#read about him going to harvard and still doing everything to be able to spend time with ronan whenever he can

[evrmoire]

people should pay me $1000 before speaking on adam parrish and even then some of you won't be allowed

[storiesofsvu]

Forced Hand

Casey Novak x reader warnings: language, regular SVU case details talked about/mentioned, anxiety attack. it's a hurt/comfort besties. A combination of requests that were relatively along the same lines so I put it together into one. Welcome back to the blog Ms Novak, we've missed you! If you don't want to miss a thing, sign up for the taglist here! If you like what you read, don't forget to reblog/comment and always feel free to send in your own requests! They're always open!

You worked homicide, you weren’t supposed to be in a courtroom like this, and you certainly weren’t supposed be on the losing side. Your squad had picked up a case that later appeared to be linked to a string of open cases over at SVU and your captains insisted on working together. A few extra sets of eyes were always a good thing, a fresh perspective on the situation, they said.

What they hadn’t been able to prep you for was the viciousness of the case, and the fact that three of the victims were still alive. The crime scenes had been brutal and you were honestly shocked that anyone had survived through it, you’d been rattled to your core to discover your victims were all girls under the age of twelve. Girls who you had to watch be treated for shock on top of their injuries before retraumatizing them all over again with questioning to get their full stories, children who you then had to spend hours prepping for the brutality of a trial like this.

You were typically good with kids; Casey knew that which was one of the reasons she’d chosen you along with Benson to help her prep everyone. She watched with pride as you were able to break things down from confusing legal terms to something the girls could understand, how soft you were with them, how cautious you were how well you worked with Olivia in reminding them how strong and brave they were for doing this, and that the bad guy couldn’t hurt them anymore.

She also watched how that strong, encouraging façade would drop the moment you stepped into your shared apartment, weariness and exhaustion taking over your features and you turned down dinner and attempted to wash the day away in a too hot shower. You’d eventually reappear a couple of hours later in a pair of sweats and her worn Harvard tee, silently cuddling up to her side on the couch and she’d pass off her glass of scotch for you to finish. She’d put her work away, wrapping it up neatly so you wouldn’t have to see any of the crime scene photos again, urging you to lean into her embrace, pressing soft kisses to your skin and the top of your head until your stomach would let out a growl you’d finally submit to ordering some take out. You never said a word about it, and Casey never once pried or poked around until you said something, she let you go about your day, happy when she would catch you smiling or laughing with someone and she would always make sure she was ready and available for extra cuddles and wordless encouragement. She knew you were struggling, but that you were also handling it, and doing so in your own way, the case was close enough to over that you’d be able to breathe freely again in a matter of days.

However things were looking bleaker and bleaker as the trial strung along. The girls were strong on the stand for Casey, answering properly, detailing what they needed to, not matter how hard it was. When Casey turned around to take her seat again she caught your eye in the gallery and felt her heart tug at the tears shimmering in your eyes and the pain written across your face. What she missed was that pain turning into absolute outrage as the defence attorney started their cross and tore into all three of the victims like he was the devil. He twisted things around, barked out questions too quickly, stepped too close to the witness box, doing everything he could to get at least one person on the jury to side with him. And every motion he made broke down those poor little girls and their families even more. And you right along with them.

Casey lost you at lunch, no clue where you had ran off to when you weren’t in her office when she got there. Still, she knew you’d be there for the verdict, so she grabbed an extra coffee on her way back, deciding to go in the side door to avoid the press. She jumped a puddle as she crossed the street, cursing that she’d left her umbrella in her office, thinking the rain was done for the day. Dodging rain drops she finally rounded the bend to the side door and found you leaning up against the wall, staring down at your feet until you heard her voice.

“It’s raining, you should be inside.” She commented.

“I’m fine.” You replied, and her eyes caught the movement of your hand, hiding it behind your back and she realized you’d snuck out for a smoke.

“Okay.” She stepped up to you, kissing your cheek softly, “don’t get too cold.” She passed off the coffee and you took it from her with a small smile.

“Thanks.”

Her finger curled under your chin so she could catch your eye, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You mustered up a small smile, letting her kiss you softly before she disappeared inside.

Finishing your smoke, you stubbed it out with your toe and took a heavy breath, the last thing in the world you wanted to do right now was go back into that courtroom. You didn’t want to know the outcome, wanted to walk away from this forever and pretend it never happened. But you knew that those families were depending on you and your squads to help get them through it, to be the backbone when the verdict was read and help them figure out what their next steps were. There was a reason you preferred homicide.

The surefire grin on the perp’s face was the first tell, how casually he was talking with his lawyer, the nearly awkward, slightly guilty look on the faces of half the jury was the second, the way Casey’s hand tightened around her pen as she chewed on her lip, her jaw tightening was the last. You felt the burning in your stomach start to creep up your throat, your hands shoved into your pockets so no one would see them shaking as the verdict was read.

“Not guilty on all counts.”

Your ears were ringing, you couldn’t hear yourself think much less the commotion in the courtroom, the scared and confused questions coming from the girls as their parents scrambled to try and figure out any kind of an answer. Your vision was nearly blurring and this time it wasn’t from the tears, everything about this was wrong, it was more than wrong and it was disgusting. Someone grabbed your hand and it was as if you had been clapped on the ears and you could suddenly hear the cries of the girl beside you, the terror written across her tiny features as she looked up at you for an answer. You barely heard yourself when you spoke,

“I’m so, so sorry.”

Your chest was suddenly tight, squeezing all the air out of your lungs as pictures from the case began to invade your brain, memories collaborating with imagination, making everything even worse. You weren’t entirely sure what was happening but you knew you couldn’t let it happen in this courtroom.

When Casey heard the door heavily drop shut she instantly knew it was you leaving and her heart dropped into her stomach. A glance over her shoulder confirmed her theories, catching Liv’s gaze with an incredibly apologetic look in her eyes, the brunette nodded, her way of saying ‘I know you did everything you could’ before her head tilted in the direction of the door. ‘I’ve got this, go get your girl.’ Casey didn’t even bother to give the defence the privilege of a glance as she packed up her things and slipped from the courtroom. Unsure on whether you would still be in the building or not she headed toward the side exit, knowing there was a fairly unused bathroom over there that was still close enough to the part you’d been in. She heard the flush of the toilet through the door, the sound of the tap running as she pushed it open, catching you rinsing out your mouth, splashing cold water over your face as you struggled to catch your breath.

You barely even noticed someone else in the bathroom with you, your vision still tunnelling and filled with gruesome, bloody images and the faces of those poor girls while they told their horrible stories. Wiping the water off your face you took a heaving breath, it still felt like there was a cinder block resting on your chest and as much as throwing up had helped, there was stomach acid creeping up your throat, making it burn even worse. Your brain started to race, remembering all the things you’d said alongside Olivia to the girls, encouraging them that it would all be okay, that you’d caught the bad guy, now you were going to put him away. That their nightmares would eventually stop, they wouldn’t have to be scared anymore because he would be in prison, the promises you’d made them, every single one of them turning out to be empty.

“Oh god….” It came out as a half choked sob and you turned toward the window, bracing your hands on the sill as the heavy cries started to spill from deep within you, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks.

“Hey…” Casey’s soft voice didn’t manage to break through your conscious, but you felt the welcomed coolness of her hand between your shoulder blades and you shuddered, “it’s not your fault.” Her hand began to rub slow circles, “you worked your ass off and did everything you could.”

You tried to form even a single word but you couldn’t find your voice, another choked sob escaping your lips as you started to hyperventilate, completely unable to get enough air into your lungs, feeling even more like you were drowning.

“Whoa, whoa…” Casey’s arms cautiously wrapped around you, “c’mere.” She pulled you flush to her, frowning at the feeling of your heart pounding against your ribs and just how hot your skin was to her touch.

You didn’t struggle, but you protested a little bit, your hands pushing against her arms until she grabbed your wrists in one of her hands, restraining you as she leant forward, pushing open the window as far as she could. You let out a cry, not wanting to be forced to be still but the sudden woosh of cold air was a refuge to your burning lungs and your breath shuddered as you finally collapsed against Casey. Your eyes finally cracked open, tears continuing to trail over your cheeks as the cool breeze ghosted over your skin. You could feel Casey’s heart strumming against your back, slow and steady, a stark difference to yours pounding in your chest, her breath was cool on the side of your neck, breathing calm and even. Her chest rising and lowering slowly, and you were able to slowly match her breathing, calming yourself down and you felt like you could finally breathe again, sniffling as you relaxed in her arms.

“I’m sorry…” you finally whimpered.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” She murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head, “you did your job.”

“I’m not strong enough.” You admitted with another soft cry, finally letting yourself turn around when Casey stepped away to grab a tissue. You took it from her but dropped against the wall, staring down at your shoes. “I can’t do this. I’m not good enough for it, I disappointed so many people today. I’m a complete failure.”

Casey’s hand found your cheek, wiping away your tears as she stepped back toward you, “you’ve been completely out of your comfort zone for almost a month, there’s nothing wrong with that, but you are not a failure.”

You dared a glance up at her, unsurprised at the complete empathetic expression on her face, “how do you do this every day?”

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of times I’ve cried in my office.”

“Case…” Your voice softened as the tears finally came to a stop.

“I know how incredibly hard sex crimes is, I didn’t want to be bringing that home to you every day.” She leant in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “you see enough brutalization over at homicide, I don’t need you getting SVU’s baggage too.”

“I am never going to forget the look on that girl’s face….” You were almost talking to yourself, staring off into the distance and Casey’s thumb and forefinger curled around your chin, redirecting your gaze to her face.

“You will.” She assured, “and it is because you are strong, and you are strong enough. Do you know how I know why?” You shook your head, “because I see the cases that you bring home, the trials you’ve sat through, the amount of times you’ve taken down a perp, dismantled a defence attorney during a cross. You’re not used to living victims, and that is completely okay. Days like today will absolutely rip you to shreds and make you think that you aren’t cut out for it, but you’re going to wipe these tears, keep that pretty little chin up and come out even stronger on the other side. Okay?”

You nodded meekly, trying to hold back any remaining tears as Casey wrapped her arms tightly around you, tucking you into the crook of her shoulder as you finally relaxed into the embrace. She held you for as long as you needed, leaving tender kisses on the top of your hair and your temple, hands soothingly rubbing up and down your back.

“You’re incredible baby, don’t even forget that.” She murmured, “you were forced to try your hand at a new thing and now we know it’s not for you. You’re still an incredible rockstar when it comes to homicide and come Monday that’s what you get to go back to doing. Promise me you won’t let this drag you down too long?”

She pulled away from the hug, her hand brushing a piece of your mussed up hair behind your ear before caressing down the side of your cheek and she left a kiss on the tip of your nose, waiting for a response. You took a breath, finally feeling calmed down enough to feel human again when you finally looked up at her.

“Only if you promise to not keep everything bottled up and to yourself anymore.” You offered and her brow furrowed, “I know you Casey, you wear your heart on your sleeve, someone like you, doing something like this every day? That can’t be easy, I don’t need to know all the details but I don’t want you doing it alone. You shouldn’t have to cry alone in your office when you can come home and cry over a pint of ice cream with some extra cuddles.”

“Okay.” Casey let out a tiny laugh, her lips curving up into a grin, a warmth soothing through her at the sight of smile finally on your cheeks. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Her arm wound around your shoulders, “now how about we get out of here? A pint of ice cream sounds pretty fucking good right now.”

“And pizza?” You asked, looking up at her with a pout and puppy dog eyes and she chuckled again, kissing the tip of your nose.

“The perfect combo. But that doesn’t answer what Disney movie we’re going to watch to forget about today.”

“Mmm…” you tugged your lip into your mouth as you thought, “Emperors New Groove?”

“That… sounds amazing.” She smiled at you, “you ready to go home?”

“Yeah.” You replied with a soft sigh, leaning into her side for a moment before her hand trailed down your arm, linking your fingers with her own and you were finally ready to leave the bathroom. “Casey?”

“Yeah baby?” She glanced back at you, nothing but adoration pouring from her eyes.

“Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you to the moon and back.”

____________

@bisexualcrowley @red1culous @imlike-so-gaydude @wannabe-fic-reader @altsvu @disneyfan624 @svulife-rl @svushots @mysticfalls01 @bumblebear30 @solemnnova @infernumlilith @australiancarisi @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @thestarrynightslover @lawandorderuswnt @ex-uallyactive @hbkpop @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @narvaldetierra @dxtery @poisonedcrowns @a-little-bit-of-this-and-that @clarawatson @mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @yeeterthek33per @brooklynmhm @alexxavicry @daddy-heather-dunbar @7thavenger @augustvandyne @msvenablesbitch @happenstnces @valentinesfrog @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @desperate-gay @riveramorylunar @irishavengersassemble @kmc1989 @holycrapraewth @noahrex @temp0rary-bliss @wittygutsy @chimnlex @nilaues @borinxnovak

[katcoquette]

Rooftop Dreamin'

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x f!Reader

part of my cabin in the woods collection happening throughout the month of october- a collection of stand-alone* stories (cute fall & spooky) set in the same cabin in the woods, read them all if you dare uncover the full mystery...

summary: after spending the first evening in the cabin catching up with old friends, your husband thoughtfully plans one of his notorious surprises for you

✧ word count: 3k

✧ tw/tags: wife!reader, wine ! drunk !, fluffy, bradley being considerate and thoughtful ugh

✧ author's note: at the end when he shrugs about the wine I'm picturing the little shrug he does to Hangman at the end of the movie okay? okay? picture that.

You’re grateful for the monotonous task of cutting up fruit after the chaos of twenty-something people arriving to the cabin at the same time, bringing in bags, and settling into rooms. It’d only taken twenty-five minutes for everything to get put away, and ten more for dinner to be prepped- another perk of having a big group, along with the great company.

Now you, Natasha, Bob, Hangman, their partners, and Rooster were waiting in the kitchen for everything to finish cooking. When you’re done with the fruit, you put the knife down and wipe your hands on a nearby towel, turning around to lean against the counter.

“I’m so glad everyone was able to come this week.” You say, pouting slightly as you pull the two women on both sides of you, Natasha and Hangman’s girlfriend, into your arms. “I missed you all.”

You and Rooster had stayed in California for as long as he could following the mission, but eventually he was called back to Oceana. Fanboy, Harvard, and Yale were also restationed there, but it was still hard to leave the others, especially the two you were currently hugging.

You’d clicked instantly, and even though Rooster and Hangman didn’t get along for the majority of your time there, you’d gotten really close. You celebrated the day your boys finally became friends.

“We missed you too.”

There were some new faces among the group- Coyote, Bob, Omaha, and Fritz had all been single the last time you’d been in North Island, but they all brought special someones with them for the week.

Payback was too, but you’d met up with them for drinks a couple of months ago on a trip back to California to see Maverick.

Before long the timer on the oven is ringing, and the rest of dinner is ready.

You all decide to eat together in the dining room, at the biggest wooden table you’ve ever seen. It’s one of the most fun meals you’ve had in a while- it’s nice to see everyone from the October mission two years ago. You didn’t know all the details of what happened, but you’d never seen your husband closer with a group of people, especially his supposed rival, Jake Seresin.

When the meal is finished, the group splits up- some people go to the kitchen to clean up, and others- you included, move to the living room to catch up on what everyone had been doing in the months, or years, since they’d last seen each other.

You all tried your best to keep in touch, visiting whenever you happened to be in the same cities, but this trip is the first time all twelve pilots have been together since the mission.

You’re not sure where Rooster has wandered off to until you feel him lean over the back of the couch and wrap his arms around your shoulders twenty minutes later. “There you are.” You put your hands on his forearms and tilt your head back against the couch to look up at him.

He smiles and gives you a sweet kiss, before you turn back to the conversation you were half tuned into. You aren’t meaning to be rude, but people had been walking in and out of the room the entire time, so everyone just keeps chatting even after Rooster takes away your attention.

His head settles onto your shoulder, and he listens to the conversation for a few moments before talking into your ear low enough that only you’re able to hear him.

“I’m stealing you away tonight.” You bite back a smile, still looking forward. “Oh, are you? What happens if I want to stay and catch up with everyone else?”

“Unfortunately, you don’t get a choice, that’s what stealing means. Besides, aren’t we ‘catching up’ right now?”

“We’re barely participating in any of these conversations.”

“But we’re still on the edge of them.” To emphasize his point, he walks around the back of the couch and sits down next to you, pulling you into his side. You shift so you’re more comfortable under the arm he’s put around you as he addresses the rest of the room. “So, what’re we talking about?”

“We’re thinking of something to do tonight. I think we should try out the pool- it’s supposed to be heated.”

“It better be heated, or else we’ll freeze.”

“It’s not that cold outside-“

They continue to discuss the relationship between the pool and the weather, and Rooster glances down at you with a smirk at the conversation he’s spurred. “See? I participated.”

You roll your eyes, amused, and push on his chest. He catches your wrist and tucks it over his side, pulling you further into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head. You realize he’s settling into the couch, intending on staying there for the next little while, so you relax into him, content with the easy talking and joking you know comes with the group of aviators.

Soon most of the group has wandered back to the main living room, and the idea of trying out the heated pool is brought up again. Most everyone agrees to it, but Rooster sees an opportunity when Fanboy announces to the group that they’re heading to bed instead, “Yeah, us too.”

Hangman tuts, “Booo, the married people are spoiling alll the fun.” His girlfriend takes the half-full glass of wine from where it’s swaying precariously over the couch in his hand and moves it to the side table next to her.

You smile at the interaction.

“Sorry buddy, but Y/N really hasn’t been feeling good today. I think the only thing that will help is some alone time with me.” Rooster jokes, but Hangman doesn’t catch on like everyone else does.

“She seems fine to me.” He retorts, earning him a nudge to his side. Rooster looks down at you and raises an eyebrow, communicating with just a look that he needs backup from you.

