#she had to be the adult in her life so long

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Apple Pie Life

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: angst, threat of divorce, tired of coming in second

Summary: While Dean is out there saving the world, you’re back at home with your daughter wondering if you’re ever going to see him again or if he’s alive. There comes a point where you just can’t do it anymore so you bring up the one thing that will definitely destroy your relationship. Will Dean accept it or change who he is for you?

Square Filled: “So you think I’m broken? Fix me. ‘Cause I’m no quitter.” (2021) for @spnquotebingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Alyssa crawls under the covers and hides her face, and you go tickling her to see where she’s at. Her giggles bring a smile to your face but you’re still so sad about your whole situation. You remove the covers from her head and smooth back her frizzy hair.

“Are you going to go to sleep this time?” you ask.

“Maaaybe,” she sings.

“Go to sleep and maybe I’ll make chocolate chip pancakes in the morning.” You kiss her head. “I love you, snugbug.”

“I love you too,” she grins. Her two front teeth are missing, but you can see the adult teeth peeking out from her gums. You get up to leave but her next words stop you. “Where’s Daddy?”

Just like that, the happiness is gone. Your heart cracks at her questions because you truly don’t know where he is. You don’t even know if he’s alive. Still, you can’t tell that to your six-year-old, so you tell her something that will bring her comfort.

“He’s with Uncle Sam right now.”

Good. Keep it vague.

“When is he gonna be back?”

“Soon. If you go to sleep, he might be here when you wake up.”

Alyssa snuggles in her blanket, eyes already closed. You turn off the light but keep the night light on before closing the door behind you. The tears want to come but you will them not to fall. You can’t cry right now. You have to pretend to be strong even if it’s killing you. You walk downstairs to the kitchen and pour yourself a big glass of wine. You take that glass to the couch in the living room, and you pull your phone out to call Dean.

Like always, he doesn’t answer. He sends you straight to voicemail, and a piece of your heart breaks off and turns to ash. You’re not sure how long you can do this for. Soon, there won’t be enough of your heart to give to him. You should be sleeping. You should be tucked under the covers and in a dreamless sleep, but you can’t sleep not knowing if Dean is alive or where he is.

So, you drink and when that glass is done, you pour another and continue drinking. You’re halfway through your third glass when the front door opens. Dean walks through and tries to be quiet for your sake, but you’re already jumping off the couch.

“Thank God. Where the hell were you? I called you, like twenty times.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. There was this pack of werewolves that refused to die. They broke my phone.” He proves this by pulling it out of his pocket. It’s true. It’s smashed to pieces. “Plus, we were in the mountains where the reception wasn’t that great, anyway.”

“Alyssa was asking about you.”

Dean sighs and runs a hand through his short hair. “What did you say?”

“What I always tell her. That you’ll be here in the morning.” You let silence befall between you two. “Will you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Mmm.” You walk toward the kitchen and put your lass into the sink. Now that you know he’s safe and alive, you can sleep. “Maybe stay more than a week this time, okay?”

“Y/N…”

“I’m going to bed.”

You leave him standing in the kitchen all alone, and he curses to himself once the bedroom door closes. The next morning, you wake to the sound of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen, Alyssa knows better than to not mess with those on her own so Dean must have been telling the truth. He’s here. You really shouldn’t have had that extra glass of wine. You have a small headache but knowing Dean is here makes the pain worth it.

You brush your teeth before going downstairs, and you see Alyssa on a step stool as she helps Dean mix the batter in a bowl. She’s the first one to see you standing in the doorway.

“Mommy! Daddy and I made pancakes!”

You smile at her enthusiasm. “It smells good, baby. Good job.” Dean pushes a plate of two pancakes to you, and you grab a fork. “Thanks.”

“Daddy said he was going to take me to the zoo this weekend! He also said that we can get as much ice cream as I can eat!”

“Is that right?” You look at Dean but instead of a happy smile on his face, he is racked with guilt. You know that look all too well. He’s not taking her to the zoo which means you’ll have to. “Alyssa, I’ll be taking you to the zoo.”

“Y/N--”

“What? I’m just saying it like how it is. You have work to do, don’t you?”

“Daddy?”

Dean is forced to confront reality and looks at Alyssa with a guilty face. “Alyssa, I just have to do something with Uncle Sammy. It won’t take long.”

“Can I come?”

You’re immediately put on alert but Dean isn’t stupid. He knows better than to put his daughter in danger.

“Not this time, baby.”

She stirs the batter but it’s not as happily as before.

“When will you be back?”

“I’ll try to be back before Friday.”

You look at your watch and widen when you see what time it is.

“Why don’t you get ready for school? The bus will be here in thirty minutes.”

You and Dean keep the peace as long as Alyssa is in the house. The second she hops onto the bus, you let it show just how pissed off you are with him. You walk back into the house and head straight to the kitchen to clean the mess they made. Your pancakes are left untouched; you’re not hungry anymore. Dean stays silent but he knows he has to say something to you even though he knows whatever he says won’t be of any comfort to you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, you’re always sorry.”

“Don’t do that.”

You slam the plastic bowl onto the kitchen island a bit too hard, and splotches of batter land on the counter. “Are we not important to you?”

“You know that’s not it.”

“It seems like it is when you leave us behind. You’re not here, Dean. When she asks me where Daddy is or when he’s coming home, I never know what to fucking tell her because I don’t even know if you’re alive!”

Something dark crosses over Dean’s features. “This is the life, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I know,” you scoff. You grab the batter bowl and toss it into the sink. You’ll clean it later. You grab a few paper towels and start to wipe the surface of the counter. “That’s always the excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse. It’s my life.”

“What about my life?!” you yell. “What about Alyssa’s life? You never see the disappointment in her eyes when I tell her that you’re not coming home. When will it be our turn to have you?”

It breaks your heart to even think about doing this, but you don’t know what else to do. You toss the paper towels into the trash and grab your purse. You pull out a packet of papers and slide them across the counter over to Dean.

“What is this?”

It hurts to even say these words but you know they have to be said. You want them to come out strong but they only come out as a whisper.

“I think the only way to save this family is to break it up.”

Dean grabs the papers and skims the first page.

“You want a divorce?”

You can’t meet Dean’s eyes. If you do, you’ll break down in tears and give in. You’re done bending to what he wants. It’s time you try and protect your fragile heart.

“I won’t ever keep Alyssa from you, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep wondering when the love of my life is going to come home, and if he does, will he be in one piece? I admire what you do and I know people need you, but I need you.” Your voice cracks and the tears come. “I’m losing weight, Dean. My eyes are sunken in. My head hurts all the damn time. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat properly. I can’t do this anymore.”

Dean crushes the papers in his hands and throws them onto the counter. He’s never been one to confront how he’s feeling, and this is one of those times. He wants to comfort you, but he doesn’t know how. He’d hate to do or say something he’d regret so he turns and storms out of the kitchen and out of the house. When the door slams behind him, you sink to the floor in tears.

It’s not like you don’t love him. You’re in love with him, but you can’t keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. You can’t keep waiting for death to come for you, Alyssa, or Dean.

Dean doesn’t know where to go but his brain is on overdrive. He drives straight back to the Bunker where Sam is. Dena has to talk to someone, he needs someone to tell him what to do because he doesn’t know what to do. Do you think he’s fine with leaving you for weeks at a time? It breaks his heart. He hates that you are living this hollow life. He knows you deserve more.

Sam knows something is wrong the second Dean walks into the war room, and he provides his brother with a listening ear. He knew this was coming. It was inevitable. When you live two lives, one of them always crumbles.

“What do you want to do?” Sam asks after Dean is done.

“I can’t lose her, Sammy, but if I continue doing what I’m doing, I will.”

Sam is silent for five minutes trying to find the right words to say.

“What if you let her go?” Dean looks at his brother with red-rimmed eyes. “What if letting her go is the only way to protect her? To protect both of them?”

“There has to be another way.” Dean puts his head down and actually cries. Sam has never seen his brother like this. A thought of realization crosses Dean’s mind, and he looks up at his brother. “There might be another way.”

Alyssa was disappointed when she got home from school and didn’t see Dean waiting there for her. You had to keep her distracted with a new toy, but you know this can’t go on like this for much longer. She’s getting older and smarter. She’ll figure out something is wrong with Mommy and Daddy fast.

She usually likes to stay up and watch movies with you, but she wants to go to bed early tonight. Maybe she’s hoping when she wakes up, Daddy will be there waiting for her. You’re downstairs with a glass of wine just staring at the divorce papers. The look on Dean’s face when he realized what they were… true heartbreak. It hurt for you to even bring this up, but you don’t know of any other way to make this work.

You have a pen in hand but you can’t seem to sign it. The front door opens and you look up to see Dean walk in. He’s back. You set the pen down but you don’t get up to greet him. You do set your glass of wine down on the kitchen island.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi.” He walks into the light and you can tell he’d been crying for hours. His eyes are red and puffy, as you’re sure yours are. He sits next to you and looks at the papers. “Is this really what you want?”

“I don’t know any other way. It hurts when you’re not here. It hurts seeing you in pain. It just hurts so much.”

Dean grabs the pen but he doesn’t sign it. He just stares at it and thinks back to the conversation he had with his brother. There is a way to fix this. But if you don’t want it fixed, then he’ll sign.

“If I sign this, I don’t know if we’ll ever come back from it.”

“If you don’t, I don’t see how we can move on.”

He’s about to say something when a small voice comes from the top of the stairs. You both turn to see Alyssa in her pink pajamas holding the stuffed unicorn that Dean got her.

“Are you guys going to read me a bedtime story?”

You’re about to get up when Dean stops you. “Let me.”

Dean follows Alyssa to bed while you stay downstairs. You spent the entire time just staring at the divorce papers wondering if this is what you really want. Of course, it’s not. You don’t ever want to be apart from Dean. You love him so much. That’s why it hurts so much. Dean walks back downstairs thirty minutes later and rejoins you in the kitchen.

“Look, if we’re going to do this, I think it’s best if you leave before the morning.”

“No.”

You look at Dean. “What?”

“No, I’m not doing this. I’m not getting a divorce.”

“Dean…”

“No, listen to me. I never knew I could have what you have given to me. I thought I was going to die bloody and that was that. Then you came along and showed me there is more to this world than blood and gore. Then Alyssa came alone and I had the apple pie life I’ve always wanted. I hunt for you and her. I hunt to keep them away from you, but I now see it’s tearing you apart. So, you think I’m broken? Fix me. ‘Cause I’m no quitter. I’ll fix me. I’ll work better on us for us.”

Tears well in your eyes and roll down your cheeks in waves. “I don’t think you’re broken. Our system is broken. I love you, Dean, but I can’t keep coming in second.”

Dean grabs both of your hands and runs his thumbs across their backs.

“You don’t have to anymore. I talked to Sam. I’m out.”

You pull your hands back “Wait, what?”

“I’m done hunting. Sam agreed he’d call if he needs help researching, but I won’t be hunting anymore.”

“You love hunting,” you whisper.

He touches your cheek gently. “I love you more.”

“What about Sam? Who will do it with him?”

“Jody has a few girls she’s been training. Sam loves to teach. I think they’d be good with him. Plus, he has Eileen and Garth and Donna.”

You shake your head as you try to wrap your mind around this. “Wait, Dean, I can’t ask you to give up hunting. That’s who you are.”

