#i definitely have opinions but ill wait until more people are finished

[thenukacolachallenge]

So far, I'm loving that the big fandom topics thus far are "mild annoyance to actual hornyposting about seeing Helmeppo's ass cheeks" and "mild annoyance to actual hornyposting about Buggy the Clown" lmfao

[rayshippouuchiha]

So, this is a complaint about my parents, i have health issues, I also have an essay due in 4 days, I've been working on the essay since saturday but on sunday i had a bad health day so I couldn't work on it, my mother has been largely helpful but has repeatedly mentioned I should've started earlier/"shouldn't do this to myself again" over the course of the last three days. Today just now I snapped, saying that I had a different essay to work on 2 weeks ago was met with 'well dad was telling you you needed to start all last week' I explained that I finished the last essay on sunday, and the next day my dad was immediately pressuring me about the next one, I didn't have a class with the guy in charge of the essay until wednesday and he's slow to come back by email so even if I'd emailed him on monday i would still have probably had to wait to get the recommended reading for the essay on wednesday, I didn't have my library card with me on wednesday due to accidentally leaving it behind, struggled to get the sources for the essay on thursday only getting three from the library, but on friday I went to three different libraries and couldn't get them. Thus started studying and working on the essay in earnest on Saturday when I found the remaining two online thanks to the power or piracy. Granted there are definitely moments I could've been working already on the essay. But I literally didn't have all the sources until Saturday, didn't have what sources I needed until wednesday, couldn't look for them on wednesday after getting my library card/college ID due to a family thing so really at best 2 or 3 days in the difference.

My parents of course do not care about any of this and in their opinion were just trying to say it to me while I am insane and quote acting more aggrieved than a population that's had war crimes committed to it.

This is patently unfair! The fucking 'you know your healths like this so you need to be better organised' shit is constant whether or not I have assignments due, but the fact that they just would not miss an opportunity to repeatedly blame me for the pressure I'm under with this essay in particular is the whole reason I lost my temper. Like yes, absolutely I could've emailed regarding the recommended sources for the second essay two weeks ago while working on the former one, but I was under pressure over the first essay then and I didn't think of it, yes I could've started reading the sources I did have this week earlier, but I was focused on getting the other ones because this essay literally requires at least 5 of the recommended reading sources so I was anxious about it. It might be my fault but repeatedly criticising me over it and then acting like I'm bullying them when they gang up to tell me not to act like the victim over my mother repeatedly doing this little dig about starting sooner next time, fucking any chance she gets. (it might come from a place of concern but it doesn't make it easier to deal with when I'm trying to work) Gah

Oh darling. Take a moment, take a deep breath, just give yourself a second to decompress. It sounds to me like you've done the best you could with what you had access to under the circumstances.

As for your parents? Even if your parents are normally supportive that doesn't make them perfect and that doesn't mean you can't be hurt by/frustrated with them.

It's a common trap for even the most supportive people to fall into the mindset of "you can just plan/schedule/organize around your illness" despite that not always being possible.

Things happen, emergencies crop up, you can't force other people to operate on your own schedule, sometimes feeling/being overwhelmed just halts you in your tracks, etc etc.

I'm sorry that you're having these issues with them and while I always advocate open communication if it's safe I do know that sometimes it's not an option/doesn't work.

Just, take a few hours, take a warm shower or eat a snack, something that helps you unwind, and give yourself that moment to reset.

If you're feeling up to it maybe see if you can reach out to your teachers to get a list of essays/resources you might be coming up against in the future way ahead of time so you have more time to get your materials together.

If that's not an option then just keep doing what you're doing, try your best, and know that what matters is that you're still pushing forward.

[makahimetenshi]

Follow me inside the wastelands - Chapter 22  -Arthur Maxson x Female Sole Survivor Fanfic

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14242575/22/Follow-me-inside-the-wastelands

Welp I said final stage like 6 chapters ago and I said ten…I mean we are at the final stage but its not going to be ten, its taking me a bit of trouble to make them fight since I love them so much and I think I did a pretty decent job at developing their relationship. But yeah im gonna try to enter into the final stage I promise

If you are very very very delighted with one fic and want a continuation I didn’t write or post you can donate me at least $5 bucks, most of this fics have next chapters I don’t finish because lack of motivation but hey a $5 is a $5, I see a few reviews and coments that fics that are abandoned months laters receive coments of wanting to know what happends next. Here it is, I finished my handling with you all, enjoy the fic

Yeahyeayeayeayayaya…they sleep together. And it was satisfying.

Of course he wouldn’t be so silly to think that they were deeply in love again after some sex nononono…but he was glad they did, they were definitely closer than other days at least for now. Nora was playing with the hairs in his chest and he missed being this close.

There’s some things off, like, she didn’t want to be touched on the belly, he realized at the third time she moved him off there, he gets it, still it was weird, she wasn’t feeling comfortable of that part of her body even if obviously it was too early for something to be visible, he would swear she wasn’t pregnant at all if it wasn’t for all daily Cade test.

His primitive human brain felt so aroused about knocking his pregnant partner but sadly it was too early yet to fully enjoy it.

-I was going to be the new leader of the institute you know? –welp, a sudden open of heart, yes, he can deal with it now, okay. Although the institute was around no more he appreciates this efforts deeply, even if some were…mind-blowing- Shaun told me and his workers that his illness was too far to be stopped, and he wanted to give someone the leadership of the institute.

-Mmm –he leaves a smooch on her head before hugging her tighter- you haven’t much of a clue how to manage the institute of what they were even doing until now.

-Exactly, I know the place for only…a few weeks and still wasn’t sure how they managed to convince themselves that what they were doing was a good thing, I was open-minded because I wanted to try it for Shaun but I still hadn’t see anything good from them, I didn’t see any justification-her gaze turned dark at the memory and he waited until she was ready to talk- until I insisted, and he just say that I wouldn’t understand like I was some ignorant prick

-You could continue to live the life you wanted so much as leader –it was crazy how this vault dweller had so much opportunities, crazy things happens in the wastelands- people do crazy stuff just a maintain a certain lifestyle.

-Don’t tell me, I knew a guy who would enslave and kick people out of their settlements just to maintain his lifestyle with a bunch of raiders…but anyway he offers me that option…-she took a moment to breath and swallow saliva, heard it- and I betray him –Arthur didn’t want to say anything, it didn’t feel right to make an opinion in this subject- his mother betray him

-Its not like that –he coudltn judge if it was manipulation or if she was just talking out loud but she say this things about being a horrible mom to put her image down…not sure if it was to punish herself or try to convince him.

-I turn down one of the little things he tried to gave me –welp the leadership of the institute didn’t look like a little thing- my only son

Arthur wanted to…speak what it feel like truth for him out loud: that her son turned to be a son of a bitch mass killer that will use and test with his own mother, that bastard didn’t have anything real to give her and it wasn’t her fault at all, she didn’t betray him, she wasn’t a bad mom for not supporting and stay around such a bastard. Enough with feeling bad, that man turned into an adult enough to knew what he was doing, a grown-ass man much older than her and even wiser with much opportunities and time to reflect, he didn’t have on his entire life any lack of anything, neither a rought life apparently and choose that path anyway, just a motherfucker. He didn’t deserve any of Noras time and thoughts, too much credit.

She didn’t need to feel this bad and confused for that dead bastard. It wasn’t worth it. Piece of scum.

His hand place in the back of her head and Nora take the chance to snuffle her nose in his chest and smell, breathing deeply, crushing her warm breath against his skin. Why they cant be like this forever? He feared she will go again.

-Are you afraid of performing as a mom again or being a mom again? –Nora didn’t understand the question.

-Isnt the same thing?

-No –she stay in silence for a few seconds, thinking her words carefully.

-Being a mom.

Shit.

He stay in silence for a few seconds, thinking in his words carefully.

-Im going to be a dad too you know? Ill be happy if you stay by my side and guide me.

Truth is he wasn’t scared at all, he was prepared for this since a long time, much even before knowing her, it was expected from him to have a son and continue the legacy of his lastname. This wasn’t bad.

She took some time before moving again, leaving a trail of kisses starting on his chest and rising trough the neck to his cheek. Gosh he missed his.

Its not like he think that because they have sex they were good now…but even if he tried to sleep in her arms he cant, Nora would have…apparently nightmares and wake up all night. Arthur pretended to be sleep but everytime she went off the bed to walk in circles around the bedroom…well of course he notices. Obviously it was dark and he cant see much, but the gestures in her hands, the way she touches her hair and specially how she grabbed her belly…she wasn’t having a good night. Dark thoughts were haunting her tonight, filling her head with noise and her body with anxiety.

The first time he wake up too, fearing that she would take the chance of him being sleepy to run away. But when ask her to come back to bed she said something about needing a cup of tea, she made it, and come back to bed to drink it inside the sheets, warming up her feets with his, playing lightly with his toes.

The second time he caught her looking at her siluette in a mirror, it was the first time she seem interested in…her body…

Then she came back to bed and try to sleep.

The third time…she was walking in circles in front of the bed playing with her hair while taking big breaths out.

Arthur would watch everything. She was indeed conflictuated.

There wasn’t a fourth time but…he knew she wasn’t sleeping, Nora would move and spin around the bed a lot, he even caught her looking at the ceiling once.

He wished for her to feel safe and at peace around him.

Lately he was a light sleeping person, he had to, this week specially, so when Nora approached him to leave a smooch on his forehead in the morning he wake up immediately recognizing the sensation but not opening the eyes just enjoying the feeling. Yeah, he loved this, he could be in any place in the world and recognize it, the warm of her skin so close to his, the softness of her lips, the sticky of her lipstick, the sound of her breath, how her black locks fall in his cheeks…

He stay there for a few seconds, smiling with his eyes closed until she went away, Arthur open his eyes slowly to get amused to sunlight, still smiling, until his vision turn clear and see her, she wasn’t as happy as him, her face seemed…sad.

She had a cup of something brewing in her hand, by the smell it could be coffee and also was dressed…dressed to go outside, dressed for battle, prepared.

-Drink elder, it’s a cold morning –he sat on the bed, looking at her crossed eyebrows and plain eyes, taking the cup between his hands.

-Its something wrong? –he simply ask but she look to another side, a dead point in the wall.

-Im going out

What?

-No –his voice tone failed to him, full of worries.

-I said im going, im not asking this time

-Nora…-not now, not so early, not in the mornings he didn’t want to have problems.

-Im the sentinel and I still have time until obligatory maternity leave –ohnonono not this.

-Yeah, like 5 days, you are almost 2 months now –he said taking a sip of his hot coffee, ridiculous.

-Cool, im taking them –Arthur sighted, rolling his eyes, Nora cross her arms still not looking at him.

-Don’t be a clod –his hands started shaking with the heavy coffee cup, he didn’t need this stress with the hot liquid.

-I have things to do

-You don’t fool me, I know what you are trying and you are being mad if you think ill let you…-there was a hint of rancor and disgust in his voice and that hurt Nora, like getting stabbed in the chest.

-I don’t know what im going to do! –Arthur saw her scream and shout her eyes- all options were horrible! You know why im still here!? Why I didn’t die in the wastelands when Shaun dropped me out there like an abandoned dog!? Because im afraid of dying! I will do everything to survive! To go on! But I do not want to be a mother again!

-Then stay! –he put the coffee at a side, fearing to drop it and burn both- I can help to overcome your fears, ill be at your side!

-They were all so risky and unsafe and i…i…I done a lot of dangerous things, I mostly don’t fear to go wild, im usually brave or stupid to go on on so many things that everybody ask me but…that was on myself…-she put a hand over her stomach, Arthur swallow saliva, it was the first time he see her…recognizing her belly as a pregnancy one- only myself and people who agreed to be there, or thrust me to be there with them.

-You don’t want to hurt it, I get it –slowly, very slowly, his hands placed in her knees, doing little circles to play a bit, trying to be close- stay, you don’t need to do any of this

-But I wish none of this would happen, ever –that hit Arthurs heart like a heavy rock, but he shaked his head, there was no time to feel bad- I never wanted to get pregnant again

-I love you in any state

-I need to find a solution Arthur –the way she said that broke his heart.

-There’s no solution where the three of us aren’t together –he was trying so hard to convince her, to put her feelings first in consideration to approach in the direction he needed

-I took none of that options also because…I was afraid of hurting you…-his hands stopped, then why?  Why would she make him go through this?

-Im hurt –he said plane and simply, he knew this wasn’t about Nora not wanting a family particularly with him, but anyone, he wasn’t the problem, she loved him but his situation was testing their relationship. She pressed her lips hating to be in this place right now, she should leave first, to not cause him all this pain, or at least not be present to see it, it was so hurtful to watch, it burned.

-I need to do something about it, find another path

Both stay in silent, he wanted to cry so much, his breathing was preparing him for that and Nora could see it.

-I can respect this five days…then ill go find you, after five days Ill search for you in every dusty corner of the Commonwealth, but if you decide to come early, don’t come back unless you are still pregnant –that felt wrong for Nora, her whole body shiver so bad it hurt her back.

-That’s all that matter to you of me!?

-No –he said firm, taking his hands out, now  he was looking at a dead point in the opposite direction- but I don’t know what ill do if you are not pregnant, I don’t know how ill be able to handle it, to keep it together

Hearing that was like getting punched in the middle of the nose for Nora.

-I don’t know what im going to do –she just said, feeling the man gripping the sheets under her

-You are confused –he just said, voice lacking of emotions.

-This isn’t about you at all, I love you Arthur Maxson

-I know it hurts –he wished so hard to take her warm hand and feel it between his fingers again, to be close and comfortable again- I know you have been trough a lot, that is hard to forgive yourself sometimes, that you don’t want me around in this thing because is between you and your son but its inevitable for me to not be involved, we made it together, i need to be involved, I want to be around –his eyes water, Nora wanted to just get up and leave already at seeing it. When he took a big breath through his nose to avoid…crying…in front of her, the smell of coffee suffocate him.

-I love you

-I can help you

She stopped breathing for a moment, heasiating, like time was frozen around. The thought of taking his hand and surrender in his arms was there, take the chance to try to get ahead and get over it but…no…There was something deep in her core telling her that she shouldn’t be a mother again. A giant black void inside her chest taking her breathing away.

-Im sorry –Nora went up and off bed, but Arthur wont look at her- Im sorry to cause you all this pain

-You have five days to come back, or ill find you and our son

-I love you Arthur Maxson –despite everything, she knew deep inside that this wasn’t the last time they will see each other, that she will say this words again to him. She wasn’t going to give up on him.

He stay in silence, until she was in front of the door.

-Let me help you Nora

The last thing he heard was the door opening and the sounds of the outside: Nora breaking his way out of the guards, the mess, the chaos and the runaway Sentinel was causing to the tripulation.

He knew she wouldn’t kill anyone, only hurt them just a bit, she was more than capable enough to do friendly fire and still get away, to run off, all this time, she choosed to stay until her heart was filled with negativity and he can’t…push it away from her head. This wasn’t against him but it hurt that it wasn’t enough to crave in her head that together everything was going to be just fine.

Hell deal with the consequences of making this vault dweller his woman later, now he needed to cry.

She was the problem, not him.

He tried enough.

The coffe now smelled horrible.

[moemoemammon]

MC is Sick?!

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

A little late to notice that you’re sick. He’s been so busy lately that he can’t watch you as carefully as he’d like to, so he apologizes for not catching on sooner.

But now that it’s been brought to his attention, Lucifer is all over it. You’re excused from your classes and sent to your room for bedrest while he tends to everything else. He’s rarely the one to bring you your medicine or meals, to his dismay, but his busy schedule just won’t allow it. 

If he were able he’d let you stay in his room until you felt better. But for the time being, he’ll have to squeeze in little visits to your room, where he’ll pop in and sit on the edge of your bed, pressing his hand against your forehead and letting it linger on your cheek.

He’ll often come to your room with a record for you to listen to, and he loves talking about the history of the music and the life of the composure. His boring talks put you right to sleep.

“This piece is one of my favorites. The composer went into an illness induced madness when he created the sheet music, and wouldn't eat or sleep for two weeks until it’d been completed. Why, I often listen to it when- Ah, have you fallen asleep?"

Mammon

The first to notice the change in your health. You don’t look so good.. Are you okay? MC?!

Good luck trying to get any rest, because your first man is gonna be popping in and out of your room every five minutes. He’s constantly checking in on you, making sure you’re not too hot or too cold, that you’ve got something to drink, that you ate the soup he left-

Actually, Mammon’s not that bad of a caretaker! He’s a little too attentive, but he clearly knows what he’s doing. Also insists on being the only one that takes care of you until you’re better.

Polices everything you do. You wanna get out of bed? Nope, wait for Mammon. You’re bored? He’ll bring you something to do. Know what, he’s just gonna move into your room for the time being-

“Who told ya to go and get sick? Makin' me worry like this... I'm gonna make sure ya get better in no time, so you'd better be grateful, ya hear? I don't do this for just anybody..."

Levi

No way... You’re sick?! But you guys had plans to watch Magical Ruri Hana together...

Yeah, he’s not the best at caretaking despite watching Cells at Work, but he does know the basics! It kills him to leave his room so frequently, so.. why don’t you just stay in his room? He’ll take care of you there, and the healing waves of Ruri-chan will wash over you and get rid of your illness!

He definitely can’t be your primary caregiver, unless you want to be sick forever. Anime doesn't really imitate real life. Who would've thought?

 But he’s as attentive as he can be, at least! He brings you new DVDs to watch, manga to read, and delicious stacks to try whenever he can! Even if this is all he can do, he wants to make sure you know he’s thinking about you. May or may not also be spam texting you and keeping you awake-

“I brought the audio drama for you to listen to! It's from the TSL live series, where they act out the scenes! You won't have to worry about reading or watching anything, so you can listen to it to sleep. Oh, but I want to hear your opinion on everything! And then you- huh? When will you be able to sleep? Uh..."

Satan

The most knowledgeable when it comes to taking care of human illnesses, but he still fumbles a little. Insists on making an accurate diagnosis of your symptoms, and that takes way longer than the actual treatement,

But once he’s deduced what’s going on, Satan goes all in. You might feel like a guinea pig because of all the weird methods he’s trying on you (may or may not have read a medieval medicine book first), so uhhhhh be patient with him. Now hold still while he puts this onion in your sock-

Not as attentive as the others, but very thorough when he tends to you. And despite all the unorthodox healing methods, you actually recover quickly, by some miracle.

In the quieter moments when all you need is rest, Satan will sit by and quietly read to you until you lull off to sleep, brushing the hair from your face before he leaves.

“Hm... I was sure St. John's Wart would do the trick, but your fever hasn't broken at all? Maybe I ought to try minced garlic and honey next? Or maybe..- Eh? Just normal medicine is fine?"

Asmo

SICK?! No no, this won’t do at all! Asmo doesn’t want to see his darling MC looking so pale and unsightly! It’s off to bed with you now. No, not his bed he loves you but you’ve gotta understand-

Gentle affection is one of Asmo’s selling points, but that doesn’t mean the king of aftercare knows how to treat illnesses. He does however make you extremely comfortable. I’m talking extra fluffy pillows, cold and hot packs where you need them most, careful sponge baths (if you’ll let him), and everything else he can offer to make sure you’re okay.

May or may not show up in a hazmat suit, but don’t worry. The mask is clear so you get a view of his beautiful face! And when he isn’t around to take care of you, he sends pictures of himself to speed up the healing process.

Most likely to ask for help in your care. He tends to forget that you need more than affection and selfies to help you recover-

“Make sure you get better quickly, okay? I'll keep gracing your with my gorgeous face, and that ought to heal you in no time! Oh, maybe an herbal bath will help, too? I'll join you~!"

Beel

Extremely worried the moment you sneeze twice in a row. And when that escalates into a full blown cold, he immediately takes you to your room and cocoons you in every spare blanket he can find.

His care is sloppy, but full of affection. Your bed is a fluffy mess of soft blankets and pillows, and he lingers in your room nearly all day. And naturally, Beel knows you need to eat in order to heal.

You’re never without any food. This man will bring you an entire rotisserie chicken and a quart of orange juice for breakfast do not underestimate him. And if you can’t stomach anything, he’s try for things that’re easier to eat. like soups and broths. Also insists on feeding you himself.

Might also need some help in caring for you. He has good intentions and he’s being as careful with you as can be, but it can’t help to have another set of hands on the job. He wants to make sure you get the best care he can offer.

“Mm... you're not eating a lot today. Hm? You're full? But you only had a shadow hog roast, three sandwiches, and a gallon of juice. Are you sure that's enough? ...Well, maybe you're right. I'll eat what you can't finish, then. Hm? You're worried I'll get sick? It's fine. A human cold wont affect me."

Belphie

He knew something was up when you didn’t get out of bed that morning. Sleeping until 2pm is HIS thing, got it? Just kidding-

Tries not to show it, but this man is so worried that he can’t even sleep. BELPHEGOR, the Avatar of Sloth, is suffering from insomnia. 

He isn’t really the best at taking care of other people, but he knows that plenty of rest can only do you good. Belphie climbs into your bed and resigns himself to staying there until you heal. Somehow, having him around makes your sleep even deeper, so you always wake up feeling a little more rested than before.

Not so great at remembering when to bring you medicine and stuff, so the help of the others is a given. But despite that, you find yourself comfortable in every position you shift into. Belphie knows a thing or two about resting peacefully, so he’s got an eye for helping you with that.

“Are you feeling a little better today? ...Good. You were tossing and turning in your sleep, so I got you that ice pack. It look like your fever finally broke, so that means I can rest easy now.. goodnight......"

[blueknightdg]

Consideration and Generosity

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

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug and Chat Noire, DCU

Characters: Marinette, Damian

----------

She sat on a park bench that day; the weather was hot yet, cloudy.

Despite the uncomfortable sweat clinging to her being and the buzzing noise of her surroundings, she smiled happily. She would do anything for inspiration, even endure the blistering feeling of the sun.

Soon enough it has been hours since she began to sketch and draw designs for clothing she wishes to make true.

She feels her head is off, so she takes a break to answer a text from her mother.

----------

(Mom) Marinette, are you still at the park? It's been five hours.

(Me) Yep! Just taking a break.

