#that's my best fckn friend right there

[chiistarri]

what if instead of messaging me in the middle of the night about your stupid fucking girlfriend and your stupid fucking problems with her you actually act like my fucking friend and message me like how you message everyone else in our group

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Wingwoman (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: You take your good friend/coworker, Spencer, out to the bar to find him a girl to hook up with. Things do not go as planned.

Word Count: 5107

Warnings: Romantic/sexual tension! Mentions of drinking / sex

A/N: Hi! I haven't written posted fanfic in like, 8 years, please be nice xD I would love to know your thoughts - if you have any requests or anything, I'm happy to oblige. ALSO -- I have only seen up to Season 7 of Criminal Minds because I'm a fckn loser. Anywayyyyy enjoy! Not my gif btw, all credit to the owner :)

———————————

It was kind of your fault, now that you were thinking back on it. 

Actually, it was definitely your fault, now that you were thinking back on it. 

It had been your suggestion to go out. It had been your idea to act as Spencer’s wingwoman, some last-ditch effort to try to get him out of your mind. He was your coworker, for Christ’s sake. And your best friend. And you’d thought about him desperately for eight of the nine months that you’d known him. 

Emily, Derek, and Penelope had all agreed to tag along, but as the work day went on, each of your coworkers had found some kind of excuse to opt-out. Derek’s niece wanted to Facetime. Penelope forgot Kevin’s birthday was next week and needed to go shopping for a present. Emily had a headache. 

Finding Spencer a romantic prospect on your own was certainly not the plan, but, stupidly, thoughtlessly, you’d decided to go along with it. You could do this. Just one night in a bar, chatting up women for the man you’d slowly been falling for the past eight months. As good of an idea as any, right? 

You and Spencer took an Uber to the bar the group frequented. Ski-ball and pool in one corner, a vintage jukebox and small space set aside as a makeshift dance floor in the other. But the best part - half-off drinks for federal agents. You’d never been one to abuse the badge before, but… 

Three Jack-and-Diet-Cokes later, your moral code had a bit of a crack in it. 

Spencer stood next to you - towered over you, actually, because that man was a fucking beanpole - and you felt his eyes on you as you scanned the crowd. “What about her?” you suggested, jerking your chin to the woman at a high-top table against the wall. She had her nose stuck in her phone and an untouched martini on the table in front of her. 

“She’s clearly waiting for someone,” Spencer pointed out, and you realized he was right just as the woman looked up from her phone and towards the door for the third time in the past minute. “I also don’t understand why you’re so dead set on finding someone to hog me up with.” 

You snorted into your drink. “Hog you up with?” you repeated, turning in your barstool so you faced him. Your knees brushed his thighs. 

“Yeah, is that not…” realization dawned on Spencer and he grimaced. “That’s not the phrase, is it?” 

“Hook,” you corrected, but not impatiently. You made a little hook with your index finger, like a pirate. A little giggle escaped you. “And I’m not dead set on it,” you argued. “I just didn’t want to be the only one leaving the bar with someone.” 

Your eyes flickered up to Spencer’s to gauge his reaction. He seemed surprised by this implication that you planned to leave with someone - someone who was not him. 

“Yeah? Who are you leaving with, matey?” Spencer countered, arching a brow and pointedly looking at your index finger, still in its hooked position. You dropped your hand. 

“It doesn’t matter right now,” you blushed furiously, desperately trying to drive the conversation back to his romantic conquests. Your thought process was that if you actually saw Spencer with someone else in any sort of romantic capacity - dancing, flirting, kissing - you’d finally hurt yourself enough with the sight for those stupid feelings for him to dissipate. “We’re looking for you.” 

Spencer merely hmm-ed in response, an indecisive non-answer, and you noticed he shook his head. Like he was annoyed, but trying not to show it. You swallowed the lump in your throat and polished off your drink before returning to examining the patrons in the bar. You nudged Spencer’s elbow with your own and your gaze landed on the group of three women giggling around one of the tables. “Any of them? The blonde is cute,” you pointed out. 

“Not really into blondes,” Spencer muttered, and you glanced back at him. You could have sworn his eyes were locked on your brunette hair. You opened your mouth to say something, but Spencer cut you off. “But, sure, if watching me strike out will amuse you, Y/N.” Before you could protest, Spencer set his glass down on the bar and started towards the trio of women at the table. 

You leaned down to sniff his glass, curious as to what he’d been drinking. Clear liquid. No smell. Was he… totally sober? 

You watched with narrowed, studious eyes as Spencer approached the women. You could only see the back of his head, but the three women’s faces were perfectly visible. They smiled, friendly, unassuming, and then something came out of Spencer’s mouth that changed their expressions. The blonde in the middle furrowed her brows, and the two women on either side cocked their heads slightly. Spencer’s hand tapped the table and he earned awkward smiles as a goodbye was bid, and when he turned around to head back towards the bar, he just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, like what are you gonna do? 

“What happened?” you asked as he returned to you. 

“I blew it,” Spencer said matter-of-factly. Too accepting of his defeat. Further supporting your theory that he’d gone over there and purposefully botched it. 

“Right,” you flagged down the bartender to order another drink. 

“You’re getting another one?” Spencer asked. 

You whirled your face to meet his and didn’t see judgment, but rather, concern. “Why does it matter?” you asked, no, dared. 

Spencer shook his head, defeatedly. “It doesn’t,” he grumbled. 

“What about that girl you were talking to earlier by the jukebox?” you asked, nudging his shin with your foot. “The grabby one. She seemed really into you.” 

Spencer visibly gritted his teeth. “I’m not interested.” 

“Are you interested in anyone in this bar tonight?” You asked. The words came too quickly for you to stop them. They were too real. Especially as Spencer’s frown hardened just slightly and you watched him look away from you. 

You took in a sharp inhale, the realization hitting you, the possibility that Spencer might actually feel the same way about you. And that you’d dragged him out here tonight to try and set him up with someone else. You were selfish and thoughtless and stupid. 

You hopped off the barstool, your feet wavering beneath you. “I’d better go home,” you said suddenly, grabbing your bag. You had to leave. You had to go home before you said something stupid, something irreversible. 

You stalked out of the bar and onto the brisk, late-autumn sidewalk. You’d forgotten your coat at the office and insisted you’d be fine. The chill smacked you in the face and you tucked your bag beneath your shoulder so you could cross your arms over your chest and hug yourself for any semblance of warmth. 

Thirty seconds hadn’t even passed before the door creaked and Spencer appeared at your side, throwing his coat wordlessly over your shoulders. “What did I do?” he asked. You looked up at him and saw his eyes - hurt, frustrated, confused. 

Your lips parted and there was a small shake of your head. “No,” you breathed. He furrowed his brows and you explained further. “You didn’t do anything.” 

“Then why the hell have you been so weird around me lately?” Spencer asked, scuffing his shoe against the sidewalk. Like a temperamental first-grader. 

“Weird how?” You asked, trying to pretend like you had no idea what he was talking about. Like your stomach didn’t flip every morning when you saw him. 

“Like you’re… like you’re mad at me. Like you don’t want to be around me,” Spencer looked at the street ahead of the both of you rather than at you. “You always find an excuse to leave the room when it’s just the two of us. You pull Derek or Emily or Penelope into the conversation so you don’t have to interact with just me. You’re out here trying to find me someone to hook up with?” he phrased the last sentence as a question, shaking his head. Your heart lurched. He let out an incredulous laugh. “It’s either you’re trying to shrug me off as a friend entirely, or -” 

He stopped himself. His eyes were fixed on the streetlamp a few feet in front of you. They widened and you felt your heart pound as he slowly met your gaze. The realization hit him, the second half of his sentence lingering, heavy and palpable between the two of you. 

“Or,” you repeated, not phrasing it as a question. Your voice was soft as you said it, your tone anything but a question. 

“Or?” Spencer asked, and you could see his chest start to rise and fall more slowly. 

“Or,” you confirmed, taking in a sharp breath. 

Spencer’s throat bobbed as he looked at you, his gaze piercing and soft, studious and lazy, hungry and satiated all at once. “Oh.” 

Oh. 

“How long?” he asked, turning his feet towards you. 

Your face went red and you lifted your chin, refusing to make yourself feel ashamed of it anymore. There wasn’t any point, not when he knew now. “Since March,” you admitted. Your voice was squeaky. 

“March?” Spencer repeated, incredulous. It was early October now. 

“Yeah,” you exhaled, shrugging his jacket off your shoulders and bunching it up by the middle. You handed it to him. “You don’t have to say anything,” you said. Your body felt like it was on fire. “You don’t have to-”

“I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met.” 

You thought maybe you were hallucinating for a second. Your mouth fell open and despite your three drinks, you remembered clearly that Spencer had been drinking water. This was not some drunken confession, not for either of you, because the second he’d asked you why you had been so weird lately, you had instantly sobered up. “Oh,” was all you managed to choke out.

Oh. 

“Yeah, oh,” Spencer’s mouth twitched up into a smile. That playful, friendly, teasing little smile you’d learned to love on him. He stepped towards you. 

You let out this little half-garbled laugh. Spencer reached for your hand, and you let him. Your fingers spread, allowing his in the spaces between. You looked up at Spencer and little fires shot up your hand. How could merely holding hands feel so monumental? 

“What do we… what do we do now?” You asked, your mind in a haze, like a computer awaiting command. 

Spencer let his jacket fall to the concrete and used his other hand to slowly, almost hesitantly, cup your cheek. He looked down at you and your entire face reddened. “Well,” his voice was soft, crackling, like a fireplace, and he met your gaze with searching eyes. “I’d like to kiss you now, if that would be okay,” he said finally. Your lips turned up into an idiotic smile. 

“I think that would be okay,” you whispered. 

His hands were so soft, you realized. His grip on your hand loosened and he was now cupping your face on both sides. And every nerve in your cheeks was firing off signals - Spencer is touching my face, Spencer is touching my face. Like it was some forbidden thing. But then, as if in slow motion, he ducked his head down and his lips touched yours. Gently, at first, tentative and wobbly like a foal taking its first steps. Your hands rested on his torso - taut beneath that stupid little sweater vest. 

He pulled back after just a moment. It was really only five or six seconds at the most, but you were red-faced and breathless by the time your eyes fluttered open, into his. Spencer’s smile was now a full-blown grin, and your expression mirrored his. “Yeah?” He asked, the word carrying more meaning. You’re into this, right? 

“Yeah,” you exhaled as Spencer dropped his hands from your face, but your hands remained on his torso, not wanting to step away just yet. The syllable meant more coming from you, too. I’m really, very much, super into this. Please, for the love of god, kiss me again. 

Spencer arched a brow ever so slightly, and you nodded your head. 

Just like a dance, Spencer’s hands moved to your waist, and at the same time, you slid yours around his neck. He backed you up, completely disregarding his jacket on the sidewalk, until you were flush against the brick wall belonging to the bar. The brisk October breeze ruffled through his hair and yours, yet, suddenly, neither of you were terribly concerned about the weather. 

He kissed you again, and this time it wasn’t as timid. Slowly, at first, his lips pressed against yours, and then his tongue darted out. It teased your lips in silent invitation, and you opened them to grant him access. His hands were everywhere, your hips, your hair, your face. You had moved your own down to his torso again. He coaxed the tiniest little mewl out of your throat, a completely uncontrollable and inevitable noise. 

Spencer’s low, gravelly groan reverberated through your mouth. Your hands gripped the bottom half of his shirt, balling it up in tight, white-knuckled fists. An unmistakable hardness brushed against your thigh. You were perfectly content to stay right there, pinned against the exterior wall of a D.C. bar, but the sound of a car honking its horn peeled Spencer off of you. 

His face was flushed and you released his shirt from your grasp. He let out a small grunt, stepping away from you to grab his jacket off the ground, wrinkling it haphazardly in his hand, holding it strategically over his middle. 

Oh, he liked you a lot. 

“You okay, Spence?” You asked all-knowingly, cocking your head to the side, leaning against the wall, lifting a foot to plant against it. 

Spencer shot a set of narrowed eyes at you, as if noting your smirk and storing it for later. “Yeah, I’m great,” he said, obviously struggling a little bit. His eyes quickly left yours and looked everywhere but at you. 

You didn’t want to embarrass him too much. So you just crossed your arms over your chest and looked at the sidewalk. But the smirk on your face wasn’t going away quite so easily. You considered briefly trying to talk to him about baseball or something to try and help him out, but you decided pointing it out would just humiliate him. Plus, it was a nice little ego boost, knowing you could get him like that with just a simple touch. 

He took a second, but he finally cleared his throat and met your gaze. You sucked your front teeth with your tongue and then bit your lip. “Want me to call an Uber?” You asked. 

Spencer just nodded, and you pushed yourself off the wall, stepping over to join him, digging your phone out of your pocket to order the car. “You okay?” You asked him again after submitting the request on your phone. Spencer’s face was still flushed, but he just nodded and reached for your hand. “Careful,” you warned, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him. “Don’t want you having an-“

“Shut up,” Spencer cut you off, and you snickered. 

