#i find myself wishing for what they could’ve been if they’d been written for an adult audience instead

[springsfordays]

I keep seeing people defend how Raine was only created to be Eda’s love interest by saying “they have so many other qualities! We don’t see much tho cause of the cancellation” okay if that’s the case then ttbk should not have been made. It should’ve been a catts episode.

I love ttbk young Eda and Raine are adorable! it is a nice breather before Hollow Mind but like it just wasn’t needed realistically The crew could’ve taken the time they did have and expand on the rebellion and just coven heads in general cause the catts come out of NOWHERE!

We all thought Raine was being mind controlled, Darius and Eber are still antagonists but maybe Darius is good (?), the batts are supposedly still in the conformatorium, and Steve is starting to regret his choices. All of that was established to us but suddenly, “WHOOPSIE! RAINE IS FINE! They purposely hurt Eda to protect her! Also they’re now in a rebellion with Darius! Don’t you feel silly for believing all that and being worried?? Oh! And now everyone’s fine! Steve’s even anti belos and a part of the crew!!”

Huh? Where did all that come from? I wish ttbk would’ve been about Raine tricking Terra, an exploration of their character motivations to keep their loved ones safe (batts, Eda) Them, Darius and Eber find out about the draining spell and plan to go into Belos’ mind. Steve meets the batts in jail and decides to join the rebels, maybe even some angst on why the batts are choosing to rebel and their relationship with Raine. Then they’d all meet up and form their team which would lead perfectly into the next ep. We get to see all the core members of the catts and really explore Raine as a character separate from Eda but still related to what’s happening with the Owl Fam.

Instead of a backstory episode that doesn’t establish anything new. They could’ve done so much more.

ALSO the raine possession was completely unnecessary and doesn’t add anything to Raine as a character since we don’t even know how they feel. In fact we don’t even know if they still have feelings for Eda! We know it from Dana but they have put in zero effort to show Raine’s true feelings on anything since their entire relationship is through Eda’s perspective.

So no “blame the cancellation” is not a good excuse to completely avoid writing Raine as their own character. I say this as a big raeda fan but they are used only used to further Eda’s character. And as a brown queer myself, seeing Raine a canonical brown queer, used in this way sucks. Cause we all they be written so much better. They’re just not.

[aves-arts]

Persons of Interests Document

Heres something I've written based of the Zombie AU

//CW for some links to artwork with some blood in them

The last helicopter left the city at exactly 12:49 AM on the 10th of September. I don't know why she decided to stay. I asked her, I BEGGED her to go. Yet she stayed. Once she puts her foot down, she doesn't back down. She would remain with me even if it meant saying goodbye to her family. 

First class tickets out of the city and into the safety of the military seemed like the best I could do for them. I figured they’d be safer outside than in the bunker right in the center of the city. That decision keeps me up at night. I wish I could tell myself that she doesnt know, but Jennifer is a lot smarter and observant than I ever gave her credit for. My only hope is the potential that they could’ve escaped and somehow made something for themselves out there. That's the only thing keeping their status as missing, and not deceased.

Jennifer’s ability to inspire people in desperate times shouldnt surprise me. People loved her, and they looked up to her for guidance and advice. When we started sending scavengers out, she shined as a leader. Amongst ex-soldiers, mercinaries, and former emergency services members, she won the pick for Chief of Security by a landslide. I know she is more than capable of handling herself, but I worry about her constantly. I guess I know what it was like to be in her shoes in the times before. Her status is alive. Should that change, I don't know if I'll be capable of documenting it.

Lucas’ fall into delusion was some of the hardest hitting of when we were still secluded from the outside. He had convinced himself that I had been too lenient, and that executing certain individuals who posed a threat would be beneficial to our isolated community. The fact that me killing him caused such a stir sent that theory to the grave along with him. Lucas’ status is deceased. It was the first life I had taken since the outbreak. I’ve killed many more people since, but it doesn't progress the community further. It just means less people that disagree with us and more blood on my hands.

Frances has been a great asset to the community as her pinpoint accuracy has saved many lives. The people and I owe her a great debt, but she shrugs it off as nothing. All she asks for in return is more ammunition. Oftentimes she acts as a scout in the city. Going in alone into the concrete jungle and bringing back important intel. In fact, she was the first one to encounter the Marshals. Current status is alive. One day I’ll find a way to repay her. Maybe I’ll look for her hat she lost a long time ago.

Some of our outer city manufacturers managed to find their way back. Whittaker kept his metalworkers alive long enough to make it to us from the radio signal we had sent out to our facilities. Not everyone made it back to us though. Cindy is currently missing at this time, but truth be told I don't think she couldn't have made it out there on her own.

 As for Hawthorne? Its hard to say for certain but… 

For a long time I was greatly concerned about Peyton or her gang managing to survive the outbreak, and launching an attack on us. As time passed the concern lessened, but I was always afraid that she would come to our gates and proceed to make this new life of mine a special kind of hell. That day never came, and Frances had become curious. Their compound was on the other side of the city, but that didn't seem to dissuade her. Frances’ report goes as follows:

“The place was abandoned, seemed like nobody had inhabited the place since the outbreak. Some kind of massacre took place. A bunch of skeletons were strewn about still wearing those stupid colored clothes Pb’s freaks liked to wear. I skulked around until I found her. A skeleton with its head detached lying in some command room. That faded purple jacket was unmistakable. No sign of Cat mask or that twitchy little shovel creep neither. Well, besides all the headless skeletons anyway.”

Pb, Peyton Beck, is deceased. I can sleep a little easier knowing that. Especially since I had nothing to do with it. Though, that still leaves Nelly and that big guy Jules uncertain. What are the odds they’re still out there? I don't like that uncertainty, but maybe without Peyton messing with their heads they can actually be reasoned with. Whatever the case may be…

[keepthesethoughtsinsideyou]

3/20/2023

I didn't think my heart could be more broken. That Twitter post felt...malicious. Mean. But then again, I think you have already basically written me out of your thoughts and heart. So the idea that i still follow you. That I didn't want this. That my feelings didn't change. How hurtful the titling of that would be to me? Who am I? Just some dude now haha. I still cant believe how things went. I think about us video chatting and you trying all the underwear on that you bought with that gift card I got you for xmas. My stupid note that some of the card had to be used on thongs. what a idiot haha. I just knew your butt would look great in them. I was right. But now your new boyfriend is getting those pics. In the underwear I essentially bought you. ugh. I don't know what i expected. This situation was never perfect to be honest. In some ways, it was. To meet someone that you've known before. You’ve kissed before. You’ve made love to before. That shit was unreal. I don't think my brain ever quite understood it. Idk that every person is equipped to experience the cosmic. Especially to like, not have it mess with them. But then you have these people brought together but at a imperfect time in each of their lives. Yeah, I helped you realize what real love feels like. What you deserved. Helped you fast track getting into marriage counseling. And i think it was really the counseling that helped you realize the horrendous things that had been put on you for years by your now husband. Sucks that your new boyfriend Andi gets tagged with being the one to help you realize that. I remember the Monday after getting back from that weekend in December. And you were CHANGED. Meeting me changed you. You realized you had never felt that safe, loved, cared for. Your words. And you realized, holy shit I’ve been in a crumby relationship for 6 years. I do wish you had listened to my concerns about Chad early on in our talking. But I can understand I guess. I was in love with you. And I think it was easier to think, eh. He’s just jealous. Than to acknowledge the physical abuse & r@pe. I blame myself. Not for those things happening. They’d been going on long before we met. But I think, maybe if i had been able to express my worry in a different way. Hell, i WAS jealous. That dude did not deserve you in any way, shape or form. And everything he’s done since your breaking up has show that he is a bad person. And I really question if he didn't know he had HSV. At this point, I would not put it past the guy. But yeah, I wish i could've expressed things in a way that didn't come off jealous. But honestly, I don't think you were ready to see and understand what had happened and had been happening. And i really don't think me conveying my worries in a less jealous way would've had you seen the truth. Its fucking awful. I just think, christ. We started talking September 1st and i KNEW this guy was bad news then. And I really wish I could've made you see so you never got married. Now you have to go through VA’s laws regarding separation first for 6 months THEN divorce. You have to keep your relationship with Andi a secret essentially. Chad always seemed so disconnected from the relationship. I hope he doesn't see your Twitter and think, “whos ‘he’?” I worry what that fucker will try with the divorce. He’s already attempted to defame your character. Blaming you finding your own sexuality and creating this yarn that your and Andi’s relationship is why the marriage fell apart. Which, if the world fucking knew what HE did to you? They wouldn't believe ANY of his shit. But yeah, its really hurtful that you have made Andi your savior in seeing what was going on. Because per your own words, I was the catalyst for you getting everything going that made you realize what was truly going on. It’s so messed up that your relationship with Andi is essentially starting on this like, pile of lies almost. What would Andi say if he knew about us? Knew you were cheating on your husband with me. Knew that you were going to try to use your husband creating a open relationship not to be with Andi, but so maybe you and I could actually be together. Andi doesn't know anything about you and I. No one does in your life. You never told Lolly/Fenne. Granted, I told you that you didn't need to. But dude, you didn't need my permission. haha. Christ. It was a constant weight on my that i was the dirty lil secret. But I know that was unfair in alot of ways because the only person I told was my Mom. Man, I sort of wish I kept it like that hahaha. I admittedly kind of cracked when you chose Andi over me. I had just driven down to see you. And I would've driven straight through to Richmond. I didn't have to stay in Hershey, PA. Yeah, I didn't want to lose the money I had spent on the hotel for us. But I would've driven straight to you to try to salvage things. Show you the truth. God i really had hoped you would meet me for lunch that Saturday. i KNEW once we were together you'd see the truth. I wasn't perfect. I still am not. Christ I am trying. Trying through the worst grief I have experienced since my father died unexpectedly from COVID. But still fucking trying man. And i just knew you would see you were wrong about me and us. Man, I felt so positive after that weekend. Truly, i felt...powerful. We were powerful. I’ve never felt that way before. For me, I really felt like i solidified how special we were and how we are supposed to be together. And that we could work on things. I was so fucking positive that we could get back to where we were but BETTER and STRONGER. But i didn't know about you and Andi. I didn't know that you had been getting feelings for him behind my back. And all the while that was happening, you started focusing on the negatives of you and I that needed work...but without ever disclosing the work that needed done. The things i was doing that were weighing on you. Focusing on how easy Andi was. Comparing and contrasting him and I. Its just...unfair. But hey, life isn't fair. While I thought my coming to see you would show you i would  go to the ends of the earth for you and us, I think much like my first visit, it kind of shocked you. Fuck, he was right about us feeling the same. Fuck, he really will change. He really will do anything for me and us. Honestly man, I couldn't have known you would've been jumping into a relationship before your marriage was even officially over. You talked about yourself being a serial monogamous relationship person. Your relationship would end. Maybe a month goes by, and you're already in another long term relationship. But when you talked about it with me, you spoke like it was a negative trait. And with your marriage ending, you spoke about wanting to be single and find yourself. I genuinely believed you. It does stink that I’ll never know what really was happening. With you confessing about Andi, and your feelings and committing to him exclusively almost immediately, it really makes me question why the concept of us was always pushed back. 8 months and we will see. Etc. But if I think about all the stuff you didn't talk to me about, and kept to yourself and kind of dumped on me when everything ended, i might go crazy. Hell, I already have gone pretty crazy over this. haha. I finally told people about us. One night I was honestly losing it. I didn't and don't understand how something that feels absolutely...cosmic? otherworldly? How it could be cast aside. I reached out to a friend Brittany. I knew she was into astrology and some different things. Her and I had been pseudo romantically linked but ended up just being friends. And that was cool. Doesn't usually happen. But we got along really well. She had moved to PA to be with her BF, now husband, but prior to that we had been coworkers for a bit. But I reached out and basically said I had been going through such a crazy situation for the last 6 months, and i really wished she was around to talk to about it because I felt crazy. And she was receptive and idk why but i told her a bunch. The choice nugs, if you will. But omg she told me I wasn't crazy. She brought up stuff about twin flames? I had NEVER heard of this shit in my life. She said this situation was VERY special. Said it didn't sound like we were soulmates because some things i described don't track with those i guess. But she said regardless. Most people will never meet a soulmate, let alone a twin flame. And she said its even MORE unlikely to find one of those that also has a romantic element. She said i should feel very lucky and special. It’s definitely hard to feel that way when you chose someone else. haha. But god. Reading up that next day on twin flames? I was CRYING in my office. There were things there that Brittany hadn't mentioned but OMG did they mirror you and I. Trying to be rational, I was trying not to play into that. But omg some of it was so compelling I found myself messaging you. You probably already knew about twin flames. I hadn't thought about that at the time. How you are already aware of alot of these things. I’m sorry for that. Guess I worry about things. Alot of it tracks but the seemingly inevitable point in the twin flame relationship where flaws in the partner are pointed out. And then looking into twin flame breaks? How it can feel like a death? omg that's what I’m still going through. But everything i have read has basically said that this is the time and chance for self improvement. The breaking of the twin flames is supposed to lead both to focusing on bettering themselves, and truly working on their personal flaws that the other has pointed out to you. I know what I have to work on. You had made it clear. But that last message I sent you. The one i regret. You know the one. I think that may have put a magnifying glass over some of your own flaws. And things you weren't ready to acknowledge. I think it was easy to have me be the bad guy. The end. but when i was like, yo. these things are kind of messed up. Idk, just think it was too much. Now you are telling me not to message you again until August. Will I? idk. Will i message you before then? god i think about that all the time. What's the point if you will just leave me on read? And who knows if you wont leave me on read in August. But I guess the thing is Courtney, if this time is supposed to be for each of us to work on these flaws and improve ourselves, how are you going to do any of that while throwing yourself into another potential long term relationship? I hope I am not the only one that's going to work on themselves. I think about how i spoke to you and conveyed my thoughts and pain and hurt. I hate myself for it. But at some point, god i hope you realize it takes two people to make a relationship work. And without open communication and honestly, how can you improve anything? Can you work on your own flaws while focusing on another relationship? Without even recovering from your marriage ending? I know you are supposed to start therapy next month. I hope a professional can help guide you. I am actively looking for a therapist. I would like one that understands spiritual relationships but that's probs a reach. Idk if you and i are twin flames. I don't want to say we are. The similarities are fucking fairly uncanny though. And regardless of label, what you and i have (yes, have. not had) is something next level. Brittany got REALLY new age on me. Divine Timelines. Past Lives. Cosmic Guides. It was all so much. idk what I do or don't believe. But with so much of what she said linking to you and I, i would be lying if i said that I have not been speaking to my guides every day. Every time I miss you. Every time my heart aches. Every time i just want to die and give up. I just talk to them. Does that make me crazy? Maybe. I just ask them for guidance and let them know I am open to it. I am open to see the signs. I bring up all the signs they showed you. And I ask for them to show me signs that lead me on the path I should take. God typing that makes me sound unhinged haha. In those moments, it gives me temporary solace. With all the cosmic signs you were shown, I have to believe there is something bigger to you and I. In my heart, i hope they are showing you signs all the time now. Things ramped up as your marriage approached and during your honeymoon. The eerie shit where it was like, there's no way this isn't purposeful. Brittany said alot clearly. haha. But one thing she said is that these guides will send you undeniable signs. And the more you ignore them, the more they will show you. That feels like your honeymoon like omg. You knew you shouldn't have been with him. You knew something unreal was happening between us, but you still went forward with the marriage. And they showed you. Just like when I left in December. They were trying to tell you, you need to follow Matt. Well, maybe not follow, but that there is something there with me. That's my thoughts anyway. You were able to reject these seemingly cosmic signs then, and I cant really imagine you giving them weight/credence now that you have your new boyfriend and relationship. I do want you happy. But man. Rebounds are a thing. And from what youve told me? Like, EVERY relationship you've had is a rebound because you never actually have that time to yourself to go over the relationship. I hope the therapist can help you. God I hope I can find one and they can help me. Regardless of you and I, this has put such a magnifying glass over me. My flaws. I feel like, if only i was perfect. If only I hadn't created my negative coping mechanisms. If only i didn't have bi polar. If only i didn't have an anxiety disorder. If only. But who knows. None of those things are excuses. And at some point you have to realize your faults and work on yourself. It sucks feeling like losing my person, a piece of myself. The part of me i didn't know i was missing but once i found, i felt like, more complete. it sucks that this fucking traumatic event is what will lead to growth. But I am sure you feel that way about your marriage too. And I am forever sorry I couldn't save you from it. If I follow the twin flame theory, this was always supposed to happen. The thing that sucks is there is no way of knowing what happens. We work, we become better. I become someone you can actually imagine being with. Having a future and life and family. All the things you told me over and over again. And then taking back in a heartbeat. But it still doesn't mean anything necessarily. Apparently meeting a twin flame can just be to lead to bettering yourself. If that's the case, I would just say, how unfair that there had to be romantic feelings connected to us. To know in my heart, i will never love another human as i love you. And to know it could be all over forever. How does one go on knowing there perfect person is out there and not with them? I guess we will see. August feels so far away. And yet it feels like not enough time. I don't feel like me working on myself is enough. Like when we reconnect, i worry if I am not 100% fixed, you wont give me the time of day. I know the changes are supposed to be for me. But its so hard working to make yourself better when you have never liked yourself. Its alot easier when you have this amazing woman there for you somewhere down the line. And this life that you've always dreamed of in your sights. A goal. A finish line. Feeling the loss and grief that I do right now, its hard to make positive strives. Especially if the only person I am doing it for is me. Because right now, I don't like me. Can you imagine not liking yourself already, and then someone who is like, your one. Your other half. Cosmic partner. Whatever you want to call it. That person ends things, picks someone else over you because that person is better (when you already have abandonment issues and feelings of not being worthy or good enough for you) and basically tells you, its all your fault. Can you imagine liking yourself enough to do ANYTHING with only your own self betterment in mind? It’s so hard. And honestly, even if you wont acknowledge me, i still feel like I will check in with each personal goal post i reach. Cause this might be one of the hardest things I have ever been faced with. And whether you and me romantically are through forever, or there is some chance. Regardless of that. I want you to know that you matter to me. And the loss of you, was a wake up call. I wish I worked on all of this sooner Courtney. You cant know how much I wish it. But much like you realizing your relationship needed to end only happened once you met me, I think you breaking things of and choosing another man over me was the catalyst for my own personal growth. I hate that it happened this way. Because in a alternate timeline where I had already worked on myself, maybe you would've chose me. I would've been good enough. I don't know. I’ll never know. But god I want to show you who I should've been all along. And I hope you welcome me back into your life in SOME form. How you could go from “i cant ever imagine not talking to you and having you in my life” to where we are now in such a short period of time is staggering to me. But I know this is my fault. And I have to try to not focus so much on the past. I cant change how i was. Or the negative moments between us. But I can become who I should've always been for me and you and us, and remember the magic. That magic will never die. You will see. 

[giraffesonjupiter]

accidentally bought too many books and now I can’t decide what to read next

[storiesforallfandoms]

comparisons ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2195

request?: yes!

“Can I get a Colson Baker one where you’re dating after him and Megan where you get a bunch of hate and they both defend you against the hate please”

description: when her boyfriend’s ex is one of the most beautiful actresses of this generation, she finds herself being constantly compared to her and receiving hateful messages

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, hate messages, insecurities

masterlist (one, two)

There was some sort of assumption that when you start dating someone, you immediately hate their ex. That could not be further from the truth for me and Colson. In fact, Colson’s ex-girlfriend introduced us shortly after their break up, and had constantly pushed for the two of us to get together.

Megan was basically the backbone in our friendship. She pushed me to pursue my dreams in acting (as well as helped you with that since she was so much more famous than you were when you started), then she pushed me to start auditioning for bigger roles. The moment she introduced me to Colson, I knew exactly what was coming next.

“That’s weird, Meg,” I had told her. “Isn’t there, like, a girl code about dating your best friend’s ex?”

“I’m literally shoving you onto him,” she had responded. “I think you’re fine with the girl code.”

A few months after meeting, I finally caved and asked Colson out on a date. Six months later, I was still thanking Megan for giving me that push.

Shortly after making our relationship public, however, the happiness slowly came to a stop. For me, anyways. Colson, bless his heart, was blissfully ignorant to the comments his fanbase started to send me.

“yikes, he really downgraded huh?”

“how do you go from megan fox to...that?”

“guess mgk couldn’t keep up his streak of hot girlfriends”

Hate comes with fame, I knew that. I had my fair share of hate comments ever since the start. It was easy to ignore them when they were just a handful of hate comments here and there, but this was different. This was a bombardment of hate that was so heavy I could barley go online.

Colson was oblivious for a while, until he found out I had deleted all my social media accounts.

“Did you delete your Instagram babe?” he asked the minute he got home the day I had done it.

“Yeah,” I responded, nonchalantly. “I deleted all my social media.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “I just thought it’d be better for me mentally. They say being so attached to social media is bad for you or whatever.”

“But you weren’t even addicted to social media. You just liked sharing your memories - our memories.”

I shrugged again and turned back to my cooking. I wasn’t about to tell him his fans drove me off the internet. He loved his fans, I couldn’t fuck that up for him, even if what they were saying hurt me so much.

My back was to him as I cooked, so he couldn’t see my reaction when he asked, “Is it because people were comparing you to Megan?”

I froze completely. I could feel his eyes staring into the back of my head, but I just couldn’t convince myself to turn around to face him. I knew that if I did, I’d crack. I had gone too long pretending everything was okay, keeping this secret from Colson, to finally let it slip now. I just had to throw him off of his thought process.

“Where did you get that idea?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

He was next to me suddenly, holding his phone up so I could see it. On the screen was a picture of me at a red carpet just below a headline that read “(Y/F/N) deletes social media accounts amid hateful comments from boyfriend Machine Gun Kelly’s fans”.

I sighed in frustration. Of course the tabloid vultures had already written articles about it. I had only done it a few hours earlier, but they always had to be the first ones to write another story about me.

“I didn’t even know I was getting hate,” I said, trying to keep up the lie even though it was pretty obvious I had been found out. “I just decided to delete my accounts, it must be a coincidence.”

“Really? Because this article says you were receiving so much hate that you couldn’t even go into the comments on your pictures or replies on your tweets without seeing a mass amount of hate from my fans.”

I turned off the stove and turned around suddenly, abandoning my cooking completely as I quickly walked out of the kitchen and towards mine and Colson’s room. I felt a lump forming in my throat, and the last thing I wanted was for Colson to see me cry.

I wasn’t shocked to hear his footsteps coming after me. I forgot how much longer his legs were than mine, so it didn’t take long for him to catch up with me and stop me before I could get too far away. He took hold of my arm and turned me around to look at him. The moment my eyes landed on his face, it felt like someone had finally broke the dam holding back my tears.

Colson pulled me in for a hug and held me tightly as I sobbed into his chest. Every ounce of overwhelming feelings I had been bottling up for months was finally starting to come out, and I realized it was long overdue when I eventually began to grow tired from my crying.

I felt Colson pick me up and bring me to his bed. My eyes were starting to grow heavy despite how much I was fighting against them to stay awake. The minute my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light.

