#i’ve always babied him not even in a mean or diminishing way but i felt this need to protect him

[giddlygoat]

my brother can make me laugh without moving at all. he can make me laugh on command, just by existing, and there is no physical tell or indication that it is about to happen. it’s like he can will me to laugh and i will. of course we’re not telepathic, but we do speak in unison sometimes. we improvise like no one’s business. we could fool anyone into believing we are psychically linked. when i try to explain it, i sound silly saying it out loud, but i really CAN tell what he’s thinking. we exchange so much information just with a look. he can make me cry laughing and he doesn’t even have to move

[catxsnow]

BACK TO YOU W.W.

Request: Could I be so bold to request a Wally fic? Where he comes back after his "death" (lets be real we all know he is not dead) and Y/N reacts to it? Could it be fluff, angst, a little of both, that's up to you.

P.s. I love you 😊😊

Warning: angst, mentions of death (wallace), fluff

A/N: hello, good evening, I’m tired as fuck. 

I’ve been thinking about a taglist lately so if there’s interest I’ll start one. I always suffer when I make it for some reason but if the people are interested I will suffer for y’all. 

Word count: 2.3k 

Wally coming back from the dead seemed surreal.

The hope you had for his return never diminished, even if those around you gave up long ago. Wally wasn't dead, he was never dead - he was just stuck in a place that no one could save him. Not Barry, not Bart, Not even Jay. Wally was the only one that could save himself and he had done it.

Broken, battered, and barely breathing he had made it out of the Speed Force. He had made it back to you. It put everyone into shock to see him collapsed in the middle of the team's headquarters. His suit was barely hanging to his body, eyes sunken in with exhaustion. He barely looked alive.

It took weeks to get him nourished back to health. Weeks of him being in a coma, wondering how the hell he managed to get back home. Sleeping at his bedside every night because you were scared this wasn't real or that he would be taken from you again. Long nights of crying because even if he was back, was he even going to wake up?

By the time that he was back up on his feet and running around again, every single league member had come to see him. Those who gave up on him, those who never lost hope, even those who never knew him.

Wally West was back.

Unfortunately, it seemed that a lot of him was still missing. His smile that once never left his face hadn't resurfaced once. The laugh that you remembered so clearly that got you through so many hard days vanished. The light in his eyes when he was running or saving lives was dull. He wasn't the same man you knew.

He teetered around you like a stranger even though every night he told you how grand his love for you was. You noticed him bumping into furniture that had moved from his time away or looking at pictures of people he didn't know with tears in his eyes. He stood by the window, watching for nearly an hour, just staring into the void every other day.

Wally wasn't all back from the Speed Force. He had lost a part of himself in there that he could never get back. Dick tried to fill in the gap of time that he missed, catching him up on everything that he missed but the moment that he came back to you he seemed more zoned out than ever. M'gann excitedly told him about her engagement with Conner, Kaldur with his new position in the league.

Everyone tried to make him feel right back at home, but no matter how hard they tried it would never be the same. Wally lost that time, and he was never going to get it back. He could never make it up to his friends for missing so many important moments in their lives or the grief that he put them through.

No matter how fast he ran, how many hours he stayed up wondering if things would have been different that day, none of that would change the fact that he had been missing for five years. Guilt plagued him, fear of being stuck back in there, he was in a constant state of terror because it was so damn easy for him to be lost the first time.

Nightmares woke him up every night. Sometimes he would lay there staring at the ceiling for hours without you knowing, other times his screams would echo in your room and wake you. Tears streaming down his face, clinging to you like his lifeline. Horrible dreams filled his mind of being pulled back there - or seeing his friends taken instead.

Those moments were the only time that it seemed Wally was willing to open up to you. It was the only time that he treated you like a lover rather than a stranger. Only when he was most vulnerable did it feel like he was truly back home, safe and sound with you. Whatever was holding him back from being open to you, it broke your heart.

Wally was always the one that you could go to when you had your issues and now that you couldn't do the same for him... it was hard to accept. You didn't want to push him into relieving his memories where he was stuck or asking the wrong questions to get him upset. Saying nothing at all didn't seem to be working either.

Dick noticed it, Barry, Artemis, even Garfield was worried. No one knew what was going on inside that head of his and he refused to go to Dinah - or anyone - for help. Everyone was worried.

You told them of the times that you woke up to him vibrating the entire bed, still asleep and a pained look on his face. Or the time that he would be perfectly fine before suddenly speeding around the house like he had no control over his body. Wally had become unstable with his speed - and maybe his health too.

"Love you, baby," Wally mumbled out.

He had gotten back from his hangout with Dick to find you sprawled out on the couch. Whatever they had done must have put him in a good mood. The moment that he saw you, he sped over and practically dived into you. His arms kept him hovering over you so he could lean down and kiss you properly - something that he always seemed to avoid since being back.

He found himself cuddled into your chest, arms snaked around you. For the first time since his return, you saw a genuine smile on his face. It was a sleepy, half-smile, but nonetheless, you were excited to see it. His eyes drooped closed the second you started massaging his scalp. He hummed with content as you eased the tension that had been piling up.

Half asleep, shoulders loose after weeks of being tensed at every moment. His heavy breathing was audible and you could feel the warmth of it against your skin. It had been years since you had seen him relaxed like this and it quickly brought tears to your eyes. Wally had been through so much, he deserved happiness, he deserved to have peace in his life.

"I love you Wally, always," you whispered. Silent tears spilled down your eyes - you wanted him to find his joy again, no matter the cost. "I never gave up on you, my love. I knew you'd find your way back home. Fuck-" your voice cracked, "I was so lost without you. Having you back in my arms like this was the only thing keeping me going.

"You mean everything to me, Wally. I know that you did what you did to save the world but..." you sighed. It was impossible to say that you wished that he hadn't done it - or that someone else should have taken his place. "I'm so relieved that you're safe now. I know you've been going through a hard time, and I've been trying my best not to push you - but if you need anything you know I'm here."

You waited for him to say something - anything. Wally was struggling to open up to you but seeing him in a good mood like this may have been the best opportunity to get him to say what was on his mind. Unfortunately, his silence made you worried.

It wasn't until the sounds of a soft snore did you realize that he had fallen asleep on you. His body had become completely dead weight, arms no longer tense around you. The security he felt being with you had lulled him to deep sleep in a matter of minutes. Although you weren't in a comfortable position, seeing him at peace was well worth it.

><

"He's getting better."

It had been months since Wally had been home. The process of getting him back to his mental state before entering the Speed Force for years was going to take a long time - but he was well on his way. Being with friends, family - finally admitting that he needed to see someone to talk through all this - dramatically helped.

The original team decided to put together a little surprise birthday for Wally. He said he didn't want anything - but they had several year's worth of get-togethers to make up for. So, you and Dick plotted together to throw something, just with his closest friends. Nothing overwhelming.

Although he originally complained about the gesture, he quickly found himself appreciating the effort that had been put into that evening. The food, the people, he forgot how much these moments meant to him. Seeing the smiles on everyone's faces again, that was the best gift he could have asked for.

He stood on the other side of the room with Conner and Dick - all three of the men were laughing their heads off about something. Artemis stood by your side, watching the three of them just as you were. She handed over one of the drinks in her hand to you. Everyone in the room had been deep in conversation with someone - besides you. She noticed.

"He is," you agreed with her.

"Why're you by yourself?" She got straight to the point. Artemis didn't bother with the small talk or sugarcoating her question. She waited for your answer, watching as your gaze turned from Wally, to the now interesting cement beneath your feet. "(Y/N)."

"Everyone's helped Wally so much and I can't help but feel like... Like I haven't done enough. Wally was always the person that I could lean on and now that I'm the one that has to be strong for him, it just feels like there's more that I could have done to help him. I never had the same bond that you all had with him being on the team and risking your lives, I don't know what it's like enough to help him through this trauma.

"Wally deserves the world and a lot of the time I feel like I can't give it to him. I'm not a hero, I don't have powers, I'm just... normal. Maybe that's not enough for someone who can save the world before I even finish breakfast," Your fists tightened at your sides as the heavy realization that had been clouding your mind was revealed.

It was clear that you were the odd man out in the room. Everyone there had risked their lives to saved the world and what had you done? Wait anxiously at home for your friends to return? Grieve at the losses that you couldn't have changed? There was nothing that you could do in the hero-life besides sitting on the sidelines.

"You do a lot more than you make yourself believe, (Y/N)," Artemis placed her hand on your shoulder. She glanced over at your boyfriend, wondering how different it would have been if they ended up together instead. Wally would have been unhappy, he loved you from the beginning.

"Wally can't stop talking about the support you give him. He wouldn't be where he is today without you. Men are stubborn - especially speedster men - they won't always admit how much they need someone. He gets this look on his face when he's talking about you like you're the whole reason for his existence. Don't put yourself down for not being stuck in a hero life we are - your love for him is the only power he needs."

"Thank you, Artemis," you forced a smile at her.  Although you didn't believe her words at the moment she was right. Your love for Wally was the most important thing that you could ever give him, and that was going to have to be enough for now. Every ounce of your love went to making him happy.

Before she could say anything else, a familiar breeze washed over you both. Wally was suddenly standing right in front of you - and as if Artemis wasn't even there, brought you in for a deep kiss. His lips molded to yours, hand pressed to the small of your back to keep you close.

"I love you, (Y/N)," Wally barely pulled his lips from you. Conner had heard everything that you were saying to Artemis, and although he felt as if it wasn't his place to tell, Wally needed to know. A need to be with you, to assure you that you had done more than enough to get him to where he was, filled him.

"Across every galaxy, every universe, the Speed Force, no matter where I will always find my way back to you. I'll love you through everything," Wally pecked you once more. "Thank you for never giving up on me, babe."

"I'll never give up on you, Wally West. Not even the Speed Force can keep us apart," you grinned.

"Get a room already," Artemis complained. You had forgotten that she was still standing with you. It wasn't just her - the entire room was staring at the both of you. Smiles on their face at how happy Wally was with you. His little move had caught the attention of everyone and he just adored it.

Wally laughed at her comment. He swooped you up in his arms and sent a wink your way. He was already gearing up to speed you both out of there before saying his last bit to Artemis - and everyone else in the room.

"Don't have to tell me twice."

[mythiccheroacademia]

A/N: Thank you hottie❤️ Tumblr was fucking with the format, so I had to repost.  Anyways, I looovveee this request. I’ve been waiting to be in the right mood to write this. Like, jealous muscular himbos completely head over heels for their s/o? Sign me up.

Sorry for the wait. I hope you enjoy this, sugar plum

All characters are 18+

Warnings: smut below the line!

Katsuki Bakugo:

SFW

bakugo doesnt get jealous

he usually felt secure in your relationship

yeah he got annoyed when kaminari would jokingly flirt with you

and yes, it made him angry when the dekusquad would literally stare at you with puppy dog eyes

and it pissed him off when kirishima suddenly became the funniest guy in the room when you were around

but he wasn’t jealous

how could he be? he’s bakugo katsuki

you agreed to go out with him. the strongest. the best. you couldn't get any better than him

right?

lmao no

the bigger the ego, the more fragile it was

bakugo doesnt handle jealousy well

there’s a small part of him that knows he can be an asshole

he’s not the most...affectionate person

but damn it, if he doesnt try his hardest for you

you notice that he gets quieter but his actions become a lot more aggressive

he’s glaring at anyone that smiles at you

it’s honestly scarier than his threats

forces you to hold hands

is suddenly into PDA??? when he kissed you in front of your friends you literally made a face

you didn't know what was up with him, but you were really confused when you told him to chill and he visibility wilted

once he came around to telling you that he wouldn't hold it against you if you wanted to leave him, you were quick to reassure him

give him a couple kisses and rub his ego just a tad, and he’ll be back to normal

acts like he didn't just look like he was about to cry two seconds ago

NSFW

there are two things that happen when bakugo gets jealous

at first, he’s very rough and handsy

he likes to talk big and say things like

“imma fuck you up when we get home”

“you like when daddy does that, sweetheart?”

“kiss it right there, baby”

“youre mine. tell me your mine”

he’s doing everything he can to get you screaming and thrashing

he’ll go down on you for hours, leave you trembling, only to tell you that was a warm-up

there’s this dark look in his eyes when he’s pounding into you, gripping the headboard so he can angle himself in the best position possible

it’s like he’s trying to prove himself by wrecking you

in the midst of your fucking, just when you feel like youre about to pass out, bakugo’s head falls on your shoulder

he’s still thrusting into you, but it gets slower and deeper

needier

now it’s not just fucking

looks into your eyes with the most adoring gaze and kisses the breath of out you

he can’t speak, too deep into your lovemaking to express how much he loves you

how he’s so scared of losing you

but you don’t need his words to understand

lock your legs around his hips and tell him how you’ll always be his and he will let out a moan that makes your toes curl

when you reach your high, it’s a vulnerable moment

lots of soft kisses and hugging

wont admit to the tears that sting his eyes but is willing to express his adornment for you through his embrace and aftercare

Todoroki Shouto:

SFW

todoroki doesnt have a lot of experience with jealousy

he knows what anger is

he’s felt insecurity

and he knows what it feels like to long for something or someone

but envy was a foreign concept to him

that was until he got into his first romantic relationship with you

don't get him wrong, he trusted you with everything

you gave him no reason to question your loyalty

and it never occurred to him that you would leave him for someone else because of how strong your love was for one another

however, his insecurities always got the best of him

he had a lot of baggage

he knew that

and when someone would approach you, someone that looked free-spirited and independent, he’d wonder if he was holding you back

even then, he can’t help but think that no one is worth the ground you walked on

not even himself sometimes

he never brings it up

but you notice that he started touching his scar a lot more

todoroki would try to act more extroverted thinking it would be better if he was livelier

youre deep talks about family matter diminished little by little

he tried to fill your comfortable silence with awkward conversation

you were so confused why your bf was acting so different

it took a couple attempts to get him to spill his thoughts

once he did, he’s stark quiet, looking away, fearing that you’d be so disappointed in him

but you just take his face in your hands and tell him

“you’re my whole world shouto. why would i ever give that up?”

he holds you in his arms for a long time after that

NSFW

behind his jealousy of onlooking eyes is a deep steed of low self-esteem

and you can feel it when you get intimate

he’s always looking to please you, but now he’s desperate, trying so hard to think of what will make you feel good

it makes you sad bc he already knows the answer to those questions

but he overthinks it

he’s noticeably shier

his touches are hesitant as he second-guesses himself

is continuously asking if you’re okay or if he’s doing it right

at one point, you have to take charge and push him down on the bed

“let me show you how much i want you. just you”

licks his lips as you kiss down his body

one of those guys that believes sucking his dick is a chore 💀

“you don't have to do that” face ass

so when you suck the soul out of him, he’s SPRUNG

would write a song about it if he could LMAO

quickly says he loves you before kissing you like the world depends on it as you ride him

twirl your hips in the way he likes and he’ll hiss out curses

run your hands through his hair and kiss his scar and he’ll give you such pretty moans

please tell him how beautiful he is and how much you love him

my mans will nut on the spot

after the first round, he regains his confidence and flips you on your hands and knees

before you even know what’s going on, he’s pounding into you, gripping your hips like a lifeline

now that he’s reminded that he’s your man, he spends the night realigning your spine

bc who could do it better?

Togata Mirio:

SFW

mirio is one of the most confident people ever

not only is he secure in himself, but he’s secure in your relationship

he knows he bagged a baddie

ofc people would be all over you

he couldn't blame them! i mean, look at you!

when people approached you, he usually let you handle it

if they were persistent, he would just put an arm around your waist

“you’ve got good taste, but they’re taken! sorry!”

it’s so wholesome that the other person can’t even find it within themselves to be upset

there was only one time he recalled getting genuinely jealous

it was during the time you two weren't exclusively dating

just going on dates to see how things went

at the same time, he overheard from your friend that your ex was trying to get back with you

when he heard that, he started sweating

it wasn't jealousy, but more like fear

he was determined not to lose you

not when things were going so well

mirio literally goes above and beyond on your dates

mans deadass learns how to cook all your favorite foods to bring to you

youre crying bc the seasoning was just *chef’s kiss*

brings you flowers at random times of the day

sends you pictures of things that remind him of you

you’re just soaking up all the attention

he’s always been an extra person so you didn't think much of it

it wasn't until you two were cuddling and watching a movie in his apartment that he confesses to you

��i know that i’m competing against history between you and your ex, but i want you to know that my feelings for you are strong, y/n. and i’ll do everything to prove to you that i can be the man of your dreams”

you stare at him before bringing him in for a kiss

“there’s a reason my ex is my ex”

“but--”

“just ask me to be yours already, mirio”

he didnt have to be told twice

NSFW

it was actually that same night that cuddling turned into something a little nastier

honestly, from then on, if you cuddled for more than 20min, there was a 99% chance yall end up fucking lmao

but that night, when he was kissing your neck and grinding his dick against you, he noticed your phone light up on the nightstand

you were too caught up in his fingers between your legs but he saw the text from your ex

it read: “i know this might be out of the blue, but would you wanna catch up over dinner sometime?”

now, mirio wasn't one to be spiteful

but he couldn't help but get a little heated

knowing your ex was trying to get back with you was way different than seeing it

a tiny switch goes off in his head and now he’s ready to make it known that you and him are together

you’re in heaven as mirio’s lips suck and nip at your neck and body

his head game is immaculate

turns you on your stomach so he can massage your back and ass before sliding into you

mirio holds your neck and gives you sloppy kisses as his hips swim into you

your phone lights up again and you can barely think straight when he gets rougher

starts pounding into you like he’s tryna put a baby in you whether it’s possible or not 💀

youre grabbing for anything you can hold as he starts whispering sweet nothings about how he’s gonna take care of you

whew...what a man yall 🥴

the entire time he’s wearing a shit-eating grin

bc he knows he won

might have accidentally sent your ex a voice recording of you moaning his name

oops

[jjksblackgf]

goodbye

🕸️ NO-FACETOBER hosted by @bangtanbathhouse ⠀⠀⠀⤖ 「 Day 17 」 : ghost

pairing — ghost!taehyung x female reader summary — there's no greater pain than unsaid goodbyes. genre — angst rate — sfw word count — 1.1k warnings — no happy ending, mentions of death, mentions of a car accident, melodrama (like, a lot), talking to a ghost (?)

author's note — thank you so much to my friend Carol, you always give me great ideas. Love you, honey <3 Also, I channeled my inner Edward Cullen a little too hard on this one, so...

I really wish I didn’t need to do this. I wish I could just hire a cleaning crew and have them go through all my stuff, but how could I? I’ll be moving out of an apartment that I had for almost 10 years. I can’t just have strangers come in and clean out all of my memories without my own goodbyes.

“I can do this.” I whispered to myself. It was for a good reason after all. We don’t have space for a growing family. The kick that came from my baby was my assurance to that. I am happy now, with a man I love, and that loves me back with the same intensity. My life is stable, and I’m reaching my goals. I placed my hands on my stomach, my daily reminder that I was stronger than I’d given myself credit.

I took a deep breath, sat down at the closet floor and opened the box of my most personal belongings. The ones I was unsure if I should carry with me or if I should throw out. My deepest wounds. Because more than half of these things didn’t belong to anyone that resided in this small apartment.

They belonged to the love of my life. The true love of my life. The one man that I had loved the most. The man that I still love. A love that would never leave my heart. Even now, married and with a baby on the way, I would never get over Taehyung.

Because I wasn’t happy. I could never be happy. I would never be truly happy without him by my side. I could be fine and be the source of happiness to others, but my heart would never be full again. Especially after being behind the wheel of that vehicle. The very vehicle that injured and terminated the life of my soulmate. I didn’t deserve happiness.

I started rummaging through Taehyung’s things, angry with myself, my eyes clouding with tears. How could I be so stupid to believe that I could keep mementos of him? “Yes, you do deserve happiness,” I suddenly could hear his voice, loud and clear. Still the same sweet and grave timber. What type of wicked wish fulfillment is this? So I am starting to hallucinate now? That's just great. “You’re not hallucinating, look at me.”

I felt a gush of air at my side and an unknown hand rested on mine. Startled, I looked at the direction of the voice and saw Taehyung’s face, once again. In fear, I screamed and closed my eyes. I cringed as I heard his voice once more. “I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to. You’re okay, I just wanted to see you one last time.”

My face relaxed, but I still couldn’t open my eyes. This was sure to be a dream. Why I couldn’t wake up was a mystery. “You’re not sleeping either,” my favorite voice said, and I was sure he would be rolling his eyes. “You know me too well.” he said, longingly, a wary chuckle escaping his lips.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to no one, the tears that huddled up were already free falling down my cheeks. My mind went through all the things I wanted to say out loud but couldn’t. Say that, even though I moved on, there was no day on Earth where I hadn’t thought of him, that the pain and anguish I felt ever since the car accident never faded or diminished. He was my biggest love and I killed him.

And I missed him so much, every single day, for the past 7 years. That moving out of the apartment we bought together would be my biggest mistake and my biggest betrayal. That hanging onto this place was the only good thing I did. That I never deserved him. That I had the gall to bear the child of a man who wasn’t him.

My hallucination heard it all and even after all that I’ve done, he still somehow found a way to forgive me and comfort me, patting by back soothingly as I cried all the tears that I thought would never return. The shame I felt invaded me once more.

“I’ve been trying to contact you for years,” my hallucination said after a few sobs “and I’m happy that I’m finally able to. I needed you to know that I’m not angry with you. I don’t blame you for the accident either. It was an accident.”

The waterfall of tears was gone with one gush of air. “Please don’t cry,” he whispered. “I hate to see you suffering like this. I wish there was something I could do.” he continued. For one moment I wanted to believe that I wasn’t dreaming or fabricating images and sounds with my head. I wanted to believe the hurt in his voice wasn’t made up in my head.

I finally opened my eyes, and even adjusting to the light, I could see him clearly. His face was pained and concerned. But his features softened and he gave me my favorite box smile, wrinkling his nose in the process.

“There she is,” he said softly. I went even further and stretched my hand to touch his cheek, but his image shimmered and where he should be, there was only faint air. My heart skipped a beat, and his smile disappeared. “Look but don’t touch is quite literal here.”

“I miss you,” I whispered.

“I miss you too.”

We stared at each other's faces. I didn't give myself permission to think about him in quite a long time, and my memories did not do him justice. I had pushed his face out of my head as I, foolishly, tried to move on. What a waste of time. No one would have my heart the way he did.

“I need to go now,” he whispered. “I just came to tell you goodbye. I wanted to find you happy and with someone who you love…” he trailed off and seemed to weigh his words for a minute “and I’m not sure how I should feel about what you told me… since there’s nothing I can do about it.” he continued. “I guess all I can say is that I wish you all the happiness. Move on without pain, that’s all I want for you.”

I stared at him in shock. I didn’t want him to go. I wasn't ready for him to leave me again. I suddenly heard something fall on the carpet by my side, and I quickly moved my head towards the sound. It was a necklace with a small heart locket. I recognized this piece. It was mine, and I gave it to him on our last anniversary. He loved it so much he told he wanted to be buried with it. And so he did.

“Goodbye,” said my favorite voice in a whisper. I snapped my head back, but he was gone already. In his place, there was a small note addressed to me.

My heart will always belong to you.

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

adams

request: Hi! I have a request, could you do one where the reader is a part of the BAU team, and she’s dating Spence, and she’s watching him interrogate Cat Adams, and she has to hear her say that she’s pregnant with Spence’s baby? Thanks!

for: @mggbler​

word count: 2,965                                                                                                reading time aprox: 11 mins 

a/n: so i’m back? also another thing, if you are requesting an imagine, id really appreciate it if you had your username listed as it will be much easier to tag you, but it is whatever you’re comfortable with <3

masterlist

My fingertips drummed against the cool concrete frame that lined the two-way window. My feet were firmly planted on the hard floors of the prison as I gazed intensely at the scene before me. An ember lit aflame inside of me as Cat Adams tantalizingly edged closer towards Spencer, diminishing the proximity between their faces. Every tedious inch she took, I dissociated farther and farther away into my headspace; although I could still hear her pretentious tone through my earpiece as she brushed her fingers against Spencer’s eyelids. 

“Close your eyes”  

This is bullshit. 

“Good, now keep them shut. Sit back and relax” 

I turned my head aside to look away, pinching the inner crevice of my elbow to regain my sense of reality. My composure was noticeably calm on the exterior, something I’ve picked up in the years of working at the BAU, but the expanding coil of indignation continued to wind as time passed. 

My patience had always been one of my greatest virtues, yet Cat Adams was able to deteriorate that virtue with her nonchalant fingers softly grazing the skin of Spencer’s hands, the licking of her lips as she whispered suggestive words on his neck, and that flame in her eyes that convinced her she was all-powerful. 

“Now when you open your eyes...I want you to look at me like I’m the first woman you’ve seen after being in prison for three months” 

I breathed through my lips, reassuring myself of Spencer’s affections. Yet an insurmountable amount of insecurity peaked into the bottom of my stomach, clawing its way up to my throat. I felt restrained within my own skin, combating the urge to pick and pry at the flesh. 

“If she touches…” I muttered to myself, biting the inside of my cheek as my words trailed off into uncomfortable anticipation. 

“You’re here! You’re really here” Cat celebrated, welcoming Spencer in her chaotic delusion. A mischievous grin appeared on her lips, Spencer fabricating a benevolent facade as he let himself grow comfortable in her scheme. 

 “There is nowhere else I would rather be” Spencer replied with many endeavors, sending a chilling shot through my chest. 

 It’s fake...it’s all fake 

“You’re good at this...you’re so good at this” Cat shook her head, gazing at Spencer with much admiration and recognition. “I almost believe you don’t want to kill me” She teased. 

 “I don’t want to kill you” Spencer hastily admitted, replicating Cat’s gaze of fervor. As ironic as it seemed, it became a game of cat and mouse. Who would concede first? 

 “What if I let your mother die?” Cat blurted out, gauging at Spencer’s reaction to her explicit words. But to no avail, Spencer expressed no tells or twitches that would give away his robust collectedness. “Then would you kill me?” She continued. 

 Spencer stared at her with an unimpressed look, unfazed by the mention of his mother. A small smirk resided on the corners of his supple lips, raising his eyebrows in a lack of interest as if the lifeless walls of the room seemed blasé. 

