#she didn’t know exactly what would happen but i think she had

[sparrow-and-seed-scrawls]

The father had turned on the night light. The flickering orange glow lit the hallway like a torch, so the darkness wasn’t what troubled the child.

He’d tucked each beloved stuffed animal into the child’s bed, careful not to lose any of them beneath the comforter lest they become fearful of the dark. The boy had seen it himself, so that wasn’t the cause of his woe.

Had the father checked the closet and beneath the bed for monsters and thieves?

He combed through the night’s events, then nodded. Yes, he had. He’d even checked the toy box for signs of the great green eyes or dagger-like claws the boy was afraid of.

“What is it?” the father asked finally, cradling the sobbing child close. “Did I forget something?”

The boy choked on words. His pajamas were wet with tears, and his pale blue eyes didn’t meet the father’s gaze.

“Whatever it is, I won’t be mad,” the father said. Had the child been hurt? Had he done something he was ashamed of?

The father flipped through every possible scenario he could think of and came up empty-handed. What was troubling the child so?

The man had never had a child before. He’d read every book he could get his hands on, attended first aid and childcare classes, gone so far as to watch Internet videos about raising a child—which, of course, he’d never admit to anyone. But, with all his knowledge, why couldn’t he find an answer to the distress?

Was it due to the child’s parentage? His thin curls and pale, pale eyes had been the sign of something different even before the round of his ears had gone.

He’d found exactly one confidante who knew what the child was. Who knew what to teach the child about, what things the father needed to know, what he could do to protect the child until his true parents returned for him.

But, after nine years, the child’s parents had not yet returned. The father could see on the elven teacher’s face that even she didn’t know if the parents would ever come back for him.

“It’s not common,” she said once, “for my people to abandon their young in the mortal world. I can only presume something happened to them. Until the boy is of age to return to our lands—until he is able to make that journey—”

The father knew what she was going to say. “—I am responsible for his safety,” he finished.

And so that was that. He was the father of a fantastical child until that child came of age.

Yet, even after nine years, the father rarely knew the right thing to say and do. He wiped the child’s tears and pushed his hair from his forehead now, and the child still cried.

After a long, endless moment, the child looked up, and his face crumpled. “I don’t want you to die.”

Ah.

The breath caught in the father’s throat.

The teacher must have gone over that with him.

The fact that the human race was nowhere near as long-lived as the elves was not new information to the father. He’d turned it over in his head again and again.

Even if he did live as long as the child would, it wouldn’t make a difference. The child had his own life and people to return to once the time came, and the father would return to prior things.

It was no one’s fault. Both things—lifespan and other lands—were mere truths of the small family’s existence.

Mere truths that, even so, felt insurmountable at the moment.

“I will die long after you return to your land,” the father said gently. “You will hardly think of me.”

The boy cried harder at that. “I will think of you! Every day!”

“But it will not be thoughts of my death. You will think of the stories before bedtime, burnt pots of macaroni, and staying up to watch the stars. You will think of drives to the park and learning to read.”

The boy sniffled, though his tears had slowed. “But when you die, I won’t know.”

“And there is no reason to know. I would much rather you think about the things like…” the father thought for a moment. “Like when you got scared of the teddy bear’s shadow in the nightlight!”

The boy laughed.

“Or when we didn’t bake the cake long enough and it fell apart on our forks. Chocolate slime!”

Another laugh, this one louder. “Or when you pretended to be Santa but your beard fell off?”

“Yes!” The father let boy from his arms. “Exactly.”

The boy offered a grin, albeit a tired and watery one. He slid off the bed and stood still for a moment.

“So it will be alright?”

“Of course it will be. I won’t let you forget those things,” the father answered. “Now, go to bed. You have lessons tomorrow.”

The boy obeyed, stopping at the door for only a moment to do the special wave he and the father had made up.

The father returned it in kind, and then the door shut. He listened for the soft patter of footsteps back to the boy’s room, and, once they disappeared, he gave a sigh of his own.

Without the orange glow of the nightlight, darkness seemed to engulf him entirely.

Things would be alright. The child was only a temporary part of his life, and soon enough the father would be back to things as they had been nine years ago.

Things would be alright.

He would have to convince himself of that. He’d allowed himself to care too much for the child, hadn’t he? And now he was breaking at the thought that none of it was truly real.

Things would be alright.

He’d always known that it was temporary, so how had he gotten here, so far into the role of father? How could he simply forget this, let it fade into the mundane day-to-day?

It was what it was. That’s how it was always going to play out.

For now, he could continue as things were. Nothing was changing.

Things were going to be alright.

They would have to be.

You're a single human parent of a Elf child, today has you ready yourself for bed you hear them burst open the door with tears in their eye as they jump into bed with you and hold onto you tight, has you comfort them you hear them say through their whimpering and sobs "i don't want you to die".

[atsro-slut]

Hiya lovely! So ima project cause we love that with your amazing writing, but I was thinking about reader who cries very easily and then she gets mad/upset at Remus and when he raises his voice during an argument she just loses it and cries but is too stubborn and mad to let him comfort her? I love a little hurt/comfort now and then to balance out the fluff 🤭 Thank you and enjoy your holidaysss <3

Snowfall and Second Chances

Hi hon!! This one hit super close to home, so I hope I did it well! Enjoy!!

Remus Lupin x female!reader

After a fight with Remus, Y/N's tears won’t stop—no matter how hard she tries. When Remus tries to comfort her, she pushes him away, but he’s not giving up that easily. Can he fix things before Y/N���s stubbornness gets the best of her?

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:☆

The Gryffindor common room was warm and lively, the fire crackling in the hearth as students laughed and relaxed after a long day. But Y/N was not in the mood to enjoy it. She sat stiffly on one of the plush couches, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, a storm brewing behind her eyes. Across from her, Remus Lupin looked just as tense, though he was trying his best to remain calm.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice careful. “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“Oh, really?” Y/N shot back, her tone sharp. “Because that’s exactly what it felt like, Remus.”

The incident in question had happened during dinner in the Great Hall. Remus had made an offhand joke—something about Y/N’s habit of losing her quill at least once a day—and it had earned a round of chuckles from their friends. But to Y/N, who was already feeling off that evening, it hadn’t been funny. It had felt like a spotlight shining on her in the worst way, and now, hours later, she couldn’t shake the sting of it.

“I wasn’t mocking you,” Remus said, his voice growing firmer as his frustration bubbled beneath the surface. “It was just a joke, Y/N. You know I’d never want to hurt you.”

“Maybe you should think about how your ‘jokes’ sound before you say them,” Y/N snapped, her voice trembling. She could feel the telltale prick of tears threatening to spill over but fought desperately to keep them at bay. Crying would only make this worse.

“Merlin, Y/N!” Remus threw his hands up in exasperation, his voice rising now. “Why are you blowing this so out of proportion? I’ve apologized a dozen times already!”

And that was it. The dam broke.

The first tear slipped down Y/N’s cheek before she could stop it, followed quickly by another. She clenched her jaw, her throat tightening as the sobs she was holding back threatened to escape.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice wobbling as she tried to maintain her composure.

But it was no use. Once the tears started, there was no stopping them.

Remus’s frustration evaporated the moment he saw her cry, replaced instantly by regret. “Y/N...” he said softly, reaching out to her.

“Don’t,” she said again, pulling away from him and wiping furiously at her cheeks. “I don’t need your sympathy right now, Remus.”

“But—”

“No!” she cut him off, her voice breaking. “You raised your voice, Remus. You never raise your voice. And now you want to comfort me? Forget it.”

Y/N stood abruptly, wrapping her arms around herself as if to shield her heart. She was too upset, too stubborn to let him close. Every part of her wanted to retreat, to hide away until the tears dried and the ache in her chest faded.

“I’m going to bed,” she said, her voice tight as she turned toward the stairs leading to the girls’ dormitory.

“Y/N, please don’t go like this,” Remus called after her, his voice gentle again.

But Y/N didn’t stop. If she turned around, she might crumble, and she wasn’t ready for that.

The dormitory was quiet and dark, but Y/N couldn’t sleep. She lay curled up under her blankets, staring at the ceiling as her emotions churned. She hated fighting with Remus. He was usually so patient, so kind. But tonight had been different, and she didn’t know how to bridge the gap between them.

She thought about his apology, about the hurt in his voice when he’d tried to explain himself. Maybe she had overreacted. Maybe. But that didn’t make her pain any less real.

Eventually, her exhaustion won out, and she drifted off into a restless sleep.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the pale light of dawn streaming through the curtains. Her head felt heavy, and her eyes were puffy from crying. She groaned softly, sitting up and hugging her knees to her chest.

There was a soft knock on the dormitory door.

“Y/N?”

It was Remus.

She froze, her heart leaping into her throat.

“I know you’re probably still upset with me,” he said through the door. “But... I made you something. Can I show you?”

Curiosity got the better of her. She slipped out of bed, tying her robe around her before opening the door just a crack.

Remus stood there, holding a steaming mug in one hand and a small, folded piece of parchment in the other. His expression was soft, his eyes full of remorse.

“I made you hot chocolate,” he said, holding out the mug. “And... I wrote this.”

He handed her the parchment, and she opened it slowly. Inside was a short note, written in his neat handwriting:

Dear Y/N, I’m sorry for last night. I should have been more careful with my words, and I shouldn’t have raised my voice. You mean the world to me, and the last thing I want is to hurt you. Please let me make it up to you. Love, Remus.

Y/N felt a lump rise in her throat as she read the note. She looked up at him, her eyes swimming with fresh tears—not of anger this time, but of gratitude.

“Remus,” she said softly.

“Can I come in?” he asked hesitantly.

She nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

They sat together on the edge of her bed, the hot chocolate warming her hands as they talked.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Remus said, his voice earnest. “Sometimes I forget that you feel things so deeply, and that’s one of the things I love about you. But I was thoughtless, and I’m sorry.”

“I overreacted,” Y/N admitted, her voice small. “I know you didn’t mean to embarrass me. I was just... tired and sensitive, and then when you raised your voice, it just hit me harder than it should have.”

“You have every right to feel the way you feel,” Remus said gently. “And I’ll do better to remember that.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart swelling with affection. “And I’ll try not to be so stubborn next time.”

“Deal,” he said with a small smile.

She leaned against him, letting his warmth and steady presence soothe her. For the first time since the argument, she felt at peace.

By the time they left the dormitory, the sun was fully up, casting a golden glow over the castle. Y/N and Remus walked hand in hand, the tension of the previous night replaced by a renewed sense of closeness.

“I was thinking,” Remus said as they made their way to the Great Hall, “maybe we could go for a walk later. Just the two of us. I hear the forest trail is beautiful in the snow.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “I’d like that.”

And as they stepped into the warmth of the Great Hall, Y/N realized that even the most challenging moments could bring them closer—because with Remus, every storm eventually gave way to sunshine.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One ThirtyNine

prompt from @mugloversonly @after-the-end-times @spectrum-spectre

It’s a little odd having a birthday banner hanging across the Christmas Tree, but everyone was pretty determined that this is Eddie’s birthday, and that’s a totally different thing to Christmas Eve. So everyone is here; Joyce even baked a proper birthday cake, and now they’re doing the thing where they bring out the cake and everyone sings.

It feels bittersweet to Steve; Eddie’s first birthday. It was a year ago today that Steve pulled Eddie out of the pool. A year ago today Eddie came back to him. He remembers vividly struggling to get Eddie up the stairs. Cleaning all the filth off him. How he’d looked, with no hair at all, all skin and bones, wobbling his way down the stairs. The noise he’d made the first time he ever tried bacon; the startled look on his face the first time he’d ever hiccuped.

Eddie stays where he’s been put, sitting at the head of dining room table, proudly wearing a Birthday party hat. Eddie’s been to a couple of birthdays this year, mainly for the kids, so he knows what’s coming. He looks fucking delighted at the sight of the cake, but he still checks, “I can blow out the candles?”

“Yeap,” Steve tells him.

“Make a wish first!” Joyce calls.

“I wish-”

“Nooooooo!” probably half a dozen people yell, “keep it a secret or it won’t come true,” Robin adds. Eddie stares hard at the candles for a long second, and then he looks up, finding Steve. Steve can see the moment Eddie settles on his wish.

He’s still staring at Steve when he blows them out.

“So...things with Eddie are good then?”

It’s a little uncomfortable, but all the stuff that happened feels like it was a long time ago now. Nancy has definitely been making an effort to build a fresh friendship, and Steve can’t fault her for it, not really. Steve finds Eddie, he can see him through the doorway into the kitchen, making something with Robin and Chrissy, “yeah everything is...great. Like really great.”

“I was...a little surprised, you know?”

“Yeah that’s...understandable,” and it is. Eddie is literally a creature from The Upside Down; he didn’t even look remotely human to begin with, half of him was literally a fish. Plus Steve’s never really been interested in guys before, but he guesses there must have always been a little something there for him to take to it so easily. Granted the circumstances forced his hand a little, and he’s still had a couple of things to work through but...he feels pretty good about it. Besides, Eddie still isn’t even really human, so it probably doesn’t exactly count. Not with his lack of nipples and his downstairs situation anyway; you can’t exactly try to stick Eddie into a category...he’s Eddie, a unique and perfect thing all his own.

In the kitchen, Robin spills something, Chrissy shrieks and Eddie manically dashes for a cloth, cackling. The chaos of it makes Steve smile at them; everyone is at least a few drinks deep, Steve’s sure.

“You really care about him though?” She presses a little. Nancy’s never been able to just let it go, especially if she doesn’t understand it. She always needs to know, Steve’s pretty sure it’s not a nosiness thing; more an understanding thing.

“Yeah, yeah I love him,” Steve tells her unabashed, it is the truth, “he loves me too.”

“You’re sure it’s not just...I mean you did rescue him, plus, where would he even go if you weren't together-”

“Are you suggesting Eddie has some sort of-of-of Stockholm syndrome?” Steve can’t help but laugh, a little incredulous at the suggestion.

“Well no, I just. Think you should both be sure-”

“How are you and Jon then?” Steve cuts her off. He chooses to lean into the spirit of Christmas and assume that Nancy’s concerns all come from a good place. Even so, it’s not a good intention Steve has to tolerate if he doesn’t want to. He raises his eyebrows at her, waiting.

Nancy draws breath, like she’s not done, but then clearly rethinks it and chooses her battle, Steve can see the moment when she decides not to pursue it, sipping her drink before she replies, “yeah, really good,” over her shoulder, Eddie, Chrissy, and Robs have their heads together, the conversation clearly turned serious.

“That’s good Nance,” Steve chooses to be the bigger man, “I’m just really glad you’re both happy,” he tells her pointedly. In the kitchen, Eddie’s turned to find Steve, watching him back. Steve can’t quite decipher the look on his face, but Robin’s clutching his arm, on her toes, speaking urgently to Eddie. She looks kind of panicked, which immediately worries Steve.

“Well, I mean, obviously I want you to be happy, I mean I’m glad, really glad it all worked out for you.”

Eddie has a look on his face that Steve’s pretty certain he’s never seen before. He can’t quite work out what it means other than...Eddie’s pissed. Like, really fucking angry. And he’s marching closer, shaking off both Robin and Chrissy in the process.

Steve has no clue what’s happening as Eddie approaches, pushing Steve away from Nancy to press him against the wall and then...kisses him. Steve has his eyes open, not sure what to make of Eddie’s rage, but he soon lets them slide closed. He melts against the wall. Eddie’s kissing him like he’s got something to prove. He’s almost bitey as he sucks at Steve’s lips, leaving little scrapes that don’t quite break the skin. The passion is surprising, but so fucking hot Steve leans into it fast, matching Eddie’s energy and he sucks on Eddie’s tongue, curling his fingers around Eddie’s hips to pull him closer, no longer wanting to stop to question Eddie’s motives.

Eddie pulls back, pink and flushed, an inch of space between them, panting for breath Eddie asks, “you and Nancy used to be together?”

“I-” Steve can’t help his gaze flicking side wards to Nancy, and then back to Eddie, Eddie’s eyes narrowing at the sight, something flashing in the depths, “yeah?” Steve confirms weakly.

Eddie presses closer, his claws pricking Steve’s skin through his clothes; Eddie’s never been possessive like this before, and Steve is...well they’ve had a lot of sex, and Eddie pressing himself against Steve like this, kissing him like that...Steve’s body is only reacting the way it always does, which is a little mortifying in a room full of people.

Eddie leans his face closer again, his hair brushing Steve’s forehead, his breath warm as he growls, “you had sex with her?”