You’re so caught off-guard by his grand excuse of throwing you under the bus that all you can muster is a weak, obviously fake, cough. He raises an eyebrow and tries not to laugh.

“You four go- and anyone else who’s feeling ‘under the weather’.” Phoenix winks. “The rest of us will be outside.”

With that, everyone starts to move.

Bradley takes your hand and helps you up, leading you, surprisingly, back to the kitchen. “I thought we were going upstairs.”

He opens the fridge, “We are, I’m just grabbing this first.” When he steps back from behind the refrigerator door, he has a basket in his hands.

You gasp softly, lifting the towel covering the opening to peek inside. “When did you get this ready?”

“Right before I came and found you.” Your eyes light up with a thought as you inspect the contents and you press a finger to his lips excitedly. “Wait one second- we’re missing something.”

Bradley watches you disappear into the pantry and reemerge a few minutes later holding a bottle of wine. You lift it to show him, a proud smile on your face.

He puts the basket on the counter. “Now where did you find that?”

You point to the room you’d just exited. “There’s stairs to a secret wine cellar in there. It’s actually kind of creepy.”

He’s smirking now, “And you just helped yourself?” You shrug, a playful smile on your lips. “It was unlocked…and I didn’t see any instructions telling me not to…”

His hands grab your hips and pull you to him, and then he’s cupping your face and kissing you softly. “You’re a bad influence..” He says against your lips. You hum in disagreement, “Besides-“ You kiss him again, “-it’s like super cheap wine, I’ll just pay the owners back for it.”

He laughs, turning around to grab the basket and start walking to your shared room. “Okay, maybe you’re not as naughty as I thought.”

You shift the wine bottle into your arm to make sure it doesn’t fall, going over to one of the cupboards to find two wine glasses. “No wait, I can be naughty. Bradley- wait!”

He chuckles, pauses long enough for you to catch up to him, and then he’s putting his hand gently on your back to guide you up the stairs to the room you’d picked out earlier. You put the glasses down on the dresser and watch as Bradley walks over to the window and opens it.

After removing the screen, he climbs out with the basket. “Bradley!” You turn and pick the glasses back up and walk over to the window, completely confused. He pops his head back in and offers you his hand. “Come on.”

He helps you onto the roof just outside your window. It’s not as steep as you would’ve assumed it to be, and it faces out toward the driveway. He keeps one hand steadily on your back as you make your way to a blanket and pillows set up toward the middle.

“Ta da!” He holds his hands out to the setup, and you can’t help but smile at how cute his behavior is.

You wrap your arms tightly around him, and despite the awkwardness of your full hands, it’s still completely comforting to you.

He gives the best hugs.

“Bradleyy-” You pull away for a moment to put the wine and glasses down. “This is so sweet. You’re so sweet.”

When you look back at him your eyes are a little teary. “You never cease to surprise me, Bradshaw.”

Although him surprising you isn’t anything new, he did it often, but it never failed to make you emotional every time.

You absentmindedly stroke the hairs on the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss you. He smiles afterwards, “That’s the idea, baby.” He gives you another quick kiss, then takes a step back and holds out his hand to you. “Shall we?”

You take his hand and sit down, readjusting the pillows behind your back. “I thought it would be fun to take advantage of the clear skies and lack of light pollution.”

He pulls the basket in front of the two of you, taking the cover off and pulling out the snacks he’d put together. “And of course- we needed snacks.”

You smile, “Of course.”

He hands you a glass and uncorks the bottle, leaning back a little when it pops. “Cheers.” You say once he has his own, clinking your glasses gently. “To us.”

You both take a sip, and then you grab a couple of grapes and try to throw them into your mouth. He lays back on his side, propping himself up to watch you on one elbow. “Careful! We’re literally sitting on a roof.”

“Babe, I’m a pro.” You toss another grape up in the air, blinking when it hits the corner of your mouth and then the roof. You both watch it roll off the edge. “Pfft.” He scoffs, taking another gulp.

“That didn’t count.”

He watches you try three more times until you finally get one in your mouth. You put both arms up the air, cheering through your closed mouth.

“Ayyy!” You high five the hand he holds up, and then grab your glass, mirroring his position. You both take another sip, keeping your eyes on each other, smiling.

“So… what should we talk about?” You laugh at his question, flipping onto your back. “Have we already run out of things to talk about?” You turn your head to stare at him.

The moon is bright tonight- it gives off enough light to illuminate your husband’s face. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was glowing. You’re not drunk enough for that thought yet.

When you turn your head to look at him for the umpteenth time tonight, your eyes roam over his face, first his hair, then his mouth- his eyes, nose…back to his mouth.. You notice his mustache twitch above his lip, so you look back to his eyes again.

“What?” He asks.

A soft smile is on your lips as you take another sip. “Nothing…” You trail off, reaching out to touch his cheek. “I just love you a lot.”

“I love you too. So much.” He reaches for the bottle again, topping off your glass. “But yes, I can’t think of any other topics of conversations to have with you.” A wink accompanies his statement. “Are you trying to get me drunk, lieutenant?”

He quirks up the corner of his mouth, giving you a little shrug.

Soon enough, you’re sitting up and holding out the wine bottle to show him that it was now empty.

“We drank the whole bottle.” You say straight-faced. He rolls over to look at you, then point accusingly. “Noo, I think you drank the whole bottle, sweetheart. I only had a couple of glasses.”

You poke his cheek, “I know you’re feeling it.”

He holds up his fingers. “Maybe a little bit.” You put the empty bottle into the basket, and then lay down closer to him, resting your head in the crook of his arm. “I don’t think we should move for at least an hour. We’ll go tumbling off the roof.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” You fall into a comfortable silence- just existing on the roof of a cabin in the woods with him for...you don’t even know how long.

You can’t think of anywhere you’d rather be.

You’re sure at least an hour or two has passed, based solely on the now absent noises from the backyard where the pool was, and the way the stars have shifted. You’d been pointing them out to each other in between other random thoughts, and the silence.

Now, you break it again.

“You’re my best friend.” You say toward the sky. “Do you know that?” He rubs your shoulder. “I know. You’re my best friend too. That’s why I married you. Did you know that?”

You sniff, partly because of the cold, and partly because the wine bottle had caught up to you somewhere between hearing Coyote get pushed into the pool and pointing out a shooting star.

Bradley had missed it- and didn’t believe you for a solid five minutes, until he finally saw one himself. That had started a contest- who could spot the most shooting stars. You’d settled on it being a tie.

“Yeah, I know.”

A shiver goes down your spine at the breeze that picks up around you. Bradley tightens his arm around you, then pulls another blanket over the both of you, tucking your side in under you.

You stay like this, in his arms, looking up at the sky, until headlights flash up from below you. When you sit up, you see the gate at the end of the driveway closing behind a car. “Looks like Payback’s here.”

Bradley sits up too, whining slightly at the cold that hit his side without you lying next to him. “That’s not his car though- ooh!” He looks at you excitedly. “Must be his secret guest’s.”

You look at your husband. “It’s not a secret. They’ve been together for, like, months.”

“You’ve met who he’s bringing?”

“Uhh- yeah. We ran into them when we were visiting Mav this summer.”

“I have no memory of that.” He says with a deadpan look on his face, and you know exactly why.

You rub his back, comforting him as if him forgetting was some tragedy. “That’s because you and Payback were drunk off your asses. It’s one of the first things we bonded over- our drunk men.”

“I’ve never gotten that drunk, especially not around other people!”

The corner of your mouth quirks up as you purse your lips, just staring at each other for a few moments, both of you aware that both parts of that sentence are a complete lie.

“We should go say hi.” You say finally, gesturing nonchalantly toward the window you’d climbed through earlier.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

He helps you up, and you slightly stumble into him. He catches you easily, always attentive to your actions- and you giggle, still slightly buzzed. You gather the items you’d brought out and head back inside. On your way down the stairs to the front door, you fill him in on the details of the night he’d missed, purely for entertainment purposes.

After talking with them for a few minutes and pointing them in the direction of a room you know is empty, you’re heading back upstairs. “Not the stairs again.” Rooster groans. “I swear I’ve walked up and down these stairs a hundred times today.”

It’s not wholly an exaggeration, he had insisted on taking your bags up, and then ever the gentleman, ended up taking several other people’s bags up as well. You giggle at his whining, “That was your own fault.” but you hold out a hand to soothe his antics anyway.

You’re not much help, and he ends up supporting you up the wooden stairs to make sure you don’t slip. He shushes you multiple times, and at one point you even have to pause and sit down part way up- you’re laughing so hard.

As you walk back to your room, you lean closer to your husband and lower your voice, “I think we played that off reallyyyy well.” He giggles with you, despite being much more sober than you. “They definitely couldn’t tell.”

Soon enough, you’re crawling into bed and your husband’s arms for the night.

“Thanks for bringing us here. I didn’t realize how much I missed ‘Tash and the Seres until I saw them.” ‘The Seres’ meaning Jake and his girlfriend, who’d been together so long they may as well be the same person by now.

“’Course, baby.” He brushes his fingers through your hair. It’s something he did often before you went to bed, and it’d become therapeutic for both of you in the years you’d been married. “It was a good day, wasn’t it?”

You snuggle into his chest, “Yeah, it was.” He keeps brushing your hair, and soon enough you’re close to falling asleep.

He notices- he always did, so he reaches over the best he can without disturbing you and flips off the light. “Goodnight sweetheart.” He kisses the top of you head softly, “I love you.”

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[parrishh]

here's an essay on my mister impossible pynch thoughts because i have a lot to do today and i'd rather ignore those things and psychoanalyze a fictional relationship instead (spoilers, spoilers, good god, stay away if you don't want spoilers)

starting off with a disclaimer: i do not think that failing relationship = no longer in love

(and another disclaimer so i don't get yelled at: i loved mister impossible. i thought it was an incredible book. that's not what this is about)

do i think that adam and ronan still love the hell out of each other? absolutely. do i also think their relationship is currently (that doesn't necessarily mean forever) going to shit? also absolutely

i know we all joke around that ronan lost his mind over adam not responding to his texts one time, but i think we already saw, over the course of cdth, how insecure ronan is when it comes to adam. when he thinks about all of the people adam could fall in love with at harvard instead of him, for example. even how excited he gets about "i saved your life because i love you" - i think being told that made him so happy because he still doesn't fully believe it, not all the time

and it doesn't help that adam is living a complete lie at harvard. i say this as someone who loves adam with my whole heart, but that boy is insane. i can easily see how ronan's insecurity would get even worse after seeing that adam hides everything real about himself from his new friends, because ronan is one of the real things about adam. (case in point: adam telling fletcher he and ronan broke up after the crab incident. boy....) and i don't personally think that what adam is doing is about ronan, i think it's about his own issues, but i understand why ronan, who struggles with his self-worth to begin with, would see it that way. he thinks he's holding adam back

so adam not responding to his texts, especially tamquam, was basically the confirmation ronan's dramatic ass had been looking for that he's not enough for adam. the straw that broke the camel's back or whatever. and we see this mindset continue throughout mister impossible - even when he fantasizes about living a whole life with adam, he still thinks about adam falling in love with someone else after he dies. after everything, after weeks, he still starts his first conversation with adam by asking why adam never texted him back

and i think it makes sense. he's not even enough for himself, so how can he think he's enough for someone else? there are several moments in the book when he thinks about how badly he wants a different future, even if it means sacrificing his future with adam ("it was reminding him how even though it was a great memory, a great future, it hadn't been enough for ronan") ("ronan thought about adam's gloves set upon his shoes in the mudroom." then, immediately: "he thought about wanting to feel like he had been made for something more than dying.")

so i think, yes, he loves adam. he loves adam very much, but, by the end of the book, it doesn't seem like he thinks being together is the best thing for either of them. he distances himself from adam the whole time. caring for him by staying away (asking declan to check in on adam at harvard but refusing to call him himself. keeping adam out of his dreamspace so he doesn't get kicked out of harvard)

there's a whole theme in this book of there being two ronans, dreaming ronan and awake ronan, but there are two adams, too. adam who reads intelligence documents to keep up with what ronan is doing, adam who calls declan to help him get to ronan, adam who tries to scry into ronan's dreamspace. but also adam who tells his friends he and ronan aren't even together anymore. they love each other, but neither one of them is able to reconcile their relationship with their bigger goals for themselves

and i think they're both trying. i think adam meant it when he said he would leave harvard for ronan, and he did drive eight hours one way to see ronan for his birthday, even having an exam the next morning. ronan does spend the whole book thinking about how adam fits into things, and, when bryde says that adam doesn't want the best for him, ronan says he's wrong (convincing bryde, or convincing himself? is that the same thing, now that we know who bryde is?)

the phone call at the end leaves everything off on a bad note, obviously. adam doesn't even know if they're still together (i wouldn't either, if i were him), and now ronan thinks that adam is against him. he was working towards trying to fit the adam's-gloves-future in with the restored-ley-line future, and i think the phone call snapped all of that work right down the middle

i want them to end up together. i will probably be inconsolable if they don't end up together. but i don't know how maggie is going to pull it off. they both need to (a) work through their own shit and (b) actually COMMUNICATE before either of them can feel secure in the relationship. my hopes for tdt3 are that they have a nice, long, heart-to-heart, but also that they get to team up and work together so that they finally realize they both want the same things

[james-joyces-right-eyeball]

Absolute Favorite Books I’d Recommend to Anyone

This is a list of my top-tier favorite books that I would recommend/talk about endlessly to pretty much anyone (in no particular order). I know people probably don’t care but I just like talking about books I love so here we are.

Beloved - Toni Morrison

~ Based off the real story of Margaret Garner, a slave woman who escaped slavery and when captured killed her child in order to prevent them from ever being enslaved again, Beloved tells the story of a mother named Sethe, born in slavery who eventually escaped and is haunted by the figurative demons of her trauma and the literal (arguably) ghost of her dead daughter, who she herself killed. It is an excellent exploration of the horrors of slavery and of the haunting legacy of the institution for those who were subjected to it.

Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov

~ If you’ve been on Tumblr for a while, you probably know what Lolita is. The story of the predatory Humbert Humbert who lusts after, rapes, and kidnaps the “nymphet” Dolores Haze. An excellent construction of how predators, unreliable narrators in their own right, hide behind fabrications, almost-believable excuses, and pretty words to make their actions seem maybe not so bad. In the words of the book itself, “You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.”

Ulysses - James Joyce

~ Notoriously one of the most difficult books in the English language, Ulysses lifts its structure from Homer’s Odyssey to tell the story of a common man, Leopold Bloom, as he goes about his day. Yes, this book takes place over the course of only one day. We follow Bloom as well as Joyce’s literary counterpart Stephen Daedalus through their thoughts and actions, gathering details of their lives previous throughout. It’s a book that, in my own words, “is life”. It is sad, funny, strange, vulgar, disgusting, beautiful, revelatory, sensual, and nonsensical all at once. Joyce aimed to create a reflection of life through his stream-of-consciousness style which some people might find confusing, but I personally find absolutely beautiful and honest and realistic. The prose is also gorgeous, but that could be applied to everything Joyce wrote. 

Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte

~ The classic gothic book that tells the tale of Heathcliff and his ultimately destructive love of Catherine Earnshaw, whose eventual marriage to someone else and the general mistreatment of him by her family drives Heathcliff insane and he spends the rest of his life trying to take revenge by abusing and torturing the next Earnshaw and Linton (the family into which Catherine marries) generations. If I’m being honest, I like this book mostly because of how wild and dark it is, but the writing is also genius and beautiful. I think the book also carries an interesting view of the destructive nature of revenge, overzealous love, and othering.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith

~ A coming-of-age story at the turn of the century that tells the story of Francie Nolan, a young bookish girl growing up in a lower class family in New York City. It tells about her father’s struggles with alcoholism as well as her mother’s struggles to deal with that and at the same time raise Francie and her brother. Francie is confronted with a strange, uncertain world as a young girl, but tries to face it with bravery throughout childhood

Little Women - Louisa May Alcott

~ Another coming-of-age story, this time about four young sisters: Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy March. You are probably familiar with this book already; it’s had more movie adaptations then I can possibly remember off the top of my head. It’s the story of four sisters as they try to navigate growing up, love, and loss during the mid to late 1800s.

The Color Purple - Alice Walker

~ A novel that tells the story of Celie, a young black woman who is raped and then married young to a man who will go on to use and abuse her, through her letters to God. Throughout the novel she meets Shug Avery, a woman with whom she eventually falls in love and begins a relationship with. Through this and her eventual freedom from her abusive husband, she is able to gain at last her own sense of self and take back control over her life, a life no longer ruled by the abusive men around her.

The Bluest Eye - Toni Morrison

~ The tragic story of young black girl Pecola Breedlove, who wants nothing more than to have blonde hair and blue eyes just like the women she sees in the movies. Both a deconstruction of the whiteness of beauty standards as well as how these standards can utterly destroy vulnerable young girls, it is also an exploration of the people who allow these sorts of things to happen, including Pecola’s mother and father. The Bluest Eye, I think, showcases one of the aspects of Toni Morrison that I like the most, that I aspire to the most: her ability to enter the minds of all people, even people who you might despise at first. Her characters, especially Cholly in The Bluest Eye, are ones you might not entirely sympathize with, but they will always be ones you understand.

The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath

~ Based off of the author’s own experiences as a young college student, The Bell Jar tells the story of Esther Greenwood, whose depression over her place as a woman in a patriarchal society as well as her inability to choose a life path for herself leads to a suicide attempt and a subsequent stay in a mental hospital. A very nuanced portrayal of mental illness, especially anxiety and depression, The Bell Jar is an extremely moving and relatable story for me and clearly is as well for others. It is a classic for a reason.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings - Maya Angelou

~ A memoir of Angelou’s childhood, this book tells the story of her experiences living as a black girl in the south with her grandmother and brother as well as her later years living with her mother. It also tells of how she was raped by her mother’s boyfriend when she was around eight or nine, and how she struggled to live with that and find her voice, both literally and figuratively. A wonderful book about overcoming struggles and the power of words and literature in such times.

