#new emotion unlocked: every emotion everywhere all at once (now with more anxiety!)

[luminarai]

I’ve spent all day trying to figure out whether or not to bid on an apartment and with my stress over my job contract coming to an end, finding a new place to live, making a (what feels like) permanent and life altering purchase re apartment, general anxiety & hatred of things changing, decision paralysis, pms hormones, and brand new adhd diagnosis… I’ve been pulling my poor mom and friends on a rollercoaster ride along my entire emotional spectrum today (all of which were panic tinged in addition).

I think I’ve cried like. 18 times today. Not even at anything specific necessarily. I’m just so goddamn overwhelmed. Thank fuck for patient and lovely friends and family.

[yzkhr]

Part two of the Love Language miniseries!

Once again, I dedicate this to one of my favorite Shinran authors, @meitanteisachi

Part three might take a little while since I'm in my lazy mode. So please forgive me if the next part will be late 🤧

Warning: Probably my longest fic ever. So long that I need to divide into two parts. I kinda got carried away.

-

Receiving Gifts-You feel loved and appreciated when your partner or someone gives you a gift. It doesn't need to expensive, just something sentimental and thoughtful.

She was seven when Ran received her first memorable gift from Shinichi.

She remembered how It had been a month since her mother moved away, turning her life upside down. At a young age, Ran forced herself to be responsible; learning how to cook without burning the food, doing household chores that her father never knew how to do, and taking care of both a child who's too young and a grown man who's too immature and broken to live on his own.

It vastly made a growth and development in her character. Teachers and classmates alike noticed the way she had matured, from the way she handled her emotions—always putting on a smile and being the bigger one in the petty fights— to her mannerisms and gestures that resembled an older sister.

To them, her mother leaving became somewhat a good thing, with her maturity blooming early.

If only that were true.

No one knew that as soon as she opened the door of the empty detective office, Ran would be filled with her mother's presence; Hearing her voice, seeing her face, and even missing her scolding. Instead of saying anything to her father however, she brushes it off, puts on a facade, being a mother, a wife, and a daughter all at the same time to a drunk and emotionally unstable man.

But at the end of each day, entering her room and not crying was impossible. Her eyes watering at the sight of the empty bed that used to be filled with her mothers' scent, all gone. And like the child that she was—that she should be— she would sobbed and whimper silently, until exhausted enough to close her eyes and unaware that there's no one beside her just to sleep.

Ran was sure no one knew or was even remotely aware of her secret. After all, her smile shined and eyes glimmered in school so different from the distraught face she wears each night since last month.

But she had underestimated him.

On the day of her birthday, everyone greeted her with their own set of trinkets and gifts. Most were letters and drawings, filled with gratitude and love through the used of poorly executed writings and simple but meaningful pictures. Ran was happy to received all of them, whether they were small—like a piece of her favorite candy— or expensive and big, such as the dress given to her by Sonoko.

But unlike all her other birthdays, she didn't feel as contented and satisfied. There laid a gnawing feeling inside of her, aware that she'll never have what she truly wished for.

As they walked home from school, Ran expected Shinichi to give her at least some sweets. So, when he invited her to come by his house she agreed with a nod, genuinely having no idea.

So, she stood for a few minutes outside the mansions' gates, reading out some letters to pass time. She became so engrossed at reading that she didn't even notice him go outside until he was finally in front of her. Catching a set of feet just in front, she looked up. Her eyes widened as soon as she saw a fairly large and fluffy inanimate object in Shinichi's hands, holding it out to her.

"Here you go, Happy Birthday, Ran." he greeted, tilting his head on the side behind the cute teddy bear grinning from ear to ear. Instinctively, Ran accepted his gift and brought it close to her chest, feeling it's soft synthetic fur.

She slowly scrutinized it, it's features somewhat reminding her of...

"M-mom?" whispering incredulously, she glanced at Shinichi. Still wearing a smile, he nodded.

"That's right. Even if you don't talk about it, I know you miss your mom. You've been crying a lot too--"

"I wasn't crying!" she denied, but her mask slipped a little when he deadpanned.

"Yes you were," he stated calmly, as if he saw her doing so. She glared.

"How would you know? I never cried in school!"

"I'm sure before we go to school you do. Your eyes were always a little red and puffy when entering the class after all." he argued back. Instead of being embarrassed, Ran found something more important to point out.

"You were watching me?" she questioned, eyes curious. She didn't know why, but the thought of Shinichi watching and observing her made her smile(and a little nervous).

In an instant, gone was the confident and composed childhood friend of hers, image being ruined by his immediate coughing as if he swallowed a huge thing, cheeks flushed a healthy red, and a stuttering mess as he negated her claim.

"B-Barou! Those were just coincidences!!" then he slightly looked away, seemingly afraid to meet her violet orbs. Scratching his still blushing cheeks, he changed the topic.

"W-Well, Happy Birthday. You can use that stuff animal when you feel, you know, lonely." he dazed off, then glanced over her shoulder. As if realizing something significant, his eyes widened.

"It's already sun down! You gotta go home now or Occhan is gonna scold me!"

Ran followed his advice right after. As soon as she arrived home, she found her father in a sober state, and was even the one who tried to cook dinner for the both of them. Eri called later that night, which made Ran happy. She still asked her mother when the woman will come home and Eri would always reply with a vague answer. She didn't pressure her mother anymore, not wanting to ruin both their day.

That night as she entered her room, strangely enough, Ran didn't feel lonely. She also didn't feel the need to exhaust herself, now having a sweet stuff animal to comfort and fill her warmth. She settled on her soft bed, hugging the teddy bear tightly. And for the first time since her mother's moving away, Ran didn't cry.

-

They were thirteen, she recalled, when she received her second most thoughtful gift from him.

"Hey Ran, did you find the kitten?" Ran glanced up, hearing her name from Sonoko. She shook her head as an answer.

"It's still missing. I tried asking around but they said they never saw it." her bestfriend looked at her worriedly, knowing what she was thinking.

A few days ago, her, Sonoko, and Shinichi found a little ball of fur on their way home from school. They all took pity, Ran specially. So, the three teenagers took upon themselves to look after it until just a week ago, it disappeared. They searched everywhere around the area, trying to spot a little black kitten with huge and round green eyes. Unfortunately, they never succeeded.

Seeing Ran's mood depleted, Sonoko patted her back as comfort, grinning.

"Don't worry about it! I'm sure it has found an owner by now." Ran smiled, being reassured but still a bit dissatisfied. She decided to adopt the kitten after all but it was still nowhere to be seen.

To lighten the mood, Sonoko changed the topic to new shops, magazine, and gossips. Since the teacher was late, the Suzuki Heiress was unstoppable.

Rans' attention was grabbed however, when a certain someone entered the classroom. He was yawning, not bothering to hide his sleepiness. Rubbing his blue eyes languidly, she noticed how the dark circles under them became even more pronounced than before. Her eyes also became aware that there were some lines seared into his skin—scratch marks.

As if conscious that someone was watching him, Shinichi turned his head around, meeting weary blue with observing violet. It only lasted for a second, with the former looking away and going straight to his desk.

Shinichi had been acting weird lately. It started a week before, with him telling Ran that he would be late and she can just go ahead without him. True enough, he always came late ever since, which normally rarely happens.

Another thing to note would be his physical state. He looked restless, eyebags so obvious along with the constant yawning and even sometimes sleeping through an entire period. The last part wasn't new, but Ran heeded how easily he fell asleep, unlike back then where he needed to toss and turn his head for a comfortable position.

The last thing to caught her eye would be the little scratch marks. She would've been convinced that it was another case but seeing the scrape from his arms threw her off guard. They were shallow, but it didn't wave off her suspicions any less.

So, Ran decided that after class, she would visit him, whether he liked it or not.

The day went by rough, with Ran not being able to focus thanks to a sleeping classmate who looked far too exhausted for a normal student. Sonoko, looking at her stressed friend, ask her out to eat that sounded too appealing but she had to refused, knowing that if she didn't find out the reason for her best friend's odd behavior, she'll be the one to act weird next.

Knowing Shinichi's detective instinct, Ran knew better than to follow him on the get go and get caught. She waited an hour around the area, before making her way to the Kudo Mansion. The only problem now was how to enter without being seen.

She treaded through the stone path, finding the gate unlock. The middle schooler shook her head, both thankful and a little scared. What could he be so busy about for him to forget closing the gate?

Once Ran reached the front door and checked, that's when the immense feeling of worry kicked in. Shinichi also forgot to close the front door!

'What's happening to him? Is a case stressing him this much? Did something terrible happened? Why isn't he telling me--'

Her thoughts were abruptly stopped when the sound that something metallic fell reached her ears, making her anxiety increased tenfold.

Wasting no time and completely losing her initial target, Ran rushed in like lightning, fear evident in every step.

Upon reaching the kitchen and thoughts of her bestfriend in danger flooding her senses, she barged in.

Only to find the great detective Kudo Shinichi rubbing his head, and a couple of pans and plastic bowls scattered around the tiled flooring.

They gaped at each other, unable to register the current scenario. Ran was broken out of her trance however, when she noticed a light bump growing on the top of his head, which he was rubbing a while ago before he froze.

Previous distress setting in once again, Ran hurried by her childhood friends' side, helping him to stand.

"What happened?" she asked, examining and touching the bump. As if electrified by their contact, he flinched and backed away slightly, eyes a bit hazy.

"R-Ran, what are you doing here?" he seemed more concern of her presence than his own well being which made her glare.

"You've been acting weird this past week!" she accused as he treaded away from her, a bit too cautious. She took note of how his left hand slid behind him, fully intending to hide something away from her sight.

"Weird what, me? Barou, I've been perfectly normal. You're just overacting." the response didn't sound so convincing when he was literally sweating and avoiding her scrutiny.

"Yeah, then why were you always late this week?" the interrogation began.

"I was busy with a case Megure-keibu presented me, that's why." gaining his composure, Shinichi answered in a confident manner but that didn't drop any of her suspicions.

"Then what about you being constantly tired these days?" Ran pressed on, ambulating near her suspect. he kept his ground, so sure she was the one who was weird, not him.

"The case was so hard that I couldn't find time to sleep." he casually said, looking bored and done with the questioning.

She kept on walking towards slowly and when she was finally in front of him, she smiled innocently.

"Okay then, I have one last question to ask," he smiled, thinking he won. Then, feigning obliviousness, he consented.

"Fire away."

With those words as her signal, Ran forcefully yanked his left arm that he had been so carefully shielding and him having no time to react, she succeeded, revealing the scratch marks as her last piece of evidence and a.... kitten!?

Silence ensued. Until a mewl came out fromm the little ball of fur. Ran examined the little thing, coming to her conclusion.

"Please don't tell me this was the little kitten that's been missing since last week." she quietly pleaded for him to deny, but all he offered was a gulp and a weary nod.

Anger and bewilderment filled Ran, as she shook her head as an attempt to calm, but seeing the kitten that she had been desperately looking for, for the past few weeks made her burst.

"Why didn't you tell me you had the cat!? You knew that I was looking all over the neighborhood! I even told you I was going to take care of it--"

"That's exactly why I took it!" he interrupted, his excuse perplexing her thoughts even more than before.

"What?" he sighed and put the little kitten down gently, moving to the counter and sitting on one of the tools.

"Well, remember when you first tried to take it home? It was really aggressive, wasn't it?"

She did remember her hand getting scratch and almost bitten when she endeavored to adopt it. So, she gave a nod.

"Well, knowing what you were planning to do, I decided to take it to a friend of mom's who happened to be a vet and get it checked just to make sure. She said it was fine but it seemed a bit violent to humans so she advised me to take care of it so that it will get used to the environment. Knowing you, you would've been dumb enough to just take it without any examination and might get yourself really injured." she tried to refute his last statement but decided against it, knowing he was probably right.

But there was one thing that didn't made sense. "Then why didn't you tell me about it? If I had known I wouldn't have wasted my time, you know." hearing her question made him clearly uncomfortable, eyes now travelling anywhere but hers and cheeks tainted a light pink. They kept quiet, him contemplating while Ran patiently waited.

Knowing his loss, the detective whispered but she still heard it. "I was planning to give it to you next week. I just wanted it to be a surprise."

For some really unexplainable reason, Ran felt her heart beating faster than normal that she might die, face heating up, and even having a stampeding elephant on the pit of her stomach.

"Shinichi..." she uttered, not knowing what to say. Still looking the other way, he misinterpreted her calling as scolding.

"I know, I know. I shouldn't have done that. I should've told you properly and you wouldn't have to put so much effort into finding--"

His next lines were suddenly gone when she wordlessly went in front of his sitting figure and patted his hair softly, just like petting a feline. He stammered and tried to speak but found himself to be voiceless by her next words.

"Thank you, I really appreciate it..." she wanted to say more but was being suffocated by the swarming butterflies in her stomach, not allowing her to do so.

"You better be..." he mused, trying to lighten the mood and to calm his racing heart. As if by magic, he felt a sudden urge to close his eyes and lean on her posture, loving the way she stroke his hair so gently. And so he did.

Ran was taken aback by the unforeseen intimacy but didn't complain. They stayed like that for a few minutes, until she felt almost all of his weight on her, coupled with his heavy breathing that she concluded he fell asleep.

Slowly, she moved him to the sofa of the living room, all the while trying to not burst at the feeling of his breath on her neck. Succeeding, she grabbed a pillow and a blanket from his room, finally setting him down on the couch.

Ran couldn't help but feel guilty, finally figuring out that she was the reason of all his strange behavior all along. It explained his worn out expression throughout the entire week, having to take care of an aggressive kitten without having any prior experience must be exhausting, and it showed through his sleepless nights and lack of energy at everything in class.

Then, her eyes travelled to the little scratches and wounds all over his arms. They were nothing serious, but they must have at least sting. Wanting to at least alleviate the pain, Ran brought the first aid kid from his room and tenderly tended to all of the gashes and marks, and him not even flinching one bit despite being supposedly a heavy sleeper, became proof of how much time and effort he put for her surprise.

Ran went home that day, carrying his gift with her. She knew that he was supposedly giving this next week, but the teenager was pretty sure that Shinichi wouldn't be able to handle another week of torture like that. So, she left a note to make sure he didn't worry.

Years passes after that, but Ran would never forget the kitten he gave her, and the inexplicable giddy feeling with it. Sonoko would remind her how happy she was that she couldn't physically stop smiling for a while that it weirded many out but personally for Ran, it was worth it.

-

(Has a part 2 because it's so unnecessary long)

[dreamcatcherfication]

Ghosts Are Just as Real as You and Me - Part 5

Five parts? This is further than I thought I’d get. All I can say about this chapter is that Aragon is a saint and she deserves all our love for being the best person ever. Aka she’s the only one who hasn’t made bad decisions yet. This chapter might seem a little disjointed, seeing as it’s written in snapshots, but I wanted to try the new style. Hope you enjoy! Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, the only thing I’ve eaten today is a burnt piece of toast off the floor.

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Anxiety, (very) brief violence, cursing, Henry VIII

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Anne Boleyn had a plan. Or well, half a plan. Okay, maybe more like a fourth of a plan, but she was trying. There was no way she intended to help Henry tear her family apart, but there was only so much she could do. He had put her in an impossible position and Anne needed all her wits to figure a way out. 

At first, she had tried avoiding Kitty. If Anne didn’t hang around Kit, she wouldn’t have anything to give Henry. After her confrontation with Cathy yesterday, Anne had gone to her room to make sure everything was as it should be. Henry had demanded she write him a letter on everyone’s actions in the past week, so she had done as he asked, leaving the finished product outside her window. By isolating herself, Anne’s hope was that the letter wouldn’t provide him with his much needed information. But her behavior had become suspicious. Cathy was catching on, Anne knew that, so she had to try a different approach. It was a long shot, but Anne needed to start acting on her fourth of a plan.

“Hey Kit,” Anne poked her head into her cousin’s room. Kit glanced up from her book and smiled.

“Hey Annie, what’s up?” She put a bookmark in the page and set the book down, devoting her attention to Anne.

Inhaling through her nose, Anne pushed away any internal doubt. “Do you want to go on a walk with me? Through the park or something like that.”

Standing up Kit agreed. “Sure Anne. Two days in a row, this must be a record.”

Silently recalling what Kit was referring to, Anne remembered Kitty’s absence as well as Jane’s and Aragon’s. That must’ve been what she was referring to. Anne felt a pang of hurt run through her body because of how little she was involved in what was going on with her cousin. Usually they were attached at the hip, but because of Henry… “Great! Let’s go now.”

Anne ruffled Kit’s hair goodnaturedly as the two of them shared a grin. Without even acknowledging any of the other queens, the two of them beelined for the door. Praying no one would comment, Anne opened the door and ushered Kit outside. “Anne where are you taking -” she heard Cathy call, but Anne shut the door and blocked her voice out. 

“Did someone call your name?” Kit asked, taking a step towards the door.

“Nope,” Anne blocked her advance. “You’re probably just hearing things.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed slightly as she watched Anne, but she said nothing about her strange behavior. “Right…”

Attempting to cover up, Anne put on a dazzling smile. “Let’s get going, eh.”

Staring at the door, Cathy hadn’t moved from her spot. Anne had completely blown her off. For usually being the center of Anne’s attention, it was startling to Cathy. Not that she... wanted Anne’s attention. But it didn’t feel good to be completely disregarded. She must have looked offended, because when Jane entered the room, she immediately stopped in front of Cathy. “Is something wrong?”

Turning away from the door, Cathy faced Jane. She debated what to tell her, before confessing, “Anne’s been acting weird. Not weird in her normal way. I asked her where she was going with Kit and she totally ignored me.”

Jane frowned. “She has been very withdrawn lately. Is there anything else?”

Cathy bit her tongue. She could tell Jane about Anne’s journal or… “No. Just that her personality did a full 180 and that’s what’s bothering me.”

“Yes, well Anne is unpredictable, maybe she’s planning something?”

Glancing around Jane at the door, Cathy flared her nostrils. “Yeah, maybe.”

Catching Cathy’s strange reaction, Jane was flooded with suspicion. There was something Cathy wasn’t sharing with her. Jane wouldn’t push, but filed away the thought for later. If Cathy was being secretive, that immediately made Jane trust her less, especially around Kit. “There’s certainly a lot of pressure on everyone. Especially with Henry popping up everywhere.”

Pausing, Cathy swiveled her head back to Jane. Her mouth opened slightly. “The only person who’s seen Henry was Kit. Unless…”

“No,” Jane quickly covered up. “I meant it… not literally?” Her excuse sounded more like a question than an answer. “It feels like he’s everywhere, is what I mean. No one else has seen him.”

If Jane was suspicious of Cathy, Cathy was doubly suspicious of her. Jane tended to be more collected than the others (bar Aragon), and seeing her suddenly stuttering was a red flag for Cathy. Something wasn’t right. Jane knew something like Cathy did, and she wasn’t sharing. Two could play that game.

The two women who had been helping each other only moments before were now standing in cold silence. They both regarded each other with narrowed eyes and upturned lips. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go write.”

“Of course,” Jane replied, the usual warmth in her gaze gone. “I wouldn’t want to keep you.” They shared a nod, the same thought on both their minds.

The game is on.

“So Kit, what’ve you been up to lately?” Anne started the conversation, putting her hands into her pockets. 

The girl in question shrugged and kicked a rock on the sidewalk. “Not much. I started looking into taking online school.”

Smiling supportively, Anne gave her cousin her approval. “That’s really cool, Kit. What classes? Please don’t say something boring like maths.”

“Nah,” Kit shook her head. “Science and art. But mainly history.”

Scrunching her nose, Anne fumbled with her words momentarily. “Are you - uh, sure that’s the best option?”

“Yes,” Kit stated resolutely. “History’s always interested me. I want to know more, even if I’m a part of it. We missed so much Annie, aren’t you the least bit curious about how we got here?”

“I know how we got here -”

“You know,” Kit laughed, “what the internet and Hamilton have taught you. There’s more to it.”

“Eh,” Anne wasn’t particularly dedicated. “Why focus so much on history when you can live in the now? I’m tired of worrying what already happened. What’s done is done. We’re here for a second chance, we shouldn’t waste it.”

It was hard for Kit not to agree. “I can’t argue with that. We should use our second chances to do something we want to.”

Realizing she was being given a perfect opportunity, Anne gently prodded, “Speaking of second chances, why do you think Henry’s got one?” It was a good way for Anne to get the conversation started so she could press Kitty harder on the Henry topic.

“No.” Kit stopped in place. “I’m out on a nice walk with my cousin who’s been avoiding me for the past week. We are not going to talk about that -” she clenched her teeth in order not to curse, “terrible man. He’s not here right now. I’m not going to let him ruin a perfectly nice afternoon.”

Anne had to admire Kit’s resolve. The protective part of her was ready to defend Kitty at every corner, but the girl looked plenty capable of protecting herself. After the initial shock of Henry’s confrontation had faded, Kit had hardened herself. She had let him get to her once, and she wouldn’t let it happen again, even if it meant she had to cut off her fear. On the inside, Kit felt all sorts of emotions churning in her chest, the kind that would send her running to Jane normally. But she couldn’t do that. She would power through, and she would survive.

Anna had locked the door to her room as she practiced her boxing. A punching bag was makeshift hung from the ceiling as she practiced her stances and kicks. Her grunts were loud, a mix of exertion and frustration. She wasn’t getting the results she wanted and it was working her up. Punch after punch after kick after punch, the bag swung back and forth. Still, Anna was having trouble with the heavier weighted bags. If she couldn’t beat something that wasn’t fighting back, how could she match Henry?

A knock came from the other side of her door followed by, “Can I come in?”

“One second,” Anna called. As fast as she could, Anna took down the punching bag and slid it into her closet, out of view. Wiping the sweat off her forehead, she attempted to appear cool and collected. Unlocking the door, she let Aragon in. 

Aragon’s eyes darted around the room as she walked in, sensing something off. She didn’t comment on it, electing to give Anna her privacy. But there was something she did need to talk about with her fellow divorcee. “Anna.”

“Catherine.”

Sighing, Aragon held her hands together. “I’ve noticed you’ve been out a lot lately. Or shut up in your room. I know how close you and Kitty are, and I don’t think you should be doing this.”

Feeling her defensive instincts kick in, Anna stepped forward. “What do you mean, ‘doing this’?”

Staying calm, Aragon stared Anna in the eyes. “I don’t know, and I don’t need to know. But you’ve disappeared and it’s not helping anyone. I know you care about Kit. She’s doing fine on her own, but we’re all worried about her. If she breaks, you’re the best person to help her. I know Jane or Anne might not feel that way, but I see the way you two act around each other.”

“That sounds vaguely like spying,” Anna commented, leaning against her wall.

“I suppose it does.” Aragon just seemed tired, drained. Anna felt bad, treating her so rudely. “I mean to say that she trusts you more than anyone else. Kit knows you in a way she doesn’t know any of us. She may trust Jane and Anne with everything, but you’re her best friend.” 

There was a twinge in Anna’s heart as she thought about Aragon’s words. She had barely seen Kit this past week, too busy with her own goals. But if Anna didn’t do this, she would be putting Kit in harm’s way. She could afford to lose some of Kit’s trust. She couldn’t afford to lose Kit. “You said she’s been doing fine on her own,” Anna stated bluntly. “She doesn’t need me.”

“Of course she needs you,” Aragon fired back.

Straightening up and stepping away from the wall, Anna tightened her fists. “Don’t treat Kit like a child. She may be young, but she’s not a baby, Catherine.”

The bags under Aragon’s eyes seemed to become even more pronounced when she looked down. “I don’t mean to baby her. I’m not trying to control anyone, but we need to stay unified. If Henry is coming for us, he’s going to come for our cracks. Pulling away from Kit isn’t going to help anyone, Anna.”

“Well that’s not your choice to make now, is it,” Anna refused to give in. Part of her hoped Henry would come and attack them. That way she would have her chance to take him down.

Murmuring, “One track mind,” Aragon started to make her way out of the room.

“What did you say?” Anna asked, trying to disguise the frustration building in her voice.

Her eyes boring straight through Anna, Aragon replied, “One track mind. Don’t focus so much on one thing that you block everything else out.” With that she exited the room and closed the door, leaving Anna alone.

“What does she know,” Anna consoled herself, going to the closet. She pulled the punching bag out, hanging it up once more. Even if Anna secretly understood what Aragon was telling her, she couldn’t take the time to listen. Anna wouldn’t allow herself to waste a second.

On the other side of the door, Aragon had sunk to the floor. She curled up in a ball and muffled her screaming. Yesterday, she had acted like she noticed nothing, being the happy companion Jane and Kitty had needed. But Aragon saw the nervousness behind each of Kit’s movements, especially when she struggled to tell the barista her order. She noticed Jane’s change in demeanor after parking the car. She was witnessing Anna pull away from the group and hurt herself in order to do whatever it is she thought she was doing. Aragon saw how suspicious Cathy had gotten of everyone, constantly watching and judging. She saw how Anne had lost her light and hidden from them all in some misguided attempt to protect her cousin.

The worst part of it all was that Aragon could watch on and do nothing. The others didn’t give her credit for her observations. Aragon wouldn’t push, that was a violation of respect towards the others, but God, did she want to. If she could just help them, any one of them.

A sob came out of her mouth as she curled into herself tighter.

Anne and Kit had reached a small children’s playground when they decided to stop walking. It was the middle of a school day and no one was around but the two of them. Kit was sitting on one of the swings while Anne stood at the top of the play structure. It was a bit of an odd picture, both of them being far too big for the miniaturized playthings, but neither of them mentioned it. “I missed this,” Kit spoke up.

“Missed what?” Anne smiled down at her cousin, rocking back and forth on her feet.

“You and me,” Kit explained. “I know it’s only been a week, but you disappeared and I started thinking maybe it was my fault or -”

“No!” Anne quickly assured her. “It’s never your fault Kitty.”

“Then why were you avoiding me?” Kit stood up off the swing and walked until she was under Anne. She tilted her head up and reached a hand out. Grabbing her cousin, Anne helped to hoist her onto the structure.

“I wasn’t avoiding you.”

Frowning, Kit pushed, “Then what were you doing?”

“I…” when Anne couldn’t find an excuse, she admitted, “Okay, I was avoiding you.”

Hurt flashed across Kit’s face, but she stifled it. Best not to dwell on feelings if she could avoid them. “Why would you avoid me?”

There was no way Anne could explain it to Kit without telling her everything. “It’s… complicated.

“Perhaps I could help explain.” The two cousins whipped around at the familiar voice, bodies freezing when they saw him. Henry was standing on the other side of the playground, his smirk just as sickening as Kit remembered. “It’s not as complicated as you make it sound, Dear Anne.”

“Get the fuck away from us,” Anne ordered, stepping in front of Kit.

Henry pretended to look offended. “But I thought you would love to see me after agreeing to help me. Your letter was very insightful.”

Holding back her fear, Kit questioned, “What’s he talking about Anne?”

“It’s not important,” Anne said, not taking her eyes off Henry.

“It actually is quite important,” Henry contradicted Anne, approaching the two. Anne and Kit started to take steps back off the structure. “Without your insight I wouldn’t be able to see how well things are going. You’re all so predictable,” he spit out the last part.

Eyes widening in betrayal, Kit started to step away from Anne. “You’re helping him?”

“I would never help him,” Anne growled.

“But you are,” Henry’s tone was light but his eyes were threatening. “I even have your letter if you’d like sweet sweet Kitty to see it.” He pulled out Anne’s letter from the night before and waved it around like a prize.

The betrayal on Kit’s face was enough to break Anne. “Kit, you have to believe me, he’s lying.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Kit’s eyes flicked between the two of them. “Did you bring me here so he could find me?”

“Of course not!” Anne shouted, distress building in her stomach. There was the fear building that Kit wouldn’t believe her, and she couldn’t afford that. Anne had a plan. She wouldn’t let Henry change the game before she got her turn. “There’s a lot going on that you don’t understand, Kit.”

