#venting in my tags about it instead of showering someone in my kindness and care because what if they don’t want that?!

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

I’m just gonna start tagging all my salt posts “marauders salt” because I have yet more to say, and I want to give people the option of skipping past my incessant whining.  (What’s that?  Stop whining?  No, friend, this is my place to vent.  But I really don’t want to drag other people down, so scroll by if you want something more positive.) 

But anyway, I was just thinking about the discussion that sebastianshaw, esteicy-blog, and others were having about Duggan’s use of “feminism” in Marauders, and how it is a very shallow, surface level feminism that seems to be “men bad, women good, especially beautiful, wealthy white women.”  And especially how Duggan prioritizes the female characters’ emotions, and tends to push aside and ignore the male characters’ emotions, especially anything other than anger.  That was most evident in the latest story, where Duggan invented abuse as part of the backstory of two female characters (Lourdes and Wilhelmina) where abuse hadn’t existed before, and completely ignored two male characters (Christian Frost and Shinobi Shaw) who actually had abuse as part of their canon backstories.  Even though Shinobi Shaw was canonically abused by the same man that abused Lourdes (in Duggan’s retcon), and whom Emma has been repeatedly beating down, Shinobi doesn’t get to be part of Emma’s revenge or Sebastian’s comeuppance in any meaningful way.  Because the real theme of the story is not “dealing with abuse,” it’s “women helping women against male abuse,” (done specifically in a way to prop Emma up as a character.)  

This also got me thinking again about Pyro and the Yellowjacket story, a story that I was okay with back when it happened, but keep getting angry about whenever I revisit it.

So, Pyro gets invaded by Yellowjacket for an unknown period of time (probably at least a few days).  Given how Duggan has been writing the characters, I’m willing to bet that this story would have been taken a lot more seriously if Yellowjacket had been inside Emma or Kate or Storm or Callisto, or one of the characters that Duggan actually cares about.  Then we might have actually looked at Yellowjacket’s actions as a violation of bodily autonomy and privacy, and pointed out how creepy it was that Pyro had one adult and 4 voyeuristic children watching a live-feed through his eyes while he was presumably doing things like showering, changing clothes, going to the bathroom, etc.  (I just KNOW that if it was Emma being spied on during her private moments, there would be a lot of focus on pervs wanting to look at her body, and the violation she feels because of it.)  Not to mention the sheer helplessness of having something inside his body that could kill him at any moment (and Yellowjacket proves that he is, indeed, willing to immediately kill Pyro if he is found out.)

But the situation isn’t taken seriously at all, instead we get jokes about Emma’s wardrobe, and Pyro watching Rick and Morty, and that ridiculous fantasy sequence.  Not only that, but Pyro’s very justifiable anger is treated as a joke.  He asks twice to kill Yellowjacket, and is brushed off by Magneto both times.  Obviously he can’t violate the laws of Krakoa, but Pyro doesn’t get to do anything at all to Yellowjacket, just has to let him go.  Pyro gets to psychically burn Verendi for a few seconds, then Emma drops the link, and again, quickly brushes him off. If anything, she seems somewhat disdainful towards him.  It seems like we are supposed to view Pyro’s desire to hurt Verendi as comically over the top.  There’s only one line that shows any real vulnerability from Pyro, the “You lot have humiliated me in front of my friends....I don’t really have a lot of friends....” and after that we go immediately into him laughing maniacally as he burns Verendi.

And there’s no follow-up after that, at no point does anyone on the crew check in with Pyro to see if he’s okay after that arguably traumatic experience.  Not even a pat on the shoulder and a “Hey man, that was messed up,” from Iceman or Bishop, who seem to be friendly with Pyro.  Or anyone telling Pyro, “Don’t feel bad about it, it wasn’t your fault, could have happened to any of us,” etc.  The only emotion Pyro is allowed to express is anger, and his desire for revenge is treated as a joke.

Compare this to Emma and Kate’s revenge on Shaw.  Emma and Kate also have very justifiable anger over what Sebastian did, and their vengeance is well-deserved.  But while Pyro’s anger is mostly dismissed and treated as “funny,” Emma and Kate’s anger is treated as something to be admired.  They are girlboss queens stepping all over a pathetic foe, and we are expected to cheer for them while they spend an entire issue beating Shaw, torturing him, poisoning him and ripping his eye out.  That’s not seen as “too much,” while Pyro’s desire for revenge apparently is.  Pyro is expected to just step back and accept the single bone that Emma has thrown him, while Emma gets to spend the next several issues continuing to twist the knife into Sebastian, and we’re apparently supposed to be on her side.    

And you could potentially argue that Emma has much great justification for revenge, since Sebastian has done horrible things to her in the past.  Yeah, that’s true, but Emma has already had significant revenge on Sebastian in the past, even killing him at one point.  You could also argue that Pyro needs to learn a lesson about violence and restraint, given his past, and indeed that seems to be the direction Duggan is going with him.  But if that’s the case, someone like Emma or Bishop could have turned the Yellowjacket incident into a teachable moment for Pyro, and actually talked with him about how it will serve their plans better to leave Yellowjacket/Verendi alive.  If nothing else, I would have liked to see a page or two of Emma bringing Pyro out of the dream and actually talking with him about what’s going on.  Maybe then we could have gotten some kind of serious discussion or reaction from Pyro.  But no, he just gets dismissed or ignored by pretty much everyone on the beach, aside from his one moment that Emma allows him.

So basically, Pyro has something bad happen to him, it’s treated like a joke, and his desire to hurt the people responsible is portrayed as over the top and disproportionate.  Kate has something bad happen to her (admittedly something much worse, since there was a chance she’d be perma-dead), and it’s a several issue tragedy, and she and Emma get to act as avenging Furies beating down the evil man responsible.  Their long, drawn-out revenge is righteous and good, Pyro gets a few seconds of psychic pain, and that is treated as too much as Emma quickly cuts him off. 

TL,DR - Duggan really tends to completely dismiss the feelings of male characters in this book, especially Iceman, Bishop, Pyro, Christian and Shinobi, in some kind poorly executed attempt at “Girl power” that isn’t actually very feminist at all.

Deliberately not tagging this as “Marauders,” I don’t want to interfere with the enjoyment of other people who are liking the book.

[onyxiana-is-obsessed]

Never Again | Denki Kaminari x Reader

AN: Hey friends! This is another server prompt I did, I chose my baby Denki this time. I’m actually on time, but that has it’s downsides, this is partially edited because I had to rush to finish. Sorry about that. Length: 3.5k Warnings: Angsty. Just super angsty. 

Main master list - Go read the others!

Summary: You finally managed to build up the courage to ask Denki out. It doesn’t go the way you planned, at all. 

Tag list: @peachy-yabbay​ @shiggi-trash​ @boku-no-dumbass​ @happynoodle​ @neon-tries-writing​ @x-midnight-violets-x​ @sunnieskies02​ 

Denki Kaminari. Where to start with this boy? He was a major flirt, not like it needed to be announced. He flirted with ANY girl he saw and little ol you weren’t very special. He flirted with you the second he saw you, which was the last year of high school. Of course, you enjoyed it but your new friends were quick to warn you about his ways. You accepted most of his compliments but didn’t let it go anywhere.

No dates, no touching, nothing aside from the daily compliments which you would still find a way to turn down. However, after getting used to Denki, you decided to play along. It wasn’t anything serious. Denki’s compliments never brought butterflies to your stomach, they never made you blush, and you never thought twice about them. You were fine and he was just a great friend. Denki was blown away the first time you flirted back and it was hilarious to see.

It was after you two had graduated, you were still great friends, and even greater heroes. You had showed up to the hero agency where you worked a little later than usual.

“Oh, sleeping beauty’s finally here. Finally gracing us with your glory and beautiful smile, as usual.” Denki said with a smile. That day you’d felt great, so that could’ve been why.

“There you are prince charming. You should’ve woken me up with a kiss.” His eyes widened and his cheeks turned a deep shade of red. After seeing that reaction, you couldn’t help yourself. After that, it just became natural, really. You both would flirt back and forth and neither of you thought anything of it. Even after a couple of years, you didn’t have feelings for Denki.

That’s what you thought at least. But one day, one comment, changed all of that. Before that comment, you never gave Denki’s words another thought. It was needless flirting. It meant nothing.

“Are you and (f/n) dating?” Harbinger asked, a girl who was almost your partner when it came to being a hero.

“Oh n-” Before Denki could finish his words, you interrupted him, unintentionally.

“Please. Chargebolt wishes he could have someone like me.”

“Yeah, actually.” Denki responded without missing a beat. Both you and Harbinger stared at him with wide eyes. That was the day, you’re sure of it. That’s the day you fell for Denki. Those words and that look in his eyes, of pure adoration and love did something to you. After that, every time he complimented you, his words meant something. Every time you two would cuddle on his couch or yours, you’d never been happier. You’d started returning his cheek kisses, you were more eager to hold him or be held by him.

It didn’t take long for you to realize your feelings. You’d miss Denki more than usual and his bright, radiant smile would chase your worries away. He was… perfect in your eyes. When he’d flirt with another girl, it would hurt. Every time he’d look at another girl, it did something to you and you’d instantly wish you were that girl.

You’d lay awake at night wishing you were in Denki’s arms, when things got difficult for you at work, you’d immediately think of your blond friend. The signs were clear as day and you had no reason to deny them. There was a trend with Denki, one you’d noticed way early on. Denki had limitations when it came to flirting with other girls. He’d really flirt for the first few days and then it would die down pretty quickly and they weren’t too extreme. Of course, he’d overload the girl with compliments, but he never did what he did with you.

With you, he’d kept up this game for well over two years and it progressively got more intimate, not that you were complaining. Overtime, Denki showed more than his playboy side. He was kind and caring. Whenever you needed a shoulder to cry on, he was there. Whenever you needed someone to vent to, someone to calm you down, or hype you up, he was here. Whenever you felt lonely, he was ready to hold you and remind you you weren’t alone.

It was only a matter of time before you did fall in love but you didn’t really hate it. It was Denki, your best friend. He was always there for you and from the things he’d been saying for the last six to seven months made you believe he felt the same.

So you came up with a small plan. You’d tell Denki how you felt in your most sacred place. The place you two always went when you- or he- needed to vent. A place where you’d spent countless nights laying on the ground cuddling while watching the stars, a place that meant so much to you. Even without Denki, you’d find an extreme sense of comfort there. So why not make another wonderful memory there?

“Hey babe! Where ya been? We missed you today!” Denki’s cheerful voice came through your phone. You smiled at the warmth it brought you looked down at the ground. He really was amazing, just his voice would make you feel better.

“Hey, love. I was wondering if you could meet me at our place tonight? Unless you’re busy or-”

“I’d love to! I’d never been too busy for you, baby! What time?”

“I’ll be there at 8.”

“Sounds good, babe!” You two exchanged your goodbyes before you hung up and quickly went to go shower. You wanted to look extremely nice for him tonight. You already chose an outfit he claimed was his “favorite to see on you” and use his favorite (perfume/cologne). You were excited but also nervous, however you calmed your nerves by remembering all the times he’d held you, or called you those cute terms of endearment that you loved so much.

***

You nervously fidgeted with your fingers as you waited for Denki at your favorite spot. It was on top of a hill that overlooked the city. The view was gorgeous, especially at night when you could see all the bright lights from a distance.

“Hey! (f/n)!” You smiled as you turned around, seeing your favorite electric blond running towards you. “Hope you weren’t waiting too long!” You shook your head as you stood up and gave him a hug, which lasted longer than a normal hug.

“Nope, hope the drive wasn’t too bad.”

“Not at all.” You two found a nice spot on the blanket you’d laid out and looked ahead at the beautiful city. “So, what’s up.” You were ready, no matter how nervous you were. However, you were silent and Denki definitely noticed. After being friends for so long, he knew every time something was wrong with you. He knew every time you were nervous, but he also knew the perfect remedy. He quickly took your hand in his and gave them an affectionate squeeze. You took a deep breath before speaking up.

“I like you.” Denki’s cheerful smile melted away almost instantly and it was replaced by wide eyes. His hand unconsciously squeezed yours, but it wasn’t to help or comfort you.

“Wh-what?”

“I like you.” You repeated, looking towards him as the anxiety welled up in your stomach. You didn’t know what to expect but this definitely wasn’t it. You kind of expected him to smile bright and say he knew prior to all this or at least hug you. The last thing you expected-or wanted- was for him to freeze up the way he did.

“Umm I-I uhh… l-look bab-(l/n)-” Woah, wait what? (l/n)? “Th-these were just jokes. I didn’t think you’d gain feelings for me.” Your heart shattered at his words and almost immediately tears sprang to your eyes. The butterflies disappeared and were replaced by an intense fear.

“What?” Was all you could manage to say, and even then your voice cracked slightly.

“I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean for this to happen, I thought you knew these were just jokes and I didn’t mean anything by them.” You felt the anger building up in your chest, making you glare at him. You tore your hand away from his, which made him flinch. You shot up from where you sat and glared down at him. You could see the regret building up in his glittering gold eyes under the moonlight. God, he looked so beautiful, even now. You shook your head, pushing those thoughts out of your mind.

It was almost unbelievable what he was saying. He flirted, called you terms of endearment, acted as if he wanted you, and didn’t expect you to fall in love?!

“Why would you do that?” You wanted to sound furious and strict, but instead, your words reflected how much distress you felt. They just came out as a broken whisper. You could see the guilt in Denki’s eyes, you could hear it in his voice, but that didn’t help anything.

“I-I’m sorry… L-look, my efforts never work on anyone. I-I thought you were j-just messing around.” He stood up as well, trying to calm you but he could see his efforts failing extremely quickly.

“Messing around?! For two years?! You really are an idiot.” You scoffed as the tears started to fill your eyes and it was too much to hold back. A couple slid down your cheeks, making Denki step forward in an attempt to soothe your pain.

“I’m sorry! P-please d-don’t cry.” He urged, reaching for your face, however, you slapped his hands away and wiped your own tears, roughly.

“Don’t touch me!”

“I’m sorry, bab-(l/n)! I really am! I didn’t mean for this to happen, I swear it.” For some reason, hearing that he didn’t mean for this to happen hurt much more. Because… it confirmed he was never attracted to you, not even at the beginning. Why not? Denki went after every single person he thought was attractive and when he came after you, you’d never felt so special. Of course, your friends warned you about him. Numerous times. You knew they were right, so you played it safe and always brushed off every compliment and request for a date.

You knew you were dumb for playing along, but when he showed interest, it became fun. You shouldn’t have started returning his compliments and you should’ve known better. You were so sure you wouldn’t fall, you were so sure of yourself... You should’ve listened to your friends but you didn’t, now look where that got you. An ache in your heart that wasn’t going anywhere for a while.

“I’m so sorry, (l/n)...” Denki muttered, his own tone of voice matching yours. You looked up to see tears pooling in his beautiful golden eyes.

“Sorry? The only one sorry here is me. You know, Denki, I don’t think you’ve ever stopped to think what your stupid flirting does. I don’t think you’ve ever stopped to realize how much it could affect a person.”

