#i've got a headache from being sad >:(

[skeletalcat]

we put my cat Nux down today :( :( :( Please look that these funny pictures of him from when he was young (but weird)

[spidercatweb]

Your Embrace and My Collapse ★ Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: fem!bau!reader, migraine!reid, angst, hurt/comfort, tiny bit of fluff at the end, established relationship, Spencer is snippy and a little mean but it's because of migraine, Spencer yells at reader, reader is sad for a bit, non-specific case details, mentions of women being murdered, a hint of misogyny from a suspect, one single swear word, umm nothing else I don't think? lmk if so. this is set in s6 :)

Description: Spencer has a migraine, he yells at r when it gets too overwhelming, he regrets this later, calling to apologize.

Word Count: 3.1k

Request: Hi! First off I loveee your blog!! Second off could I get a spencer reid x fem!reader where they r having an argument about literally anything and then a lot of spencer groveling? thanks for considering

A/n: thank you sm for the request, anon!! I am just now realizing that what happens in this isnt much of an argument 😬, but i quite like how it turned out. I hope you enjoy!! <3 Is it obvious i got carried away w this one?

After four years of working with Spencer, and nearly two years of dating him, it wasn't surprising that you were the first to notice that something was wrong. 

The past few days, Spencer hadn't gone on as many long rambles as usual. Maybe he was just tired this week, cases have been very time consuming lately. Not that they usually aren't.

You figured out what was wrong when you saw him squeeze his eyes shut and rub them with the base of his palms. Three times in an hour. Unusual. 

After the team finished delivering the profile for the current case, you took a moment to pull him aside. 

"Are you feeling okay?" Concern in your voice, you reached gently for his hand. 

He pulled away. "Yeah, I'm fine." His face scrunched up, he shut his eyes tightly and his nose crinkled up. You'd find it cute if it wasn't obvious he was in pain. He pressed into the bridge of his nose with two fingers,clearly trying to ease a headache.

"Okay," you gave him a small smile and nod, "let me know if you need anything, I've got Advil in my bag." 

"I know, thank you." He made an effort to return your smile.

"Reid, Y/l/n, we've got a lead. Garcia's about to fill everyone in." Hotch's commanding voice cut through the calm, quiet bubble around the two of you. 

The team filed into the briefing room of the BAU. Thankfully, the case was local. You were glad to be in a familiar place. 

Garcia was already seated at the small round table, tapping away on her laptop. You sat down next to Spencer, Prentiss sat on your other side.

"Lovelies, we have a small problem. I've found two men who almost exactly fit our profile."

"We'll bring both of them in for questioning, then. What do we know about them, Garcia?" Hotch directs the attention back to her.

"I was just about to tell you that, sir. First up, we've got Landon Adams, 27 years old. His childhood was... less than nice. Plenty of trips to the hospital, poor thing. Lots of injuries consistent with abuse. And I'm assuming everything going on at home was related to the multiple reports of violence towards his fellow students at school. Multiple suspensions, and he was expelled from his highschool." She takes a quick moment to switch the information on her screen.

"Second guy, Cole Parker, 29 years old. Similar childhood to Adams. Frequent hospital trips for supposed accidents, bad behaviour at school, suspensions, an expulsion. Oh and get this! They both work in construction! Different companies, though."

"Do we have home addresses and places of work?" Rossi chimes in.

"We do, sir, I've already sent them to you all." Garcia smiles proudly, always one step ahead.

"Thank you, Garcia. Alright, Prentiss, Morgan. You two go to Adams' home. Rossi and JJ, you go to his workplace. Seaver and I will go to Parker’s home. Y/l/n and Reid, you two go to his workplace." 

Everyone nods at Hotch as they receive their placements. The team splits up accordingly, each pair heading to a different SUV. Exiting the Quantico building, you see Spencer wince at the brightness of the sun. You sigh quietly. You don't like seeing him in pain, but you have a job to do. You'll talk more later.

The car ride is quiet. You drive, Spencer sits in the passenger seat. The silence isn't exactly comfortable, but it isn't awkward. You roll down his window just a little, to give him the fresh air he so obviously needs. You take the time to theorize about the suspect. Will he even be at work? Will he run? Put up a fight? You hope not.

As you pull into the small, gravel parking lot of the construction company, you sit for a moment to prepare yourself to talk to whoever is managing the place. In your experience, people in this line of work aren't often eager to talk to FBI agents. You look over at Spencer, he must have put on his sunglasses when you weren't paying attention. He now looks a little less irritated without the sun in his eyes. Good. 

You gently place a hand on Spencer’s knee, catching his attention. “You ready to go?” 

He brushes his hand over yours, giving it a light squeeze. “Yep.���

You both step out of the car into the bright sun. The sunlight reflects off of tiny, glistening specks in the gravel, and right into your eyes. You squint as you head to the front entrance of the building alongside Spencer, now wishing you’d also brought your sunglasses.

The inside of the building is similar to the outside. Concrete, dusty, smelling strongly of diesel. You noticed how Spencer scrunched up his nose at the pungent scent. 

The only other person inside is an older man who introduces himself as Mark, the manager of the building. 

“You two are FBI? Really? Well what are you two doin’ out here?”

You ignore the man’s questioning of your authority. “We’re here to ask you a few questions about one of your employees, Cole Parker?”

“Ah. Well, he called in sick today, and I’m not one to judge, but he didn’t sound very sick on the phone. If you ask me, he’s ditching work to be with that new girlfriend of his.”

“Girlfriend?” Spencer asks. He glances over to you, the unsub had been killing young women. If Cole Parker was your guy, this new girlfriend of his could be in danger.

“Yeah. He’s been yammerin’ on about her for the past week. Her name is Carol… or Christine? Somethin’ like that. Hard to keep up. He gets tired of em’ fast.”

Interesting.

“Have you noticed any shifts in his behavior lately? Short temper, violent outbursts, things like that?”

“Hm. Y’know I’m really not sure, I’m not around him long enough to notice. Might be better to ask some of the guys. I can give you the address of the site they’re workin’ if you’d like.” He offers.

Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose again, his vision beginning to blur. “We’ve already got two other agents headed there right now, but thank you.” 

The man notices Spencer’s clear discomfort, “You alright?”

“Yeah. Fine, thanks.” He runs his hands through his hair anxiously, further tousling his already messy curls.

“Thank you for your cooperation, sir.” You hand him a card with your work phone number, “Please call me if you remember any important details about Cole.”

He puts the card into his shirt pocket. “Of course. Have a nice day, you two.” 

As you both exit the building, Spencer stops right outside the door, running his hands over his face with a sigh.

You turn to look at him with concern. “Spence-”

“I just need a minute. I’m fine. I’ll meet you in the car.” His eyes are squeezed shut as he faces the ground, rubbing his temples.

You respond with a quiet “okay”, and silently head back to the car, where you wait for him. You put the air conditioning on blast as you pull out your phone to call Hotch.

“Hotchner.” He answers quickly.

“Did you and Seaver find Cole?”

“Yes, we’re just about to bring him in for questioning. How’s it going over there?”

“His boss told us that he can’t keep a girlfriend for too long, always switching between girls. He didn’t notice any other odd behaviors though. We’re just about to leave.” You spot Spencer walking over to the car.

“Alright, thanks. See you at the precinct.” He hangs up the call.

Spencer slides into the passenger’s seat, looking slightly calmer than before. “Who was that?” 

“Hotch. Him and Seaver are bringing Cole Parker in for questioning.” You turn the air conditioning down a little, so it’s still cool but not as loud, not as irritating for Spencer.

“Good.” 

***

Spencer leans his head back on his seat and closes his eyes. The drive back is just as silent as the drive there. By the time you get to the police precinct, Spencer is half asleep. He opens his eyes slowly. Squinting at the light coming through the windshield, he turns his head towards you.

“Hi.” You huff out a small laugh, earning a small quirk of his lips. “Feeling a little better?”

“Mm.” He sighs with a nod, “a little, I’ll be fine.”

You reach over and comb your fingers through his hair, he leans into your touch. You fix a few stray hairs that stick out, then give him a peck on his cheek. “Let’s go.”

***

The lights in the precinct are bright, filled with the chatter of nosy police officers. They flock around the team as you all enter with both suspects. Hotch and Rossi take on the task of interrogating, with the rest of the team on standby if needed. You stand behind the two-way mirror with Seaver and Reid. You listen intently to every word, you note mannerisms, you profile. That is your job after all.

Cole is becoming frustrated after only thirty minutes of interrogation. Hotch stays calm and collected as Cole’s volume rises. 

“I’m telling you! I was nowhere near there! I was out with some guys from work. Ask ‘em, they’ll tell you.”

“We did. They all had pretty different stories. We also got security camera feeds from the alley that night. Are you telling me that isn’t you?” Hotch slides a grainy photo across the table. The lighting is dark and the quality is less than ideal, but it’s clearly Cole in the photo.

He groans and mumbles something under his breath, “those bitches deserved it.”

“Pardon me?” Hotch prompts him to repeat himself.

“I said they deserved it! Every last one!” He yanks hard at the cuffs grounding him to the table, lunging at Hotch.

Hotch doesn’t move a muscle. “Alright, that’s enough.” He nods to the two officers standing at the back of the room. They move to restrain the man and bring him to a holding cell.

You look up at Spencer, who at first glance, seems fine, like he’s just thinking. But you notice his glassy eyes and flushed face. He tries to inconspicuously shield his eyes from the flickering fluorescent light above his head. Seaver notices this too, she gives you an “is he okay?” look, you give her a shrug and a worried look that says “I have no idea.” She exits the room to go check on Rossi and the others, leaving you and Reid alone.

You hover beside him, not wanting to worsen his pain any more. After a few moments of watching him silently suffer, you hear a sniffle. He’s crying. You get a sinking feeling in your chest, all you want is for him to be okay. 

“Spence,” you whisper. No response. “Do you want to sit down? I can get you some water,” you offer kindly. 

He shakes his head, massaging his temples again.

“Are you sure? The case is pretty much wrapped up. I’m sure Hotch wouldn’t mind.” Your voice stays soft, gentle.

He raises his voice “God, I’m fine! It’s fine! Nothing will help, just… Just stop trying to help me. I don’t need help.” You spot him wiping a tear from his face as he storms out of the room.

You don’t follow. Maybe he needs some time alone. You respect his wishes. You don’t help. Though you’d really, really like to. Instead, you follow Seaver’s trail to the second interrogation room where Rossi is still digging deep into the other suspect’s mind. You watch through the two-way mirror.

“Really, Landon? Were you really stopped on the side of that road for a nap? You were on your way home, weren’t you? Why not wait until you got back?”

“I was tired. I didn’t want to fall asleep at the wheel.”

“Alright. You’re sure you didn’t see anything suspicious? No … man lugging around a woman’s corpse? Burying her?”

“No, man! I was sleeping!” He throws his hands up in the air, as much as one can while cuffed to a table. He sighs defeatedly.

Hotch slides past you and into the interrogation room. He lets Rossi know that while he’d been interrogating, Cole Parker had fully confessed to the murders. He spared no detail, including  ones the police and FBI hadn’t yet shared with the public.

Rossi gives Landon a half-hearted apology and a pat on the back as the officers uncuff him.

***

You help Hotch to get a written confession from Cole, which takes longer than usual, because his handwriting skills aren’t exactly the best. But you sit in the room with him, waiting, as he drops the occasional rude comment directed towards you, his victims, or the police.

While sitting silently, you think about Spencer. You wonder if he’s okay. You think about what he said. He doesn’t need help from you. He doesn't want help from you. Leave him alone for once.

You shake the thought out of your head. He’s in pain. He didn’t mean it. This does little to ease the anxiety spinning in your mind.

“Hey, lady. I’m done writing.” He drops the pen down onto the metal table with just enough force to express his annoyance.

“Good. Did you sign it?” 

“Of course I did. What? Do you think I’m stupid or something?” He’s clearly looking for a fight.

Unamused, you respond. “No. I think you’re a serial killer with a severe lack of respect for women. I was just checking. A lot of people forget.” You slide the paper towards yourself and look it over before placing it into a file folder. You give a nod to the officers in the room and they take him away. You leave the room after them, meeting up with the rest of the team except Spencer, who’d reluctantly gone home per Hotch’s instruction. Thank goodness someone else noticed.

Hotch pulls you aside for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind if you left to help Reid. There’s not much left for us to do today anyway. You’re free to go.”

You hesitate. He doesn’t want help. He doesn’t need you. 

“Okay. Thanks Hotch.” You give him a faint smile as you go to grab your things.

***

Instead of heading to Spencer’s apartment, you go to yours. You want to check up on him, but don’t want to pain him with a blaring ringtone, and he was most likely staying away from screens, so he wouldn’t see a text. You keep him in your thoughts as you change out of your work clothes and settle down for the night. 

***

Spencer lies on his bed in complete darkness. At this point, the pain had brought him to tears. He hadn’t eaten anything due to the nausea looming in his stomach, which only made the headache worse.

He needed something. A distraction. Nothing loud. Nothing bright. Nothing that would irritate him further. He wanted you. He needed you.

He thinks back to what he said to you earlier. Why would I say that? Well, he knew why he said it. Scientifically. Higher sensitivity, more pain, more irritability, this leads to outbursts. He just wanted it to stop. He didn’t mean to yell at you.

He sighs, shifting to be face-down in his pillow. He just wants to feel okay. Why won’t it stop? What’s wrong with me? A pained whine escapes him as he decides to try to get some rest. 

***

Your phone’s ringtone pulls you out of your sleep. You grab it from your nightstand, checking the time first. Who’s calling me at 12:30am? Spencer. You answer with some hesitation, anxiety still whirrs in your mind, residue from hours ago. 

“Spence?”

“I really- I’m really sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t mean it. And I know that’s not a good excuse but-” His voice is quieter than usual, strained.

“I know you didn’t mean it. You weren’t acting like… you. I was worried.”

“I said I didn’t need help but I’m um- really rethinking that right now. And I’d completely understand if you didn’t want to but um- could you maybe come over? I just really want someone here with me. I want you here with me.” 

You could tell from his voice that he was still hurting, he was scared. You get up without a second thought. 

“Of course, Spence. I’ll be right over.”

He sighs with relief. “Thank you.” 

***

Spencer hears the lock on his door click as you enter. He stays right where he is, in bed. 

You walk in as quietly as you can, leaving your shoes at the door and trying your best to navigate around in the dark. You nudge his bedroom door open and whisper a quiet “I’m here” as you spot the outline of him in his bed.

He sits up slowly with a small hum of acknowledgement. “Hi.” He reaches to turn on the lamp beside his bed.

“No, don’t, you don’t need to turn it on. It’s fine.” You reassure him. “Do you want me to get you anything? Water? Meds?”

“Both, please. Meds are on the kitchen counter.”

“Okay, I’ll be back in two seconds.” You head to the kitchen, spotting the meds once you turn on the lights. You fill a glass with ice, then water, grab the box of meds, then rush right back to Spencer’s room, turning off the kitchen lights as you leave.

You carefully hand him the glass of water, he thanks you, then takes a long sip. You hand him two tablets of his meds, and he swallows them with the water.

“You want to try to get some sleep?”

He nods, “Yeah, but these usually take about half an hour to kick in, hopefully they do kick in. I’ll probably be able to sleep then.” Your eyes have now adjusted to the dark, you can see him give you a small smile.

“You want me to stay?”

“I’d really like it if you did.”

“Alright, move over then.” You don’t wait to slide into bed next to him. It warms your heart to hear him giggle slightly from this.

***

Your next hour is spent with Spencer curled up to your chest, with your fingers carding through his hair. The room is silent, save for your breathing and the sighs he lets out every so often. You stay awake until you’re sure he’s asleep, then for a little while longer, just to make sure. Finally, you can’t keep your eyes open any longer, and you’re pulled into a calm sleep. You hope that when you wake up, everything will be okay. And it will be. Because it always is with Spencer.

Thank you for reading! <3

Feedback is very much appreciated!

My requests are open!

🪻

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Sebastian (Pressure) fluff. I need it.

"I gotta ask, do you have personal beef with those Squiddles? Because you sure like harassing them with that light of yours."

"I don't do it on purpose! If that damn Angler stopped killing the lights in every big room, maybe I could see my own hand in front of me!" You scowled up at the sea creature while standing in his humble shop.

Why was Sebastian always taunting you whenever you died to something unexpected..only to act all friendly-like in this place?

Well, you had to be grateful he was the only thing down here that wasn't trying to kill you, and that no other monsters could barge into the shop when you least expect it.

So for once, you could breathe easy..

Until he decided to remind you of those creepy squids who were somehow always in your way.

He must get a kick out of watching you perish.

"Oh of course, blame everybody except yourself." He tsked. "You have more than enough clues on how to survive each creature you encounter...but maybe they should've spoonfed all the details to you instead-"

"I don't need this from you." You huffed. "My damn hands are cramped from holding a locker shut against Pandemonium, Eyefestation gave me a killer headache, nobody bothered to tell me about the people in the walls-"

"And don't forget about those Squiddles, hehe."

Silence.

"Okay, okay. I've had my fun. I'll shut up about them now."

"Thanks. You have any medkits available?"

"Right on my tail, buddy. Hope you got enough data."

"More than enough." As your eyes surveyed the items strapped to his tail, they eventually wandered over to the desk with batteries laying out.

But it wasn't them that caught your interest, but rather the file on the table. 'How curious..is this for a monster I'm gonna meet soon?' You went over to investigate.

"Is the document for sale?"

"Wow, you might be the first to ask me about that and be able to afford it! The others before you barely had enough for a flashlight." Sebastian chuckled, clasping his hands together. "If you're interested, give me a thousand data, and I'll have it ready for you to read when you return to the surface. And don't worry, it's all there. So I won't have to kill you to to reveal any information."

You blinked, realizing what he meant by that as you read the folder's cover and why he was asking so much for it.

Sebastian's Document

Of course, you knew he'd be recognized as a specimen, too, but to be put with Pandemonium, the Anglers, and all those other monsters that tried to eat you alive?

For some reason, it made you frown a little.

"This is your file, and they let you keep it?" You turned back to him.