(Mom) Just now? It's really hot outside, have you eaten? What about water?

(Me) Don't worry! I'm fine! I stayed in the shade the whole time.

(Mom) Okay, but I want a picture of you eating.

(Me) Okay, I will. I love you!

(Mom) I love you too.

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

Marinette, packs her sketch books and other materials a way in her bag. She stands up, only to tip over onto someone walking past her.

"Hey, you-"

The person stops to keep her from falling all the way down.

"Uh... I'm sorry, I guess I should have taken a break earlier."

She tries to break a way from the strangers grip. They let her go easily. They began to walk a little further a way with a eye in her direction. She sits down again to collect herself. She takes a few breaths and thinks about how to get up without falling and embarrassing herself.

"I wish I packed a water bottle or something, I knew it was hot but I thought I would be fine....", she thought to herself.

She checked her bag in case she just forgot. Lo and behold there was a water bottle in one of the outside pockets.

"Huh....? That's strange, I was sure I......oh well.", she shrugged it off as her forgetting.

Feeling a little better, she carefully stood up. Having not fallen, she smiled and picked up her full bag. She walks in the direction of a small restaurant to eat, since she wouldn't make it home before hunger got to her.

She walked like she wasn't being followed. Casual and slow, she took in the buildings a round her. The same as her memories told her, but still just as beautiful.

Once she got to an empty table, she sat her bag down in front of her. The waitress walks up to her with a smile.

"Hello! Here is the menu, please take your time. Though I do suggest today's special! Mushroom soup with broccoli, carrots, and rice."

"Thank you."

"No problem!"

The waitress leaves her be and she focuses on the menu. It seems that this restaurant is all about healthy living.

She hums to herself as she thinks of her order. However, everything sounded wonderful and she couldn't decide. Then she heard a waitress bring someone's order of a tofu and veggie stuffed bell peppers with a side salad. So she looked over to see the meal and found that it looked delicious. She also saw they ordered tomato juice.

Looking at the menu one more time, she located the meal, drink and picked out a dessert on her own.

As soon as she put her menu down, the waitress came up to her with her pen and notepad out.

"Ready to order?"

"Yes, I would like the Tofu and Veggie stuffed Bell peppers with a side salad, tomato juice, and the vanilla, soy bean ice cream."

"Would you like a topping?"

"Yes, let's see....oh! The coconut sprinkles and strawberry drizzle."

"To repeat: Tofu, veggie stuff bell peppers, side salad, tomato juice, vanilla soy bean ice cream with coconut sprinkles and strawberry drizzle?"

"Yes."

"Okay, we will right on it!"

Marinette took out her phone as she waited. She texted her mom, that she was at a restaurant nearby. Her mom reminded her to send a picture of her eating.

A few minutes later and her food was brought to her.

"Thank you so much!"

"It's no problem, dear, tell me if you need anything!"

The waitress leaves to let her eat. She sends a picture of her food to her mom, who responded with the words 'smile and heart'.

--------

Change perspective

--------

His day was normal. He woke up and dealt with the hooligans that plagued his life. He was currently in Paris as a part of a stake out group. His family dispersed during day to do individual actives. His father wanted him near by, but he argued that he didn't need to be monitored.

His father conceded by saying he must practice being considerate of other people and to update him on how it is going and if he needs help. He was more than reluctant to agree. Regardless, he did.

He didn't like the loose nature of his apparel for the day, but had no chouce due to the heat.

Though by no means is his clothing loose in comparison to others definition. He prefers to be dignified at all times.

Most of the day, he had nothing report to his father that was particularly considerate until he notice the ragged look of a girl a round his age. She looked dehydrated and ill. He scoffs at her lack of self preservation until he notice she was immersed in some kind of sketching. He also remembered his has to be 'considerate' today so he will say she was lost to passion. After all, this is Paris, the city known for passion.

He watches her as she unconsciously squints and makes a grim expression at times. She sways ever so slightly.

In his observations, she stopped her work to look at her phone. Her condition is not well. He walks a little closer with a water bottle he bought. The moment he walked next to her and she stood, he stabilized her and slipped the water bottle in her bag as she spoke, trying to clear her head. She was drenched in sweat.

"Father better be grateful, I am being more than generous with being 'considerate', disgusting.", he thought with distain.

He hurried a way from her only to stop a short distance a way to watch her more and to sanitize his hands; to rid himself of the horrid feeling of her sweat.

The girl swayed less than before, but after updating his father of what happened, he was ordered to tail her. What if she collapsed? His efforts would have been in vain if that was so.

He was slightly frustrated and her slow pace did nothing to help. He only felt a bit better at her choice of eatery. He saw that she was heading for a Healthy Living Restaurant and went a head of her to sit down. He typed to his father that the girl was trying to decide what to eat. He was instructed to do what he thought best if he were to interfere at all. So he picked the most sensible option for her condition, in return, she followed and added something to her order.

He ate quietly and finished before her. He then left a large tip; the service was quick, the food palatable, atmosphere was pleasant and he doubted the girl had much on her. Enough to pay perhaps, but she would then be left with nothing else.

She seemed to be middle class, and the middle class does not make much little wealth, to him at least. Sure, her clothing was quite good with quality, but her manners weren't all that remarkable and nothing else about her was either.

Polite, is what she was. Quiet, unnoticeable, and polite.

To him, she was a foolish girl that dreamed too much and did little for her own well-being. Truly the epitome of moronic whelps.

After he left the restaurant, he watched from a distance. Through the window, he saw her tempt to pay, only to be denied. He smirked, perhaps he should visit this particular restaurant again and maybe even invest a bit?

He felt his phone buzz, his father typed, wanting to be updating on the status of the girl. It became apparent that some of the hooligans are now aware of his sudden punish- mission. Yes, this is a mission.

Protecting such weak plebeians is the duty of his father and him, also the unsightly hooligans- not well in his opinion- but he shall add them this once.

"Father is surely proud of how 'considerate' and 'generous' I am.", he believes, "Excessively so."

------

The day ends with Marinette safely returning home and the still mysterious young man facing his mismatched family.

The young man remained considerate as he ignored the jeers of the hooligans until he realized, he didn't have to any more and retorted as though his words came from the high heavens.

---------

The next time he checked in on the young lady, he had some knowledge of her background he shouldn't and decided to continue to see to it that she is well taken care.

"It's called being an arrogant, egotistical xsshxle with a God complex. She doesn't need your 'consideration', she is not a charity case!"

One loud problem claimed as he tuned him out.

---------

The young man did visit the restaurant once more and she was there. She would visit often and order the same thing as he had the first time. There were times she ordered something else and he would try things she experimented with, minus the meat.

She ordered meat less and less the more she came to the restaurant, he noticed. He had no clue why, since she obviously had no problem eating it.

He didn't order sweets as often as she did, but he would on occasion, get something with a little bit of sweetness to it; like the dried fruit sandwich with any type of sauce it can come with. The sandwich had fresh, and air dried fruit. There would be other ingredients and such to change the flavor of the sandwich, making it a popular item on the menu.

------

Change Perspective

--------

She felt like she has seen the same guy a lot over the past two months and is slightly worried. After some thought to it and the more she believed she was over thinking it and that it was pure coincidence. She did know, however, he had good taste in food and art. Plus that animals are so cute!! He couldn't be all bad if animals liked him.

She would walk a little closer and sometimes walk a little farther from him and since he never moved, she felt better. It really was a coincidence to her knowledge.

Eventually, she would would stop seeing him. He was a tourist, so of course he would leave at some point. Still, she was a little sad.

Oh well, school is starting soon, maybe she'll make friends to fill the loneliness her pretend friend left her.

She liked to pretend this stranger was her friends and that they hung out, since she saw him in most places that she was. She saw him at the restaurant and sometimes the park and rarely he would be at the museum. Technically he wasn't everywhere and not as frequent as she made it seem like he was, but if was often enough to remember him.

"You should have talked to him, get his number."

"But then he might have thought I was hitting on him! I just wanted a friend..."

"Sweetie, look on bright side! Either you can cherish memories that made you happy or you can forget him and move on. You don't know what life has in-store for you, it could be fun!"

"Thank you, mom. You too dad, I will see what happens."

"On that note, want help me frost some cakes?"

"Yes!!!"

-----

The end.

[mystic-shadows42]

Heart of Fire

Based on this request:

Pairing: Ubbe x reader

Warnings: None

Ubbe watched boats arrive at Kattegat with curiosity. He was the only one out of the brothers to still be there after Lagertha raided and usurped his mother. Surprisingly, Lagertha showed her mercy so now Aslaug was long gone.

It still made Ubbe bitter. The whole event dragged their family name into the dirt. People would talk but still respected Ragnar. Though nobody was fooled by his sons. The people thought they wouldn’t live up to their father’s name and would give in just like their mother.

Ubbe felt that this whole matter was because of Lagertha. She was everywhere and if she wasn’t there then her name would be. He felt that if Lagertha wasn’t so corrupt with power then their names would still be respected.

There was always conflict between the two. Ubbe never gives her the time of day. He was always a jerk to her while she’d just be irritated with him in general. 

There were even talks of there being a rally against Lagertha.

A rally on Aslaug’s behalf. Ubbe wasn’t sure what he’d do just yet. Right now, he was just scouting and weighing his options. Fighting against Lagertha seemed promising to him even though she allowed him to stay in Kattegat.

She was wary of him, that’s why there were always scouts watching him. He didn’t know why he continued to stay. He just felt that he needed to for some odd reason.

He watched Lagertha welcoming her allies then he saw a woman emerge. Lagertha embraced her quickly and looked her over, all the while smiling.

Then it dawned on Ubbe that the mysterious woman must be Lagertha’s daughter. The daughter that nobody really knew of. She was beautiful and had a demanding presence. Before Ubbe could even think of what he was doing, he was already making his way towards you.

He would wait just out of sight until Lagertha left.

**

You on the other hand caught sight of a particularly handsome man hiding. He wasn’t hiding very well but just enough to not be seen by your mother.

It must be the man your mother warned you about. One of the sons of Ragnar that she couldn’t quite figure out if he was a friend or foe, Ubbe.

Strangely enough, as your mother talked to you, your eyes would glance over to him every once in a while. For the first time in your life, you weren’t listening to what your mother was saying.

You found yourself wanting her to leave so you could talk to him. It was the strangest feeling yet a welcomed one.

When your mother finally left your presence, Ubbe stepped out and lifted his brows at you. He looked you over in great eagerness.

“I thought you a myth. The daughter of shieldmaiden Lagertha standing just before me.”

“I thought you a fraud. The son of Ragnar and Aslaug, blessed with looks and skilled with a sword.”

Ubbe continued to move towards you slowly.

“No doubt about it. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His eyes were the bluest you’ve ever seen and they were looking at you. The sight was enough to make you speechless. This was your mother’s supposed enemy and you were ogling him just as he was to you. 

You cleared your throat which was enough for Ubbe to change the subject. “So, what brings you to Kattegat?”

“My mother. She sent for me because she is unsure of you as well as your brothers.”

“You’re basically telling me that you could possibly be here to kill me.”

“Exactly, so watch your back,” you said amusingly. You stepped around him and started to head towards the great hall where everyone was gathering. The only thought going through your head was that some distance would do you good.

Ubbe couldn’t help but smile. He should feel threatened and on high alert, but he wasn’t. He wanted to know more. He was quick to turn around and jog up beside you.

“Lagertha’s probably told you all she knows about me, but I don’t know anything about you.”

“Maybe I like it like that.”

Ubbe nodded in understanding. He thought that was fair. Everyone seemed to know about him and his family, but that was just the surface of it all.

“Fine, I’ll tell you something about me personally rather than someone else feeding you false information. I don’t like fighting as much as my brothers. Someday I want to leave Kattegat and start farming to have a better life for my people.”

You were impressed. “You’re different than what I imagined.”

“Is that so bad? Did Lagertha taint your idea of me?”

“She doesn’t speak ill of you. She admires you but I think some of her isn’t finished with Ragnar, so she takes some of her bitterness out on you. I actually think you two could actually get along if you put your egos aside.”

“Friends with Lagertha. What would my mother think, better yet my brothers?”

“Do their opinions really matter?”

“They’re my brothers. Do you care what Lagertha thinks?”

“She’s my mother,” you replied in the same playful tone as he did. Ubbe simply smiled back.

“Perhaps Lagertha sent you here to coax me. Maybe even seduce me.” He mentioned as his eyes widened playfully.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “You would like that wouldn’t you, but If I was trying to seduce you then you’d know.”

There was a peaceful silence between you both. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face. Your exchange with Ubbe was far different than what you expected. Your mother had said he was stubborn and stuck up, but he didn’t seem like that at all.

“What about you? Do you crave power like Lagertha?”

“No. Having too much power is dangerous.”

“I understand. Being king changed my father. I suppose that’s one of the reasons I don’t like your mother.”

You were quite surprised by how open he was to express his feelings about your mother to you. “She tries to do what’s best for everyone. She’s not perfect but she does what has to be done.”

After your conversation with Ubbe, you excused yourself. It was eerie just how much you were starting to like him. The best thing to do is to distance yourself from him until he isn’t a threat to your mother.

So that’s exactly what you did. You purposefully stayed on the opposite side of the room, away from Ubbe. 

You smiled watching the crowd of people having a good time. Your mother snuck beside you with her eyes only on one person.

“Why does Ubbe stare at you?”

You looked around then saw Ubbe. He smirked under your mother’s scrutinizing gaze. You slightly tilted your head as a hint for him not to stare. All he did was hold up his cup in the air towards you both.

It took all of your being not to laugh because you know your mother would be infuriated at the notion. He did it as a way to mock her.

“Ubbe’s eyes wander over everybody mother. There’s no need to worry.”

“I worry because I know the ways of men. I’m not blind, I saw you two earlier. Just be sure not to fall for him like I did with Ragnar.” You sighed deeply not wanting to hear any of this now. Everyone was having a good time but your mother was still on high alert. “I just don’t want to see you get your heartbroken over someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“Trust me mother, my heart belongs to no one but me.”

“It’s just that... Ubbe doesn’t smile and he smiles at you every time.” 

You grabbed your mother’s arms and looked into her eyes. “Mother, please try to relax. There’s no need to worry. There’s no fight, so stop looking for one. Just enjoy today.”

The big gathering of troops made everyone feel joyous and want to celebrate. People were playing music and dancing. You clapped your hands as couples got up and danced around in circles with their partners.

A man outstretched his hand to you to dance. You accepted before there could be any hints of doubt in your mind. You danced with the man and looked over to Ubbe to see him already looking at you.

Ubbe took a swig of his drink and stood up heading towards you. Once the man you were dancing with saw Ubbe he dismissed himself to find another partner to dance with.

“I didn’t peg you as a dancer.”

“You never asked.”

You didn’t know how long you were dancing with Ubbe for but time didn’t seem of the essence at the moment. Everything with Ubbe seemed timeless and easy.

Though when the thought of your mother came to mind, that changed. She didn’t trust Ubbe and she definitely wouldn’t like seeing you with him right now.

You dropped your hands from Ubbe’s. He got closer to you to see what was wrong but he stopped when you looked at him. “I better get settled in for the night.”

He cleared his throat and took a step back. “Right. Well goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Ubbe.”

Ubbe watched you leave fighting the urge to walk with you. When he looked back into the crowd, he saw Lagertha giving him an unamused look. He sighed loudly and knew he wasn’t going to hear the end of it.

He was making his way out of the crowd knowing Lagertha would likely follow. Of course, she caught up and tugged on his arm.

“I want you to listen to what I have to say Ubbe.”

Ubbe exhaled loudly trying not to become irritated after such a good day which was rare for him.

“By all means, go on,” he said sarcastically as Lagertha stood in front of him to block his path.

“I want you to distance yourself from my daughter.”

Ubbe began to chuckle making Lagertha become aggravated.

“I can’t do that Lagertha. I know how much your daughter means to you but you’re going to have to let her make decisions for herself. If that includes being around me, then so be it.”

“You’re a mirror image of my ex-husband, your father. You remind me a lot of him. You have his ambitions but you also have his flaws.”

“The flaws are all you see in me Lagertha. The difference between me and my father is that I won’t abandon my responsibilities. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I trust your daughter a lot more than you.”

“You’ve only just met her yet you speak as if you two are more than just friends. Let me remind you that you’re married Ubbe. So is she.”

Ubbe narrowed his brows. “You lie.”

“I may not like you Ubbe but I would never lie.” Lagertha circled Ubbe as he was deep in thought. “It seems that my daughter may not have been completely honest with you but you shouldn’t be angry with her. You have a wife of your own or have you forgotten? Now go on with your life and quit trying to get with my daughter to spite me.”

“Have you not been listening?! I’m not trying to get close to your daughter to make you angry. It’s genuine with her. I felt it the moment I saw her. So did she though she might be a bit prideful to admit it.”

Lagertha didn’t like it one bit. She willed herself not to reach for her weapon. So she gritted her teeth and would only leave him a warning.

“Keep your distance.”

Tagged: @belovedcherry @lordsexmachine​ @lol-haha-joke​ @mariaenchanted​ @ethereallysimple​ @bababasti​ @ir-abelas-telanadas​

[andromedasstarship]

in the stars - chapter 2

photo credits - @ssahotchnerr

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

warnings - canon-typical criminal minds violence, show rating 16+ for reference. depictions of violence, stalking, murder, angst, age gap couple, language 

summary - You and Aaron reunite, but it’s not exactly anything to celebrate over. The case moves forward, but you really wish it hadn’t like this.  

a/n - no one is allowed to call me out on my lack of LA/california geographical knowledge. ive also started including readers mental thought train which is italicized (flashbacks will also be in italics, but ill always properly mark a flashback). if you arent tagged but asked, just send another ask/reply! i mustve missed it on accident.

blog rules 

masterlist // read it on ao3 here

chapter 1 // chapter 3

-----

Chapter 2 

Aaron Hotchner was standing in front of you. Impeccable, not even a slight crease in his shoes and suit pressed to perfection. He still smelled faintly like cedar, a thought you quickly tried to send away; it was too late though, already remembering how pitiful it was post breakup, when you would smell the shirts he left at your house, a desperate attempt to remember that he existed in your life. You’d spent hours, days even, thinking about how you’d react if you were ever to see Aaron in person again. At the top of the list was screaming at him, really giving him a piece of your mind for leaving the way he did. Or, maybe you’d be cool and composed, the epitome of maturity and ‘I’m Totally Over You’. You’d even considered completely ignoring him, not even giving him a second glance. Instead you were frozen to the spot, staring up at the man who broke your heart. 

Pulling your eyes away from him, they darted towards the gap between his body and outside, internally debating if you’d be able to somehow sneak around him. As if he could read your mind, not like you had been particularly subtle, he moved to close the gap before you had the chance to fully formulate an escape. 

“Y/N,” he tried again, voice a bit firmer this time around. It’d be better if he couldn’t speak. But then again he had such a beautiful voice-. No, you mentally clamped down on that thought before it could lead you down another rabbit hole. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Tell you, uh, what?” You asked, hyper aware of how mousy you must’ve sounded.

“That someone was murdering women that looked like you. You should’ve called my team sooner, it was irresponsible to put yourself at further risk of-” 

“Are you trying to imply that this is somehow my fault, Agent Hotchner?” The words felt bitter on your tongue. It wasn’t like you, to suddenly be so quick to anger. Years in the spotlight had taught you to hold your tongue, but Aaron’s words managed to cut right through. 

“That’s not what I’m saying, you know that-,” he tried to interject, but you weren’t going to back down so easy. 

“I know what Agent? Please, tell me the acceptable response to this situation,” you spat out at him, finding a brief enjoyment in the way his face scrunched up ever so slightly. “The police were working on the case, I’ve dealt with weirdos before.” Aaron opened his mouth again as if to speak, but you weren’t finished, “You really think I believed you’d answer if I called?” 

His face fell at that and you felt some form of internal victory swell in your chest. Y/N 1 point, Aaron Hotchner 0. The victory was short lived though, as you came to the realization that the two of you were still in a very public setting. 

“I’m not going to fight with you Agent, I suggest you get back to your team.” With that you shoved your way past him, stomping the entire way to your car. It was a shame, the way the anger and sadness was consuming you, maybe if it hadn’t, this time you would’ve noticed the clicking coming from the tree line. 

----

Hotch wished you had been angry; it would’ve been easier to handle you if you had been screaming in his face or throwing low-blow comments his way. He could deal with anger. It’d be easier if he could pretend that you were being completely out of line and could warrant being ignored for the rest of the case. 

That wasn’t you though, and he knew this. He didn’t have to be a profiler to see and hear the way you struggled to hold yourself together. He didn’t need to be a profiler to feel how disappointed you were with him. Hotch didn’t know how to deal with this or you.  Even though it had been months, had he truly fallen so far from your graces; was your opinion so lowly of him now? 

Hotch wasn’t sure which was worse to stomach, the fact that you had such little faith in him or the deep rooted feeling in his gut that told him you were right- had you called him unannounced two months ago, he wouldn’t have picked up the phone. 

----

You sat in your car for twenty minutes, at least. It was pitiful, the way you were crying in your car, to a sad playlist, over a guy who hurt your feelings; it felt like high school all over again. In the moment, you had felt good, the way you watched Aaron’s face twist and fall at your words giving you some sick form of satisfaction. 

It’s not like you had lied to him or anything. You hadn’t even stretched the truth for ultimate impact. The whole overly formal ‘Agent’ thing was definitely on purpose though. No, you had meant every word you said to Aaron, especially about not believing he’d answer if you called. What would you have even said if you called and he did pick up? Hi Aaron, remember me? Good, anyway hope you’re doing well but I think I have a murderous stalker, can you help? Actually, that’s probably exactly how the conversation would’ve gone, but that’s beside the point. 

The point was that even if you could trust the Unit Chief of the BAU to do his job, you weren’t sure you could trust Aaron Hotchner anymore. 

----

When you finally did muster up the courage to return to the conference room, you really wished you hadn’t. You should’ve just turned your car on and left. Was it possible to ghost the FBI? You’d heard enough stories from Aaron about how their tech wizard had found people with just a single loose thread, there was definitely no way you were going to make some spy like disappearance. 

