#parts of these answers are days old but am i gonna reread them?? hell no

[msommers]

multiples of 5 for meredith and greer!! (for inquisition asks)

thank you!!! sick brain took me out of commission but i finally got around to these // questions for your inquisitor

5: Describe their emotions and thoughts about the rebellion between Mages and Templars.

MEREDITH — an uprising that she’s been waiting to see happen since she first explored kinloch hold a decade ago and saw firsthand the living conditions of circle mages, then add on the countless apostates encountered along the way who needed aid. she and alistair have spent the years since then doing what they can to make life easier for them all, though their reach and effective changes have been limited by the fact that they have to pacify certain attendees of the landsmeet and chantry (the hero of ferelden status helps immensely there). but no matter their strides, it could never be enough with the knowledge that the treatment was unchanging outside of the kingdom. meredith’s well-known leniency for the mages continued after the rebellion started proper, with her signing off on providing supplies and arranging safe haven in a handful of locations, the biggest being redcliffe village where she enforced a mages only rule to avoid extra fighting. she can find sympathy for some of the templars if engaged long enough to hear a story worthy of it, but more often than not her bias gets in the way and she's first to take the side of the mages.

GREER — so a thing for greer is that a long while ago i created an entire new “circle tower” for her in the form of an old fortress that was given to the circle  after its use had been outlived, because i personally wasn’t a fan of how da:i tried to lessen the horrible things mages go through with the mage trevelyan backstory tidbits. the keep wasn’t as terrible as somewhere like the white spire, but it wasn’t far behind and was all greer knew for essentially her entire life, which led to her becoming the leader of the place’s libertarians. she suffered far too many punishments in her time, but enduring them is what resulted in the strong-willed, fearless leader who planned and executed the keep’s rebellion against when the mages reached their breaking point. she ran on pure righteous fury and the need to protect those under her charge from the time they fled the circle to the moment she found them refuge in ferelden, and not once during that time did she regret one of her actions or consider the war a mistake. in her opinion, drastic measures were required to fight the equally drastic measures forced down on the mages to keep them under the chantry’s thumb.

10: Are there further beliefs/religious perspectives your Inquisitor is interested in or perhaps despises?

MEREDITH — not really. she isn’t very religious after what she went through after the fifth blight, and doesn’t spend much time contemplating faith whether it be andrastianism or otherwise. strongest opinion is that she thinks people claiming they do horrible things because of their beliefs are spouting the absolute weakest excuse possible and she’s 7 times out of 10 rolling her eyes about it.

GREER — wants to burn the chantry to the ground please let her do it these people need to be stopped now

15: What does your Inquisitor think about the Grey Wardens? Did they choose to banish the order?

MEREDITH — answered here!

GREER — never considered banishing them, probably didn’t even cross her mind as an option because why the fuck would it. she has nothing to do with the wardens and they’re an ancient, deeply respected order that she fully believes are a necessity to keeping thedas safe. she probably had herself a few fantasies while locked away in the keep’s dungeons, dreaming about the idea of being conscripted out of that hell and given something Good to do. clearly it never happened and her idealistic dreams of being a knightly magic wielder traveling to save innocents from the horrifying darkspawn never came true, but she still admires the order and was happy to offer them a place with the inquisition. also a bit biased because of her being close to blackwall lmao. when it comes to the whole blood magic mess....it’d probably just make her sad. remind her of some of the mages she knew who had to result to the “forbidden” tree to survive and protect during the war.

20: Which abilities did they specialize themselves in? Explain how the trainers convinced them.

MEREDITH — well she was an assassin in origins (on top of the other specs bc you’d get so many), so there wasn’t any convincing necessary for her. more likely she was just given a few new tricks from the trainer who could see she already had a handle on the spec.

GREER — knight-enchanter! she didn’t require much convincing, the idea of being trained to wield a magical sword and further control the battlefield as a mage who already preferred being up close and personal during combat was a dream. she’s a fierce leader who protects those behind her by stepping up, the fit is natural.

25: Name a person they respect.

MEREDITH — briala. the amount of respect she holds for that woman for how she not only escaped from celene’s control but also managed to take her own power and sufficiently wield it to better the lives of her people?? through the roof. girlboss recognizes girlboss she’s gonna throw that woman a feast in her honor

GREER — grand enchanter fiona!! is her hero!!! “fuck the divine” that’s her fucking MOM!!!!!!

30: Ferelden or Orlais?

MEREDITH — orlais choke challenge. the entire nation. gaspard first and let her watch while sipping a glass of wine

GREER — probably ferelden. not as cold lmfao

35: Does your Inquisitor enjoy travelling? How much does your Inquisitor stick to their map?

MEREDITH — had never thought she'd be given the opportunity to travel so much and it became one of her favorite perks as inquisitor. as both lady (and future teyrna) of highever and later queen of ferelden she had no reason to travel beyond the kingdom, outside of a few specific diplomatic scenarios and she was alright accepting that. unfortunately traveling orlais so thoroughly forced her to give up on the stubborn refusal of fully acknowledging that not all orlesians are dreadful prats conniving with each breath, so that'd be the #1 con on her list. kind of a scam. but she loves loves loves getting to experience more of the world, meeting so many people. lowkey missed camping outdoors for rest but that gets old real quick, she got used to that fancy royal bed of hers. has spent a long time studying maps, only requires them if in obscure locations.

GREER — doesn’t enjoy some of the places they have to travel but bro. c’mon. she was locked up for at least two decades with extremely limited experience leaving her prison, every moment she spends traveling feels like a damn gift. has to have multiple maps on her at any given time, she’s so fucking lost it’s not even funny (to her).

40: Mosaic or Fresco? Is there a painting, that impressed your Inquisitor the most?

MEREDITH — fresco. she was especially impressed and enthralled with the ones discovered during the trespasser dlc, but this one in particular would’ve held her attention the longest.

GREER — mosaic, maybe. think she'd enjoy the texture more. dunno why but i think she’d really dig this one.

45: Herb Garden or Chantry Garden? Templar Tower or Mage Tower? Infirmary or Practice Ground?

MEREDITH — herb garden. mage tower. infirmary.

GREER — herb garden. mage tower. practice ground.

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part fourteen

authors note: this one is loaded, and there are some hints/tidbits spread throughout, but also.....please don't hate me. 😭

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive themes, angst

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 12k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @southerngirl41 @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

Bianca: Hi. I know you asked for space, and I will respect that. I just want you to know I talked to dad. I made him be honest with me, and I know the truth now.  I completely understand if your decision is that you want nothing to do with me. But please know, I had no idea, and I would love the chance to be in your life. I am not our father.

Bianca: It may have started with him, but it can end with us.

Rereading the text for what must be the 18th time, you feel just as conflicted and confused as you were when you first received it a few days prior. It’s been a bit easy to ignore it, to let it sit unanswered as you focused on getting as much work done as you could before leaving for Vegas. 

Thankfully, as the game is on a Sunday, you, Callie, and Alexis got an early morning flight to Vegas where you were met by Joe at the airport. After Callie had her sweet meltdown at seeing Joe again, the three of ya’ll met up with the twins, Trin, Kaylah, Jon’s wife, and the rest of the kids at the hotel.

You were a little nervous about Callie meeting her other cousins, as you know kids don’t always get along right away. But all anxiety is melted away the minute Callie and Jon’s daughter, Ellie, bonded over a common love of Disney. It’s a wrap from there, so much so that Callie feels comfortable enough to be left with them while you and Joe leave to get your tattoos.

Your current location. 

“Let's play a game.”

Joe’s suggestion is greatly appreciated because it pulls you away from hyper-fixating on this text and just what to do with said text. However, it’s also questioned because what the hell kind of games do people play at ya’ll’s big ages?

“Joe, we are too damn old for games—but what is it?”

He laughs at your quick change of tune. He must know that inner competitiveness never really goes away, even if you haven’t been in that competition space in literal years. “I'm gonna show you a house, and all you have to say is either you like it or not. But, you can't ask any questions.”

“A house? Like an actual house?”

“Yes, baby. An actual house.”

His sarcastic tone doesn’t help. Asshole. “And I can’t ask you any questions about a literal house we’re thinking of buying?”

“Yup.” 

Pouting, you murmur, “This game sucks.”

“Okay, Callie.” He messes around on his phone, giving a couple touches before he hands you his phone.

You nearly drop the damn thing, mouth ajar in awe. “Joe, how much—”

“No questions, remember?”

Sucking your teeth, you continue to scroll, each photo evoking another level of wonder. The house is stunning and huge. A literal mansion with landscape and design that looks like it was ripped right out of a luxury HGTV special. Swiping through the photos, each allow you to see that the beauty is not only matched but in many ways exceeded on the inside. A massive kitchen with two ovens, spacious bedrooms, almost equally large bathrooms, movie theater room, a separate building in the humongous backyard that you could easily see Joe turning into a personal gym, and so much more.

You really focus on the outside photos, eyes softening. “She's always wanted a backyard….” It's so easy for you to imagine Callie running around freely, swinging on a swing, maybe even helping you tend to a garden you see more than enough room to plant.

You can see yourself in this house.

��I like it,” you finally answer. There's no need to lie to him, and you're pretty sure he could tell you love it based on your facial expressions alone. “Now can you tell me how much—”

“Nope.”

Sitting up, you shove on his shoulder. “Come on, that's not fair.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Leati.” You can't remember the last time you called this man by his first name. Years, most likely. You used it sparingly, far and few in between, mostly reserved for moments like this when he was pissing you off. 

“You can complain all you want. I'm not telling you shit.” That only irks you more, and he’s indifferent to your obvious irritation, which pisses you off even more. If anything, he sounds almost amused at your frustration. “I'm gonna ask the realtor to arrange a tour. You can ask her then.”

Suspicious, you accuse, “your ass will probably tell her not to tell me or to lie.”

“Maybe.” 

It’s the fact that you know that’s something he would do too. “So my name wouldn’t be on the house? Is that what you’re saying?”

At that, he looks your way, clearly confused but mostly offended. “Of course, it would. Your name will be on everything. I just can’t give you too much information now because you’ll push back and say it’s too much.”

“So, it is expensive,” you conclude. He sighs, heavily. “Joe, we don’t need anything too extravagant or over the top. You know I’m not materialistic like that. I don’t want you feeling like you have to—”

“How many times do we have to have this conversation?” There’s a hint of irritation in his tone, but it’s not entirely unwarranted. Joe has told and showed you multiple times that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you and Callie. It’s just you being…..well, you. “Anything I do for you, anything I do for Callie is because I want to. You should know by now that I’m a man who won’t do anything he doesn’t want to.”

Sitting on his words, you answer, “I know.” And you do, you’re just so damn slow in actually accepting this. “I’m sorry, I just—I’m stubborn. You know this.”

“Yeah, well get un-stubborn.” His hand on your thigh gives a teasing squeeze but before you can inquire about just what kind of alone time you two will have over this weekend, a man walks out, heavily tatted, dressed in semi traditional Samoan attire and wearing a friendly smile.

Joe stands up to greet the man, introducing him as Mike. It’s a name you’re familiar with as you recall eons ago when Joe would rave about his tattoo artist and the man’s insane talent. 

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N.” It’s both strange and welcomed hearing Joe introduce you as such, like it’s almost too good to be true, even if there’s not an ounce of reluctance in his voice.

“Nice to meet you,” you greet, accepting his handshake. “And for getting us in on short notice.”

He waves it off. “Joe’s always welcomed here anytime and as his girlfriend, so are you.”

It stands out to you just how many people speak so highly of Joe. You've always thought he was a genuinely nice guy, but hearing it co-signed by others definitely shows what a gem you’ve got. “Great design choice, by the way,” he compliments, directing his next question toward you. “Joe mentioned you were a bit nervous about the placement….”

“I think I’m good now,” you answer. Tattoo pain is temporary, but placement is forever. You especially don’t want to “settle” for something that has so much meaning. “Same placement as his, but he can go first.”

Mike laughs, clapping his hands together. “Sounds great. Let’s get started.” 

________

You’d completely forgotten how extremely frustrating it is to get ready to go clubbing, and understandably so given at your big age, that’s not really a thing. However, Alexis absolutely refused to accept your decline to go out with her and even convinced Trinity and Kaylah to tag along. 

The bitch even took it upon herself to bring an outfit for you, knowing you definitely didn’t pack for this kind of outing. 

And while the dress is definitely fire, it’s a pain to get on given the cutouts and need to clasp the chest part. Not to mention, your arm is still a bit sore from the tattoo. Granted, Callie’s excitement at seeing how both you and Joe got her name tatted on you was more than worth all the pain. 

This dress though….it’s not worth shit.

“Fuck.” This was so much easier two bra sizes ago, but between trying to hold them together and clasp the hook on the dress, you’re just about ready to call it a night before the night can even truly begin. Settling frustration aside, you grab the robe off the counter and slide it on as you stick your head out the door. “Babe?”

His deep voice replies seconds later. “Yeah?” 

“Can you come help me with something real quick?”

“Mommy,” Callie groans, and you can only imagine the scowl on her face. She loves spending time with her daddy. “We’re playing.”

Your lips curve into a smile, assuring her, “it’ll only take a second, baby.” 

Joe walks into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. “What’s up?”

“I need you to clasp my dress for me,” you explain, removing the robe and holding your breast with your forearm. “I’m gonna hold them up, and I just need you to—what?”

His eyes slowly travel up and down your body, but his overall gaze reeks of confusion and a level of disapproval. “Where’s the rest of it?”

You’re not stupid, very much aware of what he’s asking. But, you’re also stubborn, a fact he’s well aware of given the fact that you talked about just that this morning. “The rest of what?”

His answer is simple. “Your outfit.”

Muscle twitching in your jaw, you attempt to divert the conversation. “Come on, everyone else is almost ready—“

“I’m serious.” 

Huffing, you slap on that sweet, teacher voice and bring your hands to his chest, allowing your breast to fall open and freely. It doesn’t miss you how his gaze moves downward and lingers. “Joe, I love you, but you met me post-college. Trust me, this is tame compared to what I used to wear clubbing. And we both know I’m gonna wear what I want, regardless, so I just need you to swallow that annoying ass male pride, which I know you will, because you love me enough to do so, and just strap my titties down for me, okay?” Leaning up to kiss his cheek, your finger moves in a figure eight down his body. “Besides, when I get back tonight, you get to rip this same dress off me, bend me over this very same counter right next to us, and make me watch as you fuck me, hard, from behind.”

Your sex drive has always been on the higher end, but it’s been even more intense in the past couple days, and while your last few intimate encounters with Joe have been more loving and sweet…..that’s not what you need right now. 

You need this man to fuck you in the way only he can. Choking, spanking, biting, a tad bit of degrading, hips bruised from how tight he holds you with backshots that have you speaking in a different language. The whole nine yards. 

Your words paint such a vivid picture that’s clearly too far out for his comfort as his hands move to your ass, squeezing roughly. “And what’s stopping me from doing just that right now?”

God has a cruel sense of humor because before you can even fix your mouth to respond, the very reason why makes her presence known. She knocks on the door with all the irritation in her little body. “Daddy, are you almost done?”

Eyes twinkling with mischief as you step back to hold your breast together, you remind him. “that is why not. You’re on daddy duty tonight.” Joe doesn’t say anything and instead finally hooks it for you. “Thank you.”

“At least pull it down in the back or something,” he grumbles and actually tries to pull down the back of the dress.

“Baby, I have an ass. It’s gon’ shift right back up as soon as I move.” Sure enough, one step is all it takes for it to roll up just a few centimeters below your ass. Unlocking and opening the door, you beam at Callie. “He’s all yours, baby girl.”

“You look so pretty, mommy!”

“Thank you, baby.” You lean down for a kiss on her cheek right as Alexis walks in. Callie goes to lead Joe back into the “living room” area as Alexis welcomes herself into the hotel room. You’re not even gonna bother asking how she got a key. Her dress, unlike your all black little piece, is sparkly, short, and strapless. It’s very much Alexis.

She gasps. “Girl, that dress is fitting and your boobs are sitting.” 

Winking and lifting your breasts, you laugh, complementing, “you look amazing.”

“Duh. I’m me.” She brushes her shoulders before peeping past you to say hi to Joe and Callie. “Hi, future brother-in-law and part time child.”

All you can hear is Callie asking Joe what a part time child is as Alexis grabs you by your wrist and starts dragging you toward the door. “Come on, Trin wants us to do a TikTok before we leave.”

Instantly, you’re scowling. “A TikTok? Girl, we are too old for that.”

“I swear, you act like you’re 75 sometimes,” she dismisses, walking you out the room and across the hall to the other room where Jimmy and Trin are staying. You’re still impressed how they all managed to get rooms not only on the same floor but literally all across each other.

Must be a rich people thing.

Walking into the room, you see Trin and Kaylah are dressed a bit more modestly then you and Alexis, not as much skin showing but still very much giving club vibes. 

Compliments are again exchanged among the four of you, but Kaylah is the first to say, “girl, I’m surprised Joe didn’t have nothing to say about your outfit.”

Chuckling, you inform, “he tried, but he knows I don’t play that. I’m a grown woman. Imma wear what I want. Besides, I know how to shut him up.” 

What’s implied doesn’t need to be explained but not according to Alexis who of course blurts out, “that’s right. Sitting on your man’s face will do it every time.”

“Please excuse her. She ran out of her Lithium.”

“Ehh, they tried that. Didn’t work for me.” It’s the fact that she’s probably dead serious too. “Okay, now which trend are we doing, Trin?”

Trinity's smile, like everything else about her, is bright and beautiful. “I was thinking the Wanna Be one by Meg and Glo.”

Instantly, you know Alexis is sold. “That is my damn song.” She then points to you. “This one needs to go last though, because when I tell you that thing moves like water. This bitch can twerk like Megan.”

One thing you’ve never been is a liar, so you can’t find it in you to call bullshit on Alexis exclamation. You’ve always been super flexible, courtesy of cheer, and twerking has always come a bit natural to you. But, it was really when you started hitting up the strip clubs in college and made acquaintances with the strippers that you learned all of the tricks. 

However, it’s also been years since you last stepped out on the town, and your joints start to hurt from just sitting too long, so the hype may be a little bit undeserved after all.

“That was also before I had a baby, Lex.”

Alexis brushes off your downplay. “She can even do the hand thing. You know, where you put your hand in between your ass cheeks while you still shaking? Iconic.”

Studying her closely, you realize why she’s so amped already. “You pre-gramed, didn’t you?”

She presses her lips together and then goes into denial. “I plead the fifth.” Laughing, she tugs on your arm. “Come onnnn.”

“Fine.” Caving to Alexis is typically the best outcome because the bitch is relentless when she wants something, especially when she’s already tipsy. 

However, Trinity seems just as excited as she directs the three of you to the bathroom where she already has the phone propped up and everything. 

It ends up being a fun time that reminds you so much of those days back in college where you and Lex and a few other girlfriends would spend a damn near hour taking the “perfect” photos for the “gram” and even longer to come up with a witty caption. You even show off a little bit of your twerking skills, nothing too crazy, much to Alexis chagrin. 

Arriving at the club and being escorted to the VIP section, courtesy of Alexis, the ladies order a round of drinks while you settle for a simple bottle, never glass, of water. After your whole fiasco during Christmas, you can’t see yourself sipping even a glass of wine for a while.

It’s a nice blast from the past but also suddenly a bit irritating with how noisy and boisterous everything is. The club is packed, and you’re grateful to be seated up and away from everyone else. While Alexis starts to get her buzz going, Trin partially surprises you by asking for your approval to upload one of the videos to TikTok and a photo to post on Instagram. It’s only partially surprising, because Trin has always been a real one. 

You agree and even helping her with a caption. 

Something bout’ that melanin ✨

Pulling out your own phone to check in on Joe and Callie, you’re surprised to see you have a bunch of IG notifications. This leads to you realizing that Alexis, at some point, posted a couple of photos she made you take on your profile. She even took it upon herself to come up with a caption that makes you both chuckle and shake your head. 

ya favorite athlete’s favorite athlete 😌

It’s not a huge deal to you, as you’d went ahead and made your Instagram private again a couple months prior. It’s a feature you toggle on and off, knowing that only the people you want knowing and seeing your page would even know how to find you. However, with Joe being back in your life and having a few posts with Callie’s face in them, you lean on the side of caution and just plan to keep it private from here on out.

It’s the comments though that really make you pause. 

@user1 omg y/n!!! That body been giving, sis! 

@user2 HA! Always was that girl. Still that girl. Miss you, cuz!

@Mariaaahhhh___92: This really how you wanna do this?

@BigLexPurr: Say it louder for the BITCH in the comments before me. I mean, in the back. 😃

@user3: If only I looked like that after having my baby lmao You look amazing, Y/N!

@RomanReigns Damn straight.

With all the swiftness and quickness, you block Mariah, not needing or wanting her and Alexis to get into a whole spat under your post. But Joe’s comment is definitely one that takes you for surprise, and you wrestle with whether or not you should acknowledge it but eventually decide to do so with a simple reply. 

@yourusername @RomanReigns 😘

You make a mental note to roast his ass for being in your IG comments like that but put your phone away when WAP comes on. Of course, it’s only appropriate that the four of you rap along to every iconic, spiritual lyric spit by Meg and Cardi. Alexis even influences you into doing a little twerk on her that she absolutely captures on Snapchat.

You don’t even need to ask her to know she’s gonna waste no time in sending that over to Joe. How she managed to get him to accept her add on Snapchat is something you’ll never understand. 

“I need some more drink, but I don’t want to get up,” Alexis whines, shooting you the puppy dog eyes.

“Gee, why don’t I—”

“Thank you, friend!”

Shaking your head, you make your way out of the VIP and through the crowd to the bar. Placing the order, you wait patiently, praying that what you know is bound to happen doesn’t happen. A waste of a prayer, because that unwanted happening appears in the form of a crooked smile, bad haircut, and height that can’t exceed 5’9.

He just leans back against the bar, as if waiting for you to, of all things, acknowledge him. That makes you laugh aloud. The fucking irony. 

You decide to take the lead and dead this thing before he can run whatever play he thinks will work on you. “No, I don't want or need you to pay for my drink, and I don't need anything put on your tab. I'm good.”

His smile doesn't deter. If anything, he looks even more intrigued. This was always the part you hated about clubbing. Men who can’t seem to conceive that you “playing hard to get” is actually and really just complete and utter disinterest.

“Oh, you more than good, ma.” His gaze resting on your chest much longer than what's appropriate is both irritating but expected. Men see titties and lose all sense of self-control, the little that some actually do possess, that is. “I'm just trying to see how good.”

You were over this conversation before it even started, hence your readiness to put an end to his fruitless hopes and your irritation.

“My man is 6’3, 287lbs and fights niggas for a living.” Tone both bored and casual as you list off basic facts, you ask, “He's home right now watching our 6 kids. Still wanna do this?”

It's the way his eyes go wide that makes it hard for you not to laugh. That should definitely do the trick. “Naw, I'm good. You fine, but you ain't that damn fine.”

“That's what I thought.” Taking the Martini from the bartender, you saunter your way back over to your section and hand it to Alexis.

“I take it homeboy was trying to take you home.”

Chuckling, you nod. “But, I handled it.”

“Oh, I'm sure you did.” She then turns to the group. “This one was always vicious when turning down bums at the club.”

“Cause sir, why are you talking to me with your uneven fade and height that starts with a 5?”