"...I stole it. And I'm not gonna lie...I regret reading it." He muttered, suddenly looking a bit tense..and sad, even, although he was quick to mask any signs of vulnerability when he realized you were staring. "Anyways, it's a steep price. I'm sure you'd rather spend your assets on-"

"What if I buy it and take it off your hands right now?"

For a moment, his ear fins perked up with surprise, glowing eyes widening. But he was quick to give you a suspicious gaze. "Really? You're that nosey about my lifestory? Pretty weird if you ask m-"

"It's more of a courtesy to you."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I mean..you look like you're carrying a heavy weight just from that folder being there. You haven't stopped looking at it since I mentioned it." You pointed out, seeing his ears twitch again. "You've always told me "out of sight, out of mind" with the Anglers. Couldn't I say the same about you and that document?"

".....using my own words against me, eh? What're you, a damn psychologist?" He teased, although his words didn't hold as much spite or sarcasm as usual. "But no, you're right. I'd rather forget about it forever. So if you want it that badly, be my guest." His third arm made a grand gesture towards the table. "Just don't get caught parading it around. And don't come crying to me when you realize you needed something else instead of-"

"I won't, trust me." You exchanged the data, taking the folder. "I'll be on my way now. I got a crystal to find."

With that, you began ducking down to renter the vent and continue your journey into the abandoned site-

"Hey."

You paused and looked back at Sebastian, tilting your head as you wondered why he seemed nervous again--wringing his hands together.

"Um..thank you, genuinely..for taking that off my hands." He cleared his throat, sweeping back his dark bangs. "I hope that whatever you find in there doesn't..get in the way of our "partnership". I'd hate to lose my number one customer."

Nodding, you gave him a reassuring smile. "You won't lose my business, Seb. That I promise."

"..now hold on we aren't THAT close to start going by nickna-" He began to snap, but you've already disappeared into the duct. "Aaaand they're gone...hmph..well..least I don't have to worry about that anymore."

Sighing, he looked around the shop, wondering what he should do now.

What you did was certainly a nice gesture.

He only hopes you'll keep your promise and not be afraid of him.

[jackabbotsfakeleg]

As Above So Below I Chapter 5 - Choked Up

Synopsis: After a long-awaited week of nights, you finally have a day off with Jack Abbot and he’s got you right where he wants you. Pairing: Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader  Word count: 3k Warnings: SMUT; 18+, MDNI.  Choking, Discussion of divorced dad rock, our favorite sad boys, dark humor, talk of mental illness. A/N: Welcome to the beginning of the two-chapter Jack Abbot sexcapade. If you’re not into choking, I’m sorry (but not that sorry). Don’t try this shit at home unless you know what you’re doing.  Sorry it took me so long to write, I have been sad.  Song lyrics are “Breathe” by Knucklepuck. Thank you for reading, I appreciate every single one of you. Masterlist

Chapter 5: Choked Up

"Buckle up, cause you're gonna feel it In the chest, we're due to decompress Fill your lungs and hope we're even Sport a smile like you don't know what comes next Shut me out with all my demons But don't ignore the ones in your own head Potential power lost in sequence To keep it short, I've done more with less"

Sleep heals most things— The blinding headache, The ache in your back The existential dread, and the aftereffects of baring parts of your soul to a man who finds comfort in darkness.

An alarm wakes you up at 5pm. It takes a minute for you to register where you are, asleep and alone in Jack’s bed. He let you sleep and set an alarm—a small gesture of kindness A reminder to thank him later.

You get up and find him standing in his kitchen, Snacks laid out neatly on the counter, Next to his backpack, Packing for another shift. Neat. Orderly. Like everything has a place. Can’t take the military out of the boy

“She lives” He doesn’t look up from what he’s doing but acknowledges your presence,

“You let me sleep,” you frown, moving so that you’re standing next to him, watching him work

“You needed it, the first shift will fuck you up” he continues, zipping up his backpack, “packed you a snack.”

“Thank you, but I didn’t come to nap” You remind him, nudging his shoulder with your own.

“Yeah? Well, I can’t fuck the sadness out of you on a few hours of sleep” He chuckles, he finally takes a second to look at you, ‘Jesus, those eyes.”

“That bad huh?” You raise an eyebrow,

“I’d know them anywhere” he narrows his eyes at you, “like looking in a fucking mirror, kid.”

“I’ll be better next time” You promise, “Scout’s honor”

“You don’t have to be better” he shakes his head, turning towards you. He leans forward, face inches from yours, eyes moving from your eyes to your mouth, “the trauma dumping is kind of hot.”

You lean forward, lips meeting his, and it’s immediately different than it was with Robby. It’s his hands in your hair pulling you into him, tongue in your mouth, desperate and forceful and demanding, and lasts until you’re both out of breath.

“I give it an 8” He smirks, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip, “could have felt a little more enthusiastic on your end.”

“Fuck off,” a laugh escapes your mouth, turning to lean against the kitchen counter.

“You want a ride to work?” He asks, “I’ll let you listen to sad music.”

“You sure you don’t care if we walk in together?” You ask

“Oh, you’re getting out before we get there,” he jokes, picking up his backpack “Can’t ruin my reputation.”

“Of being dark and broody and chronically single?” You ask, walking past him to collect your things

“You got it, baby.” He smiles, “Gotta keep ‘em on their toes.”

He drives you to work, And he lets you listen to sad music, as promised. But he doesn’t make you get out of the car a few blocks away. Just two coworkers walking into work together. He offers to pick you up for the next several shifts, And you accept the offer. Anything for more time with this one.

On the third day of riding to work together, he makes you listen to something called Divorced Dad Rock And it’s in this moment you learn that Jack Abbot knows the entire discography of Creed. By heart. You can barely stop laughing by the time you get to work, Listening to him belt, “With Arms Wide Open,” thankful for the brief moments of whatever this is.

“Well, well, well” Robby is waiting at the nurses’ desk as the two of you approach, raising an eyebrow at the two of you.

“Did you know about Divorced Dad Rock? Or is this a Jack Abbot original?” You ask Robby, leaning against the desk.

“That was supposed to be our thing” He replies, looking at Jack, “not cool, man.”

“I think I’m starting to gather why both of you are single” You nod, looking between the two of them

“I shared this with you in confidence” Jack adds, “and now you’re using it to insult us.”

“I would never” Your hand to your chest, smirking, “It just doesn’t feel special if you’ve already sang along to Creed with someone else.”

“In his defense, we only listen to Dave Matthews Band together” Robby chuckles, “You can have Creed.”

“Sad eyes and a brat” Jack quips, quiet enough for only you to hear, “you going to be like this all shift?”

“Probably” you shrug, “is it going to be a problem?”

“At work? No. At my place later? Yes.” He nods, “Got the day off tomorrow.”

He leaves you standing at the nurses’ station to anticipate the potential consequences as he disappears for shift change.

The night starts off slow, luckily for you, as you’ve convinced your staff to stick around for an evening meeting to review the last several weeks as the head of the department. The idea of running an entire department sounded great on paper, after all, you’ve been asking to make mental health treatment more available, cost-effective, and evidenced based since the day you were hired at your first job. Every new psychologist starts out as bright-eyed and full of hope. It's only later do you get beaten down by the systems in place and recognize that those symptoms were set up to keep people in a cycle of failure. But now you were in the driver’s seat, the hospital’s full resources and budget at your disposal, and somehow you were still stuck explaining for the umpteenth time why it’s “not cool” to leave psychiatric patients in the ER for days at a time.

They told you that you would have employees, but they did not tell you that these employees would have questionable ethics and morals.  This was in fact, your circus, and unfortunately these were your monkeys: One psychiatry resident- Dr. Sherman- who chain smoked in the ambulance bay and had a reputation for pushing pills so his patients could “get some sleep,” one psychology post-doc, Dr. Sutton- who made it known that this was not her first, second, or third choice but seemed to be knowledgeable enough, and two psychology interns, Ms. Goodwin and Ms. Simmons, who had difficulty understanding the difference between disclosure and debriefing. You were at least grateful for the psych techs who were capable of making sure the patients and the staff were safe. 'No one had been assaulted here in years,' they promised, and you intended to keep it that way. 

“Our patients can’t live in the ED” you let out an exasperated sigh, forehead resting on the table in front of you “Either discharge them to the community or a residential facility, or wheel them up to the behavioral health floor so we can treat them."

"We also shouldn't be calling them names like the Kraken" Sutton spoke up, annoyed.

"I agree, and will talk with the attendings in the ER" you confirmed, validating her concerns

“Also, we don’t have the staff or the beds,” she continued, shaking her head, nodding towards the interns “and even if we did, we can’t get those two over there to stop crying with their patients and start treating them. The C in CBT doesn’t stand for crying.”

"We're trying to empathize with our patients," Goodwin remarked, and it took everything in your being not to roll your eyes. Some people should not be psychologists. 

“Enough” you shoot them both a look, advising them to stop talking, “What do we need? We’ve got a hospital budget, and I’ve learned a thing or two about being creative from prison.”

“More techs, updated testing instruments, the ability to coordinate with community care, more restrictive settings for the behaviorally stupid patients, and better treatment options,” Sutton has been thinking about this for clearly a long time, “Oh, and the will to live.”

“Fine. I’ll see if I can poach techs from Western Psych, God knows they could use a break from the constant staff assaults, I will bring in updated testing instruments from home you can use, I will personally attend the NAMI outreach meetings and see if Gloria can help me contract some beds for those who don’t need hospitalizations. What else?” You run through her prior requests, “we’ll do five-point bed restraints for anyone who can’t keep themselves safe, and I’ll approve hours for attending training.”

“Seriously?” It’s like Christmas morning for them, “You’d do all that?”

“Yeah.” You nod your head, “You gotta find your own will to live though. Listen, I’ve never been a fan of the red tape of administration. If I can work my way around it with the federal government, this hospital should be a cake walk. You got me all day, and on some weeks like this week, all night. We’ll meet weekly for supervision, I will be available by phone and email, and I have an office downstairs near triage and you’re more than welcome to pop in at any time.” 

Your shift ends—the promise of a day off spent with Jack Abbot.

The silence on the drive to his apartment is heavy. You haven’t stopped thinking about that kiss several days ago, and he’s still reeling from you talking back to him earlier in the shift,

He shuts the door to his apartment the barely gives you time to set your bag down before his mouth his on yours again, back pressed up against the door.

“Been thinking about this all night,” He admits, mouth moving from your lips to your jaw and down your neck.

“Been thinking about this since Robby’s apartment” you add, as his tongue traces a line from your shoulder to your pulse point.

He takes a step back and holds out his hand, leading you down the hall and into his bathroom.

You hop up onto the counter while he disappears into another room, reappearing with two towels, tossing one to you, “Heads up, kid.”

You grab his wrist, pulling him towards you, your hands finding the bottom of his shirt, fingers sliding under the material, his skin warm against your hands.

He leans forward, hand sliding along your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers laced in your hair, tilting your head back to look up at him, before kissing you hard, like he’s trying to show you just how long he’s waited for this. His hands move from the back of your neck, along your jaw. 

Your hand moves on top of his, guiding his fingers down around your throat, squeezing.

You feel him smirk against your lips, as he pulls away to look at you.

“This your kind of thing?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you, and you nod against his hand.

You push his body back with your other hand enough for your knee to slide between his, pressing up against his already hardening cock. His grip tightens around your throat, his other hand grabbing your knee, eyes darkening, “Don’t.”

“Or what?” both hands around his wrist, a smile on your face, “you’ll come?"

“You’ve been a brat all fucking day” His voice is low, “talking back to me.”

“Seems like it turns you on” your voice constricted by the hand around your throat.

You try to move your knee again, other leg wrapping around his waist, and he squeezes harder, pressing your head back against the mirror hard enough to shake the glass behind you. He shakes his head and let’s go, “you need to learn how to fucking listen.”

He takes a step back from you to turn the shower on before resuming his position between your legs, fingers tilting your chin up looking at the red marks on your neck, “Fuck.” “You’re not going to hurt me” You push his hand away, “I’ll tell you when to stop.”

His hand slides along your jaw, to your cheek, his other hand pushing the hair out of your eyes. He hasn’t stopped looking at you. His mouth finds yours. It’s slow this time, drags the breath out of your lungs, pulls you close to him. It’s not what you expected after his hand was around your throat.

“Strip” he mumbles against your mouth. It’s not a suggestion, but a directive. He takes a step back, gives you enough room. You pull your shirt up over your head, and unclasp your bra, tossing them both to the floor. You unbutton your jeans, eyes still on him, and he helps you out of them.

Jack reaches out, his fingers running over the lace material of your underwear. He doesn’t hesitate, but slides his hand inside the material, fingers running along your slit, his thumb pressed to your clit, eliciting a breathy moan from your lips.

“Already so fucking wet,” he mumbles, pulling his hand away, before licking his fingers and wrapping them around your throat again, ”show me how you touch yourself.”

He gives you some room, and your cheeks flush. His hand squeezes harder as you slide your hand between your legs, tracing the outline of your already soaked-through panties. He watches, mouth slightly open as you slide a finger under the material and inside your folds. against your clit. He squeezes harder. Another finger follows, making slow circles circle, your other hand reaching out to push his scrubs down over his hips. He hisses at the contact, his free hand gripping his already hard cock, moving up and down his length slowly, thumbing the tip.

“You think about me when you touch yourself?” He asks, eyes on yours as you nod against his hand.

“Been thinking about you since I started this fucking job. I think about what you’d do to me, how it would feel to have you inside of me,” It comes out as a whisper mixed with a moan as you slip a finger inside yourself. As soon as the sound leaves your mouth his hand leaves your throat. His hands move under your knees, and he slides your ass right to the edge of the counter, the tip of his cock pressing against you.

“Look at you, spread out like this, on the bathroom counter, begging to be fucked” He groans as he slides his cock against your clit a few times, “you’re so fucking beautiful like this”

“Jack, I—” You want to tell him not to rush this, but he’s got his hand around your throat again, as he slowly slides inside, breathing deeply as he moves inch by inch until he bottoms out, hooking your feet behind his back. His eyes never leave yours as he begins to work into you, fingers squeezing harder with each stroke.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he murmurs, as you moan against him, “fucking perfect.”

He drives into you repeatedly, and you clench around him, forcing him to work his length in and out. Blood pounds in your ears as your breathing gets shallower and shallower. His free hand grips your hips as he moves deeper and faster with every stroke. You weren’t expecting to feel the familiar sensation of your own orgasm approaching this quickly.

“Jack, fuck, you’re going to make me come if you keep this up,” you pant, trying to grind against him. His hand leaves your throat and slides between your bodies, finding your clit, making lazy circles as he maintains his pace, eliciting a loud moan from your lips.  Your arms slide around his neck, lifting your hips, both gasping at the change in angle.

“That’s it baby, be a good girl and come for me” his mouth to your ear. It blurs the edges of your vision–your self-control slipping. “I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

Your entire body goes rigid, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as your orgasm hits hard and fast, hips bucking against his as he rides out your orgasm. His breath is hot as he buries his face into your neck, as his pace picks up, his thrusts becoming uneven, chasing his own orgasm. “You fuck me so good, Jack,” you mumble against his skin, and your words are enough to push him over the edge and he comes, a low and deep groan escaping his lips.

He lets go of you, and you lean back against the bathroom mirror, your hands sliding along his shoulders and down his arms as he pulls out, his lips pressing soft kisses along your neck, lips, and cheeks.

“You always come that fast or should I take that as a compliment?” He chuckles

“That’s all you” You nod, still trying to catch your breath, “Jesus Christ.”

“Did I hurt you?” He tilts your chin up, his lips grazing over a small bruise forming on the side of your neck, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be” you brush him off, “It was so fucking hot.”

“You think the water’s still hot?” He chuckles, turning his attention back to the shower that’s been running the entire time.

“Probably not” you reply, “but if you turn it off now, I can think of something else we could do for the next hour while we wait.”

“Another round?” He raises his eyebrow at you.

“Take out.” You smile, “I’m fucking starving.”

Tag list is open!  @loud-mouph @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @thebumbqueen @emilia-the-artist @boldlyherdream @felicisimor@eugene-emt-roe @i-mushi @andabuttonnose @moonlightmvrvel @miss-me-jack @dantemorenatalie @qardasngan@agreeewrites @aloudplace @painment @artsymaddie @d1n3e @damnitsthings @thicficbich1@readinwnoon @imagines-r-s @meowmeowyoongles @ikindier @katastrophic04 @lexibearsworld @luna-loves08 @herlovelykiss @all-by-myself98 @livingavilaloca @trustme3-13 @yourdaydreamerfan

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[blakerights]

43) “god you’re so emotionally constipated.” for Emily x Reader please.

history smothers us

emily prentiss x gn!reader

summary: years of unspoken words and misconceptions threaten to destroy what remains of a once close relationship. you couldn't imagine your life without emily. now you look at her and feel every part of the ocean that destroyed you both. featuring prompt "god you're so emotionally consitpated" from my prompt list.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: angst with a happy ending. mention of blood. no use of y/n. set in season 12. unit chief prentiss.

a/n: thank you so much for the request <3 sorry it took me a while I struggled to find the right idea. I imagine this wasn't what you had in mind but I do hope you enjoy it anyway. also side note: i've deleted my taglist, i'm restarting because it was years old so if anyone would like be re-tagged or anyone new would like to be added pls lmk!

The police lights flash in the midnight sky. Agents and local police spread across the farmhouse. And you, sitting in the back of an ambulance, blood dripping down the side of your head, the beginnings of a headache making itself known.  

The bright torch shining in your eyes makes you wince, but the EMT clears you of a concussion and hands you pain meds to swallow. You drag your hand through your hair, a frustrated sigh leaving your lips. 

The unsub had come out of nowhere and whacked you over the head with a metal pole, and he probably would’ve done a lot more if it wasn’t for Tara being two steps behind you. 

Honestly, you were fine. A little banged up, with a nasty bruise already forming, but the blood had been wiped away and it was almost like it had never happened.

Well, apart from the very angry Unit Chief Prentiss stalking towards you. 

You wish this was an unfamiliar sight, but god she’d been back months now and you don’t think her smile had been pointed in your direction once. 