Invisible Man - Ralph Ellison

~ Ellison’s novel tells the story of a young black man, never getting a name in the text, and his feelings of invisibility and his struggles to find a place in society to belong. His struggles only lead him further into despair, until he decides to “become invisible” as people seem not to see him as a person anyway. Invisible Man is an exploration of American mid-century racism and the isolation it causes to those subjected to it. Not only that, but it is surprisingly relevant to our times now, especially on the subject of police violence. (Personal anecdote: When I first read this book, when I got to the aforementioned police violence part it was right in the middle of the BLM resurgence last summer and I cried for a good twenty minutes while reading that chapter over how nothing had changed and it still hurts me to think about it. Embarrassingly, my dad walked in on me while I was crying, and I had to quickly explain it away.)

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man - James Joyce

~ The title basically says it all lol. This book tells of the coming-of-age of Stephen Daedalus (the same one from the later-written Ulysses). His sensitive childhood, his awkward and lustful adolescence, his feelings of Irish nationality and Catholic guilt, and his struggles to fully realize himself, both as an artist and a human being. It is a very hopeful story, and one that I love mostly because I relate so much to Stephen Daedalus as an artist and as a person.

One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

~ A magical-realist intergenerational family drama, Marquez’s book traces the various lives and loves of the Buendia family over the course of (you guessed it!) one hundred years. A beautifully written, at times extremely emotionally moving and chilling masterpiece, Marquez in a way retells the history of Colombia, of its colonization and exploitation.  

Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy

~ A classic Russian novel of society and love, Tolstoy tells the story of Anna Karenina, married, wealthy woman with a child she adores. However, she falls in love with another man, Count Vronsky, and comes to a tragic end for her love. The parallel story of the novel is that of Konstantin Levin, a wealthy landowner who also struggles to find fulfillment in his life and understand his place in society.

The Sound and the Fury - William Faulkner

~ A novel that features an entire family of unreliable narrators, The Sound and the Fury details the fall of a once-prominent southern Compson family and always-present place of the past. There are four different narratives: Benjy Compson, a mentally disabled man who is unsure of his surroundings and of time and only knows that he misses his older sister Caddy; Quintin Compson, the eldest son and a Harvard man both obsessed with his sister retaining her “purity” and the fact that she failed to do so and had a baby out of wedlock, going as far to claim it is his baby in an attempt to preserve something of the family reputation; Jason Compson, who is the caretaker of Caddy’s daughter and believes her to be going down her mother’s “sinful” path; and Dilsey, the black maid of the Compson’s who unlike the people she cares for is not weighed down by their history. The narratives take place in different time periods and is in a stream-of-consciousness style. It’s a deeply dark and disturbing novel about the haunting nature of the past, a common theme in Faulkner’s work (see Absalom, Absalom! for more of this).

Song of Solomon - Toni Morrison

~ It is the story of Milkman Dead, a young black man growing up in the south and his relationship with his very complicated family. To say anymore would be to spoil the novel, but I will say that it is an excellent book about family, self-fulfillment in a world that tries to deny you that, and, like The Bluest Eye, exhibits Morrison’s excellent character work.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof - Tennessee Williams

~ A play which takes place on the patriarch of a family’s birthday in the oppressive heat of the midsummer south, Williams’ play explores lies, secrets, and how repression only results in anger, frustration, and sadness. It’s a tragic but brilliant play that I think was very ahead of its time. If you’ve read it (or do read it) then you know what I mean.

Giovanni’s Room - James Baldwin

~ This book tells the story of a young man and his love of another man named Giovanni while he is in Paris. It is a book about love, queer guilt, and has what I would call an ambiguous ending. There is uncertainty at the end, but there does seem to be some kind of acceptance. It is a bit of a coming-out story, but more than that it is a story of personal acceptance and at the same time a sad, tragic love story.

HERmione - H.D.

~ An underrated modernist masterpiece, HERmione is a somewhat fictionalized account of the author, Hilda Doolittle’s, experience as a young aspiring poet dating another poet (in real life Ezra Pound in this book named George Lowndes) who is a threat to her both physically and emotionally. It explores her own mental state, as she considers herself a failure and falls in love with a woman for the first time (Fayne Rabb in the book, Frances Gregg in real life). 

To the Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf

~ People think about going to a lighthouse. They do not. A couple years and a war passes then they do. That may seem like a boring plot, and you may be right. However, To the Lighthouse is not much about plot. It is more about the inner lives of its characters, a family and their friends, on two different occasions of their lives: one before WWI and one after WWI. Woolf explores in this novel the trauma that results from such a massive loss of life and security. Not only that, she also explores the nature of art (especially in female artists) in the character of Lily Briscoe and her struggles to complete a painting. It’s a short novel, but it contains so much about life, love, and loss within these few pages.

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - Carson McCullers

~ A southern gothic novel about isolation and loneliness in a small town. Every character has something to separate them from wider society, and often find solace and companionship in a deaf man, John Singer, who himself experiences a loneliness that they cannot understand. There are various forms of social isolation explored in this novel: by race, disability, age, gender, etc. A wonderful, heart-wrenching book about loneliness and the depths it can potentially drag people to.

The Waste Land - T.S. Eliot

~ A modernist masterpiece of a poem, Eliot describes feeling emptiness and isolation. The brilliance of it can only be shown by an excerpt:

“Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence.”

“The river’s tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed. Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song. The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers, Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed. And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors; Departed, have left no addresses. By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . . Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song, Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long. But at my back in a cold blast I hear The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear. “

(My personal favorite line from this poem is, “I will show you fear in a handful of dust.”)

The Trial - Franz Kafka

~ The protagonist of the novel, Josef K., wakes up one morning to find that he has been placed under arrest for reasons that are kept from him. Kafka creates throughout the novel a scathing satire of bureaucracy, as K. tries to find out more about his case, more about his trial, but only becomes more confused as he digs deeper. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the world he lives in, and the more tries to explain it the further the more that proves to be the case. An excellently constructed novel and a great one to read if you would like to be depressed about the state of the world because, though Kafka’s work is a satire, like a lot of his other work, it manages to strike a strangely real note.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead - Tom Stoppard

~ An absurdist play that is a retelling of Shakespeare’s Hamlet from the perspective of minor characters, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, who in the broad overview of the original play, do not matter. Throughout the play, they question their existence and the purpose of it and through that Stoppard dissects not only the absurdity of life, but how fiction and theater reflect that absurdity inadvertently.

As I Lay Dying - William Faulkner

~ The novel details the journey the Bundren family makes after the death of the family matriarch, Addie, to bury her. Each chapter offers a different narrative from the family members and those who surround them, revealing some ulterior motives to them “going to town” to bury Addie. The patriarch Anse desires a pair of false teeth, and the daughter Dewey Dell is pregnant and needs an abortion, as there is no way for her or her family to support it. It’s about the powerlessness of people in the impoverished south. The Bundrens are constantly subject to forces beyond their control, struggles which would be easily solved if they had the money to spare for it. There is more to the book, but that is my favorite reading of it, that of class. Faulkner’s ability to create distinct voices for every one of his characters shines through here.

And, last but not least:

The Collected Poems - Sylvia Plath

~ All the poems Plath wrote during her tragically short lifetime. The best way to demonstrate or summarize the book’s brilliance is just to show you. This is her poem “Edge”, which appears in the book:

“The woman is perfected.   Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment,   The illusion of a Greek necessity Flows in the scrolls of her toga,   Her bare Feet seem to be saying: We have come so far, it is over. Each dead child coiled, a white serpent,   One at each little Pitcher of milk, now empty.   She has folded Them back into her body as petals   Of a rose close when the garden Stiffens and odors bleed From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower. The moon has nothing to be sad about,   Staring from her hood of bone. She is used to this sort of thing. Her blacks crackle and drag.”

HOPE YOU ENJOYED! HAPPY READING TO ALL!

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

Chapter Two of See You in the Morning Time

The third in a Rafael Barba/Reader/Frederick Chilton threesome verse written in collaboration with @pascalispretty . Gif by @mrsrafaelbarba . Yep. We did this. Was it necessary? No. Did we enjoy it? Sometimes. Are you going to read it? I sure hope you do and that you like it! Cross posted to ao3!

Part Three of the series So Much Easier than You Realize

Chapter One: A Different Feeling Entirely Chapter Two: Show Me the New

Warnings: Frederick being an anxious (and sad. and repressed) little weenie, discussions of period typical homophobia, bi panic, completely invented backstory (you got on this ride folks lol), Rafael being surprisingly supportive, cuddling, and of course a little bit of teasing Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 2293 Summary: It's not often that Fred instigates anything with Rafael except an argument.

It’s late by the time Fred and Rafael finally make their way to bed. They shower and put pajamas on while waiting for the food to arrive and once they eat, they finish the bottle of wine that Fred had opened earlier and spend the rest of the evening chatting and watching some dumb movie on TV.

Lying in Fred’s bed in his borrowed clothes, Rafael can’t help but smile to himself. After weeks of skittishness from Fred he had finally made it past some of the walls that the doctor had put up. Fred curled close to Rafael while they watched the movie, dragging a blanket over the two of them and cozying up entirely unprompted.

When Fred comes out of the bathroom and flicks the lights off, he’s even more pleased that Fred doesn’t seem to hesitate to lie close to him in bed or reach out for his hand.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” Rafael murmurs, to break the silence more than anything. He hears Fred scoff.

“I was hardly going to kick you out as soon as we were done.” As best as he can, Rafael turns on his side trying to make Fred out in the darkness of the room.

“I know. I just wasn’t sure how you’d feel.” He’s not at his most eloquent or subtle, but he wants to acknowledge what happened between them. “You were… hesitant at first and I just want to make sure you didn’t feel like you had to do this. As of a few days ago you were still pretty clear that you were not comfortable with the two of us having sex.”

Rafael doesn’t want to force a confidence, but he feels like he has to make sure. He’s coming to care too deeply about the arrogant chronically awkward man next to him to just let this go with vague assurances. He hears Fred shift onto his back and wants nothing more than to drag him into his arms and kiss his stupid, conceited face, but he holds himself still and waits for Fred to answer him, giving him the space he clearly wants.

“This wasn’t as sudden as you think it was,” Fred assures him eventually, face still pointed at the ceiling. “I’ve been thinking about this since, you know, that first time.” Rafael can practically feel Fred’s blush from his side of the bed and grins. “And my reticence was never about you, you know that, yes?”

Rafael nods, realizes Fred probably can’t see him, and clears his throat.

“Yeah, I figured as much. I am, after all, a damn catch.”

Rafael yelps as Fred reaches out, faster than he thought was possible for a well-fed psychiatrist who sits behind a desk all day, and smacks him on the chest.

They’re quiet for a few minutes, together in the dark cocoon of Fred’s bedroom, before Rafael sighs. He can’t help but notice the similarities between the blank peacefulness of Fred’s minimalist design and the deliberately organized calm of a therapist’s office and wonders if he did that on purpose. Maybe it’s a natural inclination, he muses idly. It invites honesty. The sharing of secrets.

“I’m only eighteen months younger than Benn, you know,” Fred says eventually, and it’s so unexpected that Rafael finds himself frowning a little in confusion. “All the way through school, I was Bennett Chilton’s younger brother; just the little brother of the handsome quarterback that everyone adored.” Rafael has seen photos of Bennett, tall and painfully handsome. He can see that it might have been hard to grow up in that shadow.

“He came out when he was sixteen, and I was fourteen. And I’m sure you can imagine what that was like at an all-boys Catholic school in Virginia in the eighties.” Rafael winces in the dark. He remembers well enough the attitudes in his own high school, in marginally more liberal New York. He can’t imagine what it must have been like in a place without a visible community to look up to.

“People were mostly smart enough not to say anything to Benn’s face--he was a six foot two starter who never backed down from a fight, they would have had to have been stupid--and our parents were supportive. But the things people said about him behind his back--” Fred shudders, an involuntary shiver that makes Rafael want to wrap his arms around him and never let go.

Instead, he just squeezes Fred’s hand reassuringly and waits for him to continue. For someone who has trouble shutting up at the very best of times--staying silent isn’t Rafael’s forte--he is doing an admirable job tonight. His desire to prove he’s worthy of this unexpected vulnerability from Fred is more than enough to keep him quiet. Rafael is desperate to know more, to know everything about Fred; about what makes him tick, about why he was so reticent, so reserved, when clearly this is something that he enjoys.

“It was awful. The kind of things you never want to hear about somebody you love. And I was hardly in any position to be giving out bloody noses or black eyes whenever someone called him a fag, or made some crack about AIDS.” Rafael shifts slightly nearer, still not saying anything. He smiles to himself when he feels one of Fred’s hands reach up to rest on Rafael’s hip.

“I was a short, scrawny child--I spent a lot of time in the hospital and home sick--and I couldn’t afford to give the other boys in my school one more reason to pick on me so I just… didn’t say anything. I’m not proud of it, but it’s not like Benn had any trouble sticking up for himself. I doubt he would have appreciated anyone stealing his opportunity to get into one more fight anyways.”

Rafael covers the hand Fred has on his hip with his own, deciding now is not the time to joke that he can’t ever imagine Fred as scrawny. Fred clears his throat again and continues in the same calm, rehearsed manner. Like this is something that he witnessed happening to someone else.

“It wasn’t long after that that I had my own month of absolute pure terror and confusion. It was one of Bennett’s teammates from the swim team that actually sent me over the edge. His name was Bobby and he was gorgeous. He had never made any jokes about Bennett, never joked about changing somewhere else in the locker room. He was a little stupid, I can admit that now, but back then I thought he was perfect. I worshipped my brother and this pretty boy clearly did the same.

“Well, I was horrified. Up until then I had been fully and completely in love with a girl I had known practically since infancy. Was all of that a lie? Was being gay genetic? Was Billy going to go through the same thing? It took me a whole month before I had the guts to ask Bennett and I nearly stabbed him with our father’s letter opener when he laughed at me.”

Rafael winces again, knowing how touchy Fred is now, a grown adult well-respected in his professional field and still a little obsessed with slights, perceived and real. Fred huffs, forcing any trace of bitterness out of his voice.

“He told me that you can like girls and boys at the same time and that I should go see if I still liked jerking off to pictures of Jennifer Connolly.” Rafael isn’t able to suppress his snort.

“I always liked Carrie Fisher,” he tells Fred, smiling over at him.

“You would, you pervert,” Fred shoots back. “Probably loved that bikini, didn’t you?”

“I think I’ll plead the Fifth on that one.”

Fred shakes his head and sighs deeply.

“Well, naturally, that was enough humiliation for me for one afternoon and so I threw a throw pillow at him and bolted for my room.”

“Did you jerk off to Jennifer Connolly?”

“Rafael, I can still kick you out of this apartment.”

“Sorry.” Rafael is silent for all of twelve seconds before he asks again, “Come on Fred, I’ve got to know; did you?”

“...Maybe,” Fred reluctantly admits. Rafael laughs and squeezes his hand.

“Moving on from your prurient obsession with my teenaged masturbatory life,” Fred says pointedly, managing to sound arch, offended, and haughty all at the same time. “I contemplated for a while what Benn had told me. A long time actually--that percolated in my brain all throughout the rest of high school. I only ever dated girls, I ignored it completely every time I was even remotely attracted to another boy, but I kept thinking about that. Not only did I have a lifelong conviction that if Bennett said it it must be so, but it just sort of felt right, you know?”

Rafael nods, remembering a similar feeling he had when he was younger. Despite what the other boys in his neighborhood said about “queers”, despite what the Church said, and despite what he knew his father would do to him if he heard Rafael’s thoughts, he was what he was and that was that. Fuck anyone who said different, he remembered thinking. It’s not like he could change it, even if he wanted to.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he answers when it’s clear that Fred requires some encouragement to continue. Fred twines his fingers with Rafael’s before carrying on.

“I lived with Benn in college. Our father bought him an apartment in Cambridge the day he got his acceptance letter from Harvard, and it only seemed logical that I’d move in once I got accepted too. And, I don’t know. It was a little easier there.” Rafael thinks he grimaces, but it’s hard to tell in the dark.

“It has been a while though, since I’ve indulged. And I've never participated frequently.” Every word seems like it’s forced out of Fred’s mouth.

“All this to say, Rafael,” Fred murmurs, inching closer across the sheets, “Is that the problem was never you.”

Rafael gathers him into his arms this time. Fred goes willingly, releasing a heavy, shaky breath and clearly relieved to not be talking about this anymore.

“I know,” Rafael reassures him. “I know it wasn’t me. I was just… I don’t know. I was worried.” He smiles, giving Fred another squeeze. “You’re a delicate little flower Freddie, I want to make sure I don’t trample all over you.”

“Get out of this bed this instant.”

Rafael laughs and they settle down to sleep.

***

The three of them celebrate in Rafael’s tiny Brooklyn apartment when Fred returns from Baltimore. He insists that he wants to cook and, though he had his doubts about his equally minuscule kitchen, manages to turn out an incredible ropa vieja. His mother would be proud.

When the empty plates are discarded on his coffee table, stacked haphazardly and waiting to eventually be washed by whoever loses the inevitable game of ‘who had the harder day’, Rafael sinks back into the couch and smiles benignly basking in the praise of the two of them and their company. Four days is starting to become too long to go between times when they’re all together and though he wants to frown at the unpleasant feeling of missing the both of them when they aren’t around he loves it a little bit as well. Every other wandering thought was of the two of them and he can’t deny that it's nice to feel these first desperate stirrings of a relationship again.

