#trust me i don't hate on jean for no reason

[57sfinest]

The ask you got about Jean and the anons mother (“your Jean post has me thinking about my mother in particular.”) reminded me of my father and how I interpreted Jeans actions.

My dad was emotionally abusive and distant because he was depressed from when I was 10 to present.

He developed his depression at age 20. Mine came in full force at age 9. I was also dealing with debilitating anxiety and a learning disability. When I was 12 I also started abusing drugs to cope with him.

My father mistreated my mother and I because of his depression. I grew up wishing he would divorce my mum or die already so we’d stop having to deal with him. I thought he was so selfish for not leaving or changing and for making it everyone else’s problem. I didn’t give a fuck that he needed help, especially cause he wouldn’t accept any. He wouldn’t even admit he had a problem.

So you’re me, age 12. You’re on speed, you haven’t slept in a days and haven’t eaten in a little under a week. Then this fucking guy is here, treating you like shit, treating your mum like shit, and he doesn’t even realise what a dick he is or what he’s doing to y’all cause he’s so caught up in his own head. You fucking hate this guy! You’re dealing with the same issues as him and more. You’ve tried to kill yourself! He’s not done that but he’s the subject of everyone’s concern because he’s loud and horrible about his issues. And you’re 12 and slowly falling into invisibility next to this cunt.

So now you’re still me, now age 20, and your dad is acting less horrible. You don’t trust him as far as you can throw him, but it’s slow progress so maybe you will.

But if I was in jeans position? Fuck no! I wouldn’t trust him! Yeah of course you realised you were awful to us then you conveniently lost your memory right after, that makes sense. You totally aren’t shirking responsibility just like you always have.

Then he seems like he’s being honest? I’d be so mad! You had to suffer for years and he just forgets it all like it was nothing? Fuck no! He can go fuck himself.

So yeah Jean is a dick. But I kinda get it. When people with issues (whatever they may be) don’t even realise they’re being shitty, or if they do they don’t admit it, it’s really easy to hate them, and there’s not a lot of reason to try and have sympathy for them, especially when you’ve spent a long time thinking of them as selfish for the way their issues manifest.

yeah and that's the thing, we can try to understand the cause of a character's behavior and even sympathize with it without necessarily condoning it, you know? i can definitely see where jean's behavior towards harry comes from, but that doesn't make it okay for him to be outright ableist and hypocritical, AND during a public confrontation to boot. jean was being shitty in a lot of ways in the ending and he topped it off with humiliation.

but i'm glad we have enough perspective on jean to understand where he's coming from when he acts this way. it turns him from a 2D caricature that just exists for us to hate to a real developed character who belongs in the setting and who has a distinguished, meaningful(ly bad) relationship with harry. and part of that is being able to look at him and go "yeah he's a complete asshole and the way he's acting isn't acceptable... but i do kinda get it"

[aromantic-pantyanarchy]

It's me. I'm the cis, heterosexual, aromantic man. I will never marry, I will never be married, I will grow into middle age and elder age and I will die unmarried. I will be forced to support a household of myself on only my wages alone for the rest of my life. I will be asked about women and marriage and children by my family for the rest of my life (or men, the progressive ones might say). I may not ever come out to them. I feel like I burned my coming out on something stupid. I don't want to explain it. I don't want to run them through the definitions and intricacies. I don't want the acceptance without understanding, placating me with ceased questions and poor explanations to other, drunk adults.

I like my hair to be long, I spent a year with it dyed a golden blonde with dark roots because I like the trashy party girl aesthetic. I want to dye it again with pink tips. I like painting my nails, black and blue are my favorite colors. I like wearing chokers. I also like wearing baggy jeans and ratty hoodies. I like having stubble. I like having chest hair. I like having a square jaw and broad shoulders. I wish I had a flatter stomach and a thinner profile frame. I don't know what this makes me, perhaps this is something no more GNC than Machine Gun Kelly. I think about this a lot, how queer my appearance truly is. I should think about it less. I have thought long and hard about if I could be trans or if I could be non-binary or if I could be genderqueer and the conclusion I ultimately came to is that I most enjoy being a man open to whatever self-expression I want.

I don't date, but I've thought about it. I would like to meet people, and I would like to have sex with them. But I don't want to hurt them. I fear if I explain what I am beforehand it'll scare them away. I fear if I explain after they'll feel manipulated or abused. I don't know how many people in the dating scene want what I want. I fear my own lack of experience will make me a bad lay, an embarrassing story to tell to confidants in hindsight. I fear my own virginity, a boundary to those I wish to be like. All of these fears are baseless, as I've not been able to even begin a single relationship in my life. Despite this I still heavily identify with terms like "slut" and "manwhore" and "thot" because my interests lay so deeply within casual sex, sex without great intimacy or emotion. This may be some form of stolen valor. I hope the true sluts are not too mad at me.

I made this blog several years ago because a mutual of mine reblogged memes making fun of aro and ace people, making fun of the concept of aphobia, and in addition well known aphobes. I didn't feel comfortable talking about aro stuff on my main blog, for as little as I talk about it. Living through the ace discourse of the 2016 era has largely caused me to cringe in embarrassment any time I am forced to discuss my orientation with people who aren't aro or ace themselves. I no longer follow this person. I unfollowed many people I was mutuals with from that time, most of them because they posted too often about how much they hated men and I didn't want to see that, some because our interests simply drifted too far apart, only one for explicit aphobia reasons. (Also one because they became a "both sides are bad, any vote is wasted" libertarian, but that's unrelated.)

I guess at this point I don't care deeply about what strangers on the internet think of me. If a trusted friend told me that they don't think I'm truly queer that may hurt. But I am going to continue to use the word for myself. I take up no resources. I go to events that are open to me. If an event was not open to me, I think I'd not want to go anyways. I am not a hypothetical, I am not a strawman, I am a person with lived experiences both within and exterior to the queer community. If you hate me, I will permit you to continue to do so. But ultimately, I am who I am, I cannot change these facts, and I would not choose to do so even if I could.

[222col]

coffee

★ art donaldson x reader ★ inspired by 'coffee' by chappell roan ★ 0.6k ★ 18+ | cw: angst, adult themes

art: hey, long time no speak, wanna grab a drink?

you wish you could resist, wish you'd already blocked his number. you broke up nearly a year ago, you'd met him a few times since, and it always ends the same way. you crying, him comforting you all the way back to his apartment then kicking you out the next morning. it's a repetitive cycle, one that you're not strong enough to break.

you: coffee?

coffee is safer, if you drink, you know where it leads. nowhere else is safe. you hate that you're stuck in his grip, unable to escape the delusions that fill your mind the second those blonde locks appear in front of you.

art: meet me at the jazz bar, 7pm? the one on mary ann street

ignored, your requests, your pleadings, always ignored. he knows you like the back of his hand, knows you can't resist him. he's already there when you arrive, a couple drinks in. a glass of wine waiting for you on the table accompanied by the flirty smile on his face. "hey sweet girl." you drink and catch up and tell each other lies. "i want you, come home to me." art pleads, after his fourth glass of wine. if you didn't still love him, still trust him and his intentions, you'd be fine. you wouldn't end up back at his apartment again. but you do, so your hand links through his as you walk back to his place.

"my girl, my perfect girl." you can smell the wine of his breath as he pushes you through the door of his apartment. the pictures of you are gone. you're kissing your way to the bedroom, he's got new sheets. you don't exist here anymore, you're not a part of his new life. he's moved on, well moved on enough to remove you from his home. there isn't a piece of you left here. you're almost crying into the kiss as art pushes you onto the mattress.

you: hey, wanna grab dinner?

you'll never know what kind of magic spell this boy has over you, one that makes you drop all your morals and defence mechanisms to run to him.

art: let's do the park, meet you there at sunset

the text shows any ideas of a normal conversation flying out the window. but you'd rather feel something, than nothing at all. you meet him at your favourite tree, tasting the alcohol on his tongue as his mouth crashes into yours. always excusing his behaviour, telling yourself he loves you. feeding your delusions, at least he wants to see you, feel you, taste you. "i'm sorry baby, don't cry, want you." he whispers into your ear, as his hand slips into your jeans.

art: let's grab coffee?

art was your reason to live, to cry, to love. but it wasn't healthy, you knew it and he abused it. knew he could get anything he wanted from you, knew you'd do anything he asked of you. the memories come flooding back. sat in front of him on the couch as he plaits your hair, dancing the night away at bars, watching him on the courts. looking up the tennis channel on tv, seeing art's face plastered over the screen. those curly blonde hairs, that you used to wash the shampoo out of. those big blue eyes, that used to tell you they loved you. those little dimples you used to kiss every time he got shy when you complimented him. art taught you how to love, how to care. a single tear dropping onto the phone as you text him back.

you: it's better if we don't try, it's never just coffee

[deeppenguinstudent]

I don't care. I will ALWAYS defend Thea muldani. You guys talk about the age range between Kevin and Thea, which is so dumb because Kevin was 18 and Thea was 21. That is basically Jerejean's age range (22 and 19), which is 3 YEARS. And I don't see anyone talking about Jeanne's age range? (19 and 24).

To the people saying that got mad that she said, "Are you sure ur not up to ur old tricks again?" literally just what? Please, please read her wiki because the reason she said that was because she thought tetsuji was the one who beat him up, NOT riko.

She was the ONLY one so far that even questioned riko's authority and acknowledged he was a bastard (somewhat). She's not fucking blinded by the Nest. She's JUST Exy obsessed like Kevin!!

Also let's talk about this?

The rumours had gotten so bad that both the master and Kevin also believed Riko's words? How the hell was Thea supposed to know anything? She was a victim as well and it just annoys me so much when people use this to just completely stain her character and make her a huge bitch. She's literally a dark skinned woman. Even tetsuji told her that she has to work twice as hard because people wouldn't take her seriously. If she even had an inkling of an idea knowing what they did to him, she would fuck them up

Also the reason why no one batted their eyes was because the Ravens fucking eachother is completely normal. It's some sort of screwed up thing that's been going on for generations, even before Riko and Kevin had joined Evermore.

To the people who say Thea does not care about Jean I will literally chew your lungs BECAUSE HAVE WE BEEN READING THE SAME BOOK.

Do you guys not realise how close Jean and Thea truly were? Thea and Kevin were the only two that Jean actually had a good relationship with in the Nest. Just look at the text!! Thea is one of Jean's weaknesses because he trusts her so much, and we know that Jean always blurts out shit he's not supposed to when he's beside people he really trusts (Neil, Jeremy, Kevin)

Her little parisian duckling! He literally followed her everywhere 🙁🙁 Gosh they mean so much to me. (Also, the reference to Elodie's duck dress and Thea's way of calling him?)

Last bit. I just find their relationship is just watered down SOOOO much because people hate Thea for unconventional reasons. You can dislike her character for sure, but I feel like a lot of people have so many misconceptions about her so I just wanted to clear it up!!