“Eddie!” Steve splutters, but apparently even that is too much, Eddie has him by the wrist, not quite painful, but very harsh compared to Eddie’s usually gentle nature. Eddie turns, pulling Steve along and he...bares his teeth at Nancy, actually hissing at her on the way past.

“Eddie!” Steve starts again, shocked, this time a reprimand, “be nice!” That’s no way to behave, and Nancy is unnerved enough that she takes a big step back. Steve is dragged along behind Eddie, ending up locked into the downstairs bathroom together. Eddie pins him against the door with his body, kissing Steve soundly.

“Baby,” Steve starts, his words broken by kisses, “what’s gotten into you?”

Eddie just growls. It’s not a sound Steve’s ever heard before, and he can feel it, rumbling in Eddie’s body where their chests are pressed together, “need you.”

Eddie starts nipping at Steve’s throat, stinging kisses that makes Steve’s hips roll, looking for friction against Eddie’s thigh. His brain feels like it’s going a little mushy, Eddie’s being unusually forceful, and Steve’s vaguely aware that everyone is still out there and, probably, are now very aware that they’re shut in here together but...as Eddie’s questing fingers find the button on Steve’s jeans, he’s struggling to care about that stuff.

“We’ve got to be quiet,” Steve breathes out, a final token protest, giving in to what's about to happen. Eddie huffs dismissively, tugging down Steve’s jeans and underwear together, Steve angling his hips away from the door to help. Eddie abandons them there, bunched around Steve’s thighs, surging up for another possessive kiss. Eddie grabs Steve’s bare ass with both hands, his claws digging into the meat a little as he squeezes, pulling Steve against him.

“She not touch you again,” Eddie growls against Steve’s mouth, words choppy, “promise.”

“I...I promise baby, of course,” Eddie stares into Steve’s face, their warm breaths mingling as Eddie inspects him from inches away, like he’s searching for any hint of a lie, “no one else ever again, I swear it.”

Eddie nods once, sharply, before spitting into his palm and grabbing Steve's now, very hard cock. He had no idea he’d be into this, but possessive, bossy Eddie is lighting him up in a way he didn’t know he’d like, his brain turning to mush a little as Eddie touches him. He feels too warm, flushed and sweaty already, the world narrowed down to Eddie’s touch on him, hard and fast, intent on getting him off.

“And you,” Steve’s mouth is insisting before his brain catches up, he needs it, needs to make Eddie feel good too. Eddie doesn’t stop jerking him, but he does slow it down, leaning back a tiny bit, giving Steve space to reach past the bend of Eddie’s own arm to get to the button on his jeans.

Steve sees the fabric move. He can see Eddie’s cock desperately wriggling for freedom beneath his zipper. Eddie’s told him before that it gets real uncomfortable real fast, and Steve tuts quietly, “baby.”

Eddie’s cock forces it's way free before Steve even has the zipper half down, already having found it’s way through the slit in Eddie’s boxers, it rushes into Steve’s fingers, greeting him eagerly and tangling itself firmly there. Eddie groans, shuffling close again. The head of Eddie’s cock opens, setting sucking kisses on every part of Steve’s hand and fingers it can reach. They arrange themselves as Eddie’s hand speeds up again, “fuck, baby, yeah.” Steve’s cock is leaking, making Eddie’s hand slick, but Eddie still stops to spit again, landing the glob on the exposed head of Steve’s cock. It’s red already, and Eddie squeezes, forcing Steve’s foreskin up to roll back up and partially cover the swollen head.

Steve’s guts are tight already, the muscles in his ass and legs tensing, he can’t stop the shift of his own hips as he works his thumb in circles across the head of Eddie’s own cock. Eddie jacks him again, slow and so firm, forcing a massive dribble of pre come out of the head of Steve’s cock. Steve groans again, “baby, I’m gonna’-”

“Wait,” Eddie uses his free hand to push Steve’s hand off himself, letting his cock to wriggle free between them. It stands tall, searching, the black petals rippling.

Eddie angles Steve’s cock out, pulling the head down and towards himself, and Steve instantly knows what Eddies planning, “oh fuck baby, yes, yes please.” They’ve never done this before, but just the idea of it makes Steve hips shift, his balls going tight, the orgasm bubbling at the base of his cock, “please, now,” Steve vaguely aware that he’s whining, loud and desperate.

People can hear; he doesn’t give a fuck. He wants this.

Eddie’s cock latches to the head of Steve’s, the black petals stark against the dark pink spongy head. The fit is perfect, the slit of Steve’s cock, the head, being suckled and gently rubbed by all those little bumps, the sucking pulse feels like a mouth, the texture incredible. Eddie drags his hand upward, forcing Steve’s skin up again, his foreskin sliding over top of the petals. Eddie makes a choked noise, his free hand scrabbling again at the meat of Steve’s ass. Steve desperately locks his knees to stop himself from falling. The pulsing, sucking, pulling sensation is relentless.

Eddie moves his hand again, dragging Steve's foreskin back down, revealing the filthy sight of those jet black petals cupping the head of Steve's cock, the body of Eddie's cock writhing. Steve’s head thumps back against the door, his hips wriggling now, unable to stop himself moving in tiny little thrusts, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” Steve groans, “baby-”

Eddie leans up for a kiss. It’s messy, uncoordinated, both of them groaning and panting into each others mouths, and Steve cries out against Eddie’s lips as he comes. The pull is sharp, the stimulation on the head of his cock turning frantic as, just like with Steve’s spit on his cock, Steve’s come works to push Eddie into his own orgasm. Eddie accidentally catches Steve’s lip with his teeth, and the sting is delicious. His orgasm seems to go on forever, Eddie's cock suckling fiercely, and Eddie’s hand working him so perfectly.

Eventually, Eddie slumps forward onto Steve, Steve using his back to the door to keep them both up. “That was…” Steve starts, but doesn’t know where to go. He doesn’t know how to describe what just happened. It was maybe the best orgasm of Steve’s life.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, muffled where his face is smushed into Steve’s shoulder. The head of Steve’s dick is suddenly cold, and he figures Eddie’s dick has gone back in. They stand there for a few minutes, Steve rubbing Eddie’s back, gathering themselves. Eddie clears his throat, lifting his head so he can look Steve in the eye, “I’m sorry.”

Steve frowns, brain still a little flooded with happy chemicals, “what?”

“For before. I just...I found out about you and Nancy and I got...I got so angry. It,” Eddie makes a motion between them, a churning of his insides that he can’t express, “I’ve never felt like that before it was...like I hated her. And I needed you and I don’t understand-”

“You were jealous, baby?”

“I...yeah, it was horrible. And stupid- I didn’t – there’s no-” Eddie huffs, struggling for the words.

“How you feel doesn’t always make sense. There’s no...rules, you know.” Steve frowns, remembering, “should probably say sorry to Nancy though, you like, hissed at her which, kind of funny but still.”

Eddie looks a cross between horrified and mortified, “I don’t even remember.”

“Wow,” Steve can’t help being smug, “got it bad for me, huh?”

Eddie limply slaps at Steve’s chest, sighing through his nose, “shut up.”

Steve hums, “uh huh. We should get cleaned up.”

“Probably.”

They peel themselves apart, Steve leaning to grab for some tissue off the roll as Eddie starts to pull his pants down a little, but as Steve investigates, his finds his cock dry, “huh, where did it go?” He wipes up a little, the skin tacky with spit and precome, but otherwise everything is clean and dry, “uh...is my come on you? I can’t, uhm, find it?” He tucks himself away, pulling everything up so he can help Eddie.

“I don’ t think so?” Eddie replies, touching himself, his slit, the crease of his thighs, when Steve goes to wipe at him with the tissue, since Eddie usually makes a lot of come, there’s nothing, “I’m clean,” Eddie tells him.

Steve frowns, “did you come?”

“Yeah,” Eddie huffs, “I definitely, definitely did. That was…”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, “but you’re dry?”

“Yeah,” Eddie scissors his thighs together, something he normally does when he’s spreading all the jelly like come about, “nothing there.”

“This is weird, where'd it all go? And why haven’t you, you know?” Steve feels for himself, running two fingers gently along Eddie’s slit, pushing in to part him the tiniest bit, Eddie makes a breathy little noise as Steve pulls away, “you sure you came?”

“Steve,” Eddie replies flatly, pulling his pants up and buttoning them.

“Right right it’s just...weird, right?”

Eddie shrugs, “makes it easy?”

“Yeah...don’t look a gift horse in the mouth I guess, considering we now have to go out there and face everyone.”

Eddie grins, “I like that they know.”

“Of course you do,” Steve sighs, fixes his hair in the mirror, and opens the door.

It’s after midnight; Eddie’s birthday is officially over. All the kids have gone home with Hopper and Joyce, and before everyone else heads home, since it’s Christmas, they’re going to exchange gifts now.

Steve had been, mildly mortified after they came out of the bathroom, not really wanting to face Joyce's raised eyebrows or the girls giggling...Eddie however, has been strutting around like a proud peacock, so Steve hasn't been feeling too ashamed about the whole thing. He is however, glad of the distraction of the gifts.

All the gifts are stacked under the tree, and Steve has been voted to distribute. A lot of the labels have been made from cut up magazine letters so that the hand writing won’t be recognized; to Steve they vaguely look like ransom threats.

They go around the room, opening their gifts one at a time, trying to guess who got them. They mostly work it out. Steve isn’t that interested in his own; he’s more interested in what Eddie got. The box is actually kind of heavy, and it’s pretty big.

Eddie opens it happily, pulling out a record that Steve knows he’s wanted for ages. And then...a denim jacket with no sleeves that Steve knows he was eyeing at the thrift store. Steve watches with mounting suspicion as Eddie pulls out a book he's talked about. The box, now Steve’s thinking about it, is wrapped with very familiar wrapping paper.

“Eddie, you got loads, they definitely didn’t stay on budget. Who got Eddie? Steve, was it you?”

“No, no it wasn’t me,” Steve quietly chuckles to himself. He half listens as Robin goes around the room, and every single person denies getting Eddie.

“Whoever pulled your name must know you pretty well, huh Baby? They got you exactly what you wanted.”

“Yup,” Eddie grins happily.

“Steve, come on, it must have been you, it wasn’t any of us.”

Steve just shakes his head in denial before turning back to Eddie, “baby...it’s kind of against the rules to pull your own name.”

Eddie frowns, “no it isn’t,” the whole room erupts into laughter around them.

Steve tries to clear up some of the aftermath, but it’s nearly two in the morning and he can’t be fucked really. He collapses on the couch, finishing his now warm flat soda. He can hear Eddie pottering, “we should go to bed!” Steve calls. He’s not loud, not much above speaking volume really, but he knows Eddie will hear him.

“Can we do our gifts now?” Eddie asks from the doorway.

“Sure Baby, if you want to. We’re going to be out most of the day tomorrow anyway,” they’re spending Christmas with the Hopper-Byers brigade, and Steve is kind of looking forward to it. Eddie’s second ever Christmas.

Steve heads off to his hiding place in one of the spare rooms to get Eddie’s gifts, Eddie does the same; Steve knows his are stashed out in the utility.

He’s been pretending not to know.

“Okay, me first,” Eddie says, sitting and pulling out what Steve knows is the record. Steve eyes the gift he has from Eddie; just the one, but it’s fairly big looking. Square. Steve has no idea what it could be.

Eddie likes the record; he absolutely loves the book of Metallica tabs and almost leaves to get his guitar right there and then, but Steve stops him, “tomorrow baby. We really need to sleep after this.”

Eddie laughs at himself and his own excitement, agreeing. When he opens his final gift, the guitar pick necklace, he puts it on immediately and swears he loves it so much he’s never going to take if off. Steve’s glad to hear it, even if it makes him feel, momentarily, a little weirdly possessive.

“Okay, this first,” Eddie pulls over the box, “Chrissy helped me,” he admits as Steve unwraps it, carefully pulling out the frame inside. It’s wrapped in soft packing paper, and Steve pulls that away to reveal his crown. It’s been artfully arranged behind the glass, all dried now, the tufts of grasses stand tall, still twined up with all the little flowers that Eddie had included. Clearly someone spent a very long time carefully setting it out, and it looks beautiful. Steve had carefully stored it away in a shoebox, so he hadn't even noticed it was gone. He’s...touched, by the memory of them in the woods around Hopper’s cabin. Eddie had told Steve he loved him for the first time not long after.

“Thank you...it’s so thoughtful. Thank you. I can hang this up and remember it forever, I love it.” Eddie smiles, slipping off the couch to kneel in front of Steve. Steve sets the frame down.

Eddie pulls a little velvet box out of his pocket, “I didn’t understand what it meant,” he starts slowly, “when you put this on me,” he lifts his left hand, rubbing at the ring with his thumb. “I didn’t know what being engaged was, or weddings or...any of it. I didn’t know, but you loved me anyway, and I’ve never taken it off,” Steve swallows thickly, he knows, he knows in his bones where this is going, but he lets Eddie speak. If Eddie’s saying so may words in one go, it means he’s really thought about, and Steve won’t interrupt him. “But I know now. I understand all of it, and I know I’m a guy, and...we can’t get married, but I...wanted to show you that I know. I know now, and I love you too.”

Eddie opens the box, it’s a simple silver band, thicker than Eddie’s but still, it matches. Steve isn’t sure he’d be able to speak, his eyes already feel wet, so he silently holds his hand out for Eddie to slide the ring on; it fits perfectly.

Steve feels like he’ll crack open if he tries to talk about what he feels right now, it’s too big, too much, “you measured my finger didn’t you. Before the mall? So sneaky.”

Eddie nods, his own eyes looking suspiciously misty, smiling and biting at his lip, clearly nervous, “do you like it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I love it, thank you. I love you.”

Eddie smiles, sitting up for a kiss, “love you, too.”

[corseque]

Hi! I've been following you for ages for your great Solas takes and immaculate taste in sad men. I've been thinking about this because I have a Dragon Age Inquisitor who is an abomination, what do you think Solas would think about abominations/do you recall him ever talking about them? Both Anders/Justice and the more demonic unwilling variety.

Personally I would assume he'd be initially horrified because that might seem like a violation of consent for both parties, but after learning more about them he might grow more curious/respect actual unions a mage might have as an abomination. I am basically just workshopping an OC and hitting a wall and you're the local Solas sage, so... XO

Oh, that's so nice..

Solas is more chill with willing abominations than you might think. And he seems to know all about it already. In Jaws of Hakkon, in the quest called “In Exile” you meet a young mage named Sigrid Gulsdotten who had been willingly possessed by a friendly spirit in order to teach her magic. Which is what the Avvar do culturally to make mages safer.

Sigrid was getting old enough that it was time for her and the spirit to part ways, but she didn’t want to give it up because she didn’t want to lose the spirit as a friend/confidant. Solas has a surprising amount to say in Jaws of Hakkon in general about how the Avvar interact with and relate to spirits, and he talks a lot in this quest too. He is very gentle with her. Let me look up exactly what he says. When you find clues about the mage's failed ritual to part with her spirit, Solas says (a mage in your party always speaks here):

"Residual magic. Someone was casting a spell, and was interrupted. Or stopped."

"If a mage was performing a ritual to part with a spirit, she may have needed to replenish her strength."

Then later, when you talk to her, the conversation goes like this:

Sigrid: "I could not do it! I have no close companions in the hold! No kin! I cannot lose my only friend!"

Inquisitor: "You're friends with this… spirit?"

Sigrid: "It has taught me with patience and kindness since I was a child, frightened of the fire I could suddenly call down."

Solas: "A great comfort. But you are no longer a child."

Sigrid: "Some mages need the help of a god all their lives."

Solas: "Very well. Perhaps, however, ask yourself if it is help you need, or companionship."

Sigrid: "I do not wish to lose the one who loves me."

Here is a playthrough that has this dialogue:

At the end of the quest, if you recruit Sigrid for the Inquisition, Varric, Sera, Vivienne, Iron Bull and Cassandra have strong negative feelings about it, while Cole approves. Solas doesn't seem to approve or disapprove, as far as I can tell. He doesn't say anything, at least. When talking to the Shaman about this Avvar practice, you get this conversation:

Inquisitor: "You let spirits possess your mages on purpose?"

Shaman: "What better teacher than one woven from magic? The spirits in the hold have helped us in this way for hundreds of years. Once a mage masters their powers, their teacher departs, duty ended. Unless the mage is weak."

Inquisitor: "What happens to these "weak" mages?"

Shaman: "Their teachers stay with them and the other gods watch them both, so neither soul turns sick. If one does sicken, or the mage stands in risk of harming the hold… One day, they do not wake in their bed. It is very sad. It is what must be done."