 “Oh...my mistake” She paused, chuckling to herself as a devious Cheshire grin appeared on her lips. “What about Y/N?” She spat. 

 How did she…

 The once present smirk on Spencer’s face faltered, yet he remained his fortitude. He closed in on her, peering at her in suspicion. “What about Y/N?” Spencer reiterated, using reverse psychology to throw her off. 

 Cat pushed herself off the edge of the table, leaning back into her chair with an impervious attitude. “Cut the crap Spencie, I know about your little romance” She taunted humorously, rolling her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I know about the little pet you keep around” She badgered, causing a chink off of Spencer’s armor to be revealed. 

 My fists clenched beside me, absorbing the evident frustration coursing through my veins. I cringed as I bit down on the muscle of my cheeks, the taste of metal coating my tongue momentarily. I kept myself grounded for the sake of the interrogation, but if the life of Diana and Spencer wasn’t on the line, I would be the one interviewing the psychotic bitch myself. 

 “I thought we were supposed to be talking about my mother” Spencer breathed out, leaning back in his chair to cover up for his slip in character. 

 “You know what’s the best part, Spencie?” Cat leaned over the table, ignoring the words Spencer had previously spoken and hovered a few inches away from his ear. For a moment she deviated her focus from Spencer and directed it towards the two-way glass. Even in the split second, she broke away from her main target, you could see the mischief and ego festering in the pit of her eyes. “I know she’s watching us...I know how much it’s killing her just watching us” Cat seduced, trailing her fingertips suggestively up Spencer’s arm. 

Spencer tore his shoulder away from her roughly, pulling up the cuffs of his sleeves in a sensible manner. “You said you wanted to play a game earlier,” Spencer reminded her, battling the urge to prove Cat wrong and reassure the woman on the other side of the glass. “Is it the same as last time?” 

 “Oh Spencie…” Cat sighed, retracting herself back to her seat. Suddenly her stare drifted back to the two-way glass, and with as much authority she can harbor, she peered through the mirror with much affliction. “I can’t wait till she finds out about Mexico” She blurted out in faux innocence. 

 This pricked at Spencer’s ears, leading him to profile the words that spilled out her mouth. “What happened in Mexico?” He inquired, pressing her on the missing fragments of his whereabouts that lead to his arrest. She simply tiptoed around his request, taunting him as she refused to take her blazing eyes off the glass. 

A loud bang reverberated off the walls. This caused Cat’s attention to halt as it shifted towards the source of the ringing sound, only to find out that it was Spencer’s hand harshly slamming against the table. “What happened in Mexico?” Spencer reiterated once again, but this time his tone barely held back the chagrin clouding his rationality. The booming volume of his usually gentle voice complimented the aftershock of the wood beneath his palm as it still rattled underneath his force. 

“Are you getting a little aggressive Spencie? I didn’t even know you were capable of that” She mocked, tucking her arms to her side while her hands roamed the circumference of her stomach. Spencer glared at her incredulously, deciding that he had enough of her drudging ploys. He pushed his chair back, making the motion to get up and leave the room, but before he had the opportunity to stand up, two words were revealed into the already perturbed air.  

“I’m pregnant,” 

Spencer froze in his spot, taking a moment to breathe before shaking his head and proceeding towards the door. I scoffed in disgust, waiting for Spencer on the other side of the door. Even for Cat this was low. 

 I can’t imagine anyone using pregnancy for their own gai-

 “...actually we’re pregnant, Spencie” 

Everything stilled. Oxygen refused to fill my lungs and my blood ran cold. The same seemed to occur with Spencer as his feet were motionless like he was stuck in a fragment of time. The words kept passing through me like waves echoing from a cymbal, only this time it was endless. No matter what I did, the words never resonated in my head. I became deaf, some may say that I was in denial. But I heard it. I heard it slip past as a whisper on her lips. 

 I felt numb for what seemed like an eternity. But it was that same numbness that I wished never went away, so I wouldn’t have felt the overwhelming sickness that came after. My stomach boiled with an uncomfortable sensation. The ringing descended into the quiet of my mind as clarity began to flood my consciousness. 

That’s not...that’s not possible

Cat did it. She found a way--a loophole. 

Can it be possible?

I suppressed the paralyzing thoughts into a small compartment of my mind, letting a small murmur of reason dictate my actions. With naive hope, I rushed to a guard to request a Cat’s health records with much haste. After the small interaction, all I could do was wait.  

Wait for answers. Wait for the truth. 

Yet again my virtues were being tested. I thought the first time I would harbor an immense uneasiness over pregnancy, it would be my own. I was imprisoned in my own doubts and speculation, but I can’t even begin to comprehend the thoughts that are permeating the dark place of Spencer’s mind. 

What does this mean for me and...

No, I can’t think like that. She’s probably lying. 

But what if…

I shook the thoughts out of my head, focusing on the grey-tinted walls that surrounded me. I forced myself to fixate on how the overhead light reflected on the shiny tiles beneath my feet, while I let the background noises of an operating prison engulf my sense of hearing. 

But nothing could ever prevent my buried thoughts from climbing out from the back of my subconscious. Nothing could stop the anticipation that coursed through my veins, threatening to stop my heart altogether.  

Nothing could’ve stopped me from knowing. 

-

The cold zing of the walls was the only thing that tethered me to reality. I felt the way my hip bones would shift under my weight as I sat motionless in the hallway. I felt the pressure and ache that began to build under my knees as they were pressed against my chest. A heavy film cast over my eyelids, making it exhausting for me to keep them open. There was an agonizing shackle tugging at my chest, restraining me from taking a fresh breath. I was battered and beaten, not physically, but mentally. 

With two words, Cat Adams had managed to send me spiraling down a sinkhole that I didn’t know how to get out of. I was stuck, encased in my own headspace. I didn't know what was worse: being in prison or being imprisoned by the person you detested the most. 

I thought the worst was over when she confessed to her pregnancy. I thought the anguish that I experienced hit its climax. But little did I know that the growing hole in my chest only consumed me further when I found out she was telling the truth. 

In bold letters, ‘pregnant’ was displayed on the front of her health records. Now they were measly tossed to the floor in a flurry of confusion and anger. 

A choked breath emerged from my esophagus, finally feeling the full impact of the circumstances that I was in the middle of. I was furious, dazed, and somber simultaneously, and I didn’t know if it was for me or Spencer. 

Spencer…

Does he know it's true? Would he know?

He wouldn’t have chea…? No, he wouldn’t 

As if it was the answer to my inquiries, the clatter of footsteps resounded from the head of the hallway, the clacks against the floor growing in volume as they approached me. Stunned by my own senses, I didn’t even notice the sight of grey fabric coming in from my peripheral view. 

It was only until I heard the rhythmic beat of the footsteps faltering in a slower pace till they stopped completely. Suddenly, a tender hand apprehensively reached out from beside me. Warmth instantly radiated off its palm as it battled with the chilled temperature of my skin. Then, a voice, belonging to Spencer, followed the small gesture in a quaint and reserved tone. 

“I…” He paused, intertwining his fingers with mine. “I know I haven’t talked about Mexico--or prison for the matter. I know that sometimes I close myself up in a box and hideaway, and you tell me it's okay if I’m not comfortable,” He swallowed his words for a moment, staring at his sprawled-out legs in front of him as he struggled to find the right words. “But I also know how much it hurts you when I do…” He uttered out. “I know that it hurts you when JJ’s the only person I can talk to about what happened” He turned his head to gauge my reception, but all I could bring my attention to was the soreness in my chest at his mentions. 

“Did you know?” I meekly whispered. 

“I don’t...I don’t know” Spencer answered unsurely. His voice seemed depleted of any assurance he carried with him when it came to his knowledge. I guess that was a common denominator between us in the present circumstance. “I don’t...I don’t know what she did” He sucked in a sharp breath, careful to let his words teeter around the break in his voice. 

“She’s really pregnant Spence…” I muttered, squeezing the clutch he had on my hand. “It’s gonna be okay Spence. I know you would never…” My voice trailed off into the uncertainty of my words, yet the hope that was latched onto me prevailed. “There’s more to this, I know it” I stated with much determination. 

“What if it’s...it’s mine?” He gasped, a melancholy air following his statement. 

“Well, you didn’t, you know-” 

“No, I--I would never” He finished the sentence, racking his head for clues. 

“Then there has to be someone el-”  

“She did something,” Spencer cut me off. “When I was in there, she told me that Lindsey--she got me to…”. By the wavering of his voice, I knew where this was headed. “A-and she told Lindsey to pretend that she was you…” He scoffed, shaking his head in self-reproach.  

“Spence…” I tried to stop him from his own demise, but I knew the second he started sputtering words, there would be no mercy to it. 

“She started mocking you and my mom, and that’s when...I don’t--I” He paused, licking his lips. “I felt so angry--more than I’ve ever had in my life--and I just,” He retracted his hand from mine in an instant, brushing the stray hairs away from his face. “I pushed her Y/N. I pushed her against the wall and I started--gosh--I started choking her Y/N”. The structure of his tone fizzled out into a meek mumble, an indication that he was battling his internal demons. 

The guilt and agony on his face were enough to devastate an entire colony. So much weight and history hung on the surface of his shoulders that it was starting to deteriorate. “I’m...I’m scared that this is who I am now” He lamented, picking at the small pebbles that littered the floor. 

“No, don’t say that” I protested. 

“Y/-Y/N, you don’t know…” He sighed. 

“I do know” I affirmed, reaching out to clasp his hand in mine once again. “I know you had to do things in prison, things you aren’t proud of, but anyone in your position would have done the same-”  

“You wouldn’t have”  

“Yes. Yes, I would have Spence” I remarked. “If someone threatened my life, if...if someone threatened my chance of seeing you again...”. I placed a gentle hand under his chin, making our eyes meet. “You bet your ass I would. It doesn’t make you a bad person” I finished my spiel, looking into his dull eyes in the hopes he would recognize that I meant every word.

“Then why do I feel like this? I’ve let down the team, my mom, and you…” 

I cupped his face in my hands, although he refused to look at me in the eyes. “Spence,” I breathed. “You have not done a single thing to disappoint anybody” I shook my head as my voice trembled under the weight of the conversation. “If you disappointed anyone, then why is the entire team working to get this psychotic bitch on death row? Why are they trying to save your mom? Why do I love you?” I professed, every endearing word flowing out of my lips with ease.  

Silence encompassed both of us, but the dense atmosphere still created an evident divide. Suddenly, he met my eyes with his solemn ones, but something was different. A minuscule glint of prospect flashed in the pool of his irises. The color and life began to emerge from the dreariness of his countenance and the warmth of his skin began to crimson his cheeks. A relieved gasp escaped my lips as he peered at me with much endearment. 

“Do you really think that?” He whispered. I nodded in response, taking my bottom lip into my teeth as I took in the beauty of his rejuvenating presence. From there I knew Spencer would slowly fill up again. I knew it was going to be hard, but I also knew that I wouldn’t hesitate to take every step with him. 

 “I know that everything isn’t clear right now Spence. But I think--I know--that you’re the only person here that can solve this” 

 “You’re wrong” He breathed. 

 I stared at him with a baffled expression, encouraging him to continue his position. 

“I can’t...I wouldn’t be able to do all of this,” He rested his hand on the apple of my cheek, caressing the supple skin with his thumb. “...not without you” 

-

taglist: @rexorangecouny​ @howdycharlie​ @linthebinbag​ @honeymilk-4​ @andreasworlsboring101​

[rein-ette]

Hi! Could you give us some modern day German bros hcs?

Yes. Absolutely. Thank you for asking, this is one of my favourite topics ever.

I know canon says that Gilbert lives in Lud’s basement and mooches off of him, but may I assert that Gilbert actually lives in the basement of his own house, which he bequeathed to Ludwig, while he spent time rotting in Soviet prison. The house, along with a significant (but diminishing) majority of Lud’s savings were all originally Gilbert’s fortune, only gathered after saving every penny of his officers commissions for centuries. Now, this isn’t to say that Ludwig mooches off Gilbert either, because Lud does work his sweet muscular ass off and earns a respectable wage from the federal government. And it’s true that legally, Lud did inherit Gilbert’s property in the West. But Gil still has every right to live in a house he bought, and he only chose to take the basement floor because 1) it seemed kinda mean spirited to make Ludwig move out of the master bedroom after living there for 3 decades, and 2) the “basement” floor is a complete flat in and of itself, so he and Ludwig can both have some measure of privacy.

Warning: way more rambling ahead

As for living fees, I hc that Prussia fulfills a role in government as the state of Brandenburg. Others may disagree that Brandenburg should have its own “national” representative, an idea I’ve toyed with myself, but I’ve settled on the interpretation of history where Prussia is Brandenburg for several reasons. The main one is that while Prussia is a geographical expression referring to the area around Königsberg that is now Russian/Polish, Prussia is also a historical, political, and cultural entity. Berlin has been the seat of Prussian power and the symbol of its culture, ideals, and traditions from the very beginning — what we think of when we say Prussia (the historical state) really began as Brandenburg, who’s ruling family (the Hohenzollerns) subsequently acquired Prussia (the Polish territory) and saw an opportunity to crown themselves King, using the Prussian title as a convenient “excuse” (for various political reasons). In short: the name “Prussia” is misleading — the state of Brandenburg-Prussia has always been more Brandenburg than it’s been Prussian.

I DIGRESS. The point is Prussia also earns part of his wages for himself from the Brandenburg state government. He doesn’t work nearly as much with the gov as the others (Arthur, Francis) do though: mostly 'cause the government can function by itself and doesn't need much advice from Prussia, who's wealth of experience is not readily applicable to like, park-building and such anyways. When Lud becomes overwhelmed Gil also helps out with his paperwork, but -- and this is, I believe, rather idiosyncratic to the German gov -- Gil does not often attend functions in an official capacity. Since the war, the new German government has wanted for obvious reasons to distance itself as much from its past as possible, so having too many people know about Gilbert's real identity, or even having him work to closely with the PM just feels...wrong. Officially Prussia may now simply be the state of Brandenburg, but its clear that's not all he is. He has the Old World air, the kind of presence that reminds humans he is the collision of a thousand lifetimes all at once, a breathing monument to history. And so for the modern German state, which has struggled so desperately to throw off the shadows of its past, to associate closely with the embodiment of Prussia is just not great for everyone involved.

This brings me to another dynamic that I've wanted to explore in a fic for a long time: how terribly young Ludwig is compared to the nations he works with. I mean, Germany only became a thing in 1871, less than 200 years ago. While I hc him to have existed for a couple decades before that, slowly growing under Prussia's care, this man is still younger than either Alfred or Matt. And yet he has to work closely and on equal terms with nations that are more than ten times as old as he is. Of course, former colonies like Al and even younger ones like New Zealand also work on equal terms with older countries like England now, but Ludwig has the added disadvantage of needing to protect a legacy. He may be young, but the cultures he now represents are not. He does not get to start afresh. He does not get to revolt against imperialism and forge his own destiny. And unlike former colonies, the day Ludwig truly stepped out of his brother's shadow and became a nation in his own right was not a day of victory but of defeat. All this weighs heavily on him; essentially, Ludwig carries the same two-thousand burden of history his fellow Europeans do, but without the corresponding two thousand years of experience. And do his colleagues go easy on him? Of course they fucking don't. His colleagues are people like England, France, Denmark, Netherlands...they're fucking menaces is what they are, and they don't baby nobody. You can either make it or you can't, and despite being the age of these nation's children, by the simple virtue of being European Lud is expected to be able to play by "their rules" -- to know the ins and outs of ancient relationships, traditions, and beef from the Middle Ages -- the whole shebang. If America fucks up in a world meeting the Europeans will whisper "Well he's still just a child", if Ludwig fucks up in an EU meeting he has simply fucked up, period. No excuses. This is the world they grew up in, and they expect Ludwig to be able to navigate it too.

Of course, this has it perks as well. It means that unlike former colonies, Ludwig doesn't have to deal with as much constant condescension and patronization. Lud is not their child or their friend's child -- at most he is a younger brother, and by taking on the mantle of Prussia and the other German states Ludwig is automatically an equal. But there were still moments where Ludwig felt out of place. In the first few decades after the war, these mostly occurred in more relaxed, social situations -- parties, informal negotiations, the type of diplomacy that takes place over drinks and behind closed doors. This was the gentleman's club, a place where the lingering sense among old European powers that they are members of the most exclusive and desirable social group in the world was strongest. While various forces such as the EU, globalization, decolonization, and Americanization have eroded this kind of gate-keeping, there remains instances where Ludwig is sharply reminded of his age. Its often the small things -- a glance across the meeting room, an old joke, a shared memory. Maybe Ludwig hears through Gilbert that Francis is more stressed than he seems. Maybe Ned succeeds in persuading Arthur of something in private when Ludwig couldn't. Maybe he visits Austria and is surprised to see Spain is also there. Among any group of old friends there is always a sense of "us" and "them", and while Ludwig may have taken his brother's political place in Europe, socially Prussia is a kind of "us" that Ludwig will never quite achieve.

I hate to end this on such an abrupt note, but I'm afraid if I don't I will never stop talking. Thanks cake for enabling me, and if anyone wants a part two hit me up. I haven't even fucking gotten to PruAusHun yet, or all the other German siblings.

[bubbleteaimagines]

            ALWAYS YOU

summary || when steve is tasked to return to the stones, you’re not so sure if he’s going to stay, or return to the woman that first captured his heart — peggy carter

pairings || steve rogers x reader

warnings || little bit of angst, swearing

“babeee! come back to bed!”

you whined slightly as the bed dipped and the cold air hit your body as steve got up from the bed.

it was currently three o’clock in the morning, and you were pouting at your boyfriend of six years, wondering why he was up so early.

“go back to bed, sweetheart,” he tried to coax you back into sleep but you refused.

sitting up, you moved your body to where you were seated right next to him and frowned as you took in his exhausted and worn out face.

“steve? steve baby what’s wrong?” you suddenly dropped your pout and began to get worried instead.

steve sighed.

he wanted to tell you — but he didn’t want you to worry. most of all, he didn’t want you to know what was running through his mind, the reason why he couldn’t sleep.

he was thinking of something that would be sure to break your heart. and steve was positive that if he voiced them you’d be heartbroken, but he could never lie to you.

“i was … i couldn’t sleep,” he started, confessing even though he didn’t want to. “i had a lot of stuff on my mind.”

“is this about the stones?” you noticed his anxious face and wondered if Steve was worried about his mission tomorrow morning.

he nodded.

“i just … i just keep thinking about them,” he said. you gently rubbed his back. “and i can’t get over the fact that i’m gonna have to go back in time to return them.”

“well, what’s a little time travel if you’re saving the universe honey?” you tried to smile at him but steve didn’t return it. he looked at you.

“i’m gonna have to go back and see her, eventually, y/n,” he said bluntly, causing your smile to fade. “and i don’t know what i’m gonna do.”

your heart panged a little and you stopped rubbing his back.

of course.

of fucking course!

you nearly scoffed at steve.

of course that was what this would be about. of course she would be the one that was keeping steve up at night, preventing him from enjoying his last moments with you.

it had seemed that no matter what steve did, peggy carter seemed to always weasel her way into his thought and you hated it.

you had accepted a long time ago the fact that steve would never be quite over her. you had accepted that there would be always be some part of him that loved her, and though it hurt you came to peace with it.

you had to, because there was no getting rid of that part of steve. peggy would always be there and the only thing you could hope for the last six years was that your presence was enough to drown her out of his mind.

it wasn’t.

after all that time it still wasn’t enough and steve watched you with a guilty look as you hung your head and shifted away from him.

“oh.”

there was a sadness in your voice that made him frown. he hated to see you upset and he knew that was exactly what he had done.

“y/n i just … i didn’t mean to think about her,” He tried to reach out and put his hand on your thigh but you moved away.

“you never seem to mean it steve,” you said sadly, “but yet somehow you always do.”

with a frown, you moved from beside him and laid back in bed. your back facing his figure.

“y/n…” steve sighed.

you shut your eyes.

“i don’t wanna talk about it,” you muttered to him. “not tonight.”

tonight was supposed to be about just you and him, getting to spend just a few more moments together before he branched out on a mission that would take him god knows how long.

all you wanted tonight was to hold him just one more time, but while his body was wrapped around yours his mind was somewhere else.

“y/n, please,” steve laid back down and gently touched your shoulder. “i’m sorry. i never meant to upset you,” he said.

you took a deep breath. with your eyes still closed, you kept your back still turned on him but slowly you asked,

“steve, be honest with me.”

it took everything in your power not to cry.

steve leaned forward.

“what is it sweetheart?” he asked, and you clenched your fists.

“when you go back in time tomorrow …,” your heart squeezed, “promise me you’ll be back darling? promise me that … promise me that you’ll come back to me, that you’ll come back to be with me. promise me that you won’t stay.”

you held your breath and waited for the answer.

time slowed down. steve took in a deep breath. and you waited for his answer, you waited with your eyes still closed and your fists still clenched.

you waited, and then waited some more … but you never got your answer from steve.

and so you knew.

-

when you woke up from your sleep that morning, you woke up to an empty bed and a broken heart.

you had gone to sleep knowing steve’s answer and you had unfortunately woken up knowing it, too.

six years, you nearly scoffed again, six years and it still was nothing compared to what he felt for her.

nothing.

your heart clenched again and for moment you had to steady yourself from the waves of pain.

you couldn’t believe it. you couldn’t believe that your wrost nightmares had actually come true, that steve rogers had actually left you, and he didn’t even bother to say goodbye.

you stifled a sob.

by the time you had gotten out of bed and gotten dressed for the day, your hopes that steve would have woken you up in time for him to say goodbye for his mission had diminished.

you knew he was gone, from the silence that echoed throughout tony’s lake house and from the solemn looks on bucky and sam’s faces when you met them out in the yard by the machine that steve was supposed to go through.

“he’s gone, y/n,” banner gave you an awkward frown and motioned to the machine. “he left like fifteen seconds ago.”

“fifteen?” your voice echoed with worry. “but didn’t you say…”

“he was supposed to come back in ten,” sam hung his head and shook it.

bucky gave you sad smile and you couldn’t keep the tears away.

“where is he, then? where is banner?” you found yourself asking even though you knew the answer.

“i’m not sure. we’ve tried to get him back but- something’s wrong. either he got stuck or…”

“he just didn’t come back. i’m sorry, y/n,” bucky said. you let out a sob.

“shh, shhh, it’s okay. we’ll be okay,” sam himself seemed to be trying to keep his own tears at bay for the sake of you. he held you in his arms tightly and you buried your face into his shoulder as you cried.

“this can’t be the end, sam. this can’t be it,” you cried and then suddenly someone was speaking behind you.

“that’s because it’s not, sweetheart.”

the voice of steven grant rogers rung out in your ears and with a gasp you let go of sam and turned around.

there were tears blocking your vision and your eyes were slightly swollen from crying but there was no mistaken that it was him, the exact same version of steve that had left, standing right in front of you.

“oh my god! steve you’re back!”

“rogers, you’re back!”

there was no hiding your shock or anyone else’s as you all stared at steve.

still the same, still steve, smiling at you as you took in his appearance.

“you’re here,” you breathed out, slightly amazed and steve slowly walked over to you.

“i couldn’t leave my best girl,” steve said.

“but you were … gone fifteen seconds and i...i thought...”

“you thought i stayed,” steve said, and you nodded. he frowned.

“y/n …” steve started slowly and brought his hand up to caress your cheek. “you had to know that i would never leave you. not by fate and certainly not by choice. you had to know that i love you.”

“but i know that you love her, too,” you told him sadly. “that’s why i thought …”

“believe me, i considered it,” he said, ashamed. “when I heard that i could go back in the past, i thought i could go back and fix all of my mistakes. i thought that i could go back and live the life that i had always wanted,”

“then why didn’t you?” you whispered. “i know you’ve always wanted to go back and live a normal life.”

steve smiled at you. “because the more i thought about it, the more i realized that wasn’t what i wanted anymore. peggy, is not what i want anymore, y/n. and while this life may be hectic, and a little bit crazy, i realized that i don’t want normal, and easy, and simple anymore. i want painful, difficult, devastating, life-changing, extraordinary love. And i want that with you. don’t you want that, too?”

once again, your tears were threatening to overflow and you quickly nodded, pulling steve into a tight hug that you never wanted to be released from.

“of course. of course that’s what i want you idiot,” you sobbed into his chest and steve laid his head between your shoulders. “that’s all i’ve ever wanted because i love you.”

“i love you too,” steve smiled into your hair, and held you a little tighter. “and that’s all i’ve ever needed from you, y/n; damn anyone else. because it’s always you. and it’ll always be you, my love,” he said, and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

[mercy-burning]

Cold Feet (Alternate Version)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After receiving a letter from an old flame just days away from her wedding, Reader wonders if she should call it all off. —Inspired by the song Cold Feet by Tenille Arts Category: Angst (unhappy ending) Content Warnings: An almost kiss that isn’t with Reader’s fiancé Word Count: 1.8k

Read the other version of Cold Feet here!

MASTERLIST

***

She should be happily wrapped in a dream, Safe in a warm bed and sound asleep. So why is she walking back home From a long night down by the creek, With cold feet?

Y/N is currently finding it difficult to breathe.

It was easier a couple days ago when she knew exactly what she wanted. Her husband-to-be was more than excited to marry her, and she'd reciprocated that feeling entirely. Everything was ready to go. Truthfully, they could have gotten married right this second if that's what they wanted, that's how ready to go they were.

But now? She was questioning everything.

She still felt the thin paper in her hands, even with its folded body currently tucked away in an old book she knew was never going to be opened again- a gift from the man who'd written the letter in the first place.

The first time she read it, her heart sank. And by the third time she'd read it, her heart soared.

And then her fiancé walked in, asked her about what to make for dinner, and her heart sank all over again.

Honestly, damn him for choosing now to finally confess. Damn him for making her question everything, after she'd finally moved on and found someone who would always be around.

But then again, she'd ended up choosing to live in a house in their hometown, just blocks away from that creek he'd mentioned in his letter. So... Maybe she hadn't moved on entirely

She hated that she even had to think about it.