“I don’t know how you made all of that, Rafael. I’m pretty sure my cousin Caroline had a bigger kitchen in her dollhouse.” Fred surprises him when he leans closer to Rafael, snuggling contentedly against him. Rafael had told the third of their little trio that he and Fred had finally slept together--hiding things in a threesome was the quickest way to hurt feelings. Everyone was going to eventually do things without everyone involved and it’s best to just let that out in the open--but he hadn’t expected Fred to offer such casual affection so freely.

Rafael catches her looking at the two of them with a soft smile on her face and returns it with one of his own. She hid it well but she was a little disappointed during their FaceTime when he had warned her that Fred might not be overly demonstrative yet. Rafael knew she felt a little--guilty wasn’t the word she would use, he knew, if he could ever get her to talk about it--uncomfortable about how much more open Fred was with her than he was with Rafael. He loves how hard she tries to remind him that Fred is just anxious, cautious, a little scared. Rafael is a grown man and doesn’t need his hand held, but the fact that she tries to anyways makes his heart feel like it’s growing through his ribcage sometimes.

When Rafael looks back down at Fred he looks like he’s about to fall asleep with his head nuzzled against Rafael’s shoulder. He would describe it as endearing until Fred moves one of his hands high onto Rafael’s thigh. Rafael smirks.

“All it took was one night and he’s already falling for me,” he says to her in a stage whisper. Fred is unfortunately still awake enough to jab Rafael in the ribs, settling down only after the air is knocked out of Rafael’s lungs with an “oof”.

“As long as you remember to invite me to the wedding,” she teases. Rafael watches her duck admirably as Fred throws a cushion at her head.

“You’re supposed to throw a bouquet at me, not a pillow!”

[anti-porn-unicorn]

I’m a girl (18 now) who got exposed/addicted to pornography at a really young age, and I wanted to share my specific story on this blog so that the platform can get it out there.

Under the cut is my full story, and it’s a little long winded, so if you don’t want to read the whole thing, I bolded in purple the general topic/idea of that section. Just look for whichever of those interests you and the section will be about that. The first and last paragraph are good for context and end goal, though.

Thank you.

I don't fully remember my first exposure to porn. I know I was in third grade (6-7 yrs old, I had skipped a grade). The reason I had wanted to share my story, in fact, is because I don't see many stories with circumstances similar to mine. Most I see have at least one of the following 'modifiers', for want of a better word. Most I see have at least one of the following 'modifiers', for want of a better word. Most I see have at least one of the following 'modifiers', for want of a better word. 1. The person is a victim of CSA/grooming. 2. The person was at a generally pubescent age (~11-14). And/or 3. The person experienced porn as a quick disturbance. To be clear, these stories are as valid and important as mine, and I simply think more perspectives make evidence of the effects of porn more airtight. I've never been the victim of SA, harassment, or grooming, ever in my life. My story shows the effects of exclusively porn.

The first memory I can recall about this was actually the first time I got caught. I was 6 yrs old, and very into video games,so on this day, I was playing a 3D porn game on my crappy hand-me-down laptop. I kind of knew that what I was doing wasn't acceptable, so I was sitting in my room in the corner as far from my door as possible. My mom walked in so I just slammed the laptop shut because I wasn't that good at hiding things. My mom obviously asked what I was doing, and I tried to keep her from looking, but it was right there when she reopened it. This is where the battle of it begins.

From ages 6-14 I don't have a good timeline of events but a few pop out that exemplify the severity of the issue. These are very probably out of order.

I got an iPod Touch for Christmas (~6-7), and every night I would watch porn on it until they caught on. I literally still remember some names of the sites, most that don't even exist anymore. My parents have always been amazingly caring. I couldn't ask for more. During the earlier ages (~6-8) I was put with a child therapist for fear of a deeper issue. My parents started either taking technology away in the night and/or setting restrictions on the internet. Unfortunately, between my slight tech-savvy, and my crazed addiction at this point, this wasn't a solution.

The addiction got DEEP. It warped my brain. When I had no technology, I used everything I could find.

Whenever I had access to less restricted internet, I used it. Once I asked my older cousin to use her iPod and watched it on there.(she noticed and told my mom. I remember my mom had asked me "Is there anything you need to tell me?", and I knew what she meant, but I just said "nope!" and walked away. At one point my dad's work provided him with a Blackberry, and I asked him could I play one of the built in little games. Once I had it, I watched porn. (when I gave it back to him he pressed the "back" button, and I was caught.)

I used Youtube. This was when YouTube was way less moderated (back when the app was a little old timey TV). I learned I could look up "striptease" and "nip-slip" and other stuff like that, finding more soft-core videos that could suffice when the internet in general was locked down.

I straight-up found out ways to disable the restrictions. Once I found out my mom's PIN for the controls, I went and disabled them, but changed the PIN so it would look like they were still on, and so that she couldn’t access and re-enable them. (I made it 7399. Spells "sexy". My mind was a mess.)

My parents bought a book called "The Classical Tradition". I'm just learning now as I'm looking it up that it was a Harvard Reference Library book (probably why it was so damn thick) about ancient Greek and Roman culture. I didn't know that. I had realized that sprinkled throughout the book there were pages that were more glossy than the rest, which you could see from the sides of the pages (the book was HUGE). These were the photo paper, which had the classical paintings and sculptures. And because these had nudity (Think "The Birth of Venus" type) I would regularly flip through this book when I needed a "fix". Absurd.

My parents got me an American Girl book that was made to ease worries about the developmental years. The pages on breast development / the anatomy of the vagina were what I looked at the most. When my parents had gotten me the child therapist, there was the logical fear that I might have been molested. The therapist gave me a book where there was a page with two cartoon mice, a boy and a girl. They were wearing swimwear/underwear and the point of that was "anywhere the clothing is covering is somewhere that adults can't touch you without telling.” They might as well have been stick figures, there was NO detail. But since they were in ‘underwear’ I'd always look at that page a lot. Anything barely vaguely sexual.

During this part of my life, I got no real pleasure out of this, I was just obsessed. For the first year I even watched it on mute out of fear of being caught. The lowest point during this period was when I very unfortunately filmed a video of me touching myself. I got nothing out of it and had no intent on ever sending or posting it. I was just emulating what I had been seeing. I deleted it the next day. I was 9 then.

From puberty until now (11-18) is when my sexuality was shaped by it. The addiction was far more controllable, I could spend a couple weeks to a couple months without it, but I'd always come back. Because it was now tied to my body. And while my need for it to be constant was gone, now I had to deal with the tolerance issue.

Over time what I watched became more and more depraved. I had the personal preference of hating anything amateur, because of the low quality, so I managed to avoid anything obviously non-consensual or involving visibly underaged girls, but that doesn't really mean much with the stuff the studios were putting out. During the middle points it got REALLY violent and disturbing. Bordering on torture (extreme kink) and even bodily deformation. As a young woman, I couldn't really tolerate any of the role based Kinks (father-daughter, babysitter, schoolgirl), so more extreme for me meant more extreme acts. Just absolute destruction of women's bodies for the purposes of sex. I moved away from that when tumblr banned porn and I started using reddit for it, and also during that time I was realizing how fucked up of an addiction that this was, even before I found feminism/anti-porn. I actively started trying to quit it, for good. But I always went back.

One big effect is heavy confusion with my sexual orientation. A lot of people face this, but the addition of porn for me really throws things off. Like: Am I bi, and a form of comphet/denial/inexperience keeps me from seeing women in a romantic way? Is it a mix of that and porn? (relatively likely) Or am I just straight, and the porn has completley shaped my mind (likely). 90% of the time I watched solo female content or lesbian content, and could only stand to watch certain specific forms if it included men at all. In real life I find a fair amount of men attractive but their bodies in a sexual sense are tolerable at best, but usually cringe inducing. l've never been attracted to a woman romantically, but exclusively women's bodies are sexual to me. It feels like everything in my brain that I would have been able to use in order to figure myself out has been permanently overwritten with incorrect information. Because of porn.

I've still got it bad. Every once in a while, I’ll read something vaguely sexual, or see a woman in a risque photo, and then the seed is planted. I'll always say "I'm not going to do it, I always feel disgusting after, it’s not even really enjoyable at this point, I can do better than this”. I always give in the end of the night. I'm 7 days off of it. I've been on this earth for 18 years. 12 of those years I've been cripplingly addicted to pornography. Two thirds of my life, and for as long as I can remember. I can never undo it. Just like an alcoholic will always be an alcoholic, only able to achieve remission, I will always be a porn addict. I have to be careful. But I have to hope for the future. And with finding the community that is speaking the truth about this, I'm heartened to do better. To no longer be held down by an addiction to consuming my own oppression.

[roll-da-credits]

The Dreaded Finals - Kuroo x Dumbass Reader -

Word Count: 2.3k

With finals quickly approaching you dreaded for your impending doom. Having barely studied the entire semester and getting just passing grades, both you and Kuroo were rather anxious about the finals. (The title is me. I’m the dumbass reader.)

A/n

This story was brought to you by me procrastinating on studying for finals even though its literally a week away. I should study Physics and Biology right now but I can’t be bothered at all. Anyways, as always I hope you guys enjoy the first Haikyuu post here. 

“THEN WHAT THE HELL IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SERIES AND SEQUENCE IF THEY USE THE SAME FORMULAS???” What is math.

You threw your hand up and Kuroo looked at you, exhausted but amused at how idiotic you actually were.

This morning you were just reminded by your boyfriend, Kuroo that tomorrow was the math finals.

How you forgot the dates for finals was beyond him. Cue panicking over not understanding a single thing taught in math.

Him being the kind boyfriend he was, offered to teach you the formulas and do some example questions with you. Though at first, he thought it wasn’t going to be that hard, your scores weren’t amazing, but they were passing.

From your test answers, he noticed how you already understood the formulas. You just had trouble applying them and putting the right formulas on the right questions.

But he realized pretty quickly, you were just incredibly lucky.

“So, for geometric and arithmetic they have 2 formulas for each so its 4 formulas all together I think you already know that-“

“Wait there’s 4??” Kuroo looked up at you from the paper slowly, completely dumbfounded how you didn’t know there was 4. “Ok stop looking at me like that HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?”

Kuroo pitifully smiled and ruffled your hair. “How did you even pass this test if you didn’t know there were 4 formulas??” He actually was amazed at how you graduated from Junior High.

“Well I just guessed around, plus sitting beside smart students help a lot you know.” You nudged over towards Kuroo. A sly smile decorating your features.

He shook his head, amused at the fact that you somehow cheated on every single test but STILL get a BARELY passing score.

“Ok so, this is how it works.” He then spent close to one and a half hour explaining everything about ONE out of the four topics you had to study that day.

Thankfully you seemed to be focused to be learning everything, he was actually surprised at the fact that you were enthusiastic to try and understand everything.

Now was the hard topic. It was close to 8pm and you finished 3 topics, but the last one. Algebraic expressions.

“Yea no, you know what. I’m just going to stop here and hope this doesn’t come up that much tomorrow.” He laughed out loud at your reaction when he showed you his notes.

Your hand tangled in your hair with your eyes wide open, completely baffled at the satanic writing in front of you. “This doesn’t even look like math anymore.”

Sighing, you planted your head on his desk. He grabbed both your shoulders and shook you lightly as a small way of trying to cheer you up. “At least you already understood the other topics, algebra’s hard, don’t be too hard on yourself.” He tried motivating you.

Kuroo was one of the most supportive boyfriends you could ever ask for, whenever it came to you trying out new things or you trying to study. He was always there to support you and sometimes tease you whenever you needed a laugh.

Kuroo smiled fondly over at you, there was something about you that always captivated him. Even in situations like these where you’re frustrated or just plain annoyed, he always saw you as incredible.

He admired you as well, although sure your grades weren’t something that would qualify for Harvard or Oxford. He admired that you still tried, albeit you procrastinated a lot. He’s never seen you fully give up and come to something completely unprepared.

You were always working on your flaws, whether you realized it or not. And for that he admired you. “Can we just hang out now? You’re very deserving of a break.”

Truthfully, he just wanted to have a soft cuddle session with you on the bed until you realized you had to go home, before your parents start calling the police. Much to his disappointment, you shook your head and opened your phone to check the time.

“Can’t. My parents already texted me, asking where I am.” You muttered, already beginning to take your books and notebooks. “Thank you for teaching me though, you’re the best.”

You gave him a light peck on his lips as you stood. Successfully making the volleyball captain grin. “Love you, wish me luck for tomorrow.”

~

The next day came and it was no surprise that he was actually worried for you. As always, you arrived in class one minute before the teacher came in.

Before the test papers were handed out Kuroo saw you look back at his seat 2 rows behind you and grinned largely.

How the fuck were you so calm.

Even he was stressing a little bit internally. He felt like he didn’t prepare enough.

When the tests were handed out his eyes widened. From what he saw by skimming the questions, close to 75% of it was algebraic expressions.

Something both of you deliberately skipped last night. Safe to say the entire time he was doing the test he snuck glances over to you, trying to see if you were panicking or not.

Although, even if you were, he wouldn’t be able to see it since your back was facing him. For some reason, it was panicking him a lot that he didn’t spend the time to teach you.

What happens if you fail?

He knows your parents were rather strict on grades. They agreed as long as it was a passing grade you would be safe from a punishment.

But what if you failed?

Would your parents stop you from visiting him?

Or worse, what if they confiscated your phone?

How was he going to text you flustering pick-up lines in ungodly hours of night?

Even through all of the stress pile up and him panicking every time he read a new question and it was still algebraic expressions. He somehow finished the entire test on time.

The only good thing that comes from finals are, no other subjects, and you get to go home early. Lunch time came as soon as the test ended and the bell rang.

Kuroo immediately went to your table, “Damn, we should’ve studied algebraic expressions huh cutie?”

He patted your head lightly. He wanted to tease you, making sure you smiled at something if you were feeling down at the unlucky test questions.

What he didn’t expect you to do was giggle. “Damnit, I probably used up all my luck in my other tests.” You barely seemed bothered by the high chance you might get a failed score on math FINALS. ���Maybe next time I’ll listen to you more.”

You grinned ear to ear, standing up from your chair to kiss the rooster head boy on the cheek.

“You coming? I want to meet up with Kenma.” He didn’t even realize you were already leaving the classroom.

The rest of the lunch break was spent with you and him talking about random nonsense, whilst Kenma sits playing his game and adding a few of his own opinions to whatever topic you talked about.

Afterwards it was time for another final test, you and Kuroo took your seats again and began the test.

He again realized; this was difficult. He struggled with a few of the questions. This made him worry again for you.

Not that he wanted assume you were stupid or anything of the kind, you were a pretty smart person when it came to certain subject. Though, other subjects you seem to get a barely passing grade.

Then again, after the test, you didn’t seem bothered by it and barely complained about the question.

The finals week went on and every day the same thing keeps happening.

He’d help you study but would have to cut a few things from each topic short because you had to go home. The next day the test would have you write the answers completely and in depth, he’d get worried you won’t be able to do it. As always, after the test.

You didn’t seem shocked or even bothered.

You didn’t even talk about the finals when you were hanging out, you wouldn’t talk about the questions or even discuss the questions you didn’t understand with him.

He was perplexed by you. One day you were panicking because you didn’t understand math at all, the next you seemed terrifyingly calm after doing something you supposedly can’t do.

You didn’t speak about the finals for the next week either, it was when the last week of school finally came that the moment of truth is revealed.

All the test papers would be given back to the students.

Since this was finals to determine if you’d make it to your third year, everyone seemed antsy. Even Kuroo himself was scared to see his score, passing was one thing, his expectations for himself was another thing.

He looked over to you, and again. You seemed,

Oddly calm

No nervous foot tapping, ghost piano playing on your table, or even your fingers fidgeting with each other.

Nothing.

Completely calm

It was unnerving, he’s never seen you that calm before.

You’ve always been someone who matched his energetic lifestyle, so seeing you so quiet and calm was… creepy.

The test papers are finally given back to the students, and the teacher left the classroom.

A range of emotions swept through the class, some crying, others cheering. Kuroo sighed in relief. His scores just reached his own expectations.

He walked over to your table and saw you clutching the paper close to your chest. Readying for the worst, he waited for an outburst of emotion.

Then he saw it.

The first few tears that came out of your eyes. His heart immediately broke at the sight.

He knew you worked hard and didn’t procrastinate the whole week of finals, although you did before. You always made up for it by studying extra hard a day before finals.

He took his palm and wiped a few of your tears. “Oi, cutie, come on give me a smile. Grades don’t mean everything. Plus, I bet that one subject you love you got a really good score on.”

He took your chin on his right hand and lightly pulled it up to look at him.

His eyes widening with little bit of fear. You were SMILING???

Seeing his shocked expression made you laugh really loudly whilst wiping the tears. You put all of your test papers on your table for him to see.

Every one of your finals you didn’t only get a passing score.

But every one of them were above 85.

You got a 90 for math.

“I DID IT!!!” You enthusiastically yelled and stood up abruptly.

You hugged Kuroo, whilst the table between the two of you made the position a little bit awkward. He leaned into your touch, still confused though.

When you pulled away you laughed at his ridiculously confused expression. You sighed in contempt and sat back down at your chair.

“I slept for 2 hours every single night, just to study. When I come back home from your house, I’d still study. I’d try to understand every single thing we didn’t touch on before.” Your eyes glimmered with a sense of pride.

A new kind of admiration filled his heart as he listened to his beautiful lover talk about all the things they did to help them memorize everything.

You were lost in your own explanation that it took you a while to realize Kuroo was looking at you with the most love-struck expression. “Pffftt, what’s that face.” When he realized he was staring he immediately looked away and blushed.

“Hey hey hey!! I thought you were the teasing one in this relationship.” You continued to tease him whilst laughing.

Kuroo looked back at you and gave you one of the most genuine smiles you’ve ever seen. Successfully making you stop talking, “You’re incredible.”

He said out of nowhere. It amazed you at how Kuroo was able to say those kinds of things with a straight face. You awkwardly laughed at his comment, “You inspired me you know?” His head cocked to the side with curiosity. “I thought to myself, you deserved a smarter lover. So, I wanted to get really good scores this year.”