“I didn’t think it would work!” He defended, throwing his hands forward as a tear slipped out of his eyes. “It’s never worked before!”

“That doesn’t mean anything! You never thought you’d run into a person who would get swooned by your efforts? You never…” You trailed off, your eyes looking away from him as more tears slipped out of your eyes. “You never thought it would work.” You repeated quietly, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself he was innocent. 

“I really am sorry!” You looked at him with broken eyes and it pained his heart. You were his best friend and he didn’t like seeing you like this. He would jump through hoops to keep that beautiful smile on your face. All he wanted to do was keep your confidence level up. That’s why he was like this. He loved the way you walked with your head held high and he wanted to keep up with that. He just… didn’t think.

“You’re sorry? Now, you’re sorry? You weren’t sorry when you were toying with my heart! You weren’t sorry when you called me babe and baby, you weren’t sorry when we were cuddling or when you were kissing my cheek, or holding me like I belonged to you. Now, that I finally wanna be yours… yo-you’re telling me i-it was all a joke? A fucking joke?” A sob escaped your lips as your shaking hands touched your mouth, unable to handle the burden any longer.

Denki reached out and took your hands, but only for a moment before you pulled them away and shoved him. However, he didn’t stop. He kept repeating apologies as he tried to hug you but you wanted nothing to do with him. Well… that wasn’t true. Not in the least bit. All you wanted was for Denki to wrap his arms around you and soothe your worries and aching heart. All you wanted was to be loved and cherished by the man you’d fallen in love with.

But that was just wishful thinking. Denki made it abundantly clear he didn’t feel that way. He didn’t feel the same, nor did he ever feel that way towards you. With that thought in mind, you opened your mouth to ask him a question, one that made your chest hurt.

“Did you ever love me?” Denki froze and looked away, his attempts at wanting to wipe your tears away stopped. His arms fell to his sides and he looked down at you with those broken eyes. You already knew the answer before he gave it to you. Knowing that, another question popped up in your mind. ‘Are you sorry?’

“No.”

Was Denki sorry? Was he really? Sure, he didn’t like his best friend sobbing in front of him the way you were doing but he didn’t seem sorry before. He never once thought you flirting back meant something? You never made fun of him and anytime your friends made stupid jokes about him, you were quick to defend him. None of that meant anything? There were jokes you made that were confessions in disguise. You thought someone like him, a huge flirt, would pick up on the signals.

Maybe he did. Maybe he just chose to ignore them so he wouldn’t be put in this very situation. Maybe Denki wasn’t as stupid as he acted. Maybe he knew exactly what he was doing, he just wasn’t prepared for this to happen.

“Figures…” You whispered, your eyes moved to the window, looking at the darkened city outside. How many times had you two come up here and stared down at the gorgeous city below? How many special memories had you made with him? All tarnished, just like this very spot you stood in.

You could never come back here, not knowing what had unfolded. The embarrassment and pain were enough to keep you away for the rest of your life. You knew this pain was temporary, you knew you’d get over it with time, but right now, right this very second… it felt eternal. The pain felt like no other you’d ever felt in your life. It almost felt like someone had torn your heart out, yet that stupid thing was still beating and you felt the pain only get worse.

Why did you have to confess? Why couldn’t you have just kept silent? Why did you fall for someone you never had a chance with? If you’d never done this, you could’ve woken up tomorrow and Denki would still be there. You’d still be able to call him babe, get kisses on the cheek, he’d hold you, you’d say you’d miss each other, you could go out for coffee or out to the park and he’d tease you, you’d pretend you disliked it but deep down you both you knew you loved it. You… could’ve kept up with that game of pretend. You were pretty happy with it before. The only reason you even brought this up without much thought was because you thought he felt the same.

You thought he loved you as well. You thought… he’d see you the way you saw him. A rose blooming in a field of wilted flowers. You regretted everything. You regretted playing along, you regretted giving him a chance, you regretted ever meeting him.

As the tears slid down, you felt an odd sensation of warmth surround you. The cool breeze that had kept you cool so far was gone and your mind was still a mess. YOU were a mess. All you wanted to do was run away and pretend as if none of this ever happened. As if this whole relationship didn’t exist.

“Forgive me.” That sounded so much closer that he stood. You blinked, finally returning to reality. You now realized what that warmth was. It was Denki, he’d finally wrapped his arms around you and held you tight. You wanted to push him off, but you had no more strength left. All you could do was stand there as the tears slid down your cheeks and onto his shoulder.

“Would you?” He’d almost missed what you said, your voice was hoarse and it came out as a little whisper. He pulled away a little bit and looked at you, taking your face in his hands and wiping the tears away. He hated seeing your beautiful face contort like this. He hated seeing you so broken and to think he caused this. An useless, stupid hero.

“What?” He inquired, needing to know what you’d just said. Your (e/c) eyes met his golden ones. He could see how hurt you were, he could see the pain you felt and he wished to become a sponge and just take it all away. You didn’t deserve this. Not you, anyone but you. Why not him?

“Would you forgive yourself?” You could feel his shoulders slump a little and you had your answer. Denki stayed silent and hugged you again, gently running his hand through your hair. You still hadn’t moved and chose to accept this last gesture.

Denki knew that too. He knew this would be the last time he’d ever see you and he questioned himself. Sure, he had answered your question earlier  but why? Why didn’t he stop flirting? Why did he continue? Why did he take it so far? You were the only girl he was holding hands with or cuddling, or going on dates which were disguised as “friendly hangouts”. There were plenty of nights where you two had shared a bed, or he’d kissed your cheeks, or held you close not to comfort you but for more intimate reasons. You two hadn’t done anything further than that. You hadn’t slept together, you hadn’t kissed, on the lips, and you hadn’t said: “I love you”.

You must’ve meant something to him since he didn’t stop. But the more he searched for an answer, the more he came up with the opposite of what you wanted to hear. He loved you, yes, but he wasn’t in love with you. Seeing your tears, seeing your pain, was enough to want him to force himself, however.

You were an amazing person, no doubt about that. You were caring, kind, you always looked out for him, you were always there for him, you were a godsend. So for you to go through this was cruel and unnecessary. If… he could force himself to love you, to return your feelings, he’d do it in a heartbeat. If he’d have one wish in this world… he’d use it to love you.

But that wasn’t possible. Denki knew that and that’s why he held on so desperately. He knew he’d just lost you today and this was the last time he’d ever get to see you. Something he didn’t know how to cope with. You were always there, you two barely had arguments and you… you were just always there. Now he’d need to learn how to cope with you suddenly vanishing. This harsh reality was a lesson for him, though. This was all his fault. Maybe if he’d listened to Sero, Kirishima, Bakugou- hell, even Midoriya- he wouldn’t be here.

They all warned Denki, repeatedly at that. Every single one of his friends warned him, not just for you, though. They’d warned him every time they saw him flirting with a girl. They told him it wasn’t a good idea and that it would blow up in his face one day. Denki just never listened, because he thought he was untouchable, that using “they never work” as an excuse would be like a get out of jail card. The last person he’d expected he’d lose was you.

You. No, you couldn’t leave him. He didn’t know how to deal with that. As he stood there holding you, his mind came up with idea after idea on how he’d make this up to you. He’d do anything and everything, but deep down, he knew none of it would work. You were done and you had every right to drop him and walk away.

Denki would never play with someone’s feelings like this again. He’d never needlessly flirt ever again. He’d never break someone like this ever again or may the world strike him down.

He’d learned his lesson, however, it took him years… but he finally learned it. Who knew all it would take losing everything?

[angelaiswriting]

Long Day | Jäger x fem!reader

✏️ Pairing: Jäger x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: Y/N’s had a long day at work, but Marius is there to help her relax.

✏️ A/N: just a little something to console a friend with. @kind-wolf​ hopefully you’ll enjoy 💛

✏️ Warnings: hopefully fluff ??

✏️ Word-count: 1,667

✏️ Translation: Schwiegermonster = monster-in-law (lol my new favorite word in German apparently 🤷🏻‍♀️)

LONG DAY

Marius had called off his night with the boys when Y/N had come home from work, shoulders curved under the weight of the shitty day she had had and a long sigh passing past her lips. He had been on the phone with one of them — Dominic, most likely — and she had barely picked up his words as she had been left with energies enough only to focus on one task at a time.

“Love?”

Her hand missed the hall stand and her coat fell to the floor with a soft thud, and had it been a different day, she probably would have cared. But not tonight.

He reached her in the hallway just as she was taking off her shoes, but it was the scratching of the dog’s nails on the floor as she most likely scrambled down the couch to hurry behind her favorite human that drew a smile upon her face.

“Long day?” he asked, taking a step closer so that he could tilt her chin up.

She knew he could read the exhaustion in her eyes and while she usually hid it well — or could generally handle it better —, she had been left too drained to even try and attempt to put on a mask. “You could say that,” she chuckled instead. Tired as she was, she couldn’t stop her head from leaning into the hand he had moved onto her cheek and she looked up at him.

“Do you want to vent?”

He took another step closer and before she could pick up with him, he had his arms wrapped around her waist as his head tilted down to rest on the crown of hers. Words failed her as she found herself trying to sigh the exhaustion off of her and after a while, when the dog sniffed her leg and pressed her nose against her pants, she shook her head no.

“Are you leaving at the same time as usual?” she asked softly, lips moving against the soft cotton of his shirt.

She had missed having him home; coming back from work and finding him tinkering with stuff in the garage or chilling on the couch or even trying his best in the kitchen was a million times better than meeting him behind a screen, with miles and miles separating her from the location of his current mission. And while she didn’t mind him taking time for himself to meet up with his buddies, she wasn’t exactly in the mood to be left alone tonight.

The way he said that nah made her smile and exhale loudly from her nose, but right then, he pulled back to look down at her. “I told them I’m not going. You look like you need me more than they do tonight anyway.” When she frowned, he cupped her face and gently shook it from side to side a couple of times as he smiled. “Let me be the caring husband for once,” he chuckled, pecked her lips, and finally pulled back completely.

Maja jumped up on her and her weight suddenly dropping against her tore a ugh! from Y/N’s lips.

“Yes, I missed you, too,” she cooed, hand scratching underneath the dog’s chin.

Maja had always been a great helping hand when it came to relaxing. She greeted you with her one-year-old-puppy energy, but then it was almost as though she were a sponge for anything you wanted to kick out of your system. A look at her, a boop of her wet nose against her, the happy wagging of her tail, and suddenly the world felt lighter and the room she was in turned brighter and more spacious. Most likely just an illusion, but certainly one she always welcomed with open arms, whether her man was at home as well or away for work.

“Do you want me to cook you something? I thought it’d be your usual pizza night but…”

“No, I just need to unwind.” Eyes still on the dog, she scratched behind her ears before allowing her back down on the floor. “I just want to soak in the tub until someone comes and tells me I don’t have to go to work tomorrow.”

Marius’ deep chuckle made her smile and when Maja scurried away to go curl up among her toys once again, he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side as he accompanied her to the stairs. “You’re the owner, no one can stop you,” he whispered in her ear before picking her up and walking up the stairs.

She laughed for a moment at that, before she pressed closer to him and left a kiss on his cheek. “You know, I’m tired but I can still walk.”

His Let me pamper you for once, woman! was repeated a second time when he put her with her feet back down on the tiled floor of the bathroom and turned on the faucet of the tub. “I know how to do this,” he half-smiled as he poured body wash into the tub and then turned to look at her.

Then, when he straightened up, he turned towards her and all he needed to communicate was a look. She stretched one hand out for him to grab while her other one came up to remove the hairpin that had kept her hair away from her face for the whole day. A throbbing headache had started spreading right in that area and she felt the skin of her scalp was tense and sore.

Marius’ fingers were deft on the buttons of her blouse and then on that of her pants. He worked on her clothes in silence but then, when his gaze settled on hers as his hands slid underneath the cotton of her blouse and then down her shoulders, pushing the garment down with the movement, the smile he sent her way almost felt like a breath of fresh air.

He undressed her and when he took her hand in his to help her get into the bubble-filled bathtub, she let him do.

“Thank you,” she hummed.

Her eyes closed of their own accord, eyelids suddenly heavy and muscles ready to relax in the warm embrace of the water. She didn’t remember the last time she took a bath — surely months before, most likely to help Marius wind down after a fight or a long mission, she couldn’t be sure — and although she preferred to stick to her much quicker routine in the shower, she found herself basking in the feeling of extreme relaxation this moment brought along.

But then she startled with a gasp when her husband spoke from behind her as he knelt down to pull her hair out of the way of the water. “So, how did this morning go?” he asked.

She had imagined he had left the room when silence had fallen, but part of her was glad and almost even relieved that he had stayed.

Her answer was a groan as her eyes fell shut once again. She had told him about the ‘bad thing’ she had done and he had joked for a moment to try and lift her spirits at the prospect that lay ahead. And while that whispered Schwiegermonster of his had made her chuckle the day before on the phone, she had found herself being annoyed at that unexpected change in routines.

“What do you think?” she huffed, a second before his fingers on her scalp tore a soft moan of relief from deep down her throat.

“I could take care of the problem for you,” he proposed, lips grazing against her temple as the comb he had in one hand started combing through her hair. “Give me one morning with her.”

“Yeah, sure,” she laughed, opening her eyes and tilting her head back a bit so that she could stare into his eyes. They were almost twinkling under the lights of the bathroom, and the grin he had on his face made her lazily shake her head from side to side before she let him go back to combing through her hair. “She’d be able to get in touch with your superiors and have you called back to England in a heartbeat.”

He hummed in response. “She’s free to try.”

Silence filled the room again. She allowed herself to enjoy the gentle scalp massage he was giving her, the comb now forgotten on the floor after he had brushed the rare knots out of her hair. It was warm and cozy and the more he worked on her, the more her headache faded and her body seemed to relax.

At some point, outside the closed door of the bathroom, she heard Maja frisking down the corridor, ready to fall asleep in her bed right at the end of it.

“If I were to take my mother to work and come straight back home tomorrow,” she started, voice slow and low, her mind closer to being asleep than it was to being awake, “would you spend the day in bed with me? I feel like I need to sleep for half an eternity.” Her words stumbled one upon the other as she spoke, but she didn’t care, for he seemed to understand her just fine.

“Of course,” he hummed, his lips brushing against her temple once again, her right one this time, and his hands trailed down her arms until he had her hands in his. “Just directly call her a taxi and stay home.”

His words were tempting and when his fingers tickled her lower belly, she found herself giggling with her eyes closed, the back of her head resting against his shoulder. Before long, she mumbled out a fuck it and turned her head to the side to press a kiss to his lips.

“I might as well do just that,” she grumbled before she sat up when he moved around to grab her sponge.

