#and i’ve been getting into new things and have been preoccupied with work and health and have just been !!! busy. so busy. no energy

[ectoplasmer]

i mii,,ss,, my bofyriendss,,, (can think of them whenever she wants) (for free) (no charge)

[tadpolesonalgae]

before the corn grows. 

Batboys x depressive!reader

a/n: oh my gosh this was so therapeutic—also, I was unsure whether to include people on the az taglist in this fic since it’s technically a poly fic? Sorry if you didn’t want to be included in this, I wasn’t sure about it :/

As always, thank you for the request, anon <3!

warnings: mentions of self-inflicted violence, fluff, I think this is technically hurt/comfort?

word count: 2,766

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Judgemental prick.”

“I don’t think I said anything.”

“You didn’t have to. It was written all over your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cassian scowls, stirring in the fifth spoonful of sugar. “For the Spymaster, you were practically yelling it across the table. It’s the small things in life—I’ll enjoy some damn sugar in my tea if I want to.” 

Azriel shifts in his seat, powerful arms folded over a broad chest, thighs spread as he relaxes into the seat. “There was nothing small about the amount you just put in,” he replies, smirking. “Just looking out for your health.”

“You look after yours and I’ll look after mine,” the General mutters, brows tightening at the cocky smirk on his brother’s mouth. Matching hazel eyes glint with sinister mirth that Cassian decides to ignore for today, raising the mug to his lips and drinking deeply. 

He jerks violently, spraying the bitter liquid across the table, making Az recoil. “It’s salty?” He glares at his brother, who’s now grimacing at the smattering of tea that’s been spat in his direction. “I told you I was looking out for your health,” he mutters, reaching for the kitchen roll. 

The General grabs it first, snatching the roll away, dabbing at his mouth and tongue before Azriel is leaning across the table, grappling at Cassian’s arm to try and pry it from his thick fingers. “Let go you prick, I’m the one who has that concoction on my tongue,” the General snaps gruffly. “And I’ve got your saliva all over my leathers. Hand it over.” 

“Oh I’m sorry, did I ruin your pretty clothes? Is your vanity hurt?”

“Piss off, bastard,” Azriel snaps. “You should have paid more attention to what you were spooning into your drink.” 

The door swings open and the third brother walks in, violet eyes visibly worried, fingers preoccupied with straightening the pristine cuff of his sleeves. Freshly polished shoes pause in their place, surveying the chaos that’s unfolded upon the kitchen table. The two pull apart, sobered by Rhys’s strained look, at once on guard. 

“Where are you going?” Cassian asks, noting the fine but not flashy dress of the High Lord—clean but casual. “Have you seen her recently?” Rhys asks, and they both stiffen, shaking their heads. Hazel eyes glance at one another across the table, before returning to anxious violet, in time to catch him running a hand through his hair. 

“She’d been focusing on getting orders done in time for solstice presents,” Azriel offers solemnly, “it’s when the most work comes in, so she’ll be resting now.” 

“I’m going to check on her,” Rhysand announces, and neither of the Illyrians object. Not a word needs to be spoken to know the High Lord will relay whatever news there is to the two of them the second he learns it. 

Then in a whisper of darkness, he vanishes. 

————

The door had been locked, but it hadn’t been an issue. 

The issue was the stagnant air in her house. The issue was the moulding bread in the kitchen. The issue was the dirty clothes scattered across her bedroom floor. 

The issue was, she looked like she hadn’t gotten out of bed for a week straight, hair knotted and oily, skin lacking the warmth of life, eyes numb and unfocused. 

He braces himself to deal with her, then lands three quiet knocks to her open bedroom door—letting her know he’s here. Blankets curl tighter, being pulled over her head, wrapping into a tight ball that shudders and sobs almost silently. He can hear the gasping inhales, the wet snivels as she tries to hide away. 

He knew something had been amiss. 

“Lovely,” he calls softly, the name like heated cotton against clean skin. “How long have you been sleeping for?” 

————

You curl tighter, feeling the bed dip, the shape of a large, warm palm settling over your shoulder. 

“Go away,” you manage numbly, throat raw, sinuses hurting. “I’m tired. Leave me alone.” Limbs wrap tighter, trying to pull yourself together for him. Simultaneously wanting to scream at him to get out, to hit and lash at him, wanting to melt into his arms. Yet the raging instincts rise, and rise, and repeatedly fall short, losing their momentum and disintegrating into silence. Your clothes are stiff and sticky, glued to your body with sweat and salt, and you hate you hate you hate everything so much that it has to be pushed away. Folded up neatly into a box and just pushed away. 

Fingers latch over the duvet, prying it from your grip with startling ease, hands too weak to do much against him, stomach aching with nausea. Light cracks into your vision, and you attempt to hide from him, conceal the gleaming spit and snot across your upper lip and chin, hide the puffiness of your eyes and the knotted mess of your hair—damp from tears that had been shed what feels like hours ago. 

“What’s wrong…?” He asks softly, knuckles brushing the rat-tailed hair from your forehead, pushing it away so it’s no longer being coated in saliva and mucus and tears. “Talk to me, please,” he whispers, making to pull you up. 

Sobs wrack your chest, slamming into you with violent force, wet breaths gasping from cracked lips as you heave with despair, uncontrollable spasms seizing your lungs as a fresh wave wrecks through you. He can feel you shaking your head, wet palms trying to dry freshly tearful eyes, hot water dripping heavily onto his shirt as you try to stop. 

“Please…” you croak out, stumbling over the word, interrupted by stuttering breaths. “Leave me…go…” 

“I’m not leaving you like this,” he whispers tenderly, pushing wet hair behind a pointed ear. But you shake your head again, crying harder, and his heart fumbles in his chest, aching sharply. 

“I don’t…go away,” you moan shakily, head lowered against his shoulder. “I don’t want you here.” Lips are weighed in viscous saliva, turning them soft and slimy, making it hard to speak.  “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, arm wrapping over your back, power sliding for the window to flick the latch open—get some fresh air circling the space. 

“I don’t…I don’t want you here!” You cry sharply, trying to wriggle out of his hold, struggling to return to your grave-like bed. To dive into the thick and smelly sheets that’ll get tangled with your limbs. “Lovely,” he says quietly, “hold still.” 

Your body shudders to a gradual stop, shins and upper arms burning with the movement, left raw and unhealed from the lack of energy. Breathing stutters as you try to back away from hyperventilating, trying to calm your lungs, but the airways continue to spasm. 

His broad palm pushes the stray locks of hair away, still saturated with salty tears that clump at the ends, scraggly and messy and smelly and damp and cold and…you try to pull away from him, feeling disgusting for getting him dirty. He’s so clean and tidy, and smelling so nice, like freshly washed sheets and crisp morning air. He shouldn’t be in your room. 

You can hear the stuttering pulse of his heart, the only give to his emotions and one you’re only able to discern because he doesn’t think to hide it from you. He strokes your hair soothingly, goading you to calm, to resign yourself into his care so he can look after you. 

“I’m tired,” you manage, chest shuddering with stammering breaths. 

“Then rest,” he whispers, “but let us be with you.”

“No…” You shake your head, brows scrunching as your lungs begin to flutter and he holds you just that little bit tighter. It’s bad enough that he’s seeing you like this, it can’t be the others too. “Rhys…”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, first,” he murmurs, pulling away and cupping your jaw, violet meeting your gaze, “okay?” Your lower lip wobbles, fresh tears spilling as you grip just that little bit tighter, at last falling into him, if only because you lack the energy to stave off anything else. Far too tired to protest. 

————

It had been so much worse than he had been anticipating, and a small part of him recoiled with sorrow when wrapping her shins in bandages, carefully applying a numbing balm to her upper arms to ease with movement. 

He hadn’t realised…he hadn’t seen the signs… Even looking back on the weeks leading up to Starfall, he can’t find anything out of order. She’d been as peaceful as usual, as calm and reserved as normal, preparing for the influx of projects, almost anticipating them, desiring things to preoccupy her mind with, perhaps. 

He feels wretched and useless, only able to scramble after the remnants of the storm. Desperately trying to find pieces of what he’d known in the wreckage of a war. Her eyes stay vacant, though not as foggy as when he’d first found her. 

A bath had been too painful, so he’d used his hands to clean off the grime, only a flannel, soap, and a warm bucket of water at his disposal. He can only hope that once she’s fed, her body will begin its reconstruction, stitching together the thin slices, healing over scars so she doesn’t have to be reminded of it. Though he wonders if that’s an appealing aspect rather than a detestable one. 

He’s proud of his own scars, memories stored away within his skin, stories contained within the tissue of battles long past. A map of his history placed into the grain of his body. He wonders if it’s at all comparable—how she starves herself so the cuts might set, so she will be able to look back at what she’s gotten through. A token of some kind for surviving. To know that while it’s all inside her own head, none of its meaning is detracted. 

Pain is still pain, no matter where it comes from. 

————

You’d tried so desperately to pull yourself together. To keep those haunting beats of emotion kept wrapped up in ribbons and bows, so it would be less inclined to leap out if stored comfortably. 

Had tried to sit on the box to keep it from bursting open, so you wouldn’t have to bear that vulnerability. You’d rather stick yourself with knives that try to articulate what can only exist in the blood of your veins and the screaming caves of your mind. The echoes that repeat until painful instructions are being mumbled upon your numb lips, hardly unaware of the order to cut, cut, cut.

Had managed for the most part to section them off, until he’d finished tucking you into a spare bed, and his lips had brushed your cheek. 

Then some tears had again dripped out, but he’d thumbed those away tenderly, never becoming fed up on the nonstop trickle. 

You could hardly manage to look at him, not ready to face that reality yet. Then he’d told you he would be finding you a meal, and that you should eat as much as you felt capable of, but that you should try. And then he had pressed another light kiss to your cheek, swifter than the last, not giving you time to comprehend it, helping keep the tears to a minimum.

A large part of you is relieved, a great weight raised and wiped from your shoulders now your skin is clean again, now your hair is no longer sticking to your scalp but smelling fresh and healthy. Relieved you can again feel your circulation up and running, having gotten too used to the freezing tips of your fingers and toes, the cold numbness that had overtaken your shins and arms as your body tried to spool in the blood to your torso.  

A knock sounds at the door, and you lift your head to spot hazel eyes watching you, concerned, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth. He sees the reaction, and sighs, opening the door a little wider so he can walk inside. 

“Does Rhys know you’re here, Cassian?” You ask, a sad smile on your lips as you incline your head to look up at him, stood beside your bed. Before he can answer though, you here a derisive snort coming softly from the hallway, and a tender warmth unfurls in your chest, throat aching a little with emotion. “Az, you too?” 

A figure wreathed in shadow steps guiltily into the empty doorframe, one hand resting on the wooden beam as if he might leave. 

You swallow thickly, shifting comfortably beneath the crisp sheets, liking how they rustle with the movement, scraping against bare and clean skin, even if it hurts a little. “Did… Has Rhys told you…?” 

Cassian watches you silently, an anguished look on his features, but Azriel pauses, then nods his head solemnly. 

Your lips press together into a thin line, unsure what to say if they already know. There’s no use in lying then, or trying to get out of it. Not without causing more concern. So you allow your shoulders to slump, resting back into the pillows. “I don’t really know how it happened,” you admit quietly, peering into your lap. “I just…I guess it had been building up for a while.” Your eyes shut briefly, hands rising to cover your face, rubbling lightly at your brows before falling away again, “I didn’t even know I was in it until I was out of it.” 

“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain anything,” Cassian says thickly, hand hesitantly settling over your shoulder, thumb stroking in slow, careful motions, ready to pull away if you don’t want the touch. But your lower lip wobbles, head dipping a little, before leaning into the gentle feel, the broad, reassuring warmth of his palm, the callouses rasping against your scrubbed-soft skin. 

“We wanted to make sure you were okay,” Az murmurs, closer than he should sound from the doorway, but then you feel the slightly cool breath of his shadows curling against your cheek, and a tear drips down your face. You nod. “I’m fine,” you rasp, voice thick, clogged with emotion, “now. I’m fine now.” 

“Are you…” Azriel begins, trailing off when you glance at him questioningly, his heart aching when you turn your gaze to him, the small cuts peeking out from atop the duvet. Cassian takes up the lead, thumb still gently sweeping over your shoulder. “We want to hold you. Will you let us?” 

Your lower lip wobbles, eyes growing hot and wet at the simple ask, somehow knowing exactly what you’re too afraid and embarrassed to ask for. “Yes…” you manage, voice small and quiet. 

Neither of them comment on it, moving with swift certainty, collecting at your sides as their wings reorganise at their backs. It’s a rare sight to see them in anything other than their leathers, but the soft fabric is welcomed as they settle, the pale linen thin enough for you to feel heat through it, to almost be swept away by the comfort their scent brings, like returning home after weeks away, remembering the scent that you become too quickly accustomed to, to fully appreciate and treasure. 

You lean into Cassian’s side, head tipped against his shoulder, Azriel pressed close enough to twine your fingers together in your lap atop the sheets, shadows roaming freely between the three of you, a sure sign you’re home again. 

A long sigh comes from the doorway, sounding more resigned than disapproving—he knew this was going to happen at one point or another. There would be no separating any of you in a moment of need or vulnerability. 

“I thought I told you to at least wait until she’d recovered a little more,” Rhys sighs, a gently scolding tone to his words, eyes displeased but softening when they spot how you’ve practically melted into his brothers’ sides. You switch subjects, eyeing the tray he’s brought, stomach grumbling as the promise of a hot meal dawns in your mind. “That smells good…” you murmur, watching him intently, and a fond smile curves his lips. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Rhys replies. “Your favourite, if my memory serves.” 

Your brows curve, lip wobbling again—you don’t deserve this. Them. 

But Rhys has already leaned over Cassian, pressing a kiss to your forehead, smoothly sliding the tray into your lap. 

“Eat,” he instructs softly. “If you’re still so inclined, you can cry afterwards, but eat first, okay?” 

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes

[homenecromancer]

So it’s been a month.

When I left, I’d been experiencing periods of increasingly severe anxiety on a daily basis. There is no adequate way to describe spending every single night before falling asleep in a state of terror. It has not been great.

What I’ve determined is that increasing how tightly I curate my online experience does, to some degree, help with this. Reading some kinds of content, or spending too much time online, is very unhealthy for me. So I’ve reinstalled this app, but I have cut back on the blogs I follow. Anything more emotionally intense or unpleasant than a picture of a sunset is a bit much for me right now. (Do I care about ongoing world events? Do I try to keep up on the news? Yes. I also, unfortunately, have to function in society, and accidentally triggering a wave of terror that renders me unable to think doesn’t help with that. And I can’t always predict what will cause that reaction.) Please do not take it personally if I have unfollowed you.

Things are, I hope, improving slowly. Daytime is usually a little better. If I’m preoccupied with tasks, I don’t have time to spiral — it’s when the day comes to an end and I am trying to sleep that things get bad.

I went on vacation and had a good time at the beach (see below). I’ve been going to work and interacting with my family. I am trying to seek psychiatric help, but I no longer have a primary care provider, and am having to navigate the search for mental health care by myself while still going to work.

I hope you’re still all doing well. Here’s a picture.

[baronaliswritingcorner]

TOS Replay Stray Thoughts No. 4 (Luin/Asgard/Balacruf Mausoleum)

-“I’ve read nothing but books in angelic language since I was a child” Oof, the religious propaganda runs deep. I wonder how left out Colette felt?

-wait Kratos how do you know the angelic languagohhhhhhhhhhhhh 

-Mmmmm yeah listen to the Luin music sing. “Water symphony”, indeed!

-Ever notice how Asgard doesn’t have a fence? Like, it's on a cliff -- that's a public health hazard if I've ever seen one. Y'all so preoccupied with your tourism and open half-elf discrimination while there's a lawsuit waiting to happen. Get on that!

-One thing Tales of Symphonia does really well is how lived-in and handcrafted the house interiors are, with Asgard and Luin being particular standouts. Just look at the story Harley's house tells! You don’t see this sort of detail in modern Tales anymore...

-The Asgard Human Ranch…but it doesn’t have any relationship with Asgard. Hmm. Shoulda been Luin Human Ranch.

-I don't dabble into customization/spending GRADE *too* much, so I always forget how cost-effective it is. Managing Tales of Symphonia’s economy is fun.

-“There are hardly any trace of the ancient civilization left. It’s almost as if they were intentionally erased by someone.”

HMMMM. Cruxis??? But why would they care about the Balacruf Dynasty? Kinda wish we knew more about that. 

-There's this whole flying dragon business that's always talked about, but almost never seen aside from Hima. I wanna see how that works.

On that note, what's with how one Asgard dragon looks totally different? He's a cutie.

-“Aisha was chosen for the sacrifice because she associates with that half-elf."

Y E E S H.

-The background of the Asgard dais is purty.

-Y’all, Linar. Why do you keep rubbing your head in embarrassment like that. You're gonna shave all your hair off if you go any faster.

-That dais bomb disbarment scene is peak TOS comedy with how Raine keeps beating up that one dude. Also, sudden Lloyd bomb disarment skills.

-That scene when Harley almost gives away their half-elf identities 😬😬😬 The way the Asgard elder and his assistants giving Genis those looks says it all -- poor guy must've been terrified.

(By the way, I don’t remember if they fixed this in the ports, but did you notice Secret of the blue sky plays veeeeeeeeery faintly here? I know that’s a song associated with half-elf discrimination, but I think the wind howling speaks for itself.)

-“that monster with a giant f*cking blade for an appendage and demanding virgin sacrifices was a problem but Harley merely existing and minding his own business is a way bigger issue”.

Lady. Chill. Leave your racism by the door.

-“Well, he’s not causing any problems by being a half-elf but-” YES. YOU’RE THIS CLOSE TO GETTING IT.

-“My sister got a new fan!” *gets smacked*

okay

-“The location of the next Summon Spirit is the next seal.”

yes, I would think that's obvious

-“I’m a little scared, but you’re with me, so it’ll be okay, right?”

“Yeah, leave it to me!”

HHNNNNNGGGGGGHHHHHHH COLLOYD!!!!!

-man Fatalize is such a cool song. I wish it played more.

-look at Lloyd’s arm clipping through Colette’s when she falls down

-how did Colette’s hand bleed that much from falling down

-“Colette, can I talk to you for a sec?” 

oh

oh, here it comes 

“I thought it’d be nice for us to talk just by ourselves” 

The line, it’s coming…! 

“Here, it’s hot coffee.” 

HE’S GONNA SAY IT! 

“Hot, isn’t it?” 

ANY MOMENT NOW 

“It’s actually iced coffee.”

BRACE YOURSELVES

“I lied. It’s actually hot.”

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 

-Memes aside, how about that scene? Peak Colloyd. Colette’s trying her absolute hardest to downplay her trauma for Lloyd's sake (“But my eyes have gotten better!”) even though anyone paying attention can see she can't even convince herself ("I've gotten so good at hearing that...it's painful") and Lloyd just stops and hugs her in the middle of it and apologizes for everything…and she can’t even feel it! SHE CAN'T EVEN CRY!!! AAAAGGGHHHH

The bond they share goes beyond the senses!!! IT'S TRUE LOVE

[cocogrrrl]

rendezvous

Chapter 5: After Hours / I Think We Have the Guy

during the few hours after the meetup, kyle gets a troubled tip from a mysterious text and yn gets a name.

wc: 1753 cw: implied alcohol + drug use, mental health stuff, details about the murders (graphic, but not totally detailed) check the series masterlist here! previous chapter

Kyle’s body sunk into his bed, the cold sheets enveloping his dazed state. Only the light from the moon illuminated his room as it gently hit his face. His gaze was pointed to the ceiling, mind full of worry. He didn’t even bother to change out of his clothes yet. He was too preoccupied and exhausted to do that.

At least today’s over with, right? He couldn’t help it, though, many conflicting sets of emotions washing over him.

He couldn’t sleep over the fact that he, like, almost attacked someone. It goes against what he even stands for. What the hell was that even that for? He knew he was going to deal with someone sick when he approached YN, but he didn’t think that he’d already get looped into the sick shit they did already.

Fuck. Does that mean that only worse was to come for him? He hoped not, but so far this mission seemed to not guarantee anything for him. Would he have to make the first move on YN once more? Is he going to see the borrower again? Would he have to do worse? It hasn’t even been six hours, yet he feels like things are only going to go for the worse.

It’s okay, though. This is all going to be worth it. This is all for the better good. Peace will be restored once he gets his evidence, and he might even get transferred to a better position if all goes well.

…Right?

All of a sudden, sweeping his thoughts off for a split moment, a ping from his phone could be heard. He checked to see what it was—a notification.

April 1, 1:11 AM

??? hi kyle. i’m sure you’re looking for the killer on the letter case, yes? well, you’ve actually already found your guy. it’s me. 

Just because this person messaged you at a time and date that involves angel numbers, does not mean this is your guy.

The letter case is the string of murders Kyle has been solving for the past few weeks. That’s what it was called by locals because each victim had a love letter (unsure if for them) placed somewhere at the crime scene. It makes it seem rather lighthearted when the actual murders were grisly and simply not for the faint of heart.

He was shocked, to say the least. He had to sit there for a few moments. This guy must be insane. He could technically track their location. At least in the morning. Yeah, that’s the first thing he’ll do once he gets to work.

Maybe he was a fake anyway. I mean, there are definitely some sick people out there who’d come out and say that they’re the murderer when they really aren’t—perhaps this guy was just one of them.

??? don’t just leave me on read!!! i know you’re reading this, you were just out a while ago you’re gonna make me reaaall sad if you don’t reply :(

How the hell does this kid know where Kyle’s been? Could it be YN? Maybe it was some who just really lucky at guessing things.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. I guess he had to reply. What would happen if he didn’t? Would another body show up tomorrow? There hasn’t been any indication that the timing of the murders seemed to be patterned. For all he knew, the killer may tend to strike whenever they’re upset.

I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to know whatever was happening anyway. This might just be some kid, but by the off chance that this is his guy, then score for him.

kyle how can i even confirm that you are the killer anyways?

??? i know things that most people don’t like i know that you’re the guy in charge of the case

kyle i’ve given statements to the news about the status of the culprit multiple times

??? the first victim is a bakery owner the second was her mentee/cousin the next one is a local idol lastly the most recent one is a seamstress

kyle i believe those details have been disclosed as well

??? stop being mean!!! hmph :<

kyle i’m not? i’m just simply stating that the information you’ve provided me with so far is all accessible by the public

??? you leave me with no choice then! i have photos of the bodies

The next thing Kyle received were photos of the bodies, some of them dissimilar to those recorded by the department. Maybe it was one of those journalists? He wasn’t sure.

A few photos seemed to stand out, though. Some of them were photos of the victims  unconcious in the places where their bodies were found. They hadn’t been mutilated yet, though. They were just knocked out.

Kyle didn’t want to put his trust in that person yet. Maybe it was edited? You’re gonna need one hell of an editor to do that, though.

 

kyle i’m gonna need more than that

??? so mean! i didn’t!!!

kyle  okay? look, if you’re some kid trying to be cool, please stop it it’s really disrespectful

??? i’m not a kid dipshit i do have proof clyde donovan is the son of the seamstress he said that he was likely targeted by the killer a few days before his death he was held at gunpoint by me and he said that i wanted to sew a football in his face he thought it was funny at first but after seeing how the dress his mother made was sewn onto her he didn’t find it that comedic anymore

The urge to throw his phone across the room out of fear was tense, almost palpable. Chills crawled up his spine. Why? It’s because the guy was correct.

Kyle had conducted a few interviews with people close to Betsy Donovan when her body was found at the local park. It was a place that she and her family frequented growing up.

Clyde, as mentioned, revealed exactly what the anonymous texter told Kyle. Honestly, if anything, this person seemed to know this situation better than Clyde did himself. The detail about the football thing wasn’t mentioned at all when he interviewed him, or at least he doesn’t remember anything like that. He might have to recheck the tapes later.

This information wasn’t released to the public at all for the sake of the family’s privacy. This fact, combined with the photos, likely meant one thing: he was actually talking to the culprit.

Who was this person exactly? Immediately his first thought is YN. I mean, he is pretty sure that it is her, and she did get his number earlier. Plus, he was just with her and this person just referenced knowing that he was out. Maybe she’s just messaging him through a burner phone. Knowing how much she gets from her borrowers, it doesn’t really seem like it would put a dent in her wallet to buy a few backup phones.

kyle why are you messaging me

??? i want to help you solve find out who i am

kyle aren’t you just endangering yourself then?

