#the good news is that objectively my Christmas has gone very well

[tragicallyuncreative]

Merry Crisis 🎄

Per usual, I am scrambling to get in my minimum volunteer EMT hours this year and because I don’t have kids, I’m happy to pick up holiday shifts and let those with families enjoy their kiddos at home! On till 9 and if call volume is miraculously low (doubtful) will be working on some more Curtis gang holiday drabbles/ chapters. Just returned from a classic holiday 911 call- family gathering/ dinner gone south with drunk brothers fighting and one stabbing the other through the arm with a screwdriver 😬 Surprisingly little blood, stabilized the penetrating object, and hauled ass outta there with brother in handcuffs and patient still swearing revenge as we loaded him in the back. I love the holidays 😂

~ ✨and now… presenting The Outsiders characters as seen through holiday EMS/ ED visits✨

Darry: classic Christmas lights mishap. Slipped off the roof and landed directly on his ankle. Pretty impressive open fracture. Johnny took one look at the bone poking through the skin and puked on the spot. Bonus: Mr. Curtis was very eager to teach the boys about his Jewish heritage and Hanukkah traditions until 7-year-old Darry thought the menorah in his bedroom window looked sad with only 2 candles lit so snuck the box of matches and tried to light all the candles, then pulled the curtain BEHIND THE LIT MENORAH to hide the fact he was using matches without permission. This went about as well as one would expect (this may or may not be based on personal experience 😬)

Two-Bit: tried to deep fry a turkey in a bucket of oil in his backyard to bring to the Curtis’s for their first Christmas without their parents. The resulting explosion was heard throughout the neighborhood. Splash burns to face and arms. Chest was protected by clothing but Two-Bit was extremely upset that is Mickey-in-a-Santa-hat shirt was ruined and would rather have just taken the extra burns to salvage it. ✨real-life call I’ve personally responded to. Family was more concerned with turkey than charred Uncle Dave.

Steve: attempted to run over 12-year-old Ponyboy’s painstakingly built snowman with his new (used) truck. Didn’t wear a seatbelt because why would he. Gunned the engine too hard, jolted forward on impact, face hit the dash, top two teeth went through his bottom lip. 4 stitches needed. Ponyboy laughed his ass off the entire ride there and asked if his freakishly large teeth were now sanded down. ✨real-life call I’ve personally responded to. 10/10 entertainment factor.

Sodapop: frostbite to entire left foot because he forgot to wear a sock inside his snow boots. Couldn’t feel his toes but thought that meant he was just really well-insulated and continued to build his igloo. Mrs. Curtis soaked his foot in warm water for 2 hours until blood flow returned.

Dallas: told a small child in the dime store that Santa wasn’t real. Kid started crying. Kids dad appeared and sucker punched him so hard he was knocked out cold. Woke up on the floor with a black eye, concussion, and people continuing to do their Christmas shopping while stepping around him.

Ponyboy: home alone and forgot about the baked Mac n cheese he was supposed to take out of the oven because he was reading a book. In his defense, the book was really good. Then fell asleep on the couch and woke up an hour later to smoke pouring out of the oven. Opened the oven door, saw flames, and instinctively tossed a glass of water blindly inside. Made it worse so instinctively reached in, pulled out flaming casserole dish, and threw it in the sink. Burns to hands and temporary vision difficulties from steam.

Johnny: decided he totally could be a hockey champion with the proper training. Also has the worst hand-eye coordination known to man. Hit hockey puck so hard that it overshot the goal, bounced off a tree trunk, rebounded, and hit him directly in the face (picture Ross from Friends episode). Broken nose and two chipped teeth.

Lilah Matthews (age 10): decided her tree nut allergy was a personal weakness and could be overcome by sheer willpower. Baked a pecan pie all by herself, proudly took a bite, and blew up like a balloon. Two-Bit panicked, couldn’t remember how to use the epipen, tossed her in the truck, and drove to the hospital at 90 MPH. ✨call I picked up on way back to the station. Car driving like a maniac and flagged us down. Kid told me the Reese’s cup he ate despite deadly peanut allergy was 100% worth it.

Bonus Betty for @fangirl-docintraining : very excited to use the brand new invention of the electric hand mixer to make Mrs. Curtis’s renowned cheesecake recipe. First Christmas dating Darry and determined to make a good impression. Bent down to squint at recipe card while mixing and hair got caught in mixer, causing minor scalp bleeding with chunks of hair ripped out. Forced to adopt a fuck ass Bob™️ haircut and loves it, just wishes acquiring it wasn’t so painful.

Feel free to add on. The potential is great 🤣

[cultivating-wildflowers]

…

[raspberrybesitos]

mistletoe kisses | joel miller x f!reader

Main masterlist

Rating: M - 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2.6k

Summary: You decorate the Christmas tree with some help from Joel and Ellie.

Warnings: established relationship, post-outbreak, Jackson era, canon divergent bc nothing bad ever happens to them ever 😁, sickening fluff, pet names (honey, darlin’, baby, babydoll, etc), allusions to smut, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: surprise!!! i know i said this would be up on the 22nd, but i’ve got something else that will be up on saturday 🤭 and i just couldn’t stop thinking about giving this man a happy ending, including healing and starting new traditions with his family 😔 i wish joel was real 💔 anyway, i hope y’all enjoy! not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @/saradika

Grumbling, he treks behind you, snow crunching beneath his work boots as he cautiously lugs the saw in his hands.

You’re rambling about finding the perfect tree in front of him, Ellie asking a million questions about the tradition.

He hadn’t expected, intended, to find a partner in Jackson. That is until he saw you, lugging a heavy crate of harvested crops across the town, your wagon having been broken. Tommy had told him about you, how you were single.

“She’s sweet as pie, brother. She might be good for you. Real pretty too.” Joel recalls the conversation he had with Tommy before he stormed off to the barn.

His Southern hospitality lay dormant until he saw you struggling. The urge to help creeped up on him. His typical quite observant demeanor tossed out the window as he approached you.

“Need some help?” He asks.

You wipe your brow, huffing before laying your eyes on the broad, handsomely rugged man in front of you - it’s Tommy’s brother. His name escaping you briefly.

You beam. “Oh. Sure. Thank you…” you trail off, slightly off guard by his kind gesture. His large gloved hand extends out towards you.

“Joel,” he finishes your sentence. “Thank you, Joel,” your hand shaking his, giving him your name. It rolls off his tongue with a certain sweetness, sending a flurry of butterflies to swirl in your belly. You knew of him, but knew he was also not a man of many words. You had yet to make acquaintances with him and who you assume is his daughter.

“You’re Tommy’s brother right?” You curiously ask, attempting to make small talk as Joel grunts while picking up the crate.

“Yes ma’am.”

Smiling at his Southern drawl, you run to help him carry one side of the heavy crate, feeling bad letting him do all the work.

“Uh uh, what do you think you’re doin’?” He asks, brow raised as you both stop in your tracks. “Helping you,” you state. He chuckles, shaking his head as he begins to walk.

“I asked if you needed help, darlin’. ‘Sides, what kinda man would I be letting a pretty girl like you carry all this shit by herself? My momma would have me by the head, ‘s for damn sure.”

You open your mouth to detest the notion that women need any assistance from men, but he stops you before you can.

“‘N I know ya don’t need any help from any man. You women are tough as shit, met a lota you over the years. Jus’ wanna help, ‘s all.” He kindly explains. You don’t understand why he wants to help, why he’s approached you specifically.

You’re aware that he’s typically very reserved, not leaving his house if he doesn’t have to. You’ve heard things about his past, and Tommy having confided in you at times, but the world has gone to shit. Who are you to judge? Everyone’s done some horrible stuff to stay alive.

He’s also painfully handsome. Opting to not object to his help and company, you sigh.

“Well, at least let me take some of the vegetables,” you protest, grabbing bunches of carrots. He chuckles quietly.

“Sure thing, darlin’,” he mutters. The nickname catching you both by surprise as a sort of tension falls over you two.

Flashing him a grateful toothy grin, you gather the vegetables in your arms. He gives you a small smirk in return.

“So how are you liking Jackson? I don’t see you ‘round much,” you ask as you begin the trek to the dining hall.

“‘S good. Big change, learnin’ the ropes of patrol. Makin’ sure Ellie’s settlin’ in,” he states. “And Ellie’s…”

“My family,” he says firmly. You nod, internally assuming she’s not his biological daughter.

“Well, I hope you both settle in nicely.” He feels his heart soften at your kindness.

He thought you’d have shied away from him, that you’d have listened to what people are saying about him around town.

But you didn’t. You took to him kindly, warmly.

He’ll be damned if he told Tommy he was right about you, He’d never hear the end of it… but shit, was he right. You were so kind and open-minded, and so beautiful.

The both of you making small talk as you trek to the dining hall, Joel lugging the crate into the kitchen for prep as you follow behind. He places the crate on the floor with a grunt. You drop the carrots in the box afterwards.

Rising to his feet, he sighs as he wipes his hands on his jeans, you copying his actions.

“Thank you again, Joel. I really appreciate it,” you tell him again. “Ain’t no problem, darlin’.”

Silence fills the air, save for the clanging and clattering of utensils in the kitchen.

“Would you… would you like to have a drink sometime? As a, uh, form of repayment for helping me today,” you timidly ask. A small smile breaks out onto Joel’s face.

“You ain’t gotta repay me, darlin’. But I’d love to grab a drink with ya,” he says.

Smiling from ear to ear, you nod happily. “It’s a date,” you say, before slapping a hand over your mouth as your eyes go wide. “I-I’m sorry. It’s not a date, it doesn't have to be. I mean, u-unless you want-,” you nervously ramble before Joel cuts you off.

“‘S a date,” he rasps. A soft smile on both your faces. The rest is history.

He wouldn’t trade that moment for the world, as he’s got you by his side now. He just didn’t expect that drink to lead him to trudging through the woods in the freezing early morning to cut down a tree.

He’d much rather be sleeping right now on his day off, but he can never say no to his girls.

Making your way through the woods, you and Ellie wind through the path while Joel stands and watches. There aren’t many trees, but just enough to scour from.

Not seeing any you like, you continue to walk down the path. “What about this one?” Ellie asks, standing next to a fir no taller than Joel.

Your eyes light up, a sparkly smile illuminating your face.

“It’s perfect. Great find, Ellie!” You yelp, high fiving the girl who’s equally excited.

“Hey, Joel!” Ellie shouts through her hands, her cheeks rosy and nose frosted. He clambers through the trees, saw in hand with his signature scowl. “Find one?”

“Mhmm,” Ellie says while beaming, you nodding in agreement. Joel sighs as he begins to saw down the tree. The trunk’s not very thick, the branches skinny, but still full enough to mimick the times before.

It falls to the snow covered ground, you and Ellie taking a few steps back. Joel stomps over to it, hoisting it up over his shoulder.

“Thank you, honey,” you whisper against his ear before placing a kiss on his patchy beard. His body flushing hot red from heat despite the cold air.

“Sure thing, baby,” he says bashfully, smiling a smile only reserved for you. Lacing his fingers with yours, you walk hand-in-hand back to the house with Ellie rambling ahead of you, vibrating with excitement.

“Joel, could you move it a little to the left?” You ask, hands clasped together over your lips. Joel grunts, red in the face as he shoves the fir to the left.

“A little more, please?”

Another grunt.

“A liiiitttllleee more.”

With a sigh, he shoves it once more.

“Perfect!” You clap. Joel rises to his full height, groaning as his bones crack and ache. You stride to him, leaning in for a kiss.

He could never stay annoyed at you.

“Thank you, honey,” you mutter with a dopey grin. Joel mirrors your expression, wrapping his hands around your waist and pressing his lips against yours. A saccharine kiss, your fingers curling in his grays.

His heart flutters as you sigh into him, your contentment radiating through your chest and into his soul.

When the fuck did his heart ever flutter?

“You guys gonna do that all fucking day or what?!” Ellie shouts, cutting ribbon and twine for the decorations.

You both startle at the sound of her voice, jumping in Joel’s arms. Joel glares at Ellie as laughter bubbles over your lips.

“Sorry, Ellie,” you call out. “Seriously, thank you, honey,” you tell Joel with a pat on his broad chest.

“No problem, darlin’,” he says softly with a swift kiss to your forehead before releasing you from his grasp. Joel strides into the kitchen to heat up some milk, with you rushing over to Ellie who sits at the dining table with an array of supplies.

You’re so good with Ellie, so patient with her while gently explaining how to string the dried oranges on the twine. She gets the hang of it pretty easily, holding it up and beaming with pride. Your giddiness mirroring hers, praising her as you waltz into the kitchen with Joel.

Placing a chaste kiss to his cheek, you flit around him as you pop some kernels in a hot pan. Transforming them into popcorn to make more garlands, and working in comfortable silence alongside each other.

You dump the popcorn into a bowl, you place a tender kiss on his shoulder before returning to Ellie.

Joel feels warm, and it’s not from the heat of the stove.

He preps mugs of hot chocolate for all of you, the chocolate powder stale but still good - the novelty of the gesture still there and just as sweet.

Padding into the living room, the sight of you two making decorations at the table and placing them on the tree tugs at Joel’s heart strings. Remembering how he’d help Sarah decorate their tree every year. Swallowing his grief, he allows himself to enjoy this moment while remembering his daughter.

That’s something you’re teaching him - not to take moments, things, people for granted.

Despite the pain, he knows he’ll confide in you later tonight about it when you’re alone. He sets the mugs on the table, making you pop your head up to flash him a dazzling smile.

“Thank you, honey.”

“‘Course, baby,” he says with a wink. Your smile grows wider, Ellie looking up and rolling her eyes. She playfully gags, Joel smacking his lips as his smile morphs into a scowl.

“Knock it off, kid,” he scolds.

“You knock it off, old man. We’re working here, and you keep distracting my partner,” she retorts. He scoffs, rolling his eyes. You can’t help, but laugh at their banter.

“Sorry, Ellie. I promise I’m listening,” your laughter dissolving into giggles. Joel rolls his eyes before getting a fire going in the fireplace.

Standing back and taking in the scene playing out in front of him. Hot chocolate, a tree, decorations being strung upon it - how is this possible? What did he do to deserve this?

He shakes the thought from his head, not questioning the good thing – the very good thing – in front of him. Instead, he enjoys watching his girls flit around the tree.

Ellie excitedly attempts to place the makeshift star on the tree that she crafted out of some stray branches and extra paper she had in her sketch pad.

She can’t reach, being significantly shorter than the tree. Huffing in defeat, she shoots you a look - both of you thinking the same thing. She whips around, paper star in hand.

“Joel, wanna do the honors?” She asks, holding out the star. Joel swallows thickly, never having thought he’d be doing this again.

“Sure,” he softly says, taking the star from Ellie and setting it atop the tree. The three of you stand back, admiring your hard work in silence, as you tightly wrap your arms around Joel’s middle. He holds you tighter.

“Looks good,” he mumbles. You nod, soft smile on your face.

“Hell yeah, it does!” Ellie giddily yells before cutting off her next thought. “No way, is that hot chocolate?!” She shouts, rushing to the table to grab a mug.

“Yeah, careful kid, it’s still hot,” Joel warns, still wound up in your arms. Ellie blows caution to the wind as she gulps it down.

“Ellie, slow down! You’re gonna get a stomachache,” you scold lightly. “It’s hot chocolate! When the hell am I ever gonna come across this again?!”

“I’ll find some more, jus’ slow down! Gonna be all fuckin’ hopped up on sugar,” Joel begrudgingly says. Rolling her eyes, she glances at the clock. Her eyes bug out of her head.

“Shit! I told Cat I’d meet her at 6!” She shouts before gulping down the rest of her hot chocolate, slamming the mug on the table.

“Be back later!” She says, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Be back by 9!” Joel shouts. “Mhmm,” her tone dismissive. “I mean it, Ellie,” he warns.

“Sure thing, old man!” She says before reaching for the doorknob. “Ellie, 9 o’clock, okay?” You chime in, asking.

She turns around, taking in the both of you. “Okay,” she says with another roll of her eyes and an exasperated sigh before heading out the door. It slams shut, making you and Joel wince.

Joel rolls his eyes. “Girl don’t listen,” rubbing his face as he grumbles.

“She’s just excited, can you blame her? Besides, she’s safe here, Joel,” you say, comfortingly rubbing your hands up and down his broad flannel-covered chest.

“I know. Just still getting used to all this,” he rasps. The two of you still stand in the doorway, wrapped up in one another before a grin breaks out on your face.

“Oh, could you help me with one more thing?” You beam at him. His brow quirks up in confusion. “‘Course, baby. What do ya need?”

You unravel yourself from his embrace, padding into the kitchen. He hears you clambering, his curiosity peaking. You return with something behind your back, smiling wider now.

Whipping the sprig of mistletoe from behind your back, you hold it above your head. His features softening.

Joel immediately recognizes what you’re holding, beaming at your antics.

“Could you help me hang this up please?” You ask, drawing out the last syllable, batting your lashes at him with a sly smirk.