Look at me working on my fluffs :’)

Original pic used: https://www.pexels.com/photo/light-pink-flowers-on-white-table-4284200/

TAGS (to be added to or to be removed from any list, shoot me an ASK)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892  @mblaqgi​ @becs-bunker

[iraprince]

Heya I just wanted to say that I found your blog for the first time this week and you are like that mega cool aunt that gets sh*t done and doesn't take sh*t because she's seen some sh*t. I wanted to know what exactly got you into drawing helpful comics like the "break things down" one. Did someone say something to you in passing or was it like an "ah ha!" moment that you wanted to see comics that deal with mental health. Also you just seem like an awesome person and it'd be so cool to meet you.

it’s been a long road tbh. i started out doing vent art, bleak allegorical work abt mental illness, etc, and while that was cathartic for me and other ppl told me they connected w it and i think it’s good valuable work, over time i realized i was starting to feel weird about how much i was like. straight up just packaging my pain for consumption, to the point where i realized i was subconsciously afraid of recovery bc i thought if i didn’t want to make super raw super personal super gritty work abt trauma anymore i’d have “nothing to offer.” realizing what it was doing to my head and wanting to steer away from it is probably what lead my stuff to be more observational in tone/more recovery focused over time. obv i don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong w vent art or that mental illness art has to be “positive” or it’s bad, but the way i was doing it wasn’t working for me.

and then comics just end up being like, how i think things through. i have a thought, i chew on it all day, and then i draw it so i don’t forget about it. i like drawing myself, i think i’m funny, and so all the comics end up being me looking kind of shitty and just talking about shit. and i think like.... disclaimer that there’s nothing WRONG with soft fluffy pastel self care stuff and i get why it works for others but it has just never ever clicked for me. when i’m in the hole i don’t give a shit if a post is trying to gently tell me i’m Valid UwU. i don’t feel valid. i want to figure out how to take a damn shower. and so i end up writing out my comics the same way that i talk, which is like this, bc this kind of frankness and practicality has always helped me a lot more than anything else when things are bad, and it’s been validating to see other ppl in tags and stuff say that they’re glad my stuff expresses the exhaustion and the irritability and the anger that comes with dealing w this shit. it’s also just straight up validating to post work abt what i go through and have tons of people go “oh me too” via reblogs and stuff. it makes me feel like less of an idiot, lmao. obviously i’m not happy other ppl are in the same boat, but it’s nice not to be alone, and that’s a mildly selfish reason why i publish stuff instead of just leaving it a private exercise sitting in my files.

[immoral-tales]

Character Analysis: Osamu Dazai

002

Before we begin our journey and dive into discussing the characteristics of a man named Dazai, I would like to apologize. Please do forgive my absence and inability to be active on the blog. And I have to admit, my initial reaction was “holy shit!” You definitely took your sweet, sweet time writing this, and I had a strong desire to give you the response you deserved. Writing half-assed headcanons and responses are not my thing, therefore, I decided to take my sweet time. And of course, I might or might not be a lazy bastard as I was procrastinating to open Photoshop to crop the messages to put them into this post. All things considered, let us begin, shall we?

First of all, this character limit is a pain in the ass and I’m going to start a petition for this hellsite to remove the limit because people need to vent and share their amazing ideas with the world. Secondly, thank you so much for agreeing with me, I greatly appreciate it. There is so much more we do not see and I’m going to delve deeper into his persona, dig deeper to find the real Dazai that has been buried in his own layered personality and mind. His mind is an incredible place, but unfortunately, not everyone can understand him. However, I cannot blame them, due to the fact that Dazai as a person is already a puzzle.

I will use the term “journey.” Dazai’s journey to understand humanity is an incorrect approach, he will always have difficulty understanding what human nature is. Every person has their own definition of what it means to be a human, therefore, this subject is quite debatable. I have to agree with you, this man is drawn to people with a positive aura. And of course, having a significant other with a similar mindset would be a major drawback for him. Instead of progress, he would have a regress. His ability is called “No Longer Human,” yet he is desperately attempting his best to find what it means to be a human. He does not need a companion who will hold him back, he needs someone that will make his path towards discovering his own humanity unforgettable.

You took the words right out of my mouth: “As someone said, understanding + empathy works best for him than relatable. I believe he wants to be understood, at least to a point. Someone who can understand him while also support and help him understand his own emotions what I think he needs. Of course, not therapy him, but be that supportive figure.”

As I said previously, Oda and Dazai used to share a special bond, their friendship was one of a kind. Odasaku managed to show him how the real world functions and how there is an entire world, outside of the Port Mafia, filled with endless possibilities. Their companionship was unique, but he would have a different type of relationship with his significant other. I strongly believe Dazai would be delighted to have an older woman as his lover. An understanding, non-judgemental woman. I believe years of experience would make her the right person to be by his side no matter the circumstances.

Let us talk about how Dazai has a praise kink. I mean, you are not wrong. And I agree with you. Some might not agree with me, but I think he has never been praised properly. More or less, Mori raised him to be a perfect killing machine without any remorse and I strongly believe he rarely praised him? Therefore, once his lover started to praise him, he started to enjoy it, and then, love it. Of course, he would never admit it out loud, but we both are well aware he has a praise kink. Considering his significant other would be more experienced in bed than him, would be quick to discover his weaknesses—I mean, his kinks.

This man adores challenges and someone who questions his mindset is ought to get his attention. A person that does not agree with his viewpoint and challenges his very own existence. Two Dazais is a bit too much and his relationship with Dostoyevsky is a story for another day—I will not delve deeper into this matter right now.

I have got carried away, as well. To conclude our discussion, I have to say, this man truly deserves happiness and he needs to learn how to take care of himself. Dazai deserves a second chance to redeem himself and learn how to live his life, despite the mistakes he made in the past. He is a human like the rest of us—even though he is a fictional character—and he does not deserve to die, he has to live.

First of all, I would like to thank you for being patient with me. Only God knows when was the last time I posted some quality content. This blog is dying because of me, and there is nothing I can do about it. Once more, this proves how much of a horrible admin I am. To put my rambling and venting aside, feel free to spam me when your heart desires. It is not like I have anything else to do here. Let us move on to our discussion, shall we?

Before I forget to mention, I have made a separate tag for us—Dazai with an older lover—I’m tagging our every conservation with it and you can find our discussions under it.

I have to say, that is standard, shallow praise. Allow me to demonstrate it with one simple scenario: imagine you are working for an international organization—the field of this organization is not important currently—and you have been promoted to a senior management team to be one of the vice presidents, reporting directly to the CEO. Of course, all of your colleagues would congratulate you on your achievements, but none of their congratulations will be genuine. There might be some exceptions, but let us not dwell on it. Your colleagues are not interested in your well-being, or the path you have walked upon to achieve the impossible. They merely wish to be in your place, and some of them are even envious of your position. Their words will be long forgotten as their facades slip. This might be an odd comparison, but Dazai was in a similar situation. His subordinates' behavior around him was carefully coordinated and his attitude towards them was indifferent. Like a mutual agreement. Everything was superficial, the only thing that kept him moving forward, as you mentioned above, was his friendship with Sakaguchi and Oda.

Yes, I have to agree with you. He has never received genuine praise before. Hear me out, ability users avoided him like the plague because of his ability to nullify their abilities. Therefore, he has been touch-deprived his whole life. I believe, at first, he would be quite hesitant to allow anyone to touch him, his lover included. It might take some time for his lover to make him open up to her, his layered personality to slip, and be himself. The real Dazai.

Dazai has a strong degradation kink, but his praise kink is there, as well, to neutralize it. He would never hesitate to shower his lover with all his affection and praise; however, he prefers to receive it. And of course, he would never admit it out loud. We are talking about Dazai here. Yes, complimenting him during the sex is great, but praising him on a regular basis would make him fall head over heels in love. Undoubtedly, he would deny all the claims of having a fondness for being commended, but his lover knows him better than that. His daily motivation becomes earning those praises from his lover, and Kunikida has never been more thankful for Dazai bringing his lover with him at the agency.

Nah, there is no need to apologize. We are all insomniacs here. Even though I do not post cursed content here, but I can . . .

[lycorogue]

Amelia and Trish🌺💐

Awww, yay! Someone sending me an ask from a list! 😍 I get these so rarely. This is such a fun treat! Thank you! (For anyone wondering, the “Soft OC Ask” master list can be found here.)

🌺 What does your OC do to calm down when they’re scared or after a nightmare? Do they have any special comfort items or need to be reassured by a specific person? How do they handle this if they’re alone?

💐 How does your OC handle being unwell or forced to rest in bed? Who cares for them and in what ways? Does your OC enjoy being doted on or are they a terrible patient? Reversed: is your OC good at taking care of others who are ill or in need?

Funny enough, the answers to most of these questions more-or-less happened canonically within the X-Future roleplay, so these are fairly easy to answer. Since each question is actually a series of related questions, and this ask is for two of my OCs, this got a bit lengthy. You can read my reply below the break.

Lia: 🌺 When Lia was a toddler, her mother crocheted her a little stuffed Calcifer the flame from Howl’s Moving Castle. Lia still has this stuffed Calcifer and cuddles it whenever she’s super stressed or awakes from a nightmare. If she feels she’s failing at reaching her true potential with her powers or as a leader, she goes to the X-Men archives of her mother’s training and watches those. If anything, doing so makes her feel worse because it makes her feel even more inadequate and tears at her grief of not knowing what happened to her mom, but neither fact stops her from doing so. Alternatively, if she’s stressed about generic Teenage DramaTM, she usually storms off to be alone, literally burning off some steam as she rages with her powers once she knows she’s in a safe location where she won’t permanently damage anything. As a child, she would also come to her dad (who was literally never too far from her at any given time, thanks to his powers; he was the ultimate helicopter parent) if a situation was too big for her to handle by herself. As a teen, she tends to vent to either her then-boyfriend-now-ex-but-still-friend Chayse, or her roommate Willow, or her current boyfriend Ripley. If it’s something minor that she needs to work out, she’ll sneak off to dance; just to get the positive energy flowing again.

💐 As the “mom friend”, Lia is much better at playing nurse than being nursed. Although, she is a bit naïve when it comes to emotional/mental-health support. She tries, but usually falls a touch short when trying to help out in those matters. She’s much better at nursing physical illnesses or injuries because she can study the most effective ways to heal those. When she’s the one sick or injured, though? She gets antsy if she’s forced to rest up in bed, especially if she feels like it’s overly cautious for her to do so. Now, if she’s majorly sick or in pain, she will gladly hide under her covers and ignore the world exists. Anything short of “OMG, I’m dying”? And she’ll fight bedrest tooth and nail. Her father is the #1 person to care for her, but since attending the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Jamie has allowed Lia’s roommate and friend Willow to take on the role of primary caregiver, with Lia’s boyfriend Ripley on stand-by to tag in. If neither of the teens are willing or able, though, Jamie will gladly jump back in to take care of Lia. Aside from being antsy and a bit whiny about being forced to stay in bed (if she’s feeling alright), Lia does accept being cared for fairly gracefully. She’ll comment it’s unneeded and that her caregivers should focus on “more important things” since she’s clearly “fine”, but will still gladly accept the soup, extra blankets, pillow fluffing, and so on. She’s a bit more grumbly if she’s recovering from an injury because she hates feeling helpless or weak in that regard.

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

Trish: 🌺 Trish HAAAAAAATES showing any kind of weakness AT. ALL. So she does NOT go to anyone for comfort when she’s feeling overly stressed or scared. The exception is MAAAAAAAAYBE Pyro if she is majorly shaken about something. She hates seeming weak and immature in front of Pyro, though (and hates adding to the father-daughter dynamic when she wants a lovers one instead), so there has to be something TRAUMATIZING to her before she goes to even him for comfort. Otherwise, she turns her fear into anger and rage. She’ll run the training obstacle courses to the point of exhaustion, just to give her mind something else to focus on, and something to aim her powers at. She overcomes fear by adding to the façade that she’s completely fearless. She allows adrenaline to completely over-ride her fear as she almost always goes for a “Fight” response. As for nightmares, she’ll usually calm herself down by playing with her butterfly knife; something else to focus on until she forgets the nightmare. She’ll also calm herself down with a shower, especially if she’s covered in sweat from the nightmare. She’ll chant to herself, “it’s not real. It wasn’t real. Ignore it” until the nightmare is forgotten or no longer intense enough for it to affect her.

💐 Trish is a TERRIBLE patient. She’s even more antsy and stubborn than Lia. Being sick or injured enough to be bedridden is a sign of weakness, and she CANNOT be weak for Pyro. The only time she’ll submit and actually listen to instructions to rest up is if Pyro himself tells her to do so. She’ll also gladly ravish the attention if Pyro is the one nursing her back to health. She’d even milk it, just to be doted on further by him. Otherwise, lord help the person playing caregiver. She will stubbornly battle them every step; again, only complying when Pyro tells her to behave. Once her roommate Nyssa was forced to play nursemaid when Trish was badly injured by a shrapnel blast. Trish was like an injured feral creature the whole time, snarling at Nys and trying to swat her away; claiming to be healed further than she was. Nyssa practically had to have Pyro there at every bandage changing to force Trish to accept the treatment. The major exception to all of this is a mutant vigilante Trish simply calls “Stranger” since he’s never given her his name. He was hunting down the anti-mutant terrorist group The Purifiers, and stumbled upon a few that were teaming up against Trish. He saved her, but she was still wary of him; attempting to leave him to the Purifiers so she could escape. When the escape plan failed, and he saved her a second time, she was more welcoming to him attempting to help patch her up (if nothing else, she didn’t want to worry Pyro by coming home injured again). They have since met up a couple of times to hunt down more Purifiers together; helping with Trish’s bloodlust and Stranger’s want of revenge against the Purifiers for murdering his whole family in front of him and leaving him for dead. They have an uneasy bond, and Trish wouldn’t go to him if she were sick, but if she were injured she might seek him out just so she had someone she trusted moderately to care for her without feeling like a burden on Pyro. As for Trish being the caregiver? HA! She is absolute trash at caring for anyone other than herself and Pyro. Exceptions being Stranger - she would tend his wounds as well so she didn’t lose her partner in these non-Brotherhood excursions - and anyone that Pyro asked her to care for. If it’s a request from Pyro, she’ll do the bare minimum to satisfy the request, and grumble about it the whole time. Even when caring for Stranger, she’d spend the whole time bitching at him for being so “careless” as to be injured in the first place (ignore that this also implies that she’s careless whenever she gets injured).  For Pyro, though? She’d go full on Florence Nightingale and dote on him every waking moment.

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

Okay! I think that’s everything! This was fun. Thank you so much for the ask. I hope you got to learn a bit more about my OCs.

Also, I’d like to note that Stranger is one of my husband’s OCs named Jack Knoife (yes, the name is a pun. Yes, Jack is Australian. Yes, Hubby leaned hard into the classic Marvel naming tropes)

Anyway, if anyone else wants to learn more about my OCs (or if you’d like to learn more, @doesnotloveyou ), feel free to drop me an ask. 😁

[rogerscupboard]

Roger Taylor Imagine- Spectacular (Fluff, Hurt/Comfort)

A/N: 1473 words. One of my 1k drabble prompts, based on a request by @you-and-i-deserve-the-world for Roger Taylor, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Crushes. Rated PG-13 for language. Can just as easily be imagined with Ben!Roger or the real Roger!