Aaron wasn’t in the room, something you were grateful for in the moment. But what you weren’t grateful for was how the team had managed to set up multiple bulletin boards in your absence; filled with your photo, crime scene photos, the dead women and your personal least favorite, the dead women’s bodies. 

Of course, you knew what was going on, you were a big girl, well old enough to understand and process the gravity of the situation. But you’d only seen photos of the women alive, with personality and humanity; something about that made them look less like you and more like them. Looking at them now- dead, eyes closed, faces tilted away from the camera- these women didn’t just look like you, they were you. 

You hadn’t even realized you were drifting closer to one of the boards until you felt a hand pull at the crook of your elbow. Turning your head ever so slightly you saw JJ, giving you one of her nice looks again. 

“Y/N, you don’t need to see these,” JJ started, already pulling you in the opposite direction. You were about to agree, head already halfway to a full nod when you noticed something from the corner of your eye. 

“Wait!” You exclaimed, pulling your arm back and getting right in front of a photo of victim #2. You very gently pulled the photo of the wall and held it closely in front of your face. Were you allowed to move it? Oh well. You felt the rest of the team’s eyes burning holes through your back so you turned to face them. “I, um, I’m pretty sure the sweater she’s wearing is mine.” You said, voice coming out as a whisper. 

The team certainly seemed to liven up at that statement. Even though they hadn’t even been in LA for a full 24 hours yet, it was obvious from the start that LAPD hadn’t been lacking on the case, rather the unsub was just that good. They reported no evidence from any dump sites,- and now those sites had been contaminated far too much to double check- there had been no witnesses for any of the abductions, and the unsub hadn’t attempted any contact with Y/N; all in all, they had nothing. 

“Y/N, are you sure?” Emily asked, she was quickly pulling photos of the other three women down, bringing them over to the roundtable. “Are the women in these photos wearing anything else you recognize?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure. There’s a little hole right there, on the side, the threads were pretty loose and I got stuck on a doorknob once, ripped it right open. I couldn’t find it when I went to fix it, just assumed I threw it away and forgot.” You said quietly, moving your way to the table. Your brain wasn’t working properly, hadn’t quite yet come to the conclusion that the rest of the agents already reached. He had gotten into your house. “Oh my god.” You whispered, voice shaking. “He was in my house, wasn’t he?” 

The agents all looked down at you with sympathetic gazes before Emily finally spoke up again. “We can’t be sure just yet, but I need you to look at these photos and tell me if you recognize anything else okay? Can you do that for me?” 

You nodded, making your way over to the table and taking a seat. You were well aware one of the agents just called for Hotch, but you couldn’t be bothered with that right now. 

----

“Hotch,” Derek said, his voice urgent as he rounded the corner, interrupting whatever conversation Hotch was having with a random officer, “Y/N recognized the sweater victim #2 was wearing at the dumpsite as hers. Emily’s showing her the rest of the photos and it’s looking like the unsub left something of hers on each one.” 

That certainly got Hotch’s attention. He didn’t need Derek to fill in the blank, the unsub had been in your house. His fists tightened at his side and he couldn’t help the way his face twisted in anger. In this state, Derek knew better than to question this unusually personal reaction, instead just angling his body back towards the conference room. He didn’t even have a chance to open his mouth before Hotch brushed past him, making his way back to you. 

----

Starting with a photo of victim #1, you very slowly pulled it closer in front of you. Oh my god, her neck. Obviously, you’ve seen bruises before, been on a whole bunch of film sets that used makeup to create some pretty gory pieces, but nothing like this. The unsub didn’t just stangle these women, it was like he wanted to completely crush their throats. 

One of the agents behind you was questioning your ability to stomach this, so you quickly forced yourself to focus. It was the least you could do for these poor women, just give them your undivided attention for ten minutes, and then you could deal with everything else later.

Your finger traced over the bracelet victim #1 was wearing. “This is mine. There’s a singular heart engraved on the back of the third diamond’s plating. I bought it for myself after I got cast in my first big role, cried for weeks when I ‘lost’ it.” 

“And what about this one?” Emily asked, gently pulling victim #1’s photo away from you and replacing it with #4. You didn’t miss the way she turned the photos you’d already looked at upside down, as if to further shield you from them. Nor did you miss that she was technically skipping victim #3. 

It didn’t take you long to notice what was yours on victim #4. “It’s the dress, it’s really comfy, I used to wear it a lot, like a lot a lot. I brought it with me so often on trips I just assumed it got left in a hotel room somewhere.” 

Emily nodded, taking back that photo and turning it over as well. You could see her hesitation in showing you victim #3, but she slid it across the table to you as well. Her fingertips ghosting on the edge of the photo, ready to pull it back as soon as you gave an answer.

Victim #3 was tough. She looked the most like you, both when she was alive and certainly the way she looked now. 

You took a sharp intake of breath as you looked down at her the first thing that caught your eye was the necklace. Most certainly yours and most certainly the one that Aaron had given you for your three year anniversary. You realized it was lost a few months after the breakup and nearly tore your house apart looking for it; you didn’t have many things from your relationship with Aaron to prove he was once part of your life, making the few things you did have all the more important. “The necklace, there’s an A engraved on the back and I’m pretty sure those shoes are mine too.” Emily swept the photo back and out of view as soon as the last words left your lips. 

“JJ, get those items out of evidence immediately so we can be absolutely sure,” Hotch ordered. Aaron. You hadn’t even realized he had walked into the room, you turned to look at him, eyes wide with sadness and fear. The tears that were beginning to form tugged viciously on his heart.  “Miss L/N, my team and I are going to escort you back to your home and we’re going to need to canvas it for signs of entry and identify if anything else is missing. Is that okay?” He asked, his voice soft with something most of the members couldn’t place. 

You simply nodded at that, glad that you wouldn’t have to be alone, “Do you need my address, or will you just follow my car?” There was definitely humor in that, Aaron already knew exactly where you lived and the code to get through the gates. 

“Your address is already in our files, but for your safety we’ll be following close behind.” He assured you. The rest of the team was jumping into action, grabbing their personal belongings along with copious amounts of gloves and bags you assumed would be for potential evidence. 

As you all exited the building and entered your respective vehicles, it was Reid who realized where he’d heard that softness in Hotch’s voice before. It was the same tone he used to use with Hayley, back when things were good. 

----

Your house wasn’t far and it was a drive you knew well; grateful for the ability to somewhat distract yourself on the road. The gatesman to your development gave you a real odd look when you told him the two black SUV’s filled with FBI agents were with you, but you couldn’t care less about which neighbor he might spread that info too. Did you see? L/N brought in the FBI, wonder what she’s caught up in. At least all the neighbors and workers had signed airtight NDAs, no one was allowed to talk to any outsiders about the personal happenings of their fellow residents. 

Your house was towards the top of the hill, with a great overlook to the ocean. You had only been 20 when you bought the house and you viewed it as the ultimate achievement of all your hard work and determination. You couldn't shake the bad taste in your mouth as you pulled up the driveway. The house felt tainted now, something you were never sure you’d be able to shake. 

----

Once again, not exactly how you imagined the entire team entering your house for the first time. Your house was extensive, as were the grounds; the team quickly realized they would probably be here for the rest of the day and well into the night.

You were standing awkwardly in the middle of your foyer, unsure of how to exactly approach this situation. “So, there’s about 10 rooms in the house, not including the kitchen and general living spaces, as well with the basement which is technically one big room. I made maps once as a joke, I think I have some in the office, if you wanted those? Or we could do one big house tour and you can break off that way,” you were so rambling, but them being in your house and why they were in your house was setting in, “or you can just go off however you want-” 

“Miss L/N,” JJ said, there was that nice look again, “why don’t you show me around the house so I can get a base level understanding of everything there is. The rest of my team will go start a basic canvas of the inside and the grounds as well.” Thank you JJ. 

You nodded at this, glad that someone else was taking control of the situation. Before you could lead JJ towards the kitchen, your phone started to ring, startling you. When did you get this skittish? 

“My friend is calling,” you said, holding up your phone, “I gotta take this, I was supposed to meet him for coffee a few minutes ago.” You excused yourself, quickly making your way to an empty room away from the rest of the team. Your friend was annoyed at your more than last minute cancellation, but luckily he didn’t pry too hard and accepted your flimsy “I’m not feeling too well’ excuse on the first go. 

“I know, I’m sorry, but I promise I’ll make it up to you as soon as I feel better. Yeah, I love you too. I gotta go, bye.” As you hung up, you could feel a gaze burning into the back of your head. Turning around, you found Aaron staring down at you from the doorway. How long had he been there? 

“You should have told us about your boyfriend sooner. Trying to protect him from questioning will only-”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you exclaimed, a bit too hurriedly, “I, uh, I’m not seeing anyone at all actually, haven’t in a while.” Smooth. 

Aaron was smart enough to read through the lines and understand what you had left unsaid. His gaze didn’t give up, but you could’ve swore you saw relief somewhere in his eyes. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to say something, or if he was supposed to say something, or should you walk out, or- 

“Neither have I.” Hotch’s voice broke through your thoughts, but just as quickly as he said it, he turned on his heel and left you alone in the room.

----

a/n - if anyone is wondering ive 100% cried multiple times at how kind and supportive everyone has been with me about this story. we’re only 2 chapters in but im already sad for it to end. yes i 100% have a bunch of other wip ideas for hotch. anywaaaaaaay, replies/asks/comments/reblogs/likes always appreciated! thank you so much for reading 

Taglist: @mac99martin @iwaizumiee @kylorendrip @hqtchner @lieswithoutfairytales @ssahoodrathotchner @midsummernightdream @weasleylovers @evans-dejong @itsmytimetoodream @yoshigguk @28cnn @cuddlyklaus @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

no permission is given to republish or upload my fics anywhere else. if you see this story not on my tumblr or ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own criminal minds or any of the characters involved

[toraodwaterlaw]

An End and a Beginning

Having survived Minion, Rosinante is reassigned to East Blue, where he and Law will start their new lives. 1700 words, CoraLives!Au, mild hurt/comfort, found family

-

“I’m ready.”

Law was seated on his bed, a full length mirror in front of him and a scalpel in his right hand. Neither was strictly necessary- neither the mirror nor the scalpel- but he insisted they helped. He really only needed to feel out the lead with his powers, not to see anything, but Rosinante could understand how weird it would feel to work blind, more or less. That he could still operate with everything flipped in the mirror only proved what a remarkable doctor he might have been had life been less cruel. Perhaps he still would be. Rosinante certainly hoped. Law would have his whole life ahead of him once this was finally over.

As for the scalpel, well, apparently it worked as a sort of focus for the Ope-Ope to work through. It made Rosinante wince, made the whole thing seem more like a normal operation, but it was infinitely preferable to the sword Law had first suggested using. Apparently the boy already had ideas on how he might use the Devil Fruit to fight. Rosinante had to draw the line at practicing that on himself. It was bad enough Law had to operate on himself.

“Ready,” Rosinante repeated. He nodded and looked down at Law a moment more. He wouldn’t stay. He never did, not after the first time. Law insisted that it didn’t hurt but Rosinante couldn’t bear to see him like that. It looked too close to dying even if it was more like the opposite. “Right. I’ll be guarding the front door like always. Just right out there,” he said, knowing all the while it was more a reassurance to himself than to Law who was seemingly unfazed by the whole process. “If you need me, all you have to do is call for me.”

Law rolled his eyes. “I know, Cora-san.” He waved the scalpel in his hand menacingly. “Now get out of here. You’re distracting.”

Rosinante nodded and promptly tripped over his own feet on the way to the door. He caught himself on the door handle and smiled sheepishly back at Law who only scowled in return. He found his usual seat outside the room with a heavy sigh. One more operation and this would all be behind them.

For as much as he himself had told Law that the fruit wasn’t magic, he’d somehow imagined this would be over with one miraculous wave of the hand. Law would awaken to his new powers, find the lead in his veins and pull it all out in one go. Instead, it had been staggered over the course of weeks. Law had needed to learn how to use his powers and then they’d both found just how much energy it all took. The real delay came, Rosinante would admit, had come at his own insistence. He hadn’t been around for the first attempts at operating, since he’d been held up on Minion while Law went ahead to Swallow. Law himself had been tight lipped about how that had gone but from what he’d gathered from the other boys that had been there, there had been blood loss. Just how much he’d never know. In his opinion, any was too much. 

Rosinante shook his head to get that particular image out of his head. He patted down his pockets until he found his cigarettes. He flicked at his lighter with a trembling thumb and nearly caught his hair instead of the cigarette with the resulting flame. He sucked in deep and let out a long, smoke filled breath. His eyes slid closed. He needed to focus on the positive. This would all be over soon. Already, life was coming back with a flush in Law’s skin. It would be a while before the patches in his skin would be gone completely but sunny Windmill Village was doing a lot to help vitality along. Law was healing. They both were.

He’d have to find a way to thank Sengoku and Garp. Maybe he’d just send food and drink along under the guise of souvenirs. At least Garp was likely to accept. Sengoku was still pretending that sending a Marine Commander to such an out of the way posting was a punishment. Rosinante knew, though, just how many strings the Fleet Commander likely had pulled to get him here. As important as the rulers of the Goa Kingdom might consider themselves, they didn’t really merit a strong naval presence.

“I’m done.”

The voice was quiet and weak enough that he nearly didn’t hear it but he was on his feet in an instant. He gripped the wall to keep upright and then stumbled in through the door. Law was seated just as he’d been before. If Rosinante didn’t know any better, he’d think nothing had happened. He did know better, though.

“Done? All done?”

“That’s what I said, you stupid clown,” came the expected reply. There wasn’t nearly as much bite in the insult as there once had been. Law fell back onto his bed. Rosinante took a worried step forward before he saw the smile on Law’s face. “But yeah, it’s all done. Not a trace of lead left.”

Of the two of them, Rosinante had most definitely been the more optimistic one about this whole process. Yet, here he was, unable to quite believe it. The past weeks had been so hard and the six months before that had been harder still. It felt impossible that they’d both survived it all and now would get to simply get on with their lives.

Law opened one golden eye and fixed it on Rosinante. “You think I’m lying to make you feel better or something?”

Rosinante gaped. The forgotten cigarette dropped from his mouth. He stomped it out with a yelp before anything was burnt. “No!” he insisted. “It’s just—”

How could he explain? But Law was smart. He got it even without words.

The boy sat up. “See for yourself.” He extended a hand and was surrounded in a sphere of shimmering blue. “Scan.”

That blue light intensified and shone in a path that followed the careful sweep of Law’s hand. Rosinante knew from previous experience exactly what Law was showing him. There was nothing. No lead. No lingering illness.

Rosinante’s face split into a wide smile. He could see Law biting back on a smile of his own as he threw himself back down into the bed.

“Told you, idiot. I thought you crammed that fruit down my throat because you believed in my medical skills.”

“I did. I do! But after everything…”

“Yeah. I know.” Law chewed on his lip and a complicated expression crossed his face. Whatever it was about, when it passed, there was only a smile left in its place. “I might’ve scanned three or four times before I called you in. Just to be really sure.”

“But it’s over.”

“It’s over.”

How many times would they have to repeat that before either of them believed it?

Law had let his eyes drift shut again. Rosinante took the opportunity to really look at him. He wondered what changes the next months and years would bring. Law was still rather small for his age. Rosinante knew he was hardly the best judge given he was, as Law would point out, rather larger than average himself, but the boy hardly had the look of someone on the cusp of adolescence. Hopefully without the constant strain on his body, he would be able to catch up with where he should be. Perhaps he’d never be as tall or as bulky as he might have been but only time would tell. Rosinante chose to hope for the best.

And then there was his skin. Amber Lead Syndrome was blessedly unheard of all the way out in a rural corner of East Blue but Rosinante knew Law was still self conscious. Every curious look or question about the white patches made him pull into himself. Although the people of Windmill Village had overall been very kind and accepting, Law would undoubtedly be more comfortable when his skin was clear of any lingering paleness.

Rosinante’s heart swelled thinking of that future. Maybe Law would start to open up more, find friends even. He knew Garp’s grandkids were about somewhere. And that was only the start of it. Law was smart, he was strong, and now he was healthy. The future was practically limitless.

Rosinante threw himself into the bed next to Law, causing the boy to bounce up into the air with a yelp.

“Oi! Watch what you’re doing, you giant oaf.”

Rosinante could only smile. He ruffled a fond hand through Law’s unruly black hair. “We should start looking at what medical training is available. There might not be anything somewhere so out of the way but there’s plenty of time. We can find you the best training. Go anywhere you want.”

Law rolled his eyes. “Give me a few seconds to breathe, would you? I only just finished getting rid of the lead and you’re already planning out my entire future.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll try not to get carried away. But…” Rosinante hesitated. He knew this was a sensitive subject given all the time Law had spent convinced he was going to die. Still, the boy needed to start looking ahead at some point. “Have you thought at all what you might want to do now?”

Law was silent a moment and Rosinante thought he had perhaps pushed too far. Then Law smiled. “I was thinking…” Rosinante propped himself up onto his elbows and waited. Law’s smile only grew. “Maybe I’ll become a pirate.”

Rosinante’s eyes widened. “What?” He swatted at Law, only to be easily dodged as Law hopped over him and off the bed. “You brat! You aren’t going to be a pirate.”

Law threw back his head and laughed as he continued to dance out of Rosinante’s reach. It was a boisterous, youthful thing that the blond couldn’t help but love the sound of. Law was still a brat. He would probably always be a bit of a shit but there would really be time ahead for him to grow. Mature. There was finally a future that both of them could see and Rosinante couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment whether that included Law turning pirate or doing anything else he might imagine.

[nillegible]

(Part 4 of Stay, the MY time travel fic. Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 )

So much that Meng Yao has seen in his second life has been disturbingly accurate to the memories that he still has of his former life, but the brothel is different. It feels much smaller than it did to a child who grew up there. Appears more garish than he’d seen from afar, after ordering the place to be burned down. Or perhaps these decorations are so like the gilded decor Koi tower that he hadn’t noticed, back then.

Meng Yao walks inside now, for the first time since he fled after mother’s death, dressed in simple gray robes of good make, sword and tassel marking him as a cultivator. His hair is deliberately done up plainly, as different from his mother’s as he can manage it. He does not wish to be recognized here, as her son.

“Please, please stop,” someone is crying out, and a tall, well-built young man – not a cultivator though – is dragging a woman outside by the hair. As Meng Yao steps aside to make way, he recognizes her. Anxin. It’s a new way to remember her face, twisted in fear and desperation, instead of in cruel, mocking laughter.

He lets them pass, and walks into the establishment. Two young girls, maybe sixteen, direct him to a table in the main hall and prepare tea. He responds to their flirtation politely; they’re just doing their jobs, after all; and waits for the Madame to be free.

I bet Father, never had to wait, thinks Meng Yao, but it’s an idle thought. Even his mother had not wanted Meng Yao to be like him, only to gain his favour and the prestige that entailed.

For all that he’s a cultivator now, one of considerable renown even if it does not match that of a Sect Leader or heir of a major sect. He waits patiently for the madame’s attention.

The young women at his sides stiffen into perfect posture, alerting him to the imminent arrival of their boss. “How can I help the honoured young master?” the well dressed, elegant woman asks finally, coming over to sit gracefully at his table.

“This one greets Madame,” says Meng Yao simply. “I am merely here to observe, and perhaps make a purchase.” She’s so practiced that her reaction is nearly entirely subdued, only traces of her glee at finding a customer to buy one of her girls’ contract are visible. Meng Yao pretends not to notice, just smiles, serenely.

“The Young Master is seeking a wife, then? My girls are each very accomplished, and I’m sure he will find one eminently suitable to his tastes.”

Meng Yao just nods, as if disinterested. “If madame would show me the suitable candidates…” then hesitates, carefully. “I am not seeking a wife. My Uncle’s wife has taken ill, and I hoped that if I found him a suitable concubine, there would be less disharmony in my household. I am unmarried, and finding good servants is difficult enough without him scaring the help away with his ways.” He scrunches his nose in faint distaste, and watches the calculation in her eyes.

“This one understands, the Young Master will not be looking for their skills in managing a household, then. There are women to match this criterion as well. Some of my girls are great beauties and will certainly captivate any man.”

“He can find beauties on his own coin,” Meng Yao huffs. “As long as she can perform her duties, who cares what she looks like? Will Madame show me the women? I will decide when I see them.” With such crude, miserly words, Meng Yao has saved himself having to browse through most of the women here, as well as much of the haggling. The Madame would not dare to inflate her prices above that of the prostitute’s contract, for fear he’d leave and just bribe one of his female servants to quietly accept the abuse.

Sure enough, after Meng Yao is settled in a private room, the women suggested to him are significantly older than the young ones entertaining downstairs. The madame excuses herself; there’s nothing much for her to do here, but leaves two clerks to explain the costs of each contract.

Meng Yao reads through them dispassionately, even setting aside Sisi’s contract when he sees it the first time, though in the ‘look again,’ pile, not the ‘too expensive’ one. Finally, he narrows it down to three, and the women are requested to attend them, in the small parlor.

Meng Yao keeps his face averted when Sisi approaches. There’s a sharp inhale when she sees him, and he looks up to catch her eye and quickly shakes his head, asking her to not give it away. Seeming to understand, she falls into place beside her two sisters, and allows Meng Yao to… consider his options. He picks Sisi as if on a whim, and then finalizes the purchase.

*

“Meng Yao?” she asks, when they’re left alone, shortly after. There is paperwork to be completed, and they’re brought tea while they wait.

“Aunt Sisi,” Meng Yao says softly. “It is good to see you again.”

“I didn’t expect… do you really have an uncle in need of a concubine?”

“Jin Guangshan has three brothers,” he answers. “But as I have not acknowledged him as my father, I do not have uncles.”

“I see,” she says. That sharp gaze means, go on. Means, what do you want of me, and it is too suspicious, too disturbing to wait until they leave the brothel to explain.

“I would have bought Mother out, if I could. I dreamed of the day. But she died and… Aunt Sisi has ever been kind to her. You were her greatest comfort, in her final days.”

“Meng Shi was a good woman,” she says shortly. There’s no softness to the words.

