#there's so much good SHIT in that book! there's so much!!

[kinkyfignewtons]

Love this post. So much of the discourse about gender essnetialism in queer spaces is applied unevenly. There's an active discourse about backrooms and bathhouses being gender essentialist because the way in which they go about it is de jure. They just straight up exclude people by gender marker on license or looks. That's some whack shit and I'm glad for it getting called out. However, there's so much de facto application of exclusion in other queer spaces and it seems ironic for folx who are usually good at recognizing that institutions don't need to have a gender essentialized rule on the books to create an environment that essentializes gender.

queer people on this site really make me feel like a confused straight guy at pride. the discourse here could kill a man

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 21

Word Count- 8.4k

Warnings- UNEDITED SUE ME- It's 4 AM and I’ve been working on this for the past 5 hours. Swearing, blood, stabbing, reader threatening to off herself with a spoon (idk man), death of a background character, Klaus, Stefan.

“AHHHH,” A loud scream escapes my mouth and I grab the closest thing to me and throw it.

“I’m happy to see you as well, Y/n.”

Elijah?

 I blink rapidly as I try to calm my racing heart. I stare wide-eyed at the suited Original before me, and he smiles back at me. His eyes drop momentarily and something shifts in his gaze.

“Maybe you should change, and then we’ll discuss it, " Elijah says, turning to my desk and sitting in my chair as if he owned the place.

I frown in confusion at what he meant but as I glance down at the bright pink towel that is covering my wet body I freeze.

 “Oh my god!”

I tighten my grip on my towel and run towards my closet. I squeeze into my tiny closet and shut the door. As I’m trying my hardest to put any clothing on my body, I swear I can hear Elijah laugh to himself from outside the door.��

As soon as I think my body is covered I take a deep breath. Elijah is in my bedroom. ELIJAH IS IN MY BEDROOM.

Deep breaths Y/n.

I release a shaky breath and open my closet door. I can feel my heart practically jump out of my chest when I lock eyes with Elijah as he smiles softly at me. His gaze drifts down and his soft smile turns into a shit-eating grin. 

“Is that so, Elskan,” Elijah asks me with humor in his voice and I frown.

“What?”

Elijah doesn’t say anything but he nods towards my shirt. I don’t understand what’s funny until I realize what shirt I’m wearing. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I say as I glance down at the shirt Theo bought for me for my birthday. The shirt that says, in big bold letters “Say Perhaps to Drugs.”

“I don’t do drugs,” I exclaim and then gesture to the door, “My brother got this for me and I knew I’d never wear it so I put it in the back of my closet but it was dark in there and so I must’ve just grabbed this.”

Elijah and I stared at each other for a moment after I got done rambling. Elijah seems to be finding everything incredibly entertaining though as his smile hasn’t dropped this entire time.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead,” I blurt out and his smile drops for a second but returns a moment later.

“I’ve been dead for a millennium, Elskan,” Elijah retorts and I glare at him.

Elijah clears his throat and straightens out his suit jacket, “You’re… acquaintance Damon took the dagger out of me. I’m to meet him tomorrow morning.”

My eyebrows furrow, “Demon, helped you? I didn’t know he was capable of that?”

Elijah releases a sigh, “You are not the only one.”

I stare at the Original in front of me, well more like ogle. Not much has changed since the last time I saw him, he’s still got his god-like bone structure, expensive-ass clothing, and beautiful dark eyes. What has changed though is the new haircut, instead of the middle part, he’s now sporting a somewhat spiky shorter hairdo. And it pisses me off just how good he makes it look. 

“You got a haircut,” I state the obvious as I sit on the edge of my bed. 

“Um,” I watch as Elijah fixes a stray hair of his, “I just had it done, it’s something different,” I have to bite back a smile at Elijah’s sudden awkwardness. 

“I like it,” I blurt out and Elijah instantly looks up at me. 

“You do?”

The smile I was holding back peeks through at the look on his face. Elijah has the same look on his that a dog has when you wave a tennis ball in front of its face. 

“I mean the middle part was nice, but you have the facial structure to pull this off too, so you know,” I gesture to his cheekbones and can feel my face warming up. 

“My facial structure,” Elijah questions and I want to die in a hole when I see his smirk.

I glare at Elijah and he smiles and then glances down at the book in his hands. When I realize he’s holding Fifty Shades of Grey my eyes widen.

“How did you get that?!”

Elijah glances up at me and smirks again, “I believe you just threw it at me.”

My eyes widen as I realize that the book is what I threw at him when I came into the room. 

“So this is the literature that you were telling me about?”

My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water at Elijah’s questions. 

“That’s not mine.”

Elijah raises an eyebrow, “It’s not?”

I shake my head, walk over to him, and reach out my hand for him to give me the book, “Nope. Just holding it for a friend.”

Elijah stares up at me with a smile and I feel a twisting in my stomach at the bright look in his eyes.

“Have you read it then?”

My face seems to be getting hotter at his question and I quickly shake my head, “Nope. Have you?”

Elijah places the book in the palm of my hand and I clutch it to my chest. 

“I prefer the real thing.”

I release an abnormal sound at his comment and feel my heart stop.

“The real thing?”

Elijah smirks so hard that a small dimple is shown on his cheek, “You know, real literature. Not that,” He gestures to the book with his hand, “thing.”

]I release a deep breath, “Oh.”

Elijah nods his head and then raises an eyebrow at me, “What did you think I was talking about?”

I squint my eyes at him and then shake my head rapidly, “Same thing as you. Exactly the same thing. Um,” At the knowing look on Elijah’s face, I fight back a growl. 

“How did you get in my house,” I ask, trying to change the subject. 

Elijah seems to realize this as he lets out a small breathy laugh, “Your mother, is quite the inviting woman. I told her I was writing my book about Mystic Falls and that I was working on a chapter about people who’ve moved to Mystic Falls and she was quite excited to tell me her story.”

At the mention of my mother, a dark feeling washes over me and I clench my fists. 

“Elskan? Is everything alright?”

I rub my shoulder and nod my head, “Peachy. Also, why are you here,” I turn to face him and he looks at me wearily. 

“I’ve been gone quite a while. Not that I wanted to be, for the record. I know that my brother has been in town and I wanted to…needed to make sure you’re okay.”

My eyebrows furrow as he watches me. 

“I’m fine, Elijah.”

“You don’t look fine, Y/n,” Elijah stands up and fixes his suit.

“Ouch,” I bite out sarcastically.

Elijah shoots me a look and shakes his head, “That is not what I mean, Elskan. There will never be a day in my immortality that I think you look anything other than ethereal, but… it’s in your eyes. Before I left you, you had a softer look in your eyes. But now… I’m not sure, but I know something has changed. What’s happened since I’ve been gone, Y/n?”

What’s happened since Elijah was daggered in front of me? Well…

I became besties with a vampire who was hired by his brother to stalk me. 

I got shot. 

Found out my dad, isn’t my dad.

Moved out and moved in with Damon, who is kind of one of my closest friends now.

I keep having tiny heart attacks.

My brother knows about the supernatural. 

I got kidnapped by Stefan and was saved by his brother.

Klaus. In general. Klaus kissing me. Yup.

“Um… not much. You know, average Mystic Falls stuff.”

Elijah still stares at me like he doesn’t believe me, “Y/n-”

“Have you seen your brother yet?”

Elijah quickly stops his talking at my interruption and his upper lip twitches.

“Momentarily.”

I blow out a breath at his lack of answer and sit in the chair he was once sitting in. 

“I’m going to guess that you two didn’t hug it out?”

Elijah walks over to my bookshelf and runs a finger over the spines of a few of my books. 

“My brother is not someone I’d like to discuss right now. Or really at any time.”

“Then what do you want to discuss,” I question as I lean back into my chair. 

Elijah turns back to glance at me, “You. I’ll always want to discuss you.”

I roll my eyes at the comment, “Nothing is interesting about me to talk about.”

Elijah walks over to me and leans against my desk. Our knees are touching and it seems to be the only thing I can focus on. I look up to Elijah and it seems I’m not the only one. Elijah’s eyes go from our touching knees to looking down at me.

“I find that incredibly doubtful, Elskan.”

I let out a light scoff but can’t stop the smile that makes its way onto my face as I look at the man. He looks back at me but this time his attention is on my lips and I swear I can see a hint of pink gracing his cheeks. 

“What do you want to know?’’

Elijah quickly clears his throat and glances up to meet my eyes, “I know you have a younger brother, Theodore, how is your relationship with him?”

At the mention of Theo’s legal name I let out a laugh, “Don’t let him hear you calling him that. But…Theo’s,” I stop and smile when I think of my annoying little brother, “He’s my everything. Don’t tell him I said that or it’ll go right to his head, and he doesn’t need anything else to build his ego. But… before when I didn’t have any friends and was pretty much alone,” I stop and clear my throat, “Theo was the only one who grounded me. He didn’t care that I was a loser, it didn’t stop him from protecting me from bullies at school or sitting with me at lunch when I had no one else. He’s my buddy and best friend.”

Elijah smiles softly at me and nods his head, “I’ll have to remember to thank him for protecting you.”

I quickly shake my head, “Please don’t. Big ego and all that.”

Elijah laughs and I feel that weird turning in my stomach. 

“Oh! Speaking of siblings, I met your sister.”

At the mention of Rebekah, Elijah furrows his brows, “You’ve met Rebekah?”

I nod, “Ya. She’s…something.”

Elijah shoots me a look and I continue, “Well, she’s nothing like you. I’d definitely say she’s more like Klaus. But unlike Klaus, she’s… I don’t know. Before Elena daggered her I could have seen myself being friends with her.”

“Yes, my little sister is quite the character,” Elijah frowns and narrows his eyes at me, “You said, unlike my brother… since I’ve been gone, have you and him,” Elijah picks at an invisible piece of lint on his shoulder, “discussed much?”

At the mention of Klaus, I go still.

“Y/n?”

I look up to Elijah who is eyeing me wearily, “Me and Klaus? I mean Klaus! Because there is no me and Klaus! It’s just Klaus!”

Elijah’s eyes narrow even more and I look away and glance at my hands. 

“I mean he hasn’t killed me so that’s something,” I say casually trying to cover up the mess I just spilled out. 

I hear Elijah let out a growl and he grabs my chin to make me look up to him, “Tell me now, Y/n. Has my brother done anything to harm you? If he has I swear to whatever Gods are out there I will-”

“Dude chill,” I move my face out of his hand and stand up.

“Klaus hasn’t hurt me,” I think about my friends, “At least not physically. Him torturing my friends has been kind of emotionally draining. But, no. Klaus, he’s been a nuisance but he’s not been horrible.”

Elijah and I watch each other, well more like I watch him and he accesses me. 

“You’re being truthful with me, right Elskan?”

I nod my head and let out a dramatic yawn, “Yup, totally. God, what is the time? I’m pooped.”

Elijah shoots me a look and then rolls his eyes dramatically.

I raise an eyebrow at him and smirk, “If you keep rolling your eyes like that, you’re going to start looking like me.”

Elijah's tense shoulders loosen and he smiles at me and gestures to my bed, “How tragic that would be. Lay down, Elskan.”

I raise an eyebrow and laugh, “Why? Are you going to tuck me in and read me a bedtime story?”

Elijah walks over to me so he’s about a foot away from me, “I don’t see why not. You’ve got plenty of literature for me to read to you,” He looks back to Fifty Shades which is still sitting on my desk. 

“I would rather die,” I blurt out. 

Elijah laughs and picks up the edge of my comforter. He gestures for me to lay down and I bite back a smile as I do. 

I get under the covers and Elijah places the comforter back down. We stare at each other for a moment before Elijah leans down. I suck in a breath and close my eyes. When I feel Elijah’s lips place a kiss on my temple I let out a sigh. 

“Goodnight, Elskan. I’ll be seeing you very soon.”

—-

My father’s in transition.

I stare blankly at the text from Caroline as I read it over and over again. 

Excuse me?

Meredith Fell gave him blood and he died with it in his system. 

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Ok. Should I meet you at the hospital? I can leave now????

I stare at the three dots as I wait for Caroline to finish typing. After what seems like forever I finally get a response. 

No. Elena is on her way. Just wanted to keep you updated. 

As soon as I read the text I pull out Elena’s contact and type out a message.

WHAT THE HELL????!!! Who killed Caroline’s dad?????

We’re not sure yet. There is someone going around killing council members. Sheriff Forbes said they were killed with one of the stakes from Ric’s collection. I’ll update you later. Stay safe<3

I sit on the edge of my bed, mouth wide open as I stare at the bomb drop that is this text message. Does Mystic Falls have a serial killer? What the fuck am I thinking?! Of course, it does, because what else could be more fucked up about this god-forsaken town!?? 

I throw my phone on my nightstand and run across the hall to Theo’s room. I throw open his door and my little brother lets out a squeal.

“Jesus woman! Knock first! I could’ve been indecent,” Theo says as he tightens his silk robe around himself dramatically. 

“When have you ever been decent in the first place,” I place my hand on my hip and glare at him.

Theo gives me an offended look.

“Also, Mystic Falls now has a serial killer,” I drop the bomb and Theo blinks at me for a few moments.

“Repeat that one more time for me,” He gestures to his right ear.

“Serial. Killer. Mystic. Falls. Stay. Inside.”

Theo nods for a moment before turning around and running towards his phone, “Leave now woman, I must tell my precious baby boy about this.”

I roll my eyes and watch as my pathetic brother dials up Jeremy’s phone number.

“You’re welcome.”

—

For the rest of the afternoon, I tried to do anything to keep me busy. I tried painting, but couldn’t paint anything. I tried reading, but couldn’t focus on the words. I even tried yoga, and now I have pains in my lower back. 

To say I pretty much jumped when my phone finally rang is an understatement.

“Hello! What’s going on!?”

“Woah, Pukey. Glad to know you’re finally excited to hear from me,” Demon’s sarcastic voice comes through on the other end. 

“You’re not who I was hoping it would be,” I groan.

“And who were you hoping? A certain Original maybe? Not sure which one you were hoping for though. We need to have another movie night so you can update me on your latest conquest.”

“What the hell are you gabbing about now, Demon?”

“Oh you know, a certain suited Original. Or maybe his younger brother who just happened to save your life the other night. Just between us girls, which one is currently tickling your fancy?”

I tighten my grip on my phone, “I’m hanging up.”

“Wait! I have a favor to ask,” Damon stops me from ending the call.

I sigh, “What is it now?”

“I need you to get yourself all dolled up and make your way to the big bad wolf’s house at 8.”

At the idea of seeing Klaus, I freeze up.

“Pukey?”

I shake my head, “That’s not happening, Damon. Deal with him on your own.”

“Y/n, come on. Help a friend out.”

“We’re not friends,” I retort.

“Lovers?”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

“I just love your dirty talk. It amazes me how you’re still single,” Damon’s sarcastic response has my upper lip twitching. 

“I’ll help you stab Stefan with a fork if you come.”

I look back to my closet, “Eight, you said?”

— 

I let out the biggest sigh possible as I stared at the huge mansion in front of me. I then groan when the fabric of my short dress rides its way up my thighs. 

After I got off the phone with Damon I went to my closet to find something to wear. I then realized that the only nice clothing I had was the clothes that Alastair bought for me. And as much as I hate saying it, he does have pretty good taste in fashion. 

As I try to pull down the short hem of my black lace dress though, I’m not realizing he isn’t the best at guessing women’s sizes. Every time I pull my dress down so I cover half my thigh, the tiny spaghetti straps holding the dress up pull down farther to give an ample view of my chest. Fantastic. 

I make my way up the stairs and I just have to keep reminding myself that I’ll get to stab Stefan. When I reach the huge front door I let out a deep breath and knock on it with my shaking hand. 

Not even a moment later a blonde woman in a gold dress answers the door, “Can I help you?”

I stare at her confused, “Um, I’m here for a dinner party?”

The woman stares at me blankly and nods her head, “Of course. Right this way,” she says to me in a monotone voice, and I’ve concluded that she’s most likely been compelled.

The blonde woman leads me through the house and into a large room where Damon, Elijah, Klaus, and Not-Yoda are conversing. They’ve all noticed my arrival now but I just stare at Damon hoping he’ll take the lead on this one. 

“There’s my girl,” Damon loudly says as he hops up the steps to me and reaches out his arm for me to take, “I was wondering what was taking you so long.”

I shoot Damon a questioning look at his odd behavior but as I look at the other three men’s surprised faces I’m concluding that they didn’t know I was coming. 

“Elskan, I…,” Elijah stares at me as his eyes move quickly over me and I bite my lip in embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry for crashing your party,” I gesture towards the door, “I’m just going to leave.”

“Wait,” Elijah calls after me and I watch as he climbs the steps to where Damon and I are standing, “Please, join us.”

I look down at Elijah who has his hand raised for me to take, then to Damon who has a smirk on his face, then to Stefan who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, and then to Klaus. The hybrid is sitting in a chair closest to the wall, from his casual posture someone would think he’s in a good mood but as he raises a glass of red liquid to his lips, but as his dark blue eyes meet mine, I can see the dark fire burning underneath his surface. 

And that’s when I realize, Elijah may want me here, but his younger brother certainly doesn’t. 

  “Y/n?”

I look away from Klaus and back to Elijah who is looking at me expectantly. 

“Um, ya. If that’s alright with you,” I take my arm out of Damon’s and place my left hand into Elijah’s. He slightly tugs me away from Damon with a smile on his face. But as I come almost chest to chest with him his smile drops and dark looks cover his face. A sick feeling builds in my stomach as Elijah drops my hand and grabs my shoulder. I frown, in confusion, but when his thumb grazes my gunshot scar I tense up.

“What happened here,” Elijah’s usually light voice drops into something that makes me want to crawl into a ball and hide. When I look up at him though, I realize he wasn’t asking me, instead he was asking the other men in the room. 

Elijah’s hand hasn’t left its position on my shoulder as he glares at the three men in the room. 

“I suggest one of you answer me, now.”

“She was shot,” Damon answers for the other two men. 

Elijah’s thumb stops its grazing and his gaze goes from my scar to Damon. 

“Who did it?”

At Elijah’s harsh tone, Damon shoots me a look and I shrug. 

“It was an accident,” Damon tries to joke. 

Elijah doesn't seem to find it funny though as a low growl escapes him, making me flinch back. 

“Brother,” Klaus practically growls at his older brother. 

Elijah’s gaze quickly turns to me and his dark look drops as soon as he makes eye contact with me. 

“Elskan,” Elijah takes a step towards me and I take a step back towards Damon. 

The look of utter heartbreak on Elijah’s face makes something deep inside me break as he lowers his hand that is outstretched for me. 

“Can we just get this dinner over with,” Stefan interrupts us with his annoyed tone. 

I turn my gaze to the asshole but can still feel Elijah’s eyes on me. 

“That would be great,” Damon says and slowly gestures for me to go in front of him. 

I nod and start to walk towards the table when I realize there are only four chairs. 

“Oh.”

“Here let me, Elskan,” Elijah quickly says and goes to the edge of the room grabs a chair, and places it at the table. He stands behind it and gestures for me to sit down. I smile at him and nod in thanks. This seems to bring back his mood as his eyes lighten at my acknowledgment. 

After I sit down, Elijah seats himself in the chair to my right. I then look to my left and realize that Klaus is seated right beside me. 

A girl dressed in the same gold one as before places a plate and silverware in front of me but almost all of my attention is on Klaus. Who seems to not even care to recognize my existence. I mean why should I care though? Right?

—

“You lost your appetite. Eat,” Klaus Says to Stefan who is sitting directly across from us.

 Damon chastises his little brother, “I thought we agreed to leave the grumpy Stefan at home.”

I roll my eyes as I pick at the mashed potatoes on my plate. We’ve been sitting for maybe 5 minutes and yet Stefan has already found a way to ruin the night. 

Stefan gives his brother and Klaus a fake smile before picking at the food on his plate.

“That’s the spirit,” Klaus smirks. 

“Wine, Miss?”

I turn my shoulder to one of the waitresses who is holding out a bottle of wine. I shake my head.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink.”

The girl nods her head and then walks over to Klaus and offers him wine.

“You don’t drink?”

My attention turns to Elijah who is leaning towards me with an interested look on his face.

I shake my head, “I’m not 21.”

Elijah smiles at me, “I know that. But, if you wanted some, I’m sure no one here would tell the authorities.”

I look at the glass of wine in front of Klaus and a wave of nausea rolls through me, “No. I’m good with my water. Thanks,” I smile and hope he drops the subject. 

Thankfully Klaus loves hearing himself speak. 

“Isn’t this nice,” He asks us, “The five of us dining together. Such a treat. Is this what you had in mind when you pulled the dagger out of my brother?”

I let out a low breath and sip my water as I watch the men in front of me start their little war. 

“Well, I know what he felt about you, so I figured, the more…the merrier,” Damon smirks and winks at Elija, and I shake my head. This guy really needs to realize he can’t keep picking fights with men 10 times his age. 

“Well,” Klaus responds, “Elijah and I have had our share of quarrels over the centuries, but we always make it through.”

“Kind of like, uh, you and Rebekah, right,” Stefan joins in and I set down my water, “Where is she, by the way? Last I checked, she was still daggered because you were afraid to face her.”

“If you’re referring to the fact that Rebekah knows I killed our mother I’ve already come clean to Elijah.”