Trinity and Kay fall out laughing, but you’re dead serious. You’d been called arrogant a couple of times, but it never really affected you because you know you just have standards and refuse to settle.

And clearly…..it worked out.

“I really wish we could do this more often,” Kay suddenly shares, and it takes you a bit by surprise. There was a level of trepidation regarding meeting Josh’s wife. You know they’ve been together since they were in high school, which means there’s a good chance she knows Joe’s ex-wife. A chance they could be friends.

And if she’s anything unlike Mariah, she wouldn’t want to chop it up with the woman who slept with and had a whole baby for her friend’s husband. But so far, Kay has been nothing but kind, a bit on the quiet and reserved side. It’s an interesting dynamic considering Josh is anything but. 

“Do you live in Florida too?” Alexis suddenly asks, sipping her Martini. When Kay nods, Lex slaps you on the arm. “Well, this one will be moving there probably before the end of summer, so maybe ya’ll can link up more often.”

Intrigue paints both Trin and Kay’s faces, as the former asks, “seriously?”

“Yeah, umm, Joe and I were actually looking at a house earlier.” A thin layer of excitement re-emerges as you reflect on the photos you saw. You really do like that house, but it feels so much like a dream, like the expensive houses you look at and critique on Zillow knowing damn well you can’t afford them. 

And you can’t, but he probably can. 

You know he can, or he wouldn’t be showing you in the first place. 

“How do you really feel about moving?” Trin questions. “You still live in your hometown, right?”

“I do.” It’s a valid question, one you, if you’re being honest, sometimes go back and forth on. You know you want to move and ultimately will, but there are still some moments where you feel a bit unsure. It’s to be given, you’re sure, as change can be difficult. “There’s a lot of things I’ll miss, like being away from my mom, but….I want to be with Joe, and it’s what’s best for Callie.”

“She really is a sweet child. You did an amazing job with her.” 

Kay’s compliment warms your heart. “Thank you….that means a lot to me.” Callie is your pride and joy, so to hear others speak highly of her, of how you raised her thus far will always be the best kind of compliment. 

“You’re a teacher, so you’re off for the summer, right?” Trinity suddenly asks. Nodding, she continues, “you and Callie should go on the road with Joe this summer then. Maybe not the whole summer, but a portion. It’ll be fun. I’d love to have ya’ll, and you know he would too.” 

It’s a suggestion that you find yourself actually considering. Outside of PD, which can be done virtually with some prior arrangements, there really would be nothing stopping you from tagging along. Callie would be ecstatic, and something tells you Joe would too. 

Kay then shoots Trinity a look that you can’t quite decipher. “isn’t he….” 

As if awareness dawns, Trinity mutters, “oh, shit, I forgot.” 

Understandably curious, and always uncomfortable with being kept out of the communication loop, you inquire, “what?”

Trinity looks a bit nervous but then answers casually, “Oh nothing, I just forgot they’ve, uhh, gotten a little strict now about family coming on the road. Something about it being too distracting for the wrestlers.”

Alexis seems as skeptical as you are. There’s something they’re not saying. “Isn’t he literally like the face of the whole company? I feel like if he wants them there, then they’ll be there.” She has a fair point. “Look how he takes time off to come fly and see them.”

That actually brings on a question you’ve been wondering about for a while. Directed to Trinity, you ask, “do you know if he gets in trouble for that?” Trinity looks a bit unsure of how to respond, and you know immediately it’s because she’s trying to figure out how much to say. “The truth, please. I can handle it.” 

With a heavy sigh, she relents, “Jon mentioned Joe said something about them talking with him, but I get the sense Joe told them to fuck off. Professionally, of course.”

You’re not sure how to feel about this. The last thing you want is for Joe to risk all of his hard work for you. And you know it’s more for Callie than anything, which you get, but he still has contractual obligations he needs to fulfill.

“I can tell you this…..they can say what they want, but Joe doesn’t play about you and Callie, so he gon keep hopping on flights as much as he needs to.”

“He was really happy when he found out about Callie,” Kay adds in a soft tone with a kind voice. “I remember overhearing him talking with Josh, and he told him, “she’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Crying in the club definitely wasn’t on your agenda for this trip, but here you are, trying to blot your eyes with the back of your hand. “Ya’ll, I didn’t wear waterproof mascara. Don’t have me out here looking like a racoon scaring folks off.”

Alexis chimes, “Joe won’t mind. It’ll keep him from coming up in here beating some poor soul’s ass for trying to holler at you.”

Kaylah snorts. “She’s not too far off. All them fools are super protective and territorial.”

“I’m just trying to figure out when ya’ll are gonna stop being selfish and slide one of them my way. It’s obvious they fertile as hell, so there’s gotta be an eligible cousin or uncle or something.”

It’s the fact you know that Lex is dead serious. Thankfully, Travis Porter comes on and that’s enough to bring all of ya’ll back to your feet like you’re 21 all over again. And that’s the dominant and recurring theme of the entire night: dancing, laughing, talking, Alexis being unhinged. 

Wash, rinse, repeat.

The four of you end up returning to the hotel shortly before midnight, the perfect time as somehow, the guys got all of the kids down for bed and were just waiting to make sure you all returned safely. 

Sitting around one of the hotel rooms, you all just chop it up, sharing various stories, no one really tired enough to call it a night.

“See, that’s the thing that people don’t realize. Ain’t a whole lot of difference between Joe and Roman. Uce been had that dog in him.” Jon starts off, sitting up as he explains. Somehow the topic landed on when they were growing up and how Joe’s always had “parts” of Roman in him. “Like one time when we was kids, we was playing a basketball game and he showed up late talking about “aye, let me join.” We tell him, ‘sorry man, we already started.’ He takes the ball, chucks it over in the neighbor's yard, talking about “ain’t nobody playing now.”

There’s a chorus of laughter, but your jaw drops open as you look at Joe, an easy task as you’re perched on his lap. “Did you really do that?” It’s almost inconceivable to see this man do something like that, especially as a child. “Joe, that was mean as hell.”

It’s the fact that he doesn’t deny it and simply shrugs. “Should have let me join in.”

Covering your mouth and shaking your head, you go to scold him for being such an ass, regardless of how long ago it was. But, Alexis soon adds in her two cents, looking your way. “I don’t know why you looking shocked and disappointed, you weren’t much better when we were in college.” She then directs her attention to the group. “So, we were cheerleaders, and Abby Lee Miller over here was a total nightmare during competition season.”

Gasping, you sit up, Joe’s big arm locked around your waist to keep you on him. “I was not.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a drink before admitting, “girl, I love you, but you were a bitch when you were in competition mode.” This is the first time you’re hearing this, so of course, it takes you by surprise. You won’t deny that you could be a bit…..intense during the season, but as captain, there was a shit ton of responsibility on your shoulders. Someone had to take the lead. “There’s a reason we had a whole group chat without you called, ‘Deliver us from Y/N’.”

“You had what?” This is news to you. As far as you were concerned, you had a great relationship with your teammates. It’s why your head coach let you take charge so much, especially in your junior and senior years. “Because I was doing my job?”

Alexis continues, ignoring your questions which is both annoying and predictable. She loves to tell a good story. “She’s the reason I’m hoping and praying Usher doesn’t perform More. It was the song for our Nationals routine, and when I tell you she was on us like goddamn slaves. That routine was hard as fuck, and she ain’t care one bit. It was hella good, like she choreographed the shit out of it, but it was so technical and draining. Bitches in the corner vomiting during practice, and she like ‘get a bucket and keep it pushing.’”

All eyes land on you, waiting for a response, but it’s hard to retort the truth, so you settle on justification. “Okay, that was their fault. I told ya’ll not to eat an hour before.”

Alexis claps her hands as everyone else around laughs. “I rest my case.”

“No wonder ya’ll go together so well,” Josh mutters, taking a drink of his beer. Kaylah slaps his arm but doesn’t say anything in disagreement. 

“What I’m hearing is it’s gon be a two night A&E special. First night? Surviving Joe. Second night? Surviving Y/N.”

Jon’s delivery is really what sells it. You can’t even hold back your laughter. Leaning back into Joe’s chest, you lift up both hands to flip them off. “Ya’ll not gon’ keep talking about my man.” Partially joking, partially serious, it’s not missed upon you how Joe’s deep chuckle in your ear is followed by his fingers innocently moving against the outside of your thigh. 

“You and your man was clearly out here terrorizing people,” Trinity laughs with a shake of her head. “That’s so crazy too, because you don’t give off that energy, Y/N.”

“I’ve calmed down a lot since I had my daughter.” And it’s the truth. Along with age and an extreme respect for your field along with your professional reputation. “But yeah, college Y/N…..she was something else. A little bit of high school as well, but mostly college.”

Alexis makes a sound and then blurts out, “tell em��� about the time you bust that stripper in the head with a bottle, and she had to get 75 stitches.”

Understandably so, there’s a round of shocked expressions and questions following Alexis so casually dropping one of the wildest experiences you had in college. 

You hear Jon ask something about if you have a criminal record, but it’s really Joe giving you that ‘you gon explain?’ look that makes you cave. 

“Oh lord, I can’t believe I’m about to tell this story.” You turn to Joe, warning. “You’re not allowed to hold it against me either.”

“Let me hear it first, and I’ll let you know after.” You know he’s joking, but still, you hit him on his arm. He’s supposed to hold you down, no matter what. Aggravated assault and all.

“Okay, so were at the strip club—”

Jon can’t help himself, asking, “damn, you got down like that?” 

He has no idea.

“You gotta remember, we were cheerleaders, so we spent a lot of time with the football and basketball teams. And they asses was always there, so we would tag along cause why not? I always had a good time. The food was good as hell too. Anyway, I was dating a football player at the time—”

Alexis slaps Joe on the arm. “She’s always had a type.”

“Yeah, ‘ain’t shit’, clearly.” You grab Joe’s jaw, clarifying. “Except for you, baby.” He mutters his approval, and you continue, “so, I was dating this dude, and he was cheating on me, which was fine. I wasn’t really into him anyway. But, turns out the girl he was cheating with was one of the strippers there and a classmate. I don’t know how the stupid bitch didn’t realize who I was before that night, but whatever. I guess she caught feelings for him or something and saw me as the problem? Mind you, I was dating him before he even started fucking her, but she called herself trying to step to me. And she was talking shit, which I didn’t necessarily care about because one thing I’ve never and will never do is fight over a man. Any fight I ever got into was because they said something about my mama or someone else I love.”

“How many fights you done—” Trinity elbows Jon who grunts and then mutters for you to keep going.

Chuckling, you do so, “so she calls me a bitch….okay, but then calls my mom a bitch, and at that point, I’m seeing red. Cause now my food is cold, I was about to get a lap dance that’s not gon’ happen cause now I gotta beat her ass, and all over some wack ass dick. But now she done bought my mama into it….absolutely not.” A beat. “I didn’t hit her first, because I never hit first, but I did say some slick shit that I knew would provoke her.” You decide to leave out exactly what you said given how graphic it was. “And she hit me, but then this other bitch joins in—”

“And that’s when I get involved,” Alexis chimes, raising her drink high and proud. “Because what you not gon do is jump my motherfucking best friend in front of me.”

Laughing, you continue, “so Alexis crazy ass is beating her friend, I’m on this girl, but then she calls herself trying to stab me with the heel of her shoe or something cause obviously I’m winning—”

“This some WorldStarHipHip shit if I ain’t ever heard—” Trinity hits Jon for his interruption and motions for you to continue going, clearly and deeply invested in the retelling of this wild ass night.

“I’m mixing on this bitch, cause one thing about me, I know how to fight. I just choose not to do it.” And it’s true. Fighting is a last resort, always has been for you, but make no mistake, you know how to throw down. “Anyway, I snatch the shoe out of her hand, grab this bottle of Hennesy I see near me and smash it over her head.”

“And it was lights out.” Alexis says dramatically. “That bitch was laid out like a crime scene. Patrick Star headass.”

Wiping the tears from your eyes from your laughter, you continue, “so someone calls the cops. They show up, and I’m starting to get nervous thinking she’s gonna press charges, because I bust her head open. She had to get stitches and everything. But I had made friends with the owner of the club—-that’s a whole other story—and basically, he refused to provide her with any video footage, made sure no one said anything about what happened, was friends with the cops, and they just chalked it up to a bunch of drunk girls being stupid. And I got off.” Clapping your hand to signify the end, you rest back against Joe. “The end.”

There’s a slightly understandable moment of silence before Kaylah calmly asks, “How drunk were you?”

That’s an easy answer. “Oh, I wasn’t drunk.”

“So….you did all that sober?” Trinity asks, like she needs to just make sure she’s following correctly. 

“Yup.” You pop the ‘p’ and look over at Joe who’s all of the emotions, primarily, amused, surprised, and strangely turned on. “Wild times.”

Jon is the first to speak after that. “Man, I always knew I liked you, Y/N. Your ass a little crazy, but I fucks with it.” 

Laughing, you explain. “You gotta keep in mind, I was like 19 at the time. I was young and definitely dumb in a lot of ways. I’ll be 32 this year and have grown a lot. I have zero desire to put my hands on anyone. I have a child and a career. I may be tempted, but I’m not going to actually do it.  I have too much to lose”

“And that’s why she has me.” Alexis lifts her drink. “I don’t have much to lose cause I’m rich enough to get off. Plus, she’s all boring now. You see how early we’re back. Back in the day, we’d club hop until like 4 in the morning. At least up until Junior year,” she gestures to you with her outstretched thumb. “That’s when this heifer had to get all studious on me.” 

“4.0, Summa Cum Laude.” You make a little pose and laugh. “I just got my shit together, and clearly….” you lean back to look at Joe. “ —it paid off.”

—----------

Obviously, you’ve never attended a professional football game, let alone the fucking Super Bowl, but even knowing that, you’re partially surprised by just how many damn people are there. It’s absolutely jam packed, and you’re suddenly grateful for the security detail that escorts the group of you to your seating area.

Joe holds Callie and keeps your hand in his which impacts you in a strange way that you can’t explain. This whole trip has been him being unabashedly open about you and Callie, and you’re starting to think that’s the part that’s still a bit difficult.

For three years, you felt like some secret he kept hidden and stored away, so to be so “displayed” so publicly is such a stark contrast you’re still trying to sit with. It’s not a bad adjustment, just an adjustment nonetheless. 

The section rented for the group is surprisingly spacious enough for everyone, and you and Kaylah immediately go delegating, having the kids all in the back rows with the men front and center to see the game they’ve been praying for all year. You knew Joe was a huge 49ers fan, hence your not being entirely surprised when you found a box at your apartment door with a bunch of 49ers apparel for you and Callie to pick from for the game. He also, in true Joe fashion, sent you both sneakers with the 49ers team colors of black, red, and gold. 

And one look at Callie as she interacts with her cousins, you can’t deny how adorable she looks, especially as they’re also sporting the apparel because of course his whole family are also fans. Granted, you can’t deny how adorable she looks all decked out like her daddy. You took a more subtle approach, agreeing to the letterman jacket and sneakers, combining them with the 49ers long sleeved crop top and stretch black pants.

There’s a lot of getting everyone settled and you warning Alexis not to make a damn fool of herself, which apparently she’s also dead set on. Something about needing to be ready to be either a consolation or celebration prize for whatever player she was going home with tonight. 

When the game starts though, it’s absolutely fascinating watching how intently focused the men are, not wanting to miss a single second. You’re suddenly really grateful you’d briefly spoke with Callie about how this game was very important to Joe, so his attention may not be on her as much as she wants but that’s okay because he’s just a little busy. She responded well, and you can see how helpful it is for her to be around not only other kids but her cousins.

The ease of their connection and ability to play together is something you’re so grateful for, so happy to see. It definitely makes you even more excited about moving, about her being closer to family. 

That thought reminds you to ask Joe when he wants to talk to Callie about that, about moving. It feels like something the two of you should do together. 

Ironically, you’ve never really been a huge football person, so your interest in the game and who wins is pretty slim to none. You’re there for a good time and, most importantly, Usher’s performance. Kaylah seems to be on a similar wavelength, so while the rest are deeply invested in arguably the most important game of the year, you two engage in casual dialogue. 

She gives you some much appreciated tips on the area, specifically regarding school systems and other resources for Callie. She mentions a dance school her daughter also attends classes at, and that immediately catches your attention cause Callie has given some indications she wants to do ballet. And while you have your reservations, it’s mostly been because of financial reasons.

Not that daddy warbucks over there won’t handle that for you. 

There’s also a lot of photos and videos that get taken to commemorate this moment. Most of which are headed by life of the party, Alexis. You’re grateful though, happy to have her here. She even catches your attention when Callie maneuvers her way over to Joe, tugging on his pants leg for him to pick her up. You start to bring her back by you, but you end up watching Joe pull her up, kissing her cheek as he patiently tries to explain the game to her.

It brings a warm smile on your face, and you use your phone to snap a photo of them. It’s from behind, but the lighting, the way Joe is pointing and Callie following his line of vision, there’s something about it so wholesome and moving.

You set it as your lock screen. 

By the time halftime rolls around, the men are all in great moods given their team is so far dominating. However, you and the rest of the ladies present are in a great mood for entirely different reasons. 

The minute you hear the opening chords of Caught Up, you’re in a completely different world, similar to the happy space of attending concerts in your teens and college days. Alexis is definitely your number one hype woman, but really, Trin and Kaylah are just as lit. The guys are definitely enjoying the show as well, but Usher has been that man for you, so he’s your only focus. 

It only gets exponentially better, and the minute he starts to perform Yeah joined by both Lil John and Ludacris, you and Alexis are shouting out every single damn word of Luda’s iconic verse. 

It’s definitely a moment you’ll absolutely never forget.

Unfortunately, the halftime show seems to be a bit of a climax as the third quarter progresses, and the tide seems to start turning in favor of the Chiefs. Similarly, it’s not missed upon you how the younger kids seem to be slowing down. Callie is definitely ready for bed and understandably so. It’s been a long day and is way past her bedtime. After a brief discussion with Joe and Josh, it’s decided that you and Kaylah will take the younger kids back to the hotel, especially since you both have very little interest in how the game plays out but respect the guys needing to stay. 

And Alexis wild ass most definitely stays behind for….obvious reasons.

Joe, of course, doesn’t let you and Callie leave without a hug, kiss, and telling you both he loves you. A tradition of sorts now, definitely one you’ll never get tired of.

Security escorts the smaller group of you to your vehicles, and by the time you’ve reached the hotel, the younger kids are tapped out. You manage to get Callie out of her clothes, into her jammies, and bonnet on her head before she passes out in her bed. 

Kaylah has a similar experience with her kids, the two of you plopping down on the sofa together. 

“I hope they pull the win. I don’t know if you’ve ever been around Joe when the 49ers lose, but he’s not pleasant. None of them are.”

“I get it,” you chuckle. “I’d be pissed if I paid all that money to see my team lose too.”

“At least we had our good time seeing Usher’s fine ass.”

Laughing, you slap hands with her. “I know that’s right!”

As the laughter dies down, Kaylah gives you an earnest smile. “I hope I’m not being too forward, but I really am glad you came on this trip. I’ve heard both the twins and especially Joe speak so highly of you, and they definitely weren’t wrong. More importantly, I think you’re really good for Joe. I haven’t seen him as happy as he is with you and Callie since we were in high school, really.”

“Can I be honest with you about something?” Her kind words make you feel comfortable enough to be forthcoming with her. “I was a bit nervous you wouldn’t like me.”

Her eyes widen. “Me? Why?”

“I guess…..I worried you would feel a sense of loyalty to Joe’s ex-wife, and given how we got together…..

She nods. “I can understand that, but…if I’m being honest with you, I’ve probably had more meaningful interactions with you in these two days than I did in all of the time they were together. Don’t get me wrong, Jadah was super nice and chill, but she never really interacted with us like that. She mostly kept to herself.”

“What was the deal with their marriage?” It feels a bit off asking her, but given she’s known them for so long, she of all people would be the person to ask. “I know….I know he told me they only got married because she was pregnant and that….that she miscarried.”

It’s when you say that she gives you a strange look. “Y/N…..they didn’t have a miscarriage.” Before the shock fully wears off and you can ask her what happened then, she explains in an understandably sad tone. “It was….it was a stillbirth. She was 8 months pregnant.”

Your stomach…drops. That….that’s not what you expected to leave her mouth. Not at all.

Thinking back to that brief conversation with Joe, he never really specified what happened. Just made sure you knew Callie didn’t have a sibling. You’d just assumed a miscarriage is what happened. 

But a stillbirth….your brain can’t even begin to comprehend the heartbreak they must have experienced. To be in a headspace that you’re welcoming your first child for the better part of a year only to have it so cruelly ripped away in such a horrific manner….it’s devastating.

“I didn’t….”

“He didn’t tell you?” You shake your head, and she offers a sad smile. “I’m not surprised. Joe seems very open with you and obviously trusts you a lot, but that….I know that messed him up real bad.” 

Just like finding out he’d missed out on almost five years of Callie’s life. You’re starting to understand more and more why he came at you so hard initially, it was more than warranted but most likely pulling from his prior trauma as well. 

Kaylah continues, explaining gently, “I don’t know…I don’t know if it’s a good idea to push him too much on discussing it, YN. He’s never even really talked about it to the twins, and they tell each other everything. I’m sure he’s never fully processed it. Then again, I don’t know how you can ever process something like that.”

Hearing this has suddenly entirely soured your mood, and you have no ill feelings toward Kaylah. Just the opposite. You’re grateful she felt comfortable enough to be honest with you. You just wish the truth didn’t have you with this dull ache in your chest.

—----------

The 49ers loss hits you harder for reasons completely different than actual fans. It makes you sad for Joe, a sentiment you were already struggling with, to be honest.

Anticipating he’ll be looking for some sort of distraction, especially with Callie knocked out for the night, you try to get your shower finished before he makes it back to the hotel. It’s a wasted effort, because not only does he make it back before then, but he scares the hell out of you when his hulking frame joins you from behind under the steaming hot water. 

But before a single word can leave your mouth, his lips are on you, and you know instantly that he plans to take his emotions out on you in the only way that’s most appropriate. 

Fucking.

Joe fucks you against the shower wall, on the bathroom counter, in the exact way you promised him the night before but couldn’t follow through on because you were tired. He’s rough, rougher than you’ve had him in a while, and while it’s exactly what you wanted, it also saddens you that you know he’s disappointed. 

It’s just a game, yes, but there’s something about a loss at this level that makes it hit deeper. It also doesn’t help that you were already feeling a tremendous amount of empathy toward him after finding out about his loss. 

Body completely used and thoroughly fucked, the end of your sexscapade finds you both, naked and worn out. Your body is draped upon his as his finger moves around lazily across your back.

It’s a comfortable silence when he asks, “was I too rough with you?”

Lifting your head, you give him the strangest look. How long has it been since ya’ll really fucked? He’s clearly forgotten how you get down. “Did you seriously just ask me that? This is me, Joe..” Laying your head back on his chest, you remind him of your only rules in the bedroom. “Unless I’m bleeding or passed out, never too rough.”

Laughing, he flicks your arm as you kiss his shoulder. Changing gears a bit, his expression softens. “Thank you for coming, for bringing her.” 

“You never have to thank me for that.” You remind, because it’s the truth. You’d escort Callie to Siberia if that’s where he was. “But we do need to figure out when we’re gonna talk to her about moving.”