She hated that her thoughts were so consumed with this man she hadn't seen in years when the man she was about to marry slept next to her every night, unaware of the start to her inner turmoil. Each night since then, she dreamt of dances with both of them, alternating between the two until they made her choose which of them she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. And every morning she'd wake with an even bigger tear in her heart than when the old flame had burned it alive and left her alone in the aftermath to piece it back together.

Her fiancé helped her do that, though. Day by day he taught her to love again, to trust in somebody again, and he was truly a good man.

So why was it absolutely destroying her, thinking of getting married to him when there was someone else in the picture to think about? Someone who'd had a hold on her for well over fifteen years?

Again, she hated that she even had to think about it.

But she wasn't about to get married with all these conflicting thoughts, so whether she wanted to or not, her only real option was the one that would also be the hardest on her tattered heart.

She'd sent him a text message this morning that read, Midnight, and tucked her phone away for the rest of the day, drowning herself in mindless work and looking to keep time moving forward.

Now, she struggles to breathe as she makes her way down to the creek.

It's cold, having just rained fifteen minutes prior, and she wraps her fiancé's cardigan tightly over her her arms, searching for warmth and comfort. She would have settled for one of her own, heavier pieces, but in some strange way she thought maybe having something there that belonged to her fiancée would ground her, something to remind her of the gravity of the situation at hand.

Nothing could have grounded her upon seeing her ex boyfriend after all these years, though, especially when she finally shows up to their old spot and sees him perched on the big stump right next to the water, relief and joy flooding through his features at the sight of her. His smile is just as bright and familiar as she remembered, and it just about knocks the wind out from under her feet.

"Hi, Y/N," he greets softly, standing up and stretching his hands out over his legs. It's obvious that he's nervous to meet up with her after all these years apart, and she couldn't blame him in the slightest.

She's just as nervous as her feet take baby steps towards him. Meanwhile she's hugging her fiancée's cardigan around her body tighter than before. "Hi..."

"I... I can't believe you actually wanted to meet. Truthfully I thought I wouldn't hear back from you."

"Well... Your letter kind of rattled me... You rattled me. I guess I just had to know..."

There's a long pause before he takes a small step towards her and tilts his head. His words are hesitant, like he thinks she might say something he doesn't want to hear. "And... What do you know?"

"I know that I love my fiancé. After you, I didn't really think I'd ever love anyone the same way again, but... He makes me happier than I've ever been, and I... I can't just discard that feeling because you decided too late that you still love me. You know?"

"I do, Y/N, I really do," he answers earnestly, and this time his hand reaches out to grab hers. "But... I mean, you showed up here, didn't you? That has to count for something..."

She isn't really sure how to respond after that. It's true that seeing this man in front of her for the first time in years has brought back a wave of feelings that she'd repressed and even experienced with someone new.

But it's also true that with those feelings comes an inevitable aftertaste of bitterness. He'd left her, decided ultimately that his career was more important to him, and now that she has someone new he's asking her to leave behind this peace she's found. And for what? For him? What's to stop him from leaving again, or deciding years or months down the road that he'd made a mistake and gotten her to leave her one shot at happiness after him?

Nonetheless, she sits with him for hours, listening to him explain... Giving him a chance. He apologizes for the past, he promises to do better in the future, and in between he makes her laugh. Their hands brush, their breaths mingle as they huddle from the cold, and with every passing minute, the cardigan on her shoulders becomes looser and more forgotten.

Slowly but surely, he's lowering her defenses and gaining her trust. He's showing her bits and pieces of the man she fell in love with until they're laughing at close to 3am.

And then, for a moment, it's quiet. Absolutely quiet, save for the crickets and the soft rolling of the creek behind them.

Y/N almost lets him kiss her then.

But then her heart hammers in her chest, and not in a good way. Suddenly, she's imagining the pure heartbreak that would surely manifest on her fiancé's face if he found out- if she really decided to leave him for this old flame that had barely started to kindle once again years later.

She has to be absolutely certain of her decision.

So she pulls back and wraps her fiancé's cardigan tightly around her arms. "I should go home."

There's disappointment in his eyes, and it twists her gut a little. "Right... Um... I-I can take you back, if you want."

"No, I, uh... I think I'm gonna walk. I have to think."

Y/N avoids his gaze just quickly enough that she doesn't see the disappointment in his eyes fizzle into a tiny sliver of hope.

Rain on the sidewalk, doubt in her mind. One thing's for sure, she's running out of time To decide what's right, And who's heart she's willing to break.

She climbs into bed some time later, the cardigan still wrapped tightly around her body, and she can't quite bring herself to face the man sleeping next to her. It feels wrong, like somehow she's betrayed him by even thinking of spending the rest of her life with another person. She doesn't feel worthy of his love.

When she wakes up the next morning, she'd somehow ended up facing him anyway. He's staring at her with adoring eyes, and under his gaze she can't help the guilt that washes over her.

"Quit looking at me like that..."

Her words are grumbly and soft because of having just woken up, and because her face is half hidden behind blankets and his cardigan, her fiancé doesn't know anything is wrong.

Instead, he laughs. "What, you're beautiful... And before you start arguing with me, yes, you're even beautiful when you wake up."

She only grumbles, feeling anything but.

It's quiet for a moment or two before he speaks again. "You're wearing my cardigan..."

Peeking her eyes out from the mountain of fabric, she can see the enchantment in his eyes and it makes her warm. "I was cold..."

While true, she mostly means I had cold feet.

"Come here."

Two simple words, two syllables, and yet it's the softest declaration of love she's ever heard. Her body instinctively nestles into his, face going straight into the crook of his neck while he wraps her up in his arms.

"There," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You feel warmer yet?"

"Mhm..." She sighs into his skin and then takes in a deep breath.

He smells like home.

He feels like home.

And as he starts softly humming her favorite song, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he holds her close, Y/N wonders why she'd ever doubted her love for him.

He is home.

Spencer never was— he was almost always gone.

Letting him go is hard given their past; The good in their relationship was really good, but... it wasn’t enough. It isn't enough for Y/N to leave behind this new, pure love that had reopened parts of her soul she hadn't realized could be repaired after Spencer.

While James makes coffee in the kitchen, Y/N wanders to the bookshelf, gently removing Spencer's gift from the dark wood and swiping her hand over the bound leather exterior. The letter enclosed inside, handwriting that matches an inscription on the front inside cover of the book, beats softly like a heart.

Later that day, as she makes her way five towns over, that heartbeat slowly diminishes— until, finally, she drops it off at the local bookstore for donation, and it stops beating altogether.

And Spencer, somehow, can feel it. He feels it deep in his bones, that she'd given up on them— on him.

He feels the beating of his heart slow down day after day, so quiet and barely tangible, that once the day of her wedding finally arrives, it shatters altogether.

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[siriusmydeer]

Oh and Hello to you today you fine and brilliantly skilled author who I have came to love and adore, you see I know I’d already recently requested something from you but I had a taste of your absolutely amazingly fine talent and just had to come back for more

Ya see, this person here (hem hem, me) would like to ask if she could request something dealing with Young Remus Lupin Remmy Boi being a sweet older brother during the summer to his adoptive sister who is almost his age and very gay and him letting her hang out with him and the Mauraders because her friends were douchbags and skippy skip to Remus letting her rant about it while they sit in his bed, her head in his lap while she’s curled up in a ball and he’s half-heartedly reading while talking to her about her douche-bag friends before he cuddles his sis to his chest and lets her sleep in his bed that night

Anywho, sorry for annoyin you again but I’ve had a shit day and wanted to relax with one of my fav authors and a cuppa tea

baby i was so excited to write this, my internal message to homophobes lies within this one shot. y/n’s vent gave me very “gia ranting her her friends about being bi and it should be nobodies business”

my little sister

brother!remus lupin x fem!reader, girlfriend!marlene mckinnon x fem!reader

warnings: homophobia, mentions of slurs, mentions of conversion camp, angst? but not rly, fluffy remus, WOLFSTAR💋, swearing, jokingly mentions of murder, big brother energy from remus, um mentions of penises and masterbating😭, lowkey ravenclaw slander (ONLY MALES I PROMISE) and y/n being a baddie

word count: 1.3k

you were.... happy. yes, not in a sarcastic way. you had finally found a girl that didn’t just want to be your friend, or hate crime you. you found a girl that you wanted to kiss, a girl you wanted to love and girl that reciprocated that love. but unfortunately for you, your love choices had consequences and everyone else thought it was there business, commenting on it.

“𝗼𝗶, 𝗹𝘂𝗽𝗶𝗻! 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗳𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗵𝗲’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗹 𝘆𝗲𝘁?”

“𝗰’𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗹𝘂𝗽𝗶𝗻, 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗳𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝘆𝗲𝘁?”

“𝗶 𝗯𝗲𝘁 𝘆/𝗻 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗿𝗺 𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹𝘀 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝘂𝗻𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗿. 𝗶 𝗺𝗲𝗮�� 𝘀𝗵𝗲’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗹.”

“𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮 𝗰𝗿𝘂𝘀𝗵 𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝗲, 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁? 𝗶 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗶’𝗺 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁.”

so to society, you weren’t normal. the worst part was you weren’t always the one hearing it, the girls in your dorm heard it, your brother heard about it and his best friends also happen to hear about it. that also never happened to stop them from shooting a hex or 20 in someone’s direction but, nonetheless, you “weren’t normal.”

you were sitting in the library studying next to your gorgeous girlfriend, marlene mckinnon. oh did something as innocent as studying get flipped into so much more, both of you working on mcgonagalls transfiguration homework. all fine and well until the 7th year ravenclaws decided to crawl up your butt and die.

“i see you two haven’t been sent away yet.”

“aw well if it isn’t the two girls who think they’re in love.”

“the two fa-“

one of the boys didn’t even get to finish his sentence before your wand was pinned against his neck, and suddenly he was speechless.

“‘m gonna say this as delicately as possible to spare your shit feelings but, before you finish your very derogatory sentence i would love for you to reconsider your words.” you started, “i personally think it’s hilarious that you gits are so bothered by whomst m’intimate with.”

“for being known as the smart house, you 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 are so bloody stupid. i could rip out my own brain and give it to you and it still wouldn’t be enough for you to learn how to mind your damn business.” you said firmly, “your 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗸 has sunken into the air, so me and my girlfriend are going to get going.”

you took your wand away from his neck before the 3 boys scrambled to the other side of the library, in fear. you gathered both you, and marlene’s things before slinging your bags over your shoulder and walking out of the library. before you could turn the corner, her other arm gripped your arm putting you both to a halt.

you turned towards her beet red face, and eyes shining in adoration. “dude, i think that was the hottest thing you have ever done.” she said before pulling you into a lip lock outside of the library. would you have been very nervous in any other situation?absolutely. i mean you were kissing a female, in public, at school, in 1975. but in this moment you couldn’t care less about anything or anyone, just the beautiful girl that you were besotted with kissing you right now.

“good.” you giggled as you pulled away before pulling her arm in the direction of one of the hidden corridors.

the next time you found yourself diminished over your sexuality, you went to people who you genuinely felt safe and comfortable with. you burst through the marauders dorm, forgetting to knock but quickly covering your eyes.

“i really hope none of you are masterbating right now, because i’m sure as not in the mood to see a penis.”

“c’mon mini-moony, you’re literally never in the mood to see a penis.” sirius replied, you uncovered your eyes and saw sirius walk over to remus’ bed and put his head on remus’ shoulder, and a light blush covered both of there faces. james on the other hand was on the floor writing lily, one of the only other people who supported you, another love letter.

“ok so let me start, sirius and remus please splash some cold water on your face. james, get off your arse and actually be a normal person and try and have a normal conversation with lily because i assure you she doesn’t even read those letters. and the grand finale, if i get called 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 one more damn time necks will be broken and body parts and fluids will scatter on the floor.” you huffed, and sat at end of remus’ bed nonchalantly.

at the part of your mini-monologue where you mentioned being called a slur, james and sirius happened to jump from where they were, surrounding you with questions. “who called you that?!” “i need names, now, mini-moony.” meanwhile remus aggressively grabbed his wand and made a bee-line to the door. “OI! BROTHER OF MINE.” remus stopped at the sound of your voice and turned around, his grip on the wand leaving his knuckles a shade of white. “sit. now.” he scoffed before sitting on the bed staring straight at you.

you debated for a moment, before looking at remus. “lucius malfoy and his toerag puppy dog, evan rosier.” you shrugged before all of them made a run at the door, messily grabbing their wands stomping down the stairs leading to the common room.

as fifth year came to an end, summer eventually came to a start. as you were unpacking your trunk and putting your clothes in there rightful spots in your dresser before you heard a knock at the door. “come in!”

remus opened the door, leaning against the frame. “hey, you okay?” he knew it was a stupid question to ask, but ever since you came into his family he felt a sense of protectiveness over you. he would always look at you like a little girl who needed her laces double knotted because she would trip on them, and how she needed to climb on furniture to grab something and especially when his little sister wasn’t his little sister anymore and became and illegal animagus for him.

“having your picture with nice little names on them, i’m brilliant.” you said sarcastically before sitting on your bed and remus following your lead. he leaned his back against the headboard as you threw your head on his lap, curling yourself to make yourself as tiny as possible. “i mean why the hell does anyone care anyways? it’s not like i’m intervening in there lives, i’m not killing anyone? it works the exact same except it’s a girl and not a boy. i just don’t understand why everyone thinks they should have an opinion on something that isn’t there business to start with.” you vented as he rubbed your back, while reading. “i mean, i understand.” you looked at him with a raised brow, “sirius?” he sheepishly looked up from his book and nodded before looking down at his book again and blushing.

“please, i could spot that from a mile away. i mean you aren’t exactly subtle, at the mere touch you both look like you got out of a sauna.” you said, matter of fact like and pointing your finger in the air sassily, “at least lily and james don’t care.” he mumbled trying to make you and him feel better. “everyone shouldn’t care, but then again everyone else in this universe is also a pest.” you sighed, as he continued reading but not before speaking.

“people are stupid.”

“you’re right, people are stupid.”

“but you know what makes us feel better?”

“what?”

“chocolate.”

“wow remus, it’s almost like i had no idea.”

“well i’m always right, so suck it up and take it.” he said shoving a chocolate bar in your face.

“i mean you could always have a sleepover with me where we eat chocolate and laugh at bad movies?” he said before looking down at you.

“remus, first yes, second how the hell does sirius put up with your ‘know-it-all-ness’?” you looked at him smirking, clearly he didn’t like that and he closed his book smacking it against your head.

“𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝘂𝘀!”

[socketz]

Charlie Dalton x Female!Reader

Angels of the Night.

Type : Fluff and Smut! (with a little Angst at the beginning)

Warnings : Very sexual at certain parts & particularly detailed, talks of death (in general, not Neil, don’t worry), crying I suppose, but that’s about it.

Word Count : 10.4K (roughly) I got a little carried away, oopsies

Request : Anonymous: So for the request, I was wondering if you could do something soft and smutty with Charlie (Dalton)? Like his and a fem reader’s first time together or smth?

Summary : Essentially the request but they go out to make snow angels after, and there’s a little bit more plot :)

Authors Note : Plsss🥺🥺🥺 I love this so much and the idea was so sweet, Charlie is my BABY. I love him fodjdjdbfi. Thank you for this request! And my other requested fics will be put up as soon as I’ve finished them <3

Angels of the Night, Charlie Dalton x Female!Reader

Perhaps it were the midst of Winter engulfing my complexion, rupturing me cold and abnormally behaved, or maybe I was simply being overdramatic. My nose cold, stained with the shiver of a scarlet hue - eyes something of a similar shade, glossy and leaking. Pathetic, my mind spat, utterly pathetic. The sobs escaping my throat were hardly stifled by the wool of my knitted scarf, eyebrows furrowed and blush - I presumed - something of a terrible crimson. I found myself choking on my laboured breaths, feet crunching upon the delicate, unscathed, snow below.

He could hardly love you, my mind seemed to snear, something icier than the wind whipping through my locks. You are too difficult to adore. 

Another stifled cry whimpered between the ruffle of my lips, moist and troubling, and I simply hoped - my vision blurred, incompetent - that my direction were a honest path, and I should discover the courtyard of the infamous Hell-ton (a place often discouraged and avoided by my conscience, for girls were surely not prohibited, and Charlie would be oh-so-severly punished, should I find myself caught.) in no time at all. 

But, oh, it were true. A wreck, I was, and impossible to love. Charlie; a man with such incredible charm, a certain warmth to his gaze, and the intelligence of someone wonderful. Everything a dream could give, embodied - real. Perhaps he was the kind of guy, the kind of face, that poetry was bound from. The kind of person the Gods found pride within - a joyously great boy. 

My footsteps found a rhythm, falling within the tough scale of such icy blankets; fingers but limbs of solid numbness, fumbling within the depth of my pockets; a gentle pulse to racket the edges of my brain. Thump, thump, thump, it said; Charlie, Charlie, Charlie. 

What was I even to do? To approach him, to mortify him - though undoubtedly far more myself - before his friends, his closest companions, and express my excessive need for clarification? Was I going to whine for his adoration, for a smitten smile - the kind I’d always read about, always heard in folk-talk about the town - and the attention I found myself so desperate for? It was all so absurd, and, as I glanced with a blurred sense upon the harsh white all around, I found myself wanting to burrow beneath it all, and await the part of death to crawl within my veins, to freeze until I perished. Dramatic, perhaps, though valid nonetheless.

I suddenly felt warm, doused in the flush of embarrassed scarlet, a hue so easily identifiable - especially among the fleet of snow, draped upon the landscape for miles, and miles, to stretch. Heavens, I felt ill. Sick with stupidity - my own, all the same. 

How could I possibly fall so low as to beg a man for adoration? My cheeks were a furious red, stricken with frustration. I felt a fool, storming over to his school - his strict, unapologetic, pro-punishment, school - with tear-stained cheeks, a lump in my throat and a pensive anxiety through the roof - all as though my implored desire were of anything important, anything meaningful. Charlie was a man of great confidence, and surely - by now, at least - his true feelings for me, if any at all, would have confessed their way to me, somehow - anyhow. 

And yet, despite our many months of close friendship, our continuous flirting, and the pet names - though only to be revealed when swarmed with the comfort of desolation -, with the dates (he had assured me that they were, in fact, dates, and not just a friendly accommodation) - despite it all, he had not once confessed to his true feelings. And I suppose that I struggled to believe whether he held anything romantic for me at all, anymore. Perhaps he was excited, in the beginning, and thus he felt something then, and now - now that we had never quite ventured within the sexually active side of things - I supposed that he were growing bored, and those feelings - whichever he may have obtained - were diminished,  unimportant, and-

“Y/N?” The delirious notion of my attention snapped up, grasping the direction of the calling - a familiar tone. Knox. I found myself spinning, undoubtedly a natural reaction, to turn away from his curious gaze. I wiped my eyes, a harsher manner than intended, with my numb digits digging a little deeper upon the flushed complexion than comfortable. “What are you doing here?” There was a breathy laugh, and I suppose he hadn’t noticed my watery expression, his crunching footsteps achingly close. 

“I- uh-” Turning to face him once more, I fluttered a kind smile upon my features - hoped he wouldn’t notice. “I came to visit Charlie.” I said. 

“Oh.” He said, dismissive, with another curious gaze and a tilted head. “He’s in a meeting-” He caught himself, glancing with something worried, “You okay?” He asked. Through his furrowed eyebrows and his genuine eyes - always gentle, always dreaming - I found comfort among the softness of his stare. Knox was a good friend - hopelessly in love with Chris, of course - and utterly tender. It was no wonder he and Charlie were the closest of companions. Both irresistible, both dependent upon each other - brothers, soulmates, a match for angelic enigma.

I hardly had a chance to catch my movement, shoulders falling and descending to a slouch, a sigh breaching my lips. “I’ve worried myself ill.” I said, and true it surely was. He smiled, a humorous smile, and shook his head.

“Always a worrier.” He spoke, fondly, taking me beneath his arm, and pulling me to the direction of the entry door. I almost thanked the warmth he radiated, had it not been for his words interrupting my decision, “You’ve been crying, I can see.” He said, and I nodded something silent. “What’s wrong?” 

“It’s Charlie.”  I sighed, unable to pause the way it slipped, so easily, through my teeth. I tried to bite it back, but it begged for release and I could fool myself no longer. I needed to talk about the issue, I needed advice. “I feel as though I bore him - as if he doesn’t like me - like that - anymore.”

He let out a laugh, full and plentiful, as we walked through the waft of warmth, basked by the golden-lit entrance. His stare was wary, cautious, and he - in his height, with that uniformed jacket clung around a part of myself -  buried me within his hold, ushering us through the walkway with a slight urgency. “Why the hell not?” He said, amused and slightly riddled with disbelief. 

“I-” I paused, a kind of summary attempting to congregate within the depth of my mind, every anxiety rushing to the front in a large blur of nothingness, “I just do.” I said, a deep puff of air to follow. “We’re nothing official, and I know that - of course I do! I just…” A moment of silence followed, we wandered up the staircase, feet echoing simultaneously as our tones found hushed whispers. To be caught was simply not an option “I suppose I need to know.” 

I found a gentle ache to sprout, deeply, within the base of my throat, a roundly stinging sensation to my eyes, and I knew - Oh, I knew it well, my jaw clenched, and orbs rolling to the sky - that tonight was a night for honesty, and for feeling morose. Charlie liked that word - morose - for it reminded him of things pleasant - ironically - and thus he used it in the incorrect context. ‘I am morose, tonight, Dear,’ he would say, a grin and faux British accent, all the while proceeding to play his cheeriest Saxophone pieces, all so wonderful and joyful. Nothing morose about it, but that was just Charlie. That was Just Charlie, and Charlie was the man I loved. 

The tears began to fall - a first, and then a second, and then there was simply no stopping them after that. Knox hummed, and we entered the hallway. “Need to know what?” He said, our footsteps echoing upon the wooden flooring in a patterned, mismatched, rhythm.  

“How he feels.” I said, a gentle sob to fall from my tongue. “How he feels about me - and him. Together - us.”  We paraded through the course of the rooms, an occasional curious eye from a bystander - usually a boy with books, or perhaps a recognizable face - and landed before a familiar door.

“Ah,” He said, “So that’s why you’re here? To confess your feelings and hope that he reciprocates?” I found myself pausing in the doorway, Knox almost diving upon the neatly made bed - upon Charlie’s neatly made bed - that anxiety riddled within my head all over again. Thump, thump, thump, it said. Hope, hope, hope.

“Hope?” I said, “What do you mean, hope?” 

He furrowed his eyebrows, dismissive to my worries, and picked up the small clock - slightly battered and a little broken - from upon the side table, stacked with loose paper and a few poorly handled novels, and said: “I worded that wrong.” With a reassuring smile to soften his expression. “You’re worried over nothing, Y/N.” He chuckled, gentle and kind. 

But what if I wasn’t? “And if I’m not?” 

“Then it would seem I don’t know Charlie at all.” He said. And, oh, how honest he seemed, so undeniably truthful, but that little voice - that fester of illness, sprouted within my gut -  found my eyebrows pinched, and my frame collapsed within the chair of Charlie’s desk. I removed the wool of my scarf, a sigh slipping the brace of my gritted teeth, gentle moisture collecting upon my complexion, flushed with the sudden gust of warmth, and similarly cold by the retraction of heat. 

“I hope those shoes are clean, Overstreet.” I said, breathless to my thoughts. He snorted a laugh, and my lip quivered at the corner. Perhaps I was worrying over nothing - yes, yes, nothing at all. Though my tears seemed to occupy my anxieties, and such a thought did little to diffuse my worry. “But what if he doesn’t have feelings for me?” I said, exasperated. Knox sighed, a pointed look from his direction. “I mean, how embarrassing! I’d surely never recover.” 

Another scoff breached his throat, “Are you kidding me?” He said, rolling his eyes with a subtle fondness about him. “He practically worships you.”

“And you’re sure he likes me? Romantically?” 

“Smitten.” He said, toying with the ill-treated clock as it lay within his hands, tossing it from one hand, to the other, up and down, left and right. I watched with a glimmer of amusement as the contraption fell from his grasp, landing heavily upon the wooden flooring. The mechanisms simply fell apart - meat from the bone - and a light wince sounded out from his direction. “Damn.” He mumbled. A soft laugh fluttered from my lips, and his rose to a tender smile, soft and kind - always so kind. 

The door billowed open, a gentle slam against the opposing wall a thunder upon the scene. A waft of cologne, a roll of the eyes from Knox, and I found my smile broadening a little, broadening enough.  Always the kind for an entrance, I thought, as the wooden plank poised between the man himself, and I. “Knoxious.” Charlie called, a tone of thick amusement and mischief to coax his smirk - a factor so notoriously him, I could hear it through his speech. 

Knox grinned, a furtherly boyish kind than the ones he shared with me, and avoided the shattered clock altogether, as it lay, pathetically, upon the ground. “How’d it go?” He asked, lying pointedly within the comfort of Charlie’s bed, making a fact of wiggling upon the comforter.

“Not so bad.” Charlie said, blissfully ignoring his teasing. “Meeks agreed to help. Study group and all that.” 

Knox nodded, glancing once in my direction, as I found myself merely grinning - for whichever reason, I had no particular clue. Perhaps it were his voice, or his smile - the way it conveyed within his speech. I didn’t know, and I found, as he spoke once again, that I didn’t care to find out. 

“How was the Danbury’s future wife?” He teased, “Seen her naked, yet?” His tone of humour were almost overbearing, as he strode forward - in front of myself, my presence consequently unknown - and kicked the door shut, the thud another echo throughout the almost silent corridor. 

He rolled his eyes, the ghost of a smile to be present, and spoke gently, “Shut up, Dalton.” He said, motioning effortlessly in my direction, “Your girl’s here to see you.” 

As though an elastic band, he swiveled upon his toes, eyes precariously enlarged with a sense of surprise. My grin remained, and his gaze seemed to soften somewhat upon noticing my hunched posture, curled within that chair of his fabulous desk. His expression eloped with something wide, his smile crawling instantaneously, as he strode to rest himself behind me, engulfing my shoulders in a two-armed-cradle. His chin rested upon the dip in my neck, breath warm; close. “Hi.” He said, tone soft with a joyous grin. 

“Hello.” I mumbled, resting the side of my cheek upon his head. Serenity, peace - I had almost forgotten the moisture to lie upon my rosy complexion. “What was the meeting about?” I asked.

“It’s nothing, just-” “He’s flunking trig.” Knox interrupted, a flutter of buried snickers to follow. 