“What were you thinking?” She scolds, voice sharp and eyes narrowed. You don’t miss the shaking of her hands as she holds them tightly on her hips or the rising flush of her cheeks, both she would blame on the cold but you knew they were born out of concern, not that she’d ever admit it. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realise the FBI now required its agents to have the abilities to see through walls.” You roll your eyes, the half-joke an attempt to fix her glare, but you know even as the words pass your lips it’s futile. Your shoulders slump, already too tired for the fight ahead,  “He came out of nowhere, Prentiss.” 

Her lips purse, “They require you to be able to clear a room. It seems you might need a refresher course. Maybe until you can be trusted and I deem you requalified it’s best you stay back in quantico.” 

“What?” You ask incredulously. Of all the dumb things- “Let me get this straight, you’re benching me over nothing? Tara was through that door seconds later. I wasn’t defying your orders. You have no reason to do this!”

“I want you to redo your basic training so I know you can be trusted in the field.” She demands, stoic, serious, and so far away from the soft woman you used to be able to reach out to. 

You laugh, but the noise is sad and wild. You shake your head in disbelief, watching the woman in front of you that years ago used to be the person you were closest to in the world. Now you stare at her and feel every part of the ocean that destroyed you both. “God, you’re so emotionally constipated.” 

“Excuse me?” 

You push yourself off the end of the ambulance, bringing yourself to your full height and meeting her gaze. You knew the day she accepted the unit chief position this wouldn’t end well, there was too much history, too much the two of you had left unsaid, hurt and anger smothering any possible relationship left. 

“Let’s not pretend this has anything to do with my performance.” You begin, words low enough that if she didn’t listen the words threatened to disappear with the wind, “It’s because I got hurt and you’d rather damage my career and ruin the tatters of our relationship than admit that me getting hurt scared you.” 

Emily steps backwards, face stricken. Her hands fall from her hips, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles for words. 

You decide there’s nothing left she can say. You excuse yourself and grab a lift with Luke, happy to leave the crime scene and your boss behind. After everyone’s finished at the farmhouse and packed up at the police station it’s nearing two am and everyone is ordered back to the hotel to catch a few hours of sleep before the flight in the morning. 

Your feet are dragging by the time you make it to your room. The meds have done their job though and your headache had faded away, but nothing but sleep was going to help your heavy and aching bones. You wave a tired goodbye to Tara, who unlike Emily had no issues checking in and making sure you were okay, and then retreat to your room. 

You slump into the chair at the desk, telling yourself you’ll find the energy to get ready for bed in one minute. But so thankful to finally be off your feet. Your reprieve lasts only minutes before a knock sounds at your door. A withered sigh leaves your lips and you consider ignoring it but still find yourself pushing yourself upright and making your way back to the door. 

When you open it, you wish you’d listened to your thoughts. 

“Hi?” You say hesitantly, staring into the tired face of Emily Prentiss. There’s no anger, her shoulders are almost slumped, defeated maybe? You look away, too scared to analyse further. 

“Can I come in?” 

You open the door further allowing her entrance. She smiles, tight lipped at you, nodding her thanks. You close the door and wait for her to speak, pondering how in the hell you both got to awkward silences and forced tight lipped smiles when years ago you two could share looks across the room and know what the other was thinking, spent hours talking and laughing together, how you had built a life and never thought there would be a day that she wasn’t in it with you. 

“We can’t go on like this.” She starts eyes meeting yours before flickering away, “Things between us have not been right since I returned and I think maybe we should clear the air. I want to be the Unit Chief, I want to be back here at Quantico but that only works if we can be a team.” 

You scoff. It slips from your mouth, uncontrolled and harsh. Emily’s gaze snaps to yours, her surprise at the sound clear. You shake your head, “What is there to say?” Where would we even begin?

“I-” She chokes, blinking as the emotions claw at her throat. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Your brows draw in confusion as you shake your head, “What are you talking about?”

“After everything that happened with Doyle-”

Your eyes bulge, “You think I'm still upset about that? God, do you think I’m a monster? You survived. You lived. That’s all that matters.” 

Tears pool in her eyes, but she blinks them away, her gaze shifting to the wall as her fingers pick at a hangnail. She looks back at you, still picking, gaze more open and lost than you’ve seen in a long time. “Then why? I hurt you. I can see it in the way you can barely stand to be around me, like it hurts you to even be in my presence.” 

You blow out a breath, eyes moving around the room before they land back on her and then away again. “It’s not your fault.” You breathe, emotions lodged in your throat and heart beating wildly against your chest as you try and force the words out. “You didn’t hurt me, I hurt myself. There was never going to be a life I led that you weren’t right with me, you know?” You laugh, wet and broken. 

Emily’s mouth falls open, her eyes emotional pits that you don’t dare hold. 

“And then you left for London and I couldn’t exactly be upset because I had no say in what you did with your life. We were just friends. I knew it’s what you needed and I don’t resent you for that. I just…” You take a breath, “I was so angry at myself for missing you, for thinking that I could be someone you would stay for.”

And there it was. The truth. Because at the end of the day, you’ve always just wanted to be enough for the woman in front of you. For her to see you as more than just your friend. To one day have your feelings returned. 

She’d left and you’d both been busy and you’d deliberately tried to separate yourself as well, drawing back from the painful reminder that you weren’t enough. And since her return, all those emotions have been resurfacing, however much you tried to keep them buried. Because falling out of love with Emily Prentiss was just not something you were capable of, and you’ve spent years trying too. 

Emily approaches you, the space between you closing ever so slightly. Your gaze sticks to the ground, scared to see the easy to read emotions across her face. She takes a breath, the sound muffled by the beating of your heart.

“After I came back from Paris, I used to find myself looking at you and knowing I couldn’t be that woman you remembered, the one you sought for. I wanted to. Desperately.” Her voice hitches, and then lowers to a hoarse whisper, “I wanted to be the woman you fell for.” 

Your eyes finally rise, against your will. Tears make their way in delicate paths down her cheeks, she looks every bit as lost as you feel. The only thing stopping you from falling apart is the fear that if you let go you may never recover. 

“I didn’t need you to be anyone. I just wanted you to be yourself. I wanted you to trust me.” You respond gently.

She shakes her head, “No, everyone was looking for that version of me that I couldn’t grasp onto.”

“Emily,” You sigh painfully. Her face crumples, eyes squeezing shut at the sound of her name from your lips. It’s been so long, you know. “You were healing from a trauma. I’ve always wanted the authentic you, whatever that includes. Why would that suddenly change?” 

She nods, a deep frown on her face as she accepts your words. Then a wet laugh, as she wipes away her tears. “I’ve missed you. Every day. I hate being in the same room as you and it being awkward. I used to be able to look at you and know what you’re thinking. I want that back.” 

A small smile curves your lips, “Me too, more than anything.” 

“Yeah?” She questions. Her teeth run across her lip, as she dares to hope. “You think we could get back there?” 

Your heart hammers. “I just need you to be really clear here. What exactly are we getting back to?” 

She steps forward, finally close enough to touch. Her hand hesitantly reaches out and touches yours, her cold fingers intertwining with your warm ones. Your body remembers her touch, relaxes and leans into it automatically. You eat it hungrily, tracking the movement before your eyes rise to meet hers and find soft, open eyes watching you. “I want to make you fall in love with me again.”

Your breath catches in your throat, tears pooling in your eyes as your hand shakes in hers.

“And this time, I promise, I’ll be there to catch you.” 

“We might have a slight problem with that plan.” You laugh, trying your hardest not to sob.

She frowns, nose wrinkling in the way you adore. “What’s that?” 

“It’s pretty difficult to re-fall in love when I never stopped loving you in the first place.” You huff, and Emily laughs, rich and free and bright. Her face joyful and happy, and with the wide bright smile you’ve waited months to feel pointed in your direction. God the sight makes your head spin.

“Is that so?” She asks, hand moving up to cup your cheek, eyes full of love and pointed at you. 

You can only nod, dizzy from her attention and the emotions coursing through your body. 

When her lips find yours it feels like finally coming home. Soft and delicate, both too scared to push too hard, exploring slowing even as her hand holds your cheek and yours fists in her shirt. You’ve waited years for this, and if you get more of these than it will be worth it. Everything is worth it for the feeling of Emily in your arms. 

When she pulls away, it’s too soon. You follow her mouth and she concedes and gives you a couple more slow kisses before she stops herself, resting her forehead against yours.

“I just want to say sorry for earlier.” She whispers into the safe space you’ve built. “You were right, I was scared when you got hurt. Dave’s already kicked my ass for my response, you won’t receive any disciplinary action.”

You nod slightly, her forehead moving against yours, “Thank you.” 

“It won’t happen again.” She promises, sealing the words with a kiss to your lips. 

“I know.” You kiss her again, but this time you break out into a yawn midway through. Your momentarily forgotten exhaustion, making itself known. 

She melts against you, caressing your cheek. “Oh, you need to sleep. We can talk more tomorrow. I’m taking you out for dinner.” 

You bite your lip to hide the smile threatening to take over your face, “A date?” 

She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “Yes, a date. But only if you sleep first.” 

“Your wish is my command.” You can’t stop the grin from taking over your face anymore. You press a peck to her lips and lead her back towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow.” She agrees, eyes fluttering over your face as if she’s committing every aspect to memory. “Sleep well.” 

“You too.” 

She presses one last kiss to your lips before she opens the door and makes her exit. You close the door quietly behind her, sinking back into it and allowing the giggle to finally escape your mouth.

What the fuck had just happened. 

Emily Prentiss kissed you. 

Emily Prentiss has feelings for you. 

You weren’t alone.

You bite your lip and push off the door, finally ready to get ready for bed and praying come morning that this would still be your reality.

taglist: @aburman03

[wandascrush]

Let the light in

Summary: The Avengers are separated after being hunted down and forced to live life on the low, causing a painful break up with the love of your life. What happens when she finds you again? Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

A/N: Based off of this request

Warnings: Angst, violence, loneliness, blood, breakup, team separated, depression, kissing, comfort

Song: Let the light in- Lana Del Rey

The team sat around the dark living room, the familiar voice of one of New York's most famous news anchors echoing in through the air, “Good evening New Yorkers, today we open our headline with some shocking news:  Former Stark enterprise building, located on the upper east side, exploded earlier today by a missile attack on the Avengers. Sources say Tony Stark was currently using it to house new plans for an updated Avengers training arena and larger compound.  Two architects, three investors, and one security manager was injured. Two of the victims later succumbed to their injuries after the explosion. Reports confirming the source of the violence are still unknown, however the Avengers were believed to have been inside the building at the time- hence the attack. The founding members of the Avengers Initiative such as Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Thor Odinson, Y/N L/N, and Clint Barton have yet to speak out. This marks the second targeted attack on our world’s heroes in nearly a month since the Maximoff twins incident in Barbados, where Pietro Maximoff was nearly assassinated. It raises the question for us all: Are our heroes being hunted?” 

The screen went black, bye bye news lady. The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. “What’re we gonna do Tony?” You got no answer. 

 “Cap?”  

For the first time in the decade you’d known the team, (except for the Maximoffs & Peter) you saw uncertainty in all of their eyes. Tony threw his classic sunglasses on the couch, squeezing the middle of his nose in a useless attempt to massage an oncoming headache away, “Fury… thought it’d be wise if we split up for awhile-,” he was quickly shut up with protests from the group.

“It’s too dangerous. This isn't easy for me, but we're facing a threat that's beyond anything we've encountered before. I've crunched the numbers, run simulations – the Avengers need to disband temporarily. We scatter, go off the grid, and regroup when the dust settles.”

“This is bullshit, Tony. You know it is. This is exactly what they want-” 

“Tasha,” your gentle touch on her back always softened her heart, but not today. She didn’t even look at you. 

“It’s not the end, Nat. It��s like a strategic retreat. We're ensuring we'll live to fight another day. For once, I’m with Stark on this. We play it safe, keep low profiles, and spread out,” Steve sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and taking a hard look at everyone, “we’re family, we keep each other safe. And this is how we do it.” 

As much as the idea made your stomach churn, he was right. He always was. This was your family. Every holiday, happy memory, laugh and cry and battle and bruise was all with them. This team is how you met the love of your life. You loved each other, and if this is what needed to happen, then you’d do it. 

But that didn’t sit well with your girlfriend. 

“No, end of story. We’re not separating.”

“You know I don’t think it’s just you’re choice, Natasha. I mean we have to decide this together,” your fingers lightly brushed the edge of the bed, nervously playing with the soft sheets you had just bought.

“Exactly, and I. Said. No.” She was acting like a stubborn toddler that didn’t want to eat her veggies, crossing her arms and raising her voice an octave.

It was then when you saw something different in her eyes, those beautiful green orbs that held so much sadness and joy at the same time. But today they were cloudy, like a storm was brewing in her mind. You gently slipped off of the bed and stood in front of her, pressing your forehead to hers, “You know it’s going to be okay, right?” soft palms caressed the side of her cheek, immediately feeling her sigh into your touch. “It’s going to be okay, you’ll see.” You wish your words were true. 

    Two months later the Avengers were spreading out all across the U.S., saying choked up goodbyes and packing your things. It was agreed upon that there’d be a team meeting once a month, every month, for the next year until you could figure out who the threat was, and how to eliminate them. You thought San Francisco sounded nice, fresh, and a little more peaceful than the hustle and bustle of New York. And it was, for a time. You got a haircut, dyed your gorgeous h/c locks to a rich h/c shade. You bought a sweet little home with a bay window over looking the Golden Gate Bridge, started building an in home gym and library, and kept an extremely low profile. You finished file work and other Avengers paperwork at home, with a high security grade laptop. Natasha on the other hand, refused to dye her hair, or keep a low profile. She didn’t want to admit that she was depressed, but it was glaringly oblivious. Being thrown out of her comforting routine put a wrench in Natasha’s life that not even you, her beautiful girl, could fix. All day she would do her paperwork, workout, and just keep to herself. It was like you weren’t even girlfriends anymore. Finally, in the fifth month of living “undercover,” she finally agreed to go on a low key date with you to a small, cozy bar on the outskirts of the city. You got dressed up for the first time in what felt like forever, did your makeup real pretty, and even did braids on Natasha’s silky hair. She looked happy, finally. Adorning a brown leather jacket, dark blue jeans, and a low cut green top- her classic silver arrow necklace sitting pretty on her chest- your girlfriend looked like her old self again...absolutely perfect. 

“You look gorgeous, baby,” swift arms swept you into a gentle kiss, smirking against your lips and pulling you close to her waist. 

You thought that night would be perfect, but by 11 pm you two were home and icing her bloody knuckles, static tv voices echoing in the background. You felt hot tears rising to the surface, but you never let them fall. It’s not like you were just mad or angry or disappointed…no this was something more. You were embarrassed. Embarrassed by Natasha. You thought you’d never say that sentence, but then there you were, apologizing to the bartender for your girlfriend's rowdy behavior, and throwing $20 to the guy she completely knocked out before nearly carrying her out of the bar and into a cab. Within the next two weeks she packed her bags, and your home was changing once again, now empty. 

  8 months later 

    The team said that you’d only be separated for a year, or less, but you were coming up on a year pretty soon and none of you were any closer to figuring out who the threat is. But you, you moved on, strived forward, and kept going. Your breakup with Nat had been one of the most painful moments of your life, but you didn’t let it stop you. These days you hardly cried over her at all, never even thought of the old days. Well, except for last Tuesday, when you saw one of her old sweaters and lied in bed for the rest of the day, or on Thursday when you heard her favorite song and- well, never mind that. You were at the top of your fucking game. 

  Ms. Romanoff, on the other hand, had moved out of San Francisco completely and settled in Washington D.C. from the last you heard. She attended the monthly zooms, same as you, but you two never addressed one another. Natasha pushed all of the heartbreak she harbored deep, deep down until she would lie down for bed and reach out next to her…but you were never there. 

[aerina127]

"Birthday surprise?" | Jean Kirstein x gn! reader

A/N: A really short Jean fic! It might seem kind of rushed because I have a headache... But I really wanted to post it today because it's Jean's birthday:3

It's fluff but I honestly have an idea for a second part that'd be more spicy...

Waking up earlier than your boyfriend was not something that you usually did. Neither was making breakfast for both of you. But it was a special day, that you wanted to honour in an unusual day. It was Jean's birthday and you thought that it was a perfect chance to arrange a little breakfast-in-bed situation.

The alarm went off and you woke up, already feeling excited. You reached for your phone to quickly turned it off. Jean, who was sleeping beside you, groaned and rolled over on his back.

"What time is it...?" He asked in a hoarse voice, not bothering to open his eyes.

"It's still early. I set this alarm by accident... " You whispered, reassuring him. Jean gave you a thumbs up before rolling to the side, falling back into peaceful slumber. You smiled to yourself and waited for a few moments, making sure he was really asleep. You carefully got up and quietly headed to the kitchen.

You didn't try to make anything fancy. Just scrambled eggs and some toasts. You mixed the eggs with chives on the pan and you thought how this morning was going to play out. You hoped to bring the plates to your shared bedroom and then climb on top of Jean and wake him up by planting kisses all over his face, moving to his neck and then-

"By accident, huh...?" Jean suddendly walked into the kitchen. You jumped a little, torn away from your thoughts. You quickly turned the gas down, not wanting the food to burn. A frown made its way onto your face. Well, him being awake changed plans. You turned around to face your boyfriend. Jean crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, offering you a lazy smirk. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, his hair still dishelved from sleeping. He looked absolutely mesmerizing.

"What are you doing awake so early?" You asked, walking up to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jean snorted.

"Good morning to you too, my love. I should be the one asking that question." Jean flicked your nose and embraced you with his strong arms, resting his chin on your head. You hummed, burying your face against his chest and inhaling the scent of him. God, how you loved being in his arms, just like this. "But let me guess. You wanted to surprise me on my birthday with a little breakfast? And I spoiled the surprise?"

You sighed at his teasing and pulled back slightly to look up at him. You nodded, somehow sad that you didn't get to realise your plan. Jean just laughed at your cute expression.

"Oh well..." You shook your head and smiled widely at him. You had to change your plans a little bit. You still had other surprises planned for him. "Happy birthday, Jean!" You stood on your toes to kiss him lovingly. He smiled into the kiss, enjoying the closeness. . "I'm gonna make us some breakfast and then-"

"Can I first see my gift first, angel? The one that you've been so desperately tried to hide from me in the back of the closet? I've been dying to know what's inside for a week now, y'know?"