He seems to also remember this is a thing, asking, “how do you think she’ll feel?”

You have to take a second to think about his question. It’s something you’ve definitely considered. Callie has only known your town. That’s her home. What would it be like to uproot her? You finally settle on the best, honest answer you can muster. “I think she’ll be a little sad to leave her preschool friends, definitely my mom but what she wants more than anything is to be a family, so she’ll be happy.”

“Does she know we’re together?”

“I—I don’t know actually.” It’s not really something you’ve thought about until this very moment, just kinda assumed that it was a given. “Well, shit, maybe we should tell her that too.” 

He chuckles. “I’m sure she’s probably put two and two together.”

“Probably so.” Callie is definitely one smart cookie, and it wouldn’t be too far fetched to assume she’s realized you and Joe are dating. “Oh, and going back to moving, it’s Florida. Disney is in Florida. That’ll definitely be a selling point for her.”

Joe’s hand moves up and down your side, soothingly. “We’re going the week of her birthday, by the way.” 

Peeking up at him, you double check what’s really obvious but also still so surreal. “To Disney?”

“Yeah.” 

“They let you off for a whole week?” That’s a stunner, for certain. “Coming off a Wrestlemania win? Damn, just how heavy is your pull now?” 

“What?” He seems confused by your question, like he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. And that’s puzzling to you because there’s nothing confusing about what you’re asking. You know enough about WWE to know how this works. He’s gonna retain at WrestleMania and be subsequently thrust deep in promos and segments. “Oh yeah….I’ve got it handled.”

Waiting for more is a waste of time with this man. He can be so coy sometimes. “You’re not gonna tell me anything more, are you?”

“Nope.” 

“Ass.” His elusive behavior is becoming both familiar and given but still annoying nonetheless. Regardless, you take your turn, switching topics a bit. “Have I told you how proud of you I am? Cause I am. So so proud of you, Joe. I always knew you could do it.” You lift up, biting down on your bottom lip as you push some of his hair back. “You’re gonna hold the record for most main events at Wrestlemania. Beating Hulk’s record. Thee fucking Hulk Hogan. And once you whoop Ken doll’s ass, you’re gonna have the third longest title reign in WWE history. Do you know how amazing that is?”

His hand is on your hip, making soft circles. “It’s not everything….”

Scoffing, you dismiss his dismissal. That is quite literally everything he ever told you he wanted. “The hell it isn’t. I remember every conversation we ever had about this, Leati. Your worries. Your hopes. Your dreams. This is what you’ve always wanted and worked your whole life for.” He’d always been so open and vulnerable about where he ultimately wanted his career to go, the burning desire he had to make it happen, and to see him do just that means the world to you. It should mean the world to him.

But there’s something off about his tone, and you can’t quite make out if it’s because he’s still reeling from the loss or something else. It almost feels like everything you’re saying is going in one ear and out the other because it no longer means that much to him. You know that can’t be the case. Not with how long he’s been grinding and working his ass off. 

His tone and expression are both appreciative as he shares, “I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much your support meant to me. You always knew the right thing to say.”

You lean down to kiss him, nice and slow. “I’m just really good at that shit.” Biting down on your bottom lip, you slowly start to snake your hand down his chest. “I’m really good at a lot of shit actually.” Whatever is bothering him, you know one way to help.

A really really good way.

Chuckling, his jaw clenches when you try to wrap your hand around him, fingers unable to connect from his width. He’s already hard for you. “You lock the door?”

You’ve never been so grateful for hotel rooms with bedroom doors that lock.

“Of course.” There’s no time wasted in moving so that you’re on top of him, reaching to align him just right so you can sink down on your favorite pastime. 

“My turn….”

—----------

Someone knocking on your door, loudly, at 11am, just hours after you land back in town wasn’t on your agenda for the day.

You, Callie, and Alexis caught an early morning flight that was difficult for everyone giving how crazy busy the weekend was, but especially for Callie who was already sad at having to say bye to her dad again and was still tired from lack of adequate sleep. 

You’re especially happy you chose to take today off and keep Callie home from preschool. You definitely need time to recover.

But life has a way of lifing. You’re immediately annoyed, looking beside you to see that Alexis is also stirring in her sleep, mumbling something about ‘fuck off.’ Sighing loudly, you stare at the ceiling, almost ready to leave whoever it is outside. But then they knock again, and you know this isn’t someone you can avoid. 

Even if you’re very tempted. Reaching for a robe, you pull it on and tie it around your wait, sliding your slippers on to make your way to the front door. Not even bothering to look through the peephole, you rip it open, ready to curse someone out when you see who it is.

Alyssa’s striking blue eyes are the first thing you noticed followed by the shine of the police badge attached to Officer Austin’s uniform. 

Why the hell is a police officer and one of the town’s social worker at your door?

“Hi….” You have to clear your voice, sleep weighing it down with coarse grit. “Is…is everything alright?” Panic briefly sets in. “Is it one of my students?”

This is the part of being a teacher that guts you, when a child is being harmed or at risk of being harmed and you have to make a call that does both a lot of good and a lot of bad. Alyssa has been the social worker you’ve worked with the most, but this is definitely the first time she’s come to your house about a case.

“Y/N…..” Her expression is grim, and you realize quickly that whatever it is is not good. Not good at all. “We received a report against you.”

“A report?” Your hand is gripping the door so tightly, you’re certain splinters are going to embed themselves into the pads of your fingers. But it’s a much better feeling than what’s starting to grow in the pit of your stomach. “What—what kind of report?”

There’s hesitation, and you understand why when she clarifies. “An immediate danger report.” 

“No.” Your stomach drops. “Alyssa, you can’t—-you can’t be serious.”

Your head is absolutely spinning. This…this can’t be right. A social worker and police officer cannot be standing at your door saying that someone called DCFS on you and made a report that not only is Callie in danger, but she’s in immediate danger. 

You’ve had the unfortunate experience of being the one to make reports, working plenty with Alyssa and the local police to navigate these cases. And it’s in that experience you’ve learned the definition of an immediate danger report and what it requires.

The immediate removal of a child from the accused home and custody.

They want to take Callie from you. 

Officer Austin speaks in an equally sympathetic tone. “Trust me, Y/N. I’ve known you since you were a little girl, and this makes me sick to my stomach. I hate it. I know it’s all lies and a waste of time and resources, but you know the law. We have to—“

However, you’re focused on Alyssa as you know the police are only brought along in case the situation becomes hostile. You have no desire to get physical with law enforcement, but you will get down on your hands and knees if that’s what it takes to keep your baby with you. “Please don’t do this. Alyssa, you know me—“

“I do, and that’s why I arranged where she’ll be released to your mom for custody and I got a hearing scheduled with the judge for you on Wednesday. It’ll only be three days—” If it wasn’t for the pending mental breakdown, you’d be more appreciative. You’d much rather Callie be sent to stay with your mom instead of put in emergency foster care.

You’re not sure if you’d be able to live with that. 

“Oh my god…..” You feel like you’re going to pass out, suddenly aware of Alexis' presence as she too asks more questions about what’s going on and who made this report. She’s, understandably, pissed. But, her last question is a no brainer. 

There’s only one person you know who would have a motive to do something like this.

“Three days without speaking or seeing my child! You know how attached she is to me, Alyssa!” It’s also in your experience with these types of situations that you know zero communication is allowed between the child and parent being accused until the emergency court hearing takes place. 

Three days without being able to speak to Callie….pain like this should never be allowed to be experienced. It’s a nightmare turned into reality. 

She truly looks remorseful, and you know she finds this just as ridiculous as you. “My hands are tied Y/N.”

Voice low, you finally ask, “what are the accusations?” If an answer was given to Alexis, you didn’t hear it, and regardless. You need to ask for yourself.

“Y/N.”

You repeat, no room for argument or refusal in your tone. “What…are the accusations, Alyssa?”

She swallows, answering in a low tone. “Child endangerment. Specifically….you’ve been accused of leaving Callie unintended to meet men for sex, and the accusation that made it immediate danger….is that you plan to prostitute Callie.”

It takes everything in you not to projectile vomit right on the spot, as you move your hand to your stomach, bent over. There aren’t enough words to describe your disgust and revulsion. 

Alyssa starts to provide more basic information regarding getting Callie back, but it's a waste of time.

You know this. You’re more than well aware of how this process works. Just never in a million years did you think you’d be involved in one of your own.

Absolutely defeated and crushed, you ask, “let me talk to her first, please.”

“Of course.” 

Alexis stays behind to follow up with additional questions that you’re partially paying attention to, but the majority of your focus is on staying upright. You could throw up and pass out on cue at this very moment. That’s how overwhelmed you feel, but the second your shaking hand opens Callie’s door, it’s an even bigger battle.

She’s still sleeping. 

Your sweet, innocent child is still sleeping, probably trying to recover from all the festivities from this weekend. And you have to wake her up. You have to wake her up to undoubtedly break her heart.

“Oh God…..” Hand on your stomach, you take three, big, deep breaths to settle your nervous system. Callie can’t see how much of a wreck you are. That’s only going to make it worse.

Sitting on the side of her bed, you clench and unclench your hands to minimize the shaking before gently pushing on her shoulder. “Calista, baby, I need you to get up.” It takes a couple of times, as you knew it would because you know your child like the back of your hand. The child who you would never do anything to endanger or any of the other egregious accusations made against you resulting in this nightmare.

Eyes blinking open, you chuckle at the pout on her face.

“I’m sleepy, mommy….”

“I know, baby.” You clear your throat, playing off the way emotion catches you, almost exposing the seriousness of this moment. “But…mommy needs you to get up. You….you’ve gotta go by grandma, okay?”

She looks at you, still with that pout and very much still partially sleep. “Can we go later?”

“No, baby. I—” This is inarguably one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. “I can’t go with you.”

And this is when you see her pout deepen. “Why?”

“Callie….” Hand on her face, you try to ignore the sound of your heart shattering. “You’re not gonna see mommy or be able to talk to me for a couple days, baby.”

And you knew, you knew before even opening your mouth that her eyes would begin to water that telling her this harsh but necessary truth would cause the reaction you’re starting to see. Her face is reddening, mouth dropped into a permanent frown.

It tears you apart to do this to her. “Baby, please don’t cry. It’s only for three days and—and you’ll have grandma, and—and auntie Alexis will visit you, and I’ll make sure daddy talks to you as often as he can—”

“But what about you? You’re my mommy.” She rubs at her eyes, crying harder. “Why are you leaving me?”

Pulling her into your chest, you swear to her, “listen to me, Callie, I will never ever leave you. Okay? The…the people who make sure little kids like you are safe and taken care of just want to make sure I’m a good mommy to you, o-okay?”

“But you’re the best mommy,” she cries into you, and a sob leaves your throat at that. Callie’s heartfelt tears, the fear and confusion in her little voice. It rips your heart to shreds. You hold her as long as you can before helping her get dressed and

gather a little backpack with a few items. 

You know she already has mostly everything she’ll need at your mom’s already.

Everything except you. 

Alyssa allows you to hold her as you walk down to the police car, but it’s when Officer Austin opens the door and Callie begins to cry, asking him, “please don’t take me from my mommy!” that you break again.

It’s impossible to keep your composure with your four-year-old child begging not to be taken from you. Pulling it together, you kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear, reminding her that you love her, and that you’ll see her again before she knows it. It’s the best you can do, it’s the only thing you can do. 

Setting her down on the ground, you crouch in front of her, placing both hands on her cheeks. “Ms. Alyssa and this nice officer are gonna bring you to grandma right now, okay? I promise I’m gonna get you as soon as I can, baby, and no one will ever take you away from me again, okay?” 

She doesn’t say anything, face still full of heartbreak. She hugs you again, holding on tight. “I love you, mommy.”

Voice cracking, you whisper, “I love you too, baby.”

Eventually finding the strength, you break away and stand up to see Alyssa wiping a tear from her eyes. She then forces a sad smile and takes Callie’s hand, leading her into the back of the police car. Even being buckled in, you see Callie continuing to look back at you, sadness morphing with helplessness. 

And that’s the last view you’ll have of your daughter, looking hopeless and confused as to why this is happening. 

But you know exactly why this is happening. 

And you know exactly what you need to do.

“Y/N…..” 

Alexis watery eyes are a brief view you have before dashing up the stairs and throwing open your apartment door. Shaking hands manage to grab you car keys off the kitchen island as you head back for the front door only to find that you can’t march out because Alexis is standing in front of the door. 

“Move out my way, Alexis.” 

“Y/N. You’re upset. Okay—”

Snapping, you shout at her. “Move! Now!”

She doesn’t hesitate to match your energy. “Not until you fucking calm down!”

Snapping, you scream. “She just got my child taken away from me, Alexis! Don’t tell me to calm down! I’m gonna smash her fucking face in!”

Never…..never in a million years did you think Mariah could be capable of something like this. That she could be evil as to call DCFS on you, make up lies so horrific that it sickens you to even think about them, and have your child ripped away from you. Damn what this has done to you. What about Callie? Was she even thinking about how traumatic this would be for Callie?

She’ll be thinking about it when you stomp her head into the fucking pavement.

“Hey! You have every right to be upset, okay? But, this is probably what she wants! She knows they’re not gonna find anything on you, but you go over there and beat her ass, it puts the spotlight on you and then gives them a basis to question your fitness.” Alexis is such a sound voice of reason right now, but it’s hard to heed when your literal heart has just been ripped from your fucking body. “You need to focus on doing what you need to do to get Callie back, okay? Call Joe—”

Joe.

You hadn’t….you hadn’t even thought about him. How can you explain this to him? Explain to him that your child, the child he just found out about not even six months ago is now technically in custody of DCFS because of your friend. Is that even forgivable? Beyond that, how crushing is that going to be for him?

Eyes watering, you shake your head, volume a few octaves lowered. You feel like you’re about to have a panic attack. “No, I can’t—-I can’t tell him.”

Alexis steps to you, placing her hands on your face, centering you. “Yes, you can, and you will. He needs to know, and you need support right now. I’m here for you, of course, but that’s the man you love. You need him.” Her expression then darkens. “And don’t you worry about Mariah. I got that hoe. Believe that. You don’t have to put a hand on her. Imma do it for you.” 

Alexis words do both everything and nothing for you. Granted, you’re not sure if anything will be substantial enough short of having your child returned to your custody or all of this being some sick joke. 

You’re not even sure when Alexis walks away to grab your phone until she’s reaching it to you. “Call him, sweetie. I promise you he’s not going to blame you. He’s going to be upset for the same reasons you are: because this is all bullshit. But please, Y/N, just….call this man.”

Finally taking the phone, she nods with a small smile. She then goes to remove her earrings and pull back her hair. “I’m gonna go curb stump this hoe.”

Alexis goes to the back, and you just stare at your phone. You once thought calling Joe to tell him about Callie’s existence would be one of the hardest phone calls you would ever have to make. 

God, you were so wrong. 

Trembling fingers tap on the phone to bring up his contact, and with tears streaming down your face, you hit call.

Whether for better or worse, he doesn’t answer, forcing you to leave a voicemail message. 

“Hey.” It’s a fruitless and meritless effort to keep your voice strong when you feel anything but. “I–I need you to call me as soon as you get a chance….please.” Hitting end, both you and the phone drop on the floor. On your knees, you finally release the sob you’d been holding in for the past twenty minutes. Moments later, Alexis is besides you, comforting you.

Not that it does any good. 

There is no good left.

Only pain.

[thewritersofdeceased]

BEFORE I POST THIS, HERE ARE SOME LITTLE THINGIES TO KNOW.

NEWSIES FANDOM ; ROMEO STORY ; FIRST PERSON POV ; TW: $UICIDE(NOT ROMEO.) ; THE RED IS ALL PARTS OF THE JOURNAL.

THIS STORY IS WRITTEN WITH MY VERSION OF WRITING ROMEO. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE DO NOT THINK ANY OF THIS IS CANON. ME AND MY FRIEND ALSO WRITE NEWSIES RP'S TOGETHER.

ALL OF THIS IS ENTIRELY FICTION, NONE OF IT HAS HAPPENED.

SEPTEMBER 18th, XXXX.

JOURNAL ENTRY ONE!

To whoever finds this ; Hello! 

I don’t know what to write here… but! My dad said I should get into writing! I don’t have very… nice handwriting, so it’ll be difficult to read these when I’m older! Hopefully I find these when I’m older. Dad said writing would be fun, so I hope it is! It’s not like it’s gonna help me in the future, but he claims it will! It’s just me, him and my mom right now! Which is AWESOME! We have such a nice house, and we just officially moved into a family home in New York! Well- Manhattan, but that’s okay! They keep talking about school, which I REALLY DO NOT WANNA GO TO! It just doesn’t… seem fun. Staying home all day and learning how to dance with my mom? That sounds like WAY MORE FUN!

This was from years ago. When I first came to New York from… I can’t even remember. I wish I knew what had actually happened. Here, before I even go on. My name’s Romeo. I’m a Junior in highschool in Manhattan. I’m an only child, currently trying to help my dad out with whatever I can. It’s a long story. I’d rather allow the events to play out themselves than explain it. It’s difficult now. I wish I knew how everything would play out. It’s not fair when something goes wrong. These were from when I was below ten. Or maybe this WAS when I was ten. The year is scribbled out, but the handwriting is messy. I always had messy handwriting, no matter what. 

OCTOBER 28th, XXXX.

JOURNAL ENTRY TWO!

To whoever finds it again ; WOOO! 

It’s HALLOWEEN WEEKEND!! The best time of the year! This time? My mom, dad and I are matching! We’re going as supervillains! You can guess who I am! I know, I know, you can’t really answer me, can you! Well, to sum it up for yaaa, I’m going as the Joker! My mom’s doing Catwoman, which makes a lot of sense if you ask me! Mom’s super flexible! I wish that one day I’ll be as flexible as her! My dad’s being Batman, which is weird because Batman’s not a supervillain! He’s a hero! Mom’s being all silly, but that’s the best part about it all! 

If only I fucking knew. I held the old journal tightly in my hands, as if dropping it would erase all the memories. Sitting on the carpet, the room is freezing. It’s December. Always the coldest time of the year. I hated it. There was no point for Christmas anymore. Not after finding out what happened. Back in these journals? Rereading them, I felt like I was just a little kid again. Like it was back in the early 2000’s, when I thought everything was just okay. When I dreamt and wished I could be a superhero to save everyone. How badly I wish I could go back.  The sounds of footsteps is what had caught my interest, alongside with a knock to my own bedroom door. “Come in.” My tone remained empty, like I was shattered over something so stupid. 

The door opened and the hallway’s light beamed in. I had my LED’s on a certain shade of blue, not too bright yet not too dark. The voice of my father spoke. “Get to bed, Romeo. You have school in the morning.” Right. School. The place where I could act like everything was okay. That place didn’t care about the kids that went there, but about the reputation it held. It wasn’t like they cared. Hell, I remember hearing a kid almost died in the bathroom with pills. That school didn’t care. They just wanted money to support it. For the students to hold the reputation up high so nobody could get in. It was pathetic if you asked me. So, I’d only hum in response to my father’s voice, watching the shadows before the bright golden light of the hallway disappeared. To bed, I guess. Just to repeat the same day over and over again. 

DECEMBER 30th, XXXX

JOURNAL ENTRY THREE.

To whoever finds this ; I don’t know what to do. 

I don’t know if I wanna live here anymore. It’s been a couple of months, I’m still fourteen. A fourteen year old shouldn’t have to go through this. Dad says… mom went somewhere for a vacation. I don’t believe that. I know he’s lying. His voice was cracking when he told me. He sounded on the verge of tears. Like one wrong word and the tears would fall straight down his face. Mom was gone. She wasn’t here anymore. She left. I couldn’t blame her. Life’s been rough recently. They’ve been arguing a lot. He’s threatened to move back home. Back to… wherever the hell we’re from. I don’t care. This isn’t my problem. A fourteen year old shouldn’t have to deal with the loss of his mother. I’ve cried so much that I can’t even cry anymore. I have no one. No friends to comfort, nobody to distract me. Nothing  to keep me from running away. Maybe I could. That’d be best if you asked me. I’ll keep on updating. See how far I get.

God. I was a stupid kid my Freshman year.  Only three months in and I already wanted to run away. Now as I sat in my bed, continuing to read this journal, everything struck through my mind. As if I was struck with lightning or something stupid. My whole freshman year was dumb. Besides meeting my group of idiots. Thank god for them. They got me out of my dark abyss I was stuck in for months on end. I’m just glad they did. Or I would’ve joined her by the time Summer hit. Which I really, REALLY wanted to do at that time. 

JANUARY  2ND, XXXX

JOURNAL ENTRY FOUR.

To whoever finds this ; I didn’t get very far. 

I didn’t get very far when it came to running away. My dad made a missings person poster only a day after. I didn’t go to school, didn’t go to any place that was of huge public eyes. But that’s difficult. Especially with cops everywhere. Now I’m stuck under my dad’s watch. That’s so much fun. He took away my phone. He thought social media was encouraging my run away too much. It didn’t. Then again, I don’t blame him. It’s terrifying losing your wife and then your kid hours apart. It was a difficult thing. A difficult way to show that you cared. This years going to hell. It’s only the second day of the year, but it’s late. Around eleven right now. It’s only been three days. I gotta get some sleep. Even with the nightmares. I can’t be doing this all nighter shit for weeks on end. Goodnight for now. Wish it was for a while. 

Ever since this, I don’t think I’ve written in the journal for a long ass time. Not like I wanted to after her death. I could burn this journal if I wanted to, but it would get rid of any memories of my first writings. Or, I just tear those out and burn the rest of it. It’s been a long while. Fuck it. Blink carries lighters. I’ll ask him for one tomorrow.  Tonight? I just have to get through it. Or I’ll go and see Specs and the boys. Surely, they aren’t busy.  I mean, usually Albert and Blink aren’t. Same with Buttons and Jojo. Whatever, whoever’s not busy, I’ll bother. Everything’ll be fine. Hopefully. 

[dehydratedpercy]

hey hey hey!! i'm about to finish my umpteenth reread of preserve or raze and i just wanted to shower you with love because you literally cannot imagine how much i adore your fic oh my gods

first off. the characters sir. the characters. i like every single one of them more than in canon and that's saying something because i loved them a lot in the first place

jason grace? absolute perfection. hazel levesque? frank is the most relatable character ever because i too am such a damn simp for her. frank himself? ultimate best boy. and percy? *fanboy sounds intensify* yeah that should be enough of an answer. i love him your honour. nico di angelo? adored him back then adore him now. also long hair in a bun!nico lives rent free in my head. and annabeth? she's one of the only characters i didn't like much in the original books anyway but such kudos to you for writing her denial arc about percy, it was so amazingly written and god. truly all i can offer is admiration

not to mention how much i long to take part in those cuddle parties and movie nights with the gang

also hell yeah lesbian piper and rachel. you were doing god's work fixing the former character's writing tbh

and the plot itself is SO GOOD. like. it's not a coincidence that it can fully hold my autistic ass's attention all the way through even though it's 277k words at this point. it's truly one of the best things i've read and that is saying something because i read A Lot

so. god. thank you so much for this masterpiece!! and please keep going!! this book means more to me than you can imagine

(but ofc, please only do so within your boundaries and while putting yourself first - just in case it wasn't obvious /gen)

i hope you're doing well and that the rest of your day is gonna be great <3

all the best, jay

Hi jay!! This is an old ask, but that is only because it delighted me so much that I wanted to keep it in my ask box for a while to appreciate it.