??? don’t you want some extra help on your case? i know how bad you wanna take me down

kyle yeah but not like this

??? that’s why i’ve devised a plan for you, detective you receive information from me about the murders and my identity if you follow my requests

kyle i’m not doing that

??? i’m not gonna have you rob a bank dude jeez i’m just gonna ask for small favors

kyle like what?

??? you’ll see do we have a deal though?

⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

The blinds were closed, and so your whole room was just barely lit up by your night light. Your body was drowning in the stiff cushions of your couch. Your senses were tingly, probably even hazy. You might’ve had an extra bottle of some cheap liquor to relax your senses.

You were tired, to say the least. Your body was absolutely drained, but your mind still ran endlessly—no matter how much you wanted it to stop. You just wanted to sleep, nothing more, nothing less. Dear, God.

You didn’t like your mind during hours like these. It’s when everything would hit you at once, the surge of emotions sending you to a wave of nothingness. You’d wish it’d be noisier sometimes, but you knew that you couldn’t handle loud things as well. Maybe the quiet is for you. It sounds funny, considering the type of life you find yourself living in, but it’s true.

Scratch that. You were lying to yourself. You’re pretty sure you had about two bottles and a shot in the thigh earlier. 

Your mind drifted off to places you didn’t want to, namely in the house of sympathy. Now that you were thinking about it, you kind of felt bad for Brad. I mean, maybe this is his first serious case, and you might’ve completely traumatized him already. The only “serious” problems this town had were probably as easy to solve as it is making your bed or something. 

Are you right for wanting to toy around with him? Definitely not. Is there anything good that is to be expected from you anyways? You’re not a good person at all. You’re the furthest thing from. You still can’t help but feel a little remorse after seeing the mortified look on his face earlier, though.

In retrospect, when you had to put him through the actual act of taunting the guy with a knife, you just felt awfully mean. You felt like those mean girls who force their “weirdo pet” friends to bully their friends just to see them suffer. How low of you.

What can you do now, though? The plan’s set in place, and whatever damage you have planned out has already been done. There’s no going back now.

You checked your phone idly, hoping to see something, anything to take your mind off of the barren hellscape that is your mind. A text from Bebe sent about two hours ago caught your eye.

April 1, 1:41 AM

bebe hey yn? i think we have the guy if anything i think we have heaps of information

You saw the message and smiled. It’s not that you’re going through this with this plan. It’s that you’re going through with this plan while enjoying it. You piece of shit.

bebe his name is kyle broflovski

next chapter.

[popcornforone]

Possibilities

A Reed Richards / Mr Fantastic Fan Fic

Too soon… nah…

The announcement of our man in the Fantastic Four has had my head preoccupied since Wednesday & then someone said oooh imagine the Fics… so behold. I’ve given it an early go. Next year obviously we will know a lot more.

Synopsis:- Reed is watching you watch the news about an accident in space, but you have no idea how this is about to effect your life.

Word count:-2500

Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! PIV sex, squirting, breath play, choking, nipple play, safe words, rough passionate sex, swearing. Super hero drama about violence & end of the world. Innuendo & talk about growning man hood, & other sex items due to super powers.

Well yes I know I’ve jumped the gun but I hope you all enjoy this. All feed back is welcome. Thanks for the read peoples.

“& I for one believe that the world can now be a safer better place” Marcus Moreno leader of The Heroics states on tv. It’s always good to check up on the news, but after a couple of weird anomalies in the world recently, & everyone being on edge, it’s daily viewing. It’s always nice to see the dashingly handsome Marcus on Tv too, talking about how he & his heroics saved the world. He’s a reluctant super hero, but that’s why he is the best in the world. You also have a massive crush on him. Whenever he’s on TV your boyfriend rolls his eyes. He can’t see the similarities between himself & Marcus. You definitely have a type.

One of the reasons you’re watching so much news & Marcus at the moment is that your scientist boyfriend is on a retreat, for work. It’s in the middle of nowhere, so no phone signal, no way of getting in touch & you also dont know when he’s gonna be back. It makes the nights a little lonely, you only been living together from 2months ago. He was a bit worried about being a little bit older than you, & wanted to do things properly but you were smitten the day you met him, when you were doing a health & safety inspection of his building. You kept finding reasons to go back & do something, before you eventually brought him a coffee one morning. The rest as they say is history as he smouldered at you & made sure ‘the lift broke’ so you could throughly assess each other. No one had kissed you like that in a long time. Large hands & long fingers traced over you as your lips attached. You only mumbled his name as passion took over, it was barely audible, but he likes the way you said it.

“Reed”

“& what about that big space explosion?” A reporter asks Marcus on the news “should we be concerned with that?”

“No of course not, no one was on board, there was just a flare that cracked some solar panels it’s fine” you sit listening intently to the news on the sofa. You haven’t notice your boyfriend has crept into your house as you watch the news. He stands behind you trying to work out how he’s going to tell you something. Maybe it’s best just to get it done straight away.

You feel a tap on your shoulders & shiver & then jolt around. Reed is standing a few meters away in the kitchen door way. Did he throw something at you or dash back? Nah he couldn’t have moved that quick.

“REED” you screech & bounce over the sofa & straight into his long muscular safe arms. He hugs you with all his might, he’s missed you too.

“Ooh baby, I missed you” he says as you lift your head & go to kiss him, but he puts his index finger up to stop you.

“Reed? what is it baby?” Reed never refuses your kiss, never.

“I need to tell you something, but you need to swear on Dora’s life not to tell anyone” Reed knows how much you love your cat Dora.

“I promise on all our lives” he gulps & wraps his arm around you but it just keeps wrapping, looping around your body. “Reed?”

“So…” he’s trembling as the arm reels its way back in & it strokes your face & your eyes almost pop out of their sockets. “…our retreat wasn’t in a country house”.

Reed sits on the sofa & tells you he is a scientist for the heroics & he & his 4 friends were asked to go to the out post in space to check the flare data a week ago, & then the flare explosion happened & that he & 3 of the others who went to work on it now have super natural powers. He’s constantly stroking your leg & hand, trying to keep you calm as you ask questions of him.

“So…” he says after a long chat”… the heroics have asked if me & the other guys can be checked to make sure we are all okay & need to be under surveillance for a few weeks or months, until we can check this is permanent & that we dont get sick from it” you nod. “So your ‘handsome Marcus on tv’ would like to know, if you’d like to come & live on the heroic campus with me or if you are happy to have some people here to monitor us, because I said my one condition to doing this was that you had to be with me. A week in quarantine already was too hard without you” you blush as you look at Reed. He could die from whatever has given him super powers & yet the only thing important in his world is you.

“Baby really?”

“Yes really, if this isn’t permanent & it might kill me, I want to spend all of my waking hours with you, I missed you & I love you too much to not have you around, be it a day week month or longer.” He sees one tear drop from your eye. His thumb then grows from where it is on your lap & goes up to your face & wipes it’s clear & you look a little shocked & he can see that.”I dont have to use my powers when it’s just us but I am still getting used to them at the moment.”

“Does it all stretch?” You ask.

“Yea every part of me I’m not sure how far I can go but I know what I’ve learnt so far is impressive”

“Oooh lots of possibilities then”

“Yes lots”

“Do you want to be a superhero?”

“I honestly dont know, I was happy being Reed Richards, a scientist who does all the research & gets little credit”

“Well the world are fools for not recognising your full potential” you reply.

“So you’re not gonna run away? Dump me on the spot? That’s what happened to Ben when he went home yesterday”

“Seriously?” You are In shock “I always knew she wasn’t the best girlfriend but Damn. you guys all need support” this makes Reed chuckle. His palm lifts from your leg & moves to cup your face. “I’ll do whatever you want to Reed, I just have a favour to ask”

“Anything my sweet pea”

“Kiss me”

Reed wastes no time with that request. You’ve wanted your boyfriend to kiss you from the moment you saw him, before he dumped all of this news on you. The way his thumb brushes against your lips has you sighing already. He leans in normally & you both close your eyes as your lips touch. You knew you’d missed his kisses but this one makes you realise just how much. So plump, so rounded. It doesn’t take you long to turn something so soft into something heated & passionate. His tongue dancing with yours as you grab his shoulder. You go to bite his bottom lip but then a weird thing happens. He melts, not metaphorically but literally. It’s like he’s been turned to jelly as his body all goes floppy for a bit.

“Reed!”

“Ahhh” he jolts & forms back into him. “Clearly my body was so relaxed that it actually did”

“You litrally melted”

“Well it proves I’ve been right for the last 14 months when I say you can melt even the Iciest of heart” he then returns to making out with you. You’re careful with your touch being soft. This makes him chuckle.

“Don’t worry I don’t think you can break me like that.” You then hear the door lock & realise while one of Reeds hands is holding you, he’s locking up the house with the other. He’s now a very resourceful man. You slowly pull away from him.

“So you stretch”

“Yes I do” he smirks.

“All of you”

“Yes”

“No I mean all… of .. you?” My hand rubs his thigh above his jeans.

“Well why don’t we check?”

“Not that you needed it any bigger, what you have satisfies me enough”

“But baby”

“Reed I dont need a 8ft penis, I just need one that makes me moan”

“I love it when you moan* his pinky stretches & tucks your hair behind your ear. It’s weird but also wonderful watching this all happen. He then shrinks & pulls you in so you’re tight against him, almost crushing you against his chest.

“Reed” you gasp for air & he loosens a little.

“Sorry still getting used to it” he checks to make sure you’re not hurt before his arms slide underneath you as he stands. Almost cocooning you so you’re nice & secure as he carries you up stairs. You still wrap your arms around his neck because you like it. He can see you giggling a little.

“I don’t think you’ve ever carried me to bed”

“Well I’m much more flexible & stronger now” he says as he pushes open the door & unravels his arms around you on the bed. You both start to undress knowing where this will go. Reed pauses when you get to your underwear. His jaw drops. He’s seen you countless times before, but maybe the event in space & his new found purpose have made him realise he misses the sight of you.

“Oooh the possibilities I could have with you” he whispers as he straddles you as you undo your bra. His erection growing in his briefs.

“Really baby” you wriggle up the bed a bit & your hands & his free you of your knickers.

“Ooh yes beautiful you have no idea” he whispers this in your ear & then you feel the tip of his tongue at the base of your neck working it’s way up, he’s not moved his head an inch. You tremble & palm his erection. Your hips already moving ready to take him.

“Baby let me see”

The briefs are removed. There it is, his meaty girthy large erection. Throbbing angry & in desperate need to be satisfied.

“No tricks today gorgeous, we can do that another night, I just want to hear you moan my name, I’ve missed your body.” His words arouse you even more as he grips his length, covering it in your slick.

“Reed I…” your voice catches. He promised you no penis showing off but it doesn’t mean the rest of him isn’t as his hand that is around your waist, the thumb of it is attending your clit. You squirm. “Ooh fuck”

“God you are a feral little girl today” he says, inching his way in. Filling you up. Stinging. But feeling so good & so large.

“Reed….’mmm fuck yea”

“Fuck baby” he groans as he starts to move, he licks his fingers so they can be moist as he plays & twists with your nipples. A larger hand means both can be taken care of, while he still hold you in place, & attends to your clit. The pillow your head is next to, you grip, the spot being hit, your walls fluttering at each drag. He was always the best sex you’d had but now, with these extra gifts, each night is going to have you seeing stars. Your mind empty’s as quick as your heart rate peaks. Your own pelvic movement circling around his thrusts as he pushes you deeper into the bed.

“God I love you, god I love your cunt, so good”

“Reed oooh fuck”

“Yea baby you like that…hmm” sweat pours from his head. The few silver flicks in his hair are glistening the most. He lets your boobs go & his extra large hand grasps at you neck.

“You know the drill…”

“Green” you say as his hand gets smaller to normal size. He likes breath control durring intercorse but now he can shrink his hand, he’s going to like it even more. He’s also got more stamina with these new abilities. Each thrust almost has you at a high but it’s the slow pull back that stops you, has you begging for more. Your voice catches in your throat, his hand is now half its normal size.

“Yellow” you whimper, meaning that’s the max he can go to. Then it all picks up.

“You want this baby, you gonna cum, you gonna take this kind of pleasure each morning afternoon & night, you gonna squirt for me?”Reed has never moved so fast in his life. Thrust after thrust, punishing your core but it feels so good, almost like he was born to have this power.

“Reed” you gasp

“Let go baby, let fucking go let, milk me”

That’s all it takes.

“Fuckkkk” you moan as your orgasm hits, drenching his cock as you clamp hard, the matress beneath you feels damp as well. You’ve defiantly squirted.

“Oooh god, fuck fuck fuck yes yes oh fuck” Reed squeezes your neck a little bit more as you see stars & are in a haze & as he lets go, you feel his seed spill inside you. Painting your insides as he stays for a few seconds at the deepest he can inside you. Your special spot, is being pulsed against meaning your own climax continues.

“Fucking hell” you pant now your voice is free, gasping for air that you didn’t know you were missing, both your heart rates racing. Your collective moevements slowing down coming to an eventual stop & him slowly removing his cock from your pussy. It’s glistening much like the wet patch beneath you. He looks at the state of you both & smirks.

“Well that’s not been affected, you still make me cum” you giggle as he walks to the bathroom to get a cloth to clean you both with.

“& I didn’t even make my penis any bigger” he says as he wipes you up. Always so caring, being a super hero is still going to mean he’s sweet & polite by the looks of it.

“Not that you need to Reed” you sigh as he then lies next to you on the bed. One hand holding your face as he kisses you softly. Those sweet little kisses that say so much more than I love you. The other hand is washing the cloth in the bathroom, that’s how stretchy it can go. He sees you notice this & smirks.

“Well beautiful…” he says as that hand returns & it grabs his semi hard penis. “Shall we see…” you raise an eyebrow.

“Oooh all the possibilities Reed…” & you watch as he sees just how erect he can go without it becoming ridiculous.

[ppldynamics]

A strong personal brand can lead to new opportunities.

I’ve been busy working hard my entire life.

I took up two internships at once while in college, only to learn that neither employer was recruiting after I graduated.

I went above and beyond my quarterly targets in my first work at a major software business, only to be let go after three years.

Despite my best efforts, my job was eliminated.

A few years later, after I had recovered, the head of my department at a telecommunications company gave me a significant project.

Sadly, the new leader entirely abandoned it after my supervisor was transferred to another team.

I had no time to consider my personal brand in any of these scenarios because I was so preoccupied with my regular work and wanted to live up to expectations. I had to prove who I am and what I can do all over again whenever I changed roles or had to move on due to circumstances beyond my control.

What I wish I had understood then: Building a personal brand sooner would have prevented me from having to start over so frequently.

Most of us picture social media influencers singing, dancing, posing, or discussing fitness and fashion when we think of “personal brands.” These individuals are renowned for their knowledge. They stay current with fashion. Their adherents have faith in them. What if you exercised the same level of influence at work? What if professionals in your field came to you for guidance and motivation? Consider the potential benefits for your career.

How do you begin, then? Making your personal brand a meaningful aspect of your day-to-day work is the key. How? Read on.

1) Describe your unique brand.

It’s simple to become absorbed into the culture of the company we work for and merge our identities with its. I’ve always had the utmost respect for my employers. I like to dress professionally and speak in the language of the business. If this applies to you as well, how can you create a personal brand that fits within the overall corporate identity?

Three things need to be noted:

1) Your uniqueness

What unique perspective do you bring to the organization? Think about the vastness of your intersectional identity: your background, culture, race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, class, caste, religious beliefs, and so on. Considering these factors, ask yourself: How does my identity impact my understanding of the world and this business? What can I bring to the table that no one else can? Yourdifferences are your superpowers.

2) Your values

What do you stand for? What problems — global, domestic, or at the community-level — concern you? In which causes do you believe? To get inspired, have a look at theUN Global IssuesorPWCreports. Climate change, equality, health, human rights, disruption, sustainability — these are just a few examples of causes that may drive your actions or give you a sense of purpose at work.

3) Your contributions

Given your business experience or studies, what can you bring to the table in your industry? For example, perhaps you studied psychology and have insights into human behavior that allows you to offer valuable feedback to marketing teams. Maybe you’re a UX designer who understands how to create more accessible products. Or maybe your talent is analytics, and you know how to tell data-driven stories about why a business strategy is or isn’t working. Whatever your area of expertise, how do you use it to add value to your individual work, team, or field at large?

The combined result of these three elements make up your personal brand.

As an example, I’m a woman passionate about technology, with an international background, who has experienced the challenges of being a working mother and immigrating to a new country (uniqueness). I stand for equality and want to help people from diverse backgrounds find good jobs in our digital world (values). I lead a technical team at a tech company, and people come to me for career advice — tips around how to get into tech or how to upskill their workforce (expertise). Combined, these elements of my professional and personal identity create a personal brand that is entirely unique to me, my values, and my expertise.

What if you are not an expert yet? Don’t worry: We are talking about building aprofessional personal brand, and that means all is possible in time and with learning. Even if you don’t know or haven’t developed the skills you need to be an “expert,” you certainly have something to contribute. You just need to decide what it is, how much you can offer right now, and commit to developing yourself in that area. (It’s also okay if this changes or evolves over time.)

2) Find initiatives and organizational goals that are aligned with your brand.

Now that you know the focus of your brand, you need to find ways to exercise it. Make it a part of your professional development goals. This way, it becomes a part of your regular workday.

Take a look at the projects your team is currently carrying out. Do any align with your personal brand? If so, raise your hand to participate. If you don’t find what you’re looking for dig deeper, and see what’s happening at the organizational level. Big corporations often release annual reports around sustainability, DEI, workforce development, and other specialty areas. Read them, and connect with teams working on the issues that pique your interest.

For example, is there an initiative that both aligns with your brand and could use more support? I once worked for a huge telco, and was eager to contribute to projects outside of my role. I discovered a team that was team defining our organizational purpose, and while there were some permanent members, they were also seeking collaborators from other departments. I ended up leading a part of the project focused on building digital societies, which aligned well with my brand. I learned a lot, connected with people, and of course, used it to share new insights with my manager and team.

If you work for a smaller company be vocal about your skill set, and ask how you can best support some of their public-facing projects. This is a great way to increase your visibility, and showcase your brand internally and outward. As I did, make sure you frame your participation as a developmental or stretch goal. It may even lead to your next big opportunity.

3) Connect with colleagues who have similar interests.

Making your brand a part of your work is an excellent start — but you can’t go about it alone. You need colleagues with similar interests to inspire you, support you, shape your message, bring in new perspectives, and challenge your ideas so that you can refine them.

For instance, if you are interested in creating a more inclusive workplace for first-generation employees, and this is a key element of your brand, who can you connect with in the company to help you develop this goal, bounce ideas off of, and start building real community? Many organizations have employee resource groups (ERGs) focused on creating safe spaces for varying identities. That may be a good place to start.

Likewise, if your brand is more focused on an environmental, political, or human rights issue, look into whether your company may have existing discussion groups around these topics. You can also find like-minded employees by searching your “company name” + “social issue” online, and seeing if any of your coworkers have posted on the topic — in an article or even on social media. Don’t be shy around inviting people who inspire you to connect over a virtual coffee to learn more.

Finally, you can take initiative yourself. Share articles or videos that you’re passionate about with your team members or organize a “lunch and learn” on topics that align with your brand. This will allow like-minded people to come to you, help you expand your inner circle, and who knows, maybe even connect with new mentors or thought partners.

4) Create and share content.

You’re meeting new people and working on new initiatives. Now comes the essential part: creating and sharing content. Think of it this way: People move. Projects end or are killed. If this happens, you may end up like I did early in my career, starting from scratch. Sure, you can update your resume and LinkedIn profile to reflect your work, but if you don’t have content showcasing that work, no one will know what you actually did or what you actually stand for.

Block an hour or two at the very end of your day or week (or whenever is most convenient) to dedicate to content creation. An easy way to start is by reposting articles or news that align with your brand on social media channels like LinkedIn and Twitter. Don’t just hit “retweet,” though. Add your perspective when you post. Over time, you’ll grow more comfortable putting your thoughts into words, and may even be inspired to produce your own think pieces, social posts, or videos on those topics.

Of course, creating original content will require more time and effort. But if your perspective is thoughtful, ethical, well-researched (backed by evidence), and fresh, people will respond. Your personal brand will grow, slowly, but organically. Be prepared for people to provide you with feedback — positive, negative, and critical. Just as you’re able to share your thoughts freely, others will share theirs. From this feedback, aim to learn, get inspired, re-examine your perspective or ideas, think of new angles, and create something stronger the next time.

Finally, as you reach people and gain more visibility, you can expect to get more opportunities to exercise your brand. This may look like being a speaker in your corporate “all hands” meeting or delivering talks internally or at external event. With those invites, you’ll be required to create new content as a part of your job, and you can use iterations of that work when developing new ideas to publish or post.

For more :-

ppldynamics.com

https://www.linkedin.com/company/ppldynamics/

[boxesandrings]

I it’s me again I love your stuff. A idea I had inspired a fanart Shane reacting to F!farmer telling him she’s pregnant

( I’m just curious where that would go )

(Hi I promise this is much happier than what the description sounds like!! I think considering Shane’s mental health history life changing news like this isn’t something he’d brush past with no second thought, having a kid is kinda scary to everyone! Promise it’s mostly fluff but wanted to tag anything that could be triggering for others xoxo)

Title: A Father!

Rating: T (mostly for language, but Shane's earlier heart events are mentioned briefly)

Summary: The Farmer shares some exciting news with Shane! He's immediately over the moon, but quickly becomes overwhelmed.

CW: Mentions of pregnancy, Shane's early heart-events, a panic attack(?)

Characters: Shane, F!Farmer, Marnie, Evelyn, Pierre (pretty much all are mentioned)

Words: 3816

Shane took off his boots before entering the cabin, grimacing as he bent to do so. Marnie had needed help repairing some things at the ranch today, and he had spent most of it in a crouch. His thighs were punishing him for it now, sore with every step. Maybe he’d take a bath tonight, let his muscles soak in the warm water and try to relax a bit. Maybe his wife would take one with him.

He waddled into the house, his legs tight and called out. “I’m home! You in?”

The Farmer was often out late, working in the fields or with the animals, or sometimes off mining or fishing at the lake by Robin’s. It had been lonely at first, an empty house was something he’d never experienced, but he had found ways to preoccupy himself. After a month, he and his then girlfriend had a chat, the Farmer promising to be home by 7 every night, or calling and letting him know if something had unexpectedly come up otherwise holding her late.

“In the kitchen!” Shane smiled, making his way toward the room. It was barely 5, a sign for a good night. The sound of music grew louder and the smell of bacon wafted toward him. In the kitchen, he found his wife flipping pancakes but minding another pan on the back burner. She turned when she heard him get closer, waving her spatula before focusing back on the food. Shane walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her, kissed her cheek and rested his head on her shoulder.

“I thought it was my night to cook?” The pair switched who cooked every night, and Shane was certain it was his night. Or had he missed yesterday?

“Hello to you too.” The Farmer twisted her head around the best she could and puckered her lips, which Shane quickly kissed. “It was, but I just wanted to cook tonight. Go sit! I just finished up.” Shane squeezed his wife once more, but made his way over to the table. He groaned as he lowered himself into the chair.

The Farmer tilted her head as she carried a stack of pancakes for the table, watching as Shane rubbed his legs.

“Long day?” Shane nodded.

“Marnie called this morning and said that some pipes in the barn needed repairing, but neglected to mention that it was literally almost every single pipe in the barns, all the ones that carry water to the dispensers.” The Farmer set down the plate of bacon on the table, then slid into Shane’s lap, her arms around his neck.

“Oh, that’s rough.” Shane nodded, tilting his head forward into hers.

“They’re all so low to the ground, I essentially was in a squat all day. My thighs are killing me.” The Farmer nodded, her head moving his. She kissed his temple and stood up.

“I think I have some of that muscle cream lotion stuff that helps with the soreness. I’ll find it after dinner.” She made her way to her own chair, sitting down. “Not all bad though, squats are pretty good for the booty.” She smiled as she picked up a piece of bacon and winked.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Shane shook his head, but smiled as he used his fork to slide a pancake onto his own plate. Yoba, was he hungry. “How was your day?”

The Farmer bit her lip, smiling. “Oh, you know. Same old.” Shane looked up, cautiously eyeing his wife. She was biting her lip, trying to hide an obvious smile and kept looking up at Shane as she made her plate. Shane squinted.

“I feel like you really want me to ask what else happened.” His wife nodded, slightly shimmying in her chair.

“I heard some real good gossip.” Shane couldn’t help but laugh after she said it. His wife looked so pleased with herself, like she could barely handle keeping her excitement inside. She grinned incredibly wide, biting her tongue. Shane picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite.