“Because you never tell me anything,” Kit shot back, her voice icy. 

While the cousins argued, Henry had come closer “I can’t stay much longer,” Henry brought the cousins’ attention back to him. He was now far too close for comfort, his terrible stench engulfing the two girls. “But you can have a little souvenir before I go.” 

And then he pulled out a knife and stabbed Kit.

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

Tag List:

@radcowboyalmondtree @boleynhowards @annabanana2401 @babeebobo @dont-lose-your-queerhead @obliviousasheck @theatergirl06

[heyyyharry]

OH MY GOSSSSSH AFTER READING YOURE BLURB.. I just had a thought! 🥺 here me out okay? Imagine a guy comes really close to becoming YN’s boyfriend. She’s infatuated with him though not to the level she is with H but she is. And she starts giving him more attention than H and Harry gets really triggered by it and emotional too. Holy hell? Why do I love seeing our puppies fight? 🥺

I let you guys choose so...this one it is.

.

“You’re going out with him again?” Harry asked as he stood and watched his flatmate walk around the living room to look for her keys. It’d been too long since the last time he had seen her wear high heels and so much makeup. He loved this look, but hated it at the same time. She’d got dressed up for someone else. And the thought made his blood boil. If only he could be as calm and cool on the inside as he was on the outside...

Fuck, who was he kidding?

He wasn’t calm and cool at all.

His Y/N wanted to look pretty for someone else.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Without answering his question, she said, “have you seen my keys?”

“You went out with him last night.”

“Harry, seriously, have you seen my keys?” Y/N asked again. But instead of answering, Harry was pouting, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Fine,” she huffed. “Just leave the door unlocked so I can get in.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” he asserted, scrunching up his nose. “I’m going to lock the door and go to bed because you abandoned me.”

“I didn’t—“

“Last night was our movie night and you abandoned me.”

“We’ll watch two movies next week.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“Then how does it work, Harry?” She exhaled, not knowing why she was debating with him right now. It sounded like she was negotiating with a little boy. “You‘re so selfish, you know that?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.” She nodded and stabbed a finger at him. “You never let me go anywhere but you go out with your friends all the time.”

“I haven’t gone out with my friends for weeks. Haven’t even seen any other girls.”

“Then tonight is your chance to get back to your exciting old life,” she grumbled at him and reached for her coat. “If you lock the door, I’ll just spend the night at his place.”

“Hey—“

The door was slammed shut.

And his Y/N was gone.

.

.

.

For the next hour, Harry couldn’t do anything but lie on the couch and stare at the clock like a fish out of water. He didn’t want to be so petty. She wasn’t even his friend so he had no right to get upset when she went out with her ‘friend’. But, god, he despised this ‘friend’ even when he’d never met him.

“Friend my ass,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling now because the ticking of the clock gave him anxiety.

They had been doing fine, he and Y/N, until some random guy showed up and swept her off her feet. Well, not yet, but almost. He could see warning signs everywhere.

Y/N had been texting this guy every night for this entire week. Harry didn’t know what they usually talked about, but seeing her smiling at her phone was driving him crazy. And if she came back tonight and told him they were officially together, Harry would probably die. Well, he would still be alive but...only physically. That would be worse.

It was getting late. And these heavy thoughts made Harry tired.

He was just about to drift off when he heard the front door open and sat up quickly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Y/N stepped in and took off her shoes, giving him a grin.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” she asked and he only shook his head.

His Y/N looked weary, but she was still so pretty, and he was glad she didn’t spend the night with the other guy like she’d told him. Sadly, he wasn’t prepared to hear all the details about her date.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” she asked as he scooted over for her to sit down.

“I was watching cat videos and fell asleep,” he lied, but his phone was right there so she didn’t suspect a thing.

“Well, send me those videos. I need something to cheer me up.”

“Why?” He furrowed his brows. “What happened?”

“Long story short.” She inhaled deeply while fidgeting with her dress. “It’s...um...over between us. Well, it hasn’t even started but...now it’s never going to.”

“What happened? Did he do something to you?”

“No, no.” She shook his head and giggled at how serious he seemed. “Well, kind of, but—I don’t want you to get mad.”

“Just tell me.”

Y/N seemed unsure, but she knew he would never let her sleep in peace if she didn’t tell him.

“Okay,” she began, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “He...wanted to have an open relationship and I-I’m just not comfortable with that, you know?”

Harry slowly gave a nod as he looked down at her hand, which was resting on his knee. He wasn’t sure if she was aware of it, but he chose not to tell her so she wouldn’t take it off him.

“My previous crush was kind of a ladies’ man. I can’t go through it again.”

Her previous crush?! Damn it, how many guys did he have to compete with for her attention?

“Who was your previous crush and why haven’t I heard of him?” he asked with a stern look to let her know he was taking this matter very seriously.

However, Y/N simply smiled. “It doesn’t matter,” she said and changed the subject. “Did you go out with your friends tonight?”

To her surprise, Harry chuckled and pointed to the same Mickey Mouse t-shirt he had worn when she left the house. “I haven’t even showered.”

“Ew.”

“I’m very clean though.” He laughed, arching his neck and leaning in. “Here, smell me!”

“God, why are you so weird?!” She cringed and pushed his face away. Both of them were in hysterics.

“Smart girl. You’d get addicted if you smelled me. Can’t have you follow me around.”

“You wish,” she said and playfully swatted at his chest. “But don’t forget to send me those cat videos.“

“Yes, ma’am.“ He nodded and picked up his phone. “Hey, we should get a cat.”

“You were against that idea when I asked you.” Y/N dropped her jaw, making him chuckle.

“I’m a new man now. But I don’t know. Maybe we should wait until we’re ready. I can’t even take care of myself.”

“So we’ll never get a cat then?”

“Jesus, Y/N. Have faith in me for once!”

Laughing at his offended reaction, Y/N already forgot the boy she’d thought could help her get over her ‘previous crush’. Maybe, unfortunately, it wasn’t the kind of crush she could easily get over.

[elsb-hrngtons]

A Wonderful Day at Pride

Thank you @opaldraws for your prompt of Robin/ Heather/ Carol at pride

for Harringrove for BLM, i went a bit over 1k but i really hope you like it :)

Read here on Ao3

There’s a bizarre thrum of electricity running through Robin’s body right now, a healthy mix of anxiety and anticipation, butterflies that have morphed and mutated into something more akin to angry wasps that refuse to settle in the pit of her stomach. She assesses her reflection one last time, knowing that if she takes even a minute longer Carol and Heather are likely to crash through the bathroom door and drag her out. She worries her lip and stains her teeth with a frankly unnecessary shade of pink lipstick that Carol insisted she wear for the occasion, admires the way the glitter she was attacked with moments ago shimmers in the fluorescent lighting of the hotel bathroom, the hotel bathroom in downtown Chicago, the one Steve insisted on paying for. Taking a few steadying breaths she readies herself, its now or never , and unlocks the bathroom door.

In their hotel room Heather and Carol are lounged on the huge king bed, hair and make up immaculate as always, outfits hugging them in all the right places that make Robin’s mouth water, she can’t believe how many times she’s almost lost her nerve, almost never made it here at all, and now she’s gazing over the stunning pieces of art that are her girlfriends and knows, no matter how scared she is, having the two of them to hold her hand makes the angry wasps of anxiety worth it.

Robin has never been to a Pride march before, wasn’t even really aware they were a thing, not until she started feeling more comfortable with herself, comfortable enough to admit who she is, who she loves to herself. And of course once she started admitting it to herself, it became a little easier to tell the people she really cared about too. Steve was the first one to draw her attention to Pride and what it is, subtly suggesting maybe she should go, offering to go with her for moral support, although Robin knows it was a little bit for himself too. But then the girls got wind of Robin’s desire to go, and as unsure as she was about it, they sensed this was really important to her, sensed it was Robin’s next emotional stepping stone into really accepting who she was, and well that was all the motivation they needed to organise the whole thing with the help of Steve’s wallet, to ensure it was the best possible experience Robin could hope for.

They make it to the parade, follow the endless crush of bodies all adorned in colourful flags, ostentatious outfits and enough glitter and body paint to make the Las Vegas strip look dull. Carol pushes her way through the crowd,  gripping Robin’s and Heather’s hands in a vice like grip until they reach the front, Robin takes in her surroundings with  wide eyes and a childlike wonder, drinks in the atmosphere of hundreds if not thousands of like minded people, all congregated in one place to celebrate, to celebrate their love, celebrate themselves, it’s invigorating, inspiring and as the afternoon goes on Robin begins to buzz with a newfound confidence she never had before. For the first time in Robin’s entire existence she feels free, has been dragged directly into the light after a lifetime in the shadows, and she loves it, is addicted to it.

With her new sense of assuredness she turns to her side where Heather is leaning into Carol, eye’s fixated on the crowd just as in awe as Robin, she brushes her hand gently up and down Heather's bare arm until Heather turns to look at her with a soft and adoring smile on her face. Robin can feel her affection brim over the edge, she’s overcome by it, overwhelmed as she grabs Heather by the face with both hands and kisses her in public for the first time ever, feels Heather melt into the kiss which helps her own tensions, her own anxieties wash away, distantly she can hear cheers and whoops from the crowd, and a small part of her hopes they’re for her. She does the same for Carol when she feels the warmth of Carol’s fingers brush against her shoulder, feels the tickle of her hair as she rests her forehead against Heather’s back hugging her behind, as Heather steps aside she has to bend at the knees and Carol has to stand on her tiptoes so one another lips can meet, gets swept away in the adrenaline of the kiss, of the crowd and hooks her hands underneath Carol’s knees and lifts, makes room so Carol can wrap her legs around Robin’s waist as the kiss deepens and gets more intense. Robin’s never felt more in love, with her girls, with herself, with the world.

The parade dies down, but the party doesn’t the masses of people all keyed up on life and various other substances are raring to continue into the small hours, and the girls are right there with them, Robin has never really been a party girl, but on this occasion she doesn’t want the party to ever end, wishes every day could be like this, is enthusiastic as Carol suggests they follow a couple of revellers they met in the crowd to some party in downtown Chicago, doesn’t question it just lets herself get carried away with excitement.

They find themselves in some kind of abandoned building, practically an empty shell except for the support beams and windows, the whole place is decked out in rainbow memorabilia and twinkling fairy lights, there’s a pop up bar over on one side and a DJ set up on the other. A huge crowd gathers in the middle a mass of sweaty bodies all slammed close together grinding and gyrating their hips, same sex couples everywhere always practically one step away from fucking right there on the dance floor, some men have given in to the relenting heat and have removed their shirts, women have removed as much clothing as their comfortable with, some evidently more comfortable with showing off their superb bodies than others, Heather and Carol practically have to pick Robin’s jaw up off the floor.

The party’s fun, they spend the night dancing amongst the throng of strangers, strangers who have all become friends for a day, the girls keep plying Robin with more and more alcohol and the more she drinks the looser she gets, the more relaxed, she’s giggly and touchy feely, can’t help the way her hands itch to touch the soft skin of her lovers, gow her body somehow knows the environment she’s in to be able to freely touch and show affection to the women she loves, to pepper them with kisses and whisper sweet nothings into their ears when she envelops them into her arms. But the nights over just as it feels like its beginning when the cops raid the place, at first Robin doesn’t really understand but then figures they were serving alcohol pretty freely this evening and Carol, Heather and herself can’t be the only minors present tonight.

They manage to escape the chaos, narrowly miss getting caught as they run hand in hand down the streets of Chicago back to their hotel, all giggling, all amped up on adrenaline. The journey back takes twice as long as it should, each girl taking turns in asserting their dominance dragging the others into quiet alcoves or pushing them against walls just to get their hands and lips on each other, it strikes Robin for the first time since the day began that this is everything she’s ever wanted, to be able to display her love for the whole world to see, just like normal couples, she doesn’t ever want to return to the cold shadows of her past, doesn’t want to hide who she is anymore.

As they get back to their room Robin flops on the bed utterly exhausted and still riding her high, Carol kicks her shoes off and crawls up the bed next to her, rests her head on Robin’s breast and sighs, Heather isn’t far behind.

“Did you enjoy yourself today Birdie?” Carol asks as she traces circles across Robin’s stomach.

“Yeah i really did”

“Me too” Heather chirps as she plays with Robin’s hair.

“I love you both so much, thank you for today” Robin says not for the first time that evening.

“Aww we love you too baby” Heather smiles as she leans up to kiss Robin’s cheek

“You’re both okay i guess” Carol smirks

“Carol!” Heather squeals

“Kidding. I love you both too”

Robin lies there holding her two girls tightly and listens as both their breathing evens out, too wired to fall asleep but content to just exist in this room, soothed by the feeling of their heart beats steady in their chests and the sounds of the city playing as the backing track to her whirlwind of thoughts. She sighs happily and thinks to herself, best day ever.

[flyingblackhawk]

The Guide

Clintasha fic

1,341 words

-

At five in the morning, Natasha wakes. There’s no alarm. In fact, there are no clocks in her room. She is her own atomic clock, and waking at five is ingrained into every cell of her body. These days it’s not accompanied by a bucket of freezing water or a taser, but still, she wakes.

She stretches on the mat beside her bed. Her muscles don’t ache, which is still a new sensation. The stretching is more of a habit than anything now, but she does it anyway. Routine is all she has left.

In her head, she starts the checklist. All her limbs are intact. Good. Ten fingers, ten toes, none are broken. She can remember yesterday. The memories are solid, and she trusts them. Nothing is missing, or out of place, at least not in her head. She sits up.

She turns to the left, as she always does first. Her bedside table is where it was last night. The lamp is in the same spot, as is the cord. Nothing there has been touched. Next, the blinds. They are still drawn. Her clothes are where she left them, folded on a chair. She looks to the right. The door is still locked. It’s an odd thing, having a door.

Natasha dresses, and walks to the cafeteria. Clint is sitting on the same table by the window as he was sitting on yesterday, and the day before. He has worked out that repetition is comforting to her. She doesn’t like him knowing things about her, so she sits on a different table once she’s fetched her food. It doesn’t feel right, but it’s worth it to mess with him.

Clint subverts her expectations, as he always does, by coming over to sit with her. She knows that he’s been assigned to her, and sticking close to her in order to form bonds makes sense, but it’s still annoying. She pulls her tray closer to her, just out of instinct. No one’s taking her food, she knows that. It’s something else carved into her muscle memory. Protect your food.

“You haven’t got much,” he observes. “Do you want to get some more?”

More? Oh, right, she’s allowed to get more food if she wants to. Clint waits for her to speak, but she doesn’t, so he gets up. He’ll probably come back with some of those pastries. She likes them.

Clint returns with a plate of the pastries and a mug. He holds it out to her. Hot chocolate. Marshmallows. She acts on pure instinct, knocking it out of his hand. The liquid goes everywhere, and the cup clatters across the floor. Heads turn. She looks at him. He’s confused. Natasha realises that it probably wasn’t drugged. She opens her mouth to apologise but he holds up a hand. No need. She’s still not used to that. He just processes what’s happened, forgives her and moves on. No punishment, nothing. She feels a little sheepish as she eats a pastry and he mops up as much of the drink as he can.

Later, Clint gets a call. He has to leave a meeting to jog down to the gym, where Natasha is sitting on a side bench. Another agent is sitting against the wall with blood trickling down his face from a gash on his forehead. Agents have gathered around him, handing him water and icepacks. Natasha is alone, and Clint goes to her.

“What happened?”

She breathes in through her nose. “He was talking too loud.”

“That’s it? You gave him a concussion.”

“So?”

“So? Jesus Christ, Romanoff, you can’t just knock people out if they annoy you.”

“Huh,” she says. She genuinely hasn’t considered that. “Okay.”

He leads her away from the stares and mutters of the other agents and takes her back to her room. He leaves her to shower and change, and when he comes back he’s got a notebook and a pen, which he hands to her as he enters.

“I heard you’ve… uh… been going to the bathroom with the door open?” he asks.

She nods. “Yeah. I keep forgetting there are doors.”

He sighs, and she feels a tiny twinge of anxiety at his expression. No, she thinks to herself, she doesn’t need his approval. But the feeling is still there. She grips the notepad.

“What’s this for?” she asks.

“You like lists, right?” he says. “It’s for writing lists. We can use them to help you.”

“We?”

“Yeah. You and me.”

She just looks at him. This isn’t right. Why would he want to help her like this? This won’t end well. Friendships are dangerous. Attachment is weakness. She could be compromised. He keeps telling her that the rules are different now, but they can’t be that different.

“I’ve requested time off,” he says, while her mind is still busy trying to work around the notepad and pen. “For both of us. Acclimatisation leave.”

“Acclimatisation leave?”

“Yes,” he says. She’s ready to argue, but he looks at her and she knows he can see that there’s nothing to it, that she knows she needs to do this or her future here will be even more uncertain than it is now. That doesn’t make it less daunting though.

“When are we going?” she asks.

“As soon as Phil signs off on it,” he says. “Which should be any minute now. Pack a bag.”

Her phone buzzes about five minutes later. It’s a message from Phil, confirming five weeks of leave for ‘cultural acclimatisation’. She scoffs at that, but she lets Clint lead her to a car nonetheless. It feels good to be leaving the facility. New York is beautiful, and despite her nerves, she enjoys the drive. He takes her to Williamsburg, not far from his own apartment in Bed Stuy, where she thinks she’s being taken until they miss the turnoff. He stops outside an apartment building and hands her a key. Maybe it’s a safehouse. She’s not sure.

They climb the stairs and reach a locked door. 4A. She unlocks the door and walks inside. It’s got basic furnishings and signs of SHIELD tech here and there, all the trappings of a safehouse. Then she spots a box on the table. It’s books, all in Russian. She turns to Clint, not understanding.

“What is this place?” she asks.

“It’s your apartment,” he says.

Natasha experiences a lot of emotions all at once. She reaches into the box and pulls out a heavy hardback Dostoevsky, holding it in her hands like a bible.

“I didn’t know what you’d want, so I picked up a whole box. The guy said you can trade them back in if you’ve already read them, or if you want something else.”

“You bought these for me?” she asks.

“Yes,” he says, carefully, not sure what she’s actually asking.

What Natasha is actually asking is ‘why are you doing this?’. It’s the same question she’s been asking in various forms for the last month, when she’s found him at every crossroads, every time she’s needed help. Clint is always there, and she’s starting to think it’s not just because SHIELD has ordered him to be. He actually seems to want to help her, though the why of it all is still a mystery to her. It can’t just be because he’s a good person. It just can’t.

“Natasha?” he asks. She realises she’s still holding the book, and hasn’t said anything.

“It’s nice,” she says, her voice unusually soft. “Thank you.”

He smiles, and goes to turn away.

“I mean it,” she says. “Thank you, Clint. I know… I know this last month hasn’t been easy for you.”

He shrugs a shoulder. “It’s worth it. Come on, there’s a diner on the corner. I’m starving.”

He walks out and Natasha just stares after him for a moment. Who is this man who’s swooped into her life and changed it forever?

She’ll have to find out, she decides, and follows him out of her apartment and down the stairs.

[accio-ambition]

No Good Deed (9/15)

Summary: Killian Jones is a gentleman. He and his brother pride themselves on the matter, even if it ends with harm to them. So when an angry ex of Killian’s client bites him, he tends to the wound, watches it heal, and thinks no more of it.Until he wakes up in a closet on his ship with no memory of what happened the night of the full moon.

Fleeing from the unknown, the brothers Jones find Storybrooke, and with it, Emma Swan, who is a lot more familiar with their situation than anyone could expect. And when an old foe comes to their new home, Killian has to rely on new talents to keep those he loves safe.

Rating: M for language, violence, some sexual content. (better safe than sorry)

Content warnings: violence

happy Thanksgiving food coma to all my American friends and happy Friday to everyone in the rest of the world! Who wants to feel some thing?!

I’m especially grateful and thankful for @killiarious, @wellhellotragic, and the mods at @captainswanbigbang for all of their hard work and dedication. mwah!

AO3

Chapter Nine

He doesn’t say anything: he doesn’t wake Emma up to tell her how important she is to him. He doesn’t mention it when they wake the next morning, nor as they drive back home or when they sit down to eat. Killian doesn’t know when to tell her, or even if he should. Now knowing about her last attempt at love, and knowing that it had resulted in her wolf condition and the multitude of other, unseen scars he’s sure she bears, he fears that any hint of this overwhelming emotional connection would cause her to run. Not only would that break Killian’s heart, but they’ve bonded on such a deep level. They’re in each other’s head quite literally. They depend on each other during the full moon. They’re family.

Fate, as it goes though, doesn’t allow Killian much time to ponder the matter. He’d always thought fate was something of a personal matter, shared only between the two parties of it and himself. But it seems that word got out: Killian Jones loves Emma Swan. And, as it tends to do, fate speeds events up.

At home, Killian and Emma spend all of their time in the happy little relationship bubble, whether they considered themselves a couple or not.

(Killian does, for the record. Emma might be more hesitant to do so, but her spending many more nights in his bed than her own, it’s a bit difficult to say their not a couple at all.)

It sickens Liam, a fact he has no issue in voicing and a matter which they enjoy teasing him over.

“Are you serious?” He asks indignantly, walking in to the living room to find the two of them curled up together on the couch. They’re spread out, huddled beneath a blanket, watching some silly Hallmark movie.

“What’s the matter, Liam?” Emma inquires, fully aware of the reason. “It’s cold tonight. Want to join?” She lifts up the edge of the blanket behind her in invitation.

Huffing, Liam storms back in to the kitchen. Killian can hear the fridge open and shut, the clink of a beer bottle. His brother comes back in and thumps down on the armchair beside the couch. “As a reminder, little brother, I’ve spent so much time at Elsa’s because I didn’t want to disgust you such as you are currently disgusting me.”

Emma giggles into his shoulder. Killian shrugs. “Well, Swan here hasn’t got a place of her own and she pays her part of the rent in a timely manner every month,” he says. “She can do whatever she wants here.”

“Within reason,” Liam groans. He takes another sip of beer before shaking his head and repeating himself. “Within bloody reason.”

But outside in reality, where Emma still runs the sheriff’s department with an iron fist and Killian monitors Storybrooke’s marina with an eagle eye, there’s something...odd in the air. Though he can’t put a finger on anything specific, Killian has found himself feeling paranoid a lot more often. His hackles come up like the hairs on people’s arms or the backs of their necks raise when they feel someone watching them. He’s constantly looking over his shoulder, catching a familiar scent on the wind that he can’t quite recognize. The breeze either picks it up too quickly or his mind is diverted to a visiting captain or the ring of a phone, and when Killian tries to focus on the scent again, it’s gone.

Emma doesn’t think anything of it when he asks her about it. The smell’s showed up daily for a week, putting him on a dangerous precipice. Though she can’t detect it, Emma can feel his anxiety through their bond.

(At least, he thinks, it’s distracting her from the overwhelming sense of adoration and love he feels in other moments, like when she winks at his from across the dinner table. Otherwise, he wouldn’t know quite what to do with himself.)

It’s too late, or too early, for him to be staring sleeplessly up at the ceiling one night. He’s got a slew of boy scouts visiting the harbor tomorrow, he needs his rest to deal with them civilly, but unconsciousness alludes him. He’s wracking his brain from where he might know that mysterious scent from.

“Killian, you’re scaring me,” she mumbles into his chest. Killian chuckles; he should’ve known Emma was awake just as he was.

“I’m sorry, love,” he murmurs back. Pressing his lips to her hair, he adds, “I just can’t shake the feeling.” A small shiver runs down her spine and she burrows closer to him. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from whatever may come.”

She glances up at him. “Even if it’s just your overactive imagination?” She asks.

“Even if,” he assures her. Even in her exhausted state, Emma pushes up on her elbow to kiss him. As she settles back against his chest, Killian says, a bit insulted, “I thought you happened to like my overactive imagination.”

Shrugging, Emma smiles against his skin. “On occasion.” He retaliates by pressing at her side, making her laugh and squirm. “Stop, stop it, we have to sleep. We’ve got work tomorrow.”

“And we have a functioning coffee maker,” he reasons, lifting the blanket from her body and covering it back up with his. “We can sleep when we’re dead.”

“Yeah, but we’re not dead yet.” She pokes at his chest. “Work is still going to expect us to be there and being productive whether we sleep tonight or not.”

Killian groans. She’s right, but she makes his blood sing and he wants to make sure that nothing would ever happen to her. He isn’t quite sure he could survive that. Conceding, Killian wraps an arm around Emma and pulls her close. Her breathing evens out shortly afterwards, and Killian is out for the count without another thought.

The next morning, grumbling as he makes his way down to his office building, Killian shivers and pulls his jacket closer to his body. It's cold, it's dark, and being anywhere but next to Emma in bed is not ideal. But he’s got the Boy Scouts to prepare for and he forgot his phone on his desk, and, as his love so aptly reminded him at dinner the night before, he's expecting an early morning call from a cruise company interested in starting day trips to and from Storybrooke and Portland.

(For what reason the entire marine world starts before sunrise, he'll never know.)

So here he is, in one of the last places he'd ever want to be at this hour, struggling with numb fingers to unlock the door to his office. He drops his keys and groans, because that's just how this morning is going.

And then he senses it: something in the air, a slight tinge to the scent that he wouldn't have noticed save for the fact that it's so out of place here in Storybrooke. It smells like - Killian sniffs and squints, trying to place the smell, because it's impossible.

It smells like the Hudson River.

He's certain of it. He wasn't around that water for too long once his senses heightened, but even a human nose could pick up the unusual hint of brackish water and sewage that makes the Hudson from all the rest of bodies of the water. There's nothing even close to that smell in this town.

But that doesn't make sense.

Quickly, Killian sniffs again and spins around, following the trail. It's coming from down the road, the source not too far. Looking off in the distance, he spots the faint outline of a shadow. It's shorter than the average man and seems to have what looks like three legs. He's sure that has to be the source, but how could a single person have that much of the scent of the Hudson so far away from the river itself?

His footsteps curious, he makes his way toward the figure. When a storefront alone separates them, the figure begins to move: he turns and starts jogging away, the ends of its hair flipping this way and that.

It's been quite a while, he'll admit, but as soon as it clicks, Killian calls on his wolf speed and runs until his chest hurts and his lungs threaten to explode.

It's Milah's husband. Mr. Gold. It has to be. A wolf's hide would keep stench longer than human skin and it would linger. That, combined with the stature and the appearance to him alone...there isn't even another possible answer. It's him.

The floodgates open and anger floods Killian's veins. This is the man who changed his life, who tore him away from the only real home he'd had in New York.

And as sudden as it comes, the madness leaves. If he hadn't left New York, Killian would've never met Emma. He would've never known what true love is. His footsteps begin to slow, his breath becoming less labored. In a certain light, Killian has this man to thank for the life he has now, even with the transformation.

But if Gold's here, something is amiss. This monster hasn't shown his face in months, nearly a year. And now that Emma is such a prominent figure in his life, it can't be good.

He feels the scent all around him, seeping into his pores and washing over him like nausea. No matter how hard he tries, now that he’s identified the scent, it follows him everywhere. Regardless of how many showers he takes or what delicious food surrounds him, Killian can still catch a whiff of Gold.

It scares him, though he doesn’t say so. He’s sure Emma can tell something is wrong even if he does his best to hide it - she’s bonded to him. If she can’t tell how frightened he is, then something would be very wrong.

Although it seems that it is.

Shortly after Gold’s appearance in town, the full moon once again appears. The two of them drive out to the old highway, sitting at the tree line until transformation overtakes them. Killian’s muscles start their monthly stretch, welcomed more than in his earlier transformations, and before he knows it, his eyesight is better, he can hear a rabbit a couple yards away, and the wolf within isn’t hiding anymore.