Solas: "It is kinder than what happens in many mage Circles."

So Solas seems to understand the reality that abominations become corrupted more easily, and that it's probably best for abominations to separate willingly.

Solas offers to separate Lucanis and Spite, and says their forceful combination was "a crime against [them] both" so I can only assume that it's the willingness factor that he gets upset by, along with him always being upset at the thought of spirits becoming corrupted.

[margeoww]

Toto Wolff is in a bad mood and bumps into a girl who spills coffee over him and he goes ballistic on her, only to find her waiting in his office later that day and realising that she is his new assistant. And he apologises and accidentally reveals that he thinks she’s pretty.

Spilled Coffee

back to my main masterlist

toto wolff masterlist

pairing: toto wolff x assistant!reader

summary: Toto Wolff, in a foul mood, bumps into a woman who spills coffee on him. After a heated exchange, he discovers that she’s his new assistant. Unapologetically bold and confident, she challenges Toto in ways he didn’t expect, forcing him to rethink his first impression.

warnings: tense initial interactions, light humor.

Toto Wolff’s day was, in a word, terrible. Meetings had dragged on endlessly, strategy discussions had gone nowhere, and the pressure of an underperforming car was taking its toll. By the time he left the conference room, his patience was running on fumes.

All he wanted was a cup of coffee to pull himself together before tackling the mountain of paperwork waiting in his office. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

As he rounded the corner of the hallway, he collided with someone moving at an equally brisk pace.

A gasp escaped from the other party, and before Toto could react, a wave of hot coffee splashed across his tailored suit.

—What the hell! —Toto barked, taking a step back, glaring down at the mess. His dark suit was stained, the sticky liquid seeping into the fabric.

—Oh, fantastic. —a voice responded sharply. —This is just what I needed.

Toto’s head snapped up at the tone. He was met with a pair of defiant eyes glaring right back at him. The woman standing before him wasn’t apologizing; in fact, she seemed just as annoyed as he was.

—Excuse me? —Toto said, his tone sharp and cutting. —You just ruined a suit worth more than your monthly salary.

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. —Maybe if you watched where you were going, this wouldn’t have happened. But sure, blame the person holding the coffee instead of the one charging through the hallway like a freight train.

Toto blinked, momentarily stunned by her boldness. Most people would have been tripping over themselves to apologize, but not her.

—Do you even know who I am? —he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Her lips twitched into a dry smile. —Oh, I know exactly who you are. Toto Wolff, the team principal of Mercedes-AMG Petronas, right? Well, congratulations. Today, you’re also the guy who doesn’t look where he’s going.

Toto’s jaw clenched, his irritation boiling over. —You-

—You’re welcome for the coffee, by the way —she cut him off, brushing past him with a pointed look. —Consider it a wake-up call..

Toto stood there, speechless, as she walked away.

Later That Day

Toto couldn’t shake the incident. As much as he hated to admit it, her sharp wit and unapologetic attitude had left an impression. Most people didn’t dare speak to him that way, and it gnawed at him.

When he finally returned to his office, he hoped to bury himself in work and forget the whole thing. But as he stepped inside, he stopped short.

Sitting at his desk, flipping through a folder, was the same woman from earlier.

She glanced up as the door opened, her expression neutral. —Oh, you’re back.

—What are you doing here? —Toto demanded, his voice laced with irritation.

She closed the folder and stood, offering a polite but firm smile. —I’m your new assistant.

Toto stared at her, his mind racing to catch up. —You’re—what?

—Your assistant —she repeated. —Surprise.

For the first time in a long while, Toto was at a loss for words. —No one informed me of this.

—Well, I was informed —she said, leaning against the desk casually. —And here I am.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to suppress the wave of embarrassment washing over him. —Look, about earlier—

She held up a hand, cutting him off. —Don’t bother. I’m not fragile, Mr. Wolff. You were rude, I was rude back. Let’s call it even.

Her bluntness caught him off guard again. Most people tiptoed around him, afraid to upset the boss. But she wasn’t afraid, and it was… refreshing.

—I owe you an apology —Toto said after a pause, his tone more measured. —I was out of line.

She studied him for a moment before nodding. —Accepted. Now, are we done with the awkward apologies, or do you have more to add?

Toto almost smiled. Almost. —You’re… direct.

—Is that a problem?

—No. —he said quickly. —It’s… effective.

As she turned back to his desk, her movements fluid and confident, Toto muttered, almost to himself, —You’re quite pretty when you’re not yelling at me.

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

She froze, glancing back at him with a sharp look. —Excuse me?

Toto’s eyes widened slightly, realizing what he’d said. His ears turned red, a rare show of embarrassment for the usually composed team principal. —I- what I meant was—

She tilted her head, arms crossed. —Are you complimenting me, Mr. Wolff?

Toto cleared his throat, struggling to regain his composure. —It was just an observation. A poor choice of words, perhaps.

Her lips twitched into a smirk, her confidence unwavering. —Noted. For the record, you’re a bit easier to deal with when you’re flustered.

Toto blinked, caught off guard again. She was a force to be reckoned with, and he wasn’t sure if he should be annoyed or impressed.

—I’ll keep that in mind. —he said, his voice softer this time.

She turned back to her work, a quiet laugh escaping her. Toto watched her for a moment longer, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Maybe this wasn’t the worst first day after all.

[highbabyofthenightcourt]

A little winter solstice story:

Feyre

The townhouse was quiet now, the remnants of the Winter Solstice celebration still lingering in the air—pine and cinnamon, the faint scent of wine. Rhys was upstairs, still sprawled on the bed we’d just shared, his hair mussed, his lips still swollen from our kisses. But passion made for thirst, and I’d slipped out, intending to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen.

As I padded down the stairs, the faint hum of voices drifted to me. I froze, instantly recognizing them: Elain’s soft, melodic tone and Azriel’s deep, gravelly murmur.

Curious—and unable to help myself—I summoned a spell to silence my movements and crept closer. Behind the archway of the kitchen, I peered into the dimly lit living room.

They sat on the couch, angled toward one another, illuminated only by a few faelights drifting lazily above. Elain had her legs tucked beneath her, a knitted blanket draped over her lap. Azriel was leaning forward, his forearms resting on his thighs, his shadows fainter than usual around him. A mug of something steamed in his scarred hands.

“…So you’re saying,” Elain whispered, a small, incredulous smile tugging at her lips, “that you’ve never baked anything before? Not even once?”

Azriel shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Baking isn’t exactly useful in espionage.”

Elain laughed softly, the sound warm and light, and my chest ached at how seldom I heard her laugh like that these days. Azriel’s gaze remained steady on her, his lips curving just slightly more at her amusement.

“Well,” Elain said, her voice turning playful, “maybe you should try. You could bake for the next family dinner. I’d even let you use my kitchen.”

Azriel raised a brow, his tone dry. “You’re assuming I wouldn’t burn it down.”

Her laugh came again, wrinkling the corners of her big brown eyes. “You wouldn’t. You’re too careful for that.”

Something flickered in his expression at her words, a tenderness that had my heart softening. For a while, he just sat there, tilting his head slightly as if studying her.

Whether Elain noticed the intensity with which the shadowsinger was looking at her, I didn’t know. She spoke playfully, “You had three servings of food tonight. It made all the hours spent making it worthwhile.”

The words reminded me of a soup in a cabin. The thought brought a warmth to my chest. Elain would likely make her mate an entire feast if she were to accept the bond. Though considering who her mate was, I was not sure if that would ever happen.

Azriel’s expression seemed to brighten in a way i only saw around my sister. He said, in an attempt to lighten the moment, “I still don’t understand how you managed to bake all those biscuits without burning a single one. Cassian once tried and nearly set the house on fire.”

Elain giggled, a sound so light it seemed to make the room warmer. “Because Cassian doesn’t follow instructions. He thinks he can scare anything into submission—even pastries.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Azriel’s lips twitched. “You’re not wrong. He did try to fight the whisk last time.”

Elain’s laugh carried around the room, her eyes sparkling. “He would. But maybe I’ll teach him.”

There was a beat of silence before my sister added, “I don’t understand how you do it,” a smile tugging at her lips. “You make it look so easy.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed slightly. “Do what?”

“Disappear,” she said, her voice soft but teasing. “One moment, you’re here, and the next, you’re just… gone. It’s maddening.”

Azriel chuckled, low and warm. “It’s a skill which took me centuries to perfect.”

Elain leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “And here I thought you were just avoiding me.”

Azriel’s hand stilled on his mug. For a moment, he said nothing. But then he looked at her, and there was something so raw, so unguarded in his expression that it made my breath catch.

“I would never avoid you, Elain.” His voice was quiet, steady. “If I’ve been distant, it’s because…I thought it was what you needed from me.”

Elain’s lips parted slightly, as if the words surprised her. Then she said—soft, genuine: “What I need is for everyone to stop assuming they know what’s best for me.”

Azriel blinked, and for the first time in a long while, I saw him falter. “I did not mean to—”

“I know,” she interrupted, her tone lightening. “But for someone so skilled at reading people, you sometimes horrendously misread me.”

Azriel’s lips twitched, a hint of a smile breaking through. “Is that so?”

“It is,” Elain said firmly, though the glimmer in her eyes betrayed her amusement. “But don’t worry. I’m patient.”

Azriel shook his head, the faintest laugh escaping him. “Thank you.”

Elain answered in mock pride, “You’re most welcome.”

Azriel remained quiet, his gaze on her, as if he was memorizing every detail of her face. His shadows had retreated into nothingness. They had always seemed to fade away when he was around her. As if, in answer to her light.

Watching the two of them, my heart warmed. They deserved this—the chance to simply exist in each other’s company without the weight of expectations or fear of judgment.

Azriel leaned back, his gaze still fixed on Elain. “Did you enjoy tonight?”

Elain’s smile grew. “I did. Though Cassian bursting into song was definitely unexpected.”

Azriel snorted. “You would think in the centuries he has been alive, he would have grown tolerant to drinking.”

“And Mor,” Elain added, laughter bubbling in her voice, “trying to convince Amren to wear a sweater. I thought Amren might actually bite her.”

Azriel chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “I would’ve paid to see that.”

It was rare to see Elain so at ease, so… happy. And Azriel—my quiet, brooding friend—looked lighter too, as if her presence had chased away some of the darkness that clung to him.

I lingered a moment longer, then turned away, letting them have their privacy. As I climbed back up the stairs, the warmth of the firelight and the sound of their laughter stayed with me.

For tonight, at least, they had found a moment of their own. And I was glad for it.

Happy solstice, guys <3

[fizzie-frog]

Blitzø: core self, trauma and healing (part two)

This is a continuation of my previous post. Thanks to Tumblr limitations, I had to split it into different parts (trust me, I wish I could've made it just one big post).

PART ONE

This might be long...

He tried to waddle through the trauma of existing as someone as self-loathing as himself.

He denied;

“I didn’t do anything, it was an accident!”

He isolated;

He minimized, often with humour;

“Uh-oh, looks like it sucked all the fun outta you!”

He avoided being vulnerable;

“I DID CARE!”

And felt awkward/uncomfortable when he did end up spilling out his emotions;

“Weeeeeeeell, fuck you!”

Suppressed his emotions;

… Cause they’re blinding and suffocating, and it’s easier to avoid them.

He hated himself and didn’t believe there is anything good about him, despite having changed lives for the better;

And he dipped if he got too close (everything literally burnt down when he tried getting closer, didn’t it);

He often didn’t believe others would hold any endearment for him, even taking it as a joke;

“I destroy everything, everyo— I make everyone’s lives worse!”

And that’s it, really. He believes he’s a pest, a virus, something that can only do harm. While his core self still showed itself from time to time, he was blinded with the trauma of all his wrongdoings. All the people he’s hurt and that, in a self-fulfilling prophecy, made him hurt even more.

Everything he couldn’t look straight in the eye. The death of his mother, caused by him. The hurt of his friend, caused by him. The hurt he’s caused around himself. He couldn’t bear see it, knowing it would break him down. That’s why he avoided it. Thinking about what happened, what he did is suffocating. But that also blinded him from seeing his good deeds too. As usual, we’re more likely to see the negative over the positive.

Blitz picked himself up by the bootstraps as they say, but it didn’t help him, not within himself. So what did help?

I think it started in Oops…

He didn’t wanna be vulnerable, but after so much hurt and things left unsaid, it spilled. It all spilled out and made him into a crying mess right in front of Fizz, cause as much as he tried to act unbothered, he did care (as he said in the episode). He was vulnerable, he explained to Fizz exactly what happened instead of holding it in anymore, he apologized to Fizz. They both learnt what happened.

And the kicker? It paid off! Blitz was finally vulnerable to someone, his former best friend, and Fizz forgave him. He got his dear friend back for this. Not only did he win someone he loves back, but also this came as a punch to those unhealthy beliefs, cause he was vulnerable and it didn’t turn out bad.

We have Ghostfuckers.

After being plagued by his memories, Millie came to his aid. She not only reminded him of a time he actually changed her life for the better, but also confirmed that he indeed cares for Blitz.

Then the moment of truth…

Can’t get anymore raw than the moment when his death was imminent. It’s often in times like this that we people’s raw emotions.

In a moment when even Loona was tearing up at the thought of losing Blitz. When all his friends were already mourning him, crying for him as he was about to lose his life.

And in that moment, when he was sure he was gonna die, he could finally say it…

“I love you, guys”

There was nothing to be lost. He was gonna die and the last thing he knew was that his friends were crying for him, but were safe. He could die happy.

Of course though, he didn’t, as we know. Once he was outside the court room, he was pulled in a sobbing hug by his friends and daughter that were relieved he was okay. Even further proof of being loved. Despite the horrible circumstances, it must be so healing to his heart to have that.

True, unfiltered confirmation of being loved. He is loved. The possibility of someone you love dying shakes you. Loona realized it wasn’t worth pretending anymore - life is so short, especially for low class hellborns.

And probably so did Blitz. He was finally in a happy place. His daughter loved him, his friends loved him. Stolas loved him.

He is loved.

So in the Sinsmas episode, we started seeing so much more of who he once was.

He was goofy,

Attentive,

Listening,

Supportive,

Cheerful,

Encouraging,

Patient,

He looked at potential future,

He was selfless,

Protective,

Kind,

Even romantic.

And he was happy…

That’s not to say he’s completely healed. I think you can never truly heal from something like this, especially the magnitude of what Blitz went through in his life, and his issues can resurface.

But at this point in time, he’s finally in a happy place. He was affirmed, comforted and reassured. He’s content, and that’s the most healed he can be.

His core self is finally seeing the light of day. He is more himself than he’s ever been since that day.

So that was it. I’m sorry if I was a bit messy some places; as mentioned, life is kind of a struggle. Sometimes I feel like my brain is deteriorating or something, lmao, but I wanted to put this together cause I feel like Blitz has such a good, painfully relatable (to me anyway) arc and he’s such a complex character.

My love for Fizz remains the biggest, but I couldn’t deny the love I have for Blitz. He’s just such a good character with such good development. Selfish yet selfless, careful yet careless… So many dimensions.

If you made it this far, thank you! <3

[kezdispenser]

Breaking Character pt10/?

Summary: You are the new cast member of 'The Boys' and you play Butcher's cousin and Soldier Boy's new love interest 'Solene'. You're introduced to the cast by the director at a dinner and you're seated next to Karl and Jensen to "bond".

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Warnings: language, fluff, smut maybe

The convention hall was buzzing with excitement, the kind of energy that only passionate fans could generate. Being on stage with the rest of The Boys cast was always a mix of fun and chaos—everyone cracking jokes, answering fan questions, and teasing each other relentlessly.

Jensen was in his element, as usual, commanding the room with his charm and wit. He had the fans eating out of the palm of his hand, flashing that megawatt smile that made my stomach flip every damn time.

Then it happened.

A fan stood up, their face flushed with nervous excitement as they clutched the mic. “Hi, um, my question is for Y/N and Jensen. You guys have amazing chemistry on screen, and I was just wondering…” They trailed off, their grin widening as the crowd started murmuring excitedly. “Are you two dating in real life?”

The room erupted in cheers and whistles, and I felt my heart lurch in my chest. I could practically feel the weight of thousands of eyes on me.

Jensen turned to me, his expression light and teasing. “Well, Y/N?” he said with a smirk. “What do you think?”

The crowd roared with laughter, and I felt my pulse spike. My manager’s words from earlier echoed in my head.

“Y/N, you need to shut that shit down. Don’t confirm anything, don’t give them anything to speculate about. This relationship staying private is better for both of your careers. Trust me.”