I wasn’t sure how long I was asleep, but it was obvious I had needed that rest, because when I woke up again I felt more well rested than I had in a long time.

I opened my eyes to find myself facing the window, which helped me to pinpoint that it was now nighttime as the sky was pitch black. I rolled over, expecting to find Colson asleep next to me only to find that I was alone in his bed. I was confused at first, forgetting the events that happened mere hours earlier.

I could hear a distant voice talking and was able to identify it as Colson’s. I got up from his bed and made my way towards the stairs, hearing it get louder as I stood at the top.

“I wish she would’ve told me,” he was saying. “I don’t know why she would’ve kept this a secret from me.”

“She didn’t want you upset with your fans,” came another voice. This one was distorted like it was coming from a phone. When she spoke again, I realized it was Megan’s voice. “And she’s stubborn. She was probably determined to deal with this by herself.”

“I just hate that she felt that way,” Colson sighed. “I don’t want her believing anything any of those people said to her, but I saw screenshots and fuck...they really did just bombard her with hate.”

“I know, but none of us could’ve predicted this. Your fans were so cool with us dating, I thought they’d love (Y/N) since we’re so similar.”

I sat down on the top of the stairs and peeked down enough that I could see Colson without him seeing me. He was laid out on the couch in just his sweat pants. In his hand he was holding his phone up, the other was slung over the back of his couch. I could see the guilt on his face, which broke my heart to see. I didn’t want Colson feeling guilty for something that was out of his control.

“You think what I posted will do anything?” he asked Megan.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. When people want to hate, they just want to hate.”

Hearing that Colson had posted something made me curious. I felt around my pants for my phone, but realized I had probably left it in the room or downstairs somewhere. I was in too deep now to give myself away, but I really wanted to know what he had posted about the situation.

“Thanks for talking to me about this, Megan,” he said.

“Of course, Colson. Anytime.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Colson tossed his phone onto the coffee table and put his arm under his head. “Are you gonna come down babe?”

I wanted to ask how he knew I was there, but instead I stood from my spot and made my way down the stairs. When I entered the living room, Colson just looked up at me for a moment, almost expectantly. I smiled down at him and laid on top of him with my head on his chest. The arm that was over the back of the couch wrapped around me and he gently kissed the top of my head.

“How much did you hear?” he asked.

“Just the last bit,” I admitted. “Something about a post you made.”

Colson hummed, his chest vibrating underneath my ear as he did. “I wanted to address the issue, and I knew you wouldn’t let me do it if you were awake.”

“I still don’t like that you did it now,” I said, half joking. “Can I see the post?”

He moved his head to look down at me. “How do I know you’re not going to delete the post?”

“You don’t,” I responded. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

He smiled and reached over to grab his phone from the coffee table. He opened it and pulled up a post he had made on Instagram: it was your usual white background with text post you saw celebrities make from time to time.

It read:

“I love my fans so much. You guys are my EST family, and I’m so proud of this family that we have built over the last few years. However, it came to my attention today that some of you have been less than nice to my girlfriend to a point where she felt the need to delete her social media accounts. I will admit, I was oblivious to this at first as I am not one to go onto other people’s social media to read comments and replies, and (Y/N) kept this to herself instead of telling me about it. But now that I do know, I have to say I am beyond pissed. (Y/N) is the most beautiful girl I have ever met, inside and out. She is not Megan, and honestly - with all respect to Megan - I’m glad that she’s not. I love Megan as a friend, but truly that’s all she is to me. (Y/N) is my soulmate, the love of my life. These comparisons and jabs at her because she isn’t my ex are absolutely disgusting, especially coming from people who claim they love me as much as you guys do. Please learn how to treat the people in my life with love and respect, or else take my face out of your profile pictures and my name out of your usernames/bios as you are not a true fan of mine. From the bottom of my heart, fuck you to anyone that made my girlfriend feel like shit.”

I scrolled down to see the comments and saw that the top one was from Megan, and was already liked by Colson.

“(Y/N) is not my competition, nor is she my enemy. She is my friend and she has been since before Colson and I were ever together. The fact that people feel the need to pit two women against one another just because they both dated the same person is absolutely appalling to me. I’d like to emphasis Colson’s statement - fuck you to whoever hurt my friend.”

I handed Colson his phone back, not wanting to read any more. I could feel a lump in my throat again, but this one was from happiness. I felt so lucky to have two amazing people in my corner during a time that was otherwise very trying for me.

“I’m sorry I never told you,” I said as I rested against his chest again.

“You shouldn’t be sorry, (Y/N). I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“You don’t have any reason to be sorry either. You can’t control your fans.”

“Then neither of us will be sorry.”

I chuckled at this. For a moment we were both silent, the only sound being Colson’s heart beating under my ear. It was a soothing sound, and combined with his fingers tracing over my back, I was almost lulled back to sleep.

“I love you,” he mumbled against my hair.

I lifted my head to look at him. “What?”

“I said I love you.”

I was speechless. It was the first time he had seriously said those words and he had managed to shock me into silence with them.

He looked at me, his face slowly becoming concerned with my silence.

“I love you, too,” I finally managed.

A smile broke out across Colson’s face as he wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly to him. For the rest of the night, he would whisper those three words to me randomly, and I would whisper back my response every time.

[spenciebabie]

This is a request from @mggbler! Thanks for asking, I loved writing this, I hope you like it!

The blurb was written for this gif.

The Girl Next Door

Spencer and his neighbor have been friends since he moved in. Just friends, so why was he feeling so jealous?

A/N: I got super carried away with this one, I really don’t think I’m capable of writing something under 1000 words. But I was inspired so what are you gonna do

Warnings: smut, nothing too explicit, masturbation (male and female), implied sex, kissing

Words: 1.6k

They’d been friends since the day Spencer moved into the building. She knew the place next door had been on the market for a while and was beyond excited to find out it was another person her own age moving in. Their building was packed with people who’d lived there since the place was built. Not that she hadn’t made friends with them too, it was just nice to have some fresh blood.

She’d brought over a bottle of wine and baked a plate of cookies to welcome him to the building. And his heart instantly swelled with gratitude. They became fast friends, Spencer had never had many of those, and he certainly hadn’t had many outside of work, so he welcomed the connection with open arms.

She was so easy to talk to that it never felt like a burden, or even effort to hang out with her. It always felt simple, and it always felt good.

Until about a year ago. Something shifted and he couldn’t really pinpoint when exactly it happened but I did. Spencer knew she was pretty, she had been from that first day she popped into his doorframe. But Spencer didn’t only care about pretty, he wasn’t the type of person to fall in love with the way someone looked, he fell in love with personality first.

He thinks it might’ve been last November, when he came home from a particularly bad case at 3am and she was outside his door at 3:05. Sleep in her eyes still in her pajamas, when she heard sounds coming from the hall she knew it was him, and something in her knew he needed company. And he realized that he needed her, that he loved her. But that love complicated things.

——

Their apartments are mirror images of each other, which was jarring at first, to walk into a backwards version of your own apartment, but the decorations are all a little different. It was just funny at first but since November it had become a problem.

Because of the layout, their bedrooms backed onto one another, worse still, the headboards of each of their beds were right up against the same paper thin wall.

This hadn’t been a real problem before but since he’d realized his feelings, and since she’d started going on more dates, it was starting to grate on Spencer.

Every time she left for a date he’d have a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t sleep because he’d sit up waiting, listening intently for the sound of her coming in from the date, hoping desperately that she was alone.

And on the occasions that she was he’d feel relief, and then he’d feel horrible for feeling relieved that she’d had a bad time. But on the occasions that she wasn’t alone he’d feel even worse.

He hated the way he could hear her gentle moans, the way she’d cry out a muffled name as her headboard rocked against their shared wall. He loved the noises she made, more than anything, but he hated the noises that came from the other person in there with her. The person that was making her feel that way.

Sometimes he’d get lucky and it would be over quickly. Other times he’d get unlucky and he’d wake up to the same perfect moans the following morning.

Most of the time if he heard it starting he’d just get up and sleep on the couch.

Those paper thin walls could be a blessing at other times. On the occasions that he knew she didn’t have a date, that she was alone in her room. And he’d hear those same beautiful, filthy sounds. Sometimes he could hear the gentle hum of her vibrator, other times he wouldn’t, but the outcome would be the same. She’d moan and cry and if he was lucky, and she was particularly loud, he could sometimes hear her heavy panting.

On those occasions he’d let his own hand drift under the covers and into his boxers. He’d touch himself, stroking along his hard length while he listened. Screwing his eyes shut so that he could picture what might be happening on the other side of the wall, what was she wearing, or not wearing, what position was she lying in, how many fingers was she using, or did she have other toys. And more than anything, he wondered what she was picturing herself.

But when that happened he’d feel terrible almost immediately afterwards. It felt like an invasion of privacy but he really couldn’t help himself any more.

— —

When he arrives home that evening he’s barely got time to leave his satchel down before there’s a knock at his door. He knows who it is, it couldn’t be anyone else.

When he opens it she’s not dressed like she usually is. She’s in a little red dress. The kind with the tiny little straps that held it up, and the tie that wraps it snug around her waist. It cuts off at the mid thigh and he has to force himself to stop looking.

That’s when his eyes land on the bottle of wine in her hand and for a second he feels excited. She was coming over here dressed like that to see him!

“Have you got an corkscrew?” is the first thing she says, “I can’t find mine?”

He nods and steps aside to let her in, while he goes to rummage in the kitchen for his opener. She follows him to the kitchen and leans herself against the countertop.

When he finds it he hands it to her and she pops open the cork.

“Thanks Spence, you’re a lifesaver” she hands it back to him, and he roots through the cupboard for some glasses.

“You want a glass?” She asks, pouring her own and he nods, so she fills one up for him too.

Before he can ask what the occasion is she volunteers the information herself.

“I’ve got a date in like 20 minutes and I’m too nervous, I thought I’d have a drink to calm down but then I couldn’t find my corkscrew and I just made myself more nervous looking for it” she rushes out with a light laugh.

“Oh, cool” he says, and he tries desperately to keep his emotions under control but his heart felt like it was physically aching.

“I should actually head back in there and get ready, I gotta leave soon. You can keep the rest of that bottle, I’ll return the glass later!” She calls out as she wanders back towards his door. “Bye Spence”

“Good luck” he calls down the hall after her, and he wishes he meant it.

— —

Two hours go by and he’s mentally preparing himself for a night spent on the couch when there’s a light knock at his door.

It’s Y/N, and she looks as perfect as she did earlier, and something in him notices that her lipstick is still completely intact. She’s holding his wine glass from earlier and she hands it out to him.

“Here, thanks, but it didn’t do me much good” she frowns a little, and he yet again feels awful that it brings him so much relief.

“Do you wanna come in?” He asks, and he knows he shouldn’t.

“Yeah okay, another glass might help me now” she chuckles and she takes the wine glass back from him.

They sit next to each other on the couch and finish off the bottle together. She always feels so at ease in Spencer’s apartment. Maybe it’s because it was just like her own. But really she knew it was because he lived there, he just made her feel so comfortable, so happy, so loved.

And she also knew that’s why none of her dates had ever gotten a second, and why her date this evening had gone so badly.

None of them made her feel the way that Spencer did. None of them looked at her the way his eyes were looking at her now. And she knew she wouldn’t feel anything close to the love she felt for Spencer for anyone else.

“Spence?” She asks, placing her glass back on the coffee table, “do you ever think about us?”

“Us?” He asks, unsure

“Yeah” she pauses and takes in a deep breath, “Like how we get on so well, and how long we’ve known each other?”

“I mean— I guess so? Why?” He doesn’t want to presume anything about the direction of her train of thought but his heart is absolutely pounding.

“Well, I think what I’m getting at is, why haven’t you done this yet?”

“Done wh—” before he can finish the question her lips are on his. Soft and sweet, and they they taste like red wine, and it’s more perfect than he ever could’ve imagined.

When she pulls back she’s terrified that she’s misread the situation and ruined their friendship forever.

But he’s just staring at her with nothing but pure adoration.

“I didn’t know— I didn’t think— you like me?” He asks, his voice is so soft and sweet.

“I love you Spence” she says it with such conviction and his heart almost bursts in his chest.

“I love you too” he rushes out and then his mouth is on hers again.

This time it’s more feverish, hungry and excited to make up for lost time.

She leans over closer to him and he pulls her tighter against him, placing his hand on the underside of her bare thigh. He can’t believe this is really happening.

Moving against him, her hands splayed out against his chest she pulls back for a moment and looks down at him with half lidded eyes.

“Bedroom?”

[speechlessxx]

Naïveté (Ransom Drysdale x Reader)

Summary: Ransom loves control and his sweet, innocent plaything doesn’t know better. 

Warnings: DARKish Ransom with hints of soft Ransom but not really, this fic is lowkey a mess, a little uncomfortable situations, unprotected sex, implied AGE GAP, angst, mutual obsession, choking, Ransom is a little off (but what’s new), Sugar Daddy/Baby relationship, innocent reader, implied Dom/Sub dynamic, loss of virginity, poorly written attempt at SMUT

Word Count: 4.7k

Please do not read if anything makes you uncomfortable. 

READ WARNINGS

This is my first time writing smut. Please don’t hate me. 

Something a little different from what I usually write (?)

“You’re not going to see him again, are you?” your friend, Joey, asked you. Worried, judgmental lines sprinkled across his young face as he stared at you. You frowned and shook your head as you brought the straw of your iced coffee to your lips. “Good.” He muttered. “That guy was a creep.”

“He's not that bad,” you argued. 

“(Y/N), he was the worst thing that could’ve ever happened to you,” Joey scoffed as he drank his drink. “I’m just glad you kicked him to the curb before things got too intense.” 

You stayed silent and nodded, taking another sip from the straw. Joey began to talk about your friend group’s evening plans to hit up this bar, but your mind was taking you somewhere else.

You couldn’t tell Joey the truth. It’d disappoint him. It would anger him and jeopardize your friendship. 

But you couldn’t admit that Ransom Drysdale had a hold on you, and you didn’t want him to let go.

As an aspiring writer, you were interning at Blood Like Wine Publishing under Ransom’s uncle, Walt Thrombey. In a twisted turn of events, Walt took a liking to you.

Your doe-eyes and bright optimism intrigued him. He always fluttered around you like a moth to a flame and always had off-putting conversations with you.

It started with his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them in a way that made you uneasy. Then, it was pushing your hair to the side to expose the back of your neck, or his hands that would slither down to the small of your back. Everything about the man made you uncomfortable, but you’d never spoke out against it in fear of losing your internship. 

One day, Walt invited you over to his grandfather’s manor. “A family party,” he explained. And though you were afraid of accepting – calling it an intrusion – Walt insisted. “A chance to meet a world-renowned author,” he said. How could you refuse?

You met Ransom at that party. From the moment you walked through the doors, he knew he had to have you. He was a brat that way.

Walt was too preoccupied with arguing with his father to introduce you to the family. So, you kept to yourself, finding sanctuary in Harlan’s nurse, Marta, who looked just as out of place as you did. 

Unbeknownst to either of you, Ransom was listening in on your conversation – stalking you as if you were his prey.

Marta had explained to you that she was very fortunate to work with Harlan and that he was a kind man. Ransom couldn’t help but rolled his eyes when Marta had brought up how she and his grandfather were great friends. Blah, blah, blah, he thought as she droned on.

Then, he heard you open up about yourself. 

About how your scholarship was barely covering your tuition and how you were too late to apply to housing, so you had to live off campus in a ratty apartment whose rent was too much to handle on a monthly basis. You told Marta about how your part-time job at the local coffee shop next to campus was barely paying you enough for groceries, let alone the rest of your expenses.

The gears inside Ransom’s devious mind began to turn as a plan started to form in his head.

When Marta had been whisked away into a conversation about immigration with his father, Ransom found the perfect opportunity to meet you.

“I’m Ransom,” he introduced.

“(Y/N),” you greeted, offering your hand. He took it and brought it to his lips. Your cheeks flushed. Where all the Thrombey men this welcoming - this comfortable?Ransom smirked at your reaction.

Similar to his uncle, his hand found its way to the small of your back as he maneuvered you to the back door. Perhaps, it was simply a Thrombey gesture?

It was easy to navigate through a conversation with you. You were a good listener, Ransom was a great talker. The conversation went by smoothly as Ransom droned on and on about himself (something he was really good at). 

“I have too much money. I don’t know what to do with myself,” Ransom had joked, steering the conversation in his favor.

You chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I wish I had that problem.” Ransom responded with a hum, encouraging you to open up about your financial troubles (though he knew it all from eavesdropping earlier).

“I think I have the perfect solution to both our troubles,” Ransom proposed. 

And the rest was history. 

-=+=-

No one close to you knew the exact extent of the relationship. You tried to create the narrative that you met Ransom through Walt and the relationship just blossomed.

You were embarrassed to admit that Ransom was paying your rent, tuition, and giving you a weekly allowance that helped you get by.

Joey had even joked that working for the Thrombeys was changing you when he noticed your sudden change in labels. You had forgone the Forever 21 sales section and wore the luxury brands that Ransom deemed worthy to be draped over his angel.

When your friends met Ransom - the man keeping you afloat by sharing his own riches – they knew something was up. Though they didn’t have a clue about the financial aspect of the relationship, they knew that Ransom was bad news.

They’d tell you he stared at you like a piece of meat. He’d watch your every move as if he were engraving your very image in his mind. Joey would tell you he didn’t like the way Ransom had a grip on you every time you were together. 

“He’s possessive and not in a cute way,” Joey warned you, but you shrugged him – and all your friends – off.

You’d tell them that Ransom loved you... But were you trying to convince them or yourself?

Your friends saw through Ransom. They saw how he was taking advantage of your innocence and your naivete.

When you told Ransom of your friends’ opinions, he told you to ignore it, so you did. But as time went on, it was clear that their reluctance to be accepting of the relationship bothered you. You blamed it on the age difference. (You were still in college and Ransom was in his mid-thirties). But it was more than that and your friends didn’t quite know how to explain it to you. You were just so in love with the guy - who were they to dictate your love life? They just cared about your well being. 

So, Ransom commanded that you lie to everyone. “Tell them we broke up,” Ransom told you. “Just a fib to get them off your back.” When you showed reluctance, Ransom said with pleading eyes, “do it because I love you.”

You were always too trusting for your own good.

But you couldn’t see that. You saw Ransom as your white knight – your savior. He made sure whatever balance your scholarship left was paid for. He even got you out of that ratty apartment and into a better one that was worth the expensive rent. It was closer to campus, too, so you didn’t have to ride the bus. He kept you fed and clothed. Ransom kept you afloat. 

You were afraid to let him go – afraid that his interest would fade, and another girl would be the apple of his eye. What would happen to you then? So, you tried to become everything Ransom wanted. You depended on him after all...

Just like he planned it.

-=+=-

The ride was silent. The text on your phone read Harlan’s manor. Need you here. NOW.

The driver asked you if you wanted him to turn on the radio. He was just as eager to ease the tension, so you gladly obliged. When he arrived at the family manor, he even told you, “good luck, miss.”

You gave him a nervous smile. What were you stepping into? (And were you prepared for the aftermath?).

You didn’t bother to knock on the door. He was already waiting outside for you. A cigarette in his hand. You frowned as he extinguished it against the brick wall.

“Ransom, hey,” you offered him a smile.

He didn’t return it. He had a scowl on his face and something on his mind. His face scrunched up in aggravation. He only gave you a hard stare. His blue eyes staring at you in the dark night.

He eyed you up and down. You wore a white lace dress from whatever designer (he didn’t care). He liked white on you and you knew that. It made you look like an angel – his angel. A symbol of purity – something you naturally were.

“You’re late,” he said. His voice was hard, matching the expression etched on his face. Hard and disapproving.

“I… I was with Joey,” you explained. “He was getting suspicious, so we went on a coffee date – “

“Did I ask?” Ransom snapped. “It’s part of the agreement. You make yourself available to me 24/7. That’s why I pay you so much.” You gulped as you adverted your eyes, unable to hold his angry glare for too long. He let out a sigh and held out his hand. You glanced at him, uncertainty written all over your face. “I’m not going to wait forever, (Y/N).”

“Sorry,” you muttered and took his hand. Ransom pulled you to him. His lips smashed against yours and you cringed at the faint smell of smoke.

You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to push him away – trying to catch your breath. But his grip tightened. “Kiss back,” he muttered into the kiss, growing impatience at your insubordination. Reluctantly, you did as you were told. After long minutes of the uncomfortable session, he pulled away and eyed you again. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice hushed. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “Why’d you asked me to come?”

“I was bored,” he shrugged. What he didn’t say was, there’s a situation I can’t handle, so I need something I can control around me or else I’ll lose my mind.

“So, I’m entertainment?” you joked, nervously. He laughed a bit. You looked into the house through the windows. You could hear faint chatter and cheers of happy birthday. “It’s someone’s birthday?” you asked.

“Harlan’s,” Ransom nodded.

“Oh, I should probably pop in and – “you began walking towards the door.

“Don’t,” Ransom ordered through clenched teeth, and you froze in your tracks. Your hand was grazing the cool metal of the doorknob. You pulled your hand away and walked back to stand in front of Ransom. “Good girl,” he muttered, an arm slinging itself around your waist. “We should get out of here.” He whispered, stealing another kiss from your sweet lips.

“My friends are at this bar tonight,” you offered. “We could stop by.”

“And let them know we’re seeing each other again?” Ransom laughed, dryly. “I’d rather not let them turn you against me.”

“No one could ever do that,” you assured him.

“Let’s go to my place,” Ransom muttered. “Something I want to show you.” He said as he nipped at the exposed skin of your neck. You yelped in surprise as a strange feeling shot through you.

Ransom has invited you over once or twice before. Most of your outings usually ended with him dropping you off at your apartment. He didn’t normally offer to take you to his place or swing by. The offer was spontaneous – different.

You smiled and nodded, not wanting to piss him off more than he already was.

He led you to his Beamer. The ride was silent, and Ransom didn’t bother to try to ease the tension. No music. No conversation. Just a hand that rubbed the inside of your thigh in a manner that unsettled you.

Sure, Ransom was handsy at times, but he kept his distance from your most intimate areas. He’d always had to have a hand on your waist or your hand gripped in his. The most he’s ever done to make you uncomfortable was when he wrapped his hand around your neck to keep you from turning away when he kissed you. That was it.

In truth, Ransom saw you like a delicate doll. Such purity and innocence should be maintained. But tonight, Ransom was losing control – his chat with Harlan left him spiraling. 

The only thing he still had control over was sitting in the passenger seat of his car.

-=+=-

His home was just as you remembered it. Large windows, large spaces, large rooms. It was clean, for the most part. A few clothing items discarded on the floor, some hung on chairs. He shrugged off his dark grey cardigan and hung it on one of the chairs, joining the other clothes.

Ransom led you straight into his kitchen. He fetched a beer and a bottle of water. You were never much of a drinker. Ransom knew that. He stared at you as you wrapped your lips around the bottle’s opening and drank it carefully. He was still deciding – trying to make up his mind.

Should he ruin his little plaything now? Or shall he wait?

“You said you wanted to show me something?” You asked.