“You are who I am. Alyssa is who I am. I’d do anything for you and that includes this. I’m okay with this decision, but I am not okay with divorcing you because I am not done loving you.” You break out in a fit of sobs and Dean pulls you closer to him. “I will always be here. I won’t leave anymore. Sam even found me a mechanic job near here.”

“You’d really do that for me?” you whisper, unable to believe it still.

“I’d burn the world for you.” You lean up and kiss him with everything you’ve got. He pulls away from you and grabs the divorce papers. He rips them to shreds and tosses them into the trash. “It’s me and you, okay?”

“Forever and always.”

Dean captures your lips again, this time, picking you up by your thighs. This isn’t going to fix everything but it’s one hell of a start.

x

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[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 13

We are really nearing the end now, this is the chapter I chopped up because it was getting into super long territory and so this chapter has a minor cliffhanger because that was the best place to stop it.

Here we get Jane's backstory and her and Max take Steve shopping.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

~

Janice and Joan looked up at the new girl from behind Eddie’s legs. Robin had been called to bring over some clothes that might fit the gangly, starved teen.

Jane’s head and clothes were covered in lice and other bugs, so the clothing was burned and her hair shaved off. Then she was given a towel and the clothes Robin brought over and told to shower.

Steve made a note to warn Max and Susan about the bathtub. The bottom was coated in a black, almost sludge from the years of living on the street being scrubbed off of her body.

She stepped out of the bathroom and Steve led her to the guest room he had gotten ready for her to sleep in. Then in the morning when she came out of the bedroom, the girls had darted around Eddie to hide from the new person.

The shirt was almost big enough to be a dress and she held tightly to the sweat pants to keep them from falling off, even with the draw strings pulled to the tightest they could go.

Benny had prepared a meal for her of light broths and fluffy rice. Jane polished off the chicken and rice soup in no time at all. The water was parsed to her in small amounts to make she didn’t get sick from drinking too much too fast.

Her haunting blue eyes stared up at them as the three adults pondered what to do with her. She was more than half starved, dehydrated, and scared.

“So what are you going to do with me?” she asked with a glare.

Joan tugged her father’s left pant leg. “Is she sick?” she stage whispered.

Eddie scooped her up and held her close. “No baby doll, she didn’t have anyone take care of her so she had to take of herself. Could you take care of yourself all alone without Daddy, Stevie, Aunt Chrissy or Grandpa Wayne?”

“No Janie either?” Joan asked, her lip starting to quiver and her eyes filled with tears.

“No Janie either,” Eddie confirmed.

Joan shook her head. “I’d need at least Janie because she’s so smart.”

Jane smiled a small ghost of a smile at that.

“Jane these are my daughters, Joan and Janice,” Eddie said scooping up Janice too. “Girls this is Jane. She’ll be staying with us until we can find some place safe for her.”

Jane narrowed her eyes at them suspiciously, but merely clasped her hands between her thighs. Eddie knew that look. She didn’t believe him anymore than he had believed Uncle Wayne when he had said it when he was ten years, cold, scared and badly beaten from the last foster family he had been placed in.

Wayne had said those same words to him and fuck, learning that eventually meant staying with him forever was hard to accept. But he did and now he’s successful and happy.

“Steve would you take the girls to get ready for preschool?” Eddie murmured.

The girls tried to burrow into his neck further, but gently Steve pried both girls off and carried them off to get changed for school.

Jane tilted her head to the side. “Are you two married?”

Eddie squawked and Hopper chuckled.

“He wishes he could bag a man like Steve Harrington,” Hopper huffed and then winked at her to share in his joke.

“Steve’s my live-in nanny,” Eddie told her. “I’ve been living the single life for over a year now and am not really looking for the next Mr. Munson.”

“That’s sad,” she said bluntly. “You’re cute together.”

Eddie nearly choked on his tongue. “Right, let’s talk about you.”

She shrugged as Benny put down another bowl of chicken and rice soup and then stepped outside for a smoke, leaving only Eddie and Hopper with the girl.

She took a bite of the food and concentrated on that while both men sat across from her.

“Do you want Robin to come in and keep you safe?” Eddie asked, leaning forward on the table.

Jane shook her head. “I’m good at two things, screaming and biting.”

Hopper flexed his hand subconsciously as he remember his own experiences in that regard. She grinned up at him.

“Do you know how old you are?” Eddie asked, trying to move this along because his girls needed him right now.

“Not really,” she said shaking her head. “Mama didn’t register my birth with the county so the last best guess was eight.”

Eddie and Hopper stared at each other in shock.

“And just how long ago was eight?” Hopper growled. He copied her earlier move of shoving his hands between his thighs as to not show his frustration at the situation.

Again Jane shrugged. “I’ve been on the run for awhile. I know I had a couple of years with the Brenners and then on the run for about that.”

Eddie turned his head to the side and ran his tongue slowly over his top lip. “And who are the Brenners?” He had a sinking feeling he knew.

“Bad people.” Jane refused to look up from her bowl as she swirled her spoon through the rice causing the chicken to float to the top.

“Shit.”

Jane looked up at Hopper. “That’s a bad word too.”

Hopper huffed out a bitter laugh. “They wouldn’t happen to have been Dr. Martin Brenner and his wife Anne, would it?”

Jane nodded and Hopper let loose a string of swear words that left both Eddie and Jane staring at him wide eyed. Jane in shock, Eddie in awe. There was some words in there he’d never heard before and eagerly wanted to know what they meant.

But privately he agreed with Hopper. Drs. Martin and Anne Brenner had been arrested last year for experimenting on foster children. Unethical drug trials. Especially those whose parents or other family weren’t likely to come looking for them.

Eddie remembered it because weirdly Ethan had sided with the Brenners. Why not use children no one wanted to drug test on? That way real children wouldn’t be harmed in the trials. That really should have been Eddie’s first clue that everything was about to go to shit, but nope. Eddie had ignored it, like he had all the other signs leading up the massive break up.

“Martin’s dead and Anne’s in jail for the rest of her life,” Hopper told the girl fiercely.

Jane’s eyes went wide and then narrowed. “I don’t believe you.” She sat back in her chair with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest and glared at them both.

Eddie pulled out his phone and said, “Hey google, what’s the status on Martin and Anne Brenner?”

“Here’s what I found,” the robotic voice said, “Drs. Martin and Anne Brenner, who were found to be experimenting on the foster children they took in from the state of Indiana, when their house was raided by police, Martin Brenner was shot and killed by police when he tried to make a break for it with all his research on a laptop. Anne Brenner was convicted of several charges including child endangerment, torture, and child abuse. She is currently serving three consecutive life sentences for her role in the scheme.”

Jane’s eyes widened and then got bigger and bigger until they couldn’t anymore. “They’re gone? I’m safe?”

Hopper nodded. “They’re as gone as God can make them.”

The relief just sagged off her like a an ill-fitting garment, even more so than the clothes she was wearing. She seemed to de-age in front of them as well, as years just sloughed off like dead skin. The bags under her seemed to less and her eyes gained back their sparkle.

“I think I can speak for me and Hopper,” Eddie said gently, “but we’ll do everything in power to make sure you don’t go back into the system, not even a little bit. Okay?”

“Absolutely,” Hopper growled. “I’ve got a friend who might be willing to help us out.”

“And I’ll contact my lawyer to see if a judge can’t give one or both of us temporary custody until we can get this sorted.” Eddie stuck out his hand. “Welcome to the family, Jane.”

~

With the combined power of Steve’s knowledge of CPS, Hopper’s child counselor friend, and Eddie’s lawyer, they were able to get temporary guardianship of Jane until Becky Ives could be contacted.

The first thing Steve did when she was placed in his care was introduce her to Max. They had found out that Jane was the same age as the other kids, but a little older and her only friends were people who had helped her on the street.

Max thought she was going to be poaching Lucas from her at first so the initial meeting was a bit terse.

Then when Jane explained she didn’t even know who that was, suddenly Max was her new best friend.

Steve laughed when Max begged for him to take the two of them clothes shopping.

“Why me?” he asked. “Couldn’t your mom take you? Or even Eddie?”

Max rolled her eyes. “Because you’re cool. Eddie’s look is too hard for Jane and my mom is lame, so...” She cocked her head sassily. “No brainer.”

Jane turned her puppy dog eyes on Steve and he folded like a house of cards. He spoke to Eddie, who gave Steve a card to take to help pay for all of the things that Jane would need.

So Steve took them to the mall. That’s all malls were these days, expensive boutiques of different styles of clothes.

The first one was preppy clothes and both Max and Jane got a bunch of clothes to try on and while the poor shop assistant was aghast at all the things that they took in with them, Steve assured her that he would be the one to put everything back.

“The one girl with the shaved head hasn’t never had a chance to figure out her style,” he explained, “so just them have their fun.”

The assistant backed away, but kept a wary eye on the dressing room anyway.

“Anything that doesn’t fit,” Steve called out, “hand them out to me and I’ll take them back.”

Suddenly both hands shot out and Steve laughingly took the garments and started folding them neatly. Then he handed them back to the sales associate, who took them from him with a blink of confusion, but she put them on the stack that she would need to put back on the shelves.

Then Max came out first in a plaid skirt and white blouse. She had put her chunky boots back on and Steve clapped.

“Very nice, Max!” he said brightly. “Love the boots, very chic!”

Jane came out in khakis and a pink polo that she had paired with brown loafers. Max wolf-whistled and Steve applauded.

“I like it!” Steve said. “How do you feel about it?”

Jane turned to him and tilted her head to the side. “I am not sure. I would like to try on more before I decide.”

“Then have at thee!” he cheered waving her back into the dressing room with a laugh. Max turned and followed suit.

They tried on several outfits and Steve paid for everything liked and put back everything they didn’t, then moved on to the next store. He encouraged them to play with styles and mix and match.

By the time they had reached the end of the mall, Steve had already made several trips out to the car and was still ladden with bags as the girls chatted happily with smoothies and mall pretzels.

As they pulled up to the house, Jane tugged on Steve’s sleeve. He turned and looked at her.

She smiled at him, “Thanks for taking us. I had lots of fun.”

“You’re welcome,” Steve said fondly. “Your caseworker is going to be here in an hour so get changed into one of the outfits you bought today.” He turned to Max. “You might have to help her pick something appropriate. I’m trusting you to make good choices because one misstep could spell disaster for everyone.”

Max nodded. Judging from Steve knew about Susan and her history she’d met with caseworkers before and knew what to do.

Again it took several trips even with the girls’ and Eddie’s help. But soon everything was in and put in a guest room until they knew for sure where Jane would be moving to.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @tartarusknight @gregre369

2- ​@a-little-unsteddie @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach @yesdangerpls @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch

4- @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @ollieolive @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

8- @sadisticaltarts @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dolphincliffs @steddie-as-they-go @steddieislife

9- @kultiras @morallyundefined @themoonagainstmers @fearieshadow @blondie1006

10- @thesecondfate @wheneverfeasible @depressed-freak13 @genderless-spoon @sadiea20

[dduane]

Had a few questions along the lines of "where'd the cat come from?"

...We first run into her as a kitten in Tales of the Five #2: The Landlady, when Segnbora is unpacking after returning from the business trip that occupies most of the book.