This one is dedicated in particular to my loves @hodgepodge-of-rog and @peachydeacy, both of whom have had pretty rough days recently. You both deserve nothing but love and happiness, and above all else, you deserve to feel spectacular. You both have my heart, this one’s for you. 💖

It had been a ridiculously difficult day.

You had gotten into a big fight with one of your closest friends. It had come completely out of nowhere, and despite hardly even remembering what it was about, she still wasn’t speaking to you. You had lost your favorite ring, presumably during your angry walk home, during which a passing car had also sped right through a puddle, covering you in muddy water. It really seemed like nothing was going right, like nothing could go right.

It had been exhausting, and at this point, you didn’t even feel like trying anymore. You just wanted this day to be over.

After getting home, showering, and throwing your mud-covered clothes into the washing machine, you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything except fall back onto the couch, emotionally wrecked. Unable to hold back now that you were alone, you started to cry, frustrated and upset with everything that had gone wrong.

It was at that moment that the phone rang.

You sat up, wiped your tears, and tried to clear your throat enough to hide the fact that you had been crying before you picked up the phone. You had hoped you would sound at least relatively normal, but your “Hello?” came out as a kind of croak as your voice cracked.

“Hey, it’s Roger- are you okay?” said the voice on the other end, sounding surprised and concerned at the shakiness of your demeanor. Roger was one of your oldest friends, you had known each other since childhood. You had grown up together, and you told each other everything. Well, almost everything.

You had had feelings for Roger for years now, but you had never said anything to him. It had never really seemed like the right moment to mention it. You were also terrified that if he found out, it would ruin a friendship that had lasted for as long as you could remember. And if that weren’t enough, he had enough on his mind with his band starting to gain in popularity. He really thought their next song was going to be a hit, and you believed him.

You sniffled, trying to prevent yourself from crying again. “I’m fine, Rog.” There was a pause on the line.

“You don’t sound fine. I know you, alright?” he asked gently. “What’s wrong?”

You exhaled, your face hot and your stomach churning. Before you could hold yourself back, the tears started coming. “I just- I just had a rough day,” you stammered, knowing he could hear the crying through your voice, cheeks turning red from embarrassment. As if this day couldn’t get any worse.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” he said, and you were touched by the tenderness in his tone. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head. “No. I’m good. Really.” You didn’t want to bother him with your own problems. Surely he had called for some other reason.

There was a long pause. Finally, Roger spoke.

“Hey, something important came up. I gotta go, okay?”

Your words stuck in your throat. Had you driven him away? Had you done something wrong? At this point, why not? Everything else has already gone to shit today.

“Sure. Bye,” you said softly, and the click of Roger hanging up the phone made your heart feel like it was breaking in half. I really went and fucked that up too. Damn.

You hung up the phone, sat down on the couch, and surrendered yourself to the tears that were already welling up in your eyes. You had been sobbing for almost half an hour when you heard a knock at the door.

Who the hell is that? It’s past 10! you thought, suddenly becoming irritated. The last thing you wanted was some deluded salesperson trying to sell you dictionaries or a vacuum at this hour. You wiped your tears in frustration, and stormed towards the door, ready to give whoever was behind it a piece of your mind.

Except it wasn’t a salesperson.

You opened the door, expecting to see an asshole with a briefcase, and instead, your mouth dropped open in shock.

It was Roger, standing at your doorstep with a box of pizza and a bouquet of flowers, looking at you with a mixture of compassion and concern. You were stunned.

“Rog?! I- I thought you had something important to-“

“Yeah. Cheering you up,” he said with a smile. “Can I come in?”

You couldn’t hold back a grin, the first smile you had cracked all day. “I- yeah, of course you can,” you said softly, genuinely touched by how out of his way he had gone just for you.

Ten minutes later, the flowers were in a vase on your coffee table as you and Roger shared the pizza, sitting on your couch in comfortable silence. You glanced over at him, and felt your heart skip a beat. God. He’s so goddamn beautiful, it’s unfair. And he did all this for me.

He swallowed his bite of pizza, noticing your gaze. “What’s on your mind?” he asked, smiling at you. Your heart melted, and you suddenly felt your eyes filling with tears again.

His smile turned into concern, and he put his slice down on the table, sliding closer to you and putting his arm around you. “Are you okay?” he asked, rubbing your arm up and down, his warmth and proximity both comforting and causing your heart to race.

You couldn’t stop. Your tears turned to sobs. “I just- I just felt like- I felt like nobody cared about me,” you cried, burying your face in your hands as Roger held you. “I lost one of my best friends, I had such a shitty day, I felt fucking worthless-“

“You’re not worthless,” he interrupted pointedly, staring at you intently. “You are so far from that. You’re spectacular,” he added softly, squeezing your arm. You collapsed into him, hugging him fully, unable to stop crying, and his arms wrapped around you, rubbing your back with steady hands.

“I’m not spectacular,” you sobbed into his shirt, savoring the feeling of his strong arms around you and the warmth of his body. “But- but you make me feel loved and appreciated. Even today, when I thought nothing could.”

“Because you are,” he said softly, causing you to look up at him, tears running down your cheeks. “You always have been,” he added gently, brushing hair out of your face and looking you in the eyes with such tenderness you felt your heart stop. It was in a moment of dazed awareness that you realized how immeasurably close your faces were.

His eyes flickered down to your lips for half a second, and butterflies exploded in your stomach. Is this… is this happening? Your breath hitched in your throat as his face got closer, and closer, and-

Suddenly he was kissing you, and you felt yourself melting, the dry tears on your face and the worst day you’d had in years completely forgotten. All that mattered was Roger’s lips on yours as you held him as tight as possible.

The kiss was gentle, meaningful, and full of so much more caring than you could ever have expected. When it broke, you looked up at him, breathless.

“Rog… how long have you…”

“Years,” he breathed out, seemingly just as surprised as you, already knowing exactly what you were asking him.

“Me too,” you whispered, reaching up to stroke your hand across his face. He smiled in disbelief, a little laugh escaping his lips. You couldn’t help but do the same.

“All the fuckin’ years we’ve wasted,” he groaned exaggeratedly, grinning at you.

“I know,” you blushed, looking down. This night didn’t seem real. Almost like it had been a dream.

There was another pause, and his hands found their way to yours, holding them tenderly.

“You are so beautiful. And there are so many people who care about you, myself included. So stop saying that shit about yourself, okay?” he asked, looking right at you, intertwining his hands with yours. “You’re not worthless. And if she doesn’t want to be your friend anymore, fuck her. She’s not worth your time. You don’t need someone like that in your life.”

You nodded, finding yourself believing him, your heart swelling up until you felt it would burst through your chest. “Thank you,” you whispered, unable to express just how truly grateful you were in words. “Thank you so much.”

“Anytime. Really. That’s why I’m here,” he said, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips, giving it a chaste kiss before squeezing it again.

You sat there for a while, holding each other, no longer really needing to speak. You had each other, and that was all that mattered.

Maybe today hadn’t been the worst day after all.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this one. You can find my other writing here! x

Tagged: @extravagantplant

Just one more thing before I sign off on this one. My heart goes out to anybody reading this who’s had a rough day. Just remember that you are loved. If you ever need someone to talk to, or if you just need to vent, my inbox is always open, and you can feel free to message me. I know what that’s like, and you are not alone. I hope you feel spectacular, because truly, from the bottom of my heart, you are. xx

[okimargarvez]

SCREW TO THE LIMIT - 1

Original title: Vite sull’orlo del baratro.

Prompt: prostitution, sacrifice, danger.

Warnings: A.U., mention of sex content.

Genre: angst, drama, family, romantic, smut.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, Luke’s son, BAU team, others OC, Derek Morgan.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot.

Legend: 💏😘😈👓🔦🐶👨‍👩‍👧‍👦💍🎲🎈.

Song mentioned: none.

Screw to the Limit- Masterlist

GARVEZ STORIES

PART 1

He keeps hear the baby's cry even if he is alone in his head.

He almost forgets it, then sees the number on the calendar and everything rising from the deep up again.

He never pronounces that name. Not even in his mind. He fears its power. It's an irrational fear and not for this less powerful.

The opposite.

 LPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPL

 A creak, then the door opens wide. This is the noise that announces their first meeting. No bell or trumpet of judgment. No choir of angels. Nor thunderbolt; just a pair of eyes that look at the female body as if it were a piece of furniture, because for him she's something like this: a piece to be included in the scheme of his work.

Penelope Garcia. He read her name in the folder they gave him. She can't avoid being amazed to observe her long blond hair with a few pink locks. He obviously expected a Latin chica and maybe they sent him for this reason. No, it's a lie, he knows perfectly well that they sent him here because of his past and his obsession. All the members of the team know it, practically the whole FBI. He doesn't care so much. The woman gives him her back and doesn't seem to notice that a person has entered. She wears a white dress with black polka dots, very... childish. And between the hair what looks like a bow, in Minnie style, or Daisy. Yet she is one of them, a prostitute, a whore, depending on whether he want to be fine or vulgar, the meaning doesn't change. One of those who practice the oldest profession in the world.

Since he had begun to serve the law he had seen so many. Too many. All different for style of hair, clothes, way to talk, pose... yet with the same look sad, faded and, in the worst cases, accusatory, against a society that hid them in the day behind false moralism, but not disdain them with the arrival of the night. But when he goes around the table to sit in front of the blonde, he remains surprised for a second time in not noting that expression. There is certainly sadness. But there is no sign of stun, given by drugs and alcohol that are usually taken voluntarily (at least in part) not to think about what they are doing (and so change their mind). In any case, the woman's face is soft, sweet. And proud. From her dark and determined eyes, his gaze goes downward more, to the spectacle left to be show by a generous neckline. For a nanosecond, the mix between that innocent air as child and the exuberant forms left to glimpse just enough to tease, confuse him. Then he returns himself.

-Penelope, right?- naturally he receives no answer. She doesn't even look at him. She seems indifferent to his claim. -Do you know why you're here?- she shrugs, showing that she is listening, but isn't interested. He sighs, trying to keep calm. It irritates him to be ignored. -We know you knew Melissa. You were friends?- nothing. -You two protect each other?- so far he used a neutral tone. He tries changing tactics. -Hey, I know you're scared, but we don't want to hurt you.- he doesn't even know why he insists on using the plural. -We don't even accuse you.- the low, delicate and understanding voice doesn't seem to have any effect. -We want... I just want to find the bastard who killed Melissa and many other innocent girls.- yet it's difficult to get out of the stereotype of they in part asked for it. Even for someone like him. He stretches out his hand and barely touches hers, which retracts her immediately, almost disgusted, indignant. For a moment he is crossed by a strange thought: to try again and take her against her will. He decides again to change the way to ask himself. If good manners don't work... He extracts the photos from the folder. Not the ones with the smiling victims, before being killed, and maybe even ending up on the street. No, the bloody ones, on the place of the find, on the anatomic table, after the autopsy. He spares her nothing.

And it was the right choice because Penelope begins to waver, finally reacts. She swallows and shake hands until her knuckles become white. -That's enough! Enough, I don't know anything! Take this off out of my sight!- just disguising a smug smile, he performs as required.

-You aren't telling the truth. Kayla and others have hinted at something that happened to you, before arriving in Virginia.- tactical break. -The same man from which you managed to escape could be our unsub, an unknown subject.- he hastens to add as an explanation. -In other words, the bastard who did this. We need you to tell us this story.- and suddenly the woman explodes, she stands up with such impetus as to overturn the chair.

Her face is red, purple and deformed by anger. -Do you know what I think, instead?- she passes from formal terms to colloquial one. She crosses the table and reaches him. -That in reality you are a maniac and that you are enjoying it badly, in this situation. That do you want me to tell you all about so that you can relive it in your beautiful little head, because you don't have the balls to make it happen.- she lowers in his direction and Luke can see other layers of skin, besides the small of the breast. -I'm sorry- he raises the card hanging on the pocket of his shirt and lets it fall down -SSA Luke Alvez, but I'll not give you this satisfaction.- the man is displaced, but doesn't expect her next move. -Watch a good porn, tonight, ok?- and her hand ends up palpating right that sensitive spot not too protected by the fabric of the pants. Already stiffened because of her moves, after being touched, the 'little friend is even more hard. Penelope pretends to be surprised. .I was right.- she exclaims, almost satisfied.

But the expression enjoyed doesn't last long. Luke in fact stands up in his turn, forcing her to move back until her back meets the coldness of the wall. It's the man's turn to feel pleasure in overpowering her, just because of the difference in height between them. -Be careful, pequena, you play with fire and you have no idea of ​​the risks you take...- the body pressed on that woman's. -You feel it, do not you?- he whispers in her ear. -I know that you like it, and I also know that you would want it.- he doesn't let her practically breathe. -But if this auction will penetrate you, it wouldn't be comparable to other times when you've been fuck. It would be another thing. You would touch the sky with a finger and then you would beg me on your knees, to have more, and again and again...- he's making fun of her. Penelope looks at him badly, but his words and gestures have nevertheless had the desired effects. Fortunately, Luke has no evidence to this effect. After a moment he leaves her free but remains close enough. -Now that we have clarified this point, your tongue is loosen and your memory is refreshed?- Penelope just look at him and he decides to surrender, at least for today, before making some worse mess.

 LPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPL

 Once he is safe within his walls, that thought doesn't abandon him. He hates the fact that he couldn't make her spill the beans. He was usually able to complete such a task in no time. He is the best in this field. Because he knows which buttons to touch with women. But this Penelope is a tough girl, one of those who might even make moved out; if only she really wanted it. And he must admit that she intrigues him. If they hadn't been in a Bureau room, complete with cameras, he wouldn't just be limited to threats. He would have put her in her place and every moan would have been a supplication...

-Daddy, what are you thinking?- a voice that bears several traces of childhood (missing a few years before it starts to change) brings him back to earth. In front of him a plate of pasta just touched, practically cold. In front of a child with the same color of his hair but green and awake eyes (inherited from his mother) who looks at him waiting for the answer.

-Work. Dad is a bit messed up, in this period... - he smiles, but his son's reply arrives very quick.

-Only in this period?- and they both laugh.

Even after having tucked in Adam (who protests because he says he has become too big for something like that, but he knows that deep down he still likes this kind of attention) and lying down in turn, he can't get rid of her or sleep a wink. He tries to take a cold shower, but he can't cool his hot spirits don't and in the end, he is forced to vent concretely those thoughts how he can, going with hand and imagination.

TAGS: @theshamelessmanatee  @arses21434 @kathy5654 @martinab26 @reidskitty13 @jenf42 @gracieeelizabeth27 @silviajajaja @smalliemichelle99 @charchampagne14 @thinitta   @myhollyhanna23 @garvezz @mercedes-maldonado  @shyladystudentfan @cosmicmelaninflower @avengerquake123 vanuusims

[bluraaven]

Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter 6

[[  AN: story-relevant tags apply.  You can find those here  ]]

"We got him!"

Guyot's grin practically stretched from ear to ear, and his enthusiasm, which was usually infectious, only moved Reynauld to respond with a twitch that did not resemble a valiant attempt at a smile so much as it did him suddenly suffering a stroke.