“Y’know, if ya wanted a kiss, all ya gotta do is ask, babydoll,” he rasps as he takes it from you, not missing the chance to place a teasing kiss on your cheek. Waves of heat run through you from head to toe.

Joel hangs the mistletoe with ease on a nail that’s been conveniently placed above the kitchen entryway, right where you’re both standing.

You must’ve put it up there when he was on patrol a few days ago.

The red ribbon you tied around the plant stands out against the dark framing, the fire crackles in the background and illuminates the house.

“Well would ya look at that,” his voice low and husky as he locks his gaze with yours. A goofy grin on your face. “Huh. Guess you gotta kiss me now.”

“Don’t need mistletoe for that, babydoll,” he whispers. The two of you connect your lips with each other’s. Sighing into him, you finally have a moment alone with him today. You card your fingers through his hair, a satisfied groan escapes him.

You pull away breathlessly, both yours and Joel’s eyes heavy and glazed over.

“Ya know… Ellie won’t be back til 9. We’ve got some time left,” you teasingly whisper in his ear while he places a kiss to your neck.

“Lead the way, darlin,” he rasps, the two of you rushing upstairs.

just felt like writing some tooth rotting fluff for my Joely, i love him sm 😔

i hope y’all enjoyed! 🫶🏼 thank you for reading 🩷

tag list: @gracieheartspedro @sapphic-gardn @undrthelights @javierpena-inatacvest @nostalxgic @party-hearses @mandoisapunk @tinygarbage @bastardmandennis @janaispunk @persephone-girl @harriedandharassed @its-nebuleuse

[coraniaid]

🔥 on fuffy's dynamic? or anything fuffy related

I think most Fuffy shippers – me included for sure – have a habit of making Faith seem a bit too … well, nice.

Don’t get me wrong: I like Faith a lot.  Not just as a character – and she is one of my favorite characters on the show, even if she only appears in less than two dozen episodes – but on a personal level too I have a lot of empathy for her.  I think she has a pretty rough deal in life.  I think she’s very badly let down by a lot of people, both before and after becoming a Slayer.  I think the narrative itself is often far less sympathetic to her than it is to other characters. I think she’s pretty miserably unhappy most of the time, and I think her redemption arc is genuinely very good, even with the little we see of her post-Sanctuary.

That said, it feels to me that a lot of Fuffy fanfiction is written by people who have decided, whether consciously or not, that the “real” Faith is the Faith we see awkwardly asking Buffy if she wants to go the dance with her in Homecoming since she already has the tickets, or showing up on Buffy's doorstep in Amends with some crappy Christmas presents, still not quite able to admit there was never any “big party” she could have gone to instead, however obvious it is at this point, and somehow managing to make a million different heartbreaking microexpressions when Buffy says she’s glad to see her. 

Yes, I like those moments too – I like them a lot – and I think that they are definitely indicative of a real aspect of Faith, one she tries hard to keep hidden most of the time.  But I think it’s an injustice to her character to make that the sum total of her personality.  If this were all there was to Faith’s character, she wouldn’t be half as compelling.

What about the Faith who, however troubled she looked at first, manages to shrug off the fact her new boss is planning to have Willow murdered when he tells her he’s also bought her a Playstation?  What about the Faith who attacks Joyce, ties her up and threatens to kill her?  What about the Faith who fantasies about stabbing Willow and taunts Tara by telling her how much Willow used to love Oz?  What about the Faith who, right from her first appearance, is perhaps a little bit too into beating up vampires and killing demons?  What about the Faith who threatens to torture Buffy, who tries to kill Angel, who definitely does torture Wesley and who kills Professor Worth while he begs for his life?  What about the Faith who probably was going to kill Xander? What about what Faith does to Buffy in Who Are You?

I’m not saying all Fuffy authors should exclusively write angst-ridden enemies-to-lovers in which for the first 100,000 words Faith really does seem to revel in being able to kill things without consequences even as she lets her obsession with Buffy Summers lead her into actively and deliberately trying to hurt her or bring her down to her level. (Though it would perhaps be nice if some of it was like this!)  I don’t have any moral objection if people would rather write fluff in which Faith and Buffy have an awkward first kiss at the Homecoming Dance, or AUs in which Faith never sides with the Mayor, or post-canon fic which takes for granted the fact that Faith is now redeemed and happily devoted to Buffy (it would make me a bit of a hypocrite if I did, since I’ve written all of these things).

But the sort of Fuffy writing and meta that I most enjoy, even if it doesn’t dwell on Faith’s worst moments or if it takes place in a continuity where they conveniently haven’t happened, always treats Faith as somebody who could do those things, if the circumstances were just a little bit different.  Always recognizes her as somebody who does have a lot of barely-suppressed anger in her, who is more likely to listen to an authority figure who tells her what she wants to hear than one who doesn’t, who is more than a little bit jealous of Buffy’s life, who does think, deep down, that being a Slayer makes her better than other people.

To me, that’s the appeal of Faith as a character and also of her relationship with Buffy. The two things are kind of inseparable.  Faith is a reflection of a lot of Buffy’s own worst impulses; she’s somebody that Buffy could have been if things had turned out differently (and if Buffy hadn’t had a certain inner strength and self-belief that Faith, for all her posturing, doesn’t quite ever have herself).  She’s the Buffy we’ll see hints of throughout Season 6, the Buffy we saw in Season 2’s When She Was Bad, the Buffy we see in Season 3’s The Wish. And, as a reflection of Buffy, she has some of Buffy’s strengths as well as exaggerated versions of some of Buffy’s flaws.  She’s not uncomplicatedly Evil, even at her worst, but she does a lot of things that are very hard to forgive, and she enjoys doing some of them more than some people like to admit.

I think if somebody’s going to try to write Fuffy, and get both Buffy and Faith right, that’s something they need to remember.  Let Faith have some jagged edges.  Let her be a little bit dangerous.  Let her be a little bit cruel. Let her be a little bit self-destructive.  Put simply: let her be Faith.

[paigenoelchas-blog]

Feels Like Home 23: Two weeks gone

Mahri's POV:

It has been a couple of weeks since Dan apologized. During that time, Jessy and Dan continued to grow in their relationship, and where it had once been awkward, they were now in perfect sync. Dan has never seemed happier and Jessy is so cared for by him. Jake and Dan have been working very hard at building a friendship and it is good to see. Betty and Phil continue in their passionate affair, and while their feelings are getting deep, no one can deny the sexual tension that fills the air when they are around each other. It is incredible that such a terrible night at a bar led to such a wonderful relationship.

Jake and I are wildly in love, though we haven't been able to spend any time together since the amazing evening and morning we shared. Jake left after the movie. He had work the next day and knew there wouldn't be much rest if he didn't go home. Once I was able to share my truths with him and he accepted me for who I am, who I was, it was as though a curtain was thrown open shedding light onto all of the dark spaces. There is nothing left to hide from him. No places are to be kept in secrets and fear. I am ready to face and embrace everything that has been holding me back. I realize that I have nothing to lose by being in a relationship with Jake. I can only gain someone to share my life with just as Jessy tried to tell me so many weeks ago.

I am no longer afraid of losing myself in him, but between Christmas events, having friends that we want to spend time with, and work obligations, we haven't been able to share any sort of quality time together. It isn't that I haven't wanted to. That actually can't be farther from the truth. I want desperately to be in his arms and by his side. Right now, however, our lives are moving fast. Jake has his new job and he is trying to prove himself to his employers. He is also trying to earn a few extra days off after Christmas. I don't object, partially because it will do no good and partially because those days off will be spent with me, in his cabin cuddling and smooching, laughing and dancing, playing games, and hopefully more cuddling and smooching.

I also have plans for Christmas and I can't wait to give Jake his present. I've been waiting since he told me about his favorite memory with his mother.

Lately, if I have a free night, he has obligated himself to help Dan or Betty. If I have a night off, Jessy and the girls want to hang out. Now that Betty and Jessy are close I can't say no. I love those girls and how can I refuse a budding friendship between Dan and Jake? If that means that I have to sacrifice a few nights of...passion, it is worth it in the end. They are our family and we can't live without family. I think for a minute about what we have all been through and I am proud of all of us. We have overcome many things and become stronger people with more affection for each other.

I just wish Jake would talk to his sisters. Maybe I can ask him to make it a New Year's resolution? It isn't worth bringing up now, but we won't be complete until all of us are together. I would love that and they need that.

Tonight we may get the chance to be alone, something I have been waiting for. I haven't been able to stop thinking about how his hands feel when they roam my body or how his kisses sit hot and soft against my skin. I can't stop thinking of the way his fingers feel when he takes ownership of my body. Whatever part he touches belongs to him and I am a willing sacrifice.

He sends me a coffee on the mornings that he can't drop by early enough to use the machine he bought me. His morning visits have become an excuse for a very quick morning interlude allowing us to discuss our day and get in a few kisses. Sweet and caffeinated kisses including roaming hands and partial states of undress, until we realize that the day has started and our obligations outside of this house have as well.

He still spoils me by sending me letters and flowers and sweet texts, more than I ever expected from him, more than I have received from anyone. He reminds me that I should have been receiving this kind of treatment from anyone who dated me or met me. He reminds me that I am worth it. I know that he is. I know that I love him, but every day, I learn a new facet, a new thing about him that makes me love him more.

Tonight, we are picking out a tree for the cabin. In my mind, it is no longer Jake's place, but it is mine as well. I have taken to dreaming that his house is mine and that we share it, but it is a secret. I don't want to pressure him or force this relationship too fast. In fact, I have only stopped by the place a couple of times since the beautiful time we first met. That is why I love it so much. It is there that I ran to my dream and there when he held me in his arms and all of my future happiness became clear.

It is odd that I can admit to these feelings now when they were terrifying for me not too long ago, but with all of the secrets shared, I have no fear and no worries. I just have love and lust and dreams for a future. I asked him to move slowly, and now that my brain has moved past the fear and I just want him, to be with him in all of the ways that I can. I will wait for him to know that this is right.

I just hope that tonight we can take a big step into our relationship. We are picking out a tree with the group and then going to our own places to set it up. It should be a late night at the cabin. I hope that he asks me to stay as I have been waiting to be in his arms once again.

My phone vibrates. It is him. I can tell without looking. I can always tell without looking. My face lights up. I can, in fact, feel the dimples forming on my cheeks.

Jake: Hello, my love. How has your day been?

Mahri: Great! I just finished my assignments and my chores.

Mahri: I seem to be available for the rest of the evening. I wonder what shall I do?

Mahri: I guess I will just sit around and wait for some devilishly good-looking man to come and sweep me off of my feet.

Jake: What a coincidence.

Jake: I just finished all of my assignments and chores.

Jake: I don't know about the good-looking part or what the devil has to do with any of this and I don't have a lot of practice at sweeping gorgeous women off of their feet, but I can come over and try.

Mahri: Sir, you have been sweeping me off of my feet since the day you told me your name.

Jake: :)

Mahri: Baby, please come over. I have been dying to tell you something.

Jake: I am walking out the door right now, but I wanted to ask you to pack an overnight bag, in case it gets too late tonight.

Jake: Unless, of course, that is too forward. I just can't imagine sending you home when neither of us has to work in the morning.

YES YES YES! I scream out loud doing a little victory dance, in my apartment, to no one. I am glad he is not here.

Though I pause and can tell that he is nervous, which gives me hope for a great night.

Jake: I have a spare room if that is your desire, or you and I can share the couch or my bed, but I will leave that up to you. I have no desire to pressure you or make you uncomfortable

Jake, my desire is to be as close to you as possible as long as you allow it.

Mahri: I will pack a bag. See you in five. Make it three and I will meet you at the door with a kiss.

Jake: What happens if I show up in two?

Mahri: Try. See what happens.

Jake: Open the door.

Mahri: Cheater!

I open the door and Jake is there, looking the part of a lumberjack. He has been trying out flannel shirts lately. Betty told him to. One day, she walked into Jake's place and said that if he was living in a cabin, he should try to look the part and threw him a bag with a bunch of new clothes inside. The flannels were something she thought he should try out. I wasn't sure at first, but the jeans that she added make his ass look like a work of art. I can't complain, he is handsome in flannel, in a T-shirt, in nothing at all. He never has facial hair though and for that I am grateful. He had covered his face with a mask for long enough. I thought he was attractive before, but man, this outfit is something else. Added to his look was the most gorgeous smile that spread across his face.

I attempt to grab him for a kiss, but instead, he grabs me by the waist and swoops me up in his arms, carrying me to the couch. He lands on top of me, his lips pressed hard and firm against mine. His kisses are hot and full of desire, it has been too long since we have been together.

He twists around on the couch until he is underneath me, his arms holding me close. I have to pull away to catch my breath.

"Hello there," I say in a stutter. His body is flexed and tight. His eyes are intense as he runs his hands through my hair. He twists some strands in his fingers and his eyes lock on mine. Drawing his face up towards me slowly this time, he places his lips on mine once again. These kisses are soft and sweet, yet demand my respect in return. We stay this way for quite a while, enjoying the soft touches and kisses and moans when we found a spot that feels especially electrifying. His mouth moves from my lips to my collarbone, to the place where my shirt begins, and back up again. Pulling me into his lap, I can feel his excitement building.

His voice is low, it is both a growl and a whisper, "Hello, my love." He runs his hand through my hair and they settle on my cheek. "How I have missed this beautiful face and the feeling of you in my arms."

"That is quite the greeting," I say, backing away a little. If I don't stop this, we will never get a tree. Part of me wants to skip the tree and stay here with him all night, but we have been looking forward to this for so long. Besides we have waited this long, we can hang out with friends and decorate the tree and then find the time to be together in all of the ways that we want to be. I have no doubt that his feelings mimic mine on this subject.

"I did promise to sweep you off of your feet," he chuckles.

"I didn't mean literally, but that was incredible." I let him know what his kisses do to me.

"Yes, indeed it was." His hand is still playing with my hair. His eyes still locked on mine, his other hand playing near the hem of my shirt, daring his fingers to climb farther north. "I fulfilled my promise, now, what do I get for arriving early?" His growl goes deeper and he pulls my face closer to his once again. How could he keep doing this to me? It was getting harder and harder to resist him.

I managed to pull away despite the protests of some of the body parts, "Well, you cheated and I don't abide by cheaters, so..."

He interrupted me with a quick kiss, "She is a fickle mistress, indeed." He smiles.

I laugh and remove myself from the couch. " I would love to do this all night, But we have to pick out a tree and I have been instructed to pack a bag. Wanna help me?"

"Depends, do I get a sneak peek?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Depends, can you keep your hands to yourself?" I ask.

He raises an eyebrow. "Probably not," he answers.

"Good," I respond as I grab his hand and pull him into the bedroom. He catches up with me wrapping his arms around me from behind, reminding me fully of what I have been missing these last two weeks.

[queermarzipan]

HEY GUYS SO I TRAWLED THROUGH THE NOTES FOR EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO AGREED WITH ME ABOUT FAIRYTALE OF NEW YORK AND NOW I NEED TO GIVE YOU HIGHLIGHTS

Every second or third reblog saying YELLING abt Carol of the Bells (Trans-Siberian Orchestra version)/Щедрик (Ukranian folk song "about a guy who wants to fuck his wife")

One Extremely Surreal reblog from OP in which they asserted that ONCE IN ROYAL DAVID'S CITY wasn't a generic Christmas song bc they were Canadian and they'd never heard it (???)

Absolute WAR over whether Little Drummer Boy slaps or deserves to be deleted from existence

A surprising amount of ppl getting emotional about Silent Night (I've only sung this in choirs with Very Young Children and People Who Don't Want To Be There so maybe I've just never heard this Done Well By A Choir) (On that note tho I really love Silent Night/Spirit Among Us which I sing in a group that is Not A Choir so maybe look that up too if you like Silent Night) (I'm just a slut for counterpoint okay it's SO GOOD)

An absolutely appropriate amount of screeching about the keychange FALL ON YOUR KNEES line in O Holy Night

Very few people with 'IT'S TOO FUCKIN EARLY' messages actually

A truly hilarious amount of 'I'm not religious but—' 'I'm an atheist but—' 'I'm Jewish but—' bc Christmas music just fuckin slaps. My people. (Atheist who Does The Church Music lol)

LOTS of appreciation for Hark! The Herald Angels Sing, which I adore

Angels We Have Heard On High

Paragraph from a southern hemisphere dweller @lemonbubble about what songs ARE and ARE NOT Christmas songs, as distinct from winter songs. Which. I have to agree with cmon guys

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

About two entire mentions of We Three Kings but I like it so you get to hear about it

Entirely unnecesary appreciation for the abomination that is 'Santa Baby'

Some contention over whether Frosty the Snowman is the worst of the lot or the only tolerable one

Maybe three entire mentions of Walking In The Air which is UNFAIR it's SO GOOD

A lot of people asking where 'All I Want For Christmas Is You' is/has gone

Objectively correct appreciation of Slade's Merry Christmas Everybody

Something called 'Baby It's Cold Outside' (???)