Please Nora give us more Thea and Jean in TSC2 😔😔😔

Edit: Sexual grooming is the action or behavior used to establish an emotional connection with a minor under the age of consent and sometimes the child's family to lower the child's inhibitions with the objective of sexual abuse. This is the definition of grooming btw and it's confirmed that Thea dated two other people when Kevin was a minor and didn't think of him like that until he was a freshman in college ie 18 years old?? It's completely different because she wasn't even pursuing him at all??

[joejhang]

why kevjean doesn't work.

i'm sad about it too but hear me out. spoilers ahead continue at ur own risk.

look it makes me so sad to say it but kevjean does not work in this universe (i know, this also means it doesn't work, by extension, in any universe, considering jean is dead.) and i need y'all to hear me out on this. everyone theorising that kevjean will be the endgame ship in tsc i hate to break it to u all: not only does that not at all align with anything in canon, but it also would just be a really bad writing decision on nora's part.

LET ME EXPLAIN. jean's arc in tsc is first and foremost about healing. i think everything and every relationship jean has throughout the tsc trilogy has to lend itself towards that in some way, and ultimately has to resolve in jean being in a better place than he was at the beginning, and if not done healing, then being certain that one day he will be. (this is how jean is when he graduates from usc in the current canon ec).

following this line of thought, jean logically can't end up with kevin. and not just because it contradicts canon, because i fully believe nora is free to contradict any of the ec she wants in tsc, but because fundamentally, it would not aid in jean's healing arc.

i see the appeal, i really do. kevin and jean have insane lore, off the charts chemistry and tension and are actually extremely compatible. but that isn't enough in this case to justify an established relationship between the two of them that isn't in the past. (don't get me wrong i am a WHORE for past kevjean/kevjean situationship/unrequited kevjean it's all very yum).

i genuinely think getting into a relationship w kevin at this point in the story would hurt and hinder jean's healing arc. kevin, through no fault of his own, is so deeply entwined with jean's trauma and memories in evermore that he literally cannot be anything but a trigger and catalyst for bad memories and grief/anger in jean. y'all forget just how deep kevin's departure cut jean (not just physically), and jean hasn't even entirely worked things out with kevin yet. they have a lot of dirty laundry to air out, both between the two of them and their relationship as well as about neil and r*ko. people also forget that kevin and jean both played a role in each other's abuse. jean said himself that it destroyed him, how easy it was to fall into kevin's bystander role. they both were witnesses and bystanders to each other's abuse by r*ko or tetsuji. that doesn't mean it was their fault, and they literally could not have done anything to help or stop anything, but it doesn't mean it didn't have an affect on the other nonetheless. i feel like ppl r missing a lot of nuance in this context: kevin and jean's relationship has always been inherently tragic, even if it doesn't end with a fall out. they've always been each other's greatest friend in the worst places, and they've always been forced to witness the trauma done to both of them. their bond is complicated, even if the love is there (which i think it is). i won't call it a trauma bond but i do think their bond is deeply influenced and intertwined with their shared trauma.

even if they did work thru everything, i honestly think jerejean is the only way to go here. nora has laid the groundwork for that mutual attraction and trust there in book one, and now we're just gonna have to see how it plays out. they may not be together properly until jean graduates, but i don't see a problem with that. i think, at the end of the day, it's not a matter of if it'll happen but when. jean needs jeremy (and cat + laila) right now, and there's a reason kevin chooses to send him to the sunshine court, and it's not just cos they're the only team worthy of jean's skill. "their kindness matters." kevin says, and it does. jeremy + the trojans innate kindness and care towards jean are what he needs to heal and grow out of the ravens' shadow. being with kevin i fear would jeopardise that. at the end of the day, kevin is too deeply rooted in jean's past, which is a veritable goldmine of trauma that, while does need to be acknowledged and talked about, does not need to be dug up again. this isn't jean or kevin's fault, just a fact.

i think nora's also made it pretty clear that kevjean (whether requited or not) is a thing of the past. the love was there, and it might've changed everything and it might've changed nothing, but the love was there. and maybe it still is. but things have changed, and they're both going their own way and i think it's really important to understand that.

side note: this is also part of the reason i'm not the biggest fan of thea and kevin's relationship. i'm not actually sure if they're all that good for each other, given how/where their relationship began and developed. i don't doubt they care for and love each other, but i just don't know if they're the best people for each other in terms of like...wellbeing. anyway does anyone have any good kevaaron fic recs???

[messedupfan]

Chapter 18

Summary: Wanda has been seeing someone. Daisy reconnects with Reader. Jean and Anna have special plans.

A/n: Heeeyy, please don't hate me. Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | All Chapters

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Wanda checks her watch nervously. She had arrived at the office thirty minutes early to mentally prepare for the appointment. She wasn't sure what she was going to discover in that room. All she knew was that the idea made her feel ill. Her mind jumps to all of the people she slept with and she begins to feel like an idiot. Her leg bounces nervously as she thinks about how she will be judged by the doctor. It won't happen in front of her but she's almost certain it will happen. 

“Wanda Maximoff?” Her head snaps up at her name being called. “I'm ready to see you now.” Wanda nods and rises as she collects her things. She was going to be fine. Agatha swears by therapy. She was going to be fine. This was the next step to getting better and getting on with her life. 

You are standing in the backyard of your former home. “You wanted to show me my own craft space?” You ask with arms crossed over your chest. 

“No, we wanted to show you our future craft space,” Jean says and Anna waves her arms around as she presents a stack of boxes where your tools and materials used to be laid out. 

“What's this? You know that I need the space when I get an order. I know it’s been a while but it’s not just for me. I’ve been able to help you guys with the money I make from this side job. It’s not some frivolous hobby,” you walk around the room. 

“Yes, well, it’s actually been a year – close to a year and I’m pretty sure we were your last customers,” Jean says. “Besides, since we’re going to have all of this time we thought would be occupied by a baby… We want to make it into a craft space.” 

You clamp your mouth shut as you look at the boxes. It wasn’t fair for them to throw that in your face but this scenario was eerily similar to the one you’d witnessed with Wanda’s basement and Vision. You couldn’t stoop as low as that man so you sighed and nodded. “Okay, can you give me time to find somewhere to store it all? I don’t have the space right now.” 

“Sure,” Jean says, “just please don’t take too long. I have a lot of idea’s and I’m excited. Well. We’re excited.” She pulls her wife close to her and the two share a kiss. You find their behavior to be odd but you don’t think about it too much. 

“Okay,” you drag out. “I should get going. I need to do some grocery shopping and make some phone calls to see who will be willing to store my things until I can find a better place.” You walk through the gate to get to your car as they allow you to go. You scroll through your contacts to see who you can trust with your tools and supplies. You pause for a moment when you see Daisy’s contact. You know that you didn’t love her the way she deserved but it still hurt to see her name. You decide to leave that task for when you’re home because you needed to focus. 

You walk around the store with this nagging feeling that you should contact Daisy for some reason. You didn’t understand it. In the time since she ended things with you, you haven’t wanted to contact her once. Maybe it was because things with Wanda have crashed and burned alive. You don’t know, but you had to fight it because it wouldn’t be fair for you to try and insert yourself in her life again. As you shop you recignize her friend and you can’t stop yourself from saying hi. Because you mistakenly feel as though that would be rude. “Hey, Jemma!” You greet with as smile. 

Her eyes go wide and she almost runs but instead turns around smiles back. “Y/n, it’s been a while. How have you been?” 

You take a deep breath as you mentally run through the chaotic months you’d been having. “I’ve been better,” you nod. “Yeah, um, how have you been?”

She makes a face and narrows her eyes at you, “Let’s not waste our time here. I’m not the person you want to know about. Am I?”

You’re surprised by the implication and you shake your head. “No, I’m genuinely curious about you. I wouldn’t ever put you in a position to update me about Daisy. She made it very clear that she wanted me out of her life.” 

Jemma’s eyes scan you and she nods. “I’ve been well. Daisy, however, not so much. I’m telling you this because she is going to reach out to you soon. As much as I don’t like you, you do deserve the warning.” 

Your eyebrows twitch and you frown slightly, that was not what you expected to hear. “Oh, I hope I can help her with whatever it is. I just… She’s not going to try and get back together right?”

Jemma bursts out laughing and you smile and nod as she makes a big show of her amusement. “I’ve forgotten how funny you are!” She points at you with a grin. “No! She doesn’t want you back!” 

“I’m sorry,” you say as you try not to roll your eyes at her reaction. It was unnecessary. “Just, let her know that she can contact me whenever she wants. I’ll see you around, Jemma. Or maybe I won’t.” You walk away and continue to shop for the week. You go home and put your groceries away and don’t think about Daisy the rest of the day.

Wanda sits in her office and goes over her budget proposal for the project she was assigned. The company has been trying to score her former in-law’s as a client for years. She knew Stark Industries was a big corporation when she married into the family. It’s what paid for this house. It’s what allowed her to not work for six months. It’s what has paid for her new land. But for some reason she still feels weird about using her relationship to the Starks to help this company land them as a client. It made her realize why they probably hired her in the first place even with the unexplained unemployment gap after being fired from her previous firm. She runs through the proposal a couple more times and hopes that this doesn’t create a rift with the people she was getting to build a healthier relationship with. 

When she feels confident about the proposal she sets it aside and starts to work on the digital blueprint of her dream home. It has gone from sketches to utilizing the program on her computer to draft together a more visual representation of what she wants her house to look like. She has lots of windows and an open floor plan. She knows where she wants a dining room and how she wants the kitchen to look like. The second floor has a den space and an office space and multiple bedrooms. Then she considers adding a third floor but thinks it might be too much. 

She starts to shuffle the rooms around and considers moving the office to the ground floor. Then she adds a basement. Then she takes it away. She plays around with the design until her stomach grumbles and she is reminded that she has to eat. She shut down her work and walks downstairs to make herself something to eat. As she sets out ingredients, she fantasizes about you standing in the kitchen helping her. She wonders if you'd wrap your arms around her and kiss her cheek as she chopped vegetables. She thinks about how easily she could melt against your body. She allows herself to think about moments she could have with you without making herself feel guilty about it. She's tired of feeling guilty for wanting a better life for herself. 

As she lays on the couch and watches a show that she has been binging lately she mindlessly traces the letters M, I, N, E, on her upper thigh. In her mind, it's a memory of you, but really it's only another fantasy. She doesn't know why she can't just give in. She doesn't know why she pushes you away. She knows she shouldn't have but she also knows that she probably would have hurt you. She takes a deep breath and sighs. 

She walks up to her bed as her mind prepares her for waking up early the next morning. The mental checklist of what she has to take care of tomorrow. What she should wear for her meeting with Tony. What she should make herself for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Should she go out? Should she anticipate Tony offering to take her to lunch? 

She thinks about the therapy sessions she has scheduled for the next several weeks. She thinks about wanting to hang out with her friends. Then as she closes her eyes, she thinks about you and a small smile lifts up her lips. 