"first off. the characters sir. the characters. i like every single one of them more than in canon and that's saying something because i loved them a lot in the first place"

YES let's talk characters. Rick did a great job setting up the basics, okay? Okay. He did great. It has been my honor to just EXPAND upon the basics, which, also, were mostly 13 year olds who didn't cuss. But they were SO badass, they really deserved better-- like, idk, to be in their 20s, to have mature relationship drama/hookups, to be even more dramatic and less goody-two-shoes, and yes, of course, to swear up a storm. FRANK DESERVES TO SAY FUCK.

You know those first few chapters of Mark of Athena (told from Annabeth's POV) where she sees Jason acting all regal (and yet still kinda fucked up), she sees Percy acting all buddy buddy with Frank and Hazel (and it makes her feel nervous/worried), she interacts with Reyna (and there's this weird underlying tension)? And its generally just about... two cultures combining and problem solving together and a bunch of characters we love acting hesitant around each other because they don't know who's a threat and who's not? Well, PoR was VERY inspired by those chapters. I read those chapters and went "You know what would be nice? 250k words of this" and then thats what I spent the next three years writing.

"jason grace? absolute perfection. hazel levesque? frank is the most relatable character ever because i too am such a damn simp for her. frank himself? ultimate best boy. and percy? *fanboy sounds intensify* yeah that should be enough of an answer. i love him your honour. nico di angelo? adored him back then adore him now. also long hair in a bun!nico lives rent free in my head. and annabeth? she's one of the only characters i didn't like much in the original books anyway but such kudos to you for writing her denial arc about percy, it was so amazingly written and god. truly all i can offer is admiration"

Hazel is chill but also lowkey magical and wonderful. Frank is 100% right to feel such strong admiration of her. And yes, Frank is DEFINITELY the best boy, and not only because he turns into a very cute pug. PERCY. Love of my life, waterer of my crops.

"and annabeth? she's one of the only characters i didn't like much in the original books anyway but such kudos to you for writing her denial arc about percy, it was so amazingly written and god. truly all i can offer is admiration"

Okay, the Annabeth thing is so interesting because I've heard a LOT of people say they didn't like her in the books?? Which shocks me, because I thought she was great. I really projected heavily onto Percy, but I liked Annabeth and their relationship a lot. I think fanon Annabeth gets a little messy, so maybe the issue is that people struggle when figuring out how to interpret her-- they either see her as really basic, or really controlling and mean. Personally, I think Annabeth is a lot more than either of those things: she's the type of person who's in touch with her emotions, but is constantly fighting between logic and emotions, deciding what is the smartest thing to do versus what is the thing she is most called to do. The people surrounding her at camp pigeonhole her into being logical, because "Annabeth wouldn't do something irrational" "Annabeth is smart, she should act like it" "Annabeth should always think things through". That's why she works so well with percy-- he DOESN'T think things through, he totally flies by the seat of his pants and acts on his emotions every time, even when its going to fuck him up. Percy shows Annabeth that it's okay to act emotionally instead of rationally-- that you can still get places that way. Annabeth lived a life where everyone else was holding her back, and then met Percy, and Percy was one of the first people who didn't try to hold her back. If anything, he encouraged her to push further, yell louder, and just-- be more.

So yeah. I do, genuinely, love Percabeth. And I'm glad this fic has made you appreciate them-- or at least Annabeth-- more ;)

"not to mention how much i long to take part in those cuddle parties and movie nights with the gang"

HELL!!!! YEAH!!!!

"also hell yeah lesbian piper and rachel. you were doing god's work fixing the former character's writing tbh"

THANK!!!! YOU!!!!! Look all I'm saying is. Piper and Rachel should've been canon. Piper's SUCH a hippie. The way she dresses, the way she thinks-- yes. She needs, NEEDS, an artist girlfriend. And Rachel-- UGH, you don't understand, she wants Piper so bad. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

Should've been canon, I'm telling you.

"and the plot itself is SO GOOD. like. it's not a coincidence that it can fully hold my autistic ass's attention all the way through even though it's 277k words at this point. it's truly one of the best things i've read and that is saying something because i read A Lot"

I'm honored 😭🥰 The true miracle is that it held my autistic ass's attention for long enough to write that much in the first place, holy shit. This was a special interest to rival God. I have really, really loved writing it though, so I'm glad you've enjoyed it so much :') ❤️❤️❤️

"so. god. thank you so much for this masterpiece!! and please keep going!! this book means more to me than you can imagine"

🥰🥰🥰 Thank you!! And good news for you, these upcoming days/weeks I will be writing the remaining chapters and continuing/finishing this story! My current job gives me a LOT of free time so I think it's only right that I use it to give PoR the conclusion it deserves.

Thanks so much for the ask and all the love. I wish you wonderful reading and a wonderful day as well!

-Atlas

[soulmate-game]

New fic *test*

New Bio!dad Bruce story? I’m testing out this first chapter, and if I like where it’s going I might add it to my growing pile of WIPs. If I have inspiration, I might as well use it. Because of life events stressing me the hell out, I’m throwing any writing plans out the window and I’m purely gonna write to destress right now. Whether that means updating THG or not, or continuing Maribat March, we’ll just have to see how this all pans out. Things are subject to day-to-day change.

I got inspiration from this from rereading my day 1 story for Bio!dad Bruce Wayne month from last year. I’m just gonna change a few things.

—*—*—*—*—*

For once, an unfamiliar face attracted the attention of everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. It wasn’t even because of the person themselves at first, but their dress. The skirt like the most fantastical of storybook ball gowns, fluffy layers of satin over a luxurious petticoat, with a stunning pink floral pattern whose busy appearance was tastefully offset by a shorter, sheer layer of leaf green tulle artistically weaved and somehow sculpted over the floral in order to tame it. The effect turned what should be a grandmotherly pattern into something softer, sophisticated and youthful and yet also reminiscent of fairytale princesses. Over top the short layer of green tulle was an even shorter later of white tulle, almost invisible except for the elegant embroidery of crystal-white vines that twined all over it, connecting the green below it to the bottom-most floral pattern and oddly adding a layer of childishness instead of maturity. At the waist of the dress was a dark plum pink satin ribbon, to separate the elaborate ballgown skirt from the bodice. Attached to the simple ribbon was a large brooch of fabric flowers, with a single plastic ladybug in the center.

The bodice of the dress came up into a cheongsam neckline, but was sleeveless. It was a simple design, of half green and half dark pink, with a white border separating the two. The white border had expertly done embroideries in a soft silver thread that would only be visible close up, the images the thread made being that of fairies and ladybugs dancing around one another.

It was, all in all, a stunning display that made the small eurasian woman wearing them look like absolute royalty. Perhaps a long lost fairy princess. Her black-blue hair was even done up in elaborate looping braids and a braided bun, with silver and green pins that further completed the regal ensemble. And yes, while the expertly done dress was what initially captivated her current audience, it was not what kept them from leaving her alone. That was all her personality, bubbly and bright as her blinding smile. It was a sunny disposition that very few people present had any exposure to at all, and it drew them like a sunflower to the daylight. They could not help but flock closer, or even just stand back and keep themselves turned to her presence. Already she had been at the gala for two hours, but there was no issue. She just kept proving her generosity, admitting she had donated both a dress and a suit of her own making to the charity auction that would begin soon, one of the main attractions of the gala. She skillfully charmed the more snooty of the attendants, and artfully twisted her words so that they felt compelled to donate more money that they truly had no use for. Later, they would remember their donation and wonder what compelled it, but come up with no satisfying answer.

And yet she was entirely unaware of her more silent audience, who stood back and observed. Truth be told, every one of them was glad to not be the center of that attention for a change, to have room to breathe for so long at an event where usually that commodity was so scarce that it demanded a fierce competition for. Compared to her garden of color, they were all shadows in shades of blacks and blues and whites, with a touch of red here and there that was entirely too thematic for their home city. The one who sported a royal blue suit tilted his head at the scene they were all calmly witnessing, his bright azure eyes glittering.

“She’s like magic,” he mused, clearly enchanted despite having not said a single word to the woman. “Perfect socialite. She’s kind, generous, she made that dress and the ones she donated to the auction herself so she’s obviously got an intimidating amount of skill for her age. She even tricks those old fuddy-duddies into spending money. It’s like a dream come true!”

“I don't trust it,” the one to his right said, a man just a few inches shorter in a classic black suit with a red dress shirt underneath. He absently swept his bangs away from his face as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “It seems too perfect. She doesn’t have any identifiable character flaw, except maybe being a little clumsy and too energetic. She does babble a little… but nothing that actually suggests any depth besides her just being— good. That’s impossible, and I don’t trust it.”

“Tt. I agree with Drake for once. She seems entirely too comfortable with this setting, despite her blushes and rambles,” the one who spoke this like was taller, clearly a teen in the middle of his growth spurt. He, too, wore a plain black suit but his had subtle charcoal embroidery and he wore an emerald-green dress shirt under it that made his matching eyes gleam dangerously. “It seems almost playacted. Expertly so, but nonetheless not entirely genuine.”

“Wow, not many pick up on that. I’m gonna give your observations a solid eight out of ten. They’re all perfectly sound, but not quite complete,” a new voice made all of the silent group stiffen— somehow they had been snuck up on. The newcomer smirked at them as if having fully expected their reaction but still being pleased at being able to evoke it. This was yet another stunner; far too much color in her outfit to be a Gotham native, and far too much skill in the construction for it to signify anything less than extreme influence. She had bright golden-blond hair that was coiled into a low bun, with her bangs artfully curled and arranged to display her crystal blue eyes.

In contrast to the garden-themed dress of the Eurasian woman who had garnered their attention at first, this newcomer was wearing a pantsuit. It was all in a dark honey-gold, in a stiff fabric with construction that made it lay entirely in perfect, straight lines and hug her form in the right places. Black embroidery decorated the long, flared sleeves and pant legs and dripped around the square neckline like a faux necklace. A cape made out of the same material as the rest of the pantsuit was draped on one shoulder. It started out as the same honey-gold color, but it became a gradient as it faded to a solid black at the ends. Gold thread embroidery decorated the solid black bottom of the cape in delicate, deceptively simplistic swirls. The top half of the pantsuit was clearly inspired by military garb, simultaneously rigidly constructed yet fitted, with circular onyx buttons going down the center of the chest and a thick metal belt, all in swirling silver and black, sat perfectly clasped around her waist. It was far more solid-colored and simplistic compared to the fairytale dress in the center, but no less show stopping and luxurious. It simply showcased an entirely different attitude, almost as if the two women could never get along if their personalities matched their outfits.

“And who are you?” The man who had been the center of the group of shadow-like adults spoke up, back straightening to milk every speck of his generous six-feet-and-three-inches of height. This was none other than Bruce Wayne, the host of this annual charity gala. And normally, his current stance would either intimidate or utterly charm whoever it was directed at— but not this pantsuit-clad blond warrior. Her smirk merely widened, and her blue eyes took on a slight shade of teal as if trying to mimic the dangerous ocean depths.

“I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris, and Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen. It’s nice to meet you again, Monsieur Wayne,” she introduced herself imperiously. “I also happen to be the best friend of the girl you were just staring at.”

Bruce nodded, but had trouble reconciling this clear powerhouse of a woman with the bratty and entitled preteen he had met years ago, at the last gala she had attended with her mother. “Of course, I didn’t recognize you at first Chloe. You’ve grown a lot since the last Gala I saw you at.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, clearly not appreciating the reminder. “I was a bitch,” she admitted easily, seemingly not at all bothered by the confession. It caused not only Bruce but also the oldest three of his sons, who had all also met her in the past, to blink in silent shock. “Things have changed. Paris is apparently the perfect chaotic environment right now to promote emotional growth and smack spoiled kids over the head with reality,” she shrugged. Part of the reason her and her whole class had even been able to come to the Gala in the first place was the fact that Bruce wanted to offer the most attacked group of Parisians a respite and some support from their crazy lives. The fact that even Gotham seemed sane in comparison to Paris was a bit of a hard hit for both involved parties, but in the end everyone understood that “more sane” didn’t always equate with “less dangerous.” Considering all that, Chloe had no reason to sugarcoat the situation in her home city. “But it wasn’t easy at all, and Marinette was largely responsible for my improvement too.”

“Marinette?” The heathen who somehow got away with attending a gala in a black leather jacket over a dress shirt and suit pants asked, raising a brow. Chloe nodded.

“The girl you were just goggling at. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class president and resident workaholic. Does she ever sleep? Nobody knows,” Chloe shrugged.

The blue-suited man, Dick Grayson, shot a suspicious glance at Tim, who was standing to his right, as if he was worried his brother had made a female clone of himself just so he could continue to work hard and never rest. Tim ignored him and sipped from the thermos of coffee he had somehow snuck in.

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the focus back onto himself, and shot his most charming smile at Chloe. “They would have known who she was, if they had read the brief information I gave them about your class. But they never do listen to me,” he complained with good humor. “But back to the original topic, Miss Bourgeois, do you care to correct us on how our observations are lacking?”

Chloe laughed easily, smiling and nodding to indicate Marinette, still stuck in a circle of socialites and not seeming the least bit worn out.

“Of course. First; She is not completely acting. She really is like magic sometimes— disgustingly kind, generous, far too willing to help just about anyone for just about any reason. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, as much as it pains me to admit it. But she is exaggerating her personality a bit and hiding the parts she doesn’t want anyone to see, so there is a little acting involved. Just not as much as you seem to think,” Chloe then waved her arm in a flourish as if she were presenting Marinette to them. “In short; behold Mari Dupain-Cheng, the ridiculously likeable, disgustingly cute, extremely philanthropic mask that she shows everyone at public events like this. You don’t see any of the insomnia, or the anxiety, or the self doubt. Just the parts she wants you to see, accompanied with a smile to blind you to everything else,” her all-too-deep blue eyes settled back on Bruce then, a knowing glint shining in them. “Don’t you think that’s ridiculously similar to Brucie Wayne for you, Monsieur? Utterly, ridiculously, similar?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He hadn’t expected anyone else to know about his exceptionally well hidden secret, not even his kids had caught on or found his buried evidence yet. Yet his heiress comes up, nearly flaunting her knowledge in his face with all too many unspoken questions and criticisms.

And her cryptic words had succeeded in making all of his kids look at him with extreme suspicion. Shit.

“What are you saying, Miss Bourgeois?” he cautiously prodded. She hummed noncommittally before dropping the bomb all too casually;

“I’m saying I’ve seen her adoption papers, and you won’t be able to run from her for long Monsieur Wayne. As soon as she gets an opening, she’s going to pounce,” Chloe’s eyes glittered dangerously again. “And nowadays, Marinette doesn’t ever let people escape her. Your problem with adoption has created a rather unique problem, you know. You’re at fault for a large majority of her self confidence issues, and I want you to know that I am not going to forget or forgive that anytime soon.”

“Bruce,” Jason’s voice was dark and threatening. “What is she talking about?”

“Something we don’t want getting in the tabloids,” Yet another new voice popped up, allowing Chloe to smugly sink back into the background.

Somewhere during their discussion, Marinette had ambushed them.

“Chloe and I are very good at locating all the reporters in a room and distracting them, but we’re not infallible and this event has far too much coverage,” Her smile reeked confidence and charm, but this close all the Waynes could see the doubt hiding in her bluebell eyes. “Since I’m about to turn eighteen, I figured this would be as good a time as any to finally confront you. I want to make it clear that I seek nothing from you, except the occasional contact. I would like to keep in touch, if nothing else. But if you are adverse to that… then at least answer my questions after the gala,” her eyes developed a hint of carefully controlled desperation. “Please.”

Bruce met her eyes evenly, trying to read her. But she was difficult, simultaneously too many emotions to sort through in her demeanor and much too little. After an extremely tense moment of silence, his voice came out barely above a whisper:

“You do not want anybody to know?”

And hell, if she didn’t recognize the hidden vulnerability in his voice as the very same she heard in her own far too often. In a much tamer version of her own rambling, he went on:

“I can keep it silent if that is what you want. But I want you to know that I will not be adverse to you admitting it anywhere. I don’t expect you to change your name, but I would not be ashamed of the truth getting out. I am not ashamed of it, of you.”

Marinette’s smile grew a little watery. She had to clear her throat to keep herself from tearing up. “Maybe eventually, but not yet. I… I want to stay a little more anonymous for now. It’s one thing to be a well known designer with good connections. It’s an entirely different thing to be…”

“A Wayne?” Bruce finished, ignoring the daggers that were being stared into his back. “I understand completely.

“Father,” Damian’s voice was all sharp edges and rapidly suppressed panic. “What. Is going. On?”

Marinette shot him an apologetic smile. “Apparently, eighteen years ago, his prerogative was to put the child he actually knew about up for adoption when the mother died in childbirth,” her voice was once again only barely loud enough for them to hear, since she didn’t want any eavesdroppers. “Imagine my surprise when I find out he completely flipped sides only months later.”

--*--*--*--*--*

Hey, so please share your feedback on this. This is just to test out a possible new bio dad, multichapter fic and this is the opening scene I'm trying out. If you like it, please tell me what you like about it and please suggest titles for the story! I love you guys' feedback so much!

[dangermousie]

Hello !

I was wondering whether you could rate and tell us of your top 5 favourite webnovels/cnovels of all time ?! (Sorry if this has already been answered lol😅)

Thank you, stay safe and have a nice day🖤

Awww, thank you and that is such a lovely ask!!!

From n1 to n5, here they are (they happen to be all danmei.)

1. The Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2ha) - my n1 forever and ever.

Taxian Jun, the horrific cultivation emperor of the world who razed cities and destroyed sects, is surrounded on his mountain. The righteous sects are terrified to confront him but tired of living, Taxian Jun consumes poison and dies by suicide at the age of 32. And opens his eyes as 16 year old Mo Ran, Mo Ran long before he became Taxian Jun, Mo Ran who is excited at a chance to save the one person he loved and lost. Oh, and to deal with his loathed shizun, the unapproachable and strict Chu Wanning, his past life’s biggest enemy.

I have no idea if it’s objectively the best on this list but it hits every trope I love, its bleak worldview (the world will change only incrementally but that’s enough, average person will not appreciate the sacrifice but it’s still worthwhile, and love is worth everything) mirrors mine, and the sheer complexity of the plot and cascade of plot twists each of which is insane and yet completely logical, is amazing (this is a rare novel where it’s even more fun to reread than read for the first time because you keep seeing all the hints and trail crumbs laid out that you did not see the first time.)

And the characters!!! I mean, this novel has multiple universes/timelines, a side trip to the Underworld AND the demon realm, a plot more twisted than a store’s worth of pretzels and yet the thing that hits me the most are the characters. Mo Ran is my favorite web novel character of all time and I love Chu Wanning so. All the secondary characters are wonderfully written (and some of them made me bawl) and they are all complex. My opinion of all of them changed many times over; the novel doesn’t make it easy to love some of them but then you do and it’s so worthwhile! That slow change is one of the delights of the novel - I started out disliking the unpleasant, superior Chu Wanning and cruel, callow Mo Ran and then I loved them so so hard and cried for them so so hard and was in awe of their heroism and sacrifice and selflessness and capacity to love.

Oh, and the fact that this novel does something almost impossible - it has its protagonist start out as so clearly irredeemable and then slowly and painfully and thoroughly redeems him (without ever letting the reader forget what it is he needs redemption for.)

Also, for a novel that made me cry so hard I felt ill, this book is just so damn funny with the most sarcastic sense of humor imaginable (the serious angst doesn’t even kick in until 90+ chapters!)

Anyway I should stop or I will write a dissertation. But this is the one web novel that I would put in my top 5 not just web novels but any novels in any shape or form. The plentiful trigger warnings are there for a reason so stay away if they are an issue, but if not, if anyone hasn’t read it yet, what are you doing with your life?!

2. Stains of Filth (Yuwu) - another novel by the author of 2ha. Clearly she just pushes all my buttons every time. This one is much shorter and has a plot that is twisty but less twisty than 2ha. Still, all that means is that intensity and the pain are more concentrated.

Aristocratic Mo Xi and former slave Gu Mang were both legendary generals of the empire and lovers. But Gu Mang betrayed the country and switched to the enemy. Now he is back as a peace offering by that country and Mo Xi has to deal with the fact that his feelings are as strong as ever.

This novel!!! So much pain and intensity!!! So many amazing plot twists and supporting characters. The same bleak world view, the same unjust society, the same protagonists doing right things despite the cost. Mo Xi’s intensity and inability to let go (he’s imprinted on Gu Mang and that’s it) is romantic, bone-shakingly intense, and tragic all at once. And oh Gu Mang! So many times I just wanted to reach into the book physically to protect him. The novel deals with unjust societies, memory versus personality, what it’s like to be good in a bad universe etc. And it both made me sob and giggle, repeatedly, and sold me on literally death-defying (but not honor-defying!) love.

Oh, and special shout out to the fact that like 2ha, you may start out hating some characters and end up a rabid fangirl (cough Murong Lian!)

3. Qiang Jin Jiu - a dense political tome that takes a while to get going but then it’s a runaway train.

In a fictional dynasty, Shen Zechuan, the only remaining son of a disgraced aristocratic family and Xiao Chiye, the younger son of a family of generals guarding the border join forces (and then something else) to get power and pull down the dysfunctional system.

This is so elegant and smart (a rare web novel I’d recommend to anyone who just loves solid period fiction) and you probably need a notebook to keep track of the politics and military strategy. These characters are very very smart not just because the author says so.

As to the characters, there is a large cast and I love many of them, but for me the novel is made by Shen Zechuan and Xiao Chiye. SZC is gorgeous and delicate and icy and can kill you before you have time to blink. Saddled with the sins of the family he had no pleasant interaction with, he claws his way out of hell (seeing the sinkhole he was trapped in, literally as well) to take down those who wronged him but also to amass power so all the tragedy and corruption won’t happen again and the whole rotten system comes crashing down. XCY is a military genius who is trapped as a hostage in the capital because the court doesn’t trust his family. He longs to return to the plains of home and to take his rightful place. The two men start out as bitter enemies, then reluctant and sniping allies, then as friends and eventually as one of the most gorgeous, tender, swoony OTPs.

Anyway this is one is a bona fide masterpiece, equal parts smart and emotionally intense.

4. Wu Chang Jie - are you an emotional vampire? I am and this novel is a banquet.

In a highly fantastical setting, we meet our protagonists - the sunny Xie Bian and the intense and surly Fan Wushe. Xie Bian is a human who assists his master in conveying souls to the underworld and making sure no mishaps happen. Bian is concentrated sunshine in human form and to meet him is to love him. When the novel opens, his drunk master brings back another human to be his shidi and assist with duties - said human is uncommunicative, intense and surly Wushe. Bian is excited to have a shidi but little does he know that a story dealing with the horrors of past lifetime is about to start.

Anyway, why WCJ? So many reasons. It has such a dark bleak worldview - this world is a horrifying system where powerful cannibalize each other’s cores for an impossible chance to ascend, where gods have sealed off their realm and all that’s left is neverending human misery and hell (the only way you’d see a deity is if they’d been sent down to suffer over and over and over), where even reincarnation doesn’t fix things and bad acts are often unpunished. And the novel then asks - is it worth being a good person in such a world? More, is it worth being a good person in such a world when nothing good has ever happened to you and you have been repeatedly betrayed due to your goodness? And the answer, on Bian’s part, is an uncompromising yes.