Guyot was right though.  Dismas was under lock and key in one of the holding cells, and in theory today's work was done and the operation a full success.  They had gotten their target, and as the leading officer in charge, Reynauld should be celebrating his victory.

But the truth was that instead of receiving back-pats and congratulations from the whole department, Reynauld would much rather have spent the night in someone else's arms.

Guyot had driven the van on their way back from the hotel, and that at least had left Reynauld to slump in the passenger seat, too out of it to do more than watch the city lights speed past them.  Once they had arrived, he had been able to hold it together long enough to escort Dismas to the prison, and then he had promptly fled to his office under the pretext of having to write reports.

That had been an hour ago.  He hadn't even fired up the computer yet.  Instead, he had chosen to wallow in alcohol-fortified self-pity.  With his arms crossed on his desk, and his head resting upon them, Reynauld passed the time by watching his office sway gently, as if it were inside a boat that was floating on a relatively calm sea.   His right hand had slipped from the wooden surface of his desk, and back then it had seemed like too much of a bother to lift it back up.

Only when somebody knocked at his door did Reynauld look up, but as soon as it turned out to be Guyot, he lowered his head again.  And because Guyot was Guyot, he was brimming with energy and joy, the combination as loathsome to Reynauld at this very moment, as sunshine and music were to the hungover.  But he was still Reynauld's best friend, and so Reynauld had greeted him with a limp flap of his hand that could mean anything really, but which Guyot interpreted as an invitation to come in and sit down.

"Yeah," Reynauld sighed, because some manner of verbal answer was necessary, lest his friend call the paramedics on him.  "We did."

"This don't work on me, ya know?" Guyot said and dipped his head so that he could look Rey in the eyes.  

Reynauld, in turn, could verify that that infuriating smile was still in place. He didn't like how Guyot could look through him.  Not that he had been putting any kind of effort into pretending that everything was fine and dandy, but still.  He guessed that was the price you had to pay for having friends you have known since you both had been in diapers.  They cared enough to make you miserable to make you feel better.

The thought struck, wrapping itself around Reynauld's brain like a python, writhing and constricting, and after a moment he wasn't even sure what he'd meant by thinking that.  It hurt to think.  And because he was hurting enough already, he stopped.  Thinking, not being in pain.  If Reynauld had been able to something about the latter, he already would have.

"Come on," Guyot cajoled in a sweet, patient voice.  "What's wrong?"

Reynauld shook his head, something that required major effort, since it still rested upon his arms.  He could hear the sigh float over him like a raincloud.

"Rey?"

"You were right," Reynauld finally replied and nodded.  A moment later he couldn't tell whether his head was still moving, or whether his office was accelerating.  He swallowed, closed his eyes, and muttered, "This was a terrible idea."

A moment of silence followed. Then,

"Look, I'm sorry ya had to put up with that sleazebag," Guyot began tentatively, but– .  

"What?" Reynauld blurted out.  He had meant moving, but slowly the meaning of Guyot's words wormed its way through to his brain.

"Remember when I said it couldn't be worse than my last date?" Reynauld said slowly.

"Yeah?"  Guyot sounded confused.

Reynauld had a hunch that if he'd been sober this conversation would not be happening, at least not like this.  

"Well, was it?" his friend finally asked, when he forgot to continue.

"No." Reynauld remembered the way Dismas' thigh had pressed against his in the bar, how it had felt to hold him close on the ride to the hotel.   All the little sounds he'd made when Reynauld had kissed him breathless.  "Wasn't the second worst either," he mumbled.  "Wasn't bad at all."

"Rey?"

"It was the best date I've ever had." Reynauld looked at Guyot in accusation, as if he were to blame for the unfairness of it all.  It had to be the drink.  It was to blame for turning him maudlin, and erasing that invaluable filter between his brain and his mouth.

"Oh no," he heard, Guyot sigh, before the warm comforting weight of a hand landed on his shoulder.  His friend gave him a little shake that Reynauld did not respond to.  "I'm sure Para has something that could cheer you up," Guyot said, making an attempt at levity.

"Fuck off," Reynauld muttered, suddenly on the verge of tears.  He was tired, drunk, and his best friend was being an ass, all of which amounted to him feeling like a steaming pile of shit.

"That bad, huh?" Guyot asked, and with a deep breath he wrapped an arm around Reynauld.  "C'mere."

Reynauld leaned into the offered embrace like a tree being felled.  Guyot caught him, held him, and rubbed large, soothing circles into his back.  It felt good.  Safe and familiar.  Guyot smelled like coffee and industrial detergent and Reynauld didn't know how long he ended up sniffing into his friend's collar while the world wavered between warm and fuzzy, and being a cold hopeless place.  

"I'm drunk," Reynauld eventually confessed in a whisper.

"I can tell," Guyot replied, his voice thick with amusement.  "Good thing I didn't let you drive."

"I didn't mean to get drunk," Reynauld complained.  But Dismas had been company, and he'd lost count of the drinks they'd had.  Finally he'd found what he had been looking for, something – someone fun and exciting, and now they were gonna take him away, and he had no one to blame but himself.

"So, just how much did ya drink?" Guyot wanted to know.

"I don't remember," Reynauld answered in a low murmur, slightly embarrassed.  He had not felt nearly as drunk in the hotel room, but it had gradually gotten worse, over time.  Some of the stronger booze had to be hitting him late.  

"Well, that's one too much for sure," Guyot chuckled, and gave Reynauld's arm a sympathetic pat.  Why don't ya get some sleep?  Things'll look brighter in the morning, I promise ya."

Reynauld didn't want to go back to an empty home.  His wife was gone, his kid wasn't there either, and his almost-lover of half a night was behind bars.  His eyes began to burn again.

This was why he didn't drink in first place.

It was not the first time he had decided to save himself the train ride home, and Guyot helped him set up with the emergency camping kit that consisted of a therm-a-rest mat, a small blow up pillow, a sheet and some blankets.  Guyot even got him a bottle of water, which became just half of one within seconds of meeting Reynauld.

Reynauld brushed his teeth in one of the nearby bathrooms and undressed back in his room, folding his clothes as neatly as he could manage on his desk.  Then, he laid down on the mattress.

The air escaped with a noise like a fart, and he groaned, an unhappy little sound, unwitnessed by anything but the floorboards.  It was a show of iron self-control when Reynauld got up again to let the mat refill before he twisted the little air vent to screw it shut.  Tomorrow he could take a shower downstairs, get a clean uniform, and be as good as new.

Today, he was allowed to be as miserable as he wanted to be.  And because he was already on his feet, Reynauld remembered to lock his office.  The last thing he wanted was for one of his superiors to encounter him in his briefs, drooling on the floor.

Morning did eventually arrive after a much too short night that Reynauld had thankfully managed to sleep through.   With the sun shining through the window everything was literally brighter, just as Guyot had promised, although Reynauld wasn't so sure about whether he felt better or worse.  It would take approximately half a galleon coffee for him to find out, so he decided to get an early start on that front.

He dressed and cleaned himself up, then brewed a pot, immediately consumed half of it, and headed downstairs to see who was already in.  Guyot wasn't going to arrive until midday, and most of his team were off-duty until much later in the day.  After a brief chat with Barristan, Reynauld headed back to his office to catch up on paperwork which he had neglected yesterday.

Once finished, he stretched, and called for Marci to take the reports to the Chief.

"Oh, but he's got a conference outta town," Marci said apologetically. "Neville told me, when I mentioned I thought I'd seen his car earlier. Anyway, I guess that means Mal's in charge."

She would be; and Reynauld had Marci take the folders to her instead.

Her reply came soon enough.

If he'd had a moderately crappy night, Dismas' must have been quite a ways further up on the Scale of Suck.  Reynauld wasn't sure why a couple of hours later he tormented himself with personally escorting the prisoner when he could have sent anybody else to do the job.

Maybe it was an inherent streak of masochism, or maybe it was guilt – but either way, he found himself in front of Dismas' cell.  Dismas, who actually looked marginally relieved to see him again.

Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, Dismas had not been able to rest at all, and Reynauld would have been surprised if he had.  The holding cells were meant to make the stay in them as unpleasant as possible, and the regular visits from the forensics team did not make matters any better. Dismas was probably right in that half of what went on in that tract was against the law.

Not that anybody would know from how operations were being run topside.

Mallory was the epitome of professionalism, and Reynauld had to sit through a very uncomfortable hour in which Dismas' defences were one by one pulled down until defeated, he agreed to cooperate.

It took roughly another hour for Reynauld to read and explain all the legal paperwork, and for Dismas to sign all the forms before Reynauld could escort him back to a cell – this time, a more adequate one for long-term detention.

They rounded the corner, but they were not the only ones, and what happened did so too fast for Reynauld to intervene.  A surprised gasp was followed by a shout of pain, coffee cups went sailing and Marci stared at them in wide-eyed shock, the tablet still clutched in her hands.  Reynauld was spared the torrent of brown liquid, but Dismas caught the brunt of it and he let out a litany of curses while trying to tug the sodden and undoubtedly scalding shirt away from his chest.

"I'm so sorry–"

"Feckin' shite– !"

"I didn't see you– "

"Fuck this cunt piece of a day with a splintering two by four!"

"Marci," Reynauld said, trying to keep his calm.  It wasn't her fault.  It wasn't anybody's fault.  It was a stupid accident.  Those happened sometimes.

"I'm so sorry!"  Marci stammered, the tablet shaking in her hands so much, she threatened to spill more coffee.  "I'm so sorry, Rey."

"What am I, chopped liver?" Dismas muttered darkly.

"Guyot sent me for some coffee; he's interrogating the other guy, and I didn't see you around the corner– ,"

"What other guy?" Dismas asked, but Marci was still stuttering apologies, so Reynauld hushed her and ordered her to get a mop and wipe the floor while he would take care of Dismas.

Reynauld half expected a little puff of dust to rise from how quickly Marci made a dash for it, undoubtedly relieved that he wasn't upset or going to shout at her in the middle of the office and not willing to hang around in case he changed his mind.

"Well, this is great," Dismas bit out through clenched teeth a moment later.  "This whole fucking mess is just.   Fantastic.  You get to be my babysitter and I'm fucked six ways to Sunday if anybody ever finds out I talked."

"Did she burn you?" Reynauld asked, trying to be patient, calm, professional.  To channel a little bit of Mallory.

"No," Dismas grunted.  

"I mean it.  I can take you to the medical wing," Reynauld offered.

"M'fine," Dismas said in a tone that made Reynauld feel slightly uncomfortable because of how familiar it sounded.

So that's what it was like to be on the receiving end of that.  "If you say so," Reynauld agreed, not believing it for a second and feeling a twinge of sympathy for Guyot.

"Are you gonna get me out of this, or do I have to smell like cafeteria from now on?" Dismas asked, once more tugging on the clothes he had been given upon his arrival at the PD.  Both the shirt and sweatpants were marred by large, brown coffee stains.

"You'll get clean clothes," Reynauld assured him.  

"Good."

For a moment, Reynauld thought that Dismas sounded slightly mollified, but apparently he had just been getting ready to throw the next punch.

"I wouldn't want you pigs all over me like strays over a bitch in heat."

"No danger there," Reynauld choked out, once he was done picking his jaw off the floor.  What the hell?  

"Just you then, huh?" Dismas asked in a mock sweet tone.  "You know, you should receive an award for that act.

"Don't." Reynauld bit out.  He understood the other man's anger.  He did not deserve it, not after going out of his way to make sure Dismas wouldn't look like an illiterate idiot in front of Mallory, but he understood it.  That did not mean he was willing to put up with everything Dismas threw his way.

"Why not?"  Dismas cocked a brow.  "Should be proud o'yerself.  Had me fooled, ya know?"

"I'm not– ,"  Reynauld near-shouted.

"Will you mention it in your report?" Dismas continued, his voice rising in volume too, but his tone had soured, had become spiteful.  "What it was like to kiss me?  Or how you were hard for me?"

Reynauld's eyes narrowed, but Dismas took no heed.  "And today I almost though ya were the Good Cop."

"I very much hope that I am a good cop," Reynauld finally cut him short, stepping in front of Dismas and blocking his further way.  From their encounter at Jubert's, Reynauld already knew Dismas wasn't intimidated by thugs larger than he was, but he wasn't some bar-brawling punk and if Dismas wanted some, he could say whatever he wanted to get it right here, right now.  If he had the balls.

Anybody who might have passed by in that moment, would be greeted by an interesting sight; a silent standoff between a man in cuffs and ruined clothes, and one officer in slightly rumpled uniform.

Dismas was the first to look away.

Reynauld shook his head, and pushed Dismas in the direction of the nearest showers that also happened to contain his locker.  He should follow protocol and take him back to the prison tract, but the faster he got this job done, the faster he could hand off Dismas to somebody else, and take his mounting frustration out on the dummies in the gym rather than on the prisoner next to him.

"Mind the stairs – ," Reynauld barked, one-finger-punching the light switch with more force than it deserved.  

"F– !"

Dismas pitched forward and Reynauld reacted instantly, catching him under the arm.  Having a kid had honed his reflexes of catching smaller people from busting their skulls on the floor.  Dismas counted, because he only came up to Reynauld's nose.

Reynauld expected another tirade, but when he turned to face Dismas, he could see that Dismas' brows had drawn together, and up.

"Why?" Dismas asked the sound of his voice brittle.  

"Why what?" Reynauld repeated, confused and unsure of what had just happened.

"If I were you," Dismas explained, as if he were talking to a child, "I would have kicked myself down those stairs."

"Too much paperwork," Reynauld replied before he could think of any better reply.

Dismas blinked and then he failed at fighting off a smile, which resulted in the corners of his mouth being tugged in different directions.

"Rey– ," Dismas said, exasperated.

"Yeah?"

Dismas' brows drew up in surprise.  "So that really is your name?"

"It is," Reynauld confirmed.

"You're the guy who arrested me.  I don't want to like you," Dismas said, and instantly looked like he would have rather bitten off his own tongue.

"... but you do?" Reynauld dared to ask, and he was met with a pained look.

He had never apologized a to a crook before.  (But then he had also never arrested one during foreplay.)  Yet this seemed important, somehow.

"I told you, I'm sorry," Reynauld began.  "I mean it.  And I know it's not much, but I was after a criminal.  My job was to catch the Grave Robber.  I didn't mean to hurt... you."

A muscle on the side of Dismas' jaw twitched, and he gave Reynauld a curt nod.

"I like you too," Reynauld admitted softly and watched the furrows on Dismas' brow and between his eyes deepen.

Dismas took a deep breath, and it appeared as if he wanted to say something, because his mouth worked, but in the end, couldn't.  A couple of tries later, he finally managed to croak, "You're alright.  An' a good cop, I guess."

Reynauld sensed that he'd have a crick in his neck if he suffered any more whiplash, but he appreciated the sentiment.  This was better than being an outlet for the other man's anger.  Much better.

"Thank you."

There. They'd talked.  Things had been said.  In the low light, Dismas' eyes looked nearly black.  Reynauld wished he had something more to add, or that Dismas would make a joke, say something clever.  He didn't.

Rey did.  "Hey."