You are getting ready to take your lunch break when your phone goes off in your pocket. Your heart leaps into your throat when Daisy’s image covers your screen. You answer and start walking away from the job site. “Hello?” You say into the phone. There is a loud drilling sound and someone starts banging a hammer on a wall. “Hold on, I can’t hear you. One second please.” You cross the street and keep walking until you find a quiet area. You sit down on a park bench. “Okay, I can hear you now. Um, hey,” you say as you remove your hardhat. “This is a surprise. How are you?”

“Is it a surprise? Jemma told me that she warned you I might contact you,” Daisy says. 

“Uh, she did say that but I wasn’t sure when to expect your call. So it is still a surprise,” you reply as you run your fingers through your hair. “She also warned me that you’re not doing too well. Is there something I can do for you?” Daisy goes quiet and you think that the call has dropped, you move the phone from your face to check but the sunlight makes it difficult to tell. “Hello?” 

“I’m here,” she sighs and you can tell that she is trying to hide that she is crying. You take a deep breath as you brace yourself for what she might tell you. Maybe Phil is terminally ill. Maybe her mom passed. Maybe this, maybe that. 

“I’m here for you,” you tell her. “No matter what, it’s okay. You can tell me.” 

“I,” her voice cracks and you wish that you could do something more than sit here on the phone with her. “What I need to talk to you about is better done in person,” she finally says through her sniffles. 

“Okay, um where do you want to meet?” You ask. “I don’t have Rachel this week so you could come over to my place because it's a lot more private than yours or if you don’t want privacy I can go to your place after work. Um or we can meet somewhere public. I’m willing to do whatever you need.” You softly offer her options. Your heart is pounding from the anticipation. What could be so bad that she had to see you in person?

“I’m okay with coming over to your place,” she replies. 

“Okay,” you state, “does seven-thirty work for you? I’ve been working twelve to thirteen hour shifts to pay those pesky hospital bills.” 

“Seven-thirty works,” she answers. “I’ll see you then.” 

“I’ll see you then,” you say as the call ends. You sit on that park bench a little bit longer as you fear what Daisy has to say. What could she possibly be holding on to? What has her in tears? What can’t she say over the phone? Your mind races as you eat your lunch. It continues to run as you get back to work and think about what Daisy needs help with.

Wanda laughs with Tony as they sit together in a nice restaurant. Her pitch went well and Tony said that he would consider hiring her for the project. Then he offered to take her to lunch to celebrate. Now the two were discussing highlights of Vision’s finest moments during past holidays. “Oh, remember that time he convinced your dad to let him cut the turkey and he nearly cut his finger off?” Wanda says. 

“How could I forget? I’m the one who pointed out that there couldn’t be that much blood on a turkey!” Tony laughs as he lifts his glass from the table and swirls it around. He shakes his head. “I have no clue how I’m related to that man.” 

“I don’t know either,” Wanda says. “You are way more fun to be around,” she compliments and they clink their glasses together as they cheers to that. 

“You know, Wanda,” Tony starts as he leans in closer. “Why are you wasting your talents working for a company like Nexus Developments? You are family,” he puts his hand on top of Wanda’s. “We could have helped you land a job with the company we usually use or hell, we could have made a branch for you.” 

Wanda taps Tony’s hand as she pulls away and slumps back into her seat. “I know that you would have. But I couldn’t ask that of you or your family. Vision would have made it about him some how and lately,” she shakes her head as she feels tears building up. She takes a deep breath. “Lately, whenever your brother doesn’t get his way, my kids pay a price. Hell, even when he does get his way, my kids still suffer.” 

Tony nods and takes a drink from his glass, he sighs as the aged scotch goes down smoothly. “I understand your position. Just know that if you ever need help, we are still here for you. Vision can go fuck himself,” he tells her. Wanda laughs a softly as she agrees with his statement. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to convince you into a Maximoff and Stark partnership once again. This one being a profitable business instead of an emotional headache.”

Wanda shrugs, “We’ll see. The future is quite unpredictable after all.” 

As you walk through the your apartment building you run through the possibilities of the impending conversation over and over in your mind. The scenarios don’t stop until you see Daisy pacing in front of your door. You check the time on your watch and fill with relief that you’re not late, she’s early. 

“Hey,” you say as you sort through your keys to find the one that will unlock the door. Daisy startles as you announce your presence. “Sorry, I didn't mean to,” you notice that she doesn't look too good and you just move to open the door. “Let's just,” you hold it open for her and she walks right past you. “Would you like anything to drink? Water maybe?”

Daisy shakes her head. “No, I don't know how long you'll want me in here after I tell you what I need to tell you.” 

You make a face, unsure what she could possibly say that would have you kicking her out of your home. “I have a feeling this is something we should sit for. Come on,” you sit down on the couch and wipe the sweat from your forehead.

“Are you sure you don’t want to shower first? You’ve been working hard all day and I know you how much you hate sitting in–” Daisy rambles on as she paces the living room and you have to cut her off. 

“Daisy, I hate waiting even more,” you tell her. “Come, sit,” you pat the space next to you on the sofa. 

Daisy stands still and frowns at you. “No you don’t. You are the most patient person I know.” 

You nod your head slowly, “I can be patient, that’s true. But I still hate waiting.” You admit to her. “I’ve been worried about you all day, Daisy. I don’t want to be pushy but I want to be able to help you. I can’t do that if you don’t stop stalling and tell me what’s wrong.” 

Daisy sits next to you and drops her face into her hands. You sit there and wait for her to collect her thoughts and say something. Anything that will explain her behavior. You bounce your leg as your body decides to show your impatience. The movement has Daisy moving her hands from her face through her hair. “The night we broke up I,” the area around her eyes are red and her nose is pink. She doesn't face you because she can't say this and have you look at her differently. She doesn't know where you stand on a topic like this because every conversation the two of you had on the matter was purely hypothetical. She wanted to keep this to herself because she didn't want you to change in her eyes. She likes you the way you are. “I found out that I had um, sorry this is difficult for me to say.” 

You hold your hand out to her, “Daisy, it's okay. Whatever it is,” you trail as she turns her head away from you. “Are you sick?”  You ask softly as her shoulders shake. 

She turns her head to stare in front of her as she shakes her head and wipes her tears. “No, I'm not sick. That's not the kind of results I had received,” she reaches for the box of tissues in the coffee table and blows her nose. “I found out that I was pregnant,” she finally says. 

You feel your heart stop beating and drop to your stomach. You grow nauseous at the news. “Oh,” you grab onto the arm of the couch as if you're going to faint. “I um,” you blink a couple of times. “Is it someone else's?” The words stumble out before you can process the implication. 

“I never cheated on you,” she states sharply and she looks at you this time. 

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… I mean, can you blame me for asking? You didn't tell me until today. You broke up with me instead of telling me. I can't think of why you would do that unless the baby wasn't mine or —” you stop talking as you look at her and clamp your mouth shut. Daisy avoids your eye contact as you recall her behavior that night. She didn't want to be a mother. She kept telling you that as she tried to leave. “Oh,” you react again. The tension in your body releases and you try to figure out how you can address this conversation respectfully. “You decided not to go through with the um the uh pregnancy? Is that what you're telling me?” You try to keep your tone even and your features neutral, trying to avoid showing any insensitive emotions out of respect. 

Daisy closes her eyes as she starts to sob. “I couldn't go through with it. I'm not ready.” She says through her tears. You nod your head because you don't know what to do or how to properly react. “It wasn't an easy decision, you know? I thought about it for a couple of weeks and I thought about telling you but I was so scared that you would be happy and I would have the baby to please you and I just —” 

“Daisy,” you call her name until she stops rambling and you enter her personal space, pulling her against your chest to let her know that you are there for her. “Daisy, I get it. It's okay. I’m not ready for another kid. Shh, shh, it's okay. It's your body, I would have never asked—” 

“I know you wouldn't have but I would have done it! For you!” She interrupts. “Because I know how much you love kids and you're a great parent. You're so great with Rachel and I know how much she wants siblings and I just couldn't. I couldn't be the one to give you that. But if I told you, I would have gone through with it and I would have been miserable,” she continues to ramble. You pull back and get her to look you in the eye. 

“Daisy, you're not listening,” you say calmly. “Breathe with me. Okay?” She nods with you and you count to four with your fingers as you inhale through your nose. Then you put down the four fingers as you hold. You lift them back up as you exhale. And you repeat the process with Daisy until she appears a little more relaxed. “Daisy, recently I've been asked by my ex-wife to have more kids with her and I told her no. I — this is going to sound horrible but — I wasn't ready to be Rachel's parent. I love her, she is my world. But it took me longer than anyone realizes to be comfortable being her parent. I wasn't ready and I know that a lot of parents will tell you that none of them were ready and that's,” you wave your hand to the side. “It's quite clear that they weren't and I don't think it should be that way.” You shake your head. “Daisy, I'm telling you right now that I'm not ready for another child. When you told me about the pregnancy right now I nearly threw up. You made the right decision. I'm not mad at you. I don't hate you for making this decision on your own. It's your choice, I'm just sorry that I didn't make you feel like you could come to me about this. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you.” Daisy closes her eyes and leans against your chest. 

Neither of you talk for a moment. Allowing yourselves to process and accept the truths that each has shared. You think about how that night might’ve gone differently. You wouldn’t have lived with Wanda for almost two weeks. You wouldn’t have gotten as close to Wanda as you have. You would have been having back-and-forth conversations with Daisy. You would have developed a stronger relationship. Maybe. It could have turned sour. She could have grown distant and resented you or herself for the decision. Who knows? That wasn’t what happened. So it doesn’t matter now. But you can’t help but think where you could have been now had things happened differently. 

“Did you deal with this alone?” You eventually ask her. Daisy shakes her head against your chest. You’re surprised she is still resting against you because normally she couldn’t stand the smell of your sweat and the other odors that come from manual labor when the two of you were together. “Jemma?” She nods against you. “Can I ask, uh, what… or why did you bring this to me now?” You ask carefully. 

You feel Daisy take a deep breath and this is what pulls her away from you. She wipes her face and sits against the back of the couch. She plays with the rings on her fingers and flexes her jaw. “I didn’t get the abortion until a couple of weeks ago,” she admits. “I almost went through with the pregnancy because,” she takes another shaky breath. “Jean was at the same clinic I was at to make the appointment. I spilled my guts to her because Jemma had to leave halfway through since it wasn't the appointment and Jean was there when I had second thoughts. It took me a couple of weeks to even go in because I was in denial for a bit. I didn’t want to believe it was true. Then I saw the sonogram and I,” she shakes her head and looks up to the ceiling. “I had second thoughts.” She shrugs her shoulders and you take one of her hands to offer your support. It’s not an easy decision for most. That's assuming that it's ever an easy decision for anyone. “Jean offered to pay for my doctor bills and prenatal care if I decided to follow through with the pregnancy and gave her and Anna the baby and never told you about any of this.” You drop Daisy’s hand and turn away from her. 