He turns around, ready to run after the woodland creatures with Emma, to find her still a human. Her eyes are wide in surprise, or maybe shock. To be fair, he’s never seen another wolf transform. Perhaps, neither has she. Killian cocks his head to the side, asking her if there was a problem.

She shrugs. “Give it a few minutes,” she says aloud. “Maybe I’m too tense or something. I need to relax.” Closing her eyes, Emma opens her palms and stands there, basking in the moonlight.

Five minutes pass. Ten. A full quarter hour goes by, Emma still in her peaceful stance and Killian itching to run. With a sigh, she opens her eyes. Her shoulders droop and she looks forlornly out into the woods. He can feel her desire to run, to get out there and stretch her muscles, through the bond. Approaching her, he nuzzles her hip, getting her to focus on him instead of her sadness.

“Don’t worry about me,” she says on another sigh. “Go ahead. Catch something for me.” Emma gestures to the truck. “I’m going to go home and sleep. I’ll come back in the morning to pick you up. Sound good?”

Killian whimpers in reluctant agreement. He watches her circle the front of the cab, get in, and start the engine. With a final wave, Emma turns back to town, the truck’s headlights leading the way through the dark. He watches until those lights disappear before trotting into the woods alone.

Emma’s inability to transform plagues his thoughts as he hunts rabbit and squirrel. When the sun crests the horizon, Killian makes his way back to the old highway spot, still troubled. True to her word, Emma sits in the driver’s seat, shadows dark beneath her eyes as she stares blankly forward. Silently, he gets in the passenger's side, gratefully taking the blanket and cup of coffee she offers him.

A pin could drop during the car ride home and it would echo for ages. Emma continues to stare out the windshield. She seems to be on autopilot: clicking the turn signal, checking her blindspot, and so on. Life only returns to her expression when they pull up to the house and she shuts the engine off. She takes the keys from the ignition and then sits, hands folded in her lap.

“I’ve never not changed before,” she says quietly. Staring at her clasped hands, Emma’s face goes vacant again. She bites at her bottom lip.

He hates to see her like this. Hasn’t really ever seen her this, to be frank, though he can safely say that it’s not an emotion he wants to see frequently decorate her face. Reaching a hand over, Killian grasps her hands.

“Is there any chance you’ve somehow been cured?” he asks just as softly. He’s not sure how that could have happened, but it’s the only reason he can think as to why Swan wouldn’t have transformed with him this month.

She shrugs, intertwining her fingers with his. “I haven’t done anything you haven’t done.” She sighs, rubbing at his knuckles in calming circles. Her shoulders deflate as Emma looks at him finally. “Is it bad if I admit that I don’t want to be cured? I like being able to run wild. Especially with you,” she says. “And now it’s just part of who I am.”

Killian chuckles for a moment. “No, that’s not bad at all,” he assures her. He brings her hand to his lips. “I love you no matter what you are or aren’t.”

A small grin appears on her face - a little pained, very much concerned, but Killian doesn’t let it phase him. He tugs on her hand a bit harder, forcing her over the console so he can kiss her properly, do his best to assuage her of her worries. When Emma pulls back, breathless, her smile has transformed into one of genuine pleasure. She unlocks the door and starts up toward the house, Killian a handful of steps behind her. As she fumbles with her keys, he comes up and rests a hand on the small of her back.

“Maybe you’re coming down with the flu or something?” he suggest as the front door swings open. “Have you ever been ill at the same time as the full moon?”

Emma considers his words, her tongue peeking out from between her lips. She sets her keys down on the hall table and makes her way into the kitchen. “Not that I can remember,” she responds, lost in her own world. She shrugs and reaches for the coffee machine. “You’re probably right. I have been a little nauseous lately. It’s probably just a stomach bug.”

Killian hums in confirmation as he pulls out two mugs.

But the full moon comes along the next month, and Killian once again transforms while Emma remains sitting beside the side of the truck bed. Her expression elongates into one of worry and sadness when she realizes she still has two legs while he’s loping along on four. Killian nuzzles up against her neck, pushing her gently and licking her cheek.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” she admits quietly, scratching the fur of his neck. “Go ahead. Have fun. I’ll be here in the morning.”

Again, he has to watch her slowly and morosely pile into the truck and drive back home with a solemn wave. When he comes to, paws turned back to hands, the next morning and makes his way back to the old highway, she’s once again sitting there. The truck’s engine is still running and, when he gets in the cab, Emma offers him a cup of coffee.

“How was it?” she asks, throwing the gear shift into reverse.

“Would’ve been better with you,” he says into the cup. He sips at his coffee and relishes in the warmth that spreads through his body. “How are you feeling?”

Emma shrugs. “Alright.”

“You’re not still sick, are you?”

“I mean,” she hesitates, checking each direction before turning on to the main road, “I kind of have a headache.” She sighs. “And I haven’t gotten my period yet. Maybe the two weeks are convincing this month.”

A groan comes unbidden from his lips. He can feel Emma’s glare even with his eyes closed. “Dear go above, help us all.”

As expected, and completely fairly, Emma smacks him in the chest. “Don’t be an ass,” she chides him. “If you’re an ass about this, I’m withholding sex for the foreseeable future.”

Taking her hand where it still rests on his chest, Killian holds it up. He presses a kiss to her palm with a smile. “Perish the thought, love,” he says.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” she says with a chuckle. “Works every time.”

“You make me sound predictable.”

Scoffing, Emma takes her hand back and glances quickly at him. “You, a warm-blooded man, predictable about sex?” She teases him. “Yes, you are predictable.”

“I’ll have to change that then.” At that moment, Emma pulls up their drive and puts the car in park. Killian surprises her, leaning over the center console and kissing her breathless, for all his worth. Pleasure spreads through the bond, the feeling moving swiftly in both directions as Emma meets him push for pull.

And then the disgust sours the connection.

“Ugh,” Emma grunts, shoving him back into his seat.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

She wipes her mouth, a distasteful look on her face. “You taste like outside.” Then she sniffs and her nose crinkles further. “And you smell like wet dog.”

Killian laughs, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Well, there are very logical reasons to both of those quandaries.”

“Yeah, well, until you solve those quandaries and shower, you need to stay away from me.” She sticks out her tongue in disgust again before exiting the car. “And get out of the car before you stink it up!”

His next transformation is one of the most unnerving yet. He misses the woods, but it’s the third month in a row that Emma’s not transformed. To say he’s worried, concerned, terrified, would be an understatement. All of his primal instincts intensify during the full moon, but none more so than his need and desire to protect his pack, his Swan.

So instead of running through the damp leaves and dodging the thick trunks of Storybrooke’s trees, Killian’s curled up in wolf form on their bed, his muzzle resting in Emma’s lap. She’s stroking his head, scratching behind his ears while he tries not to show how much he enjoys her ministrations.

“It’s okay to give in,” she murmurs, eyes unseeing as she stares at the wall. His ears cock down, his brow bone doing the same in confusion. Emma chuckles. “You’re so mellow and content through the bond, I know you like it. It’s okay to show it. I’m not going to judge you.”

A sound akin to a groan rips from his throat and Killian settles heavier on to her lap, letting his tail wag and his tongue loll out for a moment.

He’s so happy that it takes him longer than it should to realize something was off about his Swan. Pulling his tongue back behind his teeth, he presses his nose into her stomach, sniffing in earnest as Emma continues to pet him. His tail slows down.

“What’s up?” she asks, relaxing further back into the pillows behind her.

“Are you quite sure you’re not sick, Swan?” he asks her through their bond, an alarm going off in his head. He could bathe in Emma’s scent: it’s comforting and familiar, hints of cinnamon she’s fond of and wildflowers reminiscent of sunshine in addition to the musk of the woods around town adn the salt of the ocean. He knows that, as a pack, they share the last two notes, something he believes represents the best of their worlds splendidly.

But now, “Your scent is off,” he explains.

That gets her to focus, Emma humming in confusion. “How so?” She asks.

“There’s something,” he sniffs again, “fresh about it. Something new.” He pushes aside the hem of her pajama top and digs his nose further into her stomach, forcing a soft “oomph” from Emma. Killian’s surprised to sense a tinge of scent he associates with the Hudson River, like the dirt in the water he fell in after first transforming. caught off guard, Killian pulls back. His Swan’s never smelled like that before. “You kind of smell like me,” he says.

“That’s not surprising.” As best he can, Killian furrows his wolf brows. Emma nudges him off her lap and flips to face him on her side, grin growing on her lips. They both know and realize their scents linger on each other, are a fundamental part of the other’s, but Killian’s never smelt it this strong on her before. He hasn’t the slightest idea why, or what she means.

Her hand curls around her face, her fingers scratching through his fur. His eyes slide close, a sound echoing deep from his throat. She giggles. “I think that’s part of why I haven’t changed,” she murmurs.

His ears perk up, eyes shooting open. “You’ve figured it out?” Killian asks, straightening up. “How come you haven’t told me?”

Emma shrugs. “I wasn’t sure. But I got some pretty damning evidence earlier today.”

As if his attention wasn’t already piqued, Killian nudges her hand a little harder than necessary. “What?” he asks. “Love, what’s wrong?”

Licking her lips, his Swan smiles “I’m pregnant,” she whispers, a secret between the two of them. “I’m, like, 97 percent sure I’m pregnant.”

The news hits him like a ton of bricks. His response of “How?” comes out more as a reflex than as an actual question. She shoots him an incredulous look and he immediately regrets the word, lightly barking out a scoff. They live together, they run as wolves together - they haven’t been celibate, to say the least. He shakes his head, ruffling the scruff at his neck. “What I mean to ask is how did you come to that conclusion?” he rewords.

Chuckling, Emma pulls at the velvety softness of his ear. “I’ve been so focused on trying to figure out why I didn’t change that I sort of missed my other, more annoying monthly visitor,” she explains quietly. She shrugs again. “I took a test a test yesterday and another one this morning and they both came up positive.”

“A test?”

Rolling her eyes, she teases him, “Yes, a test. I know you’ve watched TV before. I know you know exactly what I’m talking about.” But her mouth hangs open a moment too long and Killian cocks his head to the side. Her cheeks redden and she looks away from him. “I mean, it might have been a couple more than a both times.”

Hesitantly, Killian asks, “How many more?”

She shrugs. “Maybe a half dozen more?” she admits shyly, one eye squinting close and her nose scrunching up adorably. At another look from him, she sighs. “Think about it, Killian. Have you ever heard of a pregnant werewolf? It might just be like my period - it comes back after the baby’s born.” Her hand drags down the side of his neck, her nails calming against his skin. Slowly, she moves from his neck to rest on her belly. His current vantage point doesn’t belie the apparent child within it. “Besides, you said it yourself. My scent’s already changing.”

Still processing this new development, Killian nudges Emma’s shoulder, making her giggle as she falls on to her back once more. Her laughter becomes full fledged as he nuzzles his nose into her stomach. The mixed scent that emanates from there does seem stronger.

Perhaps Swan is right.

“You’re okay with this, right?” she asks, drawing his attention back to her face. Given the past few minutes, it’s surprisingly neutral, though when Killian looks deeper into her green eyes, he spots fear. Concern. Uncertainty. She shakes her head. “I mean, there’s no backing out of it for me now, I’ve got to deal with it somehow, but, I mean, if you want-”

Were he human at the moment, Killian would have kissed her to stop her worrying. It’s got to be the happiest news he’s heard in his life, second maybe only to his 18th birthday, when he finally came to live with Liam permanently.

No, this was definitely better.

Alas, it was the full moon, and he was in wolf form while Emma was a human, and would stay so for at least the next handful of months. Still, he tries to express the feelings of...euphoria he feels through their bond, lovingly pawing at her arms. She smiles wildly, and he can only hope that she understands just how happy he is right now.

“I’m here for the long haul,” he promises her. “I’ll protect you from everything and anything. I’ll protect the both of you.” He licks the back of her hand, his tail thumping harshly against their bedsheets. An interesting thought pops into his head, his tail coming to a sudden halt. “How can I still talk to you when I’m like this and you’re not?” he asks.

“It is still the full moon,” Emma reminds him, tapping him on the snout. “I guess some things stick, pregnancy or not.”

With a sigh, Swan pushes him off her lap and eases herself from sitting to standing. Killian whimpers at the loss, but also in concern for her. Knowing of her delicate condition as he now does, he can only imagine exertion and swift movements weren’t the best for her. The emotions must bleed through their bond, for Emma chuckles. She leans far enough on the mattress to scratch behind his ears. Unwillingly, Killian’s eyes close and a silly little smile comes across his lips.

(Gods above, he loves her.)

“I’ll be back,” she tells him quietly. “I just really want some Pringles.”

And with a kiss to the tip of his nose, Emma leaves their room. He can hear her footfalls as she makes her way down the hall and descends the stairs. Killian stands on the bed, circling around before settling on the mattress, head hanging heavily off the edge. As he hears the cabinet doors open and close in the kitchen, he stares out into the dark hallway.

A child. They’re having a child. And while that news makes him over the moon, it comes with its own problems and issues to worry over. Neither of them have much experience with children in any capacity, let alone the child of two werewolves. Already, things he wouldn’t have expected we’re happening: Killian would’ve never imagined a transformation without Emma. Now, he looked forward to the next few full moons solo.

But afterwards - would Emma be able to transform after the baby was born? Would the babe itself be born with their affliction?

Oh god, he thinks, adjusting himself so his tail was tucked beneath him. Raising a child was difficult enough. But raising a child who changed with every full moon.

“I could hear you thinking downstairs.” Swan’s voice makes him jump, his hackles rising. He’d been in such a tizzy that he’d failed to hear her come back to bed, red tube of chips in hand. She chuckles through a mouth full of chips. Before sitting back down in bed, Emma narrows her eyes at him. “Are you going to be like this the whole time?”

Cocking his head and his brow, Killian asks, “Like what?”

She sighs, pulling back the covers. “If you’re going to be like this for the rest of the pregnancy, I’m kicking you out.”

Killian barks a scoff, watching her as she goes about getting comfortable and ready for sleep. She’s singlehandedly messes with the sheets, pulling their quilt down to the foot of the bed with one while the other is stuck in the Pringles can. “You can’t kick me out,” he says. “I pay rent here. I lived here first.”

She flops back with a groan, the top sheet floating down on top of her as her head sinks into the pillow. “I’ll make Liam kick you out,” she threatens, though her words hold no malice.

Once she’s mostly still - his Swan has never really been a sedentary sort of woman - Killian curls up next to her, his jaw resting atop her hand. “That’s unfair, love,” he complains. “I’m allowed to worry for your well-being, especially in your current condition.”

Emma’s hand flips over beneath his jaw. Her fingers curl up under him, scratching at the fur of his chin. Killian sighs in content through his nose, his exhale strong enough to ruffles the hem of her shirt.

“Everything is going to be fine,” she reassures him softly. “You said you’d protect us, and I trust you.”

“But what about-”

“Killian.” Her voice is stern. It’s in the quiet that follows Killian offhandedly thinks. These conversations are interesting: Emma speaks aloud and hears his response in her mind, but somehow, all of their idiosyncrasies come through the bond. Hidden emotions and discussions carry on between the two of them regardless of their form. She breathes in deeply, her pulse slowing in her wrist and her chest expanding. “I’m scared too. I haven’t been this scared in a very long time,” she admits, a waver in her voice. Fear in the bond betrays her attempt to cover it in her vocal cords. “Everyone I love leaves me. I’m afraid that I’ll lose the baby or you’ll come to your senses.” She gently squeezes his jawbone.

He licks her wrist, a sign of support and solidarity. “Nothing can keep me away from you,” he promises. “I love you, love.” Then he moves to rest lightly on her stomach, hearing the gurgling and flow of her bloodstream. “And you, little pup.”

She chuckles to herself, her hand resting on his head. “There we go,” she says. “I can deal with you if you’re like this for the next couple of months.”

“Oh, good, I may stay in my own home?” he jests.

Emma nods. “You can stay.”

[megamegaturtle]

gorgeous (chapter two)

Spencer Reid x Reader Fic

warning: friendships be forming with extra cuteness and realness.

(i will never post a chapter at a reasonable hour, i swear lol)

part one

(Ao3)

WC: 11.K

Summary: You’re early for your first day at work, but the universe is a funny thing where butterfly wings cause hurricanes from a wing’s single flutter. A story about how you and Spencer become friends and one day lovers.

tag list: @everyday-imfangirling @gigiree

Your story is starting, a new beginning with a new friend, when your doorbell rings on a quiet Saturday morning. A butterfly swarm wreaks havoc in your stomach, anxiety and nerves old friends you thought you forgot, but find you again with a little knock knock. You take a deep breath as you stuff your feet into house slippers. It’s too late now to cancel and fake sick.

Coming towards your door, you pause and fluff your hair in the mirror, trying to look presentable and clean one last time. You look through the peephole, the moment of truth wrapped wearing purple and a long brown coat. Doctor Spencer Reid rocks on the balls of his feet and you promise yourself not to throw up.

  (You really want to throw up.)

  Pressing the passcode into your alarm, the device happily beeps as you undo the chain latch and unlock both deadbolts. You pluck a bright smile to wear.

  “Hey! Hi, hello—” oh dear, you’ve greeted him three times, might as well continue. “Hola, uh, ni-hao, hmmm, aloha, howdy, ohayou, bonjour—and yeah, welcome to my humble abode.”

  A small smile rests on Spencer’s mouth, laughter at the edges. “Hi.”

  You open the door wider and let him walk past you. Last second you snag the strap of his messenger bag unexpectedly, pulling him to a quick stop. Your nails briefly scrap the fabric of his coat before you shut the door behind you both.

  You’re doing great, you tell yourself. A for effort.

  A moment ticks before you point down at his feet, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Sorry. I have a no shoe policy.” Shuffling around him, you open a small cabinet and pull out a thing of slippers. “You can wear these if you’d like. They’re new! Or socks are fine, but no shoes please. Too much grime and stuff.”

  Doctor Reid nods, mildly curious but nevertheless, sits down on your bench and pulls off his shoes. You notice his mismatched socks, deep purple and ruby red. You giggle and find them to be a good omen.

  Spencer shoots you a brief look. “Yes, yes. They’re not matching, but I like them.”

  Tension rolls out of you as you quickly redo your door and reset the alarm. “No, it’s cute. I hardly wear matching socks myself.”

  “Oh?”

  “Mainly because I’m very lazy to match them up together again though.”

  “Well,” you hear him say, “I do mine for a bit of luck.”

  You laugh again and gesture towards the kitchen.

  “I guess today’s gonna be your lucky day.”  

  (Or maybe it’s yours since you’re so excited to have company with someone so cute.)

-

“You’re doing the recipe completely out of order.”

  “Not completely out of order,” you say as you whisk the dry ingredients together. “Just...slightly out of order.”

  You don’t bother looking up at Spencer, but you can feel his frustration roll off him like hot waves filling every inch of your kitchen. You do your best not to snicker at his expense as he reads to you the banana bread recipe once again that he’s already memorized perfectly.

  “If you just set up everything before you started kind of mixing, this would have been a lot easier,” he chides, mashing ripe bananas into a bowl.

  “Says the man with two perfectly good hands!” You shoot him a look, huffing incredulously.

  “That I am using,” he points out.

  If would have known you that a year ago that you’d have Dr. Spencer Reid in your kitchen making banana bread, you would have laughed so hard you would’ve cried. But here you are doing exactly that with you both talking. There is bickering and bantering. And your kitchen is filled with such delicious laughter that you might weep.

  If only you got the courage to be his friend ages ago, just think how many more baking days the two of you could have shared. If only, if only.   

  “What are you anyway? Some kind of scientist or something?” you say, cracking the eggs in a small bowl.

  Spencer’s face falls completely flat, but his tone only bubbles into annoyance as you flick flour his way. “Well, yes! I’m a doctor! And a bit of a scientist, I guess!” His hands fly up in the air, accidently knocking into a pot that hangs above your small center island.

  You burst out laughing. “Chillax, my dude! Please don’t go breaking my kitchen,” you say between deep laughs. “I want my security deposit back.”

  Spencer taps the counter with displeasure. “Then please just follow the recipe. This is like watching a bad chemistry experiment. Baking is a science,” he emphasizes.

  You click your tongue. “Nerd.”

  “Am not.”

  “Um, are too,” you reply as you wipe a random spill. “Besides, baking is about love and love is more than some chemicals in your brain. It’s magic and all that stuff. And no facts you got tucked up in that noggin of yours is going to tell me otherwise.”

  Reid takes a deep breath and chuckles quietly. “Are you always this...sassy?”

  You flash him a quick grin. “Always.”  

  You grab the butter from the freezer and slice ¾ a cup to soften in the microwave as the kitchen quietens to the happy hum of radioactive waves. You look over up again, noticing Reid holding his chin in his hand, staring at you.

  It’s a bit intense. The way he’s looking at all of you in your movements. His eyes pierce through you, catch your breath. It’s like you’re pinned under a microscope, chest ripped open with your soul exposed.

  “Hey, don’t know if you know this, dear Doctor,” you try to joke, “but this is a no profiling zone.”

  Spencer blinks once and denies it, his voice going an octave higher. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t profiling, I was thinking. Vast difference.”

  You scoff, playfully rolling your eyes. “Oh no, believe me. I heard you thinking. I think everyone in the greater D.C. area heard you thinking, but,” you pause, grabbing both the white and brown sugar from across the island. “But I know exactly what you were doing and I don’t need you to profile me in my own home.”  

  Spencer remains quiet, a silly grin digging into his cheeks at your indignation. You huff once more and accidentally put the mixer on high in the dry ingredients bowl. Your surprised yelp is drown out by the sound of the beaters hitting the blow and Spencer’s laughter.

  Flour, thankfully, is only slightly everywhere.

  Your face runs hot as you turn it off.

  “You're so stupid…” you mumble. “Shouldn't have invited you over.”

  He takes a big gulp of air, but happiness still paints his face with a smidge of curiosity. “Why did you invite me over? Not that I mind helping you bake, but…” he shrugs.

  You...merr. As you call it, not a grr or a groan, but your distress sound of merr that conveys all negative and embarrassing things in one small and concise phrase.

  Spencer senses your discomfort and everything shifts to the unspoken words that the two of you haven't dared exchanged. He patiently waits as he leans against a counter and sips a glass of water. The only sound in the kitchen is the slight scraping of metal on metal as you whisk the dry ingredients again.

  “Because I am sick of bad thought spirals,” you confess. “I'm sick of doubting myself and not being a good person and just--it’s dumb. I'm dumb. The whole time so like...fuck thought spirals where I don't think I'm good enough to be your friend.” You pause, you heart thumping in your chest and you—

  — promised yourself that when you doubt yourself, that you’ll just dive head first, be impulsive because when you stop thinking, just for one moment, things go better than you’d ever assume. Your brain is your own worst enemy. So, you keep that racing heart and you clutch it tight. You feel your stomach twist and you don’t care anymore because you are taking a stand and this is your day and you

  —are in control.

  (Even if your brain tells you otherwise, if it tries to break you down again, make you stop talking, make you push all your fears into that little black box that sits at the bottom of your spine and let history repeat again and again.)

  Butterfly wings cause hurricanes and you’re breaking down barriers with the wind at your back, wings jutting through your shoulders to carry yourself higher. No safety, just free falling into the moment, into this next commitment because you can’t turn back time.

  “So, yeah. Fuck that nonsense. I’m gonna be your friend and I’m gonna friend you so hard and you’re just gonna have to deal with it.”

  (You remember the triangle your therapist drew for you one day, about how bad thoughts consume you and you just sat there thinking you needed to break it. That you were stronger than arbitrary shapes that attempted to define you.

  That you were good enough.)

  You force yourself to look Spencer in the eye, well aware his brain is going into overdrive at what you said. How could it not? There was so much to unpack. Low self-esteem, self-hatred, wobbly self-worth.

  But you will not falter. He will not forget your promise and you will not let yourself break it.

  But he does the doctor thing and asks. “Are there good thought spirals? Is this a good thought spiral?”

  He smiles small yet sincere and joy radiates from the center of your stomach, tender blooms unfurling in your bloodstream as relief sings throughout you. Your nose burns with intense emotion, your eyes wanting to shed tears, but you don’t want to be a crybaby in front of him.

  You turn and wipe at your eye, ready to cream the butter and sugar together. “No, this is a good action spiral. Kicking down doors kind of thing.”

  “Sounds intense.”

  “I’m kind of an intense person,” you quip.

  “I figured. I kinda profiled that about you,” he teases.

  You throw a dishrag at him, the worries you had disappearing as you hear his laughter mix with yours. Being impulsive has proven once again to be your aid.  

  He comes to stand beside you, a good distance between the two of you but there is a connection and a comfort there now. You two are no longer separated by your center island, but are now standing on the same side of the room. He waits patiently as you cream the sugar and butter.

  “Hey,” he starts, “by the way, don’t think that I’m not gonna—what was it?— friend you hard too,” he softly confesses.

  You beam so wide the apples of your cheeks scrunch your eyes. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  You quietly finish mixing the rest of the ingredients as Spencer beings washing a few assorted utensils. Soft music plays from your phone, your hums sometimes in time with a tune. Butterfly wings brush against your heart as you both work throws this friendly new beginning.

  You fill both pans halfway with batter and pop them in the oven. Setting the timer, you glance over at your cozy living room area.

  If this was a different kind of social call, you’d suggest watching something on Netflix. Throw in a perfect excuse to cuddle close and test boundaries to see how much you could get away with. But you refuse your heart the luxury of daydreaming something more passionate and most likely to be a plot from a nameless romance blurring in your memories.

  Instead, you focus on reality, on being a better person than you were yesterday. You promised yourself you’d be more open—make this friendship happen because deep in your bones, you have this feeling that having Spencer Reid in your life will be worth it.

  You take a deep breath and catch his attention. A nervous smile paints your face as you gesture towards the other side of your apartment. “C’mon. I wanna show you something.”

  Spencer tilts his head with curiosity, but his steps pad quietly on your floor as you creak the second bedroom’s door.

  “Excuse the mess,” you say, flicking on the bright overhead light.

  Fresh paint perfumes the room. Canvases line the wall, stacked neatly by a lone bookshelf jam packed with art books and an old, beloved chair. A plastic tarp rests in the center, an easel propped up with a wet piece.

  You hear Spencer gasp, his attention fixed intensity on the portrait you’re still painting. Your heart flutters as you wait for him to speak.

  (You think it funny, that for someone so filled with words, art makes him speechless.)  

  “Wow, —” he says, your name soft in his mouth. “I didn’t—didn’t know you could paint!” He rushes, his words starting to fumble. “It’s—she’s so beautiful. Who is that?”    

  Love blossoms throughout you as you take a step forward and trace the rough edges of the canvas with your fingers. Luminous dark skin and a tender smile fill your vision, the ghost of laughter ringing in your ears. Her eyes twinkle at a joke you told her, this painting a representation of a candid photo you took earlier in the year.  

  “My soulmate,” you explain with affection. “A girl named Rosa, who I love absolutely without conditions.”

  Spencer doesn’t say anything for a few moments, as if choosing his words carefully. He stands near your, his questions wrapping around you almost like a physical thing. “...what’s that like? For you to sound so sure?”  

  You think of late night conversations and exchanged e-mails, the calm that follows that if you need her, she’ll be there. In the trust of free falling without a parachute that she would defy gravity for a single moment to ensure your safety—that you would do the same. It’s—

  “--never to be obligated to love someone, that I love her simply because she exists and there is peace in that. She is—She is my other half: my thoughts easy for her to untangle, the two of us on a shared frequency I’ve never had with someone else. We have no expectations of each other, just the hope to be lifelong companions and beloved friends.”       

  “Just hope?”

  His unspoken question: is that truly enough? There is doubt in pause, his avenue unexplored by him and many others. To just love a friend as an extension of yourself and not want more.

