is genuine and he looks super soft and loving.

“You have no chance, ShAdoW mAn.” Literally how is he ever going to recover from this.

His hands motions when he summons. I just think they’re neat.

He kills the Conductor. Hated that guy. And he looked sexy as fuck doing it.

He hates the Druskelle, he hates the Ravkan monarchy. I can relate.

He’s NOT a bootlicker, unlike some.

Dad mode gets activated when David raises his hand. Aleksander just goes along with it like an exasperated father.

Ben Barnes nose scronch.

He begs for Luda’s life.

“Merzost feeds on us. I forbid it!” two seconds later *frantic rummaging through notes on the merzost* *reading the Forbidden Knowledge™ without any hesitation* *Immediate Disaster Occurs*

“Mom look what I made!” “Your art is atrocious and you’re no longer my son.”

His history was written by the victors. The tale of the Black Heretic is straight up propaganda by the corrupt monarchy.

Immortal old man caught in a young adult love triangle: I read your letters. Malyen “what the fuck is happening on this here day” Oretsev: ??!?!?!!! who even are you??

Aleksander admitting he needs Alina.

Darklina hand holds.

He did not have to make that episode eight hand-hold on the skiff so sensual but he did it anyways.

The way he hides under his cloak like a turtle when Jesper shoots at him.

He looks so awkward and isolated at the fete surrounded by all of those colorful nobles.

He’s always ready to murder a bitch and honestly I respect that.

Would kill for his gf.

That entire scene where he kisses Alina in the snow in the books like the most awkward motherfucker and then goes “wtf just happened?! Darkling out” before fleeing the scene of the Emotion.

He’s eternally confused by his feelings for Alina and it’s hilarious.

“Looking for trouble, and if I cannot find it I will create it.”

He’s basically just a moth attracted to a fatal light. RIP.

The way he throws open double doors like a man on a mission.

“Follow.”

He’s utterly precious and I would die for him. 🖤

[romanceimp]

Bitter Taste: Iwaizumi x f/reader Pt. 1

pt. 2 here

THIS IS SO LATE and I’m a fuck up hahahaha (kinda ironic this was 2 weeks late for Mental Health Awareness month) 

I am crediting my girl @kuso-deku for giving me Iwaizumi brain rot to begin with. I am also crediting @gixxie and @idonotagreebitch for helping me talk through my ideas... and crediting @doinmybesthere for the wonderful idea of a mental health awareness collaboration the link is here. PLS READ THE REST OF THE WORKS. Everyone deserves the love.

TW: manipulative male/female relationships, gaslighting?, subtle shit head crap that most men do (don’t worry Iwa is a peach as always tho, it’s Ushijima that’s the problem)

_ 

Iwaizumi stands and stretches in the cinema. The movie had been good, but long, he figured it was a little after midnight. “What’d ya think?” Kuroo asks as they exit the theatre. “I hated the ending…” Oikawa gripes, “I hate endings where everyone just dies.” “You are such a princess Tooru, I swear, it’s a metaphorical ending… did you not catch all the symbolism in the opening credits?” Iwaizumi sighs and turns his phone back on, trying his best to ignore their bickering. Slowly, notification after notification pops up… all from you. He blinks, surprised. You had declined his offer to join him for the film, stating you had previous plans attending a close friend’s birthday.

Iwa opens the messages from you. He sees first the selfies. You look beautiful, extravagant even. Your dress is beautiful, it compliments your figure perfectly with the corseted bodice. It’s white and so is your lace mask. Broad, feathered angel wings rest on your back. Angelic would have been a word he’d used to describe you before, but now, it was confirmed. He wants to keep staring at the photos but Kuroo and Oikawa are starting to become too curious about the contents of his phone. He scrolls and relaxes his face to look more casual. But it’s hard when your intoxicated messages are so darn cute.    

hope the movie is good!

okay so I guess there’s an open bar? Is it my birthday too?

if you wanna come by after the movie I’msure you coul

this partyyyy suckssssssss assssssssss

wish id gon wiht u xx

You are clearly drunk and he laughs to himself before Kuroo peers over his right shoulder. “Well she’s thinking about you at least,” he smirks. Oikawa peers over Iwaizumi’s left shoulder, “ooo play the voice message.” Oikawa taps the message before Iwaizumi can give him an answer.

“Hiiiii Iwaaaaaa, hope you like the moovie and you’re having a good time, cuz I’m having a preetyy good time, they gots free margaritaaass. Okay byeeeee”

The guys laugh and Oikawa presses the next one.

“Hey Iwaaa, I made up a song about you, ready?

Iwaizumi

Doesn’t know what he does- to me…

Sshfhsijknfhahaha I cant remember the rest som’n bout… som’n I dunno. Byeee”

“Okay, Ushi says that I need to say sorry for sending so many…” you pause and then whisper, “drunk messages, but I’as only tellin’ ya I ssink ‘r awesome ‘n you should totally come to this party and hang out with me… you’re awesome, okay byeee”

Oikawa and Kuroo pause and look at Iwaizumi. “Ushi?” Oikawa asks, “like Ushiwaka?” Oikawa’s eyes are narrowed and he gags dramatically in disgust. Iwaizumi nods and walks to exit the theatre. “Wait… that’s her friend who’s having the birthday party?” Iwa grimaces as Kuroo chuckles. “No wonder you’ve had a stick up your ass all night.” Iwa glares at him, “they’re just friends… apparently… I don’t know, she said they’ve known each other for a really long time…” Kuroo claps Iwaizumi on the back. “I think you should definitely go to the party.” Iwaizumi starts to object but the ring of his phone draws attention, and he answers it. “Heyyy you're outta th’moviee, heheeheheha,” you slur. Iwaizumi laughs softly and smiles, “yeah, I’m out of the movie now, are you… good?” There is so much background noise, it almost drowns out your sweet sleepy voice. “I’m soooo good… … I just-” he can hear your voice drop to a drunken whisper. “I’z just hoping to see you today,” you mumble finally.  

Iwaizumi can feel his heartbeat quicken, his head reeling. “Oh really?” He plays cool but then instantly regrets it when you give him a serious answer. “Yeah, I was really hoping you’d come to the party, even for just a little,” you murmur. Iwaizumi can’t help but chuckle. You were pretty cute like this, not normally so transparent. You were actually quite hard to read, so sweet but guarded and teasing too. You were a friend of Oikawa’s first and he had met you through him. He’d liked the way you sat cross legged on the couch smiling, chin in your hands while you asked questions and listened to his answers. Your eyes sparkle when you hear something you like, and your face lights up when you talk about things you find interesting.

“Ya don’t have to, I can just see ya another time,” you add. He’s been silent too long which causes him to speak without thinking. “No, I’d love to see you, I’ll head to you now.” Kuroo and Oikawa are silently cheering him on and Iwa turns away in embarrassment. “Really? Okay! I’ll drop my pin… as the kids are sayin’ these days hahaha.” “See you soon, drink some water okay?” “Mhm, I will, see ya soon!”

You were at a club owned by Ushijima’s family. A place called ‘Eagle’s Nest’. He’d only known you for a few weeks but he couldn’t help his infatuation. It was immediate, the night he had gone to Oikawas for game night. You spoke to him so easily not knowing him at all and laughed at his little side jabs to his long time friend. The way you looked at him… Iwa knew then that he wanted to see you smile, hear your laugh, and that he would be happy to assume the responsibility of making that happen.

He was surprised when you had declined his offer for the movie, feeling that you both had some definite chemistry, but Iwaizumi was even more surprised when you had said that you had prior plans with his old time rival Ushijima Wakatoshi. Iwaizumi hadn’t seen him since high school but they knew a few people in common, Oikawa being one of those people. Oikawa could sure hold a grudge but Iwaizumi took all of his comments with a grain of salt. Ushijima often came off entitled and cold, which would leave Iwaizumi with a bad taste in his mouth. Maybe Oikawa had the right idea holding a grudge… But grudge or not he wanted to see you, hear your voice and admire you all dolled up.

When Iwaizumi arrives at the club he is met with a large security guard. “Invitation?” he grumbles. Iwa remains calm but a small trickle of fear runs down his back. Iwaizumi gives the guard a casual smile before he starts to answer but he is interrupted. “Iwaaaaa,” you cry from the top of the stairs. The mask you’d had on is now resting on top of your head, the delicate features of your face now exposed. The floofy skirt of your dress bounces with your excitement as you run down the stairs. You crash into him, throwing your arms around his neck. You bury your face in his collar and still momentarily. Drunk and bubbly, you melt when Iwa wraps his arms around your waist in return, avoiding your costume’s wings. “Mmmm,” you hum, breath hot against his skin, “you smell good.” You pull back and stare into his wide eyes. “You look incredible,” he offers, a slight pink tint to his cheeks. You grin in return and simply take hold of his hand. “He’s with me,” you beam at the guard. Iwaizumi is doubtful this trick will work here. But he is surprised when the guard steps aside saying, “as you wish Miss L/N.” You giggle and pull Iwa towards the doors. “I’ll bring you some cake later, okay Jurou?” Jurou laughs, “just have fun darlin’.” “You’re the best,” you call behind you as you push open the doors. Iwaizumi can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy knowing that you are on a first name basis with one of the body guards at the Wakatoshi’s club. How close were you with Ushijima?    

Blue and purple lights illuminate the vast space while black tiles make up the main floor. The dance floor is sunken, in the middle of the club with a small set of stairs leading down to it. It’s made entirely of glass, beneath is a saltwater garden of different plants and coral.  

“You’ll need one of these,” you explain, swiping a simple black mask from the welcome table. You hand it over to him and pull yours down over your eyes. Iwaizumi adjusts it to where he can see. “You look so handsome,” you admire. He grins, “what about you? You’ve got wings!” You laugh and adjust your mask back on top of your forehead. “I’m a swan, and Ushi said I couldn’t be a swan without wings!” You spin for him, trying your best to flap the feathered wings. Small pieces of confetti glitter rain from the skirt of your dress. Iwaizumi takes in your face illuminated by the lights of the club. Blue and pink dancing over your cheeks as you smile up at him. “What?” you giggle nervously. Just a few weeks but he is mesmerised by your everything. He shakes his head and tries to move on. He wanted to tell you how he felt but this wasn’t the right time. It should be when you’re sober, when you can take in his words properly.