My eyebrows furrowed, knitted tightly as I positioned myself to face Charlie furtherly forward. “You’re flunking trig?” I asked. He shrugged slightly, tightening his embrace 

with a sharp inhale to his nose. 

“Only a little.” He said, gaze roaming upon my expression. Two digits, curled to the softness of his palm, graced the damp flush of my cheek, recoiling with a scowl of fond woe displaced upon his furrowed brows. “What’s the matter?” He asked, something mellow. 

As though dancing to their own accord, the tears found themselves heavier than before, trickling upon my features as they found a subtle scrunch, and his frown drew deeper. “Hey,” He whispered, brushing - almost nervously, dare I say - a few strands of hair away from my face, tucking them behind an ear, with a glance of thorough concern. 

I stared, albeit tried to, with such blurry gaze, into his eyes. So warm, so amiable -  hot chocolate, topped with sweetened whipped cream and marshmallows on a chilly Wednesday afternoon - Home, his eyes, they looked like home. He felt like home. And, oh, how dearly I loved him. “What happened?” He mumbled, “Knoxious,” he said, turned to face the boy who glanced something somber, “What did you do?” 

I could care to notice the smile upon Charlie’s expression, and from the reciprocated grin festered within the boy across the room, I understood, a teary smile and a gentle laugh, that he was doing what he did best - he was going to cheer me up. “Overstreet.” He said, standing with a sudden gust of wind. 

Knox stood, a scramble to his feet, a mischievous grin eloped upon his expression. “Dalton?” He said, a tilt of his head - a nod, I suppose, though something mocking. 

“Grab me a bowl.” Charlie ordered. 

His smile fell, and he said: “A bowl?” 

“Yeah, of food.” He said, “I’m hungry. Whatever’s for Dinner, alright?” 

He nodded, somewhat dazzled, and the smirk crawled back upon his expression. “Yes, Sir.” He said, “What about the others?” 

“The others?” 

“The Dead Poets?” Knox said, “What’ll I tell ‘em?” 

Charlie shrugged, he glanced once to myself as I sniffled, and I wiped my eyes with my hands once more. “Tell ‘em I’m busy.” He said, a smile. Knox knew - he knew better than anyone - just how deeply controlling love could feel, how gut-wrenchingly wonderful it tended to grow, and thus he left without another word, merely a smirk, and a gentle wave to I. 

The door remained cracked, though only a slither, and before a moment's silence had passed between us, Charlie planted his lips upon the cold complexion of my snow-kissed cheek. A retraction, “God,” He said, “you’re freezing.” I didn’t feel particularly cold - not anymore, at least -- not after the weight of his tightly woven arms upon my shoulders. It should seem, however, that the glisten of moisture upon my cheeks were enough to remind my complexion of it’s shiver, Charlie - without hesitation - ripping into the array of clothing, shoved messily at the pit of his closet. “Here.” He mumbled, a thick, woolen, jumper extended from his slightly pink cheeks. “Put this on, you’ll get sick.” 

I have fallen sick already, I almost scoffed - sick with the worries of my own foolish mind. But I grabbed the soft material nonetheless - a favorite of mine, one I thought he wore so very well - and removed my jacket, peeling the cold material from my bare arms. I placed it on, woozy with the intoxicating smell that was him, engulfing my frame in a combustion of warmth, of safety, and I smiled. A toothy, poorly contained, smile. 

That smirk fell upon his lips, a signature twist of features. I watched his supple gaze, drifting upon my figure from across the room, and those butterflies - the ones I’d so anxiously murdered a while ago, when such intrusive thoughts seemed too dangerous to express fondly - found themselves utterly contempt, dazzling themselves drunk with romance. Eyes darkened slightly, though soft, as though glancing to something delicate, and his hands fumbled within his pockets. How pretty he was, I found myself thinking, and I adored him all the same. 

He smiled, a shake of the head, and said: “I wasn’t expecting to see you.” 

“Oh, yeah…” I said, another sniffle, contained and hardly morose at all. My expression seemed to falter, though only marginally - enough for Charlie to notice, his gaze scowling something gentle, something worried - and I presumed, as he motioned for me to join him, himself clambering upon the mattress and lying upon the cover, that I would simply have to let it all out. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” I began, sitting at the edge of the bed. He kicked off his shoes, allowing them to clatter upon the ground with a careless sense, attentive and glancing warily to myself. 

He frowned, subliminally displeased by the distance I had placed between us. “Are you mad at me?” He asked, confusion to bind between his features. 

It was my turn to furrow my eyebrows, a rather quick shake of the head. “No, no, nothing like that.” I said, “No, quite the opposite, really.” I kicked off my own shoes, not nearly as eager to ruin his bedding as Knox had seemed to be, and placed them side by side, a neat sort of line. The tears, they had stopped - or paused, perhaps - though the dampness of my blush was something rather frustrating, as I harshly wiped upon the irritated skin, attempting to rid of the lightly tangy moisture. 

“Alright.” He hummed, an arm to lock upon the soft of my stomach, drawing me closer in a swift kind of movement. I laid back, his chest moving something rhythmical, my head falling within the crook of his neck, glancing up to the side of his face. He was surely the prettiest boy I had ever known. And as his thumb stroked the skin of my knuckles, his eyes glancing down to meet my own, I found myself thoughtless. Blank - nothing. He smiled. “Well?” 

I rolled my eyes half heartedly, for I was so filled with something fuzzy, something fond, I was unable to spark any kind of annoyance. “So impatient.” I grinned, shuffling lightly to tangle my feet beneath his own. Oh, how cold my toes were. He hissed lightly at the contact, though allowed it nonetheless, and I found myself unable to dismiss the gentle grin as it slipped upon my lips. “I- Well, I-“ I coughed, an ache to my throat. Feelings, themselves, were particularly frustrating - difficult things to understand - and yet confessing them were so much harder. “God,” I sighed, closing my eyes with a light groan. Carpe diem - it was all Charlie used to say, before he’d do something risky; before he asked me on a date for the first time; before he inevitably did a thing he’d surely regret, or, perhaps, receive a kind of punishment for. Carpe diem. “Do you like me?” I asked. It was timid, shy. 

A moment of silence graced us by, the soft hum of his breathing  mingled with that of my own the only disruptive notion. I peered through my lashes, cautious as to my findings, and gazed upon his beautifully carved features. Glancing to his lightly flushed expression, his smile, and his subtle laughter, I suppose that I gathered I had been worrying about nothing, after all. Stretched within his grin, he said: “What’s the matter with you?”, a gentle laugh soon followed . “Of course I like you.” He said. “Why’d I keep you around if I didn’t?” 

I felt myself bubble with a lightly humiliated laugh, trickling from my tongue like treacle - not honey, far too thick, too sticky. Unpleasant - it was a frustrated and false kind. “I don’t know.” I muttered. “I thought you did it all out of pity.” 

A snort escaped him, “Fucking pity?” He echoed, bemused as before. “You think I’d deliberately risk getting my ass kicked by my Father, for bringing a girl to school, if it was out of pity?” I shrugged something small - utterly humiliated. Though, in a way, I suppose I kind of enjoyed this humiliation. I found a certain warmth in his mocking, for I knew it was his dote of affection. I knew that although his commentary were merely humorous, I could find a sense of adoration between the lines, a sense of truth. There always seemed to be such things. 

And so, as though a strike of courage had flourished within the depth of my bones, I found myself speaking thoughtlessly. “You just never…” I paused, hesitation riddled within such courage. “You’ve never told me that.” I sighed, glancing away with such an inflammation to my cheeks, I simply thought I’d explode into a ball of flames.

“Oh,” He muttered, a tinge of disheartenment to his tone. I flickered my stare to fixate upon his expression once more, crossed handsomely with a frown. He didn’t meet my gaze, “Well, what do you want me to say?” He said, a little thickly, with a hint of discomfort. 

Tell me you love me, I wanted to say, confess your adoration! Though instead, there was a: “Nothing.” and an: “I’m sorry, I’m being dramatic.” 

“No, no,” He said, a stroke to my side; up and down, up and down, so gentle, so soft. “No, you’re right.” A curt pause followed, a tense thing. He drew in a sharp breath, “I just thought that…” He trailed, marinating his words, as though deciphering how to piece them together. “I thought you could tell.” He smiled fondly, shook his head, “The Dead Poets… All they do is tease me. They see it.” He glanced toward me, a curious glance, and said: “Why can’t you?” 

I paused, the gentle stammer to exit my mouth, “I-” but caught myself before mine own excuses. There was a furrow to my brows, one that rose a single of his own, and surely, he were right. 

Between the gentle dotes of affection - often an arm burrowed around my waist, or my shoulders, or a kiss to my cheek, hand holding (though usually interlocked pinkies) - the long, - dare I say - intimate stares; the softness of each glance, of every expression; the subtle compliments, followed with a fond kind of joke, or a faux insult; the adoration, spilled between every moment we spent together, that I were simply too worried to notice. Damn, I almost sighed, though bit it back (barely) - I felt bitterly foolish. 

Heavens, how could I not have noticed? 

There was an overwhelming kind of heat washing over me, and oh, I truly wanted to hide - to run, and to hide, far, far,  away.  What a fool, an incompetent fool. The flutter of a laugh slipped between his lips, a lullaby to my fixated embarrassment, and - before long - I found myself reciprocating a gentle giggle, too. 

“Idiot.” He teased, another snort of laughter, though only quiet - a fond mocking, one could say. I rolled my eyes, unbearably aware for the scarlet flush upon my cheeks, and swatted his chest gently. His digits wrapped around my own, drawing the back of my hand to his smile, as he peppered a loving kiss upon the complexion.  “‘Looks good.” He grinned, “My clothes - they suit you.” And there I was, blushing all over again. 

“Shut up.” I mumbled, burning something violent. 

He smiled, that toothy, mischievous, and utterly him, smile. “Never.” He whispered, a wink, and a closing gap. 

His eyes, those beautifully entrancing eyes - gorgeously brown, amorous in shade - glanced, feverishly, upon my lips, slightly agape - drying. The space between our mingled breaths seemed to lessen, the scent of his cologne an overwhelming disorientation to my unmoving self. I found my frame utterly frozen - we had never kissed before. I gulped, our gazes entangling once again, and his expression found a subtle pinch. 

Is this okay? It seemed to ask, and oh, how I melted. I nodded, soft and hesitant - merely within my own - or, rather, lack there of - experience. His digits ran smoothly upon my side, trickling their way upon my tingling complexion, and weighted a supple grip upon my jaw, thumb tracing the flush of my cheek. 

And then, the space between two such lovers diminished. 

Molded so wondrously, an aubade of something perfect. My eyes found a restful close, the pressure of his lips, so tender and gentle - passionately loving - upon mine, a soulful clash of dreamy nights, and explicit daydreams, embodied. The digits upon my cheek failed to release, momentarily squeezing, as the barricade upon my lower back embraced my frame, warm and comforting, and his strength lulled me closer. 

I tilted my head, only slightly to the left, as to deepen such affection, and the simple way in which my nose brushed upon his, found my heart slurry with a combustion I could hardly contain. My hands trailed upon his chest, pathing a certain comfort upon his clothed complexion, winding to a settlement along his jaw, cupping his face in a brisk motion of adoration. This was real, I found such a touch reminding me, he was truly within my hands, and his lips were smitten upon my own. Oh, how long I had dreamed such a night.

It seemed almost strange, that such a new found discovery could feel so dearly like home - like comfort, fed upon a delectably silver spoon. 

Sweeter than any honey infused dessert, delighted with the bitterness of inexperience and unveiled expressions, my awareness a haze of muddled infatuation. For although my fingertips caressed the smooth complexion of his jaw, and my frame lay, entangled, within his own, it seemed that my feel, my sense of attention, was something of a great lack. Everything seemed so out of focus, so ill-tuned. All but the pressure of the fiery ignition, between the kiss of an epilogue I dreaded immensely. 

My breaths fell short, something deep and ravenous, and I found yourself withdrawing gently, engulfing the sudden gulp of oxygen with a slight pant to accompany it. Charlie’s glance was warm; every kind of affection intertwined within one honey glaze; mouth agape, clawing to the fresh air with a timid smirk, reddened and slightly swollen - kissable. His thumb caressed the complexion of my rosy cheek, a falter nowhere to be seen, and his grip on my lower back trailed up, grasping the base of my neck in a sloppily tender hold. He pulled me nearer, a soft guidance, as his breath fanned my expression, gorged with a timid and delightful smile, and the gingerly peppered peck followed. "I love you." He mumbled, eyes fluttered shut. 

He loved me - He loved me! Oh, how I had longed to hear such a confession! I truly pondered the sincerity to his words, though decided that perhaps a paranoid ponderous session was in fact unnecessary, and, in due time, such doubts could trail my conscience. After all, he had confessed that he loved me, and, well, that was just enough for my satisfaction. 

Tugging upon the hem of his jawline, a subtle smile traced the hue of his expression - peacefully quiet, with his orbs still hidden to a close - and my lips descended, something brash and seemingly passionate, upon his own. His response trailed suit, the grip upon my neck squeezing momentarily - an embrace I found alluringly entrancing, with a tingle between my thighs - and a gape to mold within his mouth. Craning his neck, once more, Charlie tilted his head to the right, in a consequent attempt to deepen the kiss. And perhaps it were foolish of me to notice such simplicity, but I found it captivating, the way in which our eyelashes freckled upon each other's cheeks, and our noses clashed so gently, brushing a blushed complexion with no morsel of objection. 

His tongue ran along the moisturized flesh of my flushed lower lip, a subtle nip between his front teeth igniting the heated warmth, oozing between my own frustrations, and - although I had, for arguments unbeknownst to myself, never before used my tongue in a passionate manner - I found my lips parting subconsciously, and welcoming the sloppy warmth of an entity my dreams could hardly fathom such experience of. 

A gentle invasion, something utterly welcome and wondrous; his tongue ran along the edge of my own, myself mimicking the soft touch with slight hesitance. His thumb caressed the complexion of my cheek once more, lightly gripping upon the side of my face and tilting it such, himself adjusting to furtherly explore the depth of my intertwined lips. I were surely rendered breathless, a slight ache beginning to accumulate within the pit of my lungs - I hardly knew how to breathe through such intimacy. Charlie sighed something gentle, the puff of air to tickle my upper lip, and it seemed the recollection of my nose fluttered on back to me, as I gulped a large inhale through the deprived nostrils, a subtle blush encasing my cheeks, flourished with the tinge of thickening embarrassment. That was a bit fucking stupid, I scolded, shamed by my bitter inexperience. 

I wondered if I were... Well, if I were any good, to put it simply. Never before had I truly made out with a boy, and every time they tried, it seemed to - somehow, somewhere - go wrong. Of course, I had shared subtle kisses with pretty boys, and my virginity was long gone - many moons ago, was it taken, by a man unbelievably unworthy of the title - but it was never anything emotional. Nothing riddled with mutual feelings, and adoration spilling from every passing moment. It was different - Charlie was different. 

And as my grip slithered upon the roots of his hair, planted along his lower cranium, and entangled with a gentle tug, I understood that perhaps he thought I was different, too. For the sound he made was heavenly, as the groan slipped between his lips, and vibrated upon my tongue, and oh, did I crave to hear it again. His smile was a radiance of arrogant pleasure, tattered against my lips, as his teeth nibbled something tender upon my swollen flesh, and, Heavens, how the shuddered sigh mortified me. I had little time to control myself, as his grip tightened upon the base of my neck, and the other hand slunk itself upon my clothing, wriggling the base of my shirt, and planting a firm grip upon my bare waist. 

I wondered, merely a moment of passing thought, whether my skin were as smooth as his own, or that of the other girls he had bedded, before myself. At least, I assumed such a happening would unfold within the shared company, as my lips began to shimmer a light sting, something barbarically pleasing. Another nibble ran upon my lower lip, a slightly harsher endeavor, as a sharp flourish of pain cursed through my mouth, eloping the pleasurable chafe in a reactive heat. My fist clenched, tightly engaged, within the roots of those chocolate, brown, locks, yet another groan to interrupt the blurry silence, and a sudden flavor - something unusual, unknown - infiltrated the bliss, and... Metallic? I frowned subtly, decidedly unknowing as to just what it could be, and - Blood. 

Heavens, I was bleeding! I felt myself gasp something light, his smirk merely amplifying to such a bemusing reaction, and his tongue softly grazed the small wound with great humor, before slithering within the gaped part of my inflamed mouth. 

His hand squeezed, momentarily, upon the rear of my neck, it's warmth surely missed, as it trailed an affable motion along my back, and his digits curled upon the hem of my shirt. One subtle tug, and a second shortly followed, his permission permitted clearly, and his grip maneuvered such clothing from upon my heated frame, hands lightly brushing the shivered complexion of my bare sides, with deliberate teasing, as he went. The shirt was thrown somewhere unbeknownst to myself, the knitted jumper a deduced accomplice,  and I simply hoped it wouldn't land upon Richards bed - that kind of commentary I would surely never live down - as my hands slithered their way beneath his own clothing, resting upon the warm complexion of his softly animated chest, rising and deflating rhythmically beneath my grip.

A supple grasp of his warm touch, cupping upon the thinly laced fabric of my forgettable bra, found delightful swarms of shivers, crawling with great animation, to scuttle upon my spine. The gentle arc of my back, a soft pressure of my chest upon his own, allowed our mingled affection to deepen, be it only slight, as his tongue slithered endearingly alongside mine. Once more, I hoped that my actions were at least satisfactory, as the persistence of the surprisingly wondrous invasion, sultry within my mouth, peppered on. His breath was short, gentle, yet utterly irrational, a certain tinge of warmth to radiate from the subtlety of his glamorously expensive cologne. 

And, despite my growing adoration for the way in which our bodies found a perfect kind of mold, so effortlessly, the tender reminder that Charlie was still... Well, he was still bothersome in clothing, his attire entirely intact, as he lay responsive below my trembling self, found a certain nerve within the depth of my hidden anxieties. Perhaps I had read too far into such a night, and it would not quite end the way I had hoped - perhaps he was simply going along with everything through courtesy. He was a rather gentlemanly man, I could agree. I found a timid blush crawling the complexion of my expression - oh, how foolish I felt! My mind rendered itself bitterly clouded - maybe my crowing insecurities would, in fact, not wait - and my hesitant touch seemed to lightly drift, no longer positioned upon the warmth of his beautiful skin. He didn't even want this, I was almost certain. After all, it was me lying flat upon his frame - not him. I had control - idiotically so - and therefore, he did not want me. Not in that way, at least. 

The distance forced itself between such entanglement far before I found a moment to conceal the concerns, myself positioned to a particularly uncomfortable straddle, perched lightly upon his pelvis with my hands palmed upon his erratically pulsating chest. His eyebrows furrowed ever-so-slightly, toppled with a mantra of concern, lips bruised an almost impressive tinge of inflamed scarlet. "What's wrong?" He muttered, albeit breathless and slightly dumbfounded. His darkened gaze pinned me silent, a flicker of uncomfortability to reside within my mind. I could hardly see just why he would want me, in any kind of way, never mind the sexual kind. 

I glanced to my hands, toying subtly with the fabric of his clothing, and my stomach spiked with some kind of nervous gip. Fucking hell, I scolded, what is wrong with you?  His digits encased my own, plush lips a delicacy upon the soft complexion, as he traced my palm with a gentle touch, and peppered affection among my knuckles. "Y/N..." He sighed, a sudden softness about his expression. My eyes danced reluctantly, cautious and riddled with my cock-blocking, frustrating, anxieties, and met his gaze with a shy tinge. "What's with the nerves, all of a sudden?" A lovable flutter of laughter slipped his throat, engulfing his expression in that wide grin I found myself adoring so deeply, and another blush drooped upon my smile, small and timid in itself. 

"Sorry." I mumbled, somewhat awkwardly, as I lightly shifted my positioning. 

A slight hiss escaped the gape of his reddened lips, "Oh, God," He said, "please - God, fuck - don't do that." He groaned, a strong grip and swift maneuvering moment of furrowed expression and concerning grumbles to follow, and I discovered a position of swandled helplessness, upon my back, himself a display of further dominance, as he hung above my confused person. A slither of arrogance spilled within his smirk, particularly delighted with the shift in positioning. 

Perhaps he did want me, after all, I dared to ponder. Heavens - he surely looked Godly, struck above, a slight strain to his muscles, and a shimmer of reddened blush to coax his complexion. Two digits maneuvered upon my cheek, another pinch smitten within his expression, and he stroked my features, as he said: “We don’t have to do it, you know.” And he smiled something gentle, reassuring. 

I found myself silly with a grin, shaking my head subtly. “No,” I said, “No, I want to.” I brushed away the fringe of fallen hair, tucking it away from his forehead. Truly the most beautiful boy I had ever known. “I want to, I just-” I paused, sighed, “I want to make sure you do, as well.” I said, quieter, with a furrow to my brows. 

That similarly contagious smile only seemed to brighten, the breath of a laugh a whisper to the quiet. “Me?” He somewhat scoffed, “Sweetheart, tonight is about you.” 

Contorted with a sense of confusion, I said, “Are you sure?” And wrapped his warm expression within the palms of my hands. “I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do, Charlie.” I said. 

His grin something soft, he shook his head. “Dammit, Y/N, the name is Nuwanda.” He said, with not a moment's hesitation. His lips found mine own once more, eloped within that same enigma of beautiful, gratifying, expression. And, oh, if this were the love I had read about, that I had heard the stories of, perhaps I could dare to allow myself to fall. 

Mouth a hot trail, lingering with a sloppy kind of warmth, trickled - like honey, sweet, addictive - upon the flush of my complexion, gently peppered along my neck, a rough trail to the crane of my breast, parting through the middle, and a pause at my stomach. The tips of his fingers wound little circles within my pale flesh, a tickle embraced delightfully, and I found myself flustered and warm - dampening, perhaps, in an area more than one. 

The gentle, almost trembling, I cared to notice, graze of his fingertips, caressing the sensitivity of the skin most unscathed, perched above the button of my waistband, found a fluttered breath to fall from my tongue. A sigh, one could admit. And, as he maneuvered such digits to undo the subtle mechanisms of the button, and of the zipper, I found my gaze interlocking with his own, a dirty kind of smile to pepper his expression. 

“Wait-” I breathed, a little sultry - too sultry for my liking, though his grin only widened upon such a shaky tone. 

“Yes, Dear?” He said, a grip to my waist - something squeezed, something utterly distracting - and crawled his way to hover above me, our gazes interlocked and level. A sharp inhale found my throat, and I paused, albeit disorientated, and that intense expression of his dimmed somewhat. I found myself blushing, flustered idiotically, and I tugged upon the lower creases of his shirt. He glanced down, a breathy laugh to follow. 

He sat back slightly, resting mostly upon his legs, straddled either side of myself, as I lie, watching - no doubt looking a mess, with disgruntled hair, and half a naked body - and he began to unbutton the cotton of his creased, white, shirt. 

Pasty, toned - oh, I were surely thankful to Nolan for such persistent rowing training - and utterly divine. The shirt found the floor, and I subconsciously began trailing patterns, gently, upon the muscled complexion of his abdominal region. His smile was infectious, dazed, as though swarmed with consuming bliss, and his slow descent was something teasing, patient. 

I leaned up, unable to pause myself, and caught his lips with my own, furtherly passionate than previously seemed - harsher, dripping with an uncanny tinge of desperation. He slipped his way back down, continual pressures of feathered kisses, slobbered messily upon the heated skin of my neck, my breast, and the lower fraction of my stomach. My hands wove between the gloriously soft strands of his hair, clenching upon the roots with a great anticipation. I surely wanted him - needed him. 

Picking off from where he had found himself interrupted, Charlie made a point to daringly drag the material from upon my limbs - slow, deliberate - and peel them unto the floor. That smile - that damned smile - bled me something mushy, utterly submissive to every which occurrence seemed to take place henceforth. His mouth, hot, entirely entrancing - dreamy, perhaps - pressed, a ragged breath to accompany, upon the flesh of my thigh, trailing up, further, further, until they grazed the cloth of my lacy waistband. 

Naturally - with somewhat an embarrassing notion - my hips seemed to rise, to buck up, and follow his retreating mouth. The gaze in which he dared to share, - oh - it ached me. My stomach pooling - almost, as it seemed, distributing elsewhere, in a mantra of pleasure, and of need.  And the sound that escaped the gape of my mouth were something utterly mortifying.

He breathed a gentle chuckle, crawling up once more, his thumbs brushing lightly upon the fabricated hip, and allowed his forehead to rest upon my cheek, a deep breath - in, and out, in, and out - with a number of peppered affection to burn the complexion of my jaw. My grip remained, gentler, within the roots of his hair, rummaging among such luscious locks, and his breathing feathered, wavering with a soft tremble. 

Charlie snuffed his way, knocking my nose with his own, and smiled something tender, a to lock our gaze. “I love you.” He mumbled, the gentle ghost of a kiss to slither upon my lips. 

I hardly awaited a moment’s hesitation, “I love you,” I said, and I surely meant it. 

There was a moment of shuffling, himself withdrawing the belt - a clink, and a burning fire between the ache of my thighs - and the rustle of descending cloth. Our lips a tangle of blissful abundance, daydreams, passion, all that seemed so wonderful - all that life seemed to be understood for - wrapped within such a sweetened, musky scent. And then, as he parted my legs, something gentle, and particularly kind, and the lace of my dampened panties were discarded to the side, I found, for a heightened moment, I understood the root of all poetry. 

For the breeze was nippy, but he was a kind of warmth - a slow, graceful, entrance. He shuddered a breath, his member fulfilling the absence of a warm embrace, and I found myself a wholly consumed fool. “Charlie,” I breathed, a gentle tug to his hair. He groaned something heavenly, vibrating among the thickening air - sticky, almost, with such a sweet sensation, and then he began to move. 

Gradual, as he dug further, a greatly whole sensation washing over my pleasured shudder, until he paused, entirely consumed by his depth. Breathing deepened, ravenously implored by my tender whimpers, he captured my moans in a grunt of his own, “Shhh,” he muttered, a strained kind of speech. “You’ve got to be quiet.” He muttered, a whisper of a breath upon my lips. 