I forced a laugh, hoping it sounded natural. “No, we’re not together. We’re just really close friends,” I said, the lie burning on my tongue.

The crowd seemed to accept the answer, moving on to the next question, but I couldn’t even focus. My chest felt tight, and when I glanced at Jensen, his jaw was clenched, his smile noticeably strained.

The ride back to the hotel was silent. Unbearably so. Jensen barely looked at me, his usual warmth replaced with a cold, tense energy that made my stomach churn.

Once we were inside the suite, he turned to me, his expression stormy. “What the fuck was that?”

I blinked, trying to play dumb. “What was what?”

“Don’t,” he snapped, his voice low but sharp. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. The ‘just friends’ bullshit.”

I sighed, dropping my bag onto the couch. “Jensen, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal?” he repeated, his voice rising. “You just denied our entire fucking relationship in front of a room full of people.”

“I didn’t deny it,” I argued weakly.

“Oh, really? Because from where I was standing, it sure as hell sounded like you did.”

I crossed my arms, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “What did you expect me to say? That we’re dating? In front of everyone?”

“Yes!” he shot back without hesitation. “That’s exactly what I expected.”

“Well, I couldn’t,” I said, my voice cracking slightly.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because my manager told me to shut it down!” I finally admitted, throwing my hands in the air.

Jensen froze, his brows furrowing in disbelief. “Your manager?”

“Yes, my manager,” I said, my voice trembling with anger. “She said it was better for both of our careers if we kept things private. That confirming anything would just cause more drama and speculation.”

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “So you let her call the shots on our relationship? Is that it?”

“It’s not like that, Jensen,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Then what the fuck is it like, Y/N?” he demanded, stepping closer. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re embarrassed to be with me.”

“That’s not true,” I said, my throat tightening.

“Then why the hell didn’t you tell me about this?” His voice softened slightly, but the hurt in his eyes cut deeper than his anger ever could. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“Because I didn’t want to fight!” I snapped, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “I didn’t want to argue with you, okay? I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“The right thing for who?” he asked quietly. “Because it sure as fuck wasn’t for us.”

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

“I’m not mad that you’re scared,” he said after a long silence, his voice heavy with emotion. “I get it. But I can’t fucking do this if you’re not willing to fight for us, Y/N.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. “I am fighting,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

“Are you?” he asked, his tone gentle but firm. “Because it doesn’t feel like it.”

The weight of his words settled over me, suffocating and inescapable.

“I need some air,” he said finally, grabbing his jacket and keys.

“Jensen, wait—”

“I’ll see you later,” he said, cutting me off before walking out the door.

The silence he left behind was deafening.

Jensen’s POV

The bar was dark, noisy, and just what I needed to drown out the bullshit swirling in my head. I’d barely looked at the name of the place before walking in—just parked my car, shoved my hands in my pockets, and went straight for the bar.

One whiskey turned into two. Two turned into three. But no matter how much I drank, I couldn’t shake the way Y/N’s words had hit me.

“We’re just friends.”

The crowd had cheered like it was the best news they’d heard all day, but I’d felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. How the fuck could she stand up there and say that? After everything we’d been through, everything we were?

My phone buzzed on the bar beside me, Jared’s name lighting up the screen. I ignored it the first time, but he was persistent. By the third call, I sighed, picking it up.

“What?” I grumbled into the phone, my voice rough from the whiskey and the frustration.

“Well, hello to you too, Sunshine,” Jared said, his voice light, but I could hear the concern underneath. “Where are you?”

“None of your business.”

“Oh, it’s my business when you’re clearly spiraling,” he said, not missing a beat. “Come on, man. Talk to me.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I’m at some bar. Don’t even know the name of it. Just needed to get the fuck out of my head for a bit.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Jared said. “Gen told me what happened at the panel.”

“Of course, she did,” I muttered.

“Look, I’m not calling to rub salt in the wound,” he said, his tone softer now. “But you sitting in some random bar isn’t gonna fix shit.”

I took another sip of my drink, the burn doing little to ease the knot in my chest. “What am I supposed to do, Jared? Huh? She fucking lied, man. To everyone.”

“She didn’t lie,” he corrected gently. “She was scared. There’s a difference.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Scared of what? That people will know we’re together? That it might actually mean something?”

“Probably all of the above,” Jared said honestly. “And maybe she was scared of what you’d think if she told you about her manager’s advice.”

“That’s bullshit,” I snapped, slamming my glass down a little harder than I intended. “If she doesn’t trust me enough to talk to me, then what the fuck are we even doing?”

Jared was silent for a moment, and I could almost see him running his hand over his face the way he did when he was trying to choose his words carefully. “Look, man, I get it. You’re hurt. And you have every right to be. But if you love her—and I think you do—you gotta talk to her.”

I shook my head, the word love hitting me like a freight train. “What if talking isn’t enough? What if I’m the only one who gives a shit?”

“You don’t really believe that,” Jared said quietly. “You know she cares. She’s just got her own demons, same as the rest of us.”

I stared at my empty glass, Jared’s words sinking in. He wasn’t wrong. I knew Y/N cared. I saw it in the way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. Felt it in the way she held my hand when we were alone. But this… this felt like a fucking betrayal.

“Think about it, Jensen,” Jared said, breaking the silence. “What’s worse: fighting for her or losing her?”

I closed my eyes, Jared’s question cutting deeper than I expected. “Fuck you for making sense.”

He chuckled softly. “It’s a gift. Now go home, man. Sleep it off. Tomorrow, you fix this shit.”

“Yeah,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

“Call me if you need me,” he added. “And don’t do anything stupid.”

“Too late for that,” I muttered before hanging up.

The bar felt like a refuge and a trap all at once. One drink turned into two, then three. The buzz in my head did little to quiet the storm brewing inside me. Jared’s voice kept playing on a loop: What’s worse: fighting for her or losing her?

What the hell did he know? Sitting on his high horse with his perfect life and perfect marriage. My grip on the glass tightened, knuckles white, as I knocked back another whiskey.

“Another,” I slurred to the bartender, who gave me a look but poured anyway.

The amber liquid burned its way down, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the image of her face earlier. That forced smile when she denied us—denied me—in front of thousands of people. Like I was some dirty little secret.

By the time I stumbled back to the hotel, my head was spinning. I fumbled with the key card, swearing under my breath when it took three tries to finally get the damn door open.

She was sitting on the bed, scrolling through her phone. When her eyes lifted to meet mine, there was that look—the same one she gave me when she thought I wouldn’t notice her biting her lip to stop the tears.

“You’re drunk,” she said flatly, setting her phone down.

“No shit,” I snapped, slamming the door behind me. “What, you’re gonna deny that too? Add it to the list?”

Her brows furrowed, confusion mixing with anger. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb, Y/N.” I spat her name like it was venom. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. That little stunt you pulled today. ‘No, we’re not together,’” I mocked in a high-pitched tone. “Was that fun for you? Did it make you feel powerful?”

Her face fell, and for a split second, I regretted it. But the whiskey-fueled rage wouldn’t let me stop.

“I don’t owe the entire world our business, Jensen,” she snapped back, standing up. “And I definitely don’t owe you an explanation right now, especially when you’re like this.”

I laughed bitterly, running a hand through my hair. “Right. Of course. Because why would I matter? Why would we matter? Gotta keep up that perfect little image, huh? Don’t wanna tarnish your precious reputation with the truth.”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who spent years hiding every goddamn thing about his life!” she shot back, stepping closer. “You think this is easy for me? You think I’m doing this for fun?”

“Feels like it,” I muttered, looking away.

She threw her hands in the air, exasperated. “You’re impossible. I can’t do this right now.”

“Of course you can’t,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Run away. That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?”

Her eyes widened, hurt flashing across her face before she turned on her heel. “Go to hell, Jensen.”

The door to the bedroom slammed shut, leaving me alone in the deafening silence. I sank onto the couch, my head in my hands.

What the fuck was I doing?

Y/N's POV

I slammed the bedroom door behind me, the sound echoing in my ears as tears blurred my vision. My chest felt tight, my breathing uneven, and I just needed to get the hell out of that room. Jensen’s words���his tone, his anger—were like a knife twisting in my gut.

As I wiped my face, I stumbled into the hallway, unsure where I was even going. I just needed space, air, anything to stop the ache in my chest. That’s when I heard Karl’s voice.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s this?”

I blinked up at him, trying to compose myself, but the concern on his face only made the tears spill faster.

“Y/N,” he said softly, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere quiet.”

I nodded, too choked up to speak, and followed him down the hall to his room. He opened the door, gesturing for me to sit on the couch, while he grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge.

“Here,” he said, handing it to me as he sat beside me. “What the hell happened?”

I took a shaky sip, trying to gather my thoughts. “Jensen,” I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

Karl let out a low sigh, leaning back against the couch. “I figured as much. You two have been... tense lately.”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “It’s just... the con today. My manager told me to deny that we’re together, and I—” My voice broke as fresh tears spilled over. “I didn’t tell him about it. He found out on stage, and now he thinks I don’t care about us.”

Karl frowned, his brows knitting together. “That’s bullshit. You’ve done nothing but care about that man since day one. Jensen’s just—” He paused, rubbing a hand over his face. “He’s Jensen. He feels everything so damn deeply, and sometimes it comes out the wrong way.”

I laughed bitterly. “Well, it came out loud and clear tonight.”

Karl gave me a look, his blue eyes softening. “Y/N, he loves you. That’s not up for debate. But he’s a stubborn son of a bitch, and he’s probably sitting in that room right now, kicking himself for what he said.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, Karl. This just feels... heavy. Like maybe we weren’t ready for all this.”

“Bullshit,” Karl said firmly. “You’re more than ready. Both of you. Look, relationships aren’t easy, especially in this industry. But if anyone can make it work, it’s you two.”

I bit my lip, the weight of his words sinking in. “You really think so?”

He smiled, patting my knee. “I know so. But you’re both gonna need to talk it out when he’s sober. No running, no shutting down. Just lay it all out there.”

I nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Thanks, Karl. I mean it.”

“Anytime, kid,” he said with a wink. “Now, get some sleep. You’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

Karl pulled me into a tight hug as I stood to leave, his hand patting my back reassuringly. “You’ve got this, Y/N. Just take it one step at a time,” he said softly.

I buried my face in his shoulder for a moment, grateful for his warmth and understanding. “Thank you, Karl,” I murmured, my voice still shaky.

The knock at the door startled both of us. Karl stepped back, frowning as he headed to answer it.

When the door swung open, there stood Jensen, his hair disheveled and his eyes wild. He looked past Karl and locked eyes with me, his expression twisting into something that made my stomach drop.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he said, his voice low and sharp.

I froze, completely caught off guard. “Jensen, what—”

“You’ve been in here with him this whole time?” he snapped, stepping into the room. His gaze darted between me and Karl, anger blazing in his eyes. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, worried out of my goddamn mind, and you’re here? Alone? With Karl?”

Karl’s jaw tightened as he crossed his arms, stepping protectively in front of me. “Watch your tone, mate. Nothing’s going on here, and you know it.”

“Do I?” Jensen shot back, his voice rising. “Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell doesn’t look that way.”

“Jensen, stop,” I said, my voice trembling as I stepped forward. “This isn’t what you think.”

“Oh, it’s not?” he said bitterly, his eyes narrowing. “Then why the fuck were you in here, crying on his shoulder, instead of talking to me?”

“Because you were drunk and yelling at me!” I shot back, my frustration boiling over. “I needed space, and Karl was there for me. That’s all this is.”

Karl stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. “She’s telling the truth, Jensen. Maybe if you stopped jumping to conclusions for five seconds, you’d see that.”

Jensen’s fists clenched at his sides, and he glared at Karl before turning his attention back to me. “Do you have any idea what this looks like, Y/N? Do you even care?”

My heart ached at the hurt in his voice, but his accusations were too much. “Do you have any idea how fucking exhausting it is to keep defending myself to you?” I said, my voice breaking. “You think I’d cheat on you? After everything we’ve been through?”

Jensen’s expression faltered, the fire in his eyes dimming slightly. But he didn’t respond, his silence only fueling my anger.

Karl shook his head, his patience clearly wearing thin. “You need to get your shit together, man. She deserves better than this.”

“I’m not leaving without her,” Jensen said, his voice quieter now but still laced with tension.

I took a shaky breath, brushing past Karl to stand in front of Jensen. “Fine,” I said, my voice steady despite the tears in my eyes. “But if we’re going to talk, you need to sober the fuck up and actually listen to me this time.”

Jensen stared at me for a long moment before nodding, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Okay,” he said quietly.

Karl sighed, stepping aside as I grabbed my jacket and followed Jensen out of the room. My heart was heavy, but a small part of me hoped that maybe, just maybe, we could finally start to untangle the mess we’d made.

JENSEN'S POV

We walked back to the room in tense silence, the air thick with unspoken words. I could feel the weight of her presence beside me, the quiet storm brewing between us. As we entered, I closed the door behind us and stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. She’d been crying, her eyes red and puffy, and I had no idea how to make it right.

I didn’t know where to begin.

“Y/N…” My voice was rough, and I hated the uncertainty in it. I ran a hand through my hair, the frustration and guilt building up. “I don’t know what you want me to say right now. I fucked up, okay? But I’m not the only one here who’s got shit to figure out.”

She crossed her arms, her face a mask of hurt and disbelief. “Really? You think I’m the one who needs to fix things?” she shot back, her voice tight. “You think I haven’t been trying? You’re the one who doesn’t trust me, Jensen. You’re the one who keeps fucking everything up with your stupid assumptions.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words caught in my throat. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? I didn’t trust her, I realized—no, I didn’t trust myself.

“I didn’t mean to…” I trailed off, shaking my head in frustration.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?” she spat, her voice shaking with emotion. “You’ve already made up your mind about me. You don’t need an explanation. And I don’t need to keep trying to convince you I’m not some fucking liar.”

I could feel my own anger rising, the heat of it rushing through me. “I didn’t say that!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to,” she shot back, voice thick with bitterness. “You assumed. You always do.”

The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I could feel the distance between us growing with every word, every accusation. She was right about one thing—this wasn’t just her fault. I’d been a fucking mess, and now I was losing her because I couldn’t get my shit together.

“You don’t get it,” I muttered, frustration bubbling up. “I just… I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you, okay?”

She didn’t respond, just turned her back to me, and I felt the ache in my chest deepen.

“Fine,” I said quietly, pushing past the anger to the exhaustion beneath it. “I’m done talking.”

I didn’t even look at her as I climbed into bed. My mind was racing, but my body was too fucking tired to keep going. So, I turned over, facing the wall and pulling the covers over me, hoping for sleep to give me some kind of relief.

But it didn’t come. Not really.

The morning light crept in through the curtains, and I woke up with a pounding headache. My mouth felt dry, and I groggily reached for my phone, checking the time—8:30 AM. Fuck.

I turned to my side to find the bed empty, the spot where Y/N had been still warm but vacant. My heart sank. I glanced around the room, half-expecting her to be in the bathroom or on the balcony, but she wasn’t anywhere.

Confused, I got out of bed and walked into the living area, where I stopped dead in my tracks.

Y/N was curled up on the couch, wrapped in the throw blanket I’d given her, fast asleep. Her face was soft, peaceful for once, and despite everything that had happened last night, seeing her like that sent a pang of guilt through my chest.

I crouched down beside the couch, watching her for a moment. She looked so vulnerable, so different from the woman I’d been arguing with just hours ago. I felt like an asshole for letting it get this far.

I reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face, but I hesitated when I realized how fragile this moment was. I wanted to wake her, to apologize, but I knew it had to be done carefully.

Instead, I sat on the edge of the couch, watching her sleep for a moment longer. She deserved better than what I had given her.

And I needed to fix it. But first, I needed to let her know how much she meant to me, and how much I was willing to fight for this… for us.

But I wasn’t sure how. Not yet.

Y/N's POV

I woke up with a jolt, the remnants of sleep still clinging to me as I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the heaviness in my chest. The room was still and quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside. I glanced around, immediately realizing that Jensen wasn’t there. I frowned, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten.

The bed was empty. His side of the blankets was perfectly untouched, and the silence in the room felt so much louder without him.

I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the ache in my chest, but it didn���t work. The argument last night still weighed on me, and everything felt so unresolved. I needed to talk to him. But I didn’t know if I was ready.

I got up slowly and walked to the window, peering outside as the morning sun started to break through the clouds. I hadn’t heard him leave, but he must have. I felt like I was missing something vital, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

A few moments later, I heard the door to the hotel room creak open, and I turned around, heart skipping in my chest when I saw Jensen standing in the doorway. He had a huge bouquet of flowers in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other.