That bastard.

Surprises never really worked with him.

[russellsppttemplates]

We're a couple of idiots, aren't we? (Charles Leclerc)

You had always been there to see Charles race and you wouldn't let your fight interfere with that

Note: english is not my first language. I'm not the best at writing angst pieces, but I hope this one is decent enough!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: family issues (alludes to the caregiver necessities), couple fight

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

It all began when you came home later than expected, the tiredness evident in your eyes as you paced your bag down on the sofa and allowed yourself to rest for a little, "Hey, amour", Charles whispered, testing to see if you were awake as he walked inside the living room, "hey", you said, patting the seat next to you.

Kissing your forehead, Charles sat next to you, "how was your day?", he asked, rubbing your thigh, "exhausting", you sighed, "and the next few are going to be even worse. I probably won't be home for dinner tomorrow anyway".

Charles felt uneasy, squirming around in his seat. You had been working a lot, your family also needed you on their side since your grandparents needed more assistance these days, so you and Charles haven't been able to spend that much time together. And wether it was the fact that you're used to being around eachother or the fact that the season was not going as expected, Charles felt like he hadn't spent enough time with the person he considered his safe and happy place.

"You have been very busy, I feel like I've hardly spent time with you", Charles noted, and maybe it was a seemingly honest comment that wasn't intended to be taken as harmful as you did.

"I know I've not been home, Charles, you think I don't feel that too? I know we haven't spent much time together just the two of us, but it's not been easy! Everyone needs me here, there and everywhere at the same time, and I also need time for me!", you let out.

Unexpectedly, your words also impacted Charles in a way you didn't think they would, "I know you've been busy, but we also need to spend time together, no? Or is our relationship not something we should invest time on? In a relationship, we both need eachother", he gulped. A weird and new feeling sat in his chest, like he was pressuring you and that he was burdening you.

"We do, but we also need to let eachother have some time, too!", you said, feeling anger, sadness, and overall tiredness from your recent days, "I'm going to bed", you mumbled, getting up and heading for your shared bedroom.

The energy you had left in your body was only enough to allow you to wash your face, noticing the dull and dark tone as you quickly rubbed some moisturiser on, grabbing your pyjamas to out them on and lay in bed, taking a painkiller for the growing headache.

When Charles finally go to the bedroom, he noticed you were already asleep on your side of the bed, carefully walking along the side so he could kiss your forehead before he too got ready for bed.

.

By the time the next morning arrived, Charles had ready left, and when you grabbed your phone, notifications from various WhatsApp groups popped up.

Mum + Dad

Can you go by grandma's house today? She was complaining of some pain and we can't remember if her meds box is sorted out or not.

Ferrari GP Weekend

Okay, just to make sure I'm not leaving anyone out: Y/N, you're not coming this weekend, right?

Since your family had been needing you to spend more time with them and at home, you had already said that you weren't sure you'd be joining them for that Grand Prix, and last night's fight settled the subject.

Texting both of the groups, you got up and got ready for the day, already knowing it was going to be a tough one.

You and Charles didn't fight a lot, at least not like this. Usually, you always found a way to talk about things and sort them out. So even this was new territory, not having talked about the subject and finding a common ground, because the situation you both left it at the night before was not the one to have.

Throughout the day, you hopefully texted Charles saying that you'd try to be home so you could talk to eachother before he left later on the evening, and while you intended to keep it, you had to text him again

To Charles

I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll be home until nighttime. My grandma needs me and it's going to take a while.

Have a safe flight. Can you text me when you land, please? Love you ✨️

True to your word, you sat in your bedroom with the moon already shinning through the windows and showcasing perfectly Charles' bedside table with none of his rings, watch and bracelets where he usually put them when he was at the house.

.

"Why did I arrive to the paddock today only to find out that you are not joining me this weekend?", Francisca said over the phone, apparently not even bothering to wish you a good morning, even though it clearly wasn't one.

"Because I've been the busiest bee ever under the sun, and I also had a fight with Charles, and I need to sleep for three days straight to recover", you replied back, noticing the change in Pierre's girlfriend's tone.

"Oh", she added, "I'm sorry, it's just that you're always here and I haven't been able to talk to him properly yet, maybe it's a good thing I haven't yet", she admitted.

One thing you liked about her, was how honest she was with you, and you needed it right now, "do you think I should go? We left the subject hanging and it's not something light we can just solve over the phone. And besides, I've always been there for these races, and he deserves as much support as he can get", you asked, chewing on your bottom lip as you waited for her answer.

"I have no idea why you fought, nor do I want to know unless you feel comfortable in telling me, but I do know that you're made for eachother, so if your heart tells you to come to the race, you should", she advised and you could hear the smile on her voice, "besides, I love your company, so it's a win win".

.

From all the times you had previously travelled with Charles, you had become acquainted and a pro a listing what you needed for the race weekends, so packing was easy and quick: two changes of clothes for both colder and warmer weather, basic toiletries bag in a backpack with entertainment and snacks for the flight.

The early hours allowed you to get to the airport without any traffic and make it to the gate with enough time to spare so you could grab a coffee to go.

Francisca knew you were coming, and after having a conversation with your family, you explained to them how the whole situation was putting pressure not only on you but also on your relationship with Charles. As you expected, they were not aware of how the situation was on your side and sat down with you so you could find a better arrangement.

Arriving at the airport of destination, you quickly found the transport line that would be taking you to the closest stop near the paddock, gradually seeing fans get inside as the stops approached the track site.

You followed them in, wanting to go as unnoticed as possible as you walked along them.

"I just saw on Instagram that Charles had left his hotel a while ago, so he should be here any minute now", a young woman around your age commented with her friends, stopping by the benches you were sitting in. Turns out you were waiting for the same person after all.

"Is it okay if we sit here?", one of them asked kindly, "Oh, you're Y/N", one of the girls said.

Nodding, you pushed your backpack to rest near your legs, "of course you can sit", you smiled, still not used to the fact that fans often recognised your face.

"Thanks!", she scurried nervously, urging her friends to sit, seeing their surprised faces as they looked at you, "Also, I'm sorry, I'm sure this is weird for you, that I know your name and you don't know mine, I- we didn't expect to find you here", she apoligised, finally sitting down.

"It's okay, unless you're going to turn out to be come crazy stalker fan, I think we will be fine", you smiled, hoping they would catch the joke and relax a little.

"No no no!", they all said, smiling when you smiled back, "but, may I ask what you're doing here? I mean, don't you have an all access pass?", one of them wondered as she sat next to you.

"I'm surprising Charles, actually", you added, feeling like saying anything else would not only be violating yours and Charles' privacy, but also allowing the creation of rumours you wouldn't want, "I wasn't originally coming to see him race, but some things cleared up on my calendar so I thought I'd surprise him", you finished, seeing them smile, "do you come to watch races regularly?", you asked, changing the subject hopefully subtly enough that they wouldn't notice too much.

Conversation was flowing easily, really, they seemed like really nice girls and it never felt invasive, so the time you had to wait went by quickly, hearing people call your boyfriend's name.

You could notice his presence anywhere, that was a given. Wether it was his well trained torso that made spotting him even from his back, or his handsome face, it wasn't hard yo miss him even surrounded by fans who were wearing the same t-shirt as him.

"Let me stand around you so he won't notice me", you said, "with how enamoured he is of you, I'm sure it won't be long", one of the girls, named Lyla, you learned, spoke, wanting to see the scene unfold as he approached you.

"Hi!", Charles greeted, posing for the pictures while he signed the caps they had, not noticing your hand holding one of his own caps was in the mix.

"Charles! Can you sign this, please?", you asked, hoping you were loud enough, "I was not coming to see you race today, but I'm very happy I did", you almost yelled, thanking the fact that the other girls had helped you by keeping quiet until he realised you were there.

It was enough for Charles to recognise the voice. After all, he had been longing to hear it for the past couple of days.

"Y/N, you're here!", he called, handing Lyla the permanent marker before he hugged you, "I missed you so much, I'm sorry", he whispered on your ear before pulling back a little so he could look you in the eye, "you don't have a pass, do you?", he wondered, seeing you shake your head, "I'll see what I can do, but you're coming with me", he smiled, holding your hand in his and bidding goodbye to the group of girls after you all took a group picture.

The rush until you arrived in his driver's room didn't allow you to talk until you sat on the sofa after greeting everyone and thanking one of the team members for getting you a pass on such short notice.

"Do you think we can talk about it? I don't want to ruin the race by distracting you from it, but I don't think we should be here and not discuss it either", you brought the subject, looking up to see Charles push a chair and sit in front of you, "I want to apologise first", you said, "I never should have said what I said, especially the way I said it, I'm sorry", you apologised, "I never intended it in a way that would hurt you".

Charles grabbed your hands, lacing them in his and looking into your eyes, "I'm sorry, too. I think we should talk about it, too. I want this to be solved, I want us to be well", he admitted.

"My grandparents have been needing a bit more help, and my parents counted on me for it. And I feel like I haven't spent that much time with you, and I'm so sorry for it, but sometimes it just got too much. And I didn't want to burden you, you have your own things to worry about and this would be another thing. They're better now and this was probably a bad phase, but still", you explained.

Charles chuckled before he saw the confusion on your face, "no, I'm joking about this, amour. I'm glad they're better", he reasoned, "but I thought I was being a burden because I felt like I was clingy, like I needed you more than usual and that you had had enough. I didn't want to put more on your plate", he sighed.

Smiling at him, you moved your hand to caress his cheek, "you could never be too much, Charles. Sometimes I just need to deal with things on my own for a bit, even if there is help from someone else", you blushed.

"I know you need me to give you the space you need, that's why I didn't want to push you to talk about things, because as much as I want to craddle you in my arms forever and shield you away from the world's evil, I know you like to do things on your own, at least at first", he noted, earning your silent agreement, "but I'm here for you, always. I'm glad we worked that out", he smiled, pulling your face to his and kissing you deeply, only stopping when someone knocked on the door.

"I heard my favourite girl is back in the paddock, so I suggest you come out because I'm not feeling like I want to see whatever is going on there", your recognised Francisca's voice, getting up and opening the door to see Pierre by her side, "I told her she shouldn't interrupt you two, but she was very excited to know how the surprise went", he smiled.

"A very good surprise indeed, the best one ever", Charles said, pulling you in for one last kiss before he ventured out to the garage, a new feeling of confidence knowing you were there to watch him race.

[pyro-tf2-but-trans]

After extensive research (scrolling down on my blog a few times) I noticed I have never headcanoned ages, so for my reemergence, here’s how old I think the mercs are and some other stuff :)

Scout

23 (im pretty sure this is canon)

Born April 8th

has a fuckass tooth gap, needed braces as a kid that he hated and refuses to wear his retainer now (medic does NOT approve)

terrible diet, he's only so thin because of his occupation and insane metabolism. He hasn't seen a vegetable since last time he visited his ma.

On that note, he's also TERRIBLE about drinking water and gets confused as to why he always has a headache.

boyfailure <3

decent cook, actually

as in the food he makes is edible, despite however it might look visually

grew up just outside of Boston

Keeps random shit on his walls, constantly needs more thumbtacks. Posters, post its, stickers, pictures, signs... why is there a fucking SPOON taped next to his door this is ridiculous.

Sometimes he catches himself sucking his thumb at his big age, the loser

when he was a kid he got bullied for not looking like his siblings like at all

Soldier

38

born July 3rd (WHY COULDN'T YOU HOLD HIM IN A LITTLE LONGER, MOM.)

world war autism

both as in intensity and special interest

First got into US military type stuff hearing about the Vietnam war as a kid, it fascinated him and made him absolutely determined to help

grew up in Minnesota, ironically HATES the cold

typa guy to make himself run laps and junk if he realized he was being rude to women or something

probably ace, yes I know he has children shut up

Pyro

probably the youngest on the team, maybe 25?

born December 20th

facial dysmorphia :(

they have burn scars all over their body from an old memory they've since pushed deep into the back of their head

they can handle not wearing their suit if they absolutely have to, but avoid mirrors lest they stare into it for a long time not quite recognizing the person looking back at them

medic and engie are really the only ones that have seen them outside of the suit more than once

sorry that got sad lol

anyway they hate being infantilized, not only for being the youngest but also for being delusional

it doesn't happen as often as you'd think, at least. But sometimes medic will baby talk them when they're getting a checkup or scout will say something ignorant. They can ignore it but it gets annoying.

they enjoy chocolate ice cream

a fan of the cold in general

pretty handy, actually. They built their flamethrowers and a good few of their melee weapons, engie taught them a lot.

cutting this short cause I've been yapping about pyro for too long

Demoman

36

born January 31st

has only actually been to Scotland like twice, he was born in the us with his mum, just grew up with her long enough to gain the accent anyway

doesn't know a lick of Gaelic, sorry. Obviously words like "bonnie" and "Gob" slip out, but that's just basic Scottish vocabulary lmao

he has a collection of eye patches, he thinks his missing eye is kinda cool when he isn't annoyed about his lack of depth perception

he uses bombs specifically because of his lack of depth perception, actually, since as long as he hits within the vicinity of his target he usually wins

he's a fan of the outdoors, hangs around sniper sometimes

crazy smart, specifically a chemistry nerd (obviously) but he can answer crazy specific questions on anything. this also means he's very good at converting measurements, if you're ever baking or something lol

that last part specifically helps whenever the European dweebs say something metric and the Americans need a translator.

"yeah that's 55 kilometers away" "..." "that's about 34 miles, lad" "oooohhh"

Heavy

54, the eldest

born August 16th

hes generally pretty good at English, but certain words annoy him

like colorful? jump

likes working out with soldier, specifically lifting. The most wholesome gym bros.

helps short people reach things on tall shelves

not a whole lot I haven't already said about him lol

Engineer

42

born June 10th

horrific blue eye stare

get brown eye contacts I'm scared

scout clings to him almost as much as pyro does, actually.

he doesn't mind all that much, at least

speaks Spanish pretty fluently, though he has a very obvious accent and has yet to master rolling his Rs, he's trying his best at least <3

he's a fan of fall

used to be the worlds most annoying angsty teenager, if you can believe it

grew out of it, obviously, but he still has a crap ton of old vinyl records of all the rock bands he used to listen to in secret in a box somewhere

(if you're wondering, his parents were NOT fans)

he has four siblings! he's the second eldest, two sisters and two brothers

knows a bit of medical stuff from medic, its how he put the healing factor into the dispenser

Medic

46

born March 19th

never went to medical school, but he did quite a bit of studying in both human anatomy and biology

so yeah he never had a medical license in the first place lol

he has a collection of bones and other bits (organs, wet specimens, etc etc)

human? animal? yes

the med bay smells like birds, its not sanitary

he's a good medic despite all of these, though! just double check that you have all your guts in order before and after an operation! scout still has a bird in his chest, after all.

off topic but he also has really thick hair that sheds a lot, like if he lays down somewhere you can find a bunch of black hairs like little snakes all over the place

^hes just like me for real!

like weirdly beefy? that medigun is heavier than it looks, and the backpack is even heavier

hed be a fan of squid game in a modern au

Sniper

30

born February 23rd

weirdly cagey about his birthday?? like he'll tell you if you ask but he'll be all like "what?? why do you need to know that??"

his footsteps don't make noise, he regularly startles people (scout) by just walking into a room and just standing there

sushi fan

like never gets sick, probably from being outside all the time his whole life but his immune system is made out of steel

medic finds this fascinating lol

blind as hell without his glasses

shaves with his knife just because he thinks its cool lmao

he has a scar on his cheek because of this though he lies and says its because he almost got hit by an enemy sniper

loser hides under his hat when he's embarrased

kisses him with tongue

Spy

50

born ??? (he says a different date every time someone asks)

THIS BITCH ISNT EVEN FRENCH!!!!!

grew up in like Nevada and puts on the whole french thing to be more anonymous

fuck is a petite chou fleur?? your little cauliflower?? come on now

#spyhater

no but I do think he is a spy, and a very good one at that (he managed to convince everyone he's french, after all)

he was supposed to be on a way more advanced team but got misplaced but he was useful on the team so he stayed there (and he felt guilty about leaving his son yet again)

needed braces as a kid, wears his retainer religiously

he's visibly uncomfortable with having his mask off, but not in the same way pyro is. He hates the idea of being seen more than they hate seeing themselves.

If he doesn't like you he won't make it obvious, but he'll just. stare at you for an uncomfortable amount of time. not even in a death glare way, more like he's calculating how many ways he could make you vanish into thin air

sniper thinks he's neat

[fountainpenguin]

Went down a very specific research pipeline last night, and now you get to share it with me:

Does Dev have hypoglycemia?

Low levels of blood sugar that - when they drop - can lead to irritability, confusion, headaches, exhaustion, shaking, rapid heartbeat, blurry vision, passing out, seizures, or even death. Blood sugar can drop about 2 to 4 hours after eating; snacks and additional small meals are very needed; sugary foods like hard or gummy candies can give a quick boost, as can juice or soda. I'm continuing my research after this post, so please forgive/inform me if I've mixed up details between different types of hypoglycemia- or just got something totally wrong.

FOP: A New Wish is set in modern times (i.e. not the far future). He's allowed to have drones in the classroom with him- They're acknowledged as his assistants and the teachers know about them.

Potentially, they may function under similar rules to service dogs- another sentient creature that would be allowed in class (ignoring that Dev is sometimes away from them, or that they went into the halls on their own in "28 Puddings Later").

We know Dev is self-reliant enough to get by without his au pairs. They help him, but they're not something he needs 24/7.

Insert joke about the au pairs needing off-duty time like service dogs and sometimes they just go play. Union rules...

We know they have the capability to "alert on Dev" like service dogs... or at least, this one looked at Dev and beeped when scanning a paper, and even projected an exclamation point to catch his eye:

The visual-verbal cue combo is definitely an intentional feature (And it's not like it greeted him by name- it just beeped and he knew what it was conveying).

We know that at the end of "Lost and Founder's Day," this au pair - despite being a machine - recognized Dev was sad (or at least low energy) and patted him on the head.

Au Pair: I would hug you, but I do not have human arms or warmth.