Ah yes, the other reason to love this novel - the protagonists and their fucked up fucked up relationship. Bian (who was Prince Ziheng in the past life) is so genuinely good. But he is that rare thing - good but not saintly, noble but not cloying. So much of the novel is his getting taken apart over and over and barely able to put himself back together every time but his soul is still as amazing as ever.

And then there is Wushe (who was Prince Zixiao in past life, Ziheng’s not-bio-related brother.) Wushe is not a good person. He is a monster. And he loves Bian/Ziheng more than his life and his soul and the entire world but he’s also the one who hurt him more than anyone else ever could and did it over and over. His love survived a literal century of torture in the worst kind of hell and refused the usual memory loss of new life. But it also humiliated and broke Ziheng down to his constituent parts.

One of the things that is so fascinating to me about this novel is the question of what can be forgiven/what should be forgiven/what kind of expiation is enough/can you ever love someone who you loved so much and then he hurt you so badly and is now repentant? And it never sweeps trauma under the rug or hand waves it away but deals with it head on.

If you want healthy relationships, you should stay far away from this novel but if intense insane ones with a feral barely human one capable of destroying the world leashed by love and guilt to the sane deeply good one is your bag, come right in.

There is also the world building and the fact that yes, the big fall out between Ziheng x Zixiao is based on not knowing all the facts but it’s not “why can’t you talk?! This is dumb!” But is totally in keeping with both events and their characters. It’s reasonable for Ziheng to do what he does and for Zixiao to misunderstand and decide Ziheng is now his biggest enemy (but still one he’s fixated on) and for Ziheng to never be able to clarify.

Anyway, once again this is trigger warning central so please heed those, but if they are no issue, this one is wonderful.

5. OK, this is hard and switches between Sha Po Lang, Heaven Official’s Blessing and The Golden Stage depending on my mood. So what the hell, I am gonna write about all of them.

Sha Po Lang - so smart and so much clever world building. There is enough politicking to satisfy a Qiang Jin Jiu fan, it’s steampunk, and our two protagonists - Gu Yun, the empire’s most powerful general, who’s loyal to the empire despite being badly wronged by it, and Chang Geng, a cursed prince with barbarian blood and horrifying childhood - are wonderful separately and together. This is a huge slow burn but it’s totally worth it! They fall in love with each other’s hearts and brains and ability as much as anything. (Yes, this is the one with the yifu thing. Gu Yun is made Chang Geng’s foster father when he rescues him and brings him back to the capital as a way to keep CG safe in imperial strife. They are 12 and 19 at the time so clearly it’s never a parental relationship.)

Heaven Official’s Blessing (TCGF) - I love it’s sprawling narrative and cast, I love its inventive setting and picaresque story. It’s hilarious and can make me cry. But the novel’s place on this list is due to Xie Lian who is part Kenshin part drama WWX part pure goodness wrapped in heartbreak and trauma wrapped in sunshine.

The Golden Stage - two smart and principled (yes, they both have principles different though they may be) men navigate their arranged marriage, their past friendship and their past break up, become a super couple (one of the healthiest danmei couples I’ve ever read and proves healthy doesn’t have to be boring), save the country and bring down the emperor or two and just generally this is my rainy day book.

I guess I didn’t write as much for the three n5 candidates as I did for 1-4 but my brain is beginning to curdle so...

[akaashigiri]

Sleepy Jaegers

summary: eren and y/n are at a gathering at armin’s place, and their 2 year old is exhausted. eren is equally as exhausted.

pairing: dad!eren jaeger x fem!reader

word count: 1.69k

warnings: none, fluffff

a/n: sigh my baby fever possessed me to write this 💔 might make armin a father as well if people end up liking this one (i will anyway) 😋

These gatherings were almost like a ritual to the group.

There wasn’t ever a specific place they met, they would always gather in different places, wether it’d be the beach, a park, or at one of their homes. It didn’t matter where it took place, just as long as everyone was there. Everyone was obligated to come.

So of course that includes the littlest Jaeger.

It was mid September, and although the weather wasn’t bad at all, some didn’t really feel like going out to public places like the local park, so the group decided on Armin’s new place, since Sasha and Annie still have yet to see it (their homes are farther from the rest)

They were all gathered in the spacious living room; Jean and Sasha on the long couch, while Mikasa and Armin sat on the smaller one. Historia and Ymir shared the beige-colored chair in the corner of the room, while Annie sat on one of the kitchen stools as she watched Y/N and Connie do the dishes (Armin insisted, but the two almost threatened him if he were to touch a dish).

As soon as Eren walked in, he all but restricted anyone from sitting on the big beige reclining sofa, claiming that he deserved it for helping Armin pick it out. Eren was grateful for going to Ikea that day with Armin to pick out the sofa he was now slouched on, recliner out and all. It was now his favorite spot in the whole house (besides the kitchen, since he loved playing around with the smart refrigerator).

As Y/N passed another dish for Connie to rinse and dry, she suddenly felt a tug on her pants, looking down to meet the tired eyes of her daughter.

She was quick to rinse and dry her hands to pick her up, giving all of her attention to the little girl. “Aw, what’s wrong Mimi? Everything alright?” She asked, already noticing the fatigue on her face.

She only snuggled into her mother’s neck, giving her the simple response of, “Tired.” Her vocabulary was fairly short, due to the fact that she was only 2 and learned her words from the ones around her (Eren got in big trouble the day Y/N heard the word ‘shit’ come out of her daughter’s mouth).

Y/N wasn’t surprised she got tired easily today, since Jean gave her more candy then Y/N would usually allow. And with the way her, Ymir, and Mikasa were running around in the yard earlier today, Y/N already saw this coming.

“You’re tired?” she asked again, earning a nod from the crook of her neck. “Okay, mommy’s almost done. Go sit next to daddy until I finish, okay?” She tells her, moving her head back to face her daughter again. Myra nodded, allowing her mother to put her down.

Walking tiredly, Myra slowly moved through the kitchen and made her way to the living room, spotting her father laidback in the corner of the room, limbs sprawled out on the sofa.

Eren wasn’t sure if it was the father instincts, but he was the first to notice her presence in the room, stopping the ghost story Jean swears is real to bring his full attention to his daughter.

“Mimi’s come to save us, everyone!” Eren exclaims, throwing jazz hands up as everyone joined and cheered her on for simply walking in. Jean didn’t like what Eren was implying, but clapped nonetheless.

“You’re not funny. Aren’t dads supposed to tell good jokes?” He questioned, attempting to steal a fry from Sasha’s plate, but failing miserably as she only swats his hand away.

“No Jean, I think it’s the other way around, they’re supposed to be corny.” Armin butts in, watching with a smile as Myra finally starts walking towards her father.

Eren could already see the fatigue on her face, holding his arms out for her once she got a little closer. “What’s up Mimi, you tired?” Eren questioned, laughing as she instead of answering, simply lifted her arms up for him to take her.

She responds with a nod, her hair falling over her face as she was lifted onto his lap. As soon as she was situated, she wasted no time in making herself comfortable, wiggling out of her dad’s grasp and laying her stomach down on his, her head right above where his heart was.

“Nevermind.” he sighs, making the whole room burst out into laughter. This only made Myra whine, the loudness distrupting her attempt at sleeping. “Sorry Myra!” Sasha whispered, finally giving a fry to Jean afterwards.

“I wonder what got her so tired.” Annie questions, making Jean sink into the couch out of guilt as Eren sends him an irritated glance.

“Jean went and gave her a sugar rush before we got here. It was absolute hell.” Eren’s eyes furrow in frustration as he remembers earlier today and how hard it was for him to catch a nap without his energetic 2 year old jumping all over him. All while Jean was happily eating lunch with his wife.

“Okay, but I didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to have that much candy! Kids eat candy like crazy, right?” He attempts to defend himself, looking around the room for support, only to be met with silence.

“Yeah, thing is she’s not a kid! She’s a toddler! Dumbass.” he mumbles the last part, hoping that Y/N somehow wouldn’t hear. But she always found a way how.

“Can someone please slap Eren for me?” She yells from the kitchen. “Stop cursing in front of Myra!”

Eren has no time to defend himself as volunteers step up to do what their friend asked, but Mikasa was the quickest, and Eren was even quicker. He swiftly grabs Myra’s frog blanket from the bag sat beside him and hids his face in it, saving it from the harsh blow of Mikasa’s hand.

“You’re lucky I didn’t miss completely, I just don’t wanna wake Myra.” she confesses, walking back to her seat.

“God, I cant believe we almost named her after you.” Eren groaned, blanket still clutched in hand.

“Mimi’s close enough for me.” She smiles, noticing the way Myra starts to squirm a bit. “Throw the blanket over her, I think she’s cold.” She suggests, bringing Eren’s attention back to the little girl on his chest.

Eren is quick to unravel the rather big blanket from his grasp and take it in both hands to bring it in the air, watching it fall perfectly onto her small figure. The blanket basically covered his whole torso, the end tickling his neck a bit.

“Thanks again for the blanket, Historia. She loves it so much, a little too much.” he says, feeling his daughter move under the blanket so that her little arms were wrapped around his torso as far as she could go. “She won’t use the one I got her anymore.” he says with a slight frown.

The group laughs again, but quietly this time, not wanting the little girl to possibly wake up in a fit.

“I wouldn’t blame her, to be honest.” Jean shrugs, giving Eren a knowing glance, as well as a sly smirk. He knows how mad Y/N would get if he were to disobey her, especially a few minutes after she scolded him. Since Y/N was only a few feet away, Eren aggresively sticks his middle finger up to the man. It’s not like Myra could see through the blanket anyway.

“Are you gonna finish your ghost story, Jean?” Annie asked, although she didn’t believe a word. She just wants to see him make a fool out of himself.

Jeans eyes light up, snapping his fingers together as he sits upstraight again, ready to go into full detail once again. “Right! Okay, okay, so right when I went to shave my beard...”

Eren let’s Jean’s apparent ghost encounter story fade in the background, focusing on the shallow breaths coming from his daughter. He felt himself getting a little drowsy himself, as if her sleepiness was seeping into him.

He doesn’t waste time lifting the blanket a bit to wrap a protective arm around her small figure under it, adjusting his posture on the sofa and crossing his ankles over one another. His let his neck sink into the back of the couch, letting his head go as well so he facing the ceiling. With the warmth of the blanket and the little girl under it, he couldn’t help but close his drowsy eyes as well, finally giving in.

A few minutes pass and Jean is done telling his story, but of course, no one believes him. All except Historia. “Thank you, Historia! See I’m telling the truth. Morons.” Jean rolls his eyes at the way Armin and Sasha curl up as they laughed, Mikasa and Annie trying their best to hold in theirs.

Jean soon notices the person who would’ve regurlarly had the most to say was being awfully quiet. Getting ready to scold him for not listening, Jean is met with a site he has to admit, is the cutest thing he’s seen all year.

Eren was deep in slumber, soft snores coming from him and the little girl that rested as peacefully as he did on top of him. The print of his arm around her could be seen through the green blanket, as well as both of their steady breaths. They looked so comfortable, it would be a pain for them to get up soon, which they would have to eventually.

“Awww, they’re adorable!!” Historia exclaims from the other side of the room, which seemed to catch Y/N’s attention all the way from the kitchen.

“What’s happening? Is something cute happening? Someone take pictures!” She exclaimed, wanting to abandon the plates and take them herself, but thinks that would be rather rude to leave poor connie alone.

“On it!” Sasha and Jean say in unison. Both are quick to pull out their phones, Jean getting the more unappealing angles, while Sasha actually put some effort into it and snapped a few photos.

These were being sent to every single person on her contact list.

this was written at like 2 am sorry if there are typos i swear i reread 💔

also i’m currently working on a mob fic idk if ppl still like those but i most definitely do so watch out for that one :p

hope y’all liked this one lol

-aysha <3

[annie-mit-ie]

Glimpses: Part 13 (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 // previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter

Summary: Just a casual catch-up.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I don't even know what's happening with Kathryn anymore. Guess it's all going "downhill" from here. Don't get mad! It'll be better soon, I promise! ;)

Tag List: @danvers97 @zafirosreverie @srtamercurio @wanatag @pulledbythestars17 @plantowl @spacehahn

Playlist! :)

_____________________________________________________________________________

A couple days pass before you get another sign of life from Kathryn. It's the weekend again and you are lying on your bed, looking up at the ceiling. Alex is talking away on FaceTime, currently ranting about something that happened at her workplace earlier this week. She always does that, lets people walk over her and then complains about it to you.

You are just about to sit up and shut her down to make her stand up for herself more as a mail comes in. For a moment, you are confused, as you have never read the mail address it is coming from before. Still, you immediately open it to read through, a move that doesn't go unnoticed by Alex, who has stopped talking by now. 

"What is it?" She asks, looking rather concerned.

You are unsure what to say and talk as you read the mail. "Hmmmmmm, OH. Oh it's from Kathryn! Oh this took me way too long. But, you know, if all those "a prince from god knows where wants to send you money"-mails I wasn't sure what to expect." Both of you laugh as you read on.

Just as always, Alex is the perfect example of a nosy neighbor. "What does it saaaay? Don't keep me in the dark, ma'am!", she says and grins into the camera. Nearly done reading, you look up and shoot her an annoyed look. As a joke, obviously, but really, Alex needs to calm down sometimes. You reread the mail and prepare to summarize it for the both of you.

Essentially, Kathryn is simply talking about how she had broken her phone on the way to Europe as they made their way through the airport and spent a couple days hunting down your e-mail address to reach out to you again. She doesn't have a new phone just yet, because she took it as a chance to dive into the script and prepare for the shooting, but feels like it's about time she updates and checks in on you. Furthermore, to really focus on the movie, she decided to not cope the numbers from her old phone just now. Instead, she got a completely new, empty phone and only handed out her number to a handful of people, so she can really be one with the project.

It takes a while for you to understand that this means you are special to her and she chose you out of (probably) a lot of people to stay in contact with. If it wasn't for Alex, you would probably fall into a hole now and over analyze if this means more or not, but she interrupts your train of thought, as always.

"Isn't that just SO Kathryn? Like, I can totally see her sitting there, choosing not to have a phone so she can read her scripts in peace and become her character. That's how passionate she is, ugh, I love her."

Usually, you would agree and say you love her, too, but as of lately you can't bring yourself to say these words out loud anymore, since they feel way too intimate considering the relationship you have formed with Kathryn over the last couple of weeks. So, instead of saying anything, you simply nod and read the mail again before typing the number she provided you with into your phone.

A part of you is very happy about the mail and Kathryn's update, but you have to admit that there is also a part of you that wishes she would've said something about missing you. You miss her,  mentally and physically. You miss her touch and her warmth and, thinking about it for a little too long, you miss what kissing her lips feels like. And you miss how her hair feels on your skin as she bends over you. If you're being honest, you simply miss everything about her.

Alex seems to sense your thoughts and breaks the silence. "You miss her, don't you?"

You don't want to think about it any deeper as you can feel some tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Instead, you just nod as you bite the inside of your lower lip, holding them back.

"You know, Y/N. You should tell her. I am really sure she misses you, too. Like, in THAT way. If you tell me everything that happens between the two of you at all times, then I'm pretty sure she is in love with you, too, you know?" "I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH HER!", you suddenly jump and get way louder than you meant to be. Or are you? Hell, you don't even know anymore. Fact is, Kathryn is gone and won't be back for a while and there is no way for you to change that and that is why you shouldn't dwell into those feelings because after all you'll just get hurt anyway.

You decide to shoot a quick message to the number Kathryn provided you with and let her know you read the mail and hope she is doing alright. Also you can't help but tell her how incredibly boring life is without her - could be seen as you telling her you miss her, but doesn't have to be read that way if she doesn't want it.

Alex finally rants about work a little longer before you decide to watch a movie together since it's getting late on her end and you usually spend your Sundays watching a movie or two, whenever both of you are available. 

It takes Kathryn until around noon the next day to answer your message and she seems rather stressed, as it simply reads "Let's catch up tonight! x", as if she didn't even get to finish typing it all out. Excited for the night, you plan out the rest of the day and secretly hope she will acknowledged any kind of feelings she might have in any way, so you can finally talk it all out. 

You're sitting outside in your mom's garden in between all of her flowers on a comfy garden bench as the call comes in and decide to take it with your computer that is placed on the garden table beside you. This way, you can sit and act more comfortably and can grab a blanket or pillow with your hands instead of holding onto your phone.

"Hiya Hon! I missed your face!" Kathryn speaks in excitement as her wide grin fills the screen. She is also taking the call with a computer, as she is just putting her phone away when she sees you.

You smile softly and a warm fuzzy feeling makes itself at home in your body. „Hey Kathryn.. you look beautiful tonight, as always.“

Kathryn blushes as a cheeky smile plays along her lips and makes herself comfortable on the couch that's placed next to the hotel room window. You can see the last couple of sunrays cradling her face as she leans back and the sun hits her features through the open window. She is wearing a white loose shirt and a thin golden necklace is resting around her neck. Her fingers caress the cold metal as she looks at you, softly biting the right side of her lover lip.

„How are you doing, Sweetie?“ she says and you don’t know what to reply. You want to tell her that you miss her - more than just physically -, you want to tell her that she is occupying your thoughts and dreams and that you want to be with her and how it crushes you that she isn’t with you right now. Yet, something is holding you back, because somehow, you feel like she needs to be the one to bring it up first.

Your breath hitches as she does. „I miss you, honey.“

Your heart is racing and you can feel it beating in your throat in anticipation of what she might say next. „I miss sitting with you and laughing, yeah, but I also really miss kissing you. I can’t believe we don’t get to do that for such a long time.“ She groans.

Yeah. That. Of course she misses that. You sink back into the couch, slightly disappointed, but at the same time - what did you expect?

She notices. „Is everything alright, Love?“ she seems worried.

„Yeah! I’m good. It’s just been a rough week and not being able to sit and, you know, spent time with you just seems wrong.“ You’re not lying.

She nods. „It does. You’re right.“

„I know.“ For a moment, both of you fall silent, caught up in your thoughts. Kathryn is still playing with her necklace, as she is lying on the couch in a very relaxed position with her foot propped up and, all of a sudden, looks absolutely heartbroken.

You can’t stand to see her like this and decide to change the topic. You sit up straight again. „So… HOW IS IT? Tell me all about it! The set, the project, YOUR COLLEAGUES and like… I know you can’t really tell me anything, but like… TELL ME EVERYTHING.“

Her laughter fills the room. You did it, you made both of you happy. „Alright, well. It seems to be a very suspenseful movie and the cast is just great. Lots of people my age but also a couple young ones that remind me of you,“ she winks. „I enjoy working here very much so far.“

Speaking about other people has your attention, so you decide to dig deeper. „So, they all treat you like the Queen you are.“

She waves it off. „Oh SHUSH. You are crazy. Although… you are not wrong, all of them treat me very well.“ 

A small smile plays around her lips and, for a moment, you wonder why, but she is already changing the topic. “We’re actually going out for dinner in the upcoming week. I am very excited. It’s gonna be just a couple of us, but, you know me, I love connecting with the others. Bouncing off ideas and all.”

You nod. You DO know her. “That sounds amazing Kathryn! I am beyond excited for you.”

In the distance, you can hear thunder and see the clouds getting darker. Looking back at her, you catch her yawning. “Hey you? It’s getting stormy out here," You look around you again. "I think there’s a storm coming.”

“OH NO.” She mumbles, before she yawns again.

“ALSO,” you try to get her attention back. “You, ma’am, seem to be pretty tired tonight.”

Forcefully keeping her eyes open, she scans your face. “NEVER. I am never tired. I always go to bed late.” She laughs.

“Kathryn…” you really don’t want to be a literal mom in front of her again, but she doesn’t actually leave you a choice.

“I KNOW, I know,” she laughs. “I had a night shoot last night and I think I can finally feel the aftermath.” She yawns again. This time, you yawn with her. “See, you’re tired, too, and I can actually hear AND see the storm approaching behind you. I need you to stay save and get inside.”

You nod, already grabbing the things you put on your table. “Don’t go silent on me again, yeah?”

“I promise I won’t.” She says and you believe her.

“Alright then, good night, K.” Kathryn smiles at the nickname.

“Sleep well, Y/N. And again, text me anytime, promise I'll be there as soon as I can.” And with that, all good byes are said and you immediately close your computer and storm inside after hanging up as the first raindrops hit you.

The storm is starting to get heavier and the incoming rain is now hitting the windows hard as the thunder rolls in - a perfect representation of your thoughts and feelings piling up inside of you.

[otp-holic]

The one place (where something happened) (A03)

“In your life there are a few places, or maybe only the one place, where something happened, and then there are all the other places.” Alice Munro. (or the one where they receive a letter from a familiar name and we go into 4Ks of fluff around a lost afternoon in France)

4K. Lamely explicit at one point. Fanfic + Pictures Inside. Trigger for FLUFF as the main plot. Part of the Never let us lose what we have gained series (AO3)

This was supposed to be a manip with 200 words of bantering and it's now 4Ks of fluff with a few pictures. I've decided to leave them inside the cut because I feel they work better with its context there. I'm sorry for the hassle, but I really hope you give this a chance... unless you have cavities, only like fics with amazing plots or are allergic to shameless fluff.

Please do not repost the pictures, I know this is futile, but… I try :)

DAGUERROTYPE, France 1944 Private Collection.

Steve is cooling down from his very early run, enjoying the feeling of the pink sunrise looming over the awakening Brooklyn streets as he walks the last couple of blocks on the way home, when his phone beeps.

“Check your actual mailbox, we dropped something for you there. I think you should appreciate us making it old-fashioned just for you, grandpas!”

Steve smiles at Sam’s text and as soon as he arrives at their building he snaps a picture of the very common and flat envelope with “Barnes&Rogers” scribbled on top of a Stark Logo, to send along his response.

“Nice try, but this is inaccurate. A letter would have never made its way to us without an address or stamp. We’ll send you a proper thank you card to show you how it’s done.”

He can’t help but chuckle at his own joke rereading the text while he opens the door, and when he looks up from his phone and into the kitchen, he is received by a sleepy Bucky looking at the coffee machine like he looks at Steve during their most soft and embarrassingly cheesy moments.

“You love that thing more than you love me, confess it.”

“In the mornings? Yes. I don’t even like you in the mornings most of the time,” he answers matter of factly. “Want some?”

Steve playfully wiggles an eyebrow.

“No way. Your sweaty self is tempting, but coffee smells better. I might join you in the shower later.” Bucky offers him one of the two cups he has poured and he notices the envelope Steve is holding. “What is that?”

“We’ve got mail!” He hands it to Bucky. “I have no idea what's on it, but Sam texted me to say they had something delivered to our mailbox and there it was. Open it.”

Bucky leaves the cup on the counter, face sparked with a curiosity that makes him look twenty-one (and Steve weak on the knees), and goes for it.

The content is a bit underwhelming at first glance: Another envelope, white, no Stark logo, but topped with a bright green post-it with a note on Pepper’s script.

“This got to me via PR. We analyzed it and checked with the source (no peeking, I swear) and it seems legit. With that return address, it’s likely to arouse your interest. Love, P.”