——————————————————

You had never been in Spencer’s apartment before. It was unmistakably his, with stacks upon stacks of books in lieu of furniture. 

There was a sofa in his living room, along with a coffee table, a couple of lamps, and a television on a stand. The remaining space, besides a few spots here and there and a clear path with which to maneuver the room, was filled with books. 

You had never seen so many books in someone’s possession before. And sure, you were an avid reader yourself. But nothing like this. Your heart fluttered at the sight, not only because books simply just made you happy, but because it was an incredibly endearing detail about Spencer. Your Spencer. 

He shut and locked the door after you stepped inside, looking around with a childlike, awestruck grin. The TV had a thin layer of dust over the screen - he clearly didn’t use it often. And as you trailed a finger along the top of the nearest stack of books, you felt a pair of eyes watching your every move. 

You and Spencer had both been quiet in the Uber ride here. He had simply held your hand, swiping his thumb across the back of your palm every few seconds. You would occasionally meet his gaze, but then quickly, bashfully, look away, like the two of you were teenagers. 

It was so strange to think of what he had said to you - I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met. How had you not figured it out before now? 

You supposed you had been hiding your true feelings as well, so he was allowed to, too. 

There wasn’t any point in wishing to change the past, you reminded yourself. All you should be focusing on is right now. 

And right now, the street lamps peeked in through Spencer’s living room window, glinting off of his endless brown eyes and making them look like he had the moon in his irises. 

“So,” you said softly, not nearly as wicked as you had been when you were teasing him on the street by the bar. “This is where you live.” 

“Uh-huh,” Spencer bobbed his head, that awkward, straight-line smile crossing his face.

“Lot of books,” you pointed out. 

“Yep.” 

You arched a brow, a teasing smile crossing your face once again. “What’s with the monosyllabic conversation?” 

Spencer clenched and unclenched his fists at his side. “It’s just… really difficult to just stand here and not touch you,” he admitted, a sheepish smile crossing his face. 

You grinned. “You can touch me,” your voice dropped an octave, without you even really thinking about it. 

Spencer licked a canine with the tip of his tongue. God, that tongue. You remembered how he’d teased you less than an hour ago outside of the bar. “Maybe I will,” he shrugged, and you rolled your eyes. 

“You can’t really play it cool, right now, Spencer. Not when I just gave you a-“

“Please stop talking,” Spencer laughed, crossing the room and cupping your cheeks in his hands all in the same movement. You snickered and he kissed you and anything you might have been wanting to make fun of him for was forgotten about. 

You pressed your hands against his chest - holy pectorals, Batman - and craned your neck up so you could reach him. Spencer slid his own hands down your arms and to your hips, and you looped your arms around his neck. One palm flattened against the back of his head, holding him in place, fingers curling around pieces of his soft hair. 

Your heart was hammering away, and there was this aching, hot feeling that was pooling in your core and you all of a sudden felt hungry. Starving for Spencer, for every piece of him, for fully and finally crossing that line from friend to lover. An insatiable hunger for nearly every moment since you’d known him.

Finally you broke away from him, simply because oxygen was a necessity, and he rested his forehead against yours. Your eyes were still closed and your fingers ground into his scalp. “Look at me,” he requested, his voice low. 

Your eyes opened obediently and one of Spencer Reid’s hands curled under your chin. His face moved away from yours but his gaze was locked on yours, a pinpoint, a Northern Star. 

And when Spencer spoke again, your knees buckled. 

“I want you.”

Your mouth fell open, ever so slightly, and you nodded. “I want you, too,” you whispered. 

“Are you still…?” He asked, his eyes searching yours. You’d had three drinks earlier that evening, after all, but you’d polished the last one off nearly an hour ago. Maybe not fully sober, but sober enough to know what you wanted. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him. 

Spencer inclined his head to the side. “You’re sure? Can you pass a sobriety test?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him before you realized he was being sarcastic. You stepped back from him, shrugging off his hands, and extended your arms, touching your nose with your left hand, then your right. Spencer just laughed, and reached out for you, tugging you back to him. “Okay,” he chuckled, planting a kiss on your neck. You let him. “You’re fine, then?”

“I’m fine,” you agreed, shrugging him out of his sweater vest, and then reaching for the buttons on his shirt underneath. 

Spencer kissed your neck as you fumbled with the buttons - how were buttons suddenly impossible to undo? Your head craned back just slightly on instinct, wanting - needing - to allow Spencer more access. Your dexterity had become abysmal at this point, and Spencer’s lips were kissing your neck, down your throat, teasing at your collarbone. “Spencer,” you managed to groan out, a wave of annoyance present in your tone. 

“What?” he asked, pulling back, concern filling his face. 

You realized you had actually worried him. “Oh, no, no,” you waved it away, and he visibly relaxed. “I’m just really frustrated, because… because your shirt,” you stammered, and Spencer’s mouth twitched up into a smirk. 

“My shirt,” he stated. 

“That one, right here,” You laughed softly, curling your fingers around the buttons. You managed to wiggle one free, then another. Spencer leaned forward to continue kissing your neck, but you held a hand up to stop him. “Hang on,” you murmured, working through another button, and one more. “I’m concentrating.” 

“You’re sticking your tongue out,” Spencer snickered. Your eyes met his and your cheeks flushed.

“I’m concentrating!” Your voice rose slightly in self-defense. Spencer’s hands went to your hips. 

“It’s adorable,” he told you. “You make the same face at work. When you’re in the middle of filling out a form or trying to open a new bottle of coffee creamer without spilling it,” Spencer rubbed circles in your hips and your fingers stopped working again. 

“You noticed that kind of stuff?” You asked softly, looking up at him with doe eyes.

Spencer just nodded. “All the time.” 

I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met.

You inhaled sharply, finally undoing the last button.The skin beneath the shirt was pale, smooth, and perfect. And when he slid his arms through the sleeves and the shirt fell to the ground, you bit your lip, unable to help it. 

“Y/N?” 

You met Spencer’s gaze and let out this awkward little laugh. Embarrassing, really, if you hadn’t been in the company of your best friend. “You okay?” he asked, and you felt a little giddy as you nodded, moving your hands to his neck and standing on your toes to kiss him again. 

You didn’t know which direction the bedroom was in, so you just took a guess, pushing him back towards one of the doors. He kept his hands on your hips and his lips pressed against yours as he guided you, walking backwards, to the right door. You entered the bedroom and could not possibly be bothered to look around right now, not when Spencer was guiding you in a circle by merely touching your hips, not when the back of your knees hit what was unmistakably a mattress, not when you fell back against it. 

Your eyes were shut, unwilling to take in your surroundings as Spencer guided you onto your back. You toed off your shoes before lifting your legs, and Spencer hovered over you. Your lips were locked with his the entire time. And when you finally opened your eyes and you saw only Spencer, you grinned like a fool. 

Spencer’s fingers were like taking a shower. They were all over you - your hips, first, then your stomach, and you had to resist the urge to giggle because they tickled as he teased the bottom hem of your shirt up. You sat up slightly to get the blouse over your head and you watched him discard it onto the floor. And then his hands were over your chest, thumbs teasing under the wire of your bra, outlining the shapes of your breasts. 

Your breathing had gone heavy and staccato by this point, your body sinking into the mattress, shipwrecked as Spencer touched you. His eyes wandered over your and that little smile on his face was enough for you to know that he was immensely enjoying himself. 

“Can I…?” Spencer’s hands wandered down and gripped your pants as he looked into your eyes, a brow arched. 

You swallowed a lump in your throat and your blush appeared over your cheeks at the same time as his. “Yeah,” you whispered, and Spencer helped you wiggle out of your pants - black slacks, since you had gone straight from work to the bar. They were soon tossed to the floor, and you were only in your underwear and your bra. And Spencer’s brown eyes did not make you feel objectified or embarrassed, but safe. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he told you, seriously, and your breath hitched in your throat. 

“You-”

“I’m not done,” Spencer cut you off, lifting a hand to run his thumb down your chin. “You’re so beautiful. And you’re so kind, and smart, and funny. And I’d really like to show you how much I care about you,” he looked into your eyes as a sort of request. 

“I’m not on birth control,” You breathed out in response, feeling your cheeks redden for even bringing it up. Way to damper the mood. Still, you wanted to be responsible. “Do you have a c-”

Spencer’s soft smile turned into a wicked grin and he shook his head. “We’re not going to need one,” he promised, and after looking into his eyes for a moment, you understood. 

________________________________________

Spencer had thoroughly worshiped you, until you quaked and cried out with absolutely no thought to how thin his apartment walls might be. Usually, you didn’t allow yourself to be the center of attention for too long, but Spencer had insisted, and, well, you couldn’t very well deny him what he wanted, right? 

Covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your hair matted to the back of your neck, Spencer finally lay down beside you. Your breathing was just starting to come back to you as you turned on your side to face him. Spencer’s body mirrored yours, the tips of his fingers - those fingers - trailing up the side of your arm. “That was…” his voice was soft, gravelly, and he looked at you like you had anything to do with it. It was literally all him. “Incredible.” 

“Yeah,” you managed to breathe out, unable to really focus on anything besides the curve of Spencer’s lips, the way the apples of his cheeks appeared when he smiled like this. Spencer kissed your lips, unlike any way he had before. All the other kisses tonight had been hungry and excited, exploratory and new. This one was lazy and slow and you let his tongue dance across yours, and when he finally pulled away, your nose scrunched up in delight. 

Your eyes traveled from his lips, down his neck, his collarbone, then back up, taking him in. The glow of his skin, the tired yet exhilarated look in his eyes. So different now than at the beginning of the night, when he’d looked at you with that slightly annoyed expression as you had tried to set him up with other women. You recalled how he had gone off to that group of three women right before you’d abandoned the bar, how he had struck out on purpose just to satiate your nagging. “What’d you say to those women tonight?” You asked him curiously, furrowing your brows at him. 

Spencer, in turn, arched his brows at you. “Why?” 

“Because I’m curious,” you said as his fingers continued to trail, feather-light, up and down your arm. You traced your thumb along his jawline, stopping at his chin. “You were obviously blowing it on purpose.” 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “I actually do have some game, despite what Morgan might say,” he said, his tone defensive. 

You snickered. “Sure you do, Spence. Took you, what, eight months, to get me in your bed?” 

Spencer shot a playful glare at you and pinched the skin on your arm. You squeaked in response and he just laughed. “I just asked them how they were doing tonight,” he said finally, and you knew just from the look on his face that he was lying. 

“You did not,” you pushed back. “Come on, Reid, spill it.” 

“Ok, fine,” Spencer heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes, sitting up in the bed, his back against the headboard. You sat up, too, looking at him with concern. Why was he so embarrassed? “I told them… Jesus.” Spencer rubbed the space between his brows with his thumb and his forefinger. “I told them I was here with a coworker that I had a massive crush on, and that you were trying to set me up with someone else,” he began. 

You started to smile. 

Spencer continued. “I told them that I had absolutely no interest in going home with anyone tonight, and that I had been purposefully striking out all night long because I couldn’t stand the thought of even trying to look at someone the way I look at you.” 

Your smile grew and you moved to sit on your knees, inching closer to Spencer and throwing one leg over him, effectively straddling him against the mattress. “So I asked them,” Spencer continued, his lips turning slowly from an exasperated frown to a small smile. “I asked them if they could just look at me like I had said something stupid, and then I would leave them alone.” 

“Did they say anything to that?” You asked as Spencer’s hands found your hips, contouring to match the curves into the small of your back. 

Spencer’s voice got slightly lower, more serious, when he said, “The girl in the middle did. She said ‘that girl definitely has feelings for you, too’. And then they did what I asked, and I walked back over to you.” 

“She did not say that,” you rolled your eyes, just as Spencer kissed your lips. 

“I have an eidetic memory, Y/N,” he reminded you in a low whisper, as his lips lingered against yours. “Would I lie to you about that?” 

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S oneshot

my masterlist!

summary: you take a beautiful sign to the final show and have the sweetest interaction with harry. then somehow bump into him in italy 2 days later.

warnings: nothing but fluff, and a few little mentions of how he saved your life!

a/n: i am so fucking proud of h. i want to give him a hug more than anything. this is for all my lovelies who love hslot so fckn much it makes them ill.

also this is such an unrealistic oneshot but like that’s just the way for it ig

———

There’s a certain type of atmosphere that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s one that no matter how many photos or videos you take, you can’t capture it. One that no word has enough emotional range behind it to convey the feeling it opens up in you.

That is the only way to get close to even describe standing where you are.

You can’t lie, you had waited hours upon hours in the Italian sun just to feel the warm metal of the barricade underneath your palms.

You’d waited years just to get here in general.

When you turn your head to look behind you, you see tens of thousands of people there. Going from visible, overwhelmingly happy faces to a sea of tiny dots.

But you’re here. At the front.

You smile because you made it. This has, albeit dramatic, been a home to you over the past 2 years.

A creature comfort. One you followed every step of the way. And somehow you can’t believe you made it here, and neither would the girl back 18 months ago watching a pixelated Instagram livestream.

Standing in your outift, which took more rhinestones and glitter than you could ever have kept track of.