Earlier in this episode, we see the au pairs respond to people based on data they were being fed through sensors people were wearing on their wrists. Dev might have one here, though we know he was upset to find out his dad was using them to zap people and he's sad about his dad not loving him, so it's likely he's not wearing it.

This implies the au pairs don't have enough data about most people, but they DO have internal data about Dev. If not internal, they can read him well. We do know they're good at reading cues- They get embarrassed during the festival when they find out problems have been corrected before they got there and we didn't see the Dimmlets shock anyone to prompt the au pairs to acknowledge the situation changed. What does it say about the au pairs if they're implied to be Dale's creation and they see sad Dev and think "I should hug him."

The Off Puddin' brand of pudding is so desirable that the whole class became addicted; they had withdrawals when Hazel changed her "unlimited pudding" wish to be "pudding after we take our class picture" wish- Just like everyone else, Dev was one of the affected individuals and ate all the pudding he could get his hands on.

If the pudding is that delicious, it's interesting Dev kept some (even if this is a new batch from a different pudding day) and snacked on it in Fairy World... and didn't give into impulses to eat it some random day beforehand:

I guess we can't prove it's the same brand, but it's presumably the same model from "28 Puddings Later." I think it's the only item we know he brought to Fairy World beyond clothes and one au pair that he stands on. He doesn't even use his tablet in this episode (which he's normally glued to outside of school).

We can confirm Peri didn't poof this up for him (or at least, it's very unlikely since that would've been weeks ago). Dev eats this pudding after Irep ditches him to hang out with his dad- Extremely doubtful Dev got Irep's attention for his snack. Or Dale's, for that matter (if his dad brought some).

Canonically, the principal gives Dev lots of pudding because his dad made a "generous donation" to the school. It's possible he does this often since we know Dev hoards pudding every pudding day...

... which is interesting, because in "Stanky Danky," the news describes Dale as "billionaire non-philanthropist." Investing in his child's future for the sake of good education doesn't seem to be his M.O.... although he does send Dev to a private school, so maybe.

We know Dale hates losing money, and we know he's not the best dad to Dev... but we also know Dev has an official allergy card that names him in 3rd person-

- which could imply he got this card when he was young. That's not guaranteed, but I looked at some IRL cards and some use first-person, so it's food for thought.

Possibly, his dad even took him to the doctor for official diagnosis. Lactose intolerance can be hereditary, so if Dale has it, he may have identified it immediately after Dev's first reaction. For all Dale’s faults, Dev IS still alive and not starving to death - and still lives with his dad - so it's not improbable Dale's aware of his son's food needs. On a darker note... given Dale's abusive childhood, I feel like lack of food is something he has trauma around. Also, if Dale is lactose intolerant, I'd be curious to know how Dev found out he was, as I'd assume Dale wouldn't keep dairy in the house if he can't eat it. The two logical options here are "Dale took him for an allergy test" or "Dev ate dairy outside the house and got sick, so he told his dad / the au pairs." Maybe he found out in preschool?

Dev's au pair bringing him a snack! Their boy needs to eat!

Anyway, this was all leading up to these screenshots of Dev having no fun on the walk to Signal Hill that I found funny:

No energy... need sugar... Exercise did a number on him... Hazel takes a breather by crouching for a second, but Dev just slams his face in the grass and I think that's great.

Despite Dev not liking to walk, he and Hazel stopped their treasure hunt before the final clue and walked back to the Dimmadome place for food, so that's neat to think about (especially in the context of him snacking before he left the house... How long were they out? Did he even finish his snack?)

Dev's au pair was preemptively wearing a chef's hat when he and Hazel came back to the house, so I wonder if that's his routine lunch time on weekends. The au pairs are good caretakers who know their boy's schedule and needs...

Immediately after this scene, Dale asks what Dev and Hazel are up to "this fine afternoon," so it's probably after 1 pm. Noon at the earliest, but surely not an early lunch at 11 AM. Interesting consideration for the timing of Dev's snack... It makes sense if he was out with Hazel for 2 to 4 hours before he had to go home and eat, even though they were on the final riddle.

Come to think of it, one of the things we know about Dev's house is that there's a cereal bar and Peri brings him cereal... and the woozy Peri hallucinating about bringing Dev "his favorite cereal" (during the finale) seems to get to him one way or another.

Consider... Cosmo and Wanda poofed up hard candy when Peri came over because Dev needed sugar I DID wonder what they were up to considering sugar gets Fairies inebriated...

tl;dr - I like to think the reason on paper that Dev gets his au pairs in school is for medical reasons. They track his blood sugar and keep him from, y'know... going into a seizure or passing out. I can't imagine Dale would like that happening to his son at home either (if for no other reason than because it would be a huge distraction he has to deal with).

If this is something Dev's been dealing with since he was little, that plays into the au pairs accompanying him through his early years... We know he's both lactose intolerant and extremely picky, not liking any of the cupcakes Peri poofed up despite this many attempts:

- which I cannot imagine Dale had the patience to deal with long if he was Dev's primary caretaker in his earliest years.

I was gonna make a joke about Dale hiring someone to watch Dev - and let's be real; he probably did - but also... do you think this cocky guy would spend money when "It's a baby; how hard can it be? I also eat daily- This is just efficient use of my time!"

POV: Tired single dad who's not yet finalized his au pair design walks into grocery store with baby, buys cupcakes, leaves. Confuses every parent in the parking lot when he has a fussy Dev sitting on the back of the car and he's spoonfeeding him icing. They did not go home. Next stop will be the park, where Dale falls asleep on a bench while Dev eats bugs. Some parent sees Dev eating a chocolate bar and strikes up a conversation with Dale about what a big moment it was when they treated their child to chocolate and Dale's just like "I've been feeding him that his entire life." Dale pouring a soda in his toddler's sippy cup: Don't judge me.

At a certain point, when you're a billionaire single dad running multiple businesses and you're good at robotics, there comes a time when "It would make things easier if my young child (who's a very picky eater and can't have dairy) had a drone to follow him around, alert him when his blood sugar is about to drop, or assist if he passes out" makes a lot of sense. Especially if you have major trust issues from abuse and prefer relying on your own inventions.

It was a very relieving day for Dale when he finally had a reliable au pair to leave his son with, I'm sure. Didn't accidentally kill his son!! #Not as big a jerk as you could've been!

During my original liveblog for "Battle of the Dimmsonian," I was confused about Dev going from "I need to talk to Hazel" to trying to spook her and her friends by summoning ghosts. I'm definitely not excusing his bitter attitude in general as a hypoglycemia thing, but this is an episode that would make this headcanon funny:

Peri, internally: Listen here, you little brat- I've read your file. Now eat your freakin' cupcake. Icing is good for you. Dev: These are terrible >:( I'll go without. Peri: WHY? Dev later that day: If I tell Peri I need sugar, he'll be SUCH a pain about it. I opt to suffer...

Anyway, I think it's interesting and I'm going the "au pairs help Dev with a lot of things, but one of them is hypoglycemia" direction in my City Lights AU :)

If anyone's curious, I'm doing growth hormone deficiency that also lands him with a weak immune system- another thing the au pairs help him with. My full character profile for Dev will go into extra details about his life... Fun times.

Dale, planting his whiny and sick child on the floor by his desk and handing him a tablet, juice, and a bunch of hard candy: Big Boss has a work meeting. Don't go outside or you'll die. At this point, you're sunk costs and if I lose you, I'm gonna make it everyone's problem.

Bonus Theory:

Are Doug and Dale also lactose intolerant, and did Dale kill his dad's cows?

In Season 5 - "Mooooving Day" - Doug runs a business called Dimmadome Farms, which produces extreme amounts of milk from genetically modified cows. He uses this to keep the population of Dimmadome Acres totally happy and obedient.

Doug seems convinced the milk makes people happy and that it's a good thing, but he doesn't personally drink it. It's kind of funny to think he went the route of milk because his family is full of lactose intolerant individuals who won't accidentally drink it.

Genetics - Lactose intolerance is inherited in the autosomal recessive pattern- This means either both of Dev's parents are lactose intolerant, or they personally aren't but carry the gene.

Additionally, Dev will only pass lactose intolerance to his kids if his partner also has the gene- either intolerant or a carrier.

There's a chance Dev developed it without genetics, but it looks like there's a lot more variety there than I can cover in a single post. From what I've read, it's "uncommon in babies and young children." He's 9 when "Peace of Pizza" takes place, which might strengthen the argument that it's genetic in his family.

One of the businesses Dale lists as under his possession in "Lost and Founder's Day" is Dimm-'N-Out Burgers. Presumably this is a parallel of In-'N-Out Burger, which use beef patties. Notably, this is a business made up for A New Wish- It's never been portrayed as under Doug's ownership.

If Dimmadome Farms already existed in Dale's youth, it makes sense Dale would use the cows from there- You have to do something with the ones who aren't producing milk, so why not make money?

Technically, Dimmadome Acres was wiped out by magic, but it's possible Dimmadome Farms itself was outside premises of the suburban neighborhood, so maybe there were other cows.

We know by A New Wish, Dale has established himself as a tech mogul, but he probably wasn't one straight after being rescued from 7 years of abuse, which is heavily implied to have started when he was 9 (give or take). Consider:

Doug: I'm making drinks from a labor force of enslaved individuals I've trapped underground :) His son, who recently escaped a life of being forced to make drinks for 7 years underground: This is incredibly insensitive, actually.

Hey, there's something SUPER sus about Dale's underground lemonade stand abuse starting at age 9 when his dad's milk factory is also underground in a big trapdoor and relies on trapped people for labor... Do you think Vicky found the cows when she was a kid and lured Dale down there, but he was lactose intolerant and couldn't drink mind control milk, so she moved him somewhere else... I'm connecting the dots...

It's worrisome that Doug's instinctual response to Timmy saying he didn't want to drink milk was "What a baby," and then he jumps and corrects himself to "Aw, shucks"... What conspiracy am I uncovering... Doug, let me in- I just wanna talk about the home your son grew up in.

I mean, the alt theory is that Doug built his underground dairy farm and trapped people to work in it BECAUSE Dale told him where he'd been for the last 7 years and he went "Oh, that's brilliant!" and that's also terrible??

Anyway, Doug's thing is that he's constantly jumping from one business to the next, never staying consistent (beyond the beloved Dimmadome stadium).

Knowing how he's always go-go-go, it's very probable he'd get his son involved in business young. Maybe Dale started with a burger joint until the robotics work paid off! A spiteful direction for Dimmadome Farms indeed...

Me, having a sudden realization and looking up from my notes theorizing both Dev and Dale have OCD and ADHD, then glancing at my second monitor where I have references from "Moooving Day" of Doug's meticulously arranged town of pink houses and people wearing matching outfits:

... Ah.

[cheriladycl01]

My home country - Pierre Gasly x IcelandicOlympicIceHockey! Reader

Plot: Your boyfriend Pierre watches on as you bring home Gold for team Iceland before you show him around the waterfalls and geysers your country is known for!

A/N: Having been to Iceland, this one was really fun to write as I've done all the things mentioned!

You’d just won gold and we’re on a complete high, your boyfriend being there to celebrate you and your teams win. It was a thrilling feeling having the Gold Medal placed around your neck and hugging all of your team mates who'd been a part of the journey.

You had all worked insanely hard and you'd cried once you realized you won.

The celebrations that night were crazy, you and Pierre spent the whole night in the club with all your friends and some of your family. There were also randoms there who were congratulating you and buying you drinks the whole night - much to Pierre's annoyance as they were mostly men.

But once they offered him a drink too after recognizing him, he didn't feel as peeved.

They day after and you both woke up with the worst hangover imaginable. You laid in bed in the fancy 5 star hotel you were set up in, both complaining about the headache you both had before you sulked down the stairs for the breakfast buffet.

You guys filled yourself on all the greasiest food in attempt to get rid of the hangover.

"Fuck Elskan. I feel awful" you say in Icelandic and Pierre looks at you as if you've grown two heads, not understanding anything but the pet name you use often for him.

"Babe, English or French please... I'm dying here!" he groans.

"Sorry, i revert back when I'm tired!" you smile before taking his hand.

"We have a busy day today!" you smile, excited for the plan you guys have.

"Nooooooo, please I just need a day in bed!" he complains looking over at you.

"You don't want to see my country?" you say with a sad voice, knowing he did as he'd been asking for ages for you to take him across Iceland and show him all the things you did growing up.

"I do!" he whines looking over at you.

"I just - cant we do that tomorrow?" he asks looking over you his sleepy eyes telling you he was struggling a little bit more than he was letting on.

"The fresh air will do you good, come on lets go get ready! It's cold so we need to wrap up warm" you advise grabbing his hand and dragging him out the restaurant.

You both change into warm clothes and waterproof having a little rucksack with you each. You guys had a busy day where you'd be hiking up a glacier and seeing some of the best waterfalls Iceland had to offer before going to swim in the geothermal spa called the Blue Lagoon to round up your day.

"The guys said we might even get to see the northern lights tonight!" you grin excitedly.

"Really?" Pierre asks knowing you'd seen them multiple times in your lifetime but it was something you still got pretty excited about.

You guys were on the tour bus and went straight to the glaciers, you had grippy shoes on, knowing what Iceland was like in the winter but Pierre didn't exactly think that through and when you looked back to where he was, really behind the rest of the group he looked like Bambi.

You couldn't help but laugh at him.

"Pierre, come on here!" you say handing him the walking stick you'd been using. He thanked you before you helped him up, holding one of his hands to try and keep him stable.

You get to the top and Pierre has a red face and watering eyes from the wind at the top unlike you wearing googles and a bandana to cover your mouth and neck to keep the warmth in.

"Why didn't you prepare me better!" he groans looking around at everyone else.

"I told you what to bring!" you giggle. You then start to make the decent down the glacier seeing the top of the gushing waterfall.

"I didn't expect it to be so loud!" Pierre shouts over the really loud water. All you could do was laugh at him before the tour guide started to talk to you in Icelandic about what was coming up next on the tour. Pierre awkwardly waited off to one side not knowing what to do.

"You are really going to enjoy the next bit!" you smile taking his hand and pull him into a searing kiss. His lips were a little chapped from the cold but you didn't mind.

You guys made the drive to the blue lagoon. You split in the changing rooms and Pierre was shocked to be greeted by multiple naked men. It was normal for you and when you met him at the entrance into the water he looked almost traumatised.

"Sorry I should have warned you about what you would have walked into!" you giggle before he shakes his trying to get rid of the images burned into his brain.

You both swim around, going to grab the face scrub at the bar to plaster over you face. You loved coming to the geothermal spa. The sensation of dipping right under the water, feeling the heat warm up your skin before standing up and having the wind whip around your wet skin was a sensation like no other.

"This is very romantic" Pierre smiles, holding you as you both float around clinging to each other.

"Mmmmm I'm glad we've done this. I've been missing home far to much!" you sigh. You'd made the decision to move with Pierre, as it made sense considering he was closer to Alpine and he was travelling for most of the year.

"I'm just scared for tomorrow!" he sighs, knowing it was a day he'd been expecting for a while but it didn't feel real.

"I've told you so many times, my parents will love you. We should have seen them earlier!" you grin, pulling him in for a kiss as you wrap your legs around his waist.

"God I love you!" he exclaims twirling you round in the water.

y/user

Liked by pierregasly and charlesleclerc

y/user: Just brought home gold for my beautiful country! Iceland 🇮🇸 you are beautiful and I loved showing my boyfriend round!

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pierregasly: I loved spending time with you and congrats on your win ma cherie 🍒

-> y/user: I love you very much

->pierregasly: I love you too 🫶🏼❤️

alpinef1team: Congrats on the win Y/N!

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Showing kærastinn minn around 🇮🇸

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[theinfinitelibrarysystem]

i have long covid. i'm 17. sometimes, my body/limbs lock up. the worst time it took half a day to be fully able to move. they took me to the hospital and wouldn't move me (i was crying from the pain of being in one position for so long and the little muscle spasms i kept having) because they were scared i might have a problem with my neck. i was on my way to school, i was 15. sometimes the brain fog gets so bad i lose a lot of my volcabulary. i read adult-level books in primary school, brain fog makes it hurt to comprehend. i forget more than i used to. loved ones. friends. my own hobbies. sometimes i get dazed an confused, losing cognitive reasoning. i get so scared because i don't recognise where i am, it's set me back a lot and i feel scared going to places i don't know well alone. my independence is something i value so much and it's so fusturating to lose it. i already had some chronic pain/illness things going on, but now part of me is always, always hurting. my joints get stiff and loose. my hypermobility got worse, i can't feel my toes from how much i dislocated them. my emotions are more volatile. i get sad- i don't know why, i freak out, it's hard to come down from, i suddenly feel hatred, anger, rage. i get headaches easier. even when it's nice and dark, i've drunk water and eaten, and i'm not stressed. i lose motivation for things i love because they take cognitive focus i find hard to maintain now. don't go out if you're sick. even if you wear a mask, you're spreading it. if you throw a party, make sure everyone there got tested. cough into your elbow, wave instead of shaking hands, wash your hands frequently.

[miainbetween]

You were always shifting

Okay I just want to mention in the beginning that I'm not a physics major - I am a med candidate-student girl and this is not a textbook. Everything mentioned has only empowering purposes solely based on my intuitive knowledge. …. Also, I know that this is not that well formatted it’s kind of intentional... for the most part.

Okay so if we shift at every given moment based on our own beliefs and assumptions at every moment based on one of my posts (that you can read here) why does it happen so that we don't shift even when we do know that we are in full control over our own reality.

Is it our badly fed belief system? Is it our own doubts? Is it that we are not doing enough?