Bucky tears off the post-it and the letter is revealed to be addressed to Steve Rogers at the Stark Tower, but it is when they turn it around when everything goes still for a second.

The return address is some street in Marseille, but what has Steve’s mouth dry and Bucky’s hand trembling just a bit is the combination of the place and the name written on top: Emmanuelle Jaques Dernier.

“Boom?”, Bucky says, trying to cut through their heavy hearts and taking Steve’s hand. It’s a terrible terrible joke, but Dernier would have loved it and he grins.

“That’s a terrible terrible joke,” Steve verbalizes, “but I think at least we’ve reached the same conclusion.”

“Elementary, my dear Steve,” Bucky answers as he opens the second envelope, only to reveal a folded letter and yet another envelope. “It’s a fucking vault of paper!”

Steve takes the letter from him, unfolds it, and quickly scans it (normal office paper, printed, hand-signed) before he starts reading it out loud to Bucky’s undivided attention.

“Dear Mr. Rogers,

My name is Emmanuelle Dernier and I am the great-grandson of Jaques Dernier of the Howling Commandos.

First, let me tell you that we all in our family grew up with amazing stories and praise for you, Sergeant Barnes, and the rest of the team. I never got to meet my great-grandfather or any of them (you), but I’ve always felt like I did.

In fact, that’s the ultimate reason behind this letter: I ached to honor him and I’ve been putting in order all his remaining letters, pictures, and memories so they don’t get lost forever, and there are many things I’m discovering through this journey. So many pictures and tiny details… and amongst them, you and the rest of the Commandos appear at the most random and memorable moments. Nothing that’s going to make it into history books, more like the stories my grandpa used to share with us over and over again, those important tidbits that make him more human.

Anyway, I was going through the pictures he kept when I came across some war photos that didn’t seem to match the 40s timeframe. Typical daguerreotypes from the 20s in a very bad state, probably taken with a camera from the era in 1944 and developed on a later date by somebody who clearly didn’t master the technique.

They were in a very bad state and hidden inside an envelope that said “Terribly drunk soldiers in France making idiots of ourselves in unique and creative ways. Fun evening, horrible hangover. About 20 miles west of the Maginot Line. Autumn ‘44”. I’m attaching a photocopy of that, I hope you can understand my decision to keep the original.

After restoring the daguerreotypes with some experts, all I got were five very bad pictures with silhouettes of people apparently having fun…. but there was one that got a lot better in the cleaning process that feels important somehow. I’m sending the original, as well as the restored version I got.

I, of course, don’t have the whole context, but I hope it brings back a good memory. My great-grandpa might be in the picture, but I don’t think this one belongs to my family or to a museum.

Thank you for your service, I really hope this letter finds its way to you.

E.Dernier.”

“I can’t believe… Steve, most days I’m convinced that day and that place are a figment of my imagination,” Bucky smiles, remembering. “When I think of a moment of pure joy during the war, I think about that afternoon in France, and it always feels unreal. A bubble of air and laughter while we were so surrounded by death.”

Steve nods, reminiscing about that warm and humid September morning when they arrived at yet another abandoned and destroyed little village, this one about twenty miles west of the Maginot Line. They had orders to lie low and wait for twenty-four hours before they started the maneuver to wipe another Hydra base off the map, and that little town was perfect for that.

Among bomb debris and fallen walls, they found one small building miraculously standing next to the remains of the church, so they decided to set camp under a roof for a change since the weather was being a little flickery with the rain, and they had the rare luxury of time.

The inside of the tiny house was as unusual as the outside: nothing was destroyed beyond being dusty and worn by time, and everything they found (furniture, kitchenware, and even fabrics) belonged more to Steve and Bucky’s early childhoods than to 1944, a living museum frozen in time.

Only it was not a museum, but the parish house left untouched and non-raided: old-fashioned clothes, outdated church books, yellowing clergy collars, and, of course, the wine cellar. Oh, that wine cellar… the havoc it unleashed.

“I remember the absolute excitement when Falsworth found all those bottles of old unscathed mass wine from the parish,” Steve brings his memory to words, looking at Bucky, “I’m still a little convinced that we are going to hell for drinking them.”

“Not for that, probably, but it was a wonder nobody died on the spot of wine poisoning, it tasted like sweet vinegar, ugh.”

“But it did his part, right? Took our minds off things; got us drunk, bold and silly.” Steve answers.

“Apparently not all of us,” Bucky says very seriously, looking at Steve.

“Technicalities… I got drunk by proxy. Seeing you all so happy made me giddy and tipsy, too.”

“I came and went… I remember being a little surprised at the clarity of my thoughts at some moments there when some of the guys were basically drooling on the floor. Now I understand, of course.”

Steve squeezes his hand, not much to be said there.

They were already way too drunk by the early afternoon, drinking to the sound of a sudden rainstorm pouring outside. All of them scattered across the small dusty living room and its adjoining kitchen while they went through all the bottles of wine they had been able to find. Cheering for the foregone priest every time somebody raised a glass, and laughing as if there were no ruins or war on the other side; just silly men (boys, really) laughing their hearts out.

“Earth to Steve… I don’t know about you, but I’m dying to see what the hell that envelope is hiding. Especially now that we know about its time stamp.”

“I’m sorry, me too! Gabe drunkenly handling that old camera and those glass plaques the way he did? I’m honestly impressed that he was able to take any pictures at all,” he muses. “Shit, is it weird that I’m nervous?”

“I’m gonna save us the bantering because I’m nervous, too,” Bucky answers in all sincerity. “Truth is, Steve, I remember everything about that day.”

It’s a new admission, a newly opened door for them because for some reason, they have never talked about that peaceful surreal afternoon, and Steve nods in recognition as he silently goes for the envelope one-handed, not wanting to let go of Bucky’s hand because his surface is way cooler than his wrenching insides. Maybe the picture is an overexposed french wall but maybe…

The photo he extracts from the envelope is clearly the original and damaged one Emmanuelle specified in his letter. Anybody else looking at it would see nothing beyond Dernier’s blurry profile, but since Steve and Bucky were there when this was taken, they know exactly what moment Steve is holding in his hand.

“Buck,…” is all Steve can say, struck by the blurry keepsake.

Later in the afternoon when they had already consumed most of the wine and there was not a single coherent thought left in the room, one of the guys took the parish books and besottedly announced that there was a wedding set for today… thirty years ago. Alcohol fueled a goofy idea that escalated at the speed of light, with Morita saying they were going to a wedding because they deserved a celebration, Dernier confessing that he had once considered becoming a priest, and Dum-dum bringing out all the old fashioned clothes from the wardrobe and deciding they were getting nice and clean for the festivities.

“That’s clearly Dernier in the picture killing it in his priest role, right?” Bucky says, half smiling and interrupting Steve’s thoughts. “You know, I went all-in with that fake wedding party. I was laughing to tears when I saw you put on that ridiculously long and ill-fitting jacket from the 10s, feeling weightless and silly for the first time since sailing off, and God knows we all deserved that. And it was all safe and light-hearted until fucking Morita decided you had to be the groom, and...”

“Were you jealous because I won the dashing groom competition?”

Steve’s attempt at a joke is weak, but there’s truth behind it: Morita chose Steve as the groom (“Cap, you are the most dashing and the least drunk”) to a chorus of excited voices cheering for him. Somebody else, most likely Dum-Dum, chose the rest of the roles (Sarge, best man duty; Jones, camera; Morita, keep the wine flowing; the rest of you, misbehave!) and in the blink of an eye, they were all going outside laughing under a light rain, and about to celebrate Steve’s fictional wedding to nobody.

“How could I be jealous?” Bucky cuts in. “Do you remember all you said to me that afternoon? During World War II and in front of a battalion of men?”

“I was drunk.”

“Fuck you!” Bucky disentangles his hand from Steve’s to use both of them to hold Steve’s face and kiss him with violence. “Tell me. Do you remember what you said?”

As if he could ever forget. He can recall every step he took from the house to the makeshift wedding spot amidst the trees where his best man (looking dapper even in that ludicrous jacket) was laughing along Dernier. He can still smell the petrichor, can still sense the blush coloring his cheeks while hoping nobody noticed and can still hear the beating of his heart when Bucky handed him a battered umbrella (“You don’t deserve to get rained on your wedding day, punk”) and a fucking ring made out his shoelaces (“You’ll have to buy something a little more permanent.”). And then…

“Dernier started the ceremony and he wanted to know if I had somebody in mind and I said ‘of course’.” He replays, his voice barely a whisper. “I said I’d had my eyes on a brown-haired Brooklynite since before I could remember. I said that I was pretty sure those blue eyes were set on mine too and that hopefully those eyes would be set enough to want to marry me even if I had never dared to ask.”

He’s been holding Bucky’s gaze the whole time, and he’s far from over yet, but he needs to fucking breathe before he goes on. Neither of them has moved a muscle for the past minute.

“Then he asked me to repeat the wedding vows after him and…”

“And you said Buck, right?”, Bucky interrupts, voice winded. “You fucking whispered I take you, Buck, as my lawful wedded husband till the end of the line. I heard, Steve. Even if the rest of the world didn’t, I did. But you never said anything, so I always deemed it impossible, a product of the corniest nook of my mind trying to outweigh all those bad things, because not even you could be as bold, reckless, and mushy as to do that,…it’s my fucking fault, I should have known better!”

“Not completely reckless, pal. I was scared shitless as I said those words, but what else could I do? You were right by my side about to put a ring on my finger as my “best man”, everyone, including you, supposedly drunk past recollection, and everybody else too far away to hear my whispers. It was such an easy choice in the end because truth should always win over fear. And those vows were. The truth.”

“You have always been too honest for your own good, Rogers,” Bucky is breathless and exasperated and goes for his mouth again, bringing in all he (they) couldn’t in 1944. “You destroyed me, Steve. My knees were as weak as a teenager’s in front of his first crush. I wanted to kiss you so badly when I heard you say all that there in the open… and I couldn’t even acknowledge it.”

“I know. And for what it's worth, I really thought you didn’t remember.”

It is too much. Is it normal to feel this much? Steve would blame it on the serum enhancements, but he was already overwhelmed at 16, so that’s clearly not the answer.

He craves, no, he needs touching, grounding, closer. Bucky. There’s too much space between them even if they are back to kissing like they would have that day in 44, and at any other time if their own lives wouldn’t have stolen those moments from them.

“It happened.” Bucky whimpers, biting on Steve’s lip who abandons his own stool to straddle him, both of them gasping in sync at the feeling of their cocks, hard against each other’s through their soft pants.

Bucky soon ups the stakes by carding his metal hand through Steve’s hair pulling his head backwards to help himself into that spot on his neck.

“Same two moles as when you were tiny, as when we were at that war... Your cute vampire bite. Favorite spot.” He licks on them with the tip of his tongue. Steve growls on cue and Bucky giggles. “Favorite chain reaction.”

“Buck, you cheater, you know what that does to me!” Steve cries out followed by Bucky’s evil chuckle.”Bed, couch, countertop,…I don’t care, but naked. Now. Stained pants due to heavy petting are too much of a trip down memory lane for me. Let me keep a bit of my dignity.”

Steve stands up liberating Bucky from his grip but aching at the loss of contact.

They are naked and making out in the middle of the kitchen in no time; Bucky steadily pushing him against the refrigerator while fiercely grinding against his crotch.

“Hey, ‘teve,” Bucky pants. “The way this is going, it’s my dignity now that's at risk. I don’t think I can make it further than the floor before I come.”

Steve groans into his mouth just at the thought and they start sliding to the floor the best they can until he’s a human blanket moving over Bucky. With no lube at hand, and no time, that’s their best option.

They kiss and kiss and kiss, his hands not leaving Bucky’s sweaty hair. Bucky’s hands on his ass, forcing their groins closer with one while he (almost absently) plays around his hole with the other, driving Steve crazy in the process. Dicks left to do their own thing through pressure and friction. Everything is working. And fast.

“Oh, fuck!” Bucky exclaims “Can you promise me all this stuff with the letter was real and not a long-con plan to assure your fragile masculinity that I love you more than I love that espresso machine?”

That. That silly unfunny excuse of a joke that screams Bucky all over is what pushes Steve all the way over the edge. He fucking laughs as he comes making absolutely embarrassing sounds, pressing their foreheads and noses together until it hurts, and shaking from head to toe without stoping his pressure on the stupid and smug man under him. His lover. His partner. His unofficial husband. His best friend.

His Buck.

“There’s still too much blood in your brain if you can play that dirty,” Steve states, placing one hand between them grabbing Bucky’s hard cock. “Let’s see if I can do anything about it.”

“Your hand, usually so helpful, but I was already following you after that sound you make when you come and laugh at the same time, shit, it always goes straight to my dick, I’m,…” he keeps talking with difficulty between breaths and moans until he leaves his speech unfinished coming all over Steve’s fist.

They kiss on the lips breathing into each other before Steve rolls over. They are sticky and panting in silence, spread on their kitchen’s floor, Steve’s shoulders crushed between Bucky’s and the dishwasher. Domestic bliss at its most literal.

One lavish fuck and two showers later they reemerge into the kitchen in search of something to eat: Bucky is in charge of the food today, while Steve cleans the mess they left a couple of hours ago.

He’s decluttering the counter when their damaged picture laying there puts a smile on his face but also reminds him of the restored version presumably still waiting inside the disregarded letter, so he grabs the envelope to retrieve its contents: one photocopy (from Dernier’s original writing), and the promised photo.

And it is restored. Everything is clear where it was blurry before: Dernier (so deep into his priest impersonation that he’s not even looking at them), the trees, the battered umbrella, the ridiculous jackets… and them.

“You had the nerve to call me reckless and mushy, Buck?” Steve laughs as he stares at the picture where a very young Bucky is about to put a ring on his finger with the least subtle lovestruck expression he’s ever seen (“and it’s for you”, his brain proudly reminds him) “Wow, you might as well be kissing me there, anything would be more subtle than this!”

“Don’t shame me, you punk, especially not when you were the one responsible for breaking my brain back then!” Bucky answers coming from behind and stealing the picture from his hands to scrutinize it. Goofy grin and raging blush quickly taking over his face. “But you’re one to talk, Cap. You are gazing at that shoelace’s ring as if I were handing you a diamond tiara!”

Steve laughs softly at that and moves his right hand to his pocket, feeling the weight of the little compass he had retrieved earlier from one of his drawers. He used to carry it with him everywhere for comfort, but he has a better option now.

“Didn't you know that shoelaces are forever?” He asks, taking the compass out of his pocket and holding it in both hands as he opens it, nudging Bucky with his elbow to get his attention.

Bucky is confused for an instant while he looks at his young face staring at them from inside the little box. Of course he knew that (he made fun of Steve for days and days) but Steve detects the change in his expression when he notices the other thing.

“Wow, you gigantic sap,” Bucky says, taking the compass out of his hands to double-check he is seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. “You saved my shoelace.”

He had. While they were all celebrating his wedding under the rain dancing to no music, he quietly slipped the little string off his finger and tied it to the most secure place he had back then.

“It’s not a shoelace, you jerk, it’s a symbol. A declaration.” He laughs, stealing the compass back to safely pocket it again.

“You are delusional,” Bucky snorts, kissing the top of his head. But he’s widely smiling and lost in thought as he goes back to their sandwiches.

Steve stays on the spot enjoying the peace in their silent companionship, his focus on the latest news showing up on his phone, the text he’s writing to Sam and the comforting sounds of Bucky moving around the kitchen.

“You might have married me, but I never actually married you.” Bucky blurts out of the blue a bit later, sitting by his side as he hands him a plate with a sandwich and some grilled greens on it. “Do you want mayo with that?”

“Uh?” Steve forgets all about the news and the text and looks at Bucky in confusion.

“Mayo, do you want some?” Bucky repeats nonchalantly.

“No mayo, thank you; but I was actually more interested in the other part, you know, that thing about marriage?”

Bucky looks him in the eye: earnest, blushing and with the same look of smug adoration he had on the picture.

“Oh, that part.” He jokes. “You apparently married me in 1944, but I never married you back. And I would like to.”

“Marry me?” Steve asks and Bucky visibly nods.

“I’m sorry for throwing the idea at you like this, books tell me I'm supposed to have candles, music, and a ring, but you showed me that restored picture and I couldn't stop thinking about it, about proof,” Bucky speaks uncharacteristically slow and very softly, voice trembling here and there while he claps his hand with Steve’s finger by finger for reassurance and as a distraction. “A single photo had the power to transform a moment that existed just as a made-up happy place inside my mind into something tangible and real. Something that would be tangible and real for anybody getting a hold on it and looking at our stupid faces.”

“So stealthy,” Steve says, and they both laugh together.

“Proof, Steve. I was slicing tomatoes and thinking how there’s so much evidence, thousands of files! out there proving that all the stuff that fuels my nightmares were real, but nothing solid about this. Us.” Bucky stops for a moment collecting his thoughts, still smiling even with the heavy subject he just dropped into the mix. “Sorry, I believe I put more time into these sandwiches than into thinking this all the way through so I’m…”

“Take your time, we’ve gone from mayo to marriage to nightmares in five minutes so don’t worry, you have me hooked here.”

Steve makes Bucky laugh again as he intended, and he feels their calloused laced fingers immediately squeezing closer.

“It’s stupid because it doesn’t change anything for us but,.. I don’t fucking know, Steve, I think that picture has messed up with my mind! I instantly found comfort in the idea of people finding facts beyond the nightmares now or in the future. An easy to understand, universal and oversimplified proof of how much I loved you and how much I was loved in return.” Bucky takes a breath and stares at him sporting a million-watt smile. “Marrying you,… I would really love that. And for real this time.”

“Ok, Buck.” Steve instantly replies, eagerness winning over thoughtful and heartfelt declarations. He tightens the grip on their joined hands to drive them to his lips and seals the easiest answer he’s ever had to give.

And it's done!Sorry for the cavities, for going on with the fic when it should have ended and for ending it where it might have had to keep going. It was painful and fun. I'm free!

[emily-prentits]

So uh...yall remember that one fic I wrote about Carmen's funeral for Carulia week? I just reread it and cried so here it is so you can cry too >:D

Julia stood at the rain-streaked window crading a mug of tea that had cooled long ago, staring vacantly out. Everything was dull, everything was drab. The world seemed to have been drained all of its color in a single week, along with her inclination to wear them. The same single week during which Julia’s life had turned upside down and collapsed in on itself.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she wouldn’t cry no matter how bad it hurt, her tear ducts seemed frozen. She hadn’t cried a single tear since she had gotten the call. Julia now understood why the saddest parts in movies involved no dramatic sobbing. Some pain was too deep to express. It could only be felt, it could only be endured.

Julia heard the quiet creak as someone opened the door. She turned slightly. The female redhead–Ivy–came up next to her quietly. “We’re almos’ ready, Jules–er, Julia.” Julia noticed Ivy’s stutter and felt a pang in her heart. Carmen called— had called her that.

It seemed as long ago as a past life.

“Jus’ thought I should tell you. Carlotta’s gonna be here in a bit. She said she's gonna come see you before the, the uh...I’ll be downstairs.”

Julia bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement as Ivy awkwardly made her escape, the lump in her throat not allowing her to speak. She was afraid that the strange empty feeling would come tumbling out. Julia hadn’t missed the stutter. Ivy meant well, but her word choice had very nearly caused Julia’s emotions to jump start and she couldn’t afford to lose her poise and willpower now.

Julia would need all of her willpower for the memorial service.

She stepped away from the window and toward a freestanding mirror to inspect herself as the doorbell one again sounded throughout the house. She studied herself warily. Black slacks, black button down, black blazer. The golden triangle shaped pendant necklace that Carmen had given her. She fingered it absently. The same round glasses she had always worn. The usual hint of red was missing from her attire for the first time. How could she bear to wear such a cheerful color– hercolor–on an occasion like this?

Julia sighed. She hadn't gotten much sleep the past few days, but there was nothing she could do. She glanced out the window at the rain drenched world once more. Julia could almost hear Carmen calling her. Rainy afternoons were the times that they used to cuddle up with a blanket and a book–most often an ancient history volume–and read for hours at a time.

Jules, where’d you go? She would say. Mysteries of the Olmecs is calling your name!

She had loved those afternoons.

A knock on the bedroom door snapped Julia from her reverie, and Carlotta walked into the room. At the sight of her Julia almost collapsed in shock.

Carlotta looked so painfully like her daughter. Almost like Carmen would have looked if she had lived to see her fortieth birthday.

Carlotta froze, probably reading Julia’s expression for what it was, and rushed to envelop her in a hug.

“Oh, Julia.”

She didn't say anything else, for which Julia was grateful. Carlotta must’ve known that she didn’t want to hear another empty and insincere sounding “I’m sorry.”

Julia tightened her hold on the woman, releasing a shuddering breath. This was the closest she had come to tears since she had gotten the call, a week earlier minutes before one of her most important seminars of the semester.

“Is this Julia Argent?”

“It is,” she had answered.

“I’m sorry to inform you but your fiancee was caught in a warehouse fire earlier this afternoon. We weren’t able to save her.”

No matter how many times she had heard variations of the same line on medical dramas, that didn’t stop the world from falling out from under her feet. Carmen couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t. She had kissed Julia goodbye and told her some stupid joke just that morning. The operator was lying.

“Miss? We need you to come to the hospital as soon as possible.”

Just then her teaching assistant had come to get her for the lecture, so she couldn’t afford to have her emotions take over just yet. Instead she had suffered through the entire three hour seminar, in a state of silent shock.

Julia knew the risk of the job. Hell, Carmen had known the risk of the job. But when one was as good at evading threats as Carmen was, the dangers weren’t as apparent.

Which made it all the harder when the danger caught up and killed her.

VILE had set fire to that warehouse and left her for dead.

By time the paramedics had gotten to the warehouse, there wasn’t much of her body left to save. It was charred and unrecognizable except for a few strips of red fabric and her cell phone that had miraculously evaded the flames, laying a few feet away.

So here Julia stood, embracing her dead fiancee’s mother, the image of Carmen’s badly burned and lifeless body seared into her mind, struggling to hold back tears in vain. Yet Carlotta still stood with her in silence, tracing soothing circles on Julia’s back.

Julia sniffed as the doorbell rang again. “I suppose we should bring her ashes to the memorial.”

---

The rain still hadn’t stopped. The small band of people that had come to the memorial service stood somberly in front of Dexter Wolfe’s memorial. Player only contacted the few people that Carmen had impacted during her life, the few people he knew she would want to see her to her final resting place--although none of them had dreamed that it would be this soon. Shadowsan and Hideo, Sonia, Carlotta and Julia, and of course Zack and Ivy. Even Player was there in the flesh.

Carmen hadn’t wanted a big gathering, so they had made a quiet arrangement with the owner. Carmen’s final resting place would be on her father’s memorial.

Julia thought that it was fitting how Carmen had been so fixated on finding her family, to be able to know them, and she was able to be with her father in death, if not in life.

And with that thought, after a week of numbness, a single tear fell from Julia’s eyes. And suddenly she was crying, releasing all of the pain, all of the heartache that she had been carrying around all week. Mourning her dead fiancée at the ripe old age of thirty.

It only made her cry harder.

Shadowsan stepped forward grimly and handed her the urn.

You’re gone and I’m all alone, Carmen. What am I supposed to do?