You stand up with that nauseous feeling again, not sure what to do about a betrayal of this caliber. You know that Jean has a tendency to do anything and everything to get what she wants when she wants it but… This was too far. “I can’t fucking,” you shake your head. You want to punch a wall or break something but you can’t. You can’t afford the injury. You can’t afford the plaster to fix the wall.  You can’t afford to replace the things you have. You can’t afford any of this because you thought you were paying off debts before interest can build on them. You thought you were doing everything right. You thought you could trust Jean. You can’t believe she would go so far as to put Daisy through something like this. 

“Please don’t hate me,” Daisy begs, “I was confused and I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I only said yes at first because I thought you would be allowed to be in their life and I thought you would like that and–” 

“I’m not upset with you,” you cut her off. “It’s not your fault,” you try to focus on your breathing but you can’t calm down. You can’t focus on anything. You don’t know how someone can be so deranged. You look at Daisy and you feel so guilty for what happened to her. The position she was put in. It makes sense why one day Jean is ready to cut your head off for saying no and then next she’s perfectly fine. What kind of person could be so deceptive? What kind of person… you huff through your nose. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” you say to Daisy in the softest tone you could muster up. “You shouldn’t have… She shouldn’t’ve…” you shake your head and close your eyes. 

Daisy stands up and takes your white-knuckled fist and massages the tight skin until you release your grip. “I am going to be okay. I probably shouldn’t have told you. I just, I don’t know. At first the offer was that I just give them the baby. I wrongfully assumed that also meant giving you the baby. Then she eventually told me that you would not know that the baby was even yours,” she shakes her head. “I couldn’t put myself in the middle of this. I couldn’t put anyone in the middle of that. I didn't want to be part of why Rachel’s parents grew to hate each other. You guys are such healthy examples for her.” You begin to grow upset again thinking about how Jean deceived Daisy. How she was ready to deceive you. It was one thing to ask you to knowingly not be allowed in your child's life. But to go behind your back and essentially kidnap what almost was your child… you couldn’t believe it. 

“When I had the chance to think about it, I didn’t want to give birth. I couldn’t go through with it so without telling her, I went through with the abortion because that’s what I wanted.” Daisy closes her eyes as tears slip out and she continues to rub your hand. Something she learned that can keep you grounded. “The only thing that has been tearing me apart about this whole thing is how much of it was being kept from you. I haven’t been able to sleep because of it. You deserve to know.” 

“Thank you for telling me,” you state as you watch her rub your hands. You clench your jaw as your eyebrows knit together. Normally an action like this would calm you down but the information was far too upsetting. “I need to go for a walk or something. I don’t know. I just can’t be here right now.” You pull your hand away. 

“I don’t think you should be alone,” Daisy tries to pull you back to her. 

“Trust me, right now, that’s what’s best for everyone,” you say as you hold your hand up to stop her from coming any closer to you. Daisy stares at you, wanting to be in your arms again. Wanting to feel that comfort that you brought her. Both in the past and just before she dropped the bomb on you. But you weren't someone that sought after touch when you were going through something. You retreated. You isolated yourself. At least, that's what you did when you were with her. She might never know that there are other sides to you. Especially not after tonight. 

“Okay,” she says just above a whisper. “Okay,” she repeats as she walks to the exit. “I'm sorry for everything, again,” she says as she steps into the hallway. “Please, don't do anything stupid.” She disappears, leaving the door open. 

You stare at the door as you think of what you want to do. You think about getting into your car but you're afraid that if you do, you'll drive into a tree or worse. You'll drive to Jean’s house. You couldn't do that to Rachel. You check that you have your keys, phone, and wallet in your pockets and then you lock up your apartment on your way out. Stepping out onto the concrete sidewalk outside of your apartment building you look every which way. There are bars and restaurants down each way. You could easily find somewhere to drink but that's not what you want to do. So you start walking. 

You walk aimlessly for a long time. You walk until your legs begin to ache and your feet begin to hurt. You find yourself at a dock, there are many boats parked but you find a space without one. You sit at the ledge and look out to the water and breathe. The smell of the salty water is calming. You watch as the water moves causing the reflection of the lights to dance. You allow yourself to grieve because even though you didn't want another child, you contributed to almost bringing another life into the world. It was a weird feeling. You're not upset with Daisy for making her choice, you are grateful to her. But you still feel the loss. You didn't understand the feeling but you let yourself feel it. Because even though you don't understand why you feel the way that you do, you don't have to justify or explain it to anyone. You can just allow yourself to feel whatever you want to. 

Then you grieve the relationship you thought you had with Jean. You can't believe she would pull something like this. You don't understand where an idea like that would come from out of her. You don't know how you'll be able to move past this. You feel like she took everything the two of you built together over the years and tore it apart bit by bit. You feel disgusting. You feel used. You take deep breaths as you feel it all. Hoping to release it in a healthy way. It was done, there wasn't much else that you could do about it now except to confront her. You couldn't do that until Sunday.

When you stand up to leave, you slip and fall into the water. You don't try to swim at first. You let the water move you. Trusting that it won't take you away. That it won't pull you under and shorten your time on this planet. You just float in the water. Eventually, the need for air is too great and you swim up until you break the surface with a big gasp. 

You pull yourself up onto the dock and start walking home. You are grateful for the bulky phone case when you pull it out of your pocket to find that the phone is perfectly fine. You use the map application in order to navigate your way home. When you arrive at your destination you shower and eat a microwavable meal. You fall into your bed after taking a sleep aid and fall asleep. 

The next day, at work, Wanda stops by the job site around lunch time. You walk into Pietro’s office and find the two of them laughing with takeaway meals in front of them. You still feel horrible from the night before. But hearing her laugh heals the wounds inside your heart. 

“Y/n!” Wanda grins. “I brought you something too,” she holds up a container. You look at the container and try not to show that you have anything wrong with you by forcing on a smile. 

“You didn't have to,” you say as you move to the sink to wash your hands before you join them. “I appreciate this. Is there an occasion I'm not aware of?” You ask as you open the container. The aroma of your favorite food should have made you happier, instead you began to feel nauseous again. It has nothing to do with the food or Wanda's presence and everything to do with the feelings that you're suppressing. 

“No, I had lunch with Tony yesterday and it reminded me how much I enjoy having lunch with other people,” she shrugs. “Isolation can become a bit of a downside when it comes to working from home for me sometimes.” 

You nod, “Makes sense. Why don't you do the hybrid method? That's what Daisy did with school. She would do online classes and in-person classes,” you suggest before you take a bite. You chew slowly because you do need to eat. No matter how sick you're feeling. 

“That's a good idea,” Pietro agrees. “You could finally get better acquainted with the rest of the staff.” 

Wanda makes a distasteful face, “I don't know. Getting to know people always leads to getting stuck in the middle of their drama.” She shakes her head. “I think I have enough of my own.” 

Pietro shrugs, “You never know. Sometimes it's good to hear about other people's drama. It makes your life sound better. Why do you think I still talk to you? Just because you're my sister?” Wanda’s eyes widen and she punches her brother on his shoulder. “Hey! It's not my fault, you have the most dramatic life out of anyone I know! Y/n,” he nudges you, “back me up here!” 

You are snapped out of your head and try to catch up with the conversation. You look between them cluelessly. “I'm sorry, I probably have her beat when it comes to a dramatic life.” 

Pietro shakes his head, “What are you talking about? Other than that baby thing, you are relatively drama free. That drama even ended pretty well from what I remember.” 

You feel a little light headed as you are reminded by the development of that issue. That there is a new ending to the situation. But you don't tell him. You don't want to tell him. You're not even sure you want to tell Wanda. Not right now at least. You nod, “Yeah, I guess you're right.” You turn to Wanda with a playful shrug. “Sorry, I tried.” Wanda shakes her head and the three of you share a laugh. 

“Whatever,” Wanda mutters as she stabs her salad with her fork. 

When lunch is over, you walk Wanda out to her car. You're quiet as she talks to you about her current project and updating you on her boys. Then she asks you if you are okay because you seem a little off. You shrug and stop when you reach the car. “Um the other day, Jean and Anna asked me to move my workshop out of their shed,” you scratch behind your ear. Feeling queasy saying her name. 

“Your workshop?” Wanda asks as she unlocks her car. 

“Yeah, just my tools and some leftover materials that I used on my last order,” you explain as you open the car door for her. 

“Last order? What do you mean?” Wanda reaches over and sets her purse on the passenger seat but she doesn't sit in her car just yet. 

“I have a little side business. Haven't I told you about it before?” You are surprised with yourself that you haven't mentioned this to her before. You try to think of a time that you might've brought it up before but you come up with nothing. There just hasn't been a reason to. Wanda shakes her head as she does the same. “Ah well, I have a small business. I take custom orders. Anything that someone wants built, I build it.” You pull out your phone and show her your website. “Just something to help with the bills whenever I can't get a lot of hours.” She takes your phone and nods, impressed by the stuff you have built in the past. “Anyway, the reason it's on my mind, they want me to move my stuff out of the shed. I can't really afford a place to be able to store everything and be able to have the space to work on orders.” 

“I have a shed that, admittedly, could use some care,” she says as she hands you back your phone. “You could set up shop in there, at no cost, of course.” 

“Wanda, I can't take you up on that offer,” you resist. 

“Yes, you can,” she insists. “Why couldn't you?” 

You look away and lick your lips as you are reminded of the night she rejected you. “I would need a lot of access to it when or really if I get another order. I don't know if it's a good idea for us to spend that much time together.”

Wanda nods as she understands where you're coming from. “Technically we wouldn't be spending any of that time together. You'd be working and I would be inside my house or doing something. Come on, we're friends. Let me help you with this.” 

You focus your eyes back to hers and you think about just how much she has been helping you. It doesn't feel like there is a balance in the friendship with how often she helps you compared to how often you help her. “I don't know Wanda,” you say as you bite your bottom lip in thought. You can't think of a good reason to say no so you don't. You shrug and nod at her. “Okay, yeah, I will take you up on that offer. Thank you, Wanda. I really appreciate it. Is it okay if I bring it all by on Sunday?” 

Wanda smiles and nods, “Of course, come by then. I'm sure the boys will be happy to see you and Rachel again. They were pretty upset about not having you guys there last week.” 

“Yeah, Rachel wasn't happy about it either. She prefers cooking with you a lot more than she does with me,” you say with a soft laugh. Wanda smiles at her shoes as she thinks about how much she prefers cooking with you over anyone else. She looks back up and locks eyes with you. She feels like an idiot for pushing you away but she doesn't feel ready to tell you how she feels about you. 

“I'll see you on Sunday,” she says and you nod as you repeat her departing words as you step away from her. You wave as she drives off and you go back to work without thinking about your problems with Jean and instead thinking about Wanda and how pretty she looked today. 