I've been trying to wrap my head around this for the last few days because the concept of reality is just so complex and headache inducing that any idea that came to mind that had me "I finally get it!" was distinguished the next minute by another idea and somehow the two ideas were almost polar opposites. figuratively speaking.

but, honestly? there is no such thing as not doing enough. you know why? because it was never about doing.

not more. not less. not just a little.

shifting is a natural state/practice/whatever you want to call it... and it does not in itself require any effort in order for it to happen. as mentioned in my ramble post - we shift in every moment not because we want to but because it's inevitable.

shifting IS a normal part of life. shifting IS a normal part of your day. shifting IS what you've always been doing. shifting IS what got you to this moment. shifting IS what led you to reading this. Shifting IS you. you ARE SHIFTING - you are doing the act and you - in yourself - are the definition of shifting.

remember what I said about shifting getting you to this moment?

because it did.

because you're not the same as you were a moment ago, are you?

because you're not thinking the same thoughts, are you?

because you're not doing the same thing, are you?

because you keep reading, keep moving, keep growing, keep evolving.

because there's millions of cells in your body and molecules around you, shifting and changing and creating new bonds and everything in between.

because there's hundreds of small cells that are dying and being replaced simultaneously in every moment of everyday.

and THAT is shifting (explained with a bit of biology)

beliefs having impact on the cells and body/health is also shifting. because if cells are made of atoms, which are made of protons and the electrons that hold the energy piecing our whole reality together, the energy that the electrons radiate around them that controls everything else is controlled by YOU and your perception and your beliefs and your assumptions.

Therefore, there is nothing else that can influence them. It's only you.

Because you WERE shifting. You ARE shifting. And you WILL be shifting.

No one can take that away from you and you can't stop it yourself, either. It might sound like you're out of control but you're actually not.

Because you're the most in control you've ever been.

Because in every given moment you have a choice and I hope that you really do realise that.

But whatever your own reactions are - doubts, contradicting beliefs, fear, grief. All those low-vibrational feels...

They're not yours.

They're your ego's.

To be honest, for the longest time in my head and thoughts I tried to deny the existence of ego and the separation of consciousness and subconsciousness but in this version of reality it's inescapable.

The ego is the learnt doubt, fear, disbelief, anger, sadness, jealousy, selfishness that exists in this reality. But did you pay attention? It is LEARNT. And what is learnt can be unlearnt. And when it is unlearnt (for the long term), or at least (and maybe more achievable option for the short-term) - denied, you stop its hold on you.

imagine your ego is the floor of a building (probably the lowest one for visualisation) deny once, deny twice and you'll be climbing the stairs/floors to pure unfiltered being.

you wonder why I believe this so strongly??

because I know it.

because I experienced it just yesterday at my prom.

short background info: where I live, when we have prom, there is a car parade and every couple is dropped off at the main school entrance by a fancy car and it's a special event observed by probably at least half the town's population. but yesterday it was not only nerve-wracking but also pouring rain and cold and the floor was slippery and I was basically naked under lace (with undies ofc) and had been standing on 9 cm heels for 2 hours already.

as I was nearing the main entrance my whole body was trembling from the nerves and the cold and I was sick to the stomach with (again) nerves and fear and anxiety. all reaction of the ego.

and I turned it off.

all by saying one simple and true thing in my head.

"I am a god that creates and controls their own reality. I decide."

and fear disappeared like meat in the hands of hungry wolves. Or in this case - the hands of my own power.

so you decide for yourself.

you're enough as you are.

and as contradicting as that might sound to your ego - the only thing that you actually should do is believe in yourself and remember your own abilities and power.

*chuckle* I mean, you created this whole fucking universe. like- boom! and you think you can't fight your ego?

babe, I'm gonna hold your hands when I say it but... get your own power back and tell it to shut the fuck up!! Ego doesn't stand a chance against you!!

I've given you all of the evidence and examples I could without making this post unbearably long to read. all you need to do now is REMEMBER the bad bitch that you are and go kiss your significant other or hug your family or friends or just go do whatever you want to do in the multiverse.

There is nothing holding back but the limits that you put on yourself AND we are NOT doing that because we are limitless beings that are free to explore the multiverse and are not held back by stupid and irrelevant things like the human body or something just as pale in contrast to our own power.

Because the sky is not the limit. Not even the stars.

Because we're literally the baddest girl boss goddesses in the univese, made of stardust and love and blessings.

We are so lucky that even the electrons are envious of our high vibrations.

We believe before we see, because we are already the proof.

and congrats

-

you just shifted.

[cellythefloshie]

;; Paths We Didn't Take Dedicated to @wyattjohnston for her birthday bingo

Summary: City girl, Margeaux, had sworn off love after breaking up with her boyfriend of two years. She’s thought he was the one, but instead of a wedding ring, Margeaux was left trying to fill the void he left being. With the help of her friends, she escaped the life she knew in the city. Deep in cabin country, Margeaux struggles to find herself - but it's easier said than done when her high school sweetheart makes an unexpected appearance. Birthday Bingo Tropes: Lake Fic, One-Night Stand, Sworn Off Love, High School Sweethearts, Fish Out of Water, Exes to Lovers, Opposites Attract. Kinks & Tropes: protected sex, it's pretty vanilla (and nowhere near what I usually write for smut, so be gentle with me, I've been out of the game for a while). ABOUT THE OC: Margeaux, face claim: Nicola Peltz. Word Count: 9.6k+ A/N: Demi, I AM SO SO SORRY for how long it took me to write this fic or you for your special day. AND thank you for being so understanding as I reached out to you during my writing process. This fic is a little different from anything I've written before. It's got a lot more pop-culture references than I usually include, and if I really let myself fall into the plot fully, this easily could have been a slow burn novel fulled with so much lake side shenanigans. Just watch, this will be a rabbit hole I fall into often, just like Adam and Charlie..... Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait. Happy Belated Birthday. 🎂

Part One. 

Tears glimmered like diamonds as they traveled over the swell of Margeaux’s cheeks and down into the corners of her lips. Slowly, her tongue licked them away, tasting her own sorrows. And she watched it all in the reflection produced on her phone screen, a live video shared with her thousands of followers live on TikTok. They heard every echo of her footsteps of her empty apartment that had once been filled with laughter, love and her ex-boyfriend’s cologne. Now, it smelt of nothing but the fresh morning breeze that gusts over the rolling waves that crashed up onto Vancouver’s shores. 

Margeaux could smell it as she took an unsteady breath, a desperate attempt at composure, but her eyes were already red and swollen from crying. Her viewers had seen it all, the comments flooded with love. They had lived in that apartment with her through her videos. They had all shared a little piece of her two-year relationship that was now over. Some viewers shared her broken heart, others were angry - as she should have been. He had cheated on her, after all, and they were the first ones to know it. Sending her all the screenshots of evidence. They were all strangers, yet her closest friends. It just made sense to be ending this chapter of her life with them. 

“We’ve been through so much here, haven’t we?” she spoke, her voice breaking as she addressed her growing audience. The comment section flooded so quickly that she couldn’t even read it, “So many adventures, love, headache. We have grown up together here, between these walls.”

Margeaux panned the camera over the sterile white walls that would be the blank canvas of life to the next residents set to move in at the beginning of August. Then Margeaux turned the camera back to herself, her expression soft with sadness but bright with the hope she held for her future. “But I’m done,” she declared, her voice growing stronger. “I’m done with the heartache, the lies, and the broken promises. We’re better than that. We deserve better. I’m swearing off men, and that’s a promise!”

Behind her, Margeaux's words had earned a slow, almost hollow sounding applause that echoed off the large apartment’s empty walls. It drew her gaze bag and tugged her lips into a soft smile. It was Carrie, her best friend, who had returned from carrying the last box down to the can. Margeaux had hoped that she would have been able to sneak in a quick stream while she was gone, but she had been caught up in the moment of it all, leaving Carrie’s eyes rolling upon discovering her. 

“Margeaux, seriously?” Carried scoffed, a single hand raising up to tangle in her curls, “Nobody wants to see you cry on TikTok.”

Margeaux sniffled, wiping away a single tear with the back of her hand, all the while smiling. “You’re right,” she sighed, her shoulders slouching as she looked back to the camera, “I think it’s time I disconnect for a while, guys. We started this journey together in this apartment and achieved so much. But outside of this bubble I’ve made for myself, do we really know who Margeaux Fortin is? Do we know what’s next?” 

She walked to the window slowly, a gust of wind catching her golden hair and tossing it away from her face, that was now free of tears. Her viewing could see her face in full. How her eyes seemed to squint in the breeze, and how her lips parted in a trembling breath. “We don’t. It’s something we will have to discover, but I have to do it alone, friends. I will be back, and I can’t wait to share my new version of me with you all.”

Slowly, her arm lowered, her stream capturing nothing more than the white walls before the stream ended. Margeaux stood by the window in silence, waiting for Carrie to quip in with something charming, but it never came. Turning in place, Margeaux crossed her arms over her chest and held herself firmly as she was met with Carrie’s narrow stare. 

“People really buy all that bullshit?” Her words were laced with a laugh that would have been a firm ‘ha’ if it came to fruition. 

“It’s not bullshit,” Margeaux gripped at the fabric of her own cardigan tightly. 

Carrie had never understood why she devoted so much time to social media and her followers. Margeaux spent the last 2 years of her life living through the screen or her phone or a camera if she were filming something to be posted later, and she was successful with it. Not only had she garnered a mass of followers, she had made many friendships and sponsorships and had experienced things she would have never imagined she could. Yet, Carried was humble, disconnected from all social media, and liked to live in the moment. If they hadn’t been friends since preschool, they probably wouldn’t have been friends at all. 

She had almost lost her a few times too, and Margeaux was glad she hadn’t. Outside her online presence, Carrie was all she had left. 

“Hey,” Carrie left where she stood by the doorway and walked across the room to take Margeaux into her arms. “I know it’s not bullshit… It’s just weird,” she sighed, and when she drew back, Margeaux made sure to give her a smile. 

“It’s all I know,” Margeaux sighed, “but as long as I’m online, as long as my breakup is trendy, I’m just going to be reminded of what he put me through - but I don’t know what else to do, Carrie.”

Carrie’s expression softened, and Margeaux’s heart sank. She was pitying her. 

“I know it’s hard, but you’ll get through this because I know just the thing to help.”

Margeaux raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued, “Oh?”

Carrie smiled, a glint in her eyes that Margeaux couldn’t quite identify. “My friend Mat is coming home for the summer. He’s got a cabin up in the mountains, and he’s invited me to stay there. I’m allowed to bring friends, and Charlotte and Samantha are already on board. You should come with us.”

Margeaux bit down on her lip as she hesitated to answer. This was the first time she had heard of this trip, but she wasn’t surprised. Carrie never invited her out to do anything that involved the outdoors, and that was for good reason. Margeaux hated the heat and the cold, the sun and the rain, the dirt and she hated the bugs more. The scenery itself was beautiful, especially in British Columbia. It was, to put it simply, picturesque, everything she needed for her online presence, but if she went with Carrie, Margeaux wouldn’t be going to make content. She would be trying to find herself. 

“I don’t know,” Margeaux sighed, her tone returning to that soft, disheartened tone she had started her stream with. “You know I’m not exactly the outdoorsy type.”

Carrie raised a single well manicured hand, waving off Margeaux's concerns with ease. “You don’t have to be. It’ll be good for you to get away from all of this for a while. Just think of it as a much-needed forest retreat.”

Margeaux bit her lip as her mind flashed to the image of a rustic cabin in the middle of nowhere. Where mosquitos would feast on her blood, the howl of wolves would keep her up at night and where dirt would stain her spotless white shoes. She cringed as her mind spiraled with just how bad it could be.

What if there was no internet or worse, no air conditioning?

In her mind, it sounded more like torture than somewhere she could go to relax, rejuvenate and find herself after spending years of giving little pieces of herself to her ex just for him to throw it all away. 

Margeaux's shoulders shook with a deep breath that escaped her lips in a sigh. Then she looked around the empty apartment one last time, letting the reality of her situation really sink in. Her boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, had cheated on her. She was moving out of the apartment that was meant to be her home. She was nothing more than an internet personality who was a shell of who she once was. Margeaux needed to move on, to find herself, but she wasn’t going to find it in Vancouver. 

She bit her tongue to keep herself from cursing. Carrie was right. 

“Okay,” she said finally, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “I’ll go.”

Carrie's features grew bright, her jaw slacking as she smiled. She must not have thought Margeaux was going to accept, but she had surprised them both. Margeaux just hoped she wouldn’t regret it. 

“You’re going to love it,” Carrie assured, throwing a single arm around her shoulders to lead her out of the apartment, and the life she was leaving behind. “This summer is going to be exactly what we need. We finally get to have a hot girl summer together.”

Now it was Margeaux’s eyes that were rolling. They hadn’t been single at the same time since sixth grade, but the last thing Margeaux wanted was to go sleeping around. Especially when the wounds of her breakup were still fresh. 

“We’ll see about that,” Margeaux sighed and the weight on her heart began to lift ever so slightly. The apartment with all its memories - good and bad - would be behind her soon, and maybe, just maybe, with a little help, she could find herself again. 

—

The winding mountain road twisted and turned, the dense forest on either side a blur of green as the car sped along with urgency. They had left Carrie’s place behind schedule, and Margeaux was going to be the first to admit that it was her fault. She didn’t know what to pack, so she over packed, and they had spent 30 minutes trying to make sure all her bags would fit. While Carrie’s grip on the steering wheel was tense, Margeaux’s cluelessness hadn’t fully killed the mood. The atmosphere, especially in the back seat, was lively. 

The car vibrated with the base of the hottest song of summer - according to Samantha, who lay sprawled out over the center console as she did her best to outshine Sabrina Carpenter as she sang along with Espresso - albeit off-key. Charlotte sat beside her in the backseat, her phone in hand as she curated just what songs would come next. Margeaux sat in the passenger’s seat, watching as Samantha tapped at the screen on her phone. Jealous. Carrie had taken her phone from her before they got in the car. Margeaux was officially cut off. No more TikTok. No X. Not even Facebook, which was primarily kept to message no one beyond her grandmother. And watching Samantha in the back seat made Margeaux’s skin crawl. It was an itch she wouldn't be able to scratch for the entire weekend, and one that she was struggling to ignore.  

There was snow saving her, or at least that's how she felt as the tapping of Carrie’s fingers against the steering wheel mimicked the racing of her anxious heart. She couldn't even bring herself to sing along with one of her favorite Taylor Swift songs as it blasted through the car. Charlotte cheered as if she were in the front row at the Eras Tour, and Carrie sang like she was performing in front of a crowd of thousands. She sang with so much passion, so much heart. But Margeaux only sunk further into her seat. 

There was an ache in the depths of her chest, one that had begun to gnaw at her ever since the breakup. Sometimes, it felt like it was finally beginning to fade - but being surrounded by her friends, the laughter and the music only numbed the pain. Deep below the surface, she was still hurting and Margeaux was beginning to question if anything could heal her. 

Her phone. 

She needed her phone. 

Lulling her head to the side, Margeaux looked down at the backpack that rested at her own feet. Carrie’s backpack. The one she had confined her phone to at the beginning of the trip as Margeaux was sentenced to be completely isolated from the very lifeline that was her phone. 

Maybe, with Carrie distracted, Margeaux could reach her phone. 

Margeaux slouched in her seat, her bright eyes watching Carrie as she rocked the chorus. 

Her perfectly manicured fingers pinched at the zipper, pulling it open, the very sound of it drowned out by her friend’s vocals. And for a moment, as the bag fell open, Margeaux felt hope, relief- and it was all gone just as quickly as it came as she felt Carrie’s careful grasp coil around her hand. 

Looking up through thick lashes, Margeaux sighed. Carrie’s eyes hadn’t even left the road. “Margeaux, you need this. You need to let you. Just for a little while.” 

Full lips parted, ready to argue - to insist that she was fine - but it all would have been a lie. A desperate attempt to get her life back, but Margeaux had been friends with Carrie long enough to know that it would have been a losing battle. They looked out for one another, they always did, and Carrie was just doing what was best for her, Margeaux knew that. 

“Fine,” she pouted, her arms crossing over her chest childishly. 

Carrie laughed, the tension in the car evaporating slowly as Margeaux became distracted by the scenery as it passed the window in a blur. The singing and laughter were the mere background track of her mind that was still fixated on the anxiety and the dread she was trying to escape. It haunted her for the rest of the drive, her head resting against the car window as she told herself that the complications of her life were behind her now, and that they would be at the cabin soon. 

Soon, she would finally find peace. 

The trees began to thin, and the road opened up to a large clearing at the end of a winding driveway. There was a sight that left Margeaux’s breath catching in her throat. The cabin wasn’t the rustic, rundown shack she had imagined. It was a beautiful, multistory cabin with floor to ceiling glass windows that reflected the surrounding forest and mountains on the skyline. It had a large porch too, one that wrapped around the front and had a towering staircase that led from the driveway up to the front door.  

“Wow,” Margeaux breathed out as she stepped out of the car, taking it all in. “You didn’t tell me we were visiting Edward Cullen.”

Carrie’s lips split into a wide grin, it was clear to Margeaux that her friend was pleased by the shock that was painted all over her face. “Not bad, right?” 

“Not bad at all,” Margeaux agreed, moving to the trunk to grab her bags, “you know, I would have been much more agreeable if I knew this was the kind of cabin we were coming to-”

“What’s the fun in that?” Carrie teased her, helping her unload one of her many bags - a bag that ended up on the ground as they were both startled by a shout from at the top of the steps;

“Carrie!”

Margeaux looked up, her trendy curtain bangs falling into her eyes, as she stood in the driveway left frozen at the sight of the man jogging down the steps towards them. He was tall, with an athletic build on full display, as he was wearing nothing more than a pair of swim trunks. His dark hair was shaggy, hanging down into his eyes, and as he got closer, she could see the easy smile on his face. He was handsome - very handsome - and Margeaux quickly concluded that this must be Carrie’s friend, Mat. 

She watched, still lingering at the trunk of the car, as Carrie reached Mat at the bottom of the stairs. They met in an embrace, Mat’s hands lingering low on Carrie’s back. Margeaux’s brow raised and her head tilt so silently screamed, friend’s my ass. They were fucking. Margeaux didn’t need to be told to know that, and it left a sour taste in her mouth knowing that she had been invited alone to some fuck fest in the woods. 

Her mood changed in an instant as she unpacked the rest of her bags that began to pile up as if she had just gotten off an international light. Margeaux grumbled to herself, her brows heavy and lips pressed into a firm line. And her expression only hardened further as she heard the symphony of footsteps that belonged to Mat’s friends. They too were making their way down to greet them, and while she was curious, Margeaux was mad. Carrie had invited her with the full intention of keeping Mat’s friends busy for the weekend. 

Hot Girl Summer. 