He nodded. “It can wait.” He walked over to you. You were leaning against his kitchen island. He plucked the bottle from your hand, placing it to the side along with his beer, and brought his hands to your hips.

“Rans – umph!” You yelped as he effortlessly lifted you up onto the counter. “What are you doing?” You asked him with a small, nervous laugh. Your face heated up as each of his hands settled to both of your knees and spread them. When you tried to fight against his grips, Ransom just slotted his waist between your legs. “Ransom?” You asked as he placed one hand on your waist and the other at the back of your neck. He hummed quietly. His eyes didn’t meet yours. They simply stared are your lips. “What cha doin’ there?”

He didn’t respond. He captured your lips with his and you were too stunned to react, so you simply mirrored his actions.

Sometimes Ransom got like this. Sometimes he wouldn’t talk and he’d just assume you’d read his mind. But tonight, your minds weren’t in unison.

You were under the impression he just needed physical contact (which was true). You thought he just needed comfort and you were more than willing to give it to him.

But tonight, Ransom wanted something much more than simple kisses and a few touches.

You tried to pull away to catch your breath, but Ransom pulled you back. He licked at your bottom lip, wanting entrance, but you refused him. So, in retaliation, Ransom yanked your hair which made you yelp. He took the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. He didn’t need to fight for dominance. You just sat there with your mouth open, unsure of what to do – unsure of how to react. He had never been physical with you – he had never tried to hurt you.

The kiss was heated. You wished it were passionate or loving, but it wasn’t that. It was something else entirely.

Desperate to catch your breath, you bit on his tongue. It was a mistake. One that you’d pay for. But you were desperate.

He pulled away suddenly. “What the fuck!” He snapped.

“I’m – I’m sorry, Ransom – I just,” you stammered, unable to explain yourself. “I – I couldn’t breathe. I’m sorry, Ransom.”

Your eyes finally met. His bright blue eyes were dark like the night sky. And it was then you understood what Joey and all your friends told you. He stared at you like he was starved and you were the only thing on the menu.

“You little, ungrateful bitch,” Ransom spat. One of his hands wrapped firmly around your throat, tightening slightly and cutting off your oxygen. “You breathe when I let you. You live because I let you. The clothes you wear, the food you eat, the fucking apartment you live in – it’s all because I gave it to you. You could at least show some appreciation.” 

His grip tightened until you could see tiny black dots peppering your vision. And then suddenly, Ransom let go.

You fell forward into Ransom. Your head in the crook of his neck and hands on his shoulder. You were coughing and sputtering out apologizes, unsure of what else to tell him.

“You’re gonna show me some appreciation, baby,” he cooed but his voice was nowhere near comforting. It was taunting. “Alright?” You nodded. “Okay, c’mon,” he hoisted you up. Panicked, you wrapped your arms around him and your legs around his torso, afraid he would drop you. “I got you, sweet angel… I got you.”

You weren’t sure where he was taking you until you were laid on soft, satin sheets. You opened your eyes and saw Ransom standing at the foot of the bed. He pulled his sweater from his body and you felt your jaw drop. Why would he hide his toned physique beneath sweaters? It was a mystery to you.

He smirked when he caught you ogling him. He was always so cocky.

“How?” you murmured. He cocked an eyebrow up at you. “How am I going to show you?”

Ransom’s smirk widened as he reached down for you. His fingers lightly traced the neckline of the dress. “I think you know,” he muttered. 

Your heart thudded against your chest in realization. You tried to scoot away from him, but Ransom leaned his body forward, encaging you.

“You don’t want to make me mad, baby, do you?” He whispered, his tone still taunting. His hot breath against your ear. You closed your eyes and shook your head. “Good. Because I don’t think you want me to take away all the nice things I’ve given you, right?” You nodded. “Take off the dress for me.” He ordered, releasing you.

You did as you were told, not wanting to make him angry. His breath hitched when you revealed yourself to him. He always knew you were beautiful. The idea of you being untouched – unclaimed – made blood flow straight to his member.

His expert fingers made quick work of your bra clasp. He discarded your brassiere along with his sweater and tutted at you when your hands instinctively went to cover yourself up. He pried your hands away from your chest. 

“Don’t cover yourself up, angel,” he told you, leaning forward and leaving a trail of sloppy, wet kisses down your neck. He kissed the bruises that were forming from his grip moments ago. He scolded himself for damaging the delicate skin of his angel.

He kissed down your collarbones and found his way to your breasts. He took his time worshiping your body. There was no rush (the night was still young). 

As his lips worked on one of your mounds, his fingertips toyed with the other. You couldn’t hold back the moans that were escaping you and the heat that presented itself in between your legs. 

Everything was so foreign to you. All you could do was toy with the hair on the back of Ransom’s head and moan his name.

He moved one of his hands to cup your clothed sex. He felt the increasingly dampening spot through the delicate material and moaned against your nipple. He stared up at you as he continued his assault. Your eyes were closed tightly and your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as you continued to let out soft moans. The sound going straight to his crotch.

In one swift motion, Ransom was able to pull your underwear down your legs. The material fell to the floor and he kicked it to join the rest of the discarded clothing. He pulled away from you to admire your body, splayed out on his bed like an offering. Your cunt glistening in the pale moonlight, calling his name. He fumbled with his belt as he shoved his slacks along with his boxer briefs down.

Your eyes finally opened and were met with the intimidating appendage. Long and thick. Fear suddenly flooded through you. It wouldn’t fit. Was this worth it? Was surrendering your virginity to Ransom – your white knight, your savior – worth the luxury? Worth the money?

“Don’t be scared, angel,” Ransom muttered as he leaned over you. You were shaking. He shushed you as you thrashed around. “I give you so many things, baby girl,” he said lowly, his voice turning into a growl. “At least give me this in return.”

You sniffled before nodding. You were afraid though you weren’t sure what frightened you more. The menacing crazed look on Ransom’s beautiful face or the fear that you were about to lose your virginity.

Ransom’s hands traced the curves of your body, leaving goosebumps all over your skin. And then one of his hands carefully rubbed against your folds, finding your clit expertly. You felt your muscles clench. He rubbed it in tight circles, causing electricity to run through you. 

As much as Ransom was eager to be inside of you, he didn’t want to hurt his angel. He had to prep his sweet, innocent angel. He wanted his angel to enjoy this.

Your breathing was shaky as you slowly gave into the feeling. He shifted in his position and carefully thrusted two fingers into your cunt. You gasped at the sudden intrusion. You threw your head back as he stroked your inner walls, exploring your untried canal.

“You’re wet, angel, and we barely begun,” Ransom said ever so cockily. You moaned in response. No words could form. You tried to bite onto your bottom lip, trying to silence yourself. But Ransom tutted at you. He slapped your clit and you yelped in surprise. “I want to hear every sound.” He ordered before scissoring your opening, attempting to stretch you open. The wet, slick sounds accompanied by your moans were all too addicting to the man that hovered over you.

You felt helpless and pathetic. You were putty in his hands. He felt you clench around his fingers when he curled them, brushing against a certain spot. He smirked as he continued to play with that spot and thrusted a third finger into you. You mewled against him as your hands fisted the satin sheets.

“Ran – Ransom,” you panted, eyes watery. “Something’s – something’s happening…” you moaned as you felt a coil within your stomach snap. You screamed as your orgasm crashed through you. Ransom smirked watched you drip around his hand. He pulled away from your pussy and your eyes widened as he slowly brought his fingers to his lips and sucked away your juices.

“Want a taste?” he asked you. You didn’t respond as he brought one of his fingers and brushed it against your lips. He then leaned down and stole another hungry kiss, sharing your taste.

While you were distracted from your previous orgasm and from the kiss, Ransom pumped his member and lined it up with you.

Catching you off guard, he pushed in. You shuddered in pain, pulling your lips away from him as your eyes widened in pain. The stretch itself was unbearable.

He pushed his tip in and you nearly shrieked. “Ransom – “you whimpered. “It hurts – It hurts!”

Ransom simply shushed you and kissed your lips. “Relax, angel… just relax for me.” You tried to do as you were told but found it quite difficult. He continued to push in inch by inch and you were afraid he was never-ending. “You’re so tight,” he murmured against your lips. You bit your lip as tears started to prick in your eyes.

And finally, he bottomed out. You had never felt so full. You swore you could feel him in your stomach. 

Ransom looked down to where you were both connected and groaned. He loomed over your body as you willed your muscles to relax around him. “Hey, hey,” he said, softly, using one of his hands to turn you to face him. “You’re doing so good for me, baby,” he praised and began to pull out.

His strokes were gentle. Pulling out only a few inches before thrusting back in. Only when the pain begun to dull and your whimpers turned into moans again, did Ransom pick up the pace. The slapping of skin and his groans. Everything started to feel cloudy. You felt as if he were tearing you apart, but your body welcomed the pain that was turning into pleasure.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you hung onto him as he ravaged you. You continued to mewl and moan into his neck as you felt the same coil in your stomach tighten. Your walls clenched around Ransom and he knew you were close again. He reached back down to your clit and rubbed it again.

“C’mon, baby, come for me,” Ransom urged you as he thrusted. He thrusted all the way in and grinded against your sex. You moaned as you tensed, the coil bursting once again. Ransom groaned as you tightened around him like a vice, milking him and throwing him off the edge with you. He filled you up with his thick cum, but he continued to pump into you, painting your walls – marking you as his.

You were a breathless, sweaty mess as he pushed you into another orgasm with his thrusts. You were convulsing and twitching underneath him, fighting to stay conscious. You felt Ransom pull out completely and felt your mixed juices drip from your pussy. Your vision was hazy as your head turned to the side, eyes fluttering close.

Ransom winced when he looked down. Your blood covered his length and was splattered all over your lower body. He sighed and looked at the clock. It was late, but he knew that there would still be guests over at the house. It was the perfect time, especially with you falling asleep.

“You did so good for me, angel,” he whispered to your sleeping body as he wiped your blood away with his sweater. He decided that he’d deal with the bloodstained sheets when he returned. You were most likely still going to be knocked out. 

He pressed a kiss to your lips and smiled. Even in sleep – even after being fucked – you still looked like an angel.

When you awoke, the sheets had been changed but you were still stark naked. Daylight was trickling through the windows. Ransom emerged from the bathroom door. “You’re awake,” he smiled wickedly at you. You returned a shy smile when you realized he was only in a towel with water droplets painting his Adonis-like body. You looked away as he dressed himself. He smirked. You were still bashful as if the night before he wasn’t buried deep inside of you.

“Did you leave?” you ask. Your heart dropped at the thought.

He shook his head and relief washed over you as he sat next to you on the bed. His finger gently traced your jaw before leaning in to give you a kiss. “I was here all night, all morning, too,” Ransom lied. “You’ll attest to that right?”

“What?”

“I cleaned you up after we had sex,” Ransom told you. “Changed the sheets and then held you throughout the night. I told you I loved you and I thanked you for allowing me to be the first - and only - man inside of you .”

“Right.” You nodded, blushing at his words.

“I didn’t leave you, angel.” Ransom promised. “I was with you all night, all morning.”

-=+=-

“Where was Mr. Drysdale the night of his grandfather’s death?” the prosecutor asked you.

You looked around the courtroom and met Ransom’s blue eyes. He gave you a small nod, knowing you won’t let him down. He did this all for you – so that he can continue taking care of you – after all.

“Uh,” you muttered into the microphone, “he was with me… at his house.”

“Mr. Drysdale’s statement says that he asked you to join him at the manor the night of Harlan Thrombey’s birthday party, yet no one in the family saw you?”

You nodded. “Ransom – Hugh – was already outside when I arrived. I wanted to go inside, but he told me not to and he asked if I’d accompany him to his house.”

“So, you can account to Mr. Drysdale’s whereabouts the whole night?” The prosecutor prompted. “There were no times that he stepped out? Even when you were asleep?”

You nodded. “He was with me all night, all morning, too.”

Ransom smiled at you when you met his eyes. Good girl. He thought. His sweet little angel still under his control.

[thekisforkeats]

The Way You Say My Name

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set immediately post-MAG 22. Martin is trans and Jon is amab non-binary.

CWs: Guilt, self-recrimination, worms (mentioned), arguments, shouting, crying, lying (Martin lying about his CV still), transphobia (mentioned), misgendering (mentioned), child abuse (mention of Martin Blackwood's mother) 

Summary: Just after MAG 22, Jon apologizes for his treatment of Martin over the past few months. Or tries to, anyway. It's hard to apologize to someone when you don't understand exactly what it is you've done to upset them.

(Of course, once Jon's apologized and Martin's relaxing, well... that's when Jon will finally notice he actually likes Martin, isn't it? Not that he's going to admit to that, even to himself.)

Shoutout to the Martin Blackwood Lovers Discord Server, without whom I would not have written this up and posted it. ;) Jon’s dialogue was (mostly) written by @marianfuckinghawke.

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“Recording ends.”

Jon reached out and pressed the stop button on the tape recorder. He sighed and looked at his phone. The message from Jane Prentiss was still glowing on the screen. He ran a hand through his short hair, aware he was mussing the grey-streaked black and deciding he didn’t care.

He had listened to Martin’s account of the encounter with Jane Prentiss with trepidation and worry. Now he could feel his face settling into something more drawn with concern. First, concern for his two assistants who were out of the Archive at the moment. Second, concern for Martin. The man had gotten himself into this mess because of Jon’s words. Due diligence. Was he really such a hardass that he had put one of his subordinates in harm’s way? How had he not realized that it might come to this?

Martin sat fidgeting, shifting in his seat, and Jon could feel the other man’s soft brown eyes on him. He had the look of a frightened, cornered animal and it cut Jon to the quick. He had done this. Jon was responsible for the man’s state, and he had to figure out how to make it better.

There was silence for a solid three minutes. Then Martin opened his mouth to say, “So if I’m going to be--”

Jon started speaking at exactly the same time. “So obviously you’re--” He blinked and said, “I’m sorry--”

“No, no, you go,” Martin said, raising his hands and waving them rapidly.

“No. It’s alright… go ahead,” Jon replied at the exact same time, then frowned.

Martin cleared his throat, then seemed to gather his courage. “Well. I was going to say. If I’m going to be staying here, I’ll need… things. Like, uhh, there’s a cot, but I’ll need, like… a toothbrush? I mean, you don’t have a stash of those sitting around, do you?” He chuckled in a self-deprecating manner.

“No, I do not,” Jon replied. “Nor do you have a proper change of clothing… you can hardly wear the same outfit for however long this will take, and you won’t want to sleep in what you’re wearing.” He had a sudden mental image of Martin sleeping naked, and cleared his throat while he shoved it away. Hardly an appropriate thought about a co-worker, even if it wasn’t remotely sexual. “We will have to go out and get such things for you… perhaps after I brief Tim and Sasha on the situation.”

Martin nodded. “There’s a room that might be, umm… did you know one of the rooms that’s filled with boxes is supposed to be the break room?” He gave that self-deprecating laugh again. “‘Course you know that, stupid, what am I saying…” He glanced aside, cheeks flushing. “Umm. Anyway. Umm. It’s bigger than the room you’ve got the cot in? If… if… I’m going to be staying here… I could clean it out… make it livable, maybe, umm, get some snacks and tea and things in, and there’d be more room for extra cots… in case you need somewhere to stay late or… something…” A pause. “Or not! Or just. You know. I’ll just. Have lots of time, so. I can. Clean. The break room.”

Jon did not, in fact, know that they’d had a break room at all. It had been frustrating to have everyone going up to the Admin break room on the ground floor, and he’d said so more than once. No, wait… had someone told him, and had he just told them off about clearing the room out?

He was suddenly horribly aware of how many times he’d griped at Martin for going up there to make tea that he had then gone ahead and drunk. How had he been such a prick to this man?

When Jon had started as Head Archivist, he’d had all sorts of plans for team morale, bonding exercises, and the like. He’d always hated them personally but they were the sort of thing bosses were supposed to do. The trouble was that all of his “how best to run the Archives as a team” ideas had flown right out of his head once he’d gotten down there and found himself at a desk where a woman had maybe died, struggling to record statements, dealing with doggy messes, and that damned persistent feeling of being watched.

Well, now was as good a time as any to start acting the way he should have all along.

“Martin… we will clean the break room. Together. As a group.” He ran his hand through his hair again. He really was going to look a mess. “It is a communal space, it will be a communal job.” He added quickly, “Yes, I know you’ll be here more than the rest of us, but I want us all involved. We need…” He sighed. Time to apologize. “I have been… less supportive of you than I should. And…” He swallowed, aware of the flush rising on his cheeks. “I feel I must apologize. So… I am sorry. But we should do more together, especially given that circumstances have escalated.”

Martin blinked at him for a moment. “You’re… sorry. For… being less… supportive than you should have been.” There was a hard-to-read undercurrent in his tone.

“For being… rude to you… and for punishing you…” Jon replied. “Unjustly.” He gestured to the recorder. “All of this… happened because of your adherence to my instructions…” He frowned. “So. I’m sorry.”

“Well,” Martin snapped, “at least you’re finally realizing that it was… unjust.” He glared at Jon, who suddenly felt pinned to the spot by eyes that were no longer soft but had gone hard as agates.

Jon blinked at Martin. “Are… are you alright?” He was apologizing! He couldn’t be messing that up this badly, could he?

Martin drew a long breath in through his nose. “Yeah,” he said, in a high-pitched, clipped tone. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He went to stand abruptly, pushing away from the desk, and in that same tone, “Well, you’d better get to… briefing people, then. I’ll just… go see how far my paycheck can stretch in Chelsea.” His tone was dripping with bitterness by the end.

Jon stood up. “Martin!” He was vaguely aware of saying it in the same irritated tone he always used for the man’s name, aware that Martin visibly flinched at the word, and tried to moderate his tone. “What is going on? I am apologizing! Is… am I missing something?” He moved around the desk to try to be sure Martin didn’t just leave without finishing the conversation.

“No,” Martin said, stopping while facing the door, tone still a good two octaves above normal. “No, it’s fine. You’re apologizing, and that’s good.” His whole frame was stiff, though, and his tone practically screamed “lying.”

Jon couldn’t read people all that well, but even he could read the signs Martin was giving off. “While your words are clear, your body language says quite otherwise.” He tried to moderate his tone again, but he couldn’t help sounding mildly irritated. He didn’t like being lied to, especially concerning his own actions, and he wasn’t sure what he had done incorrectly in this situation. “Now will you stop and talk to me?”

Martin turned away from the door, faced Jon, jaw set firmly. “What do you want me to say, Jon? Do you want me to… to forgive you? To say ‘oh, sure, you’re sorry, so that makes up for the last six months where you’ve made me want to quit my job every day?’ Am I supposed to… to… just… oh, well, there’s danger, so now you’ve realized I’m an actual person, now you’re going to stop kicking me around, now you’re going to pitch in to help around here as I’m not already the one spending all his time trying to clean up the mess while Tim and Sasha run out to research things so you don’t have to send anyone to double-check my work? Never mind that I’ve been trapped for two weeks, I could’ve been dead and none of you bothered to check on me!”

Martin was all but shouting by the end of the diatribe, every line of him stiff and furious, and Jon was suddenly very aware of the fact that Martin was taller and bigger than he was. He cringed away from Martin, took a step back. “I… I…” He turned away to his desk, grabbed his phone. “Here…” he said, handing it to Martin. “Look!” The phone would solve the problem, if Martin could just see… “There… I… just… please…”

The moment Jon had cringed away Martin had hunched his shoulders, deliberately making himself smaller. Now he was taking long, deep breaths, his expression ashamed. He reached out to take the phone from Jon.

The display was still on the screen of Jon’s message history with Martin. Before the last message from Jane Prentiss was a long list of messages from Jon--numerous messages inquiring about Martin’s health, worried and concerned. He had linked articles about foods to eat when feeling ill, then when he’d realized some of those might be hard for Martin to make alone, found new links that had easier recipes.

There were also, Jon knew, greyed-out deleted messages.

Martin, know that your presence is missed here at the Archives. I am wishing you a quick recovery.

I know it’s sudden, but I find myself missing you. Just thought you should know.

And others, so many others, as Jon had tried to figure out how to pierce the wall built by the texts he’d been getting back from what he now knew was Jane Prentiss, asking to be left alone.

As Jon watched Martin reading the messages he nervously bounced in place, one arm folded over his chest to hold the other. He could feel his skin glowing from embarrassment and he wasn’t even sure why. The blush faded, however, as he watched Martin. Watched the anger fade, and realized what lay underneath. The pain that had been underlying that anger, the way it lifted as Martin read through the message history--it was like a revelation. Martin must have walked in here convinced nobody at his place of employment really cared about him, and Jon realized that that was, indeed, what he must usually think, if something as simple as text messages was making something like hope bloom on his face.

It occurred to Jon, suddenly, that nobody had checked on Martin. For two weeks. No friends, no family. Nobody had even noticed the man was gone.

Jon had to fix this. Somehow. And not by wrapping Martin up in a fierce hug like he very much wanted to; that would not be appreciated from the man’s asshole boss. Even if Martin looked like he really, really needed a hug.

By the time Martin handed the phone back to Jon, his breathing was shaky and unsteady. He dropped back into the chair, like his legs suddenly weren’t working. “S-sorry,” he managed in the barest of whispers. “Sorry.”

“That’s… my line,” Jon said. “I am sorry. I should have said more to make it clear… you are a valued member of this team.” He shook his head, wincing at how… canned that line sounded, but pushed on. “I should have said it at least once. And… I never did. I held you at arm’s length and ostracized you. And… I understand how you felt all that time now…” He sighed. “And… yes, it may have taken this incident to make me realize how terrible a person I’ve been to you since… since you started working here.”

Martin stared down at his hands; Jon could see he was crying, but silently, without sniffling or sobbing. “Why?” he finally managed. He looked up at Jon. “Why? What did I… do? I mean… there was the whole ‘dog’ business at the beginning… what, do you hate dogs that much?” There was a kind of desperation in his tone.”

“No… I mean, sure I’m more of a cat person, but… no… I don’t hate dogs.” Jon frowned. “I… I’ve given that a lot of thought these past two weeks and I think I figured it out.” He sighed. “It wasn’t you I was angry with.” He took a breath. “I was angry at Elias. I like to have a sense of who I work with, to get to know them before I get into anything serious.” Oh, no, wait, that sounded… he hadn’t meant it like… work. He’d meant work! No, he was overthinking that; Martin knew he meant work. He stammered for a moment, though. “It’s… part of who I am… as a person.

Jon took a breath, to steady himself. Focus on the apology. “When Elias… placed you here without telling or consulting me about the selection process, it… felt like a betrayal. I felt that agency over my department had been taken out of my hands. And yes… I know he runs the Institute, but he should have at least consulted me about who is in my department.”

He dropped his head and reached to take a box of tissues from the side of the desk, to slide them towards Martin. An olive branch. “I took out that anger and frustration on you. And that was wrong, I know that now.”