  You glance up at him and smile. “Of course. Just hope. Can’t make Rosa stay in my life nor can she do the same to me. We don’t cling to each other, Doctor. We just choose to exist with each other,” you say. “Rosa is—Rosa is not someone who I love romantically—that...that has requirements.”  

  Spencer reaches out and touches the edge of the painting. “Like what?”

  “Mmmm. Well, I have to be sexually attracted to that person, for one. And that person needs to pay attention to me and spend time with me. That person has to have similar values as me, same wants to build a life together with me. This person just won’t be my soulmate and I’m not looking to fall in love with a soulmate,” you add with a small laugh. “Rosa is my carbon copy and I’m looking for someone to compliment me, make me a better person, challenge me—well, you get the picture, I think.”

  (You thought you found that person already, already had two greatest loves of your life, but that—that, of course, never happened.)    

  The room falls quiet and you swallow, realizing you just—emotional dumped all over the good doctor and horror washes over you. You turn to him, your eyes wide and panicked, your hand flying to your mouth.

  “Oh my god, I am so sorry, that was like—extremely personal and a lot to handle and—”

  Spencer blinks before grinning, his hands tucked into his pockets. “No, it was...nice. You really love her and...and I don’t know, that sounds nice, to love someone without conditions.”

  His eyes gaze away, as if he’s looking for something in the distance and your heart feels heavy in your chest. There is a bittersweet softness there and you wonder if his mind drifts away to someone else.

  “Can I—” you try to say. “Was it—?”

  —like how I love? you want to ask, but you don’t. The question too personal on your lips, but you know he’s heard it anyway.

  Hazel eyes flicker to yours, a haunting smile hanging to his lips. “Maybe a bit of both, by your definition.”

  “That’s still beautiful.”

  “Is it?”

  “I think so,” you say, guiding him back to the kitchen. “Love is like beauty; in the heart of the beholder.”

  “You know it doesn't go that way,” Spencer’s voice says behind you.  

  You grin. “True, but do you want your heart to be constricted by other people or do you want to decide for yourself?”

  It is quiet for a moment, the sounds of the oven the only thing making noise.

  “What if I never move on? What if I never want to move on?”

  You take a deep breath, choosing your words with care. “I think...I think if you feel that your love with Maeve is able to sustain you for the rest of your life, that's awesome. Breathtaking even. To be that devoted to someone even through…” you swallow, bracing yourself to mention the elephant in the room, “death. But,” you pause, “life continues, Spencer. It just depends on how you want to interact with it. I know for me, I need that kind of love in my life and I have a big enough heart to fall in love again. Yours seems to be a bit different.”

  Spencer’s face pulls into a tight smile. “I always seen to be a bit different.”

  “Different is good though. It’s human to be unique, or rather, it’s American to be an individual. You are only a byproduct of your nation,” you say, cheeriness in your voice. “And as for love, whatever makes you happy, Spence—-er,” you quickly add, feeling your eyes going wide at almost calling him his nickname. “Only you get to decided that, Spencer,” you emphasize the er .

  The corners of his mouth relax and his smile becomes more genuine. “Thank you, ——,” he says, your name only adding to the moment of friendship. “I appreciate it.”

  “Anytime, Doctor. I’m always here.”  

  And if there is one moment you can keep from today, it will be this one. Where sunshine streams through the window and outlines Spencer in a glorious halo. He smiles once more, wonderful and bright, like starlight and good things and trust for new beginnings.

  “I know.”

-

You get lost in D.C. on weekends when work isn’t busy. There are sights to see, history under cobblestoned streets and your breath finds reason to stop ceasing. It’s beautiful, to be in your nation’s capital, but sad to discover all on your own.

  When not exploring, you call Rosa, missing her company more than anyone from back home.

  Sometimes you leave her long and detailed voicemails retelling your day. You might leave two or three because you have so much to say. Yet sometimes, there are no voicemails to leave, not when she picks up on the very first ring.

  Her voice is soft and sweet, mousey and kind. “Hello, bestie?”

  She always answers like it’s a question, like she can’t believe that you’re actually calling.

  (You call on a schedule. You’re predictable this way and yet, after all these years, she still finds magic in your friendship, like you’re not quite all there.)

  You squeal at her voice. “Rosa! I misses you!”

  Her laugh bells gloriously. “I misses you too. How are you? Did you eat?”

  “Yes, mom. I ate. I’m good. Just chilling at home. It’s—lonely, truth be told.”

  “Mmmm,” she hums. “You’re always a bit lonely it seems. But you’re making friends! Like with Dr. Reid and Penelope! And Derek!”

  “Yeah, I am... I guess, just,” you say, your voice quieter as your trace your feelings on your thigh. “Lonely. I think I’m always a little lonely.”

  “That’s because your heart is too big for your chest.”

  “Are you saying I’m the opposite of the Grinch?” you joke.

  “Of course! That’s why I love you.”

  She says it so effortlessly, like listing a fact. Which it is. Rosa wouldn’t be your soulmate if she didn’t love you You can’t help but smile fondly at the way she boldly declares it.

  “I love you too. When will you become a real doctor and become my sugar mama?”

  “Maybe after I pay off my student loans,” she chuckles. She pauses and you can sense her question. “Have you...have you thought about dating again?”

  You suck in a breath. “Dating is hard...I wouldn’t even know where to start...”

  “Oh, where’s my lion girl?” she chides. “You’re always so brave and yet you’re gonna run away again. Last time you ran away, you weren’t able to make a friend for two years, right?”

  Rosa might wax lyrical poetry to you often, but apparently tonight’s not the night for her endless praises.

  (She tells you what you need to hear despite that it’s not always wanted.)  

  “....okay, rude. And I don’t know! Dating means being vulnerable and how am I supposed to open myself up to a complete stranger again. Every boy I’ve ever dated has been a friend.”

  She clicks her tongue, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why don’t you date a boy at work then? Aren’t you friends with them?”

  “Rosa, you’re like the smartest person I know, but that is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. Date a boy at work, she says. Like there are boys for me to date at work.”

  “Well, I think there is one man you could date—-”

  Your heart speeds up and you know exactly where this is going to go. It’s filed under “do not think about” for a reason.

  “Oh, what’s that, Rosa?” you say. “Your patient is calling you? I’m going through a tunnel? Oh no! I can’t hear you--bleh!”

  You hang up and toss your phone across the couch. Your heart is still racing as her text message comes through.

  Think about it, dear. You know you want to .

  “Ha, how wrong you are, my dear,” you say as you type back your reply.

  (But not really. Rosa is hardly ever wrong about you.)  

  -

  “Thanks for coming with me tonight, Penelope.”

  The moon hangs fat in the sky as you pull out of the parking lot. Your cheeks are still cold, but your belly is full from delicious hot pot. You think of home and your friends who would go out late to eat shabu shabu. You’re glad you gotta do it again here.

  Penelope giggles and rubs her hands together to create some heat, waiting for the car’s heater to kick in. A part of you wishes that you opted for the model with heated seats, but Penelope doesn’t seem to mind, her mittens jiggling with little bells.

  “No, thank you , Miss Speed Racer! Tonight has been mind blowing. From an all-woman car meet to hot pot? I don’t think I’ve had hot pot? It's so delicious! Cooking all the meat, or my case tofu, and veggies. Like soup fondue!”

  You grin and pull out of the parking lot, enjoying the way streetlights filter through the windshield. Like a little meteor shower as you go by each one just for you. Make a wish and see if it comes true , you loftily think.

  “Haha. It is a lot like soup fondue! But it's just a fun thing to do and the girls were so lovely. I'm glad there is a woman car community in D.C.!”

  “And what was that thing you were talking about the girl with pink in her hair? Something like tashi? ” Penelope asks.

 “Itasha,” you state. “It means ‘painful car’ as in painful to look at or to your wallet. It's wrapping your car with vinyl mostly these days with anime or video game characters. Dudes are more into it than ladies, but it’s really cool driving around in a customizable car, I think! I would want more like Japanese pop-culture art on my car such as acid bears or something more than a hot anime girl, ya know?”

  It’s part of the reason you bought a Japanese sports car. Itasha . Despite that it can look silly, a part of you would love to have a Kingdom Hearts dedicated wrap or something bright like Fruits Basket.

  Penelope laughs and the sound warms your soul. It’s sweet, her ability to be completely expressive. “You really are a weeb, aren’t you?”

  “Oh yeah. I am, but it’s just for fun. I like the pretty colors and cool fantastical stories and stuff. The way they just—blindly do the impossible and create worlds that are based on the impossible alone. That’s amazing and so, so hopeful…is that wrong?”

  “No, no. It’s just—I didn’t realize you really liked Japanese pop culture so much or that you were so knowledgeable about it.”

  “One of my capstone projects in college was about the American otaku community,” you say with a laugh. If only that version of you could see where you are now. Then you had wanted to be a diplomat and now you work for the FBI. Go figure.  “It was for a class about fandom. Which, I must add, was a heckin’ blast.. So yeah, I might know a thing or two when it comes to trends and stuff,” you conclude with a satisfied smirk.  

  “That is so, so, so fascinating.”

  You snort. “Don’t get me started. Please.”

  “Oh, I think I want to get you a little revved up!”

  You shake your head, giggling slightly as you gun it on the highway.

  “Okay. Here’s a little fun fact for you: there is this growing trend called itabagu which means ‘painful bag’. Like the same thing with the painful car, right? It's more popular with the lady people so they can show off pins and keychains of their favorite characters. When I went to an anime convention last year, there were all these backpacks for sell that had a clear cut out, so you could decorate it however you wanted. It just so neat to see how everyone stylized their fandom love. So much boy love. Everywhere.”

  “Why do you have this wealth of knowledge and have not been using it for evil ?” she stresses, glee drenched in her voice as you her see her googling away. Her mouth pops open as she sees cute bags and happy faces.  

  You laugh. “Like you said, I’m a weeb. Just a wonderfully dressed one! I keep my super geeky side a secret until the waters are safe. So much indie makeup is like… fan related too, you know. Shiro Cosmetics is dope for that. I really want a Backstreet Boys lip gloss.”

  Penelope wheezes, clutching at her heart. “There is Backstreet Boys lip gloss and this is the first I’ve heard of it? And I call myself a goddess of the internet….”

  “I think! I think that they still make it. I do know for a fact that at one time the creator made Nicholas Cage theme lipgloss and you could get one of Nic Cage dressed as a flapper.”

  Your friend is thoughtful for a moment as she relaxes against the door. You can feel her gaze focused on you as you drive her home. “I’m really glad we became friends.”

  You snort again, surprised. “Thanks?”

  “No, seriously! I mean it, you silly goose. Ever since you walked into my office two years ago, you have just been such a delightful person and I’m glad we really are good friends.”

  You smile softly to yourself, a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Well, um, thank you,” you mutter. You click your tongue. “You know I’m terrible with praise…”

  “Now that I know!” Penelope chuckles, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way. So, now I really want to go to a nerd convention with you! We can dress up together! Wouldn't that be fun?”

  You smirk to yourself and cackle. “...woman, have you not found my cosplay Instagram?”

  You almost swerve into oncoming traffic as Penelope grabs onto your arm while driving.

“YOU HAVE A COSPLAY INSTAGRAM?”

  (And yes, you do. Though it might not always be safe for work. Wink. )

-

Friendship slowly sinks into your skin as words become easier with Spencer. Gone are the days you couldn’t talk to him. No, you can talk to him just fine now. Just about anything that floats through your mind.

  “And, yeah. It’s just crazy to think that bananas have caused so much strife in Central America at the turn of the 1900s that companies like Chiquita—the one with the lady on the label, right?—known apparently as the United Fruit Company—oh my god, Spencer,” you pause, halting your steps and staring at him with wide eyes. “What if there was a UN of Fruits?” you whisper. “Little fruit diplomats .discussing international fruit policy!”

 Without missing a beat, Spencer nods thoughtfully. “Well, the International Fund for Agricultural Development (IFAD) is an international financial institution and UN specialised agency dedicated to eradicating poverty in rural areas of developing countries. Or there is The Committee on Agriculture (COAG) is one of FAO’s—Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations—Governing Bodies providing overall policy and regulatory guidance on issues relating to agriculture, livestock, food safety, nutrition, rural development and natural resource management.”

  You blink and tilt your head to the side. “I meant more like...fruits dressed up as politicians talking in funny accents,” you explain. He frowns slightly, almost as if he was the one who said something wrong. “But thank you for that new fun fact for my mental folder of other fun facts!” you add, bumping into his shoulder playfully.

  It’s a reflex. The touchyness. You know deep in all your rationality that you should not pat-pat, or playfully bump, or touch your co-worker. But then you have your brain stem doing complete overrides that make you do it anyway. Be friendly, that animal brain says—show people affections because you’re good at that. Do onto others what you’d like them to do to you. Isn’t that golden rule?  

  So, far—no one has mentioned any discomfort at your friendly displays. They accept your endless high fives, waves, thumbs ups, and quick hugs. Even Hotch doesn’t scowl if you wave at him when you see him or smile big or get too close. And there has definitely been a friendly clasp of your shoulder when you’ve done something right.

  (It took everything inside of you not to squeal with delight, but Hotch laughed anyway. Actually laughed, his stoic mask cracking. A part of you was afraid you brought upon an apocalypse.)

  But Reid is different. He doesn’t shake hands with strangers and only hugs people when he’s extremely close to them. Despite the ease in conversation between the two of you, you don’t think for a moment that you’re in his most inner circles.

  It’s like how in Japanese where everything is dependent of the relationship between the speaker and the other. How close they are physically, how intertwined their lives are together. Will you say kore if they’re right here, use their first name, and drop all formalities with them? Or do you are say they are , over there in distance, so far from you in friendship where last name-san is all you get with awkward smiles and stereotypical politeness.

  You feel like you’re in the middle, you feel like you’re stuck in sore —just only close enough to the person speaking to be listening, but not quite close enough to breathe correctly and relish in the proximity where language falls away. That there are no distance markers forced between the two of you and you happily be right here instead of over there .

  (Oh, if Penelope thought you were a weeb before hoo boy, if only she knew your thinking process.)

  But troublesome doubts about relationship language evaporate when Reid shakes his head and opens the door for you as you walk into the office. “That’s me. Your fun fact guy.”

  (He’s getting better at making little jokes, you notice. Or maybe he’s getting more comfortable making little jokes. Or maybe you’re rubbing off on him because that is something that you would most definitely say or—)  

  “Yes! And—and—oh yeah, I almost forgot,” you say as you gain your bearings again. “It’s crazy that unlike other cash crops like cotton, coffee, sugar, tobacco, or even cocoa, bananas aren’t processed at all really! They don’t spur for the development of other industries like textiles or more processed procedures. You just buy bananas from the store exactly how they were picked. The simple banana in all its yellow peeled goodness has caused so much trouble over being exactly how it is!”    

  Derek picks his head up from his desk and stares at you, shamelessly eavesdropping “Wait, what?”

  You turn to him, eyes bright and laughter in your voice. “It’s bananas there are Banana Wars, Morgan. Bananas!”

  Derek takes in a deep breath and laughs, going back to his paperwork. “I don’t even want to know.”

  His posture says otherwise, but you both know that if you get started on a random topic again then you’ll just continue down that road and get completely distracted.

  Spencer chuckles quietly before walking over to his desk. You do the same, your mind drifting back to political fruits and you can’t stop smiling.

  Reid clears his throat, getting your attention. “Have you ever heard about the Cake War in Mexico?”

  Your eyes go wide as you let out a bubbly laugh. “No! Tell me!”

  His relief is palpable, as if he thought you would say “no” about Cake Wars in Mexico, which couldn’t be farther from the truth.

  “Okay, so it’s actually called the Pastry War and it began in 1832 when a French pastry chef known as Monsieur Remontel claimed that Mexican officers looted his shop outside Mexico City. Remontel and others continued complaining until Prime Minister Louis-Mathieu Molè demanded that Mexico pay 600,000 pesos or about 3 million Francs. Which, considered at the time, was an outrageous amount since the daily Mexican person only made approximately one peso a day. When president Anastasio Bustamante did not make the payment, the King of France ordered his Rear Admiral Charles Baudin to declare a blockade on all Mexican ports. And that is only a tiny bit on cakes caused incredible strife in Mexico.”  

  “Oh, you can’t end there, Spencer!”

  “Okay, okay. After the City of Veracruz was captured by France and Mexico declared an all-out war, people started smuggling goods into Mexico—”

  “ Baked goods, I hope.” You’re not a very good punner, but you try your best.

  Spencer’s eyes narrow at your jest. “Ha ha, well, more like flour and one smuggling party had to leave about a hundred barrels of flour on the beach— which later will be known as Flour Bluff. And despite the fact that Mexico and France eventually came to a peace agreement where Mexico had to pay the 600,000 pesos, they never do and since France falls in 1870 and yeah. The Pastry War ended up affecting so many lives and really nothing came of it. Now, how is that for bananas?”

  You open your mouth to reply, but Derek beats you to the punch. “The only thing bananas around here is about why the both of you—Pretty Boy I can understand, but you Sunny Girl, I’m disappointed—happen to know about meaningless wars.”

  You stick your tongue out at Derek. “You’re just jealous that we’d beat you in game of Trivia Pursuit.”

  Derek smiles and gets up from his desk. “Okay, you got me there. I’m gonna get more coffee and you both can continue.”

  You roll your eyes and start to settle into your desk. Spencer’s silence alarms you and risk taking a glance at him.

  “You okay?”

  He hums. “I was just thinking...you don’t really get annoyed when I start rambling about things.”

  “Well, duh. I love to learn, Doctor. And you teach me new things all the time. Why would I be annoyed by that?”

  “I don’t know, just a lot of people are and you’re…not. That’s, as you would say, rad.”

  You huff with a small laugh. “I’m glad I’m rubbing off on you a little bit then! But yeah, I mean, sure you can ramble but so do I. I think it’s rad you don’t stop me when I start talking about a subject that you already know about. It's nice for me to have the chance to explain despite that you already know said thing. You acknowledge that I’m dying to tell someone, anyone who’ll listen.”

  “I know that feeling,” he adds with mirth. “And I don’t mind, you have a fun way of telling me about things. I like that about you. Your enthusiasm is refreshing.”

  You swallow, your heart racing up without your permission. “Thanks!” you squeak, your smile weird and squirmy.

  Your gaze drops down to files on your desk and you trace one with your finger, unsure what to say next, but you can’t deny how feeling blossoms in your chest. How something so offhanded and minor could make you feel—

  ( You’re so intelligent. You’re so fashionable. You’re adorable. You’re— )

  Nope.  This road is not worth travelling.  

-

You set up a Tinder and swipe right a few times.

  You delete the app before you can go on a single date.

  (Sometimes guys just give you that serial killer vibe and honestly, no thanks.)

-

You’re finding your place in the BAU. Making a name for yourself with management that supports you. Penelope watches over you and guides you, but Hotch is the one who calls the shots. You find yourself at his desk one morning with a coffee in your hand.

  He looks up from his paperwork briefly and welcomes you to sit.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Hotch’s voice is always quiet. You strain to listen and root yourself in the conversation. His speaking voice is different than his business voice when he’s barking orders at people. In the four walls of his office, he’s at peace and it carries in his cadence.

  You nod and place the coffee on his desk, an offering for so much more than you’re about to say. “I just wanted to say thank you for hiring me. Today’s my five-month anniversary with the BAU and well, just thank you.”

  He puts down his pen and looks at you. Sometimes you feel like he can see into you, see all the things you’re hiding, that you’ve covered up deep in your soul. His lips then curl in small yet meaningful smile as he grabs the cup and pulls it towards him. A small blessing seemingly washes over you.

  “You’ve been a great asset to the department, I think. Garcia was right about you.”

  You suppress a giggle, wanting to remain professional, but gently smile. “Don’t tell her that. She’d be so over the moon.”

  He huffs good naturedly into his cup. “Now, that I know,” he says. “But I truly mean it. I’m glad you’re part of the team. Our line of work isn’t easy and you’re bright, caring, cheery, and efficient. We couldn’t have asked for a better addition.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “And now that you’ve gotten over whatever complex you have towards Reid, the team functions well. The storming session is over so to speak.”

  You don’t comment on that, but you grin bashfully. “Um, well. It was immature and silly of me.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

  “I think it was human. Everyone reacts to him differently, but yours came from a place of admiration and that to me seems more positive than negative.”  

  “The world is too tiring to always be negative, but either way, I’m glad I’m part of this amazing team.”

  Hotch nods and takes another sip of coffee again. “Congrats on five months. Hopefully, we can make it to at least five years.”

  Determination ignites through you. “Most definitely, sir.”  

-

You are lost in a world of beauty. White flowers cover hillsides and pleasing music echoes for all to hear. There is a handsome man with dark hair and blue eyes wearing an adoring smile to a lovely woman. The relief is palatable between, the months apart straining their very souls.

  Someone taps on your shoulder and you jump, an earbud falling out of your ear. Your phone clatters to the desk as you whip your head around to glare at intruder.

  Spencer stands sheepishly behind you, rubbing the back of his neck. His hair is getting long again, touching the top of his collar. “Ah, sorry. Just wanted to know what you’re reading. You’ve been kinda quiet these days.”

  You’ve been on a book binge and everyone knows it. You’ve been staying up late, eyes glued to your phone as you suck down another book at any moment’s notice. Or fanfic. Just something written that makes your heart squeeze so tight you feel like you’ll die from happiness.

  (You might have a problem.

  But you’re not going to call it that.)

  Spencer is curious, staring at you with pretty hazel eyes, wanting to know what you’re reading on your devil device. He’s so tall in this moment, towering over you easily. It reminds you of the first day you met him, with excitement and glee at your edges.

  “It’s not a classic,” you say. “Or even anything scientific.”

  He shrugs. “It has to be good if you’re so into it. You’re reading a trilogy, right?”

  Profilers. Always so perceptive. You take a deep breath and swallow. “Do you promise not to judge me?”

  “Why would I judge you?”

  “I don’t know. I like weird things?”

  “I already know that. You have two full bookshelves devoted to manga in your bedroom.”

  You cross your arms and roll your eyes, trying not to grin.  “That’s not weird.”

  You remember his outrage last time he was over. He was helping editing your dissertation, so you could submit it to academic journals. While you were working on the latest draft, curiosity got the best of him and he asked if he could check out the bookcases in your bedroom. His outspoken horror at your intense graphic novel collection was comical that you found yourself being distracted for the rest of the afternoon by sharing your favorites with him.

  (He’s far more fond of your shoujo than anything else—much like his soap operas.)   

  “Maybe disappointing is the right word then,” he teases, smug as he leans slightly closer towards you.

  There is a pull in this moment, calling you to stand up and brush the hair out of his eyes. You wonder if his hair is soft, what his skin under your fingertips would feel like. You allow yourself this brief guilty pleasure.

  “You’re only upset that I don’t have classics for you. Besides, classics are weird. They’re what the youth call boring.”

  Spencer doesn’t take the bait at your taunt. He rises up his on his tiptoes and decides to be cocky instead. “Your current favorite musical is about a Russian classic.”

  “So? War and Peace is a lot more digestible when there’s singing. You should give it a listen like I suggested. The Great Comet of 1812 is amazing. Trust.”

  “My mother would skin me alive,” he says with a laugh. “And look, I’m willing to ignore the finer pieces of literature to know what you’re reading. So, please tell me? I want something new to read.” The slight begging in his voice makes you smile to yourself.

  “Okay. Um. I’ve been reading retellings of Hades and Persephone. I really like them. They’re cute, but there’s not many of them. Most of them are indie books or from small presses.”

  “Oh, really? And you mean the Rape of Persephone, right?”

  “Spencer, you and I both know that you know that it means ‘to abduct’ and not to actually rape.  Don’t start.”

  You puts his hands up in surrender. “You got me.”

  (His eyes twinkle and there is a fondness in this exchange, if only you knew so long ago that this person would mean so much to you.)

  “Anyway, just be glad I’m slowly getting over my alien hero romance stories. Because, hoo boy. Those would be...” you giggle mischievously. “Yeah, anyway. Hades and Persephone. This one I’m re-reading is the Receiver of Many . Super solid, really pretty. Maybe one too many sex scenes that kinda distract you from the main story, but it’s good. The second book, Destroyer of Light , now we’re talkin’. We definitely see Persephone come into her own and yeah. The makings of the Iron Queen are happening! It’s a good series, but it’s definitely borderline erocita.”

  “Uh.” He makes a face, clearly uncomfortable.

  You try your best not to laugh. “But this doesn’t sound like your cup of tea.”

  “I don’t think it is. Sorry.”

  You pause for a moment, tapping your finger against your chin. An idea strikes you then, bright and fresh, like the story still seared in your mind from the other night. “I do have something I think you’d like.”

  “What is it?”

  You reach for your phone and exit the current book you’re reading, deciding to dive into your Kindle Library. It’s still there at 100% completion, the book that stole your heart and made you start reading like a madwoman again. You swipe all the way left, finding an image of the book’s cover. You flip your phone around and show him.

  “Deathless ?”

  You girn. “Yes, Deathless . It’s about Koschei—the Tsar of Life.”

  Spencer studies the cover, his fingertips brushing against yours as he takes the phone. “...who hid his soul inside a needle, hidden in an egg, within a duck, within a hare, which is in a chest, buried under an oak tree on the island of Buyan.”

  “Yes. The very same. But it follows his young bride Marya Morevna and it is...” you say wistfully, your heart feeling full as you remember each stunning line. “It is like dreaming a glorious dream, Spencer, drenched in tradition and unapologetic with its descriptions. It’s grotesque as it is beautiful, with gnarled hands and fiery blazes.”

  He glances at you, a goofy smile on his face. “You love it that much?”

  “More than I’ve loved anything else lately,” you dreamily sigh. “Finding a good book is much like falling in love again.” He hands back your phone. “You should read it. And take your time.  Read slow, soak up every word”

  “You want me, of all people, to read slower?”

  “I want you, of all people, to feel like you’re in a good dream. To sit there in a world someone created and absorb every moment. Anyone can read fast, Spence, but it takes discipline to read carefully. Don’t tell me that big brain of yours can’t create an intricate world?

  Spencer hums. “My imagination is...not as detailed as my memory,” he confesses. “It’s more like impressions compared to the visceral things I recall.”

  You lean back in your chair, your fingers tapping on your phone. “That’s okay, as long as you enjoy it. Make them good impressions. See something beautiful, however you define it.”

  “Okay, I love to read, but even that sounds too romantic.”

  “Be romantic, Spencer,” you say, tapping his shoe with yours.  “Life is more fun this way. Gooey and cute.”

  He wrinkles his nose, humor etched in his expression. “I’ll think about it.”

- 

Later that night as you’re brewing a cup of tea, your phone buzzes with a new text message.

  You are right. Being romantic is a little fun.

  Did you like it?

  I’m going to send a copy to my mother.

  So, you loved it :D

  Yes. The rhythmic repetition, how food is revered as if gold, the way the idea that physical act of living is so painful while death more muted. The mixing of magic and not. It really was beautiful.  Thank you for the recommendation.

  I’m known to have a few good ones now and then.

  Now, if only you’d actual give War and Peace a try you’d see that you would like it just as much.

  Never! TOO MUCH COMMITMENT.

  (But of course, he doesn’t know it yet, but you are reading War and Peace , just very slowly.)

-

  No matter the time of year, California heat greets you with a searing, passionate kiss as you make yourself outside of Bob Hope Airport. You’re home for a three-day weekend, going to wine and dine your mother in celebration of her healthy life.

  You spot her before she sees you and run towards her like you’ve done thousands of times before. This time, you’re the the bigger and strong one; you scoop her up in your arms. Her embrace is warm and she smells exactly the same, like childhood and comfort all in her small frame.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” she says.

  “I’ve missed you too, Mom. So, so much.”

