#anita is married and has never said anything about being open but there is something going on between her and kita and no one knows apart

[alittlebitgoofy]

besties my lovelies i wish i had less brain worms but i may or may not have planned an entire drdu3 au? who wants some info i'm begging

[pepperf]

First ten lines writing meme

Tagged by @starrybouquet - thank you! This one appealed to me - not too much work!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

1. somewhere on the steepest slope (there’s an endless rope):

Cold.

That's the first thing he notices.

He's never been so cold. It's beyond pain and into something purer—it's all-encompassing, and he embraces it, because…this is it, right? An end to it all. And it's a relief. He feels like he's been fighting forever, and he doesn't even remember who he's fighting or why, he just wants to rest… 

2. Tell all the Truth but tell it slant:

It's so obvious, he doesn't know why it never occurred to him that Lila would have enemies. 

3. Not Romeo, Not Juliet:

Working as a janitor didn't pay well, and vigilantism didn't pay shit, so Diego had a third job as a bouncer-slash-bartender a couple of nights a week, at a club that opened just as Al's gym was closing. It wasn't much, but it kept him in knives and iodine. Anyway, sleep was for losers. 

4. Mansion, Apartment, Shack, or House:

When he's thirteen, for reasons that he doesn't fully understand, Diego and his siblings are packed off for a year at the School for Overprivileged Assholes.

Oh, it has a different name, officially. But that's how he always thinks of it, from the moment they arrive and he sees the neat little uniforms, the polished staircases, the list of rules…

It's just like home.

5. like it was written in my soul, from me to you:

It goes something like this:

"I'm going to ask Lila to marry me. Any bright ideas?"

There is an immediate chorus of groans from about 50 percent of his siblings. Five doesn't even look up from his newspaper.

"Don't."

6. Stray Cat Strut:

Anita was at the age where she embraced new experiences with all the fervor of someone who had never met anything like it in her entire life—all two years of it. Diego loved it. Choc'lit!!! was a perennial favorite. Truck!!! had been the Biggest Deal last month, applied to everything from the garbage truck to the pizza delivery bike. But this month…

"Titty!"

Diego grinned at the woman, more proud than embarrassed. "She's struggling with her 'k's. She likes the cat on your bag," he explained.

7. I may be bad (but I’m perfectly good at it):

"And then you lock the cuffs around your ankles, and voilà. You can attach a dildo with a suction cup to the bench and ride that, and have someone's cock in your mouth, and still have room to give a handjob. Great for parties!"

It’s been a long six months.

8. one wave short of a shipwreck:

The bank isn't where it starts, not really. It started a long time ago, maybe even further back than he remembers—but the bank is where it feels like it starts. 

9: and they were roommates:

There are many ways to tell someone that you're pregnant. Cakes are, according to the internet, fairly popular, as are piñatas, although she thinks the latter is a little disturbing. You can take out an advert, call a radio station, have the test framed (ew), take them to an important local monument that your friends have draped with banners…

Lila being Lila, though, she chooses to do it this way:

"Diego, I'm pregnant."

Diego—who is, appropriately, scrambling her eggs right now—freezes for a long second. Then he unfreezes and shoots her an unimpressed look. "Har har," he says. "You know that to give someone a pregnancy scare you need to have actually slept with them, right?"

10: The Midnight Laundrette:

"What the actual fuck?"

The moment she'd said it, Lila regretted it.

Lol, I swear no. 7 is not what you think!

No-pressure tagging @lochrannn, @himbohargreeves, @bending-sickle, @nicehatgeorgia, @annerbhp...and anyone else who wants to play!

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part VII (x reader)

Summary: Reader tries to make things right, with a little push from her mama.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: none

a/n: I know, I know— please just let our babies be happy ♥️ and so it was. Also, big ups to my tumblr gf @idmakeitbehave​ for being my beta the past two chapters.

Series Masterlist

———

One week.

That’s how long it had been since their argument. Spencer had driven back to his apartment in silence, absolutely stunned by the way things had blown up.

They’d gotten back from the case in Utah on the fifth of January, and he’d driven straight to Y/N’s, ready to give her a belated New Year’s kiss. Immediately upon entering her apartment, he knew something was wrong. Her hug was stiff, her kiss brief, her eye contact minimal. He’d spent the night, but they barely touched, and she left early for work without waking him. He’d let himself out and texted her later in the day to invite her over for dinner.

Dinner hadn’t been any less awkward, and when he felt awkward, he knew it was bad. He finally couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he’d called it out. He had expected some resistance, but he hadn’t expected that. Y/N never spoke to him with any malice at all, even when he was actually doing something that irritated her. She was the queen of healthy communication. So for her to speak to him like that meant that the underlying issue was much, much worse than he’d originally thought.

He’d gone over their conversations a thousand times, looking desperately for the moment that it went wrong. After some deep consideration, he was certain that something had happened on New Year’s Eve. He just wasn’t sure what. Y/N was insistent that she wasn’t bothered by the declined call, but he still wished he could go back in time and answer it. He was pretty sure the seeds of their argument had sprouted in that moment, regardless of what she said.

Spencer knew she was a creature of habit, and that sometimes she needed space to process and experience her emotions. And if he was being honest, he needed some space after the argument, too. But usually she would have at least texted him by now.

He sighed and set down his newspaper, realizing he’d read the same page four times and hadn’t retained any of it. It was Friday, and he knew she was working. But still his fingers itched to dial her number. He picked up the phone, pressing a key to light up the screen yet again.

No new messages.

He dropped the phone back to the table with a little more force than was necessary. He decided he’d give her the rest of the weekend. If he didn’t hear from her by Sunday, he’d have to do something.

…

Y/N dropped her bag on the floor inside the door and turned to lock the deadbolt. She had managed to sneak out of the building without being stopped by Anita, and she thanked the universe for small miracles.

She didn’t want to have to explain herself. She didn’t want anyone to know what an absolute troll she’d been. Considering that Sam and Spencer had practically become attached at the hip since they’d started hanging out more, Anita was bound to ask about him.

She showered and ordered Thai food, snuggling down on the couch to watch a movie with Roald. She settled on Dumplin’— a favorite for the body positivity, the southern drawls, and the Dolly Parton drag.

And then she came to the argument outside of Harpy’s and lost what little emotional stability she had left.

“Never took you for the type that cares much what people think.”

“I can’t, Bo. And that might make me a coward, but—”

“It does. Willowdean Dixon, I think you’re beautiful. To hell with anyone who’s ever made you feel less than that.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until Roald meowed in distress. She choked out a sob and stroked over his ears, closing her eyes in defeat. “I really fucked this up, huh?”

It had only been one week, but it felt like years since Spencer walked out of her apartment. She’d stayed in bed for the entire weekend, crying on and off. She knew she had no one to blame but herself. Owen had knocked over the first domino, but she’d done nothing to stop the rest from falling.

Spencer had done everything right. He’d done everything she asked, and she’d thrown it all back in his face. He had made the comparison to Mitchell Park, and he was absolutely right. She’d done the exact same thing, only she had almost a year’s worth of ammunition, and she cut a hell of a lot deeper.

Roald nuzzled against her, but she nudged him away— she didn’t even deserve the comfort. Instead, she fumbled in the couch cushions for her phone, swiping open the screen and tapping her favorites list, thumb hovering over Spencer’s name. Then she tapped on the name right above it and blew out a breath.

The line connected and rang three times before she picked up. “Hey, sugar! Your ears must be ringin’, ‘cause I was just thinkin’ about callin’ you.”

“Hey, mama,” Y/N breathed.

Her mother’s tone changed from chipper to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She leaned forward to the coffee table to grab Spencer’s scarf— somehow left behind in her apartment— rubbing it between her fingers. “I— I really messed up.”

“Oh, Lord. You need bail money?”

Despite herself, Y/N laughed wetly. “Oh my god , mama. No, I don’t need bail money.”

“Well, if you made bail it can’t be that bad,” Rose insisted.

“I didn’t— I’m not in jail, for Christ’s sake.” Y/N ran a hand over her face. “I messed things up with Spencer.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Rose responded matter of factly. “What happened?”

“We were fighting, and I said some really, really awful things,” Y/N admitted, tears spilling over her lash line.

Rose scoffed. “Honey, I say awful things to your father all the time, and we’ve been married almost 40 years.”

Y/N heaved a long sigh. “Not like this, mama.”

Her mother hummed in consideration. “Well, what were y’all fightin’ about?”

“It’s complicated,” Y/N hedged, toying with the fringe of the scarf.

Rose clicked her tongue. “Do ya want my help or not?”

Y/N dropped her head back against the couch. “I ran into Owen on New Year’s Eve—”

“Well, I hope you told him to stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Rose practically growled.

Y/N closed her eyes as the tears tracked hot down her cheeks. “I didn’t. I— I let him get under my skin, and then I didn’t want to tell Spencer about it because it’s embarrassing, but he knew something was wrong, and he wouldn’t stop asking about it.” She had to pause and suck in a hiccuping breath, releasing it on a sob. “So I yelled at him and said all kinds of terrible things, and then he left, and now I think maybe we broke up, and I’ve literally never been so sad in my whole life.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and then she heard Rose sniffling. “Really shoulda had your brothers knock the mess out of that son of bitch when we had the chance. He's been gone five years, and he’s still hurtin’ you every chance he gets.”

Y/N swiped uselessly at the tear tracks on her cheeks, sniffling pathetically. “And now I hurt the person who’s spent the last year singlehandedly undoing all of his awful handiwork.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rose cooed. Y/N could hear the creak of the floorboards as her mother walked through her childhood home. “You said he knew somethin’ was wrong, right? I can almost guarantee that he’s still just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on. I know he’s supposed to be a genius, but he’s still a man. And men are dumb, sugar. You gotta spell it out for ‘em. Have you talked to him since?”

“No.” Fresh tears spilled over Y/N’s lashes as the thoughts that had kept her from calling him spilled out of her mouth. “What if it was too far? What if I ruined everything? What if he never wants to speak to me again?”

Ross heaved out a long breath. “That’s a lot of what ifs, Y/N.”

“What if I’m right?” she whispered.

“And what if you’re not?” Rose countered. “That boy loves you. Anyone could see that, clear as day. He’d do just about anything for you.” Rose paused, and Y/N heard the springs of the bed squeak as she sat. “But you gotta let him, sweetheart. Right now you’re takin’ away his chance to do that. You’re makin’ the decision for him.”

Y/N listened as her mother’s advice crackled over the line, and for the first time in a week, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

“If he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, you need to let him tell you that. Don’t settle for a what if. Find out for sure, or you're gonna spend the rest of your life worryin’ and wonderin’, sugar.”

…

That evening found Spencer in his usual spot on the couch, reclined against the arm with a book in hand. He’d promised himself he’d give Y/N the weekend to herself— that he’d let her come to him. That didn’t stop him from checking his phone obsessively; it never buzzed with any new calls or messages, but he still looked every seven minutes.

The sound of the buzzer jolted his body to attention. He checked his watch and drew his brows together before closing his book and scrambling to cross to the intercom, a tiny seed of hope beginning to germinate. He pressed the button to talk, calling, “Yes?” into the speaker box and then listening for the response.

“Hi.”

Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear it over the crackle of the speaker. He buzzed her in without hesitation, crossing to the door and opening it immediately. She made her way slowly up the stairs, turning at the top of the landing and pausing.

His heart broke at the sight of her. She looked utterly exhausted, dressed in black sweatpants and a soft purple sweater, a black puffer jacket over top. She was holding his scarf, wringing it in between her hands. Her eyes were ringed red, and the bags under them were worse than his.

He watched as she crossed the landing, coming to stand quietly in front of him. He’d known something was wrong, but the way she looked now made him wonder just how long she’d been battling whatever private demons she wouldn’t let him in on.

“I, um.” She cleared her throat, and it was clear she’d been crying from the thickness of her voice. “I have a lot to say— again. But since I was such an asshole, I wanted to give you the opportunity to say anything you need to say first.”

He’d imagined this conversation countless times over the last week, and never once had he thought it would start like this. “Um. Well. You— you really hurt me.”

She could barely look at him. “I know.”

He swallowed. “Please don’t do that again.”

She shook her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I won’t. I won’t ever again.”

Spencer tucked his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants. “I know I may not be the best at social cues, but I’m a pretty good profiler. And I can tell when something’s wrong.” He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I’m just asking you to tell me when I do something that makes you upset.”

“You— you didn’t do anything wrong. I—” He watched her squeeze her eyes shut. “God, I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’m just— I’m sorry for so many things. For lying about being fine, for being up on my high horse about communicating and then not actually doing it, for being an absolute bitch.”

He wanted to argue— she wasn’t a bitch— but he could tell she was far from done.

“I— I thought therapy was supposed to teach me how to talk about things, but this still feels… impossible to say out loud,” she admitted, fingers fumbling with the fabric of the scarf. “It’s embarrassing and ridiculous. But I— I have deep-seated insecurities. That I’m not really that smart or interesting or particularly special.”

He thought back to that night in Mitchell Park and felt the guilt all over again. He’d practically said those exact words to her— it was no wonder she was feeling this way.

“And every person that I’ve ever been with has— really reinforced those ideas, so for a long time they were just… a set part of my self-image,” she explained, dragging a hand over her messy hair. “I thought— I thought that I was over it, but I— I don’t know. Maybe you never really are.”

His brain sorted through every moment of their year together, pinging off the countless examples of her self-doubt and insecurity. She was easily the most wonderful person he knew, but he could clearly see the cracks in the facade if he looked close enough. How had he missed it for so long?

“And then I met you, and you…” Y/N let out a wry laugh. “You’re easily the most interesting person I’ve ever met, but you made me feel like… I don’t know, like I’m interesting, too. Like I’m worthy of being with you, like I’m— like I’m good enough.”

He felt his heart splintering into a thousand tiny shards— good enough?

“But I can’t— I still have a hard time believing it sometimes. And I— I’ve been letting myself keep you at arms length. Letting you see parts of me, but… never giving you everything,” she admitted.

He watched her struggle to get the words out, her voice thick with the act of holding back sobs. He hadn’t realized she was carrying all of this. She was so good at supporting him and loving him through all of his trauma and issues, he hadn’t stopped to consider just how much she needed him, too.

She continued, “It’s why I took so long to say I love you… why I couldn’t talk to you last week. Because I just—” She shrugged as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to realize that I’m really nothing special. That you’re getting bored, or there’s someone who’s a better fit for you, or one million other things. That I’m needy, and annoying, and too much work.”

A fresh tear tracked down her cheek, and he felt his own eyes filling. She never failed to put a stop to his own insecurities— reminding him that she liked his rambling, that he wasn’t irritating, that he was just the right amount. In his eyes, she was perfect. He would have never guessed she felt this way about herself.

She continued, “That’s what happened before, and none of those guys were even half as wonderful as you are.” She swiped a hand haphazardly over her cheeks, looking at him sheepishly. “And then I was hurtful and awful, and I realized that I was just creating a self fulfilling prophecy and I don’t— I don’t want to do that.”

Her hand shook a little as she brought it back down to twist in his scarf. “Because it’s never— I’ve never felt like this. I've never been this happy with anyone else, and I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to give you up. Even if sometimes I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Her voice cracked on a stifled cry, and his chest physically ached. “And if you never want to see me again, I completely understand, and I’ll leave you alone, but I— I’m just so sorry. And I love you so much, and I’m trying so hard to be better.” She sucked in a ragged breath and let it out on an exhausted sigh. “And that’s, um— that’s it. If you want me to go, I—”

“I don’t want you to go,” he interrupted.

Her eyes went wide. “You don’t?”

“Of course not.” Spencer stepped forward and reached for her. “Of course not. C’mere.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, she was tumbling into his arms with a choked off sob. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind them, walking her to the couch and sitting them both down. She clung to him like she was afraid he’d disappear into thin air.

“Y/N, I’m right here,” he assured her. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But if you n-need space, I understand,” she sobbed.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need space. I think a week was long enough, don’t you?” he asked, pressing a kiss into her hair.

She pulled back out of the hug, head down. “But I really hurt you.”

He held her hand. “Yeah. And I really hurt you, too.”

She huffed out a breath. “That’s not how this works. I don’t get to hurt you just because you hurt me.”

“I know that.” He almost laughed at how indignant she sounded. “I’m not saying that we should hurt each other. I’m saying that sometimes it happens. And when it does, we apologize, and we forgive, and we move forward. And it’s okay if you need space. But I don’t.”

“What if you change your mind?” she whispered.

“Then I promise I’ll tell you.” Spencer tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “I promise I’ll tell you what I need, as long as you tell me, too. We’ve gotta use all those communication skills we learn in therapy.”

Y/N nodded, and he pulled her into another hug. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “If I hadn’t heard from you by Sunday, I was planning to bother you until you talked to me.”

He could feel the beginning of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth where it was pressed to his shoulder. “You never bother me,” she mumbled. She held him for a moment longer and then released him from the hug and sat back, fidgeting with her hands and letting out a breath.

“Sometimes I need to be told that my worst fears about myself aren’t true,” she admitted. “I know that’s so annoying, but—”

“It’s not annoying,” he interrupted, putting an immediate stop to that line of thought. “Telling you how amazing you are isn’t the chore that you think it is. I’m sorry that anyone ever convinced you that it was.”

He covered her hands with his own, rubbing his thumbs softly along her skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about her dealing with all of this by herself. He hated that she’d ever felt anything less than adored. More than anything, he hated that he hadn’t been able to help her through it. And he wanted to make sure that he never made that mistake again.

“A wise man told me once... that love is helping someone navigate their storms,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. She looked at him then, and he continued, “You’ve been my lighthouse for a long time, Y/N. And I— I’m trying desperately to be yours… But you have to let me.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, but she nodded. He let out a long breath and pulled her hands into his lap. “I understand that sometimes you need space, and that’s fine. I’m happy to give you whatever you need.”

He shook his head. “Just— please don’t try to weather the storm by yourself. You can’t do it all alone; no one can.” He smiled ruefully. “I can tell you from experience that’s pretty much a guaranteed way to capsize your boat.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, and he felt a tear slip over his lash line. “I’ll help you repair your boat, or build a new one, or you can just float on mine for a while. It’s not perfect but it’s pretty sturdy, I think.”

She brought her fingers up to brush at his damp cheeks, and he met her eyes. “What I’m not going to do is let you float out on the ocean by yourself. I love you too much.”

She was quiet for a long moment, sniffling a little and just watching him— almost like she couldn’t believe he was there. She brought her hand back to his and laced their fingers together, rubbing her thumb along his skin. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He gave her a small smile and leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. “Want some tea?”

She was frowning when he pulled back, her brows drawn together. “I need to tell you about Owen.”

The conversation he’d had with Anita was suddenly on replay in Spencer’s head.

… a real piece of shit… telling her lies about herself… isolating her… destroying her from the inside out...

He squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. You don’t have to tell me at all if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head. “Talking about him takes away his power. I have to stop letting him have so much sway over my emotions.” She looked at him then. “I do things I regret and hurt people I love.”

He brought their joined hands up his lips. “Well, I’m here either way. And I’m still going to make you some tea.”

He stood and pulled her up with him, bringing her into the kitchen and refusing to let go of her hand. He filled the kettle and turned it on, found a bag of her favorite tea and ripped it open with his teeth. He dropped the bag into her favorite mug, and then made a mug up for himself.

“You know, it’d be a lot easier if you’d let go,” she said, the hint of a smile in her voice.

“Mhm,” he agreed, but he made no move to release her hand. In fact, once he’d fumbled a spoonful of honey into each of the cups, he dropped the spoon into her mug and turned to pull her into another hug. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and closed his eyes as she brought her arms around his waist. “I missed you,” he whispered.

She squeezed him tight. “I missed you, too. I’m so sorry.”

She buried her face in his neck, and he felt her breathe him in. He pressed a kiss into her shoulder and then settled his chin again. “Apology accepted, in case it wasn’t clear.”

They stood like that until the kettle began to whistle, and then Spencer kept her tucked underneath his arm as he turned to shut it off and pour the water into the mugs. They each grabbed a mug, making their way back to the couch and setting them on the coffee table to steep. Spencer kept their fingers intertwined and stayed quiet, letting her set the pace of the conversation.

Y/N took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I guess I should start at the beginning. I, um— I had my first boyfriend in high-school: Cal Cunningham. He was older and cooler, and so I felt— I don’t know… special when he picked me.” She rolled her eyes. “In reality, he was rude, and arrogant, and kind of a misogynist. We didn’t date for very long, but it kind of… set me up on this path of dating guys who weren’t very nice.”

Spencer ran his thumb soothingly along hers, waiting for her to continue. “When I started college, I dated this guy Adam for a few months. He was nice enough but really self-centered and a little immature. When we broke up I just wanted to be on my own for a while.”

“I was single for two years after that, just kind of… finding myself and whatever.” Her eyes tracked the path his thumb traced along her skin. “So when I started dating Owen at the end of junior year, it felt like my first real relationship. Like— we were both adults, and he dressed up for our dates, and he paid for things and bought me flowers and fit all the cliches.”