“I remembered that Aunt Sisi was an excellent seamstress. There is a shop well known to me, in Yunmeng, and the proprietor is willing to take on a skilled helper. The money is a loan from my Sect Leader, but it will be paid back over a year from my allowance. Aunt Sisi may pay me back over a longer time, we can work out the specifics of that loan, after you’ve settled your living at the shop.”

Sisi is quiet for a long time. “There is a merchant,” she says, “Who offered to marry me.”

“The one with the jealous wife?” he asks. “Does Aunt Sisi believe her life would be peaceful, in her household?” Not that she would even get a chance to live there, but there’s no way that Aunt Sisi could know that.

She doesn’t say anything else, nor does he, while they finish their tea, and eat the snacks laid out. Unlooked for good fortune, at the whims of those more powerful than him had never made Meng Yao feel grateful. He’s not going to expect it in someone else.

“I suppose I should thank you,” she says, only after they’ve left the establishment. He’s leading her towards the docks, to rent a boat to Yunmeng. He has all of her luggage sealed away in a qiankun pouch, though her money is in a purse clutched tightly in her hands.

“Aunt Sisi does not have to,” he says. “This one did not consult you, before choosing this for you. I apologize, for that.”

“Don’t bother apologizing,” she says. “It’s just a lot, without a moment’s notice. But I am grateful.”

“You’ll like Madam Yan, the tailor,” says Meng Yao. “She’s kind.” Of course, Meng Yao can practically see her disbelief; of course the tailor was kind to Meng Yao, a paying customer! What would she be like to an underling, and one with an unpleasant background? But Meng Yao knew more of Madam Yan than just the previous day’s meeting with her, when he’d talked to her and asked her if she needed the help of a talented seamstress who needed somewhere to go. Meng Yao’s skilful enquiries and opinions on the robes that he was having commissioned definitely helped support his argument that he knew what he was talking about, and that if he said someone was skilled they must be, but Meng Yao also knew a little of Madam Yan’s history because her daughter would one day be a Jiang disciple, and Jin Ling would be fond of the Shijie with the lovely robes.

He’s certain that he’s making the right choice, to leave Sisi with her instead of at the brothel, where she’d only face injury, scarring, and heartache.

(And then turn desperate enough to be hired for the most suspect of jobs, of being used in a murder plot, and then locked away for years. Meng Yao had been careful to give her a comfortable life, but he doubts that it was any happier than the lives of the koi in his ponds. He owes her this, even if she does not know why.)

The awkward air between them doesn’t clear, even as they hire a boat to take them the half hour upstream to Yunmeng, nor while they stop at an inn for lunch. He asks her if she’d like to rent a room to freshen up in before she meets her future employer, and she agrees. Meng Yao waits downstairs after paying for the room, returning Sisi’s luggage to her.

While he waits, he wanders between the shops nearby. He doesn’t have much money to spend on frivolities, he’s carefully planned out his finances for the next year to allow him to repay the borrowed sum as soon as possible, but browsing has always been fun. His eyes catch on a hat, scholarly, a bit shorter than Meng Yao’s own preference, and he stares for a moment.

So much ribbing in his previous life, for his height, for his name, for how he was more of an administrator than a son to Jin Guangshan, even during all those years where he was the only acknowledged heir. ‘I’m doing it all for you, Mother,’ he’d told himself, through all of it. Setting his signature hat on his head every morning, like a piece of armor. That everything he did was for his mother… and yet he’d killed so many people in her name.

People like her.

Meng Yao remembers the burning fury of hating being called a whore’s son, of people washing their hands when they touched him, like he was tainted, like the filth was on him instead of their sick, twisted minds. Of being refused a chance to carry his own nephew, shooed away and made to stand apart from the golden heir of Lanling.

My mother is not like those whores, he’d thought to himself, she’s nothing like those filth, and never regretted or repented for his choices until he saw Sisi’s scarred, terrified face among the women he’d ordered to be killed.

The frightened, sobbing women who had been used to kill his own father.

Meng Yao thinks of Anxin’s terrified face as she was dragged out of the brothel this morning. He has no idea what it was about. He doesn’t think it matters. Perhaps they truly would all be better off dying in a cleansing fire than living their sad miserable lives, as he’d reasoned to himself before. That they were deserving of such a death, for how they treated Meng Shi.

All of that… any of that, was easier than the truth.

My mother was a prostitute, and I was ashamed.

Nothing, no temple, no prayers, no statues of guanyin with his mother’s face could ever erase his crimes.

“Meng Yao?” asks a hesitant voice, and he turns around to smile at Sisi. She’s wearing the same subdued outfit she’d worn to leave the brothel, but she’s washed away the sweat from travelling over water on a hot day, and her hair has been redone. She looks like any other woman in the marketplace, though the loveliness of her face is still admirable.

“The shop is not far,” he tells her. “Shall we go?”

[Read part 5 here!]

[neworleansspecial]

Dysregulation

Summary: Carlos thinks it's time to address some issues.

WC: 1.4k | AO3

Warnings: discussion of mental illness

-

They never talk about what happened at the firehouse after Owen got arrested.

To be fair, there’s a lot more going on, Carlos can admit- their home and the firehouse burned down, Tommy’s husband died, there was a massive dust storm- there hasn’t been a lot of time to talk about anything that wasn’t happening in the immediate moment. That does not mean, however, that Carlos has forgotten.

It’s not the first time he’s had to restrain TK to calm him down. While it’s not a daily occurrence, it’s happened enough that Carlos needs more than one hand to count them off. Part of him wonders if anyone else has even noticed the issue, or if it’s just him trying to hold TK together when he comes dangerously close to flying into pieces. He knows of at least two other occasions TK sought out poor coping mechanisms. There was his fight at the bar where he got arrested, and an altercation with Judd over some stupid call.

Carlos does research about it before he even thinks of talking to TK. He likes to know all the facts of a situation before he gets into it, and he figures that if he can find some answers or coping strategies online, this might go easier than just trying to shoot a shot in the dark about helping his boyfriend. What he finds describes TK’s behavior as emotional dysregulation, and it’s not uncommon in a variety of disorders, at least two of which he knows for a fact TK has been diagnosed with.

He calls Gwyn one morning alone while he’s meal prepping for the week. TK, Owen and Mateo have already gone to start their shared shift, while Carlos’ isn’t until the evening. While he doesn’t know much about Owen- seeing as TK mostly refuses to talk about his father and the two of them are rarely in the room together long- he knows him well enough to recognize a lot of the same neuroses between the two. If that doesn’t help, at least Gwyn has known TK longer than Carlos has.

They spend a few minutes on pleasantries and catching up before Carlos drops the questions on her. “I wanted to talk to you about TK.”

“He’s not hurt again, is he?”

“No, no, nothing like that, he’s fine.” Carlos double checks his mother’s recipe card and pulls out the next vegetable to dice up. “I think he is, anyway. I just wanted your advice on something.”

“Of course.”

Carlos takes a second to gather his thoughts. He doesn’t mean to just dump TK’s business out in the open, but he needs someone to help him figure this out, and he figures someone who raised TK would have some guidance on how to approach this. He wants to help TK in the same way TK helps him when he’s overwhelmed or anxious.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but sometimes TK doesn’t exactly… manage his emotions well.”

“Oh, definitely not. He gets it from Owen. Between the two of them, living in that house was just constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“That sounds familiar.” He considers the time they fought after the farmer’s market. TK acted like the world was ending, even going so far as to remove some of things from Carlos’ apartment. It had felt like an insane overreaction, but one that he couldn’t really say anything about when he didn’t know what it felt like to be in TK’s position. “How did you deal with that?”

“I spent a lot of time in therapy figuring that out.” She pauses. “Probably should have been the two of them in therapy, come to think of it. But what my therapist told me was that I have to realize that it’s real for them.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“TK’s blown up at you at least once, I assume?”

“Once or twice.”

She hums. “When he’s that upset, it’s like it’s the only emotion he’s ever had. It’s real to him. The best advice I can give you is to step inside his head with him. The thing people like you and I have to understand is that if we want to be with them, we have to understand that it's a mental illness and we aren’t going to be able to fix them. We can only support them in recovery and try to understand when they’re having an episode.”

“That’s very insightful, Gwyn.”

“I’ve been dealing with Owen Strand for almost thirty years. I picked up a few things.”

He laughs, but only because he feels like he should. They chat for a few more minutes before he hangs up and finishes his meal prep. It makes sense. Carlos isn’t a therapist, and he won’t try to be, but he can be there for TK.

When he and TK both sat down and had the conversation about their health, it had been maybe two weeks into their relationship. It was something they had needed to speak about. Carlos talked to him about being autistic, and TK told him about having ADHD and the series of inconsistent diagnoses he’s been given by the laundry list of doctors he’s been through. The current diagnosis is borderline, he had said, but he’s been diagnosed with everything from bipolar to psychosis since he was first seen by mental health professionals in his teenage years. Every doctor has a different opinion, he had said. Whatever the case, he knows what Gwyn means when she says to keep in mind that it’s not coming from a rational place in TK’s mind.

Now that they’ve moved back in with Owen while they hunt for a new place to live, things have become more tense. TK doesn’t like being here and it shows. He and Owen are constantly on edge with each other, on the cusp of a fight or actively having one that winds up with Owen drinking outside in the backyard- and pressuring Mateo to join him- while TK paces in their room and Carlos tries to convince him not to hit something. It can’t be healthy for any of them to keep living like this.

He waits until they have the place to themselves to talk about it, both for TK’s comfort and in case things blow up, as they sometimes do when TK and Carlos fall out of step with one another. They’ve had their dinner and washed up, and are now tucked under a blanket together on the couch while a documentary plays on the television.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.”

They fall into a short silence after that. TK fidgets in what he undoubtedly thinks is a subtle way, bouncing the leg that’s not pinned beneath Carlos’ weight and tapping his fingers against each other. Carlos feels bad for bringing him anxiety, but they do have to talk about it at some point.

“I love you,” he starts, “I really do love you, TK, and I’m not going anywhere, but I need you to be more aware of yourself.”

“What does that mean?”

This is the difficult part; finding a way to phrase things without making TK feel like he’s being attacked or cornered, something which will only lead to a fight. Carlos recognizes the irony of this tone-policing when he’s trying to talk to TK about the very root issue.

“I feel like you don’t have a good handle on your emotions and it’s upsetting me,” he tries. “It makes me feel like I have to walk on eggshells and like your emotions matter more than mine. I’m sure that’s not your intention, but that’s what I feel like, and I was hoping we could figure out a way to deal with this.”

“Like what?”

Carlos shrugs. “Ultimately it’s up to you, but one thought I had was about therapy. Maybe trying a different approach with your therapist, or even getting a new one. Or, I thought we could try couple’s counseling.”

“Couple’s counseling is for failing relationships.”

It is at that moment that Carlos knows he lost him. Whoever put that in his head- and Carlos’ money is on Owen- has won out over reasoning for right now. They don’t have to do that, of course, and if TK needs time to come around he can have it, but the mere suggestion has effectively shut down the conversation for now.

This is going to be a long road.

[pillage-and-lute]

Thicker Than Water (Part 2)

Part 1, (Here) Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Ao3 link HERE

Here we are y’all, it only gets sadder before we heal the hurt.

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

Of all the eyes he could have met, purely by chance, in a forest while running from people who wanted to kill him, Yennefer’s were not the one’s he would have chosen. He wasn’t sure who he’d like to see right now. Geralt definitely, but also not. It was only a small mercy Geralt wasn’t with his witchy lady love right now.

She met his eyes, intense and unexpected, like heat lightning. She looked him up and down, lip curling, disgusted and pitying, but somehow not as unkindly as he’d expected. She turned.

“Geralt,” she yelled. “I found your pet.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. 

He was about to turn and...run? Hide? What could he do? But then a pale face peeked around a tree. White blonde hair, bright, cautious eyes. 

Then the girl gasped and ran forward.

“Dandelion!” The rising cry of delight frightened birds from the trees and a blue blur rushed at him. He was slammed to the ground by a rather bedraggled princess and he had never been so glad. 

Of all the people he had burdened, he’d never felt like one around Ciri. Her arms were a vice around his neck. He hadn’t been hugged like that since his sister had passed away and he sat up in the cold, damp leaves, clutching her to him. She looked up at him with a face like a moonbeam.

“I found the white wolf, from your stories,” she said. Her eyes were big and trusting and she seemed to expect Jaskier to be pleased and proud. And he was. He had no doubt that Geralt and Ciri would be good for one another. The issue was that now he had to deal with--

“Jaskier.”

Shit. Geralt. 

He stood, setting Ciri gently down and brushing himself off. He turned.

“Hello Geralt,” he said evenly. He hoped it was evenly. Don’t yell at me, he thought. Don’t tell me I’m a burden again, as he stared into impassive golden eyes. I know I’m a burden but just let me leave, I won’t bother you again but I can’t bear it.

“Dandelion can come with us, right Geralt?” Ciri said. The White Wolf raised one eyebrow.

“Dandelion?”

Ciri clutched Jaskier’s hand in one of her mittens. “He played at my name day banquets, all of them, but Jaskier’s hard to say when you’re a baby.”

Geralt met Jaskier’s eyes and it felt like a physical blow.

“Hmmm,” he said.

“Little highness,” Jaskier said sweeping his most over the top bow. “I am afraid I cannot stay, and shall have to part from your delightful company.”

“Is Nilfguaard not looking for you,” Yennefer said cooly. 

“They’ve yet to find me.”

“Yet,” Yennefer said. “Isn’t good enough.” 

“If they find you they’ll know our secrets,” Geralt said. That hurt. Jaskier would rather die. That Geralt thought Jaskier would give him up, even if they hadn’t parted as friends, stung like salt in an already gaping wound.

“Jaskier you have to come with us,” Ciri said, dragging on his hand. “Please I’ve seen so few people I know come with us.” He couldn’t resist that. He was strong but not that strong. He looked to Geralt hesitantly.

Geralt wouldn’t want him along. He was a shit shoveler and a burden who would only eat their food and make them move slower. But as Geralt had pointed out, Nilfguaard wanted him dead too. They could just kill him here and now. Geralt could have his life’s blessing, but he wouldn’t because he was a good man.

Geralt nodded. “Come,” he said in that rough rumble that Jaskier had missed. 

He was coming along. But this time was going to be different. Jaskier wouldn’t be a nuisance or a burden. He wouldn’t talk too much, or get into trouble. He wouldn’t use up rations. He wouldn’t complain. Jaskier set his teeth like steel agains words falling out and nodded. 

They slept that night in the forest. It was cold and winter was reaching icy tendrils towards them. Yennefer had a magical tent, but it could only sleep two. She and Ciri claimed it and Jaskier could see why. Yennefer was strong as always but her posture drooped sometimes. She was exhausted. Jaskier had heard of the battle at Sodden, and could only image. Ciri of course needed somewhere warm to sleep. Geralt and Jaskier just pitched tents on either side of the fire. 

Jaskier hadn’t eaten with them that night, telling them instead that he’d eaten earlier. 

He hadn’t, and his stomach burbled unhappily as he set his tent, but he hummed low so that Geralt wouldn’t hear it. Between risking annoying Geralt and using rations that the others needed, Jaskier would be annoying. It hurt to think of though.

His one man tent was little more than cloth draped between some sticks, but it could be folded up and it was light. He’d patched it so much that it looked like a quilt, but it would keep some of the rain off. He glanced at the moon, almost totally obscurred by clouds. It looked like rain. 

Ciri begged for a song and a story but he told her he was too tired.

It was partially true. He hadn’t been eating well lately, preferring to drink his meals, and he’d been walking for days, but he was never too tired to perform, simply too wary of fraying Geralt’s nerves.

It did rain that night, and the pitiful tent dripped freezing water onto him, and the ground was cold and damp and he woke up soaked and shivering before dawn.

No one was up. That was rare, Geralt slept like a tree. As in, he didn’t. Half winks and meditation were most of his sleep schedule, the occasional deep sleep left him snoring and out for at least nine hours, but Jaskier had seen that perhaps a dozen times in twenty years. 

Now, though, the mosring was still and the light was dim, causing grey shadows to lurk on the edge of vision, and yet somehow it wasn’t ominous. His body ached and he was cold. Not a patch on him wasn’t damp and clammy, and an acorn or a rock had dug into his back all night. 

Regardless, he packed up his tent and gear, changing into some, only mildly dryer, clothes, and then he went in search of firewood. 

Jaskier had to stray much farther from the camp than he would have liked to find dry wood, but he found enough to soon have a small fire crackling merrily. He’d even found some berries he recognized for breakfast. If he foraged now, he wouldn’t eat the much needed rations.

Geralt crawled out of his tent and hummed appreciatively at the fire. That felt good. Jaskier had done something right. Not a burden.

“Look at all this fog, Geralt. Like a blanket don’t you think?” Jaskier said, poking the fire into a better arrangement. “Reminds me of that time we...” He trailed off. Geralt was scowling, face like a thundercloud and eyes like lightening. Jaskier hadn’t seen that much anger on a face since...

The mountain. 

Right.

And here he was prattling on right after he told himself he wouldn’t be a burden.

“Well, you remember,” he finished lamely. Did Geralt remember? The fog in the glen, when they’d crawled from their bedrolls into a morning made of clouds? If he did remember, did he remember it fondly? Jaskier had spent most of the day coming up with rhymes for fog and bugging Geralt for his opinions.

Another time he was a nuisance, probably. 

Jaskier huddled in on himself, wrapping his worn traveling cloak tighter around his shoulders. The berries really hadn’t been enough, and he wondered if he should have some of the horrible traveler’s loaf from his pack. He decided to save it. If he could wait until lunch, or better yet dinner, the food would last longer. Less of a burden.

He wanted to play his lute, the sexy girl had been languishing for days now, but his fingers were too cold and stiff to play. And he’d annoy Geralt. Even worse, he might wake Ciri from her much-needed sleep. 

He pulled his girl out anyway, not to play, but he carefully tended to the strings, plucking each quietly once or twice to check the tension, then he brought out his cloth and carefully waxed and polished the wood.

It wasn’t unusual for a good lute to last twenty years. But twenty years on the road through dust and mud and rain was different. Constant care and an oilskin cover were his saviors. It might not have been worth it for any other instrument, but this was Filavandrel’s lute. Somehow it seemed like the only instrument worthy of singing about the White Wolf. 

He put it away.

He didn’t sing about the White Wolf much, since the mountain. He didn’t want to break his own heart again every night, and a low profile had been to his advantage. 

Somehow though, it made him sad, and he thought of Professor Fredegar, the master of poetry at Oxenfurt, or he had been.

Fredegar had been an old man. He looked like he’d been made out of parchment and had somehow ingrown his clothes, like a turtle in a shell of thick woolen sweaters. He had been quiet and his hands shook, and Jaskier had liked him. He’d been kind and had wonderful stories to tell if a student came to his dusty office and sat with him a while.

There had always been something sad in the back of those pale eyes, though.

He’d been a great poet, still was, but in his prime he’d written the Saga of the Flame, a trilogy of epic poetry. The stories individually in the saga were well known about the Continent, but the whole tale... 

The first part told of a young man, engaged to his blind ady love, but without money for marriage so he traveled to foreign places. Many smaller adventures were had and the first book was pretty jolly. 

The second book was him seeking fame along with fortune, and forgetting his lady love for the sake of his pride, wanting someone grander than a blind village girl. Then he lost a battle of wits and was greatly humbled. 

The third book found the man stumbling home, getting lost along the way. He returned to his village almost twenty years after he’d left, and his love had died, succumbing alone and uncared for to a return of the illness that had cost her her sight in her youth.

It was a true tragedy, and one that didn’t advertise itself as such until the last moment. It hooked a reader into emotions so deep they could drown. And there was a quality, something heavy in the story, that told Jaskier that at least some of it was real. He would look at Fredagar, sometimes, the way his eyes were so sad and faraway, and think about how the man had written a masterpiece and retired in barely middle age, rarely writing more than a sonnet here and there. There was a harp hung on the wall of pale wood, like that of the man in the saga, but Fredagar never touched it.

And then the man had died. He’d been one hundred and two, according to the chancellor of the university. He was buried by maybe a dozen faculty members and half as many students. And Jaskier had stood there, on that bright summer day at the graveside, and sworn that he wouldn’t live his life inside a university, to be buried and mourned by no family or friends besides some half-grateful students.

Yet, lately, it didn’t seem so bad. 

He’d finished Her Sweet Kiss, and it was a true hit. He’d raised the reputation of Geralt, and witcher’s as a whole. Whatever happened, Jaskier’s name would be remembered forever. He could retire. Put Filavandrel’s lute in a glass case in a tiny office and teach ungrateful, hungover brats about meter for the rest of his life. It sounded nice, in a way. To settle down, and leave all thoughts of witchers and monsters and magic and wars behind him.

He couldn’t though. He’d been dragged into this and he’d have to see it through.

His stomach burbled unhappily and he glanced over at Geralt to see if he’d caught it. The witcher was staring at the ground, glowering like he would turn it into ash if he could. 

Then he looked up and caught Jaskier’s gaze.

Jaskier was too slow to avoid pale gold irises, but looked away anyway. Geralt crossed to him from around the fire, boots crunching on leaves and frost.

Don’t break my heart again. Jaskier thought. I’m trying.

Geralt placed a hand like an anvil on Jaskier’s shoulder and he looked up.

“Ciri is glad you are here,” Geralt said. Then he continued to Yennefer’s tent to wake them up.

Ciri is glad, Jaskier could read between the lines. I will tolerate you for her sake. She is glad you are here. I am not.

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

No! You dumb boy! Geralt means ‘I am very glad you are here but so is Ciri and I’m a grumpy fuck with the emotional intelligence of a mollusk!’ 

Anyway, here it is at last. Still gets more whumpy before it gets better.

[yelena-bellova]

Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen: Under New Management

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n and Poe await an update on Leia and attend a meeting with the rest of the Resistance. Afterwards, Y/n takes the opportunity to have an important conversation with Poe.

Warnings: light angst

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: I didn’t spell check this one too much because I was happy with how it turned out and if I evaluate too much, I’ll end up hating it lol. I’m trying not to overthink my writing anymore, easier said than done. Hopefully you enjoy!