“They’re for Fríalan. Well, for all of us, really. Here, come look.” She picked up the smaller of the two withy baskets and brought it over to Freelorn, putting it down by him on the couch. The basket immediately began to emit small piercing mewing sounds. ...“Better let them out before they start accusing you of maltreatment, Lorn. Goddess knows I had enough of that on the way here.” Freelorn reached out, unfastened the thongs that were holding the basket shut, and tipped its lid back. The shouting from inside immediately stopped, to be replaced by the scratchy noise of claws being hooked into dry withies. A moment later the basket’s inhabitants pulled themselves out and teetered on the edge of it: two kittens. One was a little black tom with faint grey hairs scattered all over him, and one white whisker. The other was a night-black queen-kitten with a white bib and white feet. They stared around them at the room and the couch, saw that someone was sitting on the couch with them, immediately recognized Freelorn as being in possession of a vacant lap, and clambered straight into it, staring up at him with great round eyes, green in the tom’s case and green-gold in the queen’s. “Their mother told me she had two who wanted to go see the world,” Segnbora said. “They don’t know their names yet, but I’m sure they’ll tell you when they work them out. If you’re very nice to them…” Kittens did tend toward the voluble: it would be months before they fully acquired the usual adult-feline reserve and dignity that meant they spoke only when they felt they had something important to say. But right now plainly everything struck them as important. “Are you him?” “You’re him!” “Our mother said we should go with her and come live with you!” “She said there’d be cream every day.” “And fish!” “And conies!” “And butcher’s meat!” “And she said, ‘A cat may look at a king.’” “So we’re looking!” “…I’m doomed,” Freelorn said, and grinned all over his face. He bent down toward them. “You know you should be very respectful of me, don’t you?” he said. “Because my father,” he whispered in a most conspiratorial manner, “is a Lion.” The little tom gazed at him wide-eyed with very thinly-disguised admiration. The little queen narrowed her eyes and glared. “Where is he?” she growled. “I can take him! I can take you!” And she flung herself at Freelorn’s head. Without a second’s hesitation, down the King of Arlen went, flat on his back, flailing his arms and begging for mercy while the queen-kitten started chewing on his nose.

...So plainly that relationship doesn't take long to set itself up.

The image above (like the previous one) would be assumed to have been "taken" sometime in the summer of the Middle Kingdoms-calendar year 2932 p.a.d.,* when Freelorn had been on the Throne for five years. His feline associate would be a little more than two years old, and plainly unconcerned about the legendary dangers that attend on anyone not both Arlene royalty and Initiate sitting in that old white chair. ("Not sitting on that anyway. Sitting on him.")

She turns up again in TOTF #3: The Librarian, in rather unusual circumstances. But that's another story. :)

*The commonly-used abbreviation for pai Ajnedäre derüwin: “since the Arrival”—i.e. of the Dragons, and therefore since the destruction of the Dark that had for millennia lain over the Earth and nearly destroyed life on the planet.

[sokkastyles]

Do you think some parts of the world would have been unhappy in Aang's decision to spare Ozai? That people would be so bitter - this madman gets to live, while their friends and loved ones died? Why is that? Oh - because the Avatar didn't want to compromise his own morals, to kill someone? Tough, it's a war. People die.

The thing I don't like about the way the show frames it is that the narrative doesn't really give Aang a choice, either.

I think people who frame this as Aang respecting Air Nomad culture are trying to give the show too much credit, because the show doesn't act like Aang gets to choose a moral high ground, they act like he has no choice. Aang seems to believe that the only way he can honor his Air Nomad heritage is by not killing, and...what about all the Air Nomads who didn't have that luxury? What about Gyatso, who was faced with the choice of kill or die, and killed, and died?

I think a lot of people would see Aang's choice as a slap in the face. Every person who had to do things they considered against their personal morals to survive. People like Jet who sincerely wished to stop leading a violent life, but couldn't, because that life was chosen for him the moment his parents were murdered. People like Hakoda who felt deeply ashamed of having to leave his own children to go to war. Are these people just inherently less moral or more bloodthirsty than Aang? No, they simply didn't have the power Aang had at his disposal that allowed him to avoid the kind of violent lives that many people, children included, were forced to lead during the war.

That's also why the "Aang reminds Katara/Zuko that they are kids" thing annoys me. What Aang does is remind them that HE has the luxury of thinking of himself as a kid while they don't. The reason Katara hadn't been penguin sledding in so long isn't because she's a buzzkill who hates fun or she "forgot" that she's a kid, it's because she was forced into a role where she had to take care of her family in her mother's absence, and that doesn't go away with the introduction of another kid she has to parent. As for Zuko, that "well you're just a teenager" line is funny and it's easy to think of Zuko as someone who takes himself too seriously (and part of why it's funny is that teenagers in general do view themselves as so much older than younger children), but Zuko was kicked out of his home at thirteen and expected to be fighting a fully-realized adult Avatar. Even when he was Aang's age, he never had the luxury of thinking of himself that way. You can see this also in the way Zuko interacts with adults early in the series, notably Zhao and his crew. He is desperate to be seen as a hardened adult because he has had to act like one to survive.

These people don't act this way because they've lost their morals or sense of fun or because they don't value peace enough. They act this way because this is what they were forced to do to survive. I think people would rightly be offended by the idea that wanting to see Ozai dead for his crimes makes them just as violent as a genocidal tyrant, and they would be right to feel resentful that Ozai gets to live when he was responsible for so much violence. This is also why Zuko tells Ozai that he's lucky that Aang spared his life. Because in the end, Aang has NO moral obligation to spare Ozai whatsoever, not because of his culture or any reason. Pacifism has never meant that you aren't allowed to use necessary force to stop violence from happening. And anyone who uses the argument that Aang has to spare Ozai because of his culture or that this is his only way to honor his people is LYING.

[oatmealcrisp-freak]

The thing about the kokomins....

Yes theyre creeps. 100%.

Theyre also a self-regulating body of people who enforce the good behaviour of all their members in regards to Teruhashi, and allow her to live a mostly unaccosted life. They are nasty pieces of work who threaten to kill Saiki just because he was seen with her and invoked their jealousy and wrath, and then they immediately back down because they think Saiki is Teruhashi's baby daddy, and they don't even shame Teruhashi for the teen pregnancy they think she had. She can do no wrong in their eyes. They decide amongst themselves who is the most privileged among them to even approach her, and rigidly enforce the rules that say who can and can't talk to her without her approaching them first, as though Teruhashi has no say in the matter.

There are adults in the government who are card carrying kokomins. and that's WEIRD. and the implications are nasty.

there are other implications, though, that i don't see get talked about. which is, why wouldn't the Japanese government want to keep an eye on The Perfect Pretty Girl? To protect her at the highest possible level? To ensure that other countries won't snap her up and use her for world domination. Teruhashi is basically Akira, to me. That girl's Angel Beam would take over the world only a little slower than Saiki could.

now. follow me on this.

what if it was Teruhashi who founded the Kokomins?

She's been stalked. She's been harrassed. She's been stopped in the streets. And a lot of people are so enchanted by her that they take her no for what it is. But there are some people who Don't - her own brother among them. Teruhashi is wicked smart. I'm sure she was just as smart as a little girl who grew up too fast and would see where things were going. Who was scared and awe-struck by turns of the effects she had on other people.

Especially on men.

And in a patriarchal society, that can be dangerous. But with that patriarchy bowing at her feet, it can also grant her power. And Teruhashi loves power.

We see her work in very subtle ways to enforce the heirarchy she's at the top of. She doesn't technically even have to do anything except exist and tell the truth to let Imu know who the TRUE queen is.

Her family is, judging by the size of her house, probably also wealthy. Perhaps wealthy enough that her family rubs elbows with the elite of society. And perhaps one party was all it took for Teruhashi to let loose a couple of glimmering, pearlescent tears at the Prime Minister himself and confess in a soft shaking voice how scared she is.....

Boom.

The Teruhashi Protection Squad is born - IE, the Kokomins, whose canon goal is to protect Teruhashi's happiness and destroy anybody who might put a stain on that.

Idk, it's an unpopular opinion to have, to say theyre creeps with a purpose, but I don't think it's a stretch either. Just consider how often she turns into a cult leader in AUs - iirc it was demonstrated in canon at least once and happened in the light novels as well.

Teruhashi is the most powerful woman on the planet. Why wouldn't she have an organization dedicated to furthering her goals, ykno?

She shouldn't need to have to, and they're creeps, 100%, but they're also weaponized creeps that Teruhashi has turned in her own favour, imo, and I think that goes a long way in demonstrating her cool-factor.

[bobbyfloyd]

this has been weighing heavily on my mind the last few days. i am not making this post to open another can of worms, but i do want to shed some light on something that i think is a major issue in the lewis fanbase. please forgive me for being so long winded. it’s lengthy. but i feel that it’s necessary to speak about, and i appreciate you if you read it all.

last week news surfaced that lewis is in a relationship. cool, good for him. if he and her are happy, that’s wonderful. but when the news came out i made a post in which i said “side eyeing lewis extremely hard for dating a 23 year old.” and boy, did that open the floodgates.

to be explicitly clear. his girlfriend is an adult, capable of making her own decisions. i’m not infantilizing her, nor am i claiming lewis has nefarious intentions. far from it. i merely raised a brow at the fact that she’s in her early 20s and he’s 32. if she was 25+ i wouldn’t have a single problem with it. but there is a larger issue when it comes to the way society treats women and men in age gap relationships. i have seen a lot of hateful filth directed at his girlfriend for going after older men. i have seen less criticism directed at lewis for being the older man pursuing a younger woman. there’s a major disparity there. that is my main issue. do i think lewis is predatory for this? no! absolutely not! do i think it makes him a bad person? also no. i’m merely iffy about a 23 year old and a 32 year old dating. and i made a post saying such. but when i tell you the floodgates that it opened. i couldn’t believe my eyes. and that’s why i’m making this post.

when i initially posted about it, i fully admit that i did overreact a bit. in fact i probably shouldn’t have said anything to begin with. but what’s done is done. i had a knee jerk reaction, which i apologized for (but deleted the post after things got crazy). but through this, saw a few concerning extremes. on one hand, i started getting flooded with anons who were tearing him to shreds, making horrific claims about his intentions in his relationship. i also got countless asks from people who were upset he was in a relationship to begin with because they thought they had a chance with him, and that is not the point i was making at all when i first spoke about it. from the beginning my issue was the age gap and people misconstrued my words so severely, to the point where it got kind of scary.

that’s when i got inundated with vile harassment. people telling me i was mentally ill, that i should delete my blog, i even got ones saying that i should kill myself. others said things like “lewis will never fuck you” which is such a misogynistic approach in my opinion, where you come to the conclusion that the reason a woman is criticizing a man is because she wants to have sex with him. i don’t know why sex was brought into the matter but frankly it was disturbing and i take great offense to it.

and then there were the vague posts. people who were very obviously talking about me. who misinterpreted me so severely that they believed the reason i was upset is because i thought i had a chance with him. people answering speculatory anons who were very obviously referring to me, and thus stirring the pot and inadvertently causing more anons to target me. i made a post apologizing about overreacting, and in that post i said it wasn’t healthy to be invested in his love life, because that enters into parasocial territory. the reason i said that was because of the anons i was getting who were saying really disturbing things about lewis, and because there were some who genuinely believed he was interested in them. that is why i made that point. and then i see “why are you obsessed with his love life? that’s not very anti-parasocial of you” using my words against me, and i was flabbergasted because before this, i never (to my knowledge) said anything about his love life, aside from general things. a few posts made in the heat of the moment is not obsessing over his love life. and yet, my words and intentions got so severely misconstrued.