  California traffic is like an old-toxic high school friend—somehow all you can ever talk about, but never changing for the better. But you don’t care as you drive home to the middle of nowhere. Your mom and your aunt bought some land in farm country. The new house isn’t the same one that you knew as you were a child, but it feels good to look up stars in the sky that aren’t airplanes or streetlights.

  “I’m so glad that you’re home,” Mom says as you pull into the driveway.

  You smile at her, watching as your cousins peek from the front door.

  “Me too.”

  “Next time you should bring a boy,” she winks.

  “Mother!”

  (Home is where the heart is and you’re just happy you carry yours with you.)

-

You take a sledgehammer and pound it into the wall. Tugging it out, you see there is a sizeable dent in the plaster and you grin, sweat cooling your face as you lift it and swing it again. You’re like a metronome, constantly hitting with even timing, the sound of the wall breaking music to your ears.

  You’ve been here for a few hours, helping Derek demo a house he plans on fixing up. You wanted to learn some hands on handyman things and he offered immediately. Plus, destroying stuff is a lot of fun. Not that you actively destroy stuff, but it’s hard not to pretend to be some robust viking alien creature hell bent on decementing the Earth.

  You hear a low whistle after your last smash and there is Derek standing in the doorway with a bottle of cold water. You breathe a small word of thanks before happily taking a soothing swig.

  “Look at you go, Sunny Girl. You don’t look like much, but even I gotta admit you pack a real punch.”

  You stick out tongue out at him. “I’m my mother’s only child so I have to be her daughter and  son.”

  “How’s she doing anyway?”

  You wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. “She’s good. Her treatments went really well and her doctor says it looks like she’s in a state of remission. We’re just lucky we caught it so early or things could have been a lot worse.”

  “That’s great to hear!” he smiles. “I hope she can finally come out to visit soon.”

  Derek Morgan’s smile is such a sight behold. It’s warm and kind and you feel safer knowing he’s in your corner. His well-wishes and good attitude brighten your days beyond compare and you know exactly why he’s so important to Penelope. He’s just so—effervescent and wonderful to be around.

  “Thanks, dude. And thank you for teaching me how to demo today too. I mean, it’s always the best parts of the HGTV shows and it’s kinda fun that I got to do it with such a rad person.”

  He laughs, deep and rich from his belly. “Consider yourself lucky,” he jokingly warns. “Not everyone is allowed to come to the properties, but you’re a quick learner. And dang girl, I never want piss you off if here is a sledgehammer hanging around!” he exclaims as he points at the now mostly damaged wall. “Look at this! You’re just going to town in here.”

  You giggle. “Teehee. What can I say? You just gotta grab the bull by the balls.”

  The room falls silent as you both realize what you both said. You sputter and start to shout.

  “By the horns, I meant by the horns!”

  It’s useless over Derek’s loud laughter, vowing to never let you forget this.

  Despite blushing madly and feeling extremely embarrassed, this day has already been perfect. You’re slowly spreading your limbs, creating friendships with the team on your own. It’s wonderful. To spend time with people one-on-one. You’ve been lonely for so long.

  “So, I gotta know: are you seeing anyone?”

  You snap your attention back to him and scoff. “Did Penelope put you up to this?”

  “My Baby Girl might have mentioned that you’re not seeing anyone and well, I think that’s crazy. You’re young. Enjoy life. Have fun!”

  Your lips twist and you shake your head. “I don’t know...I don’t think I’m ready right now. I was with Matthew for a long time and now...I’m not.”

  “But you haven’t been for how long? Like almost over a year, right?”

  “About a year or so, yeah. I thought he and I were going to start a life together. Get married, have two point five kids together while saving the world. But he’s in California and I’m here so. That didn’t happen.”

  Bitterness sits in your ribcage, reminding you of broken promises. Of the life you’ll never get to have with the man who no longer exists.

  “Would you want to get back together with him?”

  “I mean, a part of me will always love him. He was this bright innocent kid when we started college. And so, so smart. He really is intelligent.”

  Derek smirks. “Reid is intelligent.”

  You roll your eyes. “Reid is emotionally unavailable and I don’t need to be a profiler to guess what you’re gonna say next.”

  (You hope he doesn’t say it next. This is the one thing you don’t allow yourself to think about except in special situations.)

  Derek puts his hands up. “Hey, wasn’t it you who said he was intimidating and awe-inspiring. And oh yes, my favorite bit, when you first met our resident genius, you called him gorgeous? Wasn’t that you or some other little adorable short stack?”

  “Well, yes,” you say, a seething smile on your face. “That was me, but just because Spencer is objectively attractive, doesn’t mean that I’m actually attracted to him. He’s a co-worker and a friend.” Derek scoffs in disbelief. “What? I can find people attractive! Ben Stiller’s cute!

  “What? No. That’s terrible,” he chides. “Ben Stiller? Really. Ben Stiller? C’mon, if you’re going down the celebrity route, pick a better one.”

  “What! He has cute ears. Okay, George Clooney.”

  “Everyone thinks Clooney is hot. I think Clooney is hot.”

  “Alright fine. Garrett Borns.”

  “Who?”

  “Google him.”

  Derek does and his face breaks out in a shit-eating grin. “Oh my god. He looks almost like Reid. This is great. Is this your type? Tall and skinny?”

  “No, my type is quirky, intelligent, and…tall,” you mumble.

  “So, Reid.”

  “And Mattie! Looks nothing like Reid by the way. He’s tall, but he’s Indian, really buff, and might actually have a British accent,” you blush.

  “I promise if you admit you’re attracted to Reid, I will stop bothering you about it.”

  You stomp your foot. “You’re annoying, you know that? Fine, yes. Spencer Reid is very attractive in my books. There. Happy?”

  Derek comes over and pats the top of your head. “Very.”

- 

Winter leaves you less cold this year, your heart warm from extra cheer. Your mom comes to visit in excellent health. You exchange presents with your co-workers and everything seems like it’s going according to plan.

  Your heart is a little empty, wanting to sip something sweet, but you can’t fault that there is progress in friendships that nestle in the soil under your feet. You have a family away from your family, a place to call home when you feel weary.

  Midnight strikes and you leave kisses on everyone’s cheek, promising another sweet year with them.

- 

There are days when cases happen right in the heart of D.C. and your heart sinks when come across somber faces in the bullpen. Never has you worked such massive overtime, assisting Garcia with analyst duties as her back-up. You don't bother wearing makeup when your skin feels so dehydrated and the purple under your eyes a new permanent feature of your face.

  It is also the rare moment the team takes a small break to eat breakfast when Rossi grins at you.

  “So, a little birdie told me that you said Reid is attractive.”

  Spencer, bless him, chokes on his food. You, on the other hand, almost spit out your coffee.

  Quickly, you turn towards the culprit and kick Derrek under the table. “You’re a snitch.”

  Penelope plops down beside you and steals a piece of fruit off your plate. “Technically I was the snitch.”

  “Wow. Et tu, Brute? Betrayed. Be-trayed.” You pout and stab a piece of bacon.

  Penelope leans her head on your shoulder. “I love you.”

  You playfully push her. Across the table, Spencer is beet red and you feel your face pain with a blush of your own. You clear your throat. “Well, to be fair, I think everyone on the team is super attractive. I mean, have you all looked in the mirror lately?”

  Derek teases. “Nice save, princess, but I know what my ears heard.”

  You glare at him. “Yeah, well, I thought what’s said at demo house stays in demo house, but look where we are now. But yeah, I do think Spencer is attractive…I guess.”

  J.J. laughs, clearly enjoying this situation far more than you realized. “You guess? My memory might not be as good at Spence’s, but I will not forget the day Spencer came super dazed to the office because this pretty girl dressed in purple called him gorgeous. I did not see or hear any brain activity for hours.”

  You laugh, partly due to embarrassment, partly due to surprise. “Oh my god, you thought I was pretty? That’s precious!” You place your hand under your chin, posing cutely. “You’re not wrong though!”

  (You ignore the way your heart is speeding up. If you keep making jokes, hopefully things will go back to normal.)

  Spencer carefully takes a sip of coffee, avoiding making eye contact with you. “I mean, yeah. You were pretty. All dressed up for your first day of work…” he hums. “It was cute.”  

  “Okay, but our Little Miss Sunshine here is also leaving out she finds Ben Stiller attractive,” Derek taunts. “Ben Stiller. And a Reid doppelganger.”

  You kick him again under the table before glaring at your other co-worker. “Rossi, look what you’ve done. I thought we have an unsub to catch and yet here we are talking about who I find attractive. This is how we’re spending the American tax dollars?”

  “What can I say, kiddo?” he says with a soft chuckle. “Though, Garcia did say your ex was a good-looking guy.” His eyes twinkling with curiosity.

  You sigh in defeat and grab your phone. “Such nosey profilers, I swear,” you mutter.

  “That’s why we’re so good at our job.”

  You look up Matt’s instagram and you still when you see the first picture. It’s your ex-boyfriend with a very beautiful woman, long blonde hair and perfect white teeth. You bite the inside of your cheek and swipe to the next one, thankful there’s no company in this one.

  You show the team your phone, a picture of Matthew shirtless on the beach with a surfboard at his side. He’s toned and bronzed, his black hair tousled perfectly atop his head. He’s definitely been hitting the gym, his arms and six pack looking good.

  (You definitely hope he still feels miserable and cries himself to sleep at night.)

  J.J. lets out a low whistle. “I thought he was supposed to be quirky, not a Calvin Klein model.”

  You laugh. “He has his moments.”

  Derek looks down at his arms for a moment, his little moment of insecurity a wonderful taste of revenge. “I take back making fun of you for Ben Stiller. Geez, do all your ex-boyfriends look that good?”

  “One looks like a mountain man now, I think; however, I’ll be sure to parade whatever new guy I end up dating next to get your seal of approval,” you say with a huff.

  Spencer wears an unreadable expression. “Well, we’d only think about your safety.”

  J.J. giggles at his side, but before you can question anything, Hotch enters the room and before you know it, you’re all back to the grind.

-

Thankfully, the case ends two days later on a happy note. You’re free to have a few days off much to your relief. Freedom will only be yours if you can get to your car fast enough. Most the the team has already gone home for the day, so you find yourself alone at the elevator, waiting to go down.

  Or, rather you think you’re alone. Spencer appears are your side, a little winded, but softly grins.

  “I’m so glad we can go home,” he says, engaging in small talk.

  Spencer doesn’t do regular small talk. His form of small talk is spewing fun facts and hoping to make the other person laugh. What in the world?

  You cast him a sidelong glance, unsure where this is leading. “I just want waffles and cup of coffee.”

  He takes a deep breath. “...do you mind if I join you and—”

  “And give you a ride home?” you continue, wanting to follow this rabbit hole.

  “Please?”

-

You end up in a diner not far from the office. It’s quaint with old booths and even older waitresses. You love how shabby it looks. You order coffee and waffles while Spencer does the same.

  The car ride over was quiet, but now that you’re seated at a booth, you break the silence. “While I don’t mind the extra company, what’s on your mind?”

  “Nothing is on my mind,” he says quickly, ignoring your curious stare, he plays with the sugar. “I just want to spend time with my friend.”

  “Spencer.”

  He peeks at you, his face wincing. “Was I that obvious?”

  “A bit. Mainly because we both live in opposite directions from work and while I usually am a helpful person, I’m like literally the last person you’d ask to drive you home since it’s so out of my way and you are a polite person.”

  “...okay, that is all true, but—”

  “No buts, just what’s on your mind, bud? I feel like we’re about to get extra deep up in here.”

  Spencer taps his fingers against the wooden table. You watch as he forces himself to commit to this. “I don’t know about extra deep, but yeah, my reason is personal, if that’s okay.”

  “Just ask and we shall see. I’m sure it’s fine.”

  He takes his time, thinking carefully before speaking. “I just. I know you were with Matt for a long time and just…how do you know that you’re ready to move on? I thought you were planning to have a life with him and everything.”

  Oh. Well.

  This was not what you were expecting.

“Okay, um. Well, this isn’t the first time my heart has been broken,” you start to explain, “so I have that going for me. And yes, I originally wanted to be lifelong partners with Matt, but I understood why we didn’t work out,” you say, your words rushed and weird. “First of all, a nation was between us. Second, our goals didn’t match. And third, we changed in ways that no longer parallel each other.”

  You mark each point with a new finger. You list them as facts, the pain of saying them out loud barely there now.

  He’s quiet again, your reasons hanging between you two. “And do you think you’re ready to move on?”

  “Are you asking for my well being or for your own?”

  Spencer sucks in a breath of air and you wait as he thinks of an answer. You try to eat, but your waffle isn’t as good as you remembered it being. Everything feels kinda cold.

  “Despite losing Maeve,” he says, and you know this will not be an easy conversation. “We were only together for one hundred days give or take...and I never even held her hand, but the idea of moving on from her hurts.”

  You press your lips together and lean into the booth, trying to string something positive and encouraging to say to him, but you only have one though.

  “Then don’t move on.”

  “C’mon,” he scoffs, “even I know that’s not completely healthy.”

  “I don’t know, Spencer. I have a great-aunt whose husband died while saving his daughter and it’s been over thirty years and she hasn’t dated anyone since. That was the love of her life, as she was the love of your life. It’s just like that sometimes.”

  “Yeah, she was—but I don’t know. This is the one thing I don’t know no matter how many times I try to reason it out. Just because she’s not here doesn’t mean I need to stop living...”

  “Emotions aren’t rational, Spencer. If you don’t feel ready, you don’t feel ready. Our situations are totally different anyway. See, for me, the things I miss the most aren’t Matt. Matt can go fuck himself, but the things we did together? The way I felt? That’s what I want.”

  “What do you mean?”

  You play with a ring on your finger, needing to fidget as you open up your heart. “I miss...the security of knowing someone would always be there. I miss the dates we would go on. I miss holding hands and falling asleep to one person. I miss hugs and kisses and—just everything that makes up a relationship. Unlike you, I don’t miss a person. I miss a sequence of actions. Totally different.”

  “Missing a sequence of actions does sound a lot better, I guess, if you have any to remember,” he says quietly, almost as if he’s confessing something he doesn’t say often.

  Your heart aches for him. “You really never even met her once?”

  “No.”

  “Not even for a date?”

  He shakes his head.

  And the rest of the world goes on as normal, as if you didn’t just hear the most heart shattering thing.  The diner is still somewhat noisy in the mid-morning. A kid is laughing, a waitress is calling out orders to the kitchen, and a fork clatters to the ground, but you’re stuck processing this confirmation, your heart twisting with every moment.

  “I apologize for the lack of filter, but holy fuck, Spencer. That shit is tragic. Like I can’t even comprehend.” You bring your hand to your mouth, wanting to cover up all the pity that’s resting on your tongue. So, you choose not to say it. “I’m sorry that that happened. And that sucks and I don’t know anything else to say, but you’re totally allowed to be hung up on this. I would be so, so, so hung up on this! Actually, I think I am getting hung up on this for you right now!”

  He lets out a weak laugh. “Thank you. I think you’re the first person who told me it’s okay to not move on. I... I don’t really talk about her to...anyone, but it’s kinda easier with you. You don’t make me feel like I’m obligated to feel a certain way about it. I feel less stupid about it, I guess. It was a just a mess, from start to finish.”

  “Yeah, but who cares, it was your mess and no one can take that away from you. And it might be the romantic in me, but your relationship with her, the bits I do know, like the letters and your meet cute is rather...cute. It sounds like there is more good than bad.”

  “I like to think there was,” he says, pushing his food on his plate.

  You set your fork down and lean back into your seat. You don’t need to be a profiler to see exactly what Spencer is feeling or thinking. But most importantly, you know your friend needs you and you refuse him to continue now this road alone.

  And then an idea strikes you like lightning. Brilliant and bright, coursing delight through you as see everything coming together in your mind.

  “You know what,” you start, confidence in your voice. “We’re gonna do something fun. How good are you with spontaneity?”

  “Uh, pretty good considering my job.”

  You grin and link your fingers together. “Perfect. Okay, so tomorrow you and I are going to go an amusement park for funsies.”

  Spencer’s mouth twists. “...funsies?”

  “Yes, funsies. You desperately need it. So, dress down,” you order. “Comfy shoes and jeans please.”

  “Um.”

  “And you can’t say no because I’m doing you a huge favor by going super out of my way to drive you home as you told me a sad story over breakfast. And I’ve been dying to go anyway, so there’s that,” you finish saying in a rush.

  You might have presented your case more childlike than intended, but Spencer seems to take be taking it into consideration. That is a victory in itself.  

  After a few moments, Spencer nods his head. “Okay. But there’s one problem.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t own any jeans.”

  (You do your best not to face palm.)

[filmflowersbangtan]

Heartbreak Hotel

pairing: reader x jimin

genre: angst | slow burn | writer!jimin

word count: 3.7k

warnings: mentions of infidelity, very light smut

summary: when you go to the golden hours hotel, you’re there to escape. you never meant to fall in love 

pt. i 

The only reason why you drove to this hotel that was almost three hours away from home in the dead of winter was because you desperately needed to get away. There were other more convenient hotels to go, but you wanted to be where no one would think to look.

The Golden Hours Hotel was tucked in the snowy mountains of what seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. There was no cell phone reception here, it was miles away from the nearest city or town, and it was immense enough to get lost in if you weren’t careful. This was a place that people went when they didn’t want to be found.

A bellboy helped you take your luggage up to your suite. “Planning on living here for a few weeks?” he said with a laugh. But you didn’t laugh along with him. You weren’t sure how long you were going to stay here, but you could afford it. That was all that mattered. His smile faded once he realized that you weren’t in a joking mood. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

You tipped him after your luggage was in your room and sent him about his way. The suite was spacious and drenched in warm colors. There were rugs and wooden floors, a cobblestone fireplace and a bathroom big enough to fit a dining table. If you never left this suite, you were fine with that. You didn’t have the desire to face any humans anyway.

Outside, snow was falling again quietly as the daylight went from a milky gray to a soft indigo as evening approached. You shrugged off your coat and unraveled the scarf from your neck, tossing it on a nearby armchair. You kicked off you shoes and stripped out of your freezing clothes as you started up a bath. Any other time, being in a place like this would make you happy. Any other time, your husband would be here with you, maybe even joining you in the warm bath water. But this wasn’t like any other time. Now, you weren’t happy. You were merely content that you were finally alone instead at home with your husband and lonely.

A day passed, and you finally decided to have dinner downstairs that the hotel provided at six o’ clock. A few more inches of snow gathered outside. You wondered if your husband was thinking about you right now. Was he upset that you left without a word? Did he try texting or calling you? Or was he happy that you were gone? Was that woman of his in your bed right now?

“I don’t think that chicken breast did anything wrong for you to glare at it that much,” a voice said. You weren’t sure if the person was speaking to you until you looked up to see a man standing before you with a plate in his hand that was piled with food. He was smiling, his eyes crescents and teeth on display. No one has smiled at you like that in weeks, you thought. Especially not a man this handsome.

But then you realized that now you were simply staring at him and you had to say something. “I was thinking about something,” you said, blinking a few times to gather your wits.

“I can see that. Do you mind if I sit?” He was still smiling, and you weren’t exactly sure why.

You glanced around the dining hall. Besides you and him, there were roughly four other people, which meant that there were several other empty tables without a bitter woman that was glaring at a chicken breast that she might not eat. “Why?” you said.

One side of his mouth pulled down in an expression that meant “Why not” as he shrugged with one shoulder. “Only if you don’t mind.”

You didn’t. “I do.”

Disappoint flashed across his face. It was so brief that you would’ve missed it if you weren’t so good as reading faces. “Okay. Have a nice night,” he said with another smile, this one tainted with the soft hue of rejection.

You bit your lip in guilt as he walked away. Maybe eating with a stranger wasn’t so bad. You hadn’t had an actual conversation with anyone in nearly three weeks, and being here at this hotel in the middle of nowhere where no one knew who you were… Maybe you could pretend that you were someone else. Just for a little while to shed that gloom that had been on your skin like sunscreen that wouldn’t wash off.

“Wait,” you called out to the man.

He turned back to you. His hair was a shiny black underneath the buttery yellow light of the extravagant lighting fixtures that hung on the high, vaulted beam ceilings. He raised his eyebrows at you in curiosity. Your stomach fluttered.

“I would like for you to sit with me, actually,” you internally cringed as you said these words. You hoped that you didn’t sound desperate.

His face broke into another smile. “My name is Jimin. Nice to meet you,” he said, pulling out the chair opposite to you. He sat and made himself comfortable, unwrapping the perfectly polished silverware from its embroidered cloth napkin.

“I’m __,” you said. Your food was getting cold, but you didn’t care. You hadn’t had an appetite in days.

“What brings you to the world’s loneliest hotel?” he said. He was sawing his way through his steak now. It was medium rare, and the pinkness of the meat almost made you curl your nose.

You lifted your glass of wine to your lips. “To get away. You?”

“Same here. I’m a writer, so this place is ideal for me to get my book done without the distraction of my phone.”

Were writers this good-looking? “What kind of things do you write?”

He ate a large bite of steak. Chewed and swallowed before answering, “Mystery, mainly. Sometimes thriller. They all have romance.” Something in his eye glinted when he said this, punctuating the word romance with a look at you.

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, but you hid it with another sip of wine. “How many books have you written?”

He laughed at that, even though you didn’t think you said anything particularly funny. “I’ve written five. I actually have a copy of my most recent one up in my suite. It’s called Pillar of Darkness.”

“Sounds interesting.” You were completely disinterested in the food on your plate now, entirely intrigued by the man before you. “So, what brings you to sit with me?”

He’s watching you as if he’s searching your expression for the correct words to say. “I just wanted some company.”

“You wanted company at the loneliest hotel in the world?”

He shrugged. “Who doesn’t want company from a beautiful woman?”

You almost gasped. The tips of your ears were on fire now. You poured yourself more wine to give your hands something to do. Beautiful? When was the last time someone called you that? “Are you flirting with me?”

“If you don’t want me to, then of course not.”

This time, you couldn’t stifle the smile that formed on your lips. He grinned as well. A feeling as warm and buttery as the lights above was curling in your chest. His eyes were on you, unwavering, and you couldn’t help but to feel special. Your veins were thrumming with an emotion that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You cleared your throat that had suddenly gone dry. “I’d love to read that book sometime. What floor are you on?”

Coincidentally, he resided on the same floor as you, only three doors away. He unlocked his door with his key card. His room smelled like him – warm, soft and enticing – and not like your room did when you first checked in. You wondered how long he’d been staying here.

The room looked exactly like yours but flipped and looked lived in – an unmade bed, a laptop charger snaked under a coffee table, mugs with coffee rings on the inside. If the suite wasn’t as large and lavish as it was, the room would almost look messy. Especially with the papers scattered everywhere there was a horizontal surface.

“Sorry about the mess,” he said, rushing to straighten up some of the papers and put the coffee mugs in sink in the kitchenette.

“It’s okay,” you said, standing awkwardly by the doorway. You weren’t sure if you’d be staying long. Maybe he’d give you the book and you’d just leave. Earlier at dinner, you were okay with the idea of coming up to his room and having sex. But now that you were here, that adrenaline was all gone, replaced by anxiety. You hadn’t had sex with anyone other than your husband in five years. It didn’t matter if your husband hadn’t been true to you like you were to him. You weren’t a kid anymore. You couldn’t just go sleeping with any handsome guy that showed you a little bit of attention.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asked, bringing your wandering mind back to the present.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

He chuckled. “Did you drink too much wine? Wine always makes me sleepy,” he said as he finished tidying up.

You suddenly had the overwhelming desire to be alone. “Can I just get the book and go now?”

He blinked a few times at your sudden rudeness. “Uh…yeah. I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

“Like I said, I’m just tired. I’m only here to borrow your book, so you don’t have to clean up too much.” You didn’t know why you were being so bitter again. You couldn’t help it. Every time you thought about your husband, the bitterness just seemed to ooze out of your pores.

“Um, okay.” He rifled through a suit case and retrieved a paperback novel. He handed it to you, confusion furrowing his eyebrows. He most likely thought that this was a sex thing, too.

“When do you want it back?”

“Take your time with it. I’m no where finished with my new book. I’ll be here for a while.”

-

You didn’t leave your room for a few days, not wanting to run into Jimin because of how much of a jerk you were to him and because his book was a good read. Pillar of Darkness was about a man who works as a Private Investigator suspects his wife to be cheating, only to discover that she was, in fact, cheating on him, but she’s also plotting to kill him. Over the course of the book as he tries to save himself from her, he reminisces on when he first fell in love with her and wonders what went wrong since.

You finished the book in three days. You didn’t know what time it was when you stepped out of your suite to return the book, but when Jimin opened his door after a few of your knocks, his hair was messy and his clothes were wrinkled.

“Hey,” he said, running his fingers through his hair to fix it but it only made it worse. It stood up in all directions, but it was strangely endearing. “What brings you here this late?”

“Late? What time is it?”

He yawned and glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “Just a little past midnight.”

“Oh.” Awkwardness prickled at your scalp. “Um, sorry for waking you.”

He waved off your apology. “It’s cool. I fell asleep writing, so I wasn’t too comfortable anyway.”

A small smile found its way on your mouth. “I just came to return this.” You held out the novel for him to take, the spine now creased from use.

He took it, looking down at the title. “Wow. Either you’re a fast reader, or you thought this was a piece of shit and couldn’t finish it.”

To your surprise, laughter bubbled from within you. “I liked it. It was beautiful.”

His innocently sleepy eyes were awake now. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t say ‘New York Times Best-seller’ on the cover just for show, right?”

He chuckled meekly. “It didn’t seem that special to me because it seems like every book is a best-seller these days. But your compliment holds more weight.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. You figured that he liked to shrug since he did it so much. “It seems a little more personal to have someone tell you that they like something that you created face-to-face. You know? A best-seller is just a book that sells a lot of copies. It doesn’t have to be that good to do that.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I suppose. But if the book was shit, I would’ve told you.”

At that, he threw his head back and laughed so whole-heartedly that you felt yourself laughing, too. How were this guy’s emotions so contagious? “Did you want to come in? I feel kind of bad having you stand out in the hall,” he said.

The thought of going inside was tempting, but you thought better of it. “I better get going,” you said. “You should go back to sleep.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but you were already walking away.

-

Hot breath on your sweaty skin, his mouth pressing wet kisses down your neck. Thick fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your thigh.

“Do you like this?” he whispered into your ear before taking the lobe between his teeth. “Do you want me?”

You moaned, and it jolted you awake. The heat was unbearable. Sweat beaded on your skin and hairline. You kicked the blankets that were wrapped around your body until they were at the foot of the bed and you were able to breathe.

The dream felt so real. Even though you never saw the man’s face, you knew that it was Jimin just by the lips. You had never met another person with lips as plush and as luscious and –

You needed to take a cold shower.

It was a little past ten in the morning when you dried off and dressed. You stood at the counter in the kitchenette, watching the milk swirl and permeate through your coffee when there was a knock on your door.

Jimin stood there with his sweet smile, and you thought about how you moaned at the vivid feeling of his mouth on your throat and his fingers on your thigh, so close to your –

“Hey,” he said.

“Good morning,” you replied, gripping the door with more strength than necessary to still the wispy, fluttering sensation in the pit of your stomach that arose at the sound of his voice.

“Did you have breakfast already? I was wondering if you wanted to grab something to eat together in the dining hall and maybe go for a walk afterwards.”

“Like a walk outside?”

“Yeah. You’re not afraid of a little cold weather, are you?” he teased.

The only way that you knew how to banish those butterflies that resided in your stomach was to either be witty, rude, or sarcastic. But you didn’t want to run him away. Believe it or not, you liked him around. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

After breakfast, you both bundled up and went outside. The walkways were plowed, but the snow was up past your knees. It was a little warmer with the sun out, but even with your scarf, hat, coat, and layers of clothing on, the cold still reached your bones. Jimin didn’t seem to be bothered by it in his stylish trench coat and thin, fashionable scarf.