You coax him down towards the bar.  “You’re sure it’s okay to sneak in uninvited guests?” Iwa questions. “Well, I asked Ushi ‘nd he said it was okay, so yeah!” You grin but notice Iwaizumi’s reserve. “It’s really okay, I promise, let’s just get a drink,” you suggest and take his hand. “Only if you drink more water,” he smirks. You roll your eyes at Iwa, “I drank some water before you got here actually.” You look back at him as you both head down to the bar. “I’ll prolly regret that yurr seeing me like this tamorow, ya know,” you call over the blaring music. “It’s cute, you’re cute,” he assures as he leans against the bar, “I didn’t know you thought about me this much until I saw all the snapchats and voice messages and texts.” You cover your face in humiliation, “I knowww, I’m sorry but you were on my mind a lot, alot alot, and  couldn’t stop think about ya, and the booze told me to keep on messaging…” You trail off,  finding the last shred of your filter to keep you from talking.  The bartender hands you your water and you take a long drink.

“Iwaizumi,” a voice projects over the baseline. Ushijima stands tall advancing towards where you both stand. His expression is neutral though, his eyes keep darting to you and then back to Iwaizumi. Ushijima is dressed as a knight, his silver mask hangs languidly around his neck. “Ushiwaka,” Iwa acknowledges, “this is a hell of a birthday party.” You giggle and point at Ushiwaka, “he’s 28 today; getting sooo old.” In that moment, Iwaizumi watches him do something he had never seen him do before. Smile… and then laugh. Ushijima wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer.  “You’re just a baby,  you’re only-” You wave your hand in front of Ushiwaka’s face, shushing him. “No, no, Iwa doesn’t knowww, don’t tell him,” you plead. “She’s only 23,” Ushiwaka says. You hold your face in your hands once more and groan. Ushijima pulls your hands from your face, “just barely twenty three too.” You glare at him and look back at Iwaizumi embarrassed.  “Did she not tell you her age?” Ushijima asks Iwaizumi. Iwa shrugs, “She didn’t, but I never asked,” Iwa shrugs casually, addressing you now, “didn’t seem important since you carry yourself so well.”

You turn to Iwa, mouth open like you’re about to respond but Ushijima swipes the glass from your hands before you can finish. “Drinking water?” You look up at him. “But it’s my birthday… and this is a party…  you need something stronger…” Ushijima beacons the bartender with a single flick of his hand. The barman pours three double shots of a clear liquid from a foreign looking bottle. Ushijima takes a glass and hands it to you, before handing another to Iwaizumi. Ushijima gives him a wink as he loops his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He raises his glass, the violet lights illuminating the liquid. Iwaizumi follows his lead. “To my Juliet, the belle of the ball,” Ushijima bellows. You smile slightly and shake your head. “No no, to you Ushi, it’s your birthday, not mine, we are celebrating you!” Your eyes find Iwa’s, but you leave your glass raised. Ushijima grabs hold of your hand that’s still wrapped around the glass. “Cheers,” He tips the glass towards your lips and you swallow the clear liquor as he feeds it to you. You down it all in one go and Ushiwaka smiles wide once again. “She’s good, huh?” With that, Ushiwaka clinks his glass to Iwaizumi’s, “to you brother,” he assures. Iwa is surprised with the sudden sentiment. “And to you,” he replies before downing the shot. The liquor is surprisingly smooth, expensive, and strong. Iwa can feel his head starting to get light from the small portion that was in the glass and Iwa wasn’t a light weight. “Strong huh?” Ushijima smirks. Iwaizumi nods then turns to the bartender to signal for a water.

Ushijima turns to where you stand swaying slightly with the music. “Look at her, she gets drunk so easily,” Ushijima smiles. “How are you feeling, princess?” he shouts over at you. Iwa turns away and downs his water in disgust. ‘Princess?’ Ushijima shouldn’t be calling you that if you’re both just friends. You blink and give him a smile and a thumbs up. There was a natural innocence about you, a childlike wonder and curiosity, the embodiment of sanguine. Ushijima’s air was sometimes sinister, like he was taking advantage of your natural trusting nature. Iwa watches as Ushijima’s large hands rest on either of your shoulders and he pushes you back and forth like a pendulum between his palms. You giggle and try to push him away, “Ushi stooopp.” He laughs with you and continues pushing you around, “you’re so cute and small though, see?” He places a hand on top of your head and you still. “I said to stop,” you mumble. “And I did,” he retorts before letting you go.

Iwa watches the sudden weight of gravity find you as you stumble in your heels. He catches your arm just in time. Your arms find their way around his neck once more, your face in the crook of his neck. You pull away and Iwa examines your foggy eyes. “You okay?” You nod, pushing off of Iwa’s chest. You fix your hair, “it’s fine, he just messin’” you turn to Ushijima, “and someone doesn’t know when to quit.” You’re pulled away into Ushiwaka’s arms. He sways you back and forth, your back held against his chest while he says soft apologies. He whispers something to you and you nod. Iwaizumi wanted to pull you away from him. Not because he was jealous, but because the way that Ushiwaka was behaving with you was odd.

“Y/n is a little bit tired, why don’t you join us in VIP?” Iwa smiles and gives his thanks, trying his best to hide his scowl. Iwa follows after you and Ushiwaka, upstairs and under velvet ropes hoping that he will find a good moment to pull you away. But instead you are pulled onto the couch beside Ushiwaka. He lights a cigar and offers one to Iwa, but Iwaizumi declines with a simple, “no thanks, don’t smoke.” It’s strange the way that Ushiwaka keeps whispering in your ear, giving you sips of his drinks, and blowing smoke in your face. “Ushi, stop please, the smell is making me sick,” you whine. But he just pulls you closer to him, chuckling all the while and does it again. You’re laughing and poking his face, but it’s not out of joy... Watching Ushijima interact with you the whole night has been like watching a cat toy with a mouse.

Iwa grimaces when Ushiwaka tickles you. “Stop-stop-don’t-stop,” you giggle and howl. “She said to stop!” Iwa raises his voice. Ushijima’s eyes shoot towards Iwaizumi while you squirm off the couch. Your eyes are heavy as you walk towards a dark hallway and disappear into the shadows. Iwa’s eyes flick to the entrance to the hall. Ushiwaka sits in a contented silence, sipping a drink, “she’s so dramatic,” he sighs. He continues smoking, arm rested over the back of the purple velvet sofa. Ushijima takes a sip of his drink, swirling the ice in his glass. Iwa doesn’t move to break the silence no matter how expectant Ushijima’s expression was. He stamps out his cigar in the tray before addressing him.

“She’s awfully talkative, and incredibly fond of you…” Ushijima starts, an odd smirk painting his expression. Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow in intrigue and Ushijima’s face hardens. “She won’t shut up about you since she met you… it’s annoying...” Iwaizumi, remains quiet, the silence settling over the men like a thick fog. The only sounds are muffled club music and the ice tinkling against Ushijima’s glass. “I’m going to be honest as a friend… bad idea.” Iwaizumi can feel the rage bubbling inside his gut, “I don’t think that what’s going on between us is any of your-” He’s cut off by Ushijima.

“I’m really looking out for you Iwaizumi, girls can break hearts and Y/n is kind of known for that… she’s just a sweet soul, makes friends easily, but love? That’s harder for her… doesn’t have the best taste in men I’m afraid, I want to protect her and you from a situation where I can already see the conclusion… I get that you like her, everyone does.”  Iwazumi leans forward, “does that include you?” Ushijima is stone faced, then gives a cold laugh. “You’re funnier than I remember, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi rises and heads towards the hall you disappeared down. If he sat in front of him any longer he was going to say something he regretted… and you still haven’t come back. He slips into the dark hallway as you’re exiting the bathroom. Your mask has been removed and even in the dim lighting you look pale. “Hey, what’s happened?” You look up at him embarrassed, your dress almost as wilted as you are. “Got sick…” you mutter. You’re shaking slightly, arms wrapped around yourself. “Oh Y/n, are you alright?” he sighs. His arm starts to reach for you but he thinks better of it, pulling it back to rest by his side. His eyes widen as he feels the warmth of your hand in his. He didn’t figure that you would want to be touched right now. But your fingers interlace with his,  your skin soft. “Are you good to drive?” you whisper. His hand instinctively tightens around yours protectively. “I only had whatever Ushijima gave us, it was strong but I’ve had water- yeah I’m good.” “Would you mind taking me home?” you ask, as you start to walk back towards the VIP room. “Sure, course,” Iwaizumi replies gently. He feels how your thumb brushes over the back of his hand in silent gratitude. The gesture has his heart beating hard against his ribs. Iwa walks forward, his eyes on you and nothing else. Your brow is furrowed and your expression painted serious which was unusual from how he knew you to act.

“Iwa’s taking me home now,” you announce and walk towards the stairs. Ushiwaka’s face hardens, “I can take her home, you shouldn’t trouble yourself,” he addresses Iwaizumi. You smile and turn around facing Ushiwaka. “But Ushi, ‘s ur birthday, you can’t leave this party jus’ ‘a take me home,” You turn to Iwa now. “Let’s go,” you say and Iwa nods, still holding your hand.  “Where’s my hug, princess?” Ushijima calls after you. You stop in your tracks and close your eyes, taking in a deep breath. You drop Iwa’s hand slowly, hesitantly. You walk back slowly and stand before his open arms. He lifts you and you groan. You’re still hugging him tightly but not quite with the same intimacy as before.

As Ushijima places you down you turn to look back at Iwa when Ushijima catches your face with his large hand. He coaxes your face back towards him then leans down. Ushiwaka locks eyes with Iwaizumi as he whispers something in your ear. Then he presses his lips to your cheek, still not moving his eyes away from Iwaizumi’s. Iwa tries his best to remain neutral but he can feel his lip creeping upwards in contempt. Ushiwaka is too prideful for his own good it seems.

You take Iwa’s hand again, leading him towards the exit. An exasperated look rests on your face. “What did he say to you?” Iwa asks. You sigh and shake your head. “‘S nothin’,  ya shouldn’t worry your pretty lil head ‘bout it.” Iwa can’t help but allow a smile. He raises an eyebrow at you, “think my head is pretty?” he asks. He’s met with your hazy gaze, “I do,” you say simply. Iwa wasn’t prepared for such a straightforward answer to his question.