Klaus’ words have me glancing at Elijah. Although his face appears nonchalant I watch as his fingers tightly grip the glass he’s holding. It doesn’t take him but a moment to notice my staring and he shoots me a small smile. 

“Hey, Stef, remember when you killed Dad? Might want to dial down the judgment till dessert,” Damon remarks to his brother, and my eyebrows raise. 

“Oh, so hurting people you supposedly care about is something you’ve been doing for over a century now,” I smile snarkily at the vampire who glares at me, “And here I thought it was only something you did to your girlfriend, and friends.”

Stefan goes to say something but I clear my throat and raise a hand stopping him, “My apologies,” I place a hand to my chest, “I meant ex-girlfriend.”

I hear Klaus snort into his drink from beside me and I jolt when I feel his hand grip my thigh and squeeze it. 

“I fear I might’ve missed some things,” Elijah shoots me a look with a sly smile. 

Klaus still has his hand gripping my thigh so focusing is starting to become hard.

“Yes, you’ve missed my brother burning all the bridges he once had,” Damon responds and then takes a sip of his wine.

“Kind of like the bridge he tried driving me and his EX-girlfriend off of,” I respond casually and I feel Klaus squeeze my thigh again.

“You did what,” Elijah’s voice comes out low and I look over to see him glaring at Stefan, the latter who is trying his hardest not to make eye contact with the Original. 

“Ooookay. We’re here to make a deal, gentlemen. Not kill each other,” Damon tries to clear the air. 

“Might want to remind your brother that,” I bite out and match Elijah’s glare.

Damon shoots me a look and I roll my eyes. 

“We have a long evening ahead of us,” Damon continues, “Pace yourselves.”

—-

“Where is the lovely Elena tonight,” Elijah asks at the table and I glance at my phone hoping to get a message from anyone. But frown when I see only one text notification from Theo asking how to cook instant noodles. I don’t respond. 

“I don’t know. Ask Damon,” Stefan says and Klaus and I both laugh. 

“I’d say to ask your little girlfriend over here,” Damon points to me and I stare wide-eyed at him. I feel Klaus’ hand tighten around my thigh. 

“I’m sorry,” Klaus looks over to his brother, “you’ve missed so much. Ah, trouble in paradise.”

“One more word about Elena and this dinner is over,” Stefan gazes at everyone at the table and I roll my eyes.

“And here I thought you were melodramatic when you were off blood,” I stare blankly at the vampire across from me who stares back at me. 

“I never understood why Elena was friends with you,” Stefan responds.

“And what is that supposed to mean,” I lean forward and glare at him.

Stefan shrugs and leans back, “I just mean that all of her other friends aren’t fragile like you. Physically and emotionally. I mean you’ve had to realize that you’re always the last one to find out about things going on. It's because you’re nothing but a liability.”

I stare at Stefan and for a moment I’m right back to the scared little girl who would puke at the first sign of danger. Because he’s right. I am a liability. There’s nothing special about me. I’m just some weak human that no one wants around because they know I’ll just get hurt. Or throw up. 

I’m still sitting silent when I hear Elijah’s chair push backward. But before he can do anything Stefan is being dragged out of his chair by the next by Klaus. 

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear old friend,” Klaus brings Stefan up to his face as Klaus growls down to him, “If I catch you even looking in Y/n’s direction one more time tonight, coffin or no coffin, I will rip you apart. Limb by bloody limb, and feed your body parts to your brother,” Klaus grips Stefan’s throat tighter to the point where I think he’s going to kill him, “Have I made myself clear?”

I watch in shock, along with Elijah and Damon who appear to be the same as Stefan nods to Klaus. 

“Words, Stefan,” Klaus growls.

“I won’t look at her,” Stefan chokes out.

In a second Stefan is being dropped to the ground and Klaus is walking back over to his seat as if nothing happened. 

“Perfect,” Klaus smirks, “Shall we continue?”

I stare wide-eyed at the hybrid next to me, but he doesn’t look over at me.

I look over to Elijah who sits back in his seat, but his gaze is on his brother. A look I can’t quite distinguish is on his face. 

“Alright…let’s keep Elena and Y/n, in the “Do Not Discuss” pile,” Damon says. 

The other men nod their heads but a chuckle from Klaus has me sighing. 

“It’s just the allure of the Petrova Doppelganger is still so strong,” Klaus says and a wave of jealously washes over me. 

“What do you say, brother? Should we tell them about Tatia,” Klaus turns to his brother who lets out a sigh. 

Elijah shakes his head, “Now why should we discuss matters long since resolved?”

I furrow my brows at Elijah’s comment.

“Well, given their shared affection for both Elena and Katerina I think our guests might be curious to learn about the originator of the Petrova line.’’

I take a long sip of my water and start to regret not getting that glass of wine when I had the chance.

“Well, we’re not going anywhere Elijah. Please, do tell,” Damon says.

“Please, don’t,” I whisper under my breath and feel Klaus’ hand squeeze my thigh again. 

“When our family first settled here there was a girl named Tatia. She was an exquisite beauty. Every boy of age desired to be her suitor. Even though she’d had a child by another man. And none loved her more than Niklaus,” Elijah says, and that wave of jealousy from before builds. 

“Oh, I’d say there was one who loved her at least as much,” Klaus says thoughtfully and I roll my shoulders in annoyance. 

“Wait a minute,” Stefan cuts in, “you both loved the same girl?”

I place my right hand on my thigh and tighten it into a fist as I stare at Stefan. I’m about to break skin when a hand pulls my fingers apart and intertwines its fingers with my own. 

I look up at Elijah who is already staring at me with a worried look. 

I have one left thigh being grabbed by Klaus and my right hand intertwined with Elijah. What the actual fuck is going on right now?

Elijah squeezes my hand before continuing, “Our mother was a very powerful witch. She sought to end our feud with Tatia and so she took her. And Klaus and I would later learn that it was Tatia’s blood that we consumed in the wine on the night where our mother performed the spell which turned us into vampires.”

I release a small gasp and squeeze Elijah’s hand in comfort. What kind of mother would do that to her children?

“Tatia wouldn’t make a decision between the two of us so for a time, Niklaus and I grew estranged. Harsh words were traded. We even came to blows, didn’t we, brother?”

“But in the end, we recognized the sacred bond of family,” Klaus responds.

“Family above…all,” Elijah finishes.

Each brother uses their free hand to cheer their drinks together, and at the same time, I feel Klaus tighten his hold on my thigh and Elijah squeezes my hand. 

What the fuck.

—- 

“So why don’t we move this evening along and discuss the terms of this proposal,” Elijah asks the Salvawhore brothers.

“Well,” Damon starts, “It’s very simple. Klaus gets his coffins back. In exchange, he and the Original extended family leave Mystic Falls forever. Me, Stefan, Elena, and Pukey, live happily ever after…no grudges.”

At the thought of never seeing Elijah…or Klaus again a weird feeling washes through me. 

“Most of the deal sounds fair, brother,” Elijah says. 

“I don’t think you understand,” Klaus responds, “Elena’s Doppelganger blood ensures that I will always have more hybrids to fight those that oppose me. I will never leave her behind.”

Klaus stands up, and I can finally release a breath as his warm hand is gone from my thigh.

“Let’s say I do leave her here under your protection, what then? How long before one of you turns her into a vampire? Or worse, how long before she dies caught between your feuding, you see each one of you truly believes that you’re the one that can protect her. And that is simply a delusion. Gentlemen…the worst thing for Elena Gilbert is…the two of you.”

I try not to agree with Klaus’ words but he’s kind of right.

“I’m gonna get some air,” Damon says and gets up from the table. 

Elijah squeezes my hand before standing up, “Let me deal with this,” He says before following Damon. Which I find quite odd. 

“All this talk has made me thirsty,” Klaus says as he leans on the top of his chair. 

“What do you say, Stefan,” Klaus gestures to one of the servers, “Can I interest you in a little after-dinner drink?”

Within in split second Klaus is biting into the poor woman’s neck and I flinch backward. I quickly stand up from my chair and away from Klaus. I watch in horror as Klaus drains the young woman.

“Klaus, stop! You’re going to kill her,” I try to beg him but he doesn’t spare me a glance as he drops the poor girl's body down on the ground. I rush over to her to check for a pulse but feel tears rush to my eyes when I feel nothing. 

“Oh come on, Princess,” I feel Klaus touch my shoulder and I flinch away from him. Something shifts in his face at my movement but quickly morphs back into his sarcastic smirk, “Get off the floor, it’s dirty. You’ll ruin the pretty dress of yours.”

“Don’t touch me,” I look up at him and growl.

“Well, you two will make a happy couple,” Stefan remarks as he stands up from his chair.

Klaus’ attention goes from me to Stefan as he glares at him.

“I guess the only reason agreed to this evening, Klaus is to drive a wedge between me and my brother,” Stefan says as he walks over to Klaus. 

I wipe the hair away from the poor girl’s face and then stand up, distancing myself from the two men. 

“Oh no, you’re doing that well enough on your own. Because of Elena, you’re going to lose your brother and you’ll only have yourself to blame,” Klaus says.

“What do you say, Klaus? It’s time for you to put something on the table. We’ve made our offer, now you counter” Damon enters the room again followed by Elijah. The latter’s attention goes to me and a worried expression comes over his face as he rushes over to me. 

Elijah raises his hands and wipes away tears from my face, “What happened? Are you hurt?”

I don’t say anything as I look over at the dead girl on the floor. I hear Elijah take a deep sigh as he looks at her and then he gestures to someone behind us. Right after two waiters walk over to her body and pick her up off the floor.

I watch wordlessly as they take her lifeless body out of the room. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Elskan. My brother shouldn’t have done that in front of you.”

“He shouldn’t have done it at all,” I bite out quietly. 

“It’s ironic,” Stefan’s voice pulls all of our attention as he gestures to Klaus and then Elijah, “You talk about how Damon and I are causing a rift between ourselves because of Elena when you and Elijah are clearly doing the same.”

I frown as Stefan looks over to Klaus and then over to me and Elijah. I frown in confusion.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Stefan. Once again your bloodlust has made you irrational,” Klaus responds sarcastically but his voice is deeper than before and I feel Elijah pull me behind him. 

“Don’t play dumb Klaus,” Stefan smirks snarkily at the Orignal, “I know what she is to you. And from the way Elijah hangs onto every word she says as if she’s the only thing in this world that exists to him, I’m going to take a wild guess and say she’s the same thing to him. So tell me, which of us is truly going to be torn away from our brother?”

I stared confused at the men in front of me.

“Elijah, what is he talking about?”

I walk next to Elijah but he won’t look down at me, “It’s nothing, Y/n. Ignore him. Mr. Salvatore, don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink tonight?”

At Elijah’s equally dark tone, I get even more confused. 

“Will someone just tell me what the hell is going on?!”

Stefan finally looks over to me and I see Elijah start to move in front of me again but I push him back, “Don’t.”

“Mr. Salvatore if you continue, I will rip your head from your shoulders,” Elijah threatens Stefan. 

“Let’s go back to the negotiating shall we,” Klaus interrupts and I shoot him a glare.

“Fuck no! I swear to god if someone doesn't start giving me answers soon I’m going to kill myself in front of you all right now to change the trajectories of ALL your lives,” I yell out and move towards the table and grab a knife. Shit. Not a knife, a spoon.

“Stefan,” I turn and glare at the vampire who watches me with a raised eyebrow, “Spill it.”

“Stefan if you do I swear to-” Klaus begins and I hold the spoon up to my neck and glare at him. He just looks at me like I’m a nuisance. 

“Shut it, dog!”

“Brother, maybe this is something that should be held off for another time,” Damon chimes in from the background.

“You shut it too, Manwhore,” I glare at Damon who raises his hands in surrender. 

“Elskan,” Elijah says and I look over to see him walking towards me and I glare at him, “Let us finish dinner, and then I give you my word that we will discuss this.”

I shake my head at his words, “No. You’ll just come up with another excuse or you’ll say again that I can’t know just yet. And I’m sick of it! I’m not some liability, compared to what everyone thinks! I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

Elijah sends me a sad look that pisses me off, “I know, Y/n. No more of that, I promise you.”

I stare at him for a moment before turning towards Klaus who is glaring at his older brother, “Brother, you can’t be serious?!”

“Niklaus she deserves to know,” Elijah says and Klaus opens his mouth to begin to argue.

“Screw this,” I hear Stefan say, “Y/n, you’re their soulmate. Which is a supernatural phenomenon that only happens to a few supernaturals.”

“Fuck,” I hear Elijah mutter under his breath.

I loud growl escapes Klaus as he rushes over to Stefan and grabs him by the throat. 

“I’m sorry, what,” I release a laugh at the absurdity that is that answer. 

All the men turn to look at me and I place the spoon back on the table. 

“That’s a ridiculous answer, Stefan, thanks for the laugh but now the adults are talking,” I turn back to Elijah, “So you’ll tell me after dinner?”

Elijah stands there silently, as he just blinks at me with his mouth slightly open. 

I raise an eyebrow at him and then turn to Klaus, “What’s wrong with him?”

Klaus drops Stefan and then looks at Elijah and then at me. He opens his mouth and then closes it again.

“How about we discuss this after dinner,” Klaus asks and I sigh but nod my head. 

“If you don’t keep your word, I’m daggering you myself,” I turn back and glare at Elijah who blinks at me again. 

“Alright then,” Klaus starts, “I offer Elena’s future happiness. You see what she needs right now is to be rid of you lot and to fall in love with a human. Maybe that nice football player. You know the blonde one.”

“Matt Donovan? Really,” Damon asks disgustedly. 

“Ya, why not? They’ll marry, live a long fruitful life and pop out a perfect family.”

“And continue the Petrova bloodline,” Stefan concludes, “Every few hundred years you’ll have a new Doppelganger to drain and never run out of hybrids, right, Klaus?”

“Consider it a small return on my investment in her well-being. See, after you hand me back the coffin. I’ll ensure her safety for the rest of her natural life. You know it's what’s best for her. So… What do you say, Stefan,” Klaus walks over to the younger vampire, “Do we have a deal?”

Stefan meets Klaus in the middle and goes to shake Klaus’ hand.

“Nice try, Klaus. But no deal,” Stefan says, and within a second Klaus is breaking Stefan’s hand and legs. And then brings his hand to the flames of the fireplace. 

Damon begins to run to help his brother but Elijah easily grabs him by the throat and holds him to the wall. All I do though I stand by the table and drink my water. 

“Now bring me my coffin before I burn him alive,” Klaus says to Damon who finally relents. 

“Go with him, brother. You keep him honest. When you return I will make good on my promise to you and I will hand over our family,” Klaus says to Elijah who gives me a quick glance before following behind Damon.

With a sigh, I sit down at the table again sip my water, and pick at the leftover corn. Behind me, Klaus is still threatening and burning Stefan but I honestly don’t give a damn. He needs to be brought down a peg. Wait…

“Klaus,” I turn in my chair and the hybrid looks over to me.

“What is it, love? I’m kind of in the middle of something here,” He gestures to Stefan and I shrug. 

“While you’ve got him down there,” I stand up and sneakily grab the carving knife off the table, “Damon promised me I could have something if I came tonight. And since he; 's currently gone I was hoping you could help me,” I send him a sickly sweet smile and something shifts in his face and his smile matches mine.

“I don’t see why I can’t,” Klaus smirks and I practically skip over to the two men. 

When I get in front of Stefan who looks up at me with a glare, I lean down to meet eye level with him. At the same time, I see Klaus tighten his hold on Stefan. I look up at the hybrid but he’s already watching me with an intense gaze. 

“I thought we were friends Stefan. I told you things about myself that I don’t tell many people. And you know what you did,” I fake a frown and lean closer into the vampire, “You threatened my little brother and tried to drown me. So fuck you,” Right when I say the last words I take the knife that is in my hands and plunge it into Stefan’s stomach. 

Stefan drops to the ground in pain and Klaus lets him. That red-hot anger I felt those weeks ago returns as I watch Stefan try to pry the bloody knife out of his stomach. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to a woman more, in my entire life, Astin Min.”

Klaus’ words shock me out of my trance and I look up to see him staring down at me with an undistinguishable look. 

Klaus raises his hand and wipes a finger across my cheek. When he brings his finger back the tip of it is covered in blood, Stefan’s blood. 

I watch almost entranced as Klaus locks eyes with me as he brings his finger to his lips and sucks the blood off his finger. 

“What’s going on here,” Elijah’s voice has me quickly stepping away from both of the men.

Elijah’s eyes trail over me and stop at my hands which I can see now are covered in blood. 

“Damon said I could do it,” I quickly point at the vampire standing next to him who shoots me a glare. 

“Why haven’t you left,” Klaus asks his brother as a waitress enters the room carrying a serving tray. 

Elijah’s narrowed eyes leave mine to move to his brother, “Well, where are your manners, brother? You forgot dessert?”

I hope it’s a strawberry shortcake!

Elijah rips a blanket off of the tray to reveal two daggers. Damnit. 

“What have you done,” Klaus takes a step back. 

“What have you done,” Elijaah retorts, “See, I’ve learned not to trust your vulgar promises, Klaus. We’re doing this on my terms now.”

Why was that kind of attractive? No, Y/n. Stop it!

All of a sudden a young attractive man enters the room behind Elijah and Klaus.

“Kol,” Klaus exclaims.

“Long time, brother,” “Kol” Responds.

Klaus backs away shaking his head and the scared look on his face makes me feel sick. Klaus goes to escape but a man with long brown hair stops him.

“Finn, don’t!”

“Finn” stabs Klaus right in his hand and I take a step forward. Within a second though my view is being blocked by Elijah. 

“Stay back,” Elijah softly whispers to me and reaches a hand behind him for me to take. I look at my shaking bloody hand and intertwine it with his. 

Klaus speeds towards the other exit but Rebekah comes into view. 

“Rebekah,” Klaus exclaims right when his sister stabs him in the stomach. 

“I can’t watch,” I lean into Elijah and he pulls me into him hiding my face into his neck.

“This is for our mother,” I hear Rebekah say. 

“You’re free to go,” Elijah's chest rumbles as he speaks. I look up at him and he glances down at me and uses his hand to brush away the hair on my face. 

“You can stay or leave,” He whispers down to me and I turn to see everyone in the room staring at me now. 

“Ah, Elijah! You’ve finally met your soulmate,” Kol smirks as he takes a step towards us and Elijah lets out a low growl, “Congrats brother.”

At Kol’s words, I frown, “Elijah? What is he talking about?”

“Kol, you daft idiot,” Rebekah screeches, “She doesn’t know she’s Nik’s soulmate yet!”

“Nik’s soulmate? No, she’s quite clearly Elijah’s,” Kol gestures to how Elijah is holding on to me. 

Rebekah, Kol, and the other sibling, Finn, all stare at me with confused looks on their faces before Kol breaks out into a loud laugh. 

“Bloody hell! You poor girl,” Kol stares wide-eyed at me and then at Elijah and Klaus, the latter who watches his younger brother with a glare, “You got sacked with both of them. Didn’t you?”

I stare at the young man in front of me and can start to feel myself shake, “Elijah what’s happening?”

“I’ll explain everything, Elskan. Let the Salvatores take you home and I swear to you I will explain it all,” Elijah says and I release a shaky breath as I nod at his words.

Elijah presses a kiss to my temple before nodding to Damon, who quickly comes and grabs my upper arm. 

“Mr. Salvatore, I promise you if anything happens to her while in your care…”

Damon quickly nods his head, “I got it. Come on, Pukey. Let’s go home.”

The last thing I see before I exit the room is the pain-stricken eyes of the Original hybrid.

[vivwritesfics]

The Devil Dances With A Smile

Chapter Two

He can't kill you. He can't bring himself to lay a hand on you. So, he falls for you instead (its a shame his employer really wants you dead)

Hitman!Max x reader

Chapter One

The teachers lounge was rarely a good place to nap. Somebody was always yapping about something. On any day but today, that would have been Max. Yapping at Charles, who would yap back. 

Today, though, he was far too tired to yap. He laid his head down on the table, his energy drink forgotten in front of him. The teachers lounge was the only place he could enjoy his much needed energy drinks, especially if he didn't want the kids to see. 

"You look like shit," Charles muttered as he joined him, sipping his coffee. 

Max looked up only to glare. He quickly laid his head back onto the table and shut his eyes. 

"Jim and Sass keep you up again?" 

Oh, that was right. Back when he and Charles first started their jobs, Jimmy and Sassy were his excuse for everything. It was better that way, though. If Charles knew what he was really doing, he'd never look at him the same way. 

"Just let me sleep, Charlie," Max mumbled through a yawn. 

Leaning back, Charles sipped his coffee, but he said nothing more. He kept his eye fixed on Max, just watching him. When the bell went, he woke Max up. Snapped his fingers in front of his face to make him just a little more alert and sent him in the direction of his classroom. 

Mac moved through the day like a zombie. He barely got through it, his only aid being the red bull he kept hidden in his thermos. 

The thing about Max was that he hated coffee. Last night had been a charade; he hid every grimace behind what he hoped was a charming smile. When you topped him up for a second cup, he guessed that it worked. 

Still, he wouldn't be ordering another from you. But he would be going back. Research, he told himself. To find out why somebody would want you killed. Were you really that bad a person? So bad that somebody was willing to pay a lot of money to see you dead at his hands? He just couldn't see it. 

The school day came and went as it always did. Max stayed behind and tidied his classrooms. Put the text books back on the shelves and picked up paper left behind by the students. 