But you shined under the sun like a mirrorball, so it all felt worth it. Even though you swear there’s still glue stuck under your nails.

Your friends around you shared water, staying hydrated as the show starting neared. Wetleg had already preformed their final set. And tears had been randomly springing on you all day.

You heard the power in the crowd as they sung the prelude songs, goosebumps dotting over your body as you realise he’s probably able to hear it now.

Soon enough he’ll be looking at it. In all of its 100,000 people glory.

“You okay lovely?” Sofia, an Italian girl you’d met in the line checked in on you.

You nodded with a heartfelt smile. The whole experience was so bittersweet. Full of lasts.

“I’m okay. Just so so proud.” You nodded and she softly chuckles.

Her outfit was an electric blue that contrasted her tan skin, “I have some granola bars in my bag if you’re hungry? You should eat, we’ve been standing in the heat all day.”

Your best friend from your other side peered over, drawn back into conversation after being lost in the magic of the crowd surrounding her.

“On cry number— let me guess— 24 of the day?” She said it teasingly.

“Saying that as if you don’t already have mascara stains half down your face.” You grumble back jokingly, leaning your head back to look at the pastel blue sky.

You turned back to Sofia, “We’ll save them for after, maybe lay down on the ground and eat them or something.”

You only said no because you felt like you could probably be sick right now.

“Amore sciocco, troppo testardo il tuo bene, mio dio.” She mutters under her breath with a laugh, shaking her head at you disapprovingly.

“Trash talking her again in Spanish. God I wish I knew how to speak it.” You elbow your best friend at her quip.

You could stay in this moment forever.

As Bohemian Rhapsody begins playing you watch the sun go down, and in this very moment, It is your forever.

You live and breathe every second of it. All the way into peace piece, and as you’re gripping the girls around you for dear life as the lights start to dim along with the setting sun.

Harry coming has the arena screaming so loud it would have been heard for miles. He looks beautiful.

Like a shiny star up on stage. Blowing kisses and sending thank you’s to as many areas of the crowd be possibly could.

Mouthing words in Italian, causing Sofia to almost pass out beside you she screeched that hard the first time he did it.

And him counting in Golden with their language, speaking proudly into the mic— “Uno, due— uno, due, tres!”

“HES— WHAT THE FUCK!!” You’re laughing, holding her hand as she shouts frantically.

Songs bleed into one after another, going on your part from embarrassing screaming and dancing onto equally embarrassing crying.

The overwhelming feeling of seeing him so close— so damn close you can see each individual sequin on his silver outfit when his on the main stage at his mic stand in the centre.

You don’t even realise he’s doing a sign reading interlude until Sofia hands you yours from where it leant on the bottom of the barricade at your feet.

You were enamoured by him.

Taking the sign, your hands shook a little as he was on the main stage. Right in front of you.

His eyes are scanning the crowd, glancing over some signs and smiling.

“We have a choice tonight,” he begins, voice echoing through the speakers.

“we can either move quickly through signs, in which case, we’ll be able to give you some more songs!” An array of screams come from everyone, and you feel sick just at the prospect he was suggesting. The fact he could pull out any song.

He chuckles, walking further towards the area of the pit where you are, “Just an idea, just an idea!”

You’re pretty sure the girls are yelling something about him walking over, but you’re stunned at what’s happening overall, and you can’t even process what they’re saying.

But contradictory to what he’d just said. He stops a moment.

From his perspective, he saw a handful of very bright colours in the front of the crowd. One holding up an equally eye catching sign.

But he takes a moment to blink, focus in on the person holding it.

This girl has her eyes locked dead onto him, like as if he moves an inch— something could implode at any moment. Yet it somehow comes across in a flattering way.

And then he reads the sign.

‘you saved me. i cant thank you enough for that. BTW…’

His heart immediately pangs. Already too emotional at this whole event to be reading a sign like that.

You are in shock. Because he certainly just made eye contact with you and he’s been staring at your sign for a few good seconds.

“Can— wait can you turn that for me, love?” His voice falters a little.

As if Harry Styles just asked you to do something, you move with a haste you never had.

However you misinterpreted his question, turning the sign clockwise like as if it was upside down. Feeling a little embarrassed in yourself that it was around the wrong way.

He chuckles into the mic, causing a small uproar at the softness of it.

“Wrong way, it has B-T-W on it so I’m assuming there’s more on the back.”

“Oh, god— sorry!” You shout out to him, it sounding a little shaky, and you can’t lie that tears were threatening to spill from your eyes.

You had waited so fucking long to have a chance to tell him that he genuinely saved your life. And you’re finally doing it.

Also spinning the sign so the back of it is facing him, and his eyes flit gently over it too.

‘you have by far the prettiest smile ever.’ It reads, with a few large red hearts around it, decorated with glitter and rhinestones.

A dimple pops out on his cheek and he covers his mouth with a hand, flattered as ever.

“Why thank you.” He does a little bow as well, and you’re laughing out of shock. You’re interacting with him right now.

He straightens up, “I’m flattered as ever.” Prodding one of his dimples as he shows off just how pretty his smile is.

“And thank you for coming, it means everything to me.” He flushes a little, laughing at himself and your still starstruck reaction.

“You are stronger than you probably think. What’s your name?”

A tear breaks past your waterline, and you call out, “Y/N!”

Both girls at your side are clutching you like no tomorrow, and Harry takes his in-ear out to hear you better.

You call it out again, he makes only one off guess before he gets it. And your name rolling off his accent tongue makes your stomach flip.

“Y/N? That’s right— well that was a pretty good record for name guessing—“ he laughs, walking over as close as he can to the edge of the stage.

He holds the mic up to his mouth, “make some noise for Y/N everyone!”

You are in complete shock as you hear the whole arena cheer and holler for you, and Harry has this wholesome feeling of adoration wash over him as he sees your reaction.

The tears slipping down your pink cheeks. If he could, he honestly would go down there and wipe them off.

Not something he often find himself thinking. Yet here he is.

“Thank you for coming Y/N. What do you say we do some more songs?” He asks, smiling at the shocked raise of your brows.

“Yes, please.” You enthusiastically reply.

“Alright, you heard her. More songs it is!”

And so the show continues on. The second he breaks eye contact and moves away, a sob tears out of you.

You can’t believe that just happened. And the fact the rest of the show— unless you’re delusional, and making this up in your head— he lingers anytime he’s going past where you are. Catching your eyes, and smiling a little wider.

And you’re absolutely a wreck at the speech he makes, even though Sofia has to translate every word that leaves his mouth.

But if that nearly killed you, the piano ballad was honestly your final straw.

You cried so hard you couldn’t see the fucking stage at one point. And you wish you could say you were embarrassed for him to see you as he did one last round of goodbyes. But you couldn’t.

It was all your love and appreciation for him, poured out of you through the tears streaming down your face.

To your disbelief, he stops in front of you again, blowing a kiss to your friends and then one to you.

Bending down a little further to look at you, lips starting to move— from what your could hardly hear, and mostly got from reading his lips, he said ‘thank you, I love you.”

You blow a kiss back.

And before you know it, the show has ended. And there’s this full, yet hollow feeling inside of you.

Like you’re not sure how to feel. You miss him already, but that was by far the most amazing experience of your life.

You’re overwhelmed, with love and gratitude. And you, Sofia and your best friend end up doing what you’d proposed earlier before the show.

Eating chocolate granola bars with your back up against the barricade, tears still falling from your eyes.

———

Post love on tour depression is a real thing.

There is no normal explanation for having to force yourself to get up to have an amazing brunch in Italy of all places.

But 2 days after the show day, you’re doing just that. Dressing in a nice summer outfit at the very least, and taking your LOT bag with you.

The streets aren’t too busy considering it’s midday, and you make your way through them peacefully. Stoping to peak into stores, or take photos of little things you like every now and again.

And all your adventuring leads you to a beautiful little corner-cafe. One that the second you step foot into, you are comforted by its cozy feel & strong aroma of coffee.

The building itself had all its historic bones, but had been modernised. Fitted with sleek wooden floors and new furniture. Walls painted a crisp white to brighten up the already light filled room.

You find the menu hanging above where the counter is, on large pretty chalkboards.

You’re mulling over what to get when you hear a voice from beside you.

It causes you to jump a little at it’s unexpectedness, “I like your bag.”

It’s said with the tone that you can tell someone is smiling. And you turn to greet the person who had just spoken to you.

That’s when you’re met with a sight that knocks the wind from you.

Beside you— standing tall, with his tousled brown curls and rolled up linen long-sleeve is quite literally the man you saw on stage 2 nights ago.

“Oh my god—“ you jump a little at the realisation, it hitting you like a train within seconds. But you’re trying to keep you voice down, as to not cause some kind of scene.

He laughs at your stunned reaction, the way your ringed hand goes over your mouth. It’s a reaction he’s accustomed to. But the way your pretty features portray the expression has him all the more intrigued.

He does his classic introduction, “Hi, love. I’m harry.” Sticking his hand out, smiling. Like as if you didn’t know.

“I— well I did notice that.” You rush out in a nervous laugh. Glancing around looking for some kind of film camera, gauging if this is a set up and not a coincidence.

You’re left realising it’s just the two of you, and some older guy with a newspaper a few metres away at a window seat.

But no one with a camera or phone out filming this interaction.

You shake his hand after a moment of hesitation, telling yourself mentally you’re not going to cry as your relish the feeling of his calloused fingertips against the base of your wrist.

“Hi…” You flush profusely.

“What are you ordering?” He smiles at you, and your eyes are so obviously darting over his every feature.

Which you feel like you couldn’t stop from happening when he’s this close, and you’re able to fully see the plains of his beautiful face.

The structure of his jawline— that’s dotted with a light stubble—his cupids bow lips, the definition in his cheekbones. And fuck his eyes.

That are very intensely locked onto yours…

“Oh. I’m sorry. I…” you fumble for words a little, “probably like a tea. That’s usually my go to.”

He nods, “let me get it for you, please. How do you have it?”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t need to do that.” You insist immediately, because even though the gestures small, it feels like too much.

“Y/N.” He tuts gently.

“Weird that you remember that.” You think aloud, unable to filter the shock at the fact he just said your name. Even though the show was only 2 days ago, when he learnt it.

“Of course I do. You had quite the sign. I won’t lie, it made me tear up a bit.” He laughs, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Well, It was true. Not to be cheesy or anything, but your music genuinely means everything to me.” You say carefully. Not wanting to come across as weird.

“And love on tour was one of the best experiences of my life. So… thank you for that.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at your shyness. And you recall the fact you told him he had a pretty smile.

Prettiest smile. The fact he knows you think that?

You wonder if he’s thought the same thing at all in the last 5 minutes.

“Your support means as much to me. Wouldn’t be able t’do what I do if it weren’t for people like you.”

“Now, how you have your tea?” He reiterates, asking for an answer, not for another polite declination.

“I— okay. Since it’s clear you’re not going to take no for an answer.” You sigh. Corners of your mouth upturning anyway at his stubborn ways.

You rattle off how you have it, and he nods, mentally noting it down like this is going to be a regular occurrence.

He walks over to the counter and you shuffle over to the side that you’ll pick up the order from. Watching carefully as he goes up, you take in his much more causal appearance to the usual extravagance of the outfits he adorns on stage.

Hes got a pair of denim shorts on—strong legs on display— paired with a white longsleeve that’s rolled up his fore arms.

You avert your gaze to the older Italian man at the register, clueless to who he is serving.

Until a younger girl, say 15, walks from the back room and does the biggest double take youve ever witnessed.

Harry has to be used to it, because there was no way anyone could miss that.

You’re feeling like you’re in a parallel universe. Because Harry is just casually strolling back over to you, like you’ve known each other for more than a total of two, 5 minute interactions.

You take a breath, reminding yourself simply that he is a human. Just like you are. He wakes up in the morning, has bad days and good days, has habits and routines he follows— just like anyone else.

You keep this in consideration as you open your mouth to speak, “Thank you for doing that. How have you been?”

He smiles at your shy tone, a tiny wholesome feeling bubbling up at your question.

“I’m good, honestly. It’s been a big start to the year. I’m excited to take some time off even though wrapping it up the other night was really hard.” He nods, eyes casually trailing the man who was making the drinks.

“If it makes any difference, I was sobbing like a baby at pretty much every point of the show.” You laughed.

“I did see your very tear stained cheeks.” He shocks himself little with his continuation,

“Would’ve jumped down and given you a hug if I had the bloody time.” And he smiles with gratification as you mask your shocked reaction as much as possible. However, tiny little micro-movements in your face were still popping through. “I went a little overtime with the speech.”

Just human to human. You drew a tiny breath through your nose, “Which was great by the way. I mean my friend had to translate the whole thing, but was also another tear jerker.”

He goes to say something else, interrupted by the call of his name from the counter.

In which he collects the drinks from the lovely man, smiling at him with a warm thank you before turning to come back to you.

“Here you go, darling.” He hands over yours, and his green eyes look bright as ever.

The darling makes your stomach flip. He’s British, they use pet names like this in passing conversation often. But fuck if you didn’t know any better you’d think there was a chance he was flirting with you.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” You repeat.