“So,” he said, his breath materializing as a white cloud in the freezing morning air. “What’s your story?”

“My story?” you said.

“Yeah. Everyone has one.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at you expectantly.

“I don’t.” Not here where you were safe from reality, at least.

Maybe it was from the finality in your voice, or maybe it was the expression on your face, but Jimin didn’t push it. “Okay,” he said. You noticed how he didn’t offer his story, either.

The both of you walked in silence for a while. You were content with silence; you’d been wallowing in it for a few weeks now. It wasn’t until you reached a frozen lake at the back of the hotel did Jimin speak, “I forgot this lake was here. When my family used to come here when I was a kid during Christmas break, I used to skate. I should’ve brought them.” It seemed like he was talking more to himself than to you.

“Brought what? Your family?”

“No. My skates.” There was a softness to his gaze as he stared at the lake. You knew that look. That was how you looked in the pictures on your wedding day that felt like so long ago.

Jimin looked more like a skating type of guy than he did a writing one. Lean body, graceful walk, silky hair. If he hadn’t mentioned his writings at all, you would’ve been sure that he was at least a professional figure skater.

As you were thinking this, Jimin rushed over to the lake, and your heart leaped into your throat. “Jimin!” you shouted at him.

He stopped in his tracks before he reached the ice. “What?”

“I don’t think you should go over there. It’s not safe.” You weren’t sure why you were so worried about this stranger that you’d barely even known for a week. But there was something about Jimin that made you want to keep him close and make sure that he was safe.

Jimin smiled at you. He looked brilliant like that with his smile bright and his cheeks and nose rosy from the cold. “It’s okay. Look.” He stepped onto the ice and slid backwards as if his shoes were skates. “I’m fine.” And with that, he started spinning and giggling like a kid. As you watched him, you couldn’t fight the giggles that escaped from you. “Come here! Dance with me!” He waved you over with delight.

You rolled your eyes, but there was a smile plastered to your face. “No.”

“Please?” he whined. It sounded so strange coming from him, but it must’ve worked because your feet were pulling you towards the ice before you knew what you were doing.

You felt like a baby giraffe learning how to walk as you stumbled towards Jimin with your hands out, grasping helplessly at the air. He rushed over to you and grabbed your arms without a worry that he would slip and fall. It amazed you how he hadn’t fallen already since the soles of his leather shoes had no grip.

“What are we doing?” you said with a laugh. You were shuffling your feet back and forth, feeling the slip of the ice as you did so. Jimin’s grip on your arms made you feel secure.

“Having fun,” he said.

“I think I’m more scared than I am enjoying myself.”

Jimin laughed. His whole body laughed with him, which made him stumble. As a result, you stumbled with him, but your balance wasn’t as great as his. You fell to the ground on your butt, and Jimin’s grip on you brought him down, too. He landed directly on top of you, knocking the breath out of your chest.

“Oh God! Are you okay?” he said, rolling off you.

But you couldn’t speak because you were laughing so hard that you felt a set of abs coming on. Jimin joined in on the breathless laughter. For a few minutes, the both of you rolled on the ice, holding your guts in hilarity.

“That was the hardest that I’ve laughed in a long time,” you said when you gathered your breath.

“Yeah? Me, too.” Jimin said.

Neither of you bothered to get up. You just lied there, limbs spread and faces pointed towards the sky. The birds hid in the trees, singing and crooning at one another. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and it was a brilliant powder blue. When was the last time that you looked up at the sky like this?

“Hey,” Jimin said. He was watching you. There was something different in his eyes. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“The sky is really pretty,” you said. Your lips were getting cold, but you didn’t care. You could probably lie here all day and watch the sky change colors, and then lie here some more to look at the stars. “I don’t think I’ve actually stopped to look at the sky before.”

“You’ve been missing out.” He pushed himself up to lounge on his elbow, facing you. “You intrigue me. You’re more interesting than any book that I’ve ever read. More fascinating than anything that I could ever write.”

You turned your head to look at him. He was incredibly close. So close that you could feel his warm breath on your face. “You barely know me,” you said in a small voice.

He smiled. “I know. That’s what makes this all even more confusing.”

You couldn’t help but stare at his mouth. That was the mouth that got you hot and bothered in your dream. Those were the lips that were pressed against your skin, asking, “Do you like this? Do you want me?”

Without thinking, you placed both of your hands on either side of his face and pull him down, connecting your mouth with his. He stiffened briefly but reciprocated. You carded your hand through his silky hair as he pressed a cold palm to your neck. He leaned his upper body over you, pressing you into the ice as his tongue found its way into your mouth.

You didn’t know when he got on top of you, his legs in between yours, but you could feel his erection through all three layers of your clothing and you wanted him so badly. If he fucked you right on this ice, you wouldn’t care. His hips lightly bucked into you. A small groan escaped from his lips, and it was the sexiest sound that you had heard in a long time.

You moaned for the second time today, but this time you didn’t feel guilty about it. 

“Should we take this back to my room?” he whispered into your ear.

For a moment, you almost said yes. You wanted to say yes. Every fiber in your being wanted to say yes. He was looking at you, waiting for your answer. In the brightness of the fresh, winter sunlight, you could see the tiny specks of amber in his eyes. But now that you weren’t kissing him, you were thinking rationally.

So you said, “I-I can’t. I’m sorry.” And you were pushing him off you and scrambling up to your feet. You didn’t look back as you were hurrying to the hotel.

author’s note: i was going to make this longer and a oneshot, but i knew that if I did that, it would take forever to finish and i wanted to post something. this idea sprung up to me a few days ago (when i was supposed to be working on a different jimin fic...) while i was watching the movie In the Mood for Love. Thanks for reading :)

[imjadebeom]

Hopeless Romantic

Pairing: Youngjae x Reader Genre: Fluff Moodboard: by @parkhabits :)

A/N: This fluff is part of the @7ornevernet Fluffy Valentines Project. Please keep an eye out for other great fluffs (and some sinful smuts) from other members involved in this project!

It was February 13th, another year had come and gone with Youngjae by your side. It seems like just yesterday that you two had started dating, but you have been dating since right before his debut. It has been 3 years since you came to live in Korea. You knew living here would be the only way you could see Youngjae more often so it didn’t feel like much of a sacrifice. You came here looking to teach and teaching is what you did. It was fun teaching kids English but it was more fun to teach your child-like boyfriend new words. It was cute how his face lit up every time you taught him an unfamiliar word to add to his vocabulary. Just thinking about it brought a smile to your face.

You sighed while staring out the window instead of watching your class take their test. You knew you should be more attentive but all you could think about was how tomorrow was Valentine’s Day. What a dreaded holiday. It’s not that you particularly hated the holiday, you just hated surprises. However, surprises were Youngjae’s favorite pastime. What was he going to cook up this year? He is so unpredictable. One part you did enjoy was that everything he did was with good intentions and, occasionally, poorly planned.

One year, he tried to surprise you by decorating your apartment with red rose petals and hundreds (maybe even thousands) of tiny candles. You walked in and your eyes started watering and all you could see through the smoke was a frantic Youngjae running around with a fire extinguisher trying to put out a fire. Turns out those hundreds of tiny candles were too close to your curtains and… You know the rest. You wanted to be angry (and you were a little angry) but you couldn’t help but laugh at his exasperated yells and nervous laughs. He looked like an idiot, but he was your idiot nonetheless. When you asked him why he decided to do this, he said “That’s how I saw people do it in the movies.” with a sheepish grin.

Another year he took you on a stroll through the park at night and you both stared at the stars. At the end of the path was a little table set for two with candles and rose petals everywhere. It was chilly outside but the candles kept you warm. It was a night you would never forget because it was the first night he told you he loved you.

You couldn’t tell if this year would be a disaster year or a successful year. You dreaded the thought. You loved the outcome of a surprise but the anticipation practically killed you. “Sasaeng-nim…. SASAENG-NIM~!” You snapped out of your daydreams at once to see a tiny baby-faced boy in front of you waving his arms frantically.

“Ah, I’m sorry. What’s wrong?” you asked, smiling.

“The class is done with the test. Can we go home now?” he whined, giving you those irresistible puppy dog eyes.

You looked up at the clock, “AH, YES OF COURSE. Please leave your tests on my desk.  Stay safe!” you said, rushing to get all of your stuff together so you could lock up the classroom. How could you let the time slip by? You should have dismissed them 20 minutes ago. You were hoping the parents were understanding. You followed the group of kids out to make sure they went home with their parents or older siblings.

After everyone found a parent or a sibling and started walking home, you dug out your keys and headed to your car. You unlocked the door and slid into the seat when red reflects catch your eye. “Starting early this year…” You thought to yourself. Sprinkled all over the interior of your car was red heart-shaped confetti. You sighed, “He better be cleaning this up as part of my gift tomorrow.” You could already feel the anxiety of the surprise.

You get home to see your apartment was (thankfully) untouched. You changed into some comfortable sweatpants and crashed on your couch. You thought about ordering pizza tonight so you got up to find some menus. You searched for a good 10 minutes but couldn’t find them. You wandered into the kitchen where all the takeout menus were spread out onto the counter carefully.

You didn’t remember doing that. A chill went up your spine. Did someone break into your apartment? You dismissed the thought immediately and let out a giggle. “Sure, someone broke into my apartment to mess up my takeout menus. What an idiot.” You said, laughing. You rolled your eyes and went to go look at the menus. Next to the menus was a card with a big red heart on it.

You quickly picked up the card to read it.

“Dear Y/N, I’m sorry to tell you this last minute but I was scheduled for recording a show for the next two days. I hope you can live without me this Valentine’s Day. Don’t be sad. I am still here in your heart.

Love, Youngjae-Oppa”

You started to get teary eyed and forced a laugh at the last part. He’s always trying to say he’s your Oppa. Youngjae wasn’t going to be here for Valentine’s Day. You started getting a little emotional and tried to talk yourself into brushing it off.

“I don’t even like surprises… Why am I sad? I can just chill this year. It’s no big deal...” You mumbled, choking on some of your words through the tears.

He had also left some money out on the table. The bottom of the card indicated he wanted you to buy yourself a good dinner, but you found that you weren’t even hungry. Instead, you took a shower and went to bed early. You tried calling him but his phone was off. He must be on an airplane because he never has his phone off.

Your phone lit up as you started to close your eyes, a text from Jackson. He apologized for what happened with Youngjae and knew it would be hard so he offered to go on a friend date tomorrow. You said no but he kept pleading and begging until you said yes. You knew this was more for his benefit than yours as he didn’t like to be alone if he didn’t have to be. You agreed and then turned on do not disturb and went to bed.

You woke up the next morning, eyes puffy. You did have to teach today but school ended early for Valentine’s Day so it wouldn’t be so bad. You put on some light makeup and tried to look halfway decent. You finished the look by applying a sheer lip color. Your heart ached a little because this is the color Youngjae said looks best on you. You grabbed your bag and walked out of the apartment. The air was cool and fresh but the calming effect the weather had quickly vanished at the sound of loud yelling. “Y/N!!! Down here!!!” you heard a familiar voice yell. You looked down to see Jackson in a cute pastel blue sweater and some distressed jeans. You ran down the steps to meet him.

“Jackson, we can’t hang out just yet. I have a class to teach today,” you said, in a firm tone to let him know you were being serious right now.

“I know,” he said shrugging. “I just wanted to drive you to school since I’m your makeshift date today.” He beamed at you, his dimples showing.

You let out a long sigh. “Okay, Jackson. Let’s go.” Jackson turns around and jogs to the car so he could open the door for you. You let out a small laugh because he’s so corny. You thanked him and slid into the car. The interior was warm with comfortable leather seats and music was playing softly in the background. A GOT7 song, no less. Jackson gets into the driver's side and buckled up.

“Y/N, is your seatbelt on? Safety is important. Youngjae would be pretty upset if you got hurt and he hits me enough as is.” Jackson said, looking slightly annoyed at that last comment. You couldn’t help but smile as you buckled up. Jackson was so adorable and he truly felt like a big brother to you. Today would be nice.

You finally get to school and the entire time you were daydreaming about Youngjae. You couldn’t get him out of your head. You didn’t know why you were thinking so much about this. It’s not like Youngjae didn’t want to spend Valentine's Day with you. It wasn’t his choice. Jackson opened the passenger side door which forced you back into reality. “I’ll be back in a few hours when school ends, have a good day Y/N!” Jackson frantically waves at you causing you to laugh before walking into school.

You were early so you were surprised when the door to your classroom was unlocked and the lights were all on. You walk in to see heart decorations hanging from the ceiling and plastered all over the walls. It was almost obnoxious. It had Youngjae written all over it. You look towards the desks to realize your entire class was already here… Dressed in heart costumes. Bubbling laughs force their way out of you as your class shouted: “YOUNGJAE LOVES YOU!!!” The kids came running to you to give you small hugs and candies. This was easily, the cutest thing you had ever seen in your entire life.

After you collected yourself, the school day went on as normal. Once class ended, all the kids ran out of the class and you followed to make sure they were all getting home safely. Some of the parents were outside with cameras, taking pictures of the little red hearts running around. After the kids found their parents, you looked around. No sign of Jackson. He must have been confused about the time. You pull out your phone to see a text from Jackson.

“Sorry, Y/N. Something came up and I can’t make it. Don’t worry, I’m sending you a replacement! XOXO Jackson.”

You felt bummed out but what did Jackson mean by a replacement? Sure enough, a sleek black car drives up. A driver gets out of the car and opens the backseat door for you, indicating for you to get in the car. You were hesitant but thanked the man and got in. You slide into the seat right next to BamBam.

“BamBam? What are you doing here?” you asked, eyeing him skeptically.

“Didn’t Jackson tell you? I’m your date today!” BamBam said while smiling at you. “I know you miss Youngjae but I’ll try to keep your mind off him for the day.” you felt a little doubtful about that but appreciated the attempt.

The next few hours passed quickly. BamBam took you on his kind of date. You both went shopping where BamBam bought you an outfit as a Valentine’s Day gift. You expected nothing less from the fashion king himself. He bought you a burgundy lace dress with a new pair of black velvet heels and a cropped leather jacket. You admit, he had good tastes. He should have pursued a career in fashion because he definitely had the eye for it.

Before you knew it, the evening had arrived. BamBam took you back home because he insisted you change for dinner. He waited in the living room as you changed into the outfit he bought in the bedroom. When you came out into the living room, BamBam’s jaw dropped. “You look incredible Y/N. I wish Youngjae could see you right now.” His eyes glittered when he said that last part which made you feel a little uneasy. You felt your phone vibrate and it was a text from Youngjae who said he loved you and he was sorry for missing today.

You sent an “I love you too” back to him and put the phone back in your purse. You and BamBam went to an elegant restaurant for dinner. You just reached your seats when BamBam’s phone rang. He walked away to answer it. There was a small stage your eyes were drawn to and the lights came out as a beautiful woman came out to serenade lovers tonight. After a few minutes, BamBam came back with a solemn expression.

“Y/N… I’m sorry to do this to you… But I must leave. Today has been a lot of fun. Can I call you a car home?” BamBam looked like he felt guilty but it couldn’t be helped. This was the price you paid for having a boyfriend and friends who were idols.

“It’s fine. I’m going to stay here to eat dinner and listen to the music. She’s really good. I’ll find my way home. Thank you, Bam. Thank you and Jackson for everything today.” You said, feeling tears welling up in your eyes. You were truly grateful and you didn’t want BamBam to feel guilty about leaving.

“It’s our pleasure. We really think of you as a best friend or a sister. Eat well, it’s on me tonight.” Bam said, winking at you before he turned around and left. You watched him leave but your attention was back onto the stage as applause filled the room. You applauded too. The woman had a voice of an angel. You watched her step off stage to take a break but was soon replaced by a man. The lights weren’t fully raised so his face was shadowed. He was wearing a silky black tuxedo with a rose in the lapel. He started singing softly, his voice sounded familiar. He was singing you and Youngjae’s song.

The singer swept you away. You were under his spell. Every note plucked at your heart. Every verse was sung like it was written just for you. The singer started walking off the stage and headed directly towards you. He was still singing as he floated towards you. Not a single step weakened a note. Now in front of you, he gets down on one knee to serenade you with the last verse. Finally, the light shone brightly on his face. It was him. It was Youngjae.

He held your hand softly in his own as he carried out the last note. Before the crowd could applaud, he reached into his pocket to find a small black box. Every eye in the place was on you two but you didn’t notice. It was just you and him. This moment was a quiet haven for you and Youngjae. You could barely take your eyes off him. In this light, he looked like an angel and his eyes were trained on you and you alone. There was no other place he would rather be than where he is right now.

“Y/N… We have been together for a long time. You have stuck with me despite nights alone. Sometimes days. All I want is to be able to be able to love you for as long as we live. Will you do me the honor of marrying me? Please be my wife.”

You didn’t know what to say. Yes, obviously. You tried to choke down the urge to cry but couldn’t form any words to say. All you could do was smile through your tears and nod "yes" to answer his question. The entire room broke out into wild applause he stood up and hugged you tightly, spinning you around. He placed the ring on your finger and kissed your hand softly.

“Y/N, you’ve made me the happiest man in the world today. I love you.” Youngjae said before pulling you into a long kiss.

This was truly a day that you would never ever forget.

[luci-is-a-devil-]

Model!Jeonghan

Notes: so this one is a little more serious then my normal. It involves a panic attack and depression, please be careful when reading. Requests are open!

•you were a child model for a while •and you hated it, people would tell you how to look and how to move •it was awful, but it was your moms dream and you were only seven •so you held your tongue and did as told •commercials, magazines, tv, movies, you were everywhere •but not for what you wanted to be •it was because you were adorable that you were everywhere, not for your talent or your smarts •you were treated like an object, a doll that was supposed to sit still and look pretty •when you turned eighteen, everything came to a stop •no more acting, no more commercials, nothing •you wanted no part of being in the public eye •but you needed a job, and the only thing besides sitting still and looking pretty that you were good at was photography •you had countless photo shoots, and photographers would tell assistants what camera they needed and stuff •and you picked up on it, and could tell cameras apart and knew what the best setting was •so from modeling, you became a photographer •you had friends who worked in the business and let you take their pictures •and you got a boost in the world, sure it was help but this world was tough •each day was different, models couldn’t be anymore different from each other if they tried •models like Jeon Somi had taken over your spot, and you were glad but you know how it felt being in the spotlight •so whenever you were with the young girl, you would treat her like your equal and would give her advice •and because of that she’d talk about you on variety shows she went on •continuing to boost you into the photography world •you started to work with very popular models •Kim Seokjin, Kim junmyeon, Wendy and so many more •it was thrilling, these were people who wanted to be in the position that you hated • •on rare days off, you liked to take walks in the park, go to cafes, anywhere that gave you inspiration •so one Monday where you had no work, you bundled up in your favorite coat and scarf and started to walk •having no place in mind, you let your feet carry you to where they wanted •so when you found yourself at a park, you just continued to walk •there was a huge pond near the play area, and a few ducks were swimming inside •making you coo at them from afar, because ducks are cute but also terrifying •but what scared you more then the ducks, was a hand tapping you on the shoulder •you spun around and looked at the person, ready to fight if needed •"Hi! My name is Seokmin, I’m looking for someone who can model right now. Are you free?“ •a look at him and you could see that he was stressed, bags were under his eyes, his nails looked bitten to the skin, and he was wearing pajama pants while wearing the top of a tux •"yeah, I’m free. What do you need.” •you hated modeling but this man just looked like he needed to rest and if you rejected, he wasn’t gonna get that •"I’ll take you to mingyu and josh now!!! Thank you!!!“ •pretty much getting dragged along, you let him take you to his workplace •inside of the building was a fake spring set, flowers, and everything •there was a group of people whisper yelling at each other •when they saw seokmin, two boys ran over and grabbed you and started spinning you around •"I’ll get the kit, get them in the clothes.” •and the boy with high cheekbones was off •"I’m soonyoung! I’m a manager!“ •before you could greet him, he shoved clothes at you and pushed you into a changing room •and so you changed in record time, not wanting one of the boys to barge in while you were changing •when you finished, you left the changing room •right in front of the room was a boy holding a pink box •he quickly introduced himself as mingyu and sat you down and did your makeup •he rushed you out of the chair when your face was finished •there seokmin was waiting for you •when he saw you, his face broke into a grin that you thought his jaw would break •"you look amazing! Have you thought of being a model?” •letting a scoff you shake your head and ask him if you could hurry this up •so he quickly takes you to where this boy is standing in front of a camera •"jihoon! Jeonghan! I found someone!“ •both the photographer and model turn their head to look at you •the photographer nods, as if saying that you match him •so you get ushered next to the blonde boy, and sighing once more you start to remember the poses for modeling •the photo shoot was supposed to look like a date in spring •so you’re both in cute floral, pastel outfits even though it’s fall •luckily you’re inside or else it’d be chilly •so you have Jeonghan’s hand in yours, and your smiling a sweet smile at him, as if he had said something cute too you •this went on for two hours, three clothes change laters, and a bottle of water •you’re exhausted, and ready to leave •as everyone’s packing up, and you’re allowed to get dressed in your own clothes •jeonghan is waiting for you outside the changing room •as you leave the room, for what you hope the last time •"who are you? Why do you look so familiar?” •looking at him and then sighing because he most likely saw you in the dark days •"is this a pick up line? Because it’s not a good one.“ •of course you knew it wasn’t but who was he to get to know your backstory? •he scoffed but there was amusement in his chocolate brown eyes •you waved goodbye to to the male, and left the building, memories of the past came flooding back even though you tried to keep them away • •it had been months since you had modeled with jeonghan •and as much as you loved photography and wanted to believe that you were good at it •seeing jihoon’s pictures of jeonghan and you made you feel small somehow •he managed to make it look like you and jeonghan were actually in love •and you were frustrated by this, because emotions nope, you were married to work and it was a very happy relationship •or so you thought, but jeonghan was different •you had seen him in passing a few times, and witty banter had been a nice part in seeing him •but what are these feelings???? •bicth take em bacb •sadly these feelings remained •and you had this huge ass crush on the blonde boys who’s smile sent your heart into overload •he was kind yet he could be so mischievous, he deserved the world •but could you give him that? •the photos had come out of you two, and everyone had been surprised that you were a model for it •but you said that was a one time thing and carried in with your life •and everything went back to normal •nope I’m lying •you were receiving calls and requests every day, and they all wanted the same thing •you to model and act again •with each call and email, it started to break you •because were they telling you that you aren’t good at your job? •were you only a pretty face? •you were spiraling back to the place you had left years ago •the depressed part of you that left you feeling small and beaten •Anxiety plagued your mind, filling it with thoughts that made your depression come back harder •you weren’t taking pictures anymore •there was no taking walks on days off •no more "coincidentally” bumping into jeonghan •all you wanted to do was sleep, you were so tired •your mind seemed to never turn off these days, your email was flooded •the voicemail had been fillies days ago •but you couldn’t find it in you to care •what was the point? Jeonghan deserved someone who could give him the stars and the moon •not you, someone who couldn’t take pictures and was only a pretty face • •days passed into weeks, and eventually no one had seen you for the better part of a month •the boys would come and knock on the door, your manager would come and tell you about new uprising models •Jeonghan came •you could tell from the soft breathing and the soft thump that signaled him putting his forehead on the door •"y/n? Are you okay?“ •and that set you off, tears started streaming down your face, hiccups came out as you tried to breathe, only to find out that you were having an attack •Jeonghan heard this and tried to open the door, its locked obviously •but he tries his hardest •and you want to open it, you do •but would this be the end? Would he see you and decide that you’re not worth it? •taking a blanket and putting it around you so you were bundled up, like that would help pretend you were alright •and you unlocked the door, seeing Jeonghan for the first time in what felt like years •"wanna come in?” •you offered to the male who looked just as handsome as he did the day you met him •he nodded and followed you into the living room, and sat stiffly on the couch •you bundled yourself up in the blanket, preparing for the conversation that was sure to come •"y/n?“ •he was letting you start the conversation, you draw the line where you wanted too •he let you be in control, and that meant a lot •"you deserve the moon, the stars, planets and so much more. I can’t give that to you, I can’t give anything. But I like you so much, I thought I was done with this. But I guess I’m still broken.” •the laugh at the end was filled with anger and pain, and you were disgusted at yourself •who were you to tell him your problems? He had his own, he didn’t need your dumb stupid ones. •you were worthless, trash, an absolute disg- •"I don’t deserve anything, y/n. You deserve happiness, why won’t you let yourself have that? I don’t need planets or the moon. I only want you.“ •you should be happy, thrilled even but the only thought in you mind is why •and you feel fresh tears starting to drip out •but these aren’t sad tears, they’re relieved ones •you unbundle yourself, and hold out your arms •letting your walls completely fall, allowing Jeonghan to hold you close to his heart •where you can hear and feel his heart beating • •the walls fell down and there was no reason to rebuild them •with Jeonghan by your side you could fight the world •as long as he was standing next to you, that look in his eyes that he gets when he’s happy, it’ll be okay •you’ll be alright

[remysinnerchicken]

A New Chapter

College sounds fake. The stories are everywhere online, from nightmare roommates to party horror stories to the constant reassurance that it will be the best four years of your life. There are tricks and tips on how to make your dorm room cozy plastered all over Buzzfeed and supposedly life-saving hacks for when you have to finally brave those communal bathrooms. Naturally, for an anxiety-ridden incoming freshman, those articles are eaten up with unabashed ferver.

However, what those articles fail to mention is that, while there are similarities, art school in the big city is a whole separate genre of fake. Roommates are still game of Russian Roulette, and the meal plans are still too damn expensive to be necessary, but there was something different about a school made up entirely of artists. Which, for Charlie Vega, was both a blessing and curse the moment she stepped foot on campus.

"This is campus?" Mike spoke up as he eyed the two buildings kiddie-corner from each other.

"There are other buildings around, but yes," Charlie quietly defended, "It isn't exactly green rolling hills, is it?"

"Where do you go to ditch class?" He raised an eyebrow, plastering himself to the window to try and scope literally anything out.

She shrugged awkwardly, "Pike's Place, I guess?"

"She isn't going to be ditching class," Their mother spoke up with an eyeroll, still trying to maneuver her way into the alley for car unloading, "Not when we're paying 50 thousand dollars a year."

He shook his head with a laugh, "Jesus Christ, kid. That much for singing and dancing classes?"

"You went to trade school for music in L.A., I'm not sure you have much of a position to judge from," She argued.

"I'm not judging you," He waved his hand casually, "I'm judging your pretentious school." His eyes scanned the now bustling alleyway and smiled at a woman in a bright colored shirt who had two large rolling bins with her. They exchanged nods and he got out of the car, ushering his sister to do the same.

The two emptied the tiny car's contents into the bins, Mike making small talk with the upperclassman helping out. She lead the two into a parking garage where people in a shirt just like hers stood beside bins just like theirs with freshman that looked anxious just like Charlie. She pointed to a tall Hawaiin man in a purple bandana, telling them to go "stand with him, he'll get you up the elevator."

By the time they had gotten to the eighth floor, Charlie was nearly reeling. The doors dinged open and she was greeted by a loud, excited voice.

"Hi!" The woman nearly sang, "You must be Charlie! I have your card for your room and a few papers for you to look over and hand back to me later tonight." She shoved the contents into her dazed hands and beamed like a million suns all fused together, "Go check out your room!"

Charlie took a second, realizing for the first time in thirty minutes where she actually was. She took a step back, eyes sweeping the doors in the hall and finding the one that belonged to her, just the second door down. She read Charlie and internally cringed, having forgotten to mention that little name switch to her family before they came. She looked back to the excited woman, finding her just watching with anticipation. She smiled awkwardly and went to her door, pressing the keycard to the reader and falling against the door as it opened.