Oh, if only you knew how much YOU inspired HIM to be a better person. Since it was time to go home anyways, Kuroo took your bag with his and dragged you across the hallways.

“Where the hell are we going???” You were utterly confused.

Kuroo didn’t even reply, he just ran all the way back to his home and his room. You threw off your shoes as quickly as possible whilst he was still pulling you.

He pulled you on his bed with him and immediately cuddled close.

“The fuck?” It wasn’t as if you didn’t like it.

You just were… confused

“You said you haven’t been getting enough sleep so we’re taking a nap right now. I won’t take no for an answer chibi-chan. If you do say no, I’ll just keep bragging about my scores until you’ll sleep just to get away from me.”

You scoffed, “I’d never fall asleep with THAT kind of bedtime story.”

Kuroo looked down at you, “Well, first off I got a 98 in math, it wasn’t hard. I saw that question 4 you got it wrong and the way to actually do it is-”

“Go to hell, I’d rather sleep.” His signature hyena laugh filled the room.

Adorable as always.

“Then go to sleep cutie.”

You hummed in agreement and put your hands around his torso, whilst he to yours. His chin resting on the top of your head and you nuzzling into his broad chest.

This was the perfect end to finals week.

[awanderingdeal]

Never too late - 6 - 7

A continuation of Leo and Regulus’ attempts (antics) to give Regulus the childhood he never had.

CW: Food talk

Please message me if you feel I need to add any content warnings

Rating: T

Previous and future chapters can be found on my masterlist

Credit for the sweater universe and the characters within it go to @lumosinlove. What a hero.

[This is currently unedited, and I'm not that happy with it, but also my writing mojo has decided it is vacay time so it is what is it]

6. Go to camp! You’ll make friends for life.

“Le! Did you order something?” Finn called, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen carrying a large box.

“Yeah, it’s the t-shirts,” Leo nodded, scraping the onions he’d just chopped into the pot. “Put it on the island for me please, babe.”

Finn looked down at the box, making a show of testing its weight before he looked back at Leo with wide eyes, “This seems like...a lot.”

After adjusting the temperature on the stovetop slightly, Leo washed his hands and made to inspect the delivery. “Err, yeah. Potts got wind of the plan and got all excited. Half the team are coming now,” he smiled sheepishly.

“Of course that happened,” Finn threw his head back with a laugh. “You might as well make it a thing.”

“A thing?” Leo repeated, throwing Finn a bemused look.

“Uhh huh,” Finn nodded.

“I’m gonna need more, babe,” Leo said, lifting one of the shirts out of the box and running the material through his fingers, humming a note of approval.

“More shirts? There’s like 50 here,” Finn frowned.

“No, love,” Leo laughed, shaking his head “More on what a ‘thing’ is.”

“Ohh, got you,” Finn chuckled, leaning against the counter. “I just meant, if half the team is coming anyway, you might as well invite the other half. Get the kids involved. You know, a thing.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Leo cocked his head.

“Well, I did go to Harvard,” Finn shrugged, rooting around in the fruit bowl to find a suitable pear. One that wasn't too big because Finn got bored of flavours quickly and could never finish them. One that wasn't too soft, because he hated the sticky mess on his hands. In the early days of their relationship, Leo had been excited for the adventures that were going to come with his boyfriends, but he hadn't been prepared for how much the little nuggets of information he would discover about them would mean to him. The satisfied smile that appeared on his Finn’s face as he procured the perfect one was infectious.

“Such big brain energy and yet he still can’t load a dishwasher,” Leo retorted, motioning to the stack of crockery that had been abandoned on the counter.

***

“I have no idea why I put up with you,” Regulus scowled, covering his eyes with his hands. “Okay, I promise I can’t see.”

“Because I’m your best friend, obviously,” Leo replied, making a stupid face to ensure that Regulus was, in fact, telling the truth, and began to lead him towards the back door.

“Obviously,” Regulus drawled. “Do I get a choice in this best friend business?”

“Well, you can try and resist it if you want, but I am incredibly loveable and inevitably you will have to succumb to my charm so you might as well just deal with it,” Leo said.

Regulus gave a resigned sigh, “I suppose as best friends go you aren’t too bad.”

Leo laughed, punching Regulus lightly in the shoulder before telling him to watch out for the step up into the back yard.

“I hope you know that if I break my neck, you will be paying for -” Regulus started.

“Wegggie!!” Harry shouted through a mouthful of graham crackers that James had been trying to buy his silence with.

“Is that?” Regulus pulled his hands from his face, his eyes going wide at the scene in front of him. Leo had to admit he may have gone a little overboard with the execution of the summer camp. What had started off as a few classic summer camp activities had turned into a carefully planned extravaganza. There was a climbing wall and he’d hired an events team that taught archery. Between the games of dodgeball and capture the flag, there would be time for tye-dying, friendship bracelet making, water balloons, tug of war and much more. Of course he hadn’t skimped on the food either: burgers, pizza, vegetable sticks, taco salad and hot dogs; there was a long buffet table laden with an endless supply.

Regulus pulled Leo back inside, tugging him further into the kitchen so that the crowd of Lion’s players and their families couldn’t see them. “Leo, this is too much.”

Leo looked at Regulus trying to read his friend, but the other boy was infuriatingly closed off. “Look, if you really don’t want this, I’ll go and tell everybody to enjoy themselves and we can get out of here.”

Regulus huffed out a breath, “It’s not that I don’t want to...it’s...it’s weird everybody being here. They are obviously just here because you asked them and I feel like an add on.”

“Okay, let me stop you right there,” Leo held up a hand. “You practically live at Kris’ house the amount of time you spend there with Avie. Celeste loves you like a seventh? eighth? child...honestly, I’ve lost track of how many children they’ve adopted at this point. You and Olli…”

“Alright, alright,” Regulus interrupted, “I get your point.” He cocked his head slightly, “Huh, I guess I didn’t realise how much I’ve settled here.”

“You need a second to process that or are you ready to go have some fun, because I think Harry might eat all the s’more supplies if we wait much longer.”

***

Leo leaned into Logan’s shoulder, smiling as he watched his boyfriend show Katie how to toast her s’more in the bonfire that crackled in front of them. He was admiring the softness of the French leaving Logan’s mouth, when Regulus plopped himself onto the large log they were sitting on, a sleeping Aveline clinging to him.

“Hey, Reggie,” Leo greeted, turning his soft smile to his friend. “You alright?”

“I’m good. I just wanted to say thank you,” Regulus nodded, shifting Aveline into a more comfortable position. Leo noticed that Regulus had added another 3 new friendship bracelets to his haul since he had last got a moment to catch up with him. “For all this. This day has been amazing. All of it. I’m not sure if summer camp would have been my thing really, but I never really got to do fun family garden parties either and this has been incredible. ”

Any reply that Leo was about to make was disturbed, by Aleandra dumping a water balloon over Marc’s head right in front of them, their loud screams causing Aveline to wake with a cry.

7.Decorate your room! Paint the walls, buy new bedding and pick some new accessories! Make it your space.

"Well," Leo set a pile of magazines on the bed with a soft thud. It was a little old-school, but he was adamant that it was easier to come up with a complete picture this way. "What do you like? You don't have to know exactly, but we can't go to Ikea without any idea." He let out a soft snort at the unintentional rhyme.

Regulus looked up at him, wide eyed, as if he'd just asked him to supply the solution for world peace. "I don't know," he shrugged, toying with the sleeve of his shirt.

"You must have some thoughts."

"I don't know," Regulus snapped. "I've never had to make these decisions before. There was no point liking anything, because our parents would do what they wanted either way." He spat the words, and despite how it made Leo feel he knew the anger was a sign of some sort of progress. Not even a few months ago, his friend had spoken about his childhood like it was just a different form of normal.

"I'm sorry," Leo apologised, climbing onto the bed next to Regulus.

"It's not your fault, is it," Regulus shrugged, tucking his knees to his chest.

"I shouldn't have pushed you for an answer," Leo clarified, moving the magazines out the way and dragging his laptop from the bedside table. “Look, how about we go through Pinterest and you can pick some pins you vibe with. I’m sure we’ll find a trend.”

“Yeah,” Regulus breathed, shuffling closer to Leo. “Yeah, okay.”

***

“What the hell, there’s more,” Regulus said in awe as they rounded another corner to be confronted by rows of rattan baskets.

“I think we’re nearly at the end.” Leo looked up from the map he was trying to follow, almost stumbling over the cart when Regulus came to a sudden halt.

“These are nice,” Regulus mused, picking up a walnut coloured weaved basket. “My towels will look nice in these.”

“I’m sure they would,” Leo chuckled. He shouldn’t have been so surprised by how quickly Regulus had gained an affinity for interior design considering how he had taken to honing his clothing style with such ease.

“Oh! But these are nice too.” Regulus turned to show Leo another basket, that was identical in every way except for being perhaps a shade lighter.

Leo groaned. They had been in the store for over 3 hours and the cart was overflowing. His friend was adamant he was going to pay his own way and considering the short amount of time he had played for Slytherin along with the legal fees to end his contract early, the man was having to learn to budget to be able to afford college. Leo had suggested that doing a couple of interviews would leave him with a fair buffer, but Regulus had wanted to put as much space between hockey and his new life as possible. Leo was supportive, but Regulus seemed to be having trouble getting out the habit of buying everything he wanted.

“Right, pick one and then close your eyes. We need to get out of here.”

***

“Up a little on the left,” Leo instructed, shaking his head as Regulus lifted the left side of the photo frame considerably. “No, not that much.”

“That’ll do.”

“It’s not straight!”

“Neither are you and you don’t see us complaining,” Regulus huffed as he adjusted the frame again.

“You’re just jealous,” Leo threw one of Regulus’ new cushions across the room, hitting him squarely in the back of the head.

“Eww,” Regulus deadpanned. “And please do not throw my things,” he glared, hugging the cushion to his chest.

Leo was about to make a comment back, but he was interrupted by Sirius clearing his throat in the doorway.

“Got you a present,” Sirius said, holding out a large bag.

“Sirius.” Regulus crossed his arms over his chest, his face set into a disapproving stare. “I told you -”

“Think of it as an early birthday present,” Sirius interrupted.

“My birthday is not for another 4 months.”

“Just take it. I promise I’ll let you do this the way you want, but you’ve got to let me buy you things every now and then too. That’s what big brothers do.”

Regulus sighed, crossing the room to take the bag from Sirius. “Thanks,” he muttered, the corners of his mouth lifting despite his best efforts. The smile spread further as he laid the mustard coloured herringbone throw he’d been salivating over in the small boutique they’d visited a few days prior.

“You’re welcome,” Sirius nodded. “Looks good in here, by the way. We’ll have to find you an apartment in New York that will be big enough to fit it all in.” he commented, walking away as he finished his sentence.

“I’m paying for the apartment!” Regulus called after him. Leo barked a laugh as Regulus ranted about stubborn humans on NHL wages. Regulus poked a finger at him. “You can be quiet. I know this was your doing.”

[lavenderbau]

The Table of Celebrations

summary: after Strauss died it became a morbid tradition to all sit and share the good times when someone on the team dies. alex left the team to go teach with james and they were able to convince emily to come back. this is the story of them carrying out their tradition.

tw: death (a lot of it), substance abuse, car crashes, cancer, guns

words: 1.5k

Aaron didn’t see it coming like this. He thought during his times in the field, or during Foyet, hell even driving to work would be his end. He never thought it would come to him when he’s 63 in a bank. He should’ve known they were robbers the minute they stepped into the building, he used to be a profiler for Christ’s sake. But he didn’t. And he stands here now, seeing the bullet fly towards his chest, and all he could think about was that damn table. Or more importantly how nobody would be sitting there when he died. 

It started with Strauss. After the funeral they all could see Dave ready to dive head first into the grief, and so it was Aaron’s idea to get drinks and tell stories about her. They all sat there laughing so they wouldn’t be crying, because pain in the ass or not Erin didn’t deserve that. Aaron listened as Penelope told them about the time she answered the phone thinking it was Derek, and couldn’t help but laugh. That was a fond memory of his. He saw how Dave needed this and how helpful this was to him and it made his heart swell. Little did he know it would become a tradition. 

Dave, fittingly enough was next. They all knew that’s how it should be. He was the oldest of them all so it was only the circle of life his seat was the first one empty. Alex had left right after Strauss’ death to teach at Harvard with James, and Aaron somehow managed to convince Emilly to come home. They all sat at the table, tears staining their cheeks. Dave was a father figure to both Aaron and Emily and a grandfather for the rest of them. Penelope told them about how she and Kevin were walked in by Rossi and all that followed. Aaron remembered Dave telling him about that, saying he would have never done that for a woman and maybe he should have; Derek told them about how he used to tease Rossi about the gray in his hair and Emily told them about how he knew the perfect cure to any hangover but refused to teach her. Aaron saw the way she folded into herself when she realized he would never get the chance to teach her. Aaron pulled her in close when they left telling her that she didn’t need to worry, because Dave would be with Carolynn and his son.

He would’ve thought it would be him next. Hell, it should’ve been him. It should never have been her. But it was. He was the one to notice the lump on her breast and she kept insisting she was fine. They had been, whatever they had been since around the time she came back from London, after Beth had left him. It started out just as sleeping together but it was slowly turning into something more. She was in his office when she passed out, pulse weak. He was panicking and didn’t know what to do. This was Emily, his Emily. He was there when she got the diagnosis. Breast Cancer, stage four. They said at this point there was little they could do, she should just go home and be as comfortable as she could, saying the disease would take her soon. Emily wept into his shirt apologizing for not getting it checked, saying she didn’t want to leave him. He took a sabbatical to spend her last days together, trying to make it last. It didn’t as when Aaron woke up one morning and went to pull her in, her body felt too still and cold. He realized instead of calling her baby, he would be putting in a call to the morgue. He never did imagine he would be standing in front of her grave again, except this time knowing her body was actually in it. Her table was much more grim. They tried to tell funny stories, tried to distract from the pain, but unfortunately they couldn’t do that a second time. So instead they just said bottles up and drained their cups. Derek would come to tell him later what makes this worse than last time is the fact that there’s no one to blame, no bad guy to chase down. Little does he know that if Aaron maybe pushed a little bit harder she might have had a fighting chance.

Aaron never truly recovered from Emily’s death. So that’s why the next one hurt him so much, because two seats left the table that time. Derek and Penelope had gotten together shortly after Emily’s death, realizing the years of playful banter had much more depth than both of them ever assumed. He remembered how Derek stopped by his office to check in on him before he left for his and Penelope’s date night. They had a standing date night on Tuesdays that they didn’t have a case. The next thing he knows he’s getting a call in the middle of the night. He assumes it’s a case, but it’s from the hospital. Apparently he was Derek’s power of attorney and had to choose whether to pull him off of life support or not. He rushed to the bathroom throwing up the little of dinner he ate that night. How could this be happening? Was he really such a curse that everyone around him died? After dry heaving for five minutes he went to the hospital to find JJ. His heart sank when she said through her sobbing she got the same call for Penelope. It was a drunk driver who hit them head on. He called Spencer, because ironically their team was down to three. How have they lost more than they had? Of course they got new members, but they weren’t part of the family. Maybe that’s a good thing. He pretended not to hear Spencer and JJ’s tear filled goodbyes. He went to call Derek’s sisters when he overheard the doctors say Penelope was about six weeks pregnant. He couldn’t handle this. Penleople deserved the chance to be a mother. Derek deserved to be a father. They both deserved to just fucking be alive. How did Aaron get here? How did Aaron get everything they deserved? He was a father, he was alive, and he didn’t deserve that not over them he didn’t. Jayje found him on the floor sobbing against the wall. All she did was slide down next to him. Everything there was to say has already been said twice before. They sat at the table together in silence, not able to understand how a table of 7 could go that quickly to a table of 3.

Aaron had retired from the BAU early. He couldn’t handle anymore heartache. He spent his days with Jack, trying his best not to destroy him like he did to everyone else. Spencer always called him on Thursdays, becoming a crutch they both needed. He got the call on a Monday. Spencer was a blubbering mess, stammering about how JJ was stabbed in the field. He tried to put pressure on the wound, but she was bleeding too quickly. He made an off hand comment about how he knows how Derek felt when Doyle happened, oh how that seemed a lifetime ago. He said he couldn’t call Will. He couldn’t do it. Aaron told him he would take care of it. Aaron always took care of it. He went in person and told a great man he was a widow. God he would never forget the way Will collapsed against him. The way Micheal and Henry ran up asking what happened and Aaron had to tell them their mother died. He got too many flashbacks from when he had to tell his own son the same thing. Her service was beautiful, but Spencer couldn’t get through his speech so Aaron took over. He read the words off of the page, thinking too much about Haley and how he failed her just like he failed Jayje. He failed everybody. Spencer told him while sitting at that goddamn table that he was quitting and going to teach, but he’d keep in touch. It was just too hard to sit at that office and see all of the reminders of them. Aaron understood and wished him the best.

Aaron stopped by Spencer’s place three weeks later. He found him on the floor empty syringes surrounding his too still body. Aaron cursed himself. He should have seen this coming, he knew JJ was his rock, his older sister. He didn’t even see the signs. He laughed to himself when he realized that he was the only one left. He sat at that table alone. He drank his sorrows screaming to the heavens to take him, but they never did. He broke every one of those stupid chairs and that stupid stupid table. No one was ever going to sit there again. 

So as the bullet entered his chest, six familiar faces surrounded him. They were all sitting at that table, only his chair empty. He sat down and they welcomed him home. And it was the first time in too long where he actually felt like he was home.

[blouisparadise]

Although most of us aren’t able to go on vacation at the moment, we hope this rec list will make everyone feel a bit better than that. Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Harry, Louis, or both boys go on vacation at some point during the fic. Happy reading!