A drawing. He knew immediately which student had done it. A talented artist who had spent the lesson drawing him and Mr Leclerc from history locking lips. 

Chuckling to himself, Max shoved the drawing into his drawer. He grabbed his bag, the Red Bull disguised in his coffee thermos, and headed out. 

Max had never dreaded going to his second job before, not since his first day. But tonight? Tonight was different. 

For the first time ever, he hadn't completed the job. 

He moved slowly as he got himself showered and changed, making dinner for himself and feeding the cats. Jimmy and Sassy fussed around his legs, and Max took his time to give them attention, putting off the inevitable. 

Christian was gonna have his ass. 

Tying his shoelaces took longer than normal, but that was because he was stopping every few seconds to give his cats kisses. “I love you both,” he assured them, running his hand along Jimmy's back and up his tail. “If daddy doesn't make it home, uncle Charles is gonna take care of you, okay?” 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and headed out the door. 

Never before had Max wished for traffic. Never before had he wished for his commute to his second job to take longer than the usual twenty minutes. 

But it felt all too soon that he pulled into his parking space. He sat there for several minutes, making sure he had everything that he needed. Keys, wallet, phone. All already in his pocket. Convenient. 

He forced his brain to think up the worst that Christian could say and do as he walked towards his office. Shoot him dead was the worst he could do, tell him he's fired was the worst he could say. 

Max sucked in a breath. He pushed down the handle and opened the door, letting himself into the office. If he was a weaker man, his legs would have been buckling as he approached the desk. 

"Your target is still alive."

Max nodded as he sucked in a breath. "I know," he said. "But she's tricky," he finished. 

Christian blinked at him. "She's a waitress," he replied. "Can't you shoot her dead when she's behind the counter?" 

A sigh left his lips. "Just trust me, Christian, it's not that simple. She's got colleagues and customers, people  that care about her. I can't just kill her there; I've got to gain her trust first." 

Christian levelled him with a look. Unimpressed, but accepting. "Fine. Just get it done," he said and sent Max on his way. 

He couldn't keep putting it off, he thought as he drove towards the café. He immediately spotted you, clearing the tables by the window. He watched you pause and look out across the lamp lit street. 

Climbing out of the car, Max started towards the café. His mouth was dry as the bell above the door rang, signalling his arrival. 

You looked up as the bell rang, a smile splitting across your face. "Well hey, stranger," you said, your grin widening. Any more and your face would have hurt. 

"Nice to see you again," Max said as he slipped into the nearest seat. 

You leaned against the table. It wasn't like you were trying to flirt, trying so hard to appeal to him. But it was working. Your pretty eyes, your pretty smile. He could have stayed here all day staring at you. 

You took his order, just a coffee. But you threw in a pastry for him, a treat, on the house. 

For the first hour, Max sat there. As much as he wanted to talk to you, you were too busy working him to give him the attention that he wanted. But you met his eye, gave him a warm smile as you cleaned the rest  of the cafe. 

Finally, you leaned against the table once again, your palm flat as you angled your body towards him. "So, what? Are you stalking me or something?" 

For a moment, Max panicked. But then you laughed and his entire body relaxed. "It's not every night you meet a pretty girl in a dingy café," he replied and your cheeks heated up. The little 'no offense' he added at the end was so endearing, you couldn't help but slip into the seat. 

Max was easy to talk to, but you knew that from the day before. He showed you pictures of his cats, telling you all about them until you got called into the kitchen to run food. 

As soon as table 43 had their food, you returned to Max's table. "I still don't get what you're doing here," you said to him, not bothering to sit down this time. You only had five minutes left on the clock. "You're a teacher, a local one. You don't get the train anywhere, so why are you here?" 

His face was bright red and he pushed his hair back, swallowing. "The first time, I was just looking for something to drink. I came in today because I wanted to see you," he confessed, scratching at the back of his neck. 

You checked your watch. "Let me clock out, and then you can walk me to the bus stop again." 

Before you could walk away, before you could get changed and walk back towards him, Max grabbed your arm. Your immediate instincts had you quickly pulling out of his grip and taking two steps back. 

Max dropped his hand. He didn’t say anything, didn’t call out your behaviour. Instead, he fished his car keys from his jacket pocket. “Or I could drive you home, if you like.”

He didn’t drive you home that night. But he did walk you to the bus stop again. You stood closer to him than you would to any of your other customers. “I want to take you out at some point,” he said, staring down at you. The bus was pulling up, he only had a few seconds. “On a date.”

You didn’t gasp, you weren’t surprised. But your cheeks still heated up. “Tomorrow,” you said and smoothed down his jacket. “We’ll arrange it tomorrow.”

Max watched as you stepped onto the bus and paid for your ticket. He watched as you sat somewhere near the back. 

As soon as the bus pulled away, Max headed back towards the car. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, swiping his thumb across the screen to answer it. “Soon, Christian,” he said, before Christian had the chance to say anything to him. “She’ll be dead soon.” He swallowed the lump in his throat as he climbed into the car. 

Christian paused for a moment. An anxiety inducing moment. ‘Lando is gonna take on the job’, that was what he was ready for him to say. “Our employer wants her dead within the next two weeks. Get on with it.”

The call ended and Max dropped his phone onto the centre console. A sigh left his lips and he began to drive, heading in the direction of the bus. There weren’t many occasions that called for Max to tail a bus, and it wasn’t all that easy. Every time the bus stopped at a stop, he parked where he could until the bus moved on. 

But then you got off of the bus and began your walk. As you got off of the bus, Max parked his car and climbed out. He followed you, ducking behind bins and bushes. You didn’t turn around, had no idea you were being followed. 

You weren’t expecting any sort of danger. Maybe it made you naive. You had no idea of the danger you were in. Max kept following you until you made it to your apartment complex. The sun was rising, the streets no longer dark. 

You were in so much danger, so much fucking danger. Max swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn’t let anything happen to you, he knew that much.

a/n: part two! it actually feels so good to be working on a series again. for those that don't know, i'm currently working on a lestappen werewolf series (that i hope to have posted in the next week) so keep an eye out for that!

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[rueclfer]

everything is embarrassing // izuku midoriya

when he doesn't know how to take control of his life

a/n: 6k+ words lmao i feel crazzzzzy ok bye

19-year-old izuku doesn't have the privilege of hopping around college parties on the weekends or enjoy the “college experience” like his friends do.

he can barely catch a break to breathe.

monday through friday he's in classes from 8:00am to 4:00pm, and for more than half of the week from 6:00pm to 12:00am, he's working at the campus library- simultaneously shelving returns, organizing files, and scrambling to finish his homework. on the weekends, he'll be at his part time job at the local cafe just down the street from his dorm building.

it hasn't been an easy semester for izuku. he's a year behind his friends and he wants nothing more than to be able to walk across that stage with them by the end of their fourth year, but nothing comes easy when you’ve been out of school for a year, no money, have a scholarship on the line, and a single mother at home to make proud.

he's watching the time go by. his eyes darting back and forth between the ticking needle on the analog clock and you sitting at your usual table with your headphones on, attention glued to your textbook, and the tapping of your pencil growing louder by the second.

occasionally, he'd let himself clock out and lock up about 5-10 minutes early if there was no one lingering around on his floor, and all of the day's work had been completed. no one stays as late in the library as you do. it annoys him. 

5-10 minutes is crucial to izuku.

he could get a head-start on his commute back to his dorm. if he walks quickly enough, he'd be back before 12:15am, be ready for bed by 12:35am, and he'd be able to get at least 6 hours of sleep.

if he's lucky.

but you. you were always there until the very last minute- sometimes even past closing.

it's 12:05am. how could anyone be so careless to not keep an eye on the time? can’t you see that it’s only you two left on this floor? did you not hear the 10 minute closing warning on the intercom?

if he wasn't running on a couple hour of sleep, a poor excuse for dinner, and 6 hours worth of brain numbing work, he wouldn't have the nerves to approach you so casually. he'd be replaying what he wanted to say in his head, stumbling over his words, and hope you wouldn't take offense to it.

"the library's closed." he bluntly says, still maintaining a few feet of distance.

you don't hear him or notice his presence at all. you're lost in that textbook and your mind is fumbling through these terms and definitions staring back at you.

izuku blinks once. then twice.

"hey." he starts again, taking a step closer and setting a hand down on the table right above your textbook.

you look up and catch the library worker’s tired eyes. your gaze immediately flickers to the analog clock hung on the wall past his shoulder.

12:12am

“oh shit!” you exclaim, ripping off your headphones. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, i lost track of time.”

you slam your textbook shut, rubbing your eyes against the back of your hand. how long had you been at it like this? studying the hours away in your own corner of the library?

“yeah.” izuku breathily chuckles, a sense of relief washing over him as he watches you haphazardly shove your books and papers in your bag. “sorry, i hate to interrupt a good study session, but i’m kinda tired, and if i stay here for another minute, the shelves might start talking to me.”

“god, don’t be sorry. i get it.” you laugh, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “i’m here, like, everyday. i’m sure everyone who works here is sick of me by now.”.

“yeah, me too.” he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck as you two make your way towards the exit. “here everyday, that is.” he quips, nervously running a hand through his tousled hair.

“look at us, so scholarly.” your voice dripping in sarcasm. you turn your head over your shoulder to meet his eye. “paying so much money for this university to drain us of all joy in life.”

“well, i’m on a scholarship.” izuku mutters. “so i guess i still have some joy left?

“yeah? well that’s actually even worse.” 

“is it?” he cocks an eyebrow.

“you have much more to lose.”

-

the next time you two see each other, he’s knelt over an open filing cabinet, digging through dividers for some sort of paperwork. 

since that night you’ve met, university life has felt a bit less lonely- something about taking a 20 minute walk to your dorm buildings, which happens to be right next to each other, complaining about how terrible of time you’re having adjusting to university life really brings people together.

“hey.” you cough.

izuku looks up to see you sporting a coffee cup in each hand.

“oh. it’s you. hey.”

you hold one out to him, waiting for him to take it, but all he does is give you a blank stare as his eyes flicker between your own and the cup outreached towards him.

“take it.” you chuckle. “i brought it for you. you looked like shit last time i saw you, so...”

the corners of his mouth quirks up into a smile, gingerly accepting the hot cup of coffee.

“...so this is your apology for staying past closing the other night?” he teases.

“oh definitely not.” you scoff. “i’ll be doing it again tonight too, don’t you worry.”

he nods his head, taking a deep swig of the bittersweet coffee. “see you at midnight, then.”

“see you at midnight.” you confirm, sending him a smile as you pull your headphones over your ear and head towards the back of the library where your designated table was waiting for you.

-

at 21-years-old, izuku goes to his first house party. it takes you about a week to convince him to give you one of his saturday nights that he’d usually reserve for studying or catching up on sleep.

“please.” you beg once more. “what are you going to say to your future students? how are you going to say you had the college experience without going to a single party?”

“with a degree?” he chuckles, slinging a rag over his shoulder. “you’re also distracting me. i’m on the clock, and my boss can come back anytime, you know.”

“oh, please.” you roll your eyes. “if toshinori was here, he’d be telling you to put your big boy pants on and get drunk with his favorite customer tonight. and if you agreed the first time i asked, i wouldn’t have to follow you to your second place of employment.”

“i’m sorry, i can’t. maybe next time?”

“please, izuku, just one party. i’ll help you get ready after your shift. we’ll leave anytime you want, but i can guarantee you’ll have so much fun. i promise i’ll never ask you again if you really do end up hating it.”

he can imagine it now- if someone asked him about his college experience, he wouldn’t mention the parties, the professors, or the time spent away from home. he’d talk about you.

izuku has a hard time balancing his life between keeping up with the workload and trying to not let his days blend into a muddy gray, but you had perfectly fit somewhere in between all of the chaos like a fresh breath of air.

izuku was tired, and you were a shot of espresso. how can he say no to you?

“fine.” he sighs in defeat, sliding a cup of coffee across the counter towards you. “but i can’t be out that late, okay? i have to be back here in the morning.”

-

“what the fuck happened?” you slam the door shut behind you, muffling out chatter of the crowd and heavy bass shaking through the walls. 

you twist a wad of toilet paper into a cone before plugging the stream of blood gushing from his nose.

“sorry, sorry, sorry!” he repeats, holding the toilet paper in place with a bewildered look in his eyes. 

“i don’t know what happened,” he starts in a nasally tone “maybe it’s all the smoke in the air or something. i heard that second hand smoke can be really drying for your nasal passages, especially if there’s not a lot of ventilation like in this apartment, i also haven’t been drinking a lot of water today and-”

“aht!” you interrupt, nudging him over with your elbow to rinse your hands off from the bloody residue. “my theory is that your body is shutting down on itself from the lack of proper sleep and nutrition. thoughts?”

izuku pouts. “stop it. i had a protein shake before we came, remember?”

“of course, how could i forget about the most rancid concoction you managed to blend together?” you mutter, wetting a wad of toilet paper and dabbing away the dried blood that had fallen onto his chin and t-shirt.

he cocks an eyebrow at you, holding up the red solo cup containing a questionable blue liquid that you shoved in his hands to hold when his nose started dripping blood. 

“wow, since when were you a chem major? since you know so much about ‘rancid concoctions,’ huh?” he deadpans.

“izuku midoriya, are you getting sassy with me?” you scoff, grabbing the cup back from his hands.

“maybe i am.” he presses his lips together to suppress a smirk. “or maybe i’m just making an observation.”

izuku had finally started learning how to bite back. somewhere within the last year, the skittish library worker who you enjoyed pestering had grown the confidence to return your relentless teasing.

you weren’t sure how to take it- how giddy it made you feel and how much more of it you wanted to draw out of him.

to him, it was all a front. he perfected the line delivery with ease, but at the cost of his chest tightening and stomach turning over the sight of your amused smile and lit up eyes. this made him anxious.

you have much more to lose

everytime he sees you, he’s reminded of your very first conversation together when you were first years. he’s acutely aware of how much he has to lose, but if there’s one thing izuku could not bear to risk losing during the worst few years of his life, it was you.

“uh, why are you looking at me like that?” he nervously chuckles, his ears growing hot from trailing your eyes as they glaze over his face.

“i love you.” you smile, the alcohol finally making its way to your head. “a lot.”

izuku’s breathing stops for a moment. his eyes widen, and the nervous giggles continue pouring out as his facade from minutes earlier crumbles completely.

“why are you laughing?” you chuckle, taking a sip from your cup, choking back a grimace.

“i…i don’t know.” he bites his bottom lip, suddenly aware of his nervous habit. “you’re just being a silly drunk right now."

“what? because i said i love you?” you cock your head with a lazy smile “the L-word got your panties in a twist?”

“don’t know what you mean.” he turns his attention back to the mirror, subtly swiping his sweaty palms on his thighs before unplugging the tissue from his nose. 

for the first time in his life, he’s simultaneously grateful and regretful for alcohol. grateful for the red sheen over his face to mask his blush. regretful for the carelessness it caused you with your words. 

he doesn’t have the time or energy to entertain it. that is the one thing he’s certain of. he wouldn’t be good for you- wouldn’t give you the time and attention you deserved. he loves you too. he loves you enough to not say it back.

“it stopped bleeding. i think i’ll have to leave soon, so let’s get back out there, yeah? i’ll make you a better drink, too.”

he shoots you a forced grin before grabbing you by the shoulders and ushering you two back to the party where you reunite with your roommates and mutual friends. you leave your drink in the bathroom.

-

on the day izuku turns 22-years-old, he finds out that he’s on track to graduate with you and his friends. after stepping out for a quick phone call with his academic advisor, he drunkenly cries into your shoulder mid-birthday party (that his boss at the cafe forced him to take the time off to have).

all of the hard work and courses he packed on during his first two years at university finally paid off. though, that doesn't mean he’s gotten any easier on himself.

he quits his job at the library and starts student teaching part time at the local middle school for college credit.

you barely see him now-a-days. more often than not, your texts go unanswered.

izuku is a busy guy.

you miss him. you didn't realize how lonely it felt to walk back to your dorm from the library at midnight by yourself- you haven't felt this way for a while, not since you met izuku. 

you wished he made it easier for you. your feelings for him never subsides, but instead grows into a longing ache. it’ll be like this until graduation. the occasional text message, running into each other in the halls with quick hello and goodbye, coming into his weekend job just to see him for a few reassuring moments- you know you both needed it.

he talks about you to his students a lot- “my best friend,” “someone important to me,” “my support system,” and etc. he’s always referring to you.

he missed seeing you all the time, but it’s all been so hectic for him he hates to admit that you barely cross his mind when he’s in the midst of a busy day. on top of his regular grueling school work, he has to lesson-plan for the days he’s teaching, grade papers, as well as check in with his professors and mentors.

he doesn’t know how he does it.

working in that library was excruciating, but he missed nothing more than the last half hour of his shifts where it’d just be you two, sending shy glances at one another until it hit midnight. he doesn’t even mind the rest of the 6 hour shift where you’re just sitting in the same spot that you always gravitate towards, head in the textbook for him to look up at every now and then.

you tell him you love him for the second time at the end of your graduation party when all of the guests have cleared out of your half empty apartment.

“what?” his eyes go wide, exactly like they did a year ago.

“i love you, izuku.” you ball the sides of your graduation gown, wrinkling the fabric in your hands.

you’re sober this time, which makes it infinitely more painful to say out loud.

his mouth gapes open as if he’s a fish gasping for water. he doesn’t know what to say.

“i have for years.” you fill in the silence, fidgeting with the silky material. “ever since you kicked me out of that fucking library, i think. i don’t know. maybe i’m being stupid, but i can’t help it. i love you, and i need you to know before… you know.”

it’s been three years, and you’ve waited until this night to pour it all out because you knew that in less than 24 hours, you’d be going your separate ways.

in a perfect situation, izuku would tell you that he feels the same. he’d run through an airport to stop you from leaving and beg you to stay with him. you wouldn’t have to go back home. you’d share an apartment. live in the city. start your entry jobs. you’d have time together.

“i’m sorry.” is all he says. “i’m sorry.” he repeats.

tears well in his eyes, and he grabs you by the shoulders to pull you into his chest.

“sheesh, you’re such a crybaby.” you choke out a half chuckle, your eyes running hot now. “don’t be sorry, okay? i get it. i know.”

your arms tightly wrap around izuku’s waist as you two silently sob into one another. his hand runs through your hair, stopping at the nape of your neck to pull you closer.

there’s something much more painful behind this confession to cry about. you’re leaving the city, and you have no reason to stay. for the first time in three years, izuku won’t be within arm’s reach and you’re left with the cold reality of navigating your future without your best friend by your side.

“you know, i..” he begins, pulling you back to look at your face, searching for the right words, or an answer. “it’s not that i don’t feel the same, okay?” 

his cheeks lightly dust over pink. it’s the first time he’s admitted that out loud.

“i know.” you sadly smile, your hand reaching up to wipe away the stray tears left on his cheeks. “we’ll be okay. we worked hard for this, izuku.”

izuku felt like throwing up. he had spent the last three years working himself into the ground with endless all-nighters, black coffees, and missed events to get everything he’s ever wanted for his future, so why does it feel like his world is slipping from between his fingers?

yes, he worked hard, but he wondered if it was all enough?

“i’m going to miss you.” he mutters, connecting your foreheads together. “i already do. you’re everything to me.”

“me more. i’ll miss you more.”

after that night, you don’t see izuku again for a long time. 

izuku jumps into his new position at the local high school in the same school district as the middle school he worked at during his last year of university. he feels a sense of relief everytime he walks into his school building- something that he couldn’t ever say during his years as a student.

you move back home and land an entry job at a startup tech company. it’s boring work, but at least it’s remote and your days don’t mesh into one- you made sure you would never have to go through that again.

you try to stay connected, but work is busy, and you’re both trying to figure out what life is supposed to look like post-grad. occasionally, you’ll send each other a meaningless “thinking of you” message, but you eventually lose contact after a couple of years of trying to plan visits and meet ups- there is just no time. there never was.

-

at 27-years-old, izuku is spending his late afternoon sitting in his empty classroom with one of his students. it’s half an hour past their scheduled parent-teacher conference time, and he’s wondering if he should just reschedule.

“are you sure your mom is coming? did you tell her the right time and date?” izuku sighs, resting his head on a propped elbow.

“duh. what kind of student do you think i am?” they scoff, glancing up at him from their phone.

“judging by your grades, i know exactly the kind of student you are.” he mumbles.

izuku’s trying to not panic, the kid clearly isn’t, but he’s wondering how far back this sets his schedule. he should be starting on the stack of papers to grade by now. he still needs to write out a lesson plan for tomorrow. maybe the kids deserve a movie day? maybe he deserves a movie day.

“don’t freak out.” izuku hears from outside of his door “you’re fine. it’s okay. seriously, chill the fuck out you weren’t interrupting anything, i needed a break anyways. i’m walking in right now. yeah, i’ll let you know how it goes.”

finally.

izuku straightens up, and tightens his tie. he whips open his laptop and pulls up the tabs of grades and assignments to discuss.

“i’m so sorry-” the voice falters at the end as it enters the classroom.

“don’t be, i was just-” izuku glances up from his screen and his throat suddenly closes shut.

5 years later, and the universe leads you back to one another. here. in his classroom.