“And it was great at first,” she admitted. “We had a lot of the same friends, so we’d been hanging out for a while before we got together. He was a perfect gentleman— and smart, accomplished, and ambitious. I fell fast, and I fell hard, and we were sort of— it feels so stupid to say this, but it felt like we were an it couple.”

“A few of us made plans to move to DC after graduation— my friend Jess and her boyfriend Chris, Sam and Anita,” she explained. “And Owen and I, obviously. We moved in together in an apartment downtown. And that’s when everything changed.”

She drew her brows together. “It was little things at first. Like he’d jokingly call me stupid for forgetting something, or he’d complain about one of my friends being annoying. But it snowballed pretty quickly. He’d tell me I was stupid, and he wasn’t joking. All of my friends irritated him to the point where we couldn’t hang out anymore— even our former mutual friends. He thought that teaching kindergarten was a mindless, pointless job.”

Spencer tried to keep his heart rate steady, his facial expressions neutral, but his blood pressure was on the rise. No one deserved to be spoken to like that, least of all Y/N.

She continued, “We spent the holidays at my parents’ the second year we were dating, and he spent the entire car ride home explaining, in detail, how ridiculous and low-class he thought everything was.”

She shook her head and rubbed her free hand over her face. “I know it’s insane that I stayed with him for five years, but I— he did a really good job of convincing me that I was... that I was nothing. That he was doing me a favor by loving me. That he could have anyone, but he chose me. No one else was going to, so I should be grateful.”

He balled his free hand into a fist to avoid squeezing her to death. When Anita had said Owen was a piece of shit… he hadn’t realized just how deeply she meant it.

She picked at the fabric of her sweatpants, staring intently at the tiny pills. “When someone says all of that to you on a daily basis, and you’re not hearing otherwise from anyone else— because no one knew what was going on— when someone tells you you’re nothing… you start to believe it.”

Spencer relaxed his fist to bring his fingers up to her face, gently cupping her cheek. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a long moment. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a voiceless assurance that she was, in fact, everything. He felt her relax under the warm pressure of his lips, and he hoped that was enough for now.

He sat back to let her continue. “We were together for five years, and we only broke up because he cheated on me. It was a long term affair; they were sleeping together for almost a year before I found out. And… a lot of people knew. Almost all of his friends knew. But I didn’t. I was still being this ridiculous, desperate little Suzy Homemaker trying to make him happy, even though he was still treating me like shit.”

She laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “When I found out, I wasn’t even hurt. I was… embarrassed, I guess. But I was so relieved. I was so fucking relieved that I had a way out.”

He watched as her shoulders settled, almost like an actual weight had been lifted off of them. “I got a therapist and dropped all of the friends that were still hanging around with him. I moved to a new neighborhood, started hanging out with Anita and Sam, and just— started fresh. And I was doing really well. I’ve had my moments of insecurity here and there, but for the most part, I’ve been able to recognize the moments when I’m falling back into old thought patterns.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were so soft and lovely that his heart ached. “You’re a big reason for that. You’re so open with how you feel about me, and… it makes things a lot easier.” She dropped her gaze with a sigh. “But I— he was at the party on New Year's. And I didn’t know he was going to be there until I was already there , and then it felt stupid to leave. I thought I could handle it—”

“And then I didn’t answer your call.”

“No, no .” She shook her head and reached her free hand out to grasp his arm. “That’s— Spencer, none of this is your fault.” She furrowed her brow, and the crease between them was practically an abyss. “He sort of— cornered me on the patio. I hadn’t seen him in like, four years? And he was complimenting me, and asking about you, and then he tried to— well, he did kiss me actually. I shoved him off, and he didn’t like that, and he did his whole Owen thing. Told me that he’d cheated because I was uninteresting and worthless. That eventually you’d get bored of me, too. Just, um— generally awful shit.”

She took a deep breath, and the rest steamrolled off her tongue and over his heart. “And then he just— left . And he’d absolutely demolished my self-image in less than ten minutes, and I was embarrassed and angry at myself, and then you didn’t answer, but I was kind of glad you didn’t because I didn’t actually want to talk about it. And I thought I could just move on, but then I was being weird, and you knew something was wrong. And I just wanted to pretend like it never happened, but then you kept pressing me on it, and I just— I didn’t want to have to explain it all to you because I was afraid that— that maybe he was right.”

Y/N dissolved back into the couch, an unwelcome indication of the emotional exhaustion that came with reliving trauma. Spencer moved closer and mirrored the position of her body against the cushions, bringing his face close enough to bump their noses together. They breathed the same air for one noiseless minute before she finally met his eyes.

“I need you to understand that not one single thing he said to you— on New Year’s or ever— was right, in either sense of the word. None of it was factual, and none of it was acceptable.”

She gave him a weary nod, and he continued, “You are the single best person that I know. You’re kind, brilliant, and driven. You’re interesting, and wonderful, and lovely. You’re my absolute favorite person on the planet, and I will never get bored of you.”

He let his eyes trace over all the angles and curves of her face, and then raised his eyebrows. “He’s lucky that I respect you enough not to go over your head, because what I’d like to do is run a full background check and find any and every possible transgression that could be legally investigated and then use that information to ruin his life.” He tilted his head in thought. “That or— get really jacked and then beat the shit out of him.”

“God, please don’t. As much as I’d love to watch that unfold,” she cupped his face in her hand, “you’re better than that. And he’s not worth either of our energies… I already wasted enough time dwelling on it and hurt you in the process.” She dropped her hand back to her lap with a sigh. “I spent so much time in that relationship that my brain didn’t know what to do with this good, healthy one.”

He took both of her hands in his, squeezing them tight and then pressing a kiss to the back of each. He wouldn’t commit assault, since she’d asked him not to. But he wasn’t going to let Owen taint any part of his life with her.

“I’m so sorry that someone you loved made you think it was hard to love you. Because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He pressed his lips together and mused, “But I think maybe love has a learning curve. Especially when you’re used to being hurt. You have to unlearn all the bullshit. People will have you thinking that you have to water yourself down, or change who you are, or make yourself more palatable. I thought that, too.”

He brushed her hair back away from her face and waited for her to meet his eyes. “And then I met you. And you love all of it— all of me. All the rambling, all the quirks, and— even the dark parts, too.”

She sniffled a little, but really smiled for the first time that night. “What’s not to love about you?”

He smiled back. “I’m not sure if you realize that I fully reciprocate that feeling. What’s not to love about you? I have a hard time thinking of even one thing about you that I don’t absolutely adore.”

“Even when I act like a horrid bitch?” she mumbled, only half joking.

He leaned his head against the couch cushion. “A year ago, you stood on my doorstep and gave me forgiveness— after I’d been a complete asshole to you... I told you then that I wanted to learn how to love with you. I still do. In all the wonderful, and the weird, and the terrible. Even when we get it wrong.”

He shrugged, and then ran a soft fingertip down the bridge of her nose. “There is no one else I’d rather get it wrong with. Because when we get it right… it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to magic.”

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and she brought both hands up to his face, holding him with an adoration that made his own eyes burn. “You can believe that you love me the most,” she whispered, “but just know that you’re wrong.”

He leaned forward to close the distance between them, pressing a kiss to her lips with a reverence that felt technicolor and devout and more magical than any trick he’d ever mastered.

“Agree to disagree.”

———

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[hiscyarika]

Landslide: Chapter One

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Ten years after leaving her on their wedding day, Javier returns to Laredo and runs into Reader

Warning(s): Angst

A/N: Here’s the first chapter of the Landslide series! I’m really excited to share this with you and I’m glad that I was able to get it done. Any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, as I want this to be my best work so far. There were a few tags that didn’t work and for that I’m sorry! Also, a  very special thank you to @aerynwrites​ for editing this chapter before its publishing! You’re the best, girl! ❤️

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No amount of time will ever change Laredo.

Stubborn as a mule, it refuses to move forward with the rest of the world. Some people, like you, come and go, but the vast majority stands still—a moment frozen in time. You’ve spent years trying to escape this place, but when inevitably you’re forced to return, everything is just the way that you left it: down even to the sharp creak in the door as you enter the mini market in town.

It’s still owned by the same family. You smile and wave at Anita Robinson from where she stands at the register, refilling the machine with a new roll of receipt paper. She’s an older woman, with a son your age and a daughter just a couple of years younger. Just like everyone else in this town, you’ve known her since you were little. Her eyes light up as she looks up to give an automatic greeting, and even from your distance you can see the crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes. For just a moment, she abandons the task at hand. “Well look who’s back! How have you been, honey?,” she asks, her deep Texas accent bleeding into every word.

You pick up one of the wicker baskets from the bin by the door, carrying it with you down the first aisle. The shelves are short enough that you can still see Mrs. Robinson as you start your quick grocery run. “I’ve been alright. I’m back in town for a while until I can find another publisher,” you explain briefly.

She shakes her head, picking up the receipt paper again. “Oh, sweetie. That’s too bad. Where were you this time? I think your dad said something about Seattle, but I can’t quite remember,” she replies. You can’t help the way that your smile falls to a more gentle expression at her words. Anita has always been a sweet woman, beloved by everyone she’s ever met.

“Yeah. I was in Seattle. But it’s alright. I’ve already contacted some other people. Hopefully things will pan out this time. How are Will and Sadie?,” you ask.

She closes the compartment on the register, laughing softly. “Oh, they’re both doing great. Sadie and Jason got married a few months ago. Then Katie and Will just had their first baby. I’m a grandmama now.” She beams, and you glance up from the jar of peanut butter you’d just placed in the basket to see her pulling out a couple of photos. “But I’ll quit pestering you for now and show you when you’re done,” she laughs, leaning with her side against the counter.

“Alright,” you reply, giving a soft laugh.

With nothing to distract you, you make your way a little faster down the aisles, going over your mental shopping list while muttering things to yourself under your breath. You’re so lost in your own little world that you don’t hear the bell over the door ring as another customer walks in, and you don’t notice the soft gasp that escapes Anita’s lips when she sees who it is.

A thought strikes you, and you realize that you’ve passed the taco seasoning. You turn quickly on your heels and take a step forward in what is nearly a single fluid movement, but collide with the broad chest of the man who’d been standing not too far behind you. You immediately step back and begin to apologize, but then your eyes meet his gaze. You go silent, save for the sharp gasp that leaves you as the breath is sucked from your lungs.

“Javi?”

Your blood is pounding so hard in your ears that you see your name formed on his lips but you don’t hear his voice. Every thought leaves your head as you try to form words again. But the effort is futile. You take another step back, putting more distance between the two of you. A glance in the direction of the counter shows that Anita is gone. Whether that’s to escape this awkward reunion or to go tell the rest of the town about it, you can’t be sure.

When you look back, Javier’s face has morphed from shock to a softer expression that you don’t have a name for. It’s somewhere between sadness and grief. Regret, maybe, though even that doesn’t feel quite right. But you hate the way that his gaze has softened, his eyes looking down at you like he deserves to feel anything as intensely as you do.

Your shock is quickly replaced by anger, and a hurt that you’ve never managed to fully extinguish.

“It’s...It’s been a while,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. It’s a poor choice of first words, so appalling that you have to hold back a bitter laugh as it bubbles up in your chest.

“Ten years does seem pretty long when you don’t bother trying to contact someone, doesn’t it?,” you seethe.

Regret is written clearly across his features now, but that’s no matter to you. “Querida, I–”

“Fuck off, Javier.” You cut him off before he can even begin whatever apology he might have come up with. You don’t want to hear it. You want nothing to do with him. Not anymore.

You push your way past him in the narrow walkway, returning the items in your basket to their places on the shelf. As much as you want to just drop the basket and walk out the door, you won’t leave it for Anita to deal with. You don’t hear Javier’s footsteps behind you, and for a moment you think maybe he’s smart enough not to pursue you any further. But just as you drop the wicker basket back in the bin, his hand wraps around your arm. He gently pulls you back towards him.

You whip around, pushing hard at his chest and yanking your arm from his grasp. His touch triggers a switch from flight to fight. “Don’t,” you warn, your eyes burning. You feel the heat of your anger flooding your body, the fury making you tremble. He doesn’t try to grab you again.

“Just let me talk to you, damn it,” he demands, his hands placed firmly on his hips.

Now you laugh. It’s humorless. “Oh now you want to talk? Well that’s too damn bad.”

He huffs out a sigh of frustration. “I need you to understand wh–”

“To hell with what you need, Javier. Your needs stopped being my concern when you left me on our fucking wedding day. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should be going,” you bite back. Without letting him have the last word, you walk out of the mini mart, back into the relentless Texas heat. Paired with your anger, it makes your skin feel like it’s being prodded by thousands of tiny needles.

You don’t look behind you. You don’t want to see Javier looking at you through the glass pane of the door. How he managed to come home to Laredo without you hearing about it is beyond you, but it would have been nice to know that he was back. It would have at least given you some time to mentally prepare yourself for the moment that you might see him again. Now you just feel jarred, out of place. Like your soul was taken from your body to watch all of this happen.

You try to take in a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth. But your lips tremble as you exhale and your vision blurs with a new wave of tears. You force yourself to move forward, one foot in front of the other. With your mind in overdrive and your body on autopilot, you somehow make your way back to your apartment without losing your way.

By the time you make it to the front door, your tears have broken free, flowing down your cheeks. Your breath comes out in sharp gasps, and your hands shake as you take out your small ring of keys. They fall to the ground from your weak grasp, and you curse under your breath as you bend down to pick them up again. You force the apartment key into the lock, turning it and opening the door.

You all but collapse as you make it through the doorway, dropping the keys and falling back against the door as it shuts behind you. A gut-wrenching sob claws its way out of your throat, and despite your efforts to stifle it with your hand over your mouth, it’s no use. You shut your eyes tightly, sinking to the ground with your back against the door.

His face. His voice. You’ve worked so hard to leave them behind, to let him go. After so many years it felt like you had finally buried him in your past, never to be found again. And just like that, all of the pain and hurt and heartbreak has been dug up and hauled out for you to bear once more. To bear alone. This isn’t something that you’ll burden your parents with. You don’t want them to worry about you. You’re not a lovesick, heartbroken young woman anymore. You’ve changed and grown. You can handle this, no matter how difficult it might be. 

Mind clouded by the agony of raw emotion, you push yourself up from the floor, walking back to your bedroom and throwing the door open. You drag a suitcase out from under the bed, tossing it onto the mattress. A new resolve takes over you, and you start throwing things into the suitcase. You can’t stay here. There’s not enough room in Laredo for your grief and Javier both. And if it means you’ll never see him again, you’ll leave tonight.

You raid your drawers and your closet, throwing in random articles of clothing. Every movement is frenzied. In the back of your mind, you make sure that there is at least one professional outfit, knowing that you’ll need it for meeting with publishers should you ever get a call.

That in mind, you go to your desk next, pulling out the typed up manuscripts and outline journals. In the height of your fury, hot tears leak from your eyes. Though they go unnoticed by you. The only thing you can think about is leaving. The more miles between you and Javier, the better. You’ll drive as long as it takes for the distance to soothe the throbbing in your chest.

When there’s no more room in the suitcase, you put all of your weight into keeping it closed as you zip it up. You curse at the strain, but you’re too determined to make this any easier on yourself by packing a second bag. By the time you do get it closed, your energy is spent.

You grip the edges of the mattress until your knuckles turn white, finally beginning the descent from your hysterics. As you come down, you go quiet again. Your chest no longer heaves with labored breaths. No sound falls from your lips. Your tears have lessened, but still fall silently from your eyes. Exhaustion seeps into every part of your body, a bone-deep ache from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

You crawl onto your bed, not bothering to move the suitcase or bury yourself under the covers. You lay your head down on your pillow as it begins to throb, the aftermath of your emotional release coupled with the never ending thoughts of the man that so easily erased any healing you’d managed to do in the last decade. The pillow is soon wet and stained with black mascara tears. But at least now you can think a little more clearly.

And as much as you hate it, you know that you can’t leave.

There’s nowhere for you to go. The whole point of coming back home was to have a place to stay until you could get another meeting lined up and save up some more money. More importantly, you can’t—you won’t—give Javier this power over you. You won’t let him be the reason that you uproot yourself before you’re ready. He’s the one that left town. He doesn’t get to be the one to drive you away.

Mind made up, you sink a little further into the mattress, groaning softly as the movement disturbs your aching body. Before you can fall asleep though, your eyes catch a glimpse of a piece of cardstock lying on the floor beside the bed. You sigh when you realize that it’s an invitation to Danny’s wedding, which you’ve already committed to attending, and it’s in just a few days’ time.  

Javier will be there. That you’re absolutely certain of.

But you’ll go anyway, because you could never disappoint the Peñas with your absence. Despite the fact that you never officially married into the family, they’ve always treated you like you were one of them regardless. And for that you’re grateful. They could have turned their backs on you the moment that Javier skipped town. Instead, they chose to hold you that much closer to their hearts. And you’ve done the same with them.

For their sake, you can endure being in the same room as Javier.

-

Chapter Two

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[cicici03]

Just Listen- Chapter 2

Hey Everyone! I’m so happy that you like this book so far! I love hearing y'all thoughts and hearing what y'all think about my characters. With y'all telling me and giving y'all input, that help find me look at my story plot, and to see if I should tweak it a little or keep it because of your feedback! So continue with the lovely feedback! Just know it is going be a lot of twists and turns in this story.

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As Tre slammed the door behind him all he could do was break down. He is trying to wrap his head around about the woman he loves. With their  14-year long relationship, and five of them years being married, they never fought like this.

Tre was silently praying to God. Lord, what is happening to my marriage? Help us please! As Tre was wiping his tears away, he saw the kids walking up slowly towards him. “Are y’all ready to go.” They all nodded slowly with not looking their father in the eyes. With Tre opening the door, Jakob and Amaya walked to Tre’s Ford truck to get in.

Before Mia walk completely out the door, she looked at her dad with a gloomy face.

“Daddy, you and momma has been arguing a lot. Can y’all please stop or get a divorce.”

Tre felt a pain in his chest as he looked at his daughter. His thirteen-year-old daughter or any of his kids was not supposed to feel like this. With her face looking just like Cierra, all he could do is feel bad.

With that, they both walked to the car with a cloud over their head.

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Cierra finally made it in the office before 7:45 and was not even thinking about what happen at home. However, she was about to give a good old- fashion cussing out to her assistant for messing up a deal that took months to negotiate.

As she walks into her office, she saw her assistant ,Angelo, waiting at his desk looking like a lost puppy.

“Angelo, Angelo, Angelo. Your ass almost was about to go apply for unemployment this morning,” stated while walking slowly to his desk. When she finally stops, he slowly looks up with puppy dog eyes.

“Now bitch, what would you do without my fabulous skills of not helping clean up the shit I mess up.”

Cierra gave a little smile to Angelo, which he knew that he is not in trouble no more.

“What am I going to do with you.” stated Cierra while walking into her office with Angelo following.

“Girl you would not have Ms. Ghetto Fabulous in the building. She will make sure you are getting your coin but will also help you cut a bitch if you need her too.”

Cierra just start shaking her head laughing at what this fool just said. Angelo is Cierra’s cousin, who got a lot personality, and just move to LA because he got kick out of cosmetology school in Houston due to altercation with a client who did not like her hair. With that, Angelo gave her a piece of his mind, but also “accidently” burn her in the process.

Angelo’s mom, Aunt Christy, ask her niece can he stay with Tre, the kids, and her for a while. Like she stated “You know Angelo is crazy. He gave his life to the Lord, but for some reason he has not been delivered from his crazy ways.” Cierra laughed at the statement because she knows it is true. Also, the sound of her sweet Aunt Christy angry, Southern voice did not help that either.

So, Cierra allowed for Angelo to move into the house for a few months, and to make sure he got on two feet so he could move his butt out.

“Do you know when Mike is going to get here for his appointment.” As she stated the words that was coming out of her mouth, Angelo rolled his eyes and just looked at her.

“Now Cierra, you already know I don’t like that man. All he wants to do is tap that ass, get a script from Ebonixs, and tell Hollywood that Trevante Rhodes wife slept with him,” responded as he gave Cierra a look.

Mike Johnson was a new upcoming producer of movies that started Angela Bassett, Micheal B. Jordan, and James Earl Jones just to name a few. Mike was a fine, dark chocolate man that just made any woman legs to open. However, Mike was a man that had a many woman, and was known for climbing over people to get to the top.

“Mike is truly a nice man. He brings many awards and standards for Black Hollywood. He might like to stick is penis in everyone, but he still a person,” said as she strutted to make sure she looks nice for her appointment with Mike

Angelo look at his cousin as she made herself all doll up and smiling. When Angelo move to LA a few months ago, he did not see Cierra look this happy. Oblivious to him and both Cierra and Tre, this is when Tre and Cierra’s marriage start breaking down. Angelo finally saw the smile that he loves, but it was not for the man she has been with since she was sixteen.