1) This Is Where I Sleep | Explicit | 3678 words

Harry and Louis go camping while on break and make some memories.

2) Under the Vanilla Sky | Explicit | 8006 words

Who the hell wears a hat like that on a yacht?  That's one of the things Louis thinks when he sees Harry from across the deck of the most expensive, ridiculous boat he's ever been on.  He also thinks he'd like to get closer.  Just to see what's under those aviators.  Just to verify that, yes, in fact, those white swim trunks might be a little see-through when wet.  Just to see if someone could really be that hot in real life.  On a yacht.  In the Caribbean sea just off the coast of St. Barts.  

Here's what really happened on that yacht.

Or, my opinion, at least.

3) Rather This Than Live Without You | Explicit | 10715 words

Harry decides to give it all up. Louis refuses to be left behind.

4) Ready To Run | Explicit | 11940 words

After being left at the alter by his boyfriend of five years, Louis goes on a vacation to try and clear his head and fill the empty spaces in his heart. On the way, he meets a new group of life-long friends, and maybe a little more than that.

5) I Know You Have A Heavy Heart (I Can Feel It When We Kiss) | Explicit | 14489 words | Sequel

In which Louis is spending New Year’s alone in France but he’s definitely not running away, and Harry is a french florist with an ever present smile who cares a lot. They meet a cold night in the outskirts of Paris.

6) Don’t Put Out The Glow | Not Rated | 15007 words

"He fists out a pair of skinny jeans and a plain black tee. Nothing wrong there. Then he sees an atrocious Hawaiian shirt in Zayn’s hand and he starts digging through the bag urgently, pulling out more and more items that don’t belong to him."

7) Pleasure Over Matter | Explicit | 152014 words

Harry is a bit out of his element, and an unsuspecting stranger provides him temporary relief.

8) All I Want Is To Fall With You | Mature | 16254 words

The weekend ski trip where omega Louis discovers that he can’t change a tire and his skiing skills are debatable but still manages to find the alpha who will change his life.

9) Some Flowers In Your Hair | Explicit | 23015 words

A magical camping AU in which Louis is jealous of Harry's magic, Liam's a little too enthusiastic about surviving in the wilderness, and Niall might have misunderstood the rules.

10) Force of Nature | Mature | 25672 words

Louis is a shy, young musician who doesn't want to go to Harvard.

Harry is a confident,  second year athlete who likes to have a good time.

When their paths cross while their families are vacationing at the same lake resort, what begins as a summer of fun becomes a defining journey that might just change everything.

11) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27085 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

12) Rivers ‘Til I Reach You | Explicit | 29315 words

AU. Louis studies astronomy; Harry studies Louis. They spend their summers on the water and it shouldn't be complicated (spoiler: it is).

13) The List | Mature | 32094 words

'In the weeks that follow, Harry opens his old journal more than he has in the past two years each time he remembers Venice or thinks about Louis. He always flips to the same random page in the middle of the book, marked by the picture of himself that Louis sent him a few days after they got home. There’s a message on the back that says, ‘Spontaneous looks good on you! See you soon,’ and it makes Harry’s chest warm each time he reads it. He wedges their list out from between the worn pages, and it feels silly staring down at a folded up piece of paper with a strange sense of nostalgia for experiences they’ve yet to have; for places they’ve never even been.'

14) (Your Heartbeat) Rang True Inside My Bones | Explicit | 32945 words

Harry goes as Louis' date for a weekend wedding. He ends up taking the role a bit too seriously.

15) Let Me Feel Your Heartbeat | Explicit | 34572 words

Harry is 98% sure Louis hates him. So he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

16) And Touch Me Like You | Explicit | 35971 words

The one where Harry and Louis agree to be each other's New Year's kiss and it ends up being a lot more than they bargained for.

17) A Red-Dusted Planet | Explicit | 38265 words

A one-night stand in a small town in Australia turns into a weekend that Harry could've never predicted with a boy he may never forget.

18) A Rhythm In Rush | Explicit | 40010 words

Harry is a WWF journalist with big dreams and Louis is a glaciologist that flies helicopters for fun. Greenland is an odd place to spend Christmas, but just maybe, the perfect place to fall headfirst into love.

19) Nobody Does It Like You | Not Rated | 58520 words

Louis isn't looking for a home, but he finds one in Harry.

20) Waiting For The Tides To Meet | Explicit | 59873 words

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

21) Tug-Of-War | Explicit | 63000

Louis' husband dies suddenly and he is left with nothing. Well, not really nothing. He has Harry. And a St. Bernard puppy named Link, whom his late husband left behind for him. Louis takes care of Link and Harry takes care of Louis. Everything is okay until suddenly, it isn't.

22) This Wicked Game | Explicit | 70010 words

An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

23) Don’t Tell the Gods (We Left a Mess) | Explicit | 71556 words

After a misunderstanding with Liam’s mother, Louis agrees to accompany his best friend to a family wedding and pretend to be the world’s best boyfriend. But their simple plan goes awry when he learns that Harry, ex-boyfriend/ex-love of Louis’ life, will also be in attendance. (aka: fake!boyfriends with a twist ft. bromance, romance and cake.)

24) Perfect Storm | Explicit | 80230 words

What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding? You can either tell him the truth, tell him you’re not together anymore, and deal with the consequences, or you can pretend you’re still together and roll with it, just pray you don’t spiral. Fake it ‘til you make it. You know, for the sake of the wedding.

Harry and Louis choose the latter.

25) Nothing Worsens, Nothing Grows | Explicit | 102528 words

Another roadtrip au featuring Harry as the misunderstood hipster, Louis as the bitter psych major, Liam as the one with the secret boyfriend, and Niall as the one who just wants everyone to be happy.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[sp3mily]

Vulnerable

Summary: You’ve lost protectors before, haven’t you? Spencer Reid had lost so many protectors over the course of his life. That’s what made it so hard, history repeating itself.

CW/Tags: Description of death (not graphic though), not really much to see here, it’s just a character study essentially

Word Count: 2021 (this is total coincidence but isn’t that kinda funny?)

Spencer Reid had lost so many protectors, but he hadn’t truly realized it until she pointed it out to him. Sure, he’d had fleeting thoughts about the people he’d loved and lost, but he’d never realized how many he’d lost. He’d lost more protectors than there were words in the sentence that made him realize it. While all of them had their reasons for moving on, it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. It didn’t mean he didn’t worry about who was going to be next. 

Spencer’s first time accepting the loss of a protector came when he was just ten years old. With no more than a letter with a bullshit explanation, his father left. He hadn’t known what to feel. He thought he should’ve been sadder than he was, but he wasn’t. He tried to make himself be sad, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t sad, but he noticed how things changed. He noticed how the people in the neighborhood looked at him differently now that he was William Reid’s kid. No longer was he the son of the successful lawyer who was dedicated to his family despite the idiosyncrasies of his wife and son. They all saw him as the scrawny, weak son of Diana, the woman that had driven her husband away with her polluted mind. He didn’t realize that his father was his protector until years later when another protector vanished from his life.

Then, was his mom. She wasn’t really gone, he didn’t really lose her, but she’d taken on a different role in his life. He wasn’t sure when he really lost her as a protector. Maybe she never really was one. He’d taken care of himself for most of his childhood and he’d moved away to college when he was 12. It didn’t really hit him until he was 18 and he had to make some hard decisions. She wasn’t doing well on her own and he had the authority to get her some help, even though she didn’t want it. She didn’t want it, but it was what was best for her, right? He had to do what was best for her. He didn’t want to see her hurting anymore. He’d gotten her moved into a sanatorium. She hated it, for a really long time she hated it, until she settled in and started making friends. Being social. Then she didn’t hate it quite so much. Doesn’t mean it lessened his guilt. Didn’t mean that she wasn’t there to protect him anymore. He wasn’t the kid he used to be back in Las Vegas, but some days he wished he could curl up in her lap while she read him Chaucer and ran her fingers through his floppy brown hair. He missed when he could bury his head in the crook of her neck and smell the soft perfume she knew calmed him down. The protective shield she provided when things got too hard was gone.

He finally understood what he thought he should’ve felt when his dad left, when Gideon left. Jason Gideon, the man he’d looked up to for years, vanished just like his father. Left a note for him to read and use to explain to the people around him why everything became too much. Why leaving was the right move, the only right move. He was twenty-six years old yet he managed to feel reduced down to his ten-year-old self when he opened the envelope. He felt so vulnerable, so afraid. So lost. That’s when he understood what it felt like to lose a protector. One that protected you on purpose. One that made sure no one saw you as a little kid because you weren’t a little kid anymore. He found himself clinging to what little there was of Gideon left in his life. He kept their last chess game alive while he tried to grieve the loss of the relationship.

Spencer managed to live a few years of peace. Three and a half years of peace, actually. No one left, no one disappeared with only a note tucked away in a drawer, no one withered away until they were a shell of what he knew them as. Three and a half years. He should’ve seen it coming. The loss. He’d been happy for far too long, it should have been obvious that it would all come crashing down soon. And down crashing did it come, in the worst way. You see, the others were different. His father and surrogate father figure had left voluntarily and his mother, really she didn’t leave at all. Spencer could still hold out hope that one day Jason Gideon would walk back into the BAU. He could hope that a cure for schizophrenia could be found or at least a long term treatment option that worked. There was no hope in this case. There was no maladaptive daydream he could imagine to get himself through another week, another day, another hour. There were no possible scenarios that he could picture in order to leech a little bit of serotonin from his wretched life. This loss was like no other he’d experienced yet. In a matter of words, they were temporary losses that turned permanent. His next loss was a permanent one that turned temporary. Emily Prentiss was dead. 

Emily Prentiss was not dead. It was like whiplash, he didn’t even know if it counted as a true loss, but it mattered to him. She was alive and unwell in Paris. For seven months. But then she was back. She was back and he was mad, until he wasn’t. Part of the reason his anger dissipated so quickly was because he knew it was only a matter of time before he lost someone again. He needed to cherish what he had while he had it. So he made the most of the next year he got with Emily. The year solving cases and slowly seeing her get less and less content with the job, with the team, with her life. This was the first loss he saw coming. He knew it was over before it ended. That’s why he held her so close at JJ’s wedding, danced with her a little extra, spent a little more time talking to her at the bar than he had with anyone else. It didn’t make the loss hurt any less. It didn’t make the emptiness in his stomach go away when he saw her empty desk. Though it wasn’t empty for long.

His next loss...That one hurt the worst. Maeve Donavon was dead. Really, truly dead and she wasn’t coming back. For a while he thought he thought he might actually be able to help her, to shield her from her stalker. That would be the only adequate payback for the love and kindness she shared with him. Through weekly phone calls, the pair fell in love. He’d never been in love before, not like that. Not the same way as how he loved Maeve. He loved her like….He loved her like Hotch loved Haley. Despite all the bad, despite all the possible problems, he was dedicated to her. She was the only one in his eyes, even though he hadn’t seen her. Not until it was too late anyways. He finally got to see her minutes before the actual loss happened. It all happened in an instant and a lifetime all in the same. The gun was leveled near her head, the only thing between it being Diane’s. Diane may have been hard-headed but her skull wasn’t thick enough to shield Maeve from the oncoming bullet. The bullet went in one side and out the other, ripping away Reid’s happiness for the last ten months. Not only was Maeve gone, but he lost himself in the grief. For nearly four months he was a shell of a human being, less than that. He was the shell of a shell of a human being. He didn’t remember most of his days, they just went on without him. 

Eventually he was able to regain consciousness in the world and he slowly shifted to just being a shell of a person. Then, he was finally a person again. The next loss, he also saw coming. While it wasn’t easy to lose anyone, it was nowhere near as terrible as his last loss. When he lost SSA Alex Blake in his life, he was sad of course. She was just another person on the list of people to come and go from his life. For a long time he couldn’t decide if she was his protector or if he was hers. Truthfully, they were each other’s. She helped him get over Maeve and for a while, he helped her son live again. But eventually it became too much for her as well. He couldn’t fault her, he couldn’t fault any of them really, for leaving. The BAU was a lot to handle and burnout wasn’t something they were immune to. He’d considered leaving but...what else would he do? Where would he go? Maybe to Harvard to teach with Blake. Maybe just to visit. He missed her a lot of the time. She always seemed to understand him in a way that others didn’t. He liked that about her and he missed that presence on the team. 

It wasn’t even a whole year until his next loss came around. It was barely six months after SSA Alex Blake had returned to being only Professor Blake when former SSA Jason Gideon and co-founder of the Behavioral Analysis Unit became Jason Gideon (1955-2015). Reid felt like he’d been hit by a truck. No longer could he imagine the day (the day that wouldn’t have come regardless) that Jason Gideon walked back into the BAU, his glasses low on his nose as he read through his files. The maladaptive daydreams became a thing of the past and picking out a suit for the funeral became a thing of the present. Crumpled tissues littered the pockets of nearly all his clothes. He knew the day would come when Gideon coming back, even just for a visit, would no longer be a possibility. That knowledge didn’t soothe him. Just like he had seven years ago, Reid tried to keep Gideon’s last game of chess alive as he grieved the utter and true loss of Jason Gideon. 

The next loss was one he never expected. It hit him harder than he’d expected. It took every fiber of his being, every bit of energy he had, to not burst out crying when Derek Morgan slid the shiny card into his hand. The image of a baby boy stared up at him, along with the bold black text to announce his name. Hank Spencer Morgan. He appreciated the sentiment, he really did, but it didn’t quell the emptiness he could feel beginning to eat away at him. Derek Morgan was leaving the BAU to spend more time with his beautiful wife and adorable son. Spencer couldn’t have picked a better reason for someone to leave the BAU, but it still chipped away at him. It hurt even more to know that Morgan was there, still in the area, yet they rarely saw each other. He went from seeing Derek everyday to being lucky if he saw him more than twice a year. All of the losses had hurt, but Derek? That one hurt in a different way. 

Antonia Slade had been the one to point out how many protectors he’d lost. He’d never realized just how many people had come and gone. He hadn’t realized that for the last 6 years in a row, he’d lost someone that he saw as a protector. Emily Prentiss, Emily Prentiss again, Maeve Donovan, Alex Blake, Jason Gideon, and Derek Morgan. What made each loss so hard, was how history repeated itself. If you ignore history, it repeats itself. But just because you address it, because you know about the pattern, it doesn’t mean that it stops. It just made it feel different. 

That’s why losing Aaron Hotchner just weeks later felt different.

[leggomylino]

A Floral Memoir | Yang Jeongin

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ- 

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

Genre: Nostalgic, drama, bittersweet, angst, fluff ending

Pairing: Yang Jeongin x fem!reader

Au: Flower shop au, friends to lovers au

Word Count: ~3.9k

Warning(s): None! c:

A/N: This was supposed to just be a blurb/timestamp but I’ve been heavily influenced by fictional prose from my Fiction 101 class so...this happened. :D | Masterlist linked down below and in bio!!! <3 | For Nana, who loves Yang Jeongin; and, for all the wonderful writers of @skzwriternet​. Thank you all for being so supportive and kind. God bless. 🎔

Tag List: @hanniiesuckle17​ @distrikt9​ @hanstagrams​ @hyunsunq​ @smolboiseavey​ @jisungsjheekies​ @iluvlix​ @moonlit-han​ @stay-nctzen​ @yangomangos​ @stayndays​ @cotccotc​ @skzctnightnight​ @multi-stan-present​ @dreamy-dreamies​ @yunhoesss​ (If you’d like to be added, please let me know! Comment, ask, or DM me!!! ^^)

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ--ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

There’s this flower shop down the road from your house that you’re used to going to. It’s one of those hole-in-the-wall places, the kind that never stand out unless you’re actively looking for them. The brick’s chipped, covered in vines, and the sign out front is hanging by a stem, the slanted posture threatening to drop dead over the next teenager that pursues vandalism; still, to you it’s never unrecognizable, no matter how many years of wear-and-tear or lost du jour go by. To you, it’s the most beautiful place in the world: not for what is shown on the outside, but for what lies there within. What it stands for, represents.

This is the local flower shop of 129 Poppy Close Lane. And it is the place you grew up in, blooming alongside Yang Jeongin.

Jeongin had been your best friend growing up. The two of you did almost everything together: ride bikes, watch movies, play in the park. Feed the ducks, hop around like frogs, climb trees. Hide in your mother’s laundry basket in order to jump out and scare the daylights out of her-- which only backfired once when she nearly had a heart attack-- to which you vowed never to do ever again. Instead, the two of you set your sights on the neighbor’s son, a boy of roughly similar age named Kim Seungmin. But that always seemed to backfire as well. Kim Seungmin was simply too smart.

The day Innie’s parents-- that was your nickname for him, sometimes I.N.-- the day his parents announced they’d be buying out a crumbling furniture store, the two of you had been so excited. Think of all the beds you could jump on! All the sofas to tackle! The pillow fights! The two of you could make the largest blanket fort in the history of blanket fortresses!!! 

...Instead, those dreams were crushed like petals pressed between pages. You weren’t getting a mattress playground; they were opening a flower store.

A flower store? But aren’t flowers free? Don’t they grow outside? The two of you prodded and pestered Jeongin’s parents until they ran out of answers to give, and instead only replied with “you’ll see” and “just wait.” But if there was one thing the two of you hated doing, it was waiting. Why did you have to? Wait for what?

...Time flies when you eventually forget about the thing it is you have to wait around for, too occupied curling toes beneath blankets by a roaring fire or towering blocks into Lego houses. After a few days of lazing around with Jeongin at your house and a short afternoon bike ride through the park, at last the shop of flowers was revealed to you. And it...was…

...Okay. Colorful, vibrant, definitely eye-catching, at least back in those just-starting-out days. But you still didn’t get it at the tender age of ten. Of course you’d heard of flower stores before, but the point escaped you. Couldn’t you just grow your own for free? Couldn’t you just ride to the park and take some from the woods? Why would you sell something you could obtain for free? Who would waste their allowance on that?