He retracted, slow, daring, from within me, movement slick and utterly dangerous. “We don’t-” A muffled groan fell from his lips, pausing with a noticeable withdrawal, his smirk something bitterly infused with desperation, with longing. “We don’t wanna get caught, do we?” 

I shook my head, far too engrossed within the bask of delight and satisfaction to pay my embarrassment any kind of interest. “No,” I breathed, my hips rising once more and grazing the moisture of his hardened self. A subtle moan escaped the rumble of his throat, a bastardly smile embracing his daring expression, lips crashing to connect with my own once more. 

His digits encased my own, hardly noticed and utterly trusted, and he withheld such grip above my head, smitten upon the pillows, and the headrest, and he entered me once more. I found a muffled moan escaping my throat, digested with the greedy tongue of his own, as he withdrew his frame, and began to find a kind of rhythm. He ground something gentle into  me, a tender type of jive, and allowed the rhythm something slow, something gradual. It were a mere mumble upon the flush of my lips, though I smiled nonetheless, as he said - breathed -: “Is this-” A pause, a shuddered inhale, “Is this alright?” 

I nodded, unable - quite - to express such simplicity in any which way. “Perfect,” I muttered, allowing my head to fall comfortably, resting with my gaze locked upon the ceiling.

Ragged breaths, furtherly accompanied by the feathering pepper of his sprinkled kisses, planted sparsely along my jaw; an embodiment of all the wonders, every kind of lyric, every stanza, every momentary pleasure; the warmth of a gradually increasing rhythm, so comfortingly blissful, my lower stomach contracting with a pleasurably unfamiliar sense of tightness; that musky scent, so beautifully him, so perfectly raw. 

He found a lightly harsher stroke, breath an uneven hymn, a prayer the angels seemed to cry, and I found my moan something - soberly - mortifying, drunk with a combustion of thickening lust, of adoration, of love. He heaved a breath, somewhat a laugh, and tilted my chin to level our gaze, his lips capturing my whimpers in a silencing kind of manner. He reached to my hips, their slow slipping of something unsatisfactory to his heavy grip, and he tugged me down upon his thrusts. A cry - a moan - slipped between our mingled breaths, and he seemed to pick up such speed, delicately embracing my complexion in a gentle manner, a loveable motion, and pulling me into his stroke.

A knot, something unfamiliar with the burden of time, tightened somewhere deeply, warmth emitting between the slick moisture between my thighs, and igniting a rich kind of fire within the enigma of my lower stomach, and Oh- 

A moan slipped the gape of my lips, his member discovering a kind of depth I had hardly realized accessible, and I- “Charlie,” I breathed, a pathetic taunt within the front of my conscience. His groan was something reciprocal, strokes strong, deepening, and undoubtedly a kind of heavenly descent. 

He muttered my name, a breath I found myself entirely enthralled by, and found his rhythm to a slower pace, retracting gradually and entering - deeper, oh, far deeper - with a furtherly slow invitation. A shuddered, heightened, moan slipped the grasp of my throat, coarser and far more depthful, and that knot - Heavens, that damn knot - tightened; it tightened and it squeezed, and it ached the course of my thighs. “Charlie-” I whispered, almost certain for the fiery warmth, engulfing the towering pull among my abdomen. 

He nodded, a breath to trickle his expression, “Yeah,” He said, “Yeah, me too.” 

The knot rose, a consuming tug among my dizzying conscience, and it lulled my limbs into a distracted, sedated, kind of manner, blissfully encased with a pleasure enamoured. Another moan found my throat, and his rhythm remained something increasingly shaky, strong and utterly defying. 

His breath fell to something unstable, gradually embracing an elated sense of ragged unevenness, as he captured our lips once more. A series of whimpers found the depth of my throat, my attempt to bite them back insufficient to his rhythmic thrusts, member far deeper than it seemed I could reach, myself. “Charlie,” I mumbled, almost finding myself warning as to the upcoming occurrence, himself smirking thickly against the gasp of my lips. 

“Go ahead, Baby,” he shuddered, “I’ve got you.” And then, I found myself unable to hold on any longer. 

A tremble of muffled cries - once, twice, copious times again, until my throat lay wretched with not a sound but the mere whimpers of pleasure. The knot, it combusted in a matter of electrical warmth, flushing through the gape of my parted, shuddering, legs. “Charlie,” I cried, like a song upon the dry whimper of my throat, “Charlie, Charlie,” until his name seemed nothing more than a word upon my tongue. Such a wave, engulfing me in a sensational kind of suffocation, an infectious kind of entrapment. I ached, another moan to fall from my lightly gasped mouth, and I found the knot, the gentle tug, no longer there - diminishing, one may say. 

I had hardly noticed the withdrawal of his softening member, stomach glistened with the tone of his undoing, his breaths ragged - deepened - though upon meeting his glance with that of my own, I understood that this - this man whom I loved, whom I adored - were someone I could most certainly Carpe Diem with every goddamn day. He smiled, something tender, something soft, and draped his lips upon my own, a sweet, kind, peck. 

“I love you,” He muttered upon the swollen flesh. 

A smile, “I love you,” I said. 

There was a moment of nothingness, filled by the still of ragged breathing, and his tone came teasing, came blissfully characteristic. “I’ll never hear my name fall from your lips innocently again.” He said, the light trickle of laughter to drabble by. “But, oh,” He closed his eyes, head tilted dramatically, “Oh, it was the sweetest song I ever heard.” I rang with a short giggle, a roll to my eyes, and muttered a gentle curse for his mortifying dictation. 

“Fuck you, Dalton.” I mumbled. 

His lips caught mine, once more, with a sloppy sense of warmth, and he said: “I’m afraid you already have, Dear.” With a wink and a poke to my naked side. 

His withdrawal were something quick, a suddenly cold departure, as he picked up the discarded shirt from upon the floor. He pinched his expression, a conflicting frown, and I maneuvered to rest upon my forearms, a furrow to my brows. “What are you doing?” I asked, a dopey smile unnoticed yet utterly welcome. 

He breathed a laugh, “I’m not sure if this is my last shirt.” He mumbled, scratching the base of his neck with another little chuckle. I let out a short snort, shaking my head, and spoke teasingly, unable to help the way it fell from my tongue. 

“To say I’m surprised would simply be a lie. Grab mine.” I said, motioning to the entanglement of woolen jumper and cheap t-shirt. 

He passed such fabric to myself, and I made an effort to scrape the slick moisture, puddled upon my stomach, a slight sigh to escape my mouth. The click of a lighter, and the rustle of an almost empty cigarette carton caught my attention, gaze drifting to watch as Charlie inhaled a deep breath, the chemicals of the darkened smoke disrupturing to his toughened throat, hands fondling the clasp of his belt. 

I found my underwear, sliding into the small item of clothing, rising to a standing position as I did so, and the cigarette fell between my lips, a wink to follow his retreat. 

“Let’s make some snow angels.” He said, a glimmer of something bright to sprinkle within his gaze. The laugh coughed from my chest, deep and humorous - oh, how I loved him. “Hey,” he scoffed, taking back the cigarette and handing me his woolen jumper, “I’m serious!” An inhale, a smirk, and a darkened gaze, watching with great intent as I wrapped my frame within the loose fabric of his favourite jumper. 

I smiled, “Of course we can, Charlie.” I said, unable to stop the slip of the giggle that found its way out. He grinned, a final toke of the cigarette, before stubbing it out upon the bedpost, tossing the end through the window he slid open, and basked within the cool breeze for a moment or two. 

Scoping my pants, I threw the material upon my legs, doing up the mechanisms, and simply watching his relaxed frame, gazing through the gape of the window. A pale complexion, littered with small, yet noticeable, moles, and bodily freckles. Athletically lean, though not particularly tall, and ridden with just enough muscle - wondrously divine architecture, I could dare to admit. 

“Come on,” He grinned, whipping around and wriggling his eyebrows something childish. Another snicker escaped me, though I placed on my shoes, and I tugged on my jacket nonetheless, awaiting his restless dressing. He threw on the shirt, hardly bothering to button the majority of the buttons, and his shoes, tying them scruffily in a manner I were sure would simply undo in a moment’s notice, his hand encasing my own in a youthful taste of blissful excitement, dragging me to the door as he collected his coat, and found his way into the hallway. 

Desolate, empty - entirely surprising. 

In truth, I had expected a kind of congregation to fall through the entrance as Charlie swung open the door, and yet, not but a whispered sound was to be heard. Admittedly, such a discovery were something welcomed and serene - I doubted I would ever live down such humiliation. It occured to me, as I glanced upon the solitude of the hallway, that Knox had not returned, either. Perhaps he had heard the… the happenings, from behind the door, and decided simply to take a hint. I adored that boy, his heart of gold, I thought, a gentle graze of a smile upon my lips. 

Charlie barreled into the limbs of the woolen coat, buttoning only a few of the gloriously expensive pegs, as he interlinked our pinkies - much the same as he had always done - and dragged me through the hall. 

“Charlie-” I attempted to whisper, anxious as to his dismay of cautious rationality, though instead of a useful kind of attention, I found his lips crashed upon my own. Against my better judgement, I melted within the warmth, a sigh to exit my mouth, and allowed his silencer to work its wonder. He pulled away, a wink and a peck to my nose, and continued with his fast paced march. 

I followed, helpless, and slightly anticipated, riddled with nerves, as we hurriedly descended the stairs, our light feet echoing gently among the silence around, and we entered the main entrance-way. The trophy case, lined with achievements, with pictures of men no one truly knew, nor particularly cared for, passed us by in a whir of rushed blur. A subtle laugh fell from my tongue as Charlie broke out in an increasingly paced run. 

He took off, dragging myself along merely a few steps behind, with an incredibly fast kind of speed, unable to halt the laugh that stifled passed his lips. The wind were of something bitterly cold, whipping our laughter from the left, to the right, though such a stinging sensation of sour change did little to defy the warmth within my blood, my chest. 

And then, myself undoubtedly following behind, he seemed to tumble. The groan of the thud, where his frame collapsed to the ground, ached within the air, his grip unwavering upon that of myself, as I, too, clattered within the snow. Upon my layers, and the soft of the whitened blanket, I felt little to nothing, as I lay, a little dizzy, with a loud laugh to accompany Charlie’s own. 

“Shit,” he chuckled, “You alright?” 

My laughter rang loud, free, and it should seem that everything felt better with Charlie at my side. “Perfect.” I smiled, albeit winded from such a clatter of clouded descent. Somewhere within the beat of silenced laughter, air thick - sweet - with an indescribable sense of contentment, Charlie had shuffled to embrace my frame in a hold, an arm around my shoulders, as he toyed with the ends of my hair. We stared to the pattern of gentle snow, cascading so beautifully - tender, soft - upon our stoic position, a natural entrancement, as the dark hue of the sky loomed above. The moon, hardly peeking behind the thick array of winter clouding, seemed to smile - to sigh, with a great sense of complacency. It seemed to twinkle with a kind of reserved joy, saved just for us - just for us, and our blooming love. 

“O’ me, o’ life,” Charlie muttered, “of the questions of these recurring.” He paused, as though contemplating his words, and spoke gently, “Carpe diem.” He said, with a smile upon his face. “You know what it means?” 

I raised an eyebrow, almost lost within the perpetual tranquility that was the nigh. “No.” I said, and I basked in his warmth. 

“Seize the day.” He said; “Seize the day, boys, make your lives extraordinary.” The gentle mumble of his tone were almost lost within the vast quiet, though I caught it all the same. “Captain - Mr K -” He said, “He’s crazy.”

I found myself smiling, “You like him, though.” I said. 

He grinned, “He makes it difficult not to.” He said. “Seize the day - Carpe diem - O’ Captain, my Captain - I mean, who teaches the idea of free thought? Of freedom? Passion? He’s crazy.”

“He sounds wonderful.” I said. And to which I had not lied. “What was the first bit?” I asked, “The ‘Oh me, oh life,’ one.” 

“The question, O’ me! So sad, recurring - What good amid these, O’ me, O’ life?” He recited, the bite of a classically brightening smile to his tone. “The answer? That you are here - that life exists and identity. That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.” 

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. 

“Puts things into perspective.” I mumbled, awashed beneath Charlie’s gorgeously muttered recital, and the prospect of the pattering snowflakes. “That we, as humans, mean nothing. What may affect us today, has no say on tomorrow.” I said. I hardly knew the words as they fell from my lips, though I allowed them nonetheless. “And no matter how greatly we fear the inevitable, life will throw us away and be done with us, when our time comes around.” 

There was a gentle pause, softly laboured breaths, and he said: “Yeah.” With a light, breathy, chuckle. “We’ll all die, someday.” He said. “And that’s alright. Seize the day while you can, live and don’t just exist, and things will be alright.” 

I smiled, and said: “Yeah.” With not a word more. 

A moment, perhaps a few, of silence graced us by, mingled in comfortability and unspoken adoration, and I marvelled in the way his breathing deepened, tinged with an entanglement of a rough-nights-sleep. He was tired - exhausted - and I certainly hadn’t helped - of such, I was certain. 

“Charlie,” I muttered, adoring the softly responsive hum to fall from his breath. “Char, it’s getting real late.” I mentioned, a gentle stroke to his knuckles, as they dwindled within the ends of my locks. Another hum followed, and light shuffling was to be heard. 

“Can you get home alright?” He mumbled, thick, with a sense of tiredness. 

“Yeah.” I nodded, truly feeling the absence of warmth, as he shuffled to displace his entanglement next to myself. I frowned slightly, glancing to face the boy.

His eyes had found a restful close, timid with a tender smirk, and his limbs began to brush - up, and down, up and down - once, twice, three times more, with a deepening indent upon the snow. A smile drooped upon my features, and I allowed my frame to excerpt the similar movement, ridden with a light shiver as the material at my legs found something damp, seeping slightly. 

“You have to go?” He whispered, a gentle frown upon such expression. 

I smiled; how beautiful he was. “Yes, Charlie.” I said, “You’ll be expelled if we’re caught.” 

A quiet sigh vibrated through the air, and I knew of his compliance. He sat up, glancing to myself with a smile of utter tenderness. “I suppose I’d best let you go, then.” He said. I grinned, and he continued. “I’ll watch you leave, though. Not risking some creep snatching you up in the bushes, alright?” 

I laughed something gentle, “Okay, Char.” I said, and we rose to our feet. 

His digits were cold, numbingly cold, and a furious pink, as he lay his palms upon my face, and drew me a little closer, our noses to brush upon each other’s. “I love you, y’know.” He said, and I found myself smiling with a roll of the eyes. 

“Yes,” I said, “I know. And I love you, too.” 

His grin was radiant, peppered with the scarlet hue of all things wondrously cold. “Good.” He said, a subtly trailed glance to the subtle indents of our motioned frames, trailed within the soft blanket of snow. “We make good Angels, huh?” He smiled. 

A laugh rumbled through me, “Yeah,” I said, resting my forehead upon the cold complexion of his flushed cheek. “We make wonderful Angels.” 

“Angels of the night.” He mused, turning back to face me. I merely smiled, engulfed in the way the shadows loomed across his expression, lowering with a light glimmer of something morose. “Take a cab, please.” He sighed, “And be safe.” He fluttered a tender peck upon the very tip of my nose, before capturing my lips in the swoon of a honey dripped kiss. It lasted hardly a moment, for we were numb with the cold, and bitterly exhausted. He laughed, pulled away, and said: “Sorry.” 

I smiled, “No.” I mumbled, “Don’t be.” 

“Okay.” He said, thumb brushing lightly upon the flushed complexion of my cheekbone. “I’ll see you later, then?” 

“Of course.” I said, a curtly peppered peck to his coldly chapped lips, before smiling something warm, and beginning mine own retreat. 

Footsteps echoing among the plush of the winter snow, sinking with every passing stride, I found my grin something silly - something foolishly reciprocant for my adoration. And, upon glancing behind me slightly, approaching the hardly open gate, I noticed the swarm of familiar faces, each bounding over to a stoic Charlie, perched with his hands in his pockets, and a lovesick smile upon his face. They crowded him around, yelling and cheering things incoherent, and yet, still, he smiled on, merely widening with the attention of their supportive company. 

A laugh rippled through me, and I waved something curt, receiving a soft repeat from the Lover-Boy himself, and a particularly exaggerated, full-arm, wave from Knox, as he bellowed a loud; “YAWP!” And tackled Charlie in a boyish embrace.

Idiots, I thought, though I’d have it no other way. 

[elliesguitarstrings]

Here For You

Masterlist

Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Peter comforts you after you reveal your struggles with depression to him.

A/N: Sorry it’s taking me so long to write part 3 of Silence but I promise it will be out soon. I’ve just had a rough couple of days so I wanted to write something that kinda reflects my feelings atm. I know that a lot of people are feeling the same way as I have been, so I’m just putting it out there that I am always open to talk if anyone needs help :)

Warnings: fluff, mentions of depression and suicide, language

~~~~~~~~

You let out a long sigh as you close your computer after the last class of the day. You’re exhausted, you have a pounding headache, and you don’t have a single shred of motivation.

When all of this COVID stuff first started, you didn’t mind doing school from home. To be completely honest, you actually loved it. You didn’t have to talk to all the annoying people in your classes, you could do a large portion of work on your own time, and you had an excuse to stay in your room all day. What’s not to love, right?

Wrong.

After a few weeks, you started to see how terrible it all was. You had to teach yourself everything because your teachers had no clue what they were doing (and they still don’t). You started to get distracted easily. And the worst part: every single fucking day was the same.

You lost all motivation to do anything.

You’re smart, one of the smartest in your class, actually, but your grades were dropping rapidly. You lost track of assignments, turning them in so late you didn’t even get half credit. You procrastinated like crazy, dreading every single day. You stayed up late every night, trying to finish assignments and get back on track. But nothing was working.

You want to change so badly. You want to be one of those girls who keeps a bullet journal with fancy colors and letters, who plans out their entire day with a checklist, who stays on top of their work, and who actually has the motivation to get up out of bed each morning. But you can’t and you aren’t, and you don’t know why.

Plus, right now you were on your period, which was not helping things. At all. You hate feeding the stereotype of girls being all emotional and unstable during their periods, but it’s true. Well, for you at least. When you’re happy, it’s like you’re bouncing off the walls. But when you’re sad, it’s like you’ve fallen into a 300 ft deep hole and you’ll never get out.

You crawl into bed and start sobbing, the only thing you can do right now. You just want it to be over. All of it.

Suddenly, you hear a knock at your window. Your shades are drawn, but you know exactly who it is. It’s Peter. He goes patrolling around the city after school, but he always comes to check on you first, seeing as you’re his girlfriend and all.

You know that if he sees you crying, he’ll want to help you, but the last thing you want is to be a burden on him. Plus, you only started dating a few months ago, and you didn’t want to drive him away by getting all emotional around him.

“Just a sec Pete, I’ll be right there.”

You run to the bathroom and splash some cold water on your face, trying to get rid of the redness and puffiness in your eyes. You pat your face dry with a towel, put on the best smile you can muster, and run back to your room.

You draw back the curtains and open the window, allowing Peter to slip into your room.

“Sorry it took so long for me to get to the window, I um, just woke up from a nap,” you apologize, shutting the window back while he takes off his mask.

“Don’t worry about it! But didn’t school end like 10 minutes ago? How did you fall asleep so fast?”

“Oh, um, my last class got dismissed early, so I was actually done like 30 minutes ago,” you lied, hoping he doesn’t notice.

“Oh, okay, well I’m glad you got some rest. You need it.”

Smiling, Peter stretches his arms out towards you and pulls you into a tight hug, kissing your forehead.

Just that small amount of affection is almost enough to make you burst out into tears again, but somehow you manage to hold it in.

Until Peter pulls back, looks you dead in the eyes and says, “What’s wrong?”

“What? N-nothing’s wrong Peter, I’m perfectly fine.”

“No, you aren’t. I can sense something’s wrong, so just tell me.”

“Peter I swear. Nothing’s wrong! I’m fine!” your voice is shaking.

Peter folds your hands into his, “Y/N, please. I know something’s up. Just tell me.”

That’s when you lose it. You fall back into his arms, sobbing even harder than before. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. But there’s no stopping it now.

Peter holds you tight while you cry, letting you bury your head into his chest. He doesn’t ask any questions just yet, he just holds you.

After a few minutes, the tears let up enough for you to pull away, looking at Peter with red, swollen eyes.

“I’m sorry Pete, I’m so so sorry. I- I didn’t mean for that to happen,” you stutter between sobs.

“Y/N, no, no, it’s okay. You can let it out.”

His voice is soft and comforting, and it does actually help you a little bit. He pulls you into another tight hug, repeatedly kissing the top of your head while you continue to cry.

“Come here, lets sit down, okay?” he pulls away slightly.

You nod weakly, and he guides you onto your bed. You both sit down, facing each other, and he takes a hold of your hands.

“Peter I’m sorry, I don’t want to be a burden, you should go do your patrolling, I don’t want to hold you up – “ you start, but Peter cuts you off.

“No, you don’t need to be sorry. And forget about my patrolling. I’m staying here until you’re better, however long that is.”

You smile weakly, to tired to even fight on it.

“Do you want to talk about it? Only if you’re comfortable though, you really don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Peter questions.

You look at Peter for a moment through teary eyes. He was here for you, ready to listen to you and help you. You were hesitant, not wanting to spill all of your feelings out on him, but you’ve already gotten this far, so why not.

“Yeah, sure, but can we cuddle?”

“Of course baby, whatever makes you comfortable. But let me change first, I’m drenched in your tears,”

You chuckle lightly. Peter always knows how to make you laugh.

He changes into a sweatshirt and sweatpants that he left at your house and climbs back into bed with you. He pulls you close to him, and you snuggle into his arms.

“So, talk to me, what’s wrong?” he asks softly.

“Are you sure you want to hear my problems? I really don’t want to be a burden Pete,” you respond, still crying.

“Baby, I’m here for you. I want to help you and make you feel better. That’s what I’m here for.”

He really is the best boyfriend anyone could ask for.

“Well, um, okay. It’s just, I don’t have any motivation to do anything. Not even to wake up in the morning. Even just the simplest tasks seem so difficult, and I feel like I can’t do this anymore Pete. I just can’t do it.”

You start to sob once again, and Peter pulls you into him even closer. He lets you cry and slowly calm down for a few moments before responding.

“Shit, I’m sorry Y/N. I’m so so sorry. I had no idea you felt like that. I mean, I knew school was bothering you, but not to that extent. But please, please please don’t leave me. You mean so much to me and I don’t know what I would do if I lost you,” now he’s starting to cry.

You lay there, Peter’s arms wrapped around you, holding you as close as humanly possible to him, both crying your eyes out.

“Y/N, I’m going to help you. I’m going to do everything I can to help you. Because losing you isn’t an option. So tell me what I can do to help.”

“Thank you so much Pete. You being here Is honestly the best thing you can do right now.”

You snuggle into him, engulfed by his warmth and comfort.

After a long silence, you look at him and smile, genuinely this time, “You know, even though I’ve been sobbing nonstop basically since you got here, just being with you has already made me feel better than I have all week.”

Peter looks back at you and cups your cheek, pulling you in and kissing you softly. Although the two of you had kissed many times before, this one was different. This was pure love.

You pull away, “Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Of course baby. I’m here for you always. No matter what.”

You both smile, going back in for another kiss, much like the last.

This time Peter pulls away forehead still resting against yours, “Y/N, promise me you’ll never leave me.”

“I promise Pete, I promise.”

You snuggle back into his chest, your tears finally diminishing. Although the past few months had been absolute shit for you, Peter had always been there. And you know he always will be. He makes everything better, and you couldn’t be happier to have him in your life.

The both of you start to doze off to sleep, tired from all the crying you had been doing for the past, well, however long it’s been.

Before you fully fall asleep, you whisper, “I love you Peter.”

“I love you too, so much” he whispers back.

And in that moment, you are truly happy.

~~~~~~~~

Taglist (if you want to be added, removed, or changed on this taglist please comment or send in an ask!)

All: @pxkajesus @hollanddolanfangirl @roseke @agentsofparker @lifeasjazzz @damnrancidchicken @loopyolivia @iwannabekilledtwice @rafehogwarts @non-eexistent @rosiexx8 @nearlydanger9 @realityisabitch07 @midgardassassins @jbreenr @cap-marvxl @ellesmythe @depeestcolorgiantopera @that-one-person @clandestine-nerd @nevertrustapanda16 @ohabbyoh @rxmanxff @bubbleskz @quinn-spn58 @baby-pogue @strangebouquetqueen

Peter Parker: @blizzardbabe 

[arcturusreads]

Hi i dont know if your still accepting prompts but I didn’t want to forget the idea lol no pressure though take your time with this one: Hayes bringing Meredith to Ireland to meet his family and to spend time together just the two of them

Tell Ma I'm Coming Home - Merhayes

I've been shockingly bad at writing lately so I'm sorry that this took so long but I hope this is okay x

“You know, it’s a well-known fact that I don’t do very well when it comes to meeting parents.”

After a 13-hour flight that included a stopover, Cormac had yet to persuade Meredith that his family were going to love her. He’d spoken to both his parents in length about Meredith, mainly due to his Ma’s probing. Initially, they had both just been grateful that Cormac had been willing to open up his heart again. There was never a concern as to how he would handle becoming a single father to two teenage boys. The worry had laid in the thoughts that their only son wouldn’t find someone to share his life with. That his grief over losing Abigail would be all-consuming, not allowing him to understand that he could be happy again.

So, when Cormac had finally told them that he was seeing someone, neither of them could care less who it was at first. Their excitement was purely because their son had eventually understood that finding love again didn’t mean that his love for Abigail would ever diminish and that he deserved to be happy. Over the past few months, they’d gotten to know more about the girl that Cormac had fallen for. She sounded headstrong, confident, stubborn. Everything that Cormac needed.

“Mer, I promise you that I’m not throwing you into the lion’s den. I wouldn’t ever do that to you. So, please trust me when I say that they already love you.”

The two of them were trundling up a stone strewn path. After getting a bus and a taxi from the airport, Cormac had told the taxi driver to drop them off in the middle of a small village, telling Meredith that the walk to his parent's house out on the fields was definitely worth it. After ten minutes she was yet to believe that. It might have been a bit better had they not been dragging their suitcases behind them. Cormac had offered multiple times to take hers but Meredith had stubbornly refused. She could carry her own bags.