Gripping the handle of one of her bags tight, Margeaux took a deep breath and tried to get her features to relax before she looked up at the trio of men that had made their way down from the cabin, their welcome party. They were making their introductions to Charlotte and Samantha who had already pulled out all the stops when it came to their flirtations and charms - which wasn’t all that difficult when they had driven down not wearing more than a pair of denim shorts pulled over their swimsuits. 

A part of Margeaux hoped that the sights of them alone would be enough to distract the men from her - that Carrie, Charlotte and Samantha would have all of their undivided attention while she struggled to carry her bags up the staircase and then went off to hide somewhere on a lounge chair or a beach to enjoy the sun. And while Margeaux was sure she wouldn’t be lucky enough to disappear, she still tried. She organized her bags with such an ease that only came with the experience of travel, closed up the trunk and slowly rounded the car like a deer trying to creep past a predator. She even kept her head down in an attempt to go unnoticed. 

And she might have been successful if it hadn’t been her own heart that failed her. 

There was a familiar laugh that took the air. It was a low laugh, one that could only belong to a man. But not any man. This was a laugh she had heard countless times before. One that she had coaxed from thin lips, one that made her heart thunder when she was merely sixteen - and even after seven years, it still did. Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her ears. It felt like she had just finished a sprint, though she was standing still. And her luggage slipped from suddenly sweaty palms, sending it to the ground in a clamor that brought all the attention to her. 

At that moment, it was all confirmed in front of her. 

Margeaux’s breath caught in her throat as her gaze fixated on the all too familiar face that hadn’t seen her yet. He was laughing at something someone said, and looked just as she remembered him - his smile large, his eyes bright and his hair threatening to curl as it was slicked back with sweat or water - except he was older now, more mature, and even more attractive. 

The need to take even a single breath strangled her lungs, but the shock of the unexpected reunion was heavy on her chest. She hadn’t prepared for this. 

Her high school sweetheart. 

Anthony Beauvillier.

Part Two. 

For the rest of the first day at the cabin, Margeaux had kept herself hidden away in the bedroom that was hers for the weekend. There she followed through with her multi-step self care routine that she always did before bed. Carrie had only tried to bug her once, but Margeaux was quick to dismiss her with nothing more than a scowl. She wasn't joining them by the fire tonight. She wasn't going to drink craft beer and pretend everything was okay. Not when it was all so clearly a setup. But Margeaux could only hide away from Anthony and her friends for so long. 

Come morning, Margeaux was sitting out on the front steps of the cabin with a shoebox in her lap. Inside were a pair of brand-new hiking boots, a purchase she had made more out of necessity than desire. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she carefully removed each of her dainty designer sandals. The thin straps and detailing were a stark contrast to the rugged shoes she was about to put on. Then, she slipped on a clean white pair of socks, opened the shoe box and fought the boots onto her feet. They were tight, uncomfortable even as she would be breaking them in on the post-breakfast hike. 

It was as she was tieing up the laces of each boot that a familiar voice broke through the sound of the morning breeze and chirping of early rising birds. “Those brand new?” 

Squinting her eyes, Margeaux looked up, rose-tinted sunglasses shielding her eyes from the sun that illuminated Anthony from behind like a radiant halo. He stood a few steps away, already dressed for the hike, with a teasing grin on his face. Margeaux knew their paths would cross again. Yet his presence left her heart jolting at the sight of him. 

“Maybe,” she finally replied, her smile turning inwards as she adjusted the laces just right. 

Anthony chuckled, his gaze dropping to her shoes before meeting her eyes again. “You never really were the outdoorsy type.” 

Margeaux stiffened, her shoulders rolling back as they tensed, unsure of how to respond. The comment was innocent enough, and very much the truth, but she didn't like it. It made her feel that she didn't belong there. That Anthony didn't want her to be there. 

“Well, here I am.” 

Anthony smirked as he took a casual stride towards the railing of the deck. He leaned there casually, but his gaze continued to linger on her. “So, what has you all the way out here?”

The question hung heavily in the air, and Margeaux could sense the deeper meaning behind his words. He wasn't just asking about the cabin or Vancouver. He was asking about her life, about how she ended up there. And while the simple answer was Carrie, she was sure Anthony was asking about one thing, but would never actually say the words.

I’m not fucking Mat if that's what you're asking, was what she wanted to say. But Margeaux answered him with less vulgarity, “I dumped my boyfriend, and Carrie thought I could use a change of scenery.”

For a moment, as Margeaux so blatantly stared at him, she thought she saw a flicker of something in his expression. Relief, maybe, or something close to it. But it was gone in the blink of her eyes, replaced by that same teasing smile he had greeted her with. “You’re joining us for the hike?”

“I didn't put on these ugly things for fun,” Margeaux said, wiggling her feet. 

“They aren't supposed to be good looking, Margeaux. They're supposed to be supportive, comfortable,” he told her with a grin that faded as he looked from one side of her to the next. His expression softened slowly, his eyes squinting as if he were trying to find something that wasn't there. 

“What?” she snapped more harshly than she had intended. 

“Where's your bag?” 

Margeaux blinked, her eyes wide and clueless. “Hiking bag?”

Anthony turned in place, his back resting against the railing as his smile fell into a sigh. His band then raised up, carding through his messing morning hair. “You're not carrying anything with you? No water, no snacks, nothing?”

Margeaux perked up in place. She shouldn't have, but she did. She was bringing something. Her hand dropped to her side where her GoPro sat, waiting to be mounted on her chest with a contraption she had bought on Amazon last minute. She held it up for him to see, feeling a little foolish, but happy. It was her only connection to her online persona, and it made her feel a little less anxious as she was about to dive into the world of being outdoorsy - a world she never really wanted to be a part of. 

He was left unimpressed as he pushed off the rail and moved for his bag that rested nearby. There was a thunder of footsteps behind her. It was time to go.

“Just. Stick close to me,” Anthony said, his tone serious as he fell into stride with the rest of the group. 

“What? Why?” she asked, standing up as she fastened the camera over her chest. 

“You're going to need all the help you can get,” he replied, a hint of concern in his voice. 

And while she knew that he was right. His words still stung. 

“No air won't,” Margeaux bit back at him, her confidence forced, but so convincing she almost believed herself. 

He didn't have to look back at her for Margeaux to know that he was smiling. She could hear it in Anthony's words as he spoke, “Alright, Princess. We'll see about that.” 

Hearing her old nickname left Margeaux frozen in place. Each of her friends passed her, but she fixated on Anthony and only Anthony. He had been the only one she let call her that. Not her parents, nor her most recent ex were allowed to - and when he tried, she had shut it down quickly, yet casually, and suggested an alternative. Because it had been something special when Anthony said it. It left her heart fluttering, and her cheeks pink with blush. Even as he said it then, and she was hearing it for the first time in years, she remembered each time he said it before. Quickly, she became the giddy teenager that was undeniably and irrevocably in love with Anthony Beauvillier. 

The feeling was fleeting, gone as quickly as it came, knocked out of her with her breath as a pair of arms flung around her in a tight embrace. 

“What are you waiting for? Let's go!”

It was Carrie. All too chipper, and all too happy for Margeaux to stomach when she could already feel the itch of a mosquito bite on her arm. Besides that fact, Margeaux was still angry that Carrie had put her into this position.

Taking a deep breath, Margeaux shrugged her friend's arms from her body. The quick turn of her head offered her an eye roll and a glare that only brought Carrie to laughter. She knew this would upset her, but knew that keeping it from Margeaux and asking for forgiveness later was easier than trying to convince her to go.

Carrie nudged her as they reached the beginning of the trail, and when she spoke, she kept her voice low so as not to be heard by the rest of the group that led the way. “So,” she licked her lips, “how long are you going to be mad at me for?” 

Margeaux glanced ahead, making sure Anthony was out of earshot. He walked at the front of the pack, making the hike through the Instagram worthy view look so effortless as she tripped over rocks. She watched as he tried to dodge a branch of a pine tree; the bristles brushing against the fabric of his shirt. As she walked in his wake, she could smell the scent of it in the air. Pine mixed with dirt, mixed with the sunscreen on her face that had already begun to run into her eyes as sweat dripped off her brow. 

Her eyes squinted, her nose wrinkling too at the discomfort as she spoke, “I think 4 years would suffice. You know, the amount of time Anthony and I dated in high school.” 

He had been playing for the Shawinigan Cataractes when Margeaux had met him. So sweet, and so shy, she had to make the first move. They had been inseparable since that moment. That was until he was called up to the NHL by the Islanders. He moved to New York; she moved to Vancouver. Slowly, even after their efforts, they lost touch. Margeaux told herself it was just how things were meant to be. The two of them, just highschool sweethearts, never meant to be more than her first love. But now she wasn't so-

“He's single, you know?” Carrie broke through her thoughts.

“How do you-” Margeaux spoke quickly, her tongue tripping over her words as she couldn't follow a single train of thought, “what is he even doing here? Did you invite him?”

“No,” Carrie held up both hands as if to plead her innocence, “he's Mat's old teammate. They're still close friends. I didn't find out he was coming until a few days before.”

“But you didn't tell me,” Margeaux bit out. 

“I didn't,” Carrie hummed, “but” she added in a sing-song tone, “I bet it's nice seeing again.”

“It is,” she admitted, “in a way, I guess. But it doesn't mean I forgive you. Not when I know you only invited us out here to keep his friends busy during your weekend booty call.” 

Carrie didn't even blush. She had no shame as she leaned in and kissed Margeaux on the cheek before she ran off to the middle of the pack where Mat was walking. 

It left Margeaux alone at the back of the pack, falling further and further behind as they followed the trail. It grew steeper with every stride, and Margeaux's legs began to ache. While she loved her pilates, her body was in no way trained for the long hike. Her breath became short, her gasps quiet as she did her best not to draw attention to herself. Each step was a struggle as she began to question just how far she could go. Yet, she didn't ask for help. 

She didn't have to. 

With her eyes fixated on the ground, Margeaux jumped in surprise at the sound of the sudden but softly spoken. “Here” that met her ears. Looking up, she found Anthony walking beside her. He had noticed her struggling and had fallen to the back of the pack, with the mouthpiece of his water bladder in hand. He offered it to him with a soft, concerned smile. “You look like you could use this.”

Her pride was bruised, yet Margeaux took the mouthpiece and accepted her defeat. They paused in the middle of the trail and she took a long drink that soothed her dry throat. When she pulled back, Margeaux was sure she could see the gratitude written all over her face. “Merci,” she muttered, handing it back. 

Anthony smiled. 

“We're almost to the top,” he encouraged. “The hike back will be easier.” 

Margeaux nodded, raising a hand to wipe the sweat off her brow. She was too tired to speak, but his reassurance gave her the strength to keep going. They walked together in silence, the sound of their footsteps lost in the faint laughter of their friends in the distance. 

They followed the sound; the laughter growing louder and louder until they reached the peak of the trail together. The trees parted into a clearing that looked down over the sprawling forest around them and left endless blue skies free from their shade. Margeaux could feel the hot sun on her skin, but the summer breeze cooled her. And she smiled. 

“See,” Anthony nudged her casually, “worth the effort, right?” 

She looked back over her shoulder at him, still smiling. “Yeah.” 

He stood at her side, their backs to the rest of the group as they admired the view from the peak of the trail. The group all linger there for a while, sharing conversation and refueling for the descent. But Margeaux only spent her time with Anthony, sharing his water and casual conversation. Even as they walked back to the cabin, they walked side by side, his arms finding her when she stumbled. Margeaux was relieved by the time they reached the cabin steps. But she was also feeling something new. Something that felt a little like excitement, a little like hope, and she knew it was all because of Anthony. 

Part Three.

The hot day faded into a cool, starry night. Margeaux had insisted that she was going to go straight to bed, but with a little convincing, she was pulling on her sweatshirt and joining the group out back by the lake where there was a fire pit. The flames danced, and the wood crackled, releasing sparks into the darkness above. 

The fiery embers danced in the breeze and Margeaux watched them until they were lost among the stars. The air was engulfed by the scent of wood-smoke, tainting the fresh air that almost left Margeaux dreading that they would be going back to the city come morning. She was just starting to like this place, though she was sure that wouldn't have been the case if Anthony wasn't there. 

He had been as sweet as the gooey marshmallow and melted chocolate sandwiched between graham crackers that oozed between her fingers. An insatiable delight that only left her wanting more than they sat side by side around the fire. Anthony had her laughing. He had her forgetting the reasons she had agreed to go out to the cabin. It was like a weight was lifted from her shoulders. The heartache, the uncertainty, and the anxiety were all gone, but it left all the room for dread. 

It hit her like a truck the moment she felt something crawling on her leg. It left her heart heavy as she tried to ignore it. Margeaux told herself that it had to be another harmless insect. She even reached a hand down, swatting the air, but the sensation persisted. It sent shivers down her spine, and when she looked down, she saw it - a small, dark tick making its way up her leg. 

Shooting up from her seat, Margeaux shouted the first thing that came to mind as she tried to shake the bug off her leg, “Anthony!”

Anthony, who had been sitting right beside her, dropped down so that he knelt in the dirt. The flickering flame illuminated his features, and even in the intensity of its light, he was calm. He reached out with both hands, her body becoming still in an instant as he searched for the tick. “It hasn’t latched on yet. Hold still.”

Margeaux held her breath, her lungs burning deep in her chest, as she stood there frozen as Anthony reached for the tick. His fingers were gentle but sure as he plucked the tiny tick from her skin. He held it up briefly for her to see that it was in her hold, before tossing it into the fire, where it disappeared with a faint sizzle. 

“It’s gone,” he reassured, but then his face wrinkled, “but there might be more. You should check yourself over, just to be safe.”

Her heart surged as she was hit by another wave of panic. The thought of more ticks crawling on her skin left her on the verge of tears as she nodded quickly. She was struggling to keep her composure. “I don’t think I can. Could you?”

Anthony hesitated, his throat clearing as he looked at each of his and her friends. Then, he ran his hand over his jawline before giving a small nod, “alright, let’s go inside.”

They left the warmth of the fire together, Margeaux’s quick steps leading the way. She didn’t stop until they were enclosed by the shadows of the bedroom. It was quiet there, the amber glow of the table top lamp at her bedside. It was too intimate; she decided quickly, but not even turning on the overhead light erased the feeling of uneasiness that came with the reality of what she told him to do. 

Margeaux’s hands trembled slightly as she undressed, peeling off her clothes layer by layer until she stood in nothing but her bra and underwear. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but also annoyed. Her bra and panties didn’t match, and were far from cute - but she hadn’t exactly planned for anyone else to see them. Especially not Anthony. 

But he didn’t seem to notice as he turned around from closing the door behind her, and if he didn’t, he didn’t comment on it. Anthony was completely quiet as he approached her. He stood in her shadow, his hands reaching out to rest on her shoulders with such a gentleness Margeaux held her breath. “You ready?”

Margeaux nodded, giving him the permission he needed to continue. He checked her carefully, his hands moving over her skin with a touch that was both methodological and tender. His hands didn’t linger in any place too long, but Margeaux’s skin was lit ablaze as it lingered. She could feel it burn down her arms, her back and even her legs. But it was only as his fingers reached the band of her bra that Margeaux held her breath. 

“Sometimes,” Anthony’s words were a mere whisper, “sometimes they like to hide here,” he explained softly. 

Margeaux nodded slowly, her throat too tight to speak. She didn’t give him the time to undo it himself. Instead, she reached behind her and unclasped the bra for him. She could hear it hit the floor, her eyes going shut at the sound, and she turned slowly to face Anthony. 

When she opened her eyes, Anthony’s face was a deep shade of red, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he reached out with careful, respectful hands, and he continued his search. He stroked along the impression the bra had left behind on her skin and caressed the underside of her breasts. 

It left her shuddering. 

Margeaux hoped he didn’t notice. 

“There’s nothing,” Anthony finally said, his voice soft as he met her eyes. 

Margeaux let herself breathe again, relieved. “Thank you.”

That should have been his queue to leave, for Margeaux to pull away and find her clothes, but neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke, either. They just shared a soft gaze. Margeaux’s heart pounded in her chest as she let herself realize a single face: The connection they had shared years ago was still there. She felt it; it was undeniable. Maybe he felt it, too. 

Margeaux reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm, and she watched his shoulders tense as his breath hitched. For a moment, it seemed like time stood still. The world outside their small quiet room was forgotten, and Anthony was dropping to his knees. 

“There’s one last place I can check,” he whispered, his eyes not once leaving hers. 

Anthony’s hands reached out, taking hold of her hips carefully. His thumbs stroked over the soft cotton fabric, moving back and forth so slowly it was almost painful. 

Margeaux squirmed in place, pressing her thighs firm together before relaxing at the feeling of him dragging the fabric down her legs slowly. The fabric teased her skin on the way down, sending Margeaux’s head lulling back and her eyes fluttering shut. She could only feel him then, as the careful touch of his hands found her inner thighs. He stroked the skin carefully, as if he were still checking for ticks, but then she felt his hot breath. 

She felt his mouth. 

Margeaux gasped, his kiss hot as it worked its way so close to the apex that her legs trembled. Anthony braced her legs with the strength of his arms, keeping her upright. It was enough to make her whine as she reached out with both hands, her fingers finding his dark curls to knit into. 

The simple touch drew him in closer, his hot breath ghosting over her sweet heat just long enough for her core to clench before he was guiding each of her legs over his shoulders. He picked her up with such effortlessness, his face pressed against her pelvis and her belly as he carried her across the room and laid her out on her half made bed. 

Its soft impact had Margeaux's eyes shooting open, taking in the sight of the ceiling as Anthony kissed a burning trail up her body and into her view. He hovered over her for a moment, his own chin slick with saliva, before leaning in and kissing her in a way they never had as teenagers. 

They had been so young and inexperienced back then. So eager and impatient to kiss, and to fuck, that the only feeling was one of ecstasy. But they were older now, grown up in so many more ways than just physically. Which was why she moaned when he did something as simple as stoking her skin and gasped when she felt two fingers press against her clit. 

They moved in a slow circle as he kissed her, her body beginning to coil with the pleasure of his touch. Margeaux’s breasts heaved as she threw her head back into the pillows, her hands tugging blindly at the fabric of his shirt, and his short, that she wasn't going anywhere without his help. 