Dismas looked up, and the sane part of Reynauld watched with detached terror as he stroked a hand over Dismas cheek, before leaning down and kissing him.

Reynauld realized he might have made a mistake when Dismas' teeth closed on his lip with enough force to hold him in place and do some serious damage if he bit down.

"Ain't you lucky I never hurt a lover," Dismas murmured, and, as if the arrest had never happened, he pulled himself into the kiss, open-mouthed and soothing the sting in Reynauld's lip by sucking on it.

Reynauld wrapped his arms around the smaller man's frame.  Why did this have to feel so good?  Why did Dismas' rugged looks and snarky remarks rouse something in him that none of his 'respectable' dates ever had?  He licked over Dismas' lips, who opened right up and ran his tongue over Reynauld's.  Reynauld thought that his chest might burst if that bubble of happiness inside it swelled any more.

Dismas' cuffed hands ran over his stomach, stroking, petting, groping.  "See?  Told ya 'bout the coffee stains," Dismas mumbled between kisses.

Reynauld's laughter was muffled, and he reached under Dismas' shirt and pulled it over the other man's head.   There was no way to get it past the handcuffs and off completely, so Reynauld simply made Dismas lift his arms over his head where they were in no danger of coming close to his belt again.  Dismas didn't seem to mind.  He held Reynauld's head with both hands and tongue kissed him like there was no tomorrow.  

Reynauld grabbed Dismas by the hips, and began to walk them towards the showers.  Small steps, one leg between Dismas', it was almost like a slow dance.  One that ended once they were on the tiled floor on the other side of the room.

Dismas was alternatively running his hands through Reynauld's hair, and cupping his jaw.  The handcuffs barely seemed to hinder him.

Reynauld broke off their kiss only when he shoved down Dismas' sweats and briefs in one go, kneeling to get them down around Dismas' ankles.  He felt Dismas' weight as the other man braced himself on his shoulder.

Reynauld thought that as he came up, he caught a flash of disappointment, but then Dismas stepped out of his pants, kicked them off, and wiggled his brows.  He was only half-hard, but that changed quickly when Reynauld's hand wrapped around his cock, giving him a few good tugs from base to tip.

"Ah, fuck!"

Dismas' arms tightened around Reynauld's neck.  Reynauld could see that his pupils were blown wide, and he leaned in again, claiming Dismas' mouth with his own.  His own pants were tight, but he could wait.  First he wanted to enjoy Dismas' cock in his hand, the weight and feel of it once it filled out.  Its heat, the softness of skin.

He wanted to hear the noises Dismas was making against his lips when Reynauld pulled on him, slow and hard, or how his breathing stopped and picked up again with how he thumbed the sensitive head.  Dismas twitched in his hand, and after only a few passes, he was leaking slick.

Reynauld grinned and ignored the growl and the nip of teeth against his neck as he let go of Dismas to run his hands over the other man's backside, kneading his firm buttocks.  If this were another time and place, he might have done more than just trace Dismas' crack with his index finger before brushing past it.  Or he would have paid more attention to Dismas' balls.  

But time was one of the things they were short on, and with only the mildest pangs of regret, Reynauld returned his attention to Dismas' cock, running the backs of his knuckles lightly over its underside.

Dismas nudged Reynauld's nose with his own, to get some attention.

"You too," he panted.  "C'mon."

Reynauld could not take off his pants without also losing his belt, and that was actually a whole lot more complicated than it sounded.  He just unzipped his fly, tugged his underwear to the side, and pulled out his own prick.

They barely touched like this, the position not allowing for proper contact, and Dismas grunted in frustration.   Reynauld picked up one of Dismas' legs, and lifted it so that the crook of the other man's knee was right over that of his elbow.  Unbalanced, Dismas pitched backwards, and hit one of the shower knobs.  Cold water sprayed them both.

They gasped, then laughed, and then Dismas' low moan was the only sound to be heard for a long time as Reynauld began to grind against him.

"Yeah.  Fuck, yes."

Dismas bit the lobe of Reynauld's ear, pulled on it and then mouthed along his neck.  Despite his limited options of movement, Dismas was rutting back as much as he could.

The water turned from icy to warm quickly, and their new position allowed Reynauld to stoke them both in tandem. His back and the backs of his thighs were burning, but it was only a mild inconvenience at this point, because Dismas was panting against Reynauld's lips, open-mouthed and with a look of intense concentration on his face.  A couple of tugs later and he swallowed, opening his eyes briefly, and then squeezed them shut again, hips bucking wildly.

Reynauld stroked himself faster.  He could feel Dismas come and the additional weight as the other man let himself be held up.  Reynauld rested his forehead against Dismas' and tightened his hold until the dark bathroom was suddenly lit up by a shower of bright sparks, the water instantly sluicing away any evidence of their tryst.

Dismas let him catch his breath on his own time, his fingers massaging the back of Reynauld's neck.  His nose was buried in his cheek, and he drew back slightly as Reynauld came down from his high.  Dismas placed a tender, almost shy kiss on his cheek before withdrawing completely.

The position they were in was becoming more and more uncomfortable.  Reynauld let go of Dismas' leg, who took a second to find his balance.  They didn't look at each other.  Reynauld reached over Dismas' shoulder to turn off the water.  As soon as it was cut off, so was the magic of the moment.

Dismas was nearly naked and started to shiver while Reynauld's uniform was soaked right down to his socks.  They let go of each other, and stepped back.  Reynauld undid Dismas' handcuffs long enough for him to dry himself off and get dressed, before he closed them again and changed into a new uniform himself.

All the time, the rush of his own blood in his ears was still the only thing Reynauld could hear, along with a curious ringing.  It nicely balanced out the feeling of having swallowed a black hole.

 What had he just done?  He must be insane.  This could have cost him his work, it still could.  Anybody could have come down, could have seen–

"Your friend," Dismas said suddenly, interrupting Reynauld's inner meltdown.

"What? Who?" Reynauld stammered, confused.  This was not the right time to bring up any of his friends.  Merely thinking about how they would react if they knew was enough mortification for a lifetime.

Dismas huffed.  "The soulless wannabe maxillofacial surgeon," he explained.

Reynauld had an inkling that Dismas meant Guyot, but no idea why he would want to talk about the other police officer.  Still... "Soulless?"

"Yeah.  Ain't that what they say about redheads?"

"You don't really believe that," Reynauld said.

"It don't matter what I believe," Dismas said with a slight trace of annoyance.  "Thing is, " he added, and Reynauld perceived something in his voice he recognized instantly.

It was urgency.

"He's the one interrogating Louet, ain't he?" Dismas asked.  "I was wondrin' if ya'd let me talk ta him.  Louet, not yer friend.  He's a dick."

"Why?" Reyauld wanted to know, wary of where this was going.  He did not rise to the bait.  Just by how Dismas' accent thickened, Reynauld could tell that the other man was much more nervous about this request than he was letting on.  Probably because it was important to him.

"Cause he might tell me something he won't tell you," Dismas retorted, as if Reynauld was an idiot for not thinking of the possibility.

"I doubt that," Reynauld replied.  "Besides, you could just as well mean to silence him."

"Because he sold me out?" Dismas asked with raised brows.  The grin he shot Reynauld looked strained, and his tone just missed his usual cocky drawl.  "Eh, thought by now ya'd know there's no honour amongst thieves.  'S all water under the bridge."

"We made him an offer," Reynauld said.  "The same we did you.  Can you blame him?"

"I don't blame 'im," Dismas said, and sighed, shoulders slumping.  Sensing that this approach was not going to work, he appeared to briefly war with himself, before he straightened again and looked Reynauld in the eye.  "I just wanna talk.  And I fucking hate asking for favours, but please.  Just let me talk ta 'im.  M' in cuffs anyway, and I know you're gonna be listening, might learn somethin' new that way.  I just... c'mon Rey.  Louet and I, we go way back.  Waddya got to lose?"

What did he have to lose?  Reynauld weighted his options.  Dismas wouldn't be able to attack Louet physically.  If he just wanted to grab the opportunity to fling some profanities his way well, that wasn't gonna harm the other prisoner.  Anything they said would be on record, and even if they had some code – that could be broken.  But this way at least they would find out about its existence, which was still better than nothing.

"I'm pulling you out if that conversation takes a turn I don't like," Reynauld said, after arriving at a conclusion.

"Sounds fair," Dismas sighed, and Reynauld realized that he had not expected to be granted this wish.  "Thanks."  It sounded like Dismas had developed a sudden toothache.

The awkwardness of what they had done hung heavily over them until Reynauld cleared his throat.  They had both finished dressing, and he had stuffed his soaked uniform in a bag to take home at the end of the day.  "Let's go, shall we?"

Dismas nodded without saying another word, and trudged along Reynauld as he led them both through the building, back to the interrogation rooms.   Either Dismas was too lost in thought, or too tired for his usual witticism, and the walk passed in uncomfortable, although not-quite tense silence.

Until they went by the cafeteria, where he stopped as if rooted to the ground.

"Is that a cattle prod?  Why is there a cattle prod next to the coffee machine?"  Dismas looked from said item back to Reynauld.

"To keep away forensics and interns," Reynauld sighed.  "You should know why, since you already met the former.  This way."  He tugged on Dismas' arm, and the other man stumbled along, his eyes still glued to the coffee machine.

But if Dismas wanted his chance of talking to Louet, he better hurry up.  It wasn't everyday that the Chief was gone and Reynauld was willing to bend the rules... a lot, actually.

Louet had already agreed to work with the police.  He was afforded special status in exchange for what information he might have, the extraction of which was Guyot's job.  And if they were lucky, the two still had not finished.

They met Guyot halfway to the cells.  He had just gotten himself some fresh coffee, and after Reynauld called out, he waited for them to catch up.

"Have you seen Marci?" Guyot asked in greeting.  "I told her to get me some coffee, but it seems she forgot."

Reynauld noticed how Dismas tensed next to him, but before he could explain, Guyot remarked,

"Hey, why is your hair all wet?"

Dismas snorted and Reynauld suddenly felt like somebody had upended a bucketful of ice water over him.  In his mind, he saw Dismas wrapped around him, soaked clothes clinging to their forms as they rutted in the department showers, where everybody could have walked in on them.   Light help him, that had to be the stupidest thing he had ever done in his life, and he'd certainly had a thousand times more luck than brains to get away with it.

He needed a distraction, and fast.  As luck would have it, Dismas had provided him with one.

"I was wondering if Dismas could talk to your guy?" Reynauld asked without offering an answer, and tried to convey everything else that he could not say out loud via telepathy.

Thankfully, Guyot's psychic abilities proved to be infallible.  "Sure," the redhead replied with a shrug.  "Just make sure to chain him out of reach."

Well, that had been easier than anticipated.  Reynauld gave Dismas an encouraging nod and smile, while Guyot swept the key card through the lock system which emitted a low buzzing sound.  After a second, the red light flashed briefly before turning to green.

"Weird," Guyot said, and raised the coffee cup to take a loud, slurping sip.  He sighed in contentment, licking his lips.

Dismas watched him without bothering to conceal his disgust, and Reynauld tapped his foot impatiently.

The light went out, and the doors finally opened.

Louet was still sitting in the same chair, at the very table he had been handcuffed to.  He would have appeared to have nodded off, if not for the blood.  It pooled around his chair, filled the gaps of the tiled floor, giving off a sweet, thick odour.  Somebody had slit Louet's throat with enough force to lay open half his neck, and even stain the walls.

[queensidillas]

amber (wonwoo) (pt 1)

genre: slight angst, slight fluff (because I can’t angst for shit)

word count: 2,889

notes: HAPPY NEW YEAR & happy belated birthday claire, i know it’s hella late but here’s from me to you. Somehow librarian wonwoo au is common, I hope this won’t bore you. ALSO, the poems here are written by me so if you want to see my other stuff just ask me for the link. This was collecting dust in my drafts for some time and i fell hella sick.

                                     “we were at a constant state of amber,

              when you said you weren't ready to move on"

You finished jotting down the poem that lingered in your mind for a while now. You never showed anyone the poems you made, it was too personal. It started out after your recent heartbreak and you needed an outlet to vent out the negative frustration that kept building up. It wasn't the first time you got your heart broken but it was definitely the first time you loved someone so deeply, that it broke you apart when he asked to split. A month later, you found out he was with someone new and started questioning your own self worth. Instead of beating yourself up for it, you started writing. Pouring your frustration and sadness into all your written words. You opened up a blog to post your writings, mainly poetry, under the pseudonym, Reverie. Surprisingly, it started to garner attention from all kinds of people who could relate to it. It was heartwarming when some of them left a message on how they could empathise and even words of encouragement. Of course, they never knew the identity of writer was and you intended to keep it that way.

Suddenly a piercing announcement informing the students that the library would close soon was made. You hastily packed up your stuff, without checking your place once and left. The sky started to get dark and threatening, a big sign that it was time to go home.

By the time you got home, it was late in the evening and a heavy downpour occurred.

Just in the nick of time.

You took a quick shower and proceeded to prepare for the week's dinner. It was easier to cook in big portions so it'll save your time from having to rack your brain on what to eat everyday.

While waiting for your food to finish cooking in the pressure cooker, you went and prepared for the next day. After rummaging through your bag for awhile, you realised your notebook can't be found.

You tried to convince yourself it would still be back at where you left it in the library but the uneasiness of it being missing started to grow. The fact that someone might see your writings and called you out for it didn't leave a very settling thought. Your train of thought was disturbed by the timer going off, meaning your food was ready.

"I'll settle the book later", you muttered bitterly as you started packing the food for the week.

-

You barely had a wink of sleep and decided to wake up at first alarm that you heard rather than snoozing it like you usually do.

By the time you reached the library, it had just opened. Without wasting a second, you rushed to your spot in hopes of finding your notebook but it was gone. Panic started rushing through your head as you head to the library front desk. He was busy typing away.

"Hi...", squinting at his name tag, "Wonwoo"

The librarian looked up at your with an empty look. Pushing his drooping glasses back to his nose bridge.

"Yes? Anything I could help you with?", you were caught off guard at how deep his voice was.

"I was wondering if you have seen a tattered looking notebook at one of the tables yesterday?”, using hand gestures to describe the notebook.

Wonwoo looked at you with a confused gaze and stood up. “ Could you show me which table?”, he said nonchalantly.

You brought him over to where your usual spot was and his face changed. “Did the cover have a slight tear in the corners?”

“YES”, you beamed.

He brought his bag out from under the counter and started looking through it. Just as he took his hands out, you see your notebook at his grasp. Taking the notebook from him, graciously.

“Thank you so much!”

“It was no problem. Next time, just be more careful”, he said. You could hear him speak the whole day with a voice like that.

As you walked away,

“Those are some good writings”, he deadpanned. You turn around immediately at him.

Oh God, what does he know. Does he know it’s me? IS THIS THE DAY I GET EXPOSED??

“I never knew you were a big fan of Reverie”

Oh thank God.

“You know Reverie?”, you bemused.

“I’ve seen the works occasionally, especially when my colleagues bring them up”. You could feel your ears heating up from the thought of it. Fortunately, your hair was covering them.