Jeongin was different. You remember looking over at him, standing to your right, and seeing his face alive and bursting with more color than the shopfront. The way his eyes sparkled as he took it all in, the pride that seemed to blossom in his smile and the way he carried himself. Straight, tall, and happy, just like the sunflowers waving outside the window. It was off-putting to say the least, but you felt gratified just watching him elate and gush his excitement. So you upheld that same excitement, too.

Years went by of the two of you hanging out in that place; Little Fox Flowers, it was called. Appropriately named for the son of the two owners who spent their days happily snipping away sadness and making the lives of all its customers just a bit brighter. A place where all the local college-bound kids would apply for part-time jobs in order to live out their novel fantasies, hoping for a quiet place to smell the roses after a long day of notetaking and hide behind the hollyhock to study.

They were always kindly denied. After all, the shop was a family business: just Mr. and Mrs. Yang, Jeongin, and you, who had been considered the daughter they never had since you were six. And, eventually, Kim Seungmin, who won everyone over with cake and the “look-at-how-responsible-I-am” presentation. He was responsible, no one could deny: the way he’d always turn you and Jeongin in before you could commence danger-inducing experiments.

And then, at fourteen, it was the three of you. You got paid, of course-- just scarcely minimum wage, but that was alright, because Mr. and Mrs. Yang always bought you lunch or dinner every other Friday. And the mean apple pie and best empanadas baked by the kind elderly couple who worked just across the street was to die for. (A side note: you’d find out two years later this was the place Kim Seungmin got his cake recipe from in exchange for helping fix a leaky faucet. The devious scoundrel.) The three of you worked and worked and studied and worked, spending perhaps too much time learning the wildest things about each other, things you were surprised you never knew of Jeongin, things you’d never guess about Kim Seungmin (you didn’t refer to him as just Seungmin until you were sixteen).

Jeongin was a fan of rock music. Kim Seungmin enjoyed more than a good book and ratting out his neighbors. Jeongin actually studied flowers in his free time, more than just what he learned passively working in a floral shop. Kim Seungmin was actually a prankster himself.

They learned things about you as well: how you preferred sunrises to sunsets, how you collected music boxes, how you kept a diary the two of them would never get to read, and now that they knew about it, were no longer or henceforth ever allowed in your room. This brought joy and laughter the color of fresh-sprung poppies to their faces...and a curious tint of rosehip to the cheeks of Yang Jeongin.

You distinctly remember the way he stared at you, two seconds too long before he looked away, to the flower arrangement before him, a smile never leaving his face. Spooked, you buried yourself back behind the front desk, occasionally peeking at his reflection through the storefront window.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

At seventeen you’re all sweating bullets over SATs and TCIs and ACTs and every other stress-fueled test that exists in the better education realm. The three of you are taking turns quizzing each other and flicking foreheads or slapping wrists after getting an answer wrong. When the owners announce they’re heading home to finish up errands and get dinner started, you take turns in the final few store hours managing the front desk: two cramming backstage, one holding the reins out front. It’s in solitude that Seungmin tells you he’s decided to go to Harvard University, and possibly Yale if he finishes with a 4.1 GPA. At this you want to smack him, but at the same time, tell him not to go. It wouldn’t break your heart to see him go, but what’s wrong with your local university? Or a university just an hour out of town?

He tells you it’s something he’s always wanted, and heartily decided, so you take his hand in yours and wish him the best. It’s not a problem; Harvard and Yale aren’t too far away. 

The real problem arises when they switch, and with Seungmin running the front desk and helping late-blooming customers, it’s Jeongin who tells you he won’t be going to college at all. “I’ve decided to travel,” he says. “I want to explore new cultures. I want to hear other kinds of music. I want to see other types of flowers.”

At this, you deadpan. Blink a few times, just to make sure that registered. “You...want to leave the country?”

“It’ll sort of be like studying abroad-- hey, maybe that’s what I’ll do. Study abroad. I’ll be able to see lots of things that way. There’s a program that can accept me right away if I apply before midnight.”

“Jeongin…”

You frown. You can’t help it. Jeongin? Leaving you behind? You aren’t about to lose both of your best friends; especially not Jeongin, who to you was Innie, I.N., the boy with the messy black hair and slightly bad attitude, and many other things. 

His stare says everything for him, his smile drooping like perennial flowers. “You don’t like the idea.”

It’s not a question; it’s a statement. “That’s not true. I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to.”

He gets up, leaving the room. There’s an odd sense of finality as he exits.

“...I’m gonna see if Seungmin needs any help.”

“......”

You wince a little, even today, recalling the way he soft-slammed the back door. It was the last time you saw him, for the span of three long years.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

It goes by too fast. Before you know it, you’ve reached the big two-O. Twenty is that odd age where you’re not sure about anything. Are you an adult? Are you still a kid? What age group do you fit into? What are you even doing with your life?

You’d chosen to major in botanical science. The flowers of the shop had ended up placing their roots into you. And being the sentimental gal that you were, you could never find yourself tearing away from your roots-- it was how flowers wilted and died. 

So when Yang Jeongin reappeared on the shop porch one morning, looking fresh as a daisy, you could hardly believe your eyes. He must have been put in one heck of a vase of Miracle Grow and holy water to have survived away from the garden for so long. At first, you’re ecstatic to see him-- at first. But then you remember what he did to you: the way he just walked out of the breakroom, clocking out without you noticing, not answering your texts, ignoring your calls, only to find out the next day he’s insanely hopped onto the morning train and booked a flight for Beijing. Part of a study program, his parents said. Very last minute, they explained. We’re so sorry, they lamented.

The only means of contact you’d received were a cloying box of exotic chocolates and a note from Jeongin that first year, along with a music box you couldn’t bring yourself to ever listen to. It ended up thrown into your closet, shadowed in a great tub with all the other ones. The note said something along the lines of an apology and explained he’d lost his phone during a boat ride that first week, and the strict program he was enrolled in didn’t allow him to contact friends; only immediate family. He’d had to lie to his advisors and tell them you were his adopted sister, which you suppose wouldn’t have been a lie once upon a time. After that, you’d only get an awkward “Jeongin says hello,” from his parents, who felt just as uncomfortable about the estranged situation. They’d assure you he was doing well and just going through a phase. He was angry. He acted irrationally, just the one time. They knew how important this was to him. He’d come back around, he really cared for you, after all.

Seeing him now made your head spin. You had to grip the cash register nailed into the hardwood so you wouldn’t fall over. “You’re...You’re back. You’re here. In the shop.”

He dropped his bags near the front door as if the place was his second home. Just like it always had been. “I’m back. Here. In the shop,” he repeated, an urgent longing in his actions.

The smile he wore never left his face as he rushed over to you...then paused, fearfully, his hands frozen in an awkward state of half-reaching and half-retreating. 

“Y/n…” He sighed, his breath a multitude of years lost. “...I’m sorry. I have no right to walk in here like nothing happened. You have every right to be angry. Are you angry?”

That was a good question. Were you angry? You should have been. You had every right to be, just like he said. This may have been his family’s store, but it was your second home, too, and you may as well have been a part of the family; you had every right ignore him or tell him to get out, to scream and demand answers, or even to cry and weep like the weeping willow tree out back.

Instead, you felt nothing. And everything. It was too much, so much strange emotion and Twilight Zone madness packed into a single punch that you smiled and simply replied, “I’m fine. How can I help you today?”

It came out sounding like you were the one asking for help. Jeongin seemed to catch wind of this too, distressed eyes staring into yours as if seeking a hidden entrance through the new roadblock to your mind. For the longest time, the two of you didn’t say anything.

Things got really awkward when Seungmin showed up on one of his monthly visits-- he ended up going to Harvard, but he still visited you every month and bothered to keep in touch-- and sensing the tension after a surprised gasp of excitement, uncomfortably shuffled to the back of the room with the excuse he’d get to work on the shop’s monthly revenue, assisting with the finances as part of his accountant training (a side gig to his major in criminal law). What resulted with the silent clicking of the door was the clicking of your own. 

You clocked out, texting Seungmin the location of the shop’s spare key and asking him to do you this one favor. Then to meet you downtown for a slice. As you swung onto the Vespa your parents had given you on your nineteen birthday, you observed Jeongin, in the shop’s reflection, through the rearview mirror, as he stood there, absorbing and deploring his loss.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

It’s now midday, a few months later, and you haven’t seen or spoken to Yang Jeongin since. Even if he did live down the street, in your mind he’d been cast from the garden, turned into fertilizing soil. He hadn’t tried to contact you since, and neither had you found yourself hovering over the call option, only to toss the phone away with an agitated moan. You didn’t know how to overcome the foreign distance between you two, or at least you hadn’t...until today.

Today, well, you still didn’t really know how to go about it. But despite your temporary closure to any and all things Yang Jeongin, you did a lot of thinking about that day, when he’d just shown up out of nowhere, sprouting like the happiest weed on the planet, fearfully trying to patch things up. It wasn’t forced or out of pity or selfish guilt. It was as true as the blue roses you’ve had to convince more than a few customers were not spray-painted or artificially made. Jeongin had made a big, unlike-Jeongin mistake, one lasting far too long, but it was still the first (and last; you’d be sure of that). There had to be more to the story than what appeared above the ground. 

You should never judge a rose for its petals, Mrs. Yang once told you. It may still be blooming.  

You’re parking your bike in its usual place in front of the store, locking it to the bike rack Mr. Yang had installed-- your Vespa got destroyed while letting Seungmin take it for a joyride-- and you push open the familiar glass door, the sweet chime of the old silver bell singing overhead. Jeongin looks up at you from around a middle-aged man at the register, his voice falling an octave late.

“Welcome i-- ...n.”

It’s that same awkward tension all over again, but you try to smile through it, for friendship’s sake. After holding open the door for the parting customer, you make sure the door is locked before nervously wringing your hands halfway to the counter.

Jeongin takes your actions in alarm, bracing himself against the register as you had just a few months prior. Funny how times change. “...What’s going on? What are you gonna do?”

...As if you were going to rob or beat him. You’d thought about doing so with one of the giant sunflowers, three month before, but would never risk harm to the flower. “I…” A sigh. “...Can we talk?”

There’s an arrangement waiting for pickup or delivery sitting at the edge of the counter. Jeongin stares intently at the wooden space before casting his gaze to the flowers. He lifts them, crossing the bouquet over his face to the other side. You’re not entirely sure what he’s doing until he hands the bundle to you. “I can’t leave the shop right now...could you make this delivery for me? The address is on the tag.”

“......” You accept the bouquet awkwardly. “...Uh, yeah, sure.”

“I’ll clock you in, so you get paid.”

“No...don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”

He nods, slowly, just barely managing an unstable means of eye contact. “...Thanks.”

And so you walk out of the store, unlocking the door and hopping onto the shop’s delivery vehicle. It’s more a less like a Vespa, just older and a bit outdated. Securing the flowers in the protective shell container (a basket with a clear, wind-resistant lid), you snapped on the helmet and started the engine, making a hard right into the street. 

It occurs to you as you're driving that you didn’t bother to look at the address in your haste to escape an uncomfortable situation gone wrong. So much for talking things out and tackling your problems head-on. That really worked out well. You squint beneath the afternoon glare reflecting off the lid, but the address is written so tiny and messily you have to pull over and open the basket in order to get a better look.

279 Blueberry Street.

You just about dropped those flowers, gripping them a bit too tight so that a few stray thorns poked your fingers. 279 Blueberry Street was...well. 

It was Jeongin’s address.

...You had no idea what was going on, but intuition told you it was something fishy, something planned and arranged just as carefully as this cliché arrangement of red roses and baby’s breath. Typical and predictable, just like the old Yang Jeongin.

You’d bite. You drove the scooter across town and into your neighborhood, parking in the drive behind Mr. Yang’s Nissan. You remember taking many car trips around town and into neighboring cities in the backseat, Jeongin at your side, dropping fries and Cheerios and frozen yogurt all over the protective mats and onto each other. With a frustrated huff, you scurry to the front porch.

Maybe this is a crazy coincidence. Maybe Mr. Yang ordered flowers for his wife. Maybe Mrs. Yang got flowers for her husband. Maybe they both ordered them for Jeongin, as part of a gift to commemorate something you were once, for the first time in your life, unaware of. Or maybe you’d read the address wrong. Maybe it was Bluebell Street or Bellberry Street or something entirely different, and you were delusionally tripping because, hah, what else had been new over the course of the past few months...few years. Maybe...maybe--

A warm light envelops you as the door swings open, and you’re instantly hit with the nostalgic scent of fresh lavender and spring-time strawberries. The candles that Mrs. Yang loves to buy.

Jeongin’s eyes are strained, but there’s a new warmth about them that feels familiar. Like a withered blossom sprouting back to life. He’s no longer dressed in his work apron and usual uniform; instead he’s freshly showered, wearing Church clothes, his dark hair still wet and tangled to a messy frame around his face. There’s a comb stuck to the back of his head, and following your stare he removes it with a sheepish chuckle, tossing it somewhere towards the living room and attempting to tame wild curls in a more presentable manner. He smiles, tenderly.

“You made it...I was worried you’d think it was a mean joke.”

“Well…” You consider. “I almost did. But there are infinite possibilities out there, right?”

His smile blooms. Taking the smallest rose, he checks it for thorns before tucking it behind your ear. “Yeah,” he says, “There definitely are. Come in, please...there’s a lot of things I need to apologize for. Starting with the whole disappearing for three years and...yeah.”

You supplement his cringe with a frown, then thinking about the ridiculous letter, imagine him beneath flickering candlelight, frantically scrawling down a horrifically worded letter in secrecy. You think about him in Barcelona nervously pacing between bustling touristy streets and getting lost or ripped off and wanting to scream at the stupidity of his actions and lack of Spanish. You imagine him in a woodshop in Berlin, flipping through a dictionary and pointing to words he can’t begin to pronounce and the amount of frustration cooked up from having to go through five woodsmiths until he found one that spoke just a bit of a broken language he understood, and the funny game of Pictionary that probably followed. 

You laugh, shoving his shoulder on the way in and hurrying into the kitchen for a vase. After placing the display on the counter, you grab his collar, kissing his cheek. 

His face burns the shade of chrysanthemums, wide eyes wondering what it was he did to deserve such a reaction. To you, he had more or less abandoned you, after all.

But you know better. You’ve known Yang Jeongin since you were five years old; when he knocked over a bottle of glue onto your summer dress after trying to hand you the paper flower he’d made. When things seem bad, they’re never personally intended. They’re never what they really seem. And you should have remembered that, too.

He spins you around now, and the two of you laugh, laughter echoing down the cream-colored halls all the way to the back garden. Back to a simpler time; a time when the two of you were just kids, pushing each other on the big oak swing and tackling each other in mud, smiling amongst the flowers.

There’s this flower shop down the road from your house that you’re used to going to. It’s one of those hole-in-the-wall places, the kind that never stand out unless you’re actively looking for them. The brick’s chipped, it’s covered in vines, and the sign out front is hanging by a stem. 

It’s the place where you and Yang Jeongin reside, never again apart, for the rest of your days. ✿

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[parrishh]

about to write the world's longest post (a review? maybe?) because i don't know anyone else who has read mister impossible yet and if i do not write my thoughts down SOMEWHERE i will either combust or eat my own foot, probably (spoilers, obviously)

genuinely brokenhearted (and cried a lot) over ronan in this book. part of what i loved so much about cdth was the sense that ronan had at least made some progress in regards to his mental health, self-love, etc. and now we're seeing him in such a dark place again that it hurts to read. it was sad enough believing, for almost the entire book, that he was blindly idolizing bryde for this reason (declan's "ronan is a follower" speech in the cafe with carmen actually killed me), and i thought maggie was just going for the whole "unhappy people are more susceptible to cults" thing. but to find out that he MADE bryde? that he felt so alone and so hopeless that he dreamt THAT? this read like some sort of super-villain origin story. i know ronan believes he's doing the right thing, saving dreamers and dreams and all that, but at the core of it all he's really doing it because bryde told him to, and bryde only exists because ronan subconsciously hates his life so much he'll do whatever it takes to make himself a new one. that just makes me incredibly sad

uhhhhhhhh bad day for pynch stans. we didn't technically get the dreaded break up, but it feels like we did anyway. even the sweet moments (e.g. ronan's memory of adam's gloves) are immediately followed up by something sad (e.g. the memory not being enough to keep ronan from sticking with bryde) (also, fletcher tells the moderators that they're broken up, so does that mean adam told all his college friends he's single?) there are several moments in which ronan makes it very clear that he will (and does) prioritize what he's doing with bryde over his relationship with adam (hanging up on him at the end? what the fuck) and like, i'm definitely not saying his boyfriend should be the #1 most important thing in his life because that's not healthy, either, but the dude is clearly very unhappy & insecure in the relationship. i still think (hope?) that they'll get a happy ending because ronan definitely cares about adam deeply (not wanting bryde to say the word tamquam, keeping adam out of his dreamspace so he doesn't lose harvard, etc.) but things are looking pretty grim right now :/

adam loves ronan so much it makes me crazy. he could easily say "fuck this" after ronan doesn't speak to him for weeks, especially knowing that ronan's capable of reaching out because he still talks to declan and especially after being blocked from ronan's dreamspace, too. i would be pissed if i heard from my bf for the first time in weeks and found out he only called because he needed a place where he & the guy he ditched me for could crash. but adam still spends the free time i'm sure he doesn't actually have keeping tabs on ronan and reaching out to declan and pretty much doing everything in his power to help. and oh my god even after ronan hangs up on him we still see him scrying to try to get to him and i need to move on now before i scream (but first, declan lynch = #1 pynch stan??? the number of times he mentions adam when thinking about the things he wants ronan to keep safe, help me)

speaking of adam, i had to put the book down and take a lap after his first appearance. i cannot believe this boy is charging harvard kids for fake tarot readings and making hella cash off of it. KING. genuinely some fantastic adam content in this. i love that he talks to the gray man. i love that we are reminded that he's literally brilliant. but also, he makes me sad, too. when declan mentions how ronan is the ONE person who adam opens up to and how all of his harvard groupies are just "ducklings"........honey, i love you, please, please, please make some real friends

hennessy's pov also breaks my heart. it's maybe even worse to read than ronan's because she's fully aware of how unhappy she is and the bluntness of it slaps you across the face. the memory of her mom's painting was genuinely chilling (the lace pattern on the floor - was that how the Lace started? am i understanding that correctly?) and the fact that it was so dreadful she accidentally made a sweetmetal....poor hennessy :( also, the things she said to jordan, right after she made half a dozen real ass people crash their cars and didn't even bat an eye about it....yikes. i'm glad she teamed up with carmen and liliana, though. i love my team of wlw girlies (also really interesting that carmen/liliana believe the Lace is something out of hennessy's control while ronan/bryde believe it's something she can get rid of if she just tries hard enough. what the fuck is the Lace, it's driving me nuts)