Let It Snow

One (1) person who mentioned Meet Me In St. Louis who is now my favourite

'12 Days Of Christmas because it's fun to remember the entire song and also try to sing the last verse in one breath' @rainbobirb tumblr user after my own heart you'd LOVE the rathlin bog

Feliz Navidad

Last Christmas by Wham (the artist was emphasised once or twice? I didn't know there was another version)

Maybe two people who mentioned Feed The World which is fucking INSANE i LOVE that song

Rocking Around The Christmas Tree

'It's really a New Years song but Auld Lang Syne'/'I'm counting Auld Lang Syne bc it was the US that made it into a 'new years' song in the first place when it wasn't originally' I LOVE AULD LANG SYNE I WOULD'VE COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN IT WITHOUT YOU GUYS and also yeah it's. Not a 'New Years' song

Utterly appropriate crying over 'Merry Xmas (War is Over) by John Lennon

About two people mentioning Adeste Fideles which again you get to hear about bc I like Adeste Fideles

One ABSOLUTE LEGEND who said In Der Weihnachtsbäckerei @flieder-house

'Winter Wonderland bc Polar Express' which I cannot disagree with honestly

Lots of 'Sleigh Ride'

About two mentions of a song called 'River', artist unknown (by me) (p sure the artist is Known Generally)

One (1) Sarajevo courtesy of @bitter-sweet-coffee

One person who peered STRAIGHT INTO MY MOST BURIED CHILDHOOD MEMORIES and pulled out 'all I want for Cristmas is my two front teeth, my two front teeth, my two front teeth' @kariachi HOW

That's it I think

If I remember anything I'm not editing so this is what you get

Last but not least MY PEOPLE @nancybongwater @wonderingaround1980 @raymondshields @veronicaslvr @delphinia13 @iceadolescent @azpherambles @notafraidofredyellowandblue @al3xp3rsonal @ethel-cyanide @eatinggendermarbles @radioactiveryan @justalesbianwithsomegayshit @y0rk-ie @british-hero @valyrfia @cyberparasitic @weltato

🫡

If you read this far thank you btw this was entirely unsolicited and I am very aware of that

@urlocalrockstar where r u back me up. Fairytale of New York. Objectively the best one

it's that time of year again

there's no ' none ' option because if you don't like any of these songs this poll isn't for you. sorry

[televinita]

All The Songs Make Sense

I am regularly sad that Tumblr doesn't have access to this post, because it's one of my favorite things I wrote during my first go-round with Doctor Who/while processing my feelings about Journey's End, so I am transplanting it here. Which I've thought about doing at least twice before, but I don't think I actually ever did, so here goes nothing.

CONTEXT: I had my music library on shuffle, and 3 songs in a row were either explicitly written about the Doctor/Rose or on my ship playlist for them, and so I said...

Wait, wait, I HAVE A NEW GAME.  For the next 20 songs, I will magically relate lyrics to Doctor/Rose. I was this close to turning this game into the fic meme [where you write a tiny story related to/inspired by the song], but since I've never even tried to write Doctor Who fic, it would all pretty much come out sounding the same: me frustratingly working out my issues with Journey's End in terrible, thinly-veiled third person POV.  So instead we'll just pluck out lyrics and comment on them, as I do.

And so this was born, bringing into existence lyrical associations that, in some cases at least, persist to this day.

1. Blackbird - Evan Rachel Wood You were only waiting for this moment to arrive

(cue "Rose's Theme" and an otherwise-empty street)

OR

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

(broken wings, a phrase here meaning Ten II and/or her suddenly clipped joy)

2. I Will Show You Love - Kendall Payne

Well that's just too easy:

Watch your dreams like falling stars, heartache made you who you are

3. In This Life - Delta Goodrem I have faltered, I have stumbled, I have found my feet again I've been angry and I've been shaken, found a new place to begin I think that works pretty well for Rose in Pete's World

4. Do You Want to Play? - Jewel (A CHALLENGE, SIR?)

Don't ever give away what you can't take back

Which sort of implies that Rose is an object, but WHATEVER.  He essentially handed her off - gave her away - and now the next time the universes magically break down and they're reunited, it'll be too late.

5. Taxi Ride - Tori Amos (ohoho!  You think you're gonna throw me for a loop?) We've all been pushed too far today

Almost anywhere in the two parts of the finale, really.

6. Hard Candy - Counting Crows

All the regrets you can't forget Are somehow pressed upon a picture In the face of such an ordinary girl This is where I really wish I was doing the fic meme...not that I actually have an idea, but, you know.  I have a mental picture within the TARDIS. 

7. Larger Than Life - Backstreet Boys

All of our time spent in flashes of light

YOU THOUGHT I COULDN'T DO IT.  BUT I DID.

8. Awake - Josh Groban (oh, I see we're back to the easy ones) We can't stay like this forever But I have you here today

9. Dignity - Hilary Duff Curses!  The game has defeated me.  This round. (unless we go meta and relate it to my lack of dignity in posting this) [let alone re-posting it]

10. Emily - Jewel One moment here, then gone With no forwarding address

Hard to pass mail between parallel worlds.

11. Ooh Oh - Keri Noble (ooh, oh, challenge?) What if I want you just to walk away From all the pain we have both been through?

*tilts head*  I mean, isn't that what he asks in the end?  Essentially? 

12. What Child is This - Josh Groban *rolls eyes*  Way to make it impossible on the very next selection.  See, in the fic meme, I could have set something during one of the Christmas specials.  But noooo, I had to be lazy. 13. Wait for You - Elliot Yamin (Oh, hell yes.  Just watch me.) Rose -> Doctor You're still in love with me Don't leave me crying

Doctor 2 -> Rose Why can't we just start over again, get it back to the way it was? If you give me a chance, I can love you right 14. Goodnight and Go - Imogen Heap

We'll have drinks and talk about things Any excuse to stay awake with you

The chorus would work beautifully for Martha, but this is about as good as I can get for Doctor/Rose. Still, not terrible; better than nothing.

15. A New Day Has Come - Celine Dion Televinita forfeits this round on the grounds that the song mocks and taunts her and sinks her further into the pit of despair.

16. Telling Stories -- Tracy Chapman Sometimes a lie is the best thing

Lie, a noun illustrated in both the sentence "and I'm him," and Rose's kiss.

17. Stay - Beth Hart When I was young, just a little girl I'd sing to the sun & dream with the world Now I got a suitcase full of memories ...I don't know; is a slight stretch.  I again wish I was doing the fic meme.  Little Rose would be delightful.

18. Still Standing - The Rasmus Wish I could have you by my side Tonight when the sky is burning Think I am going to Turn Left places with this one...

19. What Goes Around Comes Around - Justin Timberlake (BWAHAHA!  And yet:) Don't want to think about it Don't want to talk about it I'm just so sick about it Can't believe it's ending this way Sorry, that's my reaction to Doctor Who.  Here's the Doctor/Rose bit:

Is this the way it's really going down? Is this how we say goodbye? See, it's slightly different!

20. Buildings - Regina (slightly edited for repetition) She would ask for time And she would beg for time And he would give her time But time is not given and time is not taken Which clearly sums it up. 

Also, haha, WAY TO SIGNAL THAT THE GAME IS OVER, LIBRARY ("Doomsday").

...my music library and I have a special relationship.  Be quiet. 

And finally, just because I really want to share what sparked the game off...

Goodbyes - Jess Anderson Is it so wrong to want to stay now that I've found you?

[searidings]

Lena definitely just lets Jess walk into her office without knocking and that has definitely led to her walking in on Lena in Supergirl’s arms

Jessica Hoang’s job pays well.

Like, really well. Like, buy-your-mother-a-new-Valentino-purse-every-Christmas well. Surprise-your-boyfriend-with-a-trip-to-the-Bahamas well. Rub-your-success-in-your-high-school-nemeses’-face-at-the-reunion-but-like-in-a-classy-way well.

And it’s not that it’s exactly unreasonable. Being Lena Luthor’s assistant is no cake walk. Jess has been shot at. She’s been almost blown up on more than one occasion. She’s worked all the hours god sends and then some. Hell, she’s got the chief detective of NCPD’s major crimes unit on speed dial.

She has, at various times and with varying degrees of success, played the roles of bodyguard, nutritionist, nurse, therapist, and drinking buddy. She’s seen Lena in every shade and hue of human emotion; coaxed her through crisis after crisis with warm words and a kind smile and never once let her miss a meeting.

So, Jess doesn’t really mind accepting the generous salary. Has even made peace with the borderline obscene bonuses Lena likes to toss her way around Christmas, or her birthday, or any time Jess introduces her to a new kale recipe.

She’s not arrogant, but she’s not prone to under-selling herself either. She knows Lena values her, knows she’s integral to keeping L-Corp’s CEO afloat and thus, to the running of the whole operation. And more than that, she knows her own worth. Takes pride in the work she does.

So she’ll take the paycheck, and the late nights and the missed meals and all the other things that come part and parcel with employment in National City’s most conspicuous company.

And if those other things come to include a front row ticket to the tragicomedy of her boss’ relationship with a certain blonde reporter, so be it. She’s not about to quit, after all. Once she’d gotten a taste of sleeping on Egyptian cotton bed sheets, there was no going back.

-

It started with the unrestricted office access.

Actually, it started when Lena allergic-to-the-press Luthor first asked her to put in a call to the biggest news outlet in town to request a private meeting with one of their junior reporters, but Jess lets that one slide.

(She’s got her own hunk of a man to go home to every night, yet even she’s not immune to Miss Danvers’ button down and slacks combo, to her earnest blue eyes and eager charm. Lena can’t be blamed for falling under that spell, nor for the hypnotic allure of the muscles straining beneath those demure cardigans. She’s only human, after all.)

But adding Kara Danvers to the list of people to be waved straight into her boss’ office with no checks – or rather, creating said list, which to this day consists of precisely one name – was what really sealed the deal. It was portentous in every sense of the word, a harbinger of what was to come.

Since that fateful day, Jess has seen more of Lena and Kara’s relationship than she’s sure any of the three of them would ideally prefer.

At first, it was the interviews. They’d been fishy enough in themselves; sure, Lena Luthor is objectively interesting. But three separate articles in the span of two weeks? No one’s that interesting.

After the interviews, it was the lunch dates. The first time she’d interrupted one of those she’d almost fallen over her own feet in shock. The sight of Lena Luthor – the same Lena Luthor that Jess had, on more than one occasion, needed to actively bribe into ingesting anything other than espresso and scotch in a fourteen hour workday – licking burger grease off her fingers and happy as a clam, had thrown her off for the whole rest of the day.

(Lena had long since instructed Jess to just stick her head into her office without knocking if she needed her. “Things can go to hell far too quickly around here to waste time with buzzers and intercoms,” she’d said with a self-deprecating smile.

If only Jess had known then what she knows now, she might have put up more of a fight on that front.)

The lunch dates had gotten longer, and more frequent, and decidedly more intimate. A year after the reporter’s first appearance at L-Corp it had become commonplace for Jess to walk into her boss’ office to find the two of them slanted close together on the couch, Lena’s heels discarded, her stockinged feet tucked beneath the blonde’s thigh.

Then, Kara started showing up at 7pm to drag Lena away from her desk at a reasonable hour. Started dropping by on her way to Catco before work too, fumbling coffees and pastries in her blushing grip.

(She always brought a latte for Jess along with Lena’s regular order. Of all the developments, that was certainly one of the most welcome.)

She got to know Kara, as the years went on. Was pleased to discover that she truly was as delightful as she seemed. And it was nice to finally have an ally in her ongoing battle to regulate her boss’ shockingly unhealthy work habits. She and Kara could tag-team their efforts, trading off caffeine duty and playing bad cop to get Lena to leave the office before midnight. It meant that Jess had finally, occasionally, gotten a day off.

It didn’t escape her notice that Kara was always there on the bad days. She showed up like clockwork after every ruthless smear campaign against L-Corp, every stock market plummet, every assassination attempt. She would enter the office to find Lena crying and she would leave with the dark haired woman tucked securely against her side, if not smiling then at least calm. At least hopeful.

And Kara was there on the good days, too. The mergers and the product launches and the prototype successes; she celebrated every one of Lena’s triumphs as if they were her own. And Lena, Lena lit up when Kara was around. Bloomed like a rare flower beneath the megawatt glare of Kara’s sunshine devotion.

Her boss never said so in so many words, nor did Jess ever walk in on anything directly incriminating. But it was clear to anyone with eyes exactly what was happening between the two women, exactly where it would lead.

And then one day, Kara wasn’t there anymore.

-

The effect was as obvious as it was immediate.

Lena started coming in early and staying late, if she left the office at all. She barely ate. Her face was pale and drawn, and Jess would often enter her office to find her boss’ eyes red-rimmed.

It became glaringly, painfully obvious that without Kara dropping by at all hours of the day and night, no one was coming to visit Lena.

Her boss became closed-off and withdrawn, more so even than when Jess had first started at L-Corp. Gone were their weekly gossip sessions about the crotchety old men Lena couldn’t yet oust from the company’s board. Gone was her boss’ openness about her own life or her interest in Jess’, her frequent requests for photos of her cats or updates on the master’s in computer science she was studying for in the evenings evaporating into thin air.

Lena did not want to talk about it. Jess was informed of this emphatically and repeatedly whenever she would tentatively reach out, and slowly she stopped trying.

The closest they ever came to acknowledging the elephant in the room was the night of L-Corp’s annual fundraiser at the Luthor Children’s Hospital. Once the gala was over, Jess had run back to the office to drop off the donation paperwork in the company safe only to notice a faint light beneath Lena’s office door.

She’d entered to find Lena hunched on the floor of her private bathroom, heels kicked off and hair falling out of its intricate updo, mascara streaking her cheeks as she sobbed into her hands. Jess hadn’t hesitated for even a second before sinking down beside her.

Wrapping a secure arm around her boss’ shoulders and smoothing the flyaway hairs from her flushed face, she’d tried her best to convey the support and reassurance that Lena had so consistently shown to her. But the young woman had brushed off her platitudes even as the tears had continued to fall.

“It’s not okay,” she’d hiccupped against Jess’ shoulder, the scotch evident on her breath. “She’s gone. I won’t ever get her back.”

And that’s all she would say on the matter. Eventually, the tears had dried up and the exhaustion had set in and Jess had chaperoned her all the way back to her apartment and into bed.

Lena had shown up for work the next day in a pair of oversize aviators, clinging to her triple shot extra-large americano like a lifeline. She’d dropped a latte on Jess’ desk with a rueful smile, and that had been that. They never talked about it again.

-

That whole dark period only cemented the strong protective streak Jess had been cultivating over her boss ever since the very first attempt on her life.

It’s just that Lena is strong, and smart as hell and unfailingly kind and utterly undeserving of the punishment the world keeps foisting on her for her family’s sins. And worse, she’s not prepared to fight back. She just accepts it, internalises the hatred and the burden and the blame and Jess cannot, will not watch it happen. So sue her if she’s a little hyper-vigilant, a little possessive.

And so when Kara Danvers had shown up again one unassuming Tuesday, Jess intercepted her trajectory at Lena’s office door with narrowed eyes and a suspicious glare.

It must have been effective – she’d learned from stone cold boardroom killer Lena Luthor, after all – because the reporter shrank back a little beneath the force of her stare. Kara cleared her throat nervously and Jess had been a split second from launching into a what are your intentions with my girl speech ripped straight from a bad 1980s teen movie when the door opened behind her and Lena appeared.

“It’s fine, Jess,” her boss murmured and she had, reluctantly, stepped aside to let the blonde pass. Not before fixing Kara Danvers with one last pointed glare, though. If Lena wasn’t going to protect herself then Jess would just have to do it for her.

But there was no shouting, no screaming, no audible arguments. And when the blonde left a half hour later and Jess stuck her head through the office door to very unsubtly check on Lena’s wellbeing, there was no trace of red-rimmed eyes or tear stains. Lena simply offered up a small smile, a soft smile and once again, that appeared to be that.

Slowly, Kara Danvers became a regular fixture in L-Corp again, alongside the fancy espresso machines in every break room and the ever-present whiff of soldered metal.

Jess remained wary, a fact which did not seem to go unnoticed by the reporter. In fact, Kara redoubled her efforts to win her over, including new pastries and other sweet treats with the lattes she still regularly delivered.

“I can’t be bought, you know,” Jess had said once, taking the offered apricot Danish anyway. Her loyalty wasn’t up for auction, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t capitalise on the spoils of a bidding war.

Kara had only smiled sadly. “I know. I’m glad.” At Jess’ inquisitive stare she’d just shaken her head, reaching up to adjust her glasses. “I’m glad she has you.”

Jess had hmphed rather ungracefully, licking a stray flake of pastry from the end of her finger. She may have broken her boss’ heart, but no one could deny that Kara Danvers had great taste in desserts.