Once out of the club, the valet pull Iwaizumi’s car around. He’s careful not to let you walk too far on your own. Sick, in those ridiculous shoes and still quite drunk, he opens the car door for you before hopping into the driver's seat. “Will you put your address in?” Iwa hands you his phone and you type it in as asked. “Thanks for doing this,” you sigh. “Yeah of course,” he says as he puts the car into gear. A few streets of city light pass by in silence. Your hands are resting in your lap but your body is still trembling. “I can- umm- pull over if you need me to…” You wave the thought away with your hand, “it was the smell of the cigar more than anything…” Iwa’s gut begins to boil again. Your voice is soft, almost defeated. He speaks before thinking better of it. “Does he always treat you like that?” You look at Iwa and make eye contact briefly before his attention is back on the road. “He was being a little extra weird today, maybe because y’all used to play volleyball together or… I dunno really, he just gets like that sometimes…” You trail off, allowing your thoughts to fade into the rearview. The silence is deafening and you feel the need to break it. “He’s really nice too though, don’t get me wrong, he cooks for me and calls to check in, he even gets me little gifts, so I know he cares.” Iwa shakes his head, “if he cared he would have stopped when you asked him to.” You take a breath, “I know but he was just having a night I guess…” Iwa pulls into your driveway as the GPS notifies him that he has ‘arrived at the destination’. He puts the car in park, “you don’t have to make excuses for him… it’s okay to be angry, if that’s how you feel.” You start to open the door, your fingers on the handle. “I’m not angry though, I’m just kinda hurt.” You open the door and start to get out, “okay, maybe a little angry too.” You laugh to yourself but not out of joy. It’s an ironic laugh and Iwa can hear the pain ringing inside of it. “Let me walk you inside.”  

[starrybouquet]

On Seasons 9 and 10 of Stargate SG1

A note: I wrote a series of essays several weeks ago, when I was feeling particularly crappy. I'm not particularly proud of them--they're pretty dramatic--but they do explain several of my more personal fandom feelings. I know I don't always tend to be the best at explaining things on the spot, so I'm posting these with the hope that I can refer people to them the next time that happens.

Um, I mentioned they're a little dramatic. I'm really, really sorry about that. But hey, if I can't be dramatic on Tumblr, in fandom, where else is that gonna go?

But still - if you're feeling a little sensitive today, maybe you wanna skip this. Or not. Just a light warning. :)

This piece is on seasons 9 and 10 of Stargate SG1, but they aren't all Stargate-related. I'll be posting them in the next few days, hopefully.

To those of you who like s9-10: I have nothing against you. Some of you I know better, some less well. In general, though, I like you, you seem like fine people. This is not about you, I hold nothing against you for liking those seasons. In fact, I envy you. This is more a personal post about why I'm an idiot. If you want, feel free to scroll down past this. I won't be offended. I'd put it under the cut but I'm on mobile.

Okay. Why, hello, those of you willing to read this rant...

No matter how much I denounce and ignore it, I cannot get past the pain of seasons 9 and 10 of Stargate SG-1. I've never watched them in full. Seen a few episodes here and there.

I cannot, repeat, CANNOT stand the thought today. It hurts.

It's an old pain, and it's not just SG1. SG1 is just one of the highlights in a long line of books and shows that have repeatedly broken my heart by being SO GOOD and then taking an, uh, precipitous right turn, shall we say. Because a hard right seems too kind, and a precipitous drop too harsh.

I love SG1. I love love love it. I like the plots and I love the science, but what I really fell in love with was the characters.

I loved all of them. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: if Sam, Daniel, or Teal'c had been on any other show, I guarantee you they would have been my favorite by far. Jack is just so...Jack that he has to be my favorite. That's SG1 for you.

I've never had super close friends. I have good RL friends, don't get me wrong. They're nice people. But we don't have much in common.

That's okay. That's been my experience forever--really nice folks who maybe didn't always get me or have anything to say to me, but were good, decent people.

And this is good. Really, it is. It's just that SG-1, for me, has always represented the promise that there *are* people out there that are your true friends, and you will do brave and brilliant things with them. It will happen.

It's naive, I know. But I haven't been able to let it go. Maybe someday. But not right now.

Which brings me to s9-10 of SG1. It hurts.

It hurts that SG1 scattered to the wind.

It hurts that they sent Jack away from a place where he was happy, where he'd found friends and meaning in life again, away to fucking DC. To be...what? A politician? I could write a whole post just about this. Actually, I have. I could still write more posts about it!

It hurts that Sam went to Area 51, and nobody seemed to mind, the 'Gate didn't spontaneously combust as we were always led to believe it would.

It hurts that Daniel's personality supposedly changed that much, in the absence of his friends. Though some of his lines are funny, they aren't the earnest, idealistic, thoughtful Daniel I fell in love with. I get the idea that new-look Daniel would roll his eyes at s3-8 Daniel, and beat up floppy hair Daniel. And floppy hair Daniel is my baby and anyone who doesn't appreciate his brilliance can face my wrath. That includes you, buff s9-10 Daniel, and also whoever decided/approved that change in characterization.

Really, the only one who doesn't hurt is Teal'c. Because it feels like he's moving forward, toward happiness.

So...here we are. Season 9. Mitchell, Landry.

I often say I hate Mitchell. Do I resent him for replacing Jack? Yes. I do. We can talk about plot reasons and all that, but at the end of the day, I was going to hate anyone who tried to be Jack.

This is true in real life, too. You can't try to be anyone else. You've gotta walk your own path.

Now, people say that I didn't give Mitchell a chance. I say that the way he was portrayed, in the few episodes I've seen, tells me enough.

I can think of lots of ways Mitchell could have been interesting. How would Daniel and Teal'c react to an old, actually bad tempered (not Jack bad tempered, actually bad tempered) hardass after eight years of their best friends leading them? Or--start with his actual character. Mitchell, he hasn't been at the SGC. Wouldn't he get some flack from the longtime team leaders of SGs 2-5ish? They'd be insulted, right?

Or we could've gotten a nice Daniel Teal'c episode arc and then we could've had one Samantha Carter as team leader, though we won't get into that.

Bringing me to my next point. Co-leads?? Seriously?? You're trying too hard, folks. Telling me Sam used to know Mitchell does not actually make me like him.

Same thing with Landry. Unlike Mitchell, I guess I don't really have an opinion on Landry. He's just....there? No character development for this man.

Anyway, back to the team.

One of the things I love about SG1 is how the humor and friendship was so damn natural. Other than a few episodes (Urgo comes to mind), the plots weren't intentionally humorous. They were campy sci-fi plots sometimes, sure. They were funny because Jack was funny, yeah. They were lower budget than some other sci-fi. But they were as serious as sci-fi gets. It was how the characters reacted that made it funny.

Similarly, we were never told SG1 were found family. We just Knew. Because of the way they acted with each other. Because of the way Jack would "order" them to do things.

And hey, by the way, they weren't always family. Sam used to be less willing to ignore Jack. Daniel used to be less willing to trust Teal'c. Jack used to be a little more stern.

So...they meshed together. Like all found families do.

Every time I see a photo of new-look SG1 in seasons 9 and 10, I can't help but feel that they're trying too hard. I don't get the family feel because they aren't a family, damn it. It doesn't matter how many times you *tell* me they're super close. One of the reasons the original team got so close is because they all needed each other. Jack was depressed, Daniel was grieving, Sam was alone and had lost her mom and wasn't speaking with her dad and had never opened up to anyone in her life, Teal'c was an alien fighting for freedom after spending 100 years essentially as a slave.

And partly because of that, by season 9? Daniel and Teal'c (and Sam, when she comes back) don't need a family the way they used to. They have each other. They have Jack, or at least they *should*. *Glares in angry at Jack in DC vibes*

So...they simply don't have the relationship with Mitchell they do with each other.

It'd be different if Mitchell needed a family. It's not that SG1 hasn't added people before--I think Jonas is a perfect example of this. He wasn't Daniel, and that always hurt. But he was young, and naive, and innocent, and he needed SG1 because he'd left everything he'd ever known.

And that worked.

Without needing family, Mitchell is just a coworker. He can be a friendly coworker. A friend. But if he wanted to become better friends, family, he needed to show depth and vulnerability. He needed to need SG1.

And he never does, from what I've seen and heard about and read about. Or if he does need SG1, he doesn't need them badly enough to show more than an occasional bout of thoughtfulness before returning to his normal pale-Jack-imitation ways.

Now, I don't know why that is. I lean toward bad writing. I haven't watched Farscape (it's on my to watch list) but it seems like Ben Browder is a fine actor.

So, seasons 9 and 10 are probably fine TV. I'm never going to watch them through, so don't ask. I've tried and failed and every time it just tears my heart a little more and I'm won't be doing it again.

Those seasons...they just lost everything I watch SG-1 for, and so...yeah. I feel the hate strongly. Not because they're bad--I think they're different, not necessarily bad. My hate is only because in creating those seasons, they tore down the parts of SG1 that I loved most.

So s9-10 show me a few nice hugs and laughs? That's nice. I like comedies, I do. However...that's not my Stargate. Not the one I love. I liked the sarcastic one, the one full of wonder, the one where they had to scrape and claw their way through the galaxy with naivety and courage and brilliance. The one where they ate together, fought together, died together, were resurrected together.

It hurts, man. It hurts when the things I love turn into something that's lukewarm. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

That's why we have fanfic. And, with any luck, I'll actually start that AU I've been talking about.

It's fanfic, and so it'll be my Stargate. The ending I wanted--which really wasn't an ending at all, more of a closure of one chapter of the story.

Damn, did that turn dramatic. Um, sorry about that, and also sorry for spilling my feelings all over you guys. Thanks for reading, if you got to the end of this.

[maisondenachtai]

Thanksgiving at Home (The Re-Up)

plot: a loving shot at my family through the eyes of Chris Evans and Reader.

a/n: ....I’m stupid. Thanks anon who told me that Boston was not in Maine. ...i feel like an idiot.

               “No. It’s your turn.”

               You couldn’t deny it. It was an absolute fact that according to the terms of your agreement that it was, in fact, your turn.

               In the beginning of your relationship, which had started three years ago, holidays had always been a source of frustration. He was from the north, Massachusetts, and you were from the south, Georgia. You wanted to see your family, and he desperately needed to hug his mom.

               So, you decided to split the holiday, you would go home to Georgia and he would go back to Massachusetts. After that first year, you would flip flop who you spent holidays with. That meant that the next year you spent Thanksgiving in Boston with him, and Christmas at home in Georgia with your mother and Sister.

               So yes, that meant it was your turn to spend Thanksgiving with your family. But that didn’t mean you had to be happy about it.

“Seriously, we don’t have to do Thanksgiving in Georgia. I’ll take Christmas again. It’s nicer.” You were sitting on the bed, looking at his half-packed suitcase, Dodger laying next you, his eyes moving to and fro watching his Dad pack a bag of clothes.

“If I wasn’t sure that you loved me, I’d really think you didn’t want me in Georgia.” He looked back at you, a smirk on his handsome face. “You got an old boyfriend you don’t want me to meet there.”

“A? Many. And who said they were old boyfriends. Maybe I’m still seeing them.” You smirked back at him. You couldn’t help but fall into games with your man, even though you were far from light and joyous.

“Watch it.” He pointed at you with a mock serious look on his face. “I hate to have to fight them.”

“I doubt you could take them.” You looked up in the air. “One was a football player; he’s actually playing for the Falcons now.”

Chris looked back at you, a white button down in his hands. “Are you serious?”