“izuku midoriya?” you cough out.

for the first time in his life, he doesn’t like the way his name sounds coming out of your mouth. it’s hesitant. it sounds foreign. it makes him question himself for a moment. 

yes? that’s me, right? it’s me, izuku. your izuku.

“what are…uh.. you…here?” he stammers, unable to get the words out.

you take a step forward into the classroom. you could pass out at the sight of him. he still seemed as boyish as ever. maybe a bit broader, and taller, but his hair is still just as wild as it was in university. you can’t help but feel a twinge of insecurity as you wonder if you looked any different as well.

“uh…where’s mom?” your nephew glances back and forth between you two starstrucked at the sight of one another. “we have to look over my grades and stuff, you know.”

“right!” you exclaim. “your mom got caught up at work, so she asked me to come in.” you awkwardly shift in your position, your eyes never leaving izuku’s.

izuku’s face flares up in heat, snapping back into the present as his eyes flicker back towards his student.

“you know what? let’s reschedule that. you can go and i’ll see you tomorrow?” he quickly stands up, knocking over his chair and hitting his knee against his desk in the process.

“really?” they cock an eyebrow at the shift in behavior from the two adults in the room.

“yup! we’re running late and i have a meeting right now, so i’ll just email your mom to reschedule.” he forces a reassuring grin, making his way around his desk. “don’t forget to read over the syllabus to see what’s due, alright?”

“alright, i guess. see you tomorrow then, sensei” they shoot you a questioning side glance as they sling their backpack over their shoulder. “are you taking me home?”

“no.” you say, almost a bit too quickly. “uh, i have some errands to run before your mom gets back home, so you go on ahead i’ll see you at home.”

once your nephew leaves, unsuspecting of the thick line of tension running between his aunt and teacher, izuku quickly rushes over and shuts his door.

“whatareyoudoinghere?” the sentence leaves his mouth in an incoherent string of words. he grabs you by the shoulders and lets his eyes take in your face. every curve, every mark, every wrinkle, old and new.

you feel 19 again. you guess the urge to kiss izuku midoroya never leaves you, after all. 

“my sister just got a new job, so i’m living with her and helping her out with the kids while she adjusts.” you breathlessly stare at him. “i didn’t know you were still in the city.”

of course he’s still here- exactly where you left him after all these years. his grip on your shoulders tightens as a response. he’s scared that if he lets go, you’ll be gone for good, or at least for another 5 years.

“we should catch up.” you smile, grabbing onto his forearms as a warmth crawls up your next “when are you free? i mean, you’re probably really busy, but even a phone call-”

“tonight? how about tonight?” he blurts out. “we can go somewhere?”

izuku reassures himself that it’s fine. the kids can have a movie day, and he’ll spend that time grading papers and catching up on work. the only thing he needs is right in front of him.

seeing your face light up makes him feel nothing but nostalgic euphoria. he never wants to lose this feeling again.

“i’ll text you, then? you still have my number?”

he almost laughs in your face. your text conversation has been pinned to the top since the day you exchanged phone numbers.

“by heart.”

-

“tech? like you work in IT?” izuku’s face scrunches in disgust. he almost spits his drink out. “why the hell would you do that to yourself?”

“shut up!” you rub your face in your hands, snorting out a laugh. “it’s easy, i’m in a senior position, it pays well, and it’s remote. that’s all i care about for now.”

you two meet at a nearby bar. outside of his suit and tie, he looked much younger. he looks like the izuku you knew half a decade ago with his perpetual pink cheeks, slightly too large graphic tee, and red sneakers.

“so you’re now living with your sister… in the city.” he begins, looking into your eyes with a hopeful gleam. “for how long?”

“i’m not sure.” you shrug. “i’m still figuring it out, but my lease back home is up at the end of next month, so either way, i have to see what i want to do by then.”

“you should stay in the city.” the words slipped out of his mouth before he could process them.

“i mean- it’s just, you know, your sister is here, and her kids, and there’s more opportunities and stuff, and your work is remote anyways, and uh-” he stammers, words flowing out in an unstoppable stream.

“-and you’re here?” you tease.

his face flushes red.

“it is a possibility.” you sigh, shooting him a subtle smirk and saving him the embarrassment of coming up with a response. “i don’t know though. my sister wants me to stay too, but it’s a lot to think about.”

“i get it. my mom moved to the city to be near. it was hard for her.” he takes a sip of his drink. “not with me, though! she’s got a townhouse in the outskirts.” he quips.

you laugh. he definitely hasn't changed.

“speaking of, do you want to come back to my apartment? right now?” he shyly asks, avoiding your gaze for a moment.

“right now?” you look down and check the time displayed on your phone.

11:00pm.

“it’s a school night isn’t it?” you cock your head to the side. "i'm surprised you even wanted to meet up this late. thought i'd have to book office hours with you weeks in advance to catch up." you tease

izuku mentally curses at himself for being so forgetful, and so predictable. he doesn’t want this night with you to end, but that 7:00am alarm set for tomorrow morning is inching closer and closer.

“you’re right.” his confidence deflates. “i guess we should get going.”

you two pay your tab and make your way to the exit. you stand facing each other at the corner of the street, taking in each other’s presence once more.

there’s a faint buzzing in your ear from the lamppost hanging above you and your breaths come out in shallow puffs. you don’t know why you’re so nervous all of the sudden. you wish you didn’t have to leave again.

“so, can we do this again? can i see you again?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“you think i’d get to see izuku midoriya from beyond the grave and let you get away? for the second time?”

he feels like he could cry right now, so he pulls you in for a hug instead. you haven’t changed at all- not in the ways that matter anyways. his hand falls against the nape of your neck as he presses his cheek against your forehead.

“i missed you.” he mutters into your hair.

“me more.”

before you go your separate ways, i love you sits at the tip of his tongue. he wants to tell you. to finally say back after all of these years, but it somehow doesn’t feel right- not yet at least.

-

a few weeks later, you find yourself sitting in one of izuku’s classroom desks. the top button of his shirt is undone, his sleeves rolled up, and the soft late afternoon sunlight streaming through his window bathes him in gold.

from over your laptop screen, you see izuku mumbling to himself as he reads through essays while twirling a red pen between his fingers. the look of concentration had been plastered to his face since you were students- dark furrowed brows, unblinking eyes, a twinge of anxiety, and tightly pressed lips.

“you’re staring.” he mutters in between his incoherent mumbles.

his eyes snap up to meet yours.

“no i’m not.” you shrug, suppressing a satisfied smile as your eyes return to your own screen.

“I think i’ve gotten pretty good at noticing after spending all those years with you in that library.” he returns the smile, leaning back in his seat. “you don’t stare often, but when you do, you stare loud.”

“says you.” you roll your eyes. “you don’t think i ever noticed the thousand glances every hour?”

his face scrunches in embarrassment. 

“not like i could help myself.” he mutters, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. 

“ditto.” you halfway close your laptop and rest your head on a propped elbow. “but you knew that.”

the air in the room thickens between you two. you’ve been itching to have a conversation with izuku about your last moments before you left the city 5 years ago, but there hasn’t been a good time to bring it up. you weren’t even sure if you should at all.

“i don’t think i ever noticed.”

“noticed what?”

“that you liked me.” he pressed his lips together, nervous to bring up the past. “like that at least. i didn’t have a clue before you took me to that party.”

“how could you?” you breathe out a chuckle. “you were drowning in your work and studies, there was no time to even sleep let alone have anything romantic.”

a beat of silence passes.

“sorry.” he mutters.

“don’t be.” you shrug. "i loved you enough for the both of us. you were my best friend, and i wouldn’t change anything. maybe i would’ve forced you to take more naps, though.” you chuckle.

he doesn’t like the past tense termage of this conversation. it makes him feel a bit nauseous thinking that he really did lose it all, even with you here in front of him.

“i told you i felt the same, didn’t i?”

“mmm.. i guess so.” you mutter. “but it’s different. it was a goodbye.”

“i’m sorry.” he says again, with a pout this time.

“stop that.” you launch your pen in his direction, bouncing off of the chalk board behind him. “i’m here now. you’re here. you’re still my best friend. everything’s the same, except we’re a little bit older and have 5 years to catch up on. isn’t that enough?”

you two danced around the conversation for a few more minutes before returning to your work in silence. there was no clear answer as to where your feelings for each other stand now, but he feels just as sick as he did the day of the grad party.

but isn’t that enough? to just have you here now?

on a saturday night in his apartment, just days before you have to go home and sort out your living situation, izuku tells you he loves you for the first time.

you’re staring at him, unsure if maybe you heard him wrong or if it was the television in the background.

“huh?” your mouth gapes open. “what’d you say?”

“i..i love you.” his voice shakes as the words leave his mouth. “i love you, okay?”

for a split second, there’s a sequence of images that flash through his mind. his body would learn to wake up at 6:55am every morning despite his alarm being set for 7:00am. he sees you peacefully sleeping next to him, and he can’t bring himself to let that alarm go off and disturb you.

he’d start the coffee pot- enough for two, obviously. maybe he’d leave a nice note for you to start your day off with. maybe a grocery list if you’re up for the trip, but you’d insist that you go to the market together on the weekend. you’re very distracting, and he knows this, but you’d somehow always meet at the dining room table or his classroom to do work together. 

he’d come home to you softly singing in the kitchen while making dinner. every now and then, he’d surprise you with flowers when he comes home from work, but he’ll brush it off and say it’s “for the apartment” just out of pure nerves. movie nights. falling asleep on the couch together. waking up in the afternoon with a split second of panic- but it’s the weekend and he doesn’t have a class to get to. he’d see the sunlight pool against your face as you slowly wake up from your slumber with fluttering eyelashes. he’d kiss you in that unsuspecting moment. he’d say he loves you with every breath leaving his lungs. he’d always have time for you.

“izuku.” you sadly smile, turning over to the stove and extinguishing the flame. “you don’t have to do this, you know?”

his heart sinks to his stomach.

“i know- no it’s not like that.” he stammers. “it’s because.. i’m saying it because…”

he makes his way around the kitchen island to you, firmly gripping your shoulders. he wants to make sure you hear this from him properly. after all of these years.

“because i love you, and i think i alway have.” he bites his bottom lip. “and i think i always will, and you’re here, and i’m here, and i know it’s hard because i kind of really messed things up in university, but to be honest, i regret everything because yeah i love my job and i’m doing okay now, but i lost you for 5 years and thought i’d never get to see you again and i should've-”

he stops himself when he sees his reflection in your eyes. he’s doing it again- the rambling.

“sorry.” he mutters. “but do you…do you understand?” he almost pleads.

“i understand.” you nod your head, a long exhale following your reply.

for a moment, you’re 22 again, and the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over are no longer apologetic, but now hopeful.

you can’t help but pull him into a hug, running your hand up and down his back as he sniffs back his tears.

“always such a crybaby, izuku.” you muffle into his shoulder. “i love you, too. you know that.”

“i feel so stupid.” he chokes out. “5 years is so long, and i feel like i blacked out for the entirety of that time and now that you’re back, i’m alive and can't do it without you again.”

he pulls away, looking back at you with furrowed brows and tear stained cheeks.

“please stay in the city. please.” 

your eyes widen at the request- the same request you wished left his lips all those years ago.

“you want me to stay?”

“selfishly, yes.” he bites down on his bottom lip. “here. with me.”

you take a moment and let your eyes wander around the apartment. you eye the half cooked dinner on the stove, the pile of unopened mail sitting on the counter, the row of dead plants lining the living room window.

izuku follows your eyes. he knows you’d settle in nicely, almost like the final piece in a puzzle. he feels it in his gut. he also feels the panic bubbling in his stomach the longer your gaze lingers at the chaos behind him.

“is that too fast?” he breaks the silence. “sorry. i don’t mean to jump from ‘i love you’ to ‘move in with me’ in the same night.” he awkwardly laughs, releasing you from his grip. “uh, maybe we’ll talk more about that after dinner.”

his face burns into a bright red- snapping out of his love dazed state and back into the reality where he just confessed to his best friend on a random night in.

“maybe after dinner, you can give me a proper tour of the place?” 

for the first time in izuku's life, he feels content knowing that time passes and the world continues to turn.

with you, it feels a bit gentler.

with you, it's worth it.

-

bonus ssrryy i have to be indulgent lmao:

the first time izuku kisses you, you're on your way back from a late night outing from the bars with his coworkers where he introduces you as his partner for the first time.

"you sure you're okay?" he laughs as you rub your hand against the back of his neck from the passenger seat.

"super peachy, zuku." you hiccup, twirling a green curl between your fingers. "a few drinks got nothing on me."

izuku presses his lip into a wobbly smile.

from his peripheral, he feels your stare burning into his side profile, only making him more nervous by the second. he thinks about teasing you and calling it out for a moment, but he remains silent for the rest of the drive back home.

izuku parks the car, shutting off the engine and letting the overhead light dimly illuminated the space between you two.

he leans over to meet your eyes and rests his elbow over the center console, taking a second to silently debrief from the night's social outing.

"thanks for coming out with me." he whispers, reaching down and shyly interlocking his index finger with yours.

"i love a good excuse to drink." you laugh, leaning in and letting your foreheads connect.

izuku only had a single drink several hours ago, but he suddenly blacks out. with his other hands, he reaches up and tips your chin up and lock his lips with yours.

it takes you off guard, but you don't hesitate to reach up and rest your hand on the side of his neck.

when izuku pulls away, his breathing is heavy and face grows red. your finger remains interlocked.

"um. i love you." he coughs, briefly meeting your gaze before darting away. "uh, sorry i should have asked" he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

"i love you, izuku midoriya." you say in a teasing tone, leaning further over the center console and into the driver's seat.

izuku leans away until his back hits the soft interior of the car door.

"uh, we should.. we should go in? right?" he starts, eyes widening as you inch closer.

you reach over and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him into you.

"yeah, we should." you say before crashing your lips into his, feeling him accept the defeat with a nervous laugh as he lets his hands find the soft skin of your cheek and warmth of your neck.

[menaathena]

I think a lot of Ford haters would also be Stan haters if we had a book full of his most private and vulnerable thoughts too.

You telling me that if Stan kept a journal he wouldn't have a moment where he thought about his brother for too long, got angry, and wrote some shit about how Ford is just some stuck up academic living easy off his grant money and doesn't care about his family? That after reuniting with Ford after 30 years, he wouldn't furiously write passages about his ungrateful brother gallivanting around the universe having fun adventures, growing out his sideburns, and not showering while he was working tirelessly to bring him home? That at the beginning of summer, before he really got to know his niece and nephew, he wouldn't make some snap judgements about Dipper being kind of a wuss, and express frustration at having to keep these snot nosed kids busy so they don't go snooping around and ruin everything? "Stan wouldn't do that! He loves those kids-" Yeah, he does, but he's also curmudgeonly and closed off and wouldn't know them yet. He'd be have first impressions (like everyone does) and write down those PRIVATE thoughts and frustrations in a PRIVATE journal.

"I just don't like Ford because he's an asshole-" SO IS STAN. STAN IS A MASSIVE ASSHOLE. Most of the time his assholery gets played off for laughs, and he either gets his comeuppance or learns a lesson by the end of the episode. Plus we have the whole series to get to know his better qualities and be endeared to him. Ford has much fewer episodes to work with, he's beefing with a character we already like, he only gets to learn his lesson at the end of the series, and we have a book full of his private thoughts that he doesn't say to anyone's face.

Ford is at a huge disadvantage here. I've noticed a trend in the fandom of Ford's flaws being amplified and exaggerated while Stan's get smoothed over. Neither of them are nice people. They've both done some fucked up shit. If you can look past that in Stan to see his good qualities and how far he's willing to go for the people he cares about, you should be able to do that for Ford too.

[hxney-lemcn]

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: getting a much needed break, you find yourself getting scolded by Jimmy. you vent to Daisuke about it when he finally finishes his tasks.

tw: Jimmy 🤢

a/n: idk how to continue this, should I follow the event of the game (unbearable angst), or try and make it end happier?? If I do the second one I kinda feel like I'm ruining the point of the game tho...

wc: 1.4k

Master List

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

You had started to regret your confession already. You thought confessing was supposed to fix everything, so why did your gooey, icky feelings grow ten times worse? It was honestly comical seeing you glower everytime Daisuke gave you an ounce of affection. It even made Swansea internally chuckle at the sight. Even though it seems you were regretting all your life actions, you were honestly just trying to get used to your heart fluttering and your stomach twisting into knots. It was all odd and new, and you were a bit scared that this was all too good to be true. 

You were also trying to get used to the disgusting, adoring thoughts. You had become a lovesick fool and you weren’t sure what to make of it. You wanted to hug Daisuke? Ew. You wished to cuddle him at night? Disgusting. God forbid, you wanted to kiss him? Toss yourself in the trash. Yeah…you were struggling to accept that thinking those things were okay, and being vulnerable enough to speak your wants aloud. Daisuke, on the other hand, seemed like everything was right as rain. Like loving you came naturally to him. It made your skin crawl. 

Tilting your head back, you let the warm water drown your thoughts. Your brain wouldn’t let you catch a break, couldn’t you think about something else for a second? Like that book you’ve been reading? When you brought it with you it had been all the rage, but you can’t understand the hype. Sure you were only halfway done, but the main love interest was the worst person ever, how could anyone get behind him? He literally threatens to kill the protags family, basically kidnaps her, and you’re assuming she's going to ‘find the good in him’ and they ‘live happily ever after’. Unfortunately, you had to tough it out as you could only bring so many books for entertainment. Hopefully they turn the plot around and prove you wrong. Perhaps the protag actually fights back somehow or tricks the guy into thinking she’s fallen for him only to stab him in the back. Now that? You could get behind. 

Yeah, you need to finish that, you’ve been so preoccupied with work and Daisuke you haven't had much time for yourself. Shutting the water off, you dried yourself off and put on casual clothes. You’d finished your chores early, giving you a much needed break. Walking towards the sleeping quarters, you were simply minding your own business when a rude voice made you snap to attention. 

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” Jimmy’s harsh voice growled out. Looking to your right, you noticed it was only the two of you in the hall, and he was glaring right at you. You blinked in confusion, not able to get a word out before he continued. “Do you know how much more shit needs to be done? Of course Anya just lets you do whatever the hell you want, huh? Good for nothing brat. I gotta get everything done around here.” 

You couldn’t stop the sneer that settled over your face, gazing at the middle aged man with disgust. Who the hell does he think he is? You had spent the most of your trip ignoring the other, you thought it was a mutual avoidance thing. You had a feeling there wasn’t much for either of you to talk about, and he seemed standoffish anyways, but this? You hadn’t expected him to lash out at you. And for getting a break of all things. And wait, not even just that, he was blaming Anya too? 

You couldn’t even defend yourself before he stormed off, grumbling about something or another. Who the hell pissed in his cheerios? Well…okay, odd encounter. You did your best to shrug it off, continuing to your room, but something was bugging you. Just what exactly made him so aggravated? Not like you actually cared, he probably deserved whatever it was if he acts like that to someone he barely knows. 

Whatever, you have a book that needs to be finished. That’s all that mattered at the moment.

…

You had become so engrossed in the story, you nearly missed the knock on your door. Glancing up, you shouted a quick come in, not wanting to lose your place. You were so close to finishing already, and the plot had picked up from where you left off. It wasn’t as bad as the start, the author had started as a cliche and averted the readers expectations, slowly turning the story into a revenge plot. Chefs kiss, seven out of ten so far, and if the ending was as good as everyone said it was, then perhaps that rating will go up.

Daisuke joined you on the bed, head popping over your shoulder and eyeing the book, “Good book?”

“Mhm,” You nodded, setting it on your lap but keeping your place with your finger. Your skin tingled as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and resting his head on your shoulder. Your heart skipped a beat, but the fluttering in your stomach had dulled somewhat. That wasn’t a bad thing per say. Actually it brought you a sense of relief, you were growing used to his affection. Not taking it for granted or anything, but finding comfort in it instead of tension. To be fair, it was easier for you to accept it when it was just the two of you, no peering eyes of judgment to make you overthink your actions. Just the two of you enjoying the other’s presence. 

“You should read it to me, I like hearing your voice.” He murmured, nuzzling into your neck. Okay now he ruined it as it felt like sparks going off under your skin, heat crawling up your face, shoulders tensing in just the slightest. How could he say that so simply? Like it wasn’t a life changing statement? 

“O-okay,” You agreed, trying your hardest to keep your voice from wavering (and failing). Dog earring the page you left on (a crime, but you were too cheap to buy bookmarks), you turned to the first page, pausing before starting. “How was your day?” Sure, he had become more touchy after you officially started dating, but he seemed a bit more so at the moment.

“It was fine,” Daisuke shrugged, his warm breath heating your neck and causing your hair to stand on end. The fact that you were touch starved was clearly showing. “Keep messing up but that’s just normal.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it eventually,” You replied, reaching back and messing with his hair. You weren’t sure why you did it, it just seemed like the right thing to do, and the fact that he leaned into your touch seemed to validate that thought. “Being a mechanic isn’t easy, not to mention you do a lot of the electric work too.”

“Yeah,” He sighed, eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. “How was yours?”

“Not too bad,” You replied, slowly melting into the brunette’s touch. “Got done early, but…well, I guess something happened.” Daisuke hummed, waiting for you to continue. “Jimmy exploded for no reason, going off about how he’s gotta do everything around the ship.”

“Huh?” Daisuke looked confused and annoyed, pulling away slightly to share a look with you. “What about the Captain or hell, even Swansea does a lot.”