The moment our eyes met, I saw something soft in his expression—an apology, a vulnerability that I hadn’t seen from him in a while. He stepped forward, his usual confident stride now slower, more hesitant.

“I… I brought you coffee,” he said quietly, holding out the cup. “And flowers.” He gave a small, sheepish smile, almost as if he wasn’t sure what to expect from me.

I blinked, my chest tightening with a mix of emotions I wasn’t prepared for. There was something so sincere in his gesture, but I couldn’t just ignore everything that had happened. The words from last night still echoed in my mind, but the soft sincerity in his eyes made me want to believe him.

“Jensen, I—” I started, but he cut me off before I could continue.

“Look,” he said, setting the coffee and flowers down on the table, his hands shaking slightly. “I’m sorry. I fucked up. I never should’ve assumed what I did, and I never should’ve—”

“Jensen,” I interrupted, stepping closer to him. “You’re not the only one who fucked up.”

His gaze softened even more, and he took a step toward me, the distance between us shrinking until he was close enough to reach out and gently take my hand in his.

“I should’ve trusted you,” he said, voice low and raw. “I should’ve talked to you before making those stupid fucking assumptions.”

“I should’ve been more patient, too,” I replied, my voice quiet but steady. “I should’ve told you how I felt instead of just shutting down.”

There was a long pause, the tension between us slowly starting to ease as we stood there, hand in hand. I could feel the weight of everything we hadn’t said hanging in the air, but this… this moment felt different. It felt like the beginning of something, not the end.

“I love you,” Jensen said suddenly, his voice so soft, so certain. “I know I fucked up, but I love you. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. Please let me make it right.”

I could feel my heart swelling at his words, and for the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe again. I squeezed his hand, finally finding the words that had been stuck in my throat all morning.

“I love you, too,” I said, my voice trembling with the emotions I’d been holding back. “But we need to do better. We need to trust each other more.”

He nodded, pulling me into his arms, his embrace warm and comforting. I closed my eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of him, and for a moment, everything felt like it was going to be okay.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “I’ll never stop proving it to you.”

“I know,” I whispered back, burying my face in his chest. “We’ll figure this out, Jensen. Together.”

The next day at the convention, the atmosphere was electric, the air buzzing with excitement from the fans. Jensen and I were back on stage, sitting between cast members, ready for another panel. It was almost routine at this point—answering questions, making jokes, and interacting with the crowd. But today, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was building beneath the surface.

I knew the questions would come again. Fans were already buzzing about our chemistry on-screen, and I could tell they were dying to know if there was something more between Jensen and me off-screen. The tension was palpable, especially after the way I’d left things hanging the day before.

When a fan raised their hand and asked the dreaded question, I felt my heart rate spike. "So, we’ve been wondering… is there something going on between you two, or is it all just for the cameras?"

I glanced at Jensen quickly, trying to gauge his reaction, but his face was relaxed, patient. He was letting me take this one, and I could feel his quiet support in the air. There was a small smile playing at the corner of his lips as he waited for me to speak.

I took a deep breath. The fans deserved the truth. I didn’t want to keep lying to them anymore. “Yeah, we’re together. Jensen and I, we’re in a relationship,” I said, the words coming out stronger than I expected. “I’m sorry for not being upfront before, but… I didn’t want to make things harder than they already were. I just want to be real with you guys.”

The crowd went wild. Some fans cheered, others gasped, but there was a shift in the air. I could feel the tension between Jensen and me melting away, and that was all I needed in that moment. But then, just as quickly, I could feel someone’s eyes on me from the back of the room.

I turned to see my manager standing there, his eyes narrowed in a way that immediately made my stomach twist. I knew exactly what was coming.

Backstage, however, my manager was livid.

I didn’t even make it past the door when he grabbed my arm, pulling me aside with a low growl. “What the hell were you thinking?” His grip was tight, unrelenting. “You don’t get to just throw our whole plan out the window for your little ‘feelings’ moment.”

I pulled my arm away, glaring at him. “I’m done hiding. I’m done pretending for everyone else.”

“Pretending?” He scoffed, his face hardening. “You think this is some game? You can’t just go off script like that. This isn’t a soap opera, Y/N. You can’t control the narrative anymore.”

“I never wanted to control the narrative!” My voice wavered slightly, but I wasn’t backing down. “I’m sick of lying about who I’m with. This whole thing—it’s messed up.”

“God,” he muttered, his hand coming up to run through his hair in frustration. “This isn’t just about you and him. This is about your career, your future. You don’t get to just blow that up because of some stupid impulsive decision.”

Before I could respond, his hand shot out again, grabbing my arm with so much force I winced. “You’re not thinking straight, and you’ll regret this. Mark my words.”

The bruising grip made my stomach churn.

The moment I stepped away from my manager, I felt a sense of relief, even though the weight of what had just happened still hung heavy in the air. I didn’t know what I expected—maybe some apology, maybe some understanding—but I got nothing. Just a tight grip, and harsh words.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself before walking back to the hotel. But as I walked down the hall, all I could think about was what Jensen might think when he saw me. He had no idea what had just gone down, and I didn’t want to burden him with it. Not right now.

When I reached the hotel room, I threw my bag onto the bed and went into the bathroom to wash my face. The sting on my arm still burned, and I couldn't help but touch the bruise, feeling the tender skin beneath my fingertips. I wasn’t sure how to explain it to Jensen. I didn’t even want to.

But when I walked back into the main room, I found Jensen standing there, looking at me with concern. My heart sank, because I knew what he was going to ask.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice tight. “What the hell happened to your arm?”

I froze, my stomach twisting. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to have to explain to him that it was my manager who had done this—grabbed me, held me down with a force that left a mark. But here he was, standing in front of me, looking at me like he could see right through me.

I opened my mouth, but the words didn’t come out. Jensen stepped closer, his gaze never leaving my arm, his jaw tight.

"Who did this?" he demanded, his voice low but edged with anger. “Tell me.”

I could feel the pressure building in my chest, and I shook my head, not wanting to deal with it. “It’s nothing, Jensen. It’s not a big deal.”

But he wasn’t buying it. Not for a second. “Y/N...” he said, taking a step closer. “Don’t fucking lie to me. Who did this?”

I took a breath, the anger bubbling up in me, but I kept it in. This wasn’t about me and Jensen—it was about the shit I had to deal with behind closed doors. But I couldn’t hide it anymore.

“It’s my manager, okay?” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. “He grabbed me. He was angry... because I told the truth today. I told the crowd we were together. And he... he didn’t like that.”

The room was silent for a long moment. Jensen just stared at me, his face hardening. His eyes narrowed, and I could see the fury in them.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Jensen muttered under his breath, his hands curling into fists. “I don’t care who he is. No one does this to you, Y/N. No one fucking touches you.”

I took a step back, not wanting him to do something rash. “Jensen, don’t. Please,” I pleaded, my voice breaking. “Just drop it. It’s not worth it. I don’t want to make things worse.”

But he wasn’t listening. He was already walking toward the door, his expression dark and set. “I’m not letting this go. No one hurts you, Y/N. Not on my watch.”

I stood there, feeling helpless as he stormed out of the room. I wanted to stop him, but I knew he wouldn’t listen. Not when he was like this. And I knew that the fallout from all this—whatever happened next—was going to be more than just a bruised arm.

I sank down onto the bed, burying my face in my hands, and waited for the storm that was about to come.

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

A/N: Not sorry for the cliffhanger at all, it's only because i love you guys sm. Oh and Merry Christmas Eve to those who celebrate, might write a christmas oneshot with either Jensen, Soldier Boy or Dean lmk in the comments.

@justwhisperingfantasies @impala67rollingthroughtown @deansimpalababy @jackles010378 @winchester @barnes70stark @nancymcl @oceean @spnaquakindgdom @ladysparkles78 @sexyvixen7 @spxideyver @stoneyggirl2 @star-yawnznn @quietgirll75 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[writingtraumaforever]

Uncontrolled Chaos: Chapter 34

Notes: I probably won’t get any more updates out until after the holidays. So happy holidays everyone! Stay safe and warm! 💙

Summary: Rouge is upset about the alternate Shadow’s view of her. Shadow receives a message.

UC Masterpost!

Link to my AO3!

Start:

Reaching the rendezvous point, Shadow and Rouge hold their desired items in hand. Shadow with the emeralds and Rouge with the hard drive of research on the Time Eater.

“That was easy enough,” Rouge smirks, moving to Shadow with her bag open for him to put the emeralds inside, “We should head back—“

Shadow only gives her one emerald. She quirks a brow at this, immediately offended by the gesture of seeming distrust.

“Uhh, you gonna carry that the whole way back?” Rouge huffs, crossing her arms at him, “You forget, I want our Shadow back just as much as you want to be back in your world.”

Shadow blinks at this, looking at her in confusion a moment, “Huh?? Oh, no. I-… I wasn’t meaning to mislead you. I was simply going to chaos control us back.”

Rouge pauses, her defensive demeanor slowly easing up now and feeling more sheepish for how quickly she jumped to conclusions, “Oh.. you sure that’s a good idea considering you using chaos control is what got us all into this mess in the first place??”

“I don’t think it was me using chaos control that did it,” Shadow explains with a thoughtful furrow of his brow, “I think it was me using chaos control with a fake emerald.”

“But Sonic did it,” Rouge frowns, her own brows furrowing skeptically, “On the ARK. Back before you sacrificed yourself here in our world. He used it to escape death with the fake emerald.”

“Yes, but that’s Sonic,” Shadow points out, “He naturally holds chaos in his very bones. I was created. Much like that emerald. Chaos was put into me by force of experimentation and DNA intermingling. All this mixed with me using the fake emerald could’ve very well somehow corrupted the use of chaos control and be what tore the space between dimensions open.”

“That.. would make sense,” Rouge ponders with a quirk of her brow, “You do use chaos control pretty often with a normal emerald, and this never happened any of those times.”

“Exactly,” Shadow nods, tossing the emerald up before catching it and clutching it to himself, “So.. ready to warp?”

“Ugh,” she groans, rolling her eyes and stepping towards him so he can lightly place a hand around her waist— a bit sheepish about it, mind you, “I hate chaos controlling..”

Shadow smirks slightly at this, but he’s too focused on getting back to Tails and getting in contact with his Sonic to comment on it. His mind is a one way street, and at the end of it is his partner..

“Chaos control!”

A flash of light outside of Tails’ workshop and Shadow and Rouge reappear in a matter of less than a moment. Once there, he lets go of her and begins walking towards the workshop, Rouge following behind with a little frown. Honestly, the whole mission with this new Shadow just showed how different he was from her own. How she’s truly lost him..

She’s lost the one person she trusts more than anyone. The one person she’s allowed into her walls, and simultaneously felt as though he had let her in his in return. They understood each other. And this new Shadow— he doesn’t seem to care too much for her. Always hesitant to work with her, referring to her as ‘Bat’, showing general distrust..

It stings. Even if she knows it shouldn’t. Even if she knows it’s silly to think they would be friends in every world. She should’ve known that this world was just a fluke. She got lucky with her Shadow. She wasn’t meant for commitments and friendships..

Just more reason she has to get her Shadow back home.

“Sorry for snappin’ at you,” the bat comments before they enter the workshop, “back there. About the chaos emerald. Thought you didn’t trust me.”

“I don’t,” Shadow admits, pausing to turn and look at her with a quirked brow, “well.. not you. I don’t know you. But I don’t trust our Rouge back home.”

“Why? If you don’t mind me askin’, anyway,” she questions, though she tries to seem nonchalant about it. Like she doesn’t really care.

“She works with GUN..,” Shadow answers simply, “..Don’t have good experiences with GUN.”

“That’s all?” she asks with a quirk of her brow, “No personal reasons??..”

Shadow stays quiet a moment, pondering this before looking away with a neutral expression. Then he shakes his head.

Rouge frowns, not seeming satisfied by this answer, “Come on. There’s gotta be some reason you refuse to look me in the face half the time. Other than just working for GUN— which you work with too in this world, mind you—“

“Why does it matter??” Shadow asks, voice sounding a bit impatient now as he looks at the bat with furrowed brows.

She pauses now, blinking at him a moment and then clearing her throat with a shrug, “It.. doesn’t.”

“Okay then,” Shadow nods, crossing his arms with the emerald still in hand, “..So we’re done here?”

“Guess so,” she huffs, the tension between them only seeming to grow rather than shrink like she had been intending.

“Alright..”

She watches as he walks into the workshop, the door shutting behind him as she takes a moment to just breathe in a deep breath then sigh it out slowly..

This was all hitting her harder than she anticipated losing Shadow ever would..

“Yikes,” a voice from behind makes her spin around to see Knuckles gliding down from nearby, seemingly hearing their conversation, “That was hard to watch.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have been watching,” she snaps with a huff, going into her typical offensive mode with the echidna that she puts on when she doesn’t want him to see her vulnerable.

He immediately raises his hands in surrender and takes a step back, “Easy. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was just getting back from emerald hunting— found one, by the way.”

“Good,” she huffs out, turning around to walk inside, “One step closer to getting this mess fixed—“

She’s stopped by Knuckles’ hand on her shoulder, halting her steps from the weight and warmth it holds.

“…Are you alright?”

She takes another long breath in, shutting her eyes and internally demanding she not let that question trigger her emotions right now. She’s gotta hold it together. Even if she really isn’t alright.

“Peachy,” she sighs out.

“Yeah. Sure sound it,” Knuckles remarks sarcastically, letting his hand squeeze her shoulder, “He doesn’t know you.. don’t let his judgments change your perspective of yourself—“

“Please stop acting like you know me or something,” Rouge rolls her eyes, shoving his large mit off her shoulder, “I said I’m fine. Just ready for this to be done.”

“Rouge—“

“Drop it,” she snaps, turning to narrow her eyes at him to let him know she’s serious.

He stares back at her, brows knitting a bit as he then sighs and looks away with a small nod and gruff, “Fine. But when you’re ready to talk, I’m here.”

Rouge’s eyes soften just slightly at this, but she keeps her defensive stance. Hands on her hips and jaw locked..

Knuckles moves around her to go inside.

She follows after him.

Shadow is standing by Tails, his arms crossed and a small frown on his muzzle as he taps his foot on the ground impatiently.

“So you think you almost got it??” Shadow’s brow knits, not trying to pressure the kit but also anxious to find out if his Sonic is okay..

Rouge and Knuckles join them, each placing their emeralds on opposite corners of the table. They spark a bit at being in close proximity for the first time since their last use, but nothing more.

“Maybe,” Tails sighs, scratching at his head with the end of a wrench before frowning, “I still haven’t fully gotten the hang of how to appropriately conduct the chaos energy and convert it from the emeralds to the device. That much power could outright make it explode if not transferred properly.”

Shadow has taken note that this team doesn’t seem quite as advanced when it comes to getting a hold on chaos energy and controlling it appropriately, but he has certainly learned a thing or two thanks to helping Tails in his own world.

“Maybe you could—“

“Hello?? Hello, this is Miles Tails Prower calling Shadow. Come in Shadow.”

Shadow’s eyes grow wide, everyone’s gaze immediately falling on him as he lifts his watch up to try and speak back, “Tails??? Tails, I’m here! Do you copy???”

Nothing. Static and silence.

Shadow groans in frustration.

“We have to get a signal out! We need more power to reach them—“

“Shadow??? Shadow, buddy, you hear me?? This is Sonic— you know who I am, what am I sayin‘.”

Shadow goes silent, eyes locking on the screen of his communicator watch as his partner’s voice comes through..

It’s like the rest of the world goes silent. Everything around him zoning out as Sonic’s voice speaks muffled and staticky through the tiny watch speaker,

“I’m okay. I just wanted to let you know in case you got any alerts or anything. I’m fine. I know you’ve probably been worried out of your mind for me.. I know I have been about you.”

Shadow’s smiling. He doesn’t know when he started smiling, but it’s wide and pained and wobbly. His eyes feel misty, a quiet and breathy chuckle coming from him as a wave of relief washes over him.

“I really hope you can hear me right now.”

There’s sniffling and Shadow’s heart aches. His fingers flexing uncomfortably with the need to reach out for someone who isn’t there.

“I hope you’re safe.. and not doing anything stupid without me. I hope that other Sonic is taking care of you like your other version has been taking care of me.”

Another wave of relief. With how this world’s Sonic speaks of his alternate, he wasn’t sure just how kind he would be to his own Sonic.. but it seems he’s been adequate.

“We’re all good here, bud. Just missin’ you somethin’ awful.. We’re gonna get you back here soon, though, alright??? Promise.”