Saturday night you can't sleep. You toss and turn even after taking a sleep aid. Your heart pounds as your mind races about seeing Jean the next day. You can't stop running through scenarios of confronting her. Are you going to do it right away? Are you going to choke? Is the sight of her going to make you nauseous? Or worse. Is it going to cause you to actually vomit? Will you be able to see her without getting angry? You're going to have to be there longer than you want to because you have to load your truck with your stuff but are you going to make it through? You don't know. And you're exhausted by the anticipation. 

You are lucky to get in a nap before you have to pick up Rachel. You have to drink two cups of coffee before you feel awake enough to drive. On the drive over, you are yet again practicing what you're going to say when you arrive. You yawn as you park and shake your head to get you ready to knock on the door. You stare at the house as you try to remember that she is your friend. She was your favorite person once upon a time. You loved her. But it's all tainted now. She has slowly burned you out and ripped you to shreds. 

You step out of your truck and knock on the door. You look at the welcome mat to keep yourself calm as you wait. When there's no response, you ring the doorbell. You take slow breaths as you try to clear your mind. You can't think about what Daisy told you in front of Rachel. 

Anna is the one to open the door. Since Daisy hadn't mentioned her, you can tell yourself that she isn't someone that you should be upset with and you can tell yourself that she has no idea. At least until you can figure out when to confront them about this. You walk through the house to get to your stuff in the backyard but when you bring the tools to your truck you go through the gate that leads to the front instead of going through the house. You don't say anything to Anna, you don't even ask why she's the only person you've seen so far. You just focus on your task. Move your tools from the shed to your truck. When you're done, Rachel greets you with a tight hug that you are happy to reciprocate. It's a relief to see her and to hold her. 

Jean is on the phone in the kitchen and you don't feel the desire to interrupt her conversation just to confront her. You decide to leave it alone. You take Rachel to the car and help her get inside. “Did you hear the good news?” Rachel asks as you get settled in the driver's seat. You shake your head and ask her what the good news is. “I'm having a baby brother! My mommies said so. I'm going to be a big sister!” Your heart stops as your entire body freezes. How could they tell her something like that? How do they even know what the gender would have been? 

“Wait right here, I need to ask your mommies something,” you tell your daughter with a tight voice. You climb out of the truck and walk to the front door. This time, you enter without knocking and walk up to Jean as she ends her phone call. “How dare you,” you start bitterly. Jean is thrown off and her confused smile drops. “How dare you put Daisy in that kind of position. How dare you tell our daughter that she's going to be a big sister before there is a baby. There isn't going to be a baby! There never should have been. You shouldn't have tried to talk Daisy out of her decision. You are a cisgendered female, you should have some respect when it comes to another woman making a decision about her life and her body. Not only that, you are my best friend. Or at least you used to be. I thought you would have enough respect for me to tell me the moment you found out about Daisy's pregnancy. I was mistaken to believe the lies you told me but I will not allow that behavior to affect our daughter. So you better be a thousand percent certain when it comes to something as big as a sibling coming into her life before you tell her anything!” You take a split second to decide whether or not to continue and with how upset you are, you can't stop yourself. “And I was going to let Daisy tell you this herself but I will do what you should have done. She went through with her decision. There won't be a baby. Now I suggest that you either start looking into fostering or adopting — no. You should get your fucking head checked be clearly you are out of your fucking mind, Jean!” Jean slaps you clear across your face. The slap was loud and the impact was hard. It stings and you lift your hand up to your face in shock. 

“Get out!” Anna shouts from behind you. You are shaking with anger. You weren't aware that you had gotten so furious with the situation. You try to say more but Anna won't let you. Jean is in tears and looking down at her hand, shocked by her own actions. Anna steps in between you and her wife. “Get the fuck out of my house Y/n! Get out! Get out!” She starts pushing you backwards. You hold your hands up and shake your head. 

“You're both unbelievable. I'm going,” you walk out after Anna's last shove. You can't believe the reactions. You can't believe the lack of accountability. You storm across the yard and climb into the truck. 

“What's wrong?” Rachel asks in a scared little voice. You feel terrible seeing her shaken up. You sigh and close your eyes before you look at her. 

“Nothing sweetheart,” you say as softly as you can. “Nothing, let's just… we're going to go home and I'm going to go for a run and then maybe we'll stop by Wanda’s house to drop all of this stuff off later. How does that sound?” You try to make her feel more at ease. 

“Why can't we go to Ms. Wanda’s first? I really want to see Tommy and Billy and tell them about the good news!” She asks innocently and you have to close your eyes to calm down. You open them and start the engine. You need to distance yourself from this house. From Jean and Anna. You're starting to wonder if your ex’s behavior is being instigated by her wife. You aren't sure how you can find out. But it's definitely something to look into with the lengths she's gone through to make this idea of theirs happen. 

“Honey, mommies were mistaken. You're not going to be a big sister,” you correct her. 

Rachel frowns, “Yes I am. They said so. My mommies don't lie to me, Baba.” 

“I know that sweetheart, that's why I said that they were mistaken. That's not the same as lying, it's more like they didn't know what they were telling you wasn't true,” you take a second to glance at her. “Does that make sense to you?” Rachel nods with tears building in her eyes. “Awe baby girl, what's wrong?” 

“I really wanted to be a big sister,” she says as she wipes her tears. You feel bad as you continue to drive. 

“I know sweetie, I know,” you sigh as you start to reconsider their proposal. But you quickly shove that thought out of your mind. You cannot allow your daughters disappointment to change your mind on a matter of this magnitude. “Do you still want to go to Wanda’s first?”

“Yes please,” she says as she continues to wipe her face. “I want to see my friends.” You want to calm down before you see Wanda. You don't want to pull her into more of your problems. But you feel bad enough for taking away your daughters smile. So you suck it up and drive to Wanda’s house. You text her that you're on the way when you stop at a red light. 

When you pull up the driveway, Wanda is waiting outside with a smile. She knocks on the window and talks as you roll it down. “I don't care what you say, I'm helping you move the stuff into the shed.” Her wide smiles drops to an expression of concern when she sees the red mark on your cheek. She looks further into the truck and sees Rachel's face is red from crying. “What happened?” She looks you over and you shake your head. 

“Nothing, why do you ask?” You say, oblivious to the evidence on your face while you try to hide your frustration from the day. 

Wanda leans in as close as she can get. “Have you looked in the mirror?” She says in a low whisper. 

Your eyebrows knit together and you frown before you drop the visor mirror to check yourself out. Then you see the mark and you shut it. You want to curse yourself for not going home first. “I can't talk about it right now. Can we start moving this stuff?” Wanda nods and allows you to get out of the vehicle. You walk to the other side to help Rachel down before you start to take stuff down from your truck. You hand some boxes to Wanda and she leads the way to her shed. She talks the entire way about how she spent her entire Saturday reorganizing the entire space. You hardly listen as your mind replays the last hour. How Jean slapped you and Anna pushed you. How angry you felt —  no, feel. 

Once the pair of you set the boxes down Wanda asks again what happened and the words come out of you before you can stop them. You tell her everything from running into  Jemma to what happened with Jean just moments ago. Wanda is quiet as she stands there and processes. She doesn't look at you as she does. You shift your weight uncomfortably as you wait for a response. When she finally moves you don't expect her to hug you the way that she does. She holds you tightly in a warm embrace that breaks your walls down. 

“I'm so sorry,” she whispers against your chest as you break down in tears and she rubs your back. You let her hold you and comfort you in ways that you hardly ever allowed anyone to take care of you. You allow her to witness a side of vulnerability that you rarely let many see. 

After a bit of time the both of you stop crying. You and Wanda sneak into the house and each go to a bathroom in order to wash your faces and then get back to work. Together the truck gets emptied of the tools and materials in an impressive amount of time and was put away in the shed. When the both of you finish, Wanda gets a phone call and excuses herself to answer. You follow her inside to wash your hands. 

You get a message from Nebula and you feel slightly guilty when you do. You open the message and you clench your jaw as she admits how much she likes you and asks when she can see you next. The two of you went out on a date shortly after Wanda rejected you. It was an okay date but with everything going on, it doesn't feel right. You close your phone and head upstairs to check on the kids. As you do so you pass Wanda's office. Her door is slightly ajar. You don't mean to listen in but when you hear the words,  “Thank you for introducing me… yeah he has made me feel things I haven't felt before,” and,  “I feel like he understands me better than I understand me.” You feel your heart sink. You continue to walk to check on the kids as you try to tell yourself that you didn't hear the entire conversation so you couldn't possibly know what she was talking about. But a small voice in the back of your head is telling you that she rejected you because she found someone else. A reality that you'll have to accept if you and Wanda are going to continue to be friends. 

After you check on the kids you schedule another date with Nebula for the next Sunday after you drop Rachel off. Then you continue on with your night with Wanda and the kids. Doing your best to keep your mind off of everything else.

Chapter 19

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[madlittlecriminal]

[02] Secret Ingredient⥓ Mafia!Miguel O'Hara × Female!Baker!Reader

y'all, im sorry. i was sick. im back now though, so hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: mention of losing sleep, mentions of dana, mention of brothels, mentions of exotic dancer clubs

series masterlist | miguel o'hara masterlist

Miguel lost sleep that week.

The fact that you were the owner of the bakery he had his eye on was upsetting. Even though he still had to get to know you, he wasn't sure if he could if there was a possibility of falling in love with you and he wasn't sure if he was ready to risk it. Obviously, there were other reasons why his relationship with Dana ended. It was true that he didn't want her to have control over his club, but it stemmed from more than just business partnership.

Dana wanted to be the owner because she wanted to change things and he didn't want that. She wanted to make it into a brothel, but he didn't want that. Not only did he already have exotic dancers at their own clubs that catered to all genders since he preferred being inclusive, but he also hated thinking of how some men are gross and just disrespectful. In his clubs, he had strict rules, and he knew Dana wouldn't have enforced those rules; he didn't want it to come bite him in the ass.

This was different though.

You were different.

He felt weird, going to the club earlier just to get the chance to see you.

He hasn't stepped foot in your bakery since he met you. Lyla and Jess have been on his ass about meeting you again. They couldn't understand why their boss was being weird about a woman, but Peter did.

Miguel had a conversation with Peter which helped him out a little, but he wouldn't admit it to his face; he had to push his shy boy out the way in order to talk to you, but he didn't know how.

So, he decided to pay you a visit on his day off at Alchemax.

You were dealing with a girl who was currently doing cake testing for her quince (sweet 15) which made him smile softly when you gave her a piece of Neapolitan cake since she couldn't decide between chocolate, vanilla and strawberry.

"This is the alternative if you don't want to do separate layers of cake." You say, making Miguel's body tingle with heat as red painted his cheeks.

He quickly concluded that he could listen to you talk for hours.

"It's amazing!" The fourteen-year-old jumped a little after swallowing the piece of cake, making you smile.

"I'm glad you like it." You look up and give Miguel a grin, making his legs shake slightly.

"We'll take this one." Her father said with a grin while ruffling his daughter's hair and pulling out his wallet.