“You have a different accent, you’re not from Italy no?” He interjects and you’re a little confused at the sudden change of topic.

“No I’m not from here…?” you laugh.

“So you’ve travelled all this way to come see me I’m assuming, the least I can do is buy you a tea. Think of it as a thank you.”

He tests the waters a little further, “i don’t usually stay in cafes for overly long but, if you have time to sit for a bit…”

“You continue to amaze me.” You chuckle, slowly following behind him as he pulls up a chair, back to the window.

“You also made me a very flattering sign. So im just being courteous, as a way to return the favour.” He smirks almost. And you’re honestly not strong enough to endure this.

“And that little piano thing you did? Is this compensation for my mental health?” You hold the cup up and he lets out a surprised laugh at your gentle quip.

“Yes, I’ve heard word that it came across as emotional as I’d intended.”

“You could hear a pin drop in the whole arena.” You nodded, taking a sip of the tea he’d bought you.

“I was so worried I was gonna fuck it up somehow.” He shakes his head, hand running through his hair as though he was anxious just at the thought.

“It sounded amazing, Harry. Made me feel a lot how fine line did when I first listened to it.”

He looks sincere with gratitude as you talk. And it stays that way as he continues on conversation with you.

You know heaps about him— you’re a fangirl that’s practically your job— yet he doesn’t know anything about you. Leaving him curious about many aspects of your life, and also with plenty of questions. Ones he really can’t believe he is even asking given you’re a fan, and he’s never actually done this before.

Whatever this is, because it felt a lot like a first date. With the way he asked where you were from, who you came to Italy with, where you grew up.

The whole lot. Your drinks both long since finished, but the questions still flowing between you two. Like there was never enough information to be learned.

He was interrupted by a call, and it almost popped this little bubble you’d made around yourselves.

Which possibly wasn’t a bad thing for him. But it served as a reality check for you.

You’re still just a fan at the end of the day. Even though your not sure how that term stands after he knows about your favourite foods, or childhood stories from your younger years. Because you feel like now that he knows that, the dynamic feels different to you.

But most of all you dreaded the fact you had to say goodbye again. But now you have to say it knowing that he walks away from this knowing things personal to you.

You realise he’s on the phone to his mum as he talks, “Yea, tell Gem to grab them anyway… I’ll be back soonish.”

He glances up at your after a moment of brief silence, “I’m just out with a friend of mine I… bumped into. So I’ll see you soon, okay?”

A friend of his?

“Alright, bye, I love you.”

And just like that the phone hung up.

“I’m feeling very special at my label. A friend of yours.” You laugh, but not lying whatsoever.

“Was m’mum. We’re having a late lunch at her BNB.” He explained, and the fact he didn’t object his choice of wording meant even more to you than anything.

You stare at him a moment, both mutually realising that this moment was seemingly going to have to end at some point.

“I don’t often do things like this.” He shrugs, watching your eyes train on random objects around the room as you get lost in thought.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Never sat down with a fan and just had a drink. It was lovely, thank you for being so polite.” He smiles again at you.

It surprised him just how far he went with it. But you had this gentle aura about you. He knew of all people, you were safe to share this private slice of himself with.

“Thank you for buying my drink… to have spent this time talking, it— well it meant a lot to me.”

“I would give you my number if my manager wouldn’t kill me.”

As stated, he continues to surprise himself just how far he’s going.

Your brain stalls at his comment.

“You could just have mine? Buy a burner phone and text me off it.” You make the first suggestion that comes to mind and he barks out a laugh.

“Could just reaffirm that you weren’t going to sell my number off to fans on Twitter?”

“Ah, that could also work too.” You nod, raising your brows.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, and your heart genuinely palpitates. Because how the fuck had you managed this.

“Gimmie yours, if you’d like?” He slides it over, and you feel like you’re picking up something with more value than just a phone. I mean it’s Harry Styles’ phone of all things.

You begin to type it in, glancing up as his gaze is trained on you, “how many numbers of fans do you have banked up in here?”

He rolls his eyes at your tease, still smiling, “I’ll have you know you’ll be the first. If my mums counts though, then only two.”

“I just…” he pauses, pursing his lips as he looks for the right words, “knew I’d regret it if I didn’t have a way to get in touch with you. I’d say we’ve got a lot in common and it’s always nice to meet new people. And I don’t want to be thinking later ‘wow, she was lovely, wish I could have kept in touch’. Y’know?”

You send yourself a text, just a simple ‘:)’ so it saves in his recent messages. “Well, I suppose I’d be a little sad too. Probably start sending emails to your manager trying to find a way to get in touch again.”

He laughs at this, standing up from his chair and pocketing his phone in his shorts once you hand it back to him.

You also rise from the table, watching his movements keenly.

“Makes this part less sad.” He says, in reference to the impending goodbye, “I’m not leaving Italy for a little bit though, and if you’re sticking around as well, maybe I can buy your more cups of tea— to make you feel even more guilty about it, of course.”

You let out a soft chuckle, “Yea, I’m not leaving for a little while…”

He walks to your side of the table, not hesitating to pull you into a hug that leaves you winded.

You freeze a millisecond before jumping to embrace it. Enjoying the gentle yet strong feeling of his body holding yours. And the way his hands are ever-so-slightly caressing your lower back.

“Thanks for hanging out, alright? Don’t be shy to message me.” He murmurs into your hair.

“I— okay. I won’t. Thank you, Harry.” You smile into the crook of his neck.

He gives a final squeeze before pulling back. Fighting the internal urge to press a little kiss to your temple.

“I’ll see you around, hopefully. Bye Y/N.” He gives you a final smile before waving goodbye, and heading out the cafe.

Your head is reeling as he exits. Unsure if you just imagined that whole thing. You needed someone to pinch you, because as far as your concerned that whole interaction was something you dreamed up.

You check your phone to see the time.

1:53pm

1 new notification

Unknown Number | :)

So that actually did just happen.

———

To reaffirm that you weren’t the only person in the world to witness what happened today, you see a tweet reposted on an update account that reads,

so, i just saw harry styles in the cafe i work at, and he sat down and drank a tea with someone he talked to at a show. not naming the interaction for privacy but like… what the fuck?

And secretly you smile. Maybe this is something you’ll keep to yourself for a bit. Like he’s a new secret friend of yours.

———

part two!!

[deantfwinchester]

Love Me Right

Part 1: Henrietta’s

Pairing: ConstructionCEO!Joel x Waitress!Reader

She's eventually gonna be a teacher again bc let's be real, i'm a one-trick pony.

This is a Millionaire Joel AU x Most Eligible Bachelor Trope

Summary: Joel Miller, CEO and Co-Founder of Miller Construction, hasn't been dealing with an Empty Nest very well. His family and friends have tried their best to cheer him up since Sarah left for college in the fall, but the storm cloud above his head remains. On top of that (or perhaps because of it), he has just been named one of Austin's Most Eligible Bachelors.

What will that mean for the new-in-town waitress he meets in his favorite diner? As far as she knows, he's just an average contractor.

Warnings: age gap (reader late 20s, Joel late 40s); family-centered trauma and conflict; lethal levels of fluff otw

A/N: Bear with me for this one y'all. My imagination is ambitious and my brain is obstinate. Title inspired by Sabrina Carpenter’s Short ‘n Sweet - bc i can’t stop fckn listening to Juno 🫣

Word Count: 4.6k

_______________________________________________

“Tommy, there ain’t a chance in hell that’s gonna happen. Why on earth did you bring this to me?”

“Well they talked to Joanna at the front desk first. She said wasn’t going to bring it up to you, but I couldn’t just let it slide,” Tommy raises his eyebrows at Joel, shooting him a mischievous look. “Because one - I wasn’t gonna pass up the chance to see this look on your face, and two - would a little publicity be so bad?”

“Who in their right mind is gonna choose a fuckin contractor from the goddamn ‘society pages’?” Joel bristles at his brother’s amusement with an unwavering scowl.

Tommy stares right back, but the playful nature of his expression is unmarred. “Most men won’t Joel - but their wives will.” Tommy’s salacious grin is damn near wider than Joel’s ever seen. Christ, he’s loving this.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Joel says plainly, rolling his eyes.

“Come on brother, think about it - plenty of busy men in this city with bored housewives in need of a project. He tosses her a few thousand to redo the dining room - well who’s gonna do the job? She hasn’t got a clue where to begin and then BOOM! She sees the list of Austin’s Most Eligible Bachelors in the paper - where she finds a photo of the distinguished CEO and senior founder of Miller Construction—”

“Senior, seriously?,” Joel deadpans at him. Tommy ignores him, continuing to wax poetic.

“And can’t help but wonder if the rest of his staff is as dashing as he appears to be,”

“Flattery’s cheap Tommy.”

“Of course then she meets with me and the deal is sealed.” Tommy smiles smugly now that his story is complete.

“Boy can you paint a picture,” responds Joel, rolling his eyes at his brother’s antics. “So you wanna parade me around like a two-bit hooker, huh?

“Whaddya say — can I give ‘em a call?”

“If you’re so hell-bent on ‘marketing’ why don’t you do it?” Joel says flippantly.

“Well I’m not a bachelor anymore, am I?,” he grins brightly at him. This time, it’s sincere.

“Don’t break your arm pattin' yourself on the back, Tommy. Maria mighta said yes, but there ain’t a ring on your finger yet. She’s still got a few months to wise up,” Joel challenges, his tone playful.

Tommy glares at him, but then gives a sobered nod. “You’re right about that. I know I’m a lucky fucker, and I’m not interested in testing that luck - even for a charity auction. Sorry to the dogs, or the food bank or — is it old people?”

“Hell bent on it, and don’t even know what it’s for? Christ - it’s a Make-A-Wish thing Tommy, damn,” Joel replies, looking bewildered at his brother’s callous and cavalier response.

“And isn’t your attention and concern for the bigger picture just what they need in volunteers?” Tommy retorts, expression still smug but eyes hopeful. “What, ‘s it gonna kill you to go out for once? It’ll be a formality at worst and maybe even a good time if you loosen up a bit.”

“I can think of a number of other ‘worsts’ than a formality,” Joel muses

“You’re gentleman enough to handle it just fine,” Tommy continues.

It has been quite a while since Joel’s been out of his house for much other than work or routine, and even longer since he’s been out with anyone other than Tommy, Maria, and the guys from work here and there. He’ll admit, he hasn’t been dealing with an empty nest very well. He’s done a pretty terrible job of keeping busy since he dropped Sarah off at school back in the fall. She’d gotten in exactly where she’d hoped, and made friends fast - for this he was over the moon - but he misses her like crazy. He’s been swimming back and forth in swelling pride and stabbing grief since September, ecstatic and aching all at once. He knew Tommy’s intentions were relatively pure, business interest aside. He knows they’ve been worried about him for a couple of months now - they haven’t exactly been subtle — they’d started having him over for dinner damn near once a week.

This newfound hobby of Tommy’s, cooking like a grown-up, had become the ruse en vogue for getting Joel out of his house. As Maria’s caseload grew at the law firm, Tommy wanted to make sure she had a real meal to eat when she finally got home — so he started cooking. Joel had to admit it was real sweet, watching his brother dive headfirst into learning a new skill just to take care of his bride-to-be. He claimed it only made sense with his far more flexible schedule, but Joel knew it made Tommy proud to be able to do this for her, and the very fact he wanted to made Joel proud as well.

Once Sarah left for school, however, Tommy quickly discovered his brother’s less-than-satisfactory habits of microwave dinners or forgetting to eat in general. He was a fair chef in his own right once upon a time, but without his little girl there to feed, bothering to make a balanced meal fell by the wayside. Joanna, a kindly woman in her seventies, had been one of the first to notice the change in Joel’s demeanor and the drawn nature of his features. Not much younger than the boys’ mother would be today, Joanna worked at the front desk of Miller Construction, greeting clients with a maternal warmth that, Tommy had to admit, was in part strategic. Disarm a client while they wait with a smile and you’d be able to pry open their hearts and their pockets.

Joanna was not unaware of the role she played in this game, though she did not approve. She’d informed Tommy of her concern for Joel, and the regular dinner invitations followed suit. This, accompanied with Joanna’s tugging Joel along to a nearby diner for lunch a couple of times a week in November had practically pulled Joel through the fall slump and into the new year. The holiday visits home from Sarah had helped a great deal, as well.

Joel wasn’t blind to his friends and family’s kahoots to help him through this patch. Though he sometimes grudgingly obliged to Joanna’s pestering him out the door because she hadn’t “seen you eat a bite all day. Four cups of black coffee don’t count, and you know it. Up!,” or Tommy’s employing Maria to send a text herself inviting him to dinner after he’d tried and simply received the finger, he was grateful for their efforts and care. Sarah was too, but he didn’t need to know that. Those lunchtime diner visits soon turned into breakfasts — a preemptive measure on Joanna’s part to add some time out in public to Joel’s routine of home — office — work site — home. Eventually she’d pavolv-ed him into it, and Joel was at the diner for coffee, breakfast, and one of the only physical newspapers left in existence every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at first following behind Joanna and eventually on his own.