CARLIANA KISS CARLIANA KISS CARLIANA KISS

jordan's pov!!!!!!! delicious, finally some good fucking food!!!!!!! i'm happy that she's starting to see herself as her own person, independent of hennessy, and the whole forgery/original work metaphor was really cool (her first original work being a portrait of declan 🥺🥺🥺) i loooooove her relationship with matthew and how she speaks to him and that they're able to connect with each other because they're both dreams. i love that she's able to make him feel more human

JORDECLAN KISS JORDECLAN KISS JORDECLAN KISS (but i'm even more hung up on declan just casually talking about MARRIAGE, oh my GOD)

declan my beloved....my sweet......absolutely obsessed with him saying "screw politics, i'm leaning into my crime side" and OBSESSED with him being happy for once. i know the other shoe did drop and now things are all messed up again but it was so nice to see him so content, at least for a little while. he needed a break (also was laughing my ass off at all of ronan's dream creatures just climbing onto his bed in the morning and his screaming and how matthew was so used to it he BRUSHED HIS TEETH before going to help. iconic)

matthew's pov was also really upsetting but 🥺him deciding he's tired of just being treated like a pet and that he deserves to have a future so he goes to sign himself up to finish high school 🥺

quick note but the whole sweetmetal thing is really interesting as a concept. loooooved the way maggie incorporated the gardner museum heist into the story

THE ENDING???? WHY THE FUCK IS JORDAN AWAKE. WHY THE FUCK IS RONAN STILL ASLEEP. WAS ADAM STILL IN THE MIDDLE OF SCRYING WHEN THE LEY LINE DISAPPEARED, AND, IF SO, WHAT DOES THAT MEAN FOR HIM. WHY ARE LITERALLY ALL THE MODERATORS DREAMS. WHAT IS HAPPENING

[mandoalorian]

What the Pedro boys are like at college

This is my first time doing one of these so please be nice! Yep, TUWOMT isn’t out yet but I have read the script and I have written for Javi Gutierrez here. If you don’t want spoilers, maybe don’t read his scenario. I’ve made it so Javi’s is the last one so you can skip over it easily. I write for all the main Pedro characters! These include:

·         Din Djarin – The Mandalorian

·         Javier Pena – Narcos

·         Frankie Morales – Triple Frontier

·         Maxwell Lord – Wonder Woman 1984

·         Jack Daniels: Kingsman: The Golden Circle

·         Oberyn Martell: Game of Thrones

·         Dave York: The Equalizer 2

·         Pero Tovar – The Great Wall

·         Ezra Prospect – Prospect

·         Marcus Pike – The Mentalist

·         Max Phillips – Bloodsucking Bastards

·         Dio – NYPD Blue

·         Javi Gutierrez – The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

·         I DO NOT WRITE FOR PEDRO PASCAL.

Please please request a ‘Pedro boy’ scenario HERE. You can also request for me to write a one shot HERE.

Masterlist

Enjoy!

 ***

Din Djarin: Does college exist in Star Wars? I’m not sure… but if we take a moment to imagine Din being schooled by the Mandalorian Creed. He learns the history of Mandalore, about the great leaders such as Satine Kryze. He learns the importance of ‘the way’ and studies the art of weaponary, learning how to use guns, detonators, vambrace, and whistling birds. He learns about the legacy of the darksaber and, as we already know, he trains with the Rising Phoenix. I imagine Din likes to keep himself to himself and has been a loner his whole life. He places his trust in his fellow Mandalorian’s but they are not his friends. They are simply just his allies. Being schooled in the Mandalorian Creed would be physically exhausting but it’s something Din can manage. After all, he doesn’t have a choice. This is the way.

Javier Pena: We know Javi always wanted to leave Texas, and I think college was the perfect time for him to venture out. He didn’t choose a school with a pristine academic reputation, but instead, he picked a school that had the best renowned night life so he could go out and enjoy drinking and partying. Javi wasn’t a complete wild card. He was the kid who seemed to be good at almost everything. He was able to graduate top of his class with honours in Criminal Law.

Frankie Morales: When Frankie was younger, he loved helping his dad work on the family car and he even scored a part-time job at a garage when he finished high school. At high school, he never really found interest in the core subjects like English, math, science, history… and so when it was time for college, he wanted to develop on his hobby. Frankie chose to major in engineering, with a minor in transportation and logistics. This was perfect for him. In his second year, he went from looking at cars and motorcycles, to different forms of aircraft. He remembers one morning, he sat in the pilot seat of a helicopter after the fuel compressor had went bust and he had never felt more at home. On a whim, he dropped out of college and was lucky enough to get a place in piloting school. Frankie stuck by Santiago throughout college, but while Santi went out and partied, Frankie would slump down in his chair, drink a few beers, and be ready to head back to his dorm at 9pm. He had a few flings in college but had no interest in pursuing an actual relationship. It was important to him that he used his time in college to discover what he really wanted to do with his life.

Maxwell Lord: He probably went to Cornell, or Harvard. Maxwell could’ve gotten in from his family name alone, and if he wasn’t the most academically bright, no doubt his mother would’ve paid him into college, but Maxwell had always been smart. He was home schooled his whole life and so college was a big change for him. He worked hard. He showed up to every class early, and handed in homework and dissertations early, and used his charm to schmooze with the teachers, doing all he could to make sure he got the best grades. Maxwell majored in Business and Economics, and minored in Marketing. He didn’t have much choice in what he studied in college because he had his life set out for him the moment he was born. Maxwell didn’t have friends, but that’s not to say he was a loner. Everyone on campus knew who Maxwell was, and everyone knew the kind of family he came from.

Jack Daniels: Despite Jack and his high school sweetheart going their separate ways for college, they couldn’t stay away from each other for long. He was a Political Science major but never really cared much for it. He had a lot of friends, was a care free spirit and attended parties. He is someone who has natural academic ability but his failure to attend class and do homework meant that he, inevitably, began to drag behind. Realising political science isn’t for him, he dropped out of college and moved in with his high school sweetheart. He much preferred it that way, and he was able to be with her all the time. Having his company meant that she was now distracted from her studies and when she fell pregnant with their first child, they decided to run away from college all together and start a family far away.

Oberyn Martell: Is there college in Game of Thrones? I’m not sure, but a modern! Oberyn would major in classical studies and minor in philosophy. He is a prince, after all. He excels in both subjects and picks up languages such as Latin and Greek easily. It comes natural to him. He passes with flying colours and never has to try too hard because the words of Aristotle and Plato were engrained into his brain ever since he was old enough to read a book. As prince, he knows it is important to graduate with honours and that it’s his priority but that doesn’t mean he can’t make time for fun. He doesn’t commit to any relationship during college but does embrace his sexuality. He’s kind, gentle, and respectful. He’s a really great lover, but an even better friend.

Dave York: Dave studied criminology and forensic science at college. He was able to learn the ins and outs of criminal psychology and the process that cops and forensic teams go through when trying to trace a murder. His knowledge in this subject sure helped him in later life. He passed with flying colours, but never wanted a career in crime – or at least, not a career you’d need a degree in. But his newly received qualification, Dave decided to join the CIA as an operative where he met Robert McCall. He played good guy for a long time, but his bad intentions linked to criminal activity traced all the way back to college. He met his wife in college, and truthfully, she was the only thing who kept him from spiralling into criminal activity at an earlier stage.

Pero Tovar: Again, I am almost certain college didn’t exist during this time period but if we make it a modern AU, I think Pero would have majored in geography and minored in cultural studies. He had a goal to travel the world and see all the magnificent places. Pero was a grumpy adolescent, and seemingly he never really grew out of it. He had a group of people he hung out with who were similar to him but he never really considered them friends. He didn’t partake in extracurricular activities and he would just focus on studying. But he did have a flare in art which was lost on him during later life. He used painting as an emotional outlet and a means to express his feelings.

Ezra Prospect: I guess this is a modern! Ezra then. He studies geology, and he’s really smart. He does a lot of reading, but he actually prefers non-fiction over fiction. His interest in geology goes past his degree, and he actually collects a variety of rocks and gemstones, going into deep research about them and believing that certain ones possess healing powers. Ezra has a partner throughout his time in college, and they spend a lot of time with each other. Ezra’s partner encourages Ezra’s love for geology and finds his passion endearing, even encouraging him to earn an income from his knowledge! You help Ezra use the rocks that he collects to create bath salts and make jewellery to sell on and earn profit.

Marcus Pike: Marcus was an art and design major, and all his teacher’s loved him. He was never the best at the practical side, but he excelled in art history and his knowledge on the subject was outstanding. Marcus had one long term relationship during college but his partner ended up breaking his heart. It took a long time for Marcus to recover, but he’d always been one for second chances. He’d hope that he’d never get his heart broken again.

Max Phillips: Max was a bit of a player in community college; a jock, who studied his undergraduate in Physical Education. When Evan had Max kicked out for sleeping with his girlfriend, Max went and studied Sales Management at a university just for Vampires. Filled with a feeling of wrath and hatred for Evan, Max made it his mission to ruin him. No more time could be spent partying in his fraternity, playing soccer for the college team and sleeping with the cheer leader’s – Max made it his goal to graduate from Vampire University with a top major and steal the job of leading Sales Manager from Evan. And that’s on holding grudges.

Dio: Yeah, Dio didn’t go to college. He dropped out of high school when he was fourteen. In his youth, his hobbies included making fire and stealing from the rich.

Javi Gutierrez: He’s a film major of course! He was born into a rich family, we know that, and comes from a very financially privileged background. His parents knew that he did not have to pursue a degree in something that would ensure him a job, because Javi would be well off no matter what, and so they were fine with Javi doing something he was truly interested in. Javi has loved literature, art and movies his whole life. He minors in screenplay writing and excels top of his class, constantly impressing those around him with his ability to memorise anything from one liner quotes to whole scenes from movies. He shares his extensive knowledge of trivia, and all his lecturer’s firmly believe that the film industry is something that Javi could one day potentially succeed in. However, Javi is awkward. He shy’s away from all the partying and spends Friday night’s in his dorm, munching on popcorn and watching classic movies. A relationship is never in question for Javi because of his family circumstances, so he just lays low and focuses on his studies. As soon as he graduates, he heads back home to Mexico and his dreams of being a famous Hollywood screenplay writer seem so distant.

[eberles]

Love, Rafe ♡

Part 2 - Leaving for College

Rafe Cameron x OC

(gif is not mine, if it’s yours lmk and i’ll give credit)

A/N: Hii everyone! If you have seen the movie, keep in mind that I switched the main characters roles! Any feedback is always welcome! Be sure to tell me if you want a part 2! Happy Reading!! ☺️ Italics is how the last chapter ended!

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, angst

Part 1

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“Let’s go get a room for the night.” Olivia whispered in Rafe’s ear to gain his attention back to her. Little did Rafe know that spending the night with Olivia would lead to a series of misfortune’s for him and Zoe.

✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽

"You know what, Rafe? I’ve been thinking that we should just get out of here.” Zoe spoke when they were driving home together after prom. Rafe and Olivia did end up getting a hotel room during prom, but if Rafe was being honest the sex wasn’t great. He enjoyed it, but Rafe didn’t feel any emotional connection towards Olivia and he always believed that was a big part of having sex for him to think it was amazing. He planned on staying the whole night with Olivia in the hotel room, but after they had sex he felt extremely guilty about it and left to find Zoe. 

“We can go to your house to hangout if you want.” Rafe responded not understanding what Zoe meant.

“No Rafe! I was thinking more like Boston, Massachusetts...for college! Think about it, we aren’t going to get anywhere in life if we stay in Outer Banks...and my parents think I have a good chance at getting a scholarship to Harvard.” Zoe spoke softly, not sure how Rafe would feel about leaving his home.

“You’re serious?” he asked, surprised.

“They have one of the best Law programs, Rafe! And you can come and go to Boston College! They have a really great Hotel Management and Business program!” Zoe said getting excited just thinking about the two of them leaving and being in a new city together. Zoe knew Rafe always wanted to own his own hotel one day and she intended on helping him achieve that dream.

Only two months later and Rafe received his acceptance letter from Boston College in the mail. He was ecstatic. Nothing could change the high he was feeling from being accepted into his dream school. That is, until there was a knock at his front door.

“Hey Olivia, what are you doing here?” Rafe was confused to see Olivia at his front door. He assumed after their weird sexual encounter on prom night he wouldn’t being seeing her again.

“I’m pregnant, Rafe!” Olivia didn’t waste anytime when she pushed Rafe out of the doorway and made her way into his home. Immediately, he could feel his stomach turning and his vision going blurry at her words.

“You-you’re what? But we-we used a condom, I don’t understand.” Rafe stuttered over his words, trying to wrap his brain around what was happening.

“Well, apparently it broke, Rafe! What are we going to do?” Olivia asked. But she had already planned to keep the baby. She always wanted Rafe and now she was going to have him forever or at least for the next 18 years.

“I don’t know! I need to think about this, please.” Rafe pleaded with her, hoping she would get the hint that he needed to be alone right now. 

“Fine, but we have to discuss this, i’ll be back.” Olivia spoke calmly and let herself out of Rafe’s house, smirking to herself once she got outside.

From Rafe: Zoe, can we talk?

From Zoe: I wish! But i’m at dinner with Jeremy and his family!

From Rafe: Ok, have fun

Rafe has never felt worse about himself in those moments. He just found out he was maybe going to have a baby and now he can’t even discuss it with his best friend in the whole world. He felt as if his entire life was coming crashing down around him right after his future was starting to look really promising. 

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“Hi, i’m so sorry i’m late, but I have news!!” Zoe said excitedly as she sat down in the chair across from him at their favorite lunch place, The Wreck.

“So do I.” Rafe said a little sarcastically. It had only been a week since Olivia told Rafe she was pregnant, and he hadn’t said a word of it to Zoe.

“I got a scholarship to Harvard, Rafe!” Zoe squealed holding up the letter and waving it around in his face.

“Oh my god! Zoe! That’s so fucking amazing! I’m so proud of you!” Rafe spoke genuinely while trying to meet her excitement.

“It’s crazy, right? Did you hear back from Boston College?” Zoe asked with hopeful eyes.

“No, no, I haven’t.” Rafe broke eye contact as he spoke to Zoe, knowing if he looked at her she would know something was wrong. She always did know everything he was feeling just by looking at him.

“Well, i’m not worried, you’ll get in! My flight is in three days, but you’ll be right there with me right?” Zoe spoke trying to remain hopeful that they would be able to leave Outer Banks together.

“Of course!” Rafe said it but he knew he couldn’t leave with Zoe, or at all until he got the baby situation figured out with Olivia. Rafe knew it was ultimately Olivia’s decision, but he still hoped she would think about their future’s and look into getting an abortion or even having the baby put up for adoption.

Exactly, three days later, and Rafe and Zoe were in the airport saying goodbye before Zoe left for Boston.

“Tell me now, do you want me to stay?” Zoe asked as she looked up at Rafe with wide eyes. She felt terrible that he hadn’t heard back from Boston College yet and was hoping he would ask her to stay with him. 

“No, Zoe, you have to go! I’ll be right there with you before you know it!” Rafe lied, but he couldn’t bare to see the look on Zoe’s face when she found out he might not be joining her in Boston at all, let alone that it’s because he got a girl pregnant.

“Okay, but just remember that I am with you all the time, no matter how far apart we are.” Zoe spoke softly as she pointed to Rafe’s heart and poked at his chest a little with her finger.

“I know, Zo. I’m gonna miss the hell out of you.” Rafe said, looking deeply into her eyes and pulling her into him for a hug. Zoe stood on her tippy toes to meet his height and wrapped her arms tightly around Rafe’s neck while he held onto her waist for deer life and closed his eyes soaking in the moment. 

Rafe pulled away a little still holding her waist, but keeping his forehead touching hers. Zoe could feel his breathe on her face and her heart started to race as she moved her eyes from his lips to his eyes a few times. The two of them stood there, foreheads touching, lips almost connecting, heavy breathing, and hearts beater faster than ever before for a moment debating if this was the right thing to do. Zoe was looking into Rafe’s eyes when he closed his and started to pull his forehead away from her. He knew if he kissed her he wouldn’t be able to stop.

“You’ll keep in touch right?” Rafe said while blinking back the slightest of tears attempting to pool in his eyes. 

“Always, and you’ll be with me before we know it!” Zoe spoke before bending down to grab her suitcase. Rafe nodded his head at her and smiled at her as she started backing away from him waving slightly.

Rafe watched as she walked towards where the plane was boarding keeping a smile on his face until Zoe was no longer in his view. As Rafe was walking out of the airport his phone started to ring with a call from Olivia.

“Hey Rafe, just thought I should let you know, i’m going to keep our baby.” 

Part 3

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