Angelo knew something was wrong with Tre and Cierra’s marriage due to him hearing some of the arguments at home before he moved out. Out of all those arguments, Cierra was the main aggressor. One-time Angelo had to intervene after one of those argument almost went too far.

——————————————————————

Angelo was in the passenger side of his date’s car coming from a late dinner they had. One thing is that Angelo absolutely hated the date. First, the fine brother did not want to pay for his half of the food. Second, the man is on the down low and they had to sit in the back. Finally, this is the part that really took him out, the man had three baby mamas.

With that, one of them decided to bring her lawyer to serve him papers because this man have 30,000 dollars in back up child support. That was when Angelo decided enough was enough.

“My nigga, you are a fine, gorgeous black brother on the down low and have back up child support. Please just take me back home before I blow you up,” exclaimed Angelo as he literally jogs with his finger wagging out of the restaurant with his date following close behind him.

“Well tonight was very eventful,” Angelo’s date stated while looking at Angelo with lust in his eyes. As they pull up to the gate of Cierra’s and Tre’s gated community, Angelo got his ass out and walk straight to Ms. Ernie, the security guard.

“Ms. Ernie can you take my ass back home,” asked Angelo with the most annoyed expression on his face. As Ms. Ernie look up from her newspaper with her glasses at the bridge of her noise. She got up and looked out the window and saw the man Angelo has been on date with.

“Angelo, baby, when are you going to stop using Grindr. Baby get like me and use Tinder! I know that got some gay people on there,” strolling out of the booth “I called Casey to take you home, but it is going to take him about thirty minutes.”

Angelo looked at the man, who kept telling him that he loved him and come out the closet for him. Lies. Angelo went through the door of the gate that the security guards and sashay his way to Cierra’s house with a deuce sign in the air.

He heard Ms. Ernie talk to the boy, which she stated “Baby if a black person is willing to walk somewhere, they do not like you! Baby it already looks desperate, get your ass in the car and go on about your business,” cackled Ms. Ernie while pushing him into the driver seat.

After 10 minutes of walking, Angelo finally reach Cierra’s house, which all the lights were off. He looked down at his phone and saw 12:14 a.m.  

He looks at the driveway and he realize that Cierra is not home yet. He quietly opens the door and tip toe up to his room. When he saw his bed, he saw heaven itself. He jumped on the bed and just took in the Tide smell of his comforter. As he was about to close his eyes, he heard a loud bang.

With Angelo being from the hood, he fell straight to the floor. Then it was following by Tre’s booming voice “Cierra why your ass just now getting back! Who is it Cierra?”

If Angelo could hear them, then he knew the kids could hear. Angelo tip toe down to see what was happening. Cierra was walking into her office with Tre following close behind her. “Tre it was just a lot of paperwork.,” Cierra sat in her seat and looked at her husband absolutely drained. Tre looked even angrier by her answer.

With that, he picks up the vase on Cierra’s desk and slam it to the ground. That caught Cierra’s attention because it was not just a regular vase, it was the vase that her grandmother Anita gave her before she died.

“What the hell is your fucking problem Tre! Why would you do that you bastard,” exclaimed the horrified Cierra on the floor with tears in her trying to piece it together. Tre did not back down from there either, “She would want to know if you are the cheating on me too!”

“Damn Tre, nobody is cheating on you. Your broke the one thing that I had left of her.” She looked up at her husband and she did not see her husband. She saw a man that personified anger. “I would not be this mad if you just tell me who you are sleeping with! No, scratch that, I am going be piss the fuck off. Just tell me who it is!”

Tre grab her arm tightly and pull her up. “Tre you are fucking hurting me. Get your motherfucking hands off me!” Cierra screamed and started punching him the chest. Angelo finally saw that he needs to intervene.

“Tre, Cierra come on now the kids sleep,” Angelo pushed them both off each other “Please y’all, I know yall don’t want the kids to see you like this.” In Angelo’s years of knowing them two as a couple he never seen them get so angry at each other.

“Tre what about you go and sleep in the guest room. Please Tre, you do not want to do anything crazy man,” Angelo looked at Tre with pleasing eyes. Tre look at Cierra crying hysterically on the floor at the vase. He realized what he done, “Cierra, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Tre back away and took his keys off the table and ran out the door.

Angelo looked at his cousin crying hysterically calling out to their grandmother, “Grandma please help me! Please I need you more than ever.” Angelo saw his cousin heartbroken, all he could do was pull her in closely and rock her just like grandma use to do.

————————————————————

As he is recollecting that memory, Trevante was the main aggressor in that situation. Were there other times Tre being the aggressor? Angelo thought while looking at his cousin still dolling herself up.

After a couple of minutes, Angelo heard to the most annoying voice ever in his life. As he looked at Cierra, she realizes the voice and gave the biggest smile in her life. The voice exclaimed at the door, “Who is that fine, dark chocolate woman over there?”

Angelo and Cierra look at the door and there he was the infamous Mike Johnson. The man stands six foot even, with his all red outfit. This man looks like the red Power Ranger. While Angelo looked at him at the door. Mike walk over to Cierra and gave her a hug. A hug that was longer than ten seconds because Angelo counted.

Mike was whispering in Cierra’s ear and she was giggling like a schoolgirl. Angelo sarcastic cough loud enough for both to let go of each other. “Angelo, can you go to Logan’s office and tell her to rearrange the meeting for 2:00 for me,” Cierra slightly glanced at Angelo. Angelo look at Mike and Cierra.

He walked out the room, but he calmly said something before that last footstep out the door. “Cierra don’t do anything stupid.” With that, Angelo turn around to close the door and look Cierra dead in the eyes. Cierra looked at him, and Angelo could not read her.

Angelo went to his desk and looked at the clock, 8:30 a.m., even though Cierra told him to do something. He was about to sit there and listen for anything that sound suspicious in that room.

After two hours, he has heard nothing, but a couple of laughs, and he even thought he heard somebody crying. He called Logan to come down to his desk.

“Angelo, I heard you was almost heading into the unemployment office,” Logan laughed while walking to his desk. “Logan don’t come for me when I have not come for your fake booty and nose. Can you still breath with those small nostrils?” shouted Angelo while dying of laughter in his seat.

Logan looked at him with looks that could kill if that were possible. “What do your ass want anyway. My husband was about to give me some until you called me saying that it was urgent.”

Logan walked over to Angelo’s desk and sat on it. However, something caught her eye, Cierra’s door was close, and the door is never close until a certain somebody is here. “Is he here,” Logan mouthed to Angelo. “Yes, the hell he is,” Angelo mouthed back. Logan rolled her eyes and just shook her head.

Just as they were about to talk about, Mike walk out of the room. Angelo and Logan both to see if he looks dishevel. However, he was not and that surprise Logan. Logan loves her friend, but she been acting so suspicious. Angelo excitedly thought Thank the Lordt that I do not have to kill homeboy and Cierra.

“Mr. Red Power Ranger what was y’all talking about,” Angelo sarcastically looked at Mike. Mike laughed as he was closing the door. While, Mike was doing that, Logan saw just before the door close Cierra crying.

“Why the hell my friend is crying you Power Ranger,” silently said to Mike so Cierra would not hear. “You got my cousin crying, I hope you know I burn a hoe once, and I am not scared to do it again,” Angelo angrily stood up.

Mike started laughing, “You know what, that is between me and Cierra. Also, tell Trevante I said hi,” Mike amusedly said. “You know what if you even think about sticking your little wiener in my cousin. I will hurt you!” exclaimed Angelo as Logan pull him backed.

“Trust me if I really wanted to have sex with Cierra. I would have already fucked her better than her no good husband,” Mike walked with a smirk walking into the elevator, “Plus Cierra would have already left her husband and her kids would be calling me their dad.”

————————————————————-

So what do y’all think? Is Tre begin some of the arguments? What about Mike? Why was Cierra crying? So many questions that will be answer.

Taglist: @l-auteuse @munteanhore @Ijstraightnochaser @twistedcharismaaa

[rebelwithacausesolveig]

Time Warp! (Matty)

Let’s do the time warp again! Send me “time warp” to meet a younger or older version of my muse!

@matthias-meijer [I couldn’t decide between past or future, so you get a 2 for 1! yay~ lol. Also, special honorable mentions; @katrienmeijer , @margaritaxromanova , plus a couple un-named] Obligatory disclaimer, I own none of these characters and this isn’t cannon unless unanimously decidedly so. 

The Past

Solveig’s hands trembled slightly as she looked at herself in the full length mirror. She’d been training her entire life to asses and take down threats but somehow talking to her best friend had her nerves frayed beyond repair. 

The king will be there.

Of course he would, she remind herself. He couldn’t risk the girl saying anything to his son that he didn’t want him to hear. Turning to the side Solveig lifted her shirt enough to show her abdomen. Still flat, lean, and muscular; she wondered how long it would take before she started showing. Another month would put her at the beginning of her second trimester, is that when? How long until she could find out if it was a little boy or girl? She could have easily found these things out online, but somehow Googling it made it too real to handle. No, she’d just wait until she got to Norway to ask her aunt about it. 

Putting on her most convincing smile she walked through the halls, doing her best to act like it was just another day. Maybe she wouldn’t even find Matthias in the palace and she could just leave without a word. That sounded easier, and it wasn’t forever, right? Just one year. 

A familiar voice pulled her from her worries and she had to pause to gather herself before turning to face him with a grin. “Little prince... I was wondering if I was going to be able to find you before I had to leave.” He didn’t look thrilled, but admittedly not as upset as Solveig expected. Then again, he didn’t really know the full story, just that she was spending a year abroad. 

It took everything Solveig had to keep her face passive as the king stepped out of the office behind his son. With Matthias’ back to him his eyes bored holes straight through the teenage girl. She hated the man with every fiber of her being. For threatening her family. For forcing her to lie to his son. For making it so that her own child would barely know her and never meet their father. As much as she hated him though, her fear of him was so much greater. Men like him were the reason she’d joined the rebellion when her father had told her about it months before on her sixteenth birthday. One day he’d be taken down a notch, and she hoped she got to personally see to it. 

“It will only be a year, and we can still text and face-time or whatever,” she added with a grin, pulling her attention back to Matthias. Standing on her tip toes she wrapped her arms around him. ‘Little Prince’ had been an ironic moniker for years now. “I promise to bring you back some cool souvenirs.” With that she pulled away before quickly pinching his cheek with a chuckle. “Maybe by the time I get back you will have gotten rid of some of this baby fat.” She was teasing of course, but whether he knew why or not, she needed something to lighten the mood. 

Giving a small wave and a lingering glance she left him there in the hall. Even as she re-treated she could feel the king’s eyes on her and it took everything she had not to run from him as quickly as possible. This was only one of the first battles in what would turn into a lifelong war of glares and veiled threats, but she wouldn’t let him win it. 

“Ms. Trulson.” Solveig stopped dead in her tracks and took a deep breath before wordlessly looking back at the monarch that had addressed her. “Have a safe trip.”

Solveig had to swallow hard, glad they were far enough away to not see the lump in her throat. He’d managed to make the phrase sound like more of a curse than a payer. Nodding in reply, she didn’t dare speak knowing her voice would be shaky.

---------

The Future

Solveig had to bite her tongue as the small girl tugged on her dress. 

“Mama! Maaaaamma~ Asy needs help. Maaaammaaaaa~ You have to come now! Asy needs help! C’mon, Mama! Mammaaaaa!”

Solveig loved the six year old with all her heart, but damn she knew how to be obnoxious. A trait, the blonde was adamant, that she got from her father. Not to mention today was already a whirlwind of stress and emotion to begin with and her youngest child’s constant talking wasn’t helping. 

“Okay.” Solveig finally caved, kneeling down to her daughter. “Shh, less volume please, Klara, and take deep breaths.” She waited a moment for the small child to calm down and catch her breath. “Okay, now tell me calmly, what does Astrid need help with.” 

“Um, there’s lots of buttons. And, um, she said something about pictures with you helping with her dress and, um, finding Matty....ummmm.” The small child’s eyes seemed to wander as she tried to remember. Solveig knew her daughter well enough to know she wasn’t getting anymore information out of her. Klara’s attention was gone for good. “Mama, I’m hungry.” Yup, there is was, she’d moved on to food. As was usual. 

“Your papa is through that door,” she said, spinning the girl to face the double doors to the sanctuary. “He has snacks in his pocket, go find him.” With a pat on the butt she watched the girl run off with a grin. There was still an hour until the ceremony, no need for Klara to sit around in the dressing room bored. 

Heading back to where her eldest child was she turned a corner and if she hadn’t been so light on her feet, would have run straight into Matthias. “Oh good, I was just going to come look for you. I am told you are needed, though perhaps my six-year-old is not the best source of reliable information,” she added with a grin. 

Taking a moment she looked him over. It was hard to believe they were both in their forties now, their accidental daughter only an hour away from getting married. The last eleven years since he’d found out about Astrid had been somewhat strained, their relationship had never fully recovered, but it had gotten better. She’d seen him a number of times after leaving Russia, especially after the then teenager had decided she wanted to split her living time between her mother and newly found father. He looked older now though, or perhaps just wiser. It seemed the stress of taking over the kingdom the pervious year had aged him some. His hair now speckled with gray and the lines in his shallow though prominent. He still had the same kind eyes though and she couldn’t help but return it as he smiled at her. 

He had children with Maggie now, and even Katrien had her own family. Though Solveig was still certain the girl had more adopted pets than children. It seemed like a lifetime ago that they’d all lived under one roof. Pushing the door to the room her daughter was holed up in open she nodded at Matthias. “After you, little...king? That will still take some getting used to,” she mused, following him in. 

Seeing her daughter made Solveig gasp. Of course she’d seen her in the dress at the fittings, but here with her hair and makeup done, she looked truly regal. Astrid was kindly directing her bridesmaids around the room though stopped as soon as her parents walked in; her eyes lighting up. 

“Mamma! Pappa! I wasn’t sure if Klara would actually relay the message.” The woman wrapped her arms around the two of them together. Solveig couldn’t help but notice it was the closest she’d been to Matthias in a while. “Okay, Mamma, we’re doing pictures with you buttoning my dress. Pappa, I want to get some with you too. Can someone please go find my little sisters, we need getting ready pictures. Then Pappa, I need you to take the photographer to where the boys are getting ready and make sure your son is with you. We need one with the groom and ring bearer.” Just like that Astrid was off on a whirlwind again before pausing  as a thought occurred to her. “Is Maggie not with you two? I want one of Maggie doing my buttons too.” She turned to a bridesmaid. “Anita, can you go find the Dutch queen please? And bring my little sisters back while you’re at it, all of them. Thank you.” Without another glance at the woman that was already moving Astrid started for the other side of the room. 

Solveig looked to Matthias, his brows raised as he took it in. Men weren’t usually privy to this part, though Solveig had to admit, Astrid was being much nicer right now than she’d been on her wedding day. “Come on,” she said with a grin, tugging him through the fray of moving women to an adjacent room that had been staged for pictures.  --- Solveig bent down, smoothing out Klara’s skirts. Not that they were in disarray, she just needed something to keep her busy. She heard the music start to play though and quickly took her place once more at the front of the processional. The groom was to escort the mother of the bride. So with Solveig back on one arm and Maggie on the other he took off. Glancing back quickly she tried to give Matthias a reassuring smile; he looked nervous. 

It had been last minute, but Astrid had decided to switch to Matthias escorting her instead of Solveig. A decision she’d backed entirely. He’d spent too long not knowing his daughter existed. Something Solveig still felt terrible about. The man waved back though just before she turned away and she felt tears sting the back of her eyes. No, things weren’t the way they had been growing up, but they were getting better. 

[viva-la-fangirl]

Yesterday Part 4

yall got every right to be mad at me. end of the semester was crazy, holidays were crazy and then i jumped right back into my job. BUT I have part 4 here! 

And as always: PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

warnings: bad grammar, misspelled words, cursing, mentions of previous abuse

IF YOU ARE HAVING DOMESTIC ABUSE: National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1−800−799−7233

words: 

The next weeks were a blur of anxiety, sleepless nights and paranoia.

Your mind revolved around your ex. His black eyes always raking over you. The feeling of him kicking you in the alley behind the restaurant where you decided to leave him. You begging him to stop.

There were times where you forgot about him. You went about your day and thought of you and Roger. The tour happening. Planning on which cities you would visit.

Then something would take you out of it. A smell, a sound, a tone of voice from someone passing by and it all came rushing back. Your skin crawled at every thought of him. Even with Roger in bed, with his arm protectively wrapping around you- you would lie awake for hours and wonder if your ex was trying to find you. Roger and the boys had been especially diligent about keeping the paparazzi away from you over the past weeks. Roger nearly yelling at anyone who looked at you for a little too long or even tried to attempt to bring out a camera. It made your heart flutter seeing Roger all protective, but it sank just as fast when you remembered the reason why.

“(Y/N)?” Roger asked. It was morning, the sun was barely up and hidden behind thick gray clouds. You refused to tell him you’d been up for at least an hour, two at the most. 

“Yes?”

“Nothing,” Roger mumbled before pushing his face into your neck. His warm breath making your hairs stand up and your body relax. He had been so good recently, not staying out too late, inviting you to band practice and being attentive, ordering food and going out whenever you needed something. 

You hated it.

Well, not totally. Admittedly you liked the extra attention. Usually during an album you were getting less attention than his drumsticks. It was nice to see a different side of Roger. 

But then again. You hated being paranoid. You hated putting Roger out in the middle of recording. You hated being scared to go out. You hated being scared. Secretly, as you would never ever admit this to Roger, but you wished your ex would find you already and hurt you- just enough to put him back in jail. It was an ugly thought that tainted your mind but, being scared just to go to the grocery was killing you. You missed a time when it was only paparazzi to watch out for instead of a man that beat you enough to break some bones.

It felt as if you were in your own personal horror movie. Walking around just waiting for the boogyman to jump and get ya. 

You laid with bed with Roger steadily breathing beside you, one arm draped around you as protection from the world. With one breath you snuggled closer to Roger who pulled you in tighter. At least for the moment you allowed yourself to feel safe.

If only that safe feeling lasted.

It was a cold day when the world dropped from under your feet. You had convinced Roger to finally let you out of the apartment to go for a hair cut. Truthfully you hadn’t been keeping up with your usual hair routine and it showed. Split ends with lack of color made it look greasy and lifeless. No way you could go to the boys concert tonight looking like this!

The wet but crisp air was welcomed. After being shuttled around from place to place for the past couple of weeks, outside felt like a stranger and the air welcomed your presence. Your lungs relished in non-apartment air drenched in remnants of cigarette smoke or cologne Roger loved. 

“You feeling good love?” Beatrice asked. She ran her fingers through your hair, and massaged your head. For a second you forgot where you were, always a sucker for a good head massage. “(Y/N)?” 

“Oh yes!” you brought yourself out of the trance. “Better than I have. Thank you,”

Beatrice was an old and trusted friend of your from your university days. You weren’t the bestest of friends but she was a reliable one and a killer hair stylist. She could make a raccoon look like Cher. 

“Oh love you should have come in weeks ago!” Beatrice fiddled with your hair. “This is absolutely dreadful- sorry darling,”

“No I know,” You admitted. “Can you help me?”

“Of course darling,” Beatrice smacked on her gum. “Might take longer than normal but you’re talking to the master,”

Beatrice went to work right away washing your hair. The next two hours were filled with mindless talking and laughs. Beatrice went on about her sisters tacky wedding and the silk bridesmaids dresses that resembled bubble gum. You told of you and Roger, how tour was starting up soon and they had a local gig just to break the routine. It was the first time you felt normal in weeks.

While the day to day wasn’t bad, the topic of your ex seemed to always linger in the background- just waiting to pounce. While you trusted Beatrice, you know bringing up your ex would welcome a flurry of questions you didn’t want to answer. For just a few hours, you wanted to be a Roger Taylor’s girlfriend getting your hair done. Not some girl who was assaulted by he ex. 

“I think we’re about done sweetie,” Beatrice smiled wide between her purple lipstick. 

You looked in the mirror and couldn’t help but smile. Beatrice had really outdone herself. Your hair gained it’s color back. It looked fresh and healthy. Beatrice had even styled it for tonight.

“Oh Bea,” you fluffed your hair. “I can’t thank you enough,”

“Roger Taylor’s girlfriend deserves the best!” she exclaimed. 

After paying Beatrice and a couple more goodbyes you walked out the door feeling better than you had in weeks. 

Then came his voice.

“Hey (Y/N),” 

You froze. Keys in hand just about to open your car. Your blood ran from your face and immediately turned to ice. You turned to see him standing a few feet away. He looked worse than he did the last time you saw him in court. He had obviously gained weight. His beard was untidy and his hair was greasier than ever with streaks of gray sprinkling the sides. His snake-like eyes ran up and down your body, it was like a rusted knife threatening to pierce the skin. 

“What no hug?” he pouted. 

“You stay away from me Harrison,” you hissed. Blood pumped in your head so loud you couldn’t hear anything besides the words spoken between you and the guy who had beaten you so viciously you couldn’t remember some of that night. 