When the house eventually came into sight Meredith stopped in her tracks. Her mouth dry. Realising she wasn’t following him anymore, Cormac turned around and walked back to his girlfriend. Placing a hand on her hack, he kissed her cheek.

“Come on, I promise you, my family are just as crazy as yours are.”

He gently pushed her forward with him, knowing that she wouldn’t be willing to move otherwise. It was odd for him to see Meredith like this. The woman that he had fallen in love with was so confident in her work, so headstrong in her life that it was peculiar to see her this anxious about something that he hadn’t thought was that big of a deal.

From outside the door, the pair could already hear booming laughter from inside. The sound of his father’s laughter made an unconscious smile appear on Cormac face. It didn’t matter how long he spent in America, this was always going to feel like home to him. One hand still on Meredith’s back, Cormac opened the door with the other ushering Meredith in first, who hesitantly walked in.

Cormac brought both the bags in, giving her a grin before yelling out, “Ma, Da! We’re here!”

A woman in her mid-30s came rushing out of the living room, her blonde hair falling out of a bun.

“Cormac!” She flung her arms around his neck, making him stagger back a little before he steadying himself and returned the hug,

“Trying to kill me, are ya, Niamh?”

She pulled away, slapping his arm. “Well, maybe if you visited more often then I wouldn’t find the need to.” She stuck her tongue out at him whilst Cormac just rolled his eyes.

Not entirely sure what to do or say, Meredith, stood off awkwardly to the side. She didn’t want to interrupt Cormac’s time with his family. He’d spoken in length to her about his sister Niamh. Whilst the age gap between them was quite large, he had always been close to his sister. Always let her tag along when he would be going to play football with his friends, would spend the entire weekend with her when she was able to convince their parents to let her visit him in uni.

Niamh nudged her brother, nodding over at Meredith so she could be introduced.

“You know you could just introduce yourself. I feel like you might just be old enough now.”

That earned him another punch in the arm. Winching, and rubbing the injury, Cormac decided not to risk any more teasing. “Niamh, this is my girl, Meredith. Meredith, this is my entirely annoying,” he flinched as Niamh went to punch him again, “but extremely talented, baby sister Niamh.”

Grinning Niamh pushed her brother out of the way and went to hug Meredith. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Eventually and awkwardly, Meredith hugged her back. This was definitely a warmer reception than she had had with Derek’s sisters.

“I thought he was going to hide you from us forever. You must be exhausted, come into the living room, Da’s already in there and Ma just ran out for some milk.”

Meredith found herself being dragged off to the living room and when she turned back to her boyfriend, she found him with a huge grin and knowing look on his face. He’d had no doubt that this was going to be the reception she got from his family.

Cormac hadn’t even managed to step foot into the living room before Niamh had begun introductions.

“Da, this is Cormac’s girlfriend, Meredith.”

“it’s a pleasure to meet you, Meredith.” Standing up from a worn-out armchair, Cormac’s father was dressed in a white shirt and a pair of grey trousers.

Meredith took his outstretched hand to shake, “Thank you for letting me stay here, Mr Hayes.”

He gave a hearty chuckle, shaking his head. “Oh, you don’t need to call me, Mr Hayes. Rory will do just fine. Come on, take a seat, Ava won’t be too long now.”

As Meredith took a seat next to Niamh on an empty sofa, Rory welcomed his son home. The two shared a long, tight hug. It was clear to see that Rory had missed having Cormac around. The space between visits had been far too long and Rory had left it up to his wife to badger their son to come and visit them but he had missed Cormac more than anyone. Watching the Six Nation hadn’t quite been the same since his son had left.

When the two of them had finally let go of each other Cormac gave a pointed look to Niamh, the same one he had given her when they were kids as he wanted her to move but she wasn’t six years old anymore and happy to listen to her brother.

“Oh, I don’t think so. You two have been dating for months which means that you’ve had her to yourself for months. So, I’m pretty sure you can survive not sitting next to Meredith while Da and I get to know her.”

Cormac looked over at Meredith, hoping that she might support him but instead his girlfriend just smirked at him. “You heard her. There are plenty of seats in this room.”

Shaking his head, Cormac took a seat on the other armchair in the room whilst his father laughed at him. Inside though, he was pleased that Meredith felt comfortable enough to not need him next to her, that she was happy to sit next to his sister. The next ten minutes were spent with Cormac mostly on the outskirts of the conversation as Rory, Niamh and Meredith all got to know each other. Meredith found herself quickly at ease with the pair much to her surprise. That ease soon faded away when she heard the voice of Ava Hayes as she entered the house. This had been the member of the Hayes’ family that Meredith had been most worried to meet.

Cormac had told Meredith of the close relationship that he had with his mother. She had always been his number one supporter: his toughest critic yet his biggest cheerleader. It was Ava whom Cormac had leant on for support when Abigail was first diagnosed, always at the end of the phone whenever he needed her. Whilst she hadn’t agreed with Cormac’s rash move to Switzerland, she had still gone to visit him and the boys after a few months to make sure that they were settled properly.

“Cormac!” A lady of around five feet bustled through the door in a floral white summer dress and coral cardigan, her brunette hair going white at the roots hung around her shoulders.

Cormac immediately got up from his seat and wrapped his mother in a hug. “Ma, I’ve missed you.” He kissed her cheek as they pulled away.

Ava smacked his arm making her son wince, “You wouldn’t have to miss me if you just came to visit more often.”

As he opened his mouth to reply, his mother quickly waved him off. “Don’t bother with the excuses. It’s Meredith that I’m more excited to see.”

“Thank, Ma.”

Ava ignored her son’s sarcastic drawl and turned to look at Meredith who’d gotten up from the sofa. Much like her daughter, Ava pulled Meredith into a hug.

“it’s so lovely to finally meet you, Meredith. Cormac won’t stop going on about you whenever he calls.”

Meredith gave a nervous smile, a slight blush crawling up her cheeks. “It’s nice to meet you too but I definitely wouldn’t believe everything he says about me.”

“Nonsense. You’re the woman who’s finally managed to put a smile on my son’s face again. I’ll forever be grateful to you because of that.” Ava’s eyes began to well up with tears.

Meredith took one of her hands and gave it a squeeze. “You raised an amazing man and he’s done a lot more for me than I have for him.”

Ava quickly wiped away the tears that had fallen. “Oh, don’t praise him too much, it’ll just go to his head.”

“Oh, trust me, there’s no risk of that.”

“It’s true, that’s probably the first compliment she’s given me in the past three months.”

Meredith just rolled her eyes at him in response, “There’s just not a lot to compliment and that’s not my fault.

Ava couldn’t help but chuckle at their interaction. She felt fully at peace now having met Meredith. She’d never doubted her son’s judgment but having finally met Meredith, Ava knew that her son was in good hands, and she couldn’t be happier. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t spoken to her son’s girlfriend for very long, Ava just had a good feeling about her. Not only that but she had seen the way that Meredith and Cormac kept glancing at each other, she could sense the lightness in her son’s stature that she feared had disappeared forever and the woman standing in front of her had been willing to take a 13-hour flight to meet her boyfriend’s family for the first time. If Cormac ever let go of Meredith, Ava was going to give him hell, but she was pretty sure that this was Cormac’s second chance love and she didn’t know anyone that deserved it more.

[jerepars]

Back again lol. Even though the writing just hasn’t been the best this season, I’m not really that mad about the way they’ve portrayed Jeresa. Just looking at this logically, I feel that they gave us 5x02 as our Jeresa episode early on and there really was a lot of sweet moments. Now, inevitably we had to have angst in between. But it’s been constantly cemented that James is in love with Teresa, and strongly implied that she loves him too. They can’t just build that up and leave it unresolved. Plus, with TV shows in general, a couple being together early on in the series just leaves it open for unnecessary conflict and the ship just loses its intrigue. If they give us the Jeresa ending we’re hoping for then it makes sense to have not got them together any episode earlier than the final 2. And despite everything, I think the writers have been a hell of a lot better than others in keeping their ship alive and not causing a irredeemable issue between them. I probably shouldn’t defend them before seeing the next two episodes, but I am hopeful. All that being said, there most definitely should have been more scenes and dialogue between them. We should’ve had a Tony moment between them (I’m so mad about this, especially since the writers acted like it was such a pivotal part of the season and then only showed Pote’s ‘grief’). I’m very sorry for rambling, just wanted to hear your take.

Oh, yes hello, back again, I see. Your ask made me sigh because I think it opens me up to be honest and critical of this season’s writing, and that kind of opinion may not always be favored around here, and also because it requires a response of essay length. But I’ll do it for you, anon, I will. Okay. So you want my take on the portrayal of Jeresa in season 5. Here we go. After the jump:

Let me preempt this by saying the show isn’t too serious (try and tell me this is still a serious show after the kerfuffle that season 5 has been), so you shouldn’t take this too seriously either. I have an opinion but I’m just…me. I encourage everyone to stick to their guns about what they feel about QOTS; what you like about it, what you love about it, what gets you excited, what you think has been done well, what is worthy of praise, etc. etc. etc. I go in pretty hard on the show in the next several (LOL, yes, really) paragraphs. But I am in no way the ultimate authority on all things QOTS.

I don’t think Jeresa would have unnecessary conflict and I don’t think the good ship Jeresa would lose its intrigue. In lieu of conflict, we’ve gotten…*crickets* nothing. No conversations of real value, no meaningful exchange of ideas, no arguments, nothing. If anything, the conflict between Teresa and James that is necessary had been absent. In seasons 1-3, there were always disagreements between Teresa and James. There was never a point reached where it created too much conflict, or unnecessary conflict. It created tension, which is like the very essence of Jeresa, and it showed the dynamic they have that made so many of us fall hard for Jeresa as our ship, as our OTP. I don’t think making them a couple or having them together early on in the season would create unnecessary conflict. I think it could’ve created different conflict than what we’ve seen before, and wouldn’t that be a beautiful thing, to have seen them evolve and deal with each other in ways we haven’t seen before?

So, related to what I said about different conflict, as far as intrigue goes…I don’t think presenting Jeresa as a couple or in a relationship would ever make them flat or boring. When I think back to season 3, when we got Jeresa in 3x05 and 3x09, I wish we’d been offered the chance to see them succeed and see what happened with them if they tried. Like I said, it’d be a different kind of conflict, a different kind of challenge for them to face and have to face together. That sounds so opposite of lacking intrigue to me, anon. That’s a side of Jeresa I would have loved to see.

You’ve pointed out that, in general, on TV shows, getting a couple together too early usually means doom and gloom and failure for them. One of my favorite shows ever was Veronica Mars, the first two seasons especially. When the showrunner, Rob Thomas, has talked about the first kiss Logan and Veronica have, he refers to it as being earned. For QOTS, and for Jeresa, I really felt that when they shared their first kiss in 3x05. It took so much and they went through so much to get to that moment. It was earned. So, with that idea—of the earned kiss, of the earned get together, of the earned relationship—in mind, to me, there is no point in season 5 that would have been too early for Jeresa.

Talking about TV shows and how they usually go in general leads me to my next point: as a viewer, is that what I want and is that what I should expect, to be given more of what’s typical? Maybe the writers and critics and people much smarter than me will tell me it’s my fault, I’m the fool, for wanting to critically engage in media that’s not meant to be consumed that way. Maybe I’m just supposed to accept and enjoy and be happy with what I’m given. No one claimed this wasn’t going to be typical. So okay. It’s on me. It’s my bad. But here’s the thing. If I’m supposed to accept and enjoy and love this as it is…well, give me something to love. I’m not asking for a revolution or anything life-changing here, just something I can appreciate (and this season, in my opinion, has really lacked things that I can hold on to and appreciate). So as for typical TV…I’m not down with merely accepting that because things usually go a certain way, that’s how they always have to go.

Why do Jeresa have to fail if they got together earlier in the season? Why is it so out of the realm of possibility that they might succeed together? Are they so emotionally stunted, do they lack so much compassion and understanding of each other that it would be impossible for them to listen and move forward together? What if they could discuss their issues, tell each other how they feel, stop hiding, and try? Who says there wouldn’t be angst and tension between them as they try to work through their issues? What if they’re actually supposed to be together and it would make them stronger—individually and as a couple?

Now, forget everything I just said. LOL. Let’s say we have to go by TV in general and typical TV rules. Let’s assume if Jeresa got together early on, then we’d see them struggle and fall apart and break up. Fine. Okay.

Here’s how Jeresa could have played out after the first two episodes:

5x03 banging honeymoon phase, probably

5x04 arguments and frustration with each other as T embraces being the white queen

5x05 J finds out about T’s coke usage and has to walk away from the relationship because he can’t stand to be complicit and stand idly by while she destroys herself

5x06 classic Jeresa angst and tension

5x07 KG’s death leads to T’s breaking point and J is there to support her

5x08 honesty hour, where it’s made clear that these two mean so much to one another and they’re running out of time to let each other know that, so they tell each other

5x09 one last united mission + they hatch the plan to get out and be free + a farewell with the promise and intent to see each other in another life

5x10 reunion in another life

Are these all headcanons? Of course they’re headcanons. Of course I would never expect the show to go exactly how I thought it would or with my own ideas. My point is that if they would’ve gotten together early on and we’d been given a glimpse of what that would be like, even if they failed, it doesn’t mean it would’ve been impossible for them to ever find themselves together again before season’s end.

“There’s not enough time,” the writers said. “It’s an action packed season,” the writers said. Okay. Why? There was enough time to spend on backstory of minor insignificant characters. There was enough time to introduce characters, tell us a bit about them, only to see them dead by the end of the episode. There was enough time to focus on Kote’s story, over multiple episodes, with not just a baby plot but a kidnapping one as well. So why? Why was there no time for Jeresa? Forget about them getting together and kissing and sex. If that was what it was (and it was) they wanted us to not have, then fine. Some of my favorite Jeresa moments were in the first two seasons, when Jeresa getting together was very much not a thing, when tension was high. So if it was just the portrayal of them not being together, if we still got the scenes of tension and them having no choice but to communicate, that would be completely fine. Like I said, I know I’m never going to get exactly what I want, my headcanons are mine, so that’s okay. Oh. But…no. Oh no. There was not even enough time for Jeresa to have more than short, throwaway, blink-and-you’ll-miss it conversations? Well. It’s the writers’ decision. They wanted it that way.

“It’s a Teresa-centric season,” Dailyn claimed. Like I’ve said before, James is a big part of Teresa’s journey and story. If you’re going to have a Teresa-centric season, it’s hard to accomplish that without shedding more light on James and Jeresa. This isn’t a Teresa-centric season. This has become the Kote show. Teresa is the main character but her journey has been pushed aside, diminished, and downplayed in order to make way for Kote ultrasounds and Pote grunting and Kelly Anne thinking “positive” and hopeful that Marcel will come to a party at the safe house. Instead of getting conversations that would offer insight into Teresa’s relationships with those in her family, we got an extended deep dive into the most chemistry-lacking relationship we’ve ever seen on the show. Well. It’s the writers’ decision. They wanted it that way.

“It’s Queen of the South, not Jeresa of the South,” the writers will insist. If by that they mean it’s Kote of the South. Imagine for a second that it actually was a Teresa-centric season but they were adamant about keeping James in this minor capacity. Okay. It would still be different than it is now because we’d be in tune with Teresa. We would’ve gotten a glimpse into her thought process. Was this not, at some point, meant to be a story about a strong woman? I can even extend that question to Kelly Anne. Was this not, at some point, meant to be a story about strong women? Then why do we keep seeing them make asinine decisions? Why are their most extreme actions in reaction to what the men have done?

Moreover, if this show is about the people in the cartel, in Teresa’s inner circle, rather than just the Kote side plot becoming the main plot, there’s no way this is the James we would be getting. James, our beloved reluctant assassin…who we know nothing about. He can’t even get a backstory on a show on which he is supposedly one of the main characters. Five minutes—five seconds—couldn’t even be spared on James and how he came to be who he is, how he got where he is. But Isidro Navarro? By all means, I need to hear his life story. Who’s Isidro Navarro, you ask? Right. Exactly. Apparently we don’t deserve backstory and explanation and conversation and introspection from our protagonists. But a character who is there for ten minutes or less on a single episode and will never be heard from again in any significant manner? Of course he needs his screen time. Well. It’s the writers’ decision. They wanted it that way.

“This is not a romance show,” the makers of season 5 said. Honestly? Fuck that noise. Fuck that sentiment. Fuck that ignorance. When has Jeresa ever been about romance? Where do the people who make this show get off saying something like that as if we are so stupid we don’t know that? A romance story and a love story are not the same thing. Jeresa is love. God forbid Jeresa ever experience love within a successful relationship. God forbid Teresa and James ever become mature enough to use love as strength rather than weakness. But pile on all the Kote. Focus on them and emphasize how Teresa and James can barely even look at each other. Well. It’s the writers’ decision. They wanted it that way.

So now here we are, on the cusp of 5x09. We got a spoiler in the last promo trailer. We know, after 7 episodes since their last conversation that actually meant something, after the writers missed the mark and didn’t have Jeresa interact in a way that was significant and necessary over the course of the season, that there is at least one kiss. They might even have a conversation. They might even share more than one kiss that leads to more (but also, don’t be surprised if we get a mere few seconds of a kiss and nothing more before fade to black). This is going to make us so happy because finally, finally, they’re giving us what we wanted. And then what? What does it mean if those things are true? Is everything forgiven? Is the instant gratification of seeing our ship sail for a scene or two enough? Does it make up for the character assassination of the characters we love? If we somehow get the ending we want, or at least one close to it, is it even believable anymore? Is what has been broken all season so easily fixed?

Listen, I already know the counter argument. I’m going to be told I’m crazy, that Teresa has to be on her own, that it wouldn’t be interesting, that it would diminish the payoff for Teresa and Jeresa in the end. I get it. Typical TV rules, right? We have to go with what people know, what they’re used to. But what have we gotten, really, to preserve these ‘rules’ for TV in general? Teresa has been dumbed down and is now lacking a lot of the intuition and street smarts she had before. She makes bad decision after bad decision and she doesn’t see what’s coming. The actions she takes are in reaction to those bad decisions. James hates so much of what he’s been made to do but for some reason he keeps going along and carrying out Teresa’s orders; he’ll just stew over it quietly in a corner without saying anything. Teresa and James don’t talk to each other, at least not about anything important, and when they do talk, they give each other heart eyes but never scratch the surface—how could they when they talk for like 10 seconds at a time? So. Has this been a good portrayal of Jeresa? You tell me. If it’s fine with everyone else, then I guess it’s fine. I’m probably the wrong person to ask.

[quirklessidiot]

Title: coward :: choco pies Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu  Genre: major angst train ahead, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Synopsis: its been eight years since you first met Miya Atsumu, six years since you broke it off.  Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion. Notes: I am super happy by the positive response sIKE thank u so much, i hope yall stay safe in this pandemic!

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“...L/N-san, why aren’t you going to the banquet tonight?”

“I’m busy.” you simply replied to your co-worker, not even looking up from the sheets of finance papers in your hands, your brows furrowing in deep thought as you encircled some mistakes on the paper.

“It's the weekend tomorrow!” Aiko exclaims, shaking you lightly, “You can take your work home and finish it there! This is only held once a year and it's your first year in the company! You can’t miss it!”

You finally turned to your over-enthusiastic office mate and narrowed your eyes, “I can’t miss the grocery sale tonight.” You deadpan. Aiko blinks once then twice and suddenly she bursts out into a boisterous laugh, “Y-You got me there, Y/N.” she says, clutching her stomach.

Your expression remains the same though and it slowly dawned upon your raven-haired office mate that you weren’t joking at all, “Oh, you were serious.” Aiko stops laughing, realizing how stupid she must’ve looked. You return to your work but she continues to stare at you, ever since you entered the company six months ago, you refused to attend any work-related parties or do a lot of overtimes (this wasn’t a surprise, you always managed to finish your work before deadline)

No one really knew you at the office, you had a mysterious air around you and a rather intimidating aura that scared about half of the people in the finance department, oddly enough, Aiko was one of the few who approached you and made conversation. It was more one-sided in Aiko’s part though since your replies were usually curt and to the point.

The only thing scary about you was how blank your expression was ninety percent of the time.

“Can’t you go to the grocery tomorrow?”

“Can’t.” Your voice seemed a bit assertive now, “Those limited choco pie editions are coming out and they sold out pretty quick.”

“Choco pie?” Aiko blinked, “Aren’t you diabetic?”

“It’s for my kids.”

Kids.

Kids.

Kids?

“What the fuck, Y/N?” she cursed, her eyes as wide as an owl, “My kids? You have kids?”

You hummed a reply, continuing your work, clearly not surprised by her reaction since you were used to these types of things, “Twins actually, they’re in the first grade.” you corrected, remaining indifferent.

“You.” she paused, “You, the Y/N L/N, have kids. Like blood-related kids? With a husband and all that?”

“Yes, although the dad moved on.” You stopped encircling the file, a brief memory of the blonde slowly crossed your mind, “He’s in a better place now.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, per say, your ex was technically in a better place now. He’s a famous pro-volleyball player who represented Japan two years ago in the Olympics and was currently part of the top national teams in the country. 

You just didn’t bother correcting them when they thought he’s dead.

“Oh, oh, I’m so sorry.” 

“Hm.” You simply hummed a response, “I don’t like leaving them alone a lot.”

“I-I understand,” Aiko sighs, comforting you but it's deaf on your ears as usual, “Have you never considered dating again?”

“Waste of time.”

“Like ever?”

“I’ve got two growing boys, they’re enough for me already.”

Aiko shuts her mouth when she notices that your tone is sharp as if you’re telling her to drop the topic because it’s not in your best interest as of the moment, “May I see what they look like, L/N-san?” she asks in pure curiosity, changing the subject instead.

You simply open your phone next to you and there sits the lockscreen of two wide-grinning and identical-looking boys with raven-colored hair, “They don’t look like you.” she loudly observes but you’re not at all hurt by it.

“They got the best parts from their otosan, I guess.” 

The only thing the boys got from you was your eye color, it seemed like they were their father through and through in terms of looks, over-enthusiastic attitude, and love for the sport. In fact, only recently, the youngest twin had expressed his excitement to learn volleyball, the oldest, being the competitive one too, decided to join in and expressed that he had started to truly like it after a class.

Thankfully, your officemate doesn’t pry more about your life. You ended up resuming your work without much disturbance. You try to finish quickly, you have a sale to catch after all.

People often found it odd when you pointed out that you were the mother of Youta and Yuuto, for one, they looked and acted nothing like you. If you had to describe them, it would be balls of sunshine while you were just the gloomy rain clouds looming over them. It was definitely an amusing sight for many when they got to know your dynamic and many wondered how you made it work.

You watched the pair rush down the grocery lane in a hurry as you push the cart filled with essentials needed for this month, Youta was annoying his twin once again as they paced down the snack lane and tried to find the choco pie they’ve been raving about these past two weeks, “Slow down, you’ll fall.” You scolded lightly.

“Hai!” They called out in unison as they went behind one of the shelves, you stopped to take a biscuit off the shelf and read the nutritional facts, keeping an eye out on your boys from time to time. You suddenly felt a presence on your side, were they done taking the choco pie already? Sighing under your breath, you’re getting ready to be fake scared because they loved sneaking up on you but when you feel no tug on your leg, you’re immediately surprised for real by the familiar face in front of you.

“Miya-san?” 

You regain your composure almost immediately, not wanting him to notice how tense and scared you were, amongst everyone you had to run into, it had to be the twin brother of your ex, “ Well this is a surprise.” he greets, you could feel the distant tone on his voice and you weren’t phased by it the slightest, after what you did to his other half, you’re surprised he even approached you, “Me and ‘tsumu wondered where the hell you ended up after disappearing on him randomly and breaking up over the phone after a week.”

It wasn’t exactly the best plan but it was the fastest way out.

“I apologize.” You bowed down, you were sincerely sorry about what happened but if you could’ve done it again, you’d do it for the sake of your kids and his career, “Whenever I look back, I knew I could’ve done something better than treat him like that.”

Osamu’s brow quirks up, you were still as calm, cool, and collected as you were six years ago. It was scary how Atsumu fell for you when you were this unphased and cold. What the hell was he on when he fell in love with you?

“Well, thanks to you, he worked himself to the bone.” He shrugs, “He’s got a better life now.”

“I know.”

It may not look like it but from time to time, you’d check up and see how he was doing. Even more so during these days since your boys were getting into volleyball. Youta’s favorite was Hinata since he was one of the small guys in the league and he played very, very well. Ironically, Yuuto’s favorite setter was not his own father but a guy named Kageyama Tobio from the adlers who could set the ball at any place and had the greatest timing ever.

“He’s got a girl too.”

“That’s goo-”

“ ‘Kaasan!” A loud yell bursts out, cutting out the younger Miya twin. Osamu looks around, wondering who the boy was calling but when he realizes it was you, he’s in shock and he doesn’t even hide it. The cold facade he was waving in front of you immediately diminished when two identical looking boys ran to you at a fast speed, one clung onto your leg while the other was tattle-taling.

“Oh, is that Miya Atsumu, ‘kaasan? You didn’t tell me you knew him!” Yuuto points out, staring at the large man in complete awe. Youta who seems to finally notice who the guy was, immediately lets go of your leg and joins in with his twin, completely forgetting about the little spat they have.

“I’m his twin.” he corrects, Osamu wasn’t very good with talking to kids yet they didn’t seem to mind at all, they were still as excited when they realized that he used to play too and was the one who spiked his brothers sets back then.

“Woah,” Yuuto exclaims, “How are you not in volleyball? I betcha as good as him! Mom would comment how good he plays when we watch him on TV and mom hates sports!”

Osamu doesn’t know what to say next, he’s just surprised that you even watched and kept track of his twin brother after all those harsh words you said on the phone, what’s even more surprising was that you were a mom (and someone's wife probably)  and you seem to have a good life judging by these kids energetic upkeep. 

“...wish we could watch it live though! I heard the adlers and the jackal’s have another game soon!” Yuuto frowns, crossing his arms, “ ‘kaasan’s always busy.”

“How about yer otosan?” Osamu wanted to let that out for a while, he’s very curious to see who you settled down with, according to one of the many stories about you from his twin,  you weren’t a big fan of marriage and settling down permanently. 