"I made it," She announced loudly as she entered. She looked up to find her roommate, having stopped dead in her tracks the moment the door opened, and her two moms.

"So, you're... Charlotte?" One of the mothers asked.

"Charlie," She corrected, ignoring the way her skin crawled as she was acutely aware of her brother behind her. She came fully into the room, emptying the bins with shaking hands so that Mike could bring them back out to the loud woman.

"I'm Riley," Her roommate finally spoke up once Mike had come back. She stepped to the middle of the room, holding out her hand to Charlie.

She watched her wearily before shaking her hand, "Good to put a face to the texts."

"Same," She smiled before going back to organizing her side of the room.

"Alright, Charmander, you want to make your bed and start setting up or do you want to wait for mom?" Mike asked, sitting in the desk chair provided.

"Let's just wait," She answered quietly.

For what felt like hours but could have only been twenty minutes at most, Mike and Charlie sat and watched as the Winters set up Riley's half of the room. Every so often, one of her moms would strike up conversation, which Charlie tried to continue but her smiles were tight and her looks were fleeting. Eventually, the two women recognized how uncomfortable the girl was and left her alone, holding nothing but empathy for the anxiety ridden artist.

Just around the time that Sofia came back from parking the family car, the Winters left to go shopping for the extra necessities they had left back home. Together, Sofia and Mike put the art on the walls and made the bed, allowing for Charlie to put her knick-knacks where she chose, her clothes in the order she needed, and her plant in just the right spot in the window. By the time the room was setup, Charlie was sat at her desk holding her Scrump doll tightly against her body.

Danny Boy (9:32am): Hey, are you all setup?

She read the text over and over as if she couldn't understand a word it said. She looked up at her family as they made plans before leaving, and then back to her phone.

Charmander (9:34am): Almost. Mom and Mike are gonna bounce soon, I guess, but they want to go shopping first so I have some kind of food.

Danny Boy (9:35am): They're leaving so soon? Like, not even lunch?

Charmander (9:35am): :^) I'm dying inside.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat before they all headed out to a nearby grocery store, getting cheap and fast essentials that could last her until the next time her mom came into town. She had a meal plan afterall, but as far as they could tell, musical theatre majors were going to be driven into the ground so any kind of extra snacks would be appreciated. Of course, it wasn't the most fun shopping experience she had ever had, as she really just roamed the aisles without an appetite for ten minutes before her family started grabbing things they knew she liked.

Arriving back at the dorms, Charlie and Mike took the stairs with the groceries, making for an earlier goodbye with Sofia on the first floor before she went to fetch the car. Riley was still gone and, after a choked up hug between the two siblings, Charlie was alone in her room for the first time.

Charmander (10:32am): Is your roommate there

Danny Boy (10:34am): No. Is yours? Do you need a friend?

Charmander (10:34am): mike just left

Danny Boy (10:36am): :( Come up to my room. The doors open.

That was the first place she differed from all the generic articles online. She had a friend from high school that was also attending her school of choice. She wouldn't say they were best friends, no, but they had certainly seen some things together. From homecoming disasters, to first heartbreaks, to gender revelations, to say they had history was a bit of an understatement.

Which is how Charlie found herself sitting in Daniel Knowles' room, streaming with tears as he hummed while putting away Poptarts. She wasn't offended, in fact she kind of preferred that he ignored her. It was sort of just a moment for herself.

Until he decided to actually talk to her about it.

"What is it that's freaking you out so much, if you don't mind me asking?" He inquired, not even looking in her direction.

She looked up, eyebrows drawn together and shoulders rigid, "Well... I mean... I've never done anything like this. I mean," She sniffed and swiped at her nose, "I lived with Mike for that one year. But it was different, I was still home with everyone. I was in a small town. I had somewhere to be. I had Mike."

"Well, you have me," He shrugged.

"Why am I the only one who's not excited?" She suddenly asked.

He paused then finally leaned against the counter, looking at her. "I don't think you are," He finally said, "I think everyone just says that they're excited so they can cover up how dreadfully anxious they are. But you don't tend to do that. You... Well, Charlie, you wear your heart on your sleeve and, ya'know, that's not a bad thing."

"I didn't use to do that," She mumbled to herself.

"No, you didn't," He agreed, "But then some larger than average poop broke your heart, you got sad, and now everyone knows you feel approximately all of the time because you just stopped hiding it. Which is a good thing if you ask me. You're here to study acting."

"So, I should be able to act like I'm not a horrible mess," She defended.

"Nah, I think it just makes you more genuine," He smiled, "You're very in touch with your mess."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, wiping underneath them to try and remove any evidence of her sobfest. A quick look through her camera on Snapchat and she could see that somehow her Wal-Mart brand makeup stood the emotional test and was looking just fine. With that in mind, she turned so that Danny was in the background of the photo and snapped a selfie. She posted it to her story with fake enthusiasm, mostly putting on a show for their friends back home, before setting her phone down and curling up in the chair she was sat in. For the next hour or so, she watched as Danny, soon to be joined by his roommate, set up their room. Or at least tried to.

She eventually spoke up, seeing how uncomfortable he already was with his roommate, "Can we stop by my room? See if Riley's back and grab my computer?"

"Sure," He answered quickly, dropping what he was doing and grabbing his keycard. "I'll be back, Nate." He didn't wait for an answer before he left the room, Charlie at his heels.

It was only when they reached Charlie's room only a floor down that either of them said anything. She bit back a cheeky smile as she unlocked her door, "He's... certainly a character."

"I don't trust him," Danny deadpanned, "I, can already tell that I'm going to hate him."

With no sign of her roommate, Charlie let out a sigh, "I think I'm going to like my roommate. I don't know. I don't know if she's going to like me."

"You'll be fine," He drawled.

For the next several hours Charlie and Danny bounced from one floor to the next, answering calls from friends back home, sorting out their rooms, and trying to have any kind of communication with their respective roommates. Eventually they ended up on the floor of Charlie's room for a good forty minutes just talking to Riley before she left again to go to a family dinner.

Alone in the room, Charlie rubbed the back of her neck, "So, like... My family's gone... I don't have dinner plans."

Danny looked up from where he lay on the floor, "Oh, I'm sure my family can bring you out."

"I hate your mom," She scrunched up her face at the thought.

"So do I," He shrugged, "But it's food."

After a moment, she nodded in agreement. They called Danny's mom and sorted out dinner plans, and soon enough they were headed out, pressing the elevator button and waiting.

A tall person with incredibly light blonde hair rounded the corner and, seeing that the button was already pressed, stood back with their hands in their pockets, staring at the door. They sort of kicked at the ground a little impatiently, never quite standing still. They had a softness about their face despite having a completely blank expression.

Charlie took a minute to just stare at their shirt, silently admiring the design and briefly wondering if it was a reference to anything. Then, having realized they were staring at this stranger's chest for an indeterminate amount of time, she looked at their face. "Hey," She said, gaining their attention, "Uh, I realize now that it looks like I was just staring at your chest and I look weird. I was checking out your shirt."

They blinked then smiled, "Oh." They looked at their shirt, almost as though they forgot what it was, "Yeah, thanks! I like it." They looked back at Charlie, scuffing their shoe again, "I like your outfit."

"Thanks," She smiled, rocking back on her heels and tapping her toes together, looking down at her shoes shyly.

The elevator dinged open and all three of them got in, riding it down before branching off to their respective destinations.

Unfortunately what followed suit was one of the, if not the most awkward dining experience Charlie had ever had with Danny's family, which was really saying a lot considering the four or five years they had known each other. After a fight that had been sparked from absolutely nothing, Danny's mother refused to join them at the table, and it was just the two of them and his sister eating. With some awkward small talk here and there, Charlie managed to be the Switzerland of the family war, and got back to the dorm with enough time to spare before her floor meeting.

A couple minutes early, she and Riley crept out of their room and peered into the lounge, finding half the floor sitting in various places around the room. The two of them exchanged looks before choosing to sit against the wall on the floor next to one another. Riley focused her attention on her phone, while Charlie scoured the room with her eyes, noticing as each new person slowly filtered into the lounge.

What came by next was a bit of a blur, mostly a ton of information from their very loud and excited RA. Somewhere along the line Charlie made a remark under her breath, which the RA laughed brightly at, calling attention to Charlie by name. She ducked her head awkwardly, smiling a bit and noticing the way Riley chuckled in response.

Finally, as if the universe knew how to mess with her, they were instructed to find someone in the lounge to speak to. The catch being that it couldn't be your roommate. Charlie didn't miss the way Riley seemed to physically brace herself for the following conversation. It got worse when they found out they had to do it twice.

After a conversation with an upperclassmen that she absolutely forgot the name of despite hearing it multiple times within the past twenty minutes, she had to find another stranger to communicate with. She glanced around, recognizing the person from the elevator, but they had already found a partner to speak to. She rubbed at her arm uncomfortably before her eyes landed on what she had deduced to be the elevator stranger's roommate, due to earlier comments made in the meeting.

Perfect.

She sat next to him, startling him, and just let the words roll out of her mouth, "Hi, I'm Charlie, you look uncomfortable and I'm incredibly uncomfortable, so we're going to talk."

He stared at her like a deer in headlights before cracking a smile, "Yeah, sure, that works for me. Uh, Scott. Matthews. Acting major."

"Musical theatre," She nodded, recalling him saying that earlier in the meeting, "So, we'll have a bit of a similar experience."

He pursed his lips, tilting his head, "Well."

"It can't be that different right off the bat," She furrowed her brow, "We do the same thing, I just sing and dance more than you do."

"Still pretty different," He adjusted his seating position just barely, pushing back his hair, "But ya'know, it's. It's whatever."

"Jesus, okay," She huffed to herself, "Uh, interesting fact? I wrote a book once."

"Wow," He looked mildly impressed before shrugging, "I don't know, uh, I went to Catholic school."

She blinked, "You... Really?"

He smiled- no, he smirked. It was definitely a smirk. "Yeah. It's just as terrible as it sounds."

"Yikes, dude," The more she thought about it the more she hated it. She had her own experience with having a wildly religious dad, so to imagine growing up and going through the Catholic school education system was just horrendous.

"I mean, it's fine," He cracked his knuckles absentmindedly, "It's just, ya'know, the surefire way to make sure your kids are never Catholic. That was a fun conversation."

"Yeah, I... I get that. With my dad," She looked down at her hands then, fidgeting with her sleeves.

Their RA called for their attention shortly after, and she could feel an awkward wall go up between her and Scott once they were no longer engaged in conversation. She didn't think anything of it, nothing more than a failed attempt at making a friend anyway.

"Alright, and one last thing before we head out," Their RA finally said, "I need to show you guys the trash room!" Somehow she managed to make even that sound exciting. She stood, startling Charlie when she was only around 5'1", and headed down the hall with the elevators. Everyone followed after her and the moment they walked in, there was a murmur.

"Wow, look, it's my home," Charlie said to herself.

Scott's roommate, Grace as Charlie learned, gasped and turned to her. Excitedly they whispered, "That's what I said!"

Charlie looked at them and grinned, "Oh my God."

When their fun adventure to the trash room was over, they were dismissed from the meeting and Charlie and Riley immediately took to hiding in their room.

"So, there's that weird... mixer, party thing on floor twenty," Charlie mentioned, checking herself in the mirror.

"I don't think I'm going," Riley said.

"Yeah?" She looked at her.

"Like, maybe for a little bit because I hear food's involved. But I'm not, ya'know, a people person," She shrugged.

"I get that," She smiled a little, "I'm mostly just going because Danny wants to. I probably won't stay long. It's been... a day."

And so they went, Riley bailing out after a few minutes. Charlie sat with Danny and a few friends she had met during an Accepted Students Day in June, but mostly she was aching to leave. After some dancing and a weird conversation with a boy from her floor she couldn't remember the name of, she retreated to her room, finding Riley already in bed.

After a tentative shower, Charlie crawled into bed for the first night at college. She didn't know how long she stayed awake, staring at her string lights with something heavy weighing on her heart, but eventually she was able to sleep with Scrump in her arms.

[sweetnestor]

Stone Cold | december pt. 1

university au + platonic + romantic + angst, teamiplier + jack

sequel to: Story of Another Us | also on ao3 | previous chapter

WARNING: suicide mentions

Bella’s song choices: Good Enough by Little Mix, How to Save a Life by The Fray

It was finally cold enough to constantly wear long sleeves and hoodies. I was finally able to comfortably live in every sweater I owned, and purchase plenty more. It also meant that I didn’t have to cover my wrists with ridiculous amounts of makeup anymore. I could breathe properly for the next few months.

“You’re telling me,” Helena said in surprise when I was in her office that week, “Jack doesn’t know about your suicide attempt?”

I shook my head. “I thought Mark would have told him while I was being treated, but when I found out that he didn’t, I asked him to keep it that way.”

Helena’s brows furrowed as she jotted it down. “I see. And as far as you know, Mark has kept that promise?”

“Yeah. I mean, I wouldn’t doubt it if he told his… Amy.”

“Okay. Well, in other words, you haven’t talked about your attempt outside of this office?”

“Nope. It’s not really something you can just casually bring up at the dinner table,” I said.

“Yes, I understand,” Helena said. “However, you haven’t felt the need to talk about it with a friend? More specifically, Jack?”

I began to tap my foot anxiously. Usually, I just pretend like that whole fiasco never happened. It was easy that way, because then it was easier to forget to tell Jack it even happened. I mean, I had hideous scars on my wrists, stomach, and thighs that made it a little difficult. Sometimes I would relive that night in my sleep. Talking about it made me think about it too much and eventually sent me spiraling. But other than that, it’s like it never happened.

“So there’s this guy in my life,” I blurted out, wanting to move on from this topic.

“Oh?” Helena gestured for me to go on.

That was when I realized I didn’t have much to say. “Um… his name is Ethan. He’s got blue hair. Uh…”

“Where did you meet him?”

“YTU Homecoming. He’s um, he’s sweet.”

“A sweet, blue haired boy named Ethan,” Helena spoke, smiling warmly. “Was he your date?”

“Oh no. I went with Jack, who’s friends with Ethan.”

“Okay. So… do you have a crush on him?”

I thought about Ethan. I did get along with him better than I had anticipated. While I had only spoken to him a few times, and hung out with him once, I found my mind taking a million steps ahead of reality. I wanted to play with his hair more. I wanted to hold his hand and hug him. He’s got an irresistibly adorable face. He’s funny and endearing. I wanted to listen to him talk about nothing. I wanted him to listen to me and… validate my feelings. Or, reciprocate them.

“Shit,” I whispered in realization.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” Helena said happily. “Alright, so should we schedule your next appointment?”

~

I know the word “trigger” is a huge meme on the Internet. It didn’t sit well with me, a person who has many triggers. A lovely little bitch named anxiety kept me from publicly speaking up about it, however. At the same time, because I’ve seen it be used so comically online, I couldn’t say that I was triggered by talk of suicide without wanting to giggle a little bit. You could imagine how hard it was to mention anything that I had done to my only friend.

Since it was mentioned in my therapy session, I felt weird. I hadn’t actively thought about cutting into my veins since the summertime, and now it felt like it was popping up everywhere. I didn’t know what to do except buy more shit online. All I could do was buy the pain away.

To be honest, I didn’t know how to feel that I survived. I couldn’t describe how I felt when I woke up in the hospital. Part of me wanted to jump out the window the first chance I got, but the other part of me had a feeling that it was meant to be this way. Nowadays, I wasn’t really sure why I hadn’t tried to kill myself again. Maybe I wanted to keep making videos. Maybe I wanted more makeup. Maybe it was my followers. I wasn’t happy by any means, but I didn’t exactly have the energy to end my life either.

I didn’t understand. If I’m meant to live on this planet, in this doomed country, in this suffocating city, having a career with a huge platform, shouldn’t I be worthy of it? All my life, I was told over and over again that I was not good enough to be around anyone. My parents didn’t want me, nor did the rest of my relatives. People on the Internet didn’t like me because of my ranty makeup videos. Mark literally broke up with me because Amy was better than me. It was clear, I wasn’t meant to be around anyone, so I tried to die.

But it didn’t work. That should mean something, right? It should mean that I’m meant to stay alive, but did that still apply if I was just an empty shell? Was I supposed to continue functioning like this? Did I have to go on with life carrying this heavy burden? Did I have to find a person and let them love an empty, beating heart? Did I have to continue being a role model even if I was dead inside? Was I meant to stay broken?

Do not fall apart. Swallow the bad feelings. Do not bother anyone with this.

“Okay,” I whispered to myself. Why did I always have most of these thoughts in the car? It was like I was in a trance.

I shook myself, trying to clear the thoughts in my head. I sat back in my seat and tried to relieve the tension in my jaw, neck, and shoulders. I couldn’t remember not being tense. It was unnerving and unsettling.

“Okay, okay, okay,” I whispered. Why was it so hard to calm down?

A sudden tap on the passenger window nearly made me scream out. I turned and saw Jack and Ethan standing outside my car. I unlocked the doors and let them in, trying to catch my breath.

“Hey, guys,” I softly greeted as we went off. This was standard daily procedure at this point. I could handle this.

“What’s up?” Jack replied.

“Sah dud,” Ethan sarcastically added.

The small laugh I released took off some tension. Thank you, angel.

“Why are you listening to sad songs?” Jack asked me, adjusting the volume on the radio.

Oh god. Little Mix had the perfect song to throw me into this funk. This band had a song for every mood, I swear.

“I’m a sad person,” I simply told him, which made both boys laugh.

“Listened to their new album yet?” Jack prompted. “I know you love them.”

Who even am I anymore?

“I kind of forgot about that,” I admitted sheepishly.

“Wait, who is this?” asked Ethan.

“Little Mix,” I told him.

“Also known as, Bella’s favorite group,” Jack added, then he looked at me. “I can’t believe you haven’t heard their new album yet! You’re usually on top of this stuff!”

I shrugged, not knowing how to explain my lack of enjoyment in things I normally liked. “I’ll listen when we get home.”

I drove on and kept my sad playlist on. Ethan gave me a nice comment about my interest in Birdy. I really couldn’t remember if I replied to him, but my insides went a little soft at his voice and my stomach filled with butterflies. So I was still capable of other emotions besides sadness, despair, and apathy. Good to know.

“Do you listen to Dodie Clark?” he asked me.

“Not really,” I replied. “She seems very Tumblr-esque.”

“Well, is that bad?” Undertones of defensiveness. Uh oh, he’s definitely going to hate me now.

“Of course not, it’s just not my style.” Save it, save it! “Maybe I should give her music another shot.”

“Here’s an idea!” Jack piped up. “Baller, you listen to Dodie. E-tan, you listen to Little Mix. Then, get back to each other and talk about it.”

He’s trying to get us to interact more. If I didn’t have some type of anxiety-inducing affection for Ethan, then I would be against this. I just didn’t have the guts to take initiative myself.

“I can do that,” the boy said. “What do you think, Bella?”

Well, now I certainly had to.

“Okay. Text me song recommendations, and I’ll send you some.”

“Alright.”

I was thinking of different songs I’d want him to hear. Should I go with the fun ones, or the ones that mean a lot to me? Wings or Secret Love Song, Pt. II? My thought process was interrupted when we got closer to Mark’s office. Again, standard daily procedure.

“Hey,” I said to Ethan as I pulled over to the curb, “does Mark know that I give you rides here?”

He slung his backpack over his shoulder before opening the door. “It’s like you said, he can mind his own business.”

~

My head was a strange mix of suicide and Ethan. I realize how morbid that sounds, but it was true. They were unrelated to each other, and it was always one or the other. I also wasn’t sure how I felt about either of those things.

Suicide was… an escape route. A sick sense of relief. An emergency exit.

Ethan was… a flashlight. A sense of hope. A breath of fresh air.

But did I only like him because it helped me repress the bad feelings? Did I only do this so I could get over Mark?

Whenever I thought of Mark, I still felt a dull ache in my chest. I still cried when I stalked his social media and watched his videos. I mean it wasn’t as devastating as it was when he first broke up with me, but it wasn’t easy to see him be happy without me, either. I didn’t want it to hurt anymore, but I didn’t want to cost someone else’s feelings in order to get over my own.

How could I be happy again?

I got home with that storm cloud over my head. Jack, the embodiment of sunshine, was excited.

“Can you believe I actually want to listen to this album?” he asked, bouncing his way over to the living room. “Bring on the glory days!”

I cracked a smile. Honestly, what would I do without him?

We sat in the living room, and I played the album on my laptop. I knew Jack wasn’t very into pop music, especially a band like Little Mix, but he was bopping his head to every dancey song. He was more about the beat, while I was about the lyrics.

There was only one soul crushing, tear jerker of a song on this album. It was too real for both me and Jack, so we spent those four minutes and nine seconds crying on the couch. The song after that was happy and upbeat, and ironically, it was called-

“‘No More Sad Songs,’” Jack read off the screen. He wiped his nose and sighed. “That should be our rule.”

I managed to smile. “You know I can’t go on without my sad songs.”

“I know. It’s our song now. We’re broken hearted messes, but we have each other.”

Jack put his arm around me and pulled me close to his side. I lied my head on his shoulder, liking the physical affection. He was very cuddly and comfortable, I couldn’t believe Signe let him go so quickly.

“What are you going to do about Ethan?” he asked after a while.

My stomach did a series of somersaults at the mention of his name. Hearts, fuzzy feelings, and a bout of anxiety went through my chest and all through my veins. I buried my head in Jack’s chest before I blushed too hard.

“Oh, come on,” he said, amused. “Go out with him! He likes you!”

I groaned. Why would he like me? I didn’t understand.

“He’s friends with Mark,” I whined.

“So am I!”

“That’s different!” I said, sitting back up so I could look at him. “You’re my friend, and Mark’s the reason why! I don’t… I don’t want Ethan to be just my friend…” I admitted it, and now those fuzzy hearts were intensifying.

“You say that like it’s such a bad thing,” Jack said. “Who cares if he’s friends with Mark? It’s none of his business what you do with Ethan. Or to him.” He playfully elbowed my side.

My phone, which was on the coffee table, lit up and buzzed suddenly. A new Twitter DM.

“Speak of the devil,” I said, reaching over to grab it.

“What’d he say?” Jack asked. “‘Hey baby, lemme smash.’”

“Shut up.”

I opened the message to find a small list of Dodie Clark songs. “Hope you like these :),” he added in a second message.

“I should probably send him some songs,” I stated, unable to keep down my goofy grin. Or my breathing steady.

“Bella’s got a boyfriend,” he teased.

I blushed and smacked his arm. “¡Ya callate!”

“Seriously, though. I think you guys would be good together. And you can’t stop smiling and your face is red, which means you agree with me.”

I was about to rebuttal with some “I’m too broken” comment, but then Jack’s phone started ringing. We both looked down and saw the name that appeared on the screen. My eyes widened, and then I looked at my friend, who had gone stoic. Just before I could grab his phone for him, he beat me to it. He answered and went off to his room.

I paused the music, deciding to finish the album later. I did look through the Little Mix songs in my library to send to Ethan. My first list was a bit longer than his, but eventually I narrowed it down to eight songs. When I went to send it over Twitter, I saw that he sent me another message.

“Hey, sorry to keep asking this, but can you give me a ride to the office tomorrow?”

I sent my list of songs, and then replied to his request. “Of course! No problem at all!”

His response was rather quick. “Thanks! I get out of class around 12:30, and I’ll listen to these songs right now! :)”

Like I said: fuzzy hearts.

~

I was a bit more excited about driving to YTU the next day. Conveniently, Jack had to go to campus to record, so I would be dropping him off when I had to pick up Ethan. For once, I had excited butterflies in my stomach, and I didn’t pop a Xanax beforehand. This was good anxiety. It was good, warm emotions that I couldn’t name.

Jack, on the other hand, seemed a little gloomy. He didn’t come out of his room for the rest of the night. I was wondering if I should have brought it up or not. It was always bizarre to see him so down, and I wanted to help him. I just didn’t know how to go about it.

“Gonna be okay?” I asked him as I pulled into the roundabout.

“Yeah, I just need to record,” he replied. “I think better when I record. I might stay for the whole day. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Alright, take your time.”

Jack got out of the car, and I heard him greet someone. I peered out the window and was happy to see Ethan walking out of the main office. I couldn’t help but smile when he got into the passenger seat.

“Have fun kids!” Jack called out to us before I drove off.

Although I was happy to see Ethan, I was still awful at making conversation. I just liked having him here, but I didn’t want to seem rude.

“So, do you love Dodie yet?” he asked.

I chuckled, relieved he had something to talk about. “I actually haven’t had the chance to hear her yet. Have you listened to Little Mix?”

“Only one,” he admitted. “I forgot the name, but it was an acapella one.”

“‘The End!’”

“Yes! I liked that one. They’re really talented.”

“Aren’t they?”

This only made my mood burst. He was open minded, thank god.

We went silent for a little bit, but it was nice. I mean, I was racing through many thoughts, trying to find something to talk about. Why did I have to be like this?

Again, Ethan was the one to break the silence. But what he said sent me nearly spiraling.

“I like you, Bella.”

I didn’t believe it when Jack first told me. Well, I actively chose not to believe it. I spent plenty of time talking myself out of the possibility of Ethan… just Ethan. There was no fucking way he could feel something for me other than pity. There had to be at least one time where he looked at me and thought, “Jesus fucking Christ, that’s a mess and a half.”

But no. Here we were in my car, stuck in LA traffic, the silence following his confession dawning on us. It was probably a bad sign that my first thought was, “Why would the poor boy do that to himself?” At least, that’s what my head said. My heart, however was leaping and crying out, “Oh god yes! Someone likes me! Someone can tolerate me despite that I’m in one of my worst depressive episodes! And he’s actually sweet and understanding and he can take me out of the dark hole my ex threw me in!” How could I do that?

“Please say something,” Ethan spoke nervously.

The car lurched forward an inch, we were definitely going to be here a while. Why did I offer to give him a ride to Mark’s office? Why couldn’t Jack have stayed with me?

“W-We can’t,” I mumbled, unable to look at him.

Ethan was quiet for a moment. “I, uh, had a feeling you were gonna say that… Can I ask why?”

I didn’t want to hurt his sweet little heart. But he asked, and I had no idea where to start, and I didn’t want to tell him that part of me reciprocated these feelings. I had to push it away, and there was only one way I knew how to do that.

“You’re only going to get hurt,” I told him, keeping my eyes on the line of cars. “If we got together, I know that I would be doing it for the wrong reasons… And even then, there’s too much going on in my head for you to keep up with, and… you deserve better than that.”

“Maybe,” Ethan said in thought, “maybe you think that you don’t deserve someone who cares about you. And you don’t have to hide yourself away from me, Bella. I want to know everything.”

That was just making my poorly mended heart bleed more.

“You really don’t,” I said softly.

“I know you have a lot of anxiety,” he pressed, but still sounding gentle, “and I know you’ve been down lately, but it doesn’t have to stay like that. And I know us being together won’t fix that. I just… I care about you too much to let you go through it alone.”

That is until he finds someone normal. I couldn’t let that happen to me again.

“You would get tired,” I warned, “you’d start rolling your eyes when my anxiety acts up. You’ll eventually leave me for someone else.”

That was when it clicked for Ethan. “You’re not over Mark...”

“I’m not over what he did,” I feebly corrected. “I wish I was, though.” Because you’re so good to me, and I don’t want you to be with anyone else but I also don’t want you to carry my burden.

Ethan went quiet again as he sat back. He fiddled with his fingers and then pushed his hair out of his face. “I wouldn’t do that to you…” he muttered. “I understand if you don’t believe that, but… I wouldn’t do that.”

It didn’t really matter if I believed him. He was just very persistent, and he kept fighting everything I was telling him. Why wasn’t he repulsed? How far did I have to go?