Joanna had been with the Miller brothers since the business was far smaller, just a few years after its inception, when they started needing a receptionist/secretary/assistant, just someone who knew how to manage their slowly growing demand. She’d been a friend of their mother’s and had taken up some of the slack when she’d passed, grieving alongside her friend’s sons and looking after them in her wake. She’d been one of the only reasons Joel and Tommy had been able to build the tiny Miller Bros. into its current position as Miller Construction, multi-million-dollar contracting firm, and the largest in the Austin Metro area. Joel’s practical thinking and creativity combined with Tommy’s ambition and idealistic hopes of grandeur got them into successful meetings with investors that Joanna quietly set up via her husband’s business contacts. Their vision reminded her so much of their mother’s optimism she couldn’t help herself. She’d keep an eye on Sarah when Joel needed and ensured they were taken care of in the moments they would have needed their mother around.

As the boys’ surrogate mother figure and Sarah’s Aunt Jo, it came as no surprise that amid Joel’s season of empty-nested loneliness Joanna had begun encouraging him to “get back out there” and claimed that she “won’t be around forever” and “would like to see him settled before I go.” Classic maternal guilt-tripping, and Joel told her each time that he hears 70 is the new 50. She told him to try that again in a few years when he hits the real 50.

Truth of the matter was, Joel had been alone for a long time. He’d seen people on and off while Sarah was growing up, but it was a rare occasion, and no fling had ever lasted more than a couple of months. With Sarah at home, it never mattered much to Joel — he had someone to care for who was the best company he’d ever had right in front of him. She’d needed him a little less as she’d grown up, but he always had a purpose.

Joel was a natural-born caretaker — between brotherhood and fatherhood, he took to it like a tadpole to water. With Sarah away at school and his little brother engaged, however, he couldn’t figure out where to put all that love, and so it crackled into grief like a blackening candle wick, blooming into a flower of ash that nestled in his chest. The cloud of soot hovered around him for a while as he went through the motions of his everyday. Tommy, Maria, and Joanna all wanted to see him find his way again, as did Sarah when she received honest reports from her family members after some prodding. He always put on his biggest smile for her, never wanting her to worry, but she could see something hurting in his eyes, just below the surface.

While it may have been blatantly out of his comfort zone, Tommy and Joanna jumped at the opportunity to convince Joel when the Most Eligible Bachelors’ Auction came knocking. He needed something to disrupt his routine, with the added bonus of his coming out into the social scene like a plaid-clad debutante with a few extra crow’s feet.

After rolling the last few months’ events around in his mind for a couple of minutes while Tommy answers a phone call, Joel is broken from his reverie. Tommy’s standing in front of him again, waving a hand back and forth.

“Hey ground control - you with me?,” he asks before Joel’s eyes focus on him once again. “Can I give em a call?,” and this time Joel notices the concern in Tommy’s eyes as his joking facade flickers with hope. It’s more than just publicity, and he owes it to them to give it a shot.

Joel releases a measured sigh, relenting. “Can’t believe I’m saying this but sure, fuck it. Call ‘em back,” he says rolling his eyes, resigning himself to whatever nonsense his participation will entail. He reminds himself it’s for charity, and returns to his computer, refocusing on his work as Tommy darts out of his office to return to his own, reporting his success to Joanna along the way.

_______________________________________________

You got lucky with this job at Henrietta’s, with its flexible hours and fairly livable wage, you had time to settle into your new place and get to know the city. You spend your off days wandering around, doing research on local schools and prepping your applications for summer school and the new year.

Never had you pictured yourself leaving students mid-year, and having to do it hurt like hell. You missed the kids you left behind every day, but when a friend caught wind of an acquaintance needing a subletter for a little studio within your price range, you didn’t have much of a choice. You needed to take up the lease starting in January, or you’d be starting over at square one. It had been a long time coming, this encroaching need to run and start over somewhere new. Staying in your hometown was no longer an option — work may have been a saving grace, but the other areas of your life were suffering. You knew healing couldn’t begin without separation. You needed to be far away from everything — it was the only way you could picture trying to feel whole again. Grad school had ended the previous year, so you fled.

With each mile you put between you and your family, you started to feel like your lungs could fully inflate once again. The oppressive air of scrutiny and memory that swam around you at home dropped off piece by piece with each passing mile marker. You’d put a few states between yourself and your parents once it was all said and done, and while it was scary, starting from scratch all over again, it was invigorating. You’d done it at eighteen when you left for college, you could damn well do it again with eight years’ more life experience under your belt.

You’d walked into the diner on your second day in the city. You had some money saved up from time living at home, but knew it would dwindle quickly with rent to pay and no salary coming in on the regular. You would need something to keep busy and pay for necessities until the end of the spring semester. When Diane, the manager caught sight of you, bright-eyed and looking like a deer in headlights, she welcomed you with a warmth you’d only read about in books. She interviewed you then and there and offered you a job on the spot, waiting tables on the breakfast and lunch shifts at least four days a week. She told you your “sweet smile and wide-eyed look will do wonders for you in tips, precious!” You think it’s probably just teacher face you can’t shake, and hope she’s right — maybe it could do you some favors until you get back in the classroom where you belong.

Diane’s rounded face was accentuated with wonderfully deep crow’s feet and smile lines that suggested a lifetime of sharing this warmth, and her dark hair streaked with gray around her hairline and temples rested atop her head in a frazzled bun. She made you comfortable out the gate, and had set you up with a uniform immediately. More aptly, she handed you a t-shirt and an apron to go over your leggings. You were thankful for the relaxed dress code, knowing plenty of other establishments required a much more specific ensemble. Once you’d changed she introduced you to your shift lead, Reggie, and the line-cook-on-duty, Tony, patting you comfortingly on the shoulder and insisting they welcome you, hoping to keep you around to solve their persistent staffing issue.

While Diane was quite a bit older than you, somewhere in her mid-fifties, Reggie and Tony were younger, floating between mid-thirties and early forties, if you had to guess. Reggie was a slim black man you’d put in his thirties, and he greeted you with a smile and an exclamation that he was more than ready to gossip ad nauseum with someone so much closer to his age. He’d been the one to fill you in on Diane’s immediate taking to you, letting you know with little ambiguity that you were just a few years younger than Diane’s daughter, who had moved out of the city about a year ago, and that you favored her to boot. Reggie had called this particular gossip session your orientation.

“Don’t get me wrong honey, Diane’s a sweetheart. But never have I seen her offer a position on the spot. I think having you here may do her some good,” he’d said, before turning to fill you in on Tony the line cook. “Yeah Tony’s hot, but he chain smokes like a chimney and doesn’t care at all when I ask him to keep his second hand smoke to himself on the days I have a performance!,” he shouted pointedly at Tony, who only looked up long enough to give Reggie the finger and wink at you. Tony was a muscular Italian guy in his forties with tattoos of a sort that didn’t quite match up with the gold chain and cross pendant hanging around his neck. When your eyes went wide at the wink, Reggie giggled a bit and leaned toward you. “Don’t worry, Tony’s a little sleazy but harmless. He’ll hit on anything in a skirt, but as soon as you tell him you aren’t interested he’ll back off and won’t bring it up again. He’s a good guy, but don’t tell him I said that.”

Over the course of your shift you discovered that Diane’s been at Henrietta’s for fifteen years, Reggie is a drag queen and lounge singer by the name of Wizz Tiria at a few different clubs around town, and Tony has a few other business ventures he mentions on and off (the details of which he keeps to himself), but never misses taking his Mom to church on Sundays. You share a good bit about yourself as well in exchange — what brought you to Austin, why now, and where you may go from here. It doesn’t take long for you to make yourself at home among this eclectic little bunch, and for the first time in a really, really long time, you’re content with the peaceful monotony of these early winter days.

_______________________________________________

It’s a brisk February morning when you walk into the diner for your shift. You’ve spent the last month working in the cozy little greasy spoon, so you’re still getting to know the regulars, but you’ve caught on pretty quick. You’ve been working the Tuesday, Thursday, and weekend shifts, but when Diane loses another server, you’re eager to pick up the slack — extra pocket change and keep your mind busy. The company’s pretty good too. Thus, you find yourself walking into the diner at 7 AM on a Wednesday morning with a hoodie over your t-shirt and a scarf to ward off more of the wind cutting into your cheeks. You head to the staff room to remove your hoodie and don your apron and emerge, finding the diner a bit colder than it had been up to this point. You’d kept a light jacket or a cardigan on you previously, but today’s need for something heavier led you to selecting a favorite hoodie to throw over your work t-shirt — which you didn’t quite think through until you came into the dining room and felt a chil run up your spine. Diane catches sight of you before you can still yourself.

“Sweetie, what on earth fo you think you’re doing?,” she asks like you’ve done something obviously egregious.

“Huh? What is it?,” you ask innocently, but you know the answer. She can probably see the goosebumps you feel rising on your arms.

“You need somethin’ on under that, you’re gonna freeze in here today!,” she chastises.

“Yeah, I brought my hoodie, but forgot I’d be taking it off. It’s not so bad in here, I’ll be alright,’ you tell her reassuringly.

“Absolutely not. Wait, hold on a second - REGGIE! We got any more o’ those long sleeve souvenir shirts in the case?!” she hollers after him.

“Hold awn!,” he hollers back, Southern twang taking center stage when he yells, just like the rest of them. After a few seconds he emerges with a few in hand. “Got a few left. Ugly as hell, probably why they’re still here. Watcha need ‘em for?”

“Sweetie, go on and change into that before the rush starts. Not the staff shirt, but the branding’ll be fine in case Jason drops by,” she says, rolling her eyes. She pats you on the shoulder, nudging you toward Reggie to take one of the shirts. They’re bright green with a gaudy design on them that makes you laugh when he hands it to you. Jason’s the owner of Henrietta’s, and so you’ve heard, the bane of Diane’s existence. You’ve only heard tale of this rotten Jason thus far, never quite laying eyes on the mythical beast. You really hope today in this goofy shirt isn’t the day you do.

You return to the dining room a few minutes later clad in the neon green monstrosity, tugging at it in a futile effort to make it look better. “Happy now, Diane?!,” you holler as you enter, only to find her standing directly in front of you at the hostess stand, face to face with a man you’d never seen in here before — who you almost run right into, not looking where you’re going. He’s tall and broad with dark brown curls laced with grey streaks, and gray patches in the short beard that frames his jaw. He catches you when you nearly bump right into him, and you look up to meet the deepest brown eyes you’ve ever encountered. Your cheeks go red when you realize what you’ve done.

“Whoa there,” he says, smiling down at you as you stutter out an apology. “It’s alright, no harm done,” he responds, voice gentle but deep. It’s true, he didn’t even budge when he caught you, and you’re fairly certain if you’d fallen, the outcome would’ve been the same.

“Sorry about that Joel. C’mon, your table’s ready,” she says, patting Joel’s arm and leading him forward, not before turning back to you and saying, “Certainly am. Now go grab some coffee for Table 7 for me, will ya sweetie?” with a smile. You’d just run almost smack into a customer, and she wasn’t upset with you or anything. You shouldn’t be surprised, that’s just Diane, but you’re used to much larger reactions to small mistakes. You just nodded and breathed a sigh of relief, but your eyes are drawn once again to the man she’s leading away. He’s looking back at you with a smile that sends a shiver down your spine, one you’re certain has nothing to do with the chill in the air this time. He’s wearing a plaid button-down and a utility jacket, with cheeks and a nose tinged pink from the cold. You tear your eyes away anxiously and head for the coffee pot.

You’ve got your hand around the decaf pot, pouring another cup for the regular at the bar counter, when your eyes find Table 7, your next destination. You see the man, Joel, Diane had called him, with his back to you, facing out the window, newspaper in hand. You steel yourself once again, switch coffee pots, and head for his table.

You approach from the side, hoping not to spook him as he’s engrossed in the paper he has in hand. Christ, when was the last time you saw a physical newspaper? It’s kinda cute, you think, seeing someone reading one on a cold morning with a cup of coffee. So picturesque. Especially someone as handsome as he is, and you find yourself staring at his broad shoulders and dark curls again before he looks up from his reading.

“Hey,” you start, a little shaky, “sorry again, about before. Don’t know what I was doing, not looking where I was going,” you smile a little, shaking your head at your mishap.

“Really, it’s fine. You seemed, uh, preoccupied,” he says, looking down at the offending design on the tshirt you’re wearing, before looking back up at you. “It’s certainly a change from the regular uniform, huh?” he says, smiling at you. The way his eyes crinkle as he does plants a warmth in your chest you aren’t expecting. It’s been so long since you felt it, it’s almost unfamiliar. Your cheeks warm as you smile back at him, hoping it comes off as embarrassment from your wardrobe rather than bashful attraction. You’re about to tell him it’s certainly not a permanent solution, when he speaks again. “So, Sweetie, huh? Haven’t seen you around before — that what they call you in here?” he questions, smirk playing at his lips.

You laugh in response and introduce yourself, and tell him this isn’t your normal shift, but you’ll probably be around for it moving forward. You take his breakfast order, and tell him you’ll let him get back to his paper.