“Oh, what is it?” He raised his eyebrows a few times, making his wife laugh. After she had calmed herself for a second, she leaned forward, as if the knowledge itself were moving her.

“Someone we know is pregnant.” Shane dropped his fork and coughed. Now that was some good gossip. In a town as small as Pelican Town, secrets among residents were incredibly hard to keep, and something as big as that would have spread easily within a day to the entire population. How had he not heard yet?

“Who?” The Farmer leaned back in her chair, biting her thumbnail.

“Guess.” Shane ran his teeth over his tongue as he mentally went through each of the town’s residents.

“Jodie and Kent? I feel like they could have another, the gap would be the same from Sam to Vincent to this one.” The Farmer watched Shane, her face giving away nothing. Finally, she shook her head, the same shit-eating grin on her face. Shane thought hard.

“It can’t be Demetrius and Robin, he practically yelled from the mountain top when he had his vasectomy. I don’t think Pierre and Caroline even like each other anymore…” He watched his wife’s face.

“Keep guessing.” Shane threw his hands up, but continued to smile.

“You’re gonna make me keep guessing?”

“Come on! You’re getting closer.” Shane sighed.

“Let's see… Maru and Penny are together, so I don’t think they could… Sam is, and no offence to the guy, but the biggest virgin I’ve ever met…Harvey… no.” He looked down at the table, scratching his chin. “Sebastian and Abby could be… Alex and Haley, but I’m not sure if they’re broken up right now.”

He looked up toward his wife, but her face gave away no hints. “I mean, Elliot sleeps with practically every tourist, so statistically speaking…” Shane shook his head, his eyes wide, and his wife snorted. “I don’t know? Emily isn’t with anyone, Leah isn’t, but I might not know.”

Eyes wide, he looked back up at his wife. “It couldn’t physically… Marnie couldn’t…” The Farmer’s face finally broke, a similar look of horror on her own face.

“Oh Yoba no, don’t even—” She made a face, shaking her head. “She’s too old, and not to be mean but I think if your aunt was having a baby with Mayor Lewis?” She shook her head again, faster. “You’d find me in here retching.”

Shane leaned back in his chair and dragged his hand over the bottom half of his face, thinking. The devilish smile slowly creeped it’s way back onto his wife’s face as she watched him. Finally, he sighed.

“Who is it?” The Farmer suddenly stood up and ran to one of the cabinets, pulling out a sandwich bag. She sat back in her seat, and slid the bag across the table to Shane. He picked up the bag and realized there were three white, long sticks in the bag, each one with two pink lines on one end. He dropped the bag.

“Oh, gross, where were these?” He looked up at his wife, expecting the same grin, but was confused to see that it had fallen, a look almost like annoyance on her face.

“Good god, Shane, did you— do you think I’m going around picking up random pregnancy tests?” He paused, his mouth dropping.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. She didn’t find them, she took them. That’s why he hadn’t heard the gossip already, she was the only one that knew.

He jumped to his feet, forgetting the soreness in his legs. His hands covered his mouth, open in shock as he looked at his wife. She nodded at him, the smile returned to her face, hints of tears glistening in her eyes. He turned from the pregnancy tests on the table, pointing at them, to covering his mouth again and looking back at his wife.

She continued to nod, crying definitively now but still smiling. The pair had been married for almost two years, and while they hadn’t made a point of deciding to actively try for a baby, they certainly had been playing it fast and loose. Four months into the marriage they decided that what would happen would happen and stopped using any birth control, the Farmer throwing out any pills she had left. Lately, the couple had stopped even pretending they worried about the possibility of getting pregnant, and Shane had felt that a ‘we should start actively trying’ conversation was weeks away, rather than months or years.

Finally, Shane spoke. “Are… you’re…” The Farmer nodded, sniffling and smiling.

“Yeah, yeah!” Her voice was breathy, joyfully crying through the words.” Shane covered his mouth again and felt his own tears beginning to pop up in the corner of his eyes.

“I— I need you to say it.” The Farmer laughed.

“I’m pregnant.” Shane ran at his wife, scooping her up in his arms, pressing his lips firmly onto hers. She laughed as she kissed him back, her arms wrapped tightly around them as they stood in the kitchen, her tears against his face, or maybe they were his own?

They stood, holding each other, smiling and laughing and kissing, until Shane quite literally swept his wife off her feet, fireman carrying her into the bedroom while she laughed in his arms. He set her down on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, practically attaching himself to her as he kissed her face as she pretended to struggle beneath him, giggling the whole time.

He laid on his stomach next to her, his face turned towards her on the pillow. She watched him back, still laying flat on the bed.

“You’re pregnant.” The Farmer smiled and nodded.

“I’m pregnant.” Shane smiled, scanning his wife’s face.

“We’re having a baby.” She scooched her face closer, kissing the tip of his nose.

“We’re having a baby.” The two gazed at each other, minds racing with nothing and everything at once. Shane lifted himself up and moved closer to his wife, his face only inches away from hers, sliding one arm under her head and placing the other hand on her stomach. Shane bit his lip.

“When do we want to tell my family?” The Farmer sighed and looked up toward the ceiling.

“I don’t know. I want to tell them, but so much can happen in the first few months…” She trailed off, running her tongue over her top teeth. “Maybe in a month or two? Once the pregnancy is past that first little hurdle.” Shane kissed her cheek.

“I get it. Marnie tells Lewis, Lewis tells everyone.” He sighed now. “I mean, you’re only 30, I don’t think you’re high risk or anything.” His wife shook her head and smiled at him.

“No, it’ll be perfect.” She slid a hand over the one he had on top of her stomach. “I know it. Just in the small chance, I don’t want everyone knowing.” She looked back toward the ceiling. “Also, I don’t want all the attention right away. It’s such a small, small town. Something like this will rock the pelican town people to their cores.” She laughed, Shane joining in beside her. “But I promise, when we do tell people, Marnie will be the first to know.” Shane nodded.

“We’ll let her tell everyone else. Makes it easy.” The Farmer snorted.

“Yeah.” She drew circles on his hand with her thumb. “I mean, I guess we have to tell Harvey, for obvious reasons, but I don’t think he can legally tell others.” Shane laughed again, and pulled his hand out from under his wife’s, moving it up from her stomach to her chin. He pulled her face toward his, kissing her softly.

“We’re having a baby,” he whispered, his nose touching hers. The Farmer smiled, and kissed him again.

“We’re having a baby.”

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

Shane couldn’t sleep, far too excited by the day’s news. No matter how long he kept his eyes closed, or tried to count deep breaths, Shane was restless. His wife had fallen asleep over an hour ago and was curled into a little ball by his side, her head on top of one of his arms.

They were having a baby. Yes, it had been something he and his wife had talked about for a while, one day wanting children, but now it was actually happening. He turned his head to look at the Farmer, drooling on his arm, and smiled. They weren’t kids anymore, Shane well into his thirties, and his wife just into them, but it still felt so strange and new and exciting for them to be parents now.

Shane bolted upright, his stomach immediately twisting. The Farmer groaned on the bed next to him, violently awoken by the sudden removal of his arm. She rubbed her eyes with one hand and propped herself up, squinting in the dark.

“Did I sleep through the alarm again?” She yawned. Shane hopped out of the bed, bee-lining to the bathroom. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna be sick.” Shane slammed the door behind him, ignoring his wife’s further questions. He barely had made it to the toilet when he felt it deep within him, the nausea making its way out into the bowl. He didn’t hear his wife come into the room, only felt her hand on his back as he continued to retch. Finally, he laid his head against the bowl, breathing heavily.

“Shane?” He could hear his wife behind him start to speak but pause, unsure of what to say or ask, her mouth just kind of opening and shutting. She laid her head against his back and sighed. “Do you want some water?”

“I’m going to be a dad.” The Farmer chuckled behind him.

“Yeah. I think we covered that a bit earlier.” She lifted her head and resumed rubbing his back. “I’m excited too.” Shane sighed.

“I’m gonna fuck this kid up.” His voice cracked, and he watched as a tear fell from his face. The Farmer paused.

“What?” Shane pulled his arms up onto the bowl, wrapping them around his head.

“I’m a massive fuck-up, and I’m going to fuck up this baby too.” His shoulders shook, an attempt to hold back his tears. “I could barely take care of myself, how am I—” Shane’s voice broke. The Farmer let out a tense breath behind him, and began to rub his back again.

“Shane, no! Don’t say that.” He lifted his head up, and turned to look at his wife.

“I am. I mean, I was worthless. All I did was drink, I hated myself, and for fucks sake, I tried—” Shane paused as he noticed his wife’s lower lip start to tremble and sighed. “I could barely hold myself together until you got here, what, five years ago?” He bit his lip, the tears coming out faster now. “I’m doing good now, but what happens if it all falls apart again?” His voice cracked again, and Shane didn’t bother to hold back a sob.

The Farmer tried her best to pull Shane into her, them both sitting on the floor, but Shane just sat there numb. He wanted to have this life with his wife, a family together, but how could he be a dad? Why did she even want him?

“Shane, please.” He looked over to the Farmer, who was crying, her arms around him. He’d made her cry, husband of the year material! “I think you’re just… you did this when the dog died, too. It’s a lot of information coming in at once, big information. But it’s okay!” Her hands slid down his shoulder, taking his hands in her own. “We’re doing this together.”

Shane let out an indignant snort. “I can’t even handle the announcement, what happens when the baby comes?” His head was spinning. She deserved better. He loved her.

“Shane! You’re okay, it’s okay. We’re in it together, we have each other.” She squeezed his hands, scooting closer to him. “You’re going to be great, okay? You’re not a fuck-up. We all have rough patches, you just didn’t have the support system you needed. Please.” She kissed his temple, but Shane stared straight ahead, toward the wall. He wished he could shrink into a tiny ball.

“I can’t… I can’t mess this up too.” The Farmer pulled his head down to her shoulder, her hands carefully working their way through his hair.

“You’re not going to mess this up, babe. I think you’re just panicking.” She held him close, continuing to quietly stroke his head. “I’m nervous too, but I know I have you.” He loved her, but when she shifted away beneath him, the panic filled his chest again. “I’m going to go grab your anxiety meds. I don’t think you took them at dinner, they might help.” She fully slid out away from him, Shane’s heart beginning to race. The Farmer stood up and stretched out her back. “Now that I think of it, I don’t think either of us even ate.”

Shane felt sick to his stomach, and barely made his way back to the toilet bowl before throwing up again. The Farmer crouched next to him, her hand on his back. Shane could practically feel the concerned look burning into the back of his head.

“Even if I don’t mess up, I’m just passing a damn cocktail of mental illness along.” He sat back on the floor, and used his hand to try and rub away the tears that wouldn’t stop coming. The Farmer above him sighed and sat back down, and wrapped an arm back around his shoulder.

“Babe, don’t—” Shane choked and leaned forward, wrapping his arms over his head.

“It doesn’t even stand a chance, I’ve just fucked it up from the beginning!” He could feel himself hyperventilating, what did his therapist tell him to do? “It’s gonna hate me, I’ve already ruined everything—”

“Shane!” The Farmer’s face in front of his snapped him out of the almost trance he was in, the distraction what his body needed to get in at least one deep breath. She had tears on her cheeks, but her voice gave away no sadness. “Stop it! Calm down!”

Shane leaned forward into her, practically up on his knees now to wrap his arms around her, holding her tight as he cried. She rocked her body, quietly shooshing as she held him, pressing kisses into the top of his head as she did.

“You’re not going to fuck this up,” she said after Shane’s breathing became more regular. “I mean, we’re going to make mistakes. Both of us! A lot. But we’re going to be new parents, it happens.” He nodded, squeezing his eyes tight. “You’re not going to spiral— I mean, now, yes— but it’s not going to get bad like it was ever again, okay? You have me, your therapist, Marnie, we’re all here for you.”

“I love you.” His words were muffled, his face still pressed into her chest. He felt a rumble, a small chuckle above him.

“I love you too. Also, you’re not the only one afraid of passing on bad shit. I mean, my mom is medicated for depression, and I have ADHD.” Shane raised his head, his face even with hers.

“Yeah, I guess.” The Farmer smiled, and reached on her hands up to cup Shane’s face, wiping away a tear with her thumb.

“Yeah, dummy.” Shane smiled and kissed his wife, before pulling back and biting his lip.

“I’m— I’m so excited, I really am.” His eyes met hers briefly, before he looked away again. “I want this with you, truly, I—” The Farmer leaned forward and kissed her husband again.

“I know, Shane. I get it.” They held each other on the floor, their foreheads pressed together. Shane tried to calm himself, breathing in time with his wife. “We’re in it together, alright? We’ve got it.” Shane nodded.

“I know, I’m sorry.” The Farmer smiled.

“It’s okay, it’s gonna be a big change.” She chuckled to herself. “We’ve got nine months, I’m sure this won’t be the last freak out. That either of us have.” The Farmer stood up, and offered a hand to Shane, smiling. “Good luck to you when I have to start buying maternity clothes.” Shane grinned and took her hand.

“What? You’re cooking up a baby in there, you’re gonna grow.” He kissed his wife on the cheek and wrapped his arm around her.

“Oh, I know that now,” the Farmer said, leading the two of them back into their bedroom. “But I’m sure hormone-y me will have to reckon with that later.”

Shane snorted as the Farmer sat down on the bed, and pulled Shane down into her. He kissed her forehead and climbed over, pulling the covers up on his side of the bed. She snuggled back into him, her head resting on his shoulder, but Shane could feel her squirming.

“You feeling better?” Her voice was quiet. Shane nodded, and wrapped his arm around her head.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Her arm snaked its way over his chest, reaching up to hold the side of his head. “You’re gonna be great.”

Shane smiled, and moved his head to kiss the palm against his cheek. “You too.”

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

It took Marnie two weeks to figure it out. Something about the way the Farmer was moving, she had told Shane, was different, and trapped him in her kitchen until he confessed. Marnie was over the moon, and promised not to tell anyone, but Shane ran home and told the Farmer straight away. His wife had bit her lip but shook her head, smiling. “If anyone was going to piece it together, it’d be her.”

In Marnie’s defense, it was almost a week before Evelyn congratulated the pair at the general store. Shane watched as Pierre blushed and ducked behind a shelf, but the Farmer thanked her and moved past, reaching for a bag of flour on the top shelf.

“You know, that was a pretty good run, all things considered.” Shane nodded, agreeing with his wife.

“I mean, that has to be a record! What, five? Six days?” The Farmer laughed, and hoisted the last grocery bag up into the truck. She caught Shane’s gaze, and tilted her head.

“What?” Shane realized he had been staring at her, a dopey look on his face. He smiled, face turning pink.

“Oh, nothing!” He hopped up into the truck, his wife following suit beside him. He looked at her again. “I’m gonna be a dad.” She smiled now, rolling her eyes.

“You’re gonna be a dad!” Shane laughed, and started the truck. The two chatted excitedly the whole way back, discussing the future addition to both their home and family.

[syndxlla]

Part eleven of the More To Love series

Summary: You get a chance to reflect on who you are, where you are with your relationships, and what you really want in life with the help of your mother, the Queen of Corellia. You meet some new seemingly friends, who quickly prove you otherwise.

Word Count: 7.1k, NO USE OF ‘y/n’

Warnings: Non-consensual kiss, swearing, alcohol

Author’s note: i am LIVID. why tumblr only lets you have a certain amount of paragraphs in a post IDK! it’s dumb haha and the only reason i went over is because there is so much dialogue in this. BASICALLY. I am making the decision to go easy on myself. I know earlier today I said part 11 would be split into two, but i am going to just make the second half be part 12. SO. i made a new moodboard for this chapter! i hope you like it :).

i wanna say a big THANK YOU to @stinky-child for helping me edit this chapter and getting it out on time!

PART 12 WILL BE RELEASED THURSDAY, MAY 27TH AT 6pm PST, 9pm EST.

part ten

Koska escorted you back to your quarters, the castle corridors were finally starting to calm down a little bit, however, more and more special guests who would be staying in the palace over the weekend walked in and out of doors, most of them not paying any attention to you because of your drab attire. You hoped the knight made it to his meeting on time and dry. There was no way to know until tomorrow morning, however. Koska was silent as she walked behind you, her footsteps much lighter than the knight’s. Your hair was thick and frizzy from the effects of the elements, and you kept your face down out of a foreign sense of shame.

Keeping your face down can’t hide that sense of shame from everyone, however, and before you can make it to your room, you’re hearing a joyful gasp and footsteps pattering in your direction. You look up from your walk of shame to see someone very important to you, it’s not your Knight, it’s not even Soniee, no. It’s your mother, the Queen of Corellia. She’s accompanied by three Corellian guards and she’s wearing the most beautiful yellow gown you had ever seen. It was clearly a gift from Bo-Katan. You smiled brightly, relieved to see someone you love. It had only been a few weeks but it felt like an eternity. You had completely forgotten she would be coming to your engagement ball. You’ve been so preoccupied with the plans and teaching the Knight how to dance that it completely slipped your mind. Your mother had a wide smile on her face, too, and wore the traditional Corellian crown. You ran to her and embraced her fighting around the waist, something that was not appropriate for royalty in public like this but you couldn’t care less. You had been so emotionally confused over the last few weeks that there was nothing you needed more than a fulfilling hug from your parent. She hums with joy when you come into her arms, and she runs her slender fingers through your beautiful hair. You sigh of relief in her embrace.

“I had forgotten you were coming.” You admit, holding back tears of relief. She chuckles in response.

“You look a mess.” She replies and you’re the one to chuckle this time.

“I’ve had quite the day.” You smile, blushing as you remember who you spent it with. “Come, I have so much to tell you.” You pull away, holding her hands in yours and then leading her to the closest sitting room. You were finally starting to understand the layout of the Mandalorian palace, it only took two weeks. This room was the same blue as the royal color, you guide her to sit by you on the sofa, and Koska awkwardly follows. You look over to the handmaiden before standing and walking in her direction. “Lady Reeves, you are dismissed.” You nod while speaking in a regal tone, but after stating it, your voice hushes and you whisper to her, “Is he going to be alright?” You ask in reference to the Knight.

She nods once, “Even if he was late, he’s bound to duty by the Queen, he’ll be okay.” Your stomach twists.

“What does that even mean?” You ask, there is much he is not telling you.

Koska sighs, she seemed to regret saying that. “I’ll worry about him, you enjoy your time with your mother.” She nods to the Queen who was patiently awaiting your return. You smile a “thank you” and walk back to the Corellian Queen. When Koska closes the door finally, you slouch into the couch, feeling pure relief as you were alone with your kin.

“You look absolutely exhausted.” Your mother says.

“I am, life here is exhausting. There are so many rules, much more than back at home.” You awkwardly shrug.

“We miss you.”

“I miss you too, more than you know.” You were so homesick these days. “I had to spend four days learning all the rules and customs and I still take private lessons from the literal queen so I don’t embarrass her anymore.” You roll your eyes, knowing that you couldn’t express this arrogance to anyone else in the palace and taking advantage of the chance now.

“Oh, I'm sorry love, I worried that there might be a bit of a culture shock.” She takes your hand with hers, stroking the stop of it with her own cold hands.

“Is father here?” You ask, your eyes hopeful. That glimmer immediately fades when she sighs, her eyes leaving yours. “What? What’s wrong?”

“He’s not coming…”

“What? Why?”

“He’s… sick, I didn’t want to tell you but it’s your right to know. You would have eventually found out anyway.” She somberly explains.

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, we think so. But traveling and socializing in his condition was not realistic. We understand that rumors will start, but his health is necessary before an impending war.” She frowns, and you try not to let it upset you too much. “Enough of that, tell me about this place.” Her tone immediately flips.

You smile, “It’s so hot, much hotter than Corellia. I mean the heat is exhausting and the dresses are heavy and the tea parties are always outside and I always feel overheated.” You complain.

“Do you at least like the prince?” She asks. “Is he cute?”

Now you must choose if you’re going to lie, like you have for the last fortnight, or be truthful with the only person you feel that you can be. You sigh, and just look at her, defeated, hoping that would be enough to tell her.

She hums empathetically. “Oh dear.”

“Yeah…” You sigh, happy she understood and you didn’t have to make the decision of communication.

“Well, keep your head up, I didn’t really like your father all that much until we had you.” She chuckles.

“What?” You ask, your eyes showing surprise. “I had no idea…” You weren’t sure how much you liked that thought, your parents had always been an example of a couple you’d like to experience for yourself. “Why had you never told me?”

“There was no reason for you to know before now. The older you get, the more you’ll learn what you need to hear.” She explains. You supposed she was right. “And remember, it’s supposed to be a partnership—marriage that is— it’s not so bad if you work at it.”

“Well, he certainly likes being solo.” You humph. “He’s very kind, and it’s clear he cares for his kingdom but-“ You knew you weren’t being completely truthful with her.

“But what?”

You debated your next words. You wanted to tell her, more than anything you wanted your mother to know what was really going on, but you knew you couldn’t. You knew she wouldn’t understand. This marriage is a diplomatic solution to an oncoming war of her home kingdom. She wouldn’t understand the strife. “Nothing.” You feel untruthful to yourself, but you can’t do anything about it. “I just feel like I will be unhappy in our marriage.”

“Marriage isn’t supposed to make you happy.”

You hated that, it wasn’t the first time she had said it to you, either. When an arranged marriage was first brought up, she said it then for the first time. The other time she said it to you was about three weeks ago, just before you were going to leave Corellia and come to this ornate prison. It was your last attempt to try and get out of it, but she uttered those words and you had to live with it.

This time, you pulled your hand away from hers. “But what about love? I thought you loved my father!?”

“I do love him, but that didn’t happen for a long time, like I said, not until you were born.”

“So then what’s the reason for all this? For sending me here for a big ball and a fancy wedding if I am not supposed to love the man I’m sharing these parties with? How am I to enjoy marriage before children then?” You stand up on these words out of frustration. You hated feeling like your only purpose in this world is to bear children, to produce an heir.

“Love between royals is not a natural thing, it can’t just happen between any two people. There must be that connection there and it often isn’t developed for a while.” She chuckles. “What? Did you think you were going to live inside one of those fairytales your wet nurse used to tell you before you went to sleep?” She asks, looking up at you, surprised.

“What do you mean ‘between royals’?”

“We must do what’s best for our people, it’s selfish to marry for love when you are royalty.”

You feel defeated.

“No… No, there's so much more to love. Love is not selfish, in fact, I believe that loving someone with our hesitation and unconditionally is the most selfless act one could ever do.” Your voice raises just a bit. You meant every word you said.

“If you feel this way about love, then surely you must love the Prince. What’s the problem then? We’ve been preparing you for this reality for years, it’s not a new concept that you would not love immediately, I can only imagine you would feel so emotionally because you have those feelings for someone.”

Did you?

You consider what she was saying, your eyes trailing to the side as you thought. You supposed she was right, there would be no reason for you to feel so passionately about it if you hadn’t experienced it for yourself.

But you weren’t having that experience with Korkie, the hell you weren’t.

Did you love the Knight? You don’t know his name, you don’t know his face, you don’t know anything about him and yet you are starting to think that infatuation has grown into adoration. Your legs feel weak, and you have to slowly lower yourself onto the couch again, feeling woozy from the realization. How did you let it get so far? Your confused face turns to look at your mother’s, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly open.

“I sense you realized something you didn’t already know.”

You slowly nod your head. Unsure of how to react, you fiddle with your fingers, trying to gain your bearings again. You expect your mother to speak up but she never does.

Before the conversation continues, however, the door is pulled open and three Knights are walking in, a Butler steps in, “Her Majesty, The Queen.” He says before nodding and stepping away. Bo-Katan glides into the room, regal as ever. You and your mother stand up from where you sat, curtsying for your hostess.

“Your Majesty.” She takes your mother’s hand, both of them smiling and kissing one another on either cheek. “I trust your travels were comfortable?”

“Yes, your coachmen were very hospitable.” Your mother nods.

Korkie then enters the rooms with another young Prince who you hadn't met before. He was blonde, and skinny as a twig. He wore a white and gold ceremonial cloak that covered his right shoulder. You smile at Korkie out of Obligation, and he and the other prince bow to the women in the room.

“Princess!” Korkie cheers, “This is my cousin, Prince Hugo of Bespin.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.” He takes your hand and kisses the top of it, his smile charming and blue eyes bright. You were flattered by the gesture, humming.

“The pleasure is mine.” You follow royal protocol. Then, another woman enters the room. She’s tall, an intricate headpiece adorns long, black hair and she has hypnotic, black eyes hidden by deep set, hooded eyes. She’s beautiful, with toned skin and red dots drawn under her lips making her stand out from everyone in the room.