“I know right!” You exclaimed, turning around in his arms slightly, dropping the book off to the side. “Not to mention Anya’s the only one holding us all together.” 

“Exactly,” Daisuke nodded enthusiastically. “Not to mention you do all the small stuff so the others can focus on their bigger tasks. Keeping the ship running smoothly and all that.”

“You too,” argued. “You’re learning a lot every day, and sure you may mess up from time to time, but at the end of the day you’re doing a lot. And you keep the ship from being a dull, boring routine of madness.”

His smile turned tender, squeezing you gently, “You’re right, without me you’d have no one to cuddle with.” 

Once again you found yourself scowling, “You say that like it's a necessity.” It seemed you and deflection went hand in hand. 

“I dunno,” He chuckled, lucky for you he found it adorable whenever you scrunch your face like that. “I’m not sure how I survived so long without you in my arms.” 

“You’re so cheesy,” You groaned, draping your entire weight on him, the both of you falling onto the bed. 

“And you love it.”

You hated that he was right.

[neoyorzapoteca]

playlist or no playlist I am losing my fucking mind, by the time I get my shit together and start feeling a tiny bit alright the sun starts going down and I am plunged into despair (and this is despite living in MEXICO)

[wardenparker]

Bones Full of Words, Epilogue

Javier Peña x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

“He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy.

He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 8.4k Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, food/eating, talk of weight or size, domestic fluff, sass, married flirting, pregnancy, childbirth Summary: Thanksgiving time has come again, but the Peñas are in for more than just a nice meal this year. Notes: It has been such an amazing journey following these two through their love story! We hope you've enjoyed it as much as we have 🧡🧡

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

There is nothing unusal at all about the dog being the first one to spot the car, but you're still slightly startled by the commotion when the hound in the living room starts howling to sound the alarm. After that it's the two kids who come scrambling out of their room and bounding down the stairs screaming "Daddy's home!" as if he had been gone more than just a few hours.

The whole brigade has sounded the alarm, and you can't help but grin.

Hearing the dog barking and the kids scrambling around in the house before he ever even hits the door, Javi is chuckling as he grabs the deli bag and his bag filled with papers he will need to read sometime over the holiday break. “Shit.” He hisses, turning back to the car to grab the drink carrier, knowing you would be disappointed if you didn’t get your root beer.

"Boys, you have to let your Dad into the house!" You call, coming out from the kitchen with a dishrag in hand. You had been chopping enough onions to sink a ship and washing the smell off your hands was extremely necessary.

“It’s okay!” Javi calls out, although it’s a juggling act to keep the drinks from spilling as the two exuberant kids launch themselves at him.

"You're going to fall over, babe." It is okay, though, and you're both laughing even as you reach forward over two young boys, one ambling basset hound, and a seven-month pregnant belly to grab multiple bags from his hands. "How was class?"

Javi snorts. “Half the class didn’t show up.” He chuckles. “I don’t blame them, I wouldn’t show up either.” He admits, knowing he had wished he was home with you and the boys rather than sitting in his lecture hall. “‘Professor Peña, whhhhyyyy do we have to do reading over the break?’” he pitches his voice up and imitates one of his students. “I really don’t give a shit if they read it or not, but they annoyed me so I assigned it.”

“Your reading list always makes for interesting dinner conversations, I’m sure.” There’s a grin on your face when he leans over to kiss you then head to switch gears immediately to catch your younger son as he launches himself into daddy’s arms. “It’s Steve’s book isn’t it?”

“Of course it is.” He flashes you a grin before he turns his attention back to his youngest child. “Were you good for mama today?” He asks, knowing that he is the mirror copy of a young Javier. So the answer is probably no.

“Yeah!” Your youngest affirms his innocence wholeheartedly, but you roll your eyes playfully.

“Come on boys, Daddy brought home lunch for everybody so let’s wash up.” It earns Javi another grateful kiss from you, since tuna sandwiches from the shop over by UGA campus are your new pregnancy craving. A tuna sandwich on their toasted oat bread, loaded with veggies and American cheese, with an ice cold root beer. He’s brought you home that same lunch every day for a week, and today he brought lunch for him and the boys too.

After the capture of the Rodriguez brothers and the take down of the entire Cali Cartel, Javier had been told his services were no longer needed in the DEA. Which was fine with him because he was going to tell them to go fuck themselves. He had thought about going back to Laredo, and you did for a month or so, but then a teaching position for criminal justice and political science became available at a respectable college and he took it. It only took two year for the University of Georgia to recruit him for their staff.

The blue house on the edge of campus with its white-trim windows and fenced-in yard has been your home ever since he took the job. The boys have started their lives here despite your oldest being born just before you left Colombia, and when they begged for a puppy last year it had been a beautiful basset puppy waiting for them under the tree on Christmas morning that really tied the bow on this being home.

“How are you and my baby girl doing?” After setting Oscar down to run after his brother, Javier pulls you by the waist to him, his hand moving to rub your stomach lovingly. He adores when you are pregnant and it’s especially sweet since you decided this was the last baby, and a little girl.

"We are not big fans of onions today." You grimace, knowing that it could be worse but that it feels like it's the only thing you've done all morning since getting the boys settled in their playroom. "But Marco came up wtih a new name he wanted to add to the list." The notepad on the refrigerator is where you keep the ongoing list of baby name ideas, and every once in a while the boys or another family member will contribute an idea as well. It was Chucho who ended up naming Oscar, and your brothers had pitched the name Marco originally. Names have become something of a family effort.

“Oh?” Javi hums, impressed by his excitement for the little sister due in February. “What did he come up with?”

The smirk on your face says you know Javi won't be as excited for long, considering his son's current favorite movie. "He would like to name his baby sister Donkey."

“That fucking movie” Javi closes his eyes and sighs, hating the fact he had taken Marco to see Shrek. Even though he loves it better than any other movie in the world. “Please tell me you didn’t write it down?”

"Oh no, I didn't." Your grin turns shit-eating as you point to the refrigerator where Marco's large, shaky handwriting clearly spells out the word and takes up four times as much room as any other name. "He asked to write it himself."

“Well I hate to burst his bubble…” Javi snorts at the slanted handwriting and the misspelled Donky written on the board. “We will not be naming our baby girl that.”

"Of course not." And that is where your expression turns fond again, shaking your head at your oldest baby but proud of him for wanting to contribute to a big family decision. "But I love that he's thinking about it."

“God.” He snorts, grinning at the antics of his children, but like you, he’s proud of them. “So no onions today, huh? Made you gassy?”

"The smell made me sick first thing," you admit. After washing your hands with the kids, the four of you can sit down at the table to have your lunch. "But I powered through. I don't even want to think about the chaos tomorrow would be if I couldn't make stuffing because of an onion aversion."

“You should have let me handle it when I got home.” He frowns at you, huffing slightly. “I know I can’t cook like you, but I can follow directions passably well.”

"I know you can, babe." The smell of tuna is like a balm over your senses when you unwrap your sandwich and you sigh happily. "But you have to go to the airport tonight to pick up our parents, remember?"

“I can do both.” He knows you want to have the perfect holiday, it’s just how you are. Even the few times you had thrown dinner parties in Colombia, you had wanted everything to be just so. Of course you want a family holiday to be perfect. “Let me help you. I know you’ve got to be tired.”

"I've got a plan." Having the biggest house out of your siblings after everyone had settled down and being the first one with kids has meant that the Peña residence in Athens, Georgia is now family holiday headquarters. While you love it, it is also a lot of work, so you've been working on creating a system. "Once everybody gets here this afternoon there will be plenty of childcare and Michael's wife insisted they're getting pizza and salad for everybody for dinner tonight. Paper plates and plastic cups so we don't make more work for ourselves. At that point there will be lots of helping hands and the work will go a lot faster."

“Beer is in the back of the car.” He had picked that up on the way to the deli you love. Thanksgiving wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without some Budweiser while watching the football game. Although he makes sure everything is done and you are sitting beside him before he sits down.

"Perfect. Thank you, cariño." Having a partner for a husband feels like it sets you apart from the other faculty wives that you end up spending time with, but not in ways that you're upset about. While the other ladies are rightfully bitching about how their husbands don't help out around the house or don't do their part with the kids, you tend to just keep your mouth shut. Javier is always there to support you and share the workload, helping to raise the boys as their other parent and not as a third, older child you constantly have to prod at. Right now is a prime example of it, as he gets the boys set up with their shared sandwich so that you can dig in to your lunch right away.

Javi moves to pour the kids juice into their cups. Marco has a Shrek cup and Oscar with his favorite Barney cup and then he cracks open a ginger ale for himself. The days of starting to drink right after coming home are long past him and he doesn’t miss it as much as he might have expected.

"So, Papa's flight lands at 3:00 this afternoon and Grammy's lands at 3:15." You managed to work the flight times out for both of your parents to come in at the best possible time. "Joey and his wife want to rent a car so they'll get down here on their own after they land, and Michael decided to road trip from Chattanooga so they'll probably be in last even though they're aiming for the same time as everyone else." Coordinating the families does take a little work as they grow, but it's work that you're all willing to put in. Especially so all the kids can spend time with their cousins a few times every year and really get to know each other.

“Okay.” He nods and smirks. “I would have driven to Atlanta to pick them up, but I’m happy as hell I don’t have to.” Both his father and your mom opted to fly into the smaller, local airports so they can be with their grandchildren faster.

"It worked out, thank god." The boys are currently engrossed in a conversation about something Saturday-morning-cartoon related that you can't quite catch, so with the first few bites of your sandwich you enjoy the relative peace. They'll be up early tomorrow to see every second of the Macy's parade so any peace you get today is wonderful. "And I am not grappling with your dad's addiction to pecan pie this year. I ordered one from the bakery along with the apple. Homemade pie crust is officially my nemesis."

Javi chuckles and nods. “Good choice” He teases. “Do I need to go brave the stores for anything else?”

"At this point, if we don't have it, it's not ending up on the Thanksgiving table." And that's the final word as far as you're concerned. "The last thing is picking up the pies, and my sisters-in-law already offered to make that trip tonight for us." You smirk, knowing your brothers' soulmates fairly well at this point. It's only been a few years but you're a tight knit family. "If they're willing to do the last errand, I'm not going to begrudge them getting out of the noisy house for a half hour later on."

“Damnit, she figured out why I always make the last run.” Javi grumbles, but he winks at you playfully. He actually enjoys when the house is in chaos and noisy. Far different from his own solitude for so many years. He’s less in his own head these days.

"Big time." You grin at him, stifling your laughter by having another bite of lunch. "You're the one who wanted a big house, babe. The price we pay is being the holiday house."

"I don't mind it." He had insisted the kids all be able to have their own rooms and he had wanted you to have a dedicated office as well as him. That required a big house.

As it does so often with him now, your smile softens at the edges. "I don't either. And it's going to be even nicer not having to bundle three kids into the car or onto a plane a couple of times a year to see family."

"Well, we had already agreed that the kids having their holidays at home was the most important thing." He reminds you. "Luckily our parents agreed and are willing to come to us."

"Marco gave us that privilege," you remind him, glancing over at your boys. "My mother would have flown to Timbuktu to see her first grandbaby."

"That's true." Your mother had been upset when you hadn't wanted her to come to Colombia for the last month of your pregnancy and the birth. She had flown to Texas to meet him as soon as the three of you had returned to the States.

“And honestly I’m glad that we’re close enough for your dad to get here without much trouble.” Chucho is still pretty spry for his age but that doesn’t mean you aren’t grateful for the quick flights between Laredo and Athens.

"I think dad enjoys flirting with the flight attendants." Javi jokes, shooting you a smirk.

“Probably,” you agree, smirking even though you shake your head. Chucho isn’t the kind of guy who would make trouble, so it’s harmless as long as the attendants don’t mind. “Gives the waitresses at his bar a break.”

"He's asked about your mother a lot." He waggles his brows suggestively. "We might have to put bells on our parents at night. Make sure they stay in their rooms."

“Nothing could be weirder.” The look of absolute confusion and discomfort in your face is immediate. “Our family tree does not need to tangle that way.”

He laughs at the abject horror in your eyes and reaches over to squeeze your knee under the table. "I'm teasing, sweetheart." He promises. "Pop asks about your mom, but only in a friendly kind of way." He can't be offended at your reaction, he would have the same kind of instinct if he heard something like that.

“Oh thank god.” You huff, trying to recompose yourself. “I know we live in the south. But we don’t need to be a stereotype.”

He huffs again, amused as you continue to shake your head. "Pop has started seeing another widow, someone from that support group you turned him on to." He had never really thought about his dad needing to talk to other widowers who had lost their soulmates, but you had seen it. Another reason he loves how you have folded into his life so perfectly. You softened his rough edges and noticed the unspoken needs of both of the Peña men.

“Oh good!” That seems to wipe the other thought clean from your mind. “I mean I didn’t show him those groups thinking he’d start dating, just that having some friends who went through what he did would be good for him.”

"Mama wouldn't have wanted him to be alone for the rest of his life." That he knows, having discussed it with her when it had become clear she wasn't beating her cancer. She had known that Javier could and would hold a grudge if he had thought it was disrespectful to her memory. So she had made her wishes clear to her only son. "It is good for him. He said he feels like a kid again."

“I wish we had known before.” Having devoted half your sandwich already, you reach for your soda. “I would’ve have invited her, too. Though in sure she has her own family to see.”

"She is visiting her grandchildren." He nods. "Although pop said he might ask us to come out to Texas this summer to meet her?"

“Absolutely.” That sounds just like your father-in-law. Chucho plans for the long term much better than short term in all areas of his life. “By then our little girl should be okay to travel a bit.”

Javi grins. "I think that was his plan. Show off his newest grandbaby."

“Donkey!” Marco supplies cheerily, having heard his mother say the word girl.

Javi rolls his eyes and sighs heavily while you giggle. "I'm glad you think this is funny." He huffs quietly.

“I have final veto naming rights on anything that comes out of my body,” you remind him with a smug grin. “Of course I think it’s funny.”

"Thank God for that." He rolls his eyes again and gets up when he sees your drink is finished to get you a glass of water.

“You won’t be saying that if I name her something ridiculous in a fit of sleepless silliness.”

"I don't think you want to give our daughter a name that will embarrass her." He points out and licks his lips before voicing something that he's been thinking about since finding out that that baby is a girl. "Is it strange or inappropriate that I was thinking about Helena for a middle name?" He asks softly, watching you to gauge your reaction.

“Oh.” That makes you pause, but when he puts the glass of water down in front of you, you reach for his hand rather than the glass. “I—I actually think that’s so nice,” you admit with tears in your eyes. Though your contact with Helena has waned slightly in the years since she moved to America, you still send each other letters a few times a year to keep up. “Someone we both love dearly…I think that’s a very sweet gesture.”

“I—” he flounders slightly. “She is the reason we found each other.” He murmurs. “The reason we have this life, our children.”

"She is." He is completely correct, and you squeeze his hand tightly for just a brief moment. Now that he's suggested it, there is no other possibility in your mind. "Whatever we pick, it has to go with Helena."

Javi sighs softly, smiling at you before he leans down and presses his lips to yours. “I wasn’t sure how you would like the idea.” He admits. After all, both of you had slept with her, so it could have been a horrible idea in your mind.

"I don't think it's a conventional decision, but we aren't very conventional people." Looking around the table, though, and then back up at him, you shrug. "At least, we didn't used to be."

He chuckles at that and shoots you a grin. “We have slipped into domesticity with surprising ease, haven’t we?” He asks you.

"We really have," you agree, leaning up to kiss him again when the phone on the wall rings.

"You stay there." Javi pulls back and points at you, knowing you would try to heft your pregnant belly out of the chair to rush over to the phone. "I’ll get it." He steps over to the phone and picks it up, reminding himself that he needs to get another cordless phone set so you can just carry one around. It would make it easier and the last one had been broken by the movers. "Peña residence." He answers.

“Hey mijo!” Chucho’s voice is cheery through the cracking connection of the cellphone that Javier had bought him to have while he traveled. “I just boarded and that gorgeous wife of yours said to call before I left Texas.”

“Hey pop.” He twists his body around and winks at you. “Yeah, she worries about you.” He tells his father while watching you. “Didn’t want you to get lost in the airport and miss Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Not a chance.” Chucho chuckles at that. “Tell my grandsons I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“They will be looking forward to it.” He promises and then hangs up the phone after Chucho says goodbye.

“Is Papa here?” Oscar asks hopefully, having heard his father refer to Pop and knowing that holidays mean his favorite family member in the whole world will be coming to play Spacemen with him.

“He will be in just a few hours.” Javi lifts a brow. “If you take a nap, he will be here as soon as you wake up and you will have allllllll the energy to play.” He’s not above making a nap sound like a good thing. Not if it lets you get a nap while he’s gone to pick up the parents.

"All done!" Your youngest announces with an enormous amount of ceremony, pushing away his plate – which actually is empty – and throwing up his hands as it was proof of having finished his lunch.

“Good job, buddy.” Fatherhood has taught Javier a patience he never knew he could have, and he’s been rewarded for it. His boys are already far better than he ever was and he knows they will only become better men than he ever could claim to be.

Getting the boys down for a nap is one of Javier’s best Dad chores, but when he comes back down twenty-five minutes later with the baby monitor in hand you both breathe a sigh of relief. “They missed you this morning,” you tell him, smiling softly over the kitchen clean up. “So did I.”

He hums, knowing that he had missed them too. “Too bad I can’t just lecture from my office.” He shrugs, moving over to where you are rinsing the glasses and softly shooing you out of the way. “Go sit sweetheart.” He huffs. “I know your back is hurting.”

"I won't fight you on that." Your back was a bit of an issue with your second pregnancy so you know Javi is being extra watchful this time around. The balance is good, though. Otherwise you would just go-go-go as much as possible.

“I know you didn’t get any writing done between the kids being out of school and prepping for tomorrow.” He talks as he continues the chore and loads the dishwasher beside the sink. “But how’s the chapter coming along?”

“Honestly I’m a little blocked,” you admit, leaning back in your chair and sighing at the slight relief on your back and belly. “I’m hoping that focusing on family this weekend shakes some words loose.”

“They will come.” He knows that. You are too good of an author for words to fail you. “Anything else you need to prep tonight?” He asks.

“I can wait until more people get here and hand out prep jobs. We like sitting around the table and bitching while we work.” It’s practically a family pastime, if you’re honest. Which is why it’s so fun. “There’s a few things to do but we’ll manage okay.”

“Sooooo.” He closes the door to the dishwasher and stands straight, turning around while he wipes his hands in a dishrag. “What about a nap for mama?”

"Could." You agree, folding your hands under your belly to support the bump. "But Mama missed Daddy and wants to actually see him a little."

He smirks and pushes off the counter to move over and lean down for a kiss. “How about I lay down with you until I need to leave for the airport?” He offers. “I’ll even rub your back.”

"You tryin’ to get me into bed, Peña?" You raise one eyebrow at him and smirk, pointing to your belly. "That's what got us this in the first place."

He smirks again. “Oh I know.” He grunts. “I was there for the whole thing.” You are absolutely irresistible to him when you are pregnant, even more than normal. He loves you carrying his babies. Although, right now he’s simply trying to get you to rest. He worries about you taking on too much this late in the pregnancy.

"Okay, okay." It's not difficult to see the worry in this eyes, and you put up one hand in defeat. "Help me up, love? We can snuggle in bed until it's time for you to leave."

“Okay.” You gave in far too easily, telling him that you are more exhausted than he imagined.

“I’m okay.” At the top of the stairs he is practically cradling you and you kiss his cheek in reassurance. “It’s just third trimester, that’s all.”

“I’m going to worry.” He’s good at that, but the worry over his family is far more meaningful than worrying about sicarios and drug dealers

“I know.” And just the fact of it brings a soft smile to your lips. “I love you, too.”

******

“You look amazing.” Your mother beams at you, eager to see her glowing daughter happy in your last months of pregnancy. “You’re carrying low, I’m so surprised it was a little girl on the ultrasound.” She teases. “What are you going to do if she was hiding a little thingy?” She works as she asks, filling the little tartlets that will be the appetizers first thing.

“We’ll be just as happy to have another boy if it turns out that way.” You promise your mother. While she fills the ham and cheese tarts for the appetizer table, you’re making the stuffing for the mushroom caps, and on your other side your oldest brother is making his jalapeño popper dip.

“Oh I know you will.” She assures you. “Javier is a wonderful father and you make me so proud.” Her voice cracks up a little, looking over into the living room where Chucho is keeping the boys entertained and Javier is diligently cleaning up when one of the boys had broken the rule of ‘no drinks in the living room’ and spilled it on the carpet in his excitement to see his family. “You have an amazing little family.”

“It won’t be so little pretty soon.” Michael’s soulmate, your sister-in-law Maria, reminds the table happily. Being in her first trimester with their first baby, she is sharing in the joy of pregnancy very happily. “Five counts as a big family, I think.”

“Not as big as some, but nowadays some couples are only have one child.” Your mother tuts, as if only having one child is an offense.

"Mom..." You shoot her a warning glance, reminding her silently that Javi is an only child. "All we care about is the kids being healthy and happy. One or two or three... it doesn't matter."

She grimaces and glances towards the living room, remembering that detail. She knows from talking to Chucho, they had wanted a big family. “You are right.” She quickly agrees. “Healthy.”