“Common hon,”

“Don’t call me that,” you wedged a car key between your fingers just encase. “How- how,”

“How did I find you?” Harrison flashed his yellowed teeth. “Humans are creatures of habit. You always went to Beatrice before a big event and with Queen’s gig tonight- I knew it would be a big event for you,

Queen gig. He knew about you and Roger.

Of course he would you idiot. You’re on the front of every tabloid from here to tin-buck-too. 

“You’re a real piece of shit you know that?” Anger took over. How dare this man come back into your life, a life you had overcome so much for, a life you loved with a man you loved. 

“Harsh words coming from someone who was going to marry me,” 

“I was manipulated into loving you. You hurt me. You belittled me. Then when I wanted to leave and said no to your proposal you beat me,”

“A little misunderstanding is all. I mean you could be a little over dramatic,” Harrison gas-lighted. “I lost my temper one time and you throw me in jail. Now how is that fair?”

“You hurt me. That’s not love.”

“And you think you have love now? With that Roger Taylor?” Harrison sneered. He said Roger’s name so grossly like he was thinking of something disgusting. “I mean common- I might have been a little angry but at least I never cheated on you,”

“Roger has never cheated on me,” You yelled as strong as you could. Before you and Roger got together you knew about his flings and girlfriends. Freddie had ranted about another one of Roger’s girlfriend’s flying off the handle after catching him in bed with another women. You knew about his past. 

“I won’t do that to you,” he promised. 

“How do I know that?” you weakly said. Roger had been asking you out consistently for the past 2 weeks. 

“Because...” Roger stopped. “Is saying you’re different too cliche?”

You laughed hardily. “A little,”

“Then call me Romeo because it’s true,” Roger stepped so close you could smell the strawberries you too had shared while watching a movie. “I know I’m not the best man, I fuck up a lot, I’m impulsive, I’m stubborn, I’m-”

“Roger,”

“Oh yeah. But the one thing I’m not is someone who is going to hurt you. After seeing you in that hospital, seeing how someone who claimed to love you could hurt you that badly- well it made me never want to see another tear from your eye,”

You melted and agreed to start seeing Roger. It was a slow processes but worth it. 

“So you ignore the magazines with him and a bunch of girls around him. Basically begging to be fucked by him,” Harrison shouted.

You had seen. It made your stomach turn but above all you trusted Roger. 

“What you and I shared is a fraction of what Roger and I do.” You stood up straighter. “I’m going home now and if I ever see you near me or Roger again I’m going to call the police,” You quickly opened the car and started it. Your hands shaking so much you could barely hold on to the clutch. 

Backing out Harrison peered into your window and with the radio blaring and a ringing in your ears you didn’t hear him say. 

“See you tonight,”

Tagged: sorry if i forgot anyone i’m not the best at this 

@alexfayer @marveley @mrsmazzello @frenchieswiftie  http://leahluhve.tumblr.com/ @yasnooshka24   @anita-e-taylor @benhardycult @jennyggggrrr​

[ashtray-girl]

could you recommend the books/poetry that inspired morrisseys writing?? i’m curious to read some but don’t know where i’d find that information. thank you!

Sure!

First of all, Oscar Wilde. Morrissey repeatedly namechecked him as his favourite author. Personally, I’ve only read “The Portrait of Dorian Gray”, “De Profundis” and “The Uncollected Oscar Wilde”. If you haven’t yet read anything of his, I’d suggest you start with Dorian Gray.

Then of course, Elizabeth Smart. I’ve previously talked about how Morrissey used her novella “By Grand Central Station I Sat Down And Wept” as a source of inspiration for many of his songs. She also wrote a sequel called “The Assumption Of The Rogues & Rascals”, which I didn’t think was as good, but it’s still relatively short and you can easily read it in one sitting once you get used to her somewhat flamboyant writing style. I’ve also got a copy of her diaries, which is called “Necessary Secrets”, but I haven’t read it yet.

Next, we have Shelagh Delaney. In 1986, Morrissey said: “I’ve never made any secret of the fact that at least 50 per cent of my reason for writing can be blamed on Shelagh Delaney.“ The lyrics of This Night Has Opened My Eyes are a retelling of the plot of her play “A Taste of Honey“, with many direct quotes. She’s even on the cover of Louder Than Bombs! Unfortunately, I haven’t read any of her works.

Then we have A. E. Housman, a poet. I’ve talked about his role on Morrissey’s writing here.

No biographers (that I know of) ever mentioned him, and the connection might be tenuous, but I’m gonna include him anyway: W. H. Auden. Specifically, his poem “The Mirror and the Sea”. I’ve explained why here.

Then of course, Hermann Melville. Specifically “Billy Budd”, but also “John Marr and Other Poems”. You can check out his poem “John Marr and Other Sailors” here.

Radclyffe Hall. Specifically, her novel “The Well of Loneliness”, which is one of the best, most heartwrenching LGBT books I’ve ever read. I’m not gonna spoil the plot for you, but I urge you to read it if you have the chance.

Alan Bennett. I’ve wanted to read some of his stuff for years and quite a few people recommended him to me, but I’ve yet to get down to it. The line “That’s what tradition means” in I Started Something… was taken from his play “Forty Years On”, and the title Alsatian Cousin also comes from there, with the original line being: “I was distantly related to the Woolf family through some Alsatian cousins”. Also, and this is the most interesting part imo, his TV play “Me, I’m Afraid of Virginia Woolf”, which is about a subtle gay love story, contains the line “Nature has a language, you see, if only we’d learn to read it”, which was no doubt used by Morrissey as inspo for Ask. (”Nature is a language, can’t you read?”).

John Betjeman, another poet. I haven’t read anything of his, but it’s said that his poem “Slough” was the main source of inspiration for Everyday Is Like Sunday. Funfact: he was bi and a disciple of Oscar Wilde.

Jean Cocteau. French poet, writer, playwright, artist and filmmaker. The cover of This Charming Man was sourced from his film Orphée and the cover of Hatful of Hollow was taken from a special edition of the French newspaper Libération, commemorating the 20th anniversary of his death. I’ve been wanting to read “The White Book” for a while but I can’t find it anywhere, and I feel like it would be very interesting to get even further insight on Morrissey’s psyche.

Pier Paolo Pasolini. Italian writer, poet and filmmaker. I’m ashamed to say I’ve never read anything of his (I did visit his grave tho!). Anyway, Morrissey mentions him in You Have Killed Me and - indirectly - in Life Is A Pigsty, (the title probably coming from his movie Porcile, which is Italian for Pigsty). Definitely check him out if you have the chance, he lived a very interesting albeit tragic life and he’s still seen as an important, pioneering if not controversial figure here in Italy.

Popcorn Venus. This is a 1973 feminist film study by Marjorie Rosen. Morrissey used several films which the text refers to as song titles. Namely, The Hand That Rocks The Cradle, Little Man, What Now?, Angel, Ange, Down We Go [Together]. When talking about the 60s ‘beach-party’ genre (don’t ask me what that is, I literally have no idea), there’s a quote that goes: “How immediately can we be gratified? How soon is ‘now’?”, which Morrissey probably used as inspo for his eponymous song. Rosen also describes Anita Ekberg ‘reeling around the fountain’ in Fellini’s La Dolce Vita.Other possible lyrical sources in the book may include: “Who would subjugate whom? Who would crack the whip?” (Handsome Devil), “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the flame of women’s rage” (These Things Take Time).

From Reverence To Rape. 1974 book by American film critic Molly Haskell.Morrissey borrowed several lines from it, including:“[she] double-crossed him, not once but twice.” (Miserable Lie)“But even then she knew where she had come from and where she belonged” (These Things Take Time)“Samantha Eggar who, as Terence Stamp’s captive, is pinned and mounted like one of his butterflies” (Reel Around The Fountain)“Films like Mr. Skeffington oscillate wildly in mood” (Oscillate Wildly)“Each woman will be half a person” (Half A Person).

Finally… I’ve kept this one for last because I just found out about it as I was writing this and I find it EXTREMELY interesting and revealing:

George Eliot. Born Mary Anne Evans, she chose a male pen name to be taken seriously by the 19th century male-dominated literary establishment.Morrissey quoted from her most famous work, Middlemarch, in How Soon Is Now?, adapting its line: “Born the son of a Middlemarch manufacturer, and inevitable heir to nothing in particular.”Now, here comes the part I find most interesting… I’m just gonna fully quote it from Mozipedia (which btw is where I found most of the info I collected here):“Eliot spent much of her adult life in a then scandalous relationship with critic and philosopher George Henry Lewes who, technically, was still married to another woman.The vinyl run-out-groove of Morrissey’s 1990 single Piccadilly Palare also contained the cryptic message that ‘George Eliot knew���.”… now, I don’t know about you, but I definitely have my own ideas of what exactly is that George Eliot ‘knew’ and why Morrissey thought it was important to let people know about it, but I digress.

Anyway, there you have it! Hope this was helpful!And let me know if you decide to read any of the books mentioned here!

[charonaraccoon]

Hi ♥️ don’t hate me XD uhm... for the kissing prompt, in the kitchen, first kiss, Alex and whoever you choose^^ ♥️ILY

This is part of an AU, I’m currently working on. Marc and Alex own a restaurant, Dani’s a Sous chef, Jorge’s a restaurant critique, Pol’s a pianist and trouble’s ensured with Valentino and Luca opening up their own restaurant across the street...

Anyway, I hope, you like it and thanks, babe, for the prompt, this kickstarted something^^

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

It’s been a long and exhausting day at the “9373” and Alex flexes his stiff neck to both sides and stretches his tired feet. His dress shoes and socks build a heap of black on the only chair in the kitchen together with the black tie and jacket. Alex himself sits crossed-legged on top of the kitchen counter, something Marc would scold him for immediately, if he weren’t so riled up anyway and gone home earlier than usually.

After what happened today, Alex is almost elated his brother and boss (today more the latter than ever before) has already left the restaurant to Dani’s more than capable but in this case very concerned leadership.

“A fight over an advertisement sign, mh?”

Anita’s head appears from around the corner, kitchen towel flung around her feisty shoulder and hairband loosened enough to reveal greying black curls.

Alex nods into his freshly opened wine. Heredad de Almizra. An excellent, noble drop, but it leaves a bleak taste on Alex’s professional tongue.

“Yeah... over an advertisement sign... I’v never seen Marc this angry.”

“They fought like a married couple, if you asked me.”

He didn’t and still it makes him grin widely. Anita may only be their cleaning lady, but she truly is the heart and soul of their restaurant.

“Valentino tests Marc’s limits more and more with every passing day. First the equal menu setup, then the loud music during the president’s dinner last week and now the advertisement for his restaurant in front of our own...”

“Like I said, like married folks annoying each other with daily shenanigans. Yelling at each other, rolling their eyes and than drowning in each others’ eyes again...”

Alex chuckles and undoes another button to his white shirt. The memory of Marc and Valentino screaming at each other on the sidewalk this afternoon is one for the books.

“Possibly... come on, Anita, go home, Paolo must miss you by now and the girls need to kiss their Mama good night.”

Anita puts down the mop and wipes her hand dry on her apron.

“You know, Marc may be the boss and the best chef this country has ever seen, but secretly it’s you, keeping all of it together.”

Alex smiles at that and waves her good-night.

By now it is past midnight...

Pol has left an hour ago, note sheets under his arm and humming he last tune he has plaid on the polished piano on the golden hall.

Dani has stressed a lot about the meat delivery and the young apprentices being totally overwhelmed by the hectic atmosphere, the hard work and the tough tone in an award-winning cuisine.

He has juggled the different departments and even found the time to talk Alex through the wine menu for tomorrow.

He remembers the worry in Dani’s dark eyes, sleeves rolled up and sweat trickling on his forehead.

“Rossi & Marini is a bad sign, I‘m telling you. Marc has so much on his plate already with working on his second star, that damned Lorenzo article will make it tough for us, too. Last thing we need is that two Italians making life harder than necessary.”

“Luca is alright.”

Alex has said that without thinking about it and he’s got the reaction he expected to get – wide eyes, raised eyebrows, followed by an exasperated sigh.

“It’s Luca Marini, Alex... he’s a genius in the kitchen, but if he’s taking after his brother in the slightest, he’s neither good enough for you nor a good person in general. Think about...”

“Marc? So he’s going to interfere in every aspect of my life now?!”

Another low sigh and Dani almost disappeared behind a stack of wine cartons.

“Just don’t let him know, you’ve casted an eye on the enemy...”

Enemy.

Alex huffs at the memory and pours some more wine into his glass, the crystal sparkling in the bright kitchen light.

Luca is different to Valentino despite the same bright blue eyes and their shared passion for first-class cuisine.

Where Valentino (and Marc, as little as Alex likes the thought) is sharp-edged and raw and fierce, Luca is the epitome of elegance and calm. They’ve just looked at each other earlier today over their brothers’ heads and stared at each other.

He has the bluest eyes, I’ve ever seen...

There is a sudden knock at the kitchen door and said eyes peak through the gap.

“Ciao, Alex.”

“Hola, Luca.”

It’s become a ritual – these late night visits and Alex has grown inexplicably fond of them, when Luca sneak across the street and through the back door just to have a chat with him.

“Marc’s not here?”

Alex smirks and swirls the red wine in his glass.

“Nah, he’s retreated behind save lines for now.”

Luca chuckles and enters the kitchen fully, understanding Alex dry humour as an invitation.

He takes a clean glass from the cupboard and fills it with a side glance at the wine bottle.

“Good one.”

Alex nods and watches Luca for a moment as he smells the wine and takes a tiny sip. He gulps, when he sees Luca swallow and the expression on his face changes into one of pleasure and adoration for what he’s doing for a living.

The Italian turns around and leans against the work-top right next to Alex, the shirt sleeves rolled up and ties loosened and generally way too good looking to be in his close proximity with too much wine cursing through his system.

“Our brother’s are idiots...”

Luca says it to the white floor tiles and licks his lips as he contemplates his own words.

“Sorry, he’s a legend.”

“So is Vale.”

Not Rossi. Not Valentino. Vale. As a colleague and possible friend and maybe...

“God, I wish, I could just ask you out already, without caring about these two grits.”

Alex’s breathing hitches.

“I wish, we could get to know each other under normal circumstances and not as chess pieces in this utterly useless war and...”

Alex tilts the glass and watches the red wine leave oily remainders on the surface.

“And all we can do is sneak around in the middle of the night for a hopeless affair, that could never lead to anything but futile pining. It’s almost like Romeo and Julia.”

He hears Luca shift closer, expensive fabric rustling against his, as two hands sneak onto his upper arm.

“But your not Italian.”

It’s a soft whisper, raspberries and tannins an indication to how close Luca is. Alex hasn’t found the courage to lift his face from his fingers yet.

“And who says it‘s futile pining?”

Soft fingers disentangle his own and hold them tight.

“Fuck them.”

And then Alex is wrapped up in lean arms and his lips are met by a warm and tender kiss.

The taste of raspberries and pepper mingles on their lips, as Alex pulls him closer and they open their lips simultaneously to welcome the other in. Alex’s whole body gets covered in goosebumps, when he hears Luca sigh in contentment, when their tongues meet.

Hands wander over thin fabric and into soft strands of hair, touches and taste shared in the bright kitchen filled with the scent of wine and dishwashing liquid.

They part, but not fully, their foreheads still connecting them in a tender touch and the seek of reassurance, when Alex cups Luca’s cheeks and closes his eyes.

“What was that?”

“Our happy end.” Both smirk and they have never had greater resemblance with their brothers. “And no worries, it’s just the beginning.”

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

What If I Told You (4)

Characters: Jensen x Reader; Jared Padalecki; SPN Cast members

Summary: You and Jensen have been the closest of friends for years after meeting on the set of SPN, but what will happen when you and Jensen have a kissing scene?

Warnings: Cursing; divorce; break up; angst-ish at times, but mostly fluff.

I consider this an AU, as Jensen is divorced from an unnamed ex in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

A/n: Here it is!! The kiss! But... This is not the last part!!!! There will be more. This is just the beginning *evil wink*

Read previous parts here! Or check out my Masterlist here!

“Dean? What’s going on? You’re scaring me.” You confessed, widening your eyes as you took a few steps forward.

“Look, I don’t know how to tell you this...” He began, placing his body in front of yours. “I—Sam and I aren’t supposed to be here... We were brought here by something. We’re from a different world, where we live in an underground bunker and hunt monsters for a living.”

You let out a short snicker, thinking he was starting some sort of joke before you took in the sincerity of his eyes, effectively shutting your mouth as he pursed his lips. “What are you talking about, Dean?” you asked, growing nervous at his exploits. This was your Dean, the man you’d been with for 7 years; through college and adulthood, single life and married. “Are you on something? Seriously? Are you drunk? Wh—what are you even talking about?” you stammered.

When he exhaled heavily, frustrated, you continued, pacing and running your fingers through your hair, “I mean, I knew you were acting different the last few days, but this is going a bit too far. If you’re trying to play some sort of trick on me, I’m not enjoying it, okay?”

“Its not a trick, sweetheart.” He said softly, pain evident in his features. He was in a world without monsters, without loss, and with you, but he couldn’t stay. His eyes glazed slightly when you backed away from him as he stepped closer, a fear and panic in your gaze. “I’d never do anything to hurt you, I swear. Not the you here or the one back home. And trust me, I’d never lie to you about something like this.” you blinked up at him, trying to decide if the man you love had literally gone insane as he rambled, “God knows its hard for me to say this... But Sam and I have to go back; we have to go back to you and our life there. Its important. We’re important there.” he said, a slightly bitter tone on the edge of his voice.

“But you’re important here too, Dean!” you exclaimed.

He nodded slowly, placing his hands on your shoulders, “I know this doesn't make sense to you, and I’m honestly not sure what’s going to happen here when we leave, but I need you to do something, okay? This is very important and I wouldn’t make you do this if it weren’t absolutely necessary, alright?”

Your nerves were palpable in your stance and the slight mist of your eyes, but you nodded anyways.

“I need you to destroy your grandfather’s pocket watch.”

“What?” you breathed in shock, “Dean, that's all I have left of—“

“I know. Really, I do. I’m so sorry, but you have to do it or something bad could happen… to me. And to the rest of our family.”

You looked at him wearily, but conceded.

He moved closer, his glorious bowlegs carrying him swiftly towards you, narrowing the distance between you to only a few inches. “But listen, Y/c/n…There’s something I need to tell you though; something I could never tell you before, in my other life, because—well, because I’m not brave enough…” he paused, reaching to brush a stray wisp of hair behind your ear.

You tried to concentrate on maintaining your character’s façade, which was sort of easy since you were supposed to be a mixture of scared and desolate, but you couldn’t help the quiver that shook through you when his fingertip traced your jaw, a ragged breath fleeing your lips.

Shit, that’s not in the script.

If Jensen noticed, he didn’t let on. A fleeting emotion swept through his gaze as he swallowed thickly, moving his arm to slide sensually around your waist as his hand cradled your cheek.

“I need to tell you how much you mean to me. I—“ he choked. “I love you. I always have, from the day that we met. I don’t dare cross this line in my real life, but I don’t know that I’ll get another chance to tell you. I love you, Y/n. I’ve always loved you.”

You knew you were supposed to speak. You’re next line hung from your tongue but went unspoken; instead, all you could manage was a strangled incoherent word, your mouth slightly parted as you gazed into your best friend’s eyes, speechless.

Jensen felt his chest tighten as he held you and felt the smoothness of your skin beneath his fingertips. The scene was supposed to progress. You were supposed to deliver another line, calling him crazy and backing away from him before he spun you towards him and planted a kiss to your lips passionately.

The script actually said passionately. Damn those writers.

You weren’t backing away, though. Your y/e/c eyes were boring into his as your chest heaved with your shallow breaths. He could easily seal his lips with yours; trace every curve of your mouth with his. His whole body begged for it, and when your eyes left his to glance at his lips, he unconsciously ran his tongue along his plump lower lip.

Your heart pounded furiously, screaming for the man in front of you. The feeling of being in his arms tore your soul into a million pieces, and when he licked his lips a flash of heat coursed through your body.

To top it off, he wasn’t backing away either. If anything, he closed the distance between the two of you further, tightening his hold around you.

Jensen waited for you to move. When you didn’t, he softly ran his thumb along the curved edge of your mouth. Slowly, torturously, he leaned down and gently grazed your lips with his.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you carefully kissed him in return. After a feather lite touch, he pulled back, keeping a strong hold of you but searching your eyes, almost desperately asking for permission.

A quick, barely noticeable nod was exchanged between the two of you before he was pressing himself against you, gripping the back of your neck with fervor as he snaked his hand into your hair. He kissed you with more need, but tenderly, allowing you to feel the strength and softness of his build as you held him to your body.

Jensen’s tongue ran across your lower lip, opening you to him as you gasped into his mouth, the warmth of him flooding your senses as you grasped his shirt in your fists. His hand traveled along the hem of your sweatshirt, lifting it slightly to press his palm into the small of your back, creating chills as the heat sunk into your skin.

Suddenly, you both pulled away slightly, chests heaving in sync.