“Ah, Her Majesty Queen Clarya of Naboo.” Bo-Katan introduces. The Elven Queen Ahsoka then enters the room, and everyone, even the Queens bow out of respect before the door is closed. The parlor is suddenly very full, and your intimate moment with your mother is lost entirely. You are suddenly very aware of your disheveled look, and try to run your fingers through your hair a few times.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you.” Clarya says, smiling. “I’ve heard so much about you.” Taking your hand and giving you a friendly squeeze.

“Oh… I’m afraid I haven’t heard much about you.” You apologize.

“No troubles, You are all the gossip among the other Kingdoms.” The eastern queen explains.

“Yes, It appears you are.” Korkie says, moving to stand by your side. “How wonderful that my beautiful wife-to-be is regarded so highly across the world.” He tries to take your hand but you pull it away, not necessarily meaning to, but it was a reflex that you failed to suppress after realizing you were in love with an entirely different man. He clears his throat, and the aura in the room is awkward, you aren’t sure what to do, so you just say the first thing to come out of your mouth.

“Have any of you gone to the beach? It’s lovely!” You awkwardly smile before walking over to the drink cart underneath a portrait of a Manda’lor of a past generation. You try to ignore all the people, feeling a little embarrassed that they were all seeing you dressed like this. You didn’t even think of what suspicion could be born out of that phrase.

“Oh yes, our sandy beaches are widely loved by all.” Bo-Katan takes a seat on the sofa in the place you had sat at just moments before, crossing her ankles under her gown. You shakily pour amber liquid into a crystal glass, your hand shaking as you bring it to your lips, taking a sip of the alcohol.

“Nothing like the Corellian beaches, I assume?” Your mother asks. “Our beaches are rocky and often frozen over.”

“Ah yes, but the Corellian ship fjords are lovely, what a wonderful exposure to culture you raised your daughter with!” Ahsoka sings.

“She turned out alright.” Your mother teases and everyone chuckles warmly. You turn around after drinking, and sheepishly smile. Gods you hope she meant that.

“Well, we are all very excited for the ball tomorrow.” Clarya says, “My assistant worked on a mask for hours the night before we left. It will be an extravagant sight to see everyone dressed so festively.”

“Of course, but we all know none of us can compare to the fashion and extravagance of the Naboolians.” Korkie hums. Everyone chuckles again. You nervously looked out to all of them, you had just made possibly the biggest mistake of your life and none of them paid any attention to you despite it. You had just shown Korkie your first and only sign of true disinterest the night before your engagement ball and you desperately wished you could go back in time and take his hand instead of denying the act of affection, even if you didn’t feel good about it.

“I think you will all be pleased to hear that it was the Princess who came up with the Masquerade idea.” Bo gestures to you. You smile with your teeth, trying to act normal and not like you were secretly dying inside. There is general amusement when that is said, and you can’t help but fidget with the crystal alcohol glass, wanting to leave the room and return to the comfortable embrace of the Knight on the beach.

“Beautiful and smart!” Korkie’s cousin laughs, putting emphasis on the ‘and’. “It’s not every day you find a woman like that!” Everyone laughs again, and this time you force out a faux chuckle to seem more involved in the eyes of the others. “You better hang onto her, Kork!” Korkie smiled at his cousin's words, looking over to you. You feel weak, not liking all the attention. If this much attention was making you feel this way, what would the ball with hundreds of guests tomorrow night be like?

“Yes but, I can’t seem to remember going to the beach with you?” Korkie asks, his diplomatic voice cutting through the laughter. You nervously laugh. He knew something was up. How could you be so careless?

“What? Did I say something about the beach?” You try to play it off cluelessly.

“Oh come on, we all know you aren’t that ditzy.” His cousin groans

“Your fiance asked you a question, dear.” Your mother prods.

“Yes, did you go to the beach sometime during your time here?” Bo-Katan is the one to ask this time, and your legs are starting to feel unsteady.

“It’s not a bad thing, we just want to know.” Korkie takes a step in your direction, making you feel closed in. “We all love the beach here and we are happy you have gotten the chance to enjoy it.” You sensed there was an undertone with his true meaning.

You weren’t sure if you believed him when he said this, “Is it hot in here?” You chuckle, “I think I’ll have another drink, would you like one, Korkie? You ask before turning around and pouring another glass of brandy. He can see how shaky your hand is as you try to fill the cup. He stands behind you, wrapping his arm around you and cupping your hand with his in an attempt to make the pouring more steady. The action startles you, and you flinch as a reaction, dropping the crystal glass in your hand. It was already partially full, and it falls down to the floor in slow motion, golden drink splashing out of it as glass shatters on impact, making a loud, crashing sound that sends shards out across the floor and leaves a puddle of alcohol to soak into the bottom hem of Koska’s sister’s dress. The women of the room gasp from shock, and Hugo walks quickly over to see the mess. You look down at the glass in shock of what you just did, your heart sinking and stomach churning. Lady Tano is the next one to walk over to you, taking you by the shoulders and guiding you to one of the arm chairs, helping you sit down. The room was deathly silent now, you could hear your pulse ringing through your ears. Ahsoka crouches before you, ruling your hand with hers and trying to comfort you from the unexpected shock. Korkies hands are balled into fists. Was he angry with you?

“No worries.” Hugo laughs, trying to be an entertainer, “Butler!” The Butler opens the door.

“Is everything alright?” He asks after bowing.

“Yes, we just made a little mess, would you be so kind as to clean it up?” Hugo walks Korkie, who seems to be just as shocked and embarrassed as you, over to another armchair. The butler snaps and then whistles and three young maids come in, each one getting on their hands and knees to pick up the pieces of glass.

“Princess?” Your mother says, “Do you have something you would like to say to the Manda’lor?” She awkwardly asks, clearly trying to make good from the situation, side-eying Bo.

Your pale face turns to look at Bo, who had that same disappointed frown that you always see on her.

“My deepest apologies, your Majesty.” You clear your throat before painfully looking over to where Korkie sat, his hand resting in his palm and expression down turned.

“Well!” Hugo takes the center of the room. “No use in sitting here in silence, mistakes happen! Right Auntie?” He says to Bo.

“Of course.” She smiles, physically accepting your apology with a reassuring nod.

“Lovely, would anyone like some music?” He asks.

“That would be lovely, Hugo.” Lady Tano says in her ethereal voice. He smiles and walks over to the baby grand piano in the corner of the room, the same baby grand that you played at for your Knight a few weeks ago.

“The Princess plays!” Your mother says, trying to alleviate any tension.

“She does?” Hugo makes direct eye contact with you. “Would you like to play a duet with me?”

“Hugo, she just-“ Ahsoka begins but is interrupted by your mother.

“Oh won’t you play for us Dear?” She asks, smiling.

“Please! I have wanted to hear you play since I was told you could.” Bo-Katan asks. It would be rude to decline a request from the Queen and the Host of the night.

You nod and stand up, that could be just the thing you need to feel better. You walk over to the piano, stopping just before Hugo.

“Bass or Soprano?” He asks, muttering so quietly that only you can hear it.

“Soprano.” You say. He pulls the bench out and sits first since he would be playing the lower part. You then sit next to him, your hands still slightly shaking.

“Do you know the ‘Dathomirian Waltz’?” He asks. You nod. “Lovely, key of D minor then, I’ll follow you.” He pulls his hands up to the keys, and you follow, taking two deep breaths, the first to calm your shaking hands, the second to conduct both of you in at the same time. Together you play a set of intricate chords, Hugo emphasizing on the bass notes, playing a complex scale that brought his left hand over his right several times. You carry the melody, playing just slightly louder than him and allowing yourself to fall into the trance of performing. Your hands finally quit shaking after a few phrases of the music, allowing it to soothe your nerves. Music has always done that for you. All of the nobles in the room smile, the Naboolian Queen sighing at the beauty of the complicated piece. You can’t keep the smile from pulling on your lips. Korkie’s cousin was very talented, much better than you. His hand brushed against yours several times and you couldn’t help yourself from thinking about the Knight when Hugo touches you.

This was something you would never get with him. You would never get to share a memorable moment with others, never get to rub hands against each other in front of three Queens, never get to look one another in the eye without shame or secrecy. The thoughts start to overcome your consciousness, causing you to play a sour note. No one seemed to notice, but you were more aware of it than you should have been.

A beautiful piece, carefully composed and rehearsed, performed with the intent to dazzle, the intent to impress. However there will always be the sour note, an incorrect chord that the audience might not hear but those giving the show will dwell on undoubtedly.

Like the Kingdom of Mandalore.

——————————————

“Rise and Shine your Highness!” A sing-songy voice calls out to you before pulling the long, draping curtains apart and letting the warm Mandalorian sun pour into the room. You groan and flip over onto your side, your body is still exhausted from yesterday evening and you would like to sleep in a little longer.

“Oh, don’t give us that.” A more brash voice groans and you recognize it as Koska’s. You can hear a number of other bodies file into the suite, maybe three or four. The handmaid's pull in the elven dress and a light breakfast. You can still smell the salt water on your forearm as you swing your hand over your eyes. You were not a morning person. Koska walks up to your bed before sitting on the edge of it, placing her tan hand on your shoulder. “We’ve let you sleep in long enough, we have to get you dressed and ready for tea with the Queens.”

“Queens?” You mumble, slurring the ‘s’ out.

“Yup, both Bo-Katan and your mother as well as the Queen of Naboo and Duchess of the Felucian mountain Kingdom are all eager to spend brunch with you in the Garden.” More guests arrived this morning while you were still sleeping, but it wasn’t until Koska explained to you about the women waiting for you that you remembered what day it was. You opened your eyes wide, flopping your arm onto the mattress beside you and looking up at her drowsily.

“The masquerade is today.” You say out of realization. She smirks and slowly nods her head. Soniee budges into your conversation, sitting on the opposite side of the bed.

“We have two dresses for you to wear today! This one,” She pulls forward a gown that isn’t quite as full and round as the dress for the ball, but is still a lovely dress with a pretty skirt and pearls embroidered into the bodice. “And of course the elf dress.” She nods to the pink and gold gown that sat on a sewing-bust, shimmering in the light. “We won’t get you into the ball gown until later tonight.” She hums.

“Now, we have to get you cleaned up, your hair is a mess.” Koska stands up and pulls the heavy down comforter from off of you. The loss of warmth elicits another sleepy groan from your lips and you stare up at the ladies in waiting frustratedly. “Up!” Koska’s serious voice commands and you’re scared enough of her that you jump up out of bed, pulling the nightgown sleeve up that has been slowly slipping down your shoulder and showing more and more skin. “That’s better.” Koska hums, “Let’s get you a bath, yeah?” She walks towards the bath room, opening the golden gilded doors and into the naturally-light room. You will always admire the beauty and effort put into the Mandalorian palace despite the internal battle with living here. You follow her into the room, still sleepy and walking slowly but eventually making it to the tub in the center of the room. The bath has already been drawn, which they must have done in your sleep (they’ve never done that before). You strip out of the cream-colored nightie and dip into the warm water. It smelled of lavender and honey and you allowed your muscles to relax into the bubbles. It was perfect, exactly what you needed to clear your racing and stressful mind. Your muscles were sore from yesterday and the warm water and flowery oils soaked them blissfully. You sigh at the sensation but before you can enjoy it anymore, Koska is dumping the warm water over your head, wetting it completely. It’s unexpected and you gasp from shock, your eyes glued shut to keep the water out of them. Damp hands come up from out of the water to wipe your eyes but then another dump of water is pouring over your head and you’re back at square one. Koska was a much harsher bather than Sonnie was.

All is forgiven however when she starts massaging your scalp, cleaning your hair. You relax back into the tub and enjoy the seawater and wind getting rinsed out. The other ladies come in, one on either side of the tub who files your nails, and Sonnie brings in a towel and silk robe. The other handmaiden works at your calloused feet with a pumice stone and you try not to let it tickle too much. It was true pampering and you loved every second of it. Usually there’s only one maiden to bathe you but five was divine. You assumed this was the treatment the Queen always received.

After you are properly cleaned, your Corellian tea is brought in and you’re left alone for as long as you like. You slowly sip on the purple shaded drink, waking up from it’s comforting properties. You sigh deeply, allowing the fragrant air to fill your lungs while you look out of the tall, narrow window in the center of the outside wall. You could not see the ocean from here, but instead the distant roofs of Keldabe. It was a beautiful summer day, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and you could hear the birds who have nested in the nooks and crannies of the towers chirping. You knew you had a long day ahead of you, and you wanted to try and enjoy it as much as you could. You never really enjoyed the social aspect of royalty, and that’s all today will be, but you’re ready to brave it head on.

An hour passes before you are finally dressed in the first gown of the day. Your hair is braided back so that it will have a desirable wave for the ball tonight. You are snuggly tied into the pearled bodice of the dress, and you run your hands up and down the beading, allowing it to tickle your soft palms.

Koska pulls open the door, and you’re expecting to see the Knight standing there stoically as always, but he isn’t. The hallway is completely empty, in fact, and you can’t ignore the dreadful feeling that overcomes your body. Where was he?

You clear your throat, and look back at Koska, who was adjusting the skirt of your gown as you walked.

“Where is he?” You ask, your voice hushed almost to a whisper but not quite. There were a million possibilities behind his absence and not a single one of them was ideal. Koska lifts up from her crouched position, smoothing the front pleats of her dress.

“What?” She asks and you sigh out of frustration, there was absolutely no way she didn’t know what you were talking about but you had to be vague because of all the ladies in waiting listening in.

“Who will be accompanying me to the garden?” You say with a forceful tone, trying to prod at a deeper meaning to the question.

Luckily, Lady Reeves picks up on it, and she looks behind you. You felt like she was avoiding eye-contact and it only made you more stressed and confused. “I’ll be escorting you, Highness.” She nodded, moving a step forward and then taking the lead down the corridor. You follow hesitantly, and wait until you are far enough down the hall from the other ladies back in your suite to speak again.

“Don’t horseshit me.” You mutter behind her. She keeps her chin up high as usual. “He’s in trouble, isn’t he.”

Koska doesn’t answer.

“Koska, you promised me he would be okay.” You try not to let the emotion show through your tone but that was a challenge. You felt guilty for some reason. If he was in trouble, it would be entirely your fault. The words shake in your throat and maybe it’s the tight corset and the fact that you are descending the stairs but you’re out of breath and it’s hot, so hot.

“He’s fine, I swear to the stars.” She whispers, saying it straight forward instead of turning back at you in an attempt to stay calm and unsuspecting to watchful eyes.

“Well then why didn’t you tell me that?” You ask, twiddling your thumbs.

“I couldn’t… there’s more to it but-“

“But what? What could be so secretive that you have to keep it from your future queen?” You say through gritted teeth and immediately after, Koska is spinning around on the staircase and looking up at you with a furrowed brow. You felt like you were being scolded by an impatient tutor despite the fact that you out-ranked her.

“You don’t even want to be the Queen.” She says in a whisper-shout, starting to sound as angry and emotional as you were just moments before.

“You’re right, I don’t-“ You bite back.

“So why are you here, then?”

You aren’t sure how to answer, the obvious answer is for Corellia. You were promised something in return for your ability to produce an heir and look like a porcelain figurine on a high shelf. But you also knew it would make your family happy, and your Kingdom. You would be making them proud by marrying so rich. You made a promise.

But now you think you’re starting to stay for an entirely different and unethical reason. Something that is inherently a trap and you know it, and yet here you are, fussing over it at every change you have.

Koska rolls her eyes and scoffs before continuing down the stairs.

“Who spit in your porridge this morning?” You reply.

“You did.” She groans in response.

“I’m sorry, but what did I ever do to you?” You ask when you complete the steps down and start down another corridor, one section of the massive palace closer to your destination.

Koska is the one not to answer this time.

It infuriates you that everyone is keeping secrets from you, your entire experience in Mandalore feels built on deception and being left-out. And now, the two people who finally seemed to be on your side aren’t with you in one way or another on such a big day. Koska is angry with you for no reason and you have no idea where your knight is.

The rest of the walk to the Gardens is silent, and before you know it, you are plopped down on an uncomfortable wicker chair in the hot sun, sipping on lukewarm lemon tea and wondering how much longer you have to suffer. Your mother and Bo were giggling about something, the rest of the court buzzing with conversation and ignoring you as always. Was it possible that you were the problem? You ask yourself this after another sip of the tea, a lemon slice bumping up against your upper lip a few times. As you think, you hold the dainty cup against your mouth, losing yourself in thought without realization. Your pretty eyes stare down at the green grass of the Garden. The grass never gets green back home.

You start subconsciously bouncing your leg as you thought to yourself. Everyone seemed to ignore expect for Korkie and your Knight— who both want to fuck you. Maybe that was the only desirable thing about you. This wasn’t the first time you felt insecure about the relationship you have developed with the Knight. He’s so quiet, so different from you. Were you falling for a trick?

Was he?

Tea must have gone by fast because just before the pearls of your dress start to burn against your arms from the heat exposure, you’re excusing yourself and wandering back inside.

“Strange girl.” One of the noble ladies says to Bo when you walk away. You don’t hear it, you can’t hear anything except for your deafening thoughts.

“Are you sure she’s the one for your nephew?” Another asks. If you had known your mother was silent for all of this in fear of losing her reputation or even the deal between Corellia and Mandalore, you would have been furious.

“Well his father was an outcast, too.” One chuckles. “I guess you Kyrze’s attract the wallflowers.” A few hummed in amused response.

“Well his father wasn’t just an outcast, he was a downright scandal-“

“My sister loved him, and that is all that matters.” Bo interrupts. The laughter quickly dies out.

“Don’t tell me you believe in love, too.” One laughs.

“You aren’t married, what could you know of love?” The same one bo interrupted says.

“I do believe in love, which is why I am not married.” The Queen reiterates. “And I don’t think she’s the right fit for my Nephew, she’s too… outspoken. He needs someone who won’t outshine him.” They chuckle again, all do but your mother, who is still meekly silent.

“Well with the engagement Ball tonight, it is far too late to back out now.” One teases, and the laughter only grows.

Bo-Katan stares in the direction you left.

You huff down the hall, your arms folded and neck sweaty from the heat. You are looking back and forth, studying the layout of the hall in search of something. You’re looking for the smallest idea of where the knight could be but you aren’t very successful.

While all the fully armored guards of the Mandalorian palace are dressed identically, you are almost certain you would be able to spot your boy in a crowd of a thousand of them. You aren’t sure why, but there is something different about him, something that sticks out from the rest. Somehow you two were connected, and it made it so he was always plaguing your mind, even when you are with your literal fiance. Even when you are far away from him and have no clue where he is for the first time in two weeks.

Separation Anxiety.

You aren’t watching where you’re going, which makes you run into a tall, lanky boy. You yelp out in apologetic surprise, looking up at the person blocking your stressed search. A blonde boy flips around to look at you and you’re half expecting to see Korkie but it isn’t.

His Cousin, Hugo, looks down at you with his same charming smirk as always.

“Princess!” He bows.

“My apologies, Hugo!” You exclaim.

“Oh please, you are perfectly fine. You looked distressed? I hope It was not something I did?”

“Of course not!” You reassure, awkwardly smiling. “Uh- may i ask what you were doing in the center of the corridor?”

He chuckles, “Admiring this art.” He nods to an expansive, framed oil painting on the wall. It was of a tall man with a long face and alarming smirk. What stuck out to you, however, was that he held in both hands the same black sword from the royal portraits upstairs by the war room.

“The art is beautiful here.” You smile.

“Yes, my Aunt Satine worked hard to make it culturally rich.”

“Did you know her?”

“Yes, I am a bit older than Korkie, and I knew her for several years before she passed.”

“Are you… second in line?”

“I am.” He says with a classic amused smirk.

“So maybe you can answer a question for me, then.” You ask as you look up at the art. “What in the world is that?” You ask in reference to the blade.

“That, my foreign Princess, is the Dark Sword of Mandalore.”

“The what?” You cluelessly ask.

“A sacred weapon that the rightful ruler possesses, it’s rather powerful.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it before.” You look up at it in awe.

“Hah, yes. It is made of pure obsidian. The white is enchanted quartz veins. It is practically invincible, an elven Mand’alor forged it when he was just a boy.”

“What? There were Mandalorians who were part elf?” You ask, your eyes peeling off of the art and onto your companion.

He looks at you almost confused, “There is much you do not know about my Kingdom?”

“No… I’m afraid not.” You shamefully admit.

“Most don’t,” He shrugs and returns to the conversation unbothered, “It’s history is rather complicated.”

The two of you were quiet for a long time. Your eyes were glued to the stern face of the man in the portrait. You wondered who he was. Hugo is the first to speak up.

“You played beautifully last night.” You doubted he didn’t notice the incorrect notes and mistakes you made several times, maybe he was just being polite by ignoring them. You turn to look at him and smile kindly.

“As did you.” You return the compliment. He looks at you, and you must have been distracted by something other than him because you weren’t aware that his eyes were darting between your eyes and your lips.

Hugo forces a kiss on you.

Just like how Korkie did a few weeks ago in the library. It’s fast because you angrily pull away just as fast as he placed it on you.

“What?” You say like an idiot, looking up at him in shock.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t feel it?” He gets defensive immediately. The worst part is that it wasn’t even that bad of a kiss, much softer than Korkies, but nowhere as tender as the kisses the Knight would lay on you in the water or behind a closed door. Your entire body seemed to seize up, and you couldn’t get any words out. Not any words that you wanted to say. You just looked up at him, vulnerable and confused. He leans down to do it again but you’re able to turn your head to the side, keeping his lips off of you.

“I am… in love with another man.” You say, clearing your throat.

“You and I both know that isn’t my cousin.”

No use denying it at this point, “yes, but I am still engaged to him. I cannot just be disloyal to the future Mand’alor.” You mutter, embarrassed but trying to keep your cool. You knew you were lying, because you weren’t staying loyal to Korkie. No, you were outright cheating on him and you were falling in love with the boy you were cheating with. You were falling in love. You were very exposed, after all. Anyone could turn the corner or look through the windows and see you. It was different this time, however. Usually hiding your kisses are exciting, but that was only with the Knight. “Please,” You voice betrays you, and the emotional shake is heard through your clenched jaw, “Excuse me.” You push passed him frustratedly, making sure to shove him over a little with your shoulder. You angrily walk back to your room, finally getting there without help for the first time.

When you turned down the Corridor to your suite, you were hoping to see the beskar-clad boy who held you last night, but he still wasn’t there. You hold back emotional tears, but not seeing the one who brings the most comfort to you makes you break. Two crystal tears roll down your cheeks.

You have been taken advantage of too many times in this forsaken castle.

You pull open the door, the golden afternoon light reflecting warmly off of the gold-leafed furniture and decorations is a stark contrast from the bleak hallway. Your bed has been made, and things have been tidied up since you were in here last. You flop onto the mattress, your arms stretched out from your sides, looking up at the sheer canopy above where you lay.

Two hours pass. You think you fell asleep but you cannot remember. If you did, no dreams were had.

Soniee opens your door with trepidation after two soft knocks, “Princess, It is time to prepare for the ball.” Her voice is so timid. You twist your head to look at her, the other ladies from this morning were behind her. Koska was not with them.

You sit up from the bed, rubbing a crook in your neck from how you were laying...

—

authors note (again): i know this isn’t the best chapter ending but ya know... IT WASNT SUPPOSED TO BE

Anyways..... see you tomorrow? i guess? haha

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—

part twelve

[reidgraygubler]

handsome enough to tempt me (spencer reid/reader)

Title: Handsome Enough To Tempt Me

Request: kinda, not really

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!reader

Category: fluff/angst (Kinda slow-burn, enemies/rivals to lovers)

Content Warning: period piece, regency au, maybe the slightest bit of angst, a teeny-tiny bit of slut-shaming, age gap (note: i think gap relationships were a thing in the 1800s, so I’m not super worried. I don’t have a defined age, but it isn’t 37 year old Spencer, it’s younger), marriage/proposals, ooc characters (JJ and Spencer), i don’t really know what else to tag, this is mostly fluff and, like 1800s dancing and talking, so if I missed anything please let me know.

Word Count: 8,822

Summary: Reader meets Spencer Reid at a well-known estate ball. The pair learn to love each other, even when they hate each other.