“I’m not looking for her forgiveness. Or yours,” Kara had continued, so surprising that Jess had inhaled a healthy gulp of latte directly into her lung. The reporter had waited until she’d finished spluttering before she continued. “I don’t deserve it. But for what it’s worth, she has me, too. Again, I mean. For as long as she wants me.”

Jess had narrowed her eyes, searching for any trace of insincerity in that earnest, handsome face. Finding none, her feelings toward the reporter had at last settled somewhere in the ballpark of grudging respect.

And there they’ve remained. She still watches the blonde carefully, still keeps a wary eye out for any sign that things may crumble into dust again. But Kara is true to her word. She shows up, she keeps showing up, and she sticks around.

And slowly, achingly slowly, the light comes back to Lena’s eyes.

-

It’s just another regular unassuming Tuesday when everything shifts again.

Kara Danvers hasn’t yet shown up for lunch and her boss’ conference call was scheduled to have ended a half hour ago, and this stack of expense reports desperately needs Lena’s signature so Jess doesn’t bother knocking as she shoulders open the office door.

A lesser assistant might have shrieked. They’d definitely have dropped the gargantuan stack of reports all over the floor. But Jessica Hoang was trained by Lena Luthor herself. She’s got dignity and composure for days.

Even so, it takes every ounce of poise she can muster not to let out so much as a squeak at the sight of her boss hovering a solid five feet above the floor of her office, enveloped tightly in the arms of a fully kitted and caped Supergirl.

It’s an unavoidably intimate embrace. Lena’s stockinged feet perch lightly on the toes of the hero’s red boots, her arms wrapped snug around the Kryptonian’s neck. Their foreheads are pressed together and they’re just gazing into one another’s eyes, Supergirl’s arms slung low around Lena’s waist as she drifts them in lazy mid-air circles.

For one horrible, stomach-churning moment Jess is faced with the mind-boggling possibility that her boss is, for all intents and purposes, cheating on her reporter gal pal with the city’s superpowered sweetheart.

But equanimity isn’t the only talent she’s picked up from Lena. Her problem solving skills aren’t bad either, or so her boyfriend is fond of grumbling when she steals the Sunday crossword out from under his nose.

Jess uses the split second before they react to her presence to appraise the scene with a critical eye.

At this proximity, there’s something decidedly familiar about those blue eyes and flowing golden locks. But the real clincher doesn’t end up coming from Supergirl at all. It’s the softness in her boss’ expression, the gentle slant of her features and the unguarded love in her eyes in the brief moment before she registers the interruption that really seals the deal.

Jess has, after all, seen Lena in every shade and hue of human emotion. The list of people her boss would look at like that, much like the list of people with unrestricted access to her office, consists of precisely one name.  

Two heads snap towards her in perfect tandem, two jaws hitting the floor in quick succession. Lena gasps and shoves herself away from Supergirl like the woman has suddenly become radioactive, apparently forgetting that she’s not currently abiding by the laws of terrestrial gravity and almost plummeting five feet to the ground.

She’s saved by the hero’s lightning fast reflexes, strong arms snapping out to catch her around the waist and pulling their bodies snugly back together into an embrace somehow even more intimate than the original.

Jess smirks. Lena’s cheeks are redder than she’s ever seen them as Supergirl floats them both gently back to the ground. “This isn’t— we were just— she’s not—” Lena tries half-heartedly as the superhero shuffles her feet at her side, blushing like a chastised schoolgirl.

Jess bites the inside of her cheek, calling upon every last shred of her professionalism to keep from laughing. “Your two o’clock is here,” she says gently, gracing her boss with a genuine smile. Jess may be proud of her own bullish protectiveness in front of others, but she’s a simple girl at heart. If Lena’s happy, she’s happy.

Both women are still staring at her slack-jawed. It appears no response is forthcoming any time soon.

Jess decides to put them out of their misery. “Just buzz when you want me to send him in, Miss Luthor. Miss Danvers,” she nods in acknowledgment as she ducks quickly back out of the room. Not quick enough, though, to miss the choked sounds of shock from behind her, nor the heated stage-whisper of how does she know, Lena? that follows her out of the door.

Jess shakes her head. And she doesn’t even have superhearing.

-

Lena Luthor has many strengths but subtlety, apparently, is not one of them.

That’s the conclusion Jess has no choice but to land on as she stares down at her phone. The extra 10k that has materialised in her bank account without warning or explanation could hardly be more obvious if it had come with the payee reference hush money right there in black and white.

Well. If Jess hadn’t been sure before, she certainly is now.

She shakes her head fondly. As if she would ever sell out her boss on anything, much less on what is very clearly a matter of the heart.

After all these years working together, she knows Lena trusts her. But she can also picture clear as day the scene that must have transpired in the office behind her just moments ago. Lena and Kara, panicking about being discovered. Lena falling back into her Luthor conditioning, deciding to clean up the mess by throwing money at it. The instant regret as she realises she’s just confirmed that there is in fact something to be covered up.

For a certified genius, her boss sure can be dense.

Jess chuckles. Taps out of her banking app and pulls up her messages. Your super secret’s safe with me she types, grinning. I’ve never told a soul that you were drunk as a skunk at the annual board meeting three years ago, and that was without a single dollar in bribes. Why would this be any different?

Hitting send, she swears she actually hears the sigh of relief her boss lets out despite the three inches of solid oak door separating them. She shakes her head again, biting her lip.

I’m happy for you, Lena she sends, warm affection swelling in her chest. Smiles when her screen lights up a moment later with a single red heart.

She locks her phone and squares her shoulders. Skims a critical eye over the weekly schedule she already knows by heart. Ushers in Lena’s two o’clock at her boss’ signal and settles back at her desk. Pulls up a new browser tab and searches up the cost of last-minute flights to the Maldives.

Just because Lena’s hush money was unnecessary, that doesn’t mean it can’t be put to good use.

[earnestly-endlessly]

hi! hope you're doing well :) do you have any domestic!cherik fics? or established relationship ones?

Hi anon, thanks for the ask. I'm doing very well, been super busy because I'm currently moving but it's all good. I have plenty of great domestic/established relationship cherik fics for you. I hope you enjoy!!

Domestic/Established Relationship cherik

Daycare ‘Verse’ – orphan_account, pocky_slash

Summary: A modern AU in which Charles runs a mutant daycare and Erik is his long-suffering engineer boyfriend.

Runs in the Family – Anonysquirrel (chibirisuchan)

Summary: Alex knew his own reputation. Hell, he'd started some of his own reputation, because it kept some of the smarter thugs off his back. Everyone knew Alex's reputation. There was no way Hank didn't know his reputation, but he'd brought Alex into a house with some really expensive things and a lot of innocent little kids and his too-friendly, too-harmless dad.

But clearly Hank hadn't told his family anything about Alex, just like he hadn't told Alex anything about his family. At least, not about the brain-breaking parts of his family.

"I didn't know where to start," Hank said, for the dozenth time.

Gift of the Magi, But Screw it Up – librata

Summary: He doesn't know if he's buying too much, too little, or even the right things at all, because he's never entertained a guest as important as Edie Lehnsherr.

Making perfect – aesc

Summary: As is the case with most trials in Erik's life, this one starts with Charles gazing beseechingly at him and asking him for a favor. Not that their going-on-three years relationship is a trial, even though it started with Charles giving Erik the full benefit of sad blue eyes and asking him if he wouldn't mind opening his car door since he'd locked his keys inside, but still.

Continue firm and constant – aesc

Summary: Moira hasn't seen her old partner in saving the world from threats human and intergalactic, Erik Lehnsherr, for a few years. When she finally does see him again, she finds a man different from the one who's been with her down in the dark and the dirt and the blood... or maybe he isn't so different after all.

After School Special – listerinezero

Summary: Charles was barely seventeen and Erik was his social studies teacher. But after almost fifteen years together, does it really matter how they met?

Terrifying Domesticity – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is the most dangerous and notorious mafia boss around for miles, and yet the strangest things terrify him.

For example: his children, and his very pregnant mate.

Trying is Half the Battle – Pookaseraph

Summary: Post-Cuba, no divorce, Charles and Erik are in an established relationship and when Charles gets sick with a random flu bug, they discover that Charles can get pregnant. They then try to get pregnant, and try, and try.

We’ll all be gone for the summer – pocky_slash

Summary: Charles and Erik's usual family beach vacation gets a little bigger when they agree to watch Erik's teenaged twins for the summer. Charles is looking forward to a chance to bond with his step-children. Erik is terrified of screwing them up even more.

A Summer Day So Late in Coming – helens78

Summary: Fifty years after they fell in love, Erik comes to Charles with a proposal that rocks Charles's world.

Still Going Strong – JackyJango

Summary: Speaking of forty-eight, Erik hates it. Hates it even more that others are aware of it. While he’s pragmatic enough to know and accept that aging is inexorable, the increase in number gives the people around him the freedom to pounce at him with questions, opinions and advice he'd fought to keep at bay all year.

Besides, Erik believes that youth is a state of mind, not a phase in one’s life.

You have a child’s mind in a man’s body, Charles constantly tells him.

But despite his age, Erik is healthy. He works out daily. His muscles are steel and he can dead-lift four hundred pounds. He can break bones without breaking a sweat. Most importantly, he can still carry Charles to the bedroom and fuck him senseless. And as long as Erik can do that, he’s perfectly happy.

Before You Attempt Me (Fair Warning) – kianspo

Summary: Charles helps Raven get ready for the prom. Surprisingly, that part goes well. The prom itself not so much. Erik cooks a lot of unhealthy comfort foods and is incredibly patient. Charles mostly frets about everything, until Erik does something neither he, nor Raven see coming.

And now you will not be alone any more – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik gives driving, sewing, and cooking lessons, soothes nightmares, bolsters self-esteem, and still can't figure out why Charles keeps smiling at him like that.

Some sense of touch and a melody – pocky_slash

Summary: On a day when Charles, for once, finds himself saying the right thing to everyone he sees, he allows himself to be talked into a field trip to a local orchard.

It’s kind of our whole thing – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: After two years of best friendship, Charles and Erik thought they knew everything there was to know about each other. They're surprised, then, when their first summer as a couple reveals that they have a lot to learn about each other and themselves.

Indulgence – grim_lupine

Summary: “The children are still asleep,” Charles murmurs groggily, flinging an arm out as if searching for Erik beside him. “The house is still standing, this is a ghastly hour, and more importantly, I’m still here. Why do you insist on doing this every morning?”

Your Father’s Daughter – ConsultingWriter

Summary: Wanda proves just how much she takes after Erik.

Pietro reeled back before leaning back in "They didn't tell you what happened? Wanda got in a fist fight and totally wailed on this guy, I mean, on one hand I feel kinda embarrassed for him, but it was so epic."

Erik's eyebrows shot to his hairline. Wanda got in a fight? That was....surprising, to say the least. Wanda tended to take after Charles in temperament and preferred talking to violence.

This Crazy Game Called Life – chiasmus

Summary: Raven declares game night in the mansion. Sean finds an elephant, Erik inherits one hundred unwanted cats, and Charles scars Hank for life with misdirected dirty thinking. This is five thousand-something words of crack with a dose of schmoop. I'm not sorry. Written for this kink meme prompt: Raven is tired of the boys going off to play chess (if they're even playing chess!) and pulls out a load of board games from one of the closets in the mansion. Madness ensues.

To my roomba with love – sareyen

Summary: There are a lot of things that Erik loves about Charles. He loves all of the obvious things; Charles’s kindness, his intelligence, his laughter, his eyes. He also loves the little private things; the way Charles sneaks Erik his unwanted tomatoes, his warbled opera singing in the shower, that sensitive spot on his hip.

And he loves the silly things about Charles, especially the way the man has a habit of talking to inanimate objects when he thinks no one is looking. Charles has conversations with the kettle, the washing machine, and their roomba – and every time Erik eavesdrops on him, he falls in love with the man a little bit more.

Everything About it is a Love Song – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik's spent fifty years being a figurehead and he's ready to leave that behind. Luckily, so is Charles.

(aka Old Retired Dudes in Love)

A Very Xavier-Lehnsherr Christmas – zamwessell

Summary: Erik is discovering new things about Charles Xavier all the time. Charles sometimes talks in his sleep. Often about food. Occasionally in Latin. Charles has a scar on his left thigh from attempting to demonstrate relativity to a girl by sitting on a hot stove. Charles doesn’t mean to be so loud when they make love, but sometimes Charles can’t help himself.

Charles is a voracious reader. Charles has an unspeakably filthy imagination. Charles will try anything in bed twice to make sure he wasn’t wrong the first time.

Charles is unexpectedly fond of Christmas. Perhaps that is not the phrase. “Unhealthily obsessed” might be better.

The fluffiest holiday fluff you ever read in your dang life.

Of Crabs and Castles – flightinflame 

Summary: Charles and Erik take their children to the beach. Wanda builds a sandcastle, Nina makes some friends, and Pietro gets some exercise. Some family fun in the sunshine.

Bring Your Daughter To Work Day – listerinezero

Summary: Charles brings three year old Lorna to class with him.

Glasses – grim_lupine

Summary: Charles blinks at him bemusedly, but Erik barely notices because Charles is wearing glasses— wire-rimmed, and Erik can feel the metal humming, traces without touch the way they follow the curve of Charles’s nose and rest behind his ears.

Genetics Isn’t Sexy – pocky_slash

Summary: Charles lectures. The kids aren't very responsive. Erik, on the other hand....

Peanut Butter and Honey (The Fairytale Remix) – pocky_slash

Summary: Once upon a time there was a Princess named Anya who lived in a house with her Daddy and her wicked stepmother Charles. (A wicked stepmother is the person who comes and lives with princesses and their daddies after their mommies go away.) She had a best friend named Leroy, and one day he was lost.

The Bystander (The Consultant (aka A Westchester Telepath in the Avengers Tower) Remix) – Nanimok

Summary: When it comes to Professor Charles Xavier, telepath, SHIELD consultant and compulsive flirt, no one is safe.

Not even the Big Three.

[jjkpls]

the wishlist (m) - 4

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

> genre : smut, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> total words : 4.7k

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, lot of pining; sextoys talk; explicit language; ambiguous infidelity ; awkwardness

previous - next

The issue is that Jungkook -and you're not a bitch for thinking that- is a little bit of an idiot.

He can be very smart. He can be wise and present unsuspecting resources and knowledge. He can teach you things you don't know anything about, figure out others you struggle to -but not during stressful times like for say an escape game because during those, he turns absolutely, utterly useless. 

But he is an idiot too. An idiot that sometimes shapes situations and conclusions and ideas in a very peculiar way that is very singular to him.

That’s precisely what happens then. He plays his role right, to its full extent, with great dedication and commitment. Except he missed a memo, misread the script and ends up playing a role that's not the one you planned for him. He believes that he’s your new adult toy provider (as if there is such a thing).

When you think he’s coming over to share a meal or play some game or binge-watch a series you promised to wait for him to experience together, he has a box hidden in his pocket or carried under his arm. 

He has the decency to not comment on it the first time around. He just set it down on the coffee table, between the bowl of chips and the one filled with guacamole. You see the logo on top of it. You recognize the design, reffined, minimalist with the pretty pastel matte colour. 

He probably identifies the shame and the annoyance on your face, painting your cheeks and reshaping your eyebrows, and doesn’t say anything. Simply smiles to himself and starts talking about the series’ new episode that’s about to start. 

It takes a lot of efforts, coming from you, to ignore the conspicuous object sitting just in front and in between you. But eventually, probably because more than a decade of friendship with this guy have grown impressive mind muscles on you, you manage to make abstraction of it. 

It just stops existing for a while until he leaves and you’re curious to see what’s inside. And again you have the same old intentions as before. The same ones.

You won’t use it. 

It’s curiosity. And it's fine for you to be curious because he’s the one buying it and gifting it to you. Why should you be blamed?

Freshly hopped in bed, just done reading the notice hanging over your face, you’re yawning and sending your eyebrows high in interest. Again you won’t use it but it sounds very interesting. That’s when you get a text from him.

Guk

So about the toy!

As if you were waiting for his explanation. As if the conversation got cut short and you were expecting him to pick it back up whenever possible.

You won’t entertain him.

You

I said not to buy me this.

Guk

You never said that! You said something about me being crazy but never about buying one again

Because you're mostly made of petty bitch material, you scroll higher quickly, wishing to find something, any text that would corroborate what you’re saying.

You don’t find anything though. Because you never actually told him to not buy you other toys by text, and now that you come to think of it, you probably never did out loud either because you didn’t fucking know that he would even consider doing so.

It’s not even Christmas anymore. It’s not your birthday. There’s even less of a valid reason for him to get you this therefore, of course, you did not explicitly warn him not to, you didn’t think it would be necessary.

You

It’s not even my fucking bday why???

Guk

I told you the lady at the shop

But who the hell is that lady?

Guk

She talked about a lot of products and they all seemed cool and because you liked the other one I thought I’d get you this one too

You

Jungkook

This simple response says a lot, you hope he can read between the pixels of his screen the desperation, the irritation, the frustration, the silent insults. 