Still in each other’s embrace, faces mere inches from each other, neither of you spoke for a moment but slowly studied one another. Jensen’s large hand remained twisted in your locks when he took in your features, the flush of your skin and your kiss-swollen lips made his head swim in fog.

His eyes shone with an emotion you couldn’t place as he tried to decipher his next move. He could continue; sweep you into his arms and trace your curves with his hands—silently confess what he’d been denying existed deep within him for fear of loosing your friendship.

You breathed a thin breath, and released your hold on the tails of his shirt, still relishing in the feeling of the fabric against your skin. His freckles danced in the dim light of your small apartment, but they couldn’t hide the shadow of rosiness that was splayed beneath them.

Speaking finally, your voice hoarse and shy, you stuttered, “I, um… I think that works—for the scene.”

Unmoving, he replied, “Yeah.” a gruffness present in his voice that made your knees go weak. “I think your right.”  

.......

It wasn’t until later that night, lying awake in bed, that you’d realize that it has been your name that left his lips earlier that day.

<Series Masterlist; Part 5>

A/n 2: I received an anon ask when I was looking for fic ideas(see below) for a Jensen x actress!reader fic a while ago, but recently got hit with a spark of inspiration. This is based off of the song “What if I Said” by Anita Cochran and Steve Wariner and will be a short mini-series. Thanks to @our-jensen-ackles-love for being my bets, and my favorite. Also there is a wife mentioned, but I purposefully left this person nameless as to not insinuate anything for Jensen’s real life.                                                                

Anonymous said: Hi! Just saw your post about looking for fic ideas. I’ve had this idea that I really like where reader is an actor on Supernatural and is friends with Jensen. They have a scene where they have to kiss or even just have to be right up in each other’s space and it makes them realize they like each other. It’s probably a common thing to write about, but I thought I’d ask anyway. Thanks!

Tagging: (this is my experimentation with my new tag list - if you don’t see your name here and have asked to be added to one of these lists, please send me an ask and I’ll get it fixed.)

What If I Told You:

@pretty-fortune @jamielea81

Forevers:

@akshi8278 @acortez82 @atc74 @berrygutz @blackcherrywhiskey@caitsymichelle13 @daydreamingintheimpalareturns @deanssweetheart23 @deanwinchesterswitch  @destielshipper88 @empyreanwritings @gh0stgurl @heyitscam99 @iopenthegates @jackburtonsays @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @jfrank1048 @jotink78  @maddiepants @mrswhozeewhatsis @nerdstackular @nerdysandwichqueen  @okay-okay18 @our-jensen-ackles-love @samsgirl93 @sandlee44 @spnbaby-67 @tardis-is-mine  @winchester-writes @xtina2191

If you would like to be tagged in my work, please read this and send me an ask!

[seattle-hq]

basics.

January 9th, 1982 (37) Gender / pronouns: Male & He/Him Hometown: Fresno, CA Occupation: ER Doctor Face-claim: Jake Gyllenhaal

biography.

tw: illness, sudden death

Church, school, and family — that had been his father’s mantra for as long as Ethan Kaminski could remember. It bellowed throughout the halls of the household as him and his younger brother woke up in the morning all the way up until they were tucked into bed at night. Life had started out relatively normal for the young man, born to parents who seemingly wanting nothing more than to one day raise a beautiful family. His father, Jack, had opened up Kaminski’s Deli in his hometown of Fresno, California after graduating college when he met Anita. Anitahad immigrated from Poland with her parents in the late 1970s and was about to finish her last year in vocational school when she happened to walk into the small business with a couple of friends. It was true love at first sight, and about three years later the two were married and had their first child: Ethan.

Life was nice for the little family. Jack’s small business was booming which allowed him to take on more staff members and move to bigger locations so, needless to say, finances were never really a problem. They were very religious and went to church every single week regardless of location or circumstance, the male having been enrolled in Sunday school since he was old enough to walk. Only a few short years later, Anita became pregnant with another boy whom they named James. It was bliss in the Kaminski household and it stayed that way for a very long time.

Until Jack died of a heart attack, leaving behind his family and the business that he’d worked so hard to build. It was a crushing loss for the community and for the Kaminski’s themselves, but with Anita leading the way she did her best to put the boys on the straight and narrow path. Ethan can’t even recall the number of times his mother would slap him square in the face for making a snide remark or talking back, his snarky attitude always one to get him in trouble. This especially got worse after the patriarch’s death, but all in all, Ethan loved and respected Anita for the strong, iron-clad woman that she was and did his best to abide by her rules, however difficult that could be.

As the eldest brother, Ethan was expected to take over the deli upon graduating college. The plan was simple: he’d go to university, get a degree in business, then move back to Fresno as the sole owner. However, as the male grew older he soon came to realize that he could have a chance at life outside of his hometown, outside of his family’s expectations. Going into medicine hadn’t even been on Ethan’s radar until his first year at UCLA when he befriended a couple of students in the field. Science and logic had always made sense to him, and the thought of helping people in the way his father had so desperately needed was far too appealing to ignore. So, before that year was up, he switched his major to biology, deciding he wanted to become a doctor. He knew his mother would disapprove, hence why he waited until his second semester was over before telling her, but despite her initial anger Anita ultimately accepted his decision (though not without some incessant guilt-tripping) and Ethan continued med school, with the deli now going to his younger brother.

It was at the beginning of his last year of undergrad that he met Rosalie, a physics major, at one of the football games. The two sat beside one another, conversing the entire time without any regard to the game itself – to this day, Ethan can’t recall which team won – and became an item quickly after. A year later they were married with him starting med school and her starting grad school. Bills became far too difficult to pay, so the young couple moved in with his family until they could get on their feet and worked at the deli all the while, As stressful as it could be at times, and as many days they’d go without seeing each other or spending time together, they made it work.

And then Rosalie fell pregnant, putting a wrench in their plans. Though it was a pleasant surprise, the timing wasn’t exactly ideal. How were they both going to work at their degrees and raise a kid at the same time? After much deliberation, Rosalie decided to drop out of grad school to be with the child, a sacrifice that seemed like a grand idea at the time – and it was, for a while. Med school kept Ethan busy, but he still had time to make for his wife and child. When their son, Matthew, was born, it felt like life couldn’t get any better. Stressful, perhaps, but all in all, it was bliss.

Good things don’t always last. Matti was almost four years old when Ethan started his residency, which meant that his days and nights were spent at the hospital. This caused an incredible amount of tension in their marriage, despite how much Rosalie did support him and his efforts to become a doctor. Not only that, the woman felt incredibly unfulfilled. She loved her husband and her son dearly, but life as she knew it did not come out as planned. Things began to look up after a couple of years when Ethan finally started his own practice in Los Angeles; they were able to buy a nice house in the new city, send Matti to a great school where he could excel, but Rosalie still wasn’t satisfied. The male was still working long hours, putting his work before his family life, and even he became frustrated that he nothing he seemed to do was enough for them. Their unhappy marriage continued, with Ethan sleeping in the guest rooms most nights, until finally he had enough. However, instead of ending things completely, he did the next best (or, worst) thing: he cheated.

He craved intimacy, but he didn’t have the heart to ask for a divorce. He still loved Rosalie, and he didn’t want to put his son through that much pain. It was immature and, hell, it was downright unacceptable, but he felt trapped between a rock and a hard place. Nights out of the house became more frequent, and Ethan found himself spending more and more time away from his family. It wasn’t until Rosalie found out about his affairs that everything came crashing down – or so he thought.

She was upset, understandably, but there was still a great amount of love between them. After talking it out for days and weeks, they decided to start couples counseling, and Rosalie made the decision to go back to grad school to jump start her career once more. With Matti in middle school and Ethan making more than enough to cover expenses, it seemed like the right decision. There was still a lot of things that they needed to move past, and Ethan had more than enough he needed to make up for, but for the first time in almost a decade it felt like their relationship was finally back on track.

Until it wasn’t. Ethan was in the middle of a shift when one of his nurses suddenly pulled him aside, telling him that they’d just received a call from the hospital. Apparently, Rosalie was home, making breakfast for Matti, when she suddenly got a pounding headache. Not wanting to alert their young son and make him believe anything was wrong, she decided to just take a nap and sleep it off. Later, when Matti went to wake her up, he found her completely unresponsive. Ethan’s phone was off, so Matti was unable to get a hold of him and dialed 911 instead. The doctors said it was a brain aneurysm, quick and unexpected, but even now Ethan can’t help but believe he could have done something.

It’s been two years since that day, and a lot has happened in the meantime. Ethan moved him and Matti to Seattle for a fresh start, now working as an ER doctor at the local hospital. He prefers the quick-paced environment that the emergency room provides, not allowing him time to sit with his thoughts for long before a patient comes through, which is ultimately what he prefers. A workaholic through and through, he cares deeply about his son and always puts him first, but his career is so demanding that at times, it’s nearly impossible. Otherwise, when he’s not at home, work, or fucking around with whoever has a pulse, he’s at church. Confession is the only way he’s been able to keep his head on straight, his dedication to God being what keeps him from completely tearing at the seams even though he constantly questions why He felt the need to take Rosalie away from her. Though his faith has been shaken, he simply doesn’t know where else to turn to.

personality.

+ hard-working, intelligent, pious – cynical, condescending, temperamental

[isweartoerenimnotjaeger]

Omg can you describe some headcanons in which Allen finds out he’s completely gay? How he deals with it, how he says it to Cross and his friends, to Tyki?

Headcanons in which Allen finds out he’s gay:

Ooo I love this ask! First of all…I haven’t introduced Tykiin my story yet (gahhh! Sorry Tyki!). I did introduce Road, Devit, and Jasderoin passing though since they’re all on the school’s dance team in my drabbles.I do plan on introducing him…I just haven’t found the right time to do so. Probablywhen Allen goes over to Road’s house sometime? At a dance competition? This isgoing to be long so please read under the cut. Also this is not a Tyki x Allen related thing (just a NOTP of mine but since there has been discourse lately, I’d thought I should say it because I don’t want hateful anons on it. I’d rather keep a safe distance from the discourse since shit is sort of hitting the fan in my life and I don’t have energy to deal with any part of that discourse right now.)

So, first, how does Allen figure out he’s gay?

In the beginning he thought Link was pretty when he firstmet him, but he never really thought about Link in that way. I mean, in mystory he starts out at age 8. All he cares about is ‘wow this wonderful,beautiful stranger is giving me food and he likes my voice!? Let’s be bestfriends!’. Later on, Allen found himself pining over male band members at theconcerts Cross would take him to, or the bands he would introduce him to overthe years. He had a major boy crush over Adam Lambert, Keith Murray from We Arethe Scientists, Alex Turner from Artic Monkeys, Andy Black from Black VeilBrides (Also could go under Andy Sixx), to name a few. Kellin Quinn fromSleeping With Sirens was also a favorite of his. That’s only to name a fewthough haha, his heart still belongs heavily to Adam Lambert, though Andy Blackcomes in close second. (Andy Black and Kellin Quinn are my person projectionsonto Allen lol. No regrets!)

Allen would also pine over the boys he’d see in musicals(there was a time he was heavily into Zac Efron because his eyes, oh my god hiseyes!). Chris Pine was pretty hot. He played Prince Charming in Into the Woods.Sadly…I am not too hardcore into musicals (but I will be because I will do sofor Allen and my drabbles. Also, my friends who shun me because I don’t seemusicals).

Allen isn’t too bothered with it though. He’s still fairlyyoung and he doesn’t quite know that his interests are heading in thatdirection. He has an inkling, but he’s not bothered by it until he begins tofan boy at school about the guys he’s seen in concert or actors that he hascome across over the years. The kids begin to call him gay, fag, or give himweird looks because ‘Why are you that excited over a guy? What about the big breastedactresses?’ Allen writes it off that he’s just being a fan boy over theirsinging and acting, it wasn’t like he was pining after them or whatever. Hejust loved them for their talent…and they just happened to look sexy. That’sit. That’s all.

It didn’t hit full force until he got to see Tyki, Road’suncle, for the first time. (And before ya’ll get on my ass about this. No, Idon’t ship Tyki and Allen nor do I send hate on it. But Tyki is a sexy dude andI can totally see little Allen being all “Oh wow this guy is a super model! Ohgod I’m gay!”) Allen just stares up at Tyki all open mouthed and in awe because“Oh my god this is the sexiest man alive.” He ends up running away from Tykibecause he’s scared, embarrassed, and he’s having a major boy crush moment.

During all this, Cross figures out indirectly because hetried to introduce Allen to female vocalists that were smoking hot, actors, youname it, but the kid didn’t show as much enthusiasm as he did with men. Thatwasn’t to say he was disinterested in them. If they were talented and had abeautiful singing voice, he loved them. There was a difference between his fanboying over men and fan boying over women though. Cross also gets inklings ofit through the way Allen dresses and how he liked to play in make-up. That wasn’tto say it was something that said, “oh my god my son is gay”, I mean the kidwas good with make-up. He could be good with it and be totally straight. That’swhy they were only ‘inklings’. He kept his concerns to himself though andstayed open-minded.

(I headcanon Cross to be very open-minded. He was rebelliousas a kid and even now, he ran with society’s outcasts, the people that peopleturned their noses up at. He learned to be open minded because of the people heran. He also learned it through his annoyance at other people thinking he was abad kid because he couldn’t sit all nice and still in a desk and spit outinformation like a computer. I will write a drabble more on Cross’s backstorylater).

First person Allen tells that he is gay to? Jeryy. Jeryyworks at the school cafeteria and he’s become like a second or third mom toAllen. (Second or third because I have an OC secretary at the school who knowsCross well and became good friends with him when he was a teen). Jeryy is Allen’sabsolute safe space/comfort space. Jeryy provides food, advice, and a listeningear. Allen didn’t feel nervous at all.

Going to his list of friends though. Oof. Out of everyone,Lenalee, Alma, Kanda, Link, Lavi, his dance team members, Allen chose Kanda. Iknow crazy right? Well, he tells Kanda because Kanda can keep a secret. IfAllen ever had a serious problem, Kanda had his back. They may bicker and fightbut in the end they are there for each other. Kanda was also the type to beblunt and he can usually keep his cool…usually if the situation is seriousenough. Allen was scared shitless to tell him because he didn’t want his headto be sliced off or something because he was gross or something. He tells Kandaat his house in his little ‘sensory room’ that Tiedoll made for his boys. Kandais all “So what? That’s it? I thought someone died or something.”

Kanda is not the typeto blab to someone else, like Alma is (mostly when he gets too excited. Hedoesn’t mean to poor dear. He ends up being last.). Lenalee, she’s trustworthybut it’s her damn brother Allen can’t trust! He didn’t want Komui to overhearit. She becomes next when Allen can find a good spot to tell her. He didn’tfeel quite as nervous as he was with Kanda, but he still was. He was mostlynervous about Komui somehow hearing and telling people (seems like wheneverLenalee is in trouble or if there was a boy around, Komui somehow poofed intoexistence right there to defend his dear Lenalee!). I don’t headcanon Komui asbeing someone who gossiped over something as serious as this, this is purelyjust Allen’s worried thinking. Lenalee was all tearful and happy that he toldher.

Lavi is next. Lavi is hurt he wasn’t the first one told(even though, like Cross, he had a pretty good idea), but he gets over it. Hefigures out that it’s only because Allen was afraid of losing him as his ‘mostbestest best best friend’ in the whole world. Allen was dreadfully nervousbecause Lavi was his first friend he made since Mana’s death and he couldn’tbear the thought of not being friends with him anymore. Lavi is in tears whenAllen tells him, both out of hurt, but also more hurt that Allen would everthink that they wouldn’t be friends anymore. I mean they were ‘bestest bestbest friends’ and those kinds of friends didn’t break up over something likethis! Like bro, if you killed someone and needed to hide the body, I would hidethe body with you, no questions asked! Bro, I’ll get our alibis lines up, fakei.d’s, anything bro!

Link and the dance team? They knew. Oh, they fucking knewit. Link probably knew it before anyone else ever but was not ‘openly admittedto’ until after the whole friend group. Allen was blabbering about his boycrushes and his worries over being gay to Link for forever. Link became Allen’s‘hitting board’ for his thought processes and Link usually stayed silentallowing him to blabber to himself. He’d chime in with a piece of informationhere and there. He knew Allen was battling with himself over whether or not hewas gay. Allen didn’t settle on being gay and openly admitting it to him untilafter Alma was told and the other team members. Link didn’t react to Allenbeing gay until he admitted it officially to Link. Link’s reaction was morealong the lines of “I’m happy that you are no longer conflicted anymore. Thanksfor officially telling me, shall I make some tea?” Everyone else on the danceteam was all “Well jee, that’s not a shock. Congratulations on finally comingto terms with it, we’ve waited eons. We still love you.” Alma was all “OH MYGOD ALLEN I’M SO HAPPY THAT YOU TOLD ME I SUPPORT YOU 100% OH MY GOOOODD!”complete with tears and glomping.

To Tyki? Lol. Tyki knew the moment the kid laid eyes on himthat he was a flaming gay. It was awkward as fuck for Allen to tell Tyki “Ohhey, by the way I’m gay. So, you can tell Sheril that so he can stop being allsuspicious with me around his daughter. Fyi, you were my sexual awakening.”Tyki is all “Yeah I knew the first time I met you. I am the reason for manypeople’s sexual awakenings. Glad I could help.”

Road’s reaction is all “Awwhhh…and I was seriously hoping wecould be married. Oh well, Lenalee is looking pretty cute. Maybe she’ll marryme.”

Devit and Jasdero are all “So does that mean we can make gayjokes towards you now and it won’t be considered insulting?”

Cross was dead last. Anita came before Cross and even then,Allen was beyond nervous. He thought he was going to die. Cross was at work andAllen was brushing through her hair like he does a lot. He’s been putting offtelling them, thinking it would be better to keep his mouth shut until he was18 and out of the house. His friends kept telling him that he should reallytell them soon. They were going to find out eventually. I mean what if hedecided to date a boy from school? So, Allen paused and just blurted it out. Hedidn’t really notice he said it until it was out in the open. He was about torun and hide until Anita hugged him and was all “Oh honey I knew it a long timeago but thank you for telling me. I’ll always love you no matter what. Did youtell your father?”

So yeah, Cross was dead last. Allen just couldn’t approachhim with it. When he thought about it and how he’d react (which was usually badin his thoughts) he’d start crying. Cross knew something was off with the weekleading up to it. Allen was more withdrawn from him than usual, he didn’t eatas much as he usually does. Finally, Anita had enough and so did Cross. Anitadecided she’d give Allen a little push and urged Cross into going to a prideparade and taking Allen with him.

“Why do I have to do that? I mean the kid should know I’mnot going to judge him for it. I never judged him for wanting to wear dressesor playing in make-up.”

“You always wonderedif Allen was gay, so why don’t you take him to the parade? You know some of thepeople going there. If he sees that you’re supportive of the community then hemight open up more. There’s a difference between saying your accepting andactually showing you are.”

So Cross takes Allen to the pride parade. Allen is sonervous he refuses to eat, he’s already super suspicious because ‘why the helldid Cross take me here’? His nervousness slightly dissipates when he sees Crossinteract with some of the LGBTQ+ members, a lot of them were past friends hegot acquainted with in his youth. He was still nervous though because ‘he mayaccept people who are different but he might not accept me because I hit closerto home’ (this is an issue I struggle with myself when it comes to my dad whois supportive of my gay cousin…but may not be supportive of his own daughterbeing bi). So, they wander around, talk to people, etc. Allen is heavily withdrawnthrough the whole thing and that is a huge red flag for Cross that somethingwas wrong. He also didn’t want to push Allen into it though. It was hard to seehim struggle through the whole day though. Finally, Allen couldn’t take thenervousness anymore. He was getting light-headed and exhausted from not eatingall day because he’s so nervous. So, they’re just sitting there, alone,watching the sunset, and Allen’s bottom lip begins to tremble.

He begins to cry because he wants to say it but it’s so hardbecause he’s afraid Cross was going to yell at him or kick him out.

“Kid. Just tell me what’s up.” Cross said, tired of Allenstruggling with himself and making himself sick because of it.

“Dad…I’m gay…” Allen choked out, openly sobbing.

Cross hummed, thinking over his words a little bit beforeblurting out, “Hi gay I’m Dad.”

It was the most unnerving, stupidest things that Cross hasever said (he usually does not do dad jokes) but the kid was so nervous andshit, he thought he needed to say something stupid to dissipate the heaviness.

“W-What?” Allen asked, confused and thinking that Crossthought he was joking.

“That’s what was eating at you this whole time? For a second,I thought you got ahold of drugs and didn’t think to share with me. Unless youare on drugs, in which case I will beat your ass.”

“So, you’re not mad…?”