You nodded, “Oh yeah. He actually sends me tickets from time to time. There’s actually a game on thanksgiving! Maybe we should go. I’ll send him an email.” You stood up, to grab your laptop.

“Y/n, so help me, I will throw that piece of tin out of the window.” He said, a smile threatening to burst onto his serious face. “Stop fucking with me.”

“I’m not. We should go to a game. We’re going to be in Atlanta anyway. …you know unless we go to Boston.”

Suddenly his eyes lowered and he shook his head, folding the shirt in half and walking towards his open luggage. “Dodger.”

The dog barked softly.

“Tell your mom that she’s got to try a lot harder to get one over on me.”

You rolled your eyes, flopping back onto the bed. You laid back and Dodger took this change to take a position on your stomach, making himself comfortable. “This is so stupid.”

“I mean, you know we bought the tickets, already right? So, the time for you to try all of this plan changing would have been a month ago.” He sat next to you running his hand over Dodger’s body. “And you were so fucking excited. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. …Nothing. I’m just nervous.”

“Why? I’ve met your family.”

You sat up, making sure to do so slowly so Dodger could adjust himself accordingly. “You’ve met my Sisters, their boyfriends, and her mom. Not my family.”

Chris looked at you, “I’m failing to see the problem. So we do some introductions and get to know each other? What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal Christopher Robert Evans-“You had hopped up, Chris grabbing Dodger before you flung him towards in the wall in your movement.

“Ooh Dodger, she used the government name. She’s serious.”

You tried hard not to smile, but couldn’t stop the thing from breaking your serious expression. “Stop it. I’m serious.”

“I know.” He smiled at you, and then rolled his hand around as if to say continue. “Come on lay it on me.”

“I’m from Georgia.”

His eyes shifted from side to side, as if the answer to his confusion was in the room. “I’m from Massachusetts…so what?”

“No, you don’t get it. I’m from Georgia…not Atlanta. My family is from Georgia. There’s a difference.”

In silence of the moment, Dodger slipped out of Chris’ arms into the living room. Chris folded his arms, looking at you.

“…If I get what you’re being obtuse about. You’re trying to say that you don’t want me meeting your overall wearing, one tooth, inbred, backwoods cousins.” He had that smirk again. You wanted to both kiss him and wipe it off of his face.

“Hey! None of my cousins are any of that.”

“Okay then, so what’s the problem.”

               You sighed and sat down, and he pulled you closer to him. You placed your face in his neck, his gold chain pressing slightly against your nose.

“I’m not embarrassed by them…” You said a little muffled by his body. “I just want to say that.”

“Okay… I’m listening.”

You sighed again, pulling back from him. “…It’s just…like…okay. Your family, like the house was put together and everyone was sitting around the table. We passed plates and it was all very nice.”

“Okay, and at Christmas at your mom’s we sat around the table and we didn’t pass plates but no one needs to do that. It was nice too.”

“But it’s not going to be like that at Thanksgiving Chris. Most of my immediate family will be there. The table we at for Christmas will be covered in food. We’re going to walk around the table buffet style, and everyone’s going to sit around the house, wherever they can fit. There will be no real plates, no real spoons. There’s probably going to be a kids area that will be messy.”

“Kids are messy everywhere baby.”

“I’m not done. There will be foreign foods. Oxtails, and chitterlings. Dressing…not stuffing.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“It is not!” You shook your head. “It’s totally different. There are going to be several things going on too. My uncle is going to sit in the middle of the room, with tequila, a lime, and he’s going to tell stories we’ve all heard 18 million times. He’s going to curse and we’re all going to be annoyed. My younger cousins are going to sneak out of the house, stand in a huddle behind the house and smoke weed, and talk about us old folks. My grandma is going to get drunk on Sparkling Cider, and probably try to flirt with you, and you better flirt back Chris.”

He chuckled then rubbing your back, “Of course I will. Now are you-“

“And I haven’t even told you about Spades.”

“Spades?” He found your eyes. “Like the card game.”

“Yeah. Spades goes down at Thanksgiving, and it is SERIOUS Chris. It’s like war, but less civilized.”

He rolled his eyes and stood up walking back into the closet, “You’re being dramatic now.”

“I’ve seen my cousin pull a gun out on somebody who reneged. I SEENT IT.”

“So okay, I won’t play spades.”

“What? And look like a bitch in front of all my cousins. You’ll never live it down. They’ll be at our wedding giving a toast like, ‘Hey Chris is a cool white dude, but he still a bitch cause he won’t play Spades with us’. I don’t want to be the cousin who married a white dude who won’t play spades. I can’t do it. I’ll be the black sheep.”

Chris gripped your shoulders, forcing you to look up at him. “Breathe baby.”

And you did.

“Again. Good and deep.”

And you did again.

“You feel better?”

You did, so you nodded.

“Good. Now, I’m saying this because I love you.” He grabbed your shoulders and shook you back and forth. “You’re acting like a nut.”

“I know. I know.” You said when he let you go. “I just want them to like you.”

He kissed your forehead. “They will like me. I mean how could they not first of all?” He grinned at you making you roll your eyes. He smoothed his hand down the side of your face, “And even if they don’t like me right away, they’ll grow to like me. And if they don’t…” He kissed you softly, soundly. “It doesn’t matter. I love you. You love me. And that’s all that matters. Okay?”

You closed your eyes, nodding. “Okay.”

“Say it.” He commanded gently.

“I love you. You love me. That’s all that matters.” You opened your eyes and your irises met his, you felt calmer.

“Good.” He smiled. “Now pack, boarding is at 8.”

--

               Atlanta never failed to take your breath away. It was so familiar, yet every time you returned there was always something new being built or done. You pointed out so many spots that you wanted to see before you returned to Los Angeles, and Chris made sure to note them all down on his phone wanting you to enjoy your time home as much as you could.

               After your father died, your mother decided that the deep south had nothing to offer you and your sisters anymore and decided to uproot you from all that you knew. Suddenly you were nearly two hours from the bulk of your family, living in a suburb of Atlanta that you knew no one in. It wasn’t your home at first, but eventually you had come to love Atlanta as much as you loved your little small town in Southern Georgia.

               As you came closer to your neighborhood you began to point of places of significance.

“There used to be this spot right there. Oh my god, they used to have the best hot wings. Like everyone tends to rave over American Deli, but they had better wings than anything I’ve ever tasted.” You said as you passed a spot that was under construction.

As you passed through the opening of the subdivision of your neighborhood, you smiled and pointed at the sign. “The neighborhood kids all used to hang around that sign. I had my first real kiss right there.”

Chris raised one of his eyebrows, “Real kiss?”

You smirked, “Tongue.”

He chuckled. “How old were you?”

“13.”

“Weak. I was 12.”

“Lie.”

“It is not a lie.”

“Chris, you’re about to pass it.”

“Shit!” He pressed on breaks, making you skid slightly to a stop a few inches away from your house.

               There were cars parked along the side of the road, a few on the grass without care to your mom’s poor lawn. You figured you’d be a little late, traffic was heavy, the airport had been busy of course, but …this was a Black family thanksgiving. 1 meant 3, not 2:30.

“Fuck. We’re walking right into it.” You said, sighing.

“Will you calm down? It’s fine. I’m fine. You’re definitely fine.” He waggled his eyebrows a little making you smile and then really smile when his eyes traveled down your white knit sweater dress covered body to the camel colored knee-high boots that he nearly begged you to wear.

You reached over and adjusted the collar of his white cable knit crew neck under his camel colored jacket. He wore a pair of khaki trousers, that you thought gave him an air of formal to go with his more casual upper attire. “You’re pretty fine too.” You smiled and leaned over to kiss him-

Thump.

But you jumped instead when your sister appeared at your window, somehow sneaking up on you. You rolled your eyes, sighing and rolling down the window.

“Hello Cassie.”

“Hello Y/n.” She grinned. “Hey Chris, I’m so happy my sister is no longer hiding your beauty from the world.”

“Hey Cass. Glad to see you again.”

“Glad to see you too.” She smirked.

You thumped her forehead, “What did I say about flirting with my boyfriend?”

“Don’t do it when you’re around?” She joked.

“Wrong, you little bitch.”

She laughed.

You grinned too. “Where’s Falen?”

“Feeding Cam. He’s so chunky.”

“I can’t wait to hold him.” You smiled at Chris. He grinned back at you. You had been talking about kissing all over your nephew for a month now.

“Well if you stop hiding in this…very nice car. You can. Come on Chris, everyone is really excited to meet you.”

               And just like that you were following behind your boyfriend and your little sister into what could be a doomed thanksgiving from hell. You nervously followed them into the house, not joining in on the conversation as Chris and Cassie talked about politics. Turning without much fuss, as Chris took off your duster and hung it in the closet, doing the same with his jacket.

You only followed numbly as you walked through the opening to your home, heart beating faster as the sounds of your family got louder. Just as it was at it’s peak, you gripped Chris’s hand, stopping in your tracks therefore stopping him.

He looked back at you, Cassie kept walking still somehow talking about how Biden was not the President we wanted or needed. You looked up at him, not able to say anything only looking up at him with wide eyes.

His lips were on your forehead quickly, placing three kisses in succession, one there, then your nose, and finally your lips. Silently he reassured you that things would be fine, and together you stepped through the threshold into your family room.

               Gatherings could be a lot for you. In a lot of the memories of the gatherings attended by you in your youth, you could only remember being a fly on the wall. Choosing to instead be passive instead of active like your sisters and your cousins. You weren’t anti-social, but you felt more comfortable laughing at the jokes then trying to tell them.

As you grew it got a little better, but you never felt quite comfortable in big group of people. In fact, after an event such as this one, you often needed to sleep for a long time. When you told Chris this before your first Thanksgiving with his family, he admitted to being kind of the same. He might not need to sleep after a big event, but he wasn’t quite the social butterfly either. It made you happy that he understood when you had to excuse yourself from drinking eggnog with the family late into the night. It made you even happier when he told you the next morning that his family understood too.

               With your family it was much of the same, your family understood that you weren’t the loudest and most of the time they were too busy being loud themselves to need you to be just as loud as them. It was just enough for you to be there sharing in the love of the family.

But not this time.

This time all the attention was on you and it was time to speak up.

               “So, Chris…where did you two meet?” The slight drawl of your Aunt cut through the sounds of The Temptations singing Silent Night, a favorite of your mom’s anytime of year…obviously.

“Uh, she…I mean Y’N was a consultant on a movie I was doing. I saw her and she was too beautiful for me not to get to know. So I asked her out for coffee.” He smiled at you then. “She said no.”

“You said no?” One of your male cousins, Taylor, called out. “Shiiit, if I was a girl I would have jumped on his ass.” He sucked his teeth. “Hell, shit, I’d jump right now. He got hella money.”