Shadow lets out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead to his watch as a single tear slides down his cheek without his permission. He doesn’t care.. he just misses him so much. So damn much.

“We could send him a voice recording?” Tails’ voice comes from the background, a bit quieter due to not being the one close to the mic. It knocks Shadow out of his daze, slightly, his eyes opening again as he looks down at the communicator with knitted brows and listens to the two speak.

“Not a live one like this, but one he can play back? It should reach his communicator. We can maybe explain how we’ve gotten things running on our end and he can play it for whoever he has helping him and they can know what to do?”

“Yeah,” Sonic’s voice comes a bit quieter and holding more hope in it now, “yeah, that’s a good plan. Let’s do that.”

“On it.”

Static. And then more silence.

Shadow sighs shaky and drops his wrist, head tilting back to stare up at the ceiling as he rubs his fingers back through his quills with long inhale and then slow and wobbled exhale.

Rouge, Knuckles and Tails are stare at him with wide eyes. None saying a word about what just happened. What they just heard.

It all makes sense.. Rouge can’t find herself surprised by this. This alternate Sonic and Shadow obviously being involved with one another.. Even in this world, she always knew they had a connection. Even if they were each in denial over it. Sonic lived rent-free in Shadow’s head far too much for Shadow not to feel something for him. But to actually see it firsthand.. hear it with her own ears how much this other Sonic seems to care for this Shadow..

It was surreal.

And it clicked so many pieces together.

It’s gonna be real interesting when Blue gets to hear all this for himself..

They stay quiet until the watch gives a little beep. Shadow rubs his hand down his face and looks back to it, eyes glossy and red-rimmed but no more tears fall. He taps the screen only to see an incoming message being downloaded. He gives a shaky chuckle of relief and takes the watch off, handing it to Tails now and offering a small smile,

“This should help.”

“Yeah..,” Tails says, slowly moving to take the watch from Shadow, “Thanks..”

Shadow looks lighter now. Tension having left him at hearing his own Sonic is in fact safe. Relief has flooded him and hope is restoring inside him..

He’ll be home soon.

He’s okay.

He’s okay.

We’re okay.

[sequinsmile-x]

All I Want for Christmas

Christmas Eve with the Hotchners.

-x-

Hi besties,

One last bit of Christmas fluff for you lovely lot this year. This really is just pure, family fluff and our favs having a typical Christmas eve with their family.

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and happy mid-week to those who don't. I hope you have a wonderful couple of days no matter what you do and what you celebrate <3

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 2.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Malls had freaked her out ever since the case with Katie Jacobs. Especially when she was in one with her children, the memory of all the places a little kid could hide, or be hidden, making a shiver run down her spine every time she thought about it. It didn’t help that Aaron wasn’t here with them, that she was on her own and thinking of every terrible thing that could happen to Jack, Hazel and Oliver, but he was on his way. 

The jet had landed back in DC all of 45 minutes ago, and he’d called and told her he’d come and meet her at the mall. He’d sounded tired, worn down by whatever horrors he and the team had seen when they were away. She told him they could just meet him at home, that he didn’t need to come and wait in line with her so the kids could meet some random guy dressed as Santa, but he’d insisted. 

This kind of thing, the achingly normal parts of being a parent and part of a family, were as important to him as they were to her. The extraordinary ordinariness of it all made her emotional sometimes. Love and joy filling the space in her chest that she thinks must have always been waiting for them. Waiting for the man she loves and his son who would one day be hers, and the little girl and boy who would follow.  It was beautiful and hers and everything she never thought she’d get. 

Which is exactly why even though her feet hurt from standing in line for so long on Christmas Eve, and her back hurt from holding Oliver on her hip since she’d lifted him out of the car, she was able to find the joy in waiting in line at the mall for her kids to see Santa. 

Oliver grumbles in Emily’s arms and rubs his face against her neck. She hums and turns to kiss the 10-month-old’s forehead, “I know sweet boy,” she says, kissing him again, “It’s almost nap time, huh?” 

Hazel turns to look at her, her hand still wrapped up in Jack’s where they were standing barely a foot in front of her, “Mommy, I’m bored.” 

“I know, baby,” she says, Emily smiles at the absolute weariness in her four-year-old’s voice and she adjusts her hold on Oliver, so she can run fingers through the little girl’s dark hair as she looks at the line ahead of them and slightly too enthusiastic elves at the front, “But it’s almost our turn.” 

“Santa has a lot of people to talk to,” Jack says, winking at Emily before he turns his attention to his little sister, “It’s only fair everyone gets to talk to him.” 

One evening, back in November, Jack had announced to his parents that he knew Santa wasn’t real. He’d delighted in being in on the secret as much as they’d been sad that he was, a strange mix of sadness spreading through them at the thought of their eldest growing up and pride because of the person he was becoming.

“Exactly,” Emily says, smiling at Jack, “It’s Christmas Eve,” she enthuses, looking back at her little girl, “He’s a busy guy.” 

“Emily!”

She turns at the sound of her husband’s voice and feels herself relax the moment she sees him walking towards them. She leans in to kiss him the moment he’s close enough, her lips stamped against his, “Speaking of busy guys.”

“Hi, sweetheart.” 

She can hear the weariness in his voice, the tiredness brought on by the job they once shared and coming so close to missing Christmas. She’d left the BAU when she had Hazel, something she had never regretted for a second, and she now led the Counterterrorism unit. She’d sent her team early and had her work phone tucked into her pocket in case of an emergency, but it was important to spend Christmas with her kids - especially when they were so young - because her parents had never really spent it with her. It was why she loved Christmas so much, because she saw it through the eyes of her children, the magic of it stronger than it had ever been as she watched them enjoy it too. 

Hazel throws herself at Aaron, excited to see her father after a few days apart, her apparent boredom now forgotten, “Daddy!” 

“Hi princess,” he says, hauling her up into his arms and kissing her cheek before he settles her onto his hip, “Are you excited to see Santa?” 

She nods, “He’s very busy but it’s almost our turn.” 

He smiles and ruffles Jack’s hair, his smile getting wider when he tries to doge his father’s affection, “Hi buddy.” 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Dad.” 

Aaron then leans in to kiss Oliver’s forehead, “Hi Ollie,” he furrows his brow when Oliver grumbles and leans in closer to Emily, his tiny hand tangled up in her necklace. Aaron looks up at Emily, “Is he okay?” 

She nods and rubs a circle on Oliver’s back, “He’s okay, he’s just tired.” 

“The next family can come forward.”

Emily smiles at the elf in front of them and nods her thanks before she looks at the kids, with genuine enthusiasm in her eyes, “Come on, let's go meet Santa.” 

Hazel goes first. She sits on his lap and tells him what she wants - a princess castle which was currently in the home office waiting to be built - and then smiles for her photo. Jack does the same, a knowing look in his eyes as he goes through the motions for the sake of his parents and his sister. 

As Emily expected, the moment she puts Oliver down on Santa’s lap he bursts into tears. He stays there long enough for a picture, something that makes Emily feel a little bad because of just how much it amuses her. She picks him back up again, shushing him as she tries to soothe him, her lips against his temple as she whispers words of comfort in English and French. 

“Why did Ollie cry?” Hazel asks, one hand in Aaron’s and the other in Jack’s as they walk back to the car, “It’s just Santa.” 

“You cried when you first met him too,” Jack says, his smile getting wide when Hazel furrows her brow.

“No, I didn’t.” 

“You did, princess,” Aaron says, smiling as he meets his wife’s eyes, the memory of their little girl, who had only been 6 months old at the time, and the way she’d burst into tears just like Oliver had.

“But I love Santa,” she says, her lower lip stuck out in a pout. 

“Now you do, sweet girl,” Emily replies, “But you were very little. Even littler than Ollie,” she turns to Aaron, sighing when she sees him dig through his pockets for his car keys, wishing more than anything they were driving home together, “See you at home?” 

He nods, “I’ll grab dinner on the way back.” 

“It’s okay, you’ve been at work all day,” she says, “I can-”

“You’ve got all the kids with you, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek, “It’s easier if I go.” 

She smiles and nods, stamping her lips against his, “Okay, see you at home.” 

___

She sneaks out of Oliver’s room, making sure she’s careful as she pulls the door closed behind her, sighing in relief for managing to get all the kids to sleep, something that was no mean feat on any day let alone Christmas Eve. 

She yawns as she walks down the hallway, seeking out her husband and the rare and precious alone time she wants with him. She walks downstairs and smiles as she comes to a stop outside of the home office when she hears a muttered curse through the door. She knocks and then steps inside, her smile only getting wider when she finds him sitting on the floor surrounded by pieces of the princess castle they’d bought for Hazel. Most of it is still in pieces, with only the base built, and Aaron’s hair is all over the place from where he’d run his fingers through it in frustration. 

“How is going in here?” She asks, pressing her lips together to hide her amusement when he looks up at her, more frustration written across his face than she’d seen in a long time. 

“Did you know that this thing needs three different types of batteries?” He asks, shaking his head as he looks at the instructions again, “Why does anything need three different types of batteries?” 

She sits on the ground next to him, “Do you want any help?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head as he grabs the instructions from the floor in between them, “I can do it. You wrapped all the other gifts, I can build this.” 

She finds herself trying to suppress a smile again, her love for him and his love for their children thrumming under her skin. He was tired. Weary in a way that seemed bone deep, and he was insistent on building one of their daughter’s Christmas presents so she didn’t have to wait for him to do it tomorrow. She leans in to kiss his cheek, and she wraps her hand around the back of his neck, pressing her fingers into the muscles she knew ached the most.

“That’s because I enjoy wrapping presents, honey,” she says, smiling at him, stamping another kiss against his chest, “No one likes to build these things.” 

He hums and hands her the instructions, “You can see if you can make any sense of this if you’d like?”

She takes the piece of paper and immediately frowns at it, the instructions and the accompanying diagrams making no sense at all. She turns it over and tries to read them on the other side, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, honey, they don’t make sense in French or Italian either.” 

They end up working on it together, figuring it out mostly through trial and error as they slowly but surely build the castle they know will delight their little girl in the morning. When it’s eventually done, Aaron switches on all the lights and smiles in delight and relief when it works. 

“Thank fuck for that,” he says, sitting back to admire his work and blowing out a slow breath, “I was very close to telling Hazel that Santa was all out of princess castles.”

“No, you weren’t,” Emily chuckles and leans in to kiss him, her lips catching the corner of his as she cups his cheek, “You’d have stayed up until the morning if you needed to. Because you’re the best dad in the whole world.” 

He hums and kisses her, “And you’re the best mom.”

She smiles so widely that her cheeks ache and she once again wonders how this was her life, how she’d got so lucky to have him here with her with their children all safely tucked in their beds upstairs. She thinks of the Christmases she’d spent alone, how she had ached for a life where she’d stay up all night to build a present for her kid just to see their smile in the morning. 

“Our kids are lucky to have us,” she quips and he smiles, leaning in to kiss her again. 

His watch beeps as he pulls, indicating that it was midnight, and he smiles at her, his dimples carved out deep in his cheeks, “Merry Christmas sweetheart.” 

She pulls back just enough to speak, her nose knocking against his as she replies, “Merry Christmas, baby,” she kisses him again, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he says, “So much.” 

She kisses him, her hand tangled in his hair as she holds him in place before she rests her cheek against his chest, curling herself up against him as she sighs contentedly. She turns her head to look at the princess castle, her eyebrows furrowing as she finally takes in the size of it. 

“Aaron?” 

“Yes, Em?” 

“How the hell are we going to move the castle to the living room?” 

He tightens his hold on her for a second, and she feels more than hears his resigned sigh as it passes from his chest to hers. 

“Well shit.” 

[rafecamerons-national-anthem]

THE GIRL THAT WAS MINE-DREW STARKEY

The sound of the door creaked as it opened, and Drew Starkey stood frozen in the hallway. He had barely been able to process the message he’d received earlier that day, Y/N was back. After months of radio silence, she had finally come home. But what did that even mean? Was she back for good? Or was this just another one of those fleeting moments that only seemed to leave more questions than answers?

He took a deep breath and walked inside, his boots echoing against the floorboards of his childhood home. The place felt just as empty as it had when she left, quiet and lonely, with only memories lingering in the corners. His eyes scanned the room, landing on her.

She looked different, like she had changed in all the ways he couldn’t put his finger on. Her hair was a little longer, her face a little more guarded, like she wasn’t sure if she could let him in again.

“Hey,” she said softly, standing by the kitchen counter. Her voice was calm, but he could hear the hesitation in it. “You got my message?”

“Yeah,” Drew replied, his voice rough. “I got it. But I didn’t expect…this.”

She bit her lip, looking down at the floor for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “I didn’t expect to come back either. But I had to.”

The words were simple, but they hit him hard, like a punch in the gut. Because he knew exactly what she meant. She had left, just like the song said, packing up her life without a word and disappearing without a trace. And now, she was back, but it was clear things weren’t the same.

“You were gone for a long time,” Drew said quietly, crossing the room to stand in front of her. His eyes never left hers, searching for the answers she wasn’t saying. “Why now? Why come back?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. “I don’t know…I didn’t want to. But I had to. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things… and I realized I can’t keep running from everything. I…I need to make some choices for myself.”

Drew felt his chest tighten as he took in her words. She wasn’t the same Y/N who had left. She wasn’t the girl who had trusted him, the one who had laughed with him at the kitchen table, who had shared her dreams and fears in the dark of the night. That girl was gone.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Drew admitted, his voice lowering. “But I can’t just forget about everything we had, Y/N. I can’t just move on like it never happened.”

Her eyes softened, and for a moment, she looked like she might say something, something that would make everything feel less complicated. But the words didn’t come. Instead, she looked away.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said quietly. “But I can’t love you anymore. Not like I did. I need to be on my own right now. I can’t be in something that I can’t fully give myself to.”

The words stung, and Drew’s chest tightened at the confession. He had always known there was a part of her that was unreachable, but hearing it aloud, seeing the sadness in her eyes as she said it, felt like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been able to give her whatever it was she needed, and now she was leaving. Again.

“You came home today,” Drew muttered under his breath, his voice rough with emotion. “And now you’re telling me to stay away.”

Y/N’s face flushed with emotion, but she held her ground. “I didn’t want to say it, Drew. But I have to. I have to do what’s right for me.”

“I thought we had something,” Drew said, his voice thick. “I thought we had something that would last. But you’re telling me to stay away, telling me you don’t love me anymore. You can’t just walk away from everything we were.”

“I never wanted to walk away,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “But I had to. I had to leave to figure out who I was. To figure out what I wanted. I didn’t expect to come back like this. But I’m not the same person I was when I left.”

Drew nodded, his heart sinking in his chest. He had heard the words, but they didn’t make it any easier to hear. He had tried to hold on to the hope that she’d come back and things would be the same, but they weren’t. And they never would be.

“So that’s it then,” he said, his voice quiet but heavy with regret. “You’re leaving again. You’re just gonna pack up and go, and I’m left here, alone.”

Y/N reached for his hand, but stopped just short of touching him. “I never meant to hurt you, Drew. I swear. But I can’t stay in something that doesn’t feel right for me anymore.”

“You’ve already hurt me, Y/N,” Drew replied, his voice raw. “You left without a word, without giving me a chance. I don’t know what to do with all this…I don’t know how to let you go.”

“You don’t have to let me go completely,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t be who you want me to be. I can’t be the person you need. Not right now.”

Drew swallowed hard, his eyes locking with hers. He didn’t know how to make sense of this, how to let go of everything they once had. But as he stared at her, he saw the truth in her eyes. She wasn’t the same person. And maybe he wasn’t either.

“I’ll never forget you, Y/N,” Drew said quietly, his voice tinged with finality. “You were mine once. And maybe I’ll always think of you that way. But I can’t keep waiting for you to come back. Not if you don’t want me to.”

She nodded slowly, as if she understood. Then, with one final, lingering glance, Y/N turned and walked away, leaving Drew standing there, lost in a sea of memories and feelings he didn’t know how to deal with.

And as she disappeared from sight, Drew couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever really come back. If she’d ever find her way back to him, or if she was already gone for good.

But for now, he was left with nothing but memories of the girl who once belonged to him. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 @nicholaschavezslut69

[idothisasahobby]

last christams / kys

synopsis: in which she has her heartbroken on Christmas Day one year and fixed the next

cw: angst, fluff, friends to lovers, non-idol au, in this imagine yeosang doesn’t celebrate christmas, like one swear i think?, your ex was terrible, fem!reader, nonidol!yeosang

Words: 3600

i wrote this super quickly so the quality might not be all that, my bad :(

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last christmas

“Are you ready for your gift?” you asked him excitedly. It was finally your favourite time of the year, Christmas. You always loved this time as it was one of the rare occasions where you were able to spend it with your loved ones—your family would all meet up later on at your parents’ house for the yearly Christmas dinner.