You don’t converse much more when you bring Joel his breakfast, just quiet thanks when you refill his coffee cup. He looks so peaceful, you almost hate to interrupt each time. You ask Reggie about him when you both have a minute behind the counter.

“Yep, that’s Joel. Gorgeous, isn’t he? Started coming in a few months back with an older lady, then more regularly by himself. She’s with him once in a while, kinda seems like a mom vibe, but she doesn’t look like him. Anyway, I think he works construction or something, always coming in with those boots on looking like a lumberjack,” Reggie says flippantly. “Heard from the older lady one day when he was in the bathroom — his daughter went to college back in the fall, they’ve been trying to get him out ever since,” he said, looking sympathetic at the thought.

You feel your heart do a little squeeze at this newfound tidbit. A fresh empty nester. You know how hard it’s been for Diane, so much she’s taken to parenting the staff in her daughter’s stead. Staring at Joel’s back as his head is bowed reading the paper, you begin wondering more and more about him. His daughter’s probably around eighteen, so how old is he? You’d guess he isn’t married, and you didn’t see a ring. Who is he? Why does he come here to read his paper each day? And most importantly — how soon can you find out the answers to these questions? You don’t want to ambush him at all and scare him off, but you’re drawn to him, and so very curious.

Meanwhile, Joel is stealing glances at your reflection in the diner window in front of him, watching you laugh with Reggie and the customers at the bar, smiling sweetly when someone makes a request of you. He needs to get out of there before he starts feeling creepy, he thinks. He rises and walks to the counter to settle his bill with Reggie at the cash register, glancing at you when he does so, futilely trying to balance showing interest and being weird. He leaves a nice tip in the jar for all of you to share, but just before he turns to go, he looks back at you, locking eyes.

“Oh uh, Sweetie?,” he says, smirk on his face. He looks almost bashful when he speaks next, like he’s working up the courage. “Glad you’re picking up. Look forward to seein’ you again,” he smiles. The look on his face when he says it is so sincere, you could melt on the spot. He was nervous about his joke, you could tell, but recovered when you laughed in reply.

“Looking forward to it too, Joel. Enjoy your day,” you say, smiling wide in return. He gives a little wave to everyone before grinnig down at his shoes and walking out of the diner into the crisp February air. Your eyes follow him out to the pick-up he hops into, before looking back over to Reggie and Tony, staring at you devilishly.

“And I’m looking forward to seeing this story unravel,” says Reggie, looking over at Tony and grinning, like something juicy has just unfolded before their eyes. The two are laughing while you smile and wave them off, wiping down the counter. Diane emerges from the office at the sound of their hearty laughter, reading glasses slipping down her nose, notepad in hand, and stares back at the three of you.

“What’d I miss?!,” she asks. You’re smiling too much to respond with anything genuine, so you return to your wiping, and let Reggie take the lead.

[justanothermarauderr]

did i just went on a 10+ minutes tangent about regulus black and james potter love story and how they are so beautifully tragic on tiktok? yes

did i also explain why i will always defend them with my entire being, drunk? yes

bcs you cant say that whenever you read about about them it’s always

regulus black loves first and james potter fell harder and harder every time

they are so beautifully tragic and yes in some ff they do make it to the end. and yes they live a happy life but the most tragic ones ???????

regulus black doing everything he does just so james ( and by extension his brother ) could go on and live a happy life even if it wasn’t him??? y’all…

i will forever defend them till my lasting breath bcs i feel what regulus felt when he went into that cave

i feel his heartbreak and his hope for james, the only person he had ever loved beside his brother, to live a happy life. even if it was not with him.

regulus black had loved james potter to the point that he would be willing to sacrifice his life to be sure that james potter, his love , his life, his literal light at the end of the fckn tunnel that was tainted with the black families idiocy of following a man that wanted genocide, to have a happy and filled life.

even if it wasn’t with him.

i will forever love their stories that was picked and wrote.

the grumpy slytherin who followed his families ideals but to only be torn by a gryffindor who showed him what actually loving someone with no expectation can be and to ensure that no harm to was to come to their light.

I read somewhere that said and i quote

“ regulus black was a boy who walk like they are made of stone but his touch was like the sun”

james potter had said that in many and multiple times and ff’s

james potter was the sun and regulus black was like a stone

but to james, regulus was like a summers warmth open and warm with every touch he had made.

james potter was seen as the sun. but he would tell you otherwise if he had the chance.

regulus black was a boy who walked like he was made of stone but if james potter were to be in his orbit, his touch was like the sun. coursing through james’ veins; melting away the very expectation people wanted him to be.

regulus had rarely open to people who he finds ( and in his words) tolerable

barty crouch jr.

evan and pandora rosier

dorcas meadows

and his brother, sirius black

those were the people that knew him best.

but for him to open up to someone to, james potter

of all people

he loved his friends and brother in a familial way

it has said a lot about how regulus black love

but james

james was different

james, who loved and wouldn’t be ashamed to declared it was very much unfamiliar

regulus black loved james potter as soon as he realize that it wasn’t the same to those he was close

it altered how he viewed love and how it differentiate between them

and james

oh but james.

he loved who he loves.

It’s simple as that

but with regulus it was different

sure he serenaded lily evans but still

when james potter saw regulus black as more then his best friends little brother it

in a way

clicked

regulus black made sense to him.

he was perfect to james. regulus told him it was okay to let go. to not be held in a metaphorical pedestal everyone had put him in.

it made sense to james potter that regulus black was THE ONE.

bcs who in his life ever told him it was okay to let go and feel what he felt in that moment and breakdown bcs of what people see him as

the loving gryffindor golden boy who had no doubt towards anyone who deams worthy of the potter heirs kindness

but to regulus it wasn’t that.

he SAW what james had to put up too

the prank

cant find it his heart to hate sirius who he sees as a brother

It was hard

but the moment james was alone with regulus, the only one who see right through him, he broke.

and it says a lot more then anything.

james potter had trusted regulus enough to shed his golden boy skin and told him what he was feeling and how he was disappointed and hurt by the way sirus went about everything with snape

ofc it didn’t resonate with him like remus had felt but it still hurt nonetheless.

to not see his best friend and in his place, a unfamiliar boy who was consumed by the madness bcs of his family

it hurt james.

BUT it was regulus he seeked first

it was regulus black that told him to let go and say what he wanted to say

and i find that so beautiful that even though they saw things that put them in different sides of the war

that they somehow, and so beautifully, able to understand one another and what the other need

can you tell I’m drunk 😭

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 32

welcome to the thirty-second fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. A Dragon’s Treasure by @wittyy-name

As heir to the kingdom, Lance always thought he knew exactly what life had in store for him. That is, until a dragon kidnaps him at the age of sixteen. Suddenly his life is a lot less parties, lessons, and castles, and a hell of a lot more barren mountains, grumpy dragons, and boredom. From heir to prize, in just one night.

So now he’s stuck living in a cave with an adolescent, grumpy dragon who doesn’t seem to want him there but still won’t let him go. Not to mention his annoying habit of defeating every suitor who tries to come rescue Lance.

As much as he hates to admit it, he’s probably going to be here for a while. So he might as well settle in and get to know this dragon named Keith.

i accidentally lied last week this one is the last one from my rereadables collection. and for good reason!! dragon beauty and the beast tbh. and wittyy-name ALWAYS nails the complicated i-love-you-and-feel-trapped-by-you, complicated relationships kind of thing. and i fckn love it so so much 

2. Needle and Thread by VulpesVulpes713

Based on the prompt "kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing ". Keith tries to fix a tear in his jacket. Lance just wants some attention. The end result? Feelings.

this one is so cute they are so in love u know?? they just like to be around each other. always a fun read. vulpes is very good at klance with a crush on each other regardless of whether they’re already dating lol

3. Plans Are Overrated, Anyway by @chyeahlex16

"Lance, I-" "I know, I know," Lance said as he bustled around his nearly bare bedroom, tossing shirts out of drawers and pictures off of walls into his open suitcase on his bed. "I totally procrastinated till the last minute, just like you said! I don't need to hear the 'I told you so,' a little help packing would be nice!" "Lance-" "I bet you're already packed," he went on, oblivious to his best friend anxiously shifting in his doorway in frustration and anxiety. "Man, I can't wait until we get there-" "Lance! I have something to tell you!" Lance blinked, stilling his movements. He'd never seen his best friend so... guilty and anxious before. His brows pulled together in concern. "What's up, buddy?" "I'm not going to the Garrison with you." ~ In which I project onto Lance about things that I'm currently going through because I need to vent lol

HUNK AND LANCE HUNK AND LANCE HUNK AND LANCE. we do NOT have enough of it in this here fandom, ESPECIALLY prekerb, early relationship, and what a shame! i have always loved this fic’s exploration of their relationship and the ways they had to learn to grow into themselves, the starts and explanations for the way they were when we saw them. i love them

4. With These Hands by @azapofinspiration

Despite all the trouble they'd been through, Hunk figured everything had turned out all right. After all, he and Lance had managed to return to the castle!

Then Hunk sees the bruises and knows that things are not as good as he thought.

bro a-zap has always KILLED early season dynamics and their missing moments series is everything!! ive always needs three hundred percent more context on the mermaid episode and this fic provides not only that but also some excellent hunk & lance moments, with hurt/comfort that isnt imbalanced or infantilizing on either paladin’s part which is a low bar but awesome anyway 

5. Not As Clueless by @azapofinspiration

Pidge had always thought it was strange that despite being quite observant, Lance had completely missed the fact that she was a girl. However, it seems that that wasn’t really the case.

from the same series i just mentioned! lance IS observant, thank you very much, and i loved this take and interpretation. as much as lance does have a tendency to be dense about things, he also tends to be very observant bc hes a walking dichotomy. he notices things but his conclusions are often different than what others would make, and this entire concept is nailed in like 1.5k words

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[marley-manson]

Do you ever think about just how much Hawkeyes character evolved, like, the other day I was thinking about that one deleted episode, Hawkeye on the double (?) or something like that, and how in that when he found out he was being duped by two people working together he staged his own fake attempted suicide via fckn minefield to traumatise them into never doing it again, like, comparing that to the joker is wild is crazyyyyy. Like obviously the scale of pranks there is off, but idk it just made me think, Hawkeye as a character definitely lost some edge as the show progressed

Yeah! lol it's kind of wild how much less of a mastermind Hawkeye became when the writers decided BJ's thing should be pranks.

I feel like the real reason for this is that the show's tone shifted away from satire and into character drama. When the show is a satire Hawkeye is the political centre, so his role in the story is to be right. The army/war can beat him in a tragic way, but in the early seasons his only righteous comeuppances that I can remember off the top of my head were like, Ceasefire when he got dumped three times in a row, and lol the script you cite, where there's more of an equal back and forth between him and the two women but it does end with Hawkeye nearly accidentally killing himself for real lol. So like, in the early seasons he occasionally gets narratively punished for misogyny, but otherwise he's meant to be the cool guy who is right and better than all the army representatives. And because it's a satire, I think that's great, it works very well, Hawkeye is an awesome character who absolutely should get narratively rewarded for driving colonels into early retirement and taking out their appendixes.

But then the show shifted to character drama instead and now Hawkeye needs flaws to examine, weaknesses the narrative can use to tear him down in a deserving way rather than a tragic way, etc. Sometimes his left-leaning politics ~go too far~ now, sometimes he's too self-righteous or unreasonable, sometimes he has to capituate to authority and admit rebellion is wrong, and sometimes the narrative tears him down just because we're meant to get some schaudenfreude from it, as in Joker is Wild. Because the narrative is no longer on Hawkeye's side by default, and often gets entertainment value out of punishing him for various sins, real or not.

So I don't think it's meant to be an intentional character shift, but it does make me want an in-universe explanation for why he loses his edge.

And the explanation I like that covers most of Hawkeye's narrative repositioning for me, including the lackluster pranks in later seasons and like, guilt in Preventative Medicine, etc, is that it's because of his shifting friend group. Trapper the constant supportive presence and enabling partner in crime is replaced by BJ who only selectively enables Hawkeye and often likes to take him down a few pegs instead. Henry the CO Hawkeye could walk all over is replaced by Potter who is successfully authoritative and puts his foot down. And Frank's gone and Margaret's chilled out so there are no more ideological enemies to target. Plus Charles is also someone willing and able to take Hawkeye down, and even Klinger is no longer into rebellion by season 8.

I mean when you think about it lol it does kinda make sense that Hawkeye would lose a lot of his enthusiasm for fucking with people when his new best friend yells at him for taking out an asshole army guy's appendix instead of helping him. And he might not want to go too far in retaliation for pranks when the whole cast turns on him pretty easily now, as in eg Fallen Idol. And it's probably harder to bring yourself to rebel against the army when you're making friends with a bunch of career army types like Potter, Margaret, and Mulcahy, and have no one else around who shares your ideological hatred for it.

ANYWAY yeah hope you don't mind getting an essay in response lol, this is like one of the aspects of the show I like talking about most, to the point where it's my inspiration for like at least 2 fics lol.