A/N: this was written for @imagining-in-the-margins fic swap! this was written for the lovely @omgbigfluffwriting​! i took a couple of the prompts and aus (royal au/historical au) she likes and came up with this. i kinda based it around pride and prejudice. please bear with me, this is the first time i’ve ever written a period piece/royal au... so it’s not perfect. but, i hope you all enjoy it!!! Thanks for all the love and support! check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

It was officially the start of Social Season. The most terrifying time of the season, if I’ll be honest with you. My mother had insisted that it’s time I put myself out there, claiming time is wasting away and I should get married sooner rather than later. I couldn’t even begin to wonder why she’s so worried about me attending social events… Must be because she wants me to be like a bunny and have children by the litter… Like her and my father.

So, that would be why I’m at the first social gathering of the season, wearing the absolute best I had, looking around at all the potential suitors. It was rather stressful. Having to be the very best for all the men.

That was until my eye caught the attention of Sir Luke Alvez. He was busy with people on his arms and people behind him. Everyone was trying to win his attention, but he was trying to get everyone’s attention. And it would seem like he’d won it from everyone.

“Sir Luke,” I smiled at the familiar man as he walked by me. I’d only ever been to one event before with his attendance. He always seemed too busy with others to know what was happening around him. I honestly couldn’t blame him. There’s always too much going on around to know what was happening.

“Save me a dance,” Luke looked at me with a smile. I looked up at him with pure astonishment, feeling the shock of him wanting to dance with me. Typically higher class people don’t dance with the lower class. This is quite a scene for most people. I could sense a large commotion coming from him. 

“Of course,” I returned his smile before curtsying. I looked back at him, again, as he walked away from me. That was the end of our conversation as he continued walking away. The rest of his party walked past me. Well, I’d call it his party, but I wasn’t so sure how many of them were with him. The number of people (men and women both) following after him was intriguing. Something was telling me to keep my hopes low, and that dancing with him will most likely not happen.

After a few moments, a familiar woman stepped up to me. Her gown was intriguing, as was her hair, jewelry, and makeup. But, she always dressed to impress. With her lilac dress, and beautiful golden hair pinned to frame her face. I was always envious when I saw her, and she knew that too. Which was why we were still friends. She also helped me when I needed it, like at events like this. Where all the single men and women were around, and all the women tried to swoon the men. Who knows if it’ll work though, she’s been married for years.  

“Mrs Jareau,” I smiled at her and nodded my head. Jennifer smiled at me before inviting me into a hug. I enveloped my arms around her to graciously accept her hug. 

“Have you been in good health?” Jennifer asked as she backed away from me a step. I smiled and nodded.

“Of course,” I looked around the room at all the people, “My parents aren’t here, but they sent me off with one mission, and one mission only,” I laughed as I looked back at her. 

“I’d keep away from Luke Alvez then,” she laughed as she looked over at the man in question. I followed her gaze and noticed that he already had two new ladies on his arms. So much for saving a dance with him. “Something of a man whore,” she looked back at me and laughed, again. I looked at her and shrugged.

“Better to find out now I suppose, instead of later," I whispered as she looked over at her friend. I looked around the room, looking at the other people who weren’t dancing. 

“Do you want to meet Mister Reid? Surely he’ll dance with you,” Jennifer looked at me with a smile. I looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. 

“Surely? And if he doesn’t?” I asked, looking down at her hand as she offered it to me. I stared at it for a moment before gently placing my hand on top of hers. And with that, she guided me towards her friend.

“Trust me, he’ll want to dance with you,” she looked over at me. She had a very reassuring look in her eyes, silently telling me that everything will be okay. How am I supposed to trust her? I’ve never met Mister Reid before, how am I supposed to know that he’ll dance with me? 

“If you say so, Mrs Jareau,” I laughed lightly. She guided me towards the back of the room, where the rest of her party was. Of course, everyone she’s with is some level of class, while I’m just middle class. How is she, my friend? I do not know. But I’m grateful to have a friend like her. She can tell me all of the secrets of her friends, and the people they follow. 

The closer we got to her small circle of friends, the more I realized just how real this was about to be. At least three of her gentlemen friends had a woman or two around them, but the one we were walking towards had several women around him. He looked mildly annoyed with the number of people around him. Maybe even more uncomfortable than anything else. Jennifer was probably the one who looked more annoyed.

“Is this usual for him?” I looked over at my friend. She looked back at me and nodded. “How come I’ve never seen him at any balls? I figured you’d bring all of your friends to events like this,” I laughed lightly. 

“Usually, women flock to him, because he’s one of the most eligible suitors. He’s smart, has money, has the looks, people love him… Especially mothers with eligible daughters,” Jennifer explained as we got closer to her friend. She looked over at me and flashed me a smile. I glared at her. Her smile grew playful as she looked back at her friend.

“Why does he not have a wife then?” I looked back at her as I pulled my hand away from her. I held my hands in front of my body and stood closer to Jennifer. 

“He just hasn’t found the woman he likes yet,” she whispered. We were still several feet away. I was confident that he couldn’t hear our conversations, considering he still had a hoard of women around him. They were all trying to impress him, or trying to get him to take their next dance. I was just impressed by him not paying attention to anyone around him. “Let's hope that changes tonight,” Jennifer whispered close to my ear. I looked at her with wide eyes and obvious shock on my face.

“Jennifer,” I whispered, hoping to stop her before we got any further. Unfortunately for me, she didn’t hear a word I said as she still dragged me closer and closer to her friend. I silently prayed that from this moment on would be nothing but smooth sailing. 

“Excuse me, ladies!” Jennifer shouted over the clammer. I looked up at her and held back my laughter. My laughter paired with Jennifer’s shouting would probably have had everyone deem us as unladylike. Good thing my parents already think that of me.

All the ladies scurried away from Mister Reid, they glared at me and Jennifer. I’m sure it had everything to do with us interrupting their flirting with a man who’s never seemed interested in them in the first place. I placed my hand over my mouth to hold back my inexcusable laughter. Why was I suddenly so giggly?

“Mister Reid,” Jennifer curtsied once we were standing in front of the somewhat familiar-looking man. He stood on a platform with a certain stature that compared to no other man in the room. And there was a level of attractiveness. I mean, I suppose out of everyone in the room, he was one of the most attractive. It made sense why men envied him and wanted to be him, and why women wanted to be with him.

 I’ve only ever seen him once before. At an event, sort of like this one. Jennifer was standing with him, chatting about something. I never went to talk to him, mostly because I had caught Jennifer’s eye and she wanted to be with me instead of him. If she wasn’t already married and had two children, I’d be sure that she’d be courting him.

Jennifer saying my name is what grabbed my attention. I was just too involved with my thoughts to listen to “She’s been to many of these dances, but is officially putting herself out,” 

“Mister Reid,” I looked up at him as I curtsied. 

Much like any other single man at this stupid ball, he seemed too preoccupied with the people around. Granted, he looked like the type of person to enjoy his personal space, and here it’s near impossible. And, with a man like Mister Reid, having a crowd of women at your feet takes away all sense of personal space. I could tell he was over and done with all and any events from now till the end of time. 

“Seems like her head is somewhere else and in the clouds, Mrs Jareau,” Mister Reid looked over at me, then at Jennifer with a sort of pretentious snare in his eye. I widened my eyes and stared at him, feeling a fluster blaze on my skin. Jennifer looked over at me with her mouth agape before looking up at her friend. “Doesn’t seem like it’s your coming out time. Maybe you should go back home,” he kept his eyes on me and nodded. 

“Spencer,” her words were nearly breathless as she spoke. The disbelief in her voice nearly shook me to the core. Why? I couldn’t tell you. Mostly because I was also in disbelief. I honestly wasn’t sure what I was expecting him to say, but it was in no way something like that. If I wasn’t raised the way I was… I would have met my fist with his face. 

“I-I’m sorry,” I kept my eyes on him, mostly because I wasn’t entirely too sure what I should have said in response. Spencer, because he no longer deserves the title of ‘Mister Reid’, looked down at me with a sly smirk. “I was trying to place how I knew you, Mister Reid, and if I’ve seen you at any other dances,” I almost scoffed, but I decided it wasn’t exactly worth the breath of air. 

“Well, while Mrs Jareau was introducing us, you were too busy looking around the room, not even listening. You didn’t even have the sense of introducing yourself to me,” he started to explain my inability to pay attention for a span of time. I dropped my shoulders as I stared at him. “Something of a halfwit,” he added under his breath. It was just loud enough for Jennifer and I to react with a gasp.

“Spencer,” Jennifer stepped in again before I had the audacity to suddenly jump down his throat and start something with a man of higher repertoire than someone like myself, or my family. He probably had the power to ruin my family if he wanted to. “What has gotten into you,” she whispered as she stepped closer to her friend. 

“No, no, he’s right… If I’m incapable to introduce myself to someone like himself, then I am in no way ready to be out looking for marriage,” I looked at Jennifer before giving her a sad smile. Jennifer looked up at Spencer with a glare in her eye. Spencer looked back at Jennifer, silently telling her that this would be the end of our interaction. 

“Let’s take a turn about the room,” Jennifer looked back at me and smiled. I looked back at her before down at her hand. I gently rested my hand on hers before looking back at Spencer.

“It was a pleasure, Mister Reid,” I spoke as I looked right at his eyes. He looked back at me with a coolness in his eye. I could feel an angered heat coming from my body as Jennifer and I walked away from her friend. 

“I’m so sorry about him. He’s never like that,” she whispered as we walked back towards the front of the room. It took everything in my body to not want to shout.

“It seemed like he doesn’t like social events,” I laughed somewhat coolly. Jennifer looked over at me and joined my laughter. 

“That would be correct. He’s not very much a social person, despite having a social title,” she chuckled. We stopped by the drinks table, taking a glass of lemonade for ourselves.

“Arrogant bastard, that’s what seems correct,” I cleared my throat. My eyes scanned the room, landing on Spencer on the far side. He looked back at me, clearly trying to act like this was not happening. The air in the room was suddenly suffocating me and the walls themselves were closing in on me. 

Jennifer was going on and on about Spencer, and the other eligible men she knows. I honestly couldn’t hear anything she was saying. My head was slightly getting dizzy.

“Arrogant bastard… I do agree he can be like-”

“I’m so sorry, Mrs Jareau, but I must retire for the night,” I looked at her as I lowered my glass to the table. Jennifer raised an eyebrow.

“But the night is still young,” She gestured to the rest of the party. My heart sank as I gazed around the room, it only sank further when my eyes landed on Spencer. 

“Yes, but I fear I am coming down with something,” I murmured as I looked back at her. Jennifer’s eyes grew worried. “Until next time, Mrs Jareau,” I nodded and curtsied before turning to leave the ball and room altogether.

{***}{***}{***}

“I told you, Mama, I just don’t think now is my time,” I looked at her reflection in the mirror as one of the housemaids brushed through my hair. Mother scowled as she thought about her argument back.

“Times-”

“Running out! I know, Mama. I just… I just don’t think now is the right time,” I turned and watched as she shoved my second youngest sibling out of the room. I stifled my laughter as she looked back at me. “I’m still young,” I stood up and walked over to her. I rested my hands on her shoulders, feeling a certain anxiety bubble in my stomach. “It won’t be the end of the world. I’m 21, Mama, not an old maid. Please do not worry,” I smiled at her. Mother sighed before looking over at the dress set out for me to wear.

“Please, just promise me you’ll keep your options open. Do not let one man ruin this all for you,” she spoke softly. I sighed deeply, trying to find my words.

“I will not let one man ruin all this for me. Do not worry,” I laughed softly. 

“I best let you finish getting ready. Your siblings are nearly finished. We don’t want to be waiting on you,” she shot me a glare before leaving me at once. I sighed before turning back to the maid.

“Shall we?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. The maid laughed before going over to the bed.

“What was it that Mister Reid had said to you, Miss? You’ve always been so excited for such events, but after the most recent one… You seem… less than thrilled by them.” The maid asked as she helped me step into the dress. I took a deep breath as she began buttoning up the buttons.

“He called me a halfwit,” I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Something of a halfwit is what he said… It was because I was distracted by, well, by him. He just had a crowd of women around him, and he seemed so put-off by them. Most men, and women, my age… They’re looking for the next eligible... person. And there he had the pick of the lot, and he didn’t want anything to do with them,” I cocked my head to my shoulder as I looked at my reflection, “But after Mrs Jareau introduced us, and even after he insulted me… In fact, up until I left the ball, I could just feel his eyes on me. As if he was watching me.” I brought a hand to my lips once I finished my statement.

“I think I’m still in shock about him calling you a halfwit,” the maid came around to stand in front of me. I laughed as I looked up at her. “Why do you think he was watching you?”

“To be honest… I have no idea. He made it clear that he was in no way interested in me,” I shrugged as she cinched my dress. A breath of air was forced from my lungs. I nearly fell over from how much force she used to pull the corset tight. “Careful,” I looked over at her.

“Sorry, Miss.” The maid looked at my reflection. 

“It’s alright,” I chuckled as I watched as she picked up the dress I’d be wearing to the dance, “I think I’d rather have you put me out of my misery instead of attending this stupid event,” I muttered and stepped closer to her. She carefully (but quickly) helped me into the dress.

“It’ll be over before you know it. And, who knows, maybe Mister Reid will even leave you, and Mrs Jareau alone,” she smiled as she added some finishing touches. “You’re in the best years of your life. Don’t let a silly man ruin them,” she held both my cheeks. I smiled at her and nodded.

“You always give the best advice,” I whispered as I rested my hands on top of hers.

“Well, I’m happy someone listens to my advice,” she laughed with a smile, “Promise me you’ll have a good night,” she asked as she went back to helping me get ready.

“Just for you, I’ll have a great night,” I smiled and cocked my head. I suppose I looked great. My anxiety was just getting out of control because of Mister Reid. Hopefully, he’ll leave me be.

{***}{***}{***}

Oh, how I wished my maid was a prophet, and how I wished for her to be right. Because then her prophecy of Mister Reid leaving us alone would be real, and I could just get on with my life. However, we were all wrong. Because, as Jennifer and I stood at the punch table, in the crowd, I could see Mister Reid making his way towards Jennifer and me. Maybe he’ll pretend I don’t exist, and just greet Jennifer.

“Mrs Jareau,” Spencer stopped right in front of the two of us. I glanced at Jennifer and bit my lips back. 

“Mister Reid,” Jennifer returned with a curtsied. I looked around the room, expecting Spencer to ignore me. 

However, much to my surprise, and Jennifer’s, Spencer bowed in front of me and greeted me for the night. I looked over at Jennifer with shock on my face before looking back at him. I wasn’t expecting him to greet me at all, to be honest. Considering how our last meeting went. This was the last thing I was expecting. Halfwit. It took everything in me not to scoff.

“Mister Reid,” I rolled my shoulders and readjusted my posture as I looked at him. I could feel Jennifer’s eyes on me as I curtsied to the man in front of us. “How are you this evening?” I asked, holding my hands together in front of my body. 

“I’m doing just fine, thank you,” he nodded before looking over at Jennifer. Part of me wondered if she told him to relax, and not to be so arrogant. “And yourself?” he cocked his head to his shoulder as he looked back at me. 

“I’m excellent, thank you,” I bowed my head again. Jennifer wrapped an arm around my back and gently shoved me towards Spencer. I grunted as I nearly fell into his frame. I almost, nearly, glared at her.

“Something tells me Mrs Jareau wants us to dance,” Spencer spoke quietly, not wanting anyone else to hear his words. I glanced over my shoulder, searching for Jennifer. But to my surprise, she was gone, leaving me to my own devices, abandoning me with a man who hates me.

“My dance card is full,” I lied, I cringed as I told the lie. Spencer raised an eyebrow as he looked towards the blank dance card in my hand. I looked down at it, silently cursing for being so obvious with my lies. 

“Just one dance,” Spencer’s eyes shifted to my face. If it weren’t for the necklace I was forced to wear (by my mother, of course), I’d probably be able to breathe just fine. But I felt like I was suffocating. “Please,” he lifted a hand, offering it for me to take. I stared at it. Just one dance and we can get it over with. That’s it.

“If it’ll make you leave me alone for the rest of the night, Mister Reid, then I’ll dance with you,” I spoke, my voice shaky, as I hesitantly placed my hand over his. He latched his thumb over my hand before guiding me towards the dance floor. Murmurs came from women as we passed by them. That made me feel good, but the only thing that didn’t make me feel good was dancing with the man I was with. 

I’m sure they were all thinking ‘Well, why would she dance with him? She hates him.’ It’s not that I hated him… Okay, yeah I did. But, I’d honestly do anything just to make those other girls jealous. They all knew that too. I think even Spencer knew that too.

He had one hand rested low on my back, while the other held one of my hands. My free hand rested on his shoulder. The music started, and we started off our dance. I could feel people's eyes on us, watching as we went perfectly with the music. Like, it was a match that was meant to happen. Match made in heaven and in hell. My mother will surely have a fit about this once we returned home.

His touch felt like fire against my skin. The way his thumb brushed against the back of my hand, and his fingers interlocked with mine, made me want to melt. Part of me sensed that he could read my thoughts. I know how absurd that must sound. But, that was a fear that I currently had. If he could hear what I was thinking, I would surely die. 

So I quickly looked up at him, nearly breaking my neck at the speed. Spencer was looking around the room, probably for one of his friends. Or, even better, a way of escape. Despite my current thoughts, I didn’t blame him. 

“Are you alright, Mister Reid,” I whispered, looking up at his face. He blinked before looking down at me. He looked… bored. Which was unfortunate, because these balls were always a grandiose event. Maybe that’s just how he is, bored of anything and anyone. Oh, he’s probably bored of me.

“Mhm, what was that?” He looked back down at me. The way he asked his question told me that if I had had a whole conversation with him, he hadn’t heard a thing. So, I suppose it’s a good thing that I was having conversations with myself, not with him. I didn’t keep my eyes on his face, my anxiety was acting up. If my anxiety wasn’t so bad, I’m sure I would have looked right at him. So, I looked away from him. That was until I looked right at him, and he was looking back at me. My breath hitched in my throat once my eyes locked with his.

I was grateful when the song came to an end, Spencer and I froze on the middle of the floor, eyes still on each other while the people around us stared at us. My chest heaved as I stared at him. His hand was still firmly placed on my back, holding me close to him. I swallowed roughly, suddenly feeling very exposed, for no reason whatsoever. 

“I have… I have to go,” I muttered before pulling my hands away from his body. I stared at him for a moment before finally turning away, leaving him and the room altogether. I let out a sigh of relief when I finally made it outside. I walked back and forth in front of the busy building. 

“What was that? Are you okay?” Jennnifer’s voice came from behind me. I turned around and looked at her. My breathing was still hard, it felt impossible to catch. 

“What was that? You’re asking me what that was? You left me,” I looked at her with wide eyes. I felt a little bad for shouting at her. It’s true though, had she not left me alone with Spencer, I probably wouldn’t have danced with him.

“I didn’t put him up to that. That was all on his own,” Jennifer stepped closer to me, reaching a hand out to hold one of mine. I took a deep breath and shook my head. 

“Oh, I’m positive that’s what he did,” I folded my arms over my chest as I looked at her. Jennifer looked at me with a semi-apologetic look in her eye.

“Okay, I’m sorry I left you with him. But, Will called for me, and I just had to go see him,” she explained softly. I looked at her and dropped my shoulders.

“Should you know, I hated every moment of that,” I watched as she came closer to me. Jennifer smiled before resting her hands on my shoulders. “I just keep thinking about our first interaction… A halfwit!” I exclaimed as I looked at her. She looked taken back with me exclaiming and shouting. But to be fair, it was her friend that was being arrogant to me after she promised that he would want to dance.

“He didn’t mean it. He thinks he’s the smartest man in that room,” Jennifer laughed as she looked over her shoulder towards the building. I followed her gaze. “He’s even called me a halfwit before. And he’s the godfather to my kids,” she looked back at me and smiled.

“Well, maybe he shouldn’t have that, and included that I was not ready for marriage,” I shook my head. 

“He, himself, doesn’t think he’s exactly ready for marriage, either. He says that to anyone who merely shows him the slightest bit of interest,” she spoke. Her tone implied that I was ever interested in him. She should know that I wasn’t even interested in a man like Spencer Reid.

“Well, good for him… Someone should tell him that I’m not, nor ever was or will be, interested in him,” I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

“I’ll let you be the one to do that,” she smiled at me. I rolled my eyes again but smiled at her. “Will you come in now before you catch a cold? I don’t think your mother will want to hear you got sick because you were avoiding a man,” she laughed. I couldn’t help but laugh too because she’s never said anything truer. Jennifer lifted her hand, offering it to me to take.

“I suppose you’re right… Just, don’t make me dance with Mister Reid ever again,” I looked over at her as we walked back into the building. 

“We shall see,”

{***}{***}{***}

“Do you really have to go,” one of my siblings clung to my body as I walked down the hall, away from my room, and towards the front door.

“I really do have to go. Jennifer invited me over for a few days. I’ll be back before you even know it,” I smiled down at them before ruffling my hand through their hair. They pouted and clung to me harder. “What am I to do when I do get married? And when I move out?” I chuckled. 

“Please don’t go,” they mumbled into my dress. I frowned before lifting them onto my hip.

“I have to. You be good for Mama,” I pecked their nose before placing them back on the ground. They looked up at me, annoyed that I put them down. “I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.” I chuckled softly. They looked up at me, annoyed with the mere thought of my slightest bit of amusement. “This will be the last time I go away for a few days,” I laughed as I ruffled their hair again. 

“Fine, if you say so,” they looked up at me before sulking away. I tried to not let my amusement of leaving be too bothersome, but I honestly don’t remember the last time I had an overnight at Jennifer’s manor. It’ll be nice, get away from everyone for a few days. 

I retreated to my room, to finish packing for my journey. It was just me and my thoughts. That was until my mother stepped into my room, unannounced.

“I do hope you change your mind, Dear,” her voice came from behind me, just by the door to my room. I dropped my clothing, unfolded, into my suitcase. I tried hard not to drop my shoulders, but failed, allowing them to slouch down. “Well, don’t slouch, you know that’s bad for your posture,”

“What do you hope I change my mind on, Mother?" I muttered as I lifted my shoulders, and picked my dress back up. I carefully folded it and placed it gently in my suitcase. 

“You should be letting the maids pack for you, that’s the whole reason we have them,” she dramatically said as she sat on my bed. I looked over at her and blinked, trying to figure out the next thing that I wanted to say. I knew nothing would be right, though. Nothing would ever be right when it came to arguing with this madwoman. 

“You said I should change my mind? On what exactly?” I glanced over at her, feeling my sudden annoyance radiating off my body. Mother looked up at me, watching as I picked up another dress. 

“Oh, yes, that’s right,” a smile grew on her lips as she looked at me, “I hope you change your mind on your situation! Mister Reid is the most eligible bachelor there is, and you’re turning your nose up at such a great opportunity,” she clapped her hands together as she spoke. I sighed deeply, looking over at her with frustration. “This is your only chance!”

“Mother, I’m 21, I’ve still got time. Stop rushing me,” I laughed dryly as I closed my suitcase. “Mister Reid is a bastard. He’s the most arrogant man I’ve ever met. He’s already deemed me unworthy of marriage. So, what’s the point of getting married? Especially to him,” I snapped the locks shut as I looked over at her. 

“So you’ll never see him again?” Mother asked, clearly upset with everything I Had to say about Mister Reid. I sighed deeply and nodded.

“Not if I can help it,” I let out a small laugh through my nose. She looked even more disappointed by my laughter and truth in my words. Good, if she knows there’s true emotion in my words, then maybe she’ll stay off.  “The right man will come into my life, Mother, Mister Reid is just not that man,” I shook my head as I kept talking. I could sense Mother staring at me as I rambled on, and on. There was a certain gleam in her eyes like she knew something and wanted to keep it from me. 

“Does Mrs Jareau’s husband have a brother?” 

“Mama!” I shouted as I looked at her, “No, he does not. Okay? Please, please stop,” I dropped my shoulders again and looked at her, “I know you’re just worried about my future and everyone else’s, but I’m not too worried, okay?” I mumbled as I lugged my suitcase to the floor, “I have to go, I’ll be back in a few days. Promise,” I smiled at her as I dragged my suitcase down the stairs. With each thud, I could hear Mother’s thoughts, begging me to get a maid to carry it down the stairs. I was fully capable of carrying it myself. 

Although once I was outside I would need help getting it onto the carriage. The footmen would have to get it on properly so it wouldn’t fall off on the way. That’d be more than unfortunate for me. 

“Please do be careful,” mother was right beside me as I tried to board the carriage. I looked at her and smiled.

“Mama, I’m always careful,” I smiled before pecking her cheeks and embracing her, “I’ll be back soon, I promise. You won’t even know I’m gone,” I laughed before getting onto the carriage. I waved at mother as the driver started. 