—————

She was going to be alright.

Most likely.

Possibly.

The medics couldn’t give me a definitive answer as to whether Mom would live or not. She was a fighter, they’d said, and her pulse and oxygen levels were stable. However, none of them had ever dealt with a patent having been sucked into the vacuum of space so they were basically guessing. Coma patients could go either way, they’d told me sadly. I was frustrated, but understanding and thankful for their honesty with me. Mom was placed in med bay quarters and was to be heavily monitored. 

We sat at either end of her bed, Poe near her feet and me holding her hand and studying her peaceful face. The medics had left, assuring me that if they detected her levels changing so much as one number, they’d come running. Her skin had finally warmed up, the ice crystals on her face had disappeared. She looked so normal, as if she was simply taking a nap. What I’d have given for the situation to be as normal as that and waking her up as easy as calling her name…

Poe and I sat in a tense silence until the beeps of our communicators broke it, a message alerting us that a meeting was to be held. Attendance was mandatory. 

I drew a breath slowly, trying to collect my thoughts and calm my ever racing pulse. I could practically hear my mother’s voice telling me to go do my job and not worry about her. She would be right, war didn’t wait for illness and truth be told, I wanted to go do my part. The Resistance was in shambles currently and the desire to help piece it back together was almost overwhelming. By no means did my drive lessen the difficulty of leaving Mom alone and comatose.

I rolled my head to look over at Poe, “We have to go.” He sighed and rubbed his face harshly, it was just as hard for him to leave her, “Yeah…We come right back after though.”

We rose from our seats and I laid a featherlight kiss to Mom’s forehead, squeezing her hand one last time before hesitantly walking away. Poe took my hand into his and pressed his lips to it as we left her room, I was beyond grateful for his steady presence during all of this. But the lingering cloud of guilt still hung over my head that I hadn’t told him yet about my secret. Now that he had noticed when I’d sensed the bridge’s destruction, he was inevitably going to have questions. At some point amidst the chaos that had suddenly overtaken our lives, I’d find a time to tell him. 

We retained an appearance of professionalism once we reached the second bridge, dropping our hands and going to stand with our respective groups. It felt wrong not having him sit with me and the other commanders, I watched him bite back a sad smile as he mixed among the other pilots. Commander D’Acy looked more prepared than I was capable of as I approached her, “I can deliver the news about your mother if you’d like,” she offered, the two of us standing off to the side of the room, “Is there any news?” “No, unfortunately,” I answered, “But I’ll give the news with you. She would kill me if I left my duties to others.” D’Acy nodded and we walked together to the center of the room, silence fell as we took our places. I awkwardly stepped forward, I wasn’t used to commanding the attention of a room. I was sent on missions, some like Jakku and some diplomatic, I even helped with battle strategies. But I wasn’t typically addressing crowds, it felt strange to have everyone’s eyes on me.

I took a deep breath, “General Organa…Leia,” my voice almost faltered, but I squared my shoulders and pictured my mother standing tall, “Is unconscious but she’s recovering. That’s the only information I have and unfortunately, it’s the only piece of good news I can give.” I turned to D’Acy for confirmation, even though I already knew what I was about to say to be true.

“Admiral Ackbar, all of our leadership,” I paused, trying to find the strength to finish, “They’re all gone.” Groans and gasps left everyone’s lips, this part of leading was one I could quickly learn to hate. I didn’t like disappointing people and my stomach twisted as I took in everyone’s faces. Poe, though distressed, gave me a small nod of encouragement to keep going,

“Leia was the sole survivor of the bridge by some miracle,” I continued, omitting the aspect of the Force, “If she were standing here with us, she would say to save your sorrow for after the fight. Right now, we have to live by those words, as hard as that may be…Commander D’Acy?” I traded places with her, taking a seat and waiting for her announcement.

“The chain of command is clear as to who should take General Organa’s place,” D’Acy began, my eyes flickered to Poe who I noticed sat up straighter at her words. I also took note of the fact that I had as well, why was that? I had always assumed that my mother would put me in command should something happen to her, it felt wrong to think of someone else doing it.

“Vice Admiral Holdo of the cruiser Ninka,” D’Acy announced, Poe looked just as unknowingly disappointed as I suspected I did. 

I’d met Holdo several times over my years in the Resistance, I’d never had a fully formed opinion on her. She was reserved yet held a commanding presence, but I’d always gotten the impression that she didn’t care for me. Our leadership styles differed greatly, she carried an air of superiority that I made sure never to. The few times that Dad had come up in passing conversation, her expression had always changed to one of distaste. Maybe she held the fact that my father was a smuggler against me, I was never sure. It didn’t matter, she was now my superior. Mom had chosen her and not me. 

Holdo stepped forward as D’Acy came to sit next to me and the room awaited her words.

“Thank you, Commanders,” she nodded in our direction, “Four hundred of us on three ships. We’re the very last of the Resistance. But we’re not alone. In every corner of the galaxy, the downtrodden and oppressed know our symbol, and they put their hope in it. We are the spark that will light the fire that will restore the Republic. That spark, this Resistance, must survive. That is our mission. Now, to your stations, and may the Force be with us.” She knew how to give a speech, I’d give her that. My mother’s influence was audible in her words, but the lack of layout of a plan worried me. Were we all just supposed to go back to business as usual? Ignoring the fact that there was a fleet of Star Destroyers on our tail? None of it felt right.

The crowd begin to disperse, doing exactly what they’d been told. D’Acy and I stood to leave but not before she placed a hand on my arm, 

“Please update us if anything changes on your mother.”

“Of course,” I nodded. I turned around to go find Poe, but rather than join him I saw him in pursuit of Holdo. No doubt he was thinking the same things I was, but Poe took action while I debated internally. Still, it couldn’t hurt to see where Holdo’s head was at. I climbed the steps and made my way towards them, as soon as I was close it seemed the conversation was already ending. The last words I caught from Holdo were “stick to your post and follow my orders.” As she gracefully walked away, Poe was left dumbstruck in her wake. I chuckled and patted him on the shoulder, “She didn’t fall for the Dameron charm?” “You won’t do any better,” he replied lowly.

“Oh, don’t worry, I already know she doesn’t like me,” I said quietly before heading in Holdo’s direction. It was unlikely I’d get anything out of her that Poe hadn’t. but maybe I could approach her differently. I was Leia’s daughter, I’d grown up in Galactic Senate meetings, diplomacy was one of my skills. 

“Vice Admiral,” I called, Holdo turned to face me, “That was a wonderful speech, very inspiring. I was wondering what our plan of action was regarding putting distance between us and the Star Destroyers.”

“I appreciate your concern, Commander Solo,” she smiled politely, “At the moment I’m advising everyone to stick to their posts and let us handle things.”

“Well, yes, I agree. As a Commander, this is my post and I’m supposed to help handle things.”

“Your job for the time being is to stay with your mother,” Holdo placed her hands on my arms patronizingly, “We can handle everything from here and if you’re needed, we will find you.”

There it was. I was supposed to stay out of the way while the adults handled the situation. I’d earned respect among my co-workers and proved that though young, I knew what I was doing. But Holdo and I had never consistently worked together. She saw me as a young, naive woman put in a position she couldn’t handle. 

“With all due respect, Vice Admiral,” I smiled, trying to hide my growing frustration, “While I will be checking in on my mother regularly, I also want to do my job. And right now my job is to help us get out of range of those Destroyers. So if there’s a plan in place, I’d like to be made aware of it.”

“Commander Solo, I understand your frustration with the situation. But I’m going to tell you the same thing I told your boyfriend, Captain Dameron…Stick to your post and follow my orders.” With that, she went on her way leaving me in the same position I’d found Poe in. If there was a plan, I clearly was not going to be let in on it. 

—————

Mom hadn’t changed in the short time I’d been away. Though I’d returned with the hope that I’d find her awake and ready to take charge. 

I was pacing the room anxiously, playing back my conversation with Holdo and trying to map out the conversation I was about to have. Poe would inevitably end up here and I couldn’t put off telling him about my powers any longer. I couldn’t hold back the painful details or make it sound simpler than it actually was, he was getting the messy truth about the secret I’d kept from him.

“Hey," he greeted at the door, having changed into his fatigues, “Any change?” “Mmm mmm,” I hummed, “Which isn’t a bad thing but…” “Obviously not what we want.” I shook my head and sighed, “Holdo’s just as fun as I remember.” Poe bristled at the memory of his interaction with the Vice Admiral and placed his hands on his hips, “Yeah, don’t think for a second that I’m letting that one go. What’d she say to you?” “Stick to my post and follow her orders. I’ll be commed if they need me, otherwise I’m supposed to stay here at my mother’s bedside. She also definitely holds the fact that we’re together against me.” He groaned in disgust and ran a hand through his hair. How Poe managed to look so wildly attractive in the worst circumstances befuddled me, but it was a welcome distraction. I’d always loved how he looked in that dark brown leather jacket…

“Okay, so Holdo may not have a plan,” he started, gesturing towards the door, “But what about us?”

I turned to Mom, wishing more than anything that she was awake. I needed her guidance and the Resistance needed her leadership.

“We’ll come up with something but right now,” I walked towards Poe and took his hand, “I need to tell you something.”

His expression changed to one of concern, he quickly took my other hand, “Is something wrong?” “No, and yes, but mostly no. It depends on how you look at it but,” I stopped and tried to give a small smile, “I’ll let you decide whether it’s good or bad.” I led him to our seats next to my mother and sat close enough that our knees pressed together. Poe’s hands immediately rested on mine as he leaned forward, I inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled before laying my hands on top of his,

“You know me, you know my story, you know my life hasn’t been…easy,” I began nervously, “With all I’ve told you, you’ve never once judged me or treated me differently.” “Right,” Poe chimed in, his eyes never leaving mine, “I love every part of you.”

I smiled at his words and dragged my eyes down to our hands, “I guess I’m asking you to love one more part.”

I stood up slowly and positioned myself a few feet away from him before reaching into my jacket. I unhooked my lightsaber and held it up, flipping the switch and watching the weapon come to life. Poe’s eyes went wide, his jaw fell slack and he twisted his body to face me. It took a lot to stun Poe into silence but this was easily the most shocked I’d ever seen him. Rightfully so, I’d just dropped a bomb on him.

After finally blinking a few times, he began to stammer out a response, “Y-Yeah, okay, that’s uh, that’s something worth mentioning.” I sighed, at least he wasn’t freaking out yet. Involuntarily I rocked the saber slightly from side to side, Poe’s eyes followed the blue blade in wonder. I didn’t know if he’d ever seen one in person but the way he was reacting to it made me think he’d only heard stories.

“How long have you been a…had this…” he fumbled, “How long?” I deactivated the lightsaber and hooked it back inside my jacket, “Since I was a child.” Poe’s eyes blew open again and his brows raised, “You kept it a secret for that long?” I once again took my seat across from him, “I discovered I had the Force when I was a kid, only one other person knew in my family and…” I fiddled with a loose thread on my jacket, “And it wasn’t my mom or dad.” “I got it,” Poe said softly, his fingers coming to brush over my knee comfortingly.

I forced myself to keep going, “I kept it a secret through my life because I was scared of what I could do. Imagine being eight years old and knowing you have this power, I was terrified of myself for the longest time. Eventually, once I was older, I began practicing using the Force. Just stupid stuff like moving pens. It felt…good. Like I’d been denying a part of myself by not using the gift I had.”

My pulse began to pick up as I sorted through the more tragic parts of my story, “I, uh,” I cleared my throat to try and dislodge the lump forming, “My lightsaber came from a confrontation I had, with him. I knew he was in trouble and I took the Falcon to go rescue him,” I focused my eyes on my lap, “I was too late.” Poe was tearfully listening to my every word, he was hunched over with his hands clutching my legs. It grounded me in a way that kept me able to recount my tale to him. He was my rock. “Ever since then, I’ve been training on my own,” I continued more steadily, “Mostly in the forest back on D’Qar or in my room. Things changed on Takodana. I used my saber during the fight to protect Finn, him and my dad saw and the secret was no more. Afterwards, Dad had words for me that I’ll spend the rest of my life grateful for. He’s the reason that I decided to stop being so afraid of my powers.”

We were both smiling at that point, me from the warm memories and Poe probably simply because I was. 

“Everything came to a head at Starkiller,” a chill ran down my back, “After my father was killed…Ren and I fought each other and he tried to get me to join him. I was so angry, I wanted to kill him for all the wrong reasons. If he’s going to die, it should be to save the galaxy not because of a personal vendetta. My dad, for all his shortcomings, was not a vengeful person and neither am I.”

I bit my lip and turned my gaze to Mom, “I thought I’d kept my secret hidden from her but turns out, she knew all along. I don’t know why I was so surprised, of course she knew…”

Poe laughed and I followed immediately after, slipping my fingers through the cracks between his. He squeezed my palms and smiled proudly, 

“You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met,” he complimented, staring into my y/e/c eyes with so much love, “I can’t even begin to tell you how proud I am of you.”

“So you’re not, I don’t know, scared?” I asked, scrunching my face slightly out of fear of what he could say.

Poe chortled and moved his hands to my cheeks, pulling me in for a soft kiss. I could feel the warmth and tenderness in the motion, it was sweeter than the recent ones we’d been enjoying. When we pulled away, he rubbed his thumb slowly over the skin, “I could never be scared of you, sweetheart.” Relief flooded my body, I’d never felt so unconditionally loved in my life by anyone other than my parents. With how little I’d thought of myself since I discovered my powers, I’d fallen into the belief that everyone else would feel the same way. Poe was destroying every lie I’d told myself with each second that he stared at me with adoration on his face. 

“I do have one question,” Poe leaned back in his seat, “If it’s not a secret anymore, are you gonna stop hiding your lightsaber?” “Huh,” I chuckled, “I hadn’t even thought about that.” “What’re you waiting for?” Poe crossed his arms and lightly bumped his boot against my shin, “I want everybody to know I’m in love with a badass Jedi.”

“I’m not a Jedi,” I was quick to end that assumption. Though I was embracing my gift, I wasn’t ready to take that definitive step yet.

“Whatever you say, Master,” Poe jested followed by a charming wink.

I smirked at him before getting up from my seat, Poe had a point. There really was no reason to hide it anymore, it would probably feel great even. I unhooked the lightsaber from my jacket, letting it weigh in my hand for a few seconds as I gazed fondly at it. The more at ease I became with my powers, the more I grew to love the weapon I’d once feared. Taking a quick glance at Poe who was grinning proudly, I attached the saber to my holster for anyone and everyone to see. It felt right. Poe rose to come stand in front of me,

“Thank you,” I whispered, resting my hands on his chest. 

His hands found their new familiar spot on my waist, “For what?” “Being you.” Poe leaned down and nuzzled his nose against mine, “I’m not me without you.” I wanted the moment to last longer, we needed it. Peace in the type of circumstances we were in was rare and fleeting and I knew it would have to end soon. The First Order was chasing us, my mother still lay unconscious and there was questionable leadership guiding us, but at least I had Poe. With him, I was fairly certain we could figure our way out of anything.

“Poe, Y/n,” a voice interrupted our lovely silence.

We broke apart to see an urgent Finn in the doorway with a black-haired woman standing behind him.

“What’s going on?” Poe asked.

“This is Rose,” Finn gestured to her, Rose held up a hand in greeting, “We think we may have figured out a way to escape from the Destroyers.”

————

A/N: *sigh* Everyone deserves a boyfriend as supportive as Poe. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, let me know if you’d like to be added to either of the taglists ☺️

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Star Wars Permanent Taglist: @paintballkid711 @katrynec @caswinchester2000

[madyxtothemax]

The Pit Stop - Part One with @MyArrowBends

Atticus: 

-After a few days, the roads and sights began to blur together. Each truck stop was the same. The coffee all tasted the same and the bathrooms were all equally disgusting. I had enjoyed the solitude at first, but was now beginning to get a little stir crazy, and despite having bought a thicker foam for the bed, it still wasn’t the greatest sleep I’d ever had. 

As I crossed into California, I found myself craving human interaction, and more important than that, I had decided one way or another I would be sleeping in an actual bed tonight. As I gassed up at another same looking, shitty coffee making gas station, I didn’t bother checking google for any nearby hotels, figuring I’d stop when I grew tired and see what was close at that point. 

The hours passed and the sun was inching down toward the horizon with a speed that my van couldn’t seem to match. Dusk had settled and on the horizon I could see a cluster of lights that belonged to a city. I wasn’t sure which one it was, it didn’t matter. I had stopped paying attention to the names at this point since I didn’t really have a destination in mind. I would know when I was ready to stop and until I felt that feeling, I’d keep driving west. 

As the city lights grew closer, that same feeling of from earlier in the day returned. I was ready to find a motel for the night, maybe even somewhere I could grab a drink and a greasy burger. The potential for brief human interaction had a grin pulling the corners of my lips up. 

Still, I avoided searching something out on my phone, wanting to see what I could find on my own. Exiting off the freeway, and making my way toward the city, my eyes searched the buildings as I passed them by. Disappointingly, nothing much seemed to be open...at least nothing that grabbed my attention or sparked any interest. I wanted to find something local, I wasn’t interested in any kind of franchise. Those places were not geared toward any kind of interaction, speed and efficiency was their purpose. 

Finally after a few turns bringing me deeper into the city, I spotted a neon sign. The bright OPEN flashing in the door was the only invitation I needed. Admittedly, I wasn’t paying proper attention because I was still needing to keep an eye on the road, but as I pulled my van over to the sidewalk and looked up at the sign to fully read it, I couldn’t stop my laughter as it filled the quiet around me. 

A tattoo shop. 

I was not a collector of skin art, even though I liked it, I had never really felt a desire or pull to permanently mark my body with any sort of image. But I could see people inside, and I could go in and look around. I could get that human interaction I was craving even if I had zero intentions of getting a tattoo. Yeah. I could do that. 

Twisting the key in the ignition to turn off the engine, I unbuckled my seatbelt and made my way toward the door, noting the time on the door before opening it. I paused to check the time on my phone...they weren’t too far from closing. Perfect. Just enough time to have myself a casual conversation with someone about something I’d never follow through on before finding myself some food and a bed to sleep on.-

Madyx:

<I’d woken with it, the unshakable intuition alerting me that something was on the way. Something for me to attend to. Something significant. Someone to benefit from my unique abilities. Something to shake up the doldrums of a monotonous wave of months. 

As the hours in the day had passed like any other with a few window shoppers, bookings and not much more, whatever I had been anticipating hadn’t materialized. My intuition wasn’t normally so off, in fact I momentarily wondered if I’d pissed off the wrong people and lost my privileges. But, nah, I couldn’t shake it, even as the hours ticked down to less than fifteen minutes before the neon went dark. 

Having just finished with the people who’d shown up to book a session with Jordan, I was relegated to the idea I’d served as a glorified personal assistant for the day. Hell, I hadn’t even done a single piercing, let alone expressed anything in ink. At least Jordan would be pleased with what I’d lined up for her; a lot of people looking to lose their memories and oh-so-many willing to accept whatever consequences came with those choices.

I had my back turned as the group of three left, the bell chiming their exit. Oddly, the shop didn’t feel empty; I wasn’t alone after all. 

Turning, I was unsurprised to see a guy had wandered in just as the others had left. First impression was strong: he looked road weary, like he’d been places, but he wasn’t weighted by fatigue - nope. He wore whatever travels he’d been on with an earnestness. He wasn’t unkempt, but it looked like he hadn’t had a shave in a few days, and there was nothing that could have been done to conceal that he was damn gorgeous. I’d need to see more skin to know if there was any ink hidden under the clothes, and there were no visible piercings… visible being the operative word… 

Right.

I detoured my thoughts from veering in the direction of the gutter and noted the feeling that surfaced during the day had morphed into something more tangible. 

Well then.

I walked his way, which conveniently enough, was in the direction of the sign that was about to go dark. He, whoever he was, already had an unspoken invitation to stay as long as he liked.> 

Hey man, anything I can help you with? 

Atticus: 

-As I stood at the door, hand gripping the handle while sliding my phone into my back pocket, I looked up in time to see three people headed my way. I swung the door open and held it for them, offering an easy smile as they passed and spoke with an excitement I suddenly realized I wanted to feel. Seeing it on others left me no choice but to notice that I was heavily lacking that type of emotion in my own life. Sure, I had bought my van and felt the excitement and when I hit the road, it was there. But it was surface level excitement. 

I wanted to feel the rush of doing something impactful in my life. I still wanted to have some kind of human contact, and while my opinion and lack of desire to ink my skin hadn’t changed in the thirty seconds it took for me to hold a door open and walk inside the shop, I was definitely more open to suggestions. 

The guy who was working had his back to me. That was fine, he was busy and I had all the time in the world to wait to be noticed. Rather than doing something obnoxious like clearing my throat, I turned and began to look at the flash on the walls. Each page was neatly framed and hung with obvious care. Not a single one was off kilter. It made me smile. Anyone who paid this much attention to detail truly cared about what they did. I was envious of their passion.

I didn’t even have artwork that had hung on the walls in my office back in New York. Maybe if I had, my attitude toward being stuck behind a desk all day would have improved. Likely not. 

As I scanned a page filled with anchors, ships and pinup girls, a voice was directed at me. I had been so lost in my head, I forgot my entire reason for stepping into a shop I had no business being in. Turning my attention on the guy, I paused at his question. Shit. Instant attraction. I couldn’t remember the last time that had ever happened. My dick twitched as if to say, SURPRISE I still work! I felt completely disarmed. A fraud. An imposter. I couldn’t help the laugh that was two parts guilt and one part eagerness. 

“...anything I can help you with…”

Was there anything he could help me with? ...yes there certainly was, but I really didn’t want to admit that or what my initial reaction to him had been. My eyes searched his face first and then his gaze as it remained on me. His eyes were warm and welcoming the way my beloved hoodie felt each time I put it on. 

I was taking too long to answer but he didn’t seem to mind considering I was one of those assholes who showed up 15 minutes before closing. Remembering my entire reason for coming in here, to have a conversation with someone, I lifted my hand to the frame on the wall I had been looking at and grinned lazily at him, one side slightly higher than the other as I answered his question with one of my own.- Do you know who drew these? 