"Great! When do you need it by?" You ask, tilting your head to the side as you look between the mother, the father and the daughter.

"About four months from now. It's the last thing we need."

You nod, giving them the price of the deposit and taking the list of cake ideas from the girl before bidding goodbye.

When they left, your eyes met Miguel's again, making his heart race.

"How can I help you?" You scan him quickly, taking note of his leather jacket, the white shirt that peaked from underneath it along with his black jeans and the same ruby colored sunglasses from your first encounter.

He gives you a shy smile before looking at the desserts, biting the inside of this cheek. "Surprise me."

You raise a brow. "Are you sure about that?"

He nods.

"You hardly know me and you're trusting me to surprise you with a dessert?"

He nods again.

"What if I poison you?" You joke.

"Querida, if you wanted to poison me, you would've done it when we first met." He states. (Darling/Dear)

You blink up at him before opening your mouth to say something, closing it and repeating the process once more before turning your back and grabbing gloves, a wax tissue sheet along with a paper bag and making your way to the kitchen.

His face goes red with embarrassment as he looks at the ground. He makes his foot graze your tiles like a child embarrassed or shy to ask a question. However, he noticed one of your tiles were cracked and another that was actually missing.

"Ah, don't mind the floor. It happened two days ago." You rest the bag on the counter that contained a few pieces of tamriyeh that you just finished preparing.

"How?" He asks, tilting his head to the side.

"A woman stomped her bulky heels on the cracked one and she kicked the other when she saw it was loose." You explain with a shrug before giving him the total.

He raises a brow before giving you $10. "Why did she do that?"

You snicker. "She was annoyed I got her order wrong, telling me I was a fake baker because my treats weren't as good as her mother in law's desserts, but I never advertised them to be better."

He rolls his eyes at the ignorance of the woman and takes the bag. "Thank you. Keep the change and don't worry about the receipt."

You sigh. "Are you ever going to ask for the change or the receipt?"

"Probably not. Have a good day and stay safe." He walks out, leaving you stunned.

"When I catch you, Ruby..." You say softly as you watch his tall figure walk away with a glare before taking the receipt and putting it away and putting the cash in the register.

———

tags:

@deputy-videogamer @barbiecrocs @deepinballs @faimmm @wakeupr41 @bubblegumfanfics @smartyren @kimmis-stuff @latenightcravingz @youcantseem3 @corpsebridenightamare @thedevax @cicithemess @diannana

*if you do not get the notification, i put the link of your blogs because it wasn't allowing me to tag you.

[infamous-if]

Oh, damn. No 25 with MC trying to protect/take care of Seven in a dangerous situation sounds nice.

Hope you feel better soon, Amy! Take care!

Thank you! <3 Dangerous situation, you say?

Double whammy (the amount of seven asks...)

CW: blood

This is all your fault.

You shouldn't have said anything. You shouldn't have fought with the person at the bar. You should've left it alone.

You should've known that Seven wouldn't let it go. Even when they hate you.

You should've known Seven. Has it been that long that you forgot who they were? Once, they were as familiar to you as the very lines on your palm.

"Seven, please."

You're holding onto them as you two stumble out of the bar, moving like two drunkards though both of you are terribly sober. The warm sensation of Seven's blood on your shirt sends dull fear over you. You're spiraling. Breaking. You don't know what to do.

Seven lets you guide them outside, your arms wrapped closely around them as they keep a hand under their nose which spews blood like an open faucet. It sends another round of fear down your spine, but it's not their nose that has you so breathless you're dizzy.

Their stomach.

In the heat of the moment, the person Seven was fighting threw them on the table littered with glass cups and broken bottles. Seven claims to be fine, but the way blood makes an angry stain on the green fabric of their shirt and Seven limps like their body is failing them, you know they're anything but.

Seven loses their footing, tripping on the last step and making both you and them fumble to the wet, concrete ground.

Your body shakes when the cool water of the alleyway seeps into your jeans. Seven coughs, rolls on their back, and lets out a sigh.

Blood is smeared across their face, their eyes are hazy, the blooming flower of blood grows larger across their stomach.

Your hands flail in front of you when you get on your knees, fingers shaking, lips shuttering. You feel the burning sting of tears. "Seven, what do I do? My phone is dead. We need to call an ambulance."

Seven groans. Coughs. Their hair turns damp when it sinks into a puddle by their face. "Stop...yelling."

"How can I stop?!" you cry. "I need to see it-" You begin to lift up their shirt but Seven stops you.

"No."

Anger replaces your previous fear. "Seven-"

"I don't want you to."

That hurts. Hurts more than it should in this moment. Seven is hurt, bleeding, and even now they don't want you to touch them, to care for them. Has everything been for nothing? Have all the years you two spent together meant nothing?

"You fucking asshole."

"What?" They burst up and groan, hissing and laying back down.

"I need to help you." The fear returns anew when Seven's eyes glide towards you slowly, their lips parted. Not from pain, but from slight surprise. "Please. I know you hate me. I know you have no reason to trust me. But please... I'm asking you to anyway." You bite your lip to hide the way it shakes. "Please let me help you."

It takes them a moment. They stare at you so long you feel like you're being judged. Then, in a move that shocks you even now, Seven nods and looks away.

"Go ahead."

You clear your throat, slowly peeling the shirt that sticks to the blood on their skin. Seven winces, and you let out a small sound when you catch the piece of glass lodged to their rib.

"Not bad," you try, wincing, "just a tiny piece. You'll be fine."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

You look at them, ready to shoot them a glare, when you see a small, amused smirk on their face.

"Shut up," you mumble, turning back to their wound.

As you inspect more of their skin, slick with blood, you catch their stomach heave when a small laugh leaves them. You look at Seven, quirking a brow. "You called me an asshole." They look at you. The blood still smeared all across their lower face, they look at you and laugh. "I'm about to die and you call me an asshole."

"You're not about to die," you say strongly and then quieter: "and you are."

Seven hums. "Maybe. Maybe you just bring it out of me."

"That's not helping," you mumble.

You move to lift their shirt higher when you feel a wet hand on your wrist. Seven's blood leaks from their fingers to your skin, but you hardly notice it. Not when they're looking at you with a face so soft it disarms your every defense. "I don't hate you."

Your heart rate quickens. "...You don't?"

They shake their head slowly, stifling a small grown with the movement. "How could I?" they mumble, but don't elaborate.

A sigh leaves them and they glide their gaze to the sky. The sound of an ambulance rings in the distance; the bartender must've called the cops.

"I don't hate you either," you say.

Seven says nothing, but their face twists into a satisfied smile, their eyes closing.

I never did.

and then seven dies. JUST KIDDING

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

Tattooed

A/N: A Dean Drabble requested by @wings-of-a-raven to help me write... SOMETHING. Thank you for the prompt baby, ILY

W/C: More than the 200 words requested, but less than 500

@kazosa @lovealways-j @deanwinchesterswitch

Summary: Dean takes you to get ink

“Sweetheart, I promise you, it’s not going to hurt.”

“Doubtful,” you muttered as you looked out the passenger window of the Impala, watching the buildings slowly going by on Main Street.

Dean pondered your response and cleared his throat. “Alright, well… it won’t hurt as bad as a demon using you as a meat suit.”

You turned and gave him a rueful glare before looking back out the window as Dean maneuvered his baby into an empty spot in front of the neon sign that flashed “TATTOOS”.

“Besides, I don’t know why you’re acting so afraid of a little pinch. I’ve seen you get tossed across the room half a dozen times. Watched your bones break and still pulled off beheading a vamp. Hell, last month alone I sewed you up at least five times, and you didn’t flinch. Once.”

“I know… this is just… different.”

Dean turned off the Impala while his gaze continued straight ahead. “That’s crap. There’s a reason you’re scared and I wanna know why.” He turned to look at you. When you didn’t acknowledge him, he gently took your chin between his fingers and guided your face so you would be looking at him. “C’mon, I thought we were past all this and that you trusted us. Trusted me.”

“I do trust you, Dean. This just feels so permanent.”

Dean snorted a laugh and sighed. “Well, yeah. Tattoos are pretty permanent.”

“No… I mean getting this tattoo is a permanent link to hunting; to living this crazy ass life that I don’t know if I am ready to live. Also,” you paused, knowing the ridicule you were about to endure, “I hate needles, a lot.”

"C'mon, I promise you everything will be okay. And ya know, if you ARE in pain afterwards, I have plenty of ways to keep you distracted." Dean paused, a devilish smirk on his lips.

That smile–there was no way you could resist it. You slid closer to him, your fingers lightly stroking the back of his neck and your lips hovering close to his. "Would you even do that thing I love?" You asked softly, raising a seductive brow. 

"God yes."

"Okay," you whispered, then kissed him tenderly. "Let's get this over with so we can get home and you can take care of me."

You glided your hand down his arm, and to the top of his thigh. Just the hint of of what was to come made his jeans snug.

"Heh, yeah… um, why don't you head on in. I'm gonna need a minute."

Unable to hide your amusement, you got out of the car, paused, and bent down to say one last thing before closing the door.

"Just for the record, I'm scared to death of this life, but it's worth every second, long as I do it with you."

With that, you closed the car door and headed in, ready to be branded a hunter for life.

[edutainer2022]

I have part two in my, so technically it's a Wednesday WIP. Things take place some time after Hyperspeed. Scott is rather popular with all creatures large and nerds. Sometimes Earth has some insights to share about the Sky and celestial objects.

HELIOCENTRIC

He didn't look down from the sketchbook when a chestnut head hit his thigh as a lanky figure folded itself on the sand next to him, by the edge of the small palm grove. An exasperated grunt and an oomf followed. Virgil knew better than to ask. Partly because John had already clued him in, in broad strokes. Partly because he was engrossed in a particularly intricate shading. But mostly because if Scott had hunted him down on the beach, having barely parked Thunderbirds One after the trip to CERN, he would talk. Or maybe not. Either way, if Scott needed comfortable company and a friendly ear - Virgil was both. There was no need for extra prying. Not that time, anyway.

"Brains hates me!"

"No, he doesn't."

Virgil response was as automatic as it was nonchalant. It went without saying - Brains deeply appreciated and admired Scott. Just like all of them.

A powerful huff from the general vicinity of the ground ruffled the edge of the page. Virgil glanced down only to be faced with brilliant blue, welling with desperation. If he didn't abhor the idea of biggest brother in any sort of distress, he would find the whole situation highly amusing.

"Well, he's mad at me, at least! He was so eager to meet Tycho Reeves in person - IR was his moment to shine! Now he thinks I stole his thunder!"

The painful grimace that followed the diatribe was so full of misery, Virgil finally put away the sketchbook and reached to ruffle dark brown curls.