Guk

Listen it’s super cool it's supposed to mimic the touch of a finger

Jungkook then proceeds to explain to you how it works. The original idea being a system with a tiny ball rolling under a silicon skin, to place on your clitoris to have the illusion of a finger's touch. And it’s interesting and innovative surely and sounds intriguing as in, you wonder if it’s accurate, but you’re tired and it seems like you’re wading in some sort of swamp you can’t escape from. There’s a fire burning your skin from your cheeks to your chest. You’re both hating this conversation and unwilling to just draw a final period to it. This asshole.

You

I can read

Guk

So you opened it already??

There’s a bunch of excited emojis that follows his last message and fill up the empty space your lack of response leaves. 

Why and how can he be so eager?

Here comes the delusional part of your brain. It’s a very wide, very deep hallway covered in bookshelves filled to the brim with stupid interpretations and beliefs and sometimes even memories you’ve shared with him. Often next to the laters are pinned an article from a teenage magazine or the jacket of a romance movie, specifically there to validate that yes, indeed, it must have meant something. 

The door of that corridor just creaked opened. You can discern the sound, you can feel the particular atmosphere without even having to take a step through. 

Is it really that normal to be so excited about that? For him? As a friend?

It’s the most frustrating part: you are friends. Friends who supposedly can tell each other everything. Friends who can ask each other anything. 

You should be able to talk about it. Just ask him. If there’s anything behind this whole mess, if he means to tell you something, if it’s wholly mindless, if there’s no hidden agenda.

It should be fine. There’s only trust and affection in this friendship. 

You are still too scared, you are terrified that he’d start linking dots, ask himself some new questions, potentially answer them himself, and have you all found out.

You'd have your barely well-worn cover thrown completely away. 

You send the blank emoji. The one with even the eyes closed. It summarizes your actual state pretty well, speechless, relatively annoyed. 

Guk

She said you could try it on other parts of your body too

Guk

At first

Guk

Like on your lips or your nipples

You want to die.

Now.

No, better, you wish to have never been born. 

Why is he talking about your nipples? Why?

And through all that, you still feel like something is wrong with you, along with your feelings. 

Turns out you are so overwhelmed by his clueless inadequacy, you need a good half an hour and a random shot of tequila to get through it. When it’s gone and exhaustion of a long day and alcohol have knocked nervousness and panic out, you fall asleep, forgetting about answering his outrageous last texts. 

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

Min's finger stops midair, above the cash register she's been working on. She needs a good minute to get back to her senses and while you wait, anxiety invades you. Maybe you should never have brought it up. 

But this question, the torturous thing is slowly killing you.

Min finally turns her head to you, eyes squinted and eyebrows drawn low. She sucks in her pretty red lips before opening them to start formulating, with it seems a certain struggle, an answer. 

“I don’t think I quite understand.”

It’s a pretty straightforward, relatively easy question. That’s what you'd want to say but you’ve reached the state of bashful regret and decide not to press it. Some things are better just left alone. 

“Who talked about your nipples?” She ends up asking the one thing you wished she wouldn’t because there is no way you’re giving his name. 

“Doesn’t matter.” You mumble, turning around slightly, getting back to the task you were here, paid, to do -wipe the shelves clean and not talk about your “““love””” life. 

“I think it does. You wanna know if it means something? Like the guy's into you?”

“Something like that.” Your cheeks are aflame now. No doubt about it. You silently curse at your manager who refuses that you don’t wear the ugly hat that holds your hair back because having a curtain of hair to hold behind, as a help to keep some of your remained, sparse dignity would have been peachy. 

“What did he say exactly?”

Silence. You’re not elaborating. She sighs, defeated. 

“Well, I suppose... he’s considered the fact that you have boobs. If it’s a straight guy, that’s a good sign, I guess?” She shrugs.

You don’t like the answer. It’s exactly what the wrong, defective part of your brain, the one directly wired to your heart, wanted to hear. 

She doesn’t even have the context, anyway. It doesn’t mean much, doesn’t hold much power in your court of sensibility. 

She stares at the side of your face, clearly attempting to drill holes in your head to try and find some answers. You’re awfully silent, have said too much yet not enough and she’s dying to know the whole story. You won’t give in and she can tell. There’s no way you’re sharing the whole thing. The most, probably, probative point of the whole story: the sex toys. It’d turn her into a devastating tsunami of nonsense and misinterpretation and drown you in its wake and you can’t, when you’re already struggling to stay afloat, allow that.

Tag list: @fangirls94 @realswimshaddy @safi4x @pnkd @somewhereinthestarss @kpopfandomftw @kai-kai-bookshelf @pasteljoonie @ggukkieland

A/N: Don’t forget to click on the next button on top, two parts are being posted simultaneously :)

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 27

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: none

A/N: my god i really took a whole month to write this. i am sooo sorry, but i was a bit stuck with the narrative. thankfully it’s moving forward. hope you enjoy xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N watched him walk up to his bag to removal a navy blue square box. She furrowed her brows, leaning on her hands on the worn out duvet from her teen years as he sat by his side. His cheeks were dusted pink, lip stuck between his teeth as he handed it to her. Y/N merely looked at him like a child who knew nothing of the object that had been placed on top of her hands. All she knew was that it was in her hands and felt more expensive than the homemade present she had manage to hid under all her chunky Christmas outfits Bucky deemed unnecessary. He was nervous, heart pounding under the several layers of clothing he was wearing to protect himself from the cold. Rebecca had warned him to be careful, maybe to thread around lightly as she could be freaked out. His pace seemed to slow down as he walked up to the bed were she was so innocently and calmly looking at her. It’s gonna be fine, Barnes, man up, he told himself. 

     - You don’t have to accept it. I just ... I thought you might want it. 

     - Bucky, you’re rambling. - she cocked her head to the side, giving him a teasing smile as he sat by the bed. - The only reason someone should be so nervous is if they’re proposing. 

     -  Uhm ... - he rubbed the back of his neck as he set the box on the bed. All the colour drained from her face and she put her hands in front of her mouth.

     - Are you proposing? Gosh, did I ruin it? Oh my I ruined a proposal, again. 

     - Not quite. - he gave her a toothy grin. - And when did you ruin a proposal?

     - Long story. - she rested her chin against her hand.

     - Well, when my ‘ma died she left me and Rebecca a lot of stuff. - he opened up the old blue velvet box to show a small pearl necklace laying against the padded black satin fabric. - She left me this ... outta all things. Said I should give it to a nice girl someday but I’d never met a nice girl until I met you ...

    - Bucky. - her lips almost pouted as she tried not to get her emotions get the best of her. It was nothing special, it was really nothing special but to hear him, the man she was so hopelessly in love with, say she was a nice girl was making her heart beat faster.

    - You don’t have to wear it ... it’s probably too old and ... well I just wanted you to have them. My dad gave it to my mum before he got shipped off and I thought I’d give them to you ...

    - Wait, you’re not being shipped off, are you? - she wrapped her arms around his neck. - Because if you did good news first and bad news last, I’ll be very upset.

    - No, no, no. I’m not being shipped out ... I think I’m to old for that. - he chuckled. - The point is, he gave it to her as a labour of love and I want it to give it to you as a labour of love too. Except without the shipping off. 

    - Bucky, it’s beautiful. - she looked down at the box. - And it’s not too old.

    - It’s over a hundred years old.

    - You’re over a hundred years old. - she gave him a teasing look, kissing the corner of his mouth. - Maybe I fancy things over a hundred years old.

    - Yeah? - he smiled at her. - Do you wanna put it on?

    - Can you help me? - she handed him the pearls, turning around to face the mirror in front of her bed. Bucky draped the small pearl string around her neck, clasping it at the back before putting his hand on her shoulder, his head resting in the curvature between her neck and shoulder. Her finger traced the imperfect circular shapes of the pearls, soft smile on her lips. - Bucky, they’re beautiful. Thank you.

    - Thank god you like them. Sam’s been in my head all day sayin’ you’d think they’re too old. - he kissed her neck as she laughed. - Besides, I didn’t really know what to give you. I can’t really give you the moon.

    - The moon sounds like it’d take too much space in the house. Can you imagine? I live in a one bedroom flat, I barely have space for me and my thoughts.

    - Stop it. - he held her chin to turn her face so he could kiss her. - You know, missy ... you still owe me for that stunt you pulled in the airplane.

    - You know I would love to finish it ... - she threw her legs over his. - But I have to go with my mum tomorrow morning to pick out last minute gifts and she is an early bird.

   - Uhm ... you torture me. - he wrapped his arms around her. - But I’ll let it slide this time. 

Bucky couldn’t sleep that night, he stood up all night looking at her; the way the moon illuminated her skin against the dusty blue sheets, the pearls drapped over her beautiful skin. Bucky thought in that moment he was the luckiest man in the world and that maybe it was all worth it. Maybe falling from the train, becoming HYDRAs fist, Zemo, wars, everything ... maybe it was worth going through all of that because if he hadn’t gone through all of that, he wouldn’t be what he was today and he wouldn’t have met her. It was worth knowing it, it was worth having her. He remembered his mum reprimanding him every time he’d break up or start seeing yet another girl “James Barnes, you gotta stop playin’ around and find yourself a nice girl who you love and loves you back for who you are”. He didn’t believe her, he knew why girls were into him, or into the uniform so he didn’t really believe someone would want to stick around with him being a soldier. But Y/N, Y/N loved him with that and even all his nightmares and trauma. He couldn’t help but want to keep her safe despite that being what his job entailed, and it made his blood boil whenever he thought back to how someone had broken into her place, into her safe space. It made him more upset he hadn’t figured out who done it. Not even Steve or Natasha found any clues, it was almost as if it never happened but he had pictures, he had pictures of that word written across the mirror.

He could not stop thinking about it, he couldn’t sleep about it. He hadn’t been able to sleep in a while, afraid something would happen to her while he was asleep. He had failed to protect her, someone had gotten into her home and god... something could have happened and he wasn’t there, he wasn’t there to defend her. He couldn’t even do his job right. He couldn’t protect his girlfriend.  

Bucky stood up all night until the early morning when the clock shone 7:30 AM. She moved around, signalling she was more awake than asleep. He smiled, kissing her forehead as she opened her eyes.

   - Morning, princess. 

   - Buck, you need to sleep. - she said in her cute sleep filled voice. - It’s too early for you.

   - I don’t need sleep. Super soldier, remember, doll?

   - That can’t be right. - she rose up from the bed, rubbing the sleep off her eyes. - You sure you’re okay being alone? I could ask my mum ...

   - Go have time with your mum, princess. I’ll be fine, promise you.

   - Do not let my sisters give you any trouble. Or my brother ... or any of my sister’s husbands. You know what? You’re allowed to cuss them out if they do.

   - I’m sure it’ll be fine. - he watched as she got dressed and covered into layers upon layers. He had forgotten how cold England was. - You don’t have to worry.

   - Yes I have. They’re very persuasive, they’re lawyers. They will convince you to do things you don’t even want to do with you noticing. 

   - I’ve been through mind control before, I’m sure I can handle it, doll face.

   - Doll face? - she smirked. - That’s a new one. You sure you’re not trying to butter me up so I finish what I started.

   - Nonsense. - he got up from her, slowly walking up to her, hands resting upon her waist as he whispered against her ear. - It’s not like you need any buttering up isn’t it, princess?

   - I ... - her face grew warm at the thoughts that filled her head.

   - Y/N! Honey, are you ready? - her mother’s knock on the door, followed by her opening it just the slightest bit interrupted her sex filled thoughts. - We don’t wanna catch a confusion.

   - Yeah, mum. Just saying bye to Bucky.

   - Oh, Bucky ... there’s breakfast downstairs if you want. The boys are all up, maybe you can socialise.

   - Mum ... - Y/N said through a tight smile as the three walked from the bedroom into the hall. 

   - You worry too much. - her mother ushered down the stairs to the door where her father was leaned against, waiting. Y/N kissed Bucky goodbye before being pushed out of the house.

Bucky couldn’t say he was particularly comfortable. It wasn’t that her family wasn’t nice, they were as inviting as one could be but he barely knew them and the last thing he wanted was to scare them off or leave a bad impression. After all, there wasn’t a lot of his family Y/N had to impress and whatever was left of it she had left a great impression but her family, well, her family probably did not expect a 100 year old soldier bodyguard dating their actress daughter. Yet again, who does?

He walked into the dinning room where most of her family was sat down happily eating breakfast until they became aware of his presence. Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, ready to mumble an apology before Aunt Petunia was grabbing him and seating him down on one of the free seats. 

   - So, Bucky, what do you want to eat?

   -  Uhm ... just black coffee is fine. -  he spoke and as fast as he did, a cup of coffee was in front off him.

    - Don’t you want anything to eat? Oh, is this a super soldier situation where you cannot eat? Is it because you’re a 100? Honey, do you need any medication?

    - No, no, m’am. I’m just not a breakfast person. 

    - Uhm, I see. Did you sleep well? I couldn’t sleep all night with Sophie ... - Petunia looked at Claire who rolled her eyes at her. - Crying all night.

    - I’m sorry that we can’t control when a baby cries, Aunt Petunia. - Claire replied before returning to feed some crushed banana to her baby. 

    - Babies. - the old woman rolled her eyes, before redirecting her attention towards Bucky. - Do you want them?

    - Pardon?

    - A baby. You want a baby right? Y/N has always wanted babies ... of course she keeps forgetting she won’t be fertile forever. 

     - Uhm ... I don’t know, Y/N and I haven’t really discussed having a kid. 

     - I don’t wanna know about that. I wanna know if you want a baby.

     - I don’t know if I can have a baby. - he sighed, looking at any of Y/N’s siblings for help.

     - What do you mean you don’t know?

     - Bucky. - Claire interrupted her aunt. - Do you mind getting the mail? We haven’t checked our post box since we arrived and it’s probably pilling up. 

     - Yeah. - he got up from his chair before he could be asked any more questions.

Could he have a baby? He didn’t know; Steve couldn’t and Steve hadn’t. gone through all the brainwashing and shock therapy he had gone through. Besides, he refused to know and he didn’t really care about it. Why would Bucky Barnes, an ex murderer for HYDRA, want to bring a kid into this world? No, the world was better off this way and he did not want to know the answer anyway despite the idea of a family haunting his fantasies. Thankfully Claire had saved him and for that alone, he was almost certain she was his favourite sibling out of all. Checking the post wasn’t too hard and surely no one would ask about his family planning on the way to the post box.

He let the door behind him as he passed through the snowy ground until the postbox which, despite most of Claires belief, was quite empty except for a few postcards, bills and a particular letter that caught his attention. He looked around before putting the rest of the mail under his arm and started to inspect the letter. It had no stamp, no sender, not even an address, just Y/N’s name in the front written in cursive. Bucky knew he shouldn’t open her mail but he just didn’t trust it and as he ripped through the envelope, his suspicious heightened.

You cannot hide, whore. 

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @bbabysbaby @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche​ @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites​ @bluevxnus​ @that-girl-named-alex​ @captnrogers​ @nsfwsebbie​ @sarge-barnes-sir​

[mysoftboybensolo]

The Alienist and the Soprano

Chapter 13: The Holidays

A/N: This was inspired by Laszlo’s love of opera and my thought on what if he fell for an opera singer. Multi chapter. Canon divergence, there is no Mary Palmer here (I loved Mary and Laszlo, so I don’t feel like I could have her here and have him be with another woman). A mix of show and book canons. No Y/N, OC named Evelina Lind.

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029150

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x Fem OC!

Summary: The last thing Laszlo Kreizler ever expected while investigating the death of children was to fall in love, and with an opera singer no less!

Warnings: Age gap, Victorian Christmas, mentions of past abuse, but much fluff! I had done my research on what Christmas was like back then, as well as the Hanukah dates and it seems 1897 was a big year; “Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus” was published in September of 1897, electric Christmas lights were growing in popularity and the unification of the boroughs in New York was official on New Years. And there is your history lesson of the day.

The air grew colder as Laszlo and Evelina’s relationship grew warmer. Evelina was spending more time with the team, just as Laszlo was becoming more and more acquainted with Evelina’s opera friends. Compared, they were a more rambunctious group, and she knew that Laszlo had his limits, but admired him for trying so hard. Maria often helped Laszlo along when Evelina was not by his side and he felt immensely grateful to her for guiding him through the corral. At first, her opera friends hadn’t been sure of Laszlo, unsure of this man who makes a living in psychoanalyzing people, who didn’t seem to fit in anywhere, but they always caught the spark of joy in his eyes when Evelina came beside him, the way he tried so hard for her. Even if he couldn’t keep up with them, they still saw the utter devotion between the pair and that was enough for them to approve the relationship.

It was a time for the singers to rest themselves for The Nutcracker to be performed, and a real treat for them all. It had done so well last Christmas that the opera house had decided to do it again, and who knows, perhaps it will become a Christmas tradition.

As November closed in, Evelina had been helping Sara scout out locations for her new agency, hoping that she’ll find it before the weather turned too cold to be out scouting. As they looked around a space, Evelina asked Sara a few questions. “What will you require of your workers to do?”