“Fuck no. Why should I be mad? I could think of many otherthings to be pissed about like the fact you still didn’t clean your room like Itold you to. Well okay, I am a little mad because now I have to change the sextalk to you a little bit. I’m also pissed you were worried sick over this thewhole damn time. Jesus, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Cuz I thought you were going to kick me out…”

“I could think of a better reason to kick you out than overbeing gay. God with all the shit I’ve done over the years the one who should bekicked from the house is probably me,” Cross said, ruffling up Allen’s hair, “Nowcome on, you didn’t eat all day and Anita will burn me alive if she finds out.”

Cross also got Allen a flag to hang in his room

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part VII (x OC)

Summary: Maggie tries to make things right, with a little push from her mama.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: none

Word count: 5.8k

a/n: I know, I know— please just let our babies be happy ♥️ and so it was. Also, big ups to my tumblr gf @idmakeitbehave​ for being my beta the last two chapters.

Series Masterlist

———

One week. 

That’s how long it had been since their argument. Spencer had driven back to his apartment in silence, absolutely stunned by the way things had blown up. 

They’d gotten back from the case in Utah on the fifth of January, and he’d driven straight to Maggie’s, ready to give her a belated New Year’s kiss. Immediately upon entering her apartment, he knew something was wrong. Her hug was stiff, her kiss brief, her eye contact minimal. He’d spent the night, but they barely touched, and she left early for work without waking him. He’d let himself out and texted her later in the day to invite her over for dinner. 

Dinner hadn’t been any less awkward, and when he felt awkward, he knew it was bad. He finally couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he’d called it out. He had expected some resistance, but he hadn’t expected that. Maggie never spoke to him with any malice at all, even when he was actually doing something that irritated her. She was the queen of healthy communication. So for her to speak to him like that meant that the underlying issue was much, much worse than he’d originally thought.

He’d gone over their conversations a thousand times, looking desperately for the moment that it went wrong. After some deep consideration, he was certain that something had happened on New Year’s Eve. He just wasn’t sure what. Maggie was insistent that she wasn’t bothered by the declined call, but he still wished he could go back in time and answer it. He was pretty sure the seeds of their argument had sprouted in that moment, regardless of what she said.  

Spencer knew she was a creature of habit, and that sometimes she needed space to process and experience her emotions. And if he was being honest, he needed some space after the argument, too. But usually she would have at least texted him by now. 

He sighed and set down his newspaper, realizing he’d read the same page four times and hadn’t retained any of it. It was Friday, and he knew she was working. But still his fingers itched to dial her number. He picked up the phone, pressing a key to light up the screen yet again. 

No new messages. 

He dropped the phone back to the table with a little more force than was necessary. He decided he’d give her the rest of the weekend. If he didn’t hear from her by Sunday, he’d have to do something. 

…

Maggie dropped her bag on the floor inside the door and turned to lock the deadbolt. She had managed to sneak out of the building without being stopped by Anita, and she thanked the universe for small miracles. 

She didn’t want to have to explain herself. She didn’t want anyone to know what an absolute troll she’d been. Considering that Sam and Spencer had practically become attached at the hip since they’d started hanging out more, Anita was bound to ask about him. 

She showered and ordered Thai food, snuggling down on the couch to watch a movie with Roald. She settled on Dumplin’— a favorite for the body positivity, the southern drawls, and the Dolly Parton drag. 

And then she came to the argument outside of Harpy’s and lost what little emotional stability she had left. 

“Never took you for the type that cares much what people think.”

“I can’t, Bo. And that might make me a coward, but—”

“It does. Willowdean Dixon, I think you’re beautiful. To hell with anyone who’s ever made you feel less than that.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until Roald meowed in distress. She choked out a sob and stroked over his ears, closing her eyes in defeat. “I really fucked this up, huh?”

It had only been one week, but it felt like years since Spencer walked out of her apartment. She’d stayed in bed for the entire weekend, crying on and off. She knew she had no one to blame but herself. Owen had knocked over the first domino, but she’d done nothing to stop the rest from falling. 

Spencer had done everything right. He’d done everything she asked, and she’d thrown it all back in his face. He had made the comparison to Mitchell Park, and he was absolutely right. She’d done the exact same thing, only she had almost a year’s worth of ammunition, and she cut a hell of a lot deeper. 

Roald nuzzled against her, but she nudged him away— she didn’t even deserve the comfort. Instead, she fumbled in the couch cushions for her phone, swiping open the screen and tapping her favorites list, thumb hovering over Spencer’s name. Then she tapped on the name right above it and blew out a breath. 

The line connected and rang three times before she picked up. “Hey, sugar! Your ears must be ringin’, ‘cause I was just thinkin’ about callin’ you.”

“Hey, mama,” Maggie breathed. 

Her mother’s tone changed from chipper to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong, baby?” 

She leaned forward to the coffee table to grab Spencer’s scarf— somehow left behind in her apartment— rubbing it between her fingers. “I— I really messed up.” 

“Oh, Lord. You need bail money?”

Despite herself, Maggie laughed wetly. “Oh my god, mama. No, I don’t need bail money.”

“Well, if you made bail it can’t be that bad,” Rose insisted. 

“I didn’t— I’m not in jail, for Christ’s sake.” Maggie ran a hand over her face. “I messed things up with Spencer.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Rose responded matter of factly. “What happened?”

“We were fighting, and I said some really, really awful things,” Maggie admitted, tears spilling over her lash line. 

Rose scoffed. “Honey, I say awful things to your father all the time, and we’ve been married almost forty years.”

Maggie heaved a long sigh. “Not like this, mama.” 

Her mother hummed in consideration. “Well, what were y’all fightin’ about?”

“It’s complicated,” Maggie hedged, toying with the fringe of the scarf. 

Rose clicked her tongue. “Do ya want my help or not?” 

Maggie dropped her head back against the couch. “I ran into Owen on New Year’s Eve—”

“Well, I hope you told him to stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Rose practically growled. 

Maggie closed her eyes as the tears tracked hot down her cheeks. “I didn’t. I— I let him get under my skin, and then I didn’t want to tell Spencer about it because it’s embarrassing, but he knew something was wrong, and he wouldn’t stop asking about it.” She had to pause and suck in a hiccuping breath, releasing it on a sob. “So I yelled at him and said all kinds of terrible things, and then he left, and now I think maybe we broke up, and I’ve literally never been so sad in my whole life.” 

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and then she heard Rose sniffling. “Really shoulda had your brothers knock the mess out of that son of bitch when we had the chance. He's been gone five years, and he’s still hurtin’ you every chance he gets.”

Maggie swiped uselessly at the tear tracks on her cheeks, sniffling pathetically. “And now I hurt the person who’s spent the last year singlehandedly undoing all of his awful handiwork.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rose cooed. Maggie could hear the creak of the floorboards as her mother walked through her childhood home. “You said he knew somethin’ was wrong, right? I can almost guarantee that he’s still just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on. I know he’s supposed to be a genius, but he’s still a man. And men are dumb, sugar. You gotta spell it out for ‘em. Have you talked to him since?”

“No.” Fresh tears spilled over Maggie’s lashes as the thoughts that had kept her from calling him spilled out of her mouth. “What if it was too far? What if I ruined everything? What if he never wants to speak to me again?”

Ross heaved out a long breath. “That’s a lot of what ifs, Maggie Mae.”

“What if I’m right?” she whispered. 

“And what if you’re not?” Rose countered. “That boy loves you. Anyone could see that, clear as day. He’d do just about anything for you.” Rose paused, and Maggie heard the springs of the bed squeak as she sat. “But you gotta let him, sweetheart. Right now you’re takin’ away his chance to do that. You’re makin’ the decision for him.” 

Maggie listened as her mother’s advice crackled over the line, and for the first time in a week, she felt a tiny sliver of hope. 

“If he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, you need to let him tell you that. Don’t settle for a what if. Find out for sure, or you're gonna spend the rest of your life worryin’ and wonderin’, sugar.” 

…

That evening found Spencer in his usual spot on the couch, reclined against the arm with a book in hand. He’d promised himself he’d give Maggie the weekend to herself— that he’d let her come to him. That didn’t stop him from checking his phone obsessively; it never buzzed with any new calls or messages, but he still looked every seven minutes. 

The sound of the buzzer jolted his body to attention. He checked his watch and drew his brows together before closing his book and scrambling to cross to the intercom, a tiny seed of hope beginning to germinate. He pressed the button to talk, calling, “Yes?” into the speaker box and then listening for the response. 

“Hi.”

Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear it over the crackle of the speaker. He buzzed her in without hesitation, crossing to the door and opening it immediately. She made her way slowly up the stairs, turning at the top of the landing and pausing.

His heart broke at the sight of her. She looked utterly exhausted, dressed in black sweatpants and a soft purple sweater, a black puffer jacket over top. She was holding his scarf, wringing it in between her hands. Her eyes were ringed red, and the bags under them were worse than his. 

He watched as she crossed the landing, coming to stand quietly in front of him. He’d known something was wrong, but the way she looked now made him wonder just how long she’d been battling whatever private demons she wouldn’t let him in on. 

“I, um.” She cleared her throat, and it was clear she’d been crying from the thickness of her voice. “I have a lot to say— again. But since I was such an asshole, I wanted to give you the opportunity to say anything you need to say first.” 

He’d imagined this conversation countless times over the last week, and never once had he thought it would start like this. “Um. Well. You— you really hurt me.”

She could barely look at him. “I know.”

He swallowed. “Please don’t do that again.” 

She shook her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I won’t. I won’t ever again.”

Spencer tucked his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants. “I know I may not be the best at social cues, but I’m a pretty good profiler. And I can tell when something’s wrong.” He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I’m just asking you to tell me when I do something that makes you upset.”

“You— you didn’t do anything wrong. I—” He watched her squeeze her eyes shut. “God, I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’m just— I’m sorry for so many things. For lying about being fine, for being up on my high horse about communicating and then not actually doing it, for being an absolute bitch.”

He wanted to argue— she wasn’t a bitch— but he could tell she was far from done. 

“I— I thought therapy was supposed to teach me how to talk about things, but this still feels… impossible to say out loud,” she admitted, fingers fumbling with the fabric of the scarf. “It’s embarrassing and ridiculous. But I— I have deep-seated insecurities. That I’m not really that smart or interesting or particularly special.” 

He thought back to that night in Mitchell Park and felt the guilt all over again. He’d practically said those exact words to her— it was no wonder she was feeling this way. 

“And every person that I’ve ever been with has— really reinforced those ideas, so for a long time they were just… a set part of my self-image,” she explained, dragging a hand over her messy hair. “I thought— I thought that I was over it, but I— I don’t know. Maybe you never really are.”

His brain sorted through every moment of their year together, pinging off the countless examples of her self-doubt and insecurity. She was easily the most wonderful person he knew, but he could clearly see the cracks in the facade if he looked close enough. How had he missed it for so long? 

“And then I met you, and you…” Maggie let out a wry laugh. “You’re easily the most interesting person I’ve ever met, but you made me feel like… I don’t know, like I’m interesting, too. Like I’m worthy of being with you, like I’m— like I’m good enough.”

He felt his heart splintering into a thousand tiny shards— good enough? 

“But I can’t— I still have a hard time believing it sometimes. And I— I’ve been letting myself keep you at arms length. Letting you see parts of me, but… never giving you everything,” she admitted. 

He watched her struggle to get the words out, her voice thick with the act of holding back sobs. He hadn’t realized she was carrying all of this. She was so good at supporting him and loving him through all of his trauma and issues, he hadn’t stopped to consider just how much she needed him, too. 

She continued, “It’s why I took so long to say I love you… why I couldn’t talk to you last week. Because I just—” She shrugged as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to realize that I’m really nothing special. That you’re getting bored, or there’s someone who’s a better fit for you, or one million other things. That I’m needy, and annoying, and too much work.”

A fresh tear tracked down her cheek, and he felt his own eyes filling. She never failed to put a stop to his own insecurities— reminding him that she liked his rambling, that he wasn’t irritating, that he was just the right amount. In his eyes, she was perfect. He would have never guessed she felt this way about herself. 

She continued, “That’s what happened before, and none of those guys were even half as wonderful as you are.” She swiped a hand haphazardly over her cheeks, looking at him sheepishly. “And then I was hurtful and awful, and I realized that I was just creating a self-fulfilling prophecy and I don’t— I don’t want to do that.” 

Her hand shook a little as she brought it back down to twist in his scarf. “Because it’s never— I’ve never felt like this. I've never been this happy with anyone else, and I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to give you up. Even if sometimes I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Her voice cracked on a stifled cry, and his chest physically ached. “And if you never want to see me again, I completely understand, and I’ll leave you alone, but I— I’m just so sorry. And I love you so much, and I’m trying so hard to be better.” She sucked in a ragged breath and let it out on an exhausted sigh. “And that’s, um— that’s it. If you want me to go, I—”

“I don’t want you to go,” he interrupted.

Her eyes went wide. “You don’t?”

“Of course not.” Spencer stepped forward and reached for her. “Of course not. C’mere.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, she was tumbling into his arms with a choked off sob. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind them, walking her to the couch and sitting them both down. She clung to him like she was afraid he’d disappear into thin air. 

“Maggie, I’m right here,” he assured her. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But if you n-need space, I understand,” she sobbed. 

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need space. I think a week was long enough, don’t you?” he asked, pressing a kiss into her hair. 

She pulled back out of the hug, head down. “But I really hurt you.” 

He held her hand. “Yeah. And I really hurt you, too.”

She huffed out a breath. “That’s not how this works. I don’t get to hurt you just because you hurt me.”

“I know that.” He almost laughed at how indignant she sounded. “I’m not saying that we should hurt each other. I’m saying that sometimes it happens. And when it does, we apologize, and we forgive, and we move forward. And it’s okay if you need space. But I don’t.”

“What if you change your mind?” she whispered. 

“Then I promise I’ll tell you.” Spencer tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “I promise I’ll tell you what I need, as long as you tell me, too. We’ve gotta use all those communication skills we learn in therapy.”

Maggie nodded, and he pulled her into another hug. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “If I hadn’t heard from you by Sunday, I was planning to bother you until you talked to me.”

He could feel the beginning of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth where it was pressed to his shoulder. “You never bother me,” she mumbled. She held him for a moment longer and then released him from the hug and sat back, fidgeting with her hands and letting out a breath. 

“Sometimes I need to be told that my worst fears about myself aren’t true,” she admitted. “I know that’s so annoying, but—”

“It’s not annoying,” he interrupted, putting an immediate stop to that line of thought. “Telling you how amazing you are isn’t the chore that you think it is. I’m sorry that anyone ever convinced you that it was.” 

He covered her hands with his own, rubbing his thumbs softly along her skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about her dealing with all of this by herself. He hated that she’d ever felt anything less than adored. More than anything, he hated that he hadn’t been able to help her through it. And he wanted to make sure that he never made that mistake again. 

“A wise man told me once... that love is helping someone navigate their storms,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. She looked at him then, and he continued, “You’ve been my lighthouse for a long time, Maggie. And I— I’m trying desperately to be yours… But you have to let me.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, but she nodded. He let out a long breath and pulled her hands into his lap. “I understand that sometimes you need space, and that’s fine. I’m happy to give you whatever you need.” 

He shook his head. “Just— please don’t try to weather the storm by yourself. You can’t do it all alone; no one can.” He smiled ruefully. “I can tell you from experience that’s pretty much a guaranteed way to capsize your boat.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, and he felt a tear slip over his lash line. “I’ll help you repair your boat, or build a new one, or you can just float on mine for a while. It’s not perfect but it’s pretty sturdy, I think.”

She brought her fingers up to brush at his damp cheeks, and he met her eyes.  “What I’m not going to do is let you float out on the ocean by yourself. I love you too much.” 

She was quiet for a long moment, sniffling a little and just watching him— almost like she couldn’t believe he was there. She brought her hand back to his and laced their fingers together, rubbing her thumb along his. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He gave her a small smile and leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. “Want some tea?”

She was frowning when he pulled back, her brows drawn together. “I need to tell you about Owen.”

The conversation he’d had with Anita was suddenly on replay in Spencer’s head. 

… a real piece of shit… telling her lies about herself… isolating her… destroying her from the inside out...

He squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. You don’t have to tell me at all if you don’t want to.” 

She shook her head. “Talking about him takes away his power. I have to stop letting him have so much sway over my emotions.” She looked at him then. “I do things I regret and hurt people I love.” 

He brought their joined hands up his lips. “Well, I’m here either way. And I’m still going to make you some tea.” 

He stood and pulled her up with him, bringing her into the kitchen and refusing to let go of her hand. He filled the kettle and turned it on, found a bag of her favorite tea and ripped it open with his teeth. He dropped the bag into her favorite mug, and then made a mug up for himself. 

“You know, it’d be a lot easier if you’d let go,” she said, the hint of a smile in her voice. 

“Mhm,” he agreed, but he made no move to release her hand. In fact, once he’d fumbled a spoonful of honey into each of the cups, he dropped the spoon into her mug and turned to pull her into another hug. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and closed his eyes as she brought her arms around his waist. “I missed you,” he whispered. 

She squeezed him tight. “I missed you, too. I’m so sorry.”

She buried her face in his neck, and he felt her breathe him in. He pressed a kiss into her shoulder and then settled his chin again. “Apology accepted, in case it wasn’t clear.”

They stood like that until the kettle began to whistle, and then Spencer kept her tucked underneath his arm as he turned to shut it off and pour the water into the mugs. They each grabbed a mug, making their way back to the couch and setting them on the coffee table to steep. Spencer kept their fingers intertwined and stayed quiet, letting her set the pace of the conversation. 

Maggie took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I guess I should start at the beginning. I, um— I had my first boyfriend in high-school: Cal Cunningham. He was older and cooler, and so I felt— I don’t know… special when he picked me.” She rolled her eyes. “In reality, he was rude, and arrogant, and kind of a misogynist. We didn’t date for very long, but it kind of… set me up on this path of dating guys who weren’t very nice.”

Spencer ran his thumb soothingly along hers, waiting for her to continue. “When I started college, I dated this guy Adam for a few months. He was nice enough but really self-centered and a little immature. When we broke up I just wanted to be on my own for a while.”

“I was single for two years after that, just kind of… finding myself and whatever.” Her eyes watched the path his thumb traced along her skin. “So when I started dating Owen at the end of junior year, it felt like my first real relationship. Like— we were both adults, and he dressed up for our dates, and he paid for things and bought me flowers and fit all the cliches.”

“And it was great at first,” she admitted. “We had a lot of the same friends, so we’d been hanging out for a while before we got together. He was a perfect gentleman, and he was smart, accomplished, and ambitious. I fell fast and I fell hard, and we were sort of— it feels so stupid to say this, but it felt like we were an it couple. 

“A few of us made plans to move to DC after graduation— my friend Jess and her boyfriend Chris, Sam and Anita,” she explained. “And Owen and I, obviously. We moved in together in an apartment downtown. And that’s when everything changed.”

She drew her brows together. “It was little things at first. Like he’d jokingly call me stupid for forgetting something, or he’d complain about one of my friends being annoying. But it snowballed pretty quickly. He’d tell me I was stupid, and he wasn’t joking. All of my friends irritated him to the point where we couldn’t hang out anymore— even our former mutual friends. He thought that teaching kindergarten was a mindless, pointless job.”

Spencer tried to keep his heart rate steady, his facial expressions neutral, but his blood pressure was on the rise. No one deserved to be spoken to like that, least of all Maggie. 

She continued, “We spent the holidays at my parents’ the second year we were dating, and he spent the entire car ride home explaining, in detail, how ridiculous and low-class he thought everything was.” 

She shook her head and rubbed her free hand over her face. “I know it’s insane to think that I stayed with him for so long, but I— he did a really good job of convincing me that I was— that I was nothing. That he was doing me a favor by loving me. That he could have anyone, but he chose me. No one else was going to, so I should be grateful.”

He balled his free hand into a fist to avoid squeezing her to death. When Anita had said Owen was a piece of shit… he hadn’t realized just how deeply she meant it.

She picked at the fabric of her sweatpants, staring intently at the tiny pills. “When someone says all of that to you on a daily basis, and you’re not hearing otherwise from anyone else— because no one knew what was going on… you start to believe it.”

Spencer relaxed his fist to bring his fingers up to her face, gently cupping her cheek. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a long moment. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a voiceless assurance that she was, in fact, everything. He felt her relax under the warm pressure of his lips, and he hoped that was enough for now. 

He sat back to let her continue. “We were together for five years, and we only broke up because he cheated on me. It was a long term affair; they were sleeping together for almost a year before I found out. And… a lot of people knew. Almost all of his friends knew. But I didn’t. I was still being this ridiculous, desperate little Suzy Homemaker trying to make him happy, even though he was still treating me like shit.”

She laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “When I found out, I wasn’t even hurt. I was… embarrassed, I guess. But I was so relieved. I was so fucking relieved that I had a way out.”

He watched as her shoulders settled, almost like an actual weight had been lifted off of them. “I got a therapist and dropped all of the friends that were still hanging around with him. I moved to a new neighborhood, started hanging out with Anita and Sam, and just— started fresh. And I was doing really well. I had my moments of insecurity here and there, but for the most part, I was been able to recognize the moments when I was falling back into old thought patterns.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were so soft and lovely that his heart ached. “You’re a big reason for that. You’re so open with how you feel about me, and… it makes things a lot easier.” She dropped her gaze with a sigh. “But I— he was at the party on New Year's. And I didn’t know he was going to be there until I was already there, and then it felt stupid to leave. I thought I could handle it—”

“And then I didn’t answer your call.”