Unfortunately for you your boyfriend wouldn’t be able to join you all because of prior commitments he couldn’t get out of, of what they were exactly you weren’t sure but you surmised he must’ve decided to spend it with his own family as that would be the logical answer. You didn’t probe further because you knew he hated being asked a lot of questions.

You didn’t mind him not joining you, you thought he too deserved to share it with those he cared about most so you offered to meet earlier to exchange gifts before you separated to your various plans. You handed him a small box you’d expertly gift wrapped and watched excitedly as he unwrapped it. He finally opened the box and stared into it, his eyes widening.

“No way. You didn’t.”

You nodded enthusiastically, unable to contain your elation. “I did! I saw they were on sale and knew immediately that I had to get them. And look, court side!”

You’d gotten him tickets to go watch his favourite basketball team. He jumped out of his seat and howled with joy. He’d always wanted to see a live game but always fell short on funds when the time would come to purchase them. You figured this would be the perfect gift, plus the two seats were court side. He’d always mentioned he wanted to watch from there.

“This is best, thank you, babe!” He mentioned he couldn’t wait to tell his best friend the news. You furrowed her eyebrows but thought nothing of it because surely he’d be taking you, right? Surely he’d be able to see that that was the intention and so you made no comment further on the matter.

“Okay, where’s my gift?” He seemed to only remember then that you were still in the room.

“It’s not here yet,” he started much to your disappointment, ”but it should be in tomorrow. There was a little delay on the delivery.”

You understood it could happen. It was a busy time of the year after all. “What is it, then?”

“You’ll love it. It’s something I think you’ll really enjoy.” He paused, almost as if for dramatic effect before giving you a wide grin. “It’s a massage chair.”

Your face slightly fell before you recovered before he could notice.

“Oh.”

He, however, sensed you weren’t quite as pleased as he was about your new gift. “What?”

“It’s just that…I don’t think I need a massage chair.”

This was your polite way of saying you absolutely had no interest in a massage chair. In fact, if you remembered correctly, he was the one who’d always wanted a massage chair. You knew exactly which one he’d always wanted as well and figured that was the one he’d gotten for you instead.

“What do you mean? You’ve mentioned it a few times before.”

That was where he was wrong.

“I wanted a foot spa.”

He shrugged, dismissing your statement.“Same thing. Just plop your feet up and it’ll give you a massage. This is a real steal, anyway. Instead of just your feet it’ll do your whole body. You should be happy about this.”

You sighed and said, “Well it’s not exactly what I wanted—“

You weren’t surprised when he wouldn’t let you finish. “Do you know how much this cost me? For you to be berating me like this?”

It didn’t cost him anything, you knew. He’d most likely asked his mother for the money. He hardly ever had some of his own.

“I wasn’t berating you. Actually it’s-“

“No. I’m not taking any of this. I try to do something special for you and you throw it right in my face. That’s so typical of you.”

You were quite familiar with the way this game would play out by now. Whenever he was in the wrong, he’d find a way to twist the situation so the finger would point back at yourself and you’d be the one who would need to apologise and when you would, he wouldn’t accept it, stating how his feelings were the ones that were hurt and how he was the one needed some space from you.

And that’s exactly how it went.

You just hated it had to happen on the one day you always looked forward to the most. You couldn’t believe he’d ruin your favourite holiday. You wouldn’t let him. Instead, you offered to leave his apartment before it could escalate further so you’d have the necessary time apart and you’d still be in somewhat of a cheery mood for when it was time to meet with your loved ones. Nothing would ruin your Christmas spirit, not even him.

The next day, you woke up to numerous missed calls and text messages from him asking if you could come over to his apartment to talk about the previous day.

That was how you found yourself on one side of his couch with him looking pensive on the other end, clearly ensuring there was enough distance between the both of you.

“How was the rest of your christmas? You didn’t call back but I assumed you were probably busy with your family. I know how this time gets,” you said as a means of a conversation opener. Nobody had spoken a word yet since he’d opened the door to let you in and the tension was thick between the two of you. His response didn’t make matters better. “I didn’t spend it with family.”

“You spent it alone?”

Hope dripped in your voice.

“No.”

And soon dried out.

“With your friends.” It wasn’t a question. You knew the answer and knew what would follow.

“She was there.” You knew who he was referring to. You could taste the bile forming.

“Oh.”

“After last night, I just needed someone to listen to me and hear me out and then one thing led to another and…”

“Oh.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anymore. Words evaded you. You were afraid if you did try to say anything more, nothing would come out but your hot tears that already threatened to fall. After a while, he broke the silence. “Aren’t you gonna say anything?”

“What do you want me to say?” came her question in a soft, broken voice.

“Well if it wasn’t for our fight, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

It was in that moment everything seemed clearer to you. The rose coloured glasses you’d somehow worn up to this point fell off and you finally saw him for who he was. You knew for sure in that moment you held no place in his heart, not like how he held one in yours which was an upsetting realisation to come by on one of the most magical days of the year.

“I can’t believe you.” You stood to leave and you weren’t surprised when he hardly moved to try and stop you. “Where are you going?” came his halfhearted attempt at doing so.

With one last look, you turned to him. “I’m done here. I’m done with you.“

Yeosang had asked to meet you in the city later on that night. It was already prearranged. You thought of cancelling but thought being around a friend during this time would be beneficial for you and your other friends were all already busy, helping with tidying up any remaining bits and pieces from the day before. You found herself aimlessly walking around the city, watching as the snow fell onto you and onto the ground. You couldn’t help but notice couples walking with each other, hand in hand, joyfully laughing and talking to one another as if they had no care in the world. You couldn’t help the sad feeling that overcame you and hugged yourself in comfort before going on.

You finally stopped in front of the large Christmas tree in the city square and admired the warm, flashing lights decorating the white tree. A large flashing star was placed on top of it and “We wish you a Merry Christmas” tinkled on from nearby spears on either side.

It brought a tear to your eye which you quickly wiped off.

“Merry Christmas.” You turned and found Yeosang standing behind you with a large red and green box in his hands and a Santa’s hat on. You gave him a small smile and playfully rolled your eyes.

“That was yesterday, dummy.”

“I know but I never got the chance to tell you.”

You realised just how long it had been since you’d last spoken to him and your heart clenched. There was time here you wouldn’t go a day without speaking but because your boyfriend always got mad when you spoke to him, you had to cool your communication. You were glad you didn’t have to worry about that anymore because in all honesty, you really missed him. More than you could ever understand. Now that you were with him again, everything felt like it was beginning to make sense again.

He lead you to a nearby bench and you both sat down. You noticed you could still admire the Christmas lights behind you and how they illuminated a warm hue on his face—almost as if to enhance his already kind and ethereal features.

“You don’t even celebrate Christmas,” you said once you’d settled down. He shrugged and placed the box in between you. “But you do. So I’ll celebrate for you.”

“What’s this?”

“A gift.” You eyed him suspiciously before opening the box and gasped.

“It’s a foot spa.”

“Well, you mentioned how much you’d like one once so I thought I’d get it for you.” His eyes widened in slight panic. “What, did you already get it yourself?” Then they widened even more said that were possible. “What’s wrong why are you crying?”

You held the box close to you and shook your head to ease his thoughts. “It’s perfect. Thank you. I really do appreciate it, Sangie.”

You couldn’t help your giggle at the red tint brushing over his cheeks.

“You’re welcome.”

———

this christmas

“I can’t believe you still haven’t told him how you feel.” You had dragged your begrudging brother along with you to help shop for last minute Christmas gifts. You had been shopping for a good majority of the day and he’d been moaning and groaning for quite some time but you chose to ignore it—more so threatened him with not receiving his own which you’d bought already if he continued to complain.

“What are you talking about?” You looked at him quizzically before going back scouting for a gift.

“Your crush on Yeosang?” You rolled your eyes.

“Can you even call it that anymore? It’s passed that point by now.”

In retaliation, you aggressively shoved his shoulder causing him to stumble and protest about the slippery floor—which aptly you ignored.

“I do not have a crush on him,” you told him pointedly. He scoffed.

“We’ve searched high and low for the perfect Christmas gift for him. I’m sure it didn’t take you this long to find ours.”

“Well, because I know what you guys want, you won’t shut up about it. He doesn’t celebrate Christmas so I have to make sure it’s worthwhile.” You pouted before returning to the task at hand.

“Whatever you get him he’ll love it, I’m sure of it because it’s from you.”

You weren’t budging. “It has to be perfect.”

“And why exactly should it be?”

You could sense the teasing in his voice.

“It just does.”

You knew Yeosang for a little over three years now. You’d met one day through a mutual friend, Wooyoung when he’d convinced you both to attend a party. You stood in a corner, nursing your drink and waiting for the right time to go home but your plans were derailed when you found camaraderie in Yeosang. You didn’t even notice the time passing and you two have been inseparable since, something Wooyoung also never fails teasing you both about. But the possibility of you having feelings for him? You loved Yeosang. He was always so sweet and gentle with you and cared for you like no one else did. You always felt safe around him and comfortable enough to be vulnerable with him but to go as far as saying you had feelings for him? He was simply your best friend. That’s all he was. Was it?

There was a knock on the door and you immediately rushed to get it.

“Yeosang!”

He was standing on the other side, flowers in one hand and a few gift bags in the other. Your mother wasn’t too far behind you and happily greeted the new guest.

“Oh it’s lovely to see you again!”

You’d brought him over a few times before whenever you’d visit your parents and they’d now gotten accustomed to him and treated him as if he were their own. Your mother quickly ushered him in and took the gifts and flowers from him after gushing at how thoughtful he was. She gave you a teasing glance before heading to put the gifts by the tree.

“Uncle Yeosang!” your niece called as she ran inside and hugged him. Your sister and brother followed suit.

“Glad to see it’s you with her,” your sister commented.

“It’s not like that,” you mumble but your sister chose to not acknowledge your comment. It was your brother who had instead.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll take what we can get. Come join us.”

You all lead him into the living room where the rest of your family was. He greeted your father, it would be an understatement to say he’d taken a liking to him, as well as your grandmother, cousins aunts and uncles who’d joined you this year. Christmas was one of the only times where you’d all see each other so it was almost always a full house.

Whilst you helped your mother and sister in the kitchen, Yeosang helped your brother and father outside.

“My ex tried to contact me again today,” you said as you peeled carrots.

Your mother huffed. “Of course he did. You were always too good for him. I kept telling you he was a good for nothing.”

“Mom,” you groaned.

“You know she’s right. Why haven’t you blocked him already?”

“If you must know, I kind of forgot about him after our break up? He didn’t try to get in touch with me afterwards and I just kind of forgot to? I only remembered when I got the message today.”

“Whatever the case is, I thought last Christmas would be the last we hear of him. Should’ve been sooner, if you ask me. We’re on to bigger and better things now. Yeosang.” Your sister gave you a cheeky smile. You playfully nudged her but said nothing further as you continued with your allocated dish.

After dinner was ready, you all sat down to feast. You were well aware of the chosen seat for Yeosang right next to yours at the dinner table. Everyone joked and laughed with one another and you couldn’t help noticing how natural it was for him to be there and how accepting everyone seemed to be towards him.

Whenever you’d brought your ex around your family, there’d always been an underlying tension with their interactions towards him but with Yeosang, everyone seemed so cheery and open. You even stayed longer afterwards with him as you all gathered around for a game of Christmas charades, separating into two teams. You and him were on opposing teams and, unfortunately for you, he was on the winning team. He wasn’t one to outwardly gloat about winning but he couldn’t help himself from teasing you from time to time much to your chagrin. He knew you could be a sore loser and took full advantage of it.

It was finally time for everyone to say their goodbyes. You saw the rest of them out until it was finally only you, your immediate family and Yeosang left.

You and him made it outside your parents’ backyard to see they had gone all out with the Christmas decorations and lights. You lead him to a little archway where a bench sat underneath. You were aptly aware of his knee touching yours.

It was a cold December night but Yeosang had asked if you two could speak where it was just you two and you figured this was the best option where your family wouldn’t interrupt.

“My family likes you,” you said as you smiled at him and leaned against his shoulder. You could hear his own smile when he responded.

“I like your family too.” “What’s this about your mother welcoming me into your family?” You looked up to him to see he was beet red at this point but still tried to come off as playful. You excused it for the cold.

“Don’t mind her. She’s just happy to move on from any reminder of my ex in my life.”

“Does it hurt?” You leaned against him again and shook your head.

“No. Not as much as I thought it would. He tried to contact me earlier today.” There was a pause.

“And?”

“I didn’t respond. He’s not worth it.” You scrunched your nose. “Never was, was he?”

“You said it.” He held up his hands in defense which made you chuckle.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, as comparable as two people could be in the freezing cold, and you closed your eyes as you took in the moment. You felt him shuffling underneath you which caused you to sit up and give him a quizzical look. You excused his crimson face for how cold it was but then you noticed he didn’t meet your eyes as he held a small rectangular box in his hands.

“Here,” he quickly said with what felt like great effort as if he was steeling his nerves to speak.

“What’s this?”

“Your gift.”

“Oh! I actually got you something too but it’s back in the house. I can go—“

“No, no.” He caught your arm before you made it far. “It’s fine. I’ll see it later. Open yours first.”

The determined look on his face stilled your movements as you sat back next to him and opened the box. Inside you found a necklace with a small diamond encrusted snowflake as a pendant.

“I didn’t know what I should get you so I got you this. I hope you like it.”

Your fingers ran over the snowflake and you smiled.

“It’s perfect. I love it.”

“Last Christmas was such a mess for you. I just wanted to make this one a better experience. It’s your favourite holiday and you deserve to have happy memories of it again.”

Your eyes filled up as you looked at him. Yeosang was naturally soft spoken, you knew this but in this moment it seemed he was fighting with himself to get the words out. He looked like he had more to say but struggled to find the words. You had a feeling you knew what it was but you didn’t want to give yourself any false hope. It was then you realised, you actually wanted your not-so-secret wish to come true. It was then you realised, as your heart pumped out of your chest, just how much Yeosang really meant to you.

“Sangie…”

“I really like you, y/n. I’ve liked you for a long time and I understand if you don’t feel the same way. I just couldn’t go another day without letting you know how I feel.”

You knew from how fast he spoke he hadn’t fully processed what it was he’d just admitted to. Once his words caught up to him, his eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. You would’ve laughed if you yourself weren’t so overcome with emotion.

Suddenly everything made sense, how he’d always been the one you’d run to, call when you needed help or even just to hear his voice, why you needed his gift to be perfect because to you he was perfect and you wanted him to know.

But you were nervous. Yeosang was so dear to you that you knew if he were to ever break your heart the way your ex did, you might not recover from it. You couldn’t bear losing him forever. If you were to take this leap with him, you had to be sure what you both had was true and not a fleeting feeling. You wished there could be a sign to aid you in your decision.

Something touched your cheek and you realised, once you’d looked up that it had began snowing again. You also noticed something above you both and smiled to yourself.

“We’re under a mistletoe,” you whispered but loud enough for him to hear. He looked up as well and noticed what you’d noticed.

“What does that mean again?” You leaned in close to him, a smile still dancing on your lips.

“It means kiss me, silly.” Yeosang cradled your face ever so gently until finally your lips met. It was as sweet and as soft as he was and with it you knew that your heart this time around was in safe hands.

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

merry christmas everyone and i hope you have a wonderful new year :) 🩷

[swallowerofdharma]

An example of novel that follows the literary realism tradition but is sometimes approached under romantic lens, and therefore distorted into something else entirely - maybe because of the (bad) movies adaptations? because of the marketing and the covers? I don’t know but I will link this no longer rebloggable post for you to check - is Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov.

I read Lolita when I was seventeen, felt deeply discomforted but I liked the book, understood what it was doing with its narrator, but I have to add, before reading Lolita, I had already read Flaubert (Sentimental Education, didn’t finish Madame Bovary) and Émile Zola to name a few. I think that growing up I have read more books in this genre than others? I don’t know considering that back then I had to read a lot classics for school.

But long story short, I think something similar maybe it’s occurring with Saezuru. To be clear, I am not saying that you have to read it in a certain way, please I don’t really want to even imply that. Read it for yourself and your pleasure first. What I am saying is that, like Lolita, to me Saezuru makes total sense if we assume that it is written with a realistic intention and therefore not exactly bound by the rules of romantic novels that tend to present more positive and idealized views. After all manga are divided into demographics more than their genre, so authors draw very different stories. I still want these characters to find happiness! But I also want to be able to buy the eventual resolution and therefore I appreciate that the development of the story feels organic.