when i originally addressed the issue and responded to some asks about it, i was heated and perhaps i didn’t explain things clearly enough. i probably said things i shouldn’t have. and i know me deleting everything made me look worse in the situation, but when i saw the horrifying response in my inbox, from both extremes, i knew i had to delete the posts because the way people were reacting was, honestly, frightening. i blocked each one when i saw them, but i want it to be known that at one point i received 50 hateful asks in a row, in the span of one minute. presumably from the same person, because of how they were worded and how they were sent back to back. FIFTY! that is so extreme and obsessive! all because i criticized lewis for dating a 23 year old.

this is not me saying “woe is me! i got hate! please feel sorry for me!” not at all. i am merely shedding light on the unhinged, disturbing way that people reacted. it really put this community in a different light for me. a place i once thought was chill and loving, now soured, because, at the drop of a hat, people will turn against whoever they disagree with and harass and threaten them. in what world is that okay? even if i really was crashing out and claiming i thought lewis should be with me, it still wouldn’t justify that level of harassment.

in the end i have come to the conclusion that this situation brings out the worst in people, on both sides. i completely understand if you don’t see any issue with the age gap, that’s your prerogative, good for you. however, my personal opinion on it will not change, no matter how many hateful asks or vague posts people make. my feelings are set in stone. and i don’t think that it’s appropriate to make the claim that people criticizing him for this situation are only doing so because they’re upset he wasn’t into them. once again, to reduce competent and valid criticism to “you’re just mad lewis won’t fuck you” is…vulgar and off-putting.

i will not speak about lewis’s love life again after this, because it has been made clear that doing so causes all rationality to go out the window and it sends people into a tizzy. not to mention, it really isn’t our business, no matter how publicized it ends up being. and if i do speak on it again you all have permission to beat me over the head. aside from that, i apologize for bringing it up again but i just have been agonizing over it for days and needed to get it off my chest. if you read to the end, i love and appreciate you. have some candy 🍬🍭

also, if you’re one of my mutuals and you went to bat for me or checked in with me when things got crazy, i love you and have gained a deeper appreciation for you all. there are still good, kind people in this community and i’m grateful for each of you.

much love.

[hyunjuenthusiast]

Im craving for angst , so girl can you write about Hyun ju x female reader

Basically Hyun ju and female reader have been dating for 1 and half year now, but things didn't went so well after attending squid game, Hyun ju gave young mi more attention , than she did for female reader so she distance herself from Hyun ju and her team, wondering why female reader ditched her. So female reader went to Gi Hun's team instead. And to make things worse not only Hyun ju voted O to continue the game, but Hyun ju lost the love of her life during the Mingle, ANND.. It took Hyun ju 2 to 4 business days to figure out that she hasn't been a good girlfriend ever since they came to squid game and Hyun ju Crashes out so badly.

(Female reader committed su!cide during Mingle, died instead of young mi and the shaman lady predicted female reader's death)

(And YES the guilt is definitely eating Hyun ju alive)

Sorry if this is too long

Take your time for this one

゜・（／。＼）・゜

Okayyyy complex, I like it! Hopefully I do this ask justice 🙏🏻

HER ANGEL

Pairing: Hyun-ju x femreader

Warnings: ANGST, depression, death, suicide, longing, survivors guilt.

Insecure. That was a word Y/n had always been familiar with. Ever since she was little. Her mother would criticize everything she did. If she ate too much, if she didn't eat enough. If her hair was down, if her hair was up. If she smiled, and if she didn't smile. Everything she did up until she was an adult was judged.

When she finally got the taste of freedom, moving out at the ripe age of eighteen, she discovered that the world was an ugly place. Nothing like how she fantasized how it would be. The books were wrong.

For the first few years after moving out, she was alone. Truly alone. She had no one. No friends to call late at night, no fuzzy kitten to cuddle when she had tears running down her face on a rainy day. No significant other who would whisper sweet nothings to her as she fell asleep... No one.

Not until she met her angel. Hyun-ju.

Everything had changed. For the first time in her life, Y/n felt like she deserved to take up space in the world. Hyun-ju made her feel wanted, loved. She erased every insecurity Y/n had. She loved every flaw and imperfection. She kissed her scars and wiped her tears.

Hyun-ju was her soul mate.

Y/n didn't care that her angel was different. She didn't care how people looked at them in public. Hyun-ju was perfect, in every way. Even if her angel couldn't see it for herself.

Hyun-ju told Y/n of her wishes for surgery. She had cried to Y/n about her debt and abandonment. And Y/n was there to comfort her in return, wiping her angels tears away and whispering promises.

So when a nice-looking man asked Y/n to play a game, showing her the money she would win, of course she agreed. For her angel, for Hyun-ju.

Y/n didn't need convincing to call the number on the back on the card. Once she saw Hyun-ju looking at herself in front of the mirror, her eyes filled with loathing, she dialed the number.

It was the least she could do. Hyun-ju had given Y/n her sense of self back. She had given Y/n her smile back. Of course, she would return the favor. Anything for her angel.

Waking up to the blasted music, she looked around to see other people. Waring the ugliest green she had ever seen. Looking down at herself, she saw her jacket was labeled 005.

She gathered around like everyone else. Waiting for an explanation. There were so many pink guards and even more players. They explained that they weren't trying to collect debt or cause any harm.

"Excuse me!" Said a voice. Not just any voice. Her angel's voice. Y/n quickly turned and saw Hyun-ju. Her Hyun-ju standing near a couple of bunks. She didn't catch what her angel said next, only focused on the fact that she was here.

Y/n winced as she saw Hyun-ju getting slapped. That was the day her angel had gone on a walk. She remembers her coming home, acting strange. Hyun-ju had met the salesman before Y/n did.

As all the players walked in single file lines up the colorful steps to get their pictures taken, Y/n looked around for Hyun-ju. Seeing her fixing her hair prettily, she smiles and quickly walks up to her. "Angel!" Y/n gushes.

Instead of greeting Y/n with a smile, Hyun-ju tenses. Asking her what she was doing here. "I know how much you need the money..." Y/n whispers softly, watching as Hyun-ju's eyes soften.

As they all walk into the first game, Hyun-ju holds Y/n's hand. "Don't separate from me, sweet girl. Okay?" Her angel asks softly. Y/n squeezes her hand in return.

"What is that?" Y/n asks, pointing to the giant doll like figure in the distance.

"Green light..."

Y/n quickly runs forward a few steps, then stops.

"Red light!" The doll waits, seeing if anyone would move.

The first to go was 196. Y/n stood, stiff as a board, the sound of people dying behind her. When the doll says green light, no one moves forward, but Hyun-ju reaches over and grips Y/n's hand.

Player 456 explains that they will die anyway if they don't cross the finish line in time, and so, she stays behind Hyun-ju, racing towards the finish line.

Once across, she watches in horror as her angel races back across to help player 456. This is the first and only time that Y/n has ever wanted to yell at Hyun-ju.

The second game is the six legged pentathlon. Her and Hyun-ju look around for more teammates. She notices Hyun-ju's fallen expression when people stare at her, and when they don't want to join because of her.

"Excuse me?" A timid voice says from behind the both of them. Y/n and Hyun-ju turn to see a small girl, obviously nervous. "W-Would you...like to team up with me?" She asks, looking at Hyun-ju first, then to Y/n.

Ever since then, Hyun-ju had been attached at the hip with Young-Mi. It was hard for Y/n not to notice, especially in a place like this. When she wanted comfort and reassurance from her angel, she would see that Hyun-ju was already comforting Young-Mi, that she was already whispering words of encouragement to her instead of Y/n.

But that was just who her angel was. She was kind to everyone, and Y/n had no right to take that away from Young-Mi. Y/n could clearly see how terrified the small girl was, and if Hyun-ju was her safe place, then who was Y/n to take that away from her?

That's was until Y/n heard it. What Hyun-ju was saying to Young-Mi.

"I won't let anything happen to you, sweet girl." Hyun-ju had said. Y/n felt her stomach drop. Sweet girl. That was Y/n's nickname. That was her word of endearment.

She decided to give them space. Joining player 456 and his team.

The third game was mingle.

As they all stood on the platform, Y/n watched as Hyun-ju held Young-Mi's hand, giving her soft smiles. Y/n felt horrible for feeling envious. Would she always be cursed to be this insecure? Would she ever feel content with anything?

"TEN"

The voice said. Everyone scrambled to find their groups and rooms. So far, their team had nine after joining Hyun-ju. Until her angel grabbed the crazy shaman lady.

Running into the green room, Y/n pants, not even bothering to look at her angel holding onto another woman. Hyun-ju gives her a confused look, wondering why she had left their group.

"Your heavy sorrow will swallow you whole." The crazy lady says, making everyone look at her. Y/n shrinks into herself as she realizes that she's talking to her. "You won't last much longer, I'm afraid. Pity. You have the purest birthstone."

"SIX" the voice says.

Gi-hun and Young-il had split from the group, leaving Y/n no other choice but to join Hyun-ju.

They all run to a yellow door, freezing in their tracks as they see a group is already in there. Hyun-ju races to find a different one.

She found one.

Y/n starts to run towards it with the other people in her group, but when she sees player 333 running towards it too, she slows down.

Looking over at her angel, she sees her clutching Young-Mi's hand.

The pregnant girl holds her belly.

The mother and sun cling to each other.

Where did Y/n fit into that? She didn't.

She has seen Jun-hee talking to player 333 on several occasions...

She needed him, more than any of them needed Y/n.

She made her decision then.

As player 333 races into the room, she finally hears Hyun-ju calling for her. Her angel was trying to get 333 out of the way.

Y/n walks to the door, looking into the small slit. "Y/n, what the hell are you doing? Go find a room! Go!" Hyun-ju shouts. Y/n only shakes her head softly.

"Ita okay angel." She whispers, putting her hands onto the door. Hyun-ju is starting to panic. The timer still had thirteen seconds on it. "I know there's no place for me here. Not now." Ytn says, tearing up.

Hyun-ju continues to shout, begging Y/n to go find a room. "You made me feel so inside the lines, Hyun-ju. Like I wasn't a lost shade outside of the pretty design. I could actually fit inside the art." Y/n says with a sad smile.

"I never thanked you for that." She says. "Thank you for showing me. For guiding me to see who I was for the first time."

Nine seconds on the timer.

"I know you'll be happy. You'll make it out of here and live the life you've always dreamed of...live the life you've always deserved. A life, with Young-Mi." Y/n's lip quivers.

Four seconds on the timer.

Hyun-ju starts shaking the door, sobbing and yelling. "I love you, my angel." She whispers tearfully, letting out a pained breath as she feels the bullet peirce her back.

"NO! Y/N!"

Player 333 had left that room beaten to a bloody pulp.

At first, Young-Mi's hand doesn't feel out of place instead of her own, not for the next two games.

Until Y/n's words repeat instead of her head.

A life...with Young-Mi.