“Oh,” Youta blinks, “Kaasan says otosan’s in a better place now. Do you know what that means, Mister?”

Osamu feels his throat constrict at how casual and nonchalant the boy is, he probably got that characteristic from you. These set of twins dealt with the idea of death way too casually towards a stranger.

“Baby, I think you should give him a rest now. Why don’t you both grab the wafers over there.” You try to calmly take them away in front of the grey-haired man, you didn’t want Osamu to keep interacting with them. There would be breadcrumbs left if the boys kept divulging about their lives towards him, Osamu had always been quick-witted despite his quiet nature.

The boys seemed downcasted right after but they listened quickly and wobbled towards the wafer shelf at the front.

“I thought ya didn’t want to get married.” 

“We didn’t,” you blinked, “He was gone before the boys were born, I wasn’t able to tell him.”

Osamu’s eyes narrowed, “You love him or something?” 

“I do,” you replied coolly, “Very much so until today.”

“I see,” the grey-haired man was still looking at you, trying to gouge any reaction but you remained the same, “I wish you did the same to my brother.”

“He seems happy and successful now.” was all you could reply to his bitter phrase, “As sorry as I am, I can’t take back what I did. I can only atone and keep moving forward.”

Miya Osamu wants to yell at you because you didn’t see the state his brother was in after you left but he couldn’t bring himself to, after all, it seemed like you were unappalled by him and that his words would mean absolutely nothing.

“Then I hope I don’t see you again, L/N-san.” he spat, putting as much hatred in his words as possible.

“Have a good night, Miya-san.” You simply replied, bowing down. 

“I wish you did the same to my brother.”

“Kaasan says otosan is in a better place now.”

“Kaasan, do you think otosan would be proud if I became the super best volleyball player?”

“Stupid, it should be the both of us who’re the best!”

“Yeah! If we became the super best volleyball players, maybe he’d come back from that better place when he sees us on tv!”

You suddenly dropped the plate you were holding, a loud sound resonated in the small kitchen. Shakily, as you picked up the broken shards of the plate, you felt something trickling down your cheeks, “Ah…” you breathed out, wiping out the stray tear.

When was the last time you cried?

“Kaasan?” a small voice called out, you hurriedly wipe out the tears and pick up the broken shards of the plates before turning to the two boys in transformer pajamas.

“Hey.” you tried to reply steadily but the little lump on your throat prevented you from doing so, “Have you brushed your teeth?”

The boys gave each other a quick glance and the only thing they replied with was opening their arms to you, you blink for a moment,surprised by their quietness and their open arms, “When we have a bad day, you’d always do this to us.” Youta mutters, seemingly shy by this, they were never one for big hugs and kisses, saying they were big boys now.

“Did that miya atsumu-fake make you cry, kaasan? Should we get’im?” Yuuto grumbles, their attitude seems to contrast their exciting ones a while ago.

You bend down to their level and just encompassed them in a hug, “Kaasan’s just tired,” you hummed as you buried yourself between them, seeping in the warmth of their hugs and comfort, “I’m all better now, I’ve got you two anyways.”

You placed the small encounter you had with Miya Osamu at the back of your head, not wanting it to be a distraction or a hindrance. You couldn’t cry in front of your kids anymore than that night, you shouldn’t. You were a single parent, the only rock and permanent companion your kids would have for the rest of their lives, you couldn’t let them down.

“L/N-san have you heard?” 

Thankfully it was your day-off today and you could pick up the boys earlier than usual. The mom next to you looked more excited and elated, you were betting that this had something to do with gossip around their circles.

“I’m sure she hasn’t, she’s a rather busy mom, akiko-san.” another gushed.

“Ah yes!” she giggled, “Sorry I can’t contain my excitement but Sugawara-sensei is very good friends with a member of the black jackals, apparently he was his kohai back in high school.”

You feel your shoulders tense, it couldn’t be right? The amount of coincidences seemed to hit you like a truck, first osamu, now your kids teacher?

“Ninja Shoyou was it? Yes, well, they’ve decided to host a mini training camp this weekend! All the members would be there! Ah, I hope my boy gets noticed!” Riya grins, “Your boys would be very pumped, right? I personally heard Sensei telling them how natural they seemed to be. They even had their own jerseys made for the class!”

You could only nervously nod along and excuse yourself, you wanted to hurry home and deny your boys to go to this training camp. As much as you supported their love for the sport, you weren’t ready for them to meet him. They loved to blab and if Atsumu were to get wind of them, what would he say?

You didn’t want him to deny them right at their faces.

At the same time, somewhere at an upstate part of the city. Miya Atsumu lays on his bed with a naked woman sprawled next to him. His head’s fuzzy from the alcohol he drank last night and how early he and his partner had finished.

“What the fuck, put some clothes on, ya freak.” He hears his brother curse as soon as he goes out of his bedroom. Osamu would randomly make an appearance in Tokyo to fix up his plans for the franchising of his store.

“Thought you had your own place to crash?” Atsumu ignores his brother’s statement as he grabs a short that had been thrown to the side last night.

“I’m going back later, thought I’d swing by before I went home.”

“How nice of you.” the blonde deadpanned, “You should leave though, Riku’s still here.”

“You don’t say...you lot like to go at it like animals in heat.” he mutters, a look of disgust crossed his features, “I’m just here to drop by some food, I can’t leave you dying.”

“Could’ve left it in the ref and dashed off when you saw the panty on the couch.”

“Again,” Osamu crinkles his nose, “Disgusting. Kita-san would throw some disinfectant at you.”

The blonde rolled his eyes in reply as he grabbed some water by the refrigerator, Osamu watched his brother for a bit, wondering if he should tell him. They’ve never talked about Y/N after that phone call six years ago, he had to walk on eggshells around his brother for a year because of that, taking in a quick breather, he confessed, “I saw Y/N.” 

The room turned silent, Osamu waits for a reaction, a curse or anything similar to that yet he’s surprised by the lazy smirk adorning his brother's features, “Hn, it looks like you’re the one who she called and broke up with on the phone.” he laughs.

Osamu is wary but he doesn’t push it, “I was just surprised that’s all, you weren’t exactly in a good place after she left.”

“That was ages ago, ‘samu!” he exclaims, shaking it off, “I betcha she still doesn’t give two shits about me and what happened because that’s how she is but i don’t care because i’m living the life now! I’ve even got a nicer and prettier girl now! Who, mind you, is better than her in many emotional levels. Y/N’s history.”

Osamu didn’t want to tell him about the kids or the ‘man’ you met after Atsumu who you claim to love very dearly so he kept his mouth shut and just went with the flow of the conversation. Not pointing out how his twin just changed the topic right after as if he didn’t want to dwell on it and open anymore wounds.

tag list (closed)

@fortheloveofiwaizumi @svtbitch @ryaaaax @kiyoomile @lovedanii @juno-multifandom​ @gyubit17​

[wlntrsldler]

Fine Line (Bucky Barnes Falling Series)

A/N: This is the sequel to Falling. This will be the second installment to my Falling (Bucky Barnes) Series. I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT!

PROMPT: Bucky has been distant lately. Y/N doesn’t know why.

WARNING: slight mature content but not in detail, ANGST, SADNESS, fluff

FALLING | FINE LINE | SHE

SERIES MASTERLIST

-

“Nat, I’m begging you,” Bucky pleaded, getting on his knees in front of his teammate. “Tell me where Y/N went.”

Nat pitied him. It hurt to see him so broken, begging for her to tell him where you went, but her loyalty was with you. She promised to you that where you went would stay with her and only her until the grave. “I can’t, Bucky.”

“Nat.” His voice cracked, tears slipping from his eyes. “I don’t know what else to do. Her phone is disconnected. I called everyone she knows. Nobody knows where she is. Nat, please.”

“Get up, Barnes,” She sighed, pulling the soldier by his arms. “Y/N made me promise I wouldn’t say a word. I don’t agree with what she did, running away and leaving you with no trace, but it’s what she wanted. She didn’t want you to all of a sudden start acting like you love her again just because you realized she’s not there anymore.” 

“Again? What do you mean again?” Bucky questioned, rising to his feet. He grabbed the hem of his shirt, using it to wipe his nose and the tears on his cheeks. “I never stopped loving her, Nat.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

“I can explain.”

Nat’s face paled after Bucky’s explanation, realizing that she needed to bring Bucky to you, even if it was the last thing she did. That’s how he ended up in California on your doorstep, with the most panicked look on his face. 

You heard the first knock over the loud bass of your breakup playlist. You ignored it, remembering that Nat was the only one who knows where you were and she had you memorize a secret knock for your protection. It was a bit over the top to you, but as an Avenger, she wanted to take safety precautions. 

Then a second knock. A third. A fourth. 

You pressed pause on your phone and walked over to the door. You looked through the peephole and saw Bucky. You dropped the phone in your hands, not believing your eyes. What the hell was he doing here?

You debated on even opening the door. Leaving Bucky nearly killed you, you almost didn’t do it. It was a shock, a miracle even, that you had the courage to get up and leave. You knew that you were too vulnerable, too in love and too attached, to be able to walk away from him a second time. All it takes is for those beautiful, blue eyes, that you used to wake up to every morning to take one look at you. All it takes is his voice, rough around the edges but soothing, calm, home. All it takes is one touch to reignite the spark that you convinced yourself has burned out between you. That’s all it takes. 

You started to back away from the door, having gone through enough breakups in your lifetime to know how it goes. You leave. They beg for you to stay. They promise they’ll change. Things are good for a while. Then they remember why they became distant in the first place. Next thing you know, it’s over all over again. You couldn’t lose Bucky a second time. The first time was painful enough. 

“Y/N, please.” His voice croaked out from the other side of the door. “I know you’re in there. Baby please, let me explain.”

You gasped upon hearing his voice. Baby. Your heart broke after hearing how broken he sounded, the way the pet name still rolled off his tongue with such familiarity. it was overwhelming. 

“Look, I get it if you don’t want to see me..” Bucky leaned against the door, mumbling into the wood. “But please listen to me. I know I don’t even deserve that, but please, doll. I’m begging you.”

You stayed silent, pressing your ear against the door. Why are you doing this? A part of you knew that no matter what he said, no matter what excuse, you would open the door and fall apart in his arms. It’s Bucky. It’s your Bucky. 

“Okay,” He sighed. “In the small chance that you are listening to me, I can explain why I’ve been so distant lately. I was scared, doll. I-I’ve been doing these treatments with Tony that’s supposed to reverse what HYDRA did. In hindsight, it was supposed to diminish the effects of the trigger words on me and I could become Bucky. James, the one that I would tell you about.”

“But it didn’t always work..” He trailed off, staring at his metal hand, a reminder of the monster that he became. Even after HYDRA, he was still suffering. He had lost so much because of the Winter Soldier, he’ll be damned if he loses you too. “Some days it would make me worse. It was a lot of trial and error, I knew that going into it. I couldn’t tell anybody, not even Steve.”

“You don’t understand how badly I wanted to tell you. All those talks about our future, marriage, kids, all of that, suddenly started to feel like it could be a reality instead of just my wildest imagination.” Bucky chuckled. “But the treatment was a push and pull sometimes. Sometimes I’d feel like it was working and I’d be so excited to come home to you and kiss you. God, I miss kissing you.”

You wiped the tears from your face, missing the way his lips felt on yours. They were always chapped but the minute your lips touched, none of it mattered. You’d kiss him even after missions, lips busted and bloody. You’d kiss him in his sleep, pull away and watch the smile cover his face as he started to wake up. You’d kiss him when you were making love, incoherent words of love and affirmation as you both reached your release. You miss kissing Bucky, you truly do.

“Other times, I would lose control over my arm and it would just crush everything in sight. They’ve had to confine me in a cubicle until the symptoms wore off.” Bucky looked down, remembering the painful memories. “Being tortured by HYDRA was painful but this... Y/N, this was something else.”

“I was being tortured by my own self.” He paused, flexing his metal arm. The mechanical whirring made him cringe. “I was fully aware of what I was doing. I was Bucky but my arm was being controlled by someone other than me. Doll, I was so scared. I-if I were to come home, I wouldn’t have had control over hurting you.” 

“I couldn’t live with myself, if that happened. If something happened to you, I-” Bucky broke down, voice shaking as he continued his story. “I just couldn’t come home like that.”

You backed away from the door, undoing the locks. You took a deep breath before opening it. Bucky wasn’t expecting it. He fell over once the door he was leaning on, disappeared. 

You tried to hold in the giggle that was threatening to escape your throat when you saw the scene in front of you. Bucky, on his face, a hurt expression on his features. He looked up at you and instantly his demeanor changed. Your Bucky. 

He smiled, his real smile, despite his glossy, red eyes, He scrambled to get up and face you. Once he was on his feet, he tucked his hands in his front pockets, rocking back and forth. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Buck.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

You couldn’t help it anymore. You wrapped your arms around his torso and buried yourself in his chest. Home. He laughed at the sudden contact, not because of your reaction but because he was genuinely happy. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, picking you up to spin you. 

He kicked the front door closed and put you down, breathless from laughing so much. “I missed you.”

You refused to let go of him, your arms still wrapped around him as you looked up to reply. “I missed you more.”

Bucky leaned down and kissed you. You let out a broken cry when you felt his lips move against yours. It’s been too long. You missed this so much. This felt like Bucky. You guys were back. 

You two only pulled away from some air, goofy smiles plastered on both of your faces when you did. He connected his forehead with yours, eyes closed, cherishing the moment. Bucky would periodically leave pecks on your cheeks and lips, loving the way you giggled each time he did. He missed your laugh. 

“I’m sorry for not listening to your explanation before leaving.” You apologized, genuinely feeling guilty for your actions. 

“I don’t blame you.” He admitted, hands finding yours. He played with your fingers, taking extra care with the one in his metal hand. “I’m just so happy you gave me the chance to explain.”

“Didn’t really give me much choice now, didn’t you?” You teased, pulling him back into an embrace. “You show up on my doorstep, two timezones away from where you were.”

“I guess I didn’t.” Bucky kissed the top of your head, letting the scent of your shampoo overtake his senses. That’s all he wanted. To smell you. To touch you. To see you. To taste you. To hear you. You. That’s all he wanted. “I can’t lose my best girl.”

“Always a charmer, Barnes.” 

You stared at each other for a moment. There was a shift in the air. For months, both of you were deprived from touch. Bucky was never around and you started to distance from him, neither of you were cruel enough to be touched by someone other than each other. You both knew nobody else could fulfill the touch you both so desperately needed. 

Bucky kissed you hungrily, his tongue pushing past your lips. You moaned into his mouth, hands clawing down the front of his body. Your teeth tugged softly at his lips, a weakness of his. He groaned a beautiful sound as you pushed him, ushering him into the bedroom. 

-

You woke up next to Bucky. You almost cried at the sight, not being able to remember the last time you saw this image. 

Bucky was shirtless, a blanket barely covering his body, hair sprawled out on the pillow, and his mouth slightly, agape. He looked peaceful. His arm was under you, pulling you into his gravity. You could feel his heart thumping against his chest, a rhythm you could listen to forever. 

You leaned over to plant a quick kiss to his lips. You meant for it to be quick but his lips attached themselves to yours. You kissed back, smiling through the sweet exchange of love. You squealed as he pulled you closer to him, bare chests pressing against each other. He continued to kiss you for a few more minutes, not wanting to let go. 

“I want to wake up like this everyday.” He muttered, eyes still shut. “Just like this.”

“Your eyes aren’t even open yet so technically you haven’t woken up.”

He opened his eyes slowly, stretching his limbs out in the process. He stared at your face, his smile getting wider when he realizes you’re staring at him. Bucky’s eyes dart down to your exposed chest, a dirty smirk replacing the innocent smile he had on before. “I can wake up like this everyday.”

You smacked him across the chest, laughing at his words. “You dirty man.”

“You’re hot, babe.” He defended, pulling you close to his body again. “Take the compliment.” 

You cooed in adoration, loving the way warmth radiated off of his body. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Bucky replied, not missing a beat. His fingers started to draw shapes on the small of your back, not missing the way you shivered under his touch. You were always so responsive, even in the most innocent way. “I love you, so much. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

“You’re not gonna lose me.” You said, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. You placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. “I’m sorry for leaving without giving you a chance to explain. I just thought I already lost you.”

“Never,” He murmured. “I just wanted to become the best version of me for you. You deserve that.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” You half-scolded, tilting his head down so he could look into your eyes. “You are the man I fell in love with. I will love you even if it’s the worst version of yourself, you hear me? You are a good man. You will never lose that. I will never lose sight of that.” 

“How did I get so lucky?”

“I ask myself that too.”

You laid there in silence, enjoying the closeness of your bodies. It’s been too long. Bucky looked down at you, head on his chest and wondered if in this lifetime, he’d be able to truly live. Enjoy the love that he watched his parents have. See the world as a tourist with you by his side. Grow old with you and have children and grandchildren and pets, lots of them. He wondered if life would be kind enough to give him the life he’s been yearning for since before the war. He wondered if the void that he’s been trying to fill was in the shape of you. It sure seemed like it.

He laid there frozen, not wanting to disrupt your rest. Your soft snores made Bucky smile. He wasn’t able to sleep without the white noise that he grew to love. The nights he fell asleep without you next to him were some of the worst nights. He wished you were beside him. He wished that even now with you practically laying on top of him. He wanted you closer to him, if that was even possible. 

You began to stir, eyes fluttering open for the second time today. “Let’s make breakfast.”

You untangled yourself from him, instantly regretting it. You already missed Bucky’s body next to yours. You quickly slipped on his t-shirt and tossed his boxers on the bed for him to put on. He slipped it on and ran towards you as you put your hair up in a low ponytail. “You’re gonna have to cook with me on top of you.”

You threw your head back laughing, placing one hand over the arms wrapped around your waist. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Once you guys got to the kitchen, Bucky excused himself to go to the bathroom. You merely nodded, engrossed in the directions behind the box of pancake mix. You started to measure the ingredients, plopping the batter on the pan. You hummed to yourself as you waited for the pancakes to brown around the edges. 

“Y/N..” Bucky called from the doorframe of the kitchen.

“Mhm?” You responded, still focusing on the pancake in front of you. 

“Turn around.”

“What’s up, Buck? I’m making panca-” You turned around, the half cooked pancake on your spatula. “Oh my God.”

The pancake fell off your spatula, a blob of batter staining the kitchen floor. You covered your mouth with your hands. 

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N,” Bucky started, raising the velvet box while he was on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You nodded furiously, rushing over to him to kiss him. He got up, grabbing your face in his hands to deepen the kiss. You pulled away, the smile returning to your face. Bucky’s hands shook as he tried to put the ring on your finger. You both took turns wiping the tears off of each other’s faces. “It’s perfect.” 

You two stood there, repeating your declarations of love over and over again. The pancake batter was long forgotten. You admired the ring on your finger and the man you would vow to love forever. 

Marrying Bucky seemed too good to be true. The love you two shared was something you swore only existed in the movies. 

It was the vast ocean, deep and unexplored. It was scary, intimidating, and you don’t know if you’ll make it out of it alive. It’s risky and overwhelming.

But your love was also the first chirp of a bird that you hear after a heavy thunderstorm, reminding you that everything will be okay. It’s the love that reminds you of the beauty in the ugly. 

Your love was the moon and the stars, the sun and the clouds, the dew on the blades of grass, the smell of freshly baked cookies. Your love was everything grand. It was the big picture of life, but it was also the details, so simple, so subtle, but it was yours. It’s your love. 

It’s indescribable but it makes sense to the two of you. That’s all that mattered. 

Your serene moment was interrupted by a synchronized knock on the door. Nat. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, motioning Bucky to follow you to open the door. You looked through the peephole to see a distressed Nat. You quickly undid the locks, Bucky right behind you when you opened the door. 

Nat took a look at the two of you, her signature smirk appearing on her face. “Nice to see that you two worked it out.”

“Thanks, Nat.” Bucky said sheepishly, his hand finding your hip bone and giving it a squeeze. “What are you doing here?”

Her smirk dropped from her face, her shoulders falling heavy. “We have a problem.”

“What happened?” You asked, leaning against Bucky.

“Thanos.” She stated, nervousness evident in her voice. “Thanos is coming.”

-

“Y/N, something happened.” 

You looked at Steve, dumbfounded. “Is he hurt?”

“When Thanos snapped his fingers, half of all living creatures vanished,” He started, looking down at his feet. “Bucky... Bucky was one of them.”

You shook your head, not believing his words. You repeated the words, “No, that’s not true. “Steve, where is he?” “How do we get him back?” You sobbed violently, Nat having to wrap her arms around you to muffle your cries. 

Your head was propped up on Nat’s shoulder, giving you the perfect view of the dimly lit bathroom where you were before Nat and Steve arrived. Your mind thought back to the two small lines you saw on the test. Positive.

You fell apart in her embrace, still not coming to terms with the information they delivered. 

Bucky’s not around anymore. 

-

MAIN MASTERLIST

TAGS:

I wasn’t sure if you guys wanted to be tagged for the second part, let me know if you guys want to be removed from the taglist for the final part! :)

@hurricane-abigail | @youaremyfiveever | @multi-fan-lover | @ladyofhellhounds | @readsreblogsfics | @heda-mikaelson | @winterseba-ficrec | @learisa | @iheartsebastianstan | @5sossebby | @stainedsouvenirfavs | @jessyballet | @vintagemichelle91 | @wxntersoldiers | @tfandtws | @chelsey-3922 | 

[marmolady]

Back to School

Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC, hints of Quinchelle

Summary: Endless Ending. The Catalysts are heading back to school. Or, at least, most of them are. For Taylor, Hartfeld is a whole new beginning... but the past isn't done with her yet.

WARNINGS: Character death (flashbacks), self-harm.

Word Count: 6348

Chronology: After 'Homecoming' and 'Clarity'.

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove @mauvecatfic​

Thanks for reading

“Stay with me, okay? S-stay with me!” Taylor frantically tried to stem the bleeding with the shirt she’d taken off her own back, but it was already stained through. “I can’t… I can’t lose you too. Not you, Diego, please…. P-please…. Please….”

His breath rattled in his throat, strained and weak. “T-tell… tell Varyyn I’m… I… s-sorr--”

“No. No. You’ll tell him yourself, all right? You’ve got to hang on, Diego, please….”

Even as Taylor spoke, she could feel her friend’s fingers growing cold in hers. A distant yell sent a chill down her spine. The Arachnids were closing in. If she was going to get Diego to safety, she had to get him on his feet. Fast.

“...Tayl… you… f-find…” he croaked.

Taylor tried to meet his gaze and failed. He couldn’t see her there before him, though he was trying… he was trying so hard…. Until his eyes were still, searching no longer.

And she shrieked. She screamed into the night, knowing that she was good as sealing her own fate but not caring. How could she care anymore? She was alone. She collapsed into the blood-soaked chest of the best friend she’d ever had… and howled.

“Taylor!”

Woken by a shake, she kept on screaming, her body convulsing with violent sobs. Where was she?

Diego… Diego, no….

Estela cradled her face, stroking tenderly with gentle fingers. But all Taylor could see was a lingering vision of unseeing eyes. Of blood, and death, and….

“Shh-sh-sh-shh…, it’s over, amor. Everyone’s safe….”

Taylor tried to ground herself, to bring herself back, but she was swimming in anguish-- no, she was drowning.

“Diego!”

More urgently, Estela stroked Taylor’s face and hair. Her own eyes were sparkling. “Querida, he’s fine. He’s safe-- I swear he’s safe. Taylor-- Taylor? I need you to come back to me, baby….”

Something about the fear in that voice snapped Taylor to reality. Estela. Estela was holding her. They were… home.

The tears kept coming. Why? Why was she not allowed any fucking peace? She was broken… her head was broken….

She couldn’t stop howling, even as she was held. The blood could still be on her hands… she could feel it there….

“I… can’t… make it… stop…,” she whimpered. Her hands trembled as she lifted them; they tingled with the expectation of what should have been there but wasn’t. Why won’t it stop?  She raised a hand to her head and smacked herself with all the force she could muster.

“I… can’t… make it… STOP!” Taylor hollered, and she slammed her open palm to her head again and again, resisting Estela’s panicked grappling. “MAKE… IT… STOP!”

Then Estela managed to wrestle her way to Taylor’s hands. The grip was like iron, though Taylor kept on struggling.

“Taylor-- Taylor!”

“LET… ME… GO!”

“I’m sorry.… I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s okay that you’re overwhelmed and you’re scared, but you can’t… you can’t hurt yourself like that.”

“LET ME… let me….”

Taylor screamed and sobbed, but she stopped fighting at the sound of the pain in her wife’s voice, and let herself be cradled and gently rocked.

“Sh-shh-shh… I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“It’s too much…,” Taylor whimpered through her tears. “I--I can’t stand it anymore.”

“I know, mi amor. I know.” Shaking, Estela softly kissed her wife’s temple. “Will you be all right if I let go? I’m just going to grab you a tissue, okay?”

Just then, there was a loud rapping at the door, followed by Quinn’s voice.

“Can we come in? It’s me and Michelle… just a little worried about you guys.”

“Yeah… come in. And if you wanna help, we could use some tissues.”

At the sight of more friends, looking towards her in concern, Taylor cried all the harder, and very quickly she was being hugged by Quinn and Michelle… and Diego, who was also now wide awake and worried. Surrounded by friends’ arms and soothing words, she let her emotions flow forth until she had no tears left to cry.

With the risk of Taylor hurting herself diminished, Estela stepped away to get a hold of herself. “I’ll just get you a drink of water, cariña, okay?”

Taylor blew her nose noisily. “Actually, um, I might get up for a little while. If I try and go back to sleep now, I’m pretty sure it’s just gonna be nightmares all over again.” She shrunk into herself guiltily. This was not the ‘good night’s sleep before the first day of college’ that everyone had in mind. “And I don’t expect everyone to stay up just for me--”

“Oh, shut up, Taylor.” Michelle offered another tissue. “The sooner you let us help you, the sooner we can all get some sleep, all right?”

It turned out-- unsurprisingly, given the noise-- that the rest of the house had been woken by Taylor’s shrieking.

“So, uh… someone getting murdered up there?” Zahra quipped as the group descended the stairs.

Estela gave her a look, but turned her attention quickly back to Taylor. God, she was still shaking like a leaf… and then Estela realised that her wife wasn’t the only one.