"Especially since this is the last one." Both of your families know that you're planning on a more permanent form of birth control for your family now. It didn't seem kind or reasonable to let your parents keep wondering if more and more grandkids would keep coming. "The only things I'm birthing after this little girl are books."

“How is your next book coming?” Her eyes widen with anticipation. “When I tell you, the book club is salivating over your last one, I mean they have extended the read.”

"I'm pretty sure your book club are my advanced sales every time," you laugh, grateful to your mother for all of her support in keeping your dreams alive and being just as proud of you as she possibly could be. Your family have really been your biggest cheerleaders. "This one is coming on a little more slowly."

"Pregnancy brain?" Your sister-in-law only half jokes. She's already experiencing some of that for herself.

"Absolutely." More laughter is shared at the table. "Pregnancy brain and being tired all the time."

Chucho ignores your protest and makes it a game, the boys competing for who can make mama the most comfortable.

"I was trying to prevent a fuss." Even though you direct the comment at your husband it seems to fall on deaf ears as everyone moves around again, and your other brother takes over making your mushroom recipe so you can go and lay down. Chucho and the boys have moved the pillows around the couch for you and while Marco is ready to give Mama and Baby Sis cuddles, Oscar has offered up his favorite teddy for your comfort as well. It's moments like those -- the most meaningful gestures from your young kids -- that tell you unquestionably that you and Javier are doing a good job. At their ages your boys have gotten past most struggles with sharing and have instead become compassionate kids who want everyone around them to be happy.

Javi grins as he brings you a Shirley Temple in a cup with a lid and straw. “You think a fuss wasn’t going to be made over you this weekend?” He huffs in amusement.

"I'm not the only pregnant woman in the house," you point out, gesturing toward your sister-in-law who is still sitting at the table.

“But I’m not as pregnant as you are.” She snorts, smirking when you huff. “You can cater to me when I’m about to pop, okay?”

"Thiry-two weeks still has a little way to go," you argue, though you sigh measurably when one of the couch throw pillows hits your back just right. It really is hell on the body to be pregnant, that's for damn sure.

“I hoping for a Christmas baby.” Your mother admits and Javi snorts, shaking his head. “Don’t put that on our baby girl.” He huffs playfully. “She would hate her birthday falling on a holiday where her brothers get gifts too.”

“Healthy and happy.” Michael recites your mantra for you, since you’re a little still trying to get comfortable. “But yeah, Ma. Don’t wish a Christmas birth on your grandkid. That’s hard for anybody.”

Your mother sighs softly and shrugs. “You’re right. I was just thinking about how wonderful the birthday pictures would be.” She admits with a laugh.

“What if we made a flower wreath for her, Mom?” You offer, setting it as nondenominational but evoking that beautiful celebration that she imagines. “An oval one big enough to lay her in for pictures?”

“That would be lovely!” Her eyes light up at the possibility. “She would look so beautiful.” The baby isn’t bore, but she already knows she will be the prettiest baby. “I loved your baby pictures.”

"And you'll love your granddaughter's too." Even through another wince, you have no problem promising your mother that. She has loved every picture of each of her grandkids and you know the next will be no exception.

Javi doesn’t notice this next pain since he’s walking back into the kitchen, but Chucho does. Glancing at you and then at his watch discreetly. “Boys, I think it’s time for bed.” He announces after a moment. “Do you want to say goodnight to everyone?”

Marco and Oscar go around giving good night hugs and kisses to everyone individually before Chucho volunteers to bring them upstairs and go through their nighttime routine with them. He always brings a new book of kids stories with him whenever he visits and this is no exception, so doubtless he'll read them a brand new bedtime story tonight as well.

Javi fixes everyone else drinks, another Shirley Temple for your sister-in-law and wine for Michael and your mother. He cracks open a beer for himself, but he doesn’t take a drink yet, waiting for his pop to come back downstairs.

When Chucho does finally reappear in the living room, he wipes his hands off in a show of a job well done. "They needed two stories, but they're out now," he tells you and Javi happily.

“That’s good.” Javi hands his father a beer and motions him into the living room. “Go keep your favorite daughter company.” He tells him. “I’ll help finish up the food.”

"I can make a little room," you offer, starting to shift on the couch.

“No, you stay put.” Chucho insists, taking the recliner next to the couch where Javi would normally sit and watch the news. “You need some rest.”

"I was fine all day." A fact which frustrates you to no end. Only starting to feel exhausted and a little unwell after your nap is a nuisance. "This is just a pain in the ass."

You wince again and Chucho hums, glancing down at his watch again. “Each time is different.” He reminds you. “You were so sick with Oscar the first few weeks.”

"This is Marco's fault," you joke, not meaning a word of it. "My first pregnancy was easy right until the end and it made me think more would be the exact same way."

He chuckles as he sets his beer down. “You were floating on air when you were in Colombia. Even with the stress Javi was under.”

"It was our honeymoon phase." As patently absurd as that might sound to anyone else, it's true. You and Javi were as blissful in your actual relationship at that time as any other pair of soulmates could hope to be.

“He has really changed with you in his life.” Chucho admits. “I used to worry about that phone call, you know the one I mean. Knowing how easily Javi would follow someone to hell to do the right thing - in his mind - it was hard to let him live his life.” He smiles. “When you came back to him, he was determined to do things right. To be the best man he could and I think he’s done it. Not that he was ever bad but his rough edges have been smoothed out by you.”

"We did that for each other, really." Reaching over, you set your hand on Chucho's and give his a gentle squeeze. "I needed him to soften and bolster me just as much as he needed me."

He turns his hand and his smile widens when your little grunt of pain comes again. Almost silent if he wasn’t looking for it. “And soon, your family will be complete.” He murmurs.

"Just a few more weeks." Your other hand soothes over your belly, urging this to just go away. If it's the baby being active, you want her to calm down. If its Braxton Hicks contractions, you're just going to have to wait until they pass. Either way you just want to get past it.

“More like a few hours, mija” He chuckles. “You are in labor.”

"It's probably just Braxton Hicks." Saying it out loud, the thought in your head, makes you firm on the point. The best you can do is just shake your head and press on. You've had two babies, already. You would surely know if you were really in labor.

“Pains are about twelve minutes apart.” He tells you, leaning back and smirking and looking very much like his only son.

"Pops." You groan, throwing him a pout. "You've been timing me?"

He snorts. “That’s your gripe right now?” He shakes his head. “You’re perfect for my son. I will say it again.”

"It's just Braxton Hicks. I'm not going to the hospital." The warning in your voice ends up making it rise and three heads whir in your direction.

“You don’t have to go yet.” He promises, reaching out and patting your hand gently.

"Hospital?" Your mother looks up, finding Javi's eyes with worry.

Javi glances over at you and knows what you’ve been trying to deny. “She’s in labor. Has been for a few hours.” He trusts you to know your body, even if you are denying it right now. You might not want to believe it, but you wouldn’t put your baby in any risk.

It’s like hearing it from your husband cracks the dam, and the near-instant spring of tears to your eyes makes your voice waver too. “I can’t be in labor!” You sniffle, dropping your head back on the couch. “It’s Thanksgiving!”

Javi stifles a chuckle and moves over to you from the kitchen, kneeling down beside you and cupping your cheek. “It just means we will have to be extra Thankful this year, sweetheart.”

“But what if she doesn’t like pumpkin pie?” Is, probably, the silliest worry and most ridiculous sentence to ever come out of your mouth, but it’s clear that the extra emotions and hormones and worries flooding through you are in control of your thoughts at the moment.

Everyone starts to chuckle and Javi grins at you. “There’s always pecan pie.” He reminds you, kissing your hand.

“I know how stupid I sound,” you huff, laughing along with them in spite of yourself, and look back at Javi with concern. “She’s early,” you point out, concern lining your eyes. Marco Was born four days after your due date and your labor with Oscar started in the wee hours of the morning on your due date. Early is a new concept for you.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart.” Even though that worry is one he shares, right now his job is to keep you calm. “Why don’t we go out to the hospital and make sure?”

“I haven’t even packed my hospital bag yet.” He’s right. You know he is. That especially if the baby is going to come early, you should be at the hospital and not take any chances. But you just haven’t gotten yourself ready yet. “I guess it doesn’t matter now?”

“Tell me what you want.” Your mother is abandoning the food and immediately jumping to her feet. “I’ll go pack you a bag.”

You describe the place in your closet that you keep your most comfortable clothes and are specific about the ones you want packed, also asking her to add your slippers and a few hygiene items to your yoga bag.

The onesie you’ll bring your baby girl home in is the same one her brothers were brought home in too, and having goes to get that from the laundry room once you’re on your feet. “Honey?” You stop him in his tracks, but a smile is peaking through your nerves. “Don’t forget to grab the list from the fridge.”

“I won’t forget.” He doesn’t remind you that he’s done this three times now, but he knows you are starting to panic slightly. “I’ll double check it.

“Thank you.” With a heavy sigh and a hiss of pain, you look around at your brother, sisters-in-law, and your father-in-law and half-laugh. “I guess she just really wants to meet everyone.”

“I’ll stay here with the boys.” Chucho tells you, wanting you to feel good about having to leave tonight.

“And we’ll come back first thing in the morning to keep Chucho and the boys company.” Joey promises. With his own soulmate pregnant they had booked a hotel room this year, but nothing will stop them from being on board to keep their nephews busy while Mama welcomes the newest member of the family. “In fact…” He glances at Michael, who nods. “Mickey and I are going to cook dinner. Everything we planned on and have prepped. So tomorrow when the baby’s here we can bring you Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Sounds like we’ve got everything planned.” Chucho chuckles as Javi starts cursing from upstairs. “Let me go help him with your list, mija.”

“Of course.” It wouldn’t do any good to remind them that you can still waddle upstairs — no one in this house would ever let you.

He disappears upstairs and everyone starts to move, getting things together and murmuring about what you might need at the hospital.

It's an hour before Javi is pulling the car up to the emergency room door, and by this point you're past denying that you're in labor. Your mother opted to drive her rental car behind the two of you to be with you in case a second pair of hands is needed, and you're climbing out of the car with Javi's help when she pops up on the sidewalk next to you.

“Let me get the bags.” She insists. “You get her inside, Javier.” He barely resists rolling his eyes and smirks at you slightly. “Sure thing.”

"Inherited trait." You hum under your breath, knowing that both your boys are stubborn as well.

“Don’t I know it.” He huffs, as if he’s not just as stubborn as you, maybe more so. Love and marriage, having children has taught you both to compromise a little more than you would normally, but the only place Javier will never compromise is yours and the boys’ safety and welfare. “I’ve got you.” He holds tight when another contraction hits you and you have to stop walking to concentrate on breathing.

"I can check you in." The nurse at the desk waves to Javier to get his attention.

He cuts his eyes up, his expression not exactly relieved. “Maybe after my wife finishes her contraction.” He snorts.

She smiles, polite and professional, but already has one hand on the phone to call up to Labor and Delivery as soon as she has a patient name. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Only when you sigh softly, the signal that the pain has passed, does Javier even attempt to urge you forward. “Come on sweetheart.” He chuckles. “The sooner we get to a desk, the sooner you get to ride in the wheelchair.”

“Yes please.” It will be a relief to be whisked around the hospital in a wheelchair instead of hobbling around trying to balance between contractions, and you give Javi’s hand a grateful squeeze before letting go to pull your ID and insurance card out of your purse. The nurse at the counter is sweet enough but you’re rather task oriented at the moment.

“I’ll fill out the paperwork.” Javi tells you, taking the clipboard when it’s offered. “You sit down, sweetheart.” He looks up at the nurse. “She’s six and half weeks early right now.”

“I’ll tell the L&D nurse.” Though the desk nurse betrays no concern the speed at which she picks up the phone says otherwise.

“We’ll get you up in the room, and then the doctor will tell you that everything is fine.” Javi reassures you - and himself. Babies come when they want to, not on your schedule. “Maybe you can even have a glass of wine with Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Maybe.” His demeanor being as calm as it is makes you so grateful you could cry again, but a nurse comes over with a wheelchair to get you situated and soon enough your mother is there beside you again. It is going to be alright; you tell yourself over and over. Because you’re taken care of and your little girl will be, too.

Javi is holding your hand. “You want a drink sweetheart?” He knows that if you are having the baby tonight, soon enough they will limit you to ice chips.

“Might as well, while I still can.” You’re thinking the same thing he is, and gratefully accept the water bottle he hands you. “It’ll be ice chips before too long.”

“Yes it will.” He leans in and presses his lips to your hairline. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too.” And that, especially right now, is enough to make the difference.

******

You are definitely in labor. Javi holds your hand and reassures you through the pain. The doctor monitoring your progress for hours until suddenly everything speeds up and you are wheeled into the deliver room, Javier smocked up in a gown and gloves. He’s been present for both of the boys’ births and he’s not missing this.

It’s just after midnight when your little girl makes her squalling entrance into this bright new world, shaking her fists and blinking with wonder at all the new things to see and hear and feel.

Like the boys, Javi cuts the umbilical cord and is the first to hold his daughter when the doctor hands her to him, bringing her up to you. “Our little girl.” He chokes out with tears in his eyes from joy and relief that she seems just perfect.

“She’s perfect.” At five pounds and six ounces she’s a little on the small side, but the doctor seems satisfied that she’s healthy and was just determined to arrive early. “She really is perfect.” You have cried at the arrival of each of your babies and have absolutely no impulse to hide it, open shedding tears of joy as your little girl stares with wide eyes up into your face.

“Just like her mama.” Because of the risk of complications, only he has been allowed in the delivery room, giving you three time together. “She’s our perfect little joy.”

“Joy.” Your eyes turn up to his, barely able to tear them away from your daughter except to smile at your husband. Your soulmate. “Joy is a nice name.” But since you try to infuse their family heritage into each of your children’s names, you end up smiling wider. “Alegría. We could call her Allie for short?”

“Alegría Helena Peña.” He tried out the name and smiles softly, reaching out to caress her still wet hair. “It’s perfect”.

"I love you." Three words murmured to your soulmate when you smile up at him again, and repeated to your baby girl when you can't help but look back down at her again. "And I love you, Alegría. We both love you more than you'll ever know."

It wasn't on the list, but you don't care. The overwhelming happiness of this moment being immortalized by your baby girl's name is a perfect homage to all the unplanned things that have lead you to this point. Sometimes the best laid plans go awry, and sometimes that is exactly what fills you with love and happiness right down to your bones.

After a few more minutes, the nurses take Alegría away to do all the tests and clean her up. Javi holds your hand while other nurses help clean up the afterbirth. “It’s a good thing I got your gift early this year.” He chuckles, kissing your lips again. “I’m so damn proud of you, sweetheart.”

"I'm just glad she's healthy." It was your greatest fear and you know it was his too. Being left alone in that quiet hospital room together is almost deafening in an odd reversal of the sensation after so much commotion during Alegría's birth. "No NICU. No scary uncertainty. Just an eager little preemie who wanted to meet her whole family at once."

“Our Thanksgiving baby.” Javi smiles. “Even though her birthday won’t fall on Thanksgiving every year.”

“November 22.” All you know is that is after midnight, so it’s technically Thanksgiving Day now. “Add that to February 3 for Marco and August 15 for Oscar. Thank God they’re all well spaced out so they never have to share.”

“True.” He flashes you a grin. “Although the boys might be jealous when she gets a special dish on Thanksgiving.” He teases.

“Birthday cake is about to become a Peña Thanksgiving tradition,” you joke, knowing it could well become true.

“Baby, thank you.” His hand is holding yours again and he’s looking at you like you’ve hung the moon. Even though you are tired, sweaty and would probably say you look horrible, you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, right after the birth of all three of his children. “This is for you.” He offers, holding out the small velvet box he had shoved in his pocket hours earlier.

"Cariño." He has become a fan of push presents ever since first hearing about them, and while you always insist they aren't necessary when asked, it is a special kind of keepsake to have an item that reminds you of this moment. The first moments are the births of your children have all been special in their own ways, so you don't protest, but accept the box from him with a kiss. "I love you," you murmur against his lips, savoring the sensation before cracking open the box in your hand.

A beautiful three stone diamond ring winks back at you, the three baguette cut stones lying end to end in the beautifully carved band in the same metal as both your engagement band and wedding band. A third piece to complete the set like your complete set of three beautiful children. "It's beautiful."

“I figured it could be worn on the other side of your wedding band.” He explains, playing with the jewelry in question. Luckily your hands had not swollen with pregnancy like they had with Marco. “Your children represented on one side.” He murmurs softly. “And my commitment to you on the other.”

"Happily. Without hesitation." You lean over to kiss him again, wading through this feeling of exhausted euphoria for all that you can.

The doctors finish with Alegría and bring her back over to you, making Javi smile at the image when you greedily pull her close. “Do you want me to go get your mom?” He asks softly.

"Yes, please." Nodding and sniffling happily at having your daughter back in your arms, you tilt your chin up to ask for one more kiss before he goes. The new ring has settled on your finger comfortably but all of your attention is back on your little girl. "She'll text the rest of the family for us. At least the announcement is easy this time."

“No international phone calls.” He snorts, letting his lips linger on yours before he bends down more and kisses his daughter’s head. “I love you, mija.” He whispers softly, just like he had when you were carrying her. His life has been changed completely by you and the kids. For the better in every way. Javier knows joy, knows peace, and he knows that his family is the most important thing he could ever fight for. He had decided that he couldn’t let you walk out of his life a second time, and it was the best decision he had ever made.

------

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[melbatron5000]

I'm gonna go ahead and say it, because it's hurting my heart.

Perhaps Terry Pratchett wrote 75% of Good Omens the book. Perhaps the allegations against Neil Gaiman are true and he's a shite. Perhaps Neil Gaiman being off the show is the only way we even got those 90 minutes.

Without Neil Gaiman, we wouldn't even have Good Omens at all. He came up with the idea. We wouldn't have the show. He pushed for it. We wouldn't have the Bastille with Aziraphale all fancied up for his demon. We wouldn't have "You go too fast for me, Crowley," we wouldn't have "I lost my best friend." None of that was in the original. Neil added them in. We wouldn't have a kiss. Not even a peck. We wouldn't have an ineffable mystery game. No vavoom. No Jimbriel. No Muriel. No Bildad.

Neil may be a shit. But without him on the show, we won't have his storytelling. And frankly, every adaptation I've ever seen of his work has been lackluster for me. American Gods started out strong -- because he was on the show. And then he left to do Good Omens and American Gods crashed and burned.

You can feel how you want about the victims' allegations versus a TV show. And so can I. And I am deeply saddened by the loss of the storyteller who gave us so much. I think victims need to be heard, but I'm sad for me, too. I'm a writer myself, a devourer of stories, and those stories have meant a lot to me. Good Omens especially. To lose that . . . it just hurts. To know that it was lost because of harmful behavior by that storyteller -- that's a whole other level of hurt.

I'm not looking forward to the 90 minute movie. At all. And that has sucked all the joy out of the story for me. I don't want to watch it crash and burn. And I think it's going to.

Anyway. There's my downer for the year. That's why I'm off. That's where my joy went.

I'm still joyful about my own writing. You can find me at @melodytaylorauthor. I write about vampires and faeries and ghosts and magic.

Maybe I'll see you around.

[lovemyromance]

(Not a troll ask please don't shoot :D - genuine question)

But I feel like it's really downplayed how much Gwynriels gaslight the fandom. I joined ACOTAR bc I saw Gwynriel fanart and thought they were cute. I Got all the way to ACOSF still hoping for Gwynriel and got a whole lot of NOTHING. And honestly I think Elain is as interesting as cardboard (sorry), but you'd have to be downright blind to ignore she had something going on with Azriel.

Then I saw on titktok about the bonus chapter, everyone going in saying omg thats where gwyn & az are mates! So I cracked it open, read it - and bruh - HE'S OUT HERE TRYING TO GO DOWN ON ELAIN??

How can you put THAT interaction & the conversation he had with Gwyn side by side and people are walking away from it saying Gwyn & Azriel are mates?

I'm so genuinely confused why someone would start that nonsense. The way I ate up Gwynriel art/fan theories it was like she was a major character there from the start and they'd already had 8 kids and a HEA.

Then I open the books and they barely even have a conversation??

It was honestly really annoying. felt like a scam, like one of those authors peddling their book on social media and then you realize its a wattpadd fic written by a 12 yr old not an actual book

If it helps - we're all confused. Nothing has been proven yet about any remaining couple so idk why the Elucien and Gwynriels are out here straight up inventing fiction and trying to pass it off as fact to anyone willing (and even unwilling) to listen.

This ship war could've just been - "Hey I like Elucien more!" Or "I love elriel!"

But instead of just accepting these are all opinions and not actually what is in the books - people decided to straight up gaslight and claim that Elucien are a couple and Gwynriel are mates.

If you cannot point to it on the page where such a thing it explicitly happened - then it is not canon.

Lucien & Elain? They're mates. That's canon.

What's also canon - is that not all mates are a good pairing and end up happy together.

Whats also canon - is that the cauldron was wrong.

It shouldn't be hard to reach accurate conclusions if people stopped treating their wants and headcanons as fact.

Like for gods sake - let's just look at fanart. I'm not saying that every piece of fanart is canon or even should be canon - but elriel has much more canon fanart. Thats literally a fact. They have multiple major moments together - on the page.

What is canon Elucien fanart? When she falls out the cauldron - naked and humiliated and he gives her his cloak? When they sit together over a tea service acting uncomfortable? When she avoids him every other time she sees him?