Once she realizes it, she drops Young-Mi's hand as if it had burned her. She had been holding the wrong woman. Comforting the wrong woman. Calling her...

She had called the wrong woman sweet girl.

Hyun-ju looks over to Young-Mi, a tear falling. She had made the love of her life question her love.

She had been at fault for her sweet girl's death. Not 333. Not even the guards. Hyun-ju was the reason.

"Don't worry. You'll be seeing her again, " the shaman says. "A lot sooner than you think."

For the next game... was human chess.

I'm scared.... what do we think?

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Thirty One)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Party Thirty One: Cillian is finally on his way home, having wrapped filming for Peaky. But Y/N finds a missed message from him, containing a link, that makes her feel like all of her autonomy and anonymity is stripped. She recalls the day she met Cillian a second time, trying to remind herself what matters, but anxiety looms heavy. [Angst/Anxiety]

@strangeions @watermeezer @borntodiemp3 @meadowshelby @lavender-haze-01 @cherry-cilly @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme

Very quickly proof read so sorry for typos.

---------

The agony of a week home without him, despite knowing Cillian would be returning, was slowly making way to the pure excitement and ever present want to jump his bones, knowing that his flight had been due to land a little while ago and he would be here, at home, with you soon. You had finished work less than half an hour ago, and in the time between then and now you had been so giddy, you could hardly sit still. He was coming home, for the long run, and that felt monumental - despite you having done this whole routine many times before. You try to occupy yourself with your week of laundry in the small back room, off the kitchen, but when the five minute job is completed, you once again find yourself like a child waiting for Santa on Christmas Eve. Pulling the laundry room door shut behind you, you wonder if making coffee would settle you down any. You check the water level in the kettle before flicking the switch, and grab your preferred mug from the cupboard. You picked your phone from the pocket of your hoodie and unlocked it before you dragged down the notification bar. Nothing from Cillian about being on the way home yet, but there was a text from Cillian from earlier in the day that you'd somehow missed. Frowning at the oddity, you click open the message.

We are going to have to talk to the boys and Yvonne. [link]

You stare at the message then click the link. Your screen opens up to a page in The Sun and, as you scan the article, you grow more and more nervous.

Peaky Blinders star Cillian Murphy was spotted on sets in the recent weeks, all across locations in the UK, alongside familiar faces such as Sophie Rundle, Packy Lee and Ned Dennehy. Most recently, the Cork native was seen with his long-term girlfriend, Y/N, who was visiting their set. Murphy and Y/N began a relationship after the breakdown of his marriage to ex-wife Yvonne McGuinness. McGuinness and Murphy share two children. On set, Y/N was photographed alongside film director Tom Harper and writer Steven Knight. She was seen laughing with Johnny Dogs actor Packy Lee before she was later seen cuddling up to Murphy. But it seems disaster struck when Y/N was photographed vomiting on the set, comforted by the Tommy Shelby actor dutifully. I don't know if we're all wondering what you're all wondering, but is this a sign of the pitter-patter of tiny feet to come? Famously guarded about his private life, we suspect any announcements to be made would not likely come from Cillian himself. Fans are said to be looking forward to the release of the Peaky Blinders film in the coming twelve months.

Your hand shakes as you scan the photographs, shaking your head. Your stomach flips nervously. Shit! Part of you is thankful that it is this being shared, and not that anyone had shared the row on the set beforehand. But fuck! You set your phone down onto the island and cross your arms under your bust. Cillian's going to be in a mood, and you're going to have to do one thing you were staunchly against, and that's sharing the news before you're comfortable with it. Part of you wonders if perhaps his sons and Yvonne wouldn't have seen it - they're used to nonsense reports with no real information in them, so maybe they'd just pass it over if it was seen? But your anxiety is focused so hard on the possibility that speaking now will jinx your pregnancy, it's hard to keep your mind on anything more tangible - other than the fact that you know Cillian is going to be in bad humour! You do rationalise the fact that it doesn't actually give any definite information at all, but you also worry that if this was seen, then perhaps your conversation was heard or, worse yet, was shared.

You lean your back against the island counter and try to find something better in your mind. Cillian still hasn't materialised and all you want is him here, to plan what's next if he really thinks that there's a danger of his sons being hurt in this. You close your eyes as you breathe steadily, trying hard to keep calm, and you're thankful when your mind brings forward the day you met Cillian for the second time, completely coincidentally. You focused on the day, the details, and allowed the whole thing to play out in your mind.

“That's twelve euro,” the young girl behind the counter says with a smile. She has a green streak in the front of her black hair, and her bottom lip is pierced on both sides. She has a beautiful smile, though, and her eyes sparkle lightly.

You tap your card against the machine and push it back into your purse, then smile as she hands you your book and receipt. “Thanks,” you nod as you walk away, tucking the receipt into your pocket. You keep hold of the book as you step out of Eason's and back out onto O'Connell Street. You step away from the doorway and examine your book, vaguely aware you're still blocking a busy street, and begin to walk back towards the bridge. You glance up occasionally, making sure you're not walking into a pole, and as you look up again you jump and gasp, narrowly avoiding colliding with the denim jacketed back of a man before you. “Shit! Sorry!” You quickly apologise as you somehow managed to fling your book into their back as you startled. You crouch to the floor, picking up your book, and as you rise back up you come face to face with someone familiar. “Hey…” you say, frowning a little. “Cillian, right?” It's the pale blue eyes and flicking hair that gives it away, you're sure, and then he smiles as you say his name and you're absolutely certain.

“Y/N?” He says, pointing at you with a questioning expression.

You nod your head, “Yep.” You smile nervously. “I'm sorry - I threw my book at you.” You turn down the corners of your mouth. “I wasn't looking. I am sorry, really.” You insist.

“Ah, you're grand.” He shakes his head.

“Well, it's good to see you. And sorry again,” you say, gesturing past him and the person he's with. “Bye.”

“Yeah, see ya,” he says, stepping aside. “Ah, here,” he calls as you get about five steps away. You turn back, eyebrows raised. “I take it you didn't curse me?”

“Curse you?” You frown, shaking your head, and slowly step back towards him and his friend.

“Plastic Ono Band album…” he says, vaguely.

You grin brightly, “No - no actually, you have my adulation for that. It is a…remarkable album.” You say as you stuff your book awkwardly into your bag. “And it led me onto some Beatles tracks I wasn't so familiar with, too. So you, I dunno, broadened my horizons.” You chuckle.

Cillian laughs, “Then you're welcome.” He turns to the man beside him, “I met Y/N a few weeks ago, we were stranded at Busáras together.” He explains, then turns back to you. “This is a friend and colleague of mine, Steven.” He introduces you.

“Hi, Steven.” You nod politely. Steven shares a greeting just as politely, and his accent is fiercely English.

“We're just splitting up actually,” he says to you. “We were just saying our goodbyes there when you assaulted me.” He teases.

“Yes, sorry again,” you smile, but you're not entirely sure if he's being funny or not.

“Yeah, I'll say goodbye.” Steven says, and he gives Cillian a gentle hug before nodding at you again politely.

“Good luck,” Cillian calls out, and he turns as Steven walks away, watching him go. Turning back to you, he smiles brightly. “What are the odds of meeting a complete stranger more than once?” He laughs a little.

“Serendipitous, clearly.” You smile. “It was nice to see you again, and thank you again for the music, and for not wanting to have me questioned by the Guards for assaulting you.” You say, hoping you've caught onto a satirically delivered joke he was making.

He laughs, his tongue peeking over his teeth, and you remember how much you'd like it that day in the station. “Ah, no bother.” He says as he pushes his hands into his jeans pockets. “What was the book?” He asks, and you feel like he's keeping you around, looking for reasons to keep this up. Not that you mind - you're not rushing anywhere on a work-free Saturday.

“Oh, an old one. I had it on order at Eason's.” You say. “Only got it for a trip next week.” you dip your hand into your bag and pull the book back out, handing it over to him. “Read it?” You ask, “My friend at work suggested it, says it's an Irish writer and kinda beloved here by the right minds.” You laugh. He's smiling and you can't work it out, and he hands the book back with a chuckle. “What?” You ask, nervously, and look at the book again. “Is it really bad?”

“No,” he smirks, “No it's very good.” You pushes his hands into his pockets again, still smiling.

You look at him, then then book. “Odd name though, isn't it? Gives nothing away. Breakfast on Pluto…” you shake your head and push the book back into your bag.

“Are you free?” He asks bluntly.

“Free?” You raise your eyebrows, glancing around you quickly.

“Coffee?” he suggests.

You smile and nod your head, “Yeah, sure. Coffee.”

You startle as your phone buzzes across the island counter, and bring yourself back to the present with a sigh. You pick up your phone, relieved to see ‘Cill’ in the notification bar. You slide it down and open his message.

“In a taxi, be home soon. Get the kettle on. See you soon mo ghrá.”

You click your phone off and hold it tightly in your hand, sighing again. It is a relief to know he is coming home now, and it is a relief to know you'll be able to curl up beside him whenever you want for the foreseeable, but you are frightened about what he would choose to do now regarding that article. You know you can argue the point that it doesn't say anything truly, but you're fairly sure he's made up his mind and will want the boys and Yvonne to know sooner than later. You don't want words uttered before you're comfortable with it, you do appreciate why he might. But anxiety won't allow you to feel easy about it at all - it'd jinx everything to talk about the baby before the scan, and then you'd have to go around telling anyone that had been told, that something had gone wrong.

You set your phone down and grip both hands against the counter, feeling your sickly, low-burning nausea ramping up. You swallow hard and blow soothing breaths out in the hopes it'll ease the queasiness, but you suspect you're fighting a losing battle. You walk towards the sink and lift the washing up bowl out of it, and hover above expectantly, but hopeful that the impending gag doesn't rise. But you do gag, twice, and you brace your hands on the sink as the stomach lurches. Fuck! You can't get used to this. By some miracle you don't actually vomit, but the gags are painful nonetheless. When you feel like it's safe, you straighten up and replace the bowl into the sink. You rest your back against the sink and rest your head into your hands, sighing heavily, and feeling a sudden overwhelming urge to cry.

You don't want to share your news before you're ready. You don't want to see your life plastered across sites and pages. And you realise this is exactly what Cillian was scared of happening. You feel foolish, stupid, and pathetic. This is supposed to be happy, and it sucks so much. For the first time since the press associated with his divorce, you find yourself absolutely hating what Cillian does and the fame associated with it.

[violetmina]

Chokehold - Ch.12

Chokehold Masterlist

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Taglist: @roundroald @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @sexytholland @scraftsku35 @avastrasposts @missihart23 @ladyvillainous @elementress44 @haibara-ai-tsii @123passwort @sanscas @lulzbrokenbyfantasy @icantevenchoose @marksassybanana @a-rogue-tiddy-bot​ @itsyellow​ @lmarina2000​ @d3adite666 @casualfansoul @missrandomheart @cvstle @elianamarie-blog @1970sbitch @depressed-but-make-it-cute @loversjoy @raktajinoaddict @trisaratops-mcgee @faith-alons26 @mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes @writersmulti

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,394

Warning: Swearing, adult themes, mild violence, and as always - Butcher.

A/N: Life is messy and so is this chapter. But we're finally here after too long of a hiatus. Again, I thank you all for your patience and hope it's to your liking.