“Just as any other detective agency will have, secretaries, detectives. Roosevelt has agreed to let the officers help us whenever we need it, which must mean he bears no ill will towards my leaving. Hmm, no, too small. I need at least four rooms; this will not do.” They stepped out into the cool air, leaving them both to shiver. “Winter certainly is coming, there is no doubt.”

“Yes, that shall mean Christmas!” Evelina replied excitedly. “It’s my favorite time of year. Everything looks so magical with the snow and the good cheer, and of course the music.”

“Well, then you might convince Laszlo to have a party this year. He doesn’t celebrate it, at least, from what I have known of him. I wonder if it comes from an unhappy memory,” Sara mused.

“Then I shall make it my duty to give him a Christmas full of happiness. The opera will be performing The Nutcracker, perhaps I will invite him to a performance then have a party. It’ll only be a small affair, you, John, and the Isaacson Brothers.”

Sara looked at her strangely then asked, “You are aware that they are Jewish, don’t you?”

“I am more than aware, in fact, I know that it starts on the nineteenth of December and ends on the twenty-seventh. And it doesn’t have to necessarily be a Christmas party, but a holiday party. A celebration of simply being together and friends. Surely, Laszlo couldn’t object to that.”

Wrapping her arm around Evelina’s, Sara couldn’t help but to smile. “Not when you put it that way, he wouldn’t.”

Laszlo visited just shortly after the ladies returned home, feeling too frozen to go any further. “And how has the property hunting been going for you?”

Sara groaned, “Don’t mention it. It feels as if I am never going to find the perfect place. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to get myself a good stiff drink,” she huffed as she went off to the kitchen, leaving Evelina and Laszlo alone in the den.”

Now was the perfect time for her to ask the question. “Laszlo, Christmas is coming soon, and I was wondering what it is that you do for the holidays?”

“Well, Christmas Eve, I spend it with the children who are left behind at the institute, watch them open their gifts in the morning then return home for a quiet day in.”

“Oh, Laszlo,” she said, “I love that you take care of your children, but what about yourself? Doesn’t it get to be a bit lonely?”

He pursed his lips in thought then said, “Well, yes, I suppose, but it was better than what I used to have when I was younger. Those were the better days. We hosted a fine Christmas party, my father was at his best and my mother wore her finest, and the house looked like a picture book. But” he said, with matter-of-fact tone, “When the party was over, it wasn’t so picturesque.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” she softly affirmed.

“No, I want to, and we promised, no secrets.” It was true, after the absolute confusion that came from not sharing their feelings and the disaster that followed, they had agreed that nothing would be held back. “Santa was not something told in my household, but rather the fear of God. He’d make me read the bible which involved the birth of Christ, but any little flaw, hesitation or stutter and he’d beat me while calling me a blasphemer for ruining the scripture.”

She wanted to ask how that was better than the usual days, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. “My mum died just a week before Christmas, and to celebrate it without her was awful. Winston was not manageable during those times,” she paused after the mention of her brother, and Laszlo saw a flash of pain in her eyes. “When he was locked up, that first Christmas, my father broke down, he felt he had broken his promise to my mother in keeping the family together. Even though I told him that he was not to blame for Winston’s actions, every year after, I could see the echo of pain in his eyes. This will be my first Christmas without any of them.”

Laszlo lifted his hand, unsure if he ought to reach out and comfort her, and knowing that she’d not only appreciate it, but that he’d have to get used being open with another, he placed a hand on top of hers, which rested on her lap. It was the right move to do, as it had made her smile and lean in to rest her head against his shoulder. Laszlo felt a small surge of pride in himself, he was doing better in showing intimacy and he liked it.

Having a party to plan helped to fill Evelina’s free time from the opera, but most importantly, it allowed her the chance to make a surprise for Laszlo. Thanks to her covert cleverness, she found out which children will be spending Christmas at the institute and with the permission of the staff, she managed to pull them together to work on a surprise for him. They nearly got caught once, Laszlo came back from a meeting a bit sooner than Evelina expected, but she managed to play it off well, saying that she had been bored and wanted to play the piano for the children.

Stevie proved to be rather helpful in preparing Christmas at Laszlo’s home and was more than happy to be commissioned by Evelina to help with the planning. He scoured out the best decorations and the best tree to have standing in Laszlo’s den, and when he was finished with it, even he could admit he did a rather fine job. There was one thing that Laszlo had a hand in the decorations, and it was the purchase of these new electric string lights, meant to replace candles, and it was a smart choice, and in Evelina’s words, magical. As Stevie was busy with the decorations, Evelina was off to work with the invites and the Isaacson Brothers were surprised to say the least but were still very pleased to be invited to such a party, knowing how much it meant to her. Sara had been the first unofficial guest invited and John most certainly was not one to pass up a party.

Christmas Eve arrived and Evelina dressed herself in her green and red velvet walking gown, truly getting into the spirit and went to the institute to see Laszlo. Many of the parents came to take their children home for the holidays and as much as it was a wonderful sight to see parents not forsake their little ones, it was doubly heartbreaking to see those few whose parents never came. It was Laszlo and Evelina’s special mission to make sure that they still received the experience that they would have had if they were home, even carrying on the duty of decorating the tree and great hall for the children to enjoy. Most of the staff could go home to spend it with their family, but there were a few who did not have a family of their own who stayed and happily joined in the festivities with the children.

Daylight had gone when was a surprise waiting at the front door, and who would have guessed that Santa would come and see the children of the Kreizler Institute? Watching John all dressed up as Santa was a delight, especially when the younger children climbed on his lap and gave “Santa” a hug and wished him a Merry Christmas. It didn’t take much convincing, for John thought it a wonderful idea and he could not say no to Evelina’s sweet intentions, even if it made him look a bit silly. Sara was the unofficial Mrs. Claus, dressed in her lovely green evening gown and many of the children loved going up to her and asking questions of the North Pole, truly convinced that she was indeed the wife of Santa. She watched John take in the children’s excitement with great stride and enjoyment and thought it the finest thing she had ever seen, and her heart swelled at the thought of him doing this for the children.

When John and Sara left, it was time to show off Evelina’s surprise. Gathering the children up, she sat at the piano and began to play. Laszlo watched with wonder and love as Evelina led the children in a most heavenly rendition of Ding Dong Merrily On High, the children looked so happy to be a part of something. He wasn’t even bothered by the religious overtones of the song; he just enjoyed the sweet voices that sang in perfect harmony and was touched to see that his love put so much effort into surprising him.

Soon, it got to be bedtime and the children were escorted back their rooms, eagerly awaiting Santa’s arrival and the staff to their rooms. Usually, Laszlo was the only one to take up the duty of stuffing the stockings and providing the children with gift, making sure each one got an equal amount from Santa. Evelina stayed with him and happily helped to stuff the stockings, despite her own sleepiness. It was an endearing sight, the pair of them on the floor, helping to stuff stockings and wrap presents.

“How long have you done this?”

“Ever since the institute was opened. It was quite sad to see those children left behind to have nothing, so I made sure to carry on the tradition of Santa. You may think that I do not agree with the idea of telling fantastical stories to children, but I think it is important in the development of a child. It stimulates their creativity as well as teaches them lessons.”

Evelina smiled and started with, “Don’t laugh, but I still believe in Santa. Oh, I don’t mean that there is an actual person who goes about in a flying sleigh and gives presents to all children around the world, but the idea of him. Do you remember back in September there was that article answering a little girl’s question of if there was a Santa? That article was a wonderful summation of how I feel about Santa. How there is someone who can be full of good cheer and selflessness and the possibility that we could be just like him. Like this, right now. The fact that you go out of your way to make sure these children have a merry Christmas, to never make them feel left out, it is very Kris Kringle of you. And I am sure you’d look dashing in red.” His deep blush only proved her right.

It was nearing midnight when they had finished and left the institute and despite the chill, they walked through the snowy streets, enjoying the calm and winter beauty. “I am sorry if this wasn’t what you had imagined you’d spend your Christmas Eve.”

“Indeed, it was far better than I could hope. To help give children a good time, to create magic and now walking home with you, it is wonderful.” The church bells tolled, and they stopped to listen to the lovely knells as it chimed Christmas day. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”

Laszlo smiled, knowing that she gave him at last an endearment. “Frohe Weihnachten, meine liebe.”

Laszlo came to pick up Evelina early on Christmas day so she could be at the institute before the children woke and watch with Laszlo as they opened their gifts from Santa as well as from Laszlo himself. She loved the glimmer in his eyes when looking at the children enjoying themselves, forgetting their woes and problems, glad to see that they would have a normal childhood that he never had. Once he was sure that the children were taken care of, the pair went off to enjoy Christmas themselves. It had been purely coincidental, but Laszlo wore his dashing green vest and tie while Evelina wore her lovely red satin dress, looking as if they had coordinated with the holiday and each other, anyone who didn’t know them would have been certain they were husband and wife.

The party was beginning at noon, giving time to everyone that was coming to enjoy their morning and get ready to spend it together. Sara had been the first to arrive, no surprise, the Isaacson Brothers came, Marcus brought along his dear Esther and her daughter, and then John. Laszlo had almost thought that all the guest had arrived, when Stevie entered and said, “We’ve got two more guests!”

Laszlo looked perplexed, for who else could come, and Evelina watched in amusement as his mouth fell agape as Cyrus walked in with his niece, Joanna, looking rather fine in their Sunday best. Laszlo jumped up from his seat and went to his old employee and friend. “Cyrus! How are you? I didn’t know you were coming.”

“No, but Miss Lind did. Stevie brought Miss Lind to my work and she had personally invited me to the party, as well as Joanna. It was wonderful of her to come to me personally.”

Evelina stood and warmly greeted Cyrus and Joanna. “I am so glad you came. Laszlo told me so much of you and I just had to properly get to know his dear friend.”

“And I am honored to know the woman who could convince him to throw such a party,” Cyrus laughed heartily.

Evelina had been a wonderful hostess, making sure everyone had been attended to, even making sure Stevie felt welcomed in the celebrations and had helped Lucius feel a bit more at ease with the help of Joanna, of which the pair seemed quite intrigued by each other. Laszlo watched in wonder of how she could manage to move around with grace, kindness and energy when he still had difficulty to be as open to those of whom he feels are his friends. He admired her and was honored to be the man of whom she loved above others.

The afternoon was spent playing games, Blind Man’s Bluff, Yes and No, and Charades. Laszlo had sat out of Blind Man’s Bluff, but allowed himself to be dragged into Charades and Yes and No. He was afraid of appearing to look ridiculous, but Evelina argued that everyone was doing the same, so they all looked the same amount of ridiculousness. The luncheon was informal, people made their own plates and sat around Laszlo’s den, like they all were old friends, and it was a kind of homey feeling that Laszlo had never felt before, it was warm, safe, good.

It would not be a good party without a mistletoe, at least according to John, who hung it over his friend’s head and teased that someone ought to kiss him or else he will. Evelina more than happily rose to the challenge, making it the second kiss that the pair had shared. She challenged John to hang it over his head and get a kiss, or else he’ll have to kiss the lizard at the institute, and just as she hoped, Sara decided to help him out by placing a chaste kiss to his cheek, but he turned on accident and the pair had kissed on the lips. The blush on their faces told so much and Evelina buried her face in Laszlo’s chest to try and stop her smile from being noticed, but she spotted something beyond him. Moving towards it, she couldn’t help but to admire the beautiful piano. Laszlo came up beside her and said, “You may play on it whenever you wish. It’ll be nice to see that old thing getting some use. I haven’t played in so long.”

“You played?” She had never known that Laszlo used to play, at least before the incident.

“Yes. I was quite good.”

“Better than good,” Sara interjected, coming in the conversation, hoping to escape her situation. “His name was in all the papers; he could have been a great pianist.”

“Why don’t we do gifts?” Evelina suggested, hoping to prevent Laszlo from falling into his darker thoughts, and she excitedly handed out her gifts. They weren’t expensive gifts, but they were heartfelt and personal to each, and that meant more than anything in the world, even Stevie, who hadn’t expected to get a gift and didn’t usually like to be sentimental, but even he couldn’t refuse the copy of An Anarchic Adventure by Jules Verne, his favorite author. Laszlo had received a copy of The Psychology of Emotions by Théodule-Armand Ribot, of whom Laszlo had been fascinated with.

Laszlo made himself go last, giving everyone incredible gifts; Stevie getting his very first shaving kit as he was now a young man, Esther and her daughter fine new dresses, to name a few, and lastly went to Evelina, giving her a box. When she opened it, it was a beautiful toiletry box, made of a dark wood and lined with pink velvet. Opening one of the drawers, she noticed two large and full bottles of her perfume, ‘Fantasia de Fleurs’. “Oh, Laszlo! This is too much! And on top of that, two bottles of my perfume?”

“It is not too much,” he countered, “And besides, it is for selfish reasons too, for I love your scent, perhaps a bit too much,” he admits with a blush across his cheeks. “No one else should buy this for you but myself.”

It was true; when she did first receive this, it was meant to be a bribe gift from one of the patrons at the opera, but she loved the scent too much to toss it away. To have Laszlo buy it for her not only was sweet, but intimate, and she liked that he felt way, wanting no other to buy her perfumes. Sara had been the one to inform which perfume it was and told Laszlo that she had mentioned about getting a box of her own, and he made sure to get the finest box with the two largest bottles so she wouldn’t have to.

The Isaacson Brothers had left with their guests and just before everyone was to go off on their own, Evelina made sure to have a few carols played and sung. John and Sara had quite nice voices which blended very well together, Cyrus deep and warm, and Joanna and Stevie wholeheartedly sang. Laszlo’s voice was not deep or powerful, but it was soft and comforting, and it sounded wonderful to hear him sing Silent Night in German, a request that Evelina had asked, and he did only for her. When he sang, all stopped and listened, and all Laszlo could see or know was Evelina, playing the piano, with a grace and power that reminded him of his youth. Instead of painful memories, it made him smile and happy.

Cyrus and his niece left to have dinner with their family, John to his grandmother’s, leaving Sara and Stevie to join Evelina and Laszlo to the opera for The Nutcracker. This had been Stevie’s first time to the opera and the wonder in his eyes was so enduring and how he watched as the story enfolded before his eyes. In the dark of the auditorium, Evelina had reached her hand over to Laszlo’s, and held it. He looked over at her and wordlessly, he thanked her for a wonderful Christmas.

The good cheer from Christmas continued to carry on for the next few days as New Year’s was approaching and for good reason. The New York government had made the decision to unite the five boroughs of the city to create what would be nicknamed “Greater New York” and it was a wonderful reason to celebrate.

It was a momentous occasion, one that Evelina wished to see and thanks to Laszlo’s influence, they managed to watch it all happen close by and safe away from the mad crowd and the pouring rain. As the New Year rang, everyone watched in wonder as fireworks blasted in the sky, cannons fired, steamboats blowing their horns and brass bands played their hearts out, for when the new year rang, the new flag had unfurled over city proclaiming it’s celebration, the birth of the City of New York.

“Oh, darling,” Evelina gasped, “Just think, we are lucky to have seen this happen. To see a city come together as one, it’s beautiful!”

Laszlo wrapped his arms around Evelina’s waist and placed his head in the crook of her neck as they watched the city celebrate outside, “1898 shall be a happy year. I am sure of it.” She turned her head and shared their third kiss but first kiss of their new year and turned back to watch the merriment.

It then struck him right then and there, something that he thought would never be possible, something he’d never have, and yet it was here in his arms, and he would not let it go so easily. Now, it was just the matter of asking the question.

Tagging: @monsieurbruhl​ @cazzyimagines​, @scuttle-buttle​, @violetmuses​ @flutterskies​ @sokoviandelights​ @rumblelibrary​ @fictionlandslanddreams​ @somethingthatsaysbubbles​ @alindeluce​  and @barnesxnobles

[scroll-of-thought]

Hi I'm a witch of 2 years and I have been trying out enchanting objects.So far it's good. Now, I have a present that I want to give to my sister for Christmas (I'm in the broom closet), and I want to enchant them to give her a successful relationship with her new boyfriend.Thing is enchantments can wear off, and I would like to know if there's a way to make it stick. For reference, the gift is salt and pepper shakers that are glass cats.I'm going for the two cats symbolizing them (a perfect duo)

Ah, this is another good question. Enchantment, like many other kinds of spells, can indeed wear off or generally run out of energy. There’s a really simple trick I use to keep them topped off and functioning. The general idea is to build in a recharging function. So a few days ago I made this post about a simple enchanting method using sigils to create the core concept of an enchantment. In summery, you make a sigil using your favorite method, converting a thought into a sentence, then into a symbol on paper. Then you use transfer that sigil to an object (not write it on the object, the object becomes the newest incarnation of the sigil), and now that object is enchanted with the sigil’s properties, because it IS the sigil.