“No, no.” She shook her head and reached her free hand out to grasp his arm. “That’s— Spencer, none of this is your fault.” She furrowed her brow, and the crease between them was practically an abyss. “He sort of— cornered me on the patio. I hadn’t seen him in like, four years? And he was complimenting me, and asking about you, and then he tried to— well, he did kiss me actually. I shoved him off, and he didn’t like that, and he did his whole Owen thing. Told me that he’d cheated because I was uninteresting and worthless. That eventually you’d get bored of me, too. Just, um— generally awful shit.”

She took a deep breath, and the rest steamrolled off her tongue and crushed his heart. “And then he just— left. And he’d absolutely demolished my self-image in less than ten minutes, and I was embarrassed and angry at myself, and then you didn’t answer, but I was kind of glad you didn’t because I didn’t actually want to talk about it. And I thought I could just move on, but then I was being weird, and you knew something was wrong. And I just wanted to pretend like it never happened, but you kept pressing me on it, and I just— I didn’t want to have to explain it all to you because I was afraid that— that maybe he was right.”

Maggie dissolved back into the couch, an indication of the emotional exhaustion that came with reliving personal trauma. Spencer moved closer and mirrored the position of her body against the cushions, bringing his face close enough to bump their noses together. They breathed the same air for one noiseless minute before she finally met his eyes.

“I need you to understand that not one single thing he said to you— on New Year’s or ever— was right, in either sense of the word. None of it was factual, and none of it was acceptable.” 

She nodded, and he continued, “You are the single best person that I know. You’re kind, brilliant, talented, and driven. You’re interesting, and wonderful, and lovely. You’re my absolute favorite person on the planet, and I will never get bored of you.” 

He let his eyes trace over all the angles and curves of her face, and then raised his eyebrows. “He’s lucky that I respect you enough not to go over your head, because what I’d like to do is run a full background check, find any and every possible transgression that could be legally investigated, and then use that information to ruin his life.” He tilted his head in thought. “That or— get really jacked and then beat the shit out of him.” 

“God, please don’t. As much as I’d love to watch that unfold,” she cupped his face in her hand, “you’re better than that. And he’s not worth either of our energies… I already wasted enough time dwelling on it and hurt you in the process.” She dropped her hand back to her lap with a sigh. “I spent so much time in that relationship that my brain didn’t know what to do with this good, healthy one.”

He took both of her hands in his, squeezing them tight and then pressing a kiss to the back of each. He wouldn’t commit assault, since she’d asked him not to. But he wasn’t going to let Owen taint any part of his life with Maggie. 

“I’m so sorry that someone you loved made you think it was hard to love you. Because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He pressed his lips together and mused, “But I think maybe love has a learning curve. Especially when you’re used to being hurt. You have to unlearn all the bullshit. People will have you thinking that you have to water yourself down, or change who you are, or make yourself more palatable. I thought that, too.” 

He brushed her hair back away from her face and waited for her to meet his eyes. “And then I met you. And you love all of it— all of me. All the rambling, all the quirks, and— even the dark parts, too.” 

She sniffled a little, but really smiled for the first time that night. “What’s not to love about you?”

He smiled back. “I’m not sure if you realize that I fully reciprocate that feeling. What’s not to love about you? I have a hard time thinking of even one thing about you that I don’t absolutely adore.”

“Even when I act like a horrid bitch?” she mumbled, only half joking.

He leaned his head against the couch cushion. “A year ago, you stood on my doorstep and gave me forgiveness— after I’d been a complete asshole to you…  I told you then that I wanted to learn how to love with you. I still do. In all the wonderful, and the weird, and the terrible. Even when we get it wrong.”

He shrugged, and then ran a soft fingertip down the bridge of her nose. “There is no one else I’d rather get it wrong with. Because when we get it right… it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to magic.”

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and she brought both hands up to his face, holding him with an adoration that made his own eyes burn. “You can believe that you love me the most,” she whispered, “but just know that you’re wrong.” 

He leaned forward to close the distance between them, pressing a kiss to her lips with a reverence that felt technicolor and devout and more magical than any trick he’d ever mastered. 

“Agree to disagree.”

———

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[diamcndclawsa-blog]

𝘽𝘼𝙎𝙄𝘾𝙎 ,

full name.     selina kyle pronunciation.     suh-lee-nah kai-uhl nickname.     sel,  cat,  catwoman,  irena dubrovna,  selina calabrese,  +  various other aliases. height.     5′7″ age.     typically around the latter half of her 20s to mid-30s,   or teens in her gotham verse,   but i’m willing to play her at various ages. zodiac.     i haven’t totally worked out her chart,   but she’s 100% a   scorpio sun.    probably a leo moon  &  sagittarius sun or vice verse,   but i’m definitely not set on those yet. spoken languages.     english,   primarily,   and a decent amount of italian & some spanish.   also a sprinkle of russian,  japanese,  etc.  just from the rich criminals coming through gotham. 

𝙋𝙃𝙔𝙎𝙄𝘾𝘼𝙇 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙎𝙏𝙄𝘾𝙎 ,

hair color.     black. eye color.     green,   leaning towards a   jade. skin tone.     fairly light & a faint smattering of freckles on her nose.    leans toward a   light medium   when she sees sunlight,   but that’s an immense rarity considering in the day time she’s typically asleep,   lounging with her cats,   or dealing with other various business indoors.    still,   selina doesn’t need a lot of sun to tan,   and she seldom burns. body type.     incredibly fit from   years   of practice in martial arts,  gymnastics,  freerunning,  &  general melee fighting.    selina doesn’t carry a lot of obvious muscle,   but she’s incredibly toned in her upper arms,  legs,  and core.    that said,   she’s also quite curvy.    rly fills out the catsuit xo accent.     typical american accent.   she tends to speak pretty casually.    it also gets pretty low & sultry when she’s teasing & flirting.   when it comes to jobs where she has to play a   part,   though,   she can easily put on different accents or talk more   ‘ proper ’ dominant hand.     she’s ambidextrous,   but she does favour her right hand a little more posture.     fairly straight,   with her shoulders pulled back.    there’s no room for bad posture with the kinda shit she does,   so it’s just sorta second nature by now.    when she’s relaxed,  however,   she tends to lean against things a lot,   or stands with her hip jutted to the side. scars.     surprisingly,   she doesn’t have any significant scars with stories behind them.    the only ones lingering from childhood are just from particularly rough scrapes   (  the kind that takes off skin  ).    but she typically has various bruises from fights,   and a fuck ton of random ass scratches bc u know....    she’s a crazy cat lady.   :/ tattoos.     none.    she’s thought about it quite a few times,   of course,   but getting something that distinguishable when she tries to keep under the radar isn’t exactly the wisest decision. most noticeable feature.     her ass and her eyes.

𝘾𝙃𝙄𝙇𝘿𝙃𝙊𝙊𝘿 ,

place of birth.     havana,  cuba hometown.     gotham,  new jersey birth weight.     about 6-7 lbs. birth height.     about 18 1/2 in.    on the lower end of average,   but nothing abnormal. manner of birth.     a private hospital her mother’s family had connections at.   her mother had better care than the average pregnant mother giving birth in a normal hospital,   despite how downhill things went down in selina’s earlier years first words.     it’s cliché but uh....    it was 100%   ‘ cat ’.    her birth mother had a cat,   and it would hang around her crib a lot,   so...    y’know. siblings.     magdalena kyle   (  sister from her adoptive family  ),   aiden mason   (  estranged brother  ) parents.     rex calabrese   (  father  ),    anita cortes   (  mother,  deceased  ),   +  i’m not bothering with her adoptive parents’ names rn but their last name was kyle,   obvs parental involvement.     honestly ?    very little.    she spent a short few years living with her mother in cuba,   before rex tried to bring them over to gotham.    her mother was killed by one of his enemies,   and baby selina barely made it out.    she spent roughly ages 2-8 with rex,   after which he decided it was too dangerous to keep her around,   and she was put into the foster system.    the kyles adopted her,   but mr. kyle was a raging alcoholic,   and mrs. kyle eventually left the family completely.   selina didn’t get on with either of them growing up,   and wound up running away from home after a few years anyway.

𝘼𝘿𝙐𝙇𝙏 𝙇𝙄𝙁𝙀 ,

occupation.     cat burglar  &  occasional vigilante current residence.     gotham,  new jersey close friends.     holly robinson,  alice tesla,  lola macyntire,  killer croc,  bruce wayne  (  sometimes  ) relationship status.     single,   though she’s got a long-running fling with batman,   and various flings  &  hook-ups with others.   engaged or married in other verse,   though. financial status.     heavily verse dependent.   in her younger years,   she’s literally on the streets,   stealing to eat.    she spends the earlier years of her life as a cat burglar not   too   much better,   especially when her apartments end up compromised half the time.    later on,   however,   she gets enough money stowed away in various bank accounts that she’s pretty well-off.    not exactly a millionaire,   but she can afford the fancy penthouse. driver’s license.     about five or six fake ones,  though she’s never   officially   taken the test.   she knows what she’s doing,  though. criminal record.     an extravagant list of burglaries,   with a sprinkling of unintentional manslaughter,   and a teensy dash of murder vices.     liquor,  thievery,  sex,  smoking

𝙎𝙀𝙓 & 𝙍𝙊𝙈𝘼𝙉𝘾𝙀 ,

sexual orientation.     bisexual romantic orientation.     biromantic preferred emotional role.     submissive  |  dominant  |  switch  |  unsure preferred sexual role.     submissive  |  dominant  |  switch     (   being anything other than dominant is   incredibly   rare,   however.    she’s really gotta trust someone to let them take control.    bruce is probably the only one i can think of whose gotten that privilege,   and even that is verse dependent.   ) libido.     pretty damn high.    it’s a thrill,  a form of stress relief,  and a way to keep control in   her   court.    she’s not opposed to fucking on a rooftop,   in the middle of a job,   or after she’s just escaped a barrage of bullets.    in fact,   that’s when she enjoys it best. turn on’s.     guys with scruff,   delicious abs,   girls with pretty hair,   nice asses,   successful burglaries,   a good challenge in a fight,  getting anything expensive  turn off’s.     people talking about their feelings,   commitment,  anyone too  ‘ vanilla ’ love language.     nuzzling  /  general cuddling,   possessive touches,   sharing food,   little gifts relationship tendencies.     almost exclusively running flings or one-night stands.   a few nights,   if someone gets lucky.    she’s not really into long lasting relationships.    her line of work doesn’t really allow for getting close to people    —    they get hurt that way.    and beyond that,   she’s just not that fond of opening up.    it takes a lot for someone to get her to open up,   but if she gets there,   it’s a lot more likely a relationship will be more than just a fling.

𝙈𝙄𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙇𝙇𝘼𝙉𝙀𝙊𝙐𝙎 ,

character’s theme song.     oh god i’m the worst at theme songs.    but honestly,   probably something from the ost of   ‘ to catch a thief ’   bc...   ya know.... hobbies to pass the time.     watching old hollywood classics,   napping or playing with her five hundred cats,   going for jogs on the rooftops,   drinking,   shopping physical illness.     none left or right brained.     a little more left-brained,   i’d think fears.     getting close to people and finding them dead,   feeling helpless,   living a monotonous life self confidence level.     pretty damn high when it comes to her capabilities.   when it comes to herself as a person ?    not great,  lol. vulnerabilities.     expensive things   (  especially if they sparkle  ),   street kids,   holly robinson,   lola macyntire,   bruce wayne,   katherine kyle   (  verse dependent  ),   helena wayne   (  verse dependent  )

tagged by.     @lxdrlappen  ♡ tagging.     @sparkadream   (  harley  ),    @guiltspelled,    @shieldthrow,    @godslaer

[croatian-nt]

Play a Part(Part three)

First, second part

Summary: Šime is trying to get over Luka and while he appreciates Dejan’s help, after an incident gone wrong, he is starting to realize things might get a lot more complicated with his best friend

Pairings: Šime Vrsaljko/Dejan Lovren, Daniel Subašić/Domagoj Vida mentioned, Luka Modrić/Mario Mandžukić mentioned

Word Count: 4496

Warnings: crying, mentions of cheating, mentions of hitting(can be read as abuse but not explicit)

Notes: This is so so late I know, I am sorry I had a writer’s block and the school started but here it is. Once again thanks to my wonderful beta @wordpuddle for editing this long ass piece and not hating me because of all the typos and ‘saids’ xD. Happy reading everyone ;)

Šime decided to get the hell away from that woman. His head was still spinning and he considered if she could be telling the truth. If she did, why didn't Dejan tell him he had a wife before this mess started? The bad part was, his mind supplied him with memories of Dejan having a bit of a crush on him from the start. What if he just didn't want Šime to know, so seducing him would be easier?   Šime pushed those thoughts away. At least for now. He wasn't going to fall apart in front of this woman, who seemed to be enjoying his stunned silence.   "He didn't tell you, did he?“ She tilts her head. “I guess it's easier to pick up guys like you if he doesn't say he’s married. But didn't it seem suspicious that he would be with you? Imagine the scandal. A singer having a male lover. Poor you, you must have thought he really loved you." Her cruel words each seemed like a poisoned knife right through his heart. Šime could barely breathe. How could anyone be this cruel? He didn't know. Until today he didn't even kiss Dejan because he wanted to. He had to get away from all this.

"You said your part. Get away from my property," he hissed, turning to unlock his door.

"Enjoy him while you can. It won't last. He always comes back to me," she said, turning a knife in his heart once more. "If you are here when I look out the window, I will call the police. Don't come back." He stared her down and slammed the door behind him. When he heard the clank of her heels as she left, he finally broke down. His legs gave in and he slid down to the floor with his back against the door. A sob escaped him. His head was spinning. He was barely able to catch his breath. Would Dejan really do that? Lie to him for months just to fuck him? Was he some sort of a challenge because he was in love with someone else when they met? Was it- His thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. Even before he flipped the phone he knew who the person was because of the ringtone. Luka. Šime's hand was shaking as he held the phone but he just didn't have the energy to resist the temptation of hearing Luka's voice. Before Dejan came along he had been his best friend. And he almost lost him because of his feelings that were always directed at the wrong person.   No, Šime didn't have any fight left in him. He swiped to accept the call. "Hello?" he whispered, his voice hoarse from crying. "Šime I know it's late but are you alright? You and Dejan disappeared so suddenly and I was worried," Luka explained, sounding embarrassed. Šime forgot how observant he actually was. Or maybe he just knew him a bit too well. "I am fine Luka. Thank you for calling me," he answered but his voice cracked near the end. Shit. He must have heard that. There was a beat of silence and Šime could hear Luka's breath catch. "Šime, are you crying?" Luka's voice was calm. But it was that calmness filled with tension hidden beneath a façade. Like a wave steadily rolling towards the shore. Always reaching its peak before it comes crashing down. "No I am-" A tear ran down his cheek, interrupting his sentence. Then another one. He tried to put a hand over his mouth to muffle his sobs but he knew Luka still heard it. "Šime? Do you want me to come over?" Luka's voice was much softer now. Šime gave himself a moment to just breathe. Luka didn't say anything else. And then he finally breaks. "Please." He chocked out. "I'll be there in ten," Luka promised before hanging up. Šime tried to calm down with little success. He barely got his breathing under control when he heard a knock on the door. As soon as Luka saw him, his face shifted from mild concern to panicking. Šime's eyes were red and his hair a mess and Luka couldn't remember the last time he saw him this miserable. He opened his arms and Šime practically collapsed on him. Luka was glad that he was strong enough from all the training because it seemed Šime didn't have the energy to hold himself up anymore. He gently guided his friend to the couch in the living room so they sat down. Šime held on to Luka like his life depended on it and Luka's heart broke. He held him until Šime calmed down. " What happened? I have never seen you like this. Please tell me what's wrong." Luka begged. It was like someone cut the brakes and everything that happened just poured out of him, starting from Šime and Dejan breaking into Luka's apartment to Dejan's wife waiting at Šime's door.   Luka listened to him carefully, letting him get it all out of his system without interrupting. After he finished with the story, Šime felt so mentally drained that he was half convinced he was going to fall asleep before Luka managed to say anything. "Okay, so I know you are tired and whatever I say right now will just fly over your head. The one thing that I need to say is that you are sleeping in my guest room because there is no way you’re staying here when that woman knows where you live," Luka explained. And Šime was too tired to put up a fight. So he packed some clothes and got into Luka's car. They drove in silence and Šime let all the memories of him and Dejan slowly replay in his head. It was a sweet torture now, when he added the realization that him falling for Dejan was probably inevitable. Being in love with Luka was like being a kid addicted to candy - it wasn't healthy but with a bit of determination you could stop it. Being in love with Dejan?  It was like clinging to sweets when someone offers you a cigarette. It seems like harmless fun - something different, but before you blink you can't spend a day without smoking. Falling in love with Luka was slow and sweet while falling in love with Dejan was fast and all at once.   When they arrived to Luka's apartment, Mario was waiting in the doorway. Šime couldn't comprehend if he was mad or worried. Then again, Mario always looked mad to Šime unless he was looking at Luka. Šime saw that Luka and Mario did their non-verbal communication again but he was too tired and mentally drained to care. He just went to the direction of the room Luka showed him and quickly changed his clothes. He could hear Luka and Mario arguing but he could only make out few words that didn't make sense to his fuzzy brain. In the end, his tired body gave up and he drifted to sleep. If he dreamed of a singer with dark eyes he wasn't going to say that, at least not out loud.

The next morning he felt a bit better but there was still a weight on his shoulders that he just couldn't shake off. He could hear Luka and Mario quietly talking in the kitchen but as soon as he appeared, they quieted down. Šime felt like he was intruding a private moment. Mario's hand was on top of Luka's and Šime noted with a slight confusion that didn't bother him. If that had happened two months ago, maybe he wouldn't be in this mess. Oh, who was he kidding. The thought of being in love with Luka was the only thing that had stopped him from falling for Dejan earlier.   "Morning," he said after a moment of silence. "Good morning. Are you feeling a bit better?" Luka asked, biting his lip worriedly. Šime shrugged. "As much as I can, yeah. I guess it's not every day that you find out your pretended fake? boyfriend has a wife," Šime joked. What he didn't expect was hearing Mario chuckle. He wasn't aware that man was even able to laugh. Under two stares, one being Šime's confused one and the other Luka's adoration, Mario's smiled faltered. "What? It was funny. I’d say almost as funny and fucked up as meeting my childhood crush and best friend after 7 years, but I think you have it worse," Mario said.

"Well that one was kinda my fault too. Vida and I planned it," Šime blurted out before he could stop himself. There was an awkward silence after that and Šime cursed his inability to keep his mouth shut. Mario and Luka exchanged one more meaningful look before Mario got up. "Well, thank you for that. Good luck with... the whole thing, I guess." Mario replied. He kissed Luka on the cheek and left the room. Šime was suddenly very interested in the design of the counter rather than Luka. "Šime. I know this is not what you want to hear but you should talk to Dejan. I’m saying this to you as a friend," Luka started. "He didn't tell me he has a fucking wife, Luka. What is there even to talk about?" Šime interrupted him, shifting, moving his gaze to his friend. Luka sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. "Don't you think he deserves the benefit of the doubt at least? I’m not saying you have to stay with him if he doesn't have a good explanation, but I think he at least deserves a phone call if you don't want to see him," Luka continued. Šime put his head in his hands, trying to compose himself. His brain kept replaying Anita's words.

Dejan's wife. My husband.

It hurt to think about it. Seeing Dejan would probably hurt even more. "I don't think I can face him, Luka. We’re not together. It was just pretend. I don't know when I stopped acting," Šime whispered. "Šime, open your eyes. It was never a game for him and I am pretty sure that it wasn't for you either. If it was, you wouldn't have kissed him the second time," Luka trailed off, seeming a bit lost in thought before continuing, "Besides you don't develop those feelings that quickly." Šime knew Luka was right. But his stomach still twisted at mere thought of facing Dejan. He wasn't even sure what he was so afraid of. "I don't know...," he muttered. There was another deep sigh from Luka before he put his hands on the counter that separated them. "Listen to me. I’ve known you for six and a half years, and one thing I noticed is being scared of loving someone. You are not even letting yourself acknowledge you like, let alone love someone romantically. I know you will probably remind me of the letter you left me but before that: Tell me, when did you start to like me?" Luka tapped his fingers on the counter. Šime was taken aback. He didn't expect that question and he tried to remember when he started to have feelings for Luka. It felt like the memory was blurry, like looking at an old memory that almost seemed unreal. "I think... three, maybe four months ago?" Šime concluded. There was a small smile on Luka's lips at Šime's answer. "And when did you meet Dejan?" Šime could feel himself freezing up at the second question. The memory of meeting Dejan was very vivid compared to the one he was trying to remember just a moment ago. "Four months ago," Šime recalled. It seemed impossible for those two things to be so close in time and it felt like ages were between them. It didn't make any sense. "I might be wrong, Šime but I find it quite strange that you knew me for six years and never saw me as anything other than a friend, but as soon as Dejan appears you’re suddenly hung up on me." Luka paused peering at Šime over his cup of coffee. "Don't you think so?" Realization of what Luka was implying hit Šime like a train. "You think I never was in love with you," he whispered. Luka looked him in the eyes, trapping him with his gaze. "I think you were scared of how Dejan made you feel from the moment you met him. So you made yourself think you were in love with someone who - you knew - couldn't return your feelings. And it worked well. Until Dejan kissed you," Luka said. Šime just stared at him, trying to make sense of it all.   "And you are still scared - which I get. I was scared of how I felt about Mario too. But you need to stop running away, Šime. Give him a chance to explain. There is always time to walk away. But there isn't always for second chances." He explained.   In that moment Šime's phone rang, as if it was deciding Šime's fate instead of him. The name Dejan was on the screen and Šime looked at Luka for help. Luka only nodded, smiling slightly.