Much to your dismay - and most likely his as well - Butcher did not return that night to your bed. Which had been plenty warm thanks to him giving you plenty to think about in the car. Another cold shower to shock you into the day ahead, a rushed cup of caffeine, and you'd managed to get to work on time and in a…tolerable mood. By the time you had finished your shift, your mood had improved from tolerable to okay. And once you were knocking on Hughie's apartment door, Annie greeted a pleasant version of you.

“Perfect! You're right on time,” she beams.

“You look particularly perky,” you comment, watching her glide about as she gathers her things. Hughie just shrugs, smiling at her buoyancy with you.

She pulls a ball cap snug to her crown. “Homelander has started his apology tour. Both he and his entire team of wranglers have been fucking insufferable. He's like a man-child stuck in the corner with the PR dunce cap.”

Annie shrugs on a mini backpack, swoops in and wraps an arm around your shoulder. “And you got me out of the tower before I blew every fucking fuse in the building. Soooo, yeah. I'm glad to be anywhere but there right now.”

She blows Hughie a quick kiss, which he makes a show of catching, and practically lifts you through the door. She jams her sunglasses on, hissing, “Let's go, go, go!”

For the first few minutes, you stumble after her as she winds you over a convoluted route through the city. Finally you just step onto the subway as the doors begin to close, and slump into a seat next to her. Annie sighs briefly before digging into her backpack. She rummages until her hand emerges with a couple of granola bars and hands one to you.

“So, this Torsten guy,” you ask as you unwrap the treat. “What do I need to know?”

Annie shrugs after a bite. “He's surprisingly down to earth for some of the people he's made costumes for. Before they became really famous, I mean. Sassy on a good day. Not much to say. But he'll do great work. He always did for me.”

You almost ask her for the nitty, gritty on the Seven. And Vought, and Stormfront. And especially Homelander. But you don't see yourself spontaneously obtaining the ability to rip his head off, and therefore have no desire or intention to meet him any time soon. Plus you know Annie has been through it already. Hughie admitting to manipulating her the way he had in the beginning had shocked and appalled you. You never thought he had it in him. But things were supposed to be different now, and you wanted to help keep it that way.

Instead, you sit in what counts in New York as semi-comfortable silence, making quick work of the snack. Soon enough the train pulls up to a stop in lower Manhattan and you follow Annie's lead. More for her benefit than yours, you do your best to not draw any attention to either of you. You can't imagine what it feels like to have little to no anonymity like she does.

Within two blocks from the station, Annie turns you down a more cramped alley, reaching a small steel door tucked just off the pavement. She knocks twice, then twice again. When it swings open she pulls you in behind by the sleeve. 

It's dim for a small second before you turn a corner and enter a warm, welcoming parlor. You see one wall lined with bolts of fabric, the other with a few mannequins sporting custom suits, one with what you presume is a prom gown. But you see no signs of any supe work done here.

Just as you see an archway with a curtain, a sewing machine beyond just peeking behind, a wry old man with wild white hair passes through it. “Starlight!,” he grins, a crisp hint of German in his accent when he greets her.

“Hey Torsten. It's so good to see you. I know we’re both on a tight schedule, so I'll make this quick. This is Y/N, my friend I told you about.”

“You are the lady who needs a gown for a gala, correct?,” he inquires as he shakes one of your hands in both of his, peering at you over half-rim glasses.

“Yes, and unfortunately on short notice.”

“And you need full range of motion is my understanding. Are we expecting…trouble?” Before you can reply he winks. “No need to answer.  Your reasonings are not for me to know nor pry. If you're comfortable, I need to begin measuring you right away. You can tell me your ideas as I go. Yes?”

You nod and Annie finds a bench to sit on as he begins to work. He flicks and tracks a soft measuring tape about you, tossing you fabric and color ideas, muttering numbers in between. He is quick, precise, and you see exactly what Annie was talking about.

In a matter of short minutes, he drapes the tape over his shoulders and strides back through the curtain. He returns with a rack of what you assume are sample dresses. “Starlight, you know how your movement is when working. Help her compare these silhouettes, please.”

When Torsten disappears behind the curtain again, you turn to Annie. “He's …efficient?”

She nods. “Very. He's no bullshit. I've always liked that about him. I wish he could be my designer at Vought. But he's too good for those soul sucking leeches.” She pulls out a beige, chiffon dress off the rack with a teasing look. “So? Are we going with a puffy princess theme?”

“Go to hell,” you laugh.

You set to the task of raking over the samples your new tailor has presented. It's easy to shove aside anything overly glitzy or flashy. The mission requires you to be subtle, not draw attention. By the time your fingers skim over the last sample, you feel like a fish out of water.

“Help me out here, Annie. What would you look for?”

She contemplates the rack. “Well what are they teaching you? Are you sneaking in weapons?”

Your stomach drops for a split second when you feel the words form on your tongue; Billy is teaching me jiu jitsu. But you swallow them back and shrug, unnerved at how close you just came to letting the cat out of the bag.

Why don't you tell her all your wet dreams about him while you're at it?, the little voice sneers.

“Umm…what about the less you know the better? How far does that go?”

“I need a little context to be helpful here,” she deadpans behind a sequined nightmare.

You clear your throat before answering, “I think…some grappling stuff? Definitely some hand to hand. And some weapons training, but I doubt I'll be able to sneak anything into the event.”

“Okay. So our priorities are mobility, subtlety and classy enough for black tie.” Annie swipes out three of the samples and shoves them into the flashy reject pile. “Absolutely no mermaid cut.” She taps her chin before adding four more. “And nothing poofy, or has excess fabric.”

After a little more refining, the two of you manage to trim the choices down to three. Torsten returns to eye each one, glancing at you in between his silent judgements. “Do you favor one over the others?”

You shake your head.

He smiles slowly. “Would you like me to surprise you?”

You glance at Annie, who nods emphatically. “He's never been wrong. Trust me.”

You shrug. “What the hell. As long as I have it by the event, and I can take care of business, I'll leave it in your hands.”

“Wunderbar. I will begin immediately.” He shakes your hand. “Starlight, which of you should I deliver it to?”

^^^

You had made far quicker work of getting your dress taken care of than either of you expected. In which case, Annie had just enough time to grab a bite to eat before returning to Vought. You snag some quick delicacies at a food truck and slink off to one of Annie's favorite spots at the closest park.

Sitting on the bench, watching others wander about the park and each other, you eat your fill, making conversation with Annie between bites with a bit of contentment. A rare feeling with all the chaos that usually drowns your life. And you allow a little gratitude to silently wash over you.

You glance at her, certain Annie must be more grateful to have this brief moment this evening than even you. You catch her eye as she gives a slow smile. But the look in her eye doesn't seem to be gratitude. It's almost mischievous. Or suspicious.

You stare back, waiting. When her smile just grows, you shrug. “You know I'm not telepathic right?”

“Mmhm.”

“So what's the look for?”

“You just look happy. Like really happy.” She shrugs back. Then without missing a beat, “You got laid, didn’t you?”

You gape at her. “Jesus, Annie! That was subtle! No, I did not. Not that it's your business.”

“Shame,” she giggles. “I don't know what they taught you about body language last night, but they sure as hell didn't cover how to check your own. So…” She tilts her head in a dramatic flair of pensiveness. “Glowy, not getting laid. But your frustrated tone says you wish you were.”

“Oh God, Annie…”

“So must be new, something budding-” Annie stops dead. You stare back, aggravated as a new look on her face appears, dramatics and teasing gone. “Oh.” Her eyes widen a little. “Oh wait. Holy shit, you're seeing someone.” Then conspiratorially, “Are you in-?”

“Don't you dare finish that sentence,” you snap, your chest tightening. This was not happening. This was not supposed to be happening!

“Okay, okay, sorry.” She shifts in her seat on the bench to turn towards you. Full attention now and you resist the urge to squirm. “But you…you have someone, don't you? You're seeing someone.” She smiles, more reassuring now. “That's a good thing. Right?”

“I don't know,” you sigh. “It's-”

You hear more than see her eyes roll. “If you say ‘it's complicated’...”

“It is. It's complicated.”

She scoffs before lowering her voice. “I'm one of the Seven and my boyfriend is a former supe-killing vigilante, now a prominent member of the FBSA. And that's just the shorthand version.You wanna talk about complicated?”

You nod in defeat at that. “Then maybe you of all people will understand when I say…”

The words are difficult to catch, put them in a way that won't have you completely spilling your guts. You're in big trouble if Annie, whom you see fleetingly, is already catching a whiff of your feelings. You can only imagine Hughie's face if she figured it out and relayed it back to him. And Butcher..?

“Understand what?”

You turn to face her with a tinge of earnestness. “I don't know what this new thing is with this - person I'm seeing. But it's new, and complicated and exciting. And so very fragile. Which is why I would hope you, of all the people I know and talk to, would understand when I say I'm trying really fucking hard to keep it away from work. From this life we all live. For as long as possible.”

Not a complete lie, the little voice chirps in your skull.

Annie gives you a sympathetic look. “Yeah.” She heaves a sigh. “Fuck, yeah, I understand way more than I want to.” Just as you think you're off the hook, she asks, “Can I at least get a name? Tell Hugh-?”

“No,” you answer sharp, quick and unyielding. “No. I think this…thing should develop a bit more before I…you know.”

“Fine. If that's what you want, I'll keep your secret lover on classified.” Annie wags an eyebrow at you. “You just want to make sure they can rock your world before bringing them around, huh?”

“You're insufferable, Annie. Hughie is rubbing off on you.” The two of you share a few giggles over the bad innuendo before your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull out the interrupting device and feel a jolt run through you. Speak of the devil.

The Boys about to clock out. Ditch Tinkerbell and get to the Flatiron in an hour.

“Is that them?,” Annie teases, pretending to crane her neck for a peek.

“Just Butcher,” you reply, sighing in exasperation to hide your eagerness. Maybe finally another rolling session. “More work, and on the double.”

Annie scoffs as you both begin to gather your things. “God, definitely keep him away from your love life.”

You prickle a bit, nearly remind her that she and Hughie technically met only because of Butcher in the first place. But then, from what Hughie had told you, Butcher had also made sure that their beginning had been one big, manipulative lie. And they both had been nearly killed for it. So you take advantage of Annie not even entertaining Butcher as an option, and nod tersely.

“Guess I should head back to work, too,” she sighs. She adjusts her cap low on her head again. “I'll escort you back along the way. Home or straight to the office?”

^^^

After a brief stop at home, you stroll through the office door with perhaps a touch of barely concealed enthusiasm. “Where's the fire?,” you call across the space.

“Did your lil britelite friend scurry back to her ivory tower?,” he ignores your question as he hunches over something at his desk. 

“Annie went back to the tower,” you answered, emphasizing her name, turning down the TV and its news babble as you pass.

“Good. Have fun shopping for yer prom dress? Giggling about like proper schoolgirls, I'm sure.”

You sidle up next to him at the desk, a witty retort forming before you get a glance of the papers stretched under his fingers. Dashes, letters, numbers and polygons catch your attention. “What's this?”

“Frenchie's work. Or the half-ass he could figure out anyway,” he grumbles at the chemical compounds.

“And? What did he find?”

“Still fuck all. Said the shit ain't adding up. And still nothing on that arsehole Walsh. This Persuasion shit is gonna persuade me to drink if we don't get anywhere soon.”