Well, designing a sigil’s looks is only part of the process. For active sigils (oppose to passive sigil of chaos magic) you normally have to find a method of charging the sigil with energy and then cast the sigil using a separate trigger. This can be something as simple as sitting in the moonlight to gather energy then casting by touching it in your pocket. And these kinds of sigils can be recharged and used over and over again.

Similarly, jar spells are another kind of spell that can be recharged or reinvigorated by shaking, or adding more contents to the jar. They’ll last as long as you keep feeding them energy.

Simply put, you just need to design the spell to have a recharge function, like these other kinds of spells. An example I’ve used is I made a necklace for my partner. I designed it to take her anxiety, eat it as a fuel source, and give her clarity and calm in return. This spell never needs to be recharged because it’s takes energy from it’s surroundings and use it to cast the spell. If there’s no anxiety, the spell isn’t needed and lies dormant. Other recharge methods I’ve used are sun and moon light (you just leave the object out to gather light near a window), the heartbeat of the wearer, movement over distance (this was for a keychain that travels about 40 miles a day), and a bunch of other things.

The important parts of designing a spell with an automatic recharge and cast are to remember the following things.

Choose a recharge method that will be equivalent or greater to the effect of the spell, at least on a symbolic level. The owl necklace eat one strong emotion to produce a calmer one. The keychain eat movement to reduce lazing around and getting drunk. The heartbeat necklace was a protection charm, that felt heartbeats to provide future heartbeats.

Build in conditions and clauses into your enchantment. Once this thing is self perpetuating and sitting in your sister’s kitchen, it’ll be hard for you to break the spell if her and her boyfriend don’t work out a year or 10 down the road. You don’t want to accidentally keep them together if it would be better for them to mutually break up. Some things to consider would be:

What the spell should do if their relationship turns sour

When not to act (just as important as when to act imo)

conditions of who it should directly effect (any owner, just you sister and/or her bf, does it nullify if thrown out/lost and has no owner?)

Limits to how much energy the thing can take, and from where it’s allowed to take. You really don’t want to accidentally make a psychic vampire salt shaker. I like to include the concept of “excess” in my spell creations, with the specific definition of excess being “energy that would have otherwise gone to waste or not affected the outcome of events had it not been used to fuel this spell”

Build in a kill switch. If all else fails, you should create a connected spell specifically to tell it to stop functioning. I’ve done this in the past by pairing the object to a piece of paper with the name of the object on it. I tell the object to stop casting the spell if any part of the paper is burned or ripped/cut through the name written on the paper. This is an extra important one for any spell/enchantment that affects someone else’s life.

Self recharging and conditionally/constantly casting spells can be a very powerful and very awesome tool in your witchcraft, especially with things like enchantments on objects, but there’s a little more potential for danger, so make sure you take precautions and think through your spells.

So some methods specifically for your kitty shakers could be something like “the cat’s each representing the salt and spice of their relationship. Being used/the contents being shaken/the salt and spice passing through them charges them and promotes healthy communication and respect” but that doesn’t work so well if they’re just left unused. You don’t want them to go “oh, well they were too nice to use, so they just sit on the shelf” and then you get no charging. Maybe have it absorb the excess energy from their sharing a meal together, or preparing a meal for one another. So even if they’re sitting somewhere unused, they still get healthy energy from a healthy relationship. That’s definitely another condition you’ll want to think about since how they use them will be out of your hands, and you’re in the broom closet, so you can’t be like “Hey sis, I enchanted this to give you and your bf a fruitful relationship. Shake these little guys once a week at least.”

This is one of those things where you know your sister and the spell you’re going to make better anyone on the internet could guide you with, so take the example’s I’ve given and start designing. I’m always here if you need someone to bounce ideas off, brainstorm, or just want another pair of eyes to look it over and see if you missed anything. I hope this helped you out, and thanks for the ask!

[tinyboxxtink]

“The Man Of Your Dreams”

Y’all. Y’ALL. 

I was gonna make this a series but then I was like “Aw nah I can wrap it up neatly in one go”.

And that “one go” took 3 and 1/2 hours and 10 pages!!!!!!!! (on GoogleDocs anyway...) 

I went with my “keep dreaming about a man and then you go off to find him” idea.

The dating app one might be for a longer series, idk yet.

But this, this is my baby.

Like I said, I had this dream. Specifically the first and last scene. And ya’ll while I wrote the crescendo, I played Tyler Blackburn’s “Can’t Love Me.” Specifically starting at 2:11. I highly recommend playing it as you read from:

“Until out of nowhere--“Y/N???””

But that’s just me. I replayed that scene with the music about a thousand times in my head, I won’t lie to you.

I hope you love this as much as I do!!

Tag List

@wanniiieeee

@dumauier

@word-scribbless

@objection-argumentative

@chasingeverybreakingwave

------

“Oh no it’s happening again.”

“What?! No not now,”

“Yeah I feel it, the pulling,”

“Dammit! No no no…” He grabbed you on both of your sides and pulled you into his chest as tightly as he could, but you knew it wouldn’t help; You were fading, and the last words you hear were:

“I will find you!!” 

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

Suddenly, you woke up in your bed in a cold sweat. 

“Dammit...not again,” You shook your head. “No, no no no NO!!!!” You let yourself have a moment of breakdown, before immediately grabbing the pencil and giant pad of paper from under your bed. You had to get it down before it faded, again. The face, HIS face. You furiously filled in the lines on his face you had missed before, and you finally got the dimples on his mouth right. However, it was the eyes that drove you most insane.

Half filled in while the rest of his face was taking shape, his eyes were the one thing you could never quite get. Not that you hadn’t seen them enough, you had been having dreams about this man for over a month straight now. Every night, the same man. But it didn’t feel like dreaming, not in the slightest. It felt very much like being awake in this world, everything was so real.

He was so real.

And so, after a week of these “episodes”, you decided to yourself that this couldn’t be a coincidence, that it was NOT a mix of your subconscious making up scenarios in your head, it was real. This man existed somewhere, and you were going to find him. 

However the question of “How” was still very annoyingly present. Sure you and this man had talked about everything, seriously EVERYTHING. Likes, dislikes, career, life stories--- well, at least you were pretty sure you had.

 Some conversations in your dream world were completely crystal clear in your mind-- 

When he was six and all he wanted was a red bike, and come Christmas morning it wasn’t there. He had stormed around his mom’s apartment having a total temper tantrum until his abuelita asked him to check if she had left her keys out in the hall from last minute shopping. He opened the door to reveal a brand new, shiny red 10 speed bike propped against their doorway.

“We lived on the 10th floor, with no elevator. My mom and abuelita carried that thing up 10 flights of stairs just so I’d have a happy Christmas morning,” He had told you with tears in his eyes.

And then others, containing any real information about where to find him, were a blur. Specific details like his name, his job, even where he currently lived-- they sounded like garbled nonsense when you tried to recall them.

The Universe is a sadistic bastard.

But that conversation about the bike-- it was so specific and so detailed that there was no way your mind could have made it up. No way. But all you knew was that at some point in his childhood he lived with his mom and abuela in a 10th story apartment somewhere in New York City. That’s it. 

And one more thing that you couldn’t shake-- his touch. 

There had been a dream where he had asked to kiss you, to which you happily agreed. He had pulled you close into his arms, his hands ran through your hair as he pressed his lips against yours. And every dream since then, you two were always either holding hands or holding each other, or touching in any capacity-- as if you were both trying to memorize what it felt like.

Of course this still being “a dream”, a lot of the times your “dates” with this man were just playing out themselves, and you were blissfully unaware that they were even dreams. So you’d never think of asking “real” questions like where to meet or something. Only those few moments before you would wake would you realize “Oh that’s right, this isn’t real.” And by then it was too late.

But today was the day. You were sure of it. You had finally finished your drawing of your “dream man”, apart from the filled in eyes. Only an eyeline shaped hole rested in the middle of his perfect face. 

“Okay, that is just horrifying” You heard your roommate’s voice behind you.

“What? It’s perfect, Shi!” You defended your drawing. 

Sure you had hesitated telling your best friend of 10 years about your “situation”, but once you decided that you were going to find him, you knew you’d need her help. And so, after a very long conversation over a LOT of drinks, you had convinced her to help you. Well, reluctantly help you. 

“Well it’ll be no problem trying to find a guy with NO EYES,” She giggled.

“Shut up, I just...I can’t get them right,” 

“Can’t get them right? Girl have you or have you not told me that you have studied that man’s face EVERY night for the past 6 weeks?” 

“Yeah but….they’re so...perfect,” You sighed-- the gaping eye hole was mocking you. It was like the Universe saying “Good luck finding him without THESE!!!!” 

But you knew, you just knew in your heart of hearts that if you saw his eyes in real life, you’d know. You’d know instantly. You had this-- look, between you. The way he looked at you, the love and passion in his beautiful green eyes.

You couldn’t draw that on paper.

“Well just how do you expect us to make a “missed connection” flier with a demon looking guy like that?” 

“Look Shiloh, it’s a start ok?” 

“It’s not! You need those eyes, eyes are the most distinguishing trait on a person’s face!” She shook the paper at you.

“I know that!!!” you scoffed.

“Alright well...just, try again tonight yeah?” She put a hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah alright,”

----

The next night you did all the nightly rituals you had read and researched up on how to “lucid dream”. Eating certain foods, meditating before bed, repeating mantras as you fell asleep-- sometimes they helped you take control of the dreams, sometimes not.

But this has never happened.

-----------

You were suddenly “awake”, in a park. Wait, this wasn’t just some generic “Dream” park. You knew this park. You immediately started scanning the sights around you-- kids playing and running around, people talking on a fountain-- The fountain. You knew that fountain. Your eyes darted quicker around the scenic picture for a statute, and there it was.

This was Central Park. And not just Central Park, a very specific part of Central Park that you passed most days on your way to work. Could this just be the “coincidence” normal dream stuff seeping in? Just images of your day being played out in your REM cycle? I mean he wasn’t even--

“Dream girl,” His voice came from behind you. 

You spun to face the fountain and saw him in an off white cream colored suit, with a pink tie. His hair was in a coif, and for the first time maybe ever, you noticed him carrying a briefcase. 

“Hey you,” You smiled, pulling him into a long, deep kiss. 

“So, Central Park today huh? You know you could’ve told me that beforehand I wouldn’t have paid an Uber to drive --- blocks.” You noticed the blurb in his number. Wait, wait this wasn’t happening.

“Wait, what?” You were suddenly “awake” .

“My office? It’s just about ---- blocks that way,” He pointed forward-- South. 

His office was south from Central Park, only a few blocks away. Within walking distance.

“What else?” You grabbed him.

“What else? Baby are you ok…?” He backed up one step in concern.

“Dammit, snap out of it abogado!!!” You snapped at him, leaving you both in shock-- but for two different reasons. 

He was suddenly “awake” in this world too, but you had just called him a name in spanish that you did not know the meaning of.

“Since when do you know spanish?” He asked.

“It’s spanish? QUICK tell me what it means!!!” You shook him.

“Abogado means--” 

-----------

And he was gone. It was gone. You had been pulled suddenly from your dream world, something that had never happened before. It wasn’t even morning yet, the sun was barely peeking out from the skyline. You had never gotten that close to getting details from him, NEVER.

Maybe the Universe was catching on. 

You grabbed your phone from the charger beside you and furiously typed “Abogado” into google translate. And there it was, in black and white:

Lawyer.

This guy was a lawyer, who worked a few blocks south of Central Park. If he was real. You sighed to yourself as you put your phone down and went back to sleep.

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

And you were in the park again. 

“Hey, there you are! Where’d you go?” the “abogado” asked you with his dreamy smile. Wait, was he “asleep” again? And why did you pick up here? He knew you were gone? WAS THIS PLACE REAL?

“ABOGADO,” You shouted at him like a crazy person.

“...You don’t know spanish, why do you know-- Oh my god,” The man was suddenly cognizant of everything.

“Baby! Aw, baby girl I’ve missed you..” He pulled you into a kiss. You let him for a second, then pulled away quickly.

“Look, I don’t know what’s happening but this--” You gestured around the park. “This is near where I live. In reality,” 

His eyes widened as he recognized where you were. “This is a few blocks from my office-- in reality,” 

“Really? Really.” You were becoming frantic.

“I mean, if this is at all real, and you’re real--” He began looking around the park.

“I’M real, are YOU real?” You couldn’t believe he was questioning YOUR existence.

“I think the fact that we’re both questioning each other’s existence, might be either brain death or some kind of reality where we both do indeed exist,” He smirked.

“God you’re smart, why did I not know this before?”

“...I don’t know, we don’t really get into details usually, do we?” 

“No but now-- oh my god, NOW,” You grabbed him again excitedly.

“Now what? Oh, I love that guy’s suit…” He peered over your shoulder.

“Rafael will you FOCUS?” You both stopped and stared at each other as soon as the name left your lips.

“...I-I’m sorry, what?” He was turning pale

“Rafael...w-why did I just call you Rafael?”

“....Rafael’s my name,” He stared at you in disbelief. He actually looked shocked that you knew his name. 

“Y/N,” He finally spoke.

“Y/N is my name!!!!” You squealed. “This is happening, this is happening Rafael!!!!” You grabbed him in a hug but he still stood there in a daze.

“Oh god are you fading?” 

“N-No, I just...you have a name,” 

“...I..yeah?” You scrunch your nose. “Did...do...do you not think I’m real?” 

“No!” He shook his head. “I mean I do think you’re real, I just...this...this hasn’t happened before,” He stroked your cheek with his thumb, staring at it while he did it. Like he was memorizing the feeling of his skin on yours.

“I know, this is the most detailed “episode” we’ve ever had,” You pressed his hand harder against your cheek, memorizing the feeling of his hands over yours. 

“Tomorrow,” He stopped stroking your face and looked at you very seriously. 

“What?” 

“I-I feel it, I’m waking up-- damn early court time,” He grumbled. “But tomorrow-- er, today,” He grabbed both of your hands and squeezed them as hard as he could.

“If we are both real, we’ll meet here at this exact spot at 3:30 today, yeah?” You could see his body slowly disintegrating in front of you like Peter Parker at the end of Infinity War.

All you could do was nod as you felt yourself waking up, but you gave everything you had to grab him in one last kiss….

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

BEEP BEEP BEEEP!!!!!!

Your alarm was yelling at you, but you were already wide awake. Today was the day. Today at 3:30, in Central Park, you were going to meet your dream man.

If he was real. 

-------

The minutes passed by like hours, he would pick the day you have off so you could just sit there and stare at your phone obsessively all day. Of course after you had taken at least 2 hours to make sure you looked absolutely perfect for your man. 

You wanted to look like his dream girl. 

Finally, it was 3:20. Shiloh had come home early to walk with you to the park, there was no way she was missing this. You wanted enough time to make sure you’d be there exactly at 3:30, not a minute after. You held hands with Shi as you entered the park’s gates and just a few yards away was the fountain area you had been in last night. 

“So...this is it,” Shiloh dropped your hands.

“I know....What time is it?” You shuddered with excitement.

“3:29-- you know maybe he’s not a stickler for time like you and needs to be obsessively early everywhere babe,” 

“He’s a lawyer, they’re usually pretty punctual,” You raised an eyebrow. “Plus, if he’s as excited as I am he will be here on time,” You were bouncing on your heels like a little girl.

“Well, it’s 3:30 now…” You both began to look around the area. You had brought the drawing so Shiloh had an idea of who she was looking for, although she still deemed it impossible without his eyes.

“Y’know he said he had court today, maybe it’s further away from here,” You spoke out loud, still scanning every inch of the park. You didn’t know who you were trying to convince more, Shiloh or yourself.

Every second that passed by, your heart broke into teenier tinier pieces. You felt sick to your stomach, you were shaking-- you needed to sit. 

Shiloh came and joined you on the side of the fountain and held you in her arms as the park suddenly began filling very quickly. There was some sort of event happening soon, and people were getting “good seats”.

“Wh-What? No, no you guys can’t be here!” You frantically began circling people. “How is he supposed to find me if you’re all surrounding this damn fountain? HOW?!”

“Y/N….Honey, chill…” Shiloh tried to pull you away, but you jumped onto the fountain to get away from her as the area continued to fill with people, even police began to survey the area-- they stared at you, whispering things into their walkies. They were going to ask you to get down. They were going to ask you to leave. They were going to make you lose your chance forever--- and you couldn’t have that.

“RAFAEL!!!!!!” You started screaming into the crowd. Several members of the crowd began turning and staring at you as you repeated the name over and over again, walking around on top of the fountain as you did. 

“Are you nuts you’re going to get us arrested!!”  Shiloh hissed, pulling on your arm.

“I don’t care--- RAFAEL!!!!!” You knocked her hand away and started screaming again.

“Ma’am, you’re going to need to come with us,” A Park Ranger started for your hand but you evaded it as you continued circling and screaming like an insane person.

“NO!!! I CAN’T!!!!! HE’LL BE HERE!!!! RAFAEL!!!!!!”

-------

“I mean, are you SURE it was this end of the park, Rafa?” Olivia Benson circled the same spot her and Rafael had been walking around for several minutes now. 