Pull yourself together. For fuck’s sake.

If she was going to be any use at all, Estela knew she needed to sort herself out… and it felt like she was on the verge of breaking down sobbing. “I’ll… I’ll get you that drink, Taylor.”

Grabbing a glass from her wife’s bedside table, Estela retreated to the bathroom and collapsed over the basin with her head in her hands.

Taylor hadn’t hurt herself before. The way she’d hit herself over the head, as if determined to pound out a part of her she couldn’t stand… it struck Estela as hauntingly like the way she herself had lost immunity to her own fists in her frantic need to purge the poison. It hadn’t happened many times-- four?-- five at the most-- but Taylor was like a human sponge; it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that she’d been influenced by her wife’s response to trauma and taken it as her own. That was troubling.

Estela felt ill. Sick with guilt. Helpless.

So, when Raj popped his head around the door to offer a hug, she all but fell into his arms, all the bottled-up frustration bursting forth.

“I know it was stupid and naive,” she lamented against her friend’s chest, “but I really thought we’d cracked it.”

“I wouldn’t say you haven’t cracked it,” Raj said thoughtfully. “Taylor used to have these visions most nights, right? If this is the first time it’s happened since you guys moved in here, you must be on the right track… but even the right track’s gonna have a bump in the road here and there.”

“If she’s waking up screaming in the middle of the night, ‘the right track’ isn’t fucking good enough!” To her frustration, angry tears splashed down Estela’s cheeks. Crying wouldn’t do a damn thing to help Taylor. Roughly, she rubbed her face dry. She should have seen this coming; stepping foot into Hartfeld University as a student would be, for Taylor, incredibly significant. Estela had known Taylor was stressed leading up to the start of term. She should have done more….

“Yeah… I know. And it’s not fair at all-- after everything our girl was prepared to do for us, the least she deserves is a bit of peace at the end of it. So, we’re just gonna have to keep on taking good care of her. Like she always does for us. You know-- if relaxation is the key to Tayls’ good night sleep, I’m happy to give coaching….”

In spite of everything, Estela spluttered a laugh. “Raj, if Taylor ever wants to give the getting stoned route a try, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know about it. If I’m honest, some days I could probably use some of that shit myself.”

Raj grinned. “Even just the thought got a smile out of you-- that’s a win! But if a good hug is more your thing, I’m more than happy to deliver on that one too.”

Estela exhaled slowly, her eyes shut. She’d needed that hug… more than she’d known. Those disturbed nights punctuated by the anguished sobs of her poor wife crying out in her sleep, and it had been all Estela could do to stay calm enough to offer any kind of soothing comfort… they’d taken a heavy toll.

“I need to go back to her,” she said quietly.

“So, Tayls,” Craig had been asking, as if it was the most everyday thing in the world, “what’s the worst way I died? Gory details!”

“Craig!”

“I mean, we’re all curious, but come on!”

“What? You know what they say, ‘if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry’-- I mean, it’s not like any of those things are actually gonna happen now. There’s nothing to be scared of!”

Taylor’s mouth hung open. Actually… would that help? It wasn’t an approach she’d even considered. But as her mind flickered back to the vision of Diego dead in her arms… the feel of the weight of his body, she knew she couldn’t do it.

“I, um, I don’t think I’m ready. To laugh about these things. When I have these dreams it’s like… they’re fresh. New and visceral and vivid every time.  I… I can’t bounce back from that and just laugh. Maybe in like… a couple of weeks? That’s if it doesn’t happen again. But it’s like I’m living it. And when I wake up… all the shock, and dread… it’s all still there.”

Everyone was quiet. Taylor didn’t blame them. How the hell could anyone know what to do with this? Estela sat down beside her and offered the glass of water.

“Thanks, babe,” Taylor murmured. Her throat was parched and sore… she supposed screaming bloody murder could do that. She took a few sips, then let herself relax into the couch, and Estela’s and Diego’s arms around her.

“I think, “ she said, “I underestimated how nervous I was about starting tomorrow. I don’t know what I’m expecting to happen, but I guess it’s ‘cause I feel like… well, a bit of a fraud.”

Zahra scoffed. “Freaking pseudo-humans think they can muscle in on our school. Man, they’re letting that place go to shit.”

Taylor looked at her, taken off guard, then slowly… she started to laugh, until she was near doubled-over. Wheezing, she sat up and wiped away a tear. “Oh my god. It’s ridiculous!”

“Honestly?” Michelle said, “I think it’s going to be surreal. ‘Normal’ is going to be hard, after….” She shuddered, and Taylor knew where her mind had wandered to… the smoldering wreckage that was a past not another soul bar the twelve of them could ever comprehend.

Quinn hugged Michelle tightly. “That’s why we need to keep doing this. Sharing the burden. If we can survive the end of the world that way… well, that’ll be how we survive the aftermath as well.”

Regaining her breath, Taylor snuggled into Diego’s shoulder. She’d been the damsel in distress tonight, but come the next, it could be any one of her friends drowning in the enormity of what they’d survived. And she’d be there, offering a shoulder, as they’d done her. Taylor closed her eyes, and focused on her breathing; slow and deep into her belly. The horrors would fade, just as long as she could keep them at bay for long enough for them to do so.  It wasn’t as if she wasn’t well-used to the challenge; it had become almost routine until she’d thought she’d mastered it. Her friends had gathered around her, offering whatever comfort they could give, and that was the best hope she could ask for.

Raj sat bolt upright, clearly struck by inspiration. Always a worry.

“Guys! Gu-u-uuys!”

Taylor snorted an affectionate little laugh. “Raj! Ra-a-aaj! What’re you thinking?”

He jumped up and began moving furniture out the way.

“This is ominous….” Zahra muttered.

“Okay, doodlejumps, everyone one the floor! Sitting in a nice, wide circle.”

“Yup. I knew I had a bad feeling…. If this isn’t ‘pass the bong’, I’m out.”

Raj was undeterred, in spite of the scepticism shown by a chunk of the group. “Now, lie down, so that your head is resting on the belly of the dude or dudette to your right.”

“Er, okay,” Diego said, angling himself so that his head would fall to Taylor’s middle, “kinda weird, but why not?”

“Is everyone in positio--”

But Craig was already laughing; being sleep-deprived and tickled by the movements of Zahra’s diaphragm, he couldn’t help it if he tried. And Quinn with her head on his belly, found herself jiggled up and down in a most giggle-inducing manner.

“There you go-- you’re doing it!”

Bouncing up and down on Estela’s firm belly, Taylor laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Which made both Estela and Diego laugh more, which made her laugh more…. And so, Raj’s laughing circle worked its magic. It was simple, and silly, but actually… it worked. She was smiling so hard her jaw ached. The genius of Raj had struck again.

She laughed until…. “Okay, okay, I c-can’t breathe! Too much laughing!”

Taylor sat up clumsily, and a rosy-cheeked Estela put an arm around her once more, still giggling herself.

A rather uncharacteristically disheveled Michelle caught her breath long enough to give Raj a look of incredulation.

“I hate the fact that I feel so much better after that.” She collapsed against Quinn’s shoulder and shook her head. “I don’t even want to know how ridiculous we all looked just then…. The things I do for you people….”

“For what it’s worth,” Taylor said, “I appreciate it. More than I can say.”

It would be over an hour before everyone at last trundled along back to bed. An hour that Taylor’s loved ones had filled with chamomile tea, a giggly session of group yoga, a massage with soothing lotions from a talented Michelle, and many, many hugs. She even managed to snag a hug from Zahra; very brief and well out of sight of anyone else, but a hug nonetheless.

Taylor sunk into the mattress with a quiet moan, and curled her body into a ball, soon to have Estela’s wrapped lovingly around it. She was tired… so tired that the weight of her eyelids was painful. But she was relaxed, more-so than should have been possible after the horrific vision she endured, and with something as momentous as her first day as a student at Hartfeld lying ahead.

“Duerme ya, dulce bien; mi capullo de nardo,” Estela sang softly as her gentle fingers stroked Taylor’s hair.

Taylor closed her eyes, knowing nothing but the feel and sound of her wife. The surest thing she could ever trust in.

“Despacito duermete, como la abeja en la flor.

Duerme ya, dulce bien;

Duerme ya, dulce amor

Dulces sueños tendrás

al oir mi canción.”

And Taylor slept soundly, cocooned in love.

_________________________

As she pulled the van up into one of several car-parks on campus, Estela was struck by how right Michelle had been about it feeling surreal to be back in this place. The only reason she’d ended up there to begin with was because she’d intended to kidnap one Aleister Rourke and hold him hostage to gain access to his father. Circumstances had… definitely changed. That she was studying now wasn’t just a means to a probably violent end; it was to equip her to live a life fulfilling and true to who she was.

Her passengers piled out of the van; usually, those without a class first-thing would more than likely take a bus in later, but today felt significant.

“How are you feeling?” Estela checked in with Taylor, noting that she looked rather like someone on the verge of vomiting.

Taylor felt rather like she was on the verge of vomiting. She was a walking jumble of nerves. The smile she gave her wife was shaky. “It’s just… weird. Other than the Lernaean Gate experience, and I’m trying to keep that out of my mind, I’ve never stepped foot in this place. But I look over there, and I know that’s the Humanities building, and the best coffee shop on campus is around that corner, and if I were to bump into another Freshman, I could probably give them accurate directions to whatever lecture hall they were searching for. I know all that, and still… it’s new.”

“It’s okay,” Estela said gently, finding Taylor’s hand and squeezing it. “All the other new students are gonna be freaking out too. You’ll blend right in.”

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right.” Taylor took a deep breath. This was nothing, nothing that she couldn’t handle. When she stepped back and looked at it logically, there was obviously no threat. All those months of building this up in her head sure had wreaked havoc on her. “What do you have up first? Was it the subject on discrimination and identities?” That sounds right.

Estela nodded. “Yep, that’s the one.” She had just the three classes on this first day; one each for Identity and Discrimination, Conflict Resolution and Peace Building, and Social Development. Having opted to change her major from Business Studies to Peace and Conflict Studies-- something that hadn’t even been an option when she began studying in San Trobida-- she was starting this school year as a Junior rather than a Senior.

She wasn’t alone-- Craig had also decided to change direction, now focusing his degree on Game Development. “Well, uh, that sounds… fun,” he said, grateful that Introduction to Computer Game Design would be his first lecture. It was something he’d wanted to try out back in his Freshman year, before he’d gotten swept up in the popularity that came with joining the football team. Now, his inner nerd wouldn’t be hidden in shame. “Anyways, I’ve got to go-- I actually don’t wanna miss this class. Weird. That’s like… never happened before.”

He shuffled off with Zahra, who rolled her eyes as she swung an arm around his shoulder.

Taylor pulled Estela into a kiss. All too brief, for they had company, and because that Identity and Discrimination lecture wouldn’t attend itself.

“You still on for coffee?” Quinn asked Taylor as the rest of the group broke off for lessons. “Grace says she’s on the way there now.”

With a tight hug goodbye, Taylor let Estela go off to her lecture, and joined Quinn in a brisk walk to the coffee shop.

As with much of the Hartfeld campus, the coffee shop felt as familiar as if Taylor had been there many times before. Rather than feeling odd, in this particular instance it added to the warm and comforting feel of the place…. It was like a hug from an old friend.

And the coffee itself….

“Actually, that’s a nice cappuccino!”

“Good enough that you’ll convince Estela to give it a go?” Grace asked, a twinkle in her eye. She knew well from experience that, as a rule, Estela found American coffee to taste-- to quote her directly-- ‘like ass’.

Taylor snickered. “I could get her to join us no problem, but I’d put money on her sticking to her flask of a superior Colombian brew.”

Whether it was a world-beating cup of coffee or not, it certainly fulfilled the job of giving Taylor the wake-up she needed. It was hard not to keep on apologising for being the cause of a disrupted night’s sleep, but she bit it back. There was no shame in not being okay. Soon enough, it would be someone else’s turn, and she sure as hell didn’t want anyone else beating themselves up the way she did. Estela had always been very quick to snap Taylor out of hypocritical thinking where guilt was concerned, and it was appreciated. So, Taylor just let herself enjoy a warm brew and the company of two of the best friends she could ask for as they pondered on this new year of college.

“Ooh!” Quinn cried suddenly. “You could try ‘Hartfeld Creates��; it’s basically a club for people who are into arts and crafts of all kinds-- well, basically, anything that you create yourself.”

That sounded all right. If she was going to ingratiate herself into the school community, starting with something Taylor already had an interest in wouldn’t hurt.

“Do they take bumbling beginner knitters like me, d’you think?”

“They do a big exhibition at the end of the school year; if I remember correctly from last time, there were definitely a few knitters showing off their work.” Quinn took another sip of her coffee, then looked up with a shy smile. “Actually,” she said, “I’d wanted to sign up, but commitments were always tough for me. I guess… there’s nothing to hold me back now.”

Grace returned the smile. “It sounds like a good excuse for me to really start diving in to fractal art. If you wanted, we could all sign up together.”

“I think I might really like that,” Taylor said, and she licked froth from her lips. Estela was missing out-- this was a good coffee. “At least I’ll know there’ll be two people who will say nice things about my lumpy knitting.”

She brought her mug upwards to chink with her two friends’.

“To new experiences!” she toasted, before hastily adding, “--of the low-key variety!” No more sea monsters for me, thank you.

Before Taylor knew it, the next of her new experiences had rolled around. She’d found her way to the lecture hall for Introductory Spanish without a sweat, as if she had a campus map pre-downloaded in her brain. It was weird, but she did turn up looking less frazzled than a few of her classmates, so it had its value. Taylor took a seat beside a mature-aged student, quietly relieved that not everyone in her first class was fresh out of high school. And, of course, being Taylor, she immediately made herself acquainted.

“Hi,” she said, offering a hand that was gratefully shaken, “I’m Taylor.”

The silver-haired woman returned a smile. “Lovely to meet you. Sue.”

“Is this your first class, too?”

“Not my first class-- I just came from a Molecular Biology lecture-- but it’s my first day, so still getting my head around how it all works. I did try college years back, but, you know… life happened. I can tell you it’s changed a lot since then!”

This was so much easier than Taylor had anticipated. Caught up in her own head, she found herself frequently falling into the trap of underestimating the qualities that had always best served her. She wasn’t just the glue that held the Catalysts together simply because she’d been created as a perfect match to their needs;  it was more than that. Taylor loved people. She was good at people. So long as she focused on her innate humanity and not the part of her that felt alien, she could find her confidence.

“So, Molecular Biology, and Introductory Spanish. That’s broad. I’m guessing you don’t have a major in mind yet? I’m the same.”

Sue chuckled. “Well, I’m not studying for anything in particular. No one strong direction. To be honest, I don’t have a great deal of interest in a career change. I work part-time from home, which suits me fine. Plenty of time for the grandkids. But I have always loved to learn. The way I see it, if I’m to broaden my horizons, I might as well cast a wide net.”

“Fair enough,” Taylor said. “There’s certainly the range here to do that. I found it a little intimidating to have so much choice. I vaguely know what direction I want to take, but really, until I give things a go….” She shrugged her shoulders. “What’s really going to grab me, I don’t know.”

“There’s something to be said for the fun being in the journey. I know I’ve always wanted a university education, and I’ve always wanted to travel. Both things are coming to fruition after more years than I care to count, but I wouldn’t trade any of the stops along the way for anything. That’s what inspired me to take Spanish-- Latin America is high on the list.”

“You should go off the beaten track and give San Trobida a try! It’s really beautiful.” Taylor suggested to an intrigued nod. “For me…. My wife’s Colombian-San Trobidan and my best friend’s Mexican by blood. I’m kinda curious about what they say to one other about me.” She smiled cheekily, had a momentary realisation of ‘oh, I’m not sure how LGBT-friendly this older stranger is’, then realised Sue hadn’t batted an eyelid, and continued. “No, we’re probably going to end up spending a lot of time in San Trobida; my wife’s only family is there.” Well, I guess that’s not even entirely true anymore. “A bit more Spanish will serve me well. Wifey’s teachings have mostly centred around curse words and romantic pet-names… neither of which are appropriate in all circumstances.”

Sue gave a short laugh. “It’s a useful language,” she said. “Widely used. And once you know a bit of Spanish, you find related languages start to make some sense as well. French is next on my list.”

And so, by the time the professor arranged his notes and set up the projector, Taylor had realised that she really needn’t have worried about a thing. She was a social butterfly; on La Huerta, or anywhere else. All she had to do was spread her wings.

_____________________

Estela’s morning had been uneventful. Her classes had basically been introductions to the respective courses; general overviews of what to expect in the coming weeks and months of study. This was just as well, because she found her mind wandering.

The previous night’s events had rattled her. So long it had been since Taylor had one of her horrific nighttime visions-- the last one had been back in San Trobida-- Estela had been caught off-guard. Once again, that helpless feeling was seemingly inescapable.

She sat down in the library and buried her head in her assigned Peace and Conflict textbook, trying to focus for long enough to string two sentences together.

It was just a freak thing because of all the build-up to starting college. Chances are, she’ll sleep like a baby tonight.

Babies sleep like shit.

Who came up with that dumbass idiom anyway? No one who ever met a goddamn baby….

Taylor had always been prone to vivid dreams; dreams that weren’t normal dreams. Actually, on La Huerta, Estela had experienced a few of those herself. But after Taylor released the part of Vaanu that resided in her, things changed. The memories gifted to her by the Endless took over all of Taylor’s dreams. Between the two of them, they’d managed to note patterns; flashes of violent scenes had-- without fail-- been in the wake of a period of stress, while a reduction of Taylor’s waking anxiety led to lighter scenes playing through her head at night. The key, they’d deducted, was to ensure she went to bed relaxed and happy. Estela couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid to think it was a phase that had passed; it had simply been a case of waiting for a significant enough stressor and --whoomp-- back to nightmare city. And once Taylor closed her eyes each night… there wasn’t a damn thing Estela could do to keep her safe from the cruelties of her own mind.

Estela glanced at the clock. It would be three-quarters-of-an-hour at least before Taylor was done with her second class. She should at least take a few notes while she waited.

Then a voice echoed out from behind one of the rows of shelves.

“.…I’m still not convinced scar-girl wasn’t somehow involved. Nine students disappear off the face of the earth and that creeper just happens to be with them? I’m not buying it.”

In an instant, Estela felt a hot blush rise to her cheeks, and her stomach drop. In all honesty, she hadn’t expected much different but… she’d hoped she could get through the first day without… without…. How could it not hurt? Pointedly, she kept looking down into her notes, though any remaining hope she might have had to actually focus on them had fled. Nine students? She didn’t even count; she was an ‘other’. As everyone had always seen her. Don’t let it get to you. Don’t let anyone see that it gets to you.

“Oh my god-- right? I can’t believe they let her back here after what happened….”

Another voice cut through, sharp and comfortingly familiar.

“I’m sorry-- are you serious?” Michelle demanded.

“...We didn’t ask you!”

“I know, I know. You’re just too busy making up poisonous gossip about a person who you’re well aware has just survived a traumatic event. Classy!”

“What the fu--”

“I’m sure the dean would be interested in hearing all about your treatment of one of the Hartfeld Ten. Someone the rest of them owe their lives to several times over. Or, you know…. The both of you could just get out of here, and while you’re at it…. Get. A. Fucking. Life.”

There was some rude and clearly embarrassed muttering aimed in Michelle’s direction, the shuffling of feet, then quiet.

Estela realised she’d been holding her breath. Everything was different now. The sting was still real, but coming up behind it was something soothing. And she wasn’t the ‘other’ any longer; not in that moment.

“Michelle….”

And Michelle came around the corner, a look of horror across her face. “Oh, shit--you heard that?”

Estela offered a shaky smile. “It’s okay; I’ve heard worse.”

“It’s not okay! It’s not remotely-- They’re just… assholes. Self-absorbed, ignorant assholes.” Michelle was shaking with fury. And Estela found herself not surprised those students scarpered quickly as they did. “You would not believe how close I came to slapping those bitches just now--”

“No, I can guess. Thank you.”

“I used to be friends with people like that. Or… I thought they were my friends. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that now I’ve got the real thing.”

Michelle pulled off her shoulder-bag and sat down in the chair beside Estela.

“Are any of them still here?” she asked. “The people you used to know.”

“’Know’ is a strong word in hindsight,” Michelle commented dryly. “But, the vast majority graduated when I was meant to, or the year after. There are a couple of girls I was in the sorority with who were Freshmen at the time. I caught a ‘you saw Michelle Nguyen’s gay now?’ ‘thank god we saved poor Sean when we did-- he deserves so much better’.” She rolled her eyes.

Estela huffed. “Ignorant assholes,” she affirmed. She looked back down at her notes. “Too bad, though. So far up their own asses they missed out on knowing the most amazing friend a person could ask for. Sucks to be them.”

There was quiet, and noting the silence, Estela raised her eyes to see Michelle looking at her with the warmest, most appreciative of smiles. Somewhat shyly-- she’d not intended to stir up deep emotions-- Estela returned it.

Michelle glanced around, checking there was no one in earshot. “I was talking with Grace earlier; bringing her up to date on everything that went down last night,” she whispered.

Estela quirked an eyebrow. “Any words of wisdom there?” she asked with a soft sigh. “Anything at all, I’ll take it. Please.”

Sympathetic, Michelle reached out and squeezed her friend’s arm. “We’re going to look after each other. That’s the best wisdom I think any of us has to offer.”

It was hard to argue with that… but it didn’t feel like enough. Not when Taylor was still being wrenched back to the darkest of places, powerless make it end.

“We wanted to float an idea with the others,” Michelle continued, sensing Estela’s helplessness. “Maybe we could get together every month, every fortnight… whatever it might be, and all of us just… talk. Like therapy, but just us, because so much of what’s been the fucking hardest we can’t tell anyone else. I dunno… maybe Quinn will bring cupcakes or something….”

“That usually reels everyone in,” Estela noted, a smile tugging at her lips. It wasn’t a bad idea. For herself, she’d looked at the idea of some kind of counselling, but it had come down to the fact that she’d only really want to do that with a therapist from San Trobida-- someone who understood where and what she’d come from. That was a tall order, even before the challenge of dodging around sensitive La Huerta business was considered. Obviously, everyone else would also need to get help in their own ways, but for some things, they had to be one another. “I think…. I think that might be a really good idea.”

_________________________

“See? You survived two whole classes!” Diego laughed, coming out of a lecture theatre beside Taylor. He’d made a point of choosing at least one best-friend-friendly elective, landing on ‘Gender, Sexuality and the Media’. If the first lecture was anything to go by, they were going to enjoy it. “All those nightmares for nothing.”

Taylor sighed dramatically. “All we’ve gotta do now is hope my brain gets with the programme. She can be tricky, that one.”

With a kind smile, Diego gently bumped shoulders with his friend. The night before had been eye-opening. Of course, Taylor had told him all about the ghastly visions she’d been haunted with, but to be present through the aftermath… it had slammed it home just what she’d been enduring. And he didn’t know she’d kept herself together as well as she did.

“Hey… it’s all gonna get better.” As Taylor met his eye, appreciative but unconvinced, explained. “The way I see it, you’re basically Stitch right now--”

“I’m gonna need you to spell this out for me,” Taylor said with a laugh.

“Ha. Trust me, it’ll all make sense. You know how Stitch had been made for only one purpose, and he felt kinda lost when all that was gone? That’s you.”

“I… guess….”

“Hear me out!”

“Always.”

“Well, when Vaanu left you, there was this big empty space left behind. And The Endless’ memories are basically you clinging to what your purpose always was-- to care for us all. It’s like Stitch; you don’t have your own memories to take up space, it’s just you and your purpose.”

Taylor stopped in her tracks. “Hang on. Is Estela my aggressive, lonely orphan Lilo?”

Diego sputtered a laugh. “I’d like to think Estela and I are both your Lilo. But what matters is that’s not going to last. All that empty space is going to fill up, day by day.”

“I… really wanna believe that.”

“I know.” He put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “You know what else I think? I think the more you see that we’re all okay, the less you’re going to have that protective part of your brain setting off those nightmares as alarm bells to you. And for as long as it takes for you to be okay… I’m here for you. We all are.”

Taylor looked into his earnest face and saw only genuine love and care. And it broke her heart, because she couldn’t gaze into his warm, dark eyes and not see their light going out. A hard lump rose in her throat, choking her, and she buried her face against Diego’s neck, hugging him tight.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “Really. Thanks.”

Finally pulling away from an embrace that had been so needed, Taylor and Diego hurried toward the green wooded area of campus where they’d arranged to meet Estela.

She was waiting for them by the fountain, her eyes lit with a smile at the sight of her beloved.

“Hola, mi angel!” she called out as they approached. “Te traje el almuerzo. Quieres encontrar un lugar?”

“Hahaha,” Taylor said sardonically, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly for good measure. “Yes, one lecture and I’m not fluent. Clearly university is money down the drain. Pfft.”

“Joder!”

“That, I understand.” She reached for Estela… the simple feel of her bringing her instantly home. “If we ever have an exam on curse words, you’ll have me on the trajectory for an A.”

What a relief it was to see Taylor happy, joking. Estela wrapped both her arms around her wife’s neck, and just held her. And when she finally released Taylor, it was only for her to move in once more to kiss her.

“Uh, guys? Are you going to do this after every block of classes? I might need you two to get a room.”

“Por favor! You love it. We all know you’re as invested in Taylor’s love life as you are your own.”

“Hey!” Diego exclaimed, hand to his heart as if mortally wounded. “A little rude, but true. But, I guess I can leave you lovebirds to it for a few minutes. Is it sad that I’m dying to see if they have anything new in the food court?”

And so, Estela and Taylor were left to wander a beautiful corner of the sprawling campus. Estela hooked her little finger in Taylor’s, and everything that had once made this world hostile melted to nothing. It was hard sometimes, not to feel like a round peg being forced through a square hole. Somehow, Taylor softened the world’s edges to her… and when she was near, Estela fit. Just as she was.

“Querida?” Estela looked at Taylor, and adored her. She could only hope that in her, Taylor found the same sense of belonging… the kind so strong that it defied all else.

“Mm?”

“I really love you.”

Taylor’s heart swelled. As it did every time she heard those words stated anew. Every time, it was a promise that for all the pain that still lingered, everything really would be all right.

“I really love you, too.”