Dr. Tycho Reeves had professed undying friendship with one Scott Tracy after the Hyper-reel misadventure - and did so urbi et orbi. Definitely to the latter's equal befuddlement. From what Virgil gleaned out of John's quick heads up - the Tracy Industries visit to Dr. Reeve's lab in New Geneva earlier that day was met with excitement and enthusiasm that resulted in some significant damage to reasonably good china, a coffemaker, a suit that could bankroll the economy of a medium-size country, several holodiscs of cutting edge equipment blueprints, brought in for consult. And Brains' pride, apparently.

Virgil peered down again at his brother's face, still contorted by a frown. His other hand joined the task force and administered an obviously needed reassuring shoulder squeeze.

"So, you did the thing. Big deal! Brains won't hold a grudge!"

Confusion darkened the edges of the blue.

"The thing?"

"Your thing. The Scott thing. You are the gravity center of every gathering in every room you're ever in. Or a light source, more like!"

Virgil smiled at his own metaphor. He definitely liked that idea more.

"Yep, that's right! You're the sun, Scooter. We all orbit you."

If he hoped to lighten the mood and put biggest brother's mind at ease - that wasn't the achieved effect. Dark brows furrowed even more. Scott even lifted his head from the comfy, jeans clad cushion, and nearly yelled:

"That's not true!"

Virgil was beginning to feel entertained.

"Oh, yes it is! Everyone gets under the spell one way or another, Scoots. That's just the way it is!"

Virgil's large palm gave the now disheveled brunet head a pointed push back on its perch on the brother's thigh and added a soothing rake through the curls to boot. A quieter protest followed.

"I don't want that!"

Virgil hummed, fully amused now.

"Well, tough! You're just THAT awesome, brother."

The almost whisper that chased Virgil's cheeky comment switched him on high alert again. Trust Scotty to find ever more fault with himself.

"Dad was the sun. I'm not."

[I'm not him.]

He had a good hunch Scott would genuinely believe that, but it hurt just as well to see up close how little biggest brother thought of himself. Virgil gave it a pause, then made sure to catch the blue gaze, now deepened by ever ready rue.

"No. He wasn't. Dad was thunder and lightning. Mom was the light. Then you."

He stopped the depreciating shake of the head with a flex of his wrist, before it could gain momentum.

"You really don't get it, do you? You were Dad's light! You cheered him on and you supported his every endeavor, you stood by him and you made him believe he could do anything! Even after Mom. Even after TV-21. And you're ours! You let us flourish and you champion the best selves we could ever be!"

He had to gulp down what had to follow next - "and you gave up everything to burn yourself for us all!"

Bright wide-eyed blue, staring up at him, was brilliant with disbelief and barely contained tears. So Virgil didn't hesitate to shift operations into the territory he knew best how to navigate - with a tug on the sleeve he enveloped big brother into a tight hug.

TBC

[drfirefly08]

warning: ragbros only space you fuckers

[diluc introduces his boyfriend to kaeya]

[dawn winery]

kaeya: [stares]

childe: [stares]

venti: [sipping his dandelion wine] so.. why am i here?

diluc: damage control, i would've picked rosaria or jean but rosaria would've killed ajax without a single thought and jean needs her rest, she has enough on her plate

venti: yeah alright then [continues drinking]

diluc: [sighs and looks at kaeya and childe] are you guys just gonna keep staring?

kaeya: why this fuck-tui? why a fuck-tui at all!

diluc: can you please stop calling the fatui that. i get it, i hate the fatui too, but ajax isn't that bad..

kaeya: no! not at all! he's a harbinger! he's using you obviously!

diluc: no he's not, i thought that at first but seeing him in liyue again.. he's obviously genuine about his love for me

kaeya: i don't trust him!

childe: you're the cavalry captain right? quartermaster too? you must be veryy strong! fight me!

diluc: ajax no-

kaeya: gladly! i'll beat your fuck-tui ass!

diluc: KAEYA NO-

kaeya: maybe you'll show your true colors, tartaglia! that way diluc will finally see reason

diluc: oh fucking barbatos, why must kaeya be so fucking protective... oh! VENTI, HELP ME OUT

venti: nah they'll be fine

diluc: YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE DAMAGE CONTROL YOU DAMN BARD

venti: i thought you found childe fighting hot

diluc: NOT AGAINST MY BROTHER!!!

[throneofrayllum]

Lab Partners headcannons. Yes. You heard me.

Soyona had wanted Brooklynn dead for...obvious reasons, but when she had been doing research on Brook, she couldn't help but feel sorry she had to die. The girl had ambition, smarts, and wouldn't take no for an answer. She had also just happened to fall down a rabbit hole of Brooklynn's social media and hated to admit it but she found Brooklynn to be gorgeous.

When Brooklynn first saw who the broker was whilst spying, her first thought was "Holy fuck she's hot"

Brooklynn had scared Soyona. Not many people could do that. When Brooklynn had the clicker in her hand, Soyona had genuinely feared for her life. She liked that Brooklynn was able to scare her, even if she later realized the girl had no murderous bone in her body.

They don't trust each other fully, how could they? (especially Brooklynn). But they feel drawn to each other. Attracted. Soyona doesn't really mind the attraction, but Brooklynn? She hates it. How could she want someone who's done such awful things? Who literally tried to kill her? what?

Soyona does feel for Brooklynn, she notices when Brooklynn drinks a bit too much in an attempt to numb her pain, or the sound of muffled sobbing that comes from the guest room some nights.

Soyona enjoys watching Brooklynn marvel at her way of life. She secretly likes spoiling Brooklynn too.

Soyona lets Brooklynn wear her clothes because all she has are her jeans and t shirts, and they're relatively the same size. When Soyona took Brooklynn to an event she let Brooklynn borrow a suit (she threatened to take away Brooklynn's access to the liquor cabinet if she spilled on the suit).

Brooklynn is surprised to feel both flustered and...jealous when Soyona brings a woman home from a bar. She had just been finishing up some case files when Soyona waltzed in with a beautiful red head whom she brought straight to her room and shut the door. Seriously? Couldn't she have gone to rando lady's place?

The next afternoon, Brooklynn was bent over her desk, rummaging through files when Soyona ran her hand up Brooklynn's spine and whispered "You were Jealous last night." Brooklynn had scoffed, although a blush crept into her cheeks. "No I wasn't." She snapped. Soyona clicked her tongue, "So defensive." Before Soyona walked away she kissed the back of Brooklynn's neck.

The first time Soyona and Brook...y'know, Soyona had been painting Brooklynn. Soyona had once again felt like something was missing from the painting. "Take off the dress.", Soyona instructed. Brooklynn went red. "What?" She looked like she couldn't understand what language Soyona was speaking. "Take off your dress, it is not needed for this painting." Brooklynn felt nervous, but obeyed. When she was finally just in her underwear and bra, she raised her eyebrows at Soyona. "This what you want?" Soyona smirked, "Very much so." She continued to paint, but Brooklynn was hot all over. Soyona sighed, "I know you want me." Brooklynn snorted, "Yeah, right." Soyona stood from her seat and went to stand directly in front of Brooklynn. "Don't deny yourself. I know what your apprehension is about. But let me assure you, dear, just because you want me does not mean you have to love me. You would not be betraying anyone." Brooklynn looked into Soyona's eyes. "Fine, maybe your right. But what about you? Do you want me?" Soyona knelt before Brooklynn and ran her hands up Brooklynn's thighs. "What do you think, love?" AND THEN DOT DOT DOT

(please tell me you understand what I did with the "dot dot dot" mamma mia reference - it just means they bang)

HELP I'VE IMPLIED SOME SEXUAL THEMES IN KENLYNN HEADCANNONS/FICS BEFORE BUT I THINK THIS IS THE MOST RISQUE MY POSTS HAVE EVER GOTTEN

it's really pretty tame but still. Also WHY did this kinda turn into a fic?

[cloudy-em]

Prom: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

summary: after working on a case involving high school students, BAU!reader casually mentions on the jet back to Quantico that they never went to prom. Spencer plans a surprise for when they return home. Can be platonic or romantic!!

-cloudy

✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖

The team clambered onto the jet, glad to be returning home after a long case. This particular case involved a jealous prom queen who had decided to poison her competitors. Emily was the first to comment.

"I don't know about you guys, but I didn't have the high school experience of the prom court killing off their competition. Is that a regular occurrence?"

The jet collectively let out a lighthearted puff of air.

"No," Morgan responded, "but jealousy is a serious motivator."

"I never went to prom," I blurted out absentmindedly. Cue the shocked faces.

"Really?" JJ asked, clearly surprised. "Prom is one of the defining moments of high school. Dressing up, going with friends and a date, maybe having a shot at being on the prom court...it's fun! Did you really not go?"

"Nope," I replied, popping the 'p'. "I've heard nice stories from others, but I think I'm glad I didn't go. All of my friends had dates; I didn't. I didn't want to seventh wheel." I shrugged. Sure, I was a little bit left out at the time and maybe I had a bit of FOMO from not going, even all these years later, but I stand by my decision not to go to my senior prom.

Everyone nodded, seemingly satisfied with my reasoning. What I didn't know at the time was that the wheels started turning in a certain genius' brain...

A week later, I was at my desk at the BAU. Turning back and forth in my swivel chair, coffee mug in my right hand and a report in my left, I heard an awkward cough behind me. I spun around to see my dear friend, Spencer Reid, standing behind me. Even after all this time, he still hated interrupting me while I was focused.

"You know, you're one of the only people I know who continues to drink coffee after 1pm," he smiled, letting out a small chuckle.

"It keeps me going," I smiled back before posing a question. "What's up, Reid?"

Suddenly, he seemed a little nervous, but I wrote it off as him being himself. It's a little endearing. "I need help reorganizing my library at my apartment. Would you mind helping me with it? I've leant you books before, and you're the only one I really trust to handle my books with the gentleness they deserve," his words spilled out at 40 miles per hour as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sure!" I replied happily. I loved Spencer's extensive book collection; the faux-leatherbound books in various languages lined across the walls.

Spencer's apartment was cozy. I loved the times I'd been invited over to eat cheap takeout and watch original Star Trek reruns or sit in the armchairs and read Wuthering Heights in the sunlight that came streaming in from the windows.

We agreed that I would come over to his apartment on Saturday evening to help him with his organizing endeavors.

✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖

On Saturday at 7:47pm, I pulled my car into an empty spot at Spencer's apartment complex. Locking the door, I began walking towards Spencer's building. When I arrived, I knocked on the door, excited to see my dear friend.

When he opened the door, he stood before me in his mismatched socks, jeans, one of his patterned shirts and ties, and a cardigan. It made me smile; most people thought Spencer's fashion was odd and outdated, but I thought it suited him. He smiled at me before handing me a small bouquet of daisies.

"What's this?" I asked, accepting his gift. I was throughly confused, but smiling nonetheless.

Spencer shifted his weight back and forth on his feet.

"Well, um, you mentioned that you'd never experienced prom. I know it's nothing like real prom, but I wanted to give you the experience. Maybe you'll like it more than what you would've had then," he said, almost shyly.