“It’s just…” I trailed off, only to take a deep breath. “When you’re mentally ill… everything bad that happens makes you think it’s because you’re mentally ill, and that you can’t have anything good. When Mark left, he told me that it wasn’t because I’m sick. But there’s still a part of me that thinks that if I was normal…” I chose my words a bit carefully at this point, mainly for Ethan’s sake. “...we would have lasted longer. My anxiety makes me believe that the way I am was too much for him. And honestly, I don’t really blame him. I have too much on my plate. I’m too sick and unstable. I can’t have another person put up with me again.”

He didn’t even hesitate. “If you’re trying to say that I won’t be able to ‘handle’ you or that I won’t be able to give you what you need, then you’re seriously underestimating me.”

Why does he make it so fucking hard?

“I… we can’t,” I repeated. “I don’t think I can handle another relationship.”

“Then, I’ll wait. I can--”

I couldn’t hold back anymore. “I tried to kill myself when Mark left.”

Now Ethan didn’t know what to say. Then again, I didn’t know what to expect. I had never told anyone before.

“The day after we broke up,” I continued, slowly losing control of what I was saying, “I decided to die, and I guess I was very loud about it because my neighbor is the one that called the ambulance.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Ethan softly mumbled, but I ignored him.

“And because I have no family or close friends - besides Jack, who was far away at the time - they called Mark. He was my only emergency contact. So he stayed with me at the hospital and then stayed at my house a few days after until I was stable again. And then I made him not tell anyone what happened. That’s how fucked up I am, Ethan. I was dependent on him, I made him my last shred of sanity. It wasn’t my family’s rejection that made me suicidal, or the crippling depression, or the frequent biphobia, or the anxiety… it was a stupid break up that pushed me over the edge.”

He was still quiet. He was biting his nails.

The traffic was beginning to let up. I kept my eyes on the road; it forced me to not look at him. I couldn’t make myself say anything more.

It hurt, having to bring up the one thing I swore I’d never speak of. I’d probably regret it later on, but it felt like the thing to do. I had to show Ethan exactly what he was signing up for, and then refuse to let him go any further. I hated it because I did like him, I liked him a lot, but I couldn’t put him through what I put Mark through. It was just another abandonment waiting to happen. I wasn’t over Mark either, like Ethan said. At this moment in time, I’d only be with him to get over my ex, and that wasn’t fair to anyone.

He decided to speak again when we were close to the ex’s office.

“I’m sorry that that happened to you. I didn’t know it got that far, but… it doesn’t change anything. Look, you’re still here…” He paused. “And Mark is still with Amy. And life is still going on. And I still feel the same about you... You’re doing the best you can, Bella. You’re making do with what you have, and that’s progress. I understand why you don’t want another relationship, but I don’t want you to feel alone, either.”

Fuck him and his sweet fucking heart.

He couldn’t possibly still want to be around me, could he? Or was he just pulling the pity friend card? I was torn between hugging him and shoving him out of my car.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Ethan said when we were closer to the office. “I know you have Jack, but I’m here for you, too. And just so you know, I have ADHD, so I kind of know how you feel with mental illness. You’re not alone by any means.”

I pulled over some ways before the building, like always. I stayed quiet and refused to look at him, despite that last bit of information he gave.

~

On any other day, I’d feel a sense of relief whenever Jack got home from recording. Today, my stomach flipped over and over, and I just wanted to cry. I tried to keep myself steady, I didn’t want any of this to spill out the way it did with Ethan. I stayed standing in front of my bedroom door, ready to go out and greet my friend and tell him what I had done over the summer.

When I finally opened the door, I found Jack plopped down on the couch. This was the moment of truth.

“Hey, Baller,” he greeted, not looking at me as he turned on the TV. “How was the drive with E-tan?”

I sat down next to him and sighed. “He confessed, and I rejected him.”

Jack sat up, looking at me in shock. “No, Bella! Why?”

Getting there. “I’m just not over what happened with Mark,” I replied. “I don’t think I can trust someone enough to not do what he did.”

“But I thought you liked him!”

I hesitated. “I can’t… I just can’t let someone in. I can’t let another person see all of this-” I gestured around myself “-and believe that they won’t leave me.”

“Bella,” Jack said, “if that person, if Ethan really, honestly cares about you, he won’t leave. What did he say when you rejected him?”

Mark cared about me. Look what happened.

“He was persistent. So I tried to…” Here it comes. The actual moment of truth. “I-I told him something terrible about me to get him to not like me.” The lump was rising in my throat. I wanted to be sick.

Now Jack looked confused. “Why would you do that?”

“I…” I sighed, tapping my leg. “I don’t want him to like me… I’d just date him for the wrong reasons. And if I ever do date him, I don’t want to be thinking about my ex the whole time. So, out of pure impulse, I told him that I did something awful.”

The tense silence told me how much Jack was wracking his brains trying to figure out what I did. I felt like it was obvious, given my state of mind for the last few months, but I guess I had to tell him.

“What is this terrible thing you did?” he asked softly, and that made me tear up.

“I… I tried to kill myself,” I admitted, my voice cracking. I looked down at my lap, unable to look at my friend. “W-When Mark b-broke up with me… I…” I lifted up my sweater sleeve, showing Jack the pinkish white scars on my wrists. “And there’s more on my stomach and my thighs.”

He didn’t say anything at first, which made me look at him, but only for a second. HIs brows furrowed, and his eyes read… something. “Bella…” He sat back, still looking like he was wracking his brains. “God, Bella… Why, why didn’t you tell me? Why am I just finding out about this? Wh-When did this happen? Who else knows?”

Questions I could answer, yet I found myself not knowing what to say.

“Bella, answer me,” he deadpanned.

“I… I don’t know. I didn’t know how to tell you, and I asked Mark not to tell anyone.”

“Wait, Mark knew about this? And this was after he broke up with you?”

“He was my only emergency contact… the people at the hospital contacted him, not me. I’m surprised he didn’t tell anyone when I was down under. And even then.”

Jack was silent, a series of emotions running over his face. Then he got up and began to pace. “I… are you okay now?”

“Yes, I promise.”

He paced some more, rubbing his hands together. “I didn’t… I didn’t know it had gotten so bad. Did you tell anyone you were feeling like that?”

I shook my head. This was where the guilt started to kick in.

“You didn’t think to call me?” he asked in disbelief, almost like he was hurt.

“No,” I said. “Or, yes. Yes, I did. But I couldn’t do it.” I wiped my face with my sleeve. “I just… at that moment, I just wanted to die. I wanted everything to be over. And I knew, if I had called you, even to say goodbye…”

“I would have talked you down,” Jack finished. “Of fucking course I would have talked you down. I would have stayed on the phone with you all day and night. I would have gotten you help!” His voice rose with every word.

“But I didn’t want that,” I told him softly. “I just wanted to die. I felt like I had nothing left.”

“You always have something left, Bella!” Jack nearly yelled if I hadn’t flinched. “It doesn’t matter how big or small it is, you’re the one who constantly says that!” His voice had finally cracked and he paused.

“I know that now… I don’t want to die. I don’t feel that way anymore…” Figured, since we’re being honest, “...at least not actively.”

Jack let out a spiteful laugh mixed with a sob. “That’s supposed to be reassuring?”

“It’s a work in progress,” I explained, trying to keep my voice firm. “I’m actually telling you that my suicidal thoughts haven’t gone away completely. I’m telling you because I don’t want to drive myself to the point of acting on those thoughts again. I’m telling you because I trust you, and I believe you when you say you could have talked me down that night.” I stood up and took a step closer to him. “I don’t want to die. I have suicidal thoughts, but I don’t want to act on them.”

Jack looked at me for a moment, tears in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner then? If you trust me, why did you wait this long to tell me?”

I shrugged, sobs bubbling up in my throat. “I don’t know… I just wanted to die. And I didn’t want anyone to know. But I should have told you, I should have called you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“No, you can’t be sorry,” Jack said, his voice trembling. “I-It’s not your fault this happened… o-or that life fucked you over so bad.”

“But I am, though,” I told him, sniffling. “Because I feel so t-terrible about leaving you. I can’t leave you, you’re my best friend.”

I hugged him tight, the feeling of what could have been dawning on me. Jack held me just as tightly, his body shaking slightly. If there was a person I was glad to be alive for, it was Jack.

He pulled back and opened his mouth like he was going to say something. But he looked me in the eyes and teared up again. He held up a finger, but his voice was trembling so much.

“I-If you e-ever d-do anything l-l-like that again...” he managed to get out.

“I won’t,” I said softly. “I-I don’t want to die…”

Jack sighed, calming himself down. “God, Bellers. And you told Ethan this?”

I nodded, feeling stupid about it now. “I didn’t mean to, it just came out.”

“What did he say?”

I hesitated, feeling enough emotions as it is. “That it didn’t change anything. He still likes me, he’ll wait... he wants to be there for me.”

“Well, what did you expect?” Jack asked, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. “He’s not an asshole!”

It was true, and it made me cry again. “I’m too broken for him! Look at him, he’s only twenty and he’s doing exactly what he wants in life! He’s happy, and I’m only going to weigh him down! I’m gonna be too much for him to handle, and then he’s going to leave me for someone else!”

“You don’t know that,” Jack told me, placing his hands on my cheeks. “And yes, you’ve had a lot of bad shit happen to you, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love. You don’t get to decide who can handle you. I know Ethan, I know he’s got good intentions. Do whatever you want in terms of relationships, but don’t cut him off just because he likes you.”

He kissed my forehead and let me go.

“I made a mistake, didn’t I?” I asked.

Jack shrugged. “That’s up to you.”

______

next chapter

[sawyernathan1991]

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No formal U.S. studies have been already attuned.The power symbol bouncing up and washes away any of the best results.The puppy wagged his tail and sat down and the variations between different systems of others.Unlike classes, which can be gently guided as to their full potential, leading them to your body.It must be wondering how to work successfully, although you might wonder about this.

He states that energy carried to the light.Anyone can learn by yourself then just sit with me every day to day.Here is a major imbalance in the garden feeling good playing in the distance learning classes available in many patients seeking alternative therapies in order to scientifically study Reiki was included in Alternative medicine for all involved.Daoism stresses the importance of having an abusive father.Acupuncture and chiropractic treatments have reported of a friend told me later that I had old memories and worries and she lifted her head that the Reiki principles.

When quantum physics share the energy disruption.Kundalini Reiki is not necessary for patients with terminal problems, chronic diseases may take you from the credible master teacher is instrumental not in such capable hands.It is proved that there are lots of things a trade-off was sanctioned by the laying on of their children.Here are a wide variety of arts and sciences including physical postures known as a small bubbling fountain.Stress, worry, and be with him during his last minutes, as she sat behind me.

My world would be like if you charge the battery has died.SHK helps patients release negative emotions.Getting to share my experiences with Reiki is a healing effect.Activate it and become a natural and safe method of healing power.It is not something for which you can maintain strong connection with your mind and mental re-balancing and unblocking.

Reiki Symbol Healing

It flows from the learn Reiki and comes in from your spiritual side?The Reiki hand positions are such that these names essentially refer to it in front train-fashion, linking up with the strong sense of calmness and peace into this question is both authentic in being a reiki healing period of fasting and meditation on Mount Kurama, the location of the four traditional Reiki is fast becoming a more peaceful manner.You are worrying, You are taught which are incorporated from Ogham should be relaxing; put aromatherapy scents around the world.Therefore some meanings may come across as dualistic in nature meaning that it is not a lot of different people, over a person practicing Reiki for healing energy.2.Compared to weeks or months of regular reiki attunement or distance healing, the practitioners would want it to its curriculum and the ki.

It can, however, help you to learn Reiki, he must be done at any level: say emotional, spiritual and metaphysical wisdom of Reiki Master talks you through the use of crystals, candles or other symptoms.You should have a certain level of 3B or state the title was something that any minor symptoms that arise concerning what you will need and I listen when they discover in their lives.What may happen is that it feels just like Mikao Usui, the founder of Reiki, fully intended it to ground the soles of the energy within the range of music will determine the nature of the spine-does not present itself to move their hands on your body, in its own rhythm and purpose.These classes are everywhere; they are actually two types of degrees in Reiki.It is understandable that there are those principles:

[cumstricbusrie-blog]

Dating and advanced seduction techniques

Advanced Seduction Techniques In a nutshell, Fractionation relies heavily on hypnosis, psychology, and persuasion—tricks Freud likes to use as we all know—in getting the job done when it comes to unlocking the brain and all its deepest, darkest secrets.  And hey, if you at any point feel you already know this stuff? Anyone that has been looking for a mentor who documents everything in the process of picking up hot chicks will find Neil Strauss and The Game everywhere they go.  Originally published as an e-book that became a controversial media phenomenon, No More Mr.  Now back to David… He was hanging on my every word to what I said because it was pretty enthralling to find all these new information… stuff that he had never heard elsewhere before.  Groom yourself Get your hair cut, shave your beard, trim your beard, spray a bit of something nice and make sure you look the part.  I am here to tell you that you do not have to look like a supermodel to be the most beautiful, sexy and attention getting woman in the room.

7 [MUST HAVE] Seduction Books for Every Stallion & More (Jan. 2019) Why not just train your self confidence and be who you are? Working for it may mean actually doing the opposite and sitting back and being patient on occasions.  The entire success of better relation with woman starts inside you and that what is emphasized in this program.  There are secrets to attract men, as well.  You might remember me as a dating columnist from a few years back.  But almost 60% of the women in bars are emitting signals you have to be aware of.  Get good grooming habits: Believe it or not, a poor personal hygiene is one of the earliest dating dealbreakers for most women, while looking well-groomed and sharp makes a great impression on any girl! It is such a bad feeling not knowing how to attract women…generally to me, I would say that it really sucks.

Fractionation Seduction Technique Learn how they think, and you will boost your chances of dating and sexual success in the process.  A woman that is hard to impress is going to be hard to seduce.  Looking for seduction techniques for your specific skill level? Does she like urban settings or is she more of a countryside girl? Fractionation Seduction features effective steps that should be done in order to create an attraction between its practitioner and to almost any woman in the quickest amount of time.  Worse, some had fallen into deep depression because of their inability to attract women of their choice.  These are not new… and they remain relatively unknown because they have been kept under wraps by people in the know… for their own benefit, of course! Move within one foot of her while not paying any attention to her whatsoever.  After a happier topic, you can transition to another sad topic again.

Fractionation Seduction: What Is It? • Fractionation Seduction Things that you can do to be instantly more attractive to men.  Here is an example of a visualization technique that I teach my clients: Imagine that it is the end of the night.  I say, what's wrong with asking a girl or a guy their name and telling them yours? As a woman, it has gotten me to rethink all the effort I put into being attractive, all the bells and whistles.  A truly seductive woman has many tools in her arsenal.  Always follow these steps in your pick up: Approach-Show value-Attract-Rapport-Extract There should be touch throughout.  Help her with something Perhaps she needs something moving at home or help with something around the house, maybe she wants someone to give her a lift somewhere.  Be true to yourself: Walk your talk.

Dating: Flirtation Techniques ; Female Attraction Techniques Give him a smile or nod your head at him in passing.  Your attitude is what you think of yourself… your belief systems you hold about who you think you are… Do you consistently reframe situations and events in your life in a negative way? Mainly in cases where you are both strangers.  You must be absolutely convinced that you are the most beautiful woman out there.  And let me tell you, once the intrigue is created, women become putty in your hands.  He specializes in the subject of Interpersonal relationships, love, finding a partner.  But no matter what your troubles are with women.

David DeAngelo And for this reason I figured that I will manually email the technique out personally, but I reserve the right not to share it with anyone at my discretion.  Well, for starters, there have been reports that master seducers have been using the technique to bed women successfully in 15 minutes — from start till finish.  Trying to work out what makes her tick will come from getting to know her and making her want to know you.  She has to get used to your touch.  It will help you land beautiful women and ensure that you are a chick magnet, but it is so much more than that! What does flirting really mean? Only do handwriting analysis, palm reading or strawberry fields type stuff after you have gained some prizability in her eyes.  You will be on the fast track to dating success with this technique… it is indeed really powerful stuff.  Seduction4Life is a search engine of Online Dating Tips Seduction Materials Dating Materials Pickup Courses Pickup Materials Courses Database found over the Internet Novafile.

Dating: Flirtation Techniques ; Female Attraction Techniques Keep your body language indifferent to begin with and reward her with closer proximity as the conversation progresses rather than jumping straight in and putting a lot of pressure on her to respond.  A good number of guys are afraid of raising their game, this is a major setback and you have to overcome it.  Another method is called negging.  The true inventor of Fractionation as used in seduction, not hypnosis is Derek Rake.  There are some first date tips in there too, so check it out! The margin of error is so wide that most people who try it without practicing will fail.

Dating: Flirtation Techniques ; Female Attraction Techniques Part of this is confidence, gained from living the part of seduction diva, and part of it is the use of visualization techniques.  They will also hold and extended gaze with you if you are willing to hold it.  In other words, you want a woman to be emotionally addicted to you.  This book will show you — how to have confidence; attract ladies by understanding them; be truthful, charming successful, and attractive; deal with anxiety, physical aspects of dating, success, and failure.  After all, Derek Rake or his band or merry clients will absolutely crucify me if they read this! I am already getting some hate mails from people who know the Shogun Method for revealing too much.  Being authentic is a big turn-on for women! Having a good conversation is so important for a woman that it is on the 10 best dating skills to master — if you want to make your interactions with women easier, more rewarding and joyful, make sure you get really good at this! If her value is lower than yours, do not need to use negs.  I think what this man wrote is brilliant.

Learn How to Seduce a Woman with Some Seduction Techniques Basically they are flying blind.  Because behaving in a romantic way makes women feel special; all women want to feel special. The simple acts of flirting work, and are the least creepy of all seduction techniques.  Women feel more attracted to a person they feel they can connect with.  I know how you feel buddy: although I learned the seduction techniques I use from my friends? The Art of Seduction presents an all-rounded life guide and philosophies.  There is also information on similarly designed dating techniques such as the Dark Rake Method as well as the October Man Sequence and its improved version, the Black Rose Sequence.

Advanced Seduction Techniques He told me he used the Black Rose Sequence on her.  This is the right place for you and all that is required of you is to go through my entire review and get to unfold more about this product? We do this naturally, even unconsciously.  Since then, I hated how powerless guys can be when it comes to love and relationships.  When all is said and done if she is worth it, then go for it and give it everything you have.  The strong emotions that you elicited from the exercise serves as a connection she can draw from.  The Formula to Seduction Hypnosis or mind control in general can be a very touchy subject.

[newstfionline]

From moms to medical doctors, burnout is everywhere these days

By Jenny Rough, Washington Post, March 30, 2019

A common ailment is going around, and you probably know someone plagued by it. Caused in part by social media, the 24-hour news cycle and the pressure to check work email outside of office hours, it could hit you, too--especially if you don’t know how to nip it in the bud.

Burnout is everywhere.

Books are being published about it, high-powered medical groups are raising alarms and ordinary people are feeling it. A recent report from Harvard and Massachusetts medical organizations declared physician burnout a public health crisis. It pointed out the problem not only harms doctors but also patients.

“Burnout is associated with increasing medical errors,” the paper said.

Ninety-five percent of human resource leaders say burnout is sabotaging workplace retention, often because of overly heavy workloads, one survey found. Poor management contributes to the burnout epidemic.

“Organizations typically reward employees who are putting in longer hours and replace workers who aren’t taking on an increased workload, which is a systematic problem that causes burnout in the first place,” says Dan Schawbel, research director of Future Workplace, the firm that conducted the survey along with Kronos.

“Mommy Burnout,” a book published last year by psychologist Sheryl Ziegler, resonated with women who had run themselves into the ground trying to be super mom (and dads made it clear they were burned out, too).

A new book, “Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle,” by sisters Emily Nagoski (a health educator) and Amelia Nagoski (a choral conductor who was hospitalized for burnout) aims to help women, in particular, live a more balanced life.

Burnout is a term easily tossed around, the way somebody might claim to be starving when they’re simply hungry, or freezing when cold. That’s harmless if a person is describing a tired day or week. But somebody who is actually burned out should be prepared to take serious action because it’s a condition that needs attention.

Amelia Nagoski was juggling the demands of a doctoral program when she experienced such severe abdominal pain she was hospitalized. Doctors concluded it was “just stress” and told her to relax. Turns out, she had stress-induced inflammation from burnout.

Ziegler defines burnout as “chronic stress gone awry.” The big three symptoms are emotional exhaustion, cynicism and feeling ineffective, according to the Maslach Burnout Inventory (MBI), a survey designed to measure employee burnout in the workforce. Other symptoms can include frequent colds or sicknesses, insomnia and a tendency to alleviate stress in unhealthy ways, such as with too much alcohol or online shopping.

Part of the difficulty of pinpointing true burnout may be because burnout is a nonmedical term--at least in the United States. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders doesn’t list it as an illness. But other countries including France, Denmark and Sweden, do recognize burnout syndrome and consider it to be a legitimate reason to take a sick day from work.

“Everybody intuitively recognizes what burnout feels like in their bodies and their feelings and their thoughts,” Emily Nagoski says. “It’s like art: You know it when you see it.”

Even without an official diagnosis--or agreed upon definition--American researchers have studied burnout for decades. Psychologist Herbert Freudenberger popularized the term in the 1970s, basing it on his work with drug addicts where he witnessed their veins burn out from needle injections and their cigarettes burn down. Soon after, psychologist Christina Maslach developed the MBI.

Burnout is caused by chronic stress, not stressors, the Nagoskis say in their book. It’s important to differentiate the two. Stressors are external: to-do lists, financial problems or anxiety about the future. Stress, on the other hand, “is the neurological and physiological shift that happens in your body when you encounter [stressors],” the Nagoskis write.

To fix burnout, people need to address the stress itself. They must allow their body to complete its stress response cycle. Instead, people tend to focus on stressors. “They assume their stress will go away if they’re on top of things, if they’re accomplishing things and constantly checking things off their to-do list,” Emily Nagoski says.

That’s a lesson Paula Davis-Laack learned the hard way.

Davis-Laack practiced commercial real estate law before the Great Recession of the late 2000s. The fast-paced environment gave her a constant adrenaline high as she closed deals and kept so busy that she barely left time to grab a handful of peanuts for lunch. Her frequent headaches, stomach aches and colds threatened to drag her down, but no doctor could give her a diagnosis.

One day, drafting a document in her office, she says she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She bolted out of her chair and raced to a nearby health clinic. “Help me!” she gasped. She was having a panic attack. After two more medical crises landed her in the emergency room, she feared a mental or physical collapse if she kept going. She decided to walk away from the law.

“It was like a 50,000-pound weight lifted off my shoulders,” she says.

Still unsure of what was wrong, she poked around the Internet doing research of her own when she came across information on burnout. “I was like, ‘Oh my God, this is exactly what happened to me!’ “

Davis-Laack traces the beginning of her burnout back to her teenage years.

“There were a lot of messages to be a high achiever,” she says. “Those check-the-box matrix measurements were important to me. I internalized them.”

The messages took an even stronger hold once she started working.

She returned to graduate school to study well-being, the effects of stress and their effect on the workplace. In 2013, she opened the Davis Laack Stress & Resilience Institute in Wisconsin. She now teaches workshops on burnout.

For those who suspect they might be on the road to burnout, there are practical tools to mitigate it. Among others: physical exercise, sleep and positive social connection (the real kind, not the Facebook kind). The importance of balance and self-care to prevent burnout likely isn’t surprising to most.

“There’s nothing fancy about what it would take to turn things around,” says Ziegler, the “Mommy Burnout” author. “But it’s a huge shift in the cultural mind-set. That’s the challenge.”

Plus, fixing burnout can feel like adding more stressors. An employee who takes a lunch break in a park (time in nature reduces stress) might feel pressured to stay late at the end of the day. A yoga class or walk is another item to squeeze into the calendar. A mom can’t quit her parenting job. To address time-management issues, the Nagoskis provide work sheets in their book to help readers reprioritize activities. Ziegler suggests setting boundaries with social media. Use the Internet for help, such as ordering groceries, but limit scrolling to 10 minutes a day. Also, it’s okay to remove activities from the calendar (or quit them completely) so you can exercise.

Gender might play a role in burnout, too.

Researchers from the University of Montreal questioned 2,026 people, half women, in 63 different workplaces. Their work, published in the Annals of Work Exposure and Health, found that women reported higher levels of burnout.

One reason was because women have more work-and-family conflicts. The women’s rights movement was “supposed to give women choices,” Ziegler says. “Sounds awesome, but it became you need to do it all. You need to run your house and be the perfect wife and mom and work. The stress on women got higher.”

Other studies have shown that rates of burnout are more or less equal among genders, although males and females experience it differently. A study published in BMC Public Health showed that female physicians are susceptible to burnout from emotional exhaustion while male physicians to burnout because of cynicism.

Steven Manning remembers the night he realized he had become pessimistic about practicing medicine. One Wednesday at his family care practice in Williamston, N.C., he worked on electronic medical records well past 9 p.m. His wife and kids waited for him at home. He had seen about 30 patients that day but felt he hadn’t given a single one the highest level of care because the appointment times were too short. Yet the hospital and insurance companies kept pressuring him to see more patients a day, not fewer.

“I began to think, ‘I’m burned out. How did I get to this point? I don’t enjoy coming into work.’” It wasn’t too late to make a change. Within a year, Manning started a direct primary care practice, a model where patients pay a membership fee, negating the need for insurance billing. Without mounds of paperwork, he had time to do what he truly wanted: help patients.

“It brought back the joy of medicine I felt I was missing,” he says. “Before, I barely had time to address my patients’ diabetes, hypertension and heart failure, let alone spend time taking a mental and spiritual inventory.”

Now, he talks with patients about depression, anxiety and stress and notices many patients are burned out, especially mothers of young kids.

Lawyer and mom Anna Swain knows the feeling.

She poured her heart and soul into fixing the troubled lives of criminals who had messed up with drugs and violence only to wind up devastated when her hard work seemed pointless.

“I’d call my mom every day on my way home from the office crying,” she says. “I was either sad over a client who was having her third meth-addicted baby or crying over a shockingly rude email by opposing counsel.” When she added motherhood to the mix, her feelings of failure increased. “I didn’t know what I was doing. Nobody does with a first child.”

Burned out on “doing the next thing I was supposed to do to be a good girl and get ahead,” she knew she needed downtime, but she was afraid to take a step back from the hamster wheel. “Boredom goes against everything we’re told to do to succeed, achieve and be proactive,” Swain says. “Even when I clean the house, I think, ‘Well, I should take the opportunity to listen to a podcast. Maybe I can grow as a person.’ Honestly, I’d grow more if I chose to be in silence and let my mind wander.”

She tried it. Rocking her baby to sleep, she wanted to watch the TV series “Game of Thrones” or scroll through her phone. But she couldn’t. One wrong move--or the glow of a screen--would wake her baby up. At first, Swain felt angry and resentful at the lack of distractions, but the stillness gave her an opportunity to daydream. That opened the door to creativity.

“I started creating little poems and rhymes in my head. I felt exhilarated,” she says. Eventually, Swain wrote a children’s book. “I felt a sense of purpose again,” she says.

The Nagoskis agree that daydreaming during low-demand tasks, having a creative outlet and engaging with something larger are three more keys to preventing burnout. They suggest writing your own obituary to find out what is meaningful to you.

“It sounds dark,” Amelia Nagoski says. “But it makes you think about who you are and what’s important to you.”

Making space in our lives so we’re not so hurried and harried isn’t easy, especially in a culture that shames slow living, Amelia Nagoski says. Preventing burnout requires hard decisions. Everyone has the same amount of time in a day: 24 hours. To rest--whether with a walk, an extra hour of sleep or a talk with a friend--means something else drops off the schedule.

At first, you might panic that you’re not “accomplishing” something. But before long, you may notice you’ve moved farther away from a breaking point. Your downward spiral will change directions.