“Yeah, I’m sure! There was a statue--”

“There are a LOT of statues in here, Rafa. Did you see anything else in this ‘dream’?” 

“Look Liv, I appreciate you coming with me even though you don’t believe in this at all, but the snarkiness is not helping,” He folded his arms with a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I’ll--” Olivia was cut off mid-sentence by her walkie going off. “Benson.”

“Yeah hi, this is the CP patrol-- We heard you were around here, and I think we’ve got a-- what do you call it, special victim? This girl’s running around crazy yelling for some dude, I think she might be a few circuits short of a circuit board,” 

“Where are you?”

“The South Entrance by Lootney Fountain,” As those words rang out through her walkie, Rafael’s eyes widened. 

“The fountain…” He muttered, beginning to sprint across the park. “I forgot about the fountain!!!!!!”

-------

The CP Patrol had gotten you off the fountain and were trying to calm you down, but you wouldn’t stop yelling Rafael’s name. Until out of nowhere--

“Y/N???”

You’d know that voice anywhere. You jumped out of the cop’s reach and back onto the fountain where you could see over the crowd. Your eyes frantically searched when you saw a man running towards the fountain; from across the park, and then you saw his face.

It was Rafael.

The second you locked eyes, you both just stopped moving entirely. You were pretty sure you had stopped breathing. You could see everything in those big beautiful green eyes you had the hardest time putting down on paper. You saw the same thoughts running through his head as yours:

He was real. You were real.

“Y/N!!!!!!” He finally yelled, making the crowd turn to face him. He disappeared into the sea of people as you jumped down and began tearing through them like mad. 

“RAFAEL!!!!” You screamed, knocking people over left and right. He was sprinting across the lawn, more desperate to get to you than anything in his entire life.

“Y/N!!!!!!” You heard his voice again, and this time it was so much closer. So crisp and clear, just like it was in your dreams-- But this was real. It was really happening. You gave one last push through a group of stragglers to come upon a man huffing and puffing in a cream colored suit, with a pink tie. But he seemed to lose all signs of fatigue as you hurled yourself into his arms-- his real, open arms. He spun you around and kissed you deeper and harder than he ever had in any of your encounters. 

And it was real.

You felt it even more than the most detailed of dreams, his taste, the feel of his touch, his smell. You stood there locked in a kiss for several seconds, while Olivia waved off the coppers and Shiloh had broken through the crowd to see your very real dream man.

Finally, after convincing yourself to pull away from him, you looked into his eyes. His real, green eyes. You stroked his cheek while he kept the tightest grip around your waist, as if you were going to float away if he let up one second. 

“You’re real,” You blinked back tears.

“So are you,” He held back his own tears, stroking yours away from your cheeks. 

“I love you, Rafael,” You whispered, still scared to death you’d wake up at any moment.

“I love you, YN-- my dream girl,” He smiled back, pulling you into another long kiss.

That night you had normal dreams, which you didn’t mind in the slightest; because you slept in the arms of the man of your dreams.

[thoughtbundle]

I hate the fact that you can’t see when someone is into you.

It sounds weird - I know.

Like I don’t trust that you have the ability to say “no” if a situation ever comes to that, but it’s so much more. So just.. Let me explain.

One of the reasons I fell in love with you, was because of how open, inviting and kind you are to everyone you meet. You don’t discriminate. You don’t shy away from new people or new experiences. You don’t close yourself off to the possibility of anything new. I fell in love with you partly for that, and even now, I still love you for it.

But people that don’t know you, even people that just don’t know you well, don’t know that you approach everyone like that. They don’t know that their appearence doesn’t matter. Their vibe or energy doesn’t matter. Their gender doesn’t matter. And this means one thing.

Every single girl that has ever found you attractive takes that kindness and interprets it as flirtation. They see themselves as an object of your kindness, and not you as simply being kind. They don’t see that your affection is towards the world and people in general, not just them specifically.

I know you tell them that you have a girlfriend, and I know you would never do anything to hurt me. I know I mean everything to you, and that you see your future with me. With our kids running around in the forrests beating trees with sticks, and our families bonding over christmas lunches and their grandkids birthdays - so I’m not worried that you’re gonna leave me. Please don’t ever think for a second that I doubt the words you tell me every single day. I don’t.

But those girls - the ones that suddenly find themselves hopelessly infatuated with you - they don’t know how deep our love goes. How solid a connection we have. How happy we are together. So while they know you already have someone in your life, they still find themselves hoping that you would leave me for them. I mean, you already treat them so well, and give them your undivided attention when they talk, and you don’t respond negatively to their flirtation, so surely they stand a chance, right?

They don’t know that you simply assume that every person is as open, inviting and kind as you. You don’t see what they’re doing as flirting, because why would you? That’s simply how people act when they’re in love with being alive.

And they don’t know you. So they assume they have a shot with you. I’m just an obstacle. A simple nuisance standing between them and the best guy they’ve ever met. And trust me, I get them. I would be heartbroken if I had to let go of you too. I don’t blame them for falling for you. I can’t. I also can’t blame you. You’re you, and I love you for that, don’t ever change.

But I have to admit.

I’m tired.

Of being seen as an obstacle to overcome. A nuisance to brush off. A hickup in their love story. And for that very reason, I cease being a person to them. I’m no longer a person with feelings, a life of my own, goals of my own. I’m simply in their way.

Do you have any idea how it feels to be disrespected like that?

To see someone flirting with you, and casting me glances telling me to go away? To have them ignore me and not even try to get to know me, because in their minds they’ll have won you over, and I’ll be gone soon anyway?

Have you ever felt that disrespected?

Right in front of the person you love? In front of the person who swears up and down that you’re the best thing that has ever happened to them. In front of a guy that doesn’t realize how horribly his “friends” think of his girlfriend?

I hate that part.

Because I can’t do anything about it.

You don’t see it. The blatant flirtation. The outright dismissal of our relationship. The complete and utter disregard for me as a person.

I can’t do anything about it.

I don’t want to change you. You should never change. You’re too good a person to have someone demand you change parts of yourself to fit better into someones world.

I doubt anything could make me confront you about it, because I don’t want you to think I doubt your feelings for me, or your loyalty. Because it will only come off as me not trusting you. But I trust you so damn much, and I don’t know how to communicate this without it coming off as trust issues.

I, in no way, shape or form wanna impose my insecurities on you, or make you feel like you are triggering some deep-rooted trauma in me simply by being yourself.

I love you.

But I hate this.

Feeling cast aside by every girl around you. Feeling like everyone sees me as temporary, and as someone you will move on from soon.

I hate constantly being on edge. And not because of anything you’re doing, but because the glances from those girls get to me - wether I want them to or not.

I don’t really enjoy spending my time expecting dirty looks from girls that have no idea who I am, and have no intention of even trying to get to know me. I don’t enjoy walking into a party, and seeing every girls smile falter as I walk in with you, or the tugging at my heartstrings to walk away from you because the glares and the cold shoulders become too much.

I hate feeling like I don’t deserve you simply because the girls that like you completely disregard me.

It makes me feel like a speck of dirt - or maybe even like nothing at all.

And it might still not make sense.

But I hate that you can’t see when someone is into you.

M.L.

[oswinpond]

Even after the new film, which certainly popularized Amy/Laurie in a way I’ve never seen before, I keep hearing a lot of the same old arguments: “Laurie never stopped loving Jo”, “Laurie didn’t really love Amy”, “Amy was a second choice/consolation prize”, “Jo should’ve been with Laurie” etc. And a lot of these people claim this is book canon. As I’ve just reread the book, I’ve got a lot of thoughts on all of this... 

(Note: This is all purely based on book canon.)

In the book, after Amy harshly scolds Laurie, he decides to go back to London and work for his grandfather to better himself. At first, he thinks he’s doing it for two reasons: Amy despises him and that hurts him, but also the idea that if he does something “splendid” Jo may love him (or at least respect him, as Amy put it). 

So Laurie decides to write a requiem for Jo “which should harrow up Jo’s soul and melt the heart of every hearer”. But he can’t come up with anything because he keeps humming the dance music reminiscent of the Christmas ball in Nice which he spent devoting himself to Amy all evening. So then he tries to compose an opera with Jo as his heroine, but it doesn’t work. “He wanted Jo for his heroine, and called upon his memory to supply him with tender recollections and romantic visions of his love. But memory turned traitor; and, as if possessed by the perverse spirit of the girl, would only recall Jo’s oddities, faults, and freaks, would only show her in the most unsentimental aspects.” 

Jo no longer fits as his heroine, no matter how hard he tries. So he gives up on that, and his imagination promptly comes up with another heroine for him without even trying: 

“This phantom wore many faces, but it always had golden hair, was enveloped in a diaphanous cloud, and floated airily before his mind’s eye in a pleasing chaos of roses, peacocks, white ponies, and blue ribbons. He did not give the complacent wraith any name, but he took her for his heroine and grew quite fond of her, as well he might, for he gifted her with every gift and grace under the sun, and escorted her, unscathed, through trials which would have annihilated any mortal woman.”

While Laurie doesn’t realize it, the woman he’s imagining is Amy. Amy with the blue ribbons in her golden hair, who put roses in his buttonhole, who he watched feed the peacocks in Paris, and who he first saw again in a carriage drawn by ponies. It’s also a little prophetic, as he does escort the real Amy through future trials. (Bonus: at the same time, Amy spends her time sketching some faceless man who clearly resembles Laurie, but she doesn’t realize it either.)

Contrary to what some in the fandom would claim, Laurie isn’t at all forcing himself to love Amy just so that he can be part of the March family. He doesn’t even realize that she’s become the “heroine” in his story, that she’s the woman he’s fantasizing about. He thinks he’s doing this to improve himself for Jo, but it’s Amy that’s inspiring him. 

And then Laurie realizes that his feelings for Jo are disappearing:

“Laurie thought that the task of forgetting his love for Jo would absorb all his powers for years, but to his great surprise he discovered it grew easier every day. He refused to believe it at first, got angry with himself, and couldn’t understand it [...] Laurie’s heart wouldn’t ache; the wound persisted in healing with a rapidity that astonished him, and instead of trying to forget, he found himself trying to remember. He had not foreseen this turn of affairs, and was not prepared for it. He was disgusted with himself, surprised at his own fickleness, and full of a queer mixture of disappointment and relief that he could recover from such a tremendous blow so soon. He carefully stirred up the embers of his lost love, but they refused to burn into a blaze: there was only a comfortable glow that warmed and did him good without putting him into a fever, and he was reluctantly obliged to confess that the boyish passion was slowly subsiding into a more tranquil sentiment, very tender, a little sad and resentful still, but that was sure to pass away in time, leaving a brotherly affection which would last unbroken to the end.”

This passage alone pretty much puts to rest the idea that Laurie never got over Jo. He actually got over her so easily and quickly that he felt disgusted with himself, thinking this made him fickle. His romantic feelings are gone, and soon will leave only a “brotherly affection” when the last of the hurt is gone as well. Maybe he got over her so easily because he simply mistook his strong bond with her for romance, or maybe it was just a rash and immature first love that was never going to last long anyways, or whatever else... point being, he got over her.

And Laurie was actually trying, and failing, to rekindle any love for Jo (unlike his unconscious growing feelings for Amy, which he wasn’t pushing for at all). As a last ditch attempt to revive that love, he writes to Jo asking if she was sure about her refusal, and when she responds that she absolutely could never love him that way, he accepts it without sadness or complaint this time. He’s already over her, so there’s nothing to be heartbroken over. That was his closure. He takes off the ring she gave him and locks it away with her letters, and that’s that. 

And that’s when he’s ready to open his heart to Amy. He starts corresponding with her so often their letters are flying back and forth constantly. He wants to go back to her, but he doesn’t want to until she asks; she finally does after she hears about Beth’s passing, and Laurie immediately drops everything to go to her “with a heart full of joy and sorrow, hope and suspense” (and this is after he knows she’s turned down Fred, so we know what he’s hoping for now). Amy is his first priority after Beth dies, even though Beth was dearest to Jo. Laurie meets Amy in Switzerland and, without saying anything, they both know their relationship has changed. 

They spend weeks doing everything together and spend all their time out at the lake. Despite the sad tidings, they wind up being their happiest together in Vevey. They both know that they’re in love with each other without even having to say it (they really seem to develop an unspoken communication at this point). And while Laurie knows that she’ll say “yes” to his proposal, he’s still nervous so he puts it off to enjoy his time with Amy in Switzerland. He imagines proposing to her in the chateau garden at moonlight, but instead blurts it out while they’re on a lake in the middle of the day:

Feeling that she had not mended matters much, Amy took the offered third of a seat, shook her hair over her face, and accepted an oar. She rowed as well as she did many other things; and, though she used both hands, and Laurie but one, the oars kept time, and the boat went smoothly through the water. “How well we pull together, don’t we?” said Amy, who objected to silence just then. “So well that I wish we might always pull in the same boat. Will you, Amy?” very tenderly. “Yes, Laurie,” very low. Then they both stopped rowing, and unconsciously added a pretty little tableau of human love and happiness to the dissolving views reflected in the lake.

And there’s so much to say about this little scene. While he had to beg and argue with Jo just to finally accept her firm “no”, he just has to ask a simple question with Amy and he gets his simple answer because they’re on the same page. The rather blunt metaphor of rowing well together, even when he uses one hand and she uses two, is all about how despite their differences they work. They keep time. And it calls back to Jo’s talk with Marmee where they both agree that Jo and Laurie never would’ve worked, in part because their similarities would clash horribly in a romantic relationship (but mainly because , y’know, Jo never once felt a single shred of romantic love for Laurie). 

Now, I can understand where people come from thinking Laurie was “replacing” Jo with Amy with lines like "Laurie decided that Amy was the only woman in the world who could fill Jo’s place and make him happy”. I get how this can be interpreted as Amy filling in for what was meant to be Jo’s place in his heart. But it makes a lot more sense in the context of Laurie’s speech to Jo towards the end when he explains his feelings:

“I never shall stop loving you; but the love is altered, and I have learned to see that it is better as it is. Amy and you changed places in my heart, that’s all. I think it was meant to be so, and would have come about naturally, if I had waited, as you tried to make me; but I never could be patient, and so I got a heartache. I was a boy then, headstrong and violent; and it took a hard lesson to show me my mistake. For it was one, Jo, as you said, and I found it out, after making a fool of myself. Upon my word, I was so tumbled up in my mind, at one time, that I didn’t know which I loved best, you or Amy, and tried to love you both alike; but I couldn’t. And when I saw her in Switzerland, everything seemed to clear up all at once. You both got into your right places.”

Laurie didn’t settle for Amy. Amy took Jo’s place in the sense that they swapped places in how he saw them, from romantic to platonic for Jo and vice versa for Amy. And those wound up being their “right” places. He believes he was always meant to fall in love with Amy and see Jo as his sister, and that he would’ve gotten to this point naturally even if things had played out differently.

I’ll admit I wasn’t a fan of how the 2019 film portrayed Jo in this situation, because in the book she was absolutely thrilled for Laurie and Amy, and is happily surprised when Marmee tells her she’d been hoping for them to fall in love. But in the film, they take her sadness over her loneliness too far IMO, and make it seem like she was actually bitter over Amy and Laurie being together, which unfortunately fuelled the “Amy stole Laurie from Jo” crowd a bit. And after her conversation with Marmee where she admits that she only wants Laurie because she longs to be loved, and Marmee points that “that isn’t the same as loving”, this makes movie!Jo seem “silly and selfish” as book!Jo puts it (because in the book, that was only a “what if” she entertained and never wrote any letter). 

Anyways, to conclude on all of this, when Amy and Laurie are married at and home, we get the thoughts of other characters on their relationship, and the unanimous opinion is that they’re completely in love and happy with each other. Jo herself insists that their happiness will for sure last, and notes how proud Laurie seems to be to call Amy his wife. Laurie, meanwhile, can’t stop talking about Amy through to the end (and Amy is clearly just as smitten). I dare you to read the last half of Part 2 and not find Amy and Laurie adorable together. 

And to hammer that last nail in the coffin on Jo/Laurie as a romance, we get Laurie meeting Professor Bhaer. It’s specifically noted that while Laurie is suspicious of Bhaer and notices his interest in Jo, it was “not of jealousy” but a “brotherly circumspection”. Amy even asks him if he’s at all jealous and Laurie tells her “I assure you I can dance at Jo’s wedding with a heart as light as my heels. Do you doubt it, my darling?” and it says that Amy’s “last little jealous fear vanished forever”. Laurie actually winds up happily supporting Bhaer once he sees he’s a great guy for his sister Jo, and suggests to Amy that they should try to help them out as a couple.

So no, Jo never loved Laurie romantically, Laurie absolutely did get over Jo, Laurie and Amy are so happy together it’s almost obnoxious, Jo is pro-Amy/Laurie and Laurie is pro-Jo/Bhaer, and Amy wasn’t a second choice, she was Laurie’s “meant to be” by his own words.