[racfoam]

Just ordered the PC (had to hide in the office bathroom to order it🤪). Thank you to everyone who voted, sent me messages, read my little backstory 🤣 and were patient with my indecisive ass. One of my family members said "You're like those people at Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, calling a helper".

To my irl friends who said "On which screen do you want to appreciate your flamingo husband? A 14" laptop or a 21" monitor? You do know he will then be bigger on the 21" right?” so um thanks for calling that (me) out.

That helped a lot.

A big thank you to @loneamaryllis the most who listened to me freak out in our DMs. I love you, thank you so much for listening to my nervous breakdowns and rants and everything. ❤️🫂 A big thank you to my friends in @isalisewrites 's Discord, too. ❤️❤️

I decided to later down the line (probably for Christmas) buy an iPad instead of a laptop as some of the people there suggested bcs it does sound like the best of both worlds and the iPad 9 is like 420€ current price so it's definitely a purchase I can afford much quicker than a Macbook.

Thank you to everyone, you all really helped me out.

My childhood self is weeping out of joy inside my soul. I am literally holding back tears of joy at work. I'm... So fckn happy.

Here is the case of the PC. Ironically enough, the PC is called Fighter and I think that fits. It's a full AMD build. I did think of going Intel for processor but honestly the AMD processor will be able to handle all games just the same and will work better with the AMD GPU. The Nvidia builds were simply waaaay too expensive for my budget, only build I could afford was the 1650 and... Not happening. After watching RX 6600 destroy all the games I picked that one. The storage is 1TB SSD which is absolutely awesome. And I also got a 10% discount cus I'll be paying in cash, haha. Motherboard looks boring, ASRock, pretty standard motherboard, but honestly I don't mind.

And look at this absolute BEAST of a GPU, goddamn. This can run it all.

Anyway, very happy with my purchase.

If you guys want, I'll take pictures of the PC tomorrow in the store. To stop me from killing my birthday spirit, my family & friends will wrap it into the gift wrap and put it under lock and key until my birthday 😊

Bcs they and I all know I have no self-control. 🤣

[daenystheedreamer]

10, 11, 13, 21 for the hate game?

worst part of fanon

more a general fandom thing but when characters are boiled down to a trope. happens a lot in m/m fanfic because its all like romcoms essentially and since theyre gay they cant just have a gay best friend character they need a girl best friend. often the girl best friend is the canonical girlfriend of one of the guys in the pairing cos the author feels bad about ignoring her. and she is either super nice and cute or she is the sassy bitch. (example for the les mis freaks: cosette is the former, eponine is the latter. IYKYK) HATE this shit soooo much. sansa arya margaery ygritte The Jeynes all fall victim to this. they'll be there to quip and say '🙄 you boys are so stupid im #smartgirl you guys are obviously in love' basically becoming an author surrogate. cringe and evil and sexist despite being a transparent attempt at staying feminist cos you feel bad about ignoring women in favour of yaoi.

number of fandom-related words you've filtered

specifically asoiaf:

i just find them particularly annoying. looking through i realised i dont have much asoiaf stuff blacklisted... i think its because i like looking at things that make me mad. i like the adrenaline 😈 remind me to spend an hour blocking all the x reader tags im sick of seeing them and they never just tag it x reader. eugh.

worst blorboficiation

look. as a maegor the rapist and joffrey the psychopath blorbofier i really cant judge. i mean THEON is problematique and also a rapist. but its honestly aegon ii.... i dont get it!!! the eldest son thing + I GUESS jilted by his father is the only parts i get. he's just boring and lame and sucks idk 😭!!! he's just a incel to me im sowwy.... maybe if i actually watched hotd id like him Who knows. god and he doesnt even fuck a milf... the actor is cute though i like his british face.

for the main series. im sorry its roose!!! i follow and am followed by wonderful roosegirls but ill never understand it. girl WHY. roosefuckers i understand but roose as ur meow meow? ur poor meow meow?? genuinely please explain to me i am so curious...

part of canon you think is overhyped

idk if im answering this right but azor ahai/prince that was promised. i cant get into it. there are prophecies i love like the valonqar or the quaithe stuff but AA/PTWP are kinda mid... i think its because people too often use it as a way to go like MY guy is the most important no its MY guy. and its like guys thats so fckn lame!!! you cannot convince me that aa/ptwp are the Main point of the story

[aamethyst000]

Aug 17,23 3:33pm - feeling a shift

lately, I haven't felt like the old me, which should be a good thing but it feels weird. on the one hand, I feel like "fckn FINALLY! I can breathe!". then the next, I feel like grieving the old me, knowing that she tries so hard and never felt like she did enough accomplishments before graduating. as if that was my only deadline to hand in my "work". I know the old me wanted to ses this through the end, but she's had enough. I need to let her go. I need to lay her down to rest now. she deserves it after all this time ♡ I think that's why I felt the need to move out for so many years. it's because I know I gotta get out of these old habits and survival skills that helped me throughout my teen years. I don't need them anymore, I am safe and I am able to be my authentic self now ♡ I can breathe ♡

aug 23,23 12:45am - I FUCKING HAVE A CRUSH ON STRAIGHT GIRL GODDAMMIT! THE ONE THING I TRIED MY BEST ‼️A V O I D I N G ‼️ FROM BLOODY HAPPENING BUT NOOOOO!!! IT HAPPENED ANYWAY !! NO MATTER THE AMOUNT OF REMINDERS I GAVE MYSELF THAT SHE IS S T R A I G H T IS UN FUCKING REAL I STG—

1:25am - I've been thinking about this for MONTHS! dude,

I kinda thought it was just "hey you're cute" and asking her if it was okay that I sort of flirted a little bit, just playful. and I wanted to be clear with her about both of our interests and sexuality. and I heard her at least 3 more times saying she's straight to other people who asked. so of course, I thought that was all the proof I needed for me to be like "hey brain? heart? don't fckn play me, she's straight, she's said so multiple of times, get over yourself"

apparently not.

Aug 23,23 5:28pm - like, is it just envy? gender envy? or just wanting to get to know her as friends? who tf am I supposed to tell— hang on.

Aug 24,23 2:53pm - I really hope that this isn't a crush and it's just me wanting to get to know her more as F R I E N D S and not as anything more. I know for sure that she is straight. i know I am not her type. I cant think of anything else but I didn't want anything romantic with her! all I wanted was to be friends, best friends even. so wtf is going on with me? I even checked in with her if I made her uncomfortable if and when I flirted at her (wasn't with cause yknow, she's straight) and as far as I know, she was honest about me NOT making her uncomfortable. I'm still trying to hold back on the flirting.

anyway, since I turned 25. u have been feeling more and more different. I don't know how else to explain it other than I can literally feel a shift in myself. it's hurting but I am learning to let go old survival tactics and habits that I no longer need in my adulthood. anything from my childhood, I no longer need, anything from my teenage years, I no longer need anymore but the teenager bit is (noticeably) hurting me more, only because I genuinely thought I wouldn't grow up this fckn fast. I certainly didn't believe it when every other adult around me told me that years go by in a blink if an eye

now I do, but I am glad I got to enjoy being in the moment in grade 11 and 12 and then the one year in university. and I am going to continue to be in the moment right now ♡

[dailydiarynquotes]

Day 10

Thursday, August 10, 2023

My gut feeling never fails me. I'd love to tell you about the whole day, but right now I feel nothing but my broken heart. It bleeds, it hurts. I go through torment. All deals pointless. All conversations pointless. Today I told her during the day I don't feel important to her and as if it wasn't enough that she confirmed it with words, she also puts it into action. I think she showed me enough today that I'm not worth anything to her. And I hereby step out of the cycle. Enough of her lies. Enough of her empty promises. Enough of hearing that I'm responsible for her behavior. Enough of everything! Enough is enough. I drove to this friend of hers. She understands me. I phoned 2 friends and they understand me. I thought I was crazy. For a long while I honestly believed that I was the only problem. But that's not the case. And finally I am redeemed from the faith. I finally know that I'm not alone in sharing this opinion. I gave everything. I've tried everything. I gave more of myself than I had to. I'm so blind. So blind. She promised. She fckn promised me so much. Promised! The pinky oath had no value. Her promises were worth nothing. Nothing that came from her was honest. I'm just there for her. As for intimacy. As for her refuge. As for their transition phase. There for her. I've had enough of this.

I'm so angry, and most of all at myself. For being so stupid. That I ignored all the signs because I love her. I'm so hurt I feel used and betrayed. I can't do any of this anymore. I want to leave. Very far away. How could she play with me like that? That's it, isn't it? A game for her? She won. She should be happy. I wish her only the best though. She completely destroyed me, but from now on it's her conscience. I have the feeling that I can no longer trust anyone but myself. But the main thing is that she had fun destroying me, right? During the time with her, I regret not opening up to her fully, but now? I'm incredibly happy about that. If it hurts me so much now, how would I have felt if I had let myself fall?

She doesn't give a fck how I'm doing. She gives 0 fcks about me. She never loved me. I finally have to get it now. I have to learn not to ignore the signs anymore.

I've never been so broken as I am now.

I'm going through hell rn. And she doesn't give a damn.

[daybreakrising]

3, 5, 8 and 10 !

End of year asks | @claysplosion

3. How have you grown as a rper this year?

kinda ties into the last question on my previous ask but i've stopped worrying about "holding back" when it comes to the way i write. i'll never over-complicate my writing but i'm not going to restrain myself. if i wanna take three paragraphs to describe 3 seconds of a reaction, i fckn will.

5. Have you read/watched/played anything new thanks to the rpc this year?

idk if this counts bc charlie is also my irl best friend but they've bullied me into watching a couple of new series (which i still haven't watched any more of bc why would i when i can watch something i've already seen a thousand times >__> calling myself out before charlie has a chance to)

that multifandom sideblog of mine still sits there gathering dust but i promise, charlie, that i'll finish things eventually and test out those new muses

8. Talk about one of your favorite headcanons you posted this year.

it's gotta be my favourite ragdoll monster again bc that's all i can remember from this year

i love every headcanon i've shared about his past, filling in the gaps we never got to know and giving him reasons for his path into villainy. there's nothing i love more than to give relatively minor or bare-bones characters detailed histories and motives, so k.akuzu's poor childhood & sick mother being the drive for his obsession with money is definitely up there as a favourite

10. Did you the mun learn anything about yourself this year? What?

well i learned that i'm a lot more neurodivergent than i've been thinking for the last 5+ years, so that's been fun to adjust to. nothing like learning this shit in your 30s, guys ! especially when a member of your family tells you they had suspicions since you were a kid and you're just like ??? and why didn't you say / do something ????? but hey, at least i know now, right ??? =/

[misscherrys-world]

Welcome back to:

Random things I think about.

Marty from Gilmore Girls

First, it took me so long to write I had writer block or I was burned out with myself idk, sorry for the wait.

Second, we don’t have a huge fandom for marty nor content so I’m trying my best to make it worthy.

Third, thanks for the beautiful soul in my comments who gave me the idea for most of the headcanons I hope you read it.

Warning: I didn’t check or edit any mistypos or grammatical mistakes bc I’m so lazy, sorry and forgive me guyyyss. Also I am yapping.

Let’s get started!

It’s a bummer we didn’t get much of Marty, not enough screen time.

Some people hated Marty for the way he treated Rory after she rejected him politely. He’s just being realistic.

He tried to avoid Rory, he was coping with heart break, also the writer Amy wanted to show us that not everyone would worship Rory the way they did back at high school or stars hallow.

Marty was the reality college boy. He got rejected, he’s out of your life. Unlike maybe Tristan? He knew Rory had a boyfriend and still didn’t leave.

Rory was polite yes, but imagine yourself in this situation, hurts doesn’t it?

So after a year I guess? He met Lucy, I see he takes like on energetic girls who give golden retriever energy.

He tried to move on from Rory by being with Lucy. That almost worked until it didn’t.

When Rory appeared again in his life he tried to be cold and distant even he played dumb by saying “nice to meet you” like they were not friends before.

It was to protect his relationship with Lucy and part of him didn’t move on from Rory.

The fandom went “how dare he!” No the boy got a good point.

But unfortunately he crashed all of this, well not entirely his fault.

Logan was really pissed because he was jealous (logan baby, leave the love birds alone)

Logan basically destroyed Marty’s and Lucy’s relationship by being so fckn selfish.

Also Rory should’ve known better, she should’ve stayed away from Marty and Lucy, but out girl Rory must have what she wants, right?

So here’s what I think happened after the dinner incident:

Of course Marty and Lucy went through a huge fight which included confessing he had a crush on Rory and he still didn’t move on.

Lucy is so hurt and mad, ending everything with Marty.

So Lucy went back to Olivia, breaking down, they both agreed on hating Rory and Marty.

So after the finals Olivia planned girls trip with Lucy and some of their friends to make Lucy feel better.

Back to Marty, he’s depressed and broken, almost failing his finals.

He busied himself with work, he burned himself out with work to take off his mind from the break up, promising himself he won’t look at Rory’s direction ever again.

He realizes that Rory almost destroyed his life. So he hated her (love turned to hate).