What is canon Gwynriel fanart? When he gives her boss a secondhand necklace to give to her or anyone else? When he - and cassian and everyone else - watch her cut a ribbon she sees as an enemy?

I've seen so many people open up these books expecting some grand romance between Elain & Lucien and end up disappointed because... she doesn't even want to be in the same room as him.

So many Gwynriels with similar stories to yours expecting some entertaining Gwynriel love story only to also end up disappointed because Gwyn doesn't even exist till the last book and she and Azriel barely interact.

They chose to believe in a nonexistent ship and are trying to compete with canon Elriel evidence. Like ok - tough shit? But you can't just start making shit up.

Until Elain accepts that bond - or even gives Lucien the time of day - they're not a couple. They are nowhere close to endgame if everything she has done and said has shown us she doesn't want him.

Until Azriel himself declares Gwyn is his mate or vice versa - they're not mates.

And yeah I'm gonna get a lot of backlash from the "foreshadowing and crumbs" crowd.

But let me ask you this:

There are some Elriels who think the mating bond between Lucien & Elain is fake. There is plenty of evidence and similar language used about their bond that resembles the fake Rowan & Lyria bond. Plenty of signs showing their bond isn't quite right.

do you think Elriels can then claim it's canon that the Elucien bond is fake?

"We have crumbs and foreshadowing and similar language used" too. But do you see us going around claiming it's canon?

No.

We are very clear about the distinction between canon and headcanons. About what's in the books, and what is just pure guesswork and theory.

"Sparky spark" and "elucien is endgame" are both theories until proven. They are NOT canon.

Wish they'd just learn the difference. They'd be a lot less unhappy fans.

[7weaslesinacoat]

i keep seeing this and i saw another post saying something similar but it genuinely icks me so much when i see something like-

“insert character is actually a horrible person!” or “insert character is actually a good person!”

especially in comics, because first off-

these are fictional characters, i know we all love them- but they’re just placeholders with a name and personality that we tell made up stories about. they can’t be a piece of shit, because they aren’t anything, so don’t get so worked up.

second off when they DO come across that way, especially if the character is a protagonist or a “good guy”-

and then in one specific story or one timeline there is a dickhead version of them (batman is a great example, nightwing, talia al ghul- it happens so much in comics chat 😭) then i see so many fans or members of the community jump on the hate train for not just that characterization, but the character as a whole.

this also happens when said characters are given flaws to make them more realistic, talia al ghul is a huge victim of this (and usually MORE SO than most dc characters because she is subconsciously profiled all the time).

anywho, i see all these people dogpiling on a character even though 90% of the time that characterization is just a choice by the writer.

comic writers aren’t looking at protagonists and long standing characters and deciding “yeah they’ve actually been racist this whole time”, no, a couple writer made a stupid decision that got published. and the great thing about comics is that not everything you have to imagine as canon! not every iteration of batman is the batman that you love! and that’s ok, that doesn’t make a character bad.

and it definitely doesn’t excuse hating on fans of that character because your canon of that character doesn’t fit another’s.

(i feel like what we should be doing when discussing characterization is be aware that it is all taking place in comic books- like “oh my god i hate all star batman” or “in canon deathstrokes done some weird shit” instead of saying “i hate batman.” “deathstroke is a pedo”—even though he kinda is—

because what about media where he’s an anti hero? and what about the millions of media where batman’s *not* a dick? if your evidence for your claim is specific, make a claim about the specific evidence, and not the masses of unrelated data)

[jelzorz]

195a.

It starts on a Wednesday.

It's any other Wednesday. The on-campus coffee shop is emptier than usual because everyone's still away for the winter and the new semester won't start for a few weeks yet, but someone has to man the coffee machines while the undergrads are away and, well. Soren could use the extra cash.

It's a lot less glamorous than what he used to do. Going back to school had sounded like a good idea when he was working shit hours and too much overtime as a hospital physiotherapist, but now he's poor again, and he's still working shit hours and too much overtime. Now he serves coffee to stressed college students and exhausted academics while he fills his spare time with books about business and money and legal stuff that makes his brain hurt, and for what? The idea of his own clinic is so distant. So small. Some days it feels good to study, to start fresh. On others...

The smell of dark roast is clingy but Soren breathes it in sometimes just to stay awake.

The kitchen is warm today, stuffy and humid in spite of the January chill. Callum is making eyes at Rayla from the till while she busses tables in the dining area, and it's as disgusting as it is sweet because neither of them seem to understand that the obsession goes both ways. Ezran is humming to whatever hipster song is playing over the work speaker while he stacks the dishwasher, and Soren is dusting chocolate powder over someone's almond milk mocha when it begins.

"Opeli! We haven't seen you in ages! How've you been?"

Soren glances up and thinks his heart stutters a little. There's a woman at the counter. She looks tired, but her eyes are bright and kind and striking in a way that he knows he'll be up tonight thinking about their exact shade of blue. The hood of her coat is bunched up around her ears like she's only just now pushed it back, and there's still flakes of snow on her shoulders and in the caramel of her hair.

She is, in a word, beautiful, but a really old-world kind of beautiful; the regal, fairy-tale kind that might have had him wearing her favour into battle if she let him in a other life.

"Well enough," she's saying, adjusting the strap of her handbag. "Your father tells me you and Ezran are enjoying your time on campus."

Callum shrugs, but he grins as he answers. "There are good days and bad days. I think Rayla's signed up for your class next semester."

"Has she?" The woman—Opeli—chuckles. "I'll go easy on her, shall I?"

"Isn't that a conflict of interest?"

"You took my class last semester," she laughs. "You tell me."

Callum has the decency to flush a little. "Not if you declare it, right?"

"So you were paying attention," she teases. "Don't worry. I won't quiz you any further. Just a latte with an extra shot of coffee please."

"Coming right up," says Callum. "Soren, did you get that?"

Too late, Soren realises he's been staring the whole time, and that the cup of coffee he's putting the final touches on has a whole extra layer of chocolate powder over the top. "Uh." He swears and dusts his hands. "Yup. One latte with an extra shot. Got it. Won't be a minute."

The woman gives him a look that definitely doesn't wither under and jerks her head at a table by the window. "I'll just be over there," she says. "Say hi to Ezran for me," she adds to Callum, who nods and slides her order receipt across the bench to Soren.

It's not that Soren believes in that kind of attraction at first sight. It's that he's had a bit of a dry spell since Corvus and this is the first time in ages that anyone's caught his eye. Opeli is—

Well. She's older than him, he's sure of that, but by how much, he can't be sure. There's just something about the pull of her smile and the lilt in her voice and the impish little light in her eyes that makes Soren want to talk to her, just to bear witness to all those things over and over again.

He finishes off the last order and then starts hers with a flourish, topping it off with his best latte art (a swan, as graceful and pretty as she) and when Rayla comes to take it, he shoos her away.

"Isn't your turn for a break?"

Rayla raises an eyebrow at him. "I've been here an hour."

"Oh," says Soren. "It's just that Callum's about to go on his and you usually go together—"

She flushes. "What are you implying, exactly?" she snaps, just a tad defensively. "I don't time my breaks with his. Why would I do that? Just because we go together downtimes—"

"Oh, my God, Rayla. I don't care. Do you wanna join him or not?"

Rayla presses her lips together, then scowls at him, red-faced, and slams the tray on the counter before she stalks away to find Callum anyway. Soren tries not to snort and sets the latte on it, pleased for the opportunity for a little privacy.

Opeli is tapping away on her laptop when he gets to her, and he sets the mug and the tarts on her table with a smile.

"One double shot latte for the lovely lady by the window," he says, throwing in a bow for good measure.

Opeli raises an eyebrow at him, amused. "Thank you," she says primly. "Is this how you bring over everyone's orders or am I simply lucky?"

"I'm the lucky one for making your acquaintance," he says, winking.

Opeli laughs and shakes her head, sardonic but charmed all the same. "Very smooth," she comments drily. "If a lot a cheesy."

"These are the jokes, take them or leave them." He grins, smarmy and stupid, and even if she's not interested, he likes the way she smiles, so he takes the win. "You know Callum and Ez?"

"I'm a family friend," she says. "And you are?"

"Soren, your friendly neighbourhood barista, at your service." He draws the chair across from her, and when she doesn't object, takes a seat. "You teach here?"

"A little," says Opeli. "Feels like I do admin more than I teach these days but haggling with the university about what is and isn't part of your job is part and parcel, I'm afraid."

"Oh, that's so cool," says Soren—and he means it. "Well. Not the haggling part. Although, I totally get that. Before I came back, everything was a fight."

"Back?" she asks.

Soren shrugs. "Yeah, just doing some extra stuff, trying to stay relevant and develop professionally and all that." He waves her off. He shrinks a little when he spots Barius behind the counter, craning his head over the line and obviously trying to find his staff. "Listen, I uh—I gotta get back over there but um. I'd love to like. Have a proper talk. Sometime I'm not the one making the coffee. Would that—can I see you again sometime?"

She chuckles. "I'll be around," she says cryptically. "Thank you for the tarts. How much do I owe?"

"Oh." Soren twitches his lips. "It's on the house."

She blinks, then smiles, then sips her coffee. "Thank you," she says. "It was nice to meet you, Soren."

"Same to you. I'll um. See you around?"

Opeli hides her chuckle behind the rim of her mug. "Perhaps you will."

It's not the most straightforward answer, but it certainly doesn't feel like a rejection either. Soren grins to himself and slips the tray under his arm as he heads back to the counter.

Some days it feels good to start fresh. He thinks this might be one of them.

[shyinsunlight]

You call yourself a Regulus stan while you publicly hate talk about Jegulus? You don’t deserve him.

oh, anon.

the only reason i answer this is because i think i know who you are. and i think you sent me this because i pissed you off with an incest joke after you told me to seek therapy for shipping tomarry.

i don’t deserve him? why, you do? he’s a fictional character from a children’s book series where we have like 4 lines of canon about him. he’s. not. real. is it perhaps time to take a step back and ask yourself why you’re getting so worked up about an internet stranger’s interpretation of an imaginary person?

about regulus, jegulus, and why we need to touch grass

i don’t bash ships (publicly) because that’s not what fandom should be about. it should be a creative safe space where we can all enjoy our interests without getting annoying hate anons/harassment for it.

i have several fandom friends who are jegulus shippers, and—surprise—we get along amazingly. we respect each other’s preferences, don’t force our ships on each other, and can have intelligent discussions without losing our shit. they write their thing, i write mine, and somehow, the world’s still spinning. wild concept, i know.

it’s not a secret that i don't like jegulus. it means that i filter it out as a tag, and i don’t engage with jegulus content. i keep vibing in my corner of the internet, enjoying the interpretations i actually like. so why are you, and numerous other jegulus shippers so obsessed with forcing your interpretation on me and on others? what gives you the right to bash me for shipping tomarry while demanding that i accept jegulus as gospel truth?

it’s genuinely unfair how a vocal minority can taint the reputation of an entire ship community, especially when there are so many jegulus shippers who do nothing but quietly enjoy their content and respect others’ boundaries.

let’s be real here for a second. jegulus is the textbook definition of a crack ship. james, who canonically despised everything the black family stood for, who’s best friend is sirius (who literally ran away from that family), who fought against blood supremacy and everything regulus believed in… would he fall for his best friend’s baby brother who was actively choosing to be a death eater? 

and regulus, who thought blood traitors were beneath him, who probably saw james as the person who corrupted his brother and turned him against his family, who’s partly responsible for regulus losing sirius… would he want to date him? touch him, at all? 

these two would never even want to talk to each other, let alone be involved romantically. regulus most likely thought james wasn’t even worth being spat on—and james would’ve seen regulus as nothing but another blood purity-obsessed mini death eater who hurt his best friend.

making this ship work requires completely butchering both regulus’ and james’ characters into something that’s further away from canon than draco malfoy working in lululemon as a soft-spoken slam poetry major.

imagine having such a surface-level understanding of regulus’ character that you think the most interesting thing about him is his potential to be james’ boyfriend… regulus, who:

grew up believing he was superior to others 

was the spare heir until he suddenly had to shoulder all the family expectations after sirius left (and since we’re here, yes, he probably felt the need to overcompensate after this. i personally don’t see how it leads to him wanting to make out with james in broom closets, but you do you) 

had such a complicated relationship with his brother which deserves so much more exploration than reducing him to ending up dating his best friend

was so devoted to voldemort that he put up posters in his little fanboy lair

willingly joined a terrorist organisation

was kind to kreacher yet still gave him to voldemort for “testing”

made one single good decision in the end 

he wasn’t misunderstood, and that’s not what his story is about. it’s about choices, consequences, and what it means to finally do the right thing for once even when it costs you everything. (also, he failed even in that because he just made it all worse for everyone else later. he's a flop and i love him for that.)

listen, i get it. fanon is fun!! headcanons are fun!! i write many au fics, and i totally understand the appeal of playing with characterisation and what ifs. but there’s a “hey, this is my fun interpretation about this” and an “if you don’t accept my interpretation then fuck you, you’re fake, you don’t deserve him.”

SHIP AND LET SHIP

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Exquisite dancing and a loving married couple

Part one

Barbie dolls: husband! president!Coriolanus Snow x gn! Reader

Word: 5.3k

Summary: your joints are shit and you Coryo go to a gala and you guys are freaking cute

Warning: mentions of cream be mature it's like icy hot cream ok the brand is made up don't go looking for this magical blue flower joint cream, you like ceramics, you know that sound that goes okokokokokok and lalalala yeah that's y'all, you yap and coryo listens, you think you're a hassle and Coriolanus is like 😡hey shut up 💗, ypu have chronic pain/disability its mostly vague but your joints hurt, coriolanus is a lil ooc bc I wrote this before I finished the book and movie, his job is a lil vague but it's insinuated he's president, also speaking of president if you're American please go vote every vote counts plz, a man tries to flirt with you I didn't want it to be like traumatic but he is gross so he's like comically creepy, you're a smidgen oblivious but consider it in the autistic way not the "oh I'm a ditsy innocent Virgin reader I wear Velcro shoes and lace panties always what's body hair" way, old lady bothers yall, you kinda ignore what's going on and let coriolanus handle all the social interactions, mentions of sex and mildly nsfw, its kissy and light touching, you don't drink alcohol or at least not at this specific gala, yea that's it

With the warm dinner in your shared bed still feesh on his mind, Coriolanus decided he wanted to get closer to you. If you would grant him the friend title, he'd accept it. If he could choose, you'd both use kisses as greetings and know everything about each other.

Truly he worried more about how much pain you went through in your day-to-day life. Coriolanus decided there were going to be changes in how people treated you. Mavvy was going to be your right-hand-maid, ready to jump into action if you ever needed it. If he even caught a whiff of someone making an off-handed comment about you, he planned to leave his precious gem cuff links in your hands and start swinging. On the topic of him, he decided he was going to spend every minute of his free time worshiping you if it meant you'd be more comfortable. 

One evening after work he stopped by a local cornerstone with racks upon racks of simple medical supplies. Coriolanus followed the clerk around as he spit possibly thousands of words all about the best ways to help with joint pain.

Coriolanus came home with bags so stocked full of supplies he stumbled through the sunroom door, almost dropping them all. After you swallowed your shock, you two started experimenting with all the new supplies. Some of them helped, some of them didn't, but your favorite was the cream that had a blue flower on the bottle. 

For one Coriolanus was adamant on not letting you do it yourself. He just had to rub it in for you. After the third time, you didn't mind it at all. You liked him massaging your joints. You felt like it was the only way they felt any better. The cream helped definitely, his hands were just a bonus. 

Just like that, your relationship started to shift. After the bath situation, you had more good days than bad in your body. Some days you would rest more than you truly wanted but for the most part, you were doing pretty good.

 Though sometimes you mentioned the pain to Coriolanus even if it wasn’t all that bad just so he’d rub your joints and muscles. He got so used to it, that he started to do it absentmindedly. Coriolanus rubbed the muscles in your hand as you two were settling into bed. He rubbed the back of your calves when he massaged the cream into your knees. He rubbed your shoulders every time he pulled your coat on or off.

His dresser became more and more cluttered with your creations as time went by. You laid in bed longer in the mornings so you could compliment him on his clothes before he left.

 Coriolanus sometimes even changed outside of his closet. Every time he looked up, you’d be watching him. It made his chest puff out. It gave him so much confidence he thought about always undressing and redressing in front of you. You talked almost constantly around him, he loved every word of it. You didn’t stop talking and ask him about himself, you just talked. He listened and when the conversation floated back to him, you listened to every bit. 

Soon enough you became friends that happened to be married. You both secretly thought there were some simmering romantic feelings that grew with every touch and laugh. You didn’t sleep on other sides of the bed now, you actually scooted into the center to hold onto one another. You always used the ruse of hurting arms that just needed to be wrapped around someone. Coriolanus saw through you like glass but played along. He held you just as tight as you held him. He thought if he could choose where he got to die it would be right there in your arms. 

Months flew by with you just inching closer and closer. You both became comfortable with each other. Dinners were one of your favorite times of the day. You got to talk with Coriolanus and laugh over good food. Halfway through your rant about the difference between Earthenware and Porcelain, Coriolanus touched the back of your hand to silently ask you to pause for a second. You paused your sentence, looking away from the food you had been pushing around. Coriolanus wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin before setting it back in his lap. 

“This weekend there is a gala I need to go to for work,” Coriolanus said, hoping you caught on to where he was heading. You smiled and set your fork down. 

“Okay, I hope you have fun. I can handle the house on my own for one night, no problem.” Your tone was so bright he felt like you might be more excited to stay home. Coriolanus shook his head. He gripped onto your hand, making sure his seriousness was received. 

“I’d like you to go with me.” He clarified, watching your expression closely. You stared at him like you didn’t understand why and looked at your plate instead. “You’re not being forced to go. I just want you to be there. I know I would have a much better time if you were there. I think you would enjoy yourself.” Coriolanus waited for you to look back to him. You peeled your eyes away from your plate. Your other hand came to rest on top of his, making a sandwich with your hands. 

“Are you sure you want me to go? I might just end up being a hassle. If it’s a work thing I want you to be able to meander about. I’d just weigh you down.” You said, staring into his eyes so sincerely it hurt. He shook his head at you, upset you could even think those words about yourself. 

“You’re not a hassle. I want you to come with me. I want to spend the night with you. Also, I’m forced to go, so taking you with me would make the night enjoyable.” Coriolanus’ hand was warming from yours. He wanted to flip his hand over and hold onto your other one but he was trapped. You finally nodded. 

“I’ll go.” You whispered. Coriolanus let you continue your speech on clay types, returning to his food. 

The rest of the week flew by and before you knew it, you were getting ready with Mavvy next to you. You took a bath and there she was, clipping her nails while sitting on the bathroom sink. Mavvy helped you dress, smiling at you when she finished. You hated to have favorites when it came to people but you liked Mavvy much more than any of the maids or butlers. Mavvy walked with you as you made it downstairs. Mavvy lead you to the Library. Coriolanus heard your footsteps and stood from the chair he was sitting in. He paused when he looked you up and down. He smiled and nodded at you, holding his arm out for you. Coriolanus muttered compliments as you walked into the venue. 

It was stunning, the decorations made you want to inspect them and dissect them to find out what they were made of. You held onto Coriolanus’ arm and tuned out his words. He pulled you towards a wall but you didn’t watch where you were going, staring at what looked like fake dragonflies and butterflies dance around in the air.

There was soft music playing from the wall across from the entrance. There was an orchestra whispering out tunes towards the chattering crowd. It wasn’t packed but there were definitely plenty of people. Against the wall Coriolanus was dragging you towards was food and drinks, plenty of glittering small foods and dishes.

Around the floor were round tables that could sit eight at maximum. Towards the orchestra was an empty space of floor that had a few people casually dancing on. You decided you and Coriolanus would be dancing at some point tonight. On the opposing wall from the food, was another row of long tables, though you couldn’t make out what was on those. Coriolanus’ fingers brushed against your cheek, dragging your chin back towards him. You understood and focused on where you were heading instead of the room. 

Coriolanus walked towards a group of maybe six people. They all greeted him warmly. He introduced you, you gave them a short smile and nod. He listed off their names and you committed none of them to memory but pretended you did.

Coriolanus wandered around the room, greeting plenty of people and talking plenty of business with them. You got bored quickly, slipping away from his side with a kiss on his cheek. You headed straight for the table with beverages, at least you’d have something to hold onto. You wandered around the table, holding your hand up to cover the card that had the name of the food on it, guessing and revealing the answer to yourself. You had gotten 7 right out of the 10 you tried but it was more entertaining than listening to Coriolanus yammer about business. 

A man came and stood next to you, picking up a Meat Stick Thingamabobber, as you had named them. You moved on to the next item, guessing Brie and learning it was actually some other fancy cheese you didn’t know how to pronounce. The man moved with you, scooting over one. You moved over two, staring down at the Rosemary Crackers you had no interest in eating. The man finally greeted you, still following after you and scooting down the table. 

“Vinal. Richardson.” He stuck his hand out towards you, a crystal plate stacked with Meat Stick Thingamabobbers in the other. You could not want to shake someone’s hand less. You still shook it though, giving him a quick smile. You gave him your first name, looking back at the stupid Rosemary Crackers. 

“Do you work here? I’ve never seen you in the Office?” He asked. When he said here you assumed he meant do you work in Coriolanus’ office. You shook your head. 