The rain hid the tears streaming down her face as she set the urn next to Carmen’s father’s memorial and stood there, memories playing in her head of past times with her love, of things she had wanted to say desperately but never did. She would never be able to now.

The guests trickled away one by one until it was just Julia and Carlotta under a single black umbrella, mourning a soul stolen before her time.

[brywrites]

Flight Risk (Bonus)

You know I can’t leave well enough alone and I just couldn’t resist writing about that scene in the series finale in the context of this story. Spoilers for the finale below, of course! Summary: An answer to the age old CM question, “who’s flying the plane?” And the story of a pilot and a profiler. 

Bonus Part: In which a profiler protects a pilot and a pilot loses something important. Five years later.

(Series Masterlist) ( Next )

_________________________________________________

“We’re gonna have to make a trade,” Rossi declares. Every head in the room turns to him.

“What kind of trade?” Luke asks.

“Lynch wants to make a clean getaway,” Rossi says. The words hang heavy in the air. Nervous glances are traded across the roundtable as they begin to understand exactly what this means.

“No,” Reid says. “No, we can’t.”

“If we play the cards right, maybe we won’t have to,” Rossi counters.

“Maybe?” he shouts. “I’m not going to risk my wife flying a psychopathic killer across the country in the hopes that maybe we’ve profiled Lynch correctly!” He doesn’t mean to raise his voice but he can’t help it. He won’t allow this.

“Hey,” Rossi snaps back. “Right now that psychopathic killer is holding my wife hostage, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Reid signs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry.” But still – it’s Y/N. He cannot lose her, not after everything they’ve been through, not when he’s let himself believe for so long that he can keep her safe. Not now, especially not now. “But I don’t want her on that jet with him. And I don’t want Arthur or Martin or Fikayo or any of the BAU pilots on that jet. They’re part of her team, and I won’t do that to her.”

The tension in the room is palpable as he and Rossi stare each other down. They’ve never argued like this before, and Reid hates it but he won’t back down.

“There might be another way,” Emily offers. “We can get a few of the Corps pilots on standby. They’ll have the training to take Lynch out if needed. We tell him they won’t leave U.S. airspace and we go from there. I’ll even have one of them bring the jet out. Y/N doesn’t even need to know.” Right now, Y/N is safe at home, maybe even asleep by now. He tries not to think of how she’d react if she knew that they were about to pawn Geff off to a serial killer. They’ve always treated it as their jet, but while it may fall under their department, they merely use it as a means to an end. Y/N is the captain, if Geff belongs to anyone he belongs to her.

But he knows that if Y/N were the one being held hostage, he’d do whatever it took to get her back. “Okay,” he says.

---

As it turns out, Lynch knows how to fly a plane. He’s taken Rossi as collateral, and Geff is prepared for takeoff. “Prentiss, come on, you said we needed a great plan,” Matt says through gritted teeth.

“And we have one,” she says. “There are things none of you know about that jet.” But Reid kows precisely what she’s talking about, because Y/N knows all of Geff’s secrets. There are hidden compartments Gideon commissioned, and one of them happens to hold a gun. He only hopes it’s enough to stop Lynch and save Rossi. Maybe they can still pull it off and save the day and the jet can return to the hangar without so much as a scratch.

A gunshot rings out through the darkness and they hold their breath – but then it’s two and then three and then Rossi is tumbling down the jet stairs. Prentiss and Matt rush over to grab him off the ground and pull him to safety while the rest of them keep their weapons trained on the cockpit. A smug grin peeks out at them and it makes Reid furious. That monster shouldn’t be sitting there in her seat, on her plane.

As they try to gauge Rossi’s status, Reid fires towards Lynch. Every shot just ricochets, the plane that has kept them safe protecting the man who wants to destroy them. The engines of the jet roar to life. Geff is starting down the runway. Reid and the rest of the team take off running. They shoot at the plane, some aiming for the cockpit, others aiming for the body of the jet.

“Fire at the fuel tank!” Prentiss yells. And so they do, hoping to ensure that Lynch can’t get off the ground. The fuel begins to leak from the tanks, an acidic smell rising in the air as it trails behind the jet.

“Get back!” JJ shouts. “Take cover!” They all do so without hesitation. Reid barely has time to look over his shoulder and see JJ fire the flare gun. This wasn’t part of the plan. The trail of fuel alights in a terrifying blaze and Reid realizes exactly what is about to happen. He can’t help but stare at it one last time – at Geff, the name his beloved pilot has always insisted on calling the jet. The jet that has carried his team to hell and back again. The plane that led him to the greatest love in his life. It’s just a plane, he tries to tell himself. But he knows it’s much more than that.

The explosion is loud and bright and violent. As he ducks he can see the aircraft break into pieces from the force. And when he looks up, it is nothing but a frightening field of flames with a barely intact metal tail sticking out from the fire. The team stands there, staring at the wreckage in a somber silence. The jet meant something to all of them. It only feels right to mourn its passing quietly.

But then it hits him. “Y/N is going to kill me,” Reid says. Luke is the first to laugh, and soon the whole team is chuckling, shaking their heads. It breaks the tension hanging over them.

“Yeah good luck with that,” Luke says, trying to suppress a smile.

“I’m serious!” Reid squeaks. “How am I supposed to tell her we killed her plane?”

“That’s rough buddy,” Matt says, clapping him on the shoulder. This sends JJ and Luke into further laughter. The smell of kerosene is strong, and it’s time to go. They get Rossi and Krystal and pack into the SUVs, leaving the burning past behind them.

---

Love is a safe place to land, and there’s nowhere he wants to touch down more than in her embrace. When he gets home, he finds Y/N still awake in their bed, rereading Peter Pan. “Oh thank goodness you’re home,” she says. He sits down beside her and she throws her arms around him. “I was so worried about you. What happened? Is everyone okay?”

He kisses the top of her forehead. “Lynch is dead,” he tells her. “And we’re all safe.”

“I’m so glad.” He keeps his hold on her though, and she pulls back, her eyebrows knit together. “Something’s bothering you though,” she says. “What is it?”

He sighs and she weaves her fingers through his, holding tight. “It was a hard case,” he admits. “And I was so scared that something might happen to you. But um… there was something that we didn’t plan for.” She blinks at him, waiting for him to continue. “Lynch was trying to escape first. He took Krystall hostage and threatened to hurt her if we didn’t make a trade.”

“What kind of trade?”

“He uh… he wanted Geff?” The word comes out like a question as his voice betrays his anxiety.

“No.” A single syllable of disbelief.

“We – we had to bring the jet to him. But we couldn’t let him get away, so we had to improvise?”

Her expression changes. She stares at him as though he’s told her an awful joke or made some sort of outrageous claim. As if she is desperately waiting for him to tell her it’s all made up. When doesn’t say anything, she narrows her eyes. “Spencer Reid, what did you to my plane?”

“Angel,” he says, dropping his voice to as gentle a tone as he can muster. He doesn’t want to hurt her but there’s no way around this. “I promise I tried everything. But we didn’t have a choice. He took Rossi hostage and then forced him down the stairs by shooting him. If we didn’t stop him, who knows what he would have done.” He pauses and squeezes her hand. “We tried to shoot out the fuel tanks but we weren’t fast enough. The leaking fuel made a trail though and JJ found a flare gun and… um, we kind of blew up the jet.”

“You what?” she gasps.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Geff is gone? You blew him up? Spencer, that was my plane! My plane!” She begins to cry and he hugs her close. At first she resists him, but after a moment she leans against his chest. He rests his head in the crook of her shoulder, breathing in the fresh smell of her perfume in the hopes it will erase the scent of burning kerosene. “I’m sorry,” she says, sniffling. “I know I’m being silly. I would rather have Rossi okay, and I’m glad he’s safe. I just… Geff meant a lot to me, you know?”

“I know,” he says. “I know.”

“It’s like saying goodbye to a dear friend. Oh and I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye!” she cries. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional. Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones.”

He pulls away to smile at her, running a soothing hand through her hair. “It’s a little too early for that. I think you’re just grieving something very important to you. A captain and her jet share a special bond,” he assures her, parroting back a phrase she and Arthur have said many a time. But he believes it. That jet has been an extension of herself for nearly four years. “But maybe this will be a new chapter. A new era, a new jet… and in seven months, a new member of our family.”

Y/N wipes her eyes, nodding. “Yeah. A new chapter.” She gives him a slight smile. Amelia leaps onto the bed between them, nudging her head against Y/N’s arm and purring, as if to reassure her that all will be well. She smiles and strokes the cat’s soft fur. “I’m grateful though, you know?” she says. “That that plane brought us together. And so much has happened since then.”

And so it has. True to his word, Arthur retired the day after Christmas that year, and she was promoted to captain. Fikayo was hired as her co-pilot, and instantly fit in with the BAU team. Y/N, and that first conversation they had together, completely altered the relationship between the pilots and profilers. Suddenly their worlds didn’t seem so separate anymore. Yeeqin and Saoirse got married in the most wonderfully non-traditional celebration that involved fireworks, a wall of donuts, and neon-colored gnomes. He moved in with Y/N, and soon enough their was a proposal and a wedding of their own, one attended by profilers and pilots alike where he nearly tripped over her feet as they swayed to Birdy and when she kissed him he could’ve sworn he was floating. There were dozens of cases, being framed for murder, a cult, and more. A new house and new team members and a baby on the way and a million stories and kisses and flights between it all.

Y/N reaches a hand up to caress his cheek and that smile of hers still manages to melt his heart every single time. He leans in to kiss her as sweetly as he did after their first real date and as deeply as she did the time she managed to pull from him exactly how he felt about her uniform. Eventually Amelia meows in indignation at the lack of attention she is receiving, and he pulls away to placate her by rubbing her ears.

“So I think you owe me a plane, Doctor,” Y/N teases.

“On a government salary?” he laughs. “That might take a while. But I’ll put in enough overtime to buy you a whole fleet if that would make you happy.”

Through it all, they’re happy. Reid is happy. So incredibly over the moon happy every single day that they’re together. They lie down in bed and he holds her close and whispers promises of the jet of her dreams and he can feel her laughter against his chest.

If he had to do it all over again, he would in a heartbeat, so long as it means being here by her side. A profiler and his beloved pilot. The future stretching out before them like the infinite horizon.

[grimoire-of-geekery]

Perfecting One’s Craft

Today, I read this prompt on a Facebook page I follow for witchcraft content: “What do you think is the perfect Full Moon ritual?”

My response was all about harmony in competence, being able to work together with my coven seamlessly, without any stopping for instruction.  Just... flowing together in a sort of dance of activity and group veneration and celebration.

Beautiful clear sky at night, gathering in a clearing of trees near running water, drawing sigils and leaving patterns of leaves and stones on the ground, running through the woods together, doing secret things and working little spells...

Magic.

This is the goal for me, really.  Having been in many covens and practicing groups over many years, and having worked on my own practice every day for a long time, I’ve come to want the “work” part of the work to move smoothly, and the “heart” part of the work to be the part that draws more focus.  I want my witchery to be a done deal already, spells flying off my fingers and words spilling from my lips like sparks from a fire, effortlessly and swiftly to light the world aflame.

And most of the time, I’m happy to report that they do.  Not always though.

I think it’s really normal for people to want this.  It’s normal to want to be competent, to be skilled, to be knowledgeable.  That’s another way of saying “powerful,” right?  “In control.”  A competent person doesn’t get blindsided by misfortune or trouble, they have things they can do to set the world into the right order.  They respond well to pressure, because they know they can handle what the world throws at them.

Right?

Sure, but not all the time.

I was just talking with a friend recently about how frustrating and tedious it is to have to do regular uncrossings and protections and magical “maintenance.”  She asked me if I thought it was necessary for all spellcasters to do things like that, and... I hated the answer I gave her.

Because yeah, I kind of think it is, and that pisses me off.  Literally, I told her “I'm a bitch-queen, I don't do that lemon-scented pledge witchcraft shit unless I have to.”  That’s how I feel about it.  I don’t mind cleaning or fixing things, so long as they stay that way once I’m done.  I’m not into the whole “fix it, but you’re gonna have to keep that shit up, every week or month or whatever, because nothing stays perfect forever.”

I hate that it’s apparently necessary.  I also have realized that I have accepted that it’s necessary.  It’s not just a matter of getting one’s hands dirty, it’s just... the drudgery of it all.  I hate feeling obligated to do chores over and over again.  I react like a grumpy toddler about the entire idea.

But it’s still necessary.  As it says in a spell one of my friends coined, “sweep sweep, sweep the floor, sweep the bullshit out the door.”  We can’t just leave things alone and hope they’ll work out.  We have to keep up our maintenance.

And the thing is, the whole “chop wood, carry water” thing helps us get good at our magic.  Like the Karate Kid learning martial arts from everyday routines, our regular ritual practice is what makes us able to get competent at the big stuff.  There’s a reason Wiccan traditions often involve casting circles even when it’s not strictly necessary for the spell.  The faster and more competent a person is at their fundamental practices and “root” rituals, the better they’ll be to handle ambitious work, and experimentation is how we grow our Craft.

Competence is not something we get to have just because we want it.  We have to work at it, even though I’ll be the first to admit that mostly all the work of the Craft is fun.  Hells, I even enjoy kitchen witchery, even though I loathe regular kitchen stuff (and don’t even think of asking me to cook anything edible).

In the Risting course I and other instructors in my tradition teach, we have three tiers of instruction- beginner, intermediate, and “advanced.”  Each tier has a specific vision and goal.  The first tier is set up so that anyone who finishes it can walk into any standard witch’s group (coven, loose gathering, convention open ritual, etc) and participate competently.  She can do wards, she can call spirits, she can help raise power, she can even invoke entities.  She’s been taught how to use her psychic senses, and she’s learned how to do basic manifestation and conjuration, so she’s competent for standard spellcasting.  She even knows some basic candle magic, group incantation, and the whole “cone of power” thing so popular in modern neopaganism.

The second tier is for competence (and hopefully eventual excellence) in more complicated practices: accurate divination, effective glamour and persuasion, enchantments beyond the standard consecrations (blessings and curses).  The third tier is for stuff that most people consider “advanced,” though literally people practice this stuff completely untrained, because witchery is a natural part of a witch’s being.  We’re talking healing, weather-working, and making use of our ability to astral project without turning into a frivolous gullible idiot who believes she’s the True Incarnation of Cleopatra and Pikachu’s Love Child™ or the second coming of Magneto (that is not an exaggeration, it is representative of things I have actually heard over the years).

My point is, the courses we teach in my tradition are focused on competence, because it’s the sticking place for a lot of us.  We try to teach our classes in groups most of the time, so that we can help people establish the necessary habits in a fun space with friendly faces.  When we can see that others struggle too, that nobody has everything down perfectly no matter what level of experience they come in with, it helps a lot.

I think I decided to write about this because I’ve seen a lot of “fad-Craft” over the years, and I’ve decided to step away from the constant race of the popular in my practice.  As I previously mentioned in December, this year I’ve dedicated my focus toward “Embracing the Mythic,” and that means looking for timeless rather than flashy.  It means taking the time to perfect my Craft, rather than getting frustrated with slow progress and jumping ship to something more entertaining (which I am occasionally wont to do).

In short, it means Seven and Eight of Pentacles.

I have grimoires that need entries.  I have wards and “spring cleaning” spells to do, talismans and amulets to perfect, herbal sachets and witches’ hands to make, familiars and spirit-allies to make offerings to, and lots and lots of paper magic to do.

Sure, it sounds tedious when I lay it all out there like that, but the only time I don’t love my art is when I’m depressed, and I’ve actually found that accomplishing something meaningful for someone (myself included) makes me feel better, so a lot of this work will do double duty by getting me out of my funk.

I’ve been rereading a lot of my old Mercedes Lackey novels, in an effort to remind myself not to give up and to take pleasure in small details (both which are consistent themes in her stories).

That’s enough rambling from me today, I think.  Just wanted to get all of this down while I was thinking about it.  I hope all of you find your work to be rewarding and your burdens light.  Blessed be!

[inkedtae]

winter letter ⇾ knj, jjk.[A]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ jungkook x reader (f.), namjoon x reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ angst, pg

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ three months before your wedding, you get fragments of a letter from an old friend.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 2.1k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ a lil swearing

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ Order up! Give it a good stir; enjoy!

⤑ le playlist

◖collab. for @bangtan-dreamland​’s drinks and drabbles event. find original request here.◗

Crystal snow coats the window pane as it trickles down from gloomy clouds. You wake to find once bare branches and dry roads, heavy and wet with layers of snow. The untreated snow trails fill you with emptiness as the world feels vacant, uninhabited. You’ve been up for hours, watching the sunrise while teacup after teacup nurses your unruly heart. With every inhale and exhale, your lungs only feel further restricted by your rib cage. Bones under flesh, mind over heart, all you feel is pain. 

The six fragments of a letter rest before you on the kitchen table. You drag your gaze away from the frost framed window and read through the paragraphs. You’ve read each horizontally ripped piece a dozen times, trying to fully process the beautifully written sentences. The sender remains anonymous, but you have a good guess on who might be the voice behind this confession. You know his handwriting, know it well enough to be able to deny the obvious possibility that, after two years of silence, the letter carries more than just simple ‘how are you doings.’ With only one more piece left, confirming his identity, you have already gathered that it’s a love letter. 

The first little piece of the letter is dated the day you met Jungkook two years ago. The suspected writer seems to have written it prior to realizing that you’ve already met someone. He seems to be more concerned with the fact that too much time has passed to stay within an arm’s length reach of each other, rather than the presence of someone else in your heart. Rereading the final sentence, you can’t deny hearing your heart whisper his name. 

I love you; I’ve loved you the moment you spilled blueberry yogurt on my white sweater and tried to convince me a bird knocked you over and made you do it.

You can’t believe he still remembers that. It’s not like you have forgotten it, but you just didn’t think he’d remember that day. It wasn’t exactly the first time you’ve met or even saw each other. It was just the first moment the two of you ever exchanged some words.

It was about three months into your first year of university. Late for your philosophers of literature class, you had rushed through the courtyard with your breakfast, a thing of blueberry yogurt, in your hands. Instead of waiting to get into class to enjoy your yogurt, you decided to open it on your way there. This wouldn’t have been such an issue if you didn’t have two books tucked under your arm and your bag falling off your shoulder. Struggling to peel off the lid while juggling so much, you pulled too hard on the flap and spilled the purple tinted yogurt all over someone’s sweater as you round the corner. 

“Shit,” he hissed as he held the hem of his sweater. 

You gasped, bringing a hand to your lips. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

A first glance, you didn’t really recognize him. But, as you continued to look between him and the new yogurt stain on his sweater, you started to realize who he was. He was in a couple of your classes, always happening to seat a row in front of you. His wardrobe always mirrored that of a twentieth century poet, but his answers were never that dated. His insights drove the lecture and most times you wondered why he wasn’t the one teaching the class since what he had to say seemed more reasonable and accurate than whatever the professor brought to the table. 

“It-”

“I didn’t mean to do that, I swear! It just… um… it was a bird. Yeah! This stupid bird knocked over my hand,” you lied, avoiding his gaze as you spun this grand tale of how bird are just flying rats and cannot be trusted. “But, you know what? It happened and I’m gonna fix it. I’ll clean it right now, okay? Just stay still,” you said as you dug into your bag for a tissue. You fumbled with your books under your arm and the half empty yogurt container in your hand as you rummaged your free hand around in your bag. 

“I can just-”

“Hold these!” You ordered, shoving your books into his hands. You placed the yogurt container on top of the books then turned back to your bag. “Don’t let the books touch the yogurt,” you muttered as you pulled out more books and shoved them in his hands to hold. 

He sighed, sarcastically replying, “no, because that would just be a disaster.” 

You didn't know he was being sarcastic then. You remember that all you could think in that moment was that you had to clean his cable-knit sweater. It looked so pretty and, from what you saw of his torso, it fit him all too well. It would’ve been a shame to see it ruined. 

Finally finding a tiny pack of tissues, you pulled it out and set your bag down. You tried your best to wipe it all off, but all you ended up doing was rub the yogurt into his sweater, further ruining the fabric. When you ran out of tissues, you finally took a step back to examine your process. Immediately, you noticed that you managed to spread the stain rather than fix it. 

You curled your lips in and hesitantly nodded. “Looks brand new,” you lied before tossing the tissues in the garbage beside you. Meeting his unimpressed eyes, you flashed him a nervous smile and hoped you looked sorry enough to let this all slide. 

“So let me get this straight,” he started. “Some bird happened to see you opening a pack of yogurt and decided to specifically attack you. It knocked over your hand just as you were opening it and made you spill it all over me?” 

The unamused tone of his voice gave you goosebumps. You shifted your weight from foot to foot and nervously asked, “any that’s hard to believe because…?”

His gaze flickered to a glare. You flashed him that anxious smile once more as he began handing  your books back. He took the yogurt pack and tipped it up to you. “I’m taking this as compensation.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” you sighed. “I think it’s important for you to know though that I am not in alliance with the flying rats.”

“You mean the birds?”

“Same thing,” you brushed him off. “I, for one, prefer sea animals.”

“Don’t sea animals sort of fly too since they’re not touching exactly the ground?”

You paused. Shifting your gaze, you tried to rationalize his words. He made a good point, but you were hell bent on making a better one. “Crabs don’t,” you quickly added. “I love crabs and turtles and other ground-touching sea creatures.”

“Turtles sometimes fly if we’re going with your logi-”

“We can go back and forth all day, but the point is I feel for you because I ,too, hate birds and the things they make us do.”

He sighed, narrowing his eyes on you. He licked his lip then offered the yogurt back to you. You looked between him and the food, raising a brow. “I have a class right now and my professor doesn’t allow food,” he explained. 

“But what about your compensation?”

He smirked. “You’re smart. I’m sure you can come up with a way to make it up to me.”

Accepting the yogurt back, you silently thanked him. He only nodded and pulled out a deep blue pen. Opening your Scorates book, he jotted down his name and number on the first page. “Let me know what you come up with,” he smiled. 

You twirl the engagement ring as the memory floods your mind once more. It’s been six years. He’s held onto these feelings for six years, only finally making them known to you three months before your wedding. You sent him an invitation thinking you were inviting an old friend. Now, you know you’ve reopened a chapter he has decided to close two years ago. 

The part that surprises you, however, is the fact that you don’t regret inviting him, even after knowing how he feels. It should fill you with guilt, with distress, but instead it just makes you crave his presence. 

Getting up from your seat, you make your way to the bookshelves in the living. Scouring the shelves, you find the book you’re looking for. You pull out the book on Socrates, flipping to the first page. His name and number stare back at you, and you suddenly have a hankering for blueberry yogurt. 

Two sharp knocks rap against the front door. You snap your head towards it, shutting the book. Looking down the hall to your shared room with Jungkook, you find him still fast asleep. A breath you didn’t realize you were holding escapes you. Quickly, you make your way to the door. An envelope falls from the space between the edge of the door and the frame the moment you open it.

Only your name’s scratched on it in deep blue ink. You take a quick scan up and down the hallway of the apartment, but it remains vacant, not even the wet trail of the winter weather is left behind. You pick up the letter and close the door. 

Tucking the book under your arm, you open the envelope and pull out the last fragment of the letter. His name greets you with a little heart sketched beside it. The notion almost shatters you. You shakily take your seat at the kitchen table, and slide the last piece into place, taping it with the others. 