Anyway just a thought. Nakobov himself wrote (in Strong Opinions):

Reality is a very subjective affair. I can only define it as a kind of gradual accumulation of information; and as specialization. If we take a lily, for instance, or any other kind of natural object, a lily is more real to a naturalist than it is to an ordinary person. But it is still more real to a botanist. And yet another stage of reality is reached with that botanist who is a specialist in lilies. You can get nearer and nearer, so to speak, to reality; but you never get near enough because reality is an infinite succession of steps, levels of perception, false bottoms, and hence unquenchable, unattainable. You can know more and more about one thing but you can never know everything about one thing: it’s hopeless. So that we live surrounded by more or less ghostly objects— that machine, there, for instance. It’s a complete ghost to me— I don’t understand a thing about it and, well, it’s a mystery to me, as much of a mystery as it would be to Lord Byron.

As for marketing, if you check the link and think about Saezuru: the covers and merchandise vs the content of the chapters, vs the story as it’s told, the parallel with Lolita makes sense to me. The cover only has one imperative: to sell. But once you are alone with the story, you see that stylistic choices, tone, everything suggest that you read it in a critical way.

The way Yoneda Kou draws is also quite sober, discarding decorative details and paying attention more to frame and pov. The way she presents what happens is objective and detached, neutral I’d say, making us impartial observers most of the time, letting the actions speak without commentary being made. The dialogue is hard for our translators because it recreates the speech patterns of the various characters faithfully. And these characters are common yakuza that live harsh realities, the gritty social aspect of it is visible and part of the story, as well as social injustices and personal trauma, and keen and realistic attention to human behavior.

I guess all this clued me in to reading the story the way I do, and probably also why I chose it in the first place. Realism is the genre of fiction I am more read in, although I am expanding my horizons more and more.

[bestworstcase]

thinking about those two deer in the lost fable again. out of all the assets created just for this one episode, why?

like… it’s not random. the only other animals in this story have been amber’s horse, zwei, and the branwens’ bird forms. all have some narrative relevance, a clear connection to a character that justifies the expense and effort of modeling them. and then in the lost fable—an episode that was always going to be a heavy lift technically and financially for the sheer amount of ground to cover and novel assets required—has these two deer. they’re only on screen for like two seconds.

it’s narratively motivated. the lost fable is a highly symbolic episode and that symbolism foreshadows the ever after / ascension / all the v9 lore quite strongly; it follows that the intended symbolism of this shot demanded the presence of these deer.

the god of light has deer antlers. in the blacksmith’s story, the first act of destruction is to eat; darkness eats, light does not. light holds himself at a distance, he designs, he does not live. these deer are grazing. salem appears from a plume of smoke at the base of the withered tree, and the deer startle at her approach and look up at her. the shot transitions to salem looking upon the grimm in the ruins of a town—

“she cursed the gods, she cursed the universe. she cursed everything—everything but herself,” says jinn. but her expression isn’t anger. (always check her eyebrows.) it’s more intense concentration, intense thought…

…which brings her back to the pool of grimm. jinn says that “fate” led her back here because that’s what ozpin believes. but this sequence begins with those deer, eating. destruction in its purest unadulterated form. salem visually emerges from the withered tree. she’s observing the grimm and she’s thinking. if the fountain of life had given her immortality, then surely the pools of grimm would finally take it away—not “finally let her die.”

rolls over.

the fountain of life gave her infinite life. salem hoped the pool of grimm would take it away. not kill. not destroy. infinite life. if you take from an infinite quantity, an infinite quantity still remains. this force of pure destruction could not destroy, so it created…

destruction first, to clear the wilderness away. darkness eats the tree’s brambles and through this act creation is born. jinn’s telling distorts through ozpin’s belief, but the truth is there. pure destruction and infinite life are not in conflict; rather, destruction feeds life.

the pool of grimm did take from her life—subtract from the infinite and the infinite remains—she’s torn apart and remade. creativity, to imagine what, and who, could replace the wilderness.

jinn tells this story, ozpin’s story, in a way that obfuscates salem’s real agency and her personhood, casting her alternately as tragic object of fate and inhuman monster. fate led her back to the land of darkness; a being of infinite life with a desire for pure destruction.

he believes salem wanted to die when she leapt into the pool of grimm.

did she?

the deer, the grimm, herself, the pool of grimm. wilderness and ruin. all that remained. i arrive at the edge of the world […] should i kneel?/what should i feel?/will i fall apart?/maybe that’s all i want […] and in my heart it’s there/standing tall enough to fix it all/it’s just a new beginning/it’s just a different ending […] i am everything and nothing/all at once/i’ll meet you at the horizon/where we first met/where i died, i’ll be born again…

(something. something. without you i am nothing, but because of you, i am everything. self-similar narrative.)

the edge of the world. . .

mutters. sow the death and reap the seed -> the moon will sadly watch the roses die -> a rose will grow to be a seed/from every life another leads -> some roses will never bloom. the burning rose, the shattered moon.

did. she know—did she have an idea that destroying herself would create a new world? destruction to clear the wilderness, creativity to imagine its replacement.

“they could claim the powers of their creators for themselves and in turn perfect their own design; all they needed to do was destroy their old masters.” -> “this was it, this had to be it, the brother’s grimm, the pools of black that continued to give rise to horrific nightmares” -> “we could be the gods of this world. […] create the paradise the old gods could not.”

like. it’s not just

it’s those fucking deer. eating. the grimm picking over the ruins. (grimm eat their prey.) salem, observing, thinking. “the gods had hoped that salem would learn from her eternal curse, and she did.” the god of light bade her learn the importance of life and death, and she did. and then she jumped into the pool of grimm and created remnant. a new world. a completely unfamiliar world–

…oh. ohhh

“magic was a gift from the gods that all could wield” -> “without the blessings of the gods, no one could perform magic like mankind was once capable of”

and

“aura is a manifestation of the soul, a life force that runs through every living creature on remnant.” we could be the gods of this world.

how does pyrrha unlock jaune’s aura? “for it is in passing we achieve immortality; through this we become a paragon of virtue and glory, infinite in distance and unbound by death. i release your soul, and by my shoulder protect thee.” a religious mantra echoing salem’s idea of transcendence. magic was a gift from the gods that all could wield; aura is a manifestation of the soul that everyone has, though only a select few are privileged by ozma’s institutions to learn. “with enough training and focus,” salem says, “a user’s aura can turn them into much more than just a man.” the illustration is ozpin’s silhouette—but ozma’s power isn’t derived from aura, it’s magic, and the infinite man is fond of saying that he is “only a man, not even a very good one,” and salem herself sees him as diminished, as lessened. he’s the image of “just a man.” a person’s aura can make them much more than ozma. much more than the brothers’ design.

our powers surpass all others.

salem is grimm. even if she has aura, she cannot use it to protect herself. the gods gave humans magic and then took it back; salem threw herself into the pool of grimm and it broke her apart and—symbolically if not literally—took away her aura and gave it to the people of remnant, reborn from the ashes of her rebellion. a semblance is the outward manifestation of one’s soul. she wanted humanity to claim the powers of their creators and perfect their own design, and… with enough training and focus, a user’s aura can turn them into something much more than just a man.

[a-shadowedvales]

so… in the additional media of stranger things (specifically the comics i’m mentioning), it was initially brenner’s idea/plan to kill off the other test subjects because they weren’t performing as well as eleven was. it was his best solution because that way, all the resources, time, and money could instead be placed only to her. and i just…. sure henry is a fine character and the massacre makes a lot of sense to me, but i think i am once again gonna change up my canon to actually fit this potential narrative instead.

i genuinely think the comic canon of the lab and brenner is far more intriguing than the show. everything with 9/9.5, ricky, and francine. eleven being the only one who grew up completely in the lab. those other kids were either volunteers, well into their teens, or had some semblance of a home life. eleven was the only one practically moulded from the womb. and they all had such a range of interesting powers. i firmly stand with the idea that jane is the only one who can contact the void.

brenner’s entire point of view on the lab subjects changed the second he found out terry was pregnant. he discovered he could steal this baby and make her his own. there would be no convincing the child because it’s all she would have ever known. because of this, i would not put it past a man like brenner to kill the other subjects for the sake of the “greater good” in this case, eleven.

eleven’s gifts just continue thriving beyond his wildest expectations. brenner would never dare assume that having moulded her from the womb, she would still be able to grow into her own person, her own mind, and one day be able to see him for exactly who he was.

back before season four aired, it was obvious there were other test subjects because jane was 011. so there were at least ten kids before her. but i always liked the idea/assumed that she was the last experiment because she was the most successful. that they didn’t need anyone after her because she was fulfilling everything they set out for her to do. with flying colours.

i just think the whole rainbow room idea, pitting the kids against each other thing… been there, done that. boring and predictable. i think at this point my portrayal of her time in hawkins lab really stems from the complete isolation she endured. where having the rainbow room, although eleven was obviously the most isolated out of the kids, brings that sense of community and sister/brotherhood. albeit extremely warped and toxic. knowing that she wasn’t alone in that experience just. doesn’t sit well with me. i think it’s important to note that she was alone, physically and mentally. which is why kali is also so important to her growth. i thought a lot of the flashbacks of her time in the lab during season four was really boring, repetitive, and just very predictable. although peter becoming vecna was a surprise to me, and was a nice little twist, the idea of her having an ally on the inside was really interesting.

maybe they did get as far as they do in canon, peter ballad was telling the truth about everything, about some of the workers there being prisoners like him, and he really wanted to get her out and to safety. but before they can escape through the pipes, they’re caught. peter is shot on the spot, and eleven is put into the isolation room for a few days as punishment. in this timeline, henry would be vecna, but henry would not be peter ballad.

when eleven turned seven, and was already showing extreme promise, where the other children were average at best, brenner had the eight children killed. kali had already escaped. this was the main cause for peter to gain eleven’s trust and try to get her out. because if brenner could murder his “children” in cold blood, there’s no way eleven was safe even in spite of her power.

when eleven is allowed out of the isolation room, her testing becomes more rigorous in attempt to distance and make her forget about what she attempted to do with peter. brenner begins gaslighting her, saying that there was never a peter, that she must have been dreaming. eleven does ask “papa” about “mama”, given peter told her of the day terry broke in the lab, but brenner is convincing enough to make eleven believe it was all in her head. say she is around eight years old, meaning the same timeline of season fours canon flashbacks.

i still do wanna keep the henry creel canon, and keep him as 001. brenner didn’t have him killed alongside the other test subjects, because who knows, one day he could become an even better asset than 011. brenner definitely wants to be able to control henry, but keeps the chip in him because, for the moment, doesn’t know how. killing him would be too big of a loss.

when eleven is ten years old, henry’s concealed powers break free and he manages to get the chip out himself, and unleashes hell onto hawkins lab. he almost kills brenner by snapping his bones, but eleven manages to stop him. her extreme abilities are unleashed, and she sends henry to the upside down. she does fall into a coma due to the extremity of the situation, but she does not forget what happened. brenner believes she’s the perfect weapon as she stepped in to save him without a second thought, was able to defeat henry, and opened a door to something he never thought possible. eleven is rewarded for her efforts. although she remembers the entire battle / confrontation, her memories regarding the portal are very hazy.

brenner decides not to focus on the portal straight away, instead gets her training harder and harder to see what else she can accomplish. also loved the idea of brenner sending her into the void to “look for him” so that will definitely be kept.

by the time she escapes and season one begins, her knowledge of the upside down is basically what we see in canon. because she passed out the moment after she sent henry away, she was once again gaslighted into believing she merely threw him through the glass and killed him. for two years she believed this, until making contact with the demogorgan, and those memories return completely.

due to her saving brenner’s life, (it was pure instinct. she happened to be there. saw her “papa” hurt and knew she had to make him better.) brenner constantly thanks her. but in a very condescending way. tells her: “you saved me so i can continue saving you.” aka, harness your abilities and see what else i can achieve from you. despite the fact that she saved his life, these words and phrases make her feel indebted to him. that she owes him something further.

i don't realistically see her thriving with her speech improvement until she's well into her twenties at least. her slowed development, sensory and social deprivation causes a serious delay in language. surrounded by other children she would have overheard conversations, some would have spoken to her. her conveniently forgetting her upbringing pre the battle with henry just isn't good enough for me anymore. it makes more sense for her to have been raised alone.

it also helps indicate why she gravitated towards the boys when they found her in the woods. they would have been the first people her age she ever remembered seeing. as far as she knew, during the lab there was no one like her. everyone was much older, they were adults-- although she stayed with benny, i'm not sure if she would have stuck around very long. where she followed the boys home without thought.

also it's important to note that after time, jane does understand that peter ballad was a real person, and was truly the first person (aside from terry) who wanted the best for her. when she remembers him, knows that brenner was lying, she deals with immense guilt regarding his death. he was shot right in front of her eyes, because he was trying to help her. this is another catalyst as to why after season two, jane never refers to brenner as papa. she does not give him that sort of credit.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

rafe having no boundaries and grabbing his girlfriend's ass in front of family during a family trip

A little Rafe and Sarah being siblings

—

‘’Can you not do that here?’’ Sarah grimaced after Rafe wandered in and smacked your ass on his way to the fridge. ‘’We’re cooking. That’s gross.’’ 

You and Sarah had woken up earlier than everyone else and decided to whip some pancake batter. They were coming along nicely, slowly piling up on a plate.

Rafe rolled his eyes in response and leaned against the kitchen counter. ‘’Chill out, Sarah. I’m just saying ‘good morning’ to my girl.’’

Sarah scoffed, giving him a glare as you flipped out the pancake in the pan. ‘’Well, keep your 'good mornings' to yourself until after breakfast and when I’m not around, alright? I’ve seen and heard enough things I didn’t want to.’’ 

Your cheeks turned red and you kept your eyes on the pan, embarrassed as memories of Sarah catching you topless in their pool and all the times she heard you through the walls of Tannyhill before Rafe got his own place. You’ll never apologize to her enough. 

‘’Stop acting like a prude. I’ve heard you on the phone with that pogue you’re seeing. Ahh, John B., I wish your fingers were inside me. I’m so close, I need to—’’ 

Sarah grabbed a blueberry and threw it at her brother, her face burning hot at his mockery. If eyes could kill, Rafe would be a dead man. She looked murderous. 

Rafe smirked, unfazed by the blueberry that was thrown his way. He crossed his arms crossed over his broad chest, and his blue eyes flickered with amusement. ‘’These walls are old. Did you think I couldn’t hear you?’’ 

To avoid a Sarah vs Rafe duel from happening, you asked Rafe if he wanted chocolate chips or blueberries in his pancakes. You already knew the answer, but you needed to defuse the bomb before it would explode. 

‘’Blueberries. You know how I like my pancakes, baby,’’ he said, pushing himself off the counter and closing the distance between you and him in a few strides. 

Sarah shot a glare in his direction, her eyes narrowing, but Rafe chose to ignore her and kiss your shoulder, standing right behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back and resting his chin above your shoulder.

‘’Rafe, you’re distracting me,’’ you warned, pouring batter in the pan and adding some blueberries. 

Rafe laughed lowly, his chest rumbling against your back as his arms wrapped tighter around your waist. He pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear, his lips lingering on your skin for a few seconds. ‘’These look good. Think we can take the pancakes to bed after you’re done?’’ 

Breakfast in bed, away from everyone else, sounded tempting. You've had breakfast with the Camerons since you arrived, sticking to the polite routine. You missed being alone with Rafe in the morning, taking it slow and engaging in non-PG activities.  

Before you answered, Sarah cleared her throat beside you, a disapproving look on her face. Rafe thought he was subtle and sleek when he had his hand wander under your robe. 

He lifted his head and gave her a cocky grin. ''What?'' 

‘’In case you forgot, I’m still here,'' the blonde recalled, taking a few plates from the cupboards and deciding to set the table. ‘’And Wheezie and Dad and Rose are gonna come down soon.’’ 

‘’I know,'' Rafe replied, stepping back and letting you finish the pancakes. ''If you had not been here, I would have her bent over the counter already.’’ 

His words should have shocked you, but you were used to his bluntness by now. Rafe never held back, always saying exactly what was on his mind, no matter how outrageous. No matter the audience. You thought he would behave and tone it down with Wheezie in the house, but he didn’t. 

Thankfully, her young ears were not around.

You looked over your shoulder, failing at hiding the smirk that tugged at the corners of your lip.

—

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