The room erupted into laughter and all of sudden the ice was broken. Chris was no longer an interloper…well he was, but he was no longer covered in plastic. He could be touched, he could be handled, he could be interwoven into the group.

You sighed, a little of your worry dissipating.

Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad.

                 To his credit, if anything was making him feel uncomfortable, he was taking it in stride. Chris had enjoyed when all your little cousins came up to him and asked him questions about Captain America, and asked if he was always Captain America or just on TV. You could tell because when he smiled, his face creased. He even did a few poses for them, which they loved.

When one of your cousins, Devontae, came over to Chris with a bottle of something clear and a smile you knew that this one would be a little harder. But again, he took it in stride as Devontae pitched him an idea of a TV show with talking Weed Plants, kind of like Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Chris simply smiled through it, shaking his head when you made eyes at him obviously getting the message that you could save him if he wanted you to. After Devontae walked away needing to captivate the attention of at least 5 other people in the room.

He was considerably more relaxed in a group of the male cousins you had grown up around. They had formed a sort of semi-circle, Chris in the middle with a long neck beer in his hand, nodding at what ever George had to say.

“Chris is doing good.” Falen said, leaning over slightly, adjusting Camden’s bib while he was in your arms.

“Yeah. He’s really fitting in.” You smiled and then cooed at Cam bouncing on his knee. “I want to take him home.”

“He’s yours. I’ll sign the papers today.” Falen joked. “So, it’s serious then.”

“What?”

“What?” Falen mimicked you, rolling your eyes reminding you of yourself. “You and Chris.”

“You know it’s serious Fay.” You mom chimed in. “She brought him home.”

“I brought him to Christmas last year.”

“Thanksgiving is different and you know it.” Your mom said pointing her wine glass in your direction.

“I told him that.” You mumbled, looking down at Camden who only looked back up you with sweet innocent brown eyes.

“Well I’m glad you are trying to lock him down. You two match, you know.” Falen grinned.

“And the matching outfits were just the right touch.” Cassie chimed in smirking at you.

You flipped her off, discreetly. Your grandma was still in front of you…although already sleeping.

“Shut up Cassie.” Falen chuckled. “Seriously. …I think he might propose soon.”

You chuckled shaking your head, “Nah. I don’t think so.”

Falen grinned, “If you say so little sis.” She patted her knee and then looked around. “Ma! When’s the food going to be ready. You said 1!”

“You know that means 3. Don’t get brand new in front of Chris.” You smirked.

               The spread of food was glorious. A beautiful turkey, a delicious ham from Honeybaked Ham cause no one had perfected the art of making a good ham, a huge pan of cornbread dressing collectively called dressing, two pans of Macaroni and Cheese cause one pan never survived your family’s greedy hands, turnips, collard greens and cabbages, cornbread muffins, hoe cakes, yams with marshmallow topping (your Auntie’s one and only dish that tasted okay), and a plate of various pieces of fried chicken. But none of this would be complete without your mother’s potato salad.

It was a feast to end all feasts. A dinner you dreamed about. You would have cried if it wouldn’t have made you look crazy. Chris held two thick paper plates, one for him and one for you, while you held Cam who you were never going to give back. You patted the baby’s back, he had just had a bottle full of milk thickened with a little baby rice, a special treat for Thanksgiving (it was your grandma’s idea).

“Come on little Cam, burp. Chris, more dressing. That’s not enough. It’s gotta be nearly half the plate. And you gotta put the cranberry sauce on top.” You said.  It was comical to watch Chris hold his plate, your plate, and also try to ladle dressing onto a plate.

“Here.” You chuckled holding out Cam. “You hold my new baby. And I’ll make our food.”

“No, wait. I need to ask your sister if I can hold him first.” He said looking around for Falen.

“It’s fine, you won’t drop him cause if you do I’ll kill you.” You smirked at him.

“I need to wash my hands.”

You rolled your eyes, “Now who’s acting like a nut.” You took one plate from him then the other sitting them down and then walked into his personal space. He opened up for you almost cradling you and Cam.

“Now I know you have held a baby before, so don’t freak out now.” You handed him off to Chris and he instantly held the Camden in his arms, supporting him as Cam settled in the crook of his neck. You looked at the sight, your man holding a little brown boy, and you could almost imagine that Camden was your baby.

Your stomach flip flopped, and you gnawed down on your lip at the sight.

Chris smirked, knowing exactly what was on your mind. “Make the food.”

“I am. I am.” You chuckled, not daring to look at any of your family members.

“Ohhhhh, we’re making plates now. Okay, Y’n!” Julie, your Aunt’s daughter called out, making you chuckle in embarrassment.

Making plates had a lot of connotations in black families. It all but signaled that Chris was your man and you were totally subservient to him.

“You want some yams baby?” You said putting on a sickly-sweet voice to amuse your family members.

The room filled with Awws and whipping noises at your question. You turned and found Chris’s face red, but he was still patting Cam’s back like you had been doing.

“He didn’t burp yet?” You asked.

“Not yet, I don’t think.”

“Mm. We probably need to get you a burping towel. It might be-“

The wet burping noise stopped your sentence stopped you in your tracks, making you look up at your man who was looking down at Cam, who was looking quite satisfied at the burp he had just let out and the off white spit up stain he left on Chris’ shirt.

“Oh no babe.” You laughed a little.

“He spit up a little.” He said, a little amusement in his voice.

“Yeah. Good job baby boy.” You rubbed Cam’s back.

“Oh nooo. I’m so sorry Chris.” Falen came over easing Cam out of Chris’s arms, which made him a little agitated. “I can pay for dry cleaning.” She frowned a little.

“No. No. No. It’s fine. It’s just a little spit up. No need for all of that.” He laughed.

“Well Y’N, at least go try to clean it up.” You mom said. “We have tide pens and stuff in the upstairs guest bathroom.”

Your mouth opened up, jaw hanging a little, “But my food! It’s gonna get cold.”

Your mother put her hands on her hips, “Well yeah it is, cause you’re sitting here back talking me instead of getting your behind up those stairs and cleaning his shirt. Now go.”

“Yes mam.” You put the plates down on a slightly clear space on the table and grabbed Chris’s hand. “Come on Chris.”

--

Chris sat on the edge of the tub and watched you as you washed Cam’s spit up out of his shirt.

“Dang it Cam. Now my food is getting cold.” You muttered.

“You’re calmer.” He commented.

You looked over at him. He was only wearing his pants, a tank top, his pendant necklace hanging off his neck. He looked…really good.

“Yeah. It’s been a good day.” You nodded, putting more hand soap on his sweater. “Are you having fun?” You looked over at him, hoping that he would say yes even if he didn’t mean it.

“A blast honestly. Your family is so warm, and inviting. So funny. And I love how they love you.” He hitched his pants up and stood, walking over you and standing behind you in the mirror. You looked at his reflection, his shirt momentarily forgotten.

“But you know what I love even more?”

You smiled, “Me.”

He grinned too, kissing the top of your head, “…Your mom’s potato salad.”

You turned around and smacked his chest with a wet hand making a loud noise.

“What it’s so good. Oh my god. Get that recipe.” He chuckled and pulled you close to him wrapping his arms around you. You looked up at him, kissing his chin. “No, seriously. I love how bright you’re smiling. How happy you are to be home. How relaxed you are. That accent you have slipped back into.”

“I did not.”

“Oh yes you did.” He smirked. “But I love how you, you are right here in this house. …I would give up every thanksgiving to see you be this relaxed.”

“I love you Chris.” You said quietly.

“I love you. So much.”

               And then he kissed you.

And you wished you could say that kiss lasted forever, or went on and on but of course-

Knock, Knock.

“Yn, Mama said no fornication in her Christian household.” Cassie shouted.

               And you both laughed.

   Epilogue

               You placed Cam down on your Mother’s bed, patting his back and kissing his head.

“He’s an angel. Ugh, we’re going to be here tomorrow and you better be here.” You said to Falen pointing at straight index finger at her.

“I will be. I’m not letting yall eat up all the leftovers.” She rolled her eyes and then smiled at Chris. “You did really good with Camden today Chris.”

“He’s a sweet baby. I did nothing.” Chris shrugged.

“So…planning to have some of your own?”

“Oh kay, we’re leaving now. Tell mom I see her tomorrow and Cassie I will see her tomorrow and to eat a dick.” You gripped Chris’ hand pulling him to the coat closet, allowing him to help you into your coat, and helping him smooth out his jacket.

“Goodnight everyone!” He called out, earning many well wishes as he walked out.

“Oh shit.”

You walked out of the door, focusing on closing the door after yourself. “What’s wrong, is there a big dog out her or-“ You looked up and almost laughed.

Damien, your ex-boyfriend the Falcon football player was standing in front of you two. A bag in one hand and a smile on his face.

“Oh shit, Damien. I can’t believe you’re here!” You passed Chris, hugging Damien.

“Oh yeah. I always come out to your mom’s house after the games. Can’t pass up on the potato salad.” He smiled, sharing a laugh with you and then smiling at Chris. “So this is the dude. Nice to meet you man. I love Captain America.”

Chris shook off the shock, and stuck out his hand, shaking with Damien. “Thank you. And you’re a great football player.”

“Thank you man. Yall need to come out to a game. I’m always offering your girl here tickets but she says you’re a Patriot fan.”

“Oh yeah, gotta go with the home team.”

“Respect man.”

               Chris and Damien talked for another couple of minutes before Damien excused himself into the house. Chris looked at you, shock written on his face.

You smirked, “You thought I was bullshitting you didn’t you?”

Chris shook his head, taking your hand and walking towards the rental car. “When we get home, I’m throwing that piece of tin out of the window and you’re changing your email.”

You smirked.

“Jealous.”

[machinegunbun]

🤘-

What about reader is the manager/assistant and fucks up some bug career opportunity for them?

Mistakes can allways happen but that was something really big

Maybe even gets fired for it?

Fucked It +

TW?: Mostly angst but theres some very slight smut with readers S/O

A/N: Not to age the writing but Im writing this as colson tweets that he’s gonna play at the halftime show in the next few years. S/O= Significant Other. I wanted to keep it kinda gender neutral cause bi people exist i dunno. 

Word count:1.8k A little longer than a blurb, but just as dialogue-y

This year had been stressful, to say the least. There was the release of tickets to my downfall, and along with that the cover scandal, the bloody valentine music video, downfalls high, the snl episode. It was like every second of your day was filled with something, you rarely got the chance to spend time with your S/O.

That’s right, you had an S/O. Being Colson’s manager wasn’t your entire existence, although you’d seemed to have forgotten that recently. Their name is Devin, and they are not very happy with you.