Madyx:

<The closer I got, the better my last call was looking. He appeared to be admiring what he saw on the wall which was a lift to my confidence after a day of nada. I was starting to pick up on the energy he was throwing off, and it was coming through strong. He was rife with a quiet excitement, like he was flirting with epiphanies and on the edge of taking chances. I was feeling it on a vibration much higher than my norm. Instant clarity. I relaxed into myself after his arrival helped me shake that unrequited anticipation I’d battled all day.  

When his eyes flicked off the art on the wall to me, I was ill prepared. His steel-blue irises were rimmed in navy, and subtly backlit; his gaze flecked with mischief. The cut of his jaw was a visual temptation outfitted with an infuriatingly attractive amount of scruff. His laugh broke me out of my preoccupation. It was telling, but only thanks to my extra sensory skills. 

His grin though… that was what slayed me where I stood. Crooked and slow, even stretched his lips were full and fetching.  Literally, I couldn’t have hand-picked the features of my non-type type more perfectly. He was exactly what I liked in a guy, at least physically. 

The lift of his hand to indicate the frame on the wall brought up my stare. A confident grin preceded my answer.>  

That would be me. But those are some of my more generic samples. I’ve got a book you can check if you’re in the market. Unless you’ve already got something specific in mind? 

<My eyes raked shamelessly up and down his body, taking stock of the canvas, before heading home to his eyes. I didn’t have to wonder if the charge I was feeling between us was legit. I knew it. If he had come for some ink and a fuck, I’d be happy to indulge his pleasure, even if it wasn’t in store for me… there’s no way I wouldn’t enjoy it.> 

Atticus: 

-The weight of this guy’s stare left me feeling some kind of way. At first, I thought I might be getting one of those he’s into you vibes, but then he answered my question and doubt began to creep back in. Maybe he was one of those people who were far too perceptive and he could smell the scent of wannabe all over me. 

No, I didn’t have anything in mind. I wasn’t interested in getting a tattoo, which was how I felt before I opened the door. I just wanted to have a conversation. Seemed the only way for me to do that without him getting annoyed that I was wasting his time so close to the end of the day was to keep looking at his work. I could do that, wanted to, actually. 

I shook my head, answering as honestly and non-committal as possible as his gaze hit me with a pointed once over. All right. I knew that look. I had given it out a time or two myself. I felt more confident as I found my voice again.- 

No. I don’t have anything specific in mind. I’m not exactly the type to just fill my skin with ink. -I paused and considered how my words sounded then quickly added to it so as not to insult the guy who clearly had no problem filling his own skin with ink which I suddenly wanted to check out every bit of.- I mean, not without research, that is. I’d love to see your book. 

-As he guided me to where a few different books sat on top of the glass countertop, I noticed each one had a different name on the spine. The one he gave me said Madyx. I grinned at him again and flipped open the cover. There were pages of photos of tattoos done on people. Some pages had drawings, too, and I took my time looking at each one. The silence between us was comfortable and easy. When my eyes landed on a particularly colourful image that took up someone’s entire back I paused to study it.- Wow. This one must have taken quite a while. Your work is incredible, Madyx. 

-I chanced a glance his way as I said his name so he knew I wasn’t just blowing smoke up his ass, before looking back down and flipping another page. I was beginning to feel like I was leading him on knowing I wasn’t going to be in town long enough to commit any kind of time like that, even if I did want ink. Which in the three minutes since I last asked myself, still hadn’t changed. I couldn’t pull the trigger on something that permanent. Plus, a tattoo that large would have taken more than one session, I knew that much. As I shifted from foot to foot, trying to figure out how to let him know I was sorry to have wasted his time, the light caught something below the glass counter. It was a showcase of sorts filled with what I assumed was body jewelry. My stomach lurched and adrenaline surged through my veins. I’d always been interested in getting a piercing, maybe...it was far less permanent than ink and wouldn’t take even a fraction of time.- 

Do you only do tattoos? -Sliding the book to the side a little, I checked out the display of hardware with more than the curious interest I had previously given to his artwork.- 

Madyx:

<Gorgeous seemed to be stalling. I sensed a reluctance I couldn’t quite define. I was starting to think it was definitely his first time, or maybe he was just feeling out the idea. BULLSEYE. He admitted as much by answering that he wasn’t the type to fill his skin with ink, but I wasn’t offended, nope. His eyes seemed to reflexively land on my own collection of pieces, and I wanted to invite him to gawk with those blues all he wanted. 

I didn’t care if he didn’t want any work only that it might end up in him leaving sooner rather than later. I was not down with that. I almost missed when he caught his self-perceived fuck up, but was nearly punch-drunk when he took me up on the offer to check out my book. Normally I wouldn’t waste someone’s time if they weren’t actually intent on letting me scratch my artistic itch, but he didn’t seem in a hurry to leave and, duh, same page. 

I handed off the book and he seemed to be truly checking it out. There was an excitement for me, one I hadn’t quite tasted. It was a thousand flavors, custom made...meant for me. Yeah, this was hitting way below the epidermis, into the bone, and below the belt, too. When he stopped on the page he did, my gut twisted in the best way, he just so happened to land on the favorite piece I’d ever laid down in ink. It had been inspired by Klimt’s “The Kiss” per the patron’s request, but with several liberties worked into the artistic elements. Instead of an obscure male and female, it was clearly two males. It had morphed from a symbolist piece to something more sci-fi and steampunk.  There were three dimensional aspects and an inordinate amount of intricate details, like any provoking piece, it begged look after look. In total it had taken 36 hours in six sessions. I would have got lost thinking about it if something else hadn’t caught my attention - my name. The intention in his tone was unmistakable. Now we were getting somewhere.

I didn’t even care that we didn’t discuss that tatt he’d stopped on, it was logged into the distant past when his attention shifted to the display of body jewelry. I walked to the opposite side of the counter, light shining up from the backlit case, we were closer to face to face and hell-to-the-yes; I saw the change in his posture. We were REALLY getting somewhere. 

I handle the piercings, too. <clearing the space of the books for the full view> But before we get to that, we need to level the playing field. Got a name or should I just call you gorgeous? 

Atticus:

-Generally speaking, I was not always very quick to pick up the cues when someone was flirting with me. It usually took a couple of are they or aren’t they moments before I caught on and then properly joined in on the exchange of the flirting game. Tonight it only took me two of those moments. First when I caught sight of him looking me over and then again, just now when he called me gorgeous. 

My grin at Madyx was instant and interested as I answered, holding out my hand to him for a shake, as proper dudes do.- Atticus. 

-When his hand slid into mine, I gave it a solid squeeze, and chanced a light brush of my thumb over the back of his before releasing it. His hand was warm and slightly rough on the palm, not at all unpleasant, the kind of hand that knew how to do hard work and wasn’t afraid of it. Not at all like my paper-pushing, then couch lazing hands. The most work mine had been doing lately had been flicking a signal indicator for left and right. 

As I returned my attention back to the display of body jewelry, I briefly thought about the other places I might enjoy the rough grip of his hands and damn near groaned. My dick was more than on board and before I could pitch any kind of tents of embarrassment, I considered piercing the damn thing just to get it to go back down. As far as ideas one might think about to initiate a cooling down effect on their body, this one should have worked for bringing my semi back to completely flaccid. Should have. 

It didn’t. 

The more I imagined Madyx jamming a needle through my most sensitive flesh, the more my pulse quickened and the more I discovered that I liked the idea. Fuck. Guess my body had decided for me. I now only needed to man up and tell the guy what I wanted. Vocalization time. If I couldn’t ask for the damn piercing, I did not deserve to have his hands on me, and that, judging by the sinking pit my stomach had just become was not at all what I wanted. 

Given how everything else I had done since rolling into this town has been on impulse decision making, I let my mouth run without much consultation with my brain, and hoped for the best.-

I’d like to be handled. -Welp. That was a wide open innuendo of his own words that couldn’t be taken back now. Guess I wasn’t going with my usual subtle approach, then again, nothing about this encounter was close to my usual.- A piercing, maybe two? Do you have time tonight? I noticed the sign said you were closing right away. I can always come back tomorrow if you need to close up and get out of here... 

-I wouldn’t keep him if he had somewhere else to be, but I really didn’t want to wait until tomorrow, I was too afraid of losing my nerve or even worse, waking up having decided I suddenly wanted an entire back piece devoted to body piercings. I shuddered at that particular thought before shaking my head, waiting to see if he was game for some over time before I even broached the topic of where I wanted him to pierce me.-     

Madyx:

<There was the grin again, but this one drew me in like it was baited with something addictive. I wanted a taste. I also wanted to hear him say my name again, that was until he told me his. 

 Atticus. 

As if I wasn’t already in deep shit with the grin, he had to go and share a name with one of my favorite literary characters. I wanted to roll it around in my brain on a loop, then say it out loud so I could see how it would feel in the slide off my tongue.  I swallowed thickly and dropped my hand into the one he offered for a shake, setting off a chain reaction I had in no way expected. 

Our hands fit like they belonged to each other, his warmth matched mine but his skin was smoother, more pliant. My eyes hit his just as I felt the subtle stroke of his thumb on mine. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and an electrifying buzz scaled my spine, then split and radiated north, east, south and west. My heart started to race in an erratic beat against my rib cage. When heat balled in my gut and prickled along the underside of my dick, it finally registered what was going on. Pleasure had always been my gift, but I had only played delivery boy and spectator so I hadn’t immediately recognized my receptivity. And it was specifically something about him…. I could feel his desire commingling with mine, the energy and tension between us behaving like a magnet...SNAP. 

Shit. For the first time in my life I was on the other side of the glass I’d always looked through. He was human, it shouldn’t be possible, but his singular, innocent touch had been undeniably thrill inducing. My mind and body were both fully engaged. If it wasn’t for the loss of his hand and his next words, I probably would have stood there in silence like a mooning asshat…. Lost in his eyes and all that.

But, HELLO, he wanted to be handled. I crossed my arms casually over my chest and couldn’t suppress the sideways smirk that came on quick. I’d handle him all he wanted, and with curiosity layering on top of the attraction to him, I wasn’t going to be shy. 

I kept getting hit with solid signals from him, they were unlike anything I’d ever felt, and somehow I knew he was also outside of his norm, but completely natural.  My attention perked when he brought up piercings and something about coming back tomorrow. 

Time to perish that thought. 

Shaking my head, I dropped my hands in a wide sprawl on the display case, leaning towards him.> 

I’ve got the time and my place is just upstairs. So what do you want, Atticus? <The question was meant to be overt and open ended. And if I loved learning his name… saying it packed a thousand times the punch.>  And for the record, I’d love to handle you. <It was shameless and I was not at all sorry.>

Atticus:

-He lived upstairs...I laughed at the immediate thoughts that came to mind then shook my head slowly, speaking quickly before he could get any kind of insulted.- 

Seems for the moment we are neighbours, Madyx. -The hand that had just held his, because of course I would now be differentiating my hands by whether or not they had touched him, lifted and I thumbed over my shoulder to my van parked out front. As his eyes moved to where I had indicated, I stared at the way his lips curved up at the corners and my fingers twitched at my sides wanting nothing more than to touch him again. 

Since it was generally frowned upon to yank a guy I’d just met over the counter and kiss him without giving him any kind of forewarning or chance to stop me, I cleared my throat and attempted to redirect my wayward thoughts back to what we had been talking about. He’d asked me a question and the proper thing to do was answer it. What did I want? 

I knew what I wanted… HIM. But that wasn’t what he’d been asking no matter HOW suggestive his voice had sounded to my ears.

In my early twenties I had looked into piercings, researched all the types and varieties a guy could get as a means of using the knowledge to impress this one chick I had liked when I overheard her talking about how hot guys who had them were. It even worked, up to a point. Turned out, simply knowing about piercings was much different than actually having them, and when she discovered I didn’t actually have any, her interest in me wavered and she quickly moved on. At that point, I didn’t see the need to get anything done since I had started out wanting to impress her, my intentions had been shallow, and lacked the intent to follow through. But now...now, my intentions were less fueled with wanting to impress someone I was attracted to and more about self-discovery. 

Tonight, the idea of getting a piercing made me feel more alive than I had in years. It was the right reason to pull the trigger on this. The gut churning excitement was the same I felt when I had called the number on the FOR SALE sign that had been hanging on the window the day I decided to buy my van. I was immediately grateful to the chick of my early twenties for having inspired me to do all that research, even if her rejection had been a blow to my fragile, immature ego. 

Was I being impulsive now? Absolutely. But I already knew I wouldn’t regret this which was why without any uncertainty colouring my voice, my gaze found Madyx’s and I grinned confidently as I told him exactly what I wanted.-

I’d like the first two rungs of Jacob’s Ladder. 

-I knew what I was asking for, and I hoped like hell the nickname for frenum piercings hadn’t changed in the years since I had done all that research. If it had, I fully expected him to laugh in my face and tell me to get my wannabe ass the hell out. I held my breath, and counted the thuds of my pulse as they wooshed in my ears feeling less and less confident in my answer as the seconds passed by that it took him to speak.- 

Madyx:

<There were several impulsive words trying to fly off my tongue, but I was biding my time. I glanced past him when he indicated he was my neighbor, noting the tell tale silhouette of his VW bus. Currently nomadic, likely sleeping on a less than comfy mattress in the name of experience.  The mentality someone must possess to live on impulse was a turn on, and it worked in my favor. Without knowing it, he was feeding me information and arming my artillery with all kinds of weapons to extend the night…because without explanation, I just wanted more with him. More time. More touch. MORE. 

Atticus was setting off signals like flares in a moonless night, the attraction was undeniably mutual. I knew it, but did he? He would, I wasn’t letting him out of my company without shooting my shot. . My sensory grid was lighting up in a bright spectrum of greens, this was something fae only experienced in the rarest of circumstances. I knew what it meant but couldn’t delve into all that mythology on the spot. 

Fuck that. I was just going to go with it. 

And then he said it. What he wanted. 

I knew there was more by the way his eyes flicked over my lips and the unequivocal energy that told me he was using restraint. 

My brows shot up in reaction. My grin stretched a little wider. My dick bucked in my jeans clearly in support of this development. I toed the line of professionalism in my day to day operations, but this was beyond that. I couldn’t stop thinking about getting his cock out of his pants. With a casual swipe of my tongue between my lips, I opened the case, pulling out the options so we could get down to business. I knew he wasn’t going to run. I’d bet on it.>

You have piercings I can’t see? Or do I get first honors? 

<fingering a few of the barbells to draw his eyes down, even though I loved the heat of them on me> Are you thinking the same size for each? Or a descending size?  Grooved balls? <I smirked, couldn’t help it>  Smooth? 

We’ll get to gauge when I see what we’re working with, Atticus. 

<I loved his name too fucking much and still wanted to say it a thousand different ways just to know how it felt on my tongue, lips and in every incarnation. And yeah, I wanted him to know I had his dick on my mind, front and center. With every tick of the second hand, the tension was on the rise, and I was thriving in anticipation of reaching the breaking point.>

Atticus:

-Just as my lungs were beginning to burn for fresh oxygen, he spoke, and I exhaled slowly, controlling myself from letting out a sigh of relief so as not to let on how unsure of myself I had been feeling. There was no laughter or smirking from him that told me I had used an outdated slang. Excellent. I was starting to feel less and less like a poser with each follow up question he asked. He was very clearly taking my request seriously though I was not blind to the less than subtle moments of flirtation he was allowing to slip out with each exchange between us. And I was about to let him see my dick. I almost laughed. I held it in. Barely. 

It was my turn to speak. Right, he needed answers. I could give those. With a grin and a rub of my hands together I chuckled as I got the first question squared away.- No. I don’t have any other piercings. You’re my first, Mad. 

-My eyes dropped down to the tray of hardware he removed from the display case, ears working overtime to hear each of his rapid fire queries that I was delayed in noticing I had already shortened his name from Madyx to Mad. Both suited him, but if he was about to get face up in my junk without it being sexual I figured it was all right for me to shorten his name without expressed permission, that was how nicknames were supposed to happen anyway.- 

Size. I hadn’t really considered that when I went and got overzealous with my request for two piercings. -Laughing low, my eyes moved between the various sizes of barbells he was showing me before making up my mind with ease.- 

I want them to be the same. As far as accessories go, I’m a bit of a minimalist and the idea of gradually increasing seems a bit pompous if not arrogant to me. I can only imagine the size needed at the base if I went and got the great idea to complete the ladder. FUCK. -A shudder of regret for future me shot down my spine then ricocheted straight into the tip of my dick. All previous arousal swifty vacated my body and in a hurry. Decision made.- Yeah. definitely the same size. And smooth. 

I also know enough from my research ages ago to know I won’t be looking to stretch out the gauge, either. No matter how fast these particular piercings tend to heal, I don’t want my dick to become a branch of a Christmas tree, sagging under the weight of a too heavy ornament. God, can you even imagine?! -The mental images that began to fill my mind had me laughing again.- Otherwise, any other decisions needing made, I will heed to your expert opinion. 

Madyx:

<I caught his exhale and something about it felt like he was relieved, as if he’d just confessed a long held desire for the first time, and maybe I wasn’t so off the mark as he answered that I was his first. I didn’t have time for a smart ass remark about popping his cherry because of what he said right after. 

Mad. He called me Mad. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, as if a hand had ghosted upwards, calling it to attention. The sensation carried up into my scalp, and even to the tips of my ears. How was it that something so damn simple was so affecting with him? It wasn’t the first time since he walked in my shop, and the longer he stayed, the more I was convinced there was more of it in store.

I took him in as he weighed his options out loud, none of his choices surprising me. I figured he’d want something understated,  but I didn’t want to assume out loud and then have him reveal his elaborate plans for a rainbow ladder with alternating barbells down the back of his cock. That would have been a grave mistake! 

I laughed my ass off when he referenced a Christmas tree sagging under the weight of a heavy ornament from sizing up the gauges, unable to stop myself.>

If the piercings look like too heavy ornaments and your dick a limp tree after piercings, then someone doesn’t know shit about shit when it comes to proper technique. 

You’re in good hands, Atticus. I promise you that. <I flicked my eyes up to hopefully catch his, and thankfully I didn’t miss my target.> First, proper frenum piercings need to hit at the right depth to avoid that unfortunate look. Second, and counterintuitively, because of the skin, we’ll want to use a heavier gauge. With a lighter weight, during the healing process, it would push towards the surface, also resulting in the wrong appearance and a damn inconvenient dangling effect that could lead to unfortunate zipping incidents. 

<Laughing, it was a feat to drop my eyes from his as I started selecting options to suit his taste>

You’ll want to consider width dependent on your head. Sight unseen, I think this brushed steel goes with your vibe. 

You also have options when it comes to the size of the balls. <smirking, I laid a few out> You don’t have to decide standing here, we’ll bring them over to my station and you can see what looks right to you. 

You ready? Need a beer? Something stronger?  <My mouth on your cock to ease any nerves? I kept that last one on lockdown, lifting a brow, as I anxiously waited for his reply>

Atticus:

-My previously lost arousal was swiftly returning, and reaching tenting trouble territory when Madyx promised I’d be in good hands. Wouldn’t I just love to be in his hands. I stared at them while he sorted through the barbells, selecting some he thought would work. Long fingers, nimble and sure in their movements. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Now was not the time to learn I had a kink for hands, I’d never felt that way before, maybe they were just his hands I was lusting after, particularly when paired with this whole conversation that felt heavy with an undercurrent of attraction. I couldn’t deny it was flowing in both directions. He was making it pretty obvious, where I would have normally brushed it off as him being friendly in the beginning, I’d have to be blind to not see it now. I was damn sure seeing it. 

Things were about to get very awkward if I didn’t get control over my body. I was a magnet drawn to a piece of metal, desperate to move closer, to obtain that satisfying click when the connection was finally made. 

What was my life right now? 

How could, of all the places I decided to stop on a whim have this guy right here, and have this kind of mutual attraction happen so effortlessly. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt that way toward someone and have them return it. Years, for sure. Many years. My eye was not exactly particular, it checked out chicks and dudes equally, but it took a lot to make me want a second glance.  

Then he had to go and talk about ball sizing while smirking at me. I was starting to suspect he was playing with me. Cat toying with a mouse. Taunting my dick with his innuendo, coaxing it to come out of hiding and play his game. Did I want to? DUH. There was no denying how much I wanted to do just that. 

But how does one go from piercing consultation to...Hey, you give me a boner, wanna hook up? Yeah…..no. He was hot, and there was no doubt in my mind that he was hit on all the time. Likely every day. I was certain of it. I didn’t want to be just some lame customer who was looking for an after hours special with the good looking tattoo shop guy. 

Could I be any more of a cliche. I prided myself on being nothing of the sort...well I kind of was with my current on trend living in a van and travelling lifestyle. The only points working in my favour there was that I hadn’t documented a single moment of it outside of the memories in my mind. I wasn’t the next Van Guy with the Instagram worthy morning shots overlooking the ocean while holding a cup of coffee and casually displaying my abs for more likes. A thirst trap, I was not. I had higher standards than that. 

Questions were being sent my way. Was I ready? What a loaded thing to ask, I laughed and hoped it didn’t sound as choked off to him as it did to my ears.- Yes. I’m ready. I’m good on the beer, for now. I think. 

-I laughed again, this time it felt a little looser passing over my lips and I looked down at the tray of jewelry once more then looked back up at him, eyes finding his. Before I could stop myself, words tumbled out without much control over the content or how they’d be received, now was not the time to have shame or embarrassment, I needed to know if the situation in my jeans could be salvaged.- I once read that when getting dick tattoos, you had to be hard the whole time. Is the same true for piercings? 

Madyx:

<The energy smacking me around was nothing I’d ever come across. Fuck. It was inexplicably intense, like we were plugged into each other and exchanging a charge. I was still mind-blown by what he was putting out. His subconscious and deep-seated pleasures were stimulating mine, as if they were dependent on one another. When I caught moments of him looking at me, my body reacted and my heart was thumping, driven by the physical and not so physical. I shut-up the internal analysis as much as I could and focused on what was in front of me. 