“Not like I wanted to be here either,” Martin mumbled, reaching out for a tissue and wiping at his eyes. It didn’t do much to stop the tears. “I mean, I didn’t even want the damn library job, I j-just…” He stumbled, stammering, “It’s… it’s harder to get a position with a degree in parapsychology than you might think.” He sniffled. “B-but… even on top of that… you and Tim and Sasha, you’re all friends already, you requested them. Even if Tim and Sasha and I get along they don’t really know me, and you… well…” He sighed. “When Elias said I was going to work for Jonathan Sims I just about freaked out. You’ve got a… reputation, you know? I just… I knew it’d be… lonely down here, and it really has been.” There was a furrow between his brows now as he looked at Jon.

Jon frowned. He’d known he had a reputation around the Institute, but he hadn’t thought it was that bad. He took a deep breath; this wasn’t about him right now. “Then let us work on fixing that. Starting now. Like I said, we need to be working together more, improve the… office atmosphere. I… have come to admire your dedication to your work. ‘Due diligence,’ as you put it.”

Martin regarded him quietly for a moment. Then he said, “The thing that really bothers me… I don’t… I don’t think you’d understand.”

Jon frowned. Then, finally, softly, “Try me. You might be surprised.”

Martin swallowed. “I… I’m trans,” he blurted. “Like, I was… I had a girl’s name, when I was younger. Figured out I was a guy when I was a teenager, started hormones, and… well…” He took a deep breath. “My mum’s never approved, you know? She’s always been… difficult, she’s… sometimes she’ll… well, I mean, you know how parents will… say your name, right? Like, when you’ve… disappointed them.”

Jon’s frown deepened. He did not, in fact, know how parents said one’s name, but he could remember his grandmother saying Jonathan in tones of deepest disapproval when he’d come back from wandering off. So he nodded; he understood the feeling, at least.

Martin wiped at his eyes again. “The way she said my name… it made me hate my name. My deadname, I mean. But it… helped me realize I was trans, because when I thought about something else I’d want to be called, I came up with ‘Martin.’ And… and I’m kind of glad sometimes, that she… misgenders me, and refuses to call me Martin, because it means she’ll never, ever say it in that… disappointed tone. I have never regretted that choice, not once, until…”

Martin took in a long, shuddering breath, then straightened himself, looking Jon right in the eye. Like he knew what he was going to say wouldn’t go over well, but he had to say it. “The way you say my name, when you snap at me? It’s exactly like my mother says my deadname. And nobody has ever made me regret that choice. Not… ever.” He swallowed. “Until I met you.”

Jon stared at Martin for a long moment, horrified. He was non-binary himself, and yet he’d never changed his name, never even asked people to call him by different pronouns although he might have preferred it; he’d never had the courage to do so. He’d always been terrified of what people might think of him. Yet here was Martin, strong enough to change himself outwardly despite his mother’s disapproval, strong enough to keep coming in every day to deal with a boss who made him regret the name he’d chosen for himself.

In that moment, Jon felt very much like he did not deserve Martin Blackwood. That the Institute did not deserve Martin Blackwood. They would have to do better, somehow.

Finally he managed, “I’m… I didn’t know. I--” He curled his mouth in disgust. How did one respond to that? Do better? That was only a marginally acceptable platitude. “I will endeavor to change my tone.” He didn’t like that any better, but it was the best he could do.

Jon really, really wanted to offer Martin a hug. The man looked like he needed one. Tim would have offered a hug, workplace hugs could be acceptable… but, no, Jon was Martin’s boss, and Martin had just said how much he hated Jon--because if Jon reminded Martin of the mother who deliberately misgendered him, then he had to hate Jon--and who would want a hug from someone they hated?

There was something he could do to help, though. To pay Martin back, as it were. So he, too, straightened, and said, “Well. You were talking about how far your paycheck will stretch in Chelsea, but I think that will be quite unnecessary. Given that you encountered Jane Prentiss while in the line of duty, as it were, I think we can expense your essentials to the Institute without too much trouble.”

Martin’s eyes widened. “W-wait… won’t that… I mean… won’t Mr. Bouchard be… upset about that?”

Jon actually smirked. “Don’t you worry about Elias; I fully intend to take out my irritation about his habits as a supervisor on him instead of you from here on out.” Not directly, of course, but Elias would be irritated by the entire setup, and some petty part of Jon enjoyed that thought.

Martin was staring at Jon now. “I… I wouldn’t want you to… get in trouble…”

Jon waved a hand. “It’s the least I can do.” He stood. “Let’s get to the shops for toiletries before they close and then we can see about getting some clothing delivered. And, ahh, do you have any… prescriptions you’ll need…?” He was thinking about hormones. “I suppose I could send Tim ‘round to your flat, but I wouldn’t want to put him in danger either…”

Martin stood, hesitating. “I’ll… figure all that out. It’s alright. Really.”

Jon came around the desk to grasp Martin by the arms and look up at him, intently. It was the closest thing to a hug he’d let himself get to. “Martin,” he said, as gently as he could manage, with as much respect as he could manage, “you put yourself in danger because of the way your superiors at this Institute have treated you. Let me at least begin to partly repay that debt. Please.”

Martin was blinking down at him. “Uh… umm… aren’t we having… Mr. Bouchard repay the debt…?”

Jon smiled up at Martin as he dropped his arms. "Ahh, but we’re not going to ask Elias to come help clear out the breakroom. Can you imagine him moving boxes?” He could feel the smile edging into a grin. “His arms would break just from trying to pick one up.”

Martin had started to smile, hesitantly. That was what Jon had been going for; he hadn’t realized how much he actually liked Martin’s smile until he hadn’t been around for two weeks. “I-I mean… you’re not the biggest guy yourself… you might have the same problem.”

“Mmm, fair,” Jon replied, “but I am willing to scrub a floor if I must.”

Martin’s smile widened. “Y-yeah, I can’t imagine… Elias… scrubbing a floor.” He giggled, suddenly. “He probably pays people to do that stuff. He… he’d probably have been hopeless stuck in his flat for two weeks.”

Jon laughed at the mental image of Elias Bouchard stuck in a flat, living off canned meals, a laugh so full he actually threw his head back a bit. “Good lord, Elias, having to live off tinned peaches? Can... you... imagine?”

“H-he’d… probably… start shouting for Rosie.” Martin was giggling so hard he could barely get the words out. He put on a bad posh accent and said, “‘Rosie, why do we have all these tinned peaches? I did not approve this budget!’”

They both dissolved into helpless laughter, both reaching out to the other to hold themselves up. There was a moment, as the laughter waned, that their eyes met, and Jon felt something swoop and flutter in his gut. Martin had such a nice smile, and such a pleasant laugh, and it would be wonderful to have both around more often, and it was making him a little dizzy if he was being honest. When was the last time he’d felt that swoop and flutter? Georgie? Briefly, with Tim?

No, no, that was the laughter and the proximity. That was all. They were bonding over dislike of Elias. That was all.

At least he’d managed to clear the air.

Jon straightened, and kept smiling as he turned toward the door. “Come along, then, Martin,” he said, and again deliberately infused the word with as much respect as he could muster. “Let’s get to the shops.”

Martin nodded. “Thanks for this, Jon,” he said, and oh dear there was another swoop at the way Martin said his name. Had he always said it like that? Had Jon just not noticed? “Really. Thank you.”

Jon turned away to school his expression. This would not do. He was not going to let himself feel any more… swoops for a subordinate. It just wouldn’t do. No matter how nice of a smile he had. He did not have a crush on Martin, because he could not have a crush on Martin, and that was that.

Feeling a little better--it was always a relief, sorting out his emotions--Jon headed out to help Martin get settled into the Archives.

[somenewsarah]

Dear Draco ~ Part One

Summary: Ten years ago, Draco was sure you were dead. But after receiving a letter from none other than you, his world is flipped upside down.

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Word Count: 4k+

Genre: Fluff, a lil angsty

Requested: No, requests currently closed while I finish my sitting requests :)

Warnings: None

A/N: I know it’s been a while, and this is likely all over the place~ just something that’s been on my mind for a while and finally had some time to sit down and plot it out! Part 2?

The warmth of the fire can’t drive away the cold. It creeps in, starting from his toes and runs all the way to his chest. That cold that can only be associated with his own sadness. Draco sits in his favorite chair by the hearth, his eyes scanning the letter over and over again. Surely he’d seen this before.

“Darling,” Astoria, his wife of six years starts. “I’m putting Scorpius to bed, are you coming?”

“Not tonight,” he says. It’s firmer than intended, but he can’t even drag his eyes away to apologize.

Astoria lingers in the doorway of their meager living room of their meager cottage that they’d fallen in love with when they first saw it, but now needed more space. She eyes her husband warily and the letter in his hand, that smelled of the sweetest perfume and has him in a tizzy. She knew there’d been someone before her. Someone that never made it out of the war. Someone he loved more than anyone.

Astoria sighs, her eyes still watching her husband for a single second before she slips down the hallway.

Draco brings the letter to his lips, kissing the very paper it was written on, his mind wandering back to all the kisses he gave to you, all the times he’d kiss your forehead and hold you and tell you how much he loved you. He can’t believe the letter had even come.

Dearest Draco,

I’m sorry if this letter reaches you late. It is now May 10th, 1998, and by now you must be sure that I am dead.

Draco puts the letter down for a moment, his heart almost completely stopping in his chest. Alive? Is she alive? Should he leave now?

I hope someday you can forgive me for letting you think I’d ever meet such a fate in a war, but I assure you I am, for now, safe and sound. I made a deal with Dumbledore before your task. I’m continuing his work, growing my own power and studying as much as I can. I’ve followed the knowledge, as I always told you I would. I wrote the first half of this letter once I’d gotten out safely, but couldn’t bring myself to finish it. It is now August 25th, 2008. Ten years since I started.

She’s alive. She must be, if he’s receiving this letter now. He sets it on the arm of his chair and stands, pacing in that Draco Malfoy way. He stoops at the chair for his whiskey and the letter, his eyes scanning it.

I’ll be returning to London soon. I’ve taken up the Potions Master position at Hogwarts under Mrs. Granger’s rule, and I wanted you to be the first to know that I’ll be coming back. I hope to see you in Hogsmeade on the 29th of August. You know where. I’ll be there at 3pm, and I hope you show. I want to hear all about your life, Draco. Did you ever marry? Are you happy? I miss you, and I hope that you’ve built a life for yourself.

See you?

Love,

Y/N

Draco sits down in his chair again, his eyes wide and his heart pounding. Seeing you. Tomorrow. For the first time in ten years. The longest ten years of his life, thinking you were dead. The worst ten years. No, he married. He has a son. He became one of the most well-respected and astute healers in the entire wizarding world. He’s had a wonderful ten years. Right?

He stands again, pacing and pacing and pacing. Alternating between his drink and smelling your sweet, sweet smell that he’d tried so hard to preserve in one of his t-shirts you always wore to bed.

Astoria leans against the doorjamb, watching Draco pace and pace. She knows that pace. He’s stressed and conflicted and terrified. That look on his precious face…

She walks to him, taking his face in her hands.

“Draco,” she says firmly, catching his attention. “What is it?”

He’s quiet for a moment and she holds her breath, searching his face for any kind of answer.

“It’s Y/N,” he says, his voice almost a ghost of a whisper. “She’s alive. And she’s coming back. And she wants me to meet her tomorrow.”

Astoria drops her hands from his face, taking in his words. So, this was it, then. She knew who he would choose should it come down to it.

“That little twit,” Astoria breathes. “How selfish can she be?”

Draco, taken aback, gazes at his wife. “Selfish?”

“You were in hell for the first years of us being together because of her! You moped at our wedding. You won’t dare allow me to do simple things like wear your clothes to sleep in or go through your old Hogwarts trunk. All because you thought she was dead!” Astoria roars, finding her voice now.

“Darling, calm down,” Draco starts.

“Calm down?” Astoria roars, growing louder. “You’re going to tell me, your wife, to calm down, after telling me you’re going to meet the woman you’ve secretly wished I was for the last ten years? Don’t tell me to calm down, Draco. Don’t.”

Draco sighs. He paces the length of the family room, only stopping to sink into his chair.

“Astoria, I don’t know what to say,” he sighs. He drags his hands down his face, haunted almost. “She was the love of my life. She taught me everything I know about love and how to do it. That I was capable of it.

“Would you leave me for her?” Astoria asks suddenly, eyeing her husband.

“I wish I had an answer for that,” Draco relents.

 Astoria nods. She squares her shoulders, holding her chin high as her eyes water. “Then you can sleep on the sofa tonight.”

She turns and exits into the hallway, and Draco can hear her stalking to the bedroom and the telltale door slam.

~

Astoria doesn’t speak to him all morning. She gets Scorpius ready for his mid-day lessons and ignores Draco.

So, he gets up, showers, tousles his hair, and squirts on some of his best cologne. He’d look like the happiest man in the world today. Maybe because he is.

He leaves the house without a word to Astoria, only stopping to kiss Scorpius on his head and whisper a quick “I love you,” words he never heard from his own father.

~

Hogsmeade bustles with shop owners and consumers and students, all exploring the new world and everything it has to offer. Draco walks amongst the crowd, his teeth chattering despite the warm August day. His nerves make every step feel longer than it is, and his palms sweat profusely. He allows his mind to wander as he forages down the cobblestone pathway; what would you look like? What would you be wearing? Would you smell the same? Did you ever marry? Are you happy?

His train of thought is halted as he approaches the place that you used to call your spot. The little ice cream shop across from Creepy Cauldrons, a vehement Halloween only shop. You and Draco would go on ice cream dates almost every Hogsmeade trip since fourth year when you admitted you fancied him, and he you. It was the one spot he couldn’t bring himself to walk into when he thought you were dead. Not even with Scorpius.

He pushes open the door, the little bell jangling as it always does. It doesn’t take long for him to spot you. You were in the same booth you were always in when you’d meet up. Your booth you shared together.

Draco approaches you, though your back is to him. He wonders if it’s a dream. Could it really be you? Is this a cruel prank?

Upon hearing his footsteps, you turn, Y/E/C eyes locking with his grey ones. Draco stops. His heart stops, his mouth dry, his eyes watering. It’s really you.

 You stand and move to hug him, but Draco is stiff. He doesn’t hug you back.

 “Draco,” you start, pulling away from him. “I’m sorry this is so sudden. I understand if you don’t want me back in your life at all, I just wanted a moment to explain myself.”

 Draco nods. He takes his old seat, and you sit across from him.

 Over his shoulder, Sir Harrington- the owner of the ice cream parlor- gives you a thumbs up. He’d been serving you ice cream since you were kids, and you had no doubt he would forget you or Draco.

 “So,” Draco begins. He hides his shaking hands underneath the table. “You’re back? For good?”

 “For good,” you relent.

 “I thought you were dead,” Draco says. His voice betrays him and cracks. He clears his throat, but doesn’t continue.

 “I know,” you say. You reach across the table for his hand, but he doesn’t move. You withdraw your hand, knowing he’ll be cold as ice until you can crack him. “I know what everyone thought. I knew the repercussions of what I did, but I’m only sorry to you.”

 “Sorry to me?” He asks. “You’re sorry? You came here to tell me you’re sorry?”

 “Draco,” you start, but he cuts you off.

 “Don’t. You don’t know what it was like. I thought you were dead. I moved on. I lived in hell every single day that you were gone. I can’t even look my wife in the eye without wishing it were you,” he says through his teeth.

 “You married, then,” you say. Your resolve weakens, and you know it’s hopeless.

“I did. Astoria Greengrass and I wed in 2001. It’ll be seven years in December.”

 “I see,” you say. “I’m happy for you, Draco.”

 “We have a son. Scorpius.”

 You nod, chuckling to yourself. “The name we picked out for our first son?”

 Draco nods, and has the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “Astoria knows what you meant to me. I wanted to keep you alive in my memory somehow.”

 “Meant?”

 Draco remains silent, his eyes on his hands as he considers his own words.

 “Mean,” he says, finally meeting your gaze.

 You sigh and allow yourself a moment to get lost in his eyes the way you wanted to every minute you were gone.

 “I didn’t want to leave you, Draco,” you admit. “But it was for the best. I was doing dangerous potions work. Collecting samples of serums from creatures that can only be found in the deepest, darkest corners of the world. It was the type of exploring that I had to do alone.”

 “You could’ve at least told me you were alive,” Draco says. He leans across the table, taking your cheek in his palm. “I died over and over again every day that I thought you were gone.”

 You bring your hand up, holding onto his wrist, letting his words soak into your brain. You know you’ll likely never hear them again.

 “I didn’t know if I would ever come back,” you whisper, your voice catching in your throat. “So many times I was sure I was dead, but I kept fighting. I wanted to come back to you.”

 Draco drops his hand, though you had the feel of his warm palm on your skin already committed to memory.

 “What are we to do?” He asks, reaching for your hand.

 You trace the silver wedding band sitting on his left hand, fourth finger. “We go on with our lives. I’m sure I’ll be teaching Scorpius someday. I’m glad that you found love, Draco, and I’m sorry that it wasn’t with me.”

 You stand, turning your back on the boy you love so dearly, and walk out of the shop.

 Draco sits for a minute, taking everything in. Why hadn’t he tried to stop you? Why hadn’t he reached out for you? Why did he let you walk away from him again?

~

When Draco enters, Astoria rises from her place at their dining room table. She’s prepared for the worst, but Draco doesn’t look haunted anymore. For the first time in her life, he looks alive.

 “Draco?”

 His head whips to her, like he hadn’t seen her.

 “Oh,” he says. “Hello.”

 “How was it?”

 “It was… good?” he says. He takes a seat at the table, his eyes trained on his hands, recalling the feeling of her finger on his wedding band. “She said she’s happy I’m happy.”

 “What else?” Astoria pries.

 “She just wanted to let me know she was alive,” he says. “She’ll be teaching potions at Hogwarts. She likes that we used her name for Scorpius, said she looks forward to teaching him someday.”

 “She didn’t… she didn’t ask you to be with her?” Astoria asks. She can’t hide the shock from her voice.

 “No,” Draco says. “She didn’t.”

 “Well,” Astoria starts, her voice returning to normal. “I’m happy she’s okay. Come now, let’s shower.”

 Draco rises, follows his wife into their bathroom, all the while in a daze. His mind wanders to his time at Hogwarts with you, how much he loved you then and he wonders if maybe he still does.

 ~

 You look back at Draco, giggling as you pull him through the snow, trying to outrun Crabbe and Goyle to Hogsmeade.

 “Darling, come on!” You grin back at him. “They’re going to eat all the chocolate chip, and you know it’s my favorite!”

 “Slow down,” Draco laughs, pulling you to a halt. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side. “You’re freezing!”

 “Oh, it’s just a little cold,” you smile up at him. “We’re going to get ice cream, come on!”

 “Maybe we should get some soup or something?” Draco asks, keeping you tucked into his side. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

 You lean up, kissing him sweetly. “I love the way you take care of me, even when you’re stressed.”

 Draco’s cheeks redden as he smiles down at you, his blond hair flopping in his eyes as he kisses your forehead. “You’re my love. I’ll always take care of you.”

 Your returning smile is dazzling as you stop in the snow to hug him tightly, relishing in his warmth.

 “Just two more years and we can graduate and be married!”

 ~

 Draco towel-dries his hair as he sits on the edge of his bed. His mind feels like an unraveled ball of yarn, but he can’t ever remember feeling so happy?

 “What’s on your mind, love?” Astoria asks, crawling behind Draco on her knees. She rubs his shoulders softly, kissing at his shoulder blades.

 “Her,” he admits. “I was just thinking about some of our time together in school. Just some memories, that’s all.”

 “Let’s have another baby,” Astoria says suddenly.

 Draco turns to look at her, his heart torn. “I don’t think now is really a good time, Astoria.”

 “Why?” She pouts. “I think it’s as good a time as any.”

 “I don’t,” Draco says. He removes himself from her grasp, standing so he can properly look at his wife. “I just… I can’t right now. I know you can’t understand this, but I’m really trying to be the husband that you expect me to be.”

 Astoria gazes up at him. “You’re rejecting me?”

 “No, Astoria, I-“

 “If you wanted to meet my expectations as my partner, you’d give me another baby,” she says, determined.

 “I don’t want another baby with you,” Draco says almost immediately. His eyes are wide as he takes in the enormity of  what he’s just let slip. “Astoria, I’m sorry-“

 “Don’t,” she hisses. She closes her robe and moves to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

 Draco sits on the bed again, dragging his hands down his face once more. There it is, then. He doesn’t love his wife, he’s a terrible father, and everyone at St. Mungo’s would hear about this. With Astoria’s connections, he doubted there was a way out of this one.

 ~

 Knock knock knock.

 The door swings open and Narcissa Malfoy stands in the doorway, looking at her son who looks like he’d just walked miles and miles to even be at the manor. She takes him in her arms immediately.

 “Hello, my darling boy,” she smiles, kissing his hair.

 “Mum,” Draco says.

 Narcissa ushers him inside, closing the door behind him. The manor had changed significantly since Lucius’ trip to Azkaban, where he remains for conspiring against the ministry. Everything is white and crème, no more blacks and greys, though the telltale Slytherin green still decorates the throw blankets and some statues.

 “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Narcissa asks, sitting comfortably on the sofa.

 Draco takes a seat across from her.

 “Do you remember Y/N?”

 “Oh, how could I forget? She was fierce. It’s a shame what happened to her, I quite liked her,” Narcissa says, reminiscing to herself. “She would’ve done incredible things.”

 “I saw her today,” Draco says. “She’s alive.”

 “Oh, darling, are you still mourning her? I can get you some help, though you are the healer of the family,” Narcissa rambles.

 “No, mum,” Draco says. He wipes his palms on his pants legs. “I mean, she wrote to me, and we met at the ice cream parlor. She’s alive. And she’s come back to teach at Hogwarts.”

 Narcissa sits up immediately.

 “Draco…” she starts, choosing her words carefully. “But, what about Astoria? Scorpius? You have a responsibility to your family.”

 “I know,” Draco says. He rests his chin in his palm. “If she’d just told me she was alive… If she’d just… I would’ve waited.”

 “Don’t say that,” Narcissa goads. “Then you wouldn’t have Scorpius.”

 “I can’t pretend that I don’t love her, mum. Astoria wants another baby. I just… I would’ve waited.” Draco sighs. He runs a hand through his hair.

 “Does Astoria know?”

 “Yes,” Draco nods. “She’s not happy about it.”

 “No one would expect her to be,” Narcissa says. “She’s just found out the same news that you have, but now it’s a waiting game for her.”

 “A waiting game?” Draco asks, looking up at his mother.

 “Draco,” Narcissa smiles. “When have you ever picked anything over that girl? You were almost killed trying to protect her. It’s only a matter of time until you can accept the consequences and chase after her.”

 “I’ll lose everything,” Draco says, his eyes searching Narcissa’s. “I’ll lose my life, Astoria will make sure of that.”

 Narcissa stands and crosses the space between them to sit next to her son. She takes his hands in her own.

 “Answer me this, darling,” she starts. “Are you happy?”

 Draco takes a moment to consider this, chewing on his lip.

 “I love Scoripus, and-“

 “That’s not what I asked,” Narcissa interrupts. “Can you honestly look at me and tell me that you’re happy.”

 “No,” Draco admits. “I’m miserable. I’m stuck. I don’t love Astoria, she was just a good option, as harsh as it is. She deserves better, but I can’t lose my son.”