They’d broken down in tears your first full night home, telling you how under appreciated they had felt while you were away. Devin had a life of their own too, though, and considering the pandemic at hand had chosen to go stay with their family to avoid the covid hot spot that was LA. You understood, and as much as you hated to admit it you barely even realized they were gone. You didn’t know what that meant, but you knew whatever it meant wasn’t anything good for your relationship, but, you loved them and you wanted to recreate that spark.

You wanted to put work into them, and you, and most importantly your relationship. You’d gotten through the emotions, but as for the spark there was only so much you could do thousands of miles away. So, you decided to put in the work and devise a plan. Your plan started about an hour and a half ago, beginning with a shower and ending with your favorite lipstick.

You love Devin and you want nothing more than to wrap them up in a soft blanket and kiss them on the forehead and take them on picnics, but you also wanted them to look at you and touch themselves. You could do one of those things in your current situation, and you felt both would help to replenish your spark.

You looked good too, dressed in your lingerie with your hair all done. You felt so unbelievably sexy just looking at yourself in the mirror, you wished they were here to witness it.

You stood in the doorway of your bedroom, your LED lights set to red, your phone set to start recording in 

3…

2…

1…

You tried your best to pose sexily in the small frame, arching your back and playing with your hair, slowly slinking down the wall. You were sure when you sent this Devin would be calling you within seconds. You checked the video, editing it to the length you liked and saving it to your camera roll.

Butterflies began fluttering in your stomach as you looked at your message app. You had seen Devin in so long, what if the spark had really gone? What if they didn’t want you anymore? Or what if they just didn’t want you right now, what if this wasn’t the right thing to do?

You took a deep breath, looking yourself in the mirror and quickly clicking through your messages, sending it before you could think too much and clicking your phone off. You moved from the bathroom, moving to your bed, staring at your phone and waiting patiently for a response.

After thirty minutes you gave up, too nervous to check if they’d seen it. You were cool.

Well, you were cool now that you had cried and and picked yourself apart piece by piece, ending up on the couch in a heap of blankets eating a family bag of your favorite chips to yourself. Family guy played on the TV, the episode only really meant to drain out the noise of your thoughts, and momentarily the bling of your phone. You would’ve missed it entirely if it weren’t for the flickering of your flashlight that you’d enabled to make sure you didn’t.

You rushed from your comfy blanket fort, spilling your chips on the way, your hand wrapping tightly around your phone. You turned it around, seeing that the notification that had popped up was only from Dylan, the guy that got Colson a place at the halftime show. 

Work, great, the thing that started this all. Was this the universe telling you it was over? You read on.

It simply said “Call me.”

Your eyebrow raised, considering waiting until tomorrow. You opened your messages, seeing that you had accidentally sent him the video of you in your lingerie. Fuck, thats why Devin hadn’t responded.

You opened his contact, calling him quickly, each ring feeling like needles being inserted into your brain.

“So I hope you understand why we wouldn’t want to be associated with that unprofessionalism.” He said, you’d zoned out through his lecture

“I understand, I do, but I hope you’d be willing to reconsider as this was a mistake on my part and not Colson’s. And seeing as this isn’t public I hope we can just brush this all under the rug and forget it ever-”

“I hear you, but I don’t think that will be possible. Mistake or not it was unprofessional on so many different levels

“But, sir-” You tried, your fingers thumbing over the buttons of the remote to mute the tv.

“It’s over, I’m afraid.” He responded, a beeping noise signalling the call had ended

Oh, nicer, you thought sarcastically, it wasn’t the universe after all, it was the manager.

Tossing your phone on the couch beside you, you retreated to your blanket fort, unmuting the TV.

Colson and the boys had been looking forward to performing at the halftime show since you’d met them. They’d been so excited when you told them you’d got them a spot. Although it was the last thing you wanted to do right now, you knew you had to break the news to Colson. 

You stared at your phone, willing yourself to reach over and call him, eventually drifting off into an unsatisfying sleep.

“Oh good, you’re here! Okay, so I was thinking for the halftime show-” Colson began, but you cut him off before he could continue

“Oh, yeah, about that.” You say, rubbing your head in hopes it would soothe the dull ache that had begun to rear its ugly head. You opened your eyes in time to watch the excitement drop from Colson’s face.

“I…” You began, not sure how to start “I fucked it.” You began to laugh, taking a moment to acknowledge how ridiculous the situation had really been.

“What do you mean?” He asks, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion.

“Devin and I are going through a bit of a rough patch with them being away and all, so I decided to try and,” You made a vague shimmy movement with your shoulders “spark things up a bit. You know the silhouette challenge on tik tok? I did that, but I got nervous when I sent the video and I was on the couch for like hours crying too scared to see if they even looked at it, next thing I know I’m getting texted by Dylan asking me to call him.” You paused, partly for dramatic effect and partly to let yourself laugh. You buried your face in your hands, Colson watching in amusement, eager for the end of your clearly hilarious story.

“I accidentally sent him my nudes. It was so fucking embarassing, oh my god!” You finish, looking up from your hands to realize no one else seemed amused.

“What’s that got to do with the halftime show?” Rook questioned.

“Oh, right.” You’d completely lost track in the midst of your rambling “He said it was completely unprofessional and he wasn’t interested in working with us.”

Colson remained silent for a moment, looking over to the other boys before responding “He isn’t interested in working with you.” Your eyebrows furrowed at this, looking between the boys..

“What’s that mean?” 

“This is the gig of our lifetime. I’ve- We’ve wanted to play the halftime show since… forever. This was our one chance and because of you we got booted out. And you were laughing about it.”

“I’m sorry, it was a genuine accident, I thought you’d find it funny. Some corporate guy saw my tits ‘cause my relationship is failing, if I don’t laugh I cry.”

 “You’re the one who sent him the nudes. This is your fuck up.”

“Yeah, okay. But I work for you, so by association he won’t work with us.”

“Then you aren’t a part of ‘us’ anymore.”

“Colson, seriously? It was a fucking accident. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Watch your tone, I think you’re forgetting you work for me. I’m a nice guy, but this isn’t my shit to deal with.”

“I’m sorry.” You repeated, your voice lowering. It was easy to forget Colson was your boss, he never treated you like an employee. There was more respect between the two of you than any boss/employee relationship you’d ever seen before. You’d never even seen him mad before today. You were genuinely lucky to have had this experience, to think that it was about to come to an end broke your heart.

“Is sorry going to get us this gig back?” The question was rhetorical, but you shook your head “Then I’m sorry, I can’t let this pass me up because of something you did.” Colson says, staring you down. You stood like a statue in your place, unsure whether or not you should leave. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

You took it upon yourself to make the decision to turn and leave, driving to the nearest gas station, where you sat in your car, crying in the parking lot.

Everything was fine and in the matter of a week it had all gone to shit. How did this happen?

You were in a happy relationship, and now they were living with their parents for who knows why and telling you they felt neglected. Your career was going amazing and you’d ruined it completely with one mistext.

You started your car back up, settling on the hope that maybe Colson and Dylan would come to their senses, and come Monday morning you would still have a job.

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 8: Heartbreak and Lattes

From the Beginning,  Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Only announcement for this week: I've started a new job, and my schedule is such that a weekly update is unlikely without the quality being verrrry questionable. Therefore, I've decided to move off a set schedule, but I PROMISE I will update at least twice a month. Thank you for your patience and understanding; I know a set schedule is preferable but I wanna make sure this doesn't go to shit. Also... apparently this isn’t showing up in the tags I use, which sucks - so reblogs help a lot if you’re able. I love you guys <3

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary:  In which decisions are made and overturned and many cups of coffee are drunk.

Words: 2666

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

You were sulking.

Not enough to affect your work - you’d have to go through something much worse than heartbreak before you risked your internship. But your home life was beginning to resemble a timelapse straight out of an overdramatic teen movie wherein the protagonist’s crush asks someone else to prom. Your apartment was a pile of half-done laundry, takeout containers, and case files; your evenings filled with sad Spotify playlists and too much red wine. 

And work? Not much better. Seeing him stride into the office every morning, filled with power and purpose and completely oblivious to the fact that he had shoved your heart into a metaphorical blender with a simple response to a seemingly innocuous question was really starting to wear you down. You had been so sure, that was the thing - so convinced by the team’s reaction to your story that it had all meant something. And maybe it had. But he had looked you in the face and told you it didn’t, so that was the answer that mattered.

So maybe sulking was the wrong word. ‘Spiraling’ was more accurate. A controlled spiral, mitigated only by the fact that 1. you had appearances and responsibilities to maintain and 2. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t actually the reason you showed up to work every morning, despite what it had seemed lately.

And it had seemed like that. You remembered getting the phone call that you had been accepted for an interview for the BAU internship, and the phone call that you made it to the final round, and finally the phone call that you had gotten the position - each more exciting than the last. You remembered meeting him, shaking his hand, completely oblivious to how much he was about to fuck up your life. Even when you first started to feel something for him, you convinced yourself it was nothing - a harmless crush wrought from your veneration and respect for one of the best in the field. Someone you admired. Someone you wanted to be one day. But then he’d made the unfortunate move of revealing bits and pieces of himself to you, exposing tiny slivers of humanity and emotion you were convinced didn’t exist, until you realized he was a person, an incredible one, and it wasn’t just admiration you felt anymore. It took all of a few months and a handful of genuine conversations until you were this far gone, and after he made it clear that your pining was one-sided, you knew you had to stop your fall there. 

So you tried.

You kept your conversations strictly professional. Avoided driving with him or sitting next to him on flights whenever possible. Disallowed yourself lingering glances. But it was still too goddamn much. He was still too goddamn much.

The next case pushed you over the edge. It was bad (not just normal bad, BAU bad), and it was no one’s fault, not really. You got called in late, the evidence was shoddy at best, and when all was said and done, you caught the unsub, but only after he’d killed 4 women. The last one died moments before you arrived and apprehended the killer, and despite the delay of those few minutes being, again, no one’s fault, the team was at each other’s throats the whole trip home. 

You were slouched in the corner of the plane trying to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Morgan and Reid were sniping viciously about something completely unrelated to the case, because despite everything they’d just endured, they would never outright blame each other for what went wrong. Hotch, deciding he’d heard enough, raised his head slightly and said quietly,

“They’re not always going to end the way we want. We did all we could.”

And you were just done. You couldn’t stand to be around this pillar of strength and compassion and resolve. You needed to hate him for rejecting you, and you couldn’t. So you marched over to his seat, and, steeling yourself, you said what you’d been wanting to say since he broke your heart:

“I need a day off.”

It had sounded more dramatic in your head.

“A day off?”

You nodded. Hotch gathered himself, seeming to realize that such a request wasn’t unheard of (though perhaps in his department it essentially was) and nodded. 