Atticus was definitely anticipating, his excitement laced with nervousness inciting my extra fae receptors into overdrive. He covered pretty well, but his flustered laugh made me want to drop my jeans on the spot. I was stoked he’d declined the drink, especially since he’d slipped with the “for now.” Bingo. That was enough to confirm he wasn’t looking to bolt after I got up and personal with his cock. 

The jewelry out, I let my attention land squarely back on him while he entertained what I’d displayed. It gave me a chance to scope the strong, lithe line of his back, and the sharp cut of his scruffed jaw. Hell, with every fresh recognition of his attributes, his hotness was intensifying right along with my craving for a thorough taste. While I had this fuck-me revelation, he was quiet, probably thinking about the dual-punctures I was about to put through his cock.  I knew something was coming but the smirk that happened when he asked his question could not be helped.>

I’d like to see someone keep it hard through an entire inking. It only needs to be up for the stencil portion of the tattoo, after that there are creative ways to stretch a dick for the shading. As for you… <pursing my lips then rubbing them together> I’ll get the job done either way, as long as I can pinch the skin, I can pierce it. Generally, there’s more to work with when it’s not at attention. Chew on that and follow me.

 <My smirk widened just before I broke eye contact and grabbed the tray of jewelry.  Cocking my head in the direction of my station and the chair that would have him slightly reclined when he planted ass in it. I set the tray down and waited for him to get situated while I snapped on my gloves. When I turned around,shit, my eyes went straight south where it was hard to miss what was happening behind his zipper and before I could blow it, my eyes shot back to his. I couldn’t seem to stop doing that. I also couldn’t repress the urge to set him at ease and give him something to grab onto during this prelude to a pierce. 

Playing it cool, casual, intent on finessing my approach, I took a seat on my stool, which kept us at eye level with one another. I knew he wanted this in my bones, but I was feeling the nerves from the risk of it. I stepped over the edge and took the cliff dive, the words passing over my lips as I felt a rush from the free fall.> How about you don’t leave after we’re done with business. <It was a question, but the way it came out sounded more like a statement. Unintentional. Organic. Assured. I dropped my eyes to his cock before they raked back up his body...to his suckable throat...his full lips...and back home to his grey-blue eyes.>

Atticus: 

-“Chew on that and follow me.” Shit. He knew. He had to. There was no way he couldn’t tell I was already sporting wood. When he turned his back to me and headed to his station, I tried to chill myself the fuck out. Naturally my eyes landed on his ass and the fire that was in my veins ignited to an inferno and I knew there would be no way to get the blood to vacate my cock. This was going to be embarrassing for at least one of us in a couple of moments. 

Did it matter though? I was just passing through town, at least that had been the plan when I entered the shop. I came in here looking for a conversation with another person and now I was about to leave with some metal accessories. I shook my head as I took a seat on the chair he wanted me in and took a few deeper breaths trying to slow the thundering of my heart. 

I wasn’t shy about my body, never had been, but damn if I wasn’t worried about how he’d react when he took notice that I was more than eager to have his hands on me. Could I explain it away with a joke about being a masochist? Maybe, but it wasn’t true, not by the definition of the word. 

As I spent precious time fretting in my mind he had turned around from setting down the tray and...YEP. I watched as Mad got himself an eyeful and like the professional I already figured he was, his gaze moved right past my crotch and straight up to my face. 

He didn’t laugh. Or smile or even make a comment. The flirting that had been so natural halted. I didn’t know what to do with that. I was suddenly feeling overheated in my hoodie while worry about insulting him began to cycle through my mind, of course that was when things started to chill out for me in trouser tent town. I reconsidered the whole masochist angle again just to try and break the silence but shook my head to myself. It wouldn’t matter in a day or two or a week. I’d carry on with my drive and he’d have a story to tell his coworkers tomorrow. I was fine being a laughable story. 

Before I could find something casual to say, he sucker punched me with that line of staying after he was done and I briefly wondered if he was trying to throw me a bone because he felt sorry for me. I didn’t think so. The tension between us had been palpable from the start. I nodded at his non-question.- Yeah. I’d like that. Though we both know you already know that I would. 

-I laughed low as his eyes did another sweep and the previously cooling jets fired right back up again. Jesus. When did I become a thirteen year old boy seeing his first dirty magazine. I reached up behind my neck as I sat forward in the chair and pulled my hoodie off over my head, draping it on the arm of my chair, leaving me in my well worn white tee that was underneath. 

There was no point in trying to hide shit, the elephant in the room had been noticed, spoken about and well acknowledged, not to mention Mad was about to shake hands with the trunk. I blew out a breath, feeling all embarrassment sliding away as easily as I had taken off my hoodie, and grinned at him.- Let’s get to you shoving some needles through my family jewels so we can have that beer you mentioned.

[drama-pop]

Dramas I Watched in 2020

I watched a lot of dramas this year, y’all.  Here’s what I watched and what I thought of them!

Boys Over Flowers (10/10)

3rd watch – I cannot explain the love that I have for this show.  It is absolutely wacky and farfetched, but so, so fun.  This was my introduction into K-Dramas (well, re-introduction…more on that later) and it will always have a special place in my heart. This watch was with my sister as she was recovering from surgery. Even though I’d already seen it twice, it was addictive as always.

Dream High (9.5/10)

1st watch - This was one of the cutest and most feel-good shows I watched this year. Part of me wishes I hadn’t discovered it until quarantine because nearly every episode left me grinning and with a song in my heart.  It was also my introduction to K-Pop (2PM, which eventually led me to BTS aka the best thing that happened to me this year).  I loved the characters and their pursuit of their dreams.  The drama turns 10 in a few days, so I don’t think it’s a spoiler to say that I loved when the kids finally came together as a team near the end of the show.  My one regret is that I fell for the wrong lead guy, so I would have liked to have avoided that second lead syndrome.  It’s one of the most compelling love triangles I’ve watched, though!

Cinderella and the Four Knights (7.5/10)

1st watch - Regrettably, I don’t remember much about this drama.  I know that I enjoyed the relationships between Ha-Won and the “Four Knights.”  I enjoyed Ahn Jae-Hyun’s character at the beginning, but didn’t like him as much as his tear-filled relationship with the seamstress progressed.  The singer was my favorite of the cousins and am I the only one who wanted more screen time for the bodyguard?  Anyway, it was cute and my mom really enjoyed it.  Plus, seeing Park So-Dam is what eventually got me to watch Parasite!

The King: Eternal Monarch (9.5/10)

1st watch – I know it’s controversial for me to give this one such a high score, but it was really special to me.  My whole family (minus my dad) and our neighbor watched this show together and debriefed after each episode (from a safe social distance) during early quarantine.  It was the first drama I watched as it was airing, so I experienced the stress of waiting for the next week’s episodes.  I love Lee Min-Ho, so I was really looking forward to his comeback drama.  Woo Do Hwan was an unexpected favorite from this show and I just enjoyed the characters, story, and mystery so much.  I know this drama wasn’t everyone’s favorite, but it holds a lot of special memories for me.

Bring It On, Ghost (7/10)

1st watch - This was a pretty cute drama, but it was spooky too.  I watched it for Taecyeon, but stayed for the ghost fighting squad.  Kang Ki-Young and Lee David were a treat to watch.  Although I liked Dream High more as a show, I absolutely loved Taecyeon’s Bong Pal.  I didn’t like the ghost at first, but she grew on me as the show went on and ended up enjoying Kim So-Hyun as an actress.  The mystery in this one was compelling too and kept me watching!

What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? (9/10)

1st watch - I’m SO glad I watched this drama!  It had the fun energy of Boys Over Flowers, but was more realistic and grown-up.  If you haven’t gathered yet, I’m a sucker for fun ensembles and the office staff totally fit the bill!  I also live for vacation episodes and this show did not disappoint.  This was my first time to see Park Seo-Joon and Park Min-Young and I will definitely continue to follow their careers.  The mysterious past of the characters slowed the plot and felt a little out of place in my opinion, but I loved the show as a whole and will likely watch it again someday.

Save Me (6/10)

1st watch - This drama was unlike anything I’ve ever seen and left me feeling a little uneasy after every episode.  That’s not to say that it wasn’t good…on the contrary! This was so well acted and had a unique plot.  I started it because of Taecyeon, Woo Do-Hwan, and Lee David, but was absolutely blown away by Seo Ye-Ji’s acting.  My brother developed a huge crush on her, which is what led us to our next drama, It’s Okay to Not Be Okay.

It’s Okay to Not Be Okay (10/10)

1st watch - Hands down the best drama I watched this year!  I don’t often cry when I watch things, but this had me in tears several times. It was such a loving portrayal of people with mental illness and difficult family relations.  It also had quite a bit of mystery, which is always fun. The characters were well written and beautifully portrayed.

She Was Pretty (6/10)

1st watch – Okay, so I tricked my mom into watching this with me because I’ve had a crush on Siwon since my English professor in college showed the class the music video for “Hoot” by Girls’ Generation (so random…ask me about it sometime).  He was THE highlight of this drama for me.  I might be biased, of course, but I loved his character way more than the lead (and don’t get me wrong, I love Park Seo-Joon).  Second lead syndrome aside, I enjoyed the drama and it made me want to work for a fashion magazine!

Just Between Lovers (9/10)

1st watch – Another highlight from this year.  Another thing I enjoy besides fun ensembles is melancholy.  This show is a lot heavier than most drama’s I’ve watched, but it was so good.  It explores survivor’s guilt and how grief doesn’t follow a clean timeline.  Won Jin-Ah and Junho were absolutely lovely as the leads.

The Sound of Your Heart (8/10)

2nd watch – I watched this for the first time back in 2016 before I knew anything about Korean media.  My siblings just found it on Netflix and we decided to watch it together.  This time, we watched it with our mom.  If you haven’t seen it, it’s more skit than continuous storyline, but each episode had me laughing!  I’m glad that I watched it again now that I have so many dramas under my belt.

Hello My Twenties (6.5/10)

1st /2nd watch –  I started this in 2016 but didn’t finish until this year. I am still in love with the first episode, but didn’t like the direction the show ended up going. I think it’s still worth a watch and I’m glad that I eventually finished it.  The girls were written and portrayed well.

Cheese in the Trap (6.5/10)

1st watch - I still haven’t really decided how I feel about this drama.  I liked it, but something felt off about it.  I couldn’t keep track of how characters felt about each other and the end was disappointing.  It was overall fun, though and was my cute introduction to Nam Joo Hyuk!  It also gave me a new song to listen to when I want to feel sad (Je te veux by Erik Satie).

When the Camellia Blooms (7/10)

1st watch – Oh, When the Camellia Blooms, I had such high hopes for you.  I loved the first several episodes and I came around again by the end, but I was not loving the screen time devoted to the Joker plot.  I guess it’s my fault for not thoroughly looking into the story beforehand.  I will say that I am so smitten with Yong-Sik and soft for his relationship with Dongbaek.  

Heirs (6/10)

2nd watch – I watched this alone a few years ago and referenced it so often that I made my mom watch it.  I actually didn’t like it the first time I watched it, but ended up enjoying it this time around.  I was able to keep track of the characters this time, which was a plus! Kim Tan is still kind of a loser and I still have a soft spot in my heart for Young Do, but he’s also a loser.  Surely there are better men out there, Eun-Sang!  

Start Up (8.5/10)

1st watch – I really enjoyed this drama, but I think it helps that I fell for the “right” guy (controversial, I know.  What I mean is that I fell for the one that does end up getting the girl, so I didn’t suffer like I did in “She Was Pretty”).  The Samsan Tech squad was so cute.  My favorite episodes were early on when the plot felt similar to Cyrano de Bergerac and the lead guys weren’t hateful toward one another.  Overall a fun watch!

Goblin (7.5/10)

1st watch – What a show to end 2020 with!  The bromance between the Goblin and Grim Reaper was the highlight for me, but I also really enjoyed Sunny and her relationship with the characters.  I think it’s because I watched TKEM and Cheese first, but I didn’t like Kim Go Eun’s character as much as I should have.  I’m finding that I do enjoy fantasy dramas, so I’ll be watching more of those in the new year.

 Whew!  If you stuck with me to the end, thanks!  I’m always open to drama recommendations.  Happy New Year!

[jason-the-mommas-boy]

please,,, s/o calling jason pet names,,, he deserves being called darling and honey and sweetpea!!! (feel free to combine this with the february requests) -💙💙💙

Anon…i LOVE you..jason’s one sweet baby boy and deserves all of these cute pet names. i made this a drabble for my february prompts since i didn’t want to drag it on for too long. 

Jason Voorhees’ S/O Calls Him Pet Names

Prompt / Summary - Jason’s a flustered boy… / Warmth prompt from the 2020 February prompt list made by @ / hiddendreamer67 (yes ill be doing all of them eventually!!)

Word Count: 1.1k

Jason doesn’t take his mask off often. It’s for personal reasons for the most part, he doesn’t have the best self esteem just because he knows how cruel people can really be. For the other reason, it’s just…not as scary if he doesn’t wear one. If he has something to cover his face, people can’t read his emotions and expressions, and they would think more of him as a monster than a human.

Good, he didn’t want people to think it safe to walk around Camp Crystal Lake. He wanted to portray himself as the merciless killer of Camp Blood, and he did so with utmost perfection. 

While it was correct that he showed no mercy towards his victims, as it was mostly their fault if they didn’t listen to the warnings the townspeople gave them, he wasn’t a complete monster at all. In fact, he was more like a puppy. Touch starved, gentle, kind, loves praise, and was eager to please. He had two different faces, one to show the world to scare them away and the other he refused to show for the longest time in fear of being vulnerable. 

Essentially, he presented himself as a wolf, but was actually a hurt dog deep down. 

And you’re dating him. 

He still doesn’t take off his mask often around you despite this. He definitely did not make himself out to be cruel or mean to you, but he was still self conscious. You were just so amazing and he was…well, not worthy, in his opinion. He was a large awkward man that lacks a voice and carried around decades old trauma with him everywhere for goodness sake. 

But just because he doesn’t take his mask off often doesn’t mean he doesn’t do it at all, though. There are the few instances where Jason will be confident enough around you and go around maskless, no matter how scary it was for him. It’s gotten easier for him each time, but he still wasn’t completely comfortable with not wearing his tiny shield against the world all the time. In some cases, he just needed his loving significant other to melt his anxieties away and make his day incredibly better by just accepting him for who he was. 

He’s more than happy to return the attention too! He’s not selfish, not at all. He always has your best interest in mind and if you want a little back massage or head pats, he’ll give them to you without question as long as he isn’t busy. Anything to spend time with you and show you how much he loved you.  

It was an afternoon near the end of winter, with spring just around the corner, when you surprised Jason with a visit! You brought a bunch of seed packets for the garden you and him were planning on starting just as soon as the weather completely warmed up. A gift that he accepts with a welcoming hug before dragging you inside to put up the little seed packs until they are needed. 

To simply put, with surprise visits, you both usually never had something planned or something to do, so the most you guys would end up doing was a long cuddle session. Maybe you’d read him a new book or continue where you left off for an old book to fill the time. Jason absolutely loves to hear your voice and listen to you tell stories. 

So far, his favorite has been Phantom of the Opera, oddly enough. Mostly because you would help him explain things he didn’t understand and he was longing to learn! Also, there was just something similar about a man who haunts a place and wears a pale mask to cover his face that made it familiar to him. 

You bring him into a second hug for the evening just as he finishes up storing the seed packets, nuzzling into his chest. “Sorry for the sudden visit, but I really just wanted a lazy day with my cutiepie!” 

He stiffens mid-hug and you have to force a chuckle down your throat. It was always adorable to find the new things that make your boyfriend flustered, last week it was you complimenting his physique. 

“Do you like being called pet names?” You ask, stepping back enough to give Jason his personal space. He tilts his head. “They’re like little nicknames to call someone you’re close with like darling or sweetpea!.” 

It’s easy to tell when it clicks in his head, his eyes lighting up before he slowly nods. They seemed cute and innocent enough. His mommy always called him handsome when he was younger to lift up his mood, and any positive connection made to his childhood was welcome. 

“So, is it okay if I call you pet names, then?” Another nod, this time with less hesitance. A giggle escapes your lips as you tug at his jacket. “Let’s cuddle on the couch, honey. Pretty please?” 

Oh, he visually melts at the pet name, the tense in his shoulders whisking away as they slump down, following you in little steps when you lead him back to the couch. You had a puppy by an invisible leash, waiting patiently for more attention and praise. There was no ongoing fire sitting in the fireplace, but the warmth on your cheeks was more than enough to fight the cold off.

He sits down and pats his lap, telling you that you were free to sit there if you so wished. You run a finger down the nose part of his mask before giving it a light tap. “Take the mask off first? I want to see my handsome man.” 

Oooh, it was unfair how much power you had over him with just words! All you have to do is ask him to do something and he would practically do it in a heartbeat as long as he was comfortable with it. Your sweet boyfriend nods and takes his hockey mask off, the fiberglass sliding into his hand and revealing his cute yet unique face. 

Oh my goodness, was Jason blushing? 

You don’t think you have ever seen him blush before, as he always hid his face behind some sort of fabric or mask when he was flustered, but it’s the cutest thing you have ever seen. 

Before he can shy away, you take your place in his lap and sit down. “Oh thank you! You did such a great job, sweetie. Thank you, thank you, and thank you!” With each small amount of praise, you press gentle kisses against his skin. You really missed that. 

You feel the corners of his mouth turn upward, a smile painting itself on his face, and he presses his cheek against you, giving you a few gentle nuzzles. He was a mess, a puddle of embarrassment and blushes, and he was basically begging for more of your love. You were so soft, so nice to him, and made sure he felt appreciated, what did he ever do to deserve someone like you? 

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Somebody Sweet to Talk To ❁︎ 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

Pairing: Harry Osborn x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 6k

Gif credit: @mayahawkes

Summary & Warnings || Series Masterlist

Extra warning for this chapter: reader shows some signs of anxiety/mood changes.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨

❁︎ ・・・・・❁︎ ・・・・・ ❁︎ ・・・・・❁︎

Monday arrived too soon, and you dreaded it more than any other week from the school year. Entering the library, you had walked directly toward your usual table and took your laptop and headphones out in order to do homework but everyone around you was staring, almost impatiently, and it was extremely distracting.

It didn’t matter if you finished early or not, Tony had given you the entire week free and changed your working schedule to only Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday unless there was too much to do or emergencies. Seeing as it was better than not having a job at all, you didn’t dare fight him when you knew he was trying to favor you.

The therapy thing... that was different. Maybe you had taken advantage of the fact that Tony and Bucky were mentally ill too by reminding them how cruel medical professionals tended to be toward their patients and even more so when the patient was a fat woman, and maybe you could’ve approached the topic in a more neutral way to not make them feel so damn guilty; yet you didn’t think about it at that moment, too scared of going back to hear that you would never get better, or that you were a problematic person, or therapists simply denying you treatment until you lost weight.

A hand encapsulating yours took you out of your self-absorptive episode. You didn’t need to look to know it was Harry, the slight warmth from his palm that was so different from any hand you had felt on you was becoming familiar.

That was a problem. You spent the entire Sunday going through it and pondering on telling him it would be better to knock it off. You still decided you could tame your newfound feelings and keep faking being in a relationship with him in exchange for friendship.

Snatching your headphones off, you did turn to look at him. He was seemingly analyzing you, “are you okay?” his question was made in a whisper.

“Yeah, I’m just... struggling to focus.” You nodded upward at the now black screen from your computer. You had definitely lost more time than you thought.

“I know, I finished my homework already.”

Looking down at your wristwatch, you realized Harry had gotten there an hour ago. “Sorry, I—“

“It’s okay,” he interrupted, giving your hand a squeeze before moving to store his supplies. “Pete told me you had a tough weekend.”

Humming, you stored your supplies too just to entertain yourself. You hated when people talked about your health without your consent, it was extremely intrusive and made you feel vulnerably uncomfortable. Had Peter told Gwen too?

The answer didn’t take long to come. Fingers intertwined with Harry’s, you left the library to where Peter and Gwen must’ve been waiting for the two of you. The blonde looked at you with empathy, almost pity, and flashed one of those smiles that unknowingly made you feel worse.

Your fake boyfriend must’ve processed it the same way or felt you tense because he ran his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly. He then breathed a smile, making you turn to inquire what was going on. He nodded upward to gesture at the front crystal doors and it was like you could breathe properly again — it was raining.

The smell enhanced your senses as the four of you abandoned the building, Harry’s steps slowed down in contrast to Peter’s hurried ones. You could have cried as consistently as the sky was doing, Harry was being thoughtful and extremely kind to you by allowing you a relaxing moment and you hadn’t even asked for it.

He threw his keys at Gwen, telling her to not wait for you because you would walk to The Compound. It was a bad idea, walking under the rain when the season was about to change, yet you didn’t dare say no — you couldn’t when as much as you knew the water falling onto you was cold, you felt warm inside.

There was no need for Harry and you to still hold hands, or to stroll so closely to each other — both of you knew, both ignored it. Having a friend was nice, someone to go to the movies with, talk about everything and nothing, bake together, walk down the rain in silence with slow strides to relish into the aliveness only nature could grant.

Walking slowly didn’t bother him this time, getting soaked didn’t either. He had never seen the face of a person look younger so quickly, he had never even paid attention to those things before and now wondered why when it was so satisfying to watch. In that case, the satisfaction could’ve come from the fact that he was part of it, not an important one in his mind but it was something. You were starting to relax beside him, the frown you had been carrying since he got to the library long gone as your upper body slumped a little. He had helped achieve that, and for a split minute, nothing else mattered until he thought what would his father say if he knew Harry’s biggest accomplishment up to that day had been relaxing his —fake— girlfriend.

“We don’t have to get in if you don’t want to,” he whispered, almost hopeful so he could be in you relaxed and consequentially soothing presence for a little longer.

“I don’t want you to get sick,” you said, softness oozing from your tone in an attempt to show him you were more than grateful.

Either of you wasn’t wet enough to be soaked, both made the observation in distinct ways. His hoodie, in fact, was wet, just like his hair, but his jeans looked almost dry — your hair looked different due to the water, your jacket seemed darker, and there was a waterdrop on top of your right eyelash that he couldn’t keep himself from wiping.