 “Go to her,” Narcissa instructs. “Tell her how you feel.”

 “Which one?” Draco asks, holding onto Narcissa’s hands for dear life.

 “That’s up to you,” Narcissa advises. “But always remember this: You’re a Malfoy and no matter what, there’s respect given for the name alone. I can spin a bad reputation, but I can’t heal my broken boy.”

 ~

You flit around your kitchen- though it’s not really a conventional kitchen- throwing herbs and animal parts into the large cauldron that adorns the middle of the room. Who needed a dining table when you can eat in bed?

 Taking a whiff of the potion, you smile- it’s perfect. You’re just about to extract it when there’s a knock on your door.

 Draco stands behind it, hands in his pockets, cheeks rosy, hair perfect.

 “Draco,” you smile. You hold the door open, inviting him in. “What a pleasure! I would’ve tidied a bit had I known you’d be dropping by.”

 “Pardon the intrusion,” he smiles. “I called in a favor with the Weasleys to get your address. Still messy as ever?”

 You laugh that cathartic laugh of yours, throwing your head back momentarily as you gesture around you. “Would you expect anything less?”

 “Frankly, I don’t know how you function,” Draco laughs. “How do you find anything?”

 “Organized chaos,” you shrug. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to goad me into cleaning, though. Is everything alright?”

 At your question, Draco is pacing again. Honestly, this boy could pace a hole in the floor, but you only lean against the kitchen counter, your arms folded, watching him in all his amusing glory.

 “What I’m about to say is going to sound daft,” he starts, chewing his thumb. “But I think I might still be in love with you.”

 He stops pacing and looks at you finally, but you can only raise an eyebrow at him.

 “Draco, you’re married.”

 “I know. And it feels so wrong,” he admits. He closes the space between you, taking your face in his palms so gently. “But I’ve never felt as alive and free as I do when I’m with you.”

 You pull away quickly, trying to be as gentle as possible as to not offend him.

“I know how you feel, because I feel the same way,” you start. Draco’s eyes light up. “But… I can’t be with you.”

 “Why not?” He asks, visibly shrinking.

 “You’re married!”

 “What if I weren’t?” He counters.

 “That’s not the situation,” you retort. “You are married. Had I known, I likely wouldn’t have written you. I would’ve let you find out on your own. I never meant to come between you and your family.”

 Draco runs his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated.

 “You are my family,” he growls. “Can’t you see? You and Scorpius and my mum are the only people in this world who truly matter to me. I married Astoria because it was what was expected of me.”

 “I’m afraid that’s not the way the world works,” you sigh. “I love you, Draco. I always have. I’ll probably love you forever. But I’m not a backup plan. You thought I was dead, you moved on. That’s something I’ll have to live with.”

 “Y/N,” Draco starts. He folds his hands in front of him, and he grows more and more flustered by the second. “I’m standing right in front of you, telling you that I choose you.”

 “And have you told your wife that?” You counter, folding your arms again.

 “I wanted to see how you felt first,” he confesses. “I was leaving either way, or so it seems. I just wanted to see what you thought.”

 “Draco,” you sigh. “Worry about your family for now. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

~

 Though the night is calm and peaceful, a storm brews in Draco’s mind at the thought of walking inside of his home. He sits outside on the front steps, encased in darkness, when it occurs to him that the home shouldn’t be dark.

 Curious, he stands and pushes open the front door with no resistance. It should’ve been locked. Flipping on the lights, Draco chokes back a sob. The home is empty of any presence of anyone other than himself. No photos on the walls. No dishes in the pantry. No drawings or lesson reports on the table from Scorpius. Everything lay bare and abandoned and sad. Everything but one envelope sitting on the small kitchen table, now devoid of any flowers or vases.

 Dear Draco,

After hearing of your escapades with Y/N, I’ve taken Scorpius away. I don’t know for how long we’ll be gone, or where we’re going, but I will not be a second option. I’ll allow you to decide: Me, your wife. Your son. Your home. Your career. All of your dreams. Or her.

Should you make a decision, send my owl immediately, as I’m sure she will have no problem finding me.

With all the love in my heart,

Your Wife

Astoria Malfoy

[sunlightwoo]

Burning

pairing: minghao x g.n reader

genre: fake dating, secret admirer au, slow burn kinda pining au, there’s your usual angst and fluff, some humor but yeah heheh

wc: 2546

summary: you've been getting random letters and gifts from a secret admirer that you knew nothing about, but something about them seemed familiar. however, how could you even find a way to find them to reject their feelings when your best friend asks you to play his fake significant other to win over his crush?

a/n: IT IS IIIIIII YOUR SECRET SANTA @viastro​ :))) i was absolutely shitting myself when you kept asking me if i had you and i was like hOW THE HELL DID SHE KNOW??? but anyways, i hope this really slaps you hard in the heart bro and i am so sorry that this is not my best work cause i’ve been so busy HUGOSGFNOEAGFOAE i love you lots and wish you special hugs and cuddles <3

maybe it was someone that you knew that could’ve been pranking you in this very moment. there was no way that you could actually have a secret admirer, right? after getting these random poems and lyrics that were written on little colorful letters in perfect handwriting, you were sure that there wasn’t a possible reason that someone could be sending it to you. you weren’t special.

“y/n! what are you looking at?” you hear someone call from behind you and turn to see that it was one of your friends, Minghao.

you give him a soft smile as you showed him another letter that you’ve received this week, the fifth one in a row. his eyes sparkle in amusement as you watch him skim the poetic words that were written on the paper before handing it back to you.

“they sound quite romantic, in all honesty.” he replies, giving you a warm smile as you nodded in response.

“yeah they do,” you reply as the thoughts that you were echoing in your mind continued to run around your head.

but they aren’t you.

It was another day that you were finally going to confess to your crush when you saw him already walking down the hall to meet you at your locker. There was confusion on your face when you noticed how distressed he looked in the moment and it wasn’t something normal for you to witness when it was about Minghao.

He was usually composed, as you were the one that was never at peace with yourself when all that you have been getting is letters and gifts whenever you walk into your literature lecture hall. However you were curious and slightly worried at his phase in the moment, seeing as though he seemed out of breath and you assumed that he must’ve ran here from his previous class to catch you out of your recent math class that just ended.

“I need a favor,” He breathes out softly and you wait for him to catch his breath before looking at him expectantly to finish his thought, knowing that there was never a time that he asked for favors, which meant that this must’ve been serious.

“Is everything okay?” You ask quietly and he shakes his head in response, looking up at you momentarily as he placed his hands on top of his knees.

“I need you to play my fake significant others for a few days, because this person is so close to being a stalker and she won’t back off if it’s you.” He breathes out as you look at him in confusion while having difficulty processing with the words that left his lips.

“You need me to, what?”

You remember him mentioning a couple months back when you started the spring semester of a girl that really liked him, to the point where she was willing to do anything for him at all. However, it seemed as though it must’ve been getting out of hand considering he was willing to run all the way to the other side of campus to find you, which meant that it was a serious matter.

“Why can’t you just file a restraining order on her?” You ask him in confusion, walking with him back to your shared apartment on campus while you listened to him explain his side of the story from what must’ve happened to him.

You listened to him intently, wondering why someone must’ve gone through all that trouble to show someone that they were interested in them, when you remembered today’s letter that you’ve received from the person that leaves their name with the line of an infinite symbol. It was selfish of you, you think to yourself, to not like the person’s way of trying to get your attention, but you couldn’t help but not focus on them but instead your best friend.

The one person that you could ever harbor feelings for.

It happened on a winter night after finals this year where you weren’t caring for your physical health, not eating proper meals or sleeping enough to study and help ace your exams. It wasn’t until Minghao showed up at your bedroom door with takeout, some tea and bad rom coms while cuddling together in your bed that night you recognized the blooming feelings for your best friend.

“So you want me to pretend to be your significant other?” You spoke slowly, speaking up after he finishes to give him a look of amusement and he nods in response, letting out a breath knowing that he was upset for having to ask for a favor with you until he lights up with an idea.

“It can help you find your secret admirer! You know, like they can see us together and they either finally confront you and tell you your feelings thinking that it’s too late or they just move on.” He points out and you hum in response, contemplating on which side of the bait to take onto the challenge but he did make a good point.

“So we start tomorrow then?”

The following day you notice that at the front of the lecture hall of your class once again stood a bunch of flowers and different gifts awaiting for you as your professor had already given you the familiar look of amusement. Handing you the new note that was yet to be read today, you looked at the neat penmanship that was sprawled onto it and read it thoroughly as you could feel heat rush up to your cheeks while reading it.

i heard that you were now dating minghao, the arts major, and i wanted to say congratulations. it seems as though i was too late and i understand that i should’ve confessed sooner. i wish the two of you all the happiness in the world, and maybe someday i will show you who i am and we can be just friends.

i’ll be rooting for you from the sidelines, y/n!

Marked with another infinite sign, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you closed the envelope in your hands, putting it into your bag when suddenly you felt someone’s presence behind you. Turning to see Minghao close by, he gives you a small smile until he notices the gifts nearby, raising an eyebrow at the sight of it when you move aside to show him today’s gifts.

“They said that they’ll back off because we are ‘dating’.” You say while putting air quotes around the words dating and he lets out a soft chuckle before taking your hand into his just for a moment.

“I mean, we do have to act like it because of the person standing at the door.” He replies and you look over his shoulder slightly to see the girl that had been stalking him pretty recently, already giving you a death glare as you could tell that she was pretty upset at the sight in front of her.

“It’s only for a couple months right? Nothing more than that, and no kissing in public?” You reassured after referencing the wishes that you wanted to put in terms of barriers between your fake relationship, knowing that it was all going to be fake and fabricated from your imagination.

“Just as long as she’s over it, and you’re comfy.” He replies and you nod in response, taking your seats in time for the lecture as your hand was still being held in his.

The feeling of your hand in his made your cheeks heat up at the proximity considering he continued to hold it throughout the entire of your lecture along with the rest of the day. It was something so minimal that you didn’t expect for it to mean a lot to you at all, nor did you think that it was a big action of affection where it was possible to produce butterflies in your stomach.

You felt like you were spiraling even more.

It wasn’t until it was finally at the end of the day that you made it back to your shared apartment that the two of you decided to take a break from the hand holding and crash on the couch with takeout on the table.

“So your secret admirer no longer wants to show up?” Minghao suddenly asks as he eats the general tso chicken that was on his portion of rice, and you hummed in response, taking a bite of the vegetable dumpling that you ordered for ‘balance’ earlier before turning to look at him with a confused look earlier.

“They said that they’d support from the sidelines, but they want to be friends someday if they reveal themselves,” You say after chewing the rest of your food down and let out a frustrated breath until you spoke up once more after taking a sip of your water, “The only thing is… their handwriting looks so familiar and I can’t put my finger on whose handwriting it is.”

He lets out a quiet hum as the two of you continue to eat in the small silence while your mind ponders all the letters that you received from the secret admirer. You knew that they were an art major and that their signature ended with an infinite sign, along with certain things that they always pointed out about you that you never knew about yourself.

They began to sound like they were a part of your close circle, when you thought about it more and wondered who’s handwriting could match the one of your secret admirer. However, your brain could only come up with nothing up until the moment that you were snapped out of your mind with the stinging sensation of Minghao flicking your forehead.

“You’re zoning out again, and it made you look constipated.” He bluntly says with a grin on his face, making you let out a noise in retortion when he suddenly feeds you an eggroll to stop the arguments that were ready to spill out of your mouth.

How to not pretend that your heart was not burning because of your unrequited feelings for him? A challenge that you were willing to take for the next upcoming months that you were yet to discover.

You regret the words that you had said back a couple weeks ago when you thought that you could keep your feelings in control. It was everything that you wanted to bite back, especially since the winter season was now in session and that it was close to the holidays that were yet to arrive.

There were no more gifts from your admirer but rather from Minghao, as he was still pretending to be your fake boyfriend to scare away his stalker. The only thing confusing you was that they never showed up ever since after your Thanksgiving break, making you wonder why Minghao was still keeping up with the act when you knew that he should’ve stopped the fake relationship at the moment.

It all ended up in the cafe that you were at, looking outside to see the snow that was falling down from the sky and watching how couples walked up and down the streets, hand in hand as they were warm with the other’s presence. You wished that yours were that genuine as you struggled to find the right words to tell your best friend that you were in love with him, and that you didn’t want to keep the act going.

“Why can’t I stop myself from falling for you?” You breathe out quietly more towards yourself as you take a sip of your coffee, up until you see one of the workers from behind the bar walk up to your table to slip you a napkin with stuff on it.

“Someone called in and told me to give it to you.” They said and you recognized him to be a classmate of yours, Jun, from your art studies class.

Watching him walk away in silence, you furrowed your eyebrows as you wondered what the note could be when you started to read it. The handwriting was familiar and you were confused as to why it matched the secret admirer’s when it was telling you to meet at the park that was close by to your apartment, making it even more contradicting as to who they really were.

Did they want to meet you now?

Grabbing your jacket, you decided to leave the cafe and go to the park nearby your house like it said to with anticipation in your veins. There was something about the rush that ran through your system that made you want to believe that it could’ve been Minghao, but you were also scared of the idea of it being someone else, since you could’ve bear the idea of rejecting someone else’s feelings; the feeling itself already being unbearable to go through.

After a while, you finally do make it to the park and you take in the beautiful scene of the white snow surrounding you. The coldness of the wind nipped at your skin as you forgot to bring your scarf, but you didn’t mind it as the burning of your heart and cheeks from the thought of meeting your secret admirer was still in your mind.

Until he shows up.

“Minghao? What-”

“Surprised to see me?” He whispers softly, hands in the pockets of his coat when you were finally piecing it together in your head and everything made sense.

“It was you the whole time?! Why didn’t you just confess to me, and let me embarrass myself the whole time?” You asked while letting out a small laugh as you reached one of your legs to playfully kick him when he laughs as well, shrugging in response as you watched the snowflakes fall into his hair.

“I didn’t know how to tell you, since you were my best friend. Besides, I thought that fake dating would’ve been a solution to my stalker problem, which was why I stopped sending you gifts as infinite the moment we started.” He replies and you smiled a bit at the fact that he was being a little too much in this very time that you were standing in front of him.

“So what? You just decide to torture me and make me believe that we were in a fake relationship, so that the both of us can avoid confronting the other about actually dating?” You retort, suddenly feeling the sadness of the missed weeks that you both cou;d’ve actually dated if you’d told your affection towards him sooner.

There was a beat of silence that passed by, in which you could tell that your breaths were becoming one with the other in the moment that you were staring at one another with the snow falling around you. However, it was different as you could tell that there was now a spark that was burning in each of your hearts, ready to become brighter right as he finally asked you the question that you had finally been waiting for him to ask, in which you didn’t hesitate to answer in response to it.

“How about we date for real this time? Second time’s the charm, am I wrong?”

[anotheronechicagobog]

Rangers, Lead The Way - Chapter 2 - Jay and Hana

written by @anotheronechicagobog

warnings: swearing, cannon typical violence, jealousy, abandonment

When Jay had gotten a call from Kenny at three-thirty in the morning he didn't exactly know what to expect. Sure, he could have called because someone died, but he could've also called because he wanted to debate the pronunciation of 'avocado' (something he'd already done twice). So when Kenny's name flashed across his phone screen he just took a deep breath and went to the hallway, leaving a sleeping Hailey alone in bed. "Halstead."

"Hana got shot."

"What? Hana? Your Hana?"

"Yeah- it was a fugitive. She- she's fine. Shot in the foot. She was on leave for a bit, stayed with her parents, but now she's on desk duty. She was going to be with us, but apparently, she was helping the cyber division track some hackers, and they're connected to an organized crime group in Chicago. And she's going to be working with the unit that's been conducting the investigation into that organization. Your unit."

"Yeah, we were told that an FBI cyber analyst was coming down to work with us but they didn't tell us who. Okay, well, she'll be perfectly safe. Our tech room is in the basement with secure entrances, and I'll see if I can get either myself or Hailey assigned to work with her."

"Thanks man, you have no idea how much this means to me."

"Actually I do, remember?"

"Yeah, any advice on how to get through it?"

"I'm not gonna lie, it's gonna be hell, but you'll just have to hang in there and trust me."

"Okay."

"... So I'll finally get to meet Hana..."

"Yeah, I'm hanging up now. Bye."

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"Everyone, meet special agent Hana Gibson from the FBI. She's the tech specialist here to help us out with the Anderson family. Play nice." After his... Enthusiastic introduction, Voight walked back into his office and shut the door. "Hi, I'm detective Jay Halstead and this is my partner Detective Hailey Upton, it's nice to meet you. I can show you where you'll be working if you want?"

"That would be great." Jay moved to the desk by the stairs. "Okay, this desk is just like ours, older than our boss and with a PC on it. The tech room is downstairs, this is mostly for basic searches and so that the tech expert can be with the group when we debrief and work the board and the like. The stairs over here take you down to the garage which is where the tech room is. The stairs are old so they creak a lot but don't worry, they're perfectly safe."

"Sorry to interrupt, but is that a cage?"

"Yes, but don't worry, we don't use it. It's from the old guard, you know, when cops were assaulting people for no reason and no one would say anything. At least now people are talking about it."

"I sense a 'but'."

"But... I wish that cops who were still like that actually got arrested, or never made it out of the academy."

"You and me both."

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"Okay, so the Anderson family has been selling legit products online but then stealing and selling the credit card info, they've been covering their tracks pretty well up until now. That means that something changed. What that is could be key to catching all, and I mean all, of them. Work your CI's, talk to victims, flip some people. Figure out what it is." The team nodded and turned to their partners to figure out their next move.

"Should we head out to Cook County? There's an inmate there connected to the Anderson's, right? Maybe they could give us something."

"Actually, I was thinking maybe I could head out there with Ruzek and you could stay with Gibson because you found their online pattern and figured out which products and websites were theirs. Maybe you two could find more together."

"Sure, that sounds okay but, we're good, right?"

"Of course we are, we'll always be good. I just think this will be best for the case, plus you have the most experience working with the FBI, and her being here has put Voight on edge which has put everyone else on edge."

"Good point, I'll see you later." His eyes followed her until he couldn't see her anymore and he let out a breath, it was different this time. Last time, when Hailey hadn't been here, OA had kept an eye on her but his partner wasn't there so that made it a bit easier, but Hailey was here and now so was Hana. It would take some finessing to have both of their backs but he figured if they were in the same place it would be a little easier. "Halstead? You ready to head out?"

"Yeah, let's go."

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Cook County was as unpleasant as always. Angry convicts yelling at them through their cells that they wanted to slit his throat. Lovely. But that wasn't what got to him. Leonard Mitchell, the man they were there to see, wouldn't say anything helpful. He wasn't even threatening them or insulting them, he was just asking "where the smoking blonde from last time was". It was taking an enormous amount of restraint to keep him from jumping across the table and tackling the guy. "You're here for hacking the Chicago Municipal Courts website and unsealing confidential information. You're in the high-security ward and have more restricted access to places in the prison than most inmates. You don't have much going for you, maybe if you give us some information we can help you out."

"That's a joke, I'm not saying anything to either of you. Now that blonde, get her to show up for a conjugal visit, then maybe I'll consider it."

"Okay! So, we're done talking, we're going to search your cell and work station now, and you know what, because you have been so unpleasant to deal with today, we're also going to search the cells and workstations near you. Have fun explaining to your neighbours why their contraband got carted off by Chicago PD." Jay marched out of the interrogation room before he lost his cool even more than he already had. He gestured for the warden to get some guards together to start the search. He took a deep breath to try and calm down. "Hey Halstead, are you okay? I mean, what he said about Upton..."

"I'm fine. I don't like hearing anyone talk about my partner that way, but I'm fine."

"Really? Cause the stuff he said was pretty..."

"She's back at the station with Gibson in probably the most secure room there, far, far away from that perv. And if she's okay, I'm okay."

"You should ask her out. I mean, I know it might be weird considering I'm her ex, but you're so far gone on her it's ridiculous and I think that you'd make a cute couple. Think about it, man"

"Uh, yeah. I'll think about it, come on, let's go see if the warden's ready for the searches." Jay's heart was pounding and he felt like he'd just jumped out of the way of a moving train. Nobody knew about them yet, but they were all criminal investigators surely they'd picked up that at least something was different.

They searched Mitchell's room and found a burner phone... Behind his toilet. "Man, I am so glad I don't have to touch that thing. That's Upton and Gibson's job."

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"So I have good news and I have bad news. The good news is, we found a cell phone. The bad news is, it was behind his toilet."

"How lovely."

"Well, you can thank Leonard Mitchell for that. Hey, how's it been working with Gibson?"

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem really interested in her, that's all. Do I need to be worried?"

"No, I just want to make sure that she feels welcome and won't give us a bad review to the FBI."

"I know what you look like when you're lying, Jay."

"Hailey..."

"Just... Go back upstairs, Jay."

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"How's everything going?"

"Other than the fact that I'm in the doghouse, good."

"What'd you do?"

"I was a little too protective of Hana, I guess. Hailey picked up on it and I couldn't exactly explain without blowing our cover."

"That sucks, man. I'm sorry but honestly, it sounds like you were gonna end up sleeping on the couch either way."

"Yeah, how are you? You holding up alright with Hana gone?"

"No. You were right, this is hell. I keep looking around to make sure she's covered or to offer to get her that terrible coffee she likes and then she's not there and it feels like whiplash." Jay could practically feel himself sharing the weight on Kenny's shoulders. "It doesn't get any easier, it actually gets a lot harder, but she won't be here forever. She'll be home soon and you'll be able to breathe again."

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Hailey was still giving him the cold shoulder when he went around to take lunch orders. She was curt "my usual" before turning back to her computer screen and completely ignoring him. He did what he could to not let the pang in his chest play out on his face but from the way Hana looked at him it was obvious, he'd failed. "What about you Gibson? Do you need a copy of their menu?"

"No, that's okay, I looked it up. I'll get the spicy shrimp pad thai."

"You got it." He was about to leave when Hana gestured for him to lean down close to her. "Just apologize for whatever you did, it'll go a long way. She's been off since you dropped off the cell phone." He wanted to say something, explain that he was just caught between a rock and a hard place, but the words were trapped in his throat. Hana sent him a I-know-what-I'm-talking-about-if-you-don't-listen-to-me-you're-probably-going-to-regret-it look and all he could do was allow his shoulders to slump and nod.

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The intense silence of the bullpen was interrupted by Hailey entering behind Hana, who looked incredibly confident on her crutches. "We got something off of the phone." Hailey moved to the board with some papers as Hana plopped down into the office chair at her temporary desk. "It took a while to crack some of the files but I got it. They're transactions between an off-shore account and a shell company based out of Arkansas. While the account was set up there, it's been used mostly in New York, Washington DC, and Chicago. The most recent transaction was for 85K."