I was very grateful that Mother allowed me to take the carriage. The journey between my home and Jennifer’s manor was bad on foot. It’s even worse when the weather was bad, thankfully the weather wasn’t too bad, and the ride there wasn’t too terribly long. I always hated the journey but loved when I got to my destination.

I nearly tumbled out of the carriage once we made it to Jennifer’s. My excitement was just a little bit embarrassing. Well, to be fair it’s been quite a while since the last time I saw her, and I was more than excited to see her. 

“Jennifer,” I exclaimed once I saw her. My feet moved on their own, carrying me fast to her. 

“Oh my goodness! It’s been far too long,” it was her turn to exclaim as she wrapped her arms around me. Her embrace was tight, and that goes to show just how long it’s been since we’d last seen each other. “You are now obligated to come here even if there is no ball. Once a month from now on until one of us dies,” she rested her hands on my shoulders and smiled. I laughed and looked at her.

“As long as you keep inviting me over, I will always come,” I placed my hands on her arms. 

“You must be famished after your journey, come,” she whispered as she grasped my hands. She pulled me into her home. Again, I nearly fell as she all but dragged me up the path towards her home. 

“Yes, I am, but is there a reason for you to drag me as if I was a cow,” I laughed once we were inside her home. I looked around and took in all the intricate decorations she had in just the front room. 

“They just finished making dinner as you pulled up. Wouldn’t want it to go cold,” Jennifer flashed me a somewhat nervous smile before leading me towards the dining room.

“What’s going on with you? You’re not ill, are you,” I asked as we entered the room. She stayed silent a moment longer, watching as I turned to face the table. “Oh,” I looked at the table and the person standing by it. Spencer was standing in front of his chair, looking between Jennifer and me. 

“I see you also invited Mister Reid,” I looked over at Jennifer with raised eyebrows, “Without telling me,” I glanced over at the man in question. He had now stepped away from the table and slowly moved towards Jennifer and me.

“I knew if I told you he’d be here, you wouldn’t have come,” Jennifer whispered as she looked at me. I took a step back as I looked at Spener. “Please, he’s not that bad,” 

“Well, I had no idea you’d be here either,” Spencer spoke with a bite in his tone. I stared at him before slowly blinking. The silence in the air was deafening, but at the same time so quiet. “In fact, had I known you were here, I certainly wouldn’t have come over,” he looked over at Jennifer. I let out a shaky breath as I looked at Jennifer too. 

“Are you two serious? You do realize you’re both adults, correct?” Jennifer looked between us and scoffed, “I’m not even sure why you two are the way you are.” She continued before pushing past Spencer and towards the table. I watched as she took a seat at the head of the table.

“After you,” Spencer stepped to the side before gesturing towards the table and final open seat. I stared at him, a little bit confused with his sudden kindness. 

“Thank you, Mister Reid,” I bowed my head before walking by him and taking the seat. Spencer walked around the table and sat at his seat. It was purely silent as the maids and butlers served dinner to Jennifer, Spencer, and me. I feared if I spoke about anything Spencer would immediately take offence to what I had said. I’m sure I could mention something about the weather, and he’d make it sound like I was an imbecile. 

“How was your journey here? I hear you live a ways away,” Spencer asked before he took a sip of his water. If he wasn’t looking right at me, I wouldn’t have known he was talking to me. I nearly choked on my food once I realized he was talking to me.

“Oh, sorry,” I swallowed roughly as I earned a few eyebrows raised from the people around me, “It was quite alright. Thankfully my mother allowed me to take the carriage, and the weather was perfect,” I smiled as I looked at him.

“I do have to agree, the weather was wonderful for travel,” Spencer nodded as he lifted his fork to his lips. I stayed silent for a minute, watching as he ate. 

“Did you have to travel at all, Mister Reid?” I asked, finally looking away from him and down at my food. Steamed vegetables and pork, with potatoes and cranberry sauce. Part of me felt terrible for Jennifer’s kids, they probably wouldn’t eat something like this. I know for sure my siblings wouldn’t dare look in the direction of steamed vegetables. 

“Just the town over, my manor is not too far from here,” Spencer looked up at me with a fake friendly smile on his lips. I copied his expression and nodded. “My mother is still there. She’s lovely,”

“Oh! How is Diana?” Jennifer finally interrupted. I sighed deeply as I dropped my gaze back down to the table. The two kept talking about Spencer’s mother, and how she was doing. And from there, it was smooth sailing.

Or, so I thought. The following day was fine. But the next day was awful. Terrible. I had spent the morning in the library, a good chunk of it in fact, and then I took a turn about the garden, only to end up back in the library. Unfortunately, for me, I didn’t realize I had forgotten some of my personal belongings in a bad place.

“Mister Reid,” I looked at him and bowed my head as I stepped back into the library. Spencer looked away from the book he was reading and greeted me. “What are you reading?”

“You left your diary here and I wanted to figure out who you were.....and when I read it....” Spencer looked down at the book in his hand. I looked down and noticed that he was, indeed, holding on to my diary. I nearly fell to the ground as I rushed to pull it from his grasp. Our fingers just barely brushed against each other, and my breathing stuttered for a moment. Spencer sensed that too, looking up at me with wide eyes and shock masking over it. 

“You idiot,” I looked up at him as I hugged my diary close to my chest. I wasn’t too sure if I was calling him an idiot, or myself for leaving my stupid diary in the library. Most likely the latter, to be honest. “You didn’t see anything, did you?” I couldn’t help but glare at him. There was just something about him that I loathed about him, I couldn’t tell you why. “You just had to be nosy,” I looked away from him before walking out of the library. I knew he would follow me before I heard his steps following me. 

I just hoped he didn’t read too much into this stupid thing. There were too many secrets for him to know, even my siblings to know. But, there were other things that Spencer Reid couldn’t know. Sure I hate him, I think it was a deep-seated part of me that hated him. But, another part, the part that’s in this stupid diary, didn’t hate him. The part that had feelings for him. I’m sure it sounds silly, being in love with a man you hardly know. But my mother hardly knew my father before they got married. And, Jennifer hardly knew her husband before they got married (granted, she had fallen pregnant with his child. Forcing them into marriage). 

“Wait,” Spencer called after me as he reached for my arm. I jerked my arm from him as I turned to face him. He was a lot closer to me than I anticipated, I nearly smashed into him. He lifted his hands and rested them on my shoulders to stop me from further falling into him. I looked up at him with wide eyes and alert on my face.

 I realized his hands were on me, on my shoulders to keep me upright. My breathing, again, picked up, and my head started getting a little dizzy. I wasn’t entirely sure if I was swaying, granted his hands were still on me. I’d be lying to everyone, including myself if I said that I didn’t enjoy his touch. And, like before, at the ball, his touch felt like flames against my skin.

“Get your hands off me,” I jerked away from him and stepped back. He looked down at me, a little bit of hurt on his face and in his eyes. “I have to go.” I looked away from him before leaving again. I sincerely hoped he didn’t follow me this time. When I glanced over my shoulder and saw him still standing in the middle of the hallway, watching as I ran away from him. 

Once I was behind the locked door to my room, I tossed the stupid book on my bed and began pacing back and forth. My arms folded across my chest, feeling my head get light headed again. But I had to keep moving to keep myself away from Spencer.

“Idiot! You….” I stopped and looked at my reflection in the mirror, “You stupid girl,” I scoffed at myself before going to lie on the bed. In fact, I pressed my face into my pillow before groaning into it.

{***}{***}{***}

“I definitely wasn't waiting around here hoping to bump into you or anything…” Spencer watched me as I re-entered the library. I looked up from the book I was holding and right at him. “Can we talk,” he asked, watching as I went to turn to leave the room. I froze as I looked at him. 

“About what, Mister Reid?” I whispered as I slowly re-entered the room. He stumbled to his feet and watched as I walked over to one of the several, fully-stocked bookshelves. I tried not to listen to his footsteps or breathing. Because if I listened to them, I’d know he’d be close behind me. 

“About what I saw in your-” He started, but stopped when I laughed lightly. I could hear the silence in his breathing, and that told me how close he was.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I scoffed and shook my head, “I don’t know what you saw, Mister Reid, but whatever it was, was written by a childish girl who’s been conditioned to marry any gentleman who’s eligible for marriage. I had that moment of thought when I saw you at first. But then you called me a halfwit. So, whatever it was in you I saw quickly went away,” I spoke as I turned to face him. He was a lot closer to me than I had originally thought. “So, whatever you saw… Is false,” I smiled as I looked up at him. But, what he said next was something I wasn’t expecting. 

“I called you that because I am in love with you,” He spoke with a calm voice. I swallowed roughly as I stared at him. “I’ve been in love with you since I first laid eyes on you,” he whispered. I felt awful for laughing, but I honestly didn’t know how to react to this sudden confession. “Please, marry me,” he looked at me. Again, I felt awful for laughing, but I was in an incredibly awkward spot.

“You can’t possibly be in love with me. You hardly know me,” I scoffed and shook my head, “Halfwit. You even told me-”

“I know what I told you,” He cut me off. I looked at him and sighed deeply. “Please,” 

“I must go,” I answered his question with that. I turned to leave the room, forever pleased that he didn’t follow behind me this time. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I left, and I hated that I was crying.

{***}{***}{***}

“Caller for you,” the butler spoke once he entered the room. I sat up in bed and looked at him. I pointed at myself, staring at him with wide eyes. “Yes, Miss.,” I looked over at my mother, then at my siblings around me. 

“Well, send him in!” Mother shouted as she practically jumped from her seat. She rushed to stand in front of me.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” I looked at mother as she pulled me to my feet. She smiled as she pushed my hair away from my face. 

“This is the best thing to happen to you… To us, your sisters,” she whispered as she licked her thumb and rubbed it on my chin. I pulled my face away from her hands and looked at her. “The whole family!”

“Who could it be,” the youngest of my sisters asked as she bounced to stand beside me. I looked down at her and shrugged once mother stepped away from me. I let out a breath of air that I didn’t realize I was holding.

“No idea. The only person I’ve been talking to is Jennifer,” I looked down at my sister. She looked back at me and smiled. 

“What about that Mister Reid gentleman?” Mother asked, “He does seem lovely, Dear, I don’t quite understand your hatred towards the man,” she continued on with her love for him. And almost as on cue, Spencer Reid entered the room, his hat in hand. It left me speechless. I’d rather be speechless than have to explain my reasoning to her, again. 

I’m not sure how long it’d last been since I saw him. But, I can say that it wasn’t a pleasant interaction. It was cold and bitter. It was after his sudden proposal. No one knew about it, but we were forced to interact at the last event. No one even questioned why we were so bitter towards each other, they all just assumed it was the usual way we acted towards each other. Which was partly true. No, it was because he proposed to me, and I didn’t give him an answer. 

“Afternoon,” he looked around at each of the women, and men, in the room before finally looking at me. Keeping his eyes on me the longest. I swallowed roughly before curtsying. 

“Mister Reid, what an unexpected visit,” Mother rushed over to him and bowed slightly. Yes, what a very unexpected visit, Mister Reid. I wished I’d known you would be visiting so I could lie and say I would be out of town.

“Ah, yes, I apologize for that,” he looked at mother and smiled nervously. Nervous? What would he have to be nervous about? “Might I have a word… In private,” He was looking right at me. I froze as I looked at him. He was waiting for my answer. Words couldn’t find their way to my mouth, thus leaving me without an answer.

“Of course you can! Come along, let’s give Mister Reid and your sister a moment,” Mother looked at my siblings before ushering them out. I anxiously watched as they all left the room, leaving me alone in the room with Spencer. I silently pleaded with my youngest older sister to stay, but it was an obvious fail when mother pulled her out behind her.

“It was rather unexpected for you to stop by, Spencer,” I let out a dry laugh, “Especially after our first and last interaction,” I folded my hands in front of my body. Spencer took a cautious step closer to me. 

“And that was my fault. I regret it all,” he whispered and shook his head, “I was… I was arrogant, selfish… I don’t know what I was thinking. But, I do know now, that I missed the biggest chance to get married to the most beautiful, selfless, mindful woman I know… And I regret that more than anything in my entire life,” he whispered before lowering himself to one knee. I stared down at him with wide eyes, feeling a certain sickness rise in my throat and stomach. “Marry me,

“No,” was all I said. It was the only word that I suddenly knew. Spencer looked shocked, displeased, with my answer. “My answer is still the same, Spencer."

“We’d both be lying to ourselves, and each other, if you denied my proposal,” he looked at me as he spoke with a low tone. My eyes were wide open as I stared at him, and my silence was nearly deafening. He wasn’t lying, either. We both knew our true feelings for one another now, now that he’s read my diary and he’s proposed to me. We were both in love with each other, and we can’t lie about it now. 

“What’s that supposed to mean,” I asked, already knowing the answer to my ridiculous question. Spencer dryly laughed and shook his head.

“You know what that means,” he stepped closer to me, “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head, it’s rendered me useless. I’ve become so infatuated with you that… I’m unable to live a normal life without you by my side… Please” he shook his head and looked down at the ground. I took a shaky breath. “Please, accept my hand in marriage,” 

I watched as he knelt to the ground, holding himself up on one knee. I could tell he wanted to hold both my hands. But, my body wouldn’t let me move or react even. Maybe that the paralysis I was feeling was a reaction within itself. 

Mother’s words ran through my head. This is the best thing to happen to me, my sisters, and my whole family. Jennifer's urging for us to dance, and setting us up in her manor. And then suddenly the thoughts and memories of our interactions. I did have a valid reasoning for my hatred towards him. But to be fair, you don’t just call someone a halfwit for the joy of it. Of course, he did say he thought that way of himself, after he said it all to me. 

It’s honestly all too late now. We both already knew how we feel towards one another as well. But, can I really picture myself spending the rest of my life with someone as stuck up and arrogant as Spencer Reid? He’s already proven that he isn’t as stuck up as I thought, while we danced, and while we were at Jennifer’s manor. Time was moving quick, I’m not sure how long I’d been silently staring at him, but I knew it was a long time.

“Promise me something,” I spoke, my mouth having a mind of its own. I stared down at him with wide eyes. His eyes looking up at me, sometime over the last several silent minutes, he finally had a gentle grasp on my hands. 

“Anything… Anything for you,” 

“You call yourself a halfwit too,” I smiled at him. Spencer looked up at me, the same smile growing on his lips as he stood. 

taglist: @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ , @thebluetint​

[daughter-of-freya]

How to confess to your gamer bestfriend

tw: none, fluff (mutual pinning)

wc: 1572

note: kenma x bsf!gn!reader, lowercase intended, sorry for not posting in two (2) weeks i had a lot of homework, n e ways enjoy :)

you and kenma had been best friends for years now. you met him in middle school when he was sat next to kuroo as he played on his nintendo, you went up to him and asked him what he was playing and the rest is history. now being best friends is a bit tricky when you're in love with that person, so you're in quite the predicament here, however you're in luck because he is in love with you too, you just don't know it, yet.

3 am

you and kenma are playing minecraft together while on a discord call. you're working on building a castle for you two to live in, while he's gathering resources. this has been going for a good 4 hours now, neither of you feel the need to fill the silence, you're just enjoying each other's company. kenma can surprisingly get quite talkative when a new game comes out he's been wanting to play, or he can't seem to beat a specific boss, but he's also a really good listener. you know you can tell him if something is wrong and he'll listen, though this problem directly involves him so talking to him isn't an option. you're in love with kenma and have been for quite some time now, i mean he's always been by your side, supporting you, just being a good best friend. somewhere along the way you fell for him and you just don't know how to tell him.

7:30 am

kenma lives close to you and kuroo, so you three walk to school together. though this morning everything goes just a bit slower since you two were up late gaming. while you and kuroo are walking to kenma's house, you decide to ask him for advice.

"kuroo?"

"yeah, what's up?"

"i'm in love with kenma"

kuroo laughs and teasingly says that he already knew and that kenma is in love with you too.

"how would you know that, does he talk about me?"

"y/n, you and games are literally the only things he talks about and he hasn't our right said that he has feelings for you but just trust me on this one."

"how can you be sure though if he hasn't actually said it?"

"you'd have to be blind not to see the way you two look at each other, even lev has picked up on it and he's the most clueless person i've ever met, i'm sure y/n just confess."

"but how, what if he rejects me and i ruin our friendship, that is the last thing i want kuroo."

at this point you've reached kenma's house so you decide to finish this conversation some other time.

12 pm

it's now lunchtime and like usual you're eating with kuroo and kenma, well it's more kuroo trying to force kenma to put his psp away and eat.

"kenma please you have to eat, you already didn't get enough sleep so at least eat, you need energy." you said to him worried for his health

he ultimately gives in and puts his psp away and grabs his bento to eat. kuroo is used to fill silence at this point since the both of you seem to be introverts and not really talkers but usually you would join in a conversation with him, but your thoughts are preoccupied with how you'd confess to kenma. so while kuroo is going on about some volleyball related thing, kenma watches you as he noticed that you had been distracted even in class, you got called on but weren't paying attention so kenma whispered the answer to you from beside you. this got him a bit worried because out of the two of you, you'd always been a great student, after debating for a bit he decides he's just going to ask what's wrong.

"y/n?"

"y/n?" he pokes your cheek after saying your name twice, since you weren't responding.

"oh what, yeah sorry i was just thinking." you answered a bit flustered at suddenly being called out

"yeah, i noticed, you were distracted in class too, something wrong?"

"uhm no no, i'm fine maybe a bit tired since we stayed up late?"

"if you were tired you could've just gone to sleep, i'm not going to force to play with me."

after hearing that you reassured kenma that you loved to play with him and that you weren't tired then, but just now. after that little conversation the bell rang signaling that you had to go back to class.

4 pm

you're walking home alone today because the team has practice, normally you'd stay to watch but you've still got to think about how you're going to confess to your best friend. so you would be distracted and getting a ball accidentally spiked at you doesn't seem that appealing.

after you've arrived home, you say hello to your parents and go straight to your room. still not finding a way to confess, you decide to just do your homework and come back to it later. though that doesn't go too well because all your thoughts go back to kenma and if what kuroo said was really true and if he really did have feelings for you. now that doing homework was thrown out the window you start up your computer and think about just playing some minecraft, maybe working on your castle a bit.

you decide to do that, and while you are building a thought pops into your head, what if you confess through minecraft, you both love games and it's the way you met. how you were going to do that was the next question, which seemed even trickier than the ones before.

7 pm

kenma was on his way home from practice, being a little disappointed that you weren't there. he enjoyed your company a lot and dare he say even fell for you. he's not sure exactly when maybe it was love at first sight, you asking him what he was playing, being the first to actually take an interest in him beside kuroo made him feel weird, a good weird though.

he really liked the mutual silence you two shared, it wasn't awkward just basking in the other's presence, he also loved how he could talk to you about anything knowing that he wouldn't be judged. this got him thinking about lunch again and you said you were just tired, but he thought there was something more, he hoped that you would share your thoughts with him, he wanted to help but if you didn't need his help then he'd be lying if he said that didn't hurt him.

all of that aside he was still looking forward to playing together again, making a mental note to stop earlier since he didn't want you to be tired. he liked the server you two had and thought it was cute how much effort you were putting into that castle of yours, it even made him think that there was a slight chance that you liked him back. with that thought he arrived home, went to his room and messaged you on discord to ask if you wanted to call.

a couple of minutes later you called kenma and he immediately accepted the call.

you had everything planned out and hoped he would like it. "so i've got a surprise for you, can you come to the castle second floor please?"

he was quite confused but intrigued nonetheless so he went up the stairs, and there he saw your character in front of a door.

"just go in the room and tell me what you think alright?" you sounded a bit nervous to him, he just attributed that to hoping he would like the room.

when kenma walked his character through the door, he saw two beds in the room with a sign that said "wanna put our beds together?"

you had also moved through the door and were looking at his character anxiously awaiting his answer.

to your surprise kenma said "if this is your way of confessing then yes, if it's not im sorry for making it awkward"

you chuckled at his response and replied "yes kenma this is my way of confessing, im glad you accepted though that would've embarrassing if you didn't"

"y/n why in the world would i not accept, i've been in love with you for years." kenma said a bit frustrated that you would think there was even the slightest possibility that he would reject you.

"wait what, you're telling me we could've been dating for years now and you didn't say anything"

"well you didn't either, until now i gues but i'm happy you did because i would've been to anxious to do anything, kuroo's been pestering me to confess already but now i don't need to anymore."

"yeah i guess so, wanna play now?"

"duh is that even a question."

[roaringup]

Still enamored of the rainbow-casting window film. I’ve been unusually busy this work week but it’s not as unpleasant as it could be. I took a long walk with my mom today, and we talked about access intimacy (a term she did not know), ableism, capitalism, redlining, and family members’ health. And also that my parents’ synagogue is getting all these new member families of parents who have trans children because there is… I think literally an entire social group for trans children within the synagogue?? Like, there are that many of them?? Or maybe it’s a group for trans people of all ages. Anyway, completely wild. It’s wild to me and it must also be to my mom, having raised a trans kid who came out in the early 2000s.

I’m still not in any real way angsty about turning 30 soon but I do keep getting preoccupied by being like, Hmm, Entering My 30s, Exiting My 20s, like that means something. The situation I described above, for example, made me realize that I have lived in the right gender over 100% of the past decade, which is cool. My entire 20s were spent as a man! Gender is such a weird thing. It’s bizarre that as a teenager I was so desperately like, I have to change up my whole life if I am to survive, and I did it, and then I did survive.

[kikis-writing-world]

Bug in the System

Summary: Reader has a complicated relationship with Nathan, living and working with him. They’ve always been nervous to bring up prescription medication, so shit hits the fan when they runs out and their mood plummets.

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x GN!Reader that struggles with mental health.

Word Count: 2k

Rating/Warnings: Mental health - depression and anxiety are expressly mentioned and reader is in a bad low. Talk of medication and ramifications of not taking them. Mention of doctors. Brief mention of sex. Worries of the stigma around mental health. Lots of swearing because it’s Nathan. Unedited/Betaed. it’s almost fluff in Nathan’s asshole way, there’s a happy ending.

A/N: I blame @foxilayde​ that I’m suddenly writing for Nathan... I hated him when I watched the movie and now here we are. Idk, this idea hit me last night while trying to fall asleep and I couldn’t get it out of my head. I had to write it.

You weren’t sure how to define the relationship you and Nathan had. He wasn’t your boyfriend - not only did that feel so juvenile, but also… he just wasn’t. There had never been a declaration of love between the two of you, no commitment to monogamy or even non-monogamy. The two of you lived together, worked together, slept together- it could almost be called a friends with benefits relationship, only… softer. You ate dinners together, danced around the house together, and cuddled together when watching movies. You also spent days, sometimes weeks at a time where you hardly spoke to each other when engrossed in a project. Did this form out of attraction, or emotion, or was it an inevitability when two adults - whose sexualities, attractions and availabilities lined up accordingly - lived together in isolation for an extended period of time? 

In summary: there was no easy way to define what was between the two of you, and you were happy there were no other humans around to ask. You didn’t feel the need to defend what you shared, but you had no desire to try to label it either.

Despite the friendly and casual nature of whatever the relationship was, there were still things that you had yet to admit to Nathan. The dwindling supply of medications tucked safely in a make-up bag inside the drawer of your bedside table felt like a ticking time bomb. You only had so many doses remaining and it wasn’t like you could walk down to the local pharmacy for a refill. Any supplies coming to the fortress of a home had to be called in, ordered, and helicoptered to you. There was no way to do it without Nathan finding out along the way.

You watched the pills slowly empty from their plastic bottles like a reverse hourglass. Despite the effects they had on your malfunctioning brain chemistry, they never quite tampered down the anxiety you had about opening up about your mental illness, let alone to someone like Nathan.

Nathan worked hard and played harder. He strove to be the best him he could be at all times. He accepted nothing less than perfection and no matter what the relationship between you two could be defined as -coworkers, employer/employee, friends, friends with benefits, lovers -  you didn’t want to disappoint him.

You avoided and avoided until inevitably, the last pill came out of the last bottle. It only got worse from there. Without the anxieties in check and the chemicals being balanced, the insecurity flared even worse. Your inner voice told you that you deserved the unhappiness flowing through you, that you should just stay in bed and give up since Nathan would kick you out of the house soon enough: he’d either get tired of your low mood, your falling productivity, or he’d discover your secret and be done with you.

He noticed. Of course he did. You stopped dancing, stopped cuddling, stopped fucking. Then you stopped eating, stopped talking, stopped leaving your room. You felt like you couldn’t get out of bed at all. You spent your time sleeping or curled up under your blankets in the dark room wishing you could sleep more. That or just disappear.