“This case was difficult. I wish I could say exceptionally so. Get me your paperwork by tonight and take tomorrow off.”

You went back to your seat, relief overshadowed by disgust that it wasn’t, in fact, the 4 deaths you’d just been privy to that had broken you - it was the crush on your boss. You’d handled this case like a champ, in fact, because you were so absorbed in self-pity that you couldn’t feel anything else.

You needed to fucking recalibrate.

***

You were determined to make the next 24 hours the most self-indulgent, healing 24 hours you’d ever experienced. Quiet breakfast at a cafe? Planned. Self-improvement books? Downloaded. Vibrator? Fully charged. 

No man was going to keep you from focusing on the internship you’d been gunning for for years. No man was worth that. You were going to cry, you were going to journal, you were going to masturbate, and you were going to get him out of your head.

You were going to march into the quaint little coffeeshop two blocks away that you’d Googled last night, you were going to order the cinnamon spice latte that an indie food blog had called “the epitome of fall,” and you were going to go for a nice, early morning walk.

Except you weren’t. 

Because the next morning, when you turned to leave after grabbing your drink from the barista, you saw Hotch sitting at the table by the window. And Hotch saw you. And you weren’t equipped to handle this situation, because you were only 4 pages into your self-help book so far and honestly, the smile that lit up his face when you made eye contact would’ve broken you even if you’d read all the ‘how to move on’ manuals the literary world had ever produced.

So you obeyed his beckoning hand and sat down. 

“Thought you’d be up to something much more exciting on your one day off.”

You smiled wryly. “This is exciting. I haven’t had coffee that wasn’t made out of an ancient breakroom pot or a hotel carafe in months.”

Hotch chuckled. “I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake by coming here. Breakroom coffee is going to be impossible to tolerate now.”

“That good, huh?”

“Better. Try it.”

His eyes on you, you took a sip of your latte, and swallowed the most delicious concoction you’ve ever tasted in your life.

“Holy shit.”

“Indeed,” Hotch confirmed, ignoring your vulgarity. “I’ve been coming here before work for years.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I impose on your hangout,” you laughed. “I haven’t tried many coffee shops around here, but I imagine this is hard to beat.”

“Not at all. But just know - this is my table.”

You grinned. “Understood.”

You still went on that walk. Still read that book. Still spent the day trying to think about anything else but the softness of that moment - you and Hotch sipping lattes, bathed in the light of the early morning sun.

But on Thursday, the next day, bright and early, you found yourself at that coffee shop again. This time, you took a seat at the table adjacent to his. He looked up and smiled.

“Glad you heeded my advice.”

You smiled back and gestured to the heaping pile of files in front of him. “Not like there’d be much room for me anyways.”

You finished your coffees in relative silence and left at the same time for the office.

Friday, you learned Hotch’s coffee order: flat white with an extra shot of espresso. 

Saturday, you happened to arrive before he did, so you ordered his drink and set it on his table. Ten minutes passed and you thought he wasn’t going to show up, but he soon bustled in looking frantic. You waved him over, and he smiled when he saw the coffee waiting for him.

“Sorry, got stuck on a phone call,” he apologized. Like you were expecting him. Like this was something you guys did now.

You supposed it was.

Sunday, you got called for a case before you even made it to the coffee shop. You sat down in the conference room at 6 am, groggy as all hell. Hotch entered after you and handed you a mug, saying nothing before moving to address the team.

There was a small sticky note attached to the mug that read, “It’s no cinnamon spice latte, but it’s caffeine just the same.”

You fought to keep a grin from splitting your face, and ignored the team’s knowing smirks.

The case was in a small town in Colorado. The motel the team was staying in was less than ideal because of the location - bare bones, broken heaters, probably had the same bedsheets since its opening over 50 years ago. There was a small coffee pot in your room, and after you arrived Sunday evening, you walked down the street to the small convenience store and bought a bag of ground coffee.

When you handed him the cup Monday morning, he looked at it like it was salvation itself. Which, judging by the dark circles under his eyes, it may well have been.

“Long night?” you asked, loading into the back of the SUV. 

“Always,” he responded from the front seat. He took a sip of the coffee. “I don’t mean to offend, but this is terrible.”

You gasped in mock indignation. “I’ll have you know that is genuine Folgers pre-ground gas station coffee.”

“It tastes like it was made in a toilet,” he grumbled. He took another sip and smirked at you in the rearview mirror.

You’d long stopped trying to get over him.

 After the case in Colorado, the team was given a merciful break from the rapid-fire calls they’d been caught up in the last few months. 

You and Hotch continued your pre-work ritual, showing up to the coffee shop earlier and earlier each day. For you, it was a conscious attempt to spend more time with him. He didn’t acknowledge the extra 20 minutes that had worked its way into the morning routine, but you could only hope his intentions were the same.

One particularly chilly fall day, you burst in the door 10 minutes later than your unofficial meeting time. Hotch shot you a patented raised eyebrow as you unwrapped your scarf and took your seat. 

“Overslept?”

“No,” you retorted, “I was trying to make breakfast and my stove stopped working. Again. Maintenance can’t come fix it for two days.”

“Did you eat?” he asked.

“No, I was just gonna grab a muffin or something here.”

He nodded and went back to his laptop.

The next day, you sat down to a metal thermos on your table.

“What’s this?” you asked him.

“Oatmeal,” he responded without looking up. “You said your stove was broken.”

You opened the thermos to a puff of brown sugar-scented steam and the feeling that your heart was going to burst out of your chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered, afraid your voice would crack if you spoke any louder.

He looked over at you with an expression softer than you’d ever seen him wear. “You’re welcome.”

 A week later, you’d miraculously worked your way through the backed-up deluge of paperwork from the last few cases, and after clicking through the morning’s emails, you slammed your laptop shut.

“We should go for a walk,” you said to Hotch, who somehow still had a stack of files in front of him that was threatening to surpass the table’s weight capacity. 

“A walk?” Hotch asked, looking at the aforementioned files as if he were afraid they’d hear him considering the idea of a break.

“Yeah,” you responded. “Come on. It’s so pretty outside, and it’s gonna be too cold soon. Besides, we’re more caught up with work than we have been in months.”

“Speak for yourself,” he quipped, but he packed his briefcase just the same.

It really was beautiful outside. As soon as you stepped out the door, a gust of wind sent red and orange leaves skittering across the sidewalk at your feet. You wrapped your scarf tighter around your neck and motioned to the park across the street.

“Want to walk through the park?”

Hotch shrugged, a noncommittal ‘yes’, and followed you.

The park was sprawling, packed with massive trees in the midst of displaying their autumnal colors. Despite the early hour, there were joggers and dog-walkers populating the dirt path that meandered through. You strolled side by side, making idle chat about the weather and the holidays coming up, until you came to a bench set beside a pond in a small grove. Hotch took a seat and you followed his lead.

Reclining your head against the back of the bench, you exhaled. “This is the closest I’ve come to being out in nature in forever. I need to do this more often.”

Hotch murmured his agreement. “I’d apologize for the lack of free time, but I’m afraid it only gets worse.”

“When you officially join the team, you mean?”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Assuming that’s something you’re interested in.”

“Of  course I am,” you said, “but I didn’t think it was really up to me.”

“It’s not - I give the final recommendation.”

“Better start buying you more coffees then,” you teased, looking over at him.

“Unfortunately, as Unit Chief, I have a responsibility not to accept bribery.” He smiled back.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You studied his face - the stern curve of his brow, the carved structure of his jaw, the stress lines set in from decades of sleepless nights and unspeakable losses. Despite the increasing time you’d been spending in close proximity, you were mesmerized, as always, by the stormy intensity of his eyes meeting yours. You were close enough to smell his cologne, and you were reminded of the night in his apartment when he told you about his family. If you thought you’d fallen for him then, it was nothing compared to how you felt now, after starting each morning sitting beside him in the quiet peace of that downtown coffee shop.

“We should get going,” he murmured, not checking his watch, not shifting his gaze from yours. You nodded, not fully comprehending his words, feeling dazed at his nearness.

It was impossible to tell who made the first, imperceptible shift. All you knew is you scarcely had time to think before his hand was on your jaw, cradling the back of your head, bringing you to him. His mouth met yours and you closed your eyes instinctively, melting into his warm body beside you, fisting the front of his jacket in your hands.

You couldn’t remember ever having been kissed so decisively before. His fingers gripped into the base of your skull, his forehead nearly pressed against yours, and despite the chastity of your closed mouths, you whimpered into his. He stiffened at the sound and pulled back, still holding you, inches away.

You saw the shift in his eyes before he moved. It was as if he consciously closed some gate, walling himself off. His pupils, blown, started to retract to their normal size, frown returned, hand drew back. You watched, heart still racing, unable to speak as he turned to grab the briefcase sitting at his feet. Only then did he look back at you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and if his low voice was meant to betray any hint of emotion, you didn’t hear it. 

He stood, walked around the back of the bench towards the path, and paused.

“I’ll see you at the office.”

You were too shell-shocked to reply.

[babbushka]

Anyways I hate B*n S*l* because it’s like he was so keen on killing you know who and she holds out her hand really dramatically once and the he’s like “oop my deep seated mental issues are gone and I am now a savior” like huh? Baby you were hot. You were doing so well. We were all rooting for you 😩

My issue with the BS (sorry i’m too lazy to type out all the asterisks tonight lol) situation is twofold. 

The first issue I take with it, is the way it decimates Kylo’s character, and the second (and arguably more important in terms of overall impact) being the way it decimates Rey’s. 

Now, I know we don’t like to talk about Rey here on the blog, mostly because it attracts the r//ylos and that’s literally the last thing that I want, but the decision to push Kylo way off his path hurts both of the characters in completely different ways. Please allow me to explain:

(tw for mentions of abuse physical, sexual, and mental)

If we look at Kylo, and we actually examine his arc, it is clear that he was supposed to be a villain through and through. JJ and Adam have said it on multiple occasions, this was supposed to be the reverse of Vader, where we see a man reject the light at every opportunity, and continue down the path of darkness where it ultimately destroys him. And that’s exactly what he did! He was given so many chances, first with Han, then Leia, then Rey, then Luke, then Rey again, and every single time, he made the conscious decision to reject their offer of redemption, and went further into the dark. 

One of the things that is important (I think) to note, is that Kylo initially fell to the dark because he felt betrayed by those in the light. They failed him, in his mind. They allowed him to fall prey to Snoke [via Palpatine], when they knew something was wrong, and did nothing to stop it. Why would Kylo objectively want anything to do with them after that? Even if we try and play the “he turns for Rey” card -- who is Rey to him? Narratively she is a complete stranger who he tries to kill time, and time, and time and time again. 