  Šime took a deep breath and accepted the call. "Šime, are you alright? You didn't answer my messages and I was starting to think something happened," Dejan’s voice sounded frantic, a little out of breath and tired, like the thought of something happening to Šime had troubled him for hours now and kept him awake at night. Could someone so expressive in all of his emotions really pretend he doesn't have a wife? "Šime?" Dejan repeated. "I think we need to talk. Could you... meet me at the docks? In like an hour?" Šime stuttered. "Of course. Are you alright? You sound," Dejan trailed off looking for the right word, "tense." "It's- I'll be fine. Just meet me there." He cut himself off, hanging up. It was all or nothing now. And those two were depending solely on Dejan's explanation. He just hoped he wouldn’t end up with a shattered heart.

When Šime arrived, Dejan was already waiting for him. His hair looked like he went through it a hundred times and like he didn't sleep at all. Šime could feel his heart squeezing for a bit at that thought, but he pushed it away. Now wasn't the time to be emotional. Šime stopped when he was standing opposite Dejan, making sure to leave enough space between them. With the secret he carried with him now, they were miles and miles away from each other. As if an entire ocean separated them. They locked eyes and his throat felt constricted. He wanted to ask but at the same time he didn't want an answer. He still needed to ask. "Why didn't you tell me you have a wife?" he croaked out.

 His voice didn't sound like his own. The way Dejan's face twisted after his words was like a punch to the stomach. Šime could easily see shock, followed by guilt. He felt dizzy because Dejan didn't even have to say anything. Šime knew it was true. "Šime, it's not what you think. I can explain." Dejan said hurriedly. Šime had to laugh at that even though it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Wow. You really do sound like a cliché cheating asshole, don't you?" Šime snapped.

  Dejan's face twisted again in what looked like horrible pain now. Šime looked away as he felt tears gather in his eyes. Dejan didn't deserve to see his tears. He wasn't worth crying over. "Šime, please. I know I should have said this earlier and I understand you’re mad, but if you just let me explain-" Dejan's speech was interrupted by something behind Šime. Or maybe someone. Šime knew before she said a word. The ominous clacking of heels gave her away. "Isn't this adorable? Watch out pretty boy, he’s going to tell you he will leave me for you next. It's like he’s got a script. Adorable but a bit boring, don't you think?" Anita exclaimed. Poison was dripping in his wounded heart again. Šime could feel his vision blur and he felt trapped. It was like Dejan and his wife were tearing him apart by his seams. He was faintly aware of them shouting at each other but his ears were buzzing. He couldn't handle all this. So Šime did the other thing he was good at. He ran. He ran and ran and he stopped only at those stairs where Dejan had left him a few days ago. He was trying to catch his breath and his muscles were burning. He sat down on the cold stairs, putting his head in his hands. His eyes were still burning and soon tears rolled down his cheeks. He bit his lip, trying to contain the sobs that threatened to escape.

He was so concentrated on trying not to cry that he didn't hear the steps approaching until he heard a voice. "Šime?" Dejan's voice was careful, but Šime's head still snapped up.

 [I don’t wanna talk… about things we’ve gone thorugh. Dejan's face looked troubled and his hands were raised up, palm forward as if he was approaching a wounded animal. Šime felt anger light up in him again. "Get the hell away from me. I don't want to see you. Probably ever again," he hissed. He probably should have expected Dejan wouldn’t give up that easily. He came a bit closer and gently put a hand on his shoulder. What he did not expect was his own reaction. Tears started pouring down again and a sob escaped him. Even though he put a hand over his mouth, it was too late. He found himself wrapped in a careful hug. "Is this okay?" Dejan questioned quietly. Šime found himself nodding, not even knowing why. He was telling Dejan to leave just a moment ago.

Dejan wrapped his arms tighter around Šime and he felt the rest of his resolve break. He clung to Dejan but at the same time, between sobs, a few hurtful words escaped him. "God I hate you. I wish I could hate you. Why-" The sob interrupted him again and he gave up, hiding his face in Dejan's shoulder.   Dejan gently caressed his hair. "Shhh, I know. You have every right to hate me. God, Šime I am so sorry. I never wanted this to happen. To hurt you in any way," Dejan whispered. "Then why didn't you tell me?" Šime croaked out. He still wasn't looking at Dejan, his face buried in Dejan's shoulder. He wasn't sure if he could handle looking at him while he got that answer. "Anita and I never had a stable relationship. We always fought over something but I thought I was in love with her. Until six months ago, when we got into a really bad fight and she hit me. It wasn't anything serious but I just couldn't continue living with her." Dejan took a deep breath and Šime could feel him tightening his hold on him.

"We agreed we would get a divorce, but about a month later she started talking about us getting back together. I refused and moved here from Zagreb. She followed but I didn't talk to her in six months. And then I met you." Dejan stopped and Šime could feel how he wasn't sure how to continue. He squeezed Dejan's shoulder, hoping that will help him find the right words. "It was like I finally started smiling and laughing again after long time. I could actually feel the beat of the music I was singing too- it was like I woke up. But I was scared. At the beginning, it wasn't that important but as I started falling for you, I realized more and more that you’re already pushing me away and I- I was scared of giving you a real reason to do so. I am sorry. I was selfish," Dejan finished. There were a few moments of silence while Šime tried to process what Dejan just said. It was a lot, after all. He knew he had to say something though. He looked up at Dejan's eyes full of determination. "I understand why you didn't tell me. I don't think it was okay, but I understand. But Dejan. You’re still married to her and I really need to think about this," Šime said and gently pushed Dejan away. Dejan nodded even though Šime could see him clenching his jaw. "Could you... tell me what you decided? Even if you don't want to see me, well-" Dejan stopped, trying to compose himself. "I would just like to know." Šime swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yes of course. I will let you know. In any case," he managed to voice. As he walked away once again, he came to the realization that he couldn't imagine his life without Dejan in it. It didn't matter if he was his best friend or something more but his life without Dejan seemed so bland. Without color. Ever since that disaster of a man came into his life it bursted into color.   But was that enough of a reason to get hurt if he didn’t leave his wife? Šime wasn't sure. He needed to sleep on it and think about it. He knew who to ask for the advice at least. One way or another it was going to be okay. *a week later* Šime was fiddling with his phone, probably for the hundredth time that day. He could hear Luka's voice in his head clearly by now Just call him already. You are both waiting for that. Šime was always bad at taking the first step and risking it. This was huge. What if he fucked up? What if he ended up with his heart broken? What if-

 No. He had to stop. He had gone through all of this already. There was no point except losing his nerves. He just had to jump right in and hope for the best. He dialed the number and prayed. He wasn't sure if he was asking for Dejan to pick up his phone or not, but his heart felt like it will jump out of his chest. "Hello?" Dejan's voice echoed in his head and suddenly he seemed to have forgotten everything he wanted to say. "Hello, Dejan. It's Šime," he said. He wanted to kick himself immediately. Of course, he knew who it was, he had his number for God's sake! Why was he so nervous? "I wanted to tell you that I decided. To...give this another chance. If you still want to. We can try and see where this goes. If your offer still stands, that is," Šime quickly explained, trying not to stumble over his words. "You... Are you sure Šime? Of course, my offer still stands. I just- I didn't really expect you to say yes," Dejan stuttered out. Šime had to laugh nervously at that. Dejan sounded exactly the way Šime felt. "I didn't either but if I’m being honest for the first time here - I can't imagine you not being in my life. Even if we just stay friends because of..." Šime trailed off, not being able to say ‘your wife’, "everything that happened I- I'd still like you to be here." There was a moment of silence again and to Šime it felt like it lasted for an eternity” to spice things up a bit. "Would you like to come over?" Dejan asked abruptly, ending the silence. "Yes. I can be there in... 15 minutes?" Šime answered without thinking, surprising himself. He knew they had a lot to talk about. All of the problems they had wouldn’t go away that easily. But he wasn't going to run away that easily this time.   He was done with pretending he didn’t want this. That he didn’t want Dejan. With playing a part in a tragedy he helped to make. "I missed you," Dejan breathed out. He supposed that was a start at least. Two people who wanted to be together. They could figure out the rest. "Don't worry I'll be there soon, dragi," Šime teased gently before hanging up. If they began again, maybe it wouldn't be an addiction that killed him this time.

 It might as well just be love.  

  *6 months later* Šime woke up before Dejan, but instead of quietly getting up as usual, he rolled over to Dejan. He smiled at his peaceful face before attacking him with kisses all over his face.

Dejan grumbled and tried to push Šime away but he just giggled, rolling on top of him instead.

Dejan opened his eyes just to glare at him. "What do you want?" he asked sleepily. "How does your first day as a free man feel, dragi?" Šime questioned, smirking.   A smile stretched across Dejan's face at Šime's words. "Well I am not exactly free, am I? I still have a bagudina of a boyfriend," Dejan joked. Šime gently slapped his arm, pretending to be hurt. "I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go out for breakfast. To celebrate." Now Dejan was smirking too. "I thought we celebrated last night...for quite a long time too,” he said. "Oh, I am sorry old man, I didn't know I tired you out so much that you can't get up today," Šime smiled, his eyes sparkling with playfulness. "You little shit..." Dejan trailed of flipping them over and pinning Šime to the bed. He kissed him lightly and only deepened the kiss after Šime whined.

They parted and Dejan smiled at Šime's flustered face. "We should get going. We’re not old men after all, and your cooking isn't to be trusted," he concluded, rolling to the edge of the bed. "You are an asshole," Šime whined, "and my cooking isn't that bad!"   Dejan snorted. "If almost burning the house down while making muffins counts as ‘not that bad’, then sure dragi." The continued their back and forth banter on the street too. While walking near the sea Šime spotted Anita walking towards them and he squeezed Dejan's hand in silent reassurance. It was over and she couldn't do anything about it. However, before she reached them, a man on the bicycle crashed into her, making her fall right into the sea. After the initial shock, Šime recognized Mario. "So sorry, Ma’am. Didn't see you there from all that shallow- I mean shadow," Mario apologized in an obviously fake tone. It took Šime one look at Dejan for both of them to burst out laughing. It was freeing to laugh and hold hand so freely. Šime also noted he had to thank Mario later but for now he would just appreciate the moment.

 All was well.

@lovren-la-vida-luka

@mvsicbookfrxndom

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 @lovrenfc

@sad-forest

@roseszymczak

@snakesandcherries

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@living-lovren

@arduango

@winters-chiid

[seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana]

The Secrets Chapter 3

The children

**3 years later**

Me and Anita were walking along a path in the woods. It was fall and the leaves were turning a bit orange and looked beautiful. Anita seemed to be happy and liked to look at all the children being happy. And speaking of children, I can’t wait until my child is born. Anita and I had gotten married and I gotten her pregnant. Anita’s stomach was starting to show and it made me realize how much closer we are to having children. Hopefully, more than one. I remember how happy I was when I found out she was pregnant. My mother told me because Anita didn’t even know it herself yet. My mother just couldn’t wait. Anita sighed and rubbed her back. “My back hurts. Can we sit down?” “We’re almost home. Can you walk that far?” Ive gotten more worried of her ever since she gotten pregnant. Never knew when she was needing to rest, needed food, or anything to keep the baby safe. She nodded and grabbed my hand and walked home.

“How you feeling so far, honey?” Anita shrugged as she answered my mom. My mom had made her some tea and was talking with her. “Are you ready to be a parent?” My father had asked me. I shrugged. “We won’t find out until they come now will we?” My father let out a chuckle and smiled. “Now that’s the truth dear boy.” “Have you thought of names?” Anita and I both looked at each other. We looked away and shook our heads. “I guess we just haven’t had the time to think about it,” I answered. “Well, we should start thinking,” Anita joined in. I nodded and started to head off to our room to think of some names. “John, can I talk to you for a second?” My father had rarely used my name. He usually used a nickname like “boy” or “son”. He only used my name when it was something important or I was in trouble. “Yes sir.”

He walked me to the outside and walked me to the lake that was near our house. He stood there with me for a few seconds before he began to speak. “When you have your children, I want you to be very careful,” he said. “You know that we are angels, correct?” I nodded. “And see, we have an enemy and you already know who this is.” “Lucifer,” I replied. Lucifer, or the Devil, has been our enemy. “He made a deal with one of our ancestors and that has changed our generations. We don’t know when he will come back for one of us.” That statement threw me off and made my heart quicken a bit. “Come for one of us? What do you mean?” My father sighed and seemed very sad. “He tried to come for Alexia. But, me and your mother fought back hard and didn’t lose her. So, he didn’t come back,” he explained. “Why did he come in the first place?” He sighed once more and turned to look at me. “He takes one of us to hell and uses us against our own family. He makes us forget about our past and makes us be reborn. But not reborn for the right purpose. He will come and find you and do something horrible to you, John,” he paused, “I want you to be prepared for that,” he finished. I nodded and stared back out into the lake. “That was a rough bomb to drop on you, son. But, it needed to be done. It wasn’t easy for me to hear it either,” he confessed. I let out a little laugh. “I don’t think it’d be easier for anyone.” My father let out a laugh as well and nodded. “Yes yes. It never gets easier. Now,” he said, “let’s head on back home and you can think of those names with Anita.” I nodded and we started to head back to the house.

“Hmmm,” I heard Anita hum. “What names could we do if it’s a girl?” Anita was sitting on the bed and had a piece of paper in her hand. We were thinking of good names and names that we liked the most. “Amy?” Anita shook her head. “Janice?” Anita shook her head once more. “Sarah?” Anita looked at me and wrote that down. “I want that one,” she said. I titled my head and was confused. “Why that name?” Anita smiled and looked down at her hands. “Doesn’t the name Sarah mean princess? If I named her that, then I’d have a reason to call her princess,” she said. I smiled and nodded. “It seems like a fair name. Now, what happens if it’s a boy,” I questioned her. She laid her head on her fist and huffed. “Boys are too hard to name,” she said annoyed. I laughed and sat beside her. “Well, it’ll be worth it,” I started, “because once we find a name, the next best thing happens.” Anita seemed to brighten up st that. “We would be parents,” she said with a smile. I nodded and kissed her forehead. “You’ll be the best mom.” “And you’ll be the best dad.” We both smiled at each other and laid down for a few hours. I let her rest. She seems to be much more tired recently. Is she close? Am I going to be a father soon? I can’t even remember how long it has been. Maybe 8 months? I can’t remember. But, it doesn’t matter. I’ll wait however long it does take for me to have my child.

“John!” I could feel Anita shaking me awake. I moan and groan at first. It was too early for this. But, she was my wife and I was concerned. “ITS TIME,” I heard her yell. This immediately woke me up. I sat up and looked over at her. Her eyebrows were pinched together and she was grunting with pants in between. “Stay here, I’ll go get my mom,” I said with a shake in my voice. I got up and ran to her bedroom. I could feel my legs shaking. Was I ready for this? I’ve always wanted to be a parent. But was I truly ready for it? I opened the door without a knock. My mom was still sleeping. I ran over to her and shook her awake. “MOM! IT’S TIME!” She woke up confused and sleepy. She rubbed her eyes and stared at my panicked look. “It’s Anita! It’s time!” Her eyes widened and she woke my father up and catched him up on everything. My dad went to get some water and towels and me and my mom went to get everything ready. Me and her walked back to her and I held her hand as my mom worked her through the steps. Honestly, I felt sick. And I wasn’t the one giving birth. “Breathe, Anita, breathe,” I kept repeating. She was squeezing my hand as hard as she could and was screaming. I didn’t know how to calm her down. What are you supposed to say to a screaming woman?? I just held her hand and rubbed circles into her back to calm her down. It would be over soon and we would be parents. That was the light at the end of this tunnel.

About two hours later, I looked down into my arms at the bundle of joy. It was our little girl. I looked over to see Anita still sitting down in the bed, but had our little boy in her arms. We had twins and we were blessed. The girl had her mothers eyes, my nose, and her mothers freckles. The little boy had my eyes, his mothers nose, and a little mark beside his right eyebrow. I guess it was a birthmark. “Anita,” I whispered to her as I sat next to her. “The names?” She looked down at the girl and little boy in her arms. “Jacob and Sarah,” she told me. I smiled and nodded and looked at both of them. “Jacob and Sarah.”

A few months after the children’s birth, a shadow of a man stood outside of their home, looking into the window, and smiling. Smiling so wide that too many teeth were showing. The man let out a deep laugh. “It’s time. Time for me to get a new servant,” he said. His tongue ran across his lips as he rubbed his hands together. He soon took a step forward and turned into a shadow. Next moment, he appeared into their bedroom. He looked around and noticed the sleeping married couple. “Such a shame this has to happen,” he said as he walked over to the sleeping woman. “Anita Mishoe,” he said. “Such innocence.” He started to stroke her cheek and tilted her head upwards. “Well, such a shame this has to happen, but I don’t care.” He let go of her chin and chuckled and turned towards the children. “You will suffer,” the voice growled. He walked over to the children and could sense their power. Their mere newborn bodies seemed to glow in the moonlight. He hummed and tapped his chin. “Which one should it be?” He reached out his hand towards Jacob. But, before he could reach the newborns head, he heard, “STOP SATAN.”

The man turned around while laughing at that name. “Ah, yes. It is me. Coming to take what’s mine,” he said as he saw who was there. John was standing there, wings all drawn out, and his sister was there. Their eyes were glowing and they seemed ready to do whatever it took to save the children. Anita, however, wasn’t awake. He smiled at their eagerness of fighting. Johns eyes turned toward the children and Alexias eyes turned toward Anita. They both had people to save. This would be difficult but they would do anything to save them. Satans eyes followed Alexias eyes. He walked over to her and saw Alexia and Johns eyes follow him. Satan touched her cheek and sighed. “DON’T TOUCH HER,” John yelled. Anita started to move and groan. Satan laughed and put his hand around her neck and began to squeeze. “NO!” Anita woke up and started to struggle. John heard her chokes and went lunging towards her. However, that was the plan. He hit Satans hand with his power and he heard a ‘hiss’ noise as it burned his skin. Instead of get angry, he smiled. Alexia screamed. John and Anita turned around and gasped. Satan was holding her in the air by her throat. He threw her against the wall and walked back towards the cribs. John tried to move but Satan raised his hand and pushed him towards the wall and stuck him there. Satan walked over and saw the two babies crying. He grabbed one of them. Satan has Jacob in his hands. He rocked him and looked at everyone. He put his hands around Jacobs throat and began to squeeze. But then, he stopped. “No, no, no. I will use you for another time,” he said. John looked over and saw the little girl still crying in the crib by herself. Her little hands were reaching out for someone or something. John struggles and struggled. He couldn’t move and tears started streaming down his face. “Take me instead!” He looked up and laughed. “I don’t need you,” he said. He began to walk away before, “WAIT!” He turned around and noticed Anita crying but with her hand out. “Let me say goodbye,” she whispered. It seemed like he didn’t hear her, but everyone knew he did. Sarah and Jacob were both crying. Satan walked towards Anita and held out Jacob. “Say your first and last goodbye.”

Anita took Jacob with shaking hands. She looked into his blue eyes. They were shining with tears. “Shh, shh, baby, it’s okay,” she whispered to him as she wiped his tears off his face. She looked at the birthmark on his right eyebrow. Every child of this bloodline had a Star of David on their body somewhere. She stared at the birthmark and realize that’s where it was. It was right there. She kissed right on that spot. “You will find your sister one day, and don’t leave her, follow your heart, and you will be reunited,” she whispered to him. She looked over at Satan and saw him inspecting his fingernails, uninterested at everything. Anita pulled back and stroked his cheek one last time. “Times up,” he said. He took Jacob forecefully and disappeared before anything else could be said. Alexia was still passed out on the floor and John was released from the wall and fell to the floor. He stood up and heard a door being banged open. His mother and father came running in with tears. His mother walked over to Alexia and his father went to the crib. “Father, I’m sorry,” John said with tears.

“I failed to save him.”