“Oh no, I’m a plus one. I very much could not work in the Office.” You chuckled, thinking of the way you felt incomplete without looking or making art at some point during the day. Like just today you walked into your sunroom, realized how much work it would be to paint, and left. How could you live without that joy in your life? Vinal chuckled like he was inside on the joke. Which he was not. You glanced over his shoulder, trying to spot Coriolanus without looking like you were looking. 

“Guess not. You’re too pretty to sit in the office all day.” Vinal said. You moved towards the end of the table, picking up a drink. You already tried one and they were quite enjoyable. They had a fruity taste to them and even though they weren’t alcoholic they made you less nervous. You had a reason to be quiet while you were sipping. 

“Well I don’t know, I know at least one very pretty person who works in an office.” You countered, thinking of Coriolanus getting dressed in the morning. He didn’t know it but the sun always peaked out from the curtains and caught in his hair while he buttoned his shirt. He might think you liked to watch him dress for more lewd reasons. Though maybe he wasn’t completely wrong, you liked watching his gears turn. Watching him get ready for the day always felt so domestic you might even think your wedding was sparked by love. You knew he thought of all the words you told him in the morning so you planned them out as he pulled his outfit together piece by piece. As you looked up from your drink, the smile on Vinal’s face set you on edge. 

“Aren’t you a little tease? Well, where do you work then?” You furrowed your eyebrows at Vinal. What did that have to do with being a tease? You weren’t sure how you should answer his question. You didn’t really work. 

“I make art. Mostly I stay at home.” You gave Vinal a half-shrug. He oooed. 

“You make art? What kind? My mother is actually a painter. I’m sure she’d love you.” You took a sip from your glass, glancing around the room like you were lulling his question over. You still hadn’t caught Coriolanus. Damn your husband for wearing neutral colors. Why could he not where bright neon orange, at least you’d find him when you needed him. 

“I do all sorts of things.” You finally answered. Vinal nodded. 

“I’m sure you do. Where’s your friend? You’re a plus one right, I wanna meet your friends.” Vinal asked, glancing around the room with you. You shrugged. 

“I’m not sure actually.” You whispered into your drink. Vinal reached out for your face, turning your head to face his again. 

“Or we could just get out of here…go somewhere quiet?” Your skin crawled and you realized just how extremely happy you were married off to Coriolanus instead of some freak like Vinal. You sucked in a harsh breath, that he probably considered a good sign. You looked away from him, begging for Coriolanus to appear.

He must’ve heard your thoughts because he took a step back from the group he was talking to, smiling and taking a step forward again to join the conversation again. You shoved your drink into Vinal’s hands and stepped away from him. You moved as quickly as you could from him, hoping he didn’t follow. You glanced over your shoulder, glad to see he stayed in his spot. You swerved around the people moving about the tables.

 You felt your anxieties slightly ease when Coriolanus was close enough you could hear his voice. You dipped into Coriolanus’ group, joining him at his side. You pressed your hand into the small of his back.

Coriolanus kept his eyes on the coworker he was speaking to, nodding with whatever they were saying. He still showed you he recognized your existence, pulling his arm around you and tucking you into his side.

You glanced over at Vinal to find him still standing at the table with your plate in his hands and staring at you upset. You reached up to tuck a stray hair behind Coriolauns’ ear. You pressed your knuckle against his cheek for a second longer than you normally would. You were silently telling him you needed his attention. Coriolanus’ brows pinched but he still stared at the person talking. When his coworker finished talking and a new coworker started he turned to face you. 

“Do you know a Vinal Richardson?” You whispered. Coriolanus gave you a confused look. 

“Yes, he’s a vile little worm, why?” He answered, keeping his tone low. You held onto Coriolanus’ back tighter. 

“I think he just tried to get me to go sleep with him. And meet his mother. I think I accidentally flirted with him, but I really didn’t mean to it just came out wrong. I was talking about something else but he must’ve taken it to mean I was talking about him. Now he’s all upset because I ditched him and every time I look over my shoulder he’s staring-“ Coriolanus tugged you forward into a hug, using it to comfort you and look over your shoulder. There he was, Vile Vinal. Pouting away and glaring at Coriolanus. Coriolanus pulled you back and knocked his nose with yours. He gently kissed the corner of your mouth and rubbed your back. 

“Don’t worry about him. How is your body feeling?” Coriolanus asked. You pressed your nose against Coriolanus’ collar, breathing in the scent you started to associate with your home. 

“I need to rest soon. I feel hot.” You whispered into his clothes. Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your forehead. He gave his coworkers a goodbye and a promise of later returning. He gently pulled you away from your hug and held onto your elbow.

He moved you towards a nearby table and pulled out a chair for you. You slumped into it, fanning your face with your hands. Coriolanus picked up a piece of very thick paper that held the details of the reason and funding for the gala. Special thanks and all that. He fanned you with it. It helped greatly, the soft breeze cooling the burning under your skin. His hand slipped over your shoulder, rubbing the tension from it as he fanned you. You hummed and leaned your cheek against his forearm. You heard the chair next to you drag across the floor. You didn’t worry about it, focusing on Coriolanus fanning you. The voice you assumed from an older woman asked Coriolanus if you were alright. 

“Just fine, Ma’am. A little hot, that's all.” Coriolanus answered, you could hear his smile. His hand traveled up your shoulder and neck. He gently tilted your head back against his abdomen, fanning your neck and chest. The old woman started rattling off about how much she loved watching newlywed couples interact, it reminded her of her last husband. You peeked an eye open at that, tilting your head to the side, much to Coriolanus’ disapproval, making eye contact with the old lady. 

“Are we still considered newlyweds if it’s been months?” You asked. Coriolanus kept fanning you. His other hand resting on your cheek and rubbing his thumb in soothing circles. The old woman raised an eyebrow. 

“I suppose not, keeping the love young then. You two still have the Glow.” You quirked an eyebrow, confusion lacing your face. Coriolanus trailed his fingers up to your brow line, massaging away the wrinkle. You closed your eyes, not caring again, and leaned your head back against him. 

“You just have the look of young and new love. Must be the honeymooning, that always keeps the stress and anxiety of marriage sedated.” The old woman muttered. You furrowed your brows again, turning your head away from the woman in disgust. Coriolanus rested his hand on the side of your neck, reminding you he was still right there with you. Like you could forget that amazing makeshift fan of his, oh is that a cooler brush of air than last time? 

“Trust me, Ma’am. The love of ours is something much more pure. Honeymooning can only get you so far. Care and trust is what takes you to the finish line.” Coriolanus defended. Was it even really defending? You supposed so, this old woman just said you two only worked because you fucked. Which was falsities at best. You reached up and held onto Coriolanus’ wrist. He kept the fan going with his other hand. He twisted his hand in a strange way to release your grip and intertwine your finger instead. The woman smacked her lips. 

“Well, I suppose that’s true. You don’t hear that often from young birds like you two. All the yougins think about honeymoons.” She said. You sat up straighter, feeling like you could handle another hour or two before you needed to go. Coriolanus ignores the woman, putting his focus on you again. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, slowing his fanning. You clenched your teeth. You could lie and say you were fine but that’s exactly how you ended up stuck in the bathtub. 

“I could probably power through another hour or two.” You answered. Coriolanus dropped the paper onto the table. 

“That’s not what I asked, How are you feeling?” Coriolanus repeated. You felt too tired to be scolded. 

“Tired and my legs hurt. I know you have more to do though so I can wait here and we can stay for longer.” You said, trying to cover up how badly you just wanted to go home and go to sleep. Coriolanus clicked his tongue. The old woman nodded in understanding. 

“Ready to skip town and get back that honeymoon bed?” She asked. She must’ve felt like a genius detective coming up with that one. 

“Chronic pain.” You answered, tired of her blabbering in your ear.

 “No,” Coriolanus said in sync with your words. He sent a look over toward the old woman, if you didn’t know him you’d think it was just a confused look. You did know him and you knew he was beyond annoyed with her. 

“I think I’m actually feeling exhausted, all that classical music tuckered me out. What do you think, Darling?” Coriolanus asked. You stood from your chair, leaning into Coriolanus. 

“I think, we ought to get you home. You must be running a fever, sweetheart.” You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead and yanked it back. You shook it out sucking in a breath. ”Oh you’re burning up, we must take you home immediately.” Coriolanus smiled at you joining in on the ruse, sticking his arm out for you to hold onto. 

Your driver made quick work of getting you two home. In the car, you leaned against Coriolanus and felt your heart soar when he wrapped both his arms around you.

In no time Coriolanus was pulling you through the bedroom door. Mavvy followed both of you inside, trying to help you out of your clothes. She had placed your shoes back on the rack, moving back to you. By the time Mavvy had finally started the process of getting your first piece of clothing off, Coriolanus was taking over her responsibilities. He was already half undressed, his pajama pants on and his matching shirt waiting on the edge of the bed. Mavvy seemed hesitant letting him take the reins. When you smiled at her and rubbed her hand soothingly, she left the room. 

Coriolanus was much slower than Mavvy. Mavvy was destination-focused. She was just trying to get you into your pajamas as fast as possible. She wanted you in bed and her shift over as quickly as possible. You tried to tell her she could go to bed already and you could undress yourself, you were an adult after all. Yet she waved your hands off and continued. 

Coriolanus was path-based, moving his hands terribly slowly. He took plenty of time just pulling your clothes down to the floor. His fingertips dragged across your skin, making you shiver. He rested his hands on your hips as he moved behind you to work the rest of your clothes off of you.

You waited for his hands to move, but they were frozen on your hips. They ran up your back, making you stand straighter, before dipping over your shoulders. He ran them down your arms and stopped at your hands. He fiddled with your fingers, running his fingers against your fingertips. He moved his hands around to the back of yours. He felt the way your knuckles flexed with your finger twitched, felt the underside of your wrists, and felt the wish of your hands always being on him get caught behind his teeth. You tilted your head to the side, trying to meet his eyes. Coriolanus turned his body slightly so you could see him staring into your soul eyes. 

“I think I like this better when you do it than Mavvy.” You whispered. You wanted to mention the differences in pacing, how his fingers made your skin burn, how much you wanted him to just spend the next hour running his hands over your body. Coriolanus’ face stayed neutral. It scared you slightly, maybe you spoke out of turn. Maybe you should’ve stayed silent entirely. His eyebrows twitched up and the smallest, tiniest, most minuscule grin pulled at his lips. 

“Why thank you, I like this more too.” He thought of all that was running through his mind. Romance was something you two hadn't even tried to approach, it was all about reaching friendship so you could withstand each other.

Npow the electrics that ran through your fingers when you touched his skin, the way your eyes pulled him closer, and just the way you two moved with each other physically and mentally, he could feel something stirring. It was so easy for you to catch what he was thinking without even a word, you both could communicate with nothing but a touch, and oh man the way your compliments sent waves across his body.

He could hear the storm approaching. The relationship was about to take a massive hit and change for better or for worse. Whether he liked it or not, the friendship you two had just built was about to come raining down on the both of you. Coriolanus hoped it would be used to blossom a gorgeous flower that would allow him to kiss you with a thousand unspoken words. There was always the chance that it could start a flood and you two would be whisked away from each other and end up on opposite sides of the bed again. 

As you stared at him, he was certain you could read minds because you spoke again. You nudged him towards the storm and he was almost entirely certain you knew what you were doing. 

“You know, I wanted to dance with you tonight. Too much happened before we could do that though.” You said, facing the front again. Coriolanus would’ve stayed silent but a crack of metaphorical thunder pushed the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. 

“I planned on asking you for a dance before we left as well. Great minds, I suppose.” Coriolanus ran his hands down your arms again, intertwining your fingers. You leaned back against him and pulled his arms to cross over your body. 

“Wish we brought our dancing shoes home, then.” You muttered. You tilted your head at a strange angle to catch a glimpse of him, hoping he caught on to what you were hinting at. Coriolanus smiled and dipped his nose to your temple. No, he caught it. He tightened his arms around you. 

“Think you could manage just one dance?” He whispered, pressing his lips to your cheekbone. You nodded. You turned around in his hold, pressing your chest to his. You slipped your arms around his waist, knocking your nose with his for a second. 

“As long as it’s slow and gentle. Think you can handle that, Mr. Snow?” You said, a smile still pulling at your lips. Coriolanus pulled one of your hands from his back, intertwining your fingers. He held up your hand, slippingll into the dancing position. He rested his other hand on your back, just as yours was on his. He started to slowly sway with you, tipping you around the carpeted floor of your shared bedroom. He leaned towards your ear. 

“Coryo. Please, darling.” Coriolanus whispered. 

”How many more times are you going to change your name?” You joked, enjoying the swaying pace he started. Coriolanus shook his head. He gave you a light shrug and continued your dancing. You were terribly happy he had already made it halfway into his pajama set. His fancy shoes definitely would’ve hurt if there was a misstep. It was just the two of you, half-naked, socked feet moving in sync, and absolutely no music. Probably would’ve been better if he started some tunes but you didn’t seem to care at all, grinning up at him. 

You tried to imagine how this dance would’ve been if you actually did dance at the gala. Coriolanus would’ve been uptight. He moved differently with his coworkers than he did with you. His back was straighter, his smile was tighter, and every word was calculated. You imagined how he would’ve danced with you in the way he was taught to as a child. Not like he was now. 

You liked this much more. It was just a simple way that rocked you back and forth. Coriolanus was relaxed, pressing his skin against yours. He was humming in your ear like he could hear music you couldn’t. His hand was gentle rubbing your back, keeping you close to him. You enjoyed this much more than the dance that could’ve been at the gala.

 Coriolanus’ hand slipped down from the small of your back to the top hem of your underwear. You cocked your head to the side, asking him what he thinks he’s doing with your look. Coriolanus peeled his eyes away from the space over your shoulder he was staring at to meet your eyes. As you two slowed your moves in your swaying circle with connected eyes, his fingertips under the band of your underwear. It wasn’t traveling just dipping in to test you, your feelings, to test it all.

Coriolanus raised an eyebrow at you, asking you what you thought about his move. Your hand on his back shifted to his chest, trailing up to his neck. He tilted his chin up as you ran your fingers over the side of his throat. He pressed his fingertips into your skin, begging you for more. 

You held onto the back of his head. You pulled his face closer to yours, knocking your noses together. Coriolanus slowed your sway, pulling you into a standpoint. He brought your intertwined hands to his shoulder, dropping your palm onto it. His now free hand found your cheek. He glanced between your eyes and lips. A question was laced in his flickering gaze, were you ready to step into the rain with him?

A small grin reached your lips. That was all the answer he needed, leaning closer to you. He was taking his sweet time inching his lips closer and closer to yours. All of his tailing fingertips the past few weeks made you impatient. You lurched forward and pressed your lips against his. 

After getting married, all you could think about was how intimidating your husband was. How were you supposed to grow closer to him if you couldn’t even look him in the eye? He just set you on edge so you tried to avoid interacting with him. You wrote to him instead of speaking because it was easier. All you could think about in those first months was staying away from Coriolanus. 

Now all you could think about was how to get closer. He moved his lips against yours in perfect harmony with your movements. Coriolanus left a buzzing against your skin. Even with his mouth on yours and hands pressing into your flesh you couldn’t think of anything but more more more more and more. You pulled back enough to suck in a breath, your lungs straining under your ribs. Coriolanus dipped his mouth down, kissing under your chin. You breathed hard, your skin pressing into Coriolanus’.

You pulled his mouth away from your neck by the back of his head. You pressed your lips against him before he could complain. Coriolanus must’ve felt the same way you did about him needing to be closer because his hands started to dig into your back again. Coriolanus’ fingers rested on the edge of your underwear and slipped further inside, pressing his palm against your ass. He tugged you closer to him, pressing your body fully against his. He hummed into your lips like he was finally happy with your proximity. 

As much as you wanted to kiss him until you both decayed into swaying skeletons, your lungs needed substance and your knees were hurting again. You slowly pulled back. Coriolanus was clearly not agreeing with this move, chasing after your lips by pressing his lips back to yours in brief kisses and trying to draw you back in. You tapped his shoulder, telling him to pull away. He pulled back, finally giving you time to breathe. 

That night he rubbed the cream into the joints of your legs and kissed you again before slipping into the covers. You two had never slept so close in that bed. Your legs were tangled. He was holding onto you like you were his lifeline. You were actually incredibly glad you married Coriolanus. Coriolanus added a new flower on top of your dresser in the morning. He couldn’t be more thankful for the very not real and incredibly metaphorical thunderstorm that pushed the two of you together. 

[qisheu]

I so really want a fic that's based after the wizard's timeline where Jim and Deya met, based when Jim was first still new to Trollhunting and still a human, I really just want an interaction with Deya interacting with Jim in the void somewhere near the beginning where he didn't know much about troll lore or how to be a Trollhunter. Like he had just been summoned into it or something and it would go something like this:

"Good to see you again scrawny, though last time we met you were a bit bulkier and stoneier." Deya pats his head with a grin covering her face as she stares down at the lanky human boy.

Jim looks up at the troll lady with high amounts confusion in his eyes, 'Who is this?' he thinks to himself.

"Um, you are?" He asks, worry covering his face as he feels like he vaguely recalls this troll, she looked like someone you'd find in some ancient history book.

"Ah right, sorry kind of forgot you wouldn't remember me Jim, though I am a bit insulted that you wouldn't recognize me from the history books," she chuckles as she puts her hand out to shake his, "I'm Deya, Deya the Deliverer I guess."

'Oh shit.' Jim thought to himself, he most defiantly should have memorized over the books Blinky gave him more thoroughly. He at least knew her name but by God he did not remember her appearance.

"Oh gosh- I am so sorry!" He exclaims, embarrassed at his own forgetfulness and insolence towards the first Trollhunter. Quickly extending his arm to shake hers, a moment later after letting go, being confused though about her words.

"Wait um, why are you acting like you know me? Is it cause of the voids magic or something?" He asks, assuming since the void can supposedly see everything that he does, that she may have just spied on him a ton.

"Pfft, nothing like that skinny legs. You well uh, let's just say a future you met me in the past," she shrugs, "Well I'll just let Kanjigar and whoever else who wants to lecture you do so. See you around I guess." Doing a playful salute before turning back into a spirit ball and drifting away.

[punkpandapatrixk]

Slow Mornings~♪

Hello lovely peeps. I'm popping in to say that I'm so sorry I haven't been as productive as I’d hoped. I had all of these plans, and literally 3 years’ worth of content ideas, but my body has not been able to catch up! I’m now behind on all of the readings I’d scheduled for the entirety of October XD

The truth of the matter is a little bit convoluted but I’ve been both experiencing a series of burnout—autistic burnout, which I didn’t even know was a speciality thing—as well as being in this healing phase where my body simply wants to catch up on sleep, after years and years and very long years of being on edge. There was a meme I forgot to save that says something to this effect:

'Your body is healing from years of trauma; you’re not lazy. You deserve this peace.’

Actually, the above could as well be a mash of two—or three—separate memes LOL Here’s another good one from a sub maker that I feel captures just thee vibe I’m feeling right now:

‘Maybe you're simply perceiving how a lovely sensation of closure & calm gently fills the air around you, feeling a little sleepier than usual. Or maybe you can sense how a massively positive change is coming, seemingly eager to go with it and that's great as well.’ – The Witch of Drown Shadows

I believe many of you reading this could relate as well. A new beginning is on the horizon for sooo many of us who’ve been on a soul-search to liberate ourselves from the chains of the toxic Matrix. I hope you're doing well, and excited for what's to come before the year even ends ^o^v

Forget the grind, leave behind soul-sucking deadlines, and enjoy the slow mornings~♪

Naturally, I’m going to be more productive again once I’m done stabilising myself—all mind body and spirit aligned. I’m not saying this out of a sense of ‘obligation’; that all people ideally must be a productive member of society. No, not that. I really want to get productive on this blog because I’ve a shit ton of good content in the works XD

I’ve so much new content on career, luck, character glow-up, soulmate friendships!!!, celebrity life, life purpose and other esoteric shit I’m eager to put out \^-^/ Not to mention the fiction that’ll go on Wattpad. I’m making progress on Punk Panda Stories but slow…very slow XD

For now, I’m aiming to post one PAC every week without fail. I’m just going to expect this much from me in the meantime, so as not to burn myself out on the psychology level just yet. When you expect too much from yourself, the stress could deter any progress instead, right?

This is especially true for those who don’t necessarily have a deadline. But that’s the thing, I don’t wanna strangle myself with deadlines anymore. So I’m not gonna work like that anymore. This ain’t 9-5 corporate, girl. Stop thinking like that! Is what I’ve been telling myself. Gotta change the whole way I approach my soul-work~♪

Until the end of the year, I’m teaching myself to enjoy slow mornings™️ I’ve been starting my day with just cleaning myself and my room; having a breakfast of lemon tea w/ a dollop of strawberry jam + a CVS croissant; playing a game on my dusty-but-trusty old PSP when I’ve got the time; and reading a few chapters of an actual book.

In the afternoon, I’ve been back on teaching myself ballet and strengthening my vocals. It’s nice. I feel very healthy and like myself again, but better <3 We were born into this world to enjoy our hobbies and hopefully, ideally make money alongside those hobbies <3

Never forget that, girlies. Hard work doesn’t suit us <3

How the Boredom Epidemic Ruined Hobbies by Nicole Rudolph