“Is that why you got a hold of me?”

Butcher finally turns from the science scrawling  to greet you. But the trademark smirk you're expecting is missing. “Nah. I needed you to get your pretty ass up here for training.”

“No ambush this time?”

He shakes his head. “No. I already cleared the space.”

You peek over your shoulder. Just as he said, the area was already cleared, floor bare and ready to go. How you didn't notice that upon walking in is beyond you. You begin to feel on edge. Is this a new lesson? Is he putting your new body language decoding to the test already?

You watch him as you follow him over to the open area of the office. Butcher gives no indication of his intentions, not any that you can read that is. But you can feel something off with him. Unreadable as ever. It's honestly beginning to get a little old.

You keep him in your peripheral as you start to move into position for your usual warm ups. He stops you short, saying, “Not this time. We're switching things up.”

“No warm up?”

He pegs you with a hard eye. “You think they gonna let you stretch out there when shit goes sideways?”

“No.” You stare back. “But I'm not out there just yet. Shouldn't we-?”

“Get your hands up.”

You do it almost in knee jerk response at his tone, an eerie level compared to his usual roguish cadence. It's …unnervingly calm for Butcher.

Your hands are barely up in time to catch his right arm as he swings at your head. 

Whatever lightheartedness there had been while out with Annie, it's all withered now. You step into him out of reflex, expecting he's setting up for a review of a throw. Butcher however has other plans, and you narrowly duck out of reach as his left hand snatches forward. You stumble back, back, back.

“What are we doing?” It comes out a little breathless as you watch him, not daring to blink. He had by no means gone full speed. But it had been too close even at that. Just the right amount of effort to put you on your toes, make you wary.

“Told ya - mixing things up. Right time you get your hands a little dirty.”

“Dirty how-” You're cut off as you manage to block a knee coming at you with your hands. It leaves you stumbling. “Butcher, the fuck?!”

“You can't go out there with just grappling. You know that.”

He's nearly on you in one long stride, and you duck past his left arm as he jabs. But you dodge too carelessly, right into his right hand. You flinch as you brace for a punch, but he grabs the back of your neck instead. His other arm becomes a vice. You're wrapped tightly against him and you try to catch your breath as he stares down at you.

“You do know that, yeah?” When you don't respond he continues with some frustration. “If I had a knife in my hand, the rest of it would be buried in your bloody guts right now. And a gun? Not a fucking chance.”

“I get that,” you bite out against his tight grip. “So what do you mean by getting my hands dirty?”

“I mean some shit that's a lil bit meaner.” He lets go and steps back to wag a finger at you. “If you think I'm gonna teach you to play fair, yer wrong.”

You take a couple steps back, trying again to read him, practicing your other new skills. The tension in his shoulders and chest tell you he's irritable. What's new there? His eyes give no other clues. His tone is still too level. You still can't figure out what's going on with him.

“So what dirty trick comes first?”

Butcher swings again, no warning. You step into him for a more careful block. He counters, locking your arm in his and you flinch again as he stops just short of headbutting you. His forehead presses against yours instead.

“That was easy, right? Throwing my skull about. And I've broke many a fucker’s face with that. But I've broken my own a time or two in the process, some I can't even remember. So don't ever do that unless you really fucking have to. Got it?”

Before you can say anything he pushes away from you. “What you do go after is all the tender bits. Eyes, nose, ears, throat, and everything with the short and curlies. Nothing is off limits.”

You nod.

“Say it!”

You blink at his snap and bark back, “Nothing is off limits! So what the fuck do I do to it?” You cut him off before he can answer. “Actually, no. I'm not doing shit.”

“Beg your fuckin’ pardon?,” he growls.

“The fuck is your problem, Butcher.”

“Oh, I'm looking at it.”

You quickly weigh your options of how to handle him, trying one last time to get a read on him. Then take a deep breath and throw the sane ones to the wind. “Stop pussyfooting with me. Give me a straight answer.”

His silence is heavy and glaring.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Another beat. “You could've taught this no different than the other times. What do you want?”

He keeps his lips sealed. He's been ornery before. But this is bodaciously aggravating. You feel hot, and not in the way he usually makes you feel.

“What is your problem asshole?!”

Finally a crack, and it slithers into that all too familiar smirk across his face. “Guess I didn't tell ya before.”

“Tell me what?”

“You look good enough to eat when you're this mad.”

And we're back to the other hot.

Oh no. You're not letting him get off that easy. “Give me a straight answer, or I'll walk.”

The smirks slightly falters. But his eyes still glint back at you. With that, you turn to call his bluff, catching a glimpse of the TV again as you do so. It's a news segment on the upcoming gala. Several photos of previous Vought parties and galas roll across the screen as the anchors give their spiel, showing off the supes.

“When you'd get the bullocks?”

A hand grabs yours. You didn't even hear him cross the floor. He continues, “You never talked to me like that before. Not really.”

You arch an eyebrow at him. “Thought that was the point. Growing a backbone and all that jazz before I have to go waltzing with those Vought pricks.”

The huffy tension in him slides just a little. “It is,” he admits. Finally. He glares at the TV. “And I don't nearly have enough time to teach you all you might need.”

You look back at the TV just in time to see a picture of a Vought Christmas party with Homelander and Maeve…

Oh.

…shit.

You turn back to Butcher, unsure what to say. All the options that came to mind felt pointless as your brain scrambles. What do you say? That was over a decade ago? There won't be any supes at the gala? You're gonna be fine? And then the words are out your mouth before you think, before you can catch them- 

“I'm not her.”

His eyes latch onto you, and surely as fast your own slip, he replies, “No you're fucking not.”

It has no bite to it, but it hits you in the gut all the same. And by the way he rapidly blinks, you realize it hit him, too. He rubs a hand over his face. Softer, almost hard for you to hear, “I meant…you're not. And I never taught her enough to not be either. Even if I had… it wouldn't've been fucking enough against him anyway.”

The uncertainty of what the hell to say to that is heavy, choking. Maybe it's your own foot in your mouth. It's almost certain you'd bungle it more and you were lucky enough he was still here in the office with you, let alone holding your hand. You don't know what the fuck to do.

Should've thought more about that widower thing, huh?

Butcher withdraws his hand. “That straightforward enough for ya?”

You nod, your brain no longer scrambling. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

He nods. “Yeah. Good.” He backs up, making a come hither motion. “Let's try this shit again. Start over.”

You can read him plenty well now. Because he's closed off, the subject is not to be brought up again. You feel more than see it in his shoulders, the way his mouth is set, the forced air of nonchalance. There's only the slightest undertone of anticipation, as if he's half waiting for you to leave.

“I'll take you home when we're done,” he says, a hidden message there in his eyes. Not a heated one with lusty promise but the closest to an olive branch he probably knows how to give. You might have asked for a straight answer. But you were damn sure not getting an apology. And you felt that he wouldn't hear one from you either.

You nod slowly. “Ok.”

^^^

You're not certain but the session felt short to you this time. Only an hour or so of Butcher walking you through all the vicious little ways you can hurt somebody. Simple tricks to remove an ear barehanded, where to strike at the throat, how little pressure it actually takes to blow out a knee. But even in that time you had become tired, more tired than normal it seems. You never quite shook off the heaviness of that moment and you noticed it clung to him, too, when he followed you into your apartment.

The idea of small talk to break the silence makes you almost cringe, so you turn to your bedroom to change into your sleep clothes. When you return, you walk out to find him leaning against the counter, staring into space. You pull him from his thousand yard stare by squeezing two of his fingers. You want to offer him some food but instead it comes out as, “You can stay.”

Butcher looks at you, mulls something over. Before he can say it, you offer an olive branch of your own. Not the only one you can think of but the only one you know he'd take.

“I want you to stay.”

Butcher eyes grow just a little softer. Then he nods. “Yeah. I'll stay.”

He pulls you into him, and you wrap your arms around him for an embrace that is too short for your liking. He gestures to your bedroom. “You're knackered. Get you some sleep.” Then after a beat, “I'll be here when you wake up.”

You nod, trying not to feel slighted and wish him a good night. As he heads to your couch, you try to just feel grateful that he's even here and hadn't ripped your fucking head off for your slip back at the office.

The rollercoaster of the day, however, leaves you just as restless as it does tired. You toss and turn into the wee hours of the morning, not quite asleep, not quite awake. Somewhere in that limbo you slip out of bed and pad back to your living room. You find him standing at the end of the couch, staring out the window, his dark eyes sweeping the rooftops and the skyline. As if searching the dark for something.

You don't say anything. Instead, you gently lace your fingers with his and pull him till he slowly turns away from the curtains. Butcher follows silently as you pull him down to the couch, and without a word crawls in behind you like the night of his injuries. Without a word, he pulls his coat over the both of you best as he can. And only then do you finally drift to sleep.

[geronimomo-spd]

shoutout to whatever vick and the first doctor had, no one has ever got the good parts of each other like they did, no body talks about how it was truly vicki who helped let out the twinkle in his eyes the first doctor is so famous for!

the doctor just lost his granddaughter, learning that he needs to actually show his affection outwordly, seeing vicki as an oppretunity to love in a way he didn't let himself show, doing it couse he sees she needs it

and vicki, taking that kindness and just, has the best time?? learning how to manipulae any situation to her advantuge!! gaining such confidance that allows her to be truly free wherever she goes

she brings out the sparkle! "the gentle art of fiticuffs hmm"!!! making the giggle more prenounced! his smiles and his laugh!

truly she brings he twinkle out and he brings out the little shit in her, perfect match

[aardvaark]

im so glad that we never get a clear picture of sophie’s background in leverage & i hope we never do. however i also really like making up various, often conflicting backstories for her in my head. perhaps they’re all backstories for an alias of hers, ones she laid to rest back in season two.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Both my parents actually suffer from HORRID emotional dysregulation and are prone to snapping and going into rages. My sister is the same way tbh. I am now realizing this is why they are constantly baffled by the question of whether or not I am mad at them.

I don't have external meltdowns.

I could. I don't let it happen.

I keep my rage on the inside and stay pretty quiet about it. It's just as strong as theirs [physically shaking nose bleed from high blood pressure kind of bad], but like as a kid I saw how terrifying it was to be around [dad breaking dishes, mom putting our lawn chairs into walls] and I just internalized that I wasn't going to wear that anger on the outside.

So my mother genuinely cannot tell if I am just being quiet or if I am silently hearing the dial-up noises of pure rage. This has lead her to both making strong and confident statements like "You are a pacifist who would never hurt a fly U.U" but also acting like I am secretly dangerous maybe... It's because she has never seen me snap.

She knows what her temper is like [throwing chairs through walls], she knows what my father's temper is like [pick up child and toss out door], and she can tell I am being tested, but she doesn't know what happens when I snap or where that breaking point is.

Her -perhaps unhinged- solution to this, my whole life, has been to do things that should obviously enrage me or shut me down completely, like ignoring important boundaries, repeatedly, punishing me for expressing emotions or needs at all, etc... And then to constantly ask me if I am angry with her when I get too quiet [right after near directly telling me to shut up].

It has occurred to me now, they have never once seen me lose my temper, so they literally just can't tell if I am angry at them. My sister is easy, my mother fights and screams with my sister constantly, my mother understands this. My mother doesn't have any grasp of feelings or boundaries that are not screamed at her [apparently, and I fear my sister is the same way]. Her and my sister are close despite constant fucking fighting because they understand each other.