“Me too. I think I should head off first, I have class soon. Thanks anyways, Wonwoo!”, as you scrambled off in a hurry.

He smiled a bit to himself as the image of your silhouette started to fade. -

The lectures started to get stagnant as soon as you hit the final class for the day. Your lecturer just droned on and on.

How long more could you endure? How long more could you listen about a lecture on bricks? Just how long-

“That concludes our lecture for today, see you all next week”

You have never wanted to leave the lecture hall more than today. While packing all your stuff, a note slipped out of your notebook. Picking it up, it was a flyer, no bigger than the palm of your hand.

It said “POETRY OPEN MIC”.

You studied the contents of the flyer. It mentioned the date and venue of the upcoming open mic. Intriguing. The event did peak your interest a bit.

-

The venue for the poetry open mic was a small quaint cafe with a very low profile facade. You almost walked passed it if it wasn’t for the flyer that was stuck onto the glass with the words “POETRY OPEN MIC”. Stepping inside, you were welcomed by the scent of coffee in the air and the bustling conversations of many strangers. The place was rather crowded and seats were limited. You stood by the wall, nearest to the open mic area. Trying to stay as hidden as possible. You had a tendency to hide yourself among the crowds even when it wasn’t needed.

“Fancy meeting you here”, you recognised the deep voice anywhere and looked up. Wonwoo was dressed in an oversize beige sweater and his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Coming from you?”, you cocked an eyebrow.

“Okay okay, I put the flyer there. I thought you might be interested in these kind of things”, his hands were up as if he was going to get arrested.

“It’s actually my first time hearing about this event. What do people do here actually?”

“Ahh, basically, people would volunteer to express their poetry up on stage. Sometimes it’s another person’s work and sometimes it’s their own stuff”

“Then how are they different from one another?”

He placed his forefinger on your lips to silence you, “Just watch and see”, he gave a smug smile.

How infuriating.

Each person that went up had their own expression of poetry, some had sultry voices and some had  borderline comedic tones to them. One of them even read Reverie’s poetry out saying that piece made gave them the strength to move on again. You were honestly very flattered but couldn’t express it out loud in favour of keeping your identity anonymous. Then Wonwoo went up, gripping onto a piece of napkin on his hand. He lifted it up and began speaking;

“A reminder to myself, To be cautious to those whom seem a little too quiet, Who bite onto the ends of their pencils, Who get lost at their thoughts, Drowning deeper into their minds, And only remembering to breathe when it was too late.

  By the time you reminded yourself, You would have fallen into a delirium of them,   With only your physical body intact, But yourself lost in the depths of wondering who they were.

Fighting the current is useless, But to ride with it is suicide, Sweetness of death was appealing, In contrast to the bitterness of reality.

Don’t forget to bring a life jacket though, Even if it’s already too late.”

“Thank you”, and he left the stage, leaving an air of remorse around him.

Streams of claps filled the place, you felt your heart wrenched at his words. It would be an understatement if you said it didn’t hurt listening to him. It was just that good. Wonwoo went over to a group of guys who patted his back and was probably praising him.

When the session was over, you quietly sneaked out of the cafe before anyone else could adjourn. Better to avoid the crowds. The air was a bit chilly this particular night, but also comforting. You tucked your hands into the deep pockets of your hoodie and headed back home. The sound of footsteps running started to get louder and you were stopped by someone who tugged onto your hoodie. Turning around,Wonwoo was panting slightly and you could see his breath forming a slight fog.  Straightening himself up, he offered to walk you back with the reason that it wasn’t safe. You didn’t pay mind to him and let him do whatever he wanted. The walk back was quiet except for the sounds of cars passing by emitting through the atmosphere.

“What did you think of it?”, he asked.

“The open mic or you speaking up there?”, you didn’t look up at him.

“Both”

“The whole thing was quite interesting, some of them made my heart ache not as much as yours did though.”, you tried to look his reaction through your peripheral vision. He was looking away, to your amusement.

“Thank you”, he said as he messed the back of your head. You quickly slapped his hand away and pouted. He just laughed at your reaction, but instead of getting mad, your heart soften a bit. The first time in a long time.

Upon reaching your home, you both bid each other farewell. He reached his hand out that was curled into a fist. You responded by giving a brofist and he laughed.

“What?”, in a state of utter confusion. In between his muffled laughs, “Just give me your hand”. You did as he said and he placed a small piece of paper on it. You opened it to see his phone number. By the time you looked up, he was already walking away.

“Thank you”, you screamed at his direction. Without turning his back, he gave you a small wave.

Weeks passed, each time filled with you and Wonwoo  hanging out in the library between his breaks and sometimes making banal talking. But to you, talking to him was far from it. Sometimes you learn something new about him like how he always has an emergency book in his bag for when he goes out, how he doesn’t put sugar into his coffee because he liked the bitterness of it and so forth. He didn’t realise it, but he had a habit to scrunch his nose when he smiled too hard and it was one of the things you found fascinating.

- “Why did you pick up open mic poetry, Wonwoo?”, he peeled his eyes off the book he was reading and looked at you. You both were sitting opposite each other on the floors of the library, in between the row of shelves that seem to be endless here.

“It's a long story”, Wonwoo stated.

“I have time”, you said.

“Let's break up, Wonwoo”

Wonwoo looked up at his (now ex) girlfriend. Her face looked sombre. It caught him off guard when she said it. To him, everything was going fine albeit the fights here and there. But what's a relationship without a bit of bickering?

“Why?”, he put his coffee down on the table that separates both of them.

“I-”, she sighed. “ I don't feel the same way anymore. At first I thought it was because we're past the honeymoon phase and that I could handle it. I realised it wasn’t, I don’t have the same feelings I’ve had for you from 2 years ago, Wonwoo”. Wonwoo looked at her fiddle with the straps of her bag.

She continued, “ You will always be my first love, don’t get me wrong but I feel like I need to meet other people outside of this. Outside of this loop that we put ourselves into. I loved you, Wonwoo”.

“Is it something we could talk about, maybe even-”

“No, Wonwoo. I’m sorry”, she gathered her things and left her seat. All he could do was stare as the figure of her back slowly dissipate. He wasn’t sure which was more bitter, the coffee at hand or the empty seat in front of him.

Just as he started to get up from his seat, a flyer in the cafe caught his eye. He took one and started to analyse the content.

Poetry open mic, huh.

He had time now, since she left a gaping hole in his schedule.

Wonwoo’s face started to soften, almost as if a wave of melancholia washed over him. You felt a pang of guilt for asking him.

“I’m sorry for asking, Wonwoo”, you muttered. You tried to flip through the pages of the book you had at hand to find the page you last read.

“It’s okay. That was a long time ago. I’m content with how things ended up”, he gave you a small smile.

“Have you ever thought of getting into another relationship? If you don’t mind me asking”, at this point on you were fiddling with the pages of your book.

“Not really. It’s been so long but I still never got the closure from it. Do you get me?”, he said.

You understood it way too well. You understood what it was like to not have closure. It was like a rope that was cut and was constantly fraying into a mess. For you, it didn’t matter whether you got the closure or not. You learnt to move on and poured yourself into spilled ink. Wonwoo however, was not the same. There were times when you talked to him and it was as if he held himself back.

“Do you still love her?”, your voice was almost a whisper.

“Sometimes”, you felt your heart dropped. Then you heard him chuckle. You looked up at him, confused. “It’s funny cause, I saw her the other day linking arms with a new guy. She seemed happier, a lot happier than when she was with me”.

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you reached out to give him a hug, only to quickly pull away and apologise for invading his personal space. He didn’t seem fazed by it and gave you a pat on your head. It was the kind of comforting pat that people would give as reassurance. “Don’t worry about me, you’re still young”, he said.

“Wonwoo, our age gap isn’t that big. It’s only 3 years”, you retorted and rolled your eyes at him. He puts his hands up in defense.

-

Nowadays, Reverie doesn’t write as much angst as they used to. Their style has changed, to a happier note. As if they were ready to move on to another phase in life.

As you read through the feedback left on your recent works, most which stated how they were proud you were happier again. You were proud too. Unknowingly, spending time with Wonwoo had made your days better. His company was far from boring, despite what most people might say. The only thing that discouraged you at times was when he would hold himself back when talking to you. He was cautious of what he says, as if he was scared to hurt you.

Oblivious to your surroundings,, Wonwoo creeped behind you and whispered, “What are you doing?”. You quickly turned around, with your face inches away from him and almost squealed.

“J-Just looking through some stuff,” you stammered. He peeked over you to take a quick glance.

He mentioned how Reverie’s work changed, you agreed meekly. He, one of the many, stated how he was glad they seemed happier. Even as one of the many, his comment in particular lingered in your mind longer.

“Do you want to try out the open mic poetry?”, he asked. You looked at his face, trying to find traces of him pulling a fast one on you, but all you could see was him staring at you, dead serious.

“Is it a must?”, you desperately laughed it off.

Before he could continue, you here the barista calling out your name for your order. You went off to collect your coffee only to come back seeing Wonwoo talking to a man. You overhear the man teasing him for finally being on a date but Wonwoo quickly dismissed it. You felt more bitter than the coffee you're holding. Walking over to your place you slammed your coffee on the table, making it spill slightly and burn your hand.

“Are you okay?!”, Wonwoo piped. He quickly take your hand to wipe the coffee off but you took your hand away.

“I'm fine, don't worry about me”.

Pushing the door to leave, you were greeted by a face you never wanted to see again.

[kpcp-fantasies-blog]

Hello :) Could I pretty please get a written each unit of Seventeen/BTS ship? I’m actually kind, friendly, down to earth and also clumsy. I well have the mind of 19+ lol, know a lot more than it seems and fall in love too easily but playing hard to get. I cannot live without talking and really love taking care of others. Good adviser. Yet, there is a time I need someone to hear me pour out about anything and give me courage. My love concept is based in your actions than your words. When I like someone, I want them to feel good and happy around me, so I always try to be myself but to make that person comfortable at the same time. I do my best to be very patient with my loved ones. My goal is to have a big family. I enjoy reading and watching movie at leisure time. Love aesthetics, tumblr fashion, running, dancing, nightdrives and extreme adventure things (including bungee jump) even though I’d rather choose to lay down all day lol Thank you so much for your effort and kindness.

In the Hip Hop Unit, I ship you with Wonwoo.

Wonwoo’s more actions than words and will always try his hardest to get his point across with how much he loves you. Even when his schedule’s hectic or he’s on tour, he’ll send you a short text that’s either a simple “I love you/I miss you” or a little line of heart emojis. He also just loves holding you. Like, when he hugs you, he’ll just stand there with his arms around your waist, chin on top of your head, and eyes closed, just enjoying having you in his arms.

In the Vocal Unit, I ship you with Jisoo.

Jisoo will show you how much he loves you with both words and actions. He’s a super touchy-feely person so he’ll be overly affectionate with you a lot. Kisses, hugs, gifts. The whole she-bang. He’ll text you a whole bunch when he’s not able to see you or spend time with you, especially on your schedueled movie nights when he’s on tour. He tries his best to make it feel like he’s not gone and always ask how your day went, no matter the time difference. He’ll stay up all night if he has to.

In the Preformance Unit, I ship you with Junhui.

Junhui is very akward with affection in general but he’ll try for you. Like, he’ll get all giggly and blushy when you just hug him. He tries to get you to get out and do things with him even when you say you’re fine with just staying inside. He’ll find something exciting like lazer tag or paintball and tease you with it until you agree to come like, “Oh, well I guess I’ll just have to invite one of the boys instead. We’re gonna have so much fun without you.”

In BTS, I ship you with Hoseok.

Hoseok is always your go to person when you need to vent about your day or feelings. He’s your sunshine and no matter where he is, he’ll always let you know that he’s there for you. He wishes he could take you on tour with him too and always brings you back so many souvenirs that you honestly don’t know where to put all of them. When he gets back, he’ll shower you with kisses and affection and won’t stop talking about how much he missed being able to hold you.

[sapphoesie]

11 Questions Tag - Part III

Thanks to the lovely @starzablaze @captain-timetraveldreamer @readinglikewildfire  for tagging me!

1. Favorite smell? Cinnamon 2. Music preferences, and recs, if any. I have really eclectic music tastes and like a tonne of stuff. 3. If you were a famous personality, what would your most celebrated quote be? I don’t tend to remember the memorable stuff I say 😂 4. Favorite weather and favorite season. 15-20 degrees Celsius and Spring 5. Favorite beverage? Tea! (yorkshire tea) 6. Name 5 of your hobbies. Traveling, writing, bullet journaling and regular journaling, people-watching and reading of course. 7. What do you do when you’re sad or royally pissed? I answered this question for sad in Part II so I’ll just say what I do when I’m pissed. I don’t get angry that easily but when I do I need to vent because I’m hate confrontations and I’d always rather calm myself down then start fights. 8. Ideal s/o Intelligent, kind, caring, honest, funny and thoughtful. 9. Moon or stars? Why? Stars because you can almost always seen the moon but the seeing the stars is more special. Also, there’s a meteor shower (The Perseids) every year for a few days around the time of my birthday so every single year since I was little I’ve sat and watched the shooting stars on my birthday with my friends or parents and made a bunch of additional birthday wishes so I’ve always loved the stars. 10. When did you join Tumblr and why? Ages ago! Probably 5-6 years ago I don’t even remember. I had an aesthetic blog first and then got into fandom and just tried out loads of things. I started posting on this blog in March of this year though because I had the biggest book hangover after reading ACOMAF and knew I had to delve into the depths of Tumblr for fanart and fic because I was already trash  11. Eye and hair color + nature? Eye colour - hazel; Hair colour - silvery white (but my natural hair colour is light brown)

1. Dusk or Dawn and why? Dusk! Dawn kinda creeps up on you really slowly but the sun puts on a real show at twilight and it’s pretty hard to ignore. I sit in silence and watch at least 2 minutes of the sunset almost every single day. 2. Are you a tea or coffee kind of person? Tea 3. A story of a mischief done by you in your childhood. I skipped school when I was 9, before I even knew what skipping school was. I hated English class so I convinced a bunch of my friends not to go to our English class which was our last one for the day. We told the rest of our classmates that they were giving out free toys in the school shop so we could leave without being seen and for some reason they believed us and went except for this one girl who stayed behind, saw us leave and told on us afterwards. When the parent teacher conference happened, the parents of all the other kids who had cut class knew about it but my mum was the only one who had no idea because I never told her. Needless to say she was angry 😂 4. If you were given a wish what would you wish for? To adapt to life in Australia quickly and easily and to have fun on my year abroad before I go back home. 5. What do you wish to change about yourself and the world? I wish to be less harsh and critical and demanding of myself and I wish the world was more kind and empathetic.  6. Outdoor attire preferences?(fancy) As in formal wear? Chiffon, satin or silk are my go to fabrics because they kind of flow really nicely over every curve. I like pretty classic cuts, tight at the waist, flowing down and with more of a plunging neckline.  7. Which book character do you want to be your other half and why? I think either Dorian Havilliard, Cassian or Julian Blackthorn. They are all kind, compassionate, intelligent and loyal. 8. What would you do if you were given a million dollars? I’ve answered this in part I so I’ll just skip it now 9. Favourite colour and eye colour I don’t really have a favourite colour but I’ll say blue and favourite eye colour is blue too. 10. If you had to choose between your family and boyfriend, who would you choose? Family. 11. Favourite TV show and rec Friends, Parks and Rec, the Office, Game of Thrones.