I hesitated. His actions were incredibly kind. I smiled at him, taking his hand with my free one.

"Of course."

He led me into his apartment, which was dimly lit with soft music playing. I felt the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach and chest.

"May I have this dance?" he asks me softly. I can only nod in response.

"Sparks" by Coldplay plays quietly as he brings his arm up, our fingers still intertwined. He brings his other hand to my waist as my other arm goes around his shoulders and my head falls gently to his chest. I feel a soft on the top of my head before his cheek rests in the same spot.

Dancing with Doctor Spencer Reid in his library was not something I would have on my bingo card, but it was a memory I'd hold dear forever.

[writergirl3]

4 Town’s Physical Features Headcanons

Happy New Year, 4 Townies! I wanted to do some hcs about 4 Town's small physical details, seeing as their animated forms are kinda hard to see up close.

Vaguely proofread, so don't hate me for typos lol.

Enjoy! 🧡

Robaire; 

Robaire is obsessed with chapstick. Seriously. He reapplies like twice an hour. But because of this, his lips are super soft. Even if you never have the honour of getting a kiss from him, you can just see that they’re soft.

He has an outie belly button. That’s it. That’s the headcanon.

People always assume that Robaire is super tall, but he’s actually under six foot, just a little taller than T. 

His eyebrow slit actually came about by accident. He (stupidly) trusted T to straighten up his edges, but he basically shaved off a whole chunk of Ro’s eyebrow. He loves it now, though, and never wants to grow it out again. 

Jesse;

Jesse’s naturally brunette. He went through a sort of surfer guy phase (although he can’t surf, smh), and decided to bleach his hair. He got loads of compliments and has been touching up his roots ever since.

His hair is also wavy naturally. The guys like to make fun of him blow drying it and the amount of products he uses.

Like T, this guy has long eyelashes. They’re not quite as curved or dark as T’s, but they frame those baby-blues nicely.

His eyes aren’t just blue, though. He’s got central heterochromia, with a bright green ring around his pupils.

He’s big-boned, like has a big head, wide wrists, broad shoulders. You get it.

Jesse cannot step outside without burning. He’s pretty fair-skinned, and crisps up like a rack of bacon after just five minutes in the sun.

Aaron T;

T has a small gap between his two front teeth. He doesn’t love it that much, but it’s honestly the cutest thing.

He also has dimples, and they perfectly fit his whole brand.

Many people think his eyes are brown, but they’re actually hazel. If you’re lucky enough to get super close to him, you’ll see little gold flecks in his irises. Good luck getting him to sit still long enough to see them, though.

Continuing on with the eye theme, this guy could be a Max Factor model. No joke. They should make a mascara in T’s honour, although no one’s lashes would ever be as long and lustrous as his even with mascara.

T’s skin naturally has an olive hue, but he always has some sort of tanlines. Always. Even in the cold months. There’s always this line around where the waistband of his jeans sits (👀), and around his ankles and neckline. Jesse loves to tease him about it, but T just gets his own back when Jesse turns into a lobster on the beach.

Aaron Z;

This guy is ridiculously tall. Like 6’3. It figures, seeing as he’s so good at basketball. Robaire’s secretly super jealous of Z’s height.

Z doesn’t smile or say much, and his eyes usually do a lot of talking. They’re super, super dark brown. Like almost black. They’re also pretty hooded, and are usually the first thing that people notice when they first see him.

He has big hands and a stupidly large handspan. Again, it comes in handy with basketball. He also has pretty short fingernails because he has a bad habit of biting them when he’s anxious.

Not many people know this, but Z has faint stretch marks around his armpits. He’s not ripped, per say, but is beefy with pretty muscular biceps. He doesn’t love his stretch marks, even though they’re faded, but accepts them as a part of himself.

Tae Young;

Tae has the softest skin ever. He uses quite a lot of skincare products to keep his skin nice, but it’s naturally very soft and supple. 

He has pretty full lips that always seem to be slightly upturned, even when he’s not smiling. It’s the reason why he always looks so sweet and innocent.

Like T, he also has dimples, but they’re not that deep or prominent.

This poor boy has no eyebrows. Like none. When he joined 4 Town, he started tinting them a little.

Tae’s eyes are also pretty dark brown, like Z’s, but his are somehow naturally lined around his lashline. People always think that he's wearing eyeliner, but it’s all natural.

---

Musing Meaninglessly Masterlist

[leggerefiore]

Personal Stylist

cw: slight Jealousy, confession fic, fluff

pairing: Raihan/Reader

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You hated how embarrassing it was coming to the gym leader for help, but it felt like he was the only one you could trust for this. He stood outside the boutique casually, surfing through his phone without much thought. His signature hoodie rested on him as his hair caught a slight draft of wind. You swallowed as you approached him. Raihan's turquoise eyes shifted from his phone to you. His cat-like grin played across his lips. “There you are,” he gave a light chuckle, “I was beginning to think you had a Leon.”

“No, I didn't get lost,” you sighed and straightened your own coat nervously, “My train was late.” Another laugh came from him as his arm was thrown around your shoulders. You both headed into the store together. His eyes gazed around the area before he finally backed away from you.

“That so? Sounds about right,” he finally replied to your explanation, “Now, what did you need this outfit for again?” You felt flustered as you remembered the reason you had even contacted him for something like this to begin with. Nessa had offered to set you up with a model friend of hers for a date, and you had absolutely no idea what to wear. Admittedly, you were not that interested, but since Nessa had gone out of her way to this for you, the obligation hung strong. You cleared your throat.

“A date to a fancy restaurant,” was your answer. His eyes went wide at your words. For a second, you would even say he looked a bit disappointed. What? Was he hoping you just wanted a new outfit for social media pictures? You felt a laugh nearly escape you. With your response, though, he took you off to a dressier department and quickly went through a few items before holding a few tops out. His eyes observed you for a moment before he shrugged. A few were put back, while two remained out.

“Who did you score a date with, then?” he asked as he held the tops for you to take from him. You cocked a brow at him. Well, you supposed it was not an odd question. Raihan and you had quite a few acquaintances and friends that were shared.

“Nessa set me up with somebody she knows through her agency,” you told him as he went through a few bottoms carefully. Slacks were given careful judgment, while the jeans were avoided completely. His fashion knowledge was as trustworthy as Nessa's could be. How you came to know such well-dressed people remained a mystery. Especially with how popular and beloved they were among competitive battle fans. You leaned against a wall as Raihan took his time going through each of his choices carefully. His favourites were once again handed off to you.

“That so?” Raihan gazed around the section, “Well, hope he isn't anyone too weird. You have any accessories you would like?” You thought on it for a moment before shaking your head. Besides, it would be best to see how the outfit suited you first, then look for things like that. You walked off to the changing area to try them on, with Raihan following behind you. Trying on the pieces you liked most from your options, you observed yourself in the mirror with a smile. His taste really was good.

The door opened to reveal you to the man, who went back on to his phone while he waited. His brows perked up at your attire before he gave a whistle. You felt a bit flustered by his reaction. A thumbs up came from him. “Well, don't you look like you have a great stylist,” he snickered, “Good choices. I thought that colour would best suit you.” The compliments from him made you feel a bit overcome with an odd feeling. Your stomach churned with a fluttering feeling. You just nodded and grinned at him before heading back into change into your clothes.

As you headed off to the queue to buy your items, you caught Raihan glaring at his phone. The expression on his face certainly was not one he often wore, much less in public. What would his fans think if they caught him looking at the poor device like it owed him something? You quickly bought your stuff before returning to him. His eyes glanced at you as he approached. “Everything okay there, big guy?” you tried a joke name for him to lighten his mood.

“... You sure that you want to go on that date?” he asked you suddenly. An urge to give him a dirty look like he had not just watched you purchase items specifically for it washed over you. Instead, you pressed a hand on your hip and nodded. It only led to you swallowing dryly as he leaned over you. “You could go out with me instead,” Raihan offered. Your heart raced in your chest as you felt the scent of his cologne invade your senses. It was extremely tempting to say yes. There may have been slight feelings you held toward the gym leader, but he just simply felt out of your league. Why would someone like him be interested in someone like you?

“... Wouldn't it be rude to cancel so suddenly,” you argued, but he gave a light laugh and shook his head. His hand suddenly came to cup your cheek as he gazed in your eyes.

“If he complains, that is his problem,” Raihan's thoughts were not necessarily wrong, “Nessa already agreed to if you said yes to me anyway.” You gasped at him. Seriously?

“That's why you looked so upset!” you said aloud, “Were you jealous?” Raihan took a step back at your exclamation with wide eyes. It only lasted for a moment before his smug expression returned. Then, simply, he looked you directly in the eyes.

“I suppose I was,” he laughed, “Well, is that a yes or a no?” It was just in his nature to shrug things like that off easily, you guessed. No matter how many times he lost to Leon, he always found himself back training and debating strategies on how to beat him. It must have required nerves of steel to be active on social media like he was, too.

“Sure, why not,” you agreed, “Where to, though?” He hummed as you both walked out of the store and onto the streets of Wyndon. His eyes looked around the area curiously.

“I'll get reservations to a better restaurant,” Raihan shrugged and turned to you, “Be sure to wear your outfit. I would love to get a nice picture with you in it.” You sighed. There it was. Shaking your head pitifully, you grabbed his hand. Your lips met his cheek as he stiffened at the sudden affection. He relaxed quickly, however, and his arm wrapped around your waist to press you closer to him. “You missed,” he told you bluntly. His lips pressed against yours for a quick kiss. You relaxed into his embrace with ease.

[professorbumface1246899]

I need to just end my suffering tbh I don't know why I'm still alive who am I alive for no one really I feel like people say that they'd be sad if I were gone but i don't think there telling the truth and all forms of trust I ever had with anyone or have well are they even real like when you think about it there's not really any reason to believe that they wont like sure just because they haven't doesn't mean they wont and like it's all just Kinda pointless to have trust in people like what is your reason to trust them because they said they wouldn't do something if there able to they can and this whole rant has nothing to do with anything and I'd ultimately meaningless like sure someone might say something about it or maybe someone will be worried about it but really is there actually any meaning behind anything beyond what you believe it to mean also in case this seems like a suicide note I would like to mention that it is not its just an expression of my feelings but even if it was that wouldn't even matter because no one I've ever known actually seems to have ever had any real trust in me or actually cared about me I feel as if people are only nice to me out of fear or politeness and if they actually could Express there true feelings it would be nothing but hatred but even then does being liked or hated really matter does what others believe really matter it's not going to mean anything when eventually they die or you die anyone could die at any moment death is a mundane thing and people act as if its not but sure losing something that amused you or entertained you it gives a sense of melancholy but surely people are just there to entertain other people why be sad over death why morn the death of someone if they were just a form of entertainment to you like love what is love but just a way to pass the time and or pass on your jeans to the next generation and that even then why care weather you do that or not who's gonna care in the next thousand years what you do today no one everyone and everything is worthless unless you assigned worth to it