"Hana and I also found some emails with photos of military-grade weapons. Guns, missiles, and grenades. Mitchell isn't the buyer or the seller, it looks like he's mediating between the two. We don't have an ID on the buyer yet, but we have one on the seller. Lori Anderson, member of the Anderson crime family. Got no idea what they're planning, but the Anderson's were particularly interested in armour-piercing weapons and rocket launchers. And two days ago she asked Mitchell if he could put her in contact with an explosives supplier. We need to talk to organized crime, both from CPD and FBI, this looks bad. There are still files and emails that we have to go through, and his calendar makes no sense it's all in code. It's probably pretty important because he was in prison and couldn't actually go anywhere. We're also still combing through the contraband from the other cells just to make sure none of his neighbours were also involved."

"Alright. Upton, Gibson, good work. Keep at the phone. Atwater and Burgess you two talk to organized crime, see what you can dig up and alert them of our discoveries. Ruzek and Halstead, flip any CIs you've got. We need to get ahead of whatever they're planning."

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They were supposed to be safe. They were supposed to be safe. They were in the precinct, they were surrounded by on-duty cops, there was another detective unit across from Intelligence, Platt was at the front desk, Hank-don't-you-even fucking-dare-Voight was in his office. They were supposed to be safe. But they weren't.

They'd just left one of Adam's CIs twitching in excitement down the street as he counted his money when they got the call over the radio.

"10-1! 10-1! Shots fired at police at 21st district! We're pinned down!" They had a moment of stunned silence together before they hauled ass to Jay's truck and high-tailed it back to the district, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Jay's body was moving on autopilot, which probably wasn't good considering he was speeding in a large vehicle down busy roads, the only thing that was going to calm him down, that would quell and panic and rage bubbling up in was seeing Hailey alive. He would move heaven and earth to make that a reality.

Pulling up at the district he vaguely remembered he had to look out for Hana too, but lord help him, and whoever stood in his way, if he didn't see blonde hair and blue eyes attached to the fiery woman who held his heart.

The lobby reminded Jay of Kandahar, there were bullet holes lining every vertical surface. Blood pooled under the bodies of the injured. He did a quick sweep of the room, finding nothing but injured cops and civilians, none of whom were Hailey or Hana, or the attackers. The door to intelligence hung open, barely attached at the hinges. "They went up to intelligence! Move your asses!" Platt didn't spare them a second glance as she went back to ordering the remaining able-bodied patrol officers around.

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"Kim!"

"I'm okay, I'm okay."

"We're okay too, just so you know."

"Where did they go, Kev? What happened?"

"They went down to the garage-" Jay didn't have it in him to finish listening, he just ran, gun raised. "Hailey! Hana!" It was bad enough that he might lose Hailey, the woman he loved more than anything, but losing Hana too? He wouldn't be able to look Kenny in the eye ever again.

"We're over here!"

"We're okay!"

And then he could breathe again. Oh thank god, she's safe, Hailey's safe. She's mad at me but she's safe... Does my heart always pound this fast when I'm not with her and I'm just noticing now? No, it's probably adrenaline because... I almost lost her. But I didn't. They were tucked into separate corners of the tech office, Hailey, covered in blood that she immediately indicated wasn't hers, was armed with her Glock and Hana armed with her crutches. There were five men in black tactical gear with ski masks lying in various positions on the floor. Four had obvious non-lethal bullet wounds, a courtesy from Hailey, and the fifth was still moving and being hit repeatedly by Hana with one of her crutches. "Stop. Moving. Already. You. Ass!" Jay would've been more impressed if he wasn't still coming down from the adrenaline. "Thank god. You're both okay? Hailey?"

"We're fine."

"Hails-"

"We're fine, just help guide the ambos here, please?"

"...Okay." God, he could feel his heart start to splinter. Less than a minute ago he'd thought that his world had been savagely destroyed, but now... All he wanted was to hold her and it only made him ache more when she pushed him away. He just walked over to the garage door to allow the paramedics easier access, only his footsteps and groans of pain coming from the goons kept the room from being dismally silent.

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"She's completely fine, so before you freak out just know that she's in the exact same shape she arrived here in."

"That is a terrible way to start a phone call Halstead! Was that supposed to calm me down or help in some way? What even happened?"

"The Genna's hired some local weapons enthusiasts the bust into our precinct and steal what we knew about them. They trashed our bulletin board and tried to get to the computers in the tech room but Hailey and Hana whooped their asses. When I got there Hana was actually beating one with one of her crutches. Hana's a badass."

"Damn right she is... But she's okay?"

"She's pissed off, but there's not a scratch on her."

"Good... That's really good."

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"Hailey?" Jay knocked again, using every last thread of hope he had that she'd answer. It didn't matter that she was still upset with him, he just wanted to see her face. She and Hana had been whisked away by the FBI and IA right after the ambulances picked up the hired help. He just wanted to see her for more than thirty seconds, reassure himself that she was okay and that she still loved him. That he could fix everything, that he would at least get to hold her one last time. "Hailey, please open the door." He was only met with soul-crushing silence. "Please."

The relief he felt when the lock turned and the door opened could not be described. "Hana is inside if you want to talk to her."

"I'm here for you, Hails. Please, just... Talk to me. I love you, I love you more than I ever thought possible to love someone and today I found you hunched over, covered in blood. It doesn't matter that the blood didn't end up being yours. I was- I still am- terrified. I could have lost you today and I don't know how to face that. Can I just have a hug, at least, please? I just- I can't-" And then she was wrapping her arms around his waist, her tired gravity pulling him to her. He honestly considered being able to wrap his arms around her in return, and burying his face into her hair a gift from the gods. "I was so glad that you weren't there, because it means you weren't getting shot at, I've had to deal with you getting shot more than enough times, I couldn't deal with it again, Jay. I... I love you too." Jay didn't know how much longer they stayed like that, enveloping each other, but he cherished every second of it. And when they finally parted it was like coming down from an adrenaline high. "Do you want to come in? We were about to order from Bartoli's."

"I would love that."

"Good, cause we've left Hana waiting for a while."

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"So, now I get to have the legendary deep-dish pizza, huh?"

"Yep. Best damn pizza in the world."

"Damn straight."

"You know, I think you two are a little biased."

"You sound like the partner I had while I was in the FBI, OA Zidan, he was always riding me about my opinion on pizza." Jay froze. He could feel himself freeze up. He could feel Hailey and Hana eyeing him in confusion. Shit. "What is it, Jay?"

"Sorry, I just don't like remembering that my partner was away from me for so long, and had another partner in that time period."

"Really, Halstead? You don't need to get all territorial, Hailey clearly doesn't want to be anywhere but with you. Seriously, you should have seen her when the FBI and IA showed up-"

"Hana!"

"What? He's the one who got all stiff when you brought up the FBI"

Phew, they didn't know, thank heavens.

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Everyone was back the next day, ready to keep moving, to catch the people who organized the break-in of their precinct which injured twenty-three and killed four. It was bad enough that they'd tried to bust into Intelligence in the first place, but to hurt innocent people in the process? That was just plain wicked.

Hailey and Hana were working side by side, delving into the cyber goings on of the Genna family, Kim and Kevin were working with the crime lab to analyse the precinct, and Jay and Adam were back to flipping CIs. Jay felt better about where things stood with Hailey, but he was still grumpy that he couldn't be in the temporary bullpen with her today. He knew that she was capable and that she didn't need him to hover, but that didn't make being away from her after she was almost killed any less difficult. They were supposed to be in the most secure place in the precinct, how were any of them supposed to feel safe working in a place that had been breached by mercenaries in only a few minutes? He tried to shake off the worry and fear, but he just couldn't. And it was made worse by the fact that it wasn't only Hailey who had been in danger- Hana was too. And Kenny had already lost so many people that he really didn't know how he would've handled that situation. Having to tell one of his best friends that the woman he was in love with was dead while dealing with the exact same senario.

The second last CI on their list had been dodging them all day, and Jay's sanity was already hanging on by a thread- he did not have the strength or patience to deal with this. So instead of trying to track him down again, he just put out a BOLO and waited until patrol brought him in, kicking and screaming. When he entered the interrogation room Marcus went on a tirade, "what the FUCK, man!", "we had a deal!", "are these handcuffs really necessary?". Jay just stared at him. He didn't have the energy to try and get the guy to shut the fuck up, so he just sat silently across from him, trying to make him as uncomfortable as possible. "... Are you okay, man?"

"No, not really, Marcus. See, I've been calling you all day. I've called up other CIs and they were all okay to meet. But not you. No, you ghosted me and I had to get patrol to drag your ass in here. You still have robbery charges I could lay on you. This is about to get a whole lot worse because I have exactly no patience to deal with any BS right now, but yours especially. So. The Genna family. Tell me everything you know."

And he did. He sang like a damn canary, which Jay attributed to luck, and Adam attributed to Jay looking like he was going to tear the poor bastard limb from limb. Seriously. Adam made a mental note not to piss off Jay, which he subconsciously realizes means that as long as he didn't hurt Hailey he'd be fine. But he didn't have time to dwell on that as Jay exited the interrogation room looking like the leprechaun at the end of the rainbow. "I've gotta get this to the girls, you're not gonna believe what this bastard knew."

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An apartment, down in Canaryville, was occupied by Daniel Anderson's mistress. And she wasn't just his mistress... She was his accountant. She didn't just file his taxes, she managed his money, she knew everything that it was used for and how they got it in the first place. Jay ran to the temporary tech room ready to drop a bomb, only for his fiery girlfriend to beat him to it. "We found out where they got the weapons and ammo! The navy didn't put out a report until they'd finished their investigation, but it's their stuff. It all came from Norfolk, but they were shipping it to Kandahar when they were robbed by a twelve-person team, well-skilled and heavily armed. But look at this surveillance video, where part of the leader's sleeve got torn off."

"That's... That's Daniel Anderson. He's got that tattoo. We can get a warrant with that, but what about this- Daniel has a mistress in an apartment in Canaryville. She's his accountant, she knows everything. And if we can get a warrant with what you found, we can search that apartment too because it's in his name." Hailey smiled that vindicated smile that just lit up her whole face and made her eyes shine with pride. Jay could feel himself mirroring her and he just couldn't look away, finally feeling like they got their groove back, their relationship back. "Hey guys? I'm glad you made up but can you either get to work or get a room? I don't need  a front seat to this."

"Oh, admit it Gibson, we're your OTP."

"I admit to nothing, Halstead."

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Honestly, the raid of all of Daniel Anderson's properties, and consequently the collapse of the Anderson crime family, was dismally anti-climactic. They found boat-loads of evidence, Daniel's wife, mistress, and right-hand man all turned on him, and the FBI and NCIS were currently fighting over jurisdiction even though the case was already solved... By the CPD. Truthfully no one minded, because it meant that once they submitted their case notes and raid reports, they were done and might not even have to go to trial, the feds could handle that. While the majority of Intelligence decided to go to the regular watering hole, Hailey and Hana had made other plans and were dragging Jay along for the ride. And it was all going well, until they started talking about roommates. "I like Zadie, but she's gotten annoying now that she's dating my partner. So has he honestly. I mean, who thought that Kenny Crosby, an ex-army ranger would be acting like a thirteen-year-old that was in his first relationship? 'Is that text from Zadie? Is it about me? Were you guys talking about me while you were in the kitchen together this morning?' He was It's... A little exhausting. All he can talk about, is her. And whenever we hang out it always involves her somehow. He won't say it but I know he was a little disappointed when I came back and interrupted their 'love nest." All that Jay was able to gain from that other than the echo of sadness from behind her eyes, was that Crosby was dating someone who was not Hana. Which would be weird if he talked about her constantly on the phone, which he does, have an intimately trusting relationship with her, which he does, and ask one of his old army buddies to keep an eye on her while he can't because he cares about her so much and can't bear to lose her, which he did. So in conclusion; the fact that Kenny is dating someone who is not Hana is weird and will require further investigation.

"So he's constantly asking you about his girlfriend?"

"Well, she is too. But it's more annoying with him because he's my partner, we work together."

"But you live with her."

"It's... It's just different." Jay could see that she was mentally grasping at threads while trying to keep herself from falling into a black hole, this clearly meant much more to her than she was letting on so he decided to drop it. It was good timing too, because Hailey returned to the table with their food. Hair up, with a cute little Greece-themed apron on, ignoring her older brother's teasing from the kitchen. "Σκασε ηλιθιε!" (shut up idiot!)

"Μην μου πεις να σταματήσω, αυτό είναι το εστιατό��ιο μου!" (Don't tell me to shut up, this is my restaurant!) Jay found himself chucking at the Upton sibling banter. They interacted a lot less than he and Will did, though he supposed part of that was because he and his brother ran into each other through their work fairly often, and it was nice to see them... Happy with one another. Hailey usually looked like a constipated pigeon whenever she talked about her family so it was nice that she had reconciled with at least one sibling. After they were all able to move out, their relationships with each other got much more contentious. Theodore was the middle child and believed that they should quietly encourage their mother to leave their abusive father and just silently support her, Declan was the oldest and quite firmly just didn't care about their parents anymore and wanted nothing to with either of them because one was the abuser and the other was the enabler, while Hailey was the youngest and wanted to drag her father to prison by his ear herself. "Your brother seems like quite the joker."

"Oh, he is. He's always been the comedian in the family, a bit of a cross between SpongeBob and Chandler Bing. When I was seven, Theo put these gummy spiders in random places all over the house. It scared the crap out of my dad when he opened the- a top kitchen cupboard and about twelve of these spiders fell out, scared him even more when Theo grabbed one off the floor and bit into it, I think he ate three in total, one was completely whole, talking about how 'tasty' they were before my dad needed to sit down. It took him longer than he will ever admit to realize that they were just candy."

"Oh, that is good. I used to use some of those YouTube jump scare videos on my parents. I thought it was the funniest thing ever, especially because I used Elmo jump scares. So they'd be freaking out, and I'd just ask them why they were so afraid of a red puppet. My mom still doesn't trust me to show her videos."

"Well, it sounds like you and my brother would get along like fire, you should meet him later. He said he'd join us for dessert." Wait... What? Oh no... I know that look, she's trying to set Hana up with her brother! As much as I'd like Hana to be my sister-in-law, that would preferably be through a different brother.

."That sounds great, I really like Theo. What was that thing we had last time we ate with him and... Her name was Kate, right? Do you know how they're doing? I feel like I haven't heard about her in a long time." Hailey gave him a look. A I-can't-believe-you-just-said-that look. "No, they're not dating anymore. I thought I mentioned that."

"Oops, seriously though, what was that dessert we had with them?"

"That was revani, we can ask if that's what my brother has here today."

"Uh- what is revani, if I may ask, as the only non-Greek and non-Greek-dating person at this table?"

"Ha, of course you can ask Hana. It's a semolina cake, flavoured with lemon and orange zest. It's really good."

"That sounds great, but do you think I'd also be able to order some takeout for tomorrow? I just have a long day of travelling via bus tomorrow and I don't know when I'll get the chance to eat, so I figure having a big breakfast might help with that."

"That sounds like a cool idea. Hailey, why don't we all order some food to go and eat it tomorrow morning together?"

"You mean as like a big Greek breakfast?"

"Yeah."

"I wasn't thinking that initially but I'm glad Jay did, it sounds great."

"Alright, yeah, let's do it. I'll go talk to Theo and order somethings that reheat well." Hailey left them with a smile to go bother her brother in the kitchen, their discussion in Greek filling the restaurant with jokes and quips only a few present were able to understand, forging smiles on the faces of strangers as they listened to the voices in the kitchen. Hana looked apprehensive, and he doubted it was about the long bus inter-state bus ride. "Hana, I'm sure that your partner missed you, maybe he didn't say it, maybe he needed a distraction, but he missed you."

"How do you know? You don't even know him." If only you knew.

"Trust me on this."

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

"You fucking idiot." Jay was trying to keep his voice down so that he didn't wake Hailey, who was asleep in her bed (where he wanted to be), or Hana who was asleep in the guest bedroom. As much as he loved her with his entire being, Jay had to admit that Hailey was a fucking demon if you woke her up without 'just cause'.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me Crosby!"

"What the hell Halstead?!"

"You called me at three-thirty in the morning, worried out of your mind about Hana, asking me to keep an eye on her, to protect her, all while you're dating someone who isn't her!"

"Oh, yeah, I'm dating her roommate-"

"Zadie. I know. Why do you think I called you to yell at you at two in the morning?"

"Hey, back up man. I don't know what you think you're talking about, but just because I'm dating Zadie doesn't mean that I don't care about Hana. There is very little I wouldn't do to keep her safe... If I could even do it."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I... I was right there. I should have been able to help her. So, so why couldn't I help her? Huh? She is so important to me, okay? I don't even know how to describe it."

"Try."

"She... My mom told me that to make a woman fall in love with me I had to make her laugh, but every time she laughs I'm the one who falls more and more in love. She is astonishingly intelligent and I have never been more glad to feel like a complete and utter fool just by standing in someone's presence. If I had to crawl to hell and be tortured by the devil himself to keep her safe, I'd do it. I have never felt as wholly accepted by anyone else in my life, she has found ways to motivate me to climb out of my own grave on my darkest days. Every time a look at her, I see a glowing, deliriously happy future that I know I don't deserve." Heavy silence bore on both sides of the phone, dragging Kenny deeper into the dark crack in his chest, and delivering Jay an epiphany.

"... Have you ever thought that maybe it's about what she deserves?"

"Hm?"

"Listen, man, not everything is about you. This is about her. You just said you would let the devil tear you apart to keep her safe, and yeah maybe you don't deserve her, but she deserves you. She deserves someone who would do whatever it takes to make her laugh and keep her safe at whatever the cost all in the same day, and it sounds like that's you."

"Jay..."

"Just think about it man. And while you're at it, stop neglecting Hana, okay?"

"What?"

"You constantly talk about Zadie, you always involve her somehow when you're hanging out with Hana, and Hana's been getting the vibe that you're upset she came home and disrupted the little bubble you had going on with Zadie."  

"She told you that?"

"Me and Hailey, when we were all out at dinner. Just listen, pay a bit more attention to her, stop treating her like the middle man between you and your girlfriend, and work on your self-worth, man. You're a good person and an even greater friend, don't sell yourself short."

"Thanks, Halstead."

"No problem, Crosby."

"So what exactly makes me a 'great friend', Jay?"

"Uggggghhhhhhh."

"Hey! You said it, can't take it back!"

"... This is why we can't have nice things Kenny, goodnight."

"Wait you didn't tell me-"

[doctenwho]

Parental Demeaning

Hello! Thank you for the request! I loved the idea of this, but I wasn’t too sure how to go about it. I only really have my parents to go off (they’re not at all like the ones written) but it’s hard to put myself in the mindset of it without context (and since parents are all drastically different), but I tried and hopefully it’s alright!

I had to read a couple articles to find some lowkey emotionally abusive things, and I tried to put as many as would fit, but still make sense in the fic. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Emotional/ Verbal Abuse.

Word Count: 4,230

Summary: Up in the prompt! :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to creator!)

It really wasn’t often you got to go home and see your family and friends. As much as you loved them, there was just better things to see and do in space with the Doctor. It was no one’s fault, the Doctor would bring you to earth whenever you asked, but you just got so caught up in the Doctor and other planets and adventures.

It also didn’t really help that you basically lost all concepts of days and times when you were in the TARDIS. Without the sun rising in the morning and setting at night, you couldn’t be bothered with remembering whether it was day or night, or October or December. It was just then, or rather, now.

And even after all his years travelling, the Doctor was really no better when it came to times or days or months—but he usually got the year right when you asked. To be fair though, earth timelines really had no significance to him—it wasn’t like he’d have an angry mother if he missed Christmas or her birthday or something.  

You on the other hand... you were just thankful the Doctor had mentioned the current date on earth because if you missed your mother’s birthday there would definitely be hell to pay. It really was a coincidence that the Doctor happened to prompt a visit to your home planet the evening before your mom’s birthday.  

It would’ve been bad had you shown up months later having missed her birthday and not even rung her to wish her a happy birthday. She’d probably hold that over your head for years and years to come if that happened.

But you were saved before you could get yourself in trouble. The Doctor was basically your guardian angel at this point.  

So, that following afternoon the Doctor had landed the TARDIS a street over from your parent’s house so they wouldn’t see you exiting and entering a police box like a lunatic with a man they’d only really met in passing.  

“Come on,” you huffed, standing by the TARDIS door with your arms crossed over your chest and a pout on your lips, “I don’t want to go alone.”

“They’re your parents,” the Doctor raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling teasingly, “your parents, your planet. I should stay out of it. Besides, your mother barely knows me, I’d ruin the day.”

“You wouldn’t and you know it,” you sighed dramatically resisting the urge to smile at the glance the Doctor shot in your direction, “you’re going to make me suffer through all the questions they’ll ask that I have no answers too alone? They’ll want to talk about my work—which I don’t have, then they’ll ask how I support myself with that same job I don’t have!”

“Well, aren’t you a dramatic one today,” again with the teasing from the Doctor, “fine, fine. I’ll tag along. But, it’s not my fault if it upsets your mother on her birthday.”

“No, it’ll be my fault,” you smiled brightly, “they’re always telling me I need to get a boyfriend anyways; she’ll probably be ecstatic when I bring home a Doctor.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” the Doctor huffed a laugh as he finally moved to join you at the TARDIS doors. He opened the doors and stepped out, you following close behind, “I doubt a space Doctor is as sought-after as a medical earth doctor.”

“Depends on who you ask, but it’s close enough,” you waved him off. “Anyways, you’re just my friend who happens to be a guy, they’re too nosy for their own good. Last thing I need if for them to start searching you up online and finding literally nothing because you’re not even from earth. I don’t even know how I’d answer those questions.”

“I mean, technically you can find me online—a lot of people on your earth know about me. I’m quite the phenomenon.”

“Not really the same thing,” you laughed.  

You waited patiently while the Doctor closed and locked the TARDIS, before the two of you were strolling in the direction of your parents' home. This visit was a surprise, since you didn’t have a cellphone that worked from Outerspace, so you really couldn’t contact them and let them know you were on your way beforehand.  

And even if they didn’t want company for long (which was unlikely), you and the Doctor could always leave. The TARDIS is only a few streets away. You don’t want them to feel obligated to entertain you and the Doctor if that’s not what they had in plan.

The two of you walked side by side, chatting easily about your latest adventure on a distant planet. An adventure you certainly wouldn’t be bringing up to your parents. You arrived at your parent’s home in minutes, walking up to the door and knocking. The Doctor trailed along behind you, a balance of interested and indifferent about being with you at your folk’s home.  

As expected, it was your mom to answer the door, swinging it open—and if the door happened to open outwards (which thankfully it didn’t), you probably would’ve been smacked backwards at the firm swing.  

“(Y/N)!” she greeted as she drew you in for a hug. You returned the hug with practiced ease, dropping it as soon as your mother did. Then she was looking you up and down, which she always did whenever you returned after not seeing them for months.  

After basically checking you out thoroughly, her attention snapped to the Doctor, who hadn’t moved since the door had swung open. She eyed him, to which he gave a small wave and a smile.

“You’ve brought a friend.”  

She didn’t sound mad, nor happy. But that was probably a good sign. And even if she didn’t like the Doctor it’s not like she’d say anything with him here. She’d wait until you were visiting alone, whenever that would happen next, to complain and tell you he was no good.  