1. Do you have any piercings or tattoos, what are they? I don’t have any tattoos but I have 5 piercings: four lobe piercings, two in each ear and a helix piercing. 2. Who is your style icon? Alexa Chung. Emily Ratajkowski. Jane Birkin. Vanessa Hudgens. Orion Carloto. Kate La Vie. (do yourself a favour and look these last two up on insta because they are so fab!) 3. Are you a night shower or a morning shower person? Night shower. 4. What do you study at school if you are at school? If you’re not at school what do you do instead? I’m at university and I study (broadcast) journalism. 5. Do you speak multiple languages? What are they? I’m fluent in English and Romanian, intermediate in French, can understand a lot of Italian and know a bunch of random words and phrases in so many other languages like Spanish, German or Japanese because I love linguistics so much! 6. What do you like most about where you live? I normally live in the UK but I’ve just moved 2 days ago and I didn’t time to see much of the new country where I live now so I’m going to say what I like best about the UK which is the weather. I bitch and moan about it all the time but as someone who’s lived in places where it gets really hot or really cold, the English weather is pretty decent most of the time. 7. Favorite piece of jewellery, why? My pandora bracelet. I’ve had it for 4 years now and worn it every single day. Every charm has been a gift and it has a special meaning to me. 8.  Whats one random fact about yourself? I get pins and needles in my limbs extremely easily. 9. TOG or ACOTAR? UGH! How can I choose?! ACOTAR just because I’ve read ACOWAR last and it’s more recent and fresh in my mind. 10. Do you like fantasy books with a lot of romance or does it not really matter to you? I love romance so I prefer if the book has loads of romance in it but I don’t read books with a romance element exclusively. 11. Favorite color! I don’t really have one but blue I guess.

I tag: @wpbianca99 @cass-ian @cassianandfenrysaremyboyos @highfaenesta @highlady-casandra @ultimaterowan @ships-and-saints @azrielsiphons

1. If you could only do three of these for the rest of your life which would you choose: reading, writing, dancing, singing, watching TV/films, playing sports, travelling. 2. What’s your most prized possession? 3. What’s one thing everyone should have? 4. How do you unwind after a long day? 5. What are 3 pet peeves of yours? 6. If you don’t like a book do you stop reading it or do you persist in the hopes that it will get better? 7. What’s the most beautiful place you’ve seen? 8. What’s a name you really like that you’d use for a character or future child? 9. What’s one thing you wish you had the courage to do? 10. What’s the nicest compliment you’ve ever received? 11. Have you ever done a random act of kindness or had a stranger do one for you?

[teasoundsgood]

I have no manips and I'm too lazy to find photos that look like it could be them so this is the best I can do... 

Thanks @fromherlips for tagging me in this! I think you're the only person who tagged me but if someone else did then I'm sorry I didn't see it! Here's Devin and Harry for you. Note: this is set in a possible future in which they are dating but I can't confirm or deny if they end up together (please check this out if you’re into pain) 

 WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO: 

Make breakfast: Harry. 

Cuddle the other for no reason: Both actually. Devin wasn't that into cuddling before, but she actually really likes to cuddle Harry so she'll look for any excuse 

Sleep on the couch after an argument: Harry. But Devin actually prefers to just put up a pillow wall in bed for the so close but so far effect 

Drive and who is most likely to ride shotgun: Harry typically drives 

Choose the music in the car: Harry because Devin isn't too particular about music 

Get jealous: Devin. And Harry. But Harry is more likely to tell Devin if he's felt jealous so they can resolve it. Devin is getting better at telling Harry things, but there have been a few occasions where Harry has come to bed to see the pillow wall and he comments on it and she says "well if you don't like it why don't you go sleep in so and so's bed" and then he breaks the pillow wall and showers her in kisses and tells her that there's no one else in the world that he's ever wanted as much as he wants Devin 

Break the expensive gift rule: they don't have one 

Remember anniversaries: Harry remembers the dates, Devin puts them in her calendar so she doesn't forget 

Sneak sweets in the shopping cart: Devin. And then Harry will notice and she'll deny all knowledge, but still make sure they get them 

Hog the covers at night: Harry. But if Devin wakes up with no covers she'll wake harry up by pulling them off of him. 

 1. What do you do when the other is upset? 

Devin: I'm not very good with people when they're upset so I just leave them alone, but I know Harry doesn't like to be left alone so I'll typically just cuddle with him until he starts talking about whatever upset him. He usually just needs to vent so I don't need to help him solve his problems, I just need to sit with him. 

Harry: I'm the one who taught Devin how to comfort people so I do pretty much what Devin does. I'll cuddle with her until she decides she wants to talk and if I feel like she needs/wants it then I'll offer advice but I typically don't. Devin is capable of solving her own problems, she just needs to know that someone is there to stand next to her or cuddle with her until she's ready to go fight her own battles 

2. Who is more romantic? Give examples. 

Devin: Harry. By far. 

Harry: Don't sell yourself short, Dev! I'm better at the spur of the moment romance, but Devin is the planner. She was the one who planned out our first Valentine's Day together and it was great 

Devin: You're just being a suck up, aren't you? 

Harry: Well I'm always a suck up according to you, but no I'm not. It was a really romantic night. A+ on seduction 

3. What do your families think of your relationship? 

Devin: My parents and my Gran both love Harry. They probably love him more then me to be honest--he's just got a way with old people 

Harry: I don't think Gloria would appreciate you calling her old. 

Devin: You talk about your family and I'll talk about mine. 

Harry: Fine. My family likes Devin. She didn't think they would but I'd been talking her up since way before we started dating so they knew she meant a lot to me before they met her and my family is the 'if you're happy we're happy' type so I was never worried. 

4. If you had to wear a couples costume for Halloween, what would you go as?

Devin: Great, now you're going to give him ideas. Harry we aren't wearing couples costumes 

Harry: You say that now but I know I can change your mind. 

Devin: No you can't. 

Harry: As our track record shows, I am very good at changing your mind 

Devin: And I'm great at building pillow walls 

5. Are you both earlier rises? Or do you both sleep in? Or is there one of each? 

Devin: Harry is an earlier riser and has decided that I am too. But when he's away, I could stay in bed all day if I didn't have anything to do 

Harry: You told me you like getting up early! 

Devin: Yeah, when you're here to make me breakfast 

Harry: Sorry could you repeat that? I didn't hear anything after 'Yeah, when you're here.' 

6. Do you have any routines at night? Before bed, in bed, etc. 

Devin: Just brush teeth, wash face. Sometimes we'll watch something on Netflix or read 

7. What nicknames do you have for each other? 

Harry: Devin's not a big fan of nicknames so really just Dev or babe/baby occasionally 

Devin: on rare occasion I'll say Haz or babe/baby 

8. Say you had a child, who is the strict parent and who is the lenient parent?

 Harry: Okay Devin is going to say that she'll be the stricter parent and I'll be the lenient parent, but I'm convinced that Devin's going to end up being the more lenient one. She's just going to be so in love with our baby and from day one will never be able to tell him or her no so I'm going to be the one who has to. Occasionally. Let's be honest it's going to be so difficult for either of us to say no to our kid. 

Devin: I don't think you have to be one or be other. We're both going to follow the authoritative parenting model because it's the most healthy parenting style and is a combination of strictness and leniency. You have to be strict with your child but also let them work with you to create rules. 

Harry: Yeah what she said. 

9. Would you rather go to a fancy restaurant for a date or stay at home and watch movies with pizza? 

Devin: Stay home. Going out is nice and I like to get dressed up, but Harry's fans can be so annoying. For our Valentine's Day dinner we went to this really nice restaurant and I'm pretty sure fans came up to us every 10 minutes so we didn't get any privacy. 

Harry: I love my fans, but it does get annoying when they come up to get pictures with me when we're trying to go on a romantic date. I'd much prefer to stay home, but instead of pizza and movies I'll cook Devin dinner and light candles and we'll just have a romantic date at home instead of at a restaurant.

10. What first attracted you about the other person? 

Harry: Devin never cared that I was famous and that was a breath of fresh air for me, not to mention she's beautiful. I wanted to know her the minute I saw her. 

Devin: It took me a long time to realize I liked Harry as more than just a friend. I knew he was attractive, but physically attractiveness is such an easy thing to find. I fell for his kindness and his ability to never give up on me. I don't think anyone (besides my gran) has ever believed in the good in m me as much as Harry has and he's made me a better person. 

Harry: I love you, Devin. 

Devin: I love you too, Harry.

[sumergosuigeneris]

May 29, 2017

This was a rough weekend. And I got a rude, painful wake up call.

Just another reminder that in fact  I do NOT have family.

So one of my ‘nieces’ who is 20 years old and has a been making bad decisions since at least 13, decided she was old enough and ready to leave home (Georgia) and come back up here and make a life for herself. It wasn’t easy peasy like she expected, so she left her boyfriend’s mother’s house for my ‘sister’. 

V didn’t want her b/c she’s already taken another girl, not family, in. So the plan was for J to stay with me from Friday night through Tuesday, at which point she’d go stay with her mostly absentee father.

Now J has a bad history, including lots of lying, so I took much with a grain of salt. But no one would communicate with me about what was going on from their side, except second hand info from V. Okay fine. Also, I was determined not to screw myself over by not doing what I’d already planned to do. So Saturday was pretty fun. But I left her with her friend and told them to take the bus back. They’re adults, but I still worried till she got home. She’s a bit irresponsible like that, so I worried they’d miss the last bus or something.

Sunday I had things to do so I let her come along etc. But I should mention that at the outset, I explained some groundrules b/c of my roommate situation, one of which was that she couldn’t stay past Tuesday, the other being that she couldn’t be in the apartment when I wasn’t there. I told her she was welcome to tag along, but I also pointed out spots she could hang out. So I *thought* Sunday was going well. But then she had an argument over the phone with her mother, which allowed me to learn a bit more about what was going on. And that she was supposed to be doing things to get her diploma/GED from jobcorps. I didn’t really know. I couldn’t drop her at the library b/c holiday. I told her that if she did x,y,z I’d give up my day off and take her to work so she could have a computer. That night, she was on the phone till I told her to go to sleep at midnight. So I decided instead, I’d let her use my laptop at the laundromat and go from there. 

I was slow this morning. But I told her to get up to go around 1:15p. She wanted to take a shower. I was annoyed b/c she’d had last night and this morning but fine. I told her to chop chop b/c she moves slow as molasses. She said she didn’t want to go with me. I told her fine but she had to leave the apartment. She threw a temper tantrum. I told her to do it in the car. So she packed all her bags to leave. Fine, you’re 20. You got into this situation to begin with. If you want to throw a temper tantrum and ruin a good opportunity with someone who loves you, so be it. I left to return the carpet cleaner and immediately called V, who didn’t answer, then her grandmother. I don’t have her mother’s number or I’d have called her. 

Well, she’d immediately called her grandmother and told her *I* was acting funny. Grandma acquiesed that she could come home. I told her what REALLY happened, she asked me to drop off J at the bus station. I returned to my apartment to get her and asked for an apology. She refused. Said she did nothing wrong, she was going through things, I didn’t want to help her, how dare I ask her to hurry up, or get off her phone, etc...Fine. Fuck you. I can’t stand “victims”.

So I dropped her off at the bus station. I called V and vented about the truth, how hard it was to deal with J, how much respect I have for her mother and grandmother, etc... How I was worried they’d believe J’s lies about how I treated her. She reassured me everyone knows how J is, you did what I’d do, she’s not staying with me, etc...30 minutes later, I’ve got a shit ton of calls, texts, etc... from V. J called someone and said I DIDN’t drop her at the station, I just left her downtown. But she also said the station was closed. So when I called V back, an she went OFF on me for mistreating HER niece. Leaving her without checking the place etc... and her sister, J’s mom, C was actually on the line. I fucking went OFF. I told her what I’d done, I did what I was asked. I dropped her at the station, she just needed to turn 180 degrees around (yes, she’s either that stupid, or that much of a liar). No one told me to take her to a different station. Why is everyone going off on me when I did what I was asked, she mistreated me, you all kicked her out, etc....Like 1)they were damned hypocrites, esp V. and 2) I did what I was asked and 3) she’s 20 years old, she made her bed, lie in it. I mean, V did a complete about face, and they treated me like I was horrible, until I tried to straighten them out. I agreed, for them, not J. to take her to another station. But then magically, J found a friend to help her.

So I realized that the reasons I stopped talking to them were still exactly the same. I’m only family when it’s convenient for them. They can do whatever they want but when I do the exact same thing, I get turned on.  And C and her mom would rather believe a known liar/victim/immature kid, than me who’s been a straight arrow the entire time they’ve known me. Not to mention the fact that I’ve defended J from their behavior for years (yes, I’m a softy/sucker/whatever). 

Now I’m feeling extremely alone. But it’s my own fault for falling for it again. Well, I can tell you Georgia is no longer my plan C. Because they wouldn’t visit me, just me them, and I’d always be the outsider.

So where in the United States should I move? 

But also, I decided today not to have children. I had decided years ago to adopt if anything. But this weekend, with J, was too stressful. I worried about her so much and about her choices and shit. It’s so hard for parents of bad children, misguided children, stupid children, disabled children, etc... Back up, it’s hard for parents period. But those things add to the burden for parents. I used to think it was easier for parents when kids got older, but now I’ve gotten an up close and personal peek into how hard it is for parents of adults. You can’t make decisions for them, you can’t shelter them, sometimes you need to show them tough love. I used to think I’d be a mean or tough parent. But it was so hard to not pay for everything for J, to try to talk to her about making her decisions instead of telling her what to do, to worry about her making more bad choices. Three days was the trial of a lifetime. And as soon as I got over being pissed at her today, I went straight back to worrying was she going to go back to fucking dudes so they’d take care of her. It is hard to love fully actualized human beings, so I will do what I always do and just not do it (beyond those it’s too late for me to stop loving). No kids for me.

Also, my cat was a pain in the ass. I moved everything for the purpose of carpet cleaning. Clio kept me up all night (after J) crying. I thought she was hungry but she had food. Finally, I moved her bowl from the middle of the kitchen floor to the edge and she shut up. Like, diva didn’t want to walk on the cold tile to get to her food dish. Clearly, I am a monster.

I don’t understand what it is about my personality, that if I let people they walk all over me, but if I don’t let them, they get pissed. That people can be shitty but they have friends and family who love them, but everyone in my life leaves me (except for the ones I push away). I try to be honest and honorable, kind and empathetic, supportive, less selfish, etc....but from the amount and quality of people in my life, I think I come across as a serial killer. Actually, serial killers might have more friends than I do.

Better stop before I start thinking suicidal again. If you’re not gonna do it, might as well stop wasting brain power on it.