That was where Nathan found you, a month and a half after you’d run out of your meds.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” He barged into your room one morning… afternoon… you had no idea what time it was.

Nathan turned the light on and you could hear him pacing. “Are you sick? Do I need to call in a doctor? Are you even alive under there?! Hello?!”

You sighed, forcing yourself to sit up and prove you were alive, awake, and hearing him. The blankets dropped to your waist, revealing what you were sure was an absolute mess of a human. You knew what you looked like the last time you’d been brave enough to look in the mirror and you were sure it was even worse now.

Nathan cursed and you swear he nearly recoiled at the sight of you. “Are you in here dying on me or something?” He questioned. 

You weren’t sure how to answer, what you could possibly say to him.

“Hello?!” He snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Is anybody in there?!”

You blinked as he crowded you, hysterics growing as you seemingly ignored him. You could tell he was close to grabbing you and shaking you, and you didn’t know if your body could handle that. As it was, your muscles had protested sitting up. Instead, you leaned over and opened your drawer, taking out the zippered make-up bag.

You tossed the pouch at him, hearing all the plastic bottles click together as it landed at his feet. He bent down to pick it up, opening it carefully like he thought some sort of creature might jump out at him. His brows furrowed when he saw the bottles inside and dumped them out onto the mattress.

“Are these all empty? Fuck did you take these?” He questioned, panic rising in his voice. “Are you trying to OD on me or something? Shit.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, about to call for help.

“No.” You croaked. “Well, yeah. I took them… but… they’re my meds.” You gave in. “I’ve been taking them since I got here. I[was taking until they ran out.”

Nathan looked down at the bottles, picking one up as he read the label. “What are they for?”

“Depression mostly. Anxiety.” You shrugged, listing the simple ones.

Nathan was quiet as he read the bottles. You had no idea if he knew what any of them meant. It’s not like the labels read “Take one daily to stop the crazies!” The names, the dosages, the frequencies meant nothing to someone with no experience… but then again, Nathan wasn’t just anyone.

“How long?” He sighed, turning to sit on the edge of the bed.

You would have deflated if you didn’t already feel as low as you could go. Having assumed the worst, you weren’t surprised he couldn’t look at you.

“I was diagnosed in junior year-”

“No, I mean how long have you been without your meds?” He interrupted you, turning to stare  you down.

“A month.” You shrugged. “Almost two.”

“For fucks sakes.” He grumbled, turning to his phone again and typing away.

“I’ll pack my shit. Just, give me a few days and I’ll go.” You mumbled, laying down on your side and facing away from him. You didn’t want to watch him posting for a new assistant or scheduling the pick-up or whatever he was doing. You’d wallow for a bit, probably take a nap, and then you’d pack anything here that was important. Fuck the rest. You didn’t have the energy. You didn’t care.

“The fuck are you talking about?” He asked distractedly, like he hadn’t heard you as his cogs of his brain jumped to life. He did that a lot when he was preoccupied. He would hear your voice, realize you’re talking, but not absorb the words. Sometimes he needed to ask 3 or 4 times until you gave up and texted him instead.

“I’m bringing in a doctor. You need to get checked out before you start back up on anything. You’re not supposed to go off of these without supervision. Says so right here. Black and white.” He chastised you.

You frowned, looking over your shoulder in confusion. You saw him still typing away on his phone, holding one of the empty, orange-tinted bottles in his hand. He set it down, picking up another. He took a picture, looking over the label quickly for himself before setting it back down.

“What are you doing?”

“Sending him the labels so he knows what he’s walking into. Why the fuck would you just stop taking your meds?” He sniped. “Why didn’t you get more? I fucking ask you if you need shit and you just conveniently forget your pills?”

You picked at a thread of the blanket, not wanting to watch him as he grew angrier with you. As soon as you were in good health and his conscience was clear, he’d be rid of you. You were sure of it. It was more than you’d expected to be honest.

You heard the quiet noise from his phone, indicating the email had been sent. That meant his attention wasn’t divided as he rounded back on you.

“Why won’t you answer me? It’s like fucking talking to a wall or something. If I wanted one-sided conversations, I never would have brought you up here. Why didn’t you get more?!”

You took a shuddering breath before answering. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“Know what? That you take medication?” He scoffed in disbelief.

The room was quiet as you didn’t answer, but you could practically hear his brain processing, whirring like a computer with a squeaky exhaust fan.

“Hey, look at me.” He ordered, his voice dropping in volume to a kinder tone, but it was still not a request. It was a demand. You sat up again, looking at him stare at you with dark, angry eyes.

“When a program isn’t working, do you throw away the whole CPU or do you debug it and fucking find the fix?” He asked. You didn’t answer, assuming it was rhetorical.

“Your software is fucked, and these,” he picked up one of the bottles to hold up between you two. “These are the fix. Why the fuck would you be embarassed about shit like that?”

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze again. “You’re…” you struggled to find the words, but Nathan jumped on your train of thought frighteningly quick.

“Me?! So it’s my fault? I eat brown rice and salad and work out every day so I’m some health nut hippy who wouldn’t understand, is that it?”

He was putting words into your mouth, but he was essentially getting the point. You were scared he would reject you, mock you, think less of you.

He crawled towards you on the bed, cupping your chin a little too tight as he lifted your face. He was clearly done having you look away from him. “I’m a fucking reclusive genius who lives in the middle of ass fuck nature and only lets people come and go with a goddamn keycard! Do you not think I’m self-aware enough to realize that? A fucking prodigy, multi-millionaire by 15, CEO of the most successful technology company in history. The President calls me and I hit ignore. Do you really think I’m not self-aware enough to know we all have our own brand of fucked up?” He laughed.

“If you need these to get through it, to be my little genius-” He released your jaw to cup your face in both hands, giving it a shake. “To keep up with my shit, to live here without losing your mind at the isolation, to be my dance partner and dinner partner and movie date - then fucking take them. Would I be having to tell you this if it was for your blood pressure or a heart condition or something?!”

His phone buzzed and he released his hold on you, leaning back to read the message that had just come through.

“Doc’s gonna be here tomorrow morning. Gotta keep you hydrated until then and you should try to eat.” He summed up the message as his eyes skimmed the screen. He tucked his phone back into his pocket before slapping your blanket-covered thigh. “What are we eating tonight? Your choice.”

“I’m not hungry.” You mumbled.

“Not an option!” He declined as he stood off the bed. “What are we eating?”

You sighed, letting your head fall back as you thought. “Grilled cheese?”

“And tomato soup? Coming right up.” He leaned over to you, cupping the back of your head as he pulled you close enough to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. I’ll bring it in when it’s ready.”

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @dinthisisthe-wayson @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata​ 

[ckneal]

Now, I’ve been around fanfiction long enough to know that in any angel-turns-human AU story, there is one question that burns brighter than all the rest: What about their first sick day?

Well, I’ll tell you this: That first year after the rapture, out of the two of them, Adam is actually the first one to get sick. He picks up a really, truly nasty, slowburn of cold about a month after bringing Michael home. And, aware that he had just taken a huge chunk of time off (convincing Sam and Dean to help bring Michael out of the Empty was not an overnight task, nor teaching Jack how to make a new human body from scratch), Adam initially tried to smother the growing ailment with over-the-counter remedies and sheer willpower, while this bug steadily asserted dominance, laying waste to his sinuses, building up pressure inside his head, and settling into his chest and making itself heard in his throat. Three days in, his boss finally sent him home because everyone knew, even if he was refusing to say that he was sick. Michael, of course, was relieved to see Adam finally resign himself to bedrest, even though the entire situation is a sharp reminder of the fact that Michael is no longer a divine being, capable of healing with a touch. He feels all the more useless when Adam, well-meaning but also speaking through a haze of cold medicine and the beginnings of a fever, tells Michael he should keep his distance, because who knows how badly his cold would hit someone with virtually no antibodies.

Adam then passed out for the majority of the day, while Michael proceeded to mope in the living room, feeling like he’d been banished, pretending to have something to do but really just moving things around the room that were perfectly fine as they were before. He’d given up, gone online, and scrolled past the third post on his favorite Supernatural site that he normally would have jumped to correct on their misinterpretation of lore had he not been so preoccupied (never mind that he still hasn’t actually read his father’s books), before it struck him that he does know what to do in this situation.

Adam had shared a lot of memories in the cage, particularly during the years right after Lucifer’s departure, when they were first alone together and Michael was more guarded when it came to participating in conversation. Many of those memories had been from Adam’s childhood that he had deemed “harmless.” And as such, while Michael was new to the practice of being around sickness, Michael actually did know how to take care of someone. At least, he knew how Kate would have taken care of Adam. While never having met Kate Milligan, Michael was aware that she had been very young when she had Adam and that she had raised him alone, that she worked often, and that as Adam got older, it became increasingly difficult for her to take time off from work to care for him when he became ill. But she would do what she could in her off hours.

One of those things was preparing meals in advance that Adam could pick from as needed. Michael wasn’t overly acquainted with cooking at that point, but luckily, Kate hadn’t been either. She would buy premade items from the grocery store and alter them at home. Adam’s favorite had been half and half peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, which had been made by purchasing dough for both confections and simply meshing them together before baking. Oddly, the more difficult item to find was the soup. It was canned, but Kate had stuck to a specific brand, because it had been Adam’s favorite brand during a brief period of pickiness when he was eight. It didn’t appear to be as common in the city where Adam and Michael had settled as it had been in Minnesota during the 90s. Fortunately, Michael had stolen Adam’s phone before going shopping, and a stranger he came across in the greeting cards section at the drug store showed him how to use the map function to locate various stores nearby.

Adam managed to sleep through the racket that ensued from Michael coming home and fumbling his way through what, make no mistake, could only very loosely have been called cooking--Michael managing to unsettle a tower of stacked mixing bowls and burn himself on both the stovetop and interior of the oven--Adam only finally waking up when his nose cleared long enough for the smells to reach him. Michael was standing by, and Adam very quickly found himself being pushed onto his back when he opted to sit up.

“Michael? Get out of here, you’re going to get sick.”

“Not if you don’t breathe on me,” Michael said, quoting a memory from when Adam was nine that he knew wasn’t strictly true, but did not particularly care. He had a jar of Vicks Vaporub in hand and was pulling Adam’s shirt out of the way.

“What’s that smell?”

“Dinner. Hold still.”

“Since when do you cook?”

“Since a half hour ago, hold still.”

Despite twice repeating the instruction, it’s only when Michael straddles Adam that Adam actually lays still. He continues to press for details though, because Adam does recognize the aroma drifting in from the kitchen, and while he doesn’t particularly remember sharing those memories, he isn’t so much surprised that Michael does (Michael’s recall verges on obsessive), as he is by the fact that Michael actually did something with it. In the month since leaving Kansas, Michael only very rarely left their apartment, and never on his own.

Had it not been for the fact that he was determined to wait for Michael to decide when they would be back on those terms, Adam might have forgotten he was contagious and kissed Michael right then.

“You didn’t have to do all that.”

“I wanted to.”

Michael only looked up from Adam’s chest and noticed the way Adam was looking at him when Adam’s hand settled on top of his. That was, additionally, the moment when it struck Michael he was straddling Adam, and that the last time one of them had done that to the other, one of them hadn’t actually been physically real, and that they hadn’t done what they’d been doing then in a fairly long time. Of course, it hadn’t seemed strange to him to get into this position a second ago, as, in terms of Michael’s projections, they had done a lot more than kiss, and their relationship with one another hadn’t changed at its core since, but in terms of Michael being a physically present being in a body of his own, they hadn’t actually. . .

“Michael?”

“Yes, Adam?”

“I’m pretty sure I smell smoke.”

And then all at once, Michael was scrambling off the bed, the moment hastily pushed aside in his rush to save the cookies (which were burnt, but a benefit of Kate’s “recipe” was that there was plenty of dough leftover for new batches). By the time that Michael came back, Adam had remembered that he was a breathing germ farm and subsequently put his bedroom eyes away, and Michael suggested they relocate to the couch and watch the obnoxious devil show that Adam liked (Lucifer) while they ate.

Of course, despite Adam’s gradually flagging efforts to keep Michael at a distance for the sake of his health, Michael wound up catching the cold and would spend the next two weeks buried under every blanket they owned while Adam returned the favor of taking care of him. Because Adam was right, he had no antibodies, of course he was going to get sick.

[kashimos-hajime]

if the world was ending | b.b.

summary: bucky knows he’s still in love with you a year after the two of you mutually agreed to break up. when one phone call spirals into one plan being made and then another, and then suddenly he’s staying at your place, he wonders if there may be a chance to try again.

WARNINGS: small angst, a whole lotta fluff, literally fluff, swearing, mentions of s e x but they don’t do the do pairing: modern!bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 6.7k

a/n: inspired by if the world was ending by jp saxe (ft. julia michaels). a kinda real take on how sometimes the timing just isn’t right for a relationship and how sometimes it is.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Your voice echoes in his car and he nearly shivers at how gentle, sleepy, you sound. He wondered where you’d be: at a bar or at home, working overtime or eating out after a long night, on a date. The thought had made him tired, sad, but it didn’t tear a hole through him as it once would.

“Was there something you needed? Are you okay?” you ask, something shifting on your end and he stops at a red light, turning on his left turn light. He doesn’t know where he’s driving to or how long he’s going to just press on until he goes home. The clicking of the light fills his head. “I know the earthquake was a bit weird.”

“Earthquake?” He remembers it at the mere word. Him not even feeling it, not even realizing he was driving through one until Sam had called him from the office asking if he was okay. “There was an earthquake, yeah. I’m fine. Didn’t even know it happened until after it happened.”

“Yeah. Stuck in traffic?”

He laughs, softly, because you still know him so well. “Yeah. Got trapped in the office.”

“Yeah, I thought so.”

You’re never fucking here! It’s like I’m dating a ghost and I don’t know if it’s because I’m boring you or if you just don’t love me anymore. Your voice, angry, twisted with grief and frustration, rattles in his skull as he clears his throat. The light switches green and he turns, driving until he spots an off ramp he knows leads to the highway

“Yeah.” It comes out tight and choked.

Of course I do. I love you, I just—

Just what?

“Yeah,” you say for lack of anything else. There is nothing but silence, but the sound of your gentle breathing and the sound of commercials running. 

“Did you fall asleep watching TV again?” he teases, his throat easing up a bit as you chuckle with a slight sigh.

“Yeah.” You sound like you’re smiling. Bucky hopes you are. “Just staying up late.” Because I’m still used to waiting up for you, the hopeful voice in his head adds quietly. “What’s up? We haven’t talked in a few months.”

Because I just figured out how not to text you when every little thing happens.

“I just thought of you,” he says, “after the earthquake happened. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Your end of the line falls silent and he hides his sigh. He knew it was a mistake. “I thought of you, too.” Your voice is hushed, tender, still full of a love both of you agreed wasn’t meant to be. The thought has always made Bucky torn with sorrow, shackled with guilt and regret. He doesn’t know if they are simply not strong enough to fight for their love or if their love just wasn’t meant to be so strong.

He doesn’t know. What he does know is that he is still in love with you—he always will be. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re safe,” he says. “I still care about you a lot.”

“Yeah, I know.” You reply so instantaneously that he is convinced and he finds himself driving down familiar roads. His feet ache and he’s exhausted, but he keeps going. He doesn’t want to go home. “I care about you, too.”

You were my best friend.

“How’ve you been?” he asks.

“I’m okay. Single, if that’s what you really want to know,” you confess openly and his eyebrows rise. You don’t sound disappointed or angry about it, but he wonders if you still love him like he adores you. “But, yeah. Work is okay.”

“That’s good.”

“How’s Alpine?” 

Bucky chuckles at the thought of the white cat back home. He’d been the one thing they truly fought over when they broke up, and he knows his cat misses you more than he does sometimes, if the persistent clawing in the middle of the night is anything to go by. He’s taken to shutting the windows to prevent his stupid cat from trying to make his way back to you, for his own sanity and Alpine’s safety.

“He misses you.”

“Well, you know he’s welcome to visit any time,” you point out. You let out a heavy breath and Bucky thinks maybe you’ve laid down or sat up, but he wonders what the apartment they used to share together looks like now. You always rearrange it however you see fit. It’s one of the most frustrating things about you but Bucky could never bare to tell you to stop. 

It kept their life together ever flowing, different despite living in the same place. 

He pulls over at a gas station when he notices the light flicker on.

“You know if the world was actually ending, I’d drop everything for you,” he says to ease the silence but it doesn’t. Instead, it only prolongs it and he sighs, eyes closing. “I don’t say it to confuse you or cause you pain. I just… wanted you to know. I—”

“I love you, too,” you murmur, voice dulcet and soft as feathers he can imagine you kissing the words into his skin. He tilts his head back until it rests against the headrest and he swallows. He doesn’t expect it to hurt but it does. Like a dull knife jabbing into his side. Not quite enough to bleed but enough to bruise. “I do. I don’t think I’ll ever not love you.”

“Yeah.”

“I just wished it’d work out.”

“Me too.”

Knock. Knock. Bucky opens his eyes to see a station attendant mouth ‘gas’ and he nods, rolling down the window. 

“Fill up, thanks,” Bucky says, and the guy nods. He unhooks his phone from the bluetooth and shoves it between his ear and shoulder, fiddling with his wallet. “Do you want anything from the gas station? Did you eat?” He doesn’t mean to sound boyfriendly but it’s natural and he can count all the late nights he’d walk in with no question to buy you candy or chips. He hands his card to the attendant, taking hold of his phone again and switching off the engine.

“I didn’t. I fell asleep before I could,” you confess and he shakes his head to himself, looking out the window. It’s not too busy. The only other person is a dad filling up his gas while his kids are knocked out asleep in the back. “I don’t wanna bother you. I’m gonna go to McDonald’s anyway.”

“I could meet you there?” He winces at how much he immediately regrets his words and you let out a soft breath of surprise. “If you’re comfortable, I mean. It’s the one by the apartment, right?”

“Yeah.” You pause for a moment as if thinking it over. “Yeah, that would be nice.” He knows if you didn’t want to, you’d say so and he wonders how he lucked out. “Give me fifteen minutes?”

“No need to dress up,” he assures but you scoff as it sounds like you get up.

“I’m going to look like utter garbage next to you in your suit. The pillow is permanently marked into my face.”

“It’s casual and it’s McDonald’s, although that’s not really healthy.”

“Fine, you health nut. Always trying to make me make better food choices.” You sound only vaguely annoyed and he knows you’re just joking. Your voice echoes in a way that tells him you’re in the bathroom. God, the fact that he still remembers the sound of your voice in different rooms over the phone is a red flag for his heart. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“There’s a new place on the corner of your block.” He knows that because he drove past your apartment building too many times to count, trying to work up the nerve to confess he regrets everything: not spending enough time with you, being a shitty boyfriend, changing from the man you love. Not to get you to take him back, just to apologize.

You deserve better than his preoccupied, stubborn, uncaring, can’t-delegate-his-time-to-spend-time-with-the-love-of-his-life ass.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to try that place,” you comment, your voice distant. “It’s on the way to the bus stop and since my car broke down—”

“What? Your car broke down?” 

“What?” Your voice picks up again as the guy hands back Bucky’s card and receipt. Bucky connects his phone to the bluetooth audio as the engine ignites once again. “Oh, yeah. A few days ago, it wouldn’t start. I’m lucky I wasn’t in the middle of the road.”

“I could take a look at it, doll,” he offers, pulling out of the gas station. He doesn’t even realize what he’s called you until the silence hits and he clears his throat. “You know, still know a few things about cars from back in the day.”

“Yeah. Bet that hot ass mechanic is still in there somewhere,” you reply. “I don’t want to trouble you. It’s late as it is.”

“It’s fine. Promise.” He wonders if it hurts as much for you to hear it as it is for him to even say the word. He can only repress the guilt poking at his sides. “We can eat and then I can take a look.”

Your sigh is heavy, tired, but he thinks there is just the slightest smile in your lips as you agree, “Okay. But you’re not paying for my food.”

“Old habits die hard, doll. I can’t say I can do that.”

“James—” A warning is edging into your tone and he laughs. As if he could ever be afraid of you, just seeing and imagining the adorable pout he always wanted to kiss off your face. This is a bad idea.

“Oh, no,” he mocks, “she called me James.”

“It’s your name, doofus.” Maybe you’re wrinkling your nose in annoyance, maybe your eyes are narrowed in an effort to hide the mirth seeping into your gaze. He doesn’t know, but a prickling sensation pokes into his limbs as he just imagines seeing you again. “I’ll see you in a bit? Drive safe.”

“I will. See you in ten, doll.”

He hangs up before you can comment on the pet name.

.

Walking into the bistro, he scans the place to find you sitting in the corner. The place is all wood and warm off-white paint and light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Plants are everywhere, and he quirks an eyebrow at the tiny succulent sitting on the hostess stand. The lighting is mostly dimmed down to provide a more intimate setting, and a few other people are sitting and chatting as he approaches you. There’s a candle in the middle of the table, painting you in orange-gold.

You perk up when you spot him, and he notices with a half-smile you sit on your hands like you do when you’re nervous, your knees bouncing as you release a hand to wave. He sets down his coat over the back of his chair, sitting down and he soaks in the sight of you. Although he said you didn’t need to dress up, you’ve put on a nice light-blue off-shoulder top and a pair of dark-washed jeans, swiped on a shiny layer of pink lipgloss he knows tastes like strawberries, and winged your eyes black with eyeliner.

In short, you’ve managed to go from beautiful to exquisite, and he doesn’t need the comparison. He’s been wowed before.

“Hi, Bucky,” you say lowly, the menu open before you. A waitress comes to offer him another and he looks up with a small thank you before his eyes fall to the words he can’t quite focus on. “You look nice, as usual.” A small grin catches his eye and he sucks in a breath when he’s met with your face again.

Every goddamn time, you take his breath away.

“And you’re…. you’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen. As usual.”

He doesn’t miss the way you lower your eyes to the menu, picking it up and tilting it so you can hide your face. He smiles to himself and looks at the salads.

.

Bucky can’t quite remember when the last time he laughed like this, full of life and light and easy. “Stop laughing!”

“Was that even English?”

“Bucky—”

“It was honestly like you had a stroke.”

“I honestly did.” “Do I need to call 911?”

“I hate you. I am trying to live my life here, Barnes.” You snort into your iced tea at the memory replaying in your head, covering your nose and lips with the side of your hand as you bite into the straw. You’ve been recounting the tale of how you nearly ripped Natasha’s hair out with your bare fists on pure accident when you both completely lost the ability to speak English and choked on air, causing Bucky to just lose it. “It wasn’t even that funny.”

“You should’ve seen your face.”

“I can’t. I have this face,” you retort sourly and he takes a deep breath in an attempt to stop the ache in his gut as the waitress places the small apple pie between them as well as two dessert forks. A scoop of ice cream is slowly melting on the flakey crust and he picks up a fork just as you do. “This was really nice, Buck. Hanging out with you again.”

“Yeah. We should do it more often,” he says, twirling the fork in his grasp and allowing you the first bite. You manage to catch ice cream and steaming apple pie on your fork and blow on it carefully before placing it in your mouth. You nearly sigh, your eyes closing and he digs in too. Warm syrup seeps into his blood first when he chews down on the apple filling before a sense of longing for home fills his soul. His stomach heats up from the inside and he sinks into his bones with relief. This is exactly what he needed. “We can be friends, y’know.”

“Yeah, well, I guess.” You smile for a moment before focusing on the pie again. “You know, maybe the distance was good. We got time to stand on our own two feet again.”

“Yeah.” He grins softly, almost sad but not quite. You look so blissful in the warm light of the restaurant, gentle music filling the air. The restaurant has gotten fuller since they’ve entered and sometimes Bucky wishes it was just them in this little slice of healthy heaven, but you’ve gotten remarkably brighter the more people have entered. “It took some guts to end this, I guess.”

“Five years,” you agree. “Think it might’ve been a waste of time when we knew we wanted different things?”

“Well, it wasn’t so bad all the time. Maybe thirty percent of the time.”

“Ten.”

“Fifteen.”

“Five. Five percent was terrible and it was all near the end,” you state and Bucky swallows, the sugar of the pie turning sickly sweet in his mouth. “You can’t sell yourself short, Buck. I know that you regret a lot of things, but we both weren’t perfect in this relationship.” You stab the crust half-heartedly. “And maybe we could’ve found common ground. I mean, we both wanted Alpine, didn’t we?”