“It’s the Doctor, mum,” you told her, “you’ve met him before.”

And that much was true. The Doctor had met both your parents in passing when he’d met you that first time. It was barely more than awkward ‘hi’s’ from both parties before the Doctor was sprinting away after some space creature tormenting earth. It still counted though.

“The Doctor, right.” She gave a nod, looking him up and down as well. She did that to everyone you brought him, including your friends from school. It was like she was trying to decide if she liked a person from their appearance.  

“It’s lovely to see you again,” the Doctor grinned from where he was standing.  

“Quite,” your mother replied. She looked between the two of you for a second before settling her attention on you and speaking again, “it’s about time you brought someone home. Well now, come in, come in. The both of you.”  

Your mom ushered both you and the Doctor into the house. You slipped off your shoes and the Doctor frowned before doing so as well.  

You tried not to laugh, since not once had you seen the Doctor without shoes. It was almost weird that he was now stood beside with just his socks on his feet. At least he was wearing socks, you couldn’t even imagine a barefoot Doctor.  

“How nice of you to show up for your mother’s birthday,” your father called from the couch, barely looking away from the television, “you could’ve called ahead though.”

“We were travelling,” you lied, but it wasn’t a complete lie, “bad reception. Besides it was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Well, colour me surprised,” your mother smiled happily. She casted a sideways glance at the Doctor, who’d distracted himself by looking at some of the photos hung on the walls.  

You looked towards the man too, before clearing your throat to get his attention and sitting down on a loveseat across from the couch. The Doctor followed you, settling onto the cushion beside you while your mother disappeared into the kitchen.

“Tea, coffee, anyone?”  

You glanced over at the Doctor, blinking at his shrug before you were calling back a, “tea for us!”

“Where are your manners?” your dad glanced towards you, “your mother is making you and your friend tea, and you don’t even say please? If you don’t behave, no one will ever love you, silly girl.”

“Sorry,” you ducked you head in embarrassment. “Thank you, mum,” you called back into the kitchen. Your mother didn’t reply, but it did seem to please your father. You planned to thank your mother when she actually brought the teas out. 

You frowned; a bit upset that you’d been scolded in front of the Doctor after being in your parent’s home for less than five minutes. You leaned back on the loveseat, frowning down at your lap. You glanced up when you felt the Doctor’s elbow nudge you, but he wasn’t looking at you—instead focused on your father.  

You raised a confused eyebrow at him, but he didn’t really notice it. You weren’t too sure why the Doctor was all but glaring daggers at your father.

No one said anything. You’d already been scolded once, the Doctor not really a talker in situations like this, and your father still distracted by the television. He tended to avoid talking and socializing unless your mother was there beside him, which was normal.

Your mother returned soon enough, holding a tray with four steaming mugs, a little sugar bowl and a small pitcher of milk. There was also a stack of four plates, four forks and a small, store bought birthday cake.  

With your mother’s arrival, you father shut off the television so he could actually join the conversation. You knew if he left it on though, you mother would yell at him like she always did. You were thankful that they weren’t going to have one of those arguments with the Doctor in the room.

She set the tray on the coffee table, then got to work handing out everyone’s mugs. She started with your father, then the Doctor, then you. She casually managed to fill the silence as she distributed the mugs, “a coworker of mine bought a cake over to the house this afternoon, isn’t the lovely, (y/n)?”

“Thank you, mum,” you made sure to say after taking your mug into your hands, “it is a cute little cake.”

“I know!” she chirped, sitting back with her own mug, “it was the nicest thing. I mentioned that we hadn’t heard from you a while and that we weren’t sure you’d come around today, so she brought it over after work.”

“That’s very nice of her,” you mumbled, adding what you liked to your tea and stirring it up before taking a sip. You just let your mother drone on about her probably too nice coworkers. You gotten used to being compared to anyone who said anything nice to your mother at a young age, so it barely bothered you anymore.

“It is,” you mom grinned, “she was telling me about how her daughter is off at university, and how she comes home every weekend to visit-- what a sweet girl she is. You should be more like that. We hardly ever see you, and I assume it’s this young man’s fault?”

The Doctor looked like a dear in the headlight, mug lifted to his lips, but frozen there when your mother mentioned him. “No,” you came to his defense, “it’s just been busy. We’ve been travelling a quite a bit. There’s so much to see. I’m sorry I can’t visit as often as I’d like though.”

“Nonsense,” your dad frowned, setting his mug on the side table and crossing his arms over his chest, “if you really wanted to visit, you would. You’d make the time.”

You gave a heavy sigh, settling your mug on your thigh, “we’ve been over this, dad, I’m not nearly close enough to visit as often as I want. I get pulled here and there at...at work, and it was hard even finding the time to come visit you guys today.”

“We know darling,” your mother cooed, “we just miss you is all. You should be thankful that your father and I care about when you visit, lots of parents don’t care what their children get up to. We just like to know what’s going on in your life...”

“I am thankful,” you frowned, staring down into your mug, “I just... I’m busy. The Doctor and I have work to do, and I can’t... I can’t always be thinking about you guys and visiting. That wouldn’t be good for anyone.”

“No, of course not,” your mother relented, but the frown on her face clearly said she thought otherwise.

You felt bad that you couldn’t always be around for your parents, but you really needed a life. And there was absolutely no way you’d be passing up more trips into space with the Doctor for a few more evening tea parties with your parents.  

It was still a bit weird for you to hear your parents requesting to see you as often as they did. You remember them always commenting about how you needed to grow up, and be successful in your own life. How you needed to move out and stop mooching off them—always telling you to stop burdening them, and become an adult.  

And you had. You’d done exactly what they pushed you towards.

But now all they seemed to want was you back as you were.  

Parents were confusing.

“Right,” your mother spoke brightly, as if the last few minutes of conversation hadn’t happened, “who wants some cake?” She always tended to skip right over anything she didn’t like the sound of. It was a trait you’d known your whole life.  

You nodded your head, glancing towards the Doctor, who was still watching your parents as if he were trying to understand them. He’d barely had any of his tea, instead nursing the slowly cool mug in his lap. “Doctor?” you prompted. He turned to you giving a quiet ‘hm?’ in acknowledgement, “would you like a slice of cake?”

“Oh, no thank you,” the man shook his head, giving your parents a polite smile, “I don’t like to have too many sweets.”

“That’s alright,” you mother promised, “I’m sure I can bring the rest into work tomorrow. The two of us’ll never get through it all before it’s gone off, right darling?”  

Your father gave a hum of acknowledgement, which seemed to please her.

You watched as your mom unstacked the plates, she cut herself and your father small sized pieces of cake, “how big, sweetheart?”

Your mother looked towards you, almost impatient. “Uhm,” you mumbled, “a bit bigger than your guy’s?” You requested.  

The pieces your mother cut for them were about half the size of a regular slice of cake. You knew they liked to watch their sugars, but you didn’t really. You didn’t eat enough sweets in the TARDIS to really have to, so this was a bit of a treat.

Your mother’s eyes shot up to you, eyebrows furrowed in concerned thought, “are you sure? Should you really be eating that much sugar? Food is not your friend, honey. You’ve got to keep yourself in shape if you’re going to find yourself a nice husband.”

You blinked, frowning before you nodded, “yeah, you’re right. A bit smaller than you and dad’s alright?”

Your mother nodded happily, cutting a slice of cake for you and handing it across the coffee table. You eyed the cake for a moment, debating whether you really wanted to eat it. Maybe she was right?  

Before you could put it down and refuse the sweet treat, the Doctor hijacked your fork and took a bit of the dessert. You gaped at him in surprise, blinking at his bright smile, “it’s really quite good,” he told you, “you look lovely, I’m doubtful any amount of sweets could possibly take that away.”

You smiled at him, silently taking him. You really had wanted to eat the cake, but not if it would jeopardize your figure- but if the Doctor was saying it was good, and prompting you into it—it was hard to say no.

You took back your fork when the Doctor offered it back, taking a bite of the cake for yourself. It was delicious. He’d been right. It was probably the best non-homemade cake you’d ever had.

“Where did your coworker get that cake?” the Doctor questioned cheerfully, dragging your mother into easy conversation, “a special occasion is coming up and I’d love to get a cake for it.”

“Oh!” Your mother set her fork down on the edge of her plate, “it’s from this nice little bakery downtown, the name should be on the box in the kitchen, I’ll check for you when I bring the plates into the kitchen. They’ve got really nice sweets.”

“Wonderful,” the Doctor grinned, “I’m sure it’ll be perfect for the occasion.”  

You held you tongue before you could ask the Doctor what exactly he was talking about. Instead, you shoved another forkful of cake into your mouth and listened to the Doctor charm your mother over the little bakery downtown.  

Time continued on, and before you knew it, you were stepping into your shoes at your parent’s front door. They were both stood in the doorway, watching the you and the Doctor put your shoes back on.

“It was so lovely to see you again, honey,” your mother beamed, moving in to hug you once more, “I'm so glad you could make it for my birthday.”

“Yeah,” you hummed, “it was good to see you too mum.”  

“Come back soon, alright?” your father prompted, giving you a one-armed hug, “call ahead though, you don’t know if we’ll have plans or not. Our lives can’t revolve around you.”

“I know, but I really can’t,” you huffed, “reception is awful when you’re travelling. I’ve tried before and nothing goes through.”

Your dad gave a tired sigh as he pulled away, “you’ve always been so difficult.”

You opened your mouth to reply—to apologize—but the Doctor beat you to it, “well, it was lovely seeing you both again—or rather, meeting, I suppose. We must be off now, places to be and things to see!”

“Oh, alright,” your mom forced a smile, “we love you, sweetheart, and we’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “love you guys too.”

And then the Doctor was leading you away, pace fast. You threw a wave over your shoulder, which your mother returned before she was shutting the door. You were in a weird state between glad you’d managed to see your parents on your mom’s birthday, but mad at yourself that you’d made the Doctor sit around with you.  

He had to have been bored. Your parents had barely acknowledged his existence throughout the hour-long visit.  

The Doctor didn’t really say anything as the two of you walked side by side back to the TARDIS. He was almost stewing, but you didn’t know why he was mad. Maybe because you’d begged him to tag along. Was he mad at you?

When you arrived at the blue police box, the Doctor was quick to unlock it. You stood patiently, waiting to see what would happen when the two of you were closed in together. He was obviously angry about something; you just weren’t sure what.  

You followed him in, shutting the door behind yourself. When you turned back into the room, the Doctor was already pressing buttons on the control panel. You stood for a second before finally speaking, “I’m sorry.”

The Doctor’s attention shot up towards you faster than you’d thought it ever had, but he no longer looked angry, “what on earth are you sorry for?”

“You’re not mad at me?” you asked skeptically, leaning back against the TARDIS doors.

“No, of course not.” He looked tilted his head, “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at those people you call parents.”

Wait, what?

“Why’re you angry at them? Did they say something to you?”

You don’t remember them saying anything mean to the Doctor, but you wouldn’t put it passed them to passive aggressively say something that could be considered an insult to an alien.

“No,” the Doctor blinked, looking genuinely confused, “they said something to you.”  

“What do you mean?” you couldn’t help but ask. Did the Doctor see something you didn’t?

The Doctor let his hands slide off the console and drop to his sides, lips curling into a frown as he stepped towards you, “you really don’t see what they did wrong?”

“...no?”

“(Y/N),” the Doctor breathed, “your parents didn’t say a single nice thing to you tonight. Everything they said was some sort of twisted, belittling way of putting you down.”

“What are you talking about?” you questioned, not really understanding. “They didn’t say anything mean.”

“They were making little remarks, hidden away,” the Doctor insisted, “and I saw that they hurt you. You heard them, but you thought nothing more of the remarks because you’ve been hearing them probably your whole life. To you, they’re normal—normal behavior between parents and their children. It’s not, (Y/N).”  

“What do you...”

“You didn’t even notice,” the Doctor frowned, standing in front of you, “and I doubt your parents did either, but I did, and I don’t like it. It’s not right. Not when everything they said this evening couldn’t be further from the truth.”

The Doctor took a breath before launching into a heated rant, “your mother commented on you wanting cake, insinuating that one slice of cake would make you gain weight, but you’re absolutely perfect the way you are. You can have as many sweets as you’d like, she doesn’t get to dictate what you eat,” the paused for a moment.

He didn’t stop for long, because not even a beat later the Doctor continued on, “and your father told you no one would ever love you for forgetting to thank your mother instantly for a cup of tea. That certainly isn’t true, because I love you and no amount of anything—especially forgetting to say thank you—will change that.”

“Doctor--”

“And don’t even get me started on those little remarks,” the man huffed, turning away from you, “your mother comparing you to everyone, or your father saying rude things like ‘you’ve always been so difficult’,” the man mocked in your father’s voice, “and none of its true, you’re not difficult, and you’re a far better daughter than your mother takes you for—I mean, look where we are, we came from space for her birthday, and all she does is comment on your figure, and try to guilt you into visiting more often.”

The man finally looked at you, all anger in his eyes bleeding out as he finally noticed your frown, “I... never really noticed.”

“You shouldn’t have to notice,” the Doctor sighed, moving to pull you into a hug that was so much more comforting than anything your mother could give you, “you shouldn’t have to notice, because it shouldn’t happen. What they’re doing is emotional abuse. They’re hurting you—whether intentional or not, they are.”

“I do feel awful every time I see them,” you couldn’t help but mutter into the Doctor’s chest.  

“And you shouldn’t,” the man whispered honestly, “you really shouldn’t. You should feel good after seeing them. You should have a nice time with them—not be ridiculed and disrespected. I was only there for one evening, and I couldn’t stand the things they were saying about you. I’m so sorry that you’ve been suffering through that you whole life, (Y/N).”

You swallowed, unsure where to go from here. You really had never noticed—or maybe you’d never really paid attention to it. Never put the pieces together. But you saw it now. How everything they said made you feel bad about yourself, or hurt your feelings.  

And it sucked.  

“They said some pretty terrible things tonight, huh?”

“They did,” the Doctor sighed, holding you a bit closer, “but nothing they said was true in the slightest. They're abusers, and they’re wrong. They haven’t been very good parents.”

“Not tonight they haven’t,” you sighed. “My mom basically called me fat. Told me to watch my weight in a nice, roundabout kinda way.”

The Doctor bit his lip, before he gave a small nod, “but she was wrong. You’re perfect. She doesn’t get to say things like that to you when there’s no reason to be saying it. And there’s never a reason to say anything like that.”

“Suppose so,” you frowned, “it was good cake.”

“It was,” the Doctor grinned, “which is why we’re getting our own from that bakery, one that we’ll eat until we we’re sick. I’m not letting your parents tell you how to live, it’s not fair.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “this was the special occasion you were talking about?”

The man grinned beside you, hopping towards the console again and pulling a lever that faded the TARDIS away from its parking spot, “had to cheer up my companion and make her feel special—I'd say that’s a pretty special occasion, wouldn’t you?”

<><><><>

I hope this was satisfactory, and thank you so much for prompting! As always, if it’s not what you were looking for, feel free to prompt me again! Apologies if the parents don’t read right, I never knew writing parents could be so hard! Didn’t know how to write a spontanious visit to the folks, so just went with a birthday.

[inkstaineddove]

Man as Mirror

Ships: PruAus if you wish; background PruHun and FraAus

Characters: Roderich, Gilbert; mentioned Erzsi + Francis

Summary: Arriving home early from Paris, Roderich encounters a shirtless Gilbert in his kitchen, leading them to have a conversation Roderich could've gone without.

Vienna, 1774.

Once his carriage safely rolled to a stop, Austria stepped out of it and stretched. While even he could not deny the beauty of Paris, nothing pleased the heart quite like home. Servants rushed about him, ushering in his extensive luggage. Sidestepping away from them, he gazed up at the early-morning sky and allowed himself the luxury of taking it all in. The fading purple of night, the sun shyly poking its face out through his hedges, and the birds singing their daily hymns. Truly, there was nowhere quite like home.

Feeling sufficiently uplifted, he entered the home and mindlessly made his way up the stairs. He froze once his hand hovered above the doorknob to his bedroom. He had been burned once before doing this and while, thankfully, all other parties had been asleep, the event had caused him enough mental anguish to power him through another three decades. Still, the desire to change out of his travel clothes was nigh impossible to dismiss. Leaning an ear against the door, his decision was made for him when he heard something like a moan come from Erzsébet. Changing could wait.

All remnants of his good mood dissipated as he silently grumbled to himself about their guest. While it certainly came as no surprise – Erzsébet did this every time he was out of town and, honestly, Roderich had grown to expect it – but hearing them was different. Sure, he was no fool and they made no effort to pretend but having indisputable proof of their trysts was another. Roderich was cursed to have found a spouse and enemy full of cunning. He noted that, if the two of them ever put their powers to good use, he’d have to compliment them for it. For now, while he was their target, any appreciation was out of the question.

He felt his body yearning for caffeine and knew what the next item on his agenda must be. Still lost in his thoughts, he was completely caught off guard at the sight of a bare-chested Gilbert standing over the kitchen counter. It was comical, really, watching such a brutish man delicately pour cream into two dainty mugs, mentally measuring out the right amounts. Roderich stood back and watched the whole performance in domesticity, studying the man before him as he never had before. The way his back and shoulder muscles shifted with each movement; how he never slouched even when it would be far more comfortable to; how the whole time, he never stopped humming marches to himself.

This scene felt too intimate and Roderich understood that he was not its intended audience. What he needed most from his rival now was hostility and not misguided fantasies of marital bliss. He cleared his throat and stepped into Gilbert’s line of sight. “For me? How sweet of you.” He snatched the mug closest to him and added in his usual five spoonsful of sugar. He held up a finger when he felt Gilbert gearing up to protest. “She’s still asleep. Besides, no one likes waking up to cold coffee. It sets such a tone for the day.”

They settled into a tense silence, neither one wanting to acknowledge the other. It was childish, Roderich understood, but failing to will the other out of his existence was better than devolving into petty insults or a physical altercation. And, if he ignored all rational thoughts, he didn’t even care. When around each other, what else were they but ancient children? There was no reason for them to speak, why invent one?

“Paris again? How many times have you been there over the last three months?” There almost appeared to be a hint of affectionate teasing in Gilbert’s words.

Roderich turned to face him and was surprised to find Gilbert already observing him with mild interest. What a strange morning, one he wished he could find some escape in by returning to bed but felt certain would provide him with no real escape. If anything, the pair would wake him up and demand he leave his own damn bed for another room, that’s how selfish they were. Against his will, he felt himself noticing the strength in Gilbert’s body, all broad shoulders and muscle, the physique of the ideal warrior. All suddenly clicked on why Roderich always found himself flat on his ass whenever they’d begin to trade blows. His arrogance had blinded him to the fact that imperial power mattered little when they weren’t trying to kill each other on the battlefield. With biceps like that, his only chance to get the upper hand would be a swift kick to the groin, which even at his worst he was too principled to resort to.

He was brought back to reality when Gilbert began snapping his fingers in his face. “Jesus, has anyone ever told you how creepy that staring thing you do is? Like you were trying to undress me with your eyes.” He straightened up and shivered. “Commission a portrait, it’ll last longer.”

“Please, don’t be so crass. This,” Roderich flippantly pointed to Gilbert’s outfit, “is already enough. If I imagined you in any less, I’d be ill for at least a month.”

Gilbert smirked as he took a sip. “Funny, most people have the opposite reaction.” He leaned his hips back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, how much more stalling can you do? What’s kept you in Paris so much? I don’t recall most treaties taking that much time to…hammer out.” He bit his lip, trying to suppress his snickering.

“It’s rude to talk work at breakfast.” Austria couldn’t be bothered to mask his irritation. Things such as ‘politeness’ and ‘civility’ always seemed to go to waste on Prussia. “And, if you’re fishing for what’s in our agreement, you’ll have no such luck from me. You’re wasting your time.”

“You think I give a damn about what’s on a fucking piece of paper? As if I’d be wasting my time on that. I don’t know who blabs more for the right price, your officials or France’s.” Gilbert’s demeanor was too casual. “Most of the time, we don’t have to go to those damn meetings anyways. We’re little more than decorations, the bureaucrats have everything written before they even breathe a word to us. We know that, they know that. There are always ulterior motives for our little business trips. Whenever I come here, I tell my current minder I’ll be off doing a diplomatic something-or-other in Vienna for a week, don’t wait up.  They buy it even though they know the real reason I come to this shrine of gaudy antiques.”

“Your point, Gilbert?”

“My point is that you’re no different. Sure, you tell everyone that you’re renegotiating this or that little detail and maybe your officials believe it. And you tell it to Erzsi, and she believes it since it’s easier than thinking the husband she loathes so much is just as miserable as her. And maybe you believe it too because you have to lie to yourself first to lie to everyone else. But you can’t fool me.”

The whole time he spoke, Roderich was staring down into the contents of his mug. When all was quiet between them was when he finally looked up, laughing. “You must be desperate if you’re begging to get a morsel of gossip on me from me.”

Gilbert scoffed. “I’m not fishing for gossip. If I was, I would’ve gone through your letters while you were gone. And, before you ask, I’ve never done that. Not for lack of trying, I’m just not good at picking locks.”

The vein behind Roderich’s left eye began pulsating. He rubbed his temple gingerly, wincing. “I think I prefer it when you act like you can’t stand to be in the same room with me. Why the annoying younger brother schtick?”

“Maybe I’m making up for lost time.” For added emphasis, Gilbert made sure to loudly schlurp down a sip. Roderich’s wince at such a noise caused him to snort some coffee out his nose. Wiping it away, he grinned. “Or maybe I just want you to stop thinking you’re any better than me. Get you when you’re unguarded.”

“There’s a glaring hole in your plan. You’ve forgotten that I would never allow myself to be so vulnerable around you, no matter what time of day it is.” He mockingly shook his head, tutting. “I understand that, for now, we’re officially getting along just fine, but don’t mistake that for camaraderie. The first chance either of us gets, we’ll be back to stabbing each other in the back for sport. It’s who we are.”

“Well, aren’t you a pessimist.”

“Hardly. I simply know our natures too well,” Roderich sighed, growing weary at this line of conversation. “So, if this is only temporary, why should I feign tolerance towards you? Quite honestly, you’re not important enough to me for that sort of performance. Even if you were, you would see right through it. No, my energy is better spent on nobler pursuits.”

Gilbert had set his mug down, now drumming his fingers on the countertop. “I’m not asking for friendship; I’m asking for honesty.” He rolled his eyes with the temperament of a teenager. “Whatever. You got me sidetracked. It’s pointless anyways; you’re too delusional.”

“Excuse me?” That was quite the accusation from an unusual source. “At this point, you may as well come right out and say it.”

“If you insist,” Gilbert’s tone lilted up, songlike and jeering. “What you won’t admit is what I started this whole conversation with. All these trips to Paris, they’re not about work or diplomacy or any of your other shitty excuses. I know and you know that the only purpose is to blow a load in Francis’ ass and get away from your miserable life.”