They are trying to get me to engage the same way and it is not working. I realize now that this has been hard for them.

I was so successfully taught to suppress my emotions, by being punished for any outburst, that rage quiet looks the same as any other kind of quiet from the outside. To them anyway.

I did tell her. For the record. I used my words. I did tell her very calmly that my response to rage, in order to avoid doing the things that terrified me as a child, was to simply leave [the autistic urge to GTFO]. When a situation or person causes too much of the dial-up rage noise, I simply extract myself from that situation, up to and including never speaking to a person again. I explained this calmly. I explained it calmly 100 times and I explained that I explain myself calmly as my rage response 1-5 [also pretty much every other negative emotion tbh], and I told her that what came next was me simply opting out and fucking off. I told her this. I couldn't understand why she never took me seriously, or why she never fucking understood.

I couldn't understand what made her like this.

But it's the same problem I have with everyone else multiplied by a factor of 10.

If I am explaining myself calmly, they can't understand that it's actually serious or that I am actually upset. ESPECIALLY because they read me as "female" and women "aren't that rational" so if I am not screaming and crying about something, which I never do, people assume I can't be upset and it isn't serious.

And then after having my boundaries ignored too many times despite having calmly explained how and why it's a problem [shaking inside or not]... I leave. I leave and everyone gets upset like this is unexpected behaviour, even though I told them 50 times that is how I would respond if they kept doing *the thing.*

And for neurotypical people especially, they are expecting there to be a disconnect between what someone says they need or feel and what their actually boundaries and feelings are, and they expect the latter to be demonstrated with emotions. Telling them bluntly you do not function that way somehow never helps?

My mother isn't just looking for normal yelling or a few tears to know I am serious, whether or not I do those either [I don't], she's looking for an explosion to know there's a problem at all.

Fucked if I know how she proceeds through life this way in general or if this is just her expectation of her own kids???

And I couldn't get why my mother couldn't read my emotions and didn't seem to think I have any. It's because she's testing for the rage limit to see where my 'actual' limit is instead of taking my word for it. Never the fuck mind that she could simply *not* test at my boundaries instead of letting me have them. Separate issue.

I couldn't figure out what made her *like this*

She's expecting me to throw a giant meltdown violent tantrum at people when I have 'actually' had enough. Maybe she got away with those being like 5'4" in another time, but I am the size of the average man, I do not get to have giant screaming rages, whether or not people perceive me consciously as a woman, and least of all because a lot of people -at least unconsciously- read me as 'masculine' or at least always "they guy" of the situation compared to all other women and some men [bigger stronger and more rational, more able to just absorb the damage and let it go so the less rational screaming/crying one doesn't have to be dealt with]. Even if it was in me to be willing to terrify people [usually never], there are such limited instances where it wouldn't just blow back on me. Potentially very dangerously.

I am going to be the quiet calm one. You are going to have to let me use my words, bitch.

So she kept ignoring my boundaries until I had to cut her out of my life, and she probably doesn't understand and probably thinks it feels sudden -after 36 long years of bullshit- abrupt and unfair.

But I told her hundreds of times.

I probably should have just screamed at her.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

The whole discourse about the privacy/secrecy/support thing has been sitting with me for a few days (I mean other than it always does to a certain degree) thanks to all the excellent discussion happening and I know I'm not saying anything that hasn't been said a million times before, but I think what we're seeing and what we're going to learn (e.g. from TTPD) is that it wasn't just the support issue, but how it was shown/handled.

We've all gone out of our way to show that introversion =/= lack of support. Someone can be shy, reserved, etc. and still show up for their partner, whether in public or at home. To chalk any of the differences up to the clash between introversion and extroversion is unfair to folks who count themselves among either tbh.

@thisisctrying said something the other day that hit the nail on the head about how if that support had been offered in private, there very well may not have been a Joever to begin with, or at least not at this point in time. (Sorry for loosely paraphrasing, and for namedropping you! Long time listener, first time poster.)

If this were a case where the "shy" partner said, "I am really uncomfortable with the spotlight personally and do not want to court it, but I will support you in your ambitions and offer you whatever you need to make them happen and make the glare bearable," I suspect that would have gone a long way to making Taylor feel seen and comfortable in pursuing her goals in the way that she now has. Again, that might have been more akin to the balance that seemed to have been struck around 2019 from what we can see, but even speaking in a general sense, there are lots of couples out there, celebrity or not, that have similar approaches where there are highly driven people and busy careers involved.

(A famous example being Dolly Parton's marriage. Tbh I know next to nothing about her and Carl, but she's always heralded as an example in this regard, because her husband is famously uncomfortable with the spotlight and hasn't accompanied her to public events in decades, but she's said that she never minded that because that was always work to her, and what was important was that he supported her in pursuing all her career goals and basically ensured she had a place to call home to return to at the end of the day.)

We're kind of in a brave new world with her current relationship because it felt like, at least at the start, we were maybe watching her figure out her boundaries in real time as to what she was comfortable with or not and adjust accordingly. Like so many have said, I fully believe the extreme privacy thing was initially driven by herself and her experiences in 2016, and she needed that quiet time to recover from all of the things and figure out how to exist in the world again.

Stating the obvious, it seemed like eventually privacy was equated with secrecy, turning the relationship and the celebrity into the elephant in the room and something to never be spoken of to the outside world. People are free to choose whatever works best for themselves and their relationships, and for some the separate public lives might work, but the “kept me like a secret but I kept you like an oath” theme is all over her work and it’s clear that it’s a sore spot for her, because she’s been made to feel shame just for the life she leads so many times in the past.

What I’m trying to say is that it’s pretty obvious something Not Great was happening behind the scenes, which didn’t just amount to “she wanted to be a public celebrity and he wanted to be a private hermit.” (Also, in case anyone forgot, this is a person who also chose a public-facing career who also has to engage in press for it, but I digress.) As her career reached new heights post-folklore, if she had the support at home to do all the things without judgment and with encouragement, and in turn offer the same support to her partner, she may have very well lived just fine with that, not unlike Dolly Parton’s case.

By reading between the lines in all the press since, as well as comments on tour and general ~vibes~ with TTPD teasers, it seems like one of the issues was that that was likely not the case. There was all the stuff that we saw — the reticence to acknowledge each other in the media (particularly on one side), the lack of public support even at events at which they were both in attendance for their respective jobs, the great lengths they went to not to be photographed together at events they attended yet no problem taking pictures with other friends and coworkers, the jobs that separated them, the withdrawing from the public even for work accomplishments, etc. Which could all be manageable if a couple chooses to do so together and are not inherently a sign of trouble in themselves.

But what we’re seeing now I think is a reflection of the things we weren’t seeing then, and it seems to indicate some very deep hurt. (I know, call me Captain Obvious.) And like so many have been saying, it feels likely that that part of that hurt is rooted in that very lack of private support where a person would expect it from their partner. Obviously as a Taylor fan blog I’m going to be more inclined to understand her side of a story, but tbh, it’s also because… this is sooooooo common, and something I’ve experienced in my friend group. (@taylortruther is right when she says most breakups are the same one way or another lol.)

One partner is resentful of the other’s success, or resentful that the other’s priorities begin to evolve as new experiences unlock new goals, or feels the other’s ambitions are not worthy of pursuit, and coupled with perhaps their own struggles in the same domain, it’s easy to see where that can chip away at the other partner’s morale and faith in the relationship. I know I’m just speculating here, but I also don’t think it’s totally unfounded. (Again, because a) I’m picking up what she’s putting down and b) it happens to sooooooo many women even among us dull normals.)

With all the pointed mentions about how much Taylor feels supported in her current relationship and how she in turn loves to offer the same show of support to not only her partner but other loved ones, how she’s stepped out more in the last year to a whole host of events, how she’s mentioned feeling like she locked herself away for years and she’s just proud of her partner and happy she can show up for him even if the chaos around it is unsettling, it paints a picture of what perhaps was happening before last year.

To feel like you’re all alone in carrying the weight of the relationship (or burden of it), of twisting yourself into knots to accommodate the other person’s boundaries (or insecurities) but not feeling reciprocity for your own has to be so painful. (The idea that it may have been even darker and to have a partner not only be unreceptive to your own needs but even perhaps resentful/dismissive/belittling of them is even more painful to think of. I guess we’ll find out when TTPD comes out if that was the case, too.)

At a certain point, that lack of acknowledgement will force your hand to be able to reclaim yourself. And it feels like the further removed Taylor in particular is from it, the more she moves from being sad about the life she felt she gave up by leaving, to angry at the life she felt she was giving up by staying. Especially being in a relationship now where it seems like everything comes much easier, where she can be open about the person she’s with and show up for them, all the stuff that seemed as challenging as climbing Mount Everest in her past is nothing more than a molehill at best in her current life.

TL;DR: I don’t think it’s privacy that inherently spells doom for a celebrity relationship like this; it’s the mutual support and respect that does. If Taylor had felt that in the later years of her previous relationship, I think we could be seeing a different, though not necessarily unfulfilled, person right now in 2024, who’d be happy on tour but whose personal life would look a little different. But it seems like by losing that support she lost parts of herself, and we’ve seen her reclaim that in spades in the last year, and perhaps to degrees she didn’t even realize she could from before all the Bad Stuff started happening in her young adulthood.

I know this was extremely long-winded and unnecessary, especially about total strangers we only know through scraps fed through the media, but I just always bristle at this idea that issues like these boil down to “personality differences,” as though one person wants to live in a city and the other on a remote island, or some shit like that. The whole support (and gender tbh) issue is one that’s just very close to my heart because again, I have seen it play out with so many of my friends in long term relationships and marriages and I just think people in relationships (and women in particular in some circles) deserve better than to feel like they’re being, well, tolerated.

[eikichi-supremacy]

okay maybe an unpopular opinion but i think shiori shouldn't actually like hiei that much

[sysig]

Let him dad her!! (Patreon)

[wonder-worker]

"It is too easy to dismiss [Leonor of Navarre] as an overambitious schemer who would do anything to obtain a crown, shedding the blood of her own siblings and her subjects in order to attain the throne. However, a deeper investigation of her long lieutenancy and ephemeral reign shows a woman who fought tenaciously to preserve her place but also worked tirelessly to administer a realm which was crippled by internal conflict and the center of the political schemes of France, Aragon, and Castile. She tried to broker peace, fight off those who opposed her, repair the wounds caused by conflict, protect the sovereignty of the realm, and keep the wheels of governance turning. Leonor was not always successful in achieving all of these aims but given the background of conflict and the lack of cooperation she received from all of her family members, bar her loyal husband, it is a huge achievement that she survived to wear the crown at all. Many writers have argued that Leonor deserved the troubled lieutenancy, personal tragedies, an ephemeral reign, and a blackened reputation, basing their assumption that she committed a crime that cannot be [conclusively] proven. However, a more fitting description of her would be that of a resolute ruler who successfully overcame a multitude of challenges in order to survive in a difficult political landscape and gain a hard-fought throne.”

— Elena Woodacre, "Leonor of Navarre: The Price of Ambition", Queenship, Gender and Reputation in the Medieval and Early Modern West, 1060-1600 (Edited by Zita Eva Rohr and Lisa Benz)