“And two or three kids,” he intones dully. He remembers the nights they’d lay awake researching names for their hypothetical baby, staying up to god knows when to read all about colic and teething and how to even survive the trimesters without tearing off your hair. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I never could imagine a family with anyone before you,” you confess, bringing another bite of apple pie to your mouth. The ice cream melts between the prongs of the fork and he grimaces when it lands way too close to your sleeve. You wipe it away with your used napkin. “I never told you that before but I really could see us being happy, Buck.”

“So could I.” The corner of his mouth twitches up, prompting your lips to begin to pull into a small smile. Something sad lingers in your eyes, though, and he leans onto his fist, elbow digging into the table as he tries to think of a way of getting that smile back on your face. “We would’ve made cute babies.” You raise your eyebrows, a doubtful smile digging into your cheeks.

“That’s what I said to Nat after we broke up. She said she always prayed your genes were stronger than Steve’s.”

“They have blonde children.”

“They climb walls and pretend they’re masterclass spies.”

“Okay, fair enough. How is Nat?”

“How’s Steve?” you shoot back playfully. “She’s okay. Tired, but with the new baby and all, it’s a given.”

“I have no idea how Steve convinced her to give him another kid.”

“That’s what I said!” you exclaim, setting down your fork and holding your fingers to your temples. “Okay, so, Nat loves kids but she agreed to two for Steve when they got married and now they’re having number three and it’s like wow.” Bucky laughs at the wondrous light in your eyes. “Maybe the sex is that good.”

Bucky chuckles, his eyes squinting as you pick up your fork again. “They probably talked about it a lot, debated, made slideshows. Knowing Steve, he wouldn’t do a thing out of Nat’s comfort zone even though he wants enough kids to build a Rogers basketball team.”

”Honestly, that would be so cool, but we both know who wears the pants in the relationship.”

“Steve is very happy wearing the skirt.”

“Yeah.” It falls to silence. They finish up their apple pie and you appear to be deep in thought so Bucky doesn’t say anything. Suddenly, you shake your head, chewing on the straw of your iced tea. “Was the sex good?”

Bucky’s eyes widen but you only stare him with honest eyes. You want to know like he didn’t turn into a mess when you kissed the spot underneath his jaw, like the simplest swipe of your fingers up his leg, the tiniest trail on his inner thigh, didn’t make him nothing more than melted putty in your hands.

“Fuck yes.” He sighs. He hasn’t had sex in a year. “Especially the last time after Wanda and Vis got married?”

“We didn’t make it past the kitchen. That was good.”

“Yeah.”

You hum as you think and Bucky pokes at the soggy flakes on the plate. You look at him and he looks at the plate and there’s a strange silence that comes over the table that has been wild with laughter for nearly an hour, maybe more. He leans back into his chair, his prong nudging an uneaten nibble of apple.

“Always thought we should’ve ended in bed,” he finally says half-heartedly. “That mattress took a hell of a beating whenever we argued.”

“Or, whenever you came home after a business trip. I’d miss you so much.” You grin and there’s something mentally exhausted in it. “I miss you so much but I think it figured out how to think about you without it hurting, too.”

“I’m glad.” He lets go of his fork and offers his hand, palm up. You reach forward and grab it, the heat of you sinking into his muscles. His fingers fold over your hand and squeeze. His thumb runs over your knuckles. “I miss you, too.”

“Will we want one check or two?” the waitress asks suddenly and their hands spring apart. Bucky fishes out his wallet, looking up at her.

“Two.”

“One.”

The two look at each other. You narrow your eyes, eyebrows furrowing together. “We agreed that we would split.”

“No, you said it and I disagreed and then you got distracted.” He grins triumphantly as your hands still in your bag and he pulls out his debit card. 

“One and I’ll pay by card,” Bucky clarifies and she nods, slipping away to get it.

“Jerk,” you mutter crossly. You cross your arms underneath your breasts and lean back against your chair. “I can pay for my food just fine.”

“It’s not about whether you can or can’t. It’s about me wanting to pay for you,” he retorts. 

He pays and the two get up, grabbing their jackets and leaving the bistro. They stop dead in their tracks underneath the small canopy when they notice the startling, thunderous rain.

“What the fuck,” you state flatly, staring at the puddles forming in the dents of the sidewalk and Bucky grimaces. The air isn’t frigid but it isn’t warm either, and he bundles his coat around himself as he tries to figure out how to stay dry. You’re tugging a scarf around your neck, your overcoat already settled well on your shoulders as you look at him. He’s got his own raincoat folded over his arm and he shivers against the thought of getting wet.

“I hope it’s not too presumptuous a thing to do to say I parked in the apartment’s visitor lot,” he begins and you raise your eyebrow. “I wanted to make sure you got home safe and maybe take a look at that car?”

“Oh, right. Too bad we could’ve used your car right about now.” You smile, pulling the hair out from underneath. “Okay. What’s our game plan?”

“Stay dry.”

Your smile turns wry. “Apt.”

“Here.” Unfolding his jacket, he holds it above his head. “Get under and then we run.” 

“We are not gonna make it.”

“Gotta try. Get under.” You slip beneath his arm, your hands wrapping around his waist and he takes a deep breath to prepare himself. “Let’s go.” They sprint out into the pouring rain, their shoes slapping against the wet pavement as they run up the block.

“This isn’t working, Buck!” You twist as you try to keep pace but it’s clear that they’re both gonna get soaked. Bucky can’t quite run with you latched onto him so he throws his coat over you, tugging it tight around you before grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you into his arms. As if on instinct, your legs wrap around his waist. Rain soaks into his skull and he squints as it drops into his eyes while you hold the jacket to your head and he tries to regulate his breathing. Your arm looped around his neck, you press against him in an effort to take off some of the weight in his arms.

Your heat soaks into his dress shirt and he pants into your ear, finally reaching the apartment lobby’s door. Dropping you in a dry spot beneath the glass shelter, he shakes his head and flicks off the wet while you unlock the doors.

“Are you good?” he asks, heat burning into his cheeks and you glance at him as you pull open the door. He rakes a hand through his hair, grabbing the jacket you’ve extended to him.

“I’m dry,” you affirm. “Come on. We’ve gotta get you dry.”

“You don’t have to.” Walking into the apartment lobby, he’s hit by a wave of nostalgia. It’s been a year since he’s breathed in the filtered air that carries just a whiff of vanilla. Before, it was five years coming home to this. Rubbing his shoes on the carpet, he follows after you with a squeak and he drips all over the tiled floor while you get to the elevator. “Whew.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you point out, peering at him. “I’m not gonna complain if I get wet but you are and I’m not, so I’m gonna feel bad if I don’t at least get you a towel.”

“I didn’t want you to get wet,” he replies stubbornly. “We can just look at your car and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“You’re not bothering me, Buck.”

“Still.” The elevator doors open and they walk in. You swipe your fob before pressing the floor and lean against the rail while he drips onto the middle of the floor. Wiping at some of the droplets dotting his head, he turns to you and grins. “Bet it’s just like old times.”

“God, don’t remind me. I can’t believe you asked me out right before we fell on Splash Mountain.”

“It made it memorable and you said yes.”

You laugh. “I guess so. Steve lost fifteen dollars to Nat who I clearly remember saying if you can convince me to say yes to Splash Mountain you can get me to say yes to a date.” The elevator chime and the doors open. You walk out and the keys jingle against your fingers. “Do you want anything to drink? I can make some tea.”

“Nah.”

“You hate tea. Right. Well, how does hot chocolate sound?” You glance back at him with an impish curl to your mouth. He resists the want to grab your hand and instead does a small jog to catch up with you. You walk with your hands shoved in your pockets and he casts his gaze ahead of him, swallowing. 

“Perfect.”

“That was actually a pretty good place, you know. I’m gonna need to go more often.”

“Yeah. The spaghetti was al dente and everything.” He hears you snort at his comment, reaching the door and opening it with a quick twist of your keys. He doesn’t know what to expect of the apartment he’s moved out of, but when you step in to reveal what used to be his home, he knows he shouldn’t have expected so much to change. The furniture has shifted, that much was a given, but that’s about it. It still smells like your strawberry shampoo everywhere and fresh laundry, and there’s still the dent on the wall from when Steve had tripped and spilled four bottles of beer he’d been carrying. The stains were removed. The dent Steve made with his head was not.

“Welcome home,” you joke weakly to him, your eyes flashing for a moment before you turn to head to the bathroom. He hangs up his coat, unbuttoning his dress shirt and you reappear with a towel before looking at the mess that is your ex-boyfriend. He’s soggy wet everywhere, even his socks. He thinks he might’ve stepped in a deep puddle based on the pant cuff absolutely plastered to his ankle.

You hand him the towel, eyes surveying the damage of his clothes and you chew on your lip. He runs his strands of hair through the towel, the heat of the memory of your body against his fighting off the chill nipping at his skin. You’ve always done that. Your hugs are warmer than any fire that he’s ever known and just the trail of your fingers has left a fire in its wake.

“I have the clothes you said I could keep,” you state lamely and he looks at you with surprise. He thought you’d have donated or burned it all by now. It was the hoodies and sweats he didn’t want anymore because they looked terrible on him and way better on you, but anything is better than being squelchy and soaked to the core. “I could get them out.”

“That’d be nice.”

“Alright. Help yourself to… well, anything. You know where it all is.” Peeling off his shirt, he heads to the sink where you keep plastic bags beneath the sink and throw it in, following it with his undershirt. Running the towel over his skin, he sighs. His heart doesn’t thunder nor does it beat wildly—that was young love—but it does feel fuller now that he’s here.

“Here.” You toss a red hoodie at him and a pair of black sweats follow after. He catches both with a grin, but it soon fades when he realizes what he holds and what you wear. You’ve changed into more comfortable clothes, wearing a matching hoodie to the one he holds in his hands. 

Thing 1 and Thing 2. Right. Before we were even dating. Just best friends.

“Old time’s sake.”

“Always said you should keep it for the next guy to come along,” he says, pulling it over his head. Your eyes stay on his own. Definitely past young love. You don’t even look at his abs and something about how familiar it is makes him sigh into the fabric of the hoodie. 

“Well, it never seemed right. This was when we were best friends, Buck,” you point out. He’s against the counter so it hides him changing out of his pants and into the sweats while you bustle around to gather what’s needed for hot chocolate. “I miss us.”

“Especially when we started sleeping together. Best sex ever,” he cheers and you laugh, getting a pot on the stove. Shuffling in beside you, he grabs some mugs and searches for the marshmallows while you get the milk to boiling.

As he brushes past, his hand rests on his back and trails across, and it’s not until you’re looking at him that he realizes.

“That was habit. I’m sorry.” He blinks. It’d been so natural to do, it’s strange to think it’s wrong now. “My bad.”

“It’s okay.” You grab a whisk and a measuring spoon, waiting patiently by the stovetop. “If I wasn’t comfortable with you touching me, I’d have reacted. You know that.”

Because of your shitty ex that isn’t me. Yeah, I know, he thinks. You’ve got a streak and I hate that I’m part of it.

“Yeah.” He pours marshmallows into the bottom of each mug. “Sorry I’ve gotta add to your string of terrible ex boyfriends.”

“Bucky!” The intensity of your voice makes him turn to you in surprise and you stand there, hands on your hips, face warped in an image of vexation. “If I hear you say you were a bad boyfriend one more time, I’ll smack you with a pan. You weren’t. If I have to spend the rest of my life, convincing you and reassuring you just so you’re brave enough to get back out there, then fine.”

“Doll, I—”

“I mean, seriously. You’re a fucking great boyfriend. You spent time with me but you gave me space, you listened, you always made sure I was comfortable and you’re so patient.” You turn back to your pot, dumping in some hot cocoa powder and whisking it a bit more angrily than he thinks you intend. “You do these things that seem small but mean the world to me, and you’re always looking out for me. I just… there is no way to say you were a bad boyfriend.” You look at him again and his eyes are wide as he regards you. “I don’t want you thinking just because we didn’t work out, no one ever will.”

He’s quiet as you gently pour each cup full of hot chocolate, the marshmallows floating to the top and he leans on the counter by his hand, looking down.

“It’s more than just the sex that I miss,” he says suddenly, and you look at him, expression easing.

“I know.”

“No, it’s… more. I miss your laugh, and the way you fold my clothes, and the tiny little post-it’s you leave on the fridge. I’m not asking you to take me back, I just… I’m still in love with you, you know? You’re the love of my life. It fucking sucks that apparently we aren’t meant to be.”

“I’m still in love with you, too,” you whisper, handing him a cup of burning heat.

“You ever think we could have a second chance?” he wonders, trying not to sound too hopeful. You smile behind your porcelain mug, just a tinge sad and sip before nodding. You set down the mug against the counter with a soft clatter and so does he, his finger tracing the rim of the white mug.

“I want to think so,” you murmur. Your eyes are focused on the small movement of his finger and he presses his lips together, trying to get something out. But then you turn away with your mug towards the couch and he follows after you. The TV switched on, you flip through the channels. “My car’s parked in my usual spot, if you actually do wanna take a look. I can’t force you to.”

“Maybe in the morning? You still take Saturdays off, right?”

“Yeah. Unless I get called in.” He walks up to you and sinks into the couch beside you. You lean on the armrest, knees tucked beneath your bum as he sits on the opposite end. They sip their drinks, a quiet falling over them. No one knows how to talk after the mention of a chance a relationship can come back to life once again. You pipe up when there’s a commercial break and Bucky blinks. “You know how you said you’d drop everything for me if the world was actually ending?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Of course.” He thinks about it for a moment. “Sky could be falling but it wouldn’t matter, long as I knew you were safe and that I was holding you tight, protecting you how I could.” You unfurl from your ball, leaning forward to set down your cup of melted marshmallows and hot chocolate and he drains the rest of it down. It settles in his gut warmly, but it also squirms as you sit up and face him. He sets down the mug. “All I want to do is protect you. I know in the end, it was me who was hurting you and just… I never wanted that. I wouldn’t let anything touch you if I could help it.”

“It’s impossible not to hurt people you love. That’s part of it all, Buck. And I’m sure I hurt you too, and I’m sorry for that,” you say, reaching forward past the knees tucked your chest. He takes your offered hand. “But I’m glad that you’re always here. That I know you have my back. Just know that I have yours. You can count on me.”

He squeezes your fingers gently and you smile wider. His own lips pull into a tender smile as he gently pulls you into him and you go willingly, crawling across the couch to rest against him. His arm settles around your shoulders as he extends his legs over the cushions. You nestle yourself, your cheek on his chest and his thumb rubs circles along your arm, gentle pressure through the sleeve of your hoodie. 

He looks down at you, and you look up at him, and there’s a moment when that is all there is—two lovers on a night in, too tired to sleep, unwilling to part for even a moment. You touch his cheek, and his thumb swipes over yours as his lips part.

“There’s no one else for me,” he whispers and your hand flattens against his cheek. He sits up and so do you, your other hand on his waist while his settle on your hips. There is something intense about his gaze, and by the twitch of your lip, he knows you’re bemused, but he’s serious.

“Bucky, there’s always going to be someone out there for you that isn’t me, no matter how much we both hate it.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he says. “I love you. I’ll love you for the rest of my life.” It is simple for him. The simplest thing he knows. Your eyebrows furrow together and you open your mouth but he continues on, “I’ll love you even if the sun goes black and the moon splits into two. I’ll love you even if you get married, even if you don’t, even if you have kids, even if you have none. I’ll love you if you become a dog person or even a fish person, and I’ll love you even if you move away.” You shift in his lap, and he swallows, shaking his head at the incredulous feeling you bring to him. Love fills him up and drains him hollow, and you are everything. 

“I’ll love you if I never see you again. I’ll love you if I see you once every six months, and I will love you if I am lucky enough to see you every day. I’ll love you when you’re old and grey and don’t remember who I am. I’ll love you enough to bring you back. This isn’t young love anymore. We danced around each other for three years before we got together—I’m past the honeymoon phase. This is fucking real for me. When I say there is no one else, I mean that I will never love anyone like how I love you. And I’m fine with that, as long as you’re happy.”

A beat. Bucky can hear his heart in his chest, slow and beating. He is sure of this and your eyes scan him, searching for lies. There are none.

“The hot chocolate inspired this?” you question teasingly, but your voice trembles, soft as feathers and he wonders if it is the same emotion that stitched his heart and lights it on fire. He is dynamite dormant, waiting for a spark. 

“Everything about this night did,” he murmurs. Your thumb swipes at his lip, a gentle thing and he smiles. His own gaze stays on your eyes and he remembers a time when he’d do anything to kiss you. Now all he wants is your smile.

“I don’t know if I love you as much as you love me,” you begin quietly, your words tasting like chocolate and sugar against his skin. He chuckles. “But I do love you a whole damn lot.”

“Never one for words, huh.”

“I prefer action,” you agree. Their noses brush and his lungs hitch as you close your eyes. He does too, the presence of you nearly overwhelming. His every nerve tingles and his hand on your hip tightens as your lips gently meet his. He doesn’t know anything but the familiarity of you against him, the gentle tug of your fingers in his hair, the blissful quiet that fills his head as his chest explodes. He kisses you back but you pull away, a soft smile on your face. Your arms loop around his neck as he looks at you and you look thoughtful. “That sounded a lot like Lemony Snicket the more I think about it.”

“I read books to my best friend’s kids,” he points out and you laugh. “Sarah really likes A Series of Unfortunate Events.”

“Well, we can’t fault her. Steve and Natasha are some of the biggest bookworms ever.”

“Doll, she’s four.”

“She’s a smart kid.” You shrug innocently and he laughs, scrunching up his nose. It has always been easy with you. Tentatively pressing another kiss against your mouth, he feels you reciprocate it quickly and his smile spreads wider across his face. Your arms tug him closer. “Bucky,” you mumble against his mouth and he hums against you. His fingers bunch the fabric at your waist and you squirm in his lap, inching to get closer. “I want to try again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your fingers dust over his brow, swiping away hair that’s fallen into his face. He grins, eyes closed blissfully at how fond the gesture it is. “I know we can do this.” His eyes flutter open at half-mast, watching you as you carefully trace down his cheek. “It’s gonna be okay, right? We’re gonna make it work, right?”

“We’re gonna do our damn hardest to try.”

“Okay.” You hug him tightly, resting your head on his shoulder and he wraps you in a tight embrace, letting you melt into him. Your whole body seems to relax in his hold and he closes his eyes, burying his face in your neck. “I needed a hug.”

“Well, you can always count on me to give you one now, doll.” You pull back and he raises his chin as a slight smirk twitches at your lip.

“Never thought I’d be thankful for an earthquake,” you whisper nefariously and he laughs into your mouth as you press a kiss hard enough to push him onto his back. He falls, legs straightening along the length of the couch. You fall with him, your hands on either side of his head and he simply holds you to him, laughing when you pepper kisses down his neck. You know every ticklish spot on his body and he can’t help but raise his head to expose the expanse of his neck.

“You’re evil,” he gasps, scandalized, and you peek up at him through your eyelashes, your eyebrow arched. He meets your eyes and it’s like the sun is in his chest. He is lighter than he has been in months.

“You love me anyway,” you say. 

Bucky can’t help but agree.

[chaoslynx]

hey, I'd like your input on a certain question I have pertaining to a hypothetical alternate ending of banana fish (the one where ash survives his stab wound). if you're not sure how to answer, that's completely fine, but I've seen so many people in the fandom claim so many different things about what would have happened if he survived, and I'm searching for a solid opinion.

I think the majority of the fandom can collectively agree that ash didn't need to die in order to heal from his trauma. I've see a lot of idiots say that even if ash lived, he would never heal or escape his past trauma, and so dying was the best outcome for his circumstances, which I'm sure the majority of us with more than 1 active braincell knows that's utter dog shit, and that survivors can heal no matter how big of a wound they may need treated.

however, I've seen people say that dying was his best option, NOT because he wouldn't have healed from his trauma, but because he wouldn't have the chance to heal considering the fact that he'd always be hunted down by his enemies. I've also seen people claim that even if he moved countries, he'd always be in constant danger because people would never stop looking for him. that he, as well as eiji, would have to live in fear and would never find peace due to the enemies ash has made during his lifetime.

I'm not sure what to think of this. I believe he'd be able to fake his death, borrow a new identity, and fake a passport to get on that damn plane headed to Japan. some have said that he wouldn't be able to due to his criminal record and so he'd never be allowed on a plane, which I also believe is dog shit. if that blond can scam millions of dollars out of and buy a condo right across from his #1 enemy without being caught, he can fucking travel. it's absurd how part of the fandom STILL underestimates his abilities, considering that he's shown time and time again of how capable and intelligent he truly is.

If you're able to answer, I'd like your opinion. we've established that survivors are able to heal no matter how big the baggage, but do you think he'd get the chance to heal, or would he always be on the run? would he forever be preoccupied with running from his enemies, or do you think his enemies would die trying to find him? I personally think that since his #1 enemy, D*no, is charred to a crisp, that he'd be somewhat safe from the rest. I don't think they'd even find him in an entirely different country in an entirely different continent.

but what do I know, honestly? maybe Yoshida confirmed that even if he did survive, he'd still be on the run until he died. I know she's said that murderers didn't deserve happy endings (bullshit, considering the circumstances that ash was in), but I'm not sure if she's clarified whether he would be on the run if he did hypothetically live. what do you think? no pressure :)

First of all, I'm a big fan of ignoring things Yoshida said.

I'm glad we agree that trauma survivors can heal! Also a big fan of that. Not gonna discuss that more here since we're already on the same page 💖

Before I get into whether or not Ash could ever escape from his enemies, I'd like to establish something about myself and my beliefs. I, personally, think that living is always going to be the better option. I am not going to be taking this question as a "could Ash have escaped his enemies, or is it good that he died?" That's not the problem here. The question I'll respond to below is "could Ash have escaped his enemies, or would he have always been on the run?"

This is an important distinction, because the first question implies that some lives just aren't worth living. I think your intentions here were good, so please don't take this as an attack on you in any way! But I'm not a fan of "living in fear [or living any other way] is worse than death" for a number of reasons. For one thing, dying is permanent. Once you die, there's never a chance of it getting better. It's literally a permanent solution to what often has the potential to be a temporary problem.

Also, any sort of "death is better" logic is a very slippery slope to be walking. If death is better than living in fear, is it also better than living with a permanent disability? With a chronic illness? At what point is it bad but still worth living through? Will Ash, on some level, always be living in fear due to what's likely post-traumatic stress disorder? Healing is obviously possible, but healing means learning how to cope better with a history of trauma, not getting rid of it.

So we're essentially asking the same question that we've already established the answer to: Is it better to live than to die? And, uh, yeah. Yeah, it is.

So anyway, moving onto the question I believe you were intending to ask: Would Ash have been able to escape his enemies?

Yeah. He would have.

For one thing, most of the people who actually gave a shit were already dead. Sure, the Corsican Foundation still existed, but most of them probably didn't think much of Ash besides him being Dino's favorite. There were those who saw Ash's mind in action during that month he spent with Dino during canon, but without Dino there, they have no reason to want Ash dead. Same with the ones who wanted Ash dead before the National Health Institute arc, if they weren't already dead themselves by the end of canon (like Kippard).

If Ash weren't going after them, I don't see why any of them would go after Ash.

Yut-Lung arguably had more enemies than Ash did by the end of canon, which was even Blanca's excuse for agreeing to work for him, but I don't see anyone arguing that Yue should have died. (I believe that he was canonically killed by one of his enemies at some point after Garden of Light, but does that mean that those 7+ years of freedom that he lived were pointless just because they came to an end?)

As far as traveling, yeah, Ash absolutely would have been able to fake an identity if he needed to. Like you said, he's done worse, and it's not like he doesn't have the connections for it. Although ...

I don't know if I've ever fully explained it in a fic or on here, but here's how I usually write post-canon.

Ash and Eiji stay in NYC. We know that moving back to the States and staying there is possible for Eiji, because ... it's what he does in canon after Ash's death. It's mentioned in GoL that Eiji moved back before he even healed completely from his gunshot wound, and that he got his Permanent Resident Card five years later.

As far as Ash, as much as a fucking pain in the ass it would be for him, I usually write him as actually testifying in court against ... fucking everyone. He gets help with this from Max, of course, and also from Jessica (who leaked Max's investigation, including the evidence they obtained from Frog, to the media in episode 23). In return for his testimony, he's granted total witness immunity for his crimes. ((Keep in mind that I know nothing about legal processes and how this would actually work in real life, but for fanfiction purposes that's how I choose to write it.))

So basically: Fuck Yoshida. Fuck death. Live your best life. YOLO.