Roderich set his mug down gently. There was no need for it to spill, to make a mess all over the clean marble. “For a moment, I’m going to ignore the vulgar insinuation you’ve made about my relationship with Francis.” He looked up, not breaking eye contact with Gilbert. “You know nothing about my life and my contentment with it. I understand that you are a deeply unhappy and wretched creature and why shouldn’t you be? There is nothing for you to go home and boast about, no shining accomplishments of yours not bathed in the blood of an innocent people, but do not project your misery onto me. For all your crowing to the contrary, we have never been, nor will we ever be, the same.”

Gilbert scoffed. “And everything you’ve ever done, there was only glory to be found there? All the princes you absorbed into your own lands, they were willing? The Bohemians, the Hungarians, they love your rulers? Are you pretending that only Russia and I invaded Poland because I remember seeing you at the table, carving out portions for yourself.”

“I’m not so naïve to believe I haven’t picked up the sword before. And, if necessary, I would again. You’d be wise to remember that.” Roderich straightened up, pulling his shoulders back. “But I’ve achieved just as much without force as with. The home we’re currently standing is a monument to such.”

“Please. It’s a monument to other people’s power and what it can get you. We don’t impact change, we just ride the waves of it,” Gilbert sneered. “This house is a prison for all who come in it. A golden cage is still a cage, Roderich, even for the largest bird.”

Roderich sighed with a roll of his eyes. “Mixing your metaphors doesn’t make you sound wiser, I’ve told you this before.” Needing caffeine for his growing headache, he took a sip. “I assume you’re including yourself among the captives.”

“To a degree. I can leave whenever I want – as you love to point out, I do have my own house – but where would one of us be without the other two? We are the protagonists of our own tragedy.”

“I sincerely regret that old king of yours got you into theater. Next you’ll be telling me how all the world’s a stage and we are but merely players.” When Gilbert opened his mouth to comment on that, Roderich held up his hand. “That wasn’t an invitation for your Shakespearean theories!” He rubbed the bridge between his nose, his prior weariness intensifying. “Why does it matter to you so much? Why must I parade my discontent as you and Erzsébet do? If you make your life’s purpose revenge against an unjust world – there you go! I admit it’s unjust! – you are sure to become more miserable than ever before. Perhaps you should learn that before it destroys you like one of your dear tragedies.”

“It matters because you act like you’re superior to us in every way when, really, you’re no different. And I don’t think I’ll ever understand that,” Gilbert’s voice softened with something akin to regret.

Something in his tone of voice, in his posturing, lit a fire within Roderich. His eyes hardened and he pressed his lips into a scowl. “Understanding is what you want? If it’ll get the defiling power of your pity off me, then so be it! I am better than you in every conceivable way. If I am to you but a mirror, peer close and you’ll realize it too. Where you feel trapped by the circumstances life has thrown us in, with a life that can never truly be our own, I’ve taken what you’ve failed to grasp. While you were slaughtering pagan Easterners in your little bog, I was here, accumulating wealth and power you’ve only fantasized about. I am the seat of an empire that you only have access to through Brandenburg.

“But those are meaningless things, aren’t they? Because here’s what really matters to you – the only thing, isn’t it? I’ve seen how you stare; I know that look – I’ve got what a childhood spent pining among the monks prevented you from getting. Did you ever mention it to them? How young love made that vow of celibacy torturous? How close did you come to breaking it? How many Hail Mary’s did they make you perform for every impure thought? Do you wonder what they’d think of you now, going through all this because you’re in love with your brother’s wife? Phrased just so, they would burn you at the stake again. Ah, but the hellfire is familiar, isn’t it?” Roderich glanced at the clock hanging behind Gilbert’s shoulder. “Erzsébet should be waking now. Go play domestic and bring my wife some coffee.”

Roderich forced himself away from Gilbert, who was left crestfallen with his wide eyes and gaping mouth. He had said enough, gloating would be overkill. He entered his study and locked the door. If there would be consequences for his monologue, let them come later.

The day was still new. Roderich stared out the window. Despite checking the clock, his adrenaline had made him forget the time. He approximated it was no more than nine. He began pouring himself a glass of brandy, but stopped, preferring to drink from the bottle. He gazed around the vast emptiness of the room beyond its sole occupant. He raised the bottle for a toast:

“To the prison of my own making. There is no place quite like home.”

[queenofbaws]

Hi! 🌹 How are you? ❤ I hope your day is going well and that everything is going great right now! I'm really sorry to disturb you like this, but I just had to talk about an idea that came to me a few days ago. (I follow a lot of fabulous writers but I don't dare to write to them... whereas with you it's easier since I've written to you several times ♡ Besides, I am not a good writer in English (or in French for that matter) so I can't write myself) Anyway, you don't have to write about it for the (not quite) six sentence weekend if you don't want to, but here is my idea.

I never played Until dawn for the first time. I'm way too chicken to have discovered it by myself. So, I just watched my older brother play it. He is incredibly good at video games so he did everything perfectly : He passed all the qte's (really all of them), wasn't afraid, made the right choices every time... at least until the end. At the last choice, he immediately chose to run to the switch with Sam and burned Mike, Em and Ash in the house. Me and my older cousin were watching and were shocked by this rather disappointing ending. But that's where my brain comes in as I overthought this ending, which has to be one of the worst. @sam-giddings has recently been talking about headcanons about an "evil Sam" who would be selfish and would have thought of herself first. So I was imagining a fanfiction or a one shot about this ending where Sam would try to justify her choice and just move on, while Jess, Matt and Chris would be mad at her for killing their loved ones. I think Chris in particular would have a huge hatred for Sam since first, she didn't save Josh and then, practically killed Ash in front of him when all it would have taken was a few more seconds for her to get away and that Chris and Her could be together. Everyone's efforts to stay alive and care for the people they love were undone just by one small choice of Sam who brutally killed three of her friends (indirectly, but still, she knew what she was doing). Chris lost his two best friends (one became his girlfriend in the meantime) who he cared about more than anything else. Matt had left Emily over an argument but still loved her with all his heart and only finds her dead body when he wasn't even there for her before when she fell. And Jess, the poor girl, learns that the brave boy who saved her by overcoming all the dangerous obstacles in front of him, died because only one person was too scared of the same wendigo who had chased her. I don't want to judge Sam but this ending is definitely horrible !!!

That's it! I had to tell someone about this idea. So, once again, sorry, and thank you if you read this text! I wish you a good evening and give you big hugs! ❤

(not quite) six sentence weekend

In one of her classes freshman year—by that time they’d all bled together in such a way that she couldn’t quite remember which one—the instructor had gone to great pains to describe survivor’s guilt. Probably a psychology class, but…maybe sociology? She supposed it could’ve even been an outdoor survival course or some weird offshoot like that, not that it mattered. The general gist had been this: After a traumatic event, sometimes survivors felt guilty for living, for making it through, like they hadn’t deserved to live, like the world would be a better place if they had died instead of the people who had actually been lost.

Problem was, the instructor didn’t have a name for whatever the opposite of survivor’s guilt was, so Sam didn’t know what to call it. All she knew was that she didn’t feel bad. She had deserved to live, had wanted it bad enough to do anything for it.

It wasn’t her fault the others hadn’t tried as hard as she had.

She’d been left alone in the ranger station, huddled up under a blanket, a Styrofoam cup of coffee steaming in her palms, and that had been just fine by her. The rangers had pulled them aside one by one and asked for their stories, and then, as if to try and catch them up in a lie, had pooled the four of them together and asked a second time. By the time she’d gotten to the part where she’d thrown the switch, she’d had three sets of eyes on her, boring holes into her head like power drills with worn-down bits. They were too tired to fight, probably, and that was just fine by her too—after a night of running, jumping, climbing, screaming, surviving, she hadn’t exactly been in the mood to sit there and explain herself.

And she shouldn’t have needed to.

Matt had leapt from the fire tower instead of pulling Emily back up, hadn’t he? Chris had smacked Josh upside the head out in the shed when he’d said the wrong thing about Ashley, according to his story. And really there was no need to even start with Jess, because it had been her bright idea that had caused all this in the first place, her mean little trick of signing Mike’s name and making promises to Hannah just to watch her squirm. If you wanted to go by that metric, they were all guilty of something. They’d all fucked something up.

Not her, though. Not her. That was why she felt just fine sitting by herself, knees drawn up to her chest, feet sliding on the shoddy plastic of the old chair. She’d done the right thing—the only thing—to ensure she made it out of the lodge alive, and if it was anyone’s fault the others hadn’t made it, it was themselves. Mike had known what she was planning on doing. Emily and Ashley had seen Chris make a break for the back door, they could’ve easily followed him.

Instead, none of them had moved. They’d been too scared or too helpless or too desperate for someone else to tell them what to do, so they hadn’t made it, no. But they’d seen her heading for the door with one of those hellish things hot on her heels, its bony fingers close enough to brush the hair at the nape of her sweaty neck. Any of them could’ve run. Any of them could’ve lived.

But they hadn’t.

And that wasn’t her fault.

If the others couldn’t see that, if they couldn’t appreciate it, even after they’d all fought tooth and nail to see another sunrise, that wasn’t her fucking problem. None of it was.

Sam Giddings was alive. And her conscience was clear.

[lunastwilightblog]

Hi, I have a follow up inquiry to one of your asks. I know people seem to be on the older coven bus, with the Volturi, Romanians and Egyptians, so I was wondering if there was any tension with the Romanians and Amun at the Cullen house. Also, how do you think Carlisle met both covens, since we already know his background with Aro and co. I’ve always wondered whether Amun, Vladimir or Stefan actually liked Carlisle.

I was actually thinking about this myself. If the Volturi hasn’t stepped in and destroyed both covens, then it was probable that the Romanians would’ve destroyed the Egyptians. This begs the question that why wasn’t Amun insisting that Vladimir and Stefan leave, or at least spend the time that they weren’t on the field somewhere else, especially as they know what horrible people they are and the consequences of letting them say that they claimed victory against the Volturi in case of a fight and a victory. Honestly, I’m going to have to re-read Breaking Dawn to see if there was any tension written, but I don’t seem to recall any that Bella noticed, so if anybody has any lines that shows such tension please let me know

Because once again, what we read when we read this part of Breaking Dawn is only Bella’s perspective and what she notices. We also know that, from Eclipse, that Edward sometimes hides stressful things from Bella, so if there were any tension he would’ve noticed it yet would not have said anything unless it was absolutely vital. Personally, considering the rivalry that was about to have unfolded between the Romanians and the Egyptians before the Volturi, I believe there was definitely tension and serious dislike made evident whenever they were in the same room. I mean, we read the Romanians speaking aloud about everyone in the room with them all in earshot and Bella finding them very judgemental - and she was someone that with whom they have not yet had a conflict, so I imagine the people with whom they have had disagreements they would be much more vocal against with their dislike and judgement

As to what this tension might have materialised as, we cannot know for certain, but I can take a guess and say that it was just talking about the other to the others present and they think might sympathise with them (or not. Vladimir and Stefan don’t really care about how they come across). On the other hand, it might have just been thoughts that Edward had to deal with because they were all there united in something that tends to bring vampires together: revenge. While they might hate each other, Vladimir & Stefan and Amun all wish to see the back of Aro, and had the opportunity to stand with a large coven against him as a stronger force than they’d be alone (while Amun didn’t want to fight, he was proving to Aro that he does have allies and can find an army on a short notice). They may have tolerated the other coven better than even they expected they would have

As for how Carlisle met them, I guess that he must have done so in a similar way to how he came across the Volturi: just travelling and exploring the world, meeting everyone. We know that he spent a couple of decades at the beginning of the 18th century in Italy, but not much after that until we find him in Chicago

I think it’s likely that because Amun lives permanently in Egypt, that Carlisle must have met him there. Naturally anyone who has heard of the pyramids and now has a chance to travel the whole world would have wanted to go to Cairo, so he was probably just doing some travelling and then became interested to know that one of the former pharaohs was still alive

As for how he met the Romanians, that’s more ambiguous. Considering how Vladimir and Stefan are always travelling, always on the run, to avoid being hunted down potentially by Demetri or by gaining attention simply by existing and hunting in a specific area, the most likely scenario in which I visualise them bumping into Carlisle is by happenstance. They could’ve been in Romania, as I imagine after hearing about what happened to their empire that Carlisle wanted to see if he could see any remains of the castles or speak to someone from that time, and they obviously have a sentimental connection to the area so probably frequent it far more than any other part of Europe (they are likely to want to remain close to where they felt most powerful). But what I am certainly surprised about is how they obviously spoke to him and told him about themselves when they rejected Laurent; they must like Carlisle more than they have other vampires upon whom they have happened

So I think that the Romanians like Carlisle, or at least have some sort of respect for him. I think as they rejected Laurent for his want to follow them due to the power they once had, and how they could see that Carlisle has no love nor want for power, they can see that he is not a threat to any attempts they would make in the future for another empire and he is as trustworthy as a vampire could possibly be

I think Amun is more cautious of Carlisle considering his protectiveness over Benjamin, But for the same reasons as the Romanians, he is able to trust Carlisle. Carlisle will not steal Benjamin from him as Aro stole Demetri. So it’s not as if either of them particularly likes him as a close friend, as we don’t know that yet and I don’t think they’ve spent enough time with each other in order to say they are close friends, but there is certainly an understanding and trust between them that allows them to act very cordially. Everyone knows that Carlisle is a family man and not a power-hungry sycophant or deceitful liar, so the one thing everyone knows is that he isn’t a threat and he means what he says, so even if they didn’t like him, they can trust him, and that is enough for the kind of world that they live in

[simonsrosebud]

Alright — this is very important — what’s the wedding party look like? Do either of them get walked down the aisle? What do the bachelor parties look like? What’s the first dance like? The cake cutting? OR! Do they just elope?

Either way, the most important thing of all — what are their vows?

i’m going to warn you:  i’m afraid this is going to be a very long post.

the wedding is in january, before playoffs have the chance to start up.  it’s easier that way also, because most of their friends either play exy or coach it, so they’re all off too.  and dalton’s professor friends are off for winter break.

that being said, they’re on a time crunch for bachelor parties.  and since kevin doesn’t drink or anything, the idea of the “typical bachelor” party is out of question.  kevin doesn’t care for a bachelor party for himself, anyway.

however, when andrew is added to a groupchat with the whole wedding party, he sends two texts.  not to the group, but to allison.  she’s the one handling it, anyway.

the first text is a link to elton john at madison square garden, the second is a text.  

hamilton on broadway friday the 14th, concert 15th.

(ik the timelines don’t technically match up, but since this is all fictional who cares)

it’s perfect.  allison checks with dalton to be sure, and he lights up.  apparently kevin has gotten really into hamilton because duh it’s history, and elton john is one of his favorite artists, especially after dalton introduced him to “your song” in college.

dalton goes with him because they know kevin would want him there, unlike normal bachelor parties where you spend it without your fiancé.

as for dalton’s, he gets taken to florida (it’s only like a 5 hour drive i think but they could fly also) and his friends, who for the most part are straight besides emmie, a blazing proud lesbian, take him to gay bars on gay bars, and then go to star wars land in disney world for a day- kevin’s idea.  dalton is very excited about this because in this ask dalton reveals he’s a star wars fan and says he’d like to go see it someday.  they also get drunk in disney, don’t worry.

they both have good sized wedding parties.  for dalton, it’s carmen, bella, and his best friends jenna, reid, and sam.

for kevin, it’s andrew, neil, and dan.  if anyone asked kevin in college if he’d thought she would be in his wedding party- or even if they’d leave college being friends, he would have said no, but he was stupid to think the foxes would ever lose touch.  if anything, he got closer.

he’s also gotten closer than he ever would have probably wished to allison.  there’s something to be said for the both of them having good taste.  all it took was one trip of clothes shopping for a banquet for them to realize they’d had a lot more in common.

the only reason they never realized it was because they’ve both got the same level of stubbornness.

which is why she somehow ends up being asked to be in his wedding party, too.

kevin isn’t worried about asking neil.  a little about andrew, but he can always get neil to talk him into it.  he stops them both from leaving after practice, one day.  “will you be my groomsmen?  both of you?”

neil really doesn’t look surprised.  not even phased.  he’d been matt’s best man, after all.  “yeah, sure.”

kevin looks to andrew, who hasn’t moved a muscle.

when he does, it’s to swing his bag around his shoulder.  "no speeches.”  and before he gets to the door.  “and no one’s wrapping their arm around mine down the aisle.”  and that’s more than okay with kevin.  he doesn’t really want them speaking, anyway.

and then there’s dan and allison.  he isn’t worried about them, so all he does is text them and they agree.

there’s no more than 70 people there.  the actual ceremony only about 30.  it’s not big by any means, but they didn’t want it big anyway.  plus, kevin doesn’t have a whole group of family to invite like dalton does in the first place.  he doesn’t mind, though, because he’s grown to consider dalton’s family his own.

kevin doesn’t get walked down the aisle.  he never saw himself doing that with a woman before he realized he was bi and could potentially marry a man, so he’s never cared for it.

wymack, however, officiates the wedding.  he’s very proud of it, too.  he never seems to show nerves, and he doesn’t let kevin know, but this is something that causes him great stress.  he can’t fuck it up.

he doesn’t, of course.

he’s standing beside kevin when dalton gets walked down the aisle by his mother, and kevin told himself he wouldn’t get emotional.

he lets out a breath and a soft laugh, then looks up at the ceiling to blink away the sudden wetness in his eyes.

when anne hands him off, she kisses kevin on the cheek and whispers.  “all yours now, love.”

kevin wants to kiss dalton so bad.  so so bad.  but he has to wait.  instead he gives him a wink and takes his hands.  he expects them to be a tiny bit sweaty like they sometimes are when he gets nervous, but they’re not.  dalton’s grip is firm, and the only thing kevin can see on him is glee.

kevin feels he barely can pay attention to the words his father is saying until it’s time for the vows.  he’s first.  he takes a deep breath.pays attention to what his father is saying, too busy staring at his fiancé.  until they get to the vows, that is.

kevin is first, and his heart has never beat this fast.  he memorized his vows, but just in case, he unfolds the paper from his pocket and takes the microphone.  “i’ve made plenty of bad decisions in my life.  going to the club the night before a game, trying to fix the kitchen sink by myself.”  he smiles when dalton laughs at the memory.  “d, i knew from the moment i told you about my demons and you stayed, that choosing you was the best decision i’ve made in my entire life.  your are the strength i didn't know i needed, and the joy that i didn't know i lacked.”  dalton mouths i love you.  “thank you, for supporting and loving me unconditionally, i know i haven’t always made it easy.”

dalton gives the slightest shake of his head at that one.  loving kevin comes as easy as breathing.

“thank you for showing me how to accept myself, and showing me what it’s like to find peace, to know what it’s like to feel wanted and loved.  thank you for helping me to better myself as a man and a partner.  you make me a better person in every single way, and i promise to put it all to use and give back every single day of our lives.  i promise to love you through every hardship, to love you for who you are and who you are yet to become.  i promise to support and help you in every new adventure, and to always be at your side.  i promise to be patient and loyal.  i promise to remember to show you every day how deeply i care for you.  i promise to share my whole heart with you, to love you fiercely— for the rest of my life.  as long as you’ll have me.”

dalton blinks away tears, and after taking a moment, he accepts the microphone.  "kev,” he whispers, and takes a breath.  kevin knows he has his written down, but he doesn’t take it out.  he doesn’t need it.  “i used to think that i just got lucky that some random hot kid asked me for help with his homework.”  kevin grins.

“but i’ve realized now that the universe put you in front of me for a reason.  you have filled my life with happiness and have given me a sense of peace that i’ve never known.  you are my best friend, my biggest supporter, and the best co-pilot in life that i could’ve ever wished for.”  he smiles.  “today marks the start to the rest of our lives, whether we’re ready or not.  i will not take our time together for granted. and because words can’t do it, i promise to show you, for the rest of my life, how much i love you.  i promise to encourage you to follow your dreams.  to support you through any of life’s obstacles.  i promise to make you laugh when you’re taking yourself too seriously.  i promise to hold your hand through the good and the bad, to keep you afloat when you feel you’re drowning.  i promise to share the weight on your shoulders like it’s my own.”

a tear drops from kevin’s eye, and dalton reaches to gently wipe it with his thumb before grabbing his hand.  “i promise to never stop making up my own lyrics to songs i don’t know. although, i know you wish i would.  i promise to look back on our lives when we’re old and gray and have no regrets.  i promise, from this day forward, kevin day, that you will never walk alone.”  he lowers the microphone, whispering.  “as long as you’ll have me.”

it’s a very emotional ceremony, that’s for sure, but they’re grinning by the time the rings go on, and dalton barely holds back from jumping kevin before he can say, “you may now kiss.”

kevin has his arms around dalton’s waist and dalton’s hands on his cheek and the back of his neck, and they’re both smiling into the kiss less than two seconds in.  but kevin doesn’t care.  dalton’s laugh is the best thing he’s ever heard and he relishes in it as he crushes him in a hug before tearing back down the aisle.

their first dance is to “your song” by elton john.  is it probably overused?  sure, but kevin isn’t into music enough to know or care about that.  it’s the song that

it’s always been dalton’s go to song to sing in the car, and whenever he does he tends to just kind of grab onto kevin’s hand while he sings.  he’s no harry styles but he can hold a tune just fine.

it then turned into a song kevin listened to on bus or plane rides, and when he entered the pros dalton started sending him voice memos on text of him singing like two lines from the song before his every flight.

kevin also played it in the car back to the cabin after he proposed.

it’s their song.

dalton pulls kevin to him for the first dance, with one hand holding kevin’s and the other pressed against the small of his back.  and dalton’s singing along just loud enough for kevin to hear.  it makes him smile at his dork of a husband, and halfway through the song kevin lays his head on dalton’s shoulder and slides his arms around his neck.  he closes his eyes and ever so quietly sings along.  

dalton kisses the side of his head and wraps his arms around kevin’s waist.

when the song is coming to an end, dalton kisses kevin and smiles as he sings the last lines to him.  “how wonderful life is while you’re in the world”

kevin smiles.  “sweetheart,” he whispers.

but then the song ends, and kevin leans back against their table as dalton takes the floor with anne for the mother son dance.  he sends a thought up to kayleigh.

“i’m incredibly proud of you.”  it’s abby at his side, sliding her arm around his waist.  she kisses his cheek.  “i know you know this already, that you foxes are family to us.  but... you have always been like a son to me.  and you always will, even if not by blood.”

kevin is looking at his feet, but eventually he meets her gaze.  “you’re the closest thing i’ve ever had to a mother.”  he squeezes her hand, and, “do you want to do the dance with me?”  he doesn’t know how he hadn’t thought of it before.

abby’s a little teary, but nods.

dan rests her head on wymack’s shoulder.  “he’s done good.”

wymack nods.  he doesn’t respond, because he’s got… something… stuck in his throat.  not emotions, definitely not emotions.

kevin smears cake all over dalton’s lips when they cut the cake, and in return he presses a messy kiss to his cheek.  it’s sickenly sweet.  the whole thing is, especially compared to the kevin day that some people know, and the one they see on television.

i can’t think of other things i may have missed, but please please let me know if there is anything else you guys want more insight on, or prompts regarding these!

oh yeah, kevin throws one of the bridesmaids little bouquets as a joke.

and carmen catches it.