You sit in Jungkook’s apartment, but you wear Namjoon’s sweater. You have Jungkook’s ring but yearn for Namjoon’s heart. The guilt is starting to creep up on you, prickling your spine with anxious nerves that can’t manage to keep still. 

“Did someone knock on the door?” Jungkook sleepily asks as he shuffles out of your shared room. 

Moving quicker than you ever have in your life, you fold up the taped up letter and shove it in the book. “Huh?”

Jungkook rests his hands on your shoulders, and kisses the top of your head. “Someone at the door?” he repeats, lips against your hair. 

You gulp, slowly melting into his touch. “No.”

He hums, circling around the table to enter the kitchen. “Thought I heard knocking.”

You drum your hands on the table, trying to imitate the knocks left moments ago. He nods his head, flashing you a little smirk. Getting some coffee prepared, he asks, “want some, babe.”

You shake your head and pick up the book, returning it to its place. Turning around, you find Jungkook leaning against the shelf, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Go on.”

“What?”

“Tell me what’s got you pouty.”

“I’m not pouty!”

He smirks, gaze flickering from your wide eyes to your pout. He tongues his cheek, cocking a brow as if silently asking you to try again. He could see right through you, this you know all too well. It’s the reason why you stayed as quiet as you could the moment you heard his raspy, morning voice. And it’s also the reason, you don’t lie now; well, don’t completely lie. 

“Just thinking about an old friend.”

He curls a loose strand of your hair behind your ear and pushes himself off the shelf. Wrapping his hands around your waist, he gently pulls you close. You can’t help but instantly mold into his frame, leaning your head against his firm chest. Namjoon almost slips right out of your mind, only your eyes fall back on the spine of that book. 

But, as Jungkook rests his chin atop your head, you can’t find it in you to reach out for it anymore. Your heart doesn’t yearn for anything more, anything different. The comfort and safety you feel wrapped in Jungkook’s embrace is not something you can easily replace. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head, and inhale his scent. Your blueberry cravings disappear as your desire for strawberries takes over. Pulling back a bit, you reach up on your toes and pull Jungkook into a hug, settling your chin over his shoulder. He doesn’t think too much of the position change, making himself comfortable against you as well. 

From bone to flesh, from mind to heart, all you feel is comfort. Winter letters and missed love confessions linger but you know where your loyalties lie. The possibilities of what could’ve and might’ve will always haunt you but the centainities of the here and now are undeniable. Jeon Jungkook is where you belong. And, as you stare at the crystal snow continuing to fall, you pray that’s  where you’ll stay. 

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission. 

[argylemnwrites]

Thanks for the tag @axwalker! Sorry it took me days to get around to answering!

Music

Favorite Genre: pop, soft blues-rock

Fav artists: Eric Hutchinson, Lady Gaga, Ella Henderson, James Morrison, Elle King, Chris Stapleton

Fav song: Really depends on my mood, but “Food Chain” by Eric Hutchinson is consistently up there

Most Listened to Song: This is very dependent on my writing and overall mood, but currently, both “Uphill Battle” by Rozzi and “To Hell and Back” by Maren Morris from my Riley Liu playlist have been playing on repeat a lot

Five fav lyrics: These are going to be from musicals, because the word play in musicals is just damn memorable

“Is there an IUD/That can stop the image of you and me?” - “Oh My God I Think I Like You” from Crazy Ex Girlfriend (Season 1)

“Maybe she’s what you prefer/But hey, last year I was her/Maybe you will change your mind/But you might look up to find/I’ve moved on to better things/Better jobs or bigger rings/I don’t have the time to cry/I’m too busy loving my name up on that list/Kind of a cool, ironic twist” - “So Much Better” from Legally Blonde The Musical

“So I ain’t gonna fuss/I ain’t gonna frown/Have your fun/Go out on the town/Stay out late and don’t come home ‘til three/And go right off to sleep if you’re sleepy/There’s no use waitin’ up for me” - “All ‘Er Nothing” from Oklahoma!

“I have no problem being picked out from the bottom/If he’s your broken condom, I’m Plan B/So lower your expectations and settle for me” - “Settle for Me” from Crazy Ex Girlfriend  (Season 1)

“You and your words, obsessed with your legacy/Your sentences border on senseless/And you are paranoid in every paragraph/Of how they perceive you/You, you, you” - “Burn” from Hamilton

Radio or your own playlists? Radio while driving, own playlists at home

Solo artist or band? Solo artist

Pop or indie? Pop

Loud or soft volume? Soft, usually

Slow or fast songs? Both

Music videos or lyric videos? Both

Speakers or headset? Speakers

Riding a bus in silence or listening to music? I haven’t ridden a bus in about a decade

Driving in silence or with music? Music or podcasts

BOOKS

Fav Genre: General fiction, mystery, dystopian

Fav Writers: Jane Austen, Agatha Christie, Jhupma Lahiri

Fav Books: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie, 1984 by George Orwell

Fav book series: Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery, Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling

Comfort book: Pride and Prejudice

Fav characters: Elizabeth Bennet, Ron Weasley, Gilbert Blythe, Jo March

Five quotes from your favorite books you know by heart: Pretty sure the only book I can quote by heart is Pride and Prejudice, hahaha

“You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty years at least.”

“I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any.”

“An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day, you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do.”

“If I had not a letter to write myself, I might sit by you and admire the evenness of your writing, as another young lady once did.”

“It will be of no use to us if twenty such should come since you will not visit them.” “Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will visit them all.”

Hard cover or paperback? Both

Buy or rent? Buy

Standalones or series? Standalone

Ebooks or physical copies? Physical copies

Reading at night or during the day? Both

Reading at home or in nature? Both

Listening to music while reading or reading in silence? Music most of the time

Reading in order or read the ending first? In order!

Reliable or unreliable narrator? Most of the time reliable, but I do enjoy things getting mixed up with an unreliable one sometimes

Realism or Fantasy? Realism

One or multiple POVs? Both

Judge the cover or summary? Summary

Rereading or reading just once? Rereading

TV AND MOVIES

Fav genre? Drama, dramedy, comedy

Fav movie?  This is like asking a parent to pick a favorite child, but Mad Max Fury Road is near perfect, so if I have to pick just one, this is it.

Comfort movie? Mean Girls, Clueless, Hot Fuzz

Movies you watch every year? It’s A Wonderful Life and White Christmas

Comfort TV show? Parks and Rec, Frasier, Gilmore Girls

Most Rewatched TV show? The Office (US), Parks and Rec

5 Favorite characters? Diane Lockhart, Janet, Ron Swanson, Joan Holloway/Harris, Emily Gilmore

Tv show or movie? Movie

Short seasons Depends on the show

One episode a week or binge? Binge

One season or multiple seasons?  Multiple

One part or Saga? One part

Half hour or hour long episodes? Depends on the show

Subtitles on or off? Off

Download or watch online? Watch online

Since I’m horribly late with this response, not going to tag anyone specific.

[millennial-ring]

Can we get more on the three P's? Pain, Pride, and Pure?

           17. PAIN

So this is actually the document where I saved the RP where Bakura came back to find Malik engaged to Seto, aptly named “PAIN” because it’s...fairly angsty. Me and this friend used to RP on Skype, making new group chats with side accounts before deleting them and leaving the two of us (which is so unnecessarily inconvenient lol but it’s what we had to do so we could rp multiple things at a time/not lose the rp in our regular group) and whenever we finished or got bored of an RP one of us would sit down, scroll all the way to the top, and copy and paste the entire thing into a word doc for re-readability. We rp’d it for well over a year, if not longer, so there’s no way to really reread it and condense it into a summary because sooo much happens. I guess highlights that I remember (or at least thing I remember fgjkdjh? we started this rp in 2016)

Bakura gives Malik a necklace he made himself (instead of a ring) before they part ways and Malik ofc keeps wearing it even after Bakura comes back and screams at them. There’s one scene early into the power relationship (when Malik still considers them fuck buddies) where Malik jumps into bed with Ryou, shoves his phone into his face, and starts screaming about Seto’s “you’re adorable” reply to a no-make up, bedhead selfie Malik had sent (bc how dare Seto be cute and do romantic things like that and kiss Malik’s hand and feed Malik chocolate covered strawberries before sex and buy him jewelry when they’re just fucking!) and Ryou’s just like “oh my fucking god just date him already gtfo my room I want to sleep.” Uhm... Malik and Seto are in the middle of wedding planning (visiting Isis and Rishid in Egypt at the time) when Bakura comes back, but they’re talking about a spring wedding in one of the parks/gardens in Seto’s neighborhood and Seto makes a comment about having the ceremony under the wisteria tree because he wants to see wisteria blossoms in Malik’s hair. Malik imagines brushing stray petals from Seto’s hair as they lean in for the kiss that will bind them for life - and then ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE. Bakura passes out after using all his energy to scream at Malik (bc he JUST returned from the shadows, having had to go through multiple trials and actually give up some of his memories to be able to return) and they put him in the guest bedroom while Malik calls Ryou for help. While they wait for Ryou, Bakura wakes up and crawls out the window and runs away LOL. Uhm... Malik has a fluffy white therapy cat, ykno one of those grumpy looking smoosh faced ones, named Bakura. At some point while they’re still in Egypt Ryou takes Bakura to Kul Elna, where there’s a monument/memorial to the people that died in the massacre, and a very close knit community. Ryou takes Bakura to a community garden run by a pregnant woman named Adela who also owns a restaurant there - the food grown by the locals is used in the restaurant and iirc there was also some kind of donations thing going on where struggling families could come and take whatever they needed provided they bring back seeds or the scraps for compost or help a bit in the garden or something like that. I don’t think we ever made it explicit but we were pretty much implying that Adela was Bakura’s Actual Mom reincarnated. I think Bakura was also around for the birth, but I can’t remember much of it aside from him holding the baby. But the modern Kul Elna village actually practiced a lot of the old traditions and Bakura’s like “whoa... fuck it I might move here”. Uuuhh Bakura tells Ryou how every family in Kul Elna had a special “tzai” (tea) recipe and it could only be shared with people close to said family...before he makes some for Ryou. I think my friend got this from Star Wars? But I like it and we’ve included it in basically all our rps since. Uhm~ At one point Bakura kisses Malik and Malik slaps him and that’s how Bakura knows It’s Really Over. Malik and Seto play rock paper scissors to decide who bottoms every now and then, but it’s moreso a way to say “I want to bottom tonight but for some reason my pride keeps me from saying it outright” (dear 2016 us: bottoming is not shameful!) but also we never rp’d it, it was part of a time skip, but Malik and Seto had a threesome with Ryou and Ryou ate Seto’s ass. That’s all. We had Atem coming back and I remember he wanted to try and smooth things over but whenever Bakura saw him he had a panic attack. Uhm...that’s all for now lol, I can’t really remember much else.

             18. pride

Unfortunately, again, this is not a document about prideshipping. Every so often I get emotional and I start writing emotional things that I think I’ll post to Facebook, but then I either chicken out because I don’t want to be known or perceived. Let people continue to think I’m a hyperactive halfwit and have no deeper meaning to my thoughts. It’s chill. 

But this one was about the concept of LGBT Pride and how I felt about it, how startled I am sometimes when I run across support and acceptance in unconventional or unexpected places, how I worked hard to be comfortable enough to make the “because I’m gay” jokes out loud because growing up in a rural Kansas town I was exposed to my fair share of homophobia, both from family and from community, and even the people I called friends. It was gonna be one of those “wow I love my friends and family because now that I’ve weeded out the assholes I’m surrounded by love and support and this is exactly how much it means to me and why!” kinda posts, but I’m really bad at those, so this stayed in my WIPs. Maybe when Pride month rolls around again and I get nostalgic and emotional again I’ll finish it.

             19. pure

This one’s a “fic” written about mine and my friend’s OCs from an old superhero/supervillain RP group. My character, Zaine, was separated from his girlfriend, Tansy, during a battle with heroes that killed a lot of supers and civilians alike. They were reunited after a few years (both had assumed the other had died and somehow hadn’t run into each other at all asdkja, it was our excuse as to why the characters had changed so much (since we were coming back to rp these characters after a few years ourselves, and wanted to revamp them a bit without them losing their relationships or experiences). But in that time, Zaine became better friends with his buddy Forest, and before the gal who made Tansy rejoined the group, me and the guy who made Forest were debating if Zaine and Forest should get together. But Tansy came back and Zaine got back together with her, but I made it canon that Zaine was crushing on Forest prior to that/still a bit after Tansy came back. Zaine is in a band and it’s sort of a running joke that his band members are all betting how long it takes for a threesome or for Tansy (who’s a bit possessive) to attack Forest, and they constantly tease Zaine about how much time he spends with Forest, make “hey don’t fuel the shippers” jokes, some other stuff along those lines, etc. It’s all good natured tho.

Anyway that’s all canon. The fic was “pureshipping” - Zaine, Tansy, and Forest. It was kinda me exploring how a relationship might develop between the three of them and I was writing little bits for my friends at work based on the answers they gave me to the “How would they react to/feel about this” questions I asked before turning that into a proper story. 

It started with Tansy trying to remember when exactly she became open to the idea of polyamory, since as I said, she’s a bit possessive and got jealous easily. She recalls a night Zaine brings Forest back to their apartment after a bachelor party, with them plastered and barely able to stand. They fall down, and Zaine shushes Forest because Tansy has her laptop out and she’s working. Forest shushes Zaine back, they put their fingers against each other’s lips and keep shushing each other, drawing closer until the only thing separating their mouths are their fingers, and Tansy’s just like “whoa” and something clicks because A) she sees Zaine’s lids lower while looking at Forest the way they do when he wants to kiss HER and B) why is she not freaking out about this isn’t she a poisonous little viper that hisses at anyone that tries to flirt with Zaine? But nope, she’s never been jealous of Forest even if his and Zaine’s relationship is fairly intimate for what most consider friendship. And then a few days later she sees one of those memes that’s like “Zaine has two hands” (bc Forest is also a famous musician, and he and Zaine do a lot together, both professionally on the music front and in like. Idk, livestreams and general hanging out. so ofc weirdos ship them, and since Zaine and Tansy went public there’s gonna be ppl that include her in the weirdness) on a TVD fan page she follows so she understands some of Zaine’s inside jokes and she sees a comment from Zaine’s official facebook that’s like “these hands were made for holding!” 

and Tansy’s like. “Oh shit. Zaine DOES have two hands!” so a few days later over breakfast she asks Zaine how he REALLY feels about Forest and ofc he’s like “he’s my best friend???” and Tansy’s like “ok but no for real how do you REALLY feel about him” and then calls him out about about having a crush on him and Zaine, who’s canonically weirdly monogamous is like “no!!” but Tansy whittles him down until he admits he “HAD” a crush on Forest before he and Tansy reconnected, but swears nothing happened between them and Tansy’s like “WOULD YOU LIKE TO?” and brings up the idea of Zaine dating Forest, and Zaine’s like “I’m with you, Tans, I didn’t mean to make you feel inadequate” and she’s like “I appreciate it but not what I meant. I know you, Zaine, I know you’re a lover and not being able to tell Forest how you really feel is hurting you, so if you want to then I highly encourage you ask him out” and after like 2 whole days of debating Zaine comes back to her saying he was going to, and then a few days later they invite Forest over to have The Talk and Tansy says they’re free to date, but Forest is still mourning Kelvin, his fiancé that “died” ((in quotes bc these aren’t our characters to actually kill so all characters are just assumed dead if the roleplayer didn’t rejoin but ofc if they came back “hey surprise i’m alive!) in the war between heroes and villains and says he needs time to think about it. He thinks it over for two whole weeks -and in the meantime, Tansy is happy to see his and Zaine’s relationship hasn’t changed at all- before agreeing. They sit down to discuss boundaries and permissions and whatever, and this line: 

Tansy would never dream of forbidding them from doing anything that she and Zaine would do, especially because Zaine was a lover. He loved with all his heart, soul, and body, as if his purpose in life was to treasure his partners so thoroughly they would never question his feelings for them. It would be unfair to Forest and downright cruel to Zaine for Tansy to restrict them.

aaaa I know I wrote it but I love it. So after boundaries are discussed and all that Zaine and Forest have their first proper kiss, and it’s so sweet Tansy feels breathless alongside them. The three of them cuddle up to watch a movie but Zaine’s paying more attention to the two of them, taking turns kissing each of them while Tansy and Forest accidentally start competing for who can pull the most reactions from Zaine. Forest starts spending every weekend at Zaine and Tansy’s place and it always ends with them cuddling on the couch while watching movies, Zaine between them, but overtime Forest and Tansy become more affectionate with each other and end game was obviously the three of them, but I stopped writing it just after Forest spent the first night in bed with them.

Tansy smiled and looped her arm around Zaine, cuddling up to his side like a cat seeking attention. Zaine’s own arm found its way around her shoulders to keep her close. The last thing Tansy saw before her eyes dropped closed was Forest on the other side of Zaine mirroring her, and the last touch she registered was Forest’s hand brushing over her arm.

[mccoys-killer-queen]

@axelandriab​ thank you so much for tagging me in this bc seeing brand new questions I’ve never answered before is like a breath of fresh air

Do you prefer writing in black or blue pen? black

Would you prefer to live in the country or the city? I think about this often and I always used to say city but I’m feeling more country now

If you could learn a new skill, what would it be? guitar... please... if not that then I’d like to speak German fluently...

Do you drink tea/ coffee with sugar? nope (unless you count honey as sugar for tea, then yes)

What was you favourite book as a child? I honestly don’t remember reading books/having books read to me but it was probably Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown

Do you prefer baths or showers? I haven’t taken a bath in a good 6 years so I forget what it feels like (I don’t fit in my bathtub anymore... I’m too long) so I gotta say showers by default

If you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be? either some sort of fairy, nymph, or shapeshifter 

Paper or electronic books? Paper

What is your favourite item of clothing? my denim jacket with all my patches on it

Do you like your name? nope :3) I think Rachel is a very boring, generic, uncreative White Girl name and if I ever get famous (which ain’t gonna happen) I’d totally go by a pen/stage name

Who is a mentor to you? pssh just any of my Rock and Roll Dads (i.e. Joe Elliott, Brian May, Kevin Cronin, Nikki Sixx, etc), I feel like They guide me somehow

Would you like to be famous? famous for something good? Yes. I’m such an extrovert like 60% of the time and I love oversharing and sometimes feel like I’d be good at handling fame. Plus honestly I don’t feel like I’ll be able to survive long in life unless I somehow get famous bc let’s face it I’m never gonna have a “real career” or be satisfied with any job or be able to make a living by constantly working (but then again I don’t have any talent that can make me famous either oops)

Are you a restless sleeper? yeah more often than never :3)

Do you consider yourself a romantic person? aesthetically romantic, sometimes, but I identify as aro. Romance irl just feels wrong, like it doesn’t mix well with me, like when you put a certain metal in water and it explodes

Which element best represents you? Earth? Either earth or water

Who do you want to be closer to? “My favourite musicians ;(” <<stealing this too :c just all the Leppard bois pls

Do you miss someone at the moment? Nope

Tell us about an early childhood memory? I had a computer class in kindergarten, and I remember on the very first day of it, the teacher taught us what a floppy disc was when introducing us to all the parts of a computer. This was in 2006, and I still have yet to use one.

What is the strangest thing you’ve ever eaten? Probably chicken and waffle pringles, but dipped in chili (GOOD)

What are you most thankful for? the money I have in the bank (even tho I try not to touch it), my driver’s license, not having a job right now, my therapist, my music, my hamster, being surrounded by green

Have you ever met anyone famous? Yes, Rick Ray of Sunshine Allen :3 that’s it :’3

Do you keep a diary or journal? Nope, even tho my therapist told me that journaling my thoughts is a big help, I kinda don’t wanna go back to doing that

Do you prefer to use pen or pencil? Pen bc it flows easier

What is your star sign? Pisces

Do you like your cereal crunchy or soggy? Crunchy all the way, soggy cereal is a HUGE pet peeve of mine

What would you want your legacy to be? someone who was very interesting and did a lot of things

Do you like reading? What was the last book you read? honestly, reading is overrated. Even if the book is good, reading isn’t as hyped up as everyone on this site thinks it is. I do like reading sometimes, but I barely do. I read a lot in high school bc I had so much free time on my hands in class, but outside of school I can’t do it. The last book I read was a reread of The Princess Bride by William Goldman

How do you show someone you love them? *Lisa Simpson staring at plate* ??? Error 405??

Do you like ice in your drinks? yeah but not a lot. Maybe just one or two cubes to keep it cold but not to dilute it a lot

What are you afraid of? being stuck where I am forever, never escaping my family, never finding my path in life, whatever the hell is wrong with my mentality getting worse and impacting my life in a huge way, any health related problems, I could go on :3)

What is your favourite scent? Old Spice

Do you address older people by their name or surname? ...what exactly is this question asking? Depends on how casual I am with them/how well I know them

If money was not a factor, how would your life be different? I would NOT be living here that’s for damn sure :3) I would’ve been to so many different places by now and maybe I’d actually have a real life and actually BE an interesting person

Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? pools, bc the ocean is too salty and choppy and doesn’t smell as good as chlorine imo

What would you do if you found $50 on the ground? “I’d pick it up, and if I saw the person who dropped it, I’d give it back to them” << true but then if i couldn’t find them then I’d probably go buy some records with it and put the change aside into my Concert Fund

What is one thing you’d want to teach your children? honestly I don’t think I’m ever gonna have kids, but I’d want them to understand that gender roles don’t exist, and neither do the opinions of society

If you had to get a tattoo right now, what and where would it be? ...I’m actually getting a tattoo next week... it’s going to be on the side of my right shoulder, a silhouette of a pine tree with an outline of a crescent moon above it

What can you hear now? The sound of the fridge runnin in the room behind me, my mom getting something out of a drawer

Where do you feel the safest? in my bedroom

What is one thing you want to overcome/conquer? whatever’s fucked up in my head like anxiety and trauma, etc

If you could travel back to any era in time, what would it be? if I had to travel back anywhere and stay there for the rest of my life, I’d probably go back 1979 to see the dawn of the 80s and live through them. If I had to go for a day then I’d probably pick the summer of 1988 or something

What is your most used emoji? probably 🤙

Describe yourself using one word? tough

What do you regret most? not going to see Def Leppard and Journey when they were less than an hour away 2 years ago. Yes, I couldn’t drive back then, so there was really no way I could’ve gotten there and back (and I could’ve BARELY gotten a floor ticket to begin with, it would’ve cost like half the money I had to my name), but with the Stadium Tour being delayed ANOTHER year I feel like 2 years ago was the only chance I’ll ever have had to see my favorite band :c so even though it was basically impossible for me to go, and a lot of the factors of that were out of my control, I still feel like I blew it, and wish I tried literally everything I possibly could’ve done (like just buy the ticket and figure out how to get there later, call everyone I could think of to try and hitch a ride). Even if I did so, there was still a VERY, VERY slim chance that I could’ve ended up going by some goddamned MIRACLE okay I’ll shut up now sorry I’m just still very upset even so much time later

Last movie you saw? in theaters? Rocketman last summer. In general? Uhhhhh I really don’t know, I think it was Love, Simon

Last TV show you watched? on tv? Rick and Morty. In general? I was watching The Young Ones on youtube today

Invent a word and it’s meaning? Scress (we actually made this up like 2 years ago)- it’s a game where you play chess on a Scrabble board while also playing Scrabble