He decided he wanted to finish school and move to another state with the money he gained from over working himself.

He moved to LA, started a business and succeeded and after many years he’s married to a beautiful woman and have two kids.

He met Rory again when they were in their 30s, she was a mess, and said her pitiful story about she can’t find her underwear box.

And how she’s glad he’s succeeded, he doesn’t say a thing about his hatred but he says it’s all thanks to her.

He got in touch with Lucy again she became an actress and he watches many of her performances when she comes to LA. She loves the theater and sends him, his wife and the kids tickets to her shows and premiums of her movies.

Marty is a very caring and kind person, his love is genuine and he gives it generously.

So if you’re in a relationship with him except lots of love languages. (Quality time, physical touch, words of affirmation, gifts)

Although he didn’t have that much money but he would love to spend his last two cents in his bank account on you.

He is a supportive bf, he would support your interests no matter how stupid they seem to you. He would love to set and watch you do your thing.

He knows your favorite way to drink coffee, and he won’t stop showing first thing in the morning every day with your coffee. “To keep you awake during your first class” with a little smiley :).

He memorizes all your small details.

He’s a jealous jealous boy.

He won’t get mad, he’s a walking green flag, but he would like you to keep distance with your male classmates, not cutting them off, but to set boundaries.

When he’s mad at you he won’t yell or do anything to hurt your feelings, but he would give you the silent treatment. Until he’s cool and you sort things out together.

His favorite season is spring, because he loves taking you on dates or trips in spring break. He loves how the weather is getting warmer but still chilly. (So he can cuddle with you)

So that was it for me I hope you like it my loves. Have a nice day and tell me at the request box your opinions.

🤍✨

[tobyislame]

OHHH FUN!!!! tagged by @viscerax thnak u friend

3 ships: ticcijack (it just makes sense yk), alex jay brian n tim x each other (blame s0dafucker on ao3), and then uhh hrm clockwork x nina

first ever ship: sighs so hard . fontcest (in my defense i was like 9)

last song: objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are by meat loaf (wus watching fight club w my dad and during the credits i wus like "dudes name is meat loaf lmao" he said show some fckn respect thats the best rock star ever adn he recommended that song n yea)

last movie: fight club lmao im autistic abt it . im also doing a project over it in my abnormal psych class im gunna be soo annoying abt it

currently reading: funnily enuff i dont rlly read but uhh . ive been trying to finish tripping back blue by kara storti for like 2 yrs (ITS A GOOD BOOK i just nevr hav the motivation 2 read yk)

currently watching: right at thjis very moment im watching wendigoon talk abt faith the unholy trinity but in terms of tv ive been rewatching all of adventure time b4 i start watching fionna and cake

currently consuming: green tea in a grandpa mug i got from salvation army :) i dont hav morning cups of coffee i hav morning cups of tea . i lov tea!!!!

currently craving: man i want sum raisin bran rn but we dont hav any

9 people to tag (idk many ppl here yet so jus gonna do ppl i think r cool): @grvyrd-drms @j0eyj0rdis0n @fucktheark @marbolohornets @crushedsweets @pyrondeeznutz @creepspastaarts @3amclothesmonster @mersei47

again still new 2 tumblr dont know tumblr etiquette yet if i am incorrect in tagging non-mututals then yk . sorry lmao

9 people you would like to get to know better

tysm for the tag @alexmey-does-an-arts!

1. 3 ships; bowuigi, metadede, heavy/medic(I forget the name lol)

2. first ever ship; alphyne

3. last song; Ghost Cowboys by Louie Zong

4. last movie; Midsommar. That was…something

5. currently reading; Dante and Aristotle discover the secrets of the universe. Pretty fire

6. currently watching; JCS criminal psychology

7. currently consuming; nothing

8. currently craving; Iced Cream. About to go get it. I know there’s mind chip in my freezer (:

9 people to tag; @littlegreenwyvy, @garf-official, @d1nosaurpower, @tractor-inside-joke-fucker, @junkydoodlez, @seacrown, @neldu-nak, @darkcanid19, @stormyykat

[away-ward]

"I have to laugh 🤣 He got trauma and he still didn’t understand. Sometimes you have to wonder if Will is too dumb for emmy or just so self absorbed that he doesn’t care about her enough 😭"

Oof anon, your comment on will's reaction to his trauma and emmy's abandonment was really harsh 😅 I have read KO's post about will and i agree with his pov on the whole situation. Willemmy was flawed and i love that in nightfall we finally got to see a couple that actually destroy each other, rather than stupid misunderstanding like in corrupt and killswitch. At least when pd said em's gonna be the bitchier ones among the girls, she delivered, and i was here for it! She wasn't fully innocent (unlike rika), i ate that up!! I dont understand why we gotta read dark romance, expect only the MMC to ruck up, and suddenly had to paint em as this innocent girl or woman or something, as if she did not had a fair share to will's ruin? Wasnt this what you hated about what pd did to rika and winter (Other than their appearance and dull characterisation)? Because rika and winter didn't fully deliver their bitchy roles, but were always said that they hurt michael and damon a lot. But finally when we meet emory and we saw her hurting will, we wanna change up her characterisation now? Weird.

Now, as much as i like damon and emory's bond, it still doesnt take away the fact that damon was never always the best "friend" to her, we only saw some crumbs of them here and there, but even then, there were more interpretation than outright declaraction of friendship about these two in canon. It also doesn't take away the fact that damon was a fucking piece of shit to everyone, especially to rika banks and winter, and til this day, i still don't understand why rika got more hate essays than damon. Because if i fucking catch that mf damon, he'd be finished frfr. Just on the basis of all the things he had said to rika alone, made him deserving of execution, now if we add up all of his sins with rika, winter, michael, kai and will, i hope he never gets any happy ending in whatever afterlife he was thrown in, lmao! I'm annoyed at rika, but i fucking hate damon, alright and the hate towards him is so lesser than rika's, why? He was more insufferable than her though? Lets increase the damon hate too, bring back those incompetent damon torrance slander, because we know he fckn need and deserve lots of them.

And did i memtion that i was the anon that gave the unpopular opinion? Yeah, alright. The anon that replied to me had missed a lot of my points, but thanks KO for the intervention, and yes, your interpretation of my ask was similar to what i originally thought when i posted that long ask. I also agree 100% with KO that if i was emmy, i wouldve ditched will forever and never return to Thunder Bay, granted that i wouldnt even hangout with people like the horsemen and i hope i never will. But like i said, i wasnt emmy, you're not emmy, we werent emmy, so i/you/we cant say exactly whats best for her tbh. We can only have headcanons to fix whatever things we wanna fix from canon, and things we wish pd wrote instead, so yes, that's why i said it's a fan's wish fulfillment, but we'll not always get what we want. When you insisted about how pd should write something, you almost sound like how will must have sounded to emmy when he kept urging her to do something even when she didnt owe him anything. That's the kind of entitlement that i was talking about. It wasnt a great feeling right? Yeaaaah. Sounds harsh but yeah sometimes we dont notice that we mirror the same behaviour we criticise. Basically atp, just write our own fanfics. In one corner of my head, im able to accept canon, but in the other corner of my head, willemmy exist happily in love and were only with their companies, there arr no martin, aydin, alex, damon, or even michael, or kai to get in between them. The willemmy in my delulu mind just live happily ever after, and always choose each other above eveyrthing else. Not because pd wrote so, but because im delusional af and cant fully accept canon HAHAHAH 🤣☠️ we just gotta laugh at the pain brothers and sisters 🤞 it really be like that here in pendouglas land. Once this series slowly dies out from my mind, imma ditch this series and move onto something else. Something more fun. Other than that, I dont have much else to add to the conversation though so im ending it here. Thank you for your replies on my original post KO, i like to hear your thoughts on them, i also dont have anything to reply to your roelies of my ask.

Good day ahead to you and everyone!

Hey! Happy to hear from you again. I was wondering if you were going to respond or disappear.

Willemmy was flawed and i love that in nightfall we finally got to see a couple that actually destroy each other,

This is true, but I hadn’t really framed it this way in my mind before.

I’d still place most of the blame on Will for making assumptions and going forward as if those assumptions were fact. But I’ve talked before how I don’t feel Emory is fully innocent, like you said. People are allowed to act on emotion and make mistakes. But just because we understand and sympathize with the way Emory behaved doesn’t mean it wasn’t wrong, doesn’t mean she didn’t let her pride get the in the way.

Just because a snake bites you in defense, doesn't mean you're not going to die from it.

I love Emory. I love her for not being completely collapsing in the face of everything that happened to her. For having passions, despite all her obstacles. I love her for being angry and mean. My heart hurts when she acts out of desperation, because I can understand her just wanting. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t mess up. And loving someone even though they’ve made mistakes and messed up and were mean, I think, is not something to be ashamed of.

She wasn't fully innocent (unlike rika), i ate that up!! I dont understand why we gotta read dark romance, expect only the MMC to ruck up, and suddenly had to paint em as this innocent girl or woman or something, as if she did not had a fair share to will's ruin?

What if we had a genderbent Willemmy?

Sorry. That’s not directly related to what you said, but comparing how we treat MMC and FMC, I wondered if we would still be just as angry with Will if he were Willow and if Emory were Emerson, or something.

it still doesnt take away the fact that damon was never always the best "friend" to her, we only saw some crumbs of them here and there, but even then, there were more interpretation than outright declaraction of friendship about these two in canon.

Oh yeah, absolutely. The idea of them having a strong friendship is all HC, inspired by the last gazebo scene in NF when Damon gave her the canister; that he kept it safe for her. I couldn’t help but wonder what his plan for it was. It seemed like such an unusual, thoughtful thing for him to do, and my imagination just flew from there. Him defending her before and them working together after everything added to that.

KO for the intervention, and yes, your interpretation of my ask was similar to what i originally thought when i posted that long ask.

Okay, good. Sometimes I’m taking a stab in the dark as to what people are saying. Happy that I at least got the gist of where you were going.

We can only have headcanons to fix whatever things we wanna fix from canon, and things we wish pd wrote instead, so yes, that's why i said it's a fan's wish fulfillment, but we'll not always get what we want. When you insisted about how pd should write something, you almost sound like how will must have sounded to emmy when he kept urging her to do something even when she didnt owe him anything.

Yeah, in a way I get what you’re saying. Whether or not PD told the story they wanted to tell or let other people influence them, PD doesn’t owe each and every fan exactly what they want. And PD’s not the first author who didn’t deliver on what they promised.

I will say that a lot of people are upset by how much the other characters took over NF, and I can’t argue with that. I felt the same. But at a certain point, I have to accept that PD’s ideas for the character are not the same as mine, and that’s okay. They created the characters, and they own them, but they also haven’t stopped us from creating our own reality with them. In fact, on their website in that FAQ, they all but encourage us to continue living in the world as long as we want, telling ourselves the stories we want. They're not gatekeeping the characters.

In one corner of my head, im able to accept canon, but in the other corner of my head, willemmy exist happily in love and were only with their companies, there arr no martin, aydin, alex, damon, or even michael, or kai to get in between them. The willemmy in my delulu mind just live happily ever after, and always choose each other above eveyrthing else. Not because pd wrote so, but because im delusional af and cant fully accept canon

This is exactly how I approach Willemmy too! I never needed the author to tell me explicitly what happened to them because I just… filled it in myself?

Yeah, and maybe it is delulu of me. But I’m happy with it.

Once this series slowly dies out from my mind, imma ditch this series and move onto something else

I hope you escape the DN brain rot soon. If you don’t reach out again, it was nice speaking with you, and I hope your next fixation is fun, whatever it is.

-KO

[alicias-diary]

I’m doing better i think. But right now, in this train station, sitting on the floor, trying not to panic, i just feel that something in me is broken and will never be healed. I just don’t like me really. I try, but eventually i go back to the beginning.

Im so tired of fighting. I just want to give up and go back to my past self. I was depressed, hurting myself, but i could live with it.

Now i can’t. I cannot spend another day on this earth feeling this empty, tired, anxious and depressed.

I want to sleep for a long time. I want to feel nothing.

My bf doesn’t deserves me. He’s the sweetest boy ever, he’s my fiancé, but I’ve done too many messed up things. Like falling for my best friend. I never cheated on him but still this feels wrong. I cut all contacts with my best friend but i still think about him, our friendship, everything i messed up for some stupid feelings.

The worst is i know that my bff felt the same. I had to block him. I ruined a great fckn friendship bc i wasn’t able to control myself. I know i am horrible,

Everything i built with my fiancé is incredible and i dont want to mess that. Stupid feelings.

I feel like a slut, a shame, a failure. So many things happened and a the same time nothing. I want to implose. I want to hurt myself so i can have a thing to cry about.

Plus lately I’ve been thinking about my deceased grandfather that i never really knew since he had Alzheimer and living in another country. He died when i was 14. I just want him back so i can create memories with him.

I feel like shit.

I just have too much on my mind and i cant take it no more.

I want to unalive myself just to be free of my thoughts.

I feel disgusting.

I disgust myself. I’ll never be able to be free of everything that happened to me.

The guilt will surely stay forever.