Anthony eased back, tugging his shirt free first and tossing it aside. His hand dropped to his shorts next, but Margeaux was sitting up, her mouth taking its own assault on his stomach and abs. She could feel his chuckle on her lips before it left his laced in his words, “lay back, Princess.”

She melted away from him like chocolate, her body sprawling out and legs spread as he shimmied off the bed and discarded his shorts on the floor. He was gone so long, Margeaux felt cold, but when he returned, she pulled him closer and closer just to stay warm. Legs intertwined, and her arms reached around him so her manicure could claw at the strength of his shoulders as he eased into her. Her gasp was swallowed by his kiss as his hips rolled. Margeaux met his every tender movement as he remembered exactly what she liked and discovered more. It left her trembling with the climax of her pleasure as his one hand reached to cradle the back of her neck. His thick fingers knitting in her blonde strands, drawing her forehead up to rest against his. It was his tell. He was about to come. Margeaux grinned, her core coaxing him to the very peak of his pleasure, his mouth left gaping with a silent moan. 

They were both left smiling when they were through, Margeaux’s hands reaching out to stroke through his sweaty curls. Anthony was still buried deep within her as he turned his head just enough to kiss the supple skin of her palm. He was sweet, too sweet, and Margeaux almost hated it. He hadn’t changed a bit in the seven years they were apart. Yet, there she lay, feeling like herself for the first time in a long time. 

It left her dizzy as he rolled out of bed, her body anchoring itself to the blankets beneath her as if merely being void from him was going to leave her floating away. She lay there in the bed, listening to Anthony as he moved about the room. Margeaux didn’t know exactly what he was doing. She didn’t think to look, but as he turned off the lights, she was sure he had to be collecting his things so he could leave. But the opening and closing of the door never came. Instead, it was the squeaking of the springs to meet her ears as he crawled into her bed. 

Margeaux cuddled close to him, her head on his chest as she looked at the wall across from them. She could see that the firelight had died. Their friends had turned in for the night. There was no bonfire for them to run back to. With no obligations, they lay there together in silence, avoiding any heavy conversation they could have had. They lay with their bodies intertwined, Anthony’s hand stroking up and down the length of her back slowly and Margeaux’s head resting on his chest. There, she listened to the steady rhythm of his heart, and it was the last thing she heard as she let herself drift off to sleep. 

Part Four.

The last morning at the cabin dawned with a bittersweet quiet. The sun cast a warm golden glow over the trees that cast sprawling shadows into the bedroom where Margeaux had regrettably spent most of her weekend. The first day she had isolated herself completely, spending day and night in the bedroom. The second day, she had let Carrie pressure her into the hike, and the second night she spent with Anthony. But waking up next to him, his warm skin still within her reach as the sun’s light shined down across his features left Margeaux wanting more. 

She wanted more time with her friends to take in the serene beauty of the forest that left her feeling like she was living in a dream. She wanted to learn how to chop up firewood, to forage or even to paddle board if she was feeling bold enough. But most of all, she wanted to spend time with Anthony. To continue playing her little game of what if they hadn’t grown apart all those years ago…

What if she had followed him to New York?

Would they have gotten married?

What if she had reached out when he had been traded to Vancouver? 

Would she have been the cheater instead of the one who had been cheated on?

What if they didn’t have to say goodbye? 

Would he even message her back if she tried?

Margeaux shut her eyes tight, fighting back the tears that began to build. She had come out there for answers, but she seemed to be leaving with even more. Yet, Margeaux answered the most important one she had: What comes next for me? 

The answer was that Margeaux didn’t know what would be next. There was no way for her to tell. Whatever she could imagine happening would be faced by too many unknowns caused by chance or by fate, would alter her course. There would always be a path she didn’t take. 

Margeaux let her tears fall in hot streams that lead down to the corners of her relieved smile. She tasted the salt of her tears with her tongue as she licked them away, only for the palms of her hands to come up to finish the job. 

Anthony rolled over in bed next to her, his hand coming down on her shoulder gently as he spoke, his voice heavy with concern, “hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Margeaux nodded, “I’m okay.”

They lay there for a moment, the silence heavy. Neither of them spoke, Anthony’s mouth on Margeaux’s shoulder just breathing in the very scent of her. And Margeaux hid her face in the pillows, her eyes shut tight and her chest aching. She wasn’t ready to leave - she wasn’t ready to say goodbye. 

But then, Carrie took the moment she had to do it away from her. She came bursting through the door with little care as to what Margeaux was doing. Eyes on her phone, Carrie was talking before she could even look at Margeaux and Anthony, who nobody knew she had taken to bed, “get up bitch,” she said endearingly. “It’s time to go home. Oh, and I have this for you, consider it a reward for playing nice with Anthony all weekend for me.”

She reached into the pocket of her daisy dukes and drew out Margeaux's phone. Carrie tossed it towards the bed, and her eyes following its course right to where it landed at Anthony's feet. 

“Oh, fuck!” she stumbled back as she shrieked, “I’m so - fuck - sorry!” 

“I’ll be right down!” Margeaux called out after her, her own voice weak with embarrassment. 

Margeaux hadn’t planned on being caught. 

Stumbling out of bed, Margeaux grabbed the clothes that were lost on the floor the night before, and shoved them into her never unpacked bag. She rummaged through it, grabbing a pale yellow sundress and polling it over her bare body. Then Margeaux did something she would quickly regret. She expertly grabbed every single one of her bags and left without even a glance. 

It wasn’t until she was standing at the trunk of the car, yet again in the predicament of trying to make everything fit, that Margeaux looked back at the cabin. She wore a soft smile, thankful that Carrie had convinced her to come, and it only grew as Anthony stumbled out onto the deck in nothing more than the same pair of shorts he had worn the night before. He hadn’t even stopped to put on shoes, which Margeaux was sure he regretted the moment his feet hit the gravel driveway. But that didn’t stop him from walking straight down the driveway to her. 

He stood close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body, and smell the familiar scent of him without it having to get caught in the breeze. The air between them was thick with both humidity and the words left unspoken - anything they wanted to say, they had to say it now.

Finally, Anthony was the one to break the silence. “You all packed up?”

Margeaux almost winced. They had always had an effortlessness about them, but for the first time, it was as if neither of them knew what to say. 

“Yeah, just have to work the last suitcase in,” Margeaux gestured to the car before crossing both arms over her chest. 

There was another pause, filled by the rustle of leaves, the clamor of suitcases as they fell out of the trunk, and Carrie’s string of curses as she was left to play Tetris with the suitcases again. Anthony glances at her, trying to hide a smile as he leaned in one step closer to Margeaux and slipped his hand into his pocket. When he pulled it out, he was grinning ear to ear. “Well, I think you forgot this.”

Margeaux looked down, her face going bright red at the sight of her panties in his hand. “Anthony!” she spoke in a hushed whisper as both hands went to him. She pushed them back down, hiding the light cotton fabric back in his pocket. She let them fall there, loose in the fabric of his pocket, and pulled his hand free to hold. 

“I’ve had enough embarrassment for one day,” she smiled. 

Anthony laughed. Then he smiled as he spoke again, changing the subject as he did, “I’m glad you came… And I’m glad we got to spend some time together.”

Margeaux felt a heavy lump form in the back of her throat. One that she swallowed back with her smile. “Me too. It’s been… it’s been really good for me.”

Anthony took away the remaining space between them and captured her in a tight embrace. His arms were strong and comforting around her, and as much as she should have pulled away, Margeaux let herself sink into the hug. She held him, knowing that it very well may be the last time. She closed her eyes, trying to take a mental picture of the feeling of him, and listened to the steady beat of his heart harmonizing with hers. 

“Thank you Anthony,” her voice trembled as she buried her face into her neck, “for helping me find myself again.”

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. Nothing he could say could mean as more to her than what he had done for her in the limited number of hours they got to be with one another, and he knew that. She knew he did. She could feel it in how he held her tighter, in how his hand so gently stroked through her messy blond hair and down the length of her back. And when they finally pulled back, she could see it in his eyes, too. His gaze was soft and his eyes bright, but the smile he gave her didn’t reach his eyes. 

Maybe he was feeling the same heaviness in his chest too–maybe he didn’t want to say goodbye…

“Take care of yourself, Margeaux,” he told her softly. 

“I will,” she promised, her voice heavy with the emotion she choked to the very back of her throat, “you too–and good luck next season, wherever you end up.”

Anthony nodded, and for a moment looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. Instead, he reached out with one arm and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered there against her skin for a moment, a soft barely there touch before he pulled back and smiled a little wider. This time, Margeaux saw it reach his eyes as he gave her one last lingering look before he turned and walked back up the steps, leaving Margeaux standing by the car as the trunk came down in a sudden thud as Carrie closed it. 

Margeaux jumped in place, her hand lurching to rest over her heart. It raced hard, pounding against the inside of her ribcage as her head snapped to look at her best friend. Carrie was grinning widely, devilishly. “Sorry, did I kill the moment?”

“Moment?” Margeaux’s voice broke. “What moment?”

Did she mean the moment she watched Anthony go, her chest heavy with the weight of their goodbye? Or the part of her that stood there, waiting to see if she herself would call out to him to extend their reconnection beyond their brief reunion in the forest. 

Either way, Margeaux would deny it all if Carrie asked, because she couldn’t even be honest with herself. It was easier that way. She wasn’t ready for another relationship, not now, not so soon after everything that happened. And Anthony? He was a comfort, a reminder of who she used to be when things were simpler, when love was just about date nights at the movies and the fairy tale worlds they thought would come after highschool. 

But so much time had passed, and as much as she still loved him, and always would, they would never be what they once were. Surely, they have changed too much, and the paths they were on led in different directions. 

“You got everything packed up?” Margeaux asked Carrie with a smile, “I need to get out of here. I don’t think I could survive another mosquito bite.”

“Yeah,” Carrie smiled as she moved to stand by the driver’s side, “so get your ass in the car and start a playlist.”

Margeaux's heart jolted with excitement. Her phone! She had her phone! Reaching into her back pocket, Margeaux brought her phone to life with the long hold of the power button. Carrie had kept the battery charged, and for that Margeaux was thankful. The itch to check her social media consumed her body as she got into the passenger’s seat, with Charlotte and Samantha both seated behind her. Instead, she opened her Spotify, put on Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan, and it became their soundtrack as the car pulled out of the drive. She dropped the phone to her lap as she moved along with the music in her seat. 

The buttons hit her lap just right, taking a screen capture of her playlist. Instead of letting it be, Margeaux picked up her phone and went to her gallery to remove it. It was there she saw pictures she had never known were being taken. A collection that started from the moment she had arrived at the cabin, right down to the very moment Anthony had taken her inside the night before to check her for ticks. Carrie had captured every little moment, and Margeaux hadn’t noticed, not even once. 

Margeaux’s lips parted in a wavering breath as she looked at Carrie in the driver’s seat. She was wearing a cheeky grin. 

“Thank you,” Margeaux smiled. 

“You’d do the same for me,” Carrie blew her a kiss playfully, “besides, it’s the least I could do for dragging you out to my booty call and actually getting laid!”

The girls in the back hollered. Samantha even reached around the passenger’s seat and nudged her playfully. But Margeaux paid no mind to it all. Instead, her eyes had found the rearview mirror, and watched as Anthony and the cabin grew smaller and smaller in the rearview until it was nothing more than photos on a screen.  

She had gone to the cabin with her heart broken, but as they drove away, she felt something new. A quiet strength, a sense of peace - she was healing, and it was because of Anthony. Smiling, Margeaux rested her head on the cool glass of the window, tilted just right to have the air conditioning hit her face just right and she put together a playlist that would carry them back home. To the city where she would forge her next path alone and Margeaux, she was ready to embrace it. 

TAGLIST: @equallyshaw , @mp0625 , @charles11700 , @swissboyhisch , @wingedwheelprxncess , @luvmarner , @fandomrejects , @misunderstoodwerewolf , @callsign-denmark , @puckmaidens , @cixrosie , @starshine-hockey-girl

[grandlinedreams]

[heads up: mentions of depression/anxiety, brief mention/description of a panic attack, brief allusion to loss of a loved one, comfort, modern au]

Law doesn't need to ask if you're okay.

He knows your moods better than most, treads those same waters from time to time where your own mind is far from your best friend. Things have been rough as of late, and he's watched you with a careful eye, trying to read where you are from day to day.

When he comes home and you're already in bed at three in the afternoon, he knows the day has been a bad one.

He's quiet as he makes his way towards the bed, seats himself on the edge of it, studying your breathing. "Bad day?"

"Bad news," you croak, muffled by blankets. "Treatment isn't working. They're going to try something else, but what ifㅡ" Your breath hitches. "What if it doesn't work, Law? What do I do? I can't lose herㅡ"

"[Name]," Law intones gently but firmly, reaching to gather you into his arms as your breathing goes shallow. "Deep breaths. Can you try to match mine for me?"

You squirm in his grasp for a moment before you still, drawing a shuddering breath. Your skin crawls, too tight as your heart hammers, fizzing with all the ugly what ifs of the day. It takes several long moments for you to focus on Law's breathing to try and match it, head spinning.

"Good job," Law praises with the press of his lips to your temple as your breathing evens out. "You're okay, I've got you."

"I'm just scared," you mumble as he moves to lay down, keeping you cradled against him. "What if she dies, Law? What am I going to do?"

"We'll cross that bridge if and when we get to it," he tells you softly. "I know that it hurts, and that's fine. You're allowed to grieve, and you're allowed to hurt. But she won't want you to dwell on her passing. She's proud of you for being as strong as you are, and she'll want you to continue to be strong."

"Don't want to," you mumble, voice cracking. "I just want to be sad."

"And you can be." He kisses the top of your head.

"What if I'm sad for a long time? Won't you get tired of that?"

Law tightens his grip on you. "No," he answers. "I won't. I love you, and I want to be here for you." He pauses, debating. "Do you want water? Crying gives you a headache."

"In a minute." You press your face to his chest. "Will you just hold me for a while?"

Law's chest aches. "Of course I will," he murmurs, rubbing your back gently. "For as long as you want me to."

[sarahjtv]

My Hero Academia Chapter 425 Spoiler Talk

I'm enjoying writing about this stuff again, though I've got a headache going on, so I'll do the best I can for now. I might add in stuff later:

I'm very happy to see our Big 3 graduate finally! I was kinda worried Mirio wouldn't even graduate for a second, but I'm happy to see that he did and he gave a valedictorian-esque speech to everyone talking about rebuilding society so everyone can have a bright future like Sir Nighteye wanted. Ending his speech with a joke is such a Mirio Togata thing 😂. I'm going to miss that guy so much 🥹

Why are Deku and some other students just lying on the ground with their feet up like that btw? Did they run out of chairs or something? It's a weird, quirky little thing that's just there, I guess.

The narration mentions that it's June in the MHA universe now (Happy Pride, btw 🏳️‍🌈). So, if the War took place around April or May, then it's been at least 1 month since we last saw the kids at the hospital.

Our class 1-A is now officially Class 2-A! They're finally second years as they should have been. Everyone including Aizawa is alive, though saying they're well is debatable. Everyone is clearly still injured in some way, shape, or form. Most have several bandages and even Jiro looks like she has a prosthetic for her missing left earphone jack.

Quick note: I notice that Bakugo is actually wearing a tie with his uniform now. It's still not buttoned up, but you can tell that he's definitely softened a bit since the war. EDIT: Looking at it again, it might not be buttoned up because he has a cast holding his right arm, but it’s hard to tell from the scans.

Aoyama not wanting to return to UA is sad, but it makes sense. I'd argue that he earned his place there regardless of AFO's influence, but I can understand that he doesn't feel that way and wants to redeem himself and become a hero in his own way without being forced to betray his friends and teachers.

Replacing Aoyama will be Hitoshi Shinso! I think most of us predicted that Shinso would be joining Class 2-A, but I'm very happy to see that confirmed. It's going to be a bit of a weird start for him, but I think he'll get used to his new classmates quickly.

Another quick note: The second-year cloud girl, Fuwa Mitawa, is seen quite a bit in this chapter and her return is something Horikoshi promised many volumes ago, so I'm glad to see him keep that promise.

Those two first panels of Shouto make me so sad, y'all 😭... His hair is so messy and you can see bags under his eyes. It's hard to tell because of the leaks, but I don't know if there's even light left in his eyes. He looks so exhausted. What happened to Dabi, Endeavor, and the rest of his family? I have no doubt that he's been agonizing over them for god knows how long. I hate seeing him like this, honestly. He's my favorite character and deserves all the good in the world, especially after the harsh life he's been put through. I want to give Shouto all the hugs in the world 🩵.

I don't think Deku smiled at all this whole chapter btw. He tries to talk to Ochako at one point, but she interrupts him with a comment about his new haircut. He just looks sad this whole chapter. I bet he's still grieving and processing what happened. I need Izuku to open up to someone because he can't just bottle this up.

Then we have this mysterious man walking around a desolate town. We have absolutely no idea who this is, but apparently it isn't someone we know of. I want to say it's a grown-up Tenko Shimura somehow, but even that might be too farfetched.

Finally, there's Shouto and the Todorokis. Shouto reassures Deku that he's ok, but I bet my gatcha game currency that he's putting on a brave face because that final beautiful panel of him does not scream "I'm ok!" to me. If anything, I'm amazed Shouto doesn't look like he got any other permanent scars on his face at least.

It looks like Shouto is going to see his family at the hospital. Specifically Endeavor and what might be Dabi who's being kept alive in a big machine. It's hard to tell because the scans are so unclear, but I'm 90% sure that's Dabi in there. It's a miracle that man is alive given he was just a skeleton last we saw him. I'm 99% sure we're going to get a Hellish Todoroki Family Part 3 or something next chapter.

But, we won't see that until 3 weeks from now because we're officially on a 2-week break. There isn't a given reason why like Jujustu Kaisen got (Gege Akutami is sick, so he's taking 2-week break too), so I really hope Horikoshi is ok. It's either he's sick too or he needs time to think of the final chapters of MHA. Or both, that too. Regardless, any breaks given to Kohei Horikoshi to give him time to rest is ok with me. Just sucks for us as fans. Leaving us on THAT kind of a cliffhanger is just mean 😭