Part of a redemption arc is the character actually wanting to change, and Kylo doesn’t! He simply doesn’t want to change, which is why narratively, it makes no sense for him to suddenly flip a switch and give his life to save another. It is objectively in opposition to what he has spent the entire 2 movies before TROS, as well as 99% of TROS itself. 

Now if we look at Rey, and we examine her arc, it is clear that she was supposed to be a protagonist in opposition to Kylo (as opposed to a narrative foil, which was Finn’s role). She was set up with the sole intention of overcoming the obstacle of Kylo’s villainy, and the villainy of the First Order as a whole. Looking at the interactions between Kylo and Rey, it is 98% violent where he is actively trying to murder her and her found family, and 2% psychologically manipulative. There is no foundation for any sort of friendship, or even acquaintanceship. He tries to kill her at every opportunity, and she tries to kill him back. JJ has confirmed that the interrogation scene is an allegory for rape.

So then why does she all of a sudden feel that it is her duty to get him to turn to the light? After he has on numerous occasions made it clear he has no interest in doing that? After he has murdered his father, put her dear friend in a coma, and violated her mind? After he has participated in the obliteration of billions of lives via Starkiller? It doesn’t make sense. And in fact, while suddenly flipping this switch in Rey’s character to be so consumed with turning Kylo back to the light (which he doesn’t not want), all it does is transform Rey into a woman with no story of her own. 

Her story is now at the service of Kylo’s, she is now there only to convince Kylo to do what she thinks is right. And what’s even worse, the writers decided to push a love interest onto her -- with the man who allegorically raped her, murdered her friends, tried to murder her, and tried to manipulate her into thinking that she was worth nothing (except to him). Instead of being a story about strength and overcoming abuse (because this is an abusive relationship), she ????? saves his life ??? and kisses him ???? Make it make sense. 

What does a redemption arc for Kylo show to audiences, ultimately and objectively? For Kylo, it means that you will never ever be free of the abuse you have suffered. You will never be able to make a life of your own, on your own terms, with your own choices. You are not your own person no matter how desperately you try. The decisions Kylo makes are heinous, but they are his decisions. This is the life that he has chosen time and time again, and a life that he feels little to no remorse or regret over. Probably the only thing he regrets is that he left anyone alive. 

For Rey, it shows audiences that men who hurt you, beat you, lie to you and manipulate you are more worthy of your time than anything else. Fixing them is more important than living your own life. Putting your life on hold for a man who actively commits violence against you is the correct and noble path to take. The decisions that Rey makes are incompatible with the actions she suffers.

It’s not only bad writing, it’s dangerous writing. And I will personally never ever be behind it. The only possible way that these two characters could have ended their journeys in a way that is both narratively fulfilling and satisfying to audiences, are by Rey killing Kylo as he is, a villain, in response to the many acts of villainy that he has committed against her and humanity. Anything else is a disservice to both characters. 

TLDR; Redemption for Kylo doesn’t make sense because #1 he doesn’t want it, and #2 he doesn’t work for it. He hasn’t earned it in any way shape or form -- in fact the only redemption we get is his own hallucination. So even within the context of the other characters, he is not seen as a redeemed person. It’s lazy and inconsistent writing. Redemption harms Rey’s character because it takes her story away from herself entirely. The narrative no longer becomes about her, it becomes more and more about Kylo, and her attempts to save or fix him when neither of those things should happen. 

It was an incredibly missed opportunity to make powerful statements about identity, independence, personal agency, and the consequences for our actions. We all know why D/LF dropped the ball so fucking hard, and for that I’ll literally never watch another piece of content from them again. 

[i-write-newsies]

(A/N): I decided to do some really simple and classic fluff after all the stuff in the last Oneshot. Hopefully, this one won't take me a literal MONTH. Hope y'all like it!! <33

AUs:

- Modern

- Coffee Shop

- College

Jack POV:

Jack is a hopeless romantic. A hidden one for the most part, but a hopeless romantic nonetheless.

Truth be told, he's never been in too many relationships, at least not ones that lasted long. He's liked a few girls before, boys too, and even dated a few. But they lasted 3 months, tops. His record for the quickest breakup was after 5 hours when the person found another person to dote on.

Despite bad experiences like that, Jack remains infatuated with love and the idea of soulmates. He listens to romantic songs on repeat, would always be ready to lend you a romcom, and daydreams about perfect dates with some fill-in-the-blank person when he's supposed to be studying Art History.

But lately, that blank template has been gaining more qualities of a certain boy from school. A certain boy with dark brown curly hair, with an adorable hooked nose, with olive-green eyes and a shy smile.

The moment his mind finally puts the pieces of the person together, he shoots up from laying down in his bed. He quickly pauses the music and struggles to unlock his phone out of a mix of confusion and excitement.

He scrolls through his contacts to the K section, clicking on Katherine's contact and pressing the facetime button. "Pick up, Kath..." he nervously mutters.

Suddenly, her face appears on the screen, "Hey, Jack! What's up?" she then notices the half vacant, half nervous expression his face is showing.

"You doin' okay?" Kath asks, brows furrowed.

"Huh? Yeah! I uhhhh..." Kath waits patiently, knowing his ADHD makes him lose his train of thought all too easily.

"Right! So, you're the only one who knows about me bein' kind of a hopeless romantic..." Jack looks down slightly, and Katherine giggles, knowing his embarrassment around loving love.

"What? Does big ole Jack Kelly have a crush?"

"I don't know!" he gives an exasperated sigh, "Maybe!"

"Okay, okay, calm down cowboy. Now which lucky person has caught your eye this time?" Jack mutters something incoherent below his breath. "What? I can't hear ya."

"Davey Jacobs."

Davey POV:

Davey sighs, taking a look at his computer.

A 2000 word essay on a topic of his choice for History due in 1 month. He knows how much time he has to finish this, and he knows that he could wait until a week until it's due to start it and still finish it on time perfectly, but no matter the assignment, there would always be a thought gnawing at the back of his brain telling him he NEEDS to get it done right now. And so he does. But he knows he needs coffee to do so.

Davey carefully slips his computer into his crammed backpack, as well as his wallet. He plans on going to his favorite cafe. The coffee there tastes like shit (though he would never admit it), but he knows the staff, and some of the baristas even attend his school. There was one that stood out to him, a certain Jack Kelly

Davey isn't sure what's so interesting about the creative student. It could be his heavy 'Hatten accent, or maybe it's his enthusiastic puppy dog energy about anything. It's kind of... adorable, I guess. He looks down at the ground while walking, trying his best to hide his red face. Davey doesn't swear much, but fuuuuuck.

He likes Jack Kelly. Jack Kelly of all people. The guy who accidentally SHARPENED HIS FINGER IN A PENCIL SHARPENER ONCE. Davey sighs, Jack may be an idiot, but no one can deny that it's charming in a way. He has tons of golden retriever energy.

Davey doesn't know what to do.

He sits down in a corner booth to avoid as much human contact as possible. He opens up his laptop and opens the tabs needed for his project. He slips on a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and attempts to block out the thoughts of Jack Kelly. The essay is number one priority right now. Suddenly, Davey sees a looming figure out of the corner of his eye. He snaps his neck up to see...

Oh no.

Fudge.

"What can I get for ya, darlin'"

Jack POV:

Davey's face heats up. I don't really consider this a win, considering that's the way most people react when I call them darling. What can I say? It's a habit of mine.

"U-uhm..maybe-" he stutters quietly.

I speak up to help him out a bit, "I've seen you here before. You always order the hot chocolate with 2 pumps of espresso, right?" He squeaks out a yes.

"Comin right up, doll" his face lights up a bright red again.

Shit. Did I mess it up? Is he uncomfortable with those terms? I come from southern roots, which has pros and cons. The pros are: I'm really resilient, my tea is sweetened to PERFECTION, and I can smell when it's going to rain. Cons: The situation that just unfolded.

As I enter the kitchen area, I sigh. I come on way too strong. I quickly make Davey's order, after all, I did memorize it. I look at the plain hot chocolate. Needs a little something. He seems like the spicy sweet kinda guy, so I carefully add a good amount of whipped cream, and sprinkle some cinnamon on top. I really shouldn't be bringing favoritism into my work, but Dave should be an exception.

Being careful not to spill my masterpiece built out of hot chocolate and whipped cream, I bring it to Davey, who seems very deep in thought, staring at his computer. Trying not to disturb him, I set the drink gently down, then I lift one of his headphones.

"Whatcha doin' Dave?"

He jumps, turning red once AGAIN. "Jesus Christ, bud, got some sorta skin reddening condition?"

"Wh- I- You-" He sputters before regaining his composure, "One, none of your business, two, none of your business."

I feign a wound and put my hand over my chest, "Davey Jacobs! So rude!" I put my arm over my forehead and sigh dramatically, then sneak a peek at him. He's laughing a little. I grin, so he doesn't hate me! Whew!

A few hours,10 drink orders and slightly too loud joking and laughing later, Davey's still here, working on some big project. At this point I've stopped charging him and have just been paying for them myself. I make my way to his table once more.

I notice his cup is empty, "Refill?" I ask, he nods. That's when I notice the bags under his red eyes. I walk back a bit and lean on his table. "You need to sleep, Dave." He shakes his head as a response and I sigh.

I make my way to the kitchen and decide to not add caffeine in this. He needs it. My hands go on autopilot as I start to think about him. He's just so... pretty.

I bite my lip. Should I...? Ah, fuck it, I'm almost done with my shift. I grab a scrap of paper and a pen and scrawl my number, with the message

'Call me ;P'

Beside it. I take a deep breath and carefully balance the cup all the way to Davey's corner booth. The sight is adorable. Davey is laying down on the table, asleep, head tilted to one side, face illuminated by the computer screen. I smile gently.

All I think about for the rest of the night is that sight. As I sit in bed, drawing the scene, I hear a ding from my phone. I open texts and see from an unknown number:

Hey, Jack?

It's Davey.

The student from the coffee shop.

I grin.

Hey Dave :P

I quickly change his contact to <3 Dave <3 with my recent drawing of him as the profile picture.

Before I know it, we're talking about everything. It's honestly so much easier texting than actually interacting with people. My brain decides to peace out for a long minute, and my hands automatically do the typing. Bad decision. Why? Because I barely even notice when I hit send.

Do you wanna go on a date with me? I was thinking about getting froyo, and maybe watching a cheesy romcom. Whaddya say, Dave?

I can only watch, petrified, as I see...

<3 Dave <3 is typing...

~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~

(A/N):

Hope y'all like this! Pt. 2 will be their date!! btw no one has really interacted or requested fanfics, so if you could vote for this or request something, that would really make me happy.

~ Race