Dropping your backpack onto one of the sofas, you peeled your jacket off. Harry did the same with his book bag and took his hoodie off. Before he could drop it, you took it from his hand.

He tilted his head. You chuckled, “I’ll put it in the dryer so it doesn’t get ruined.” He blinked rapidly, a nod being the only answer he could give.

He watched you walk away, heart dropping as you disappeared further into the hallway and made a turn. God, what was happening to him? He missed the warmth from your palm already, irradiating into his even though yours was smaller, and filling his entire system with a feeling he had never experienced; a week had taken him to become needy for your touch, that attention you gave so selflessly when he spoke, your wise and poignant comments that you always seemed to finish with an interested question of his opinion, your soft lips that made everything around him fade away.

“Here,” you whispered, almost bashfully. He focused his eyes on you again, realizing he had been staring at nothingness. A piece of clothing was being offered by your right hand as with the left one you made signs at someone behind him. “It’ll fit you loosely because it’s mine, but you’ll be warm.”

Fuck. Harry had never met a kinder person than you. He couldn’t believe Peter and Ned had said you were everything but, it was impossible for them to be talking about the same woman. He took the soft fabric in his grasp, sliding it down his head before slipping his arms in — it fitted him better than both of you had considered.

Peter was horrified to see his male best friend in a familiar blue sweatshirt, eyes wide as he and Gwen went back to the living room after spending time alone in his bedroom. His two best friends were sat almost flushed against the other, you type in your laptop as Harry slanted his head to read whatever you were redacting.

Gwen was worried, she thought Harry would keep his distance after the conversation they had. But now, watching him give you all his attention and hearing him ask about your homework like it was the most interesting topic someone could talk about, she realized there was no point in tearing you apart. Her boyfriend thought otherwise, and it worried her too — Peter, being Peter, was getting obsessive.

When you were done, you uploaded the essay to the school’s interface and closed the laptop. Standing up, you arranged your backpack in the way you liked and then did the same with the laptop case.

“Does any of you want something from the kitchen?” you asked, surprising them.

Gwen nodded, bashfully. “Camomile tea, if you can.”

“Of course,” you nodded too.

Harry followed you toward the kitchen, not wanting to be under Peter’s annoyed gaze that he honestly didn’t understand anymore. Snorting when you started peeling the gigantic orange he bought for you once the kettle was on the burner, he sat on a stool.

You offered him some fruit, the ghost of a smile appearing on your face when he took half of the orange. It was surprisingly tasty, you hadn’t expected that from its size.

Endearingly vexing was a good way of describing oranges, he had to agree. Harry avoided them most of the time because of how changing their flavor was, but now he was starting to think they weren’t that bad — they would never beat apples, though.

Tony poured himself some coffee, watching you comfortably eat fruit. He also saw Harry’s sweatshirt and couldn’t hide the teasing smirk from plastering on his face when you turned to gaze at him. He was happy you hadn’t ended things with Harry, no matter what Tony thought of Norman he knew the kid wasn’t at fault — he also suspected Harry was mistreated by his dad and couldn’t help but be biased.

“Does Gwen like sugar in her tea?” You wondered out loud.

Harry shrugged. He didn’t know a lot about Gwen even though she was his best friend, the blonde didn’t make him part of everything. You ignored him and carried the teacup in a hand and the sugar bowl in another, making him once again inwardly question why everyone thought of you as a heartless person.

And because you weren’t what people said you were, he grew more nervous about introducing you to his father. Norman tended to treat people who weren’t Harry with respect and even empathy, but what if he didn’t like you? What if he found you to be dumb for supposedly dating his son? Harry didn’t want to put you through one of his dad’s weird episodes, but he didn’t want his dad to laugh at him if he said you had an emergency to take care of either.

He saw you try to smile warmly at Gwen when handing her the cup and decided it would be better to warn you the next day when the mood wouldn’t be soured.

“We’re watching Footloose when Pete finishes his homework, do you two want to join us?”

“Sure,” both shrugged and said at the same time. Sharing a look, something that in the week you had been close had become second nature, you saw each other’s brows twitch in curiousness.

Too focused on the movie to pay attention to whatever couple-y thing Peter and Gwen were doing, you sat with your shoulders brushing. Harry shifted to rest his head on the arm of the couch, his hand brushing yours so you’d get the hint. Your head dropped onto his arm as you shuffled to make sure you would squash him, none of your eyes leaving the screen.

Tuesday brought mountains of homework and a scorching sunny afternoon. Wednesday was the opposite, that morning Harry found himself staring at the blue sweatshirt laying on his desk chair to decide if it would be a good idea to wear it again. The fabric still smelled of the softener you used, a custom one Stark bought for you every few weeks — there was a slight sweetness under the freshness of the scent and he marveled at how suiting it was.

Caving in, he snatched the sweatshirt and hoped Peter wouldn’t react like the other time. His best friend was getting distant, he got annoyed easily too — Harry thought him to be jealous, confirming his theory of Peter having feelings for you; Harry also thought himself to be envious of the finding.

Peter always got what Harry wanted, but this was different. This time he had put himself in that situation, almost begging to be thrown to the side when he wasn’t useful anymore. The day was approaching if the pattern wasn’t broken, and it didn’t hurt him because his dad would laugh or because he would probably still see you every day, it hurt him because he had never felt so safe in someone else’s presence.

He took a whiff of the sweatshirt as he slid it on, the memory of the first time he got to smell the scent coming to his mind.

It had been a while since he put a foot in the university. Harry had hit rock bottom, an overdose almost took his life and the worst part of it was how badly he wished it had. Out of spite, because he didn’t think he should let his father win every single battle, he decided to get help. Rehabilitation centers weren’t pretty, nor comfortable, and their usefulness could be up for debate; but Harry learned many things about himself there: his needs and dreams, his potential that he didn’t believe in most of the days, the fact that if he tried and wanted hard enough he could be a good person and a successful professional.

Peter was with Ned outside of the building when he arrived, waiting for someone that wasn’t him. Their greetings were effusive, brotherly, he felt good in their arms when he allowed them to hug him. But the feeling was nothing compared to the somersaults his stomach made when something he could only describe as hot cocoa on a winter day filled his nostrils.

You were dressed in casual clothes, he remembered them perfectly as he swung his backpack over his shoulder. Dark jeans, skater vans, a yellow sweatshirt that made you look radiant even though your eyes were sad. You greeted them three politely and Peter introduced you briefly, after that you made your way through the door and into the crowd — Harry couldn’t stop staring at the spot you had disappeared from, and Ned caught it so he said, ”been there, not even got to try and do that.”

Warnings came. Your reclusiveness, the way you closed off when a loved one did something that mildly upset you and how easily you got upset. Peter said you were like a sister to him, that not even he could get your shell to crack. ”She’s shyer than me, and I’m not even sure if she likes people,” Peter had sighed sadly.

Your career paths didn’t have anything to do with the other, not a single class was shared. Free hours you did share, but Harry followed his friends’ advice because it was simple curiosity and he needed different things, he didn’t need to fix people because he couldn’t.

But now, now he wished he had tried like Ned didn’t. He didn’t understand why he was feeling like that so soon, and he didn’t want to understand — it would be useless. Maybe all this time he had harbored a crush, or maybe it was the particular enticement that only the forbidden could provide, or maybe —just maybe and that was all— he was falling easily for the first person to be unapologetically themselves around him.

Harry knew that Peter held off, Ned always followed what Pete and Betty did, and Gwen was scared of him because of his past. If you explicitly knew about it and had lied when he asked, you were a master at masking it, and if you didn’t know about it he was sure you wouldn’t react badly to the news.

You would probably praise him again for learning to not lash out at people, he could picture your neutral semblance upon hearing all about it as he entered the classroom to take his first lecture of the day and a sigh slid past his lips.

Bouncing your leg, you slid the collar of your hoodie up to the bridge of your nose in exasperation. Harry’s cologne made you sigh heavily against the soft fabric, a part of you regretted having put it on while the other marveled at how the smell had clung to the fabric just by being against his arm. The grey material was comforting enough, but his smell was the real treat and you hated to know it, you hated not being able to help it.

Thoughts of Peter still swarmed around your mind, you still felt pangs on your chest when Gwen sat on his lap or when they kissed in front of you. But they weren’t constant anymore, you were too busy between getting your master’s degree, your wavering mental health, and Harry’s deep voice. At that, you would have to add your job next week, but you’d manage. You were almost as good as Tony at multitasking, writing nomenclatures down while craving your fake boyfriend’s presence would be aced — you even were sure you could get a doctorate on it and the thought chilled you to the bone.

You assumed you were thinking like a teenager — you hadn’t even thought like that when you were a teenager! You had been too lost into your self-hate and problems at home to have the time to behave like a teenager or to want to be one... Not wanting to think about it anymore, you focused on your homework for the day.

A shadow was cast on your notebook, prompting you to look upward. The sight of Harry in your sweatshirt made your heart skip a beat. “Peter left early,” he whispered to not be kicked out of the library, cellphone in hand. “He took my car.”

You nodded, aware of his eyes being on you. “I’m almost done.”

“Want me to ask for an Uber?”

“I can walk,” you assured him, scribbling down the answer you were halfway through. Gloomy days had never bothered you, they were common for you.

You waved at Ned goodbye as you walked across the hallway, the shorter man lifted an eyebrow upon realizing Harry and you were truly holding hands. You had to keep the act up, of course, people would talk about a supposed break up otherwise. You cursed, making Harry worriedly gaze at you.

“You’ll have to carry my cellphone this time around,” you explained. “These pants don’t have pockets and it can crack in my backpack.”

He extended his free palm for you to place the device on it. Sliding it into his pocket carefully, he continued walking.

The first two minutes of walk toward the compound were silent until he took his AirPods out. “Wanna listen to some music?”

“Sure.” You stopped so he could choose a playlist in his phone as you slipped the AirPod he had offered in your ear.

His musical taste was as pleasant as his company, as mixed as his conversation. It made you wonder why Peter and Gwen didn’t spend more time with him. He wasn’t like everyone said at all, it was true he was distant most of the time and even more when he didn’t know people but you found that natural, he had many qualities and peculiarities that made him so unique... you had met many people in your life, you were good at reading them all and you got bored easily of them because of that. Harry wasn’t easy to read, and knowing him meant getting more interested in his intellect and how different it was from the people around you. He wasn’t dumb, and although a genius either, but he was knowledgeable enough in many topics, he had a way with words when he got comfortable and his opinions were quite radical for conventional expectations, he was sensitive and patient, — you utterly adored that about him, much to your dismay.

Humming to the songs both knew, you swung your clasped hands a little bit. Upon approaching the compound your steps slowed down to finish the current song, something that had happened so often throughout the walk that his car was already parked outside.

“You came here on foot in this weather?” A familiar voice screeched as you closed the door.

You stopped abruptly at that. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this was worse than liking Harry. “Dad,” you greeted through a small smile, letting your fake boyfriend’s hand go. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I texted you an hour ago.” Your dad’s eyes were on you, brows lifted in expectancy of an explanation.

Harry handed you your cellphone so you could check. Pressing the button to look down at the screen you found a photo of your own self as a lock screen. It had been taken earlier, and you had to admit he was right when he said he was good at taking photos, the lighting in the school’s library wasn’t ideal and still, the angle was so good you didn’t look as bad as you often did and the way you were looking up —surely at him— made your eyes shine.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized behind you, “I gave you mine.”

You turned around to face him, “didn’t we talk about... that?”

He nodded, taking his cellphone from your hand and placing yours instead. “We said I wouldn’t put (Your Favorite Artist) in a plaid shirt as a lock screen.”

“We said you wouldn’t put me.”

“We said you wouldn’t send me a photo of yours to put, never that I couldn’t take it and put it.”

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you nodded. He was right, you should have been more specific. The short conversation wasn’t helping your case, now your dad knew something was going on between you two and you didn’t want him to; it was fake, and you didn’t want to introduce your dad to a fake boyfriend when the relationship wouldn’t last more than a few weeks more because of its nature. To be fair, it would last only a few weeks even if it was real but the point stood, strongly.

You felt so small you could’ve scurried off and in your mind, no one would even realize. Both men stared at each other with curiosity, your dad was trying to intimidate Harry and it would have worked if he hadn’t been Norman Osborn’s son.

Gwen, God bless her, cut through the slight tension. “Your dad was telling us you liked to play doctor as a ki—“ the blonde’s eyes widened as she stood in front of you when your dad moved out of the way to look at her as she spoke, the sight of Harry’s attire wasn’t one she had expected. “Did you wear... your girlfriend’s clothes to school?”

Harry cleared his throat, “out of coincidence.” He nodded to make emphasis, avoiding looking at anyone in particular.

Peter called for Harry. “Can I talk to you in private, Har?”

The tallest young man nodded, casting you a sideways glance. You blinked rapidly, too nervous suddenly. There was nothing wrong with sharing clothes, and Peter knew the reason why you had lent Harry a sweatshirt in the first place — why did you feel like you’d get an anxiety attack at any moment?

Peter leaned against the closed door, crossing his arms against his chest — he knew Harry wouldn’t be intimidated, but he had to get the point across of how serious the topic would be. Harry lifted his eyebrows, signaling for Pete to start talking.

“What are you doing, Harry?” Harry just stared at his best friend. Peter set his jaw. “I told you to stay away from her, and now you’re wearing her clothes to school!”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Harry defended his actions. “You share clothes with Gwen, why can’t I share clothes with (Y/N)?”

“That’s not the point! The point is you shouldn’t be dating her.”

’Here we go again’ Harry thought. Peter had annoyed him with that every time he stared at you, even when he didn’t do it on purpose. “Why, Peter? I’m not forcing her!”

“Because it’s weird! You’re like my brother and she’s like my sister, I know the two of you very well and I know you’re not right for each other.”

Harry huffed, pinching his nose to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “You and Gwen keep saying that but you never say why!” He exploded. “Peter, I adore you, man, but only (Y/N) and I know how our relationship is like.”

“I’m worried,” Peter hurried to explain. It was clear he didn’t mean to offend Harry. “Maybe at least take it slower? She needs a lot of patience, more than we can give her.”

Harry didn’t really get why Peter was telling him the same Gwen did days ago, but he nodded in understanding. His best friend pushed himself off the door and opened it, letting him out of the room first.

The living room was dead silent. Harry observed you weren’t there, but your belongings were. Gwen nodded upward, toward the hallway you had guided him through after your first ‘date’. Seeing him tilt his head, she withdrew her cellphone. His own device buzzed in his jean pocket.

Backyard

He found you with your back against the wall, cornered near the outdoor table. As he got closer , he saw the slight shake of your upper body. Harry silently sat beside you, trying not to stare too much so you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. From the corner of his eye, he caught the tremble of your lip and how you bit down into it — he hated that you were trying not to cry in front of him.

You were angry. Gwen had tried to apologize for her impressed state but it was of no use, your dad asked why didn’t he know about your boyfriend which angered you, he hadn’t called in a month — how could you say anything if he didn’t contact you? Your cold answer had been that the relationship was very new, but instead of moving on your dad had to make a comment about how it seemed like it had been longer.

It was like everyone was trying to decide how you should live your life or how you should develop your relationships. You understood that it looked like Harry and you were moving fast, but it wasn’t real — it wasn’t real and it bothered you which made it more fucked up.

The cataclysm was the inquiry that came before that. Your dad had asked if you were happy, prompting Gwen and Tony to perk up to stare at you. All that focus on you had made you nervous, so you explained you were comfortable. It hadn’t been enough for your dad who insisted on speaking about your happiness.

You hadn’t expected him to push it, and you didn’t know where the question had come from when he implied the relationship was too volatile due to its newness. His severe look as he reminded you how fast you were moving had been too shocking, and so you exploded, done with the stupid conversation already, saying you didn’t know if you had ever been happy.

Your own comment had dawned on you like an ice-cold water bucket poured harshly onto the head. It had soaked you in sudden anguish, adding itself to the list of things that chilled you to the bone although this one felt deeper, it seeped into every fiber of your being and still had enough composition to leak in the form of tears.

Harry got closer to you, wrapping an arm around you to pull you even closer. “It’s okay,” Harry murmured. His free hand slid up to trail up and down your back.

You shook your head, it was everything but okay. You didn’t dare to tell him and prayed for the first time in years that no one in the living room had.

The memory of the last time you prayed only worsened your state. You did the only thing that came to your mind and threw your arms around his shoulders, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck as you continued crying.

He massaged the nape of your neck softly with the hand that had been on your upper back. Harry wasn’t very good at consoling people, he was only doing what he would’ve liked someone to do with him. Feeling you sob, he tightened the arm around you to muffle your cries.

“Harry, let me calm her down,” Bucky, whom Harry hadn’t heard come outside, muttered, “she can get angry and it’s not—“ he interrupted himself when the young man shook his head.

Your hands started shaking at Bucky’s words and Harry didn’t think to let you go would help. He realized that when Gwen told him you had deep issues she had meant anger issues or something of sorts by the way Bucky was staring at your back as if you would explode at any second.

Slowly shifting to a kneeling position on the concrete, he flushed your body to his, your face fell onto his shoulder and slid to his chest. He rocked you lightly, only enough for the movement to be processed by your brain without startling you. He knew it would work, he had seen you rock yourself sideways a few times.

As your sobs simmered down, the shake of your hands did too and you placed them firmly on his shoulders. Parting from him to sniff comfortably, you avoided his eyes.

He kissed your forehead, shushing you from apologizing. He would’ve done that at least, and the thought of you doing it almost broke him there. He withdrew an arm off you, tightening the other one so you wouldn’t move. Taking his cellphone out, he texted Gwen again so his friend would bring him his backpack.

Gwen hurried to do it, holding it for him to open it.

“There are Kleenex in the front pocket, give me a few?”

The blonde worked quickly, withdrawing the pocket-sized pack of Kleenex and retrieving a couple from it. Harry took them with his free hand, wiping your tears slowly to not hurt your skin. You giggled nervously when he tried cleaning your nose, snatching the Kleenex from his hand to do it yourself.

You mumbled that you needed to wash your face, prompting him to nod as he moved his arm away from your body. Harry followed you inside, telling you he would be back in a few minutes as you made your way toward the elevator to get to your room.

Washing your face wouldn’t be enough. You needed a hot shower and a Xanax. For the second one, you would have to eat something first but that could be fixed later. The hoodie you took off carefully, laying it softly on the bed. Kicking your sneakers off, you peeled yourself off the remaining clothes quickly, desperate to feel clean again.

The sense of dirtiness didn’t have to do with Harry, or with anyone downstairs. The realization that you had never experienced happiness, that realistically your chances of ever doing it were pretty low... it was too much. It made you feel less than nothing— dirty for once thinking you could be normal, have normal relationships like everyone else did.

One thing, out of the multiple ones, you had always enjoyed of taking showers was its sound and how it could be confused with rain if you closed your eyes tightly enough. Opening the shower, you got in immediately and allowed yourself to breathe slowly.

You were getting dressed when someone knocked on your door, presumably to check on you. Hurrying to get into a pair of shoes, you left the walk-in closet, crossed the bedroom, and swung the door open.

“Hi, so...” Harry scratched the back of his head, worriedly examining your face. “I don’t know which soup is your favorite and I can’t make your favorite soup if I don’t know which is it, can I?”

You stuttered, confused by the fact that he wanted to cook for you. “Uh— you don’t have to.”

“I want to, tell me.”

Sighing heavily, you lifted a hand only to slap it down against your thigh and simply told him what to add and how.

“Got it!” He assured, turning on his heel to go back downstairs.

Harry trotted down the stairs quickly, skipping a few steps. He could feel Peter and Gwen staring at him, sat around the dining table to have a better view. It should’ve made him feel nervous but he felt confident he would do it fine, the instructions were clear and he wasn’t stupid.

What compelled him to make soup for his fake girlfriend who had cried her soul out while clinging to him earlier was a mystery. A mystery as scary as welcomed. He was starting to enjoy showing more of himself to you and in consequence to the people involved in your daily lives — a sharp contrast to what he felt on Saturday. Aware of that, he wondered if he should say something about it.

In three days you would be sat in front of his dad. In three days you would be scared off. In three days he would be back to feel alone. He would lose the warmth and scent he liked so much, the complicit looks, the music recommendations, the intellectual stimulation, the hope for everything to be okay one day.

He wished there was a way to keep it from happening, but the odds were against him. His only chance was that you’d be willing to keep faking it, and how fine he was with just that startled him.

You hesitated going downstairs when you were summoned but ultimately decided to do it so Harry wouldn’t feel bad. Gwen lightly patted your thigh as you sat down in a kind gesture that you realized meant she was glad you were feeling better. She didn’t tell you anything directly, but she very nicely started speaking to everyone around the table so they wouldn’t bother you while you ate.

Harry sat to your other side, participating in the conversation and sporadically giving you his attention to making sure you were okay.

“I think your soup is better than mine,” you communicated to him when you walked him out.

He breathed a laugh, looking down so the blue-ish light wouldn’t highlight his blush. “I’m glad you liked it.”

You nodded, “thank you for going through all that trouble. You didn’t have to.”

He lifted his gaze, leaning more comfortably on the hood of his car. “It wasn't troubling at all.” Harry then added, not able to help it, “are you feeling better?”

No, you weren’t. There were so many things wrong, you would have to face your dad as soon as Harry was on his way home, an explanation as to what was going on with you would ruin everything you had built in the past months, and then... then there was something you could’ve avoided — you were sure you had a crush on your fake boyfriend, also sure he didn’t have a crush on you; you were certain he was into Gwen and had the suspicion the fake dating thing was his attempt of making the blonde jealous. You didn’t blame him, even you thought Gwen was perfect.

“Yeah,” you faked a tight smile. “Nothing a good cry can’t fix.”

He nodded, slowly moving his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Harry cursed himself for sounding as unsure as hopeful.

“Have a good night,” you wished him, turning on your heel to get back into hell on earth.

That was an exaggeration, yet you didn’t care because it would feel just like it. But your reality hadn’t changed, you still didn’t know if you had ever felt happiness, you still felt like something was wrong with you, and you still felt there was a piece missing in your life — you had lost so much already that you couldn’t put your finger on what said piece could be nor where could it fit. You